Catch Up If You Can

On Tuesday morning I met a good friend from college to jog along Shoreline Drive in Alameda.  It's a beautiful and bustling trail along the southwestern coast of the island that has breathtaking views of the San Francisco bay. We jog/walked and went about 3 miles in thirty minutes.  It was a great catch-up session where I heard all about her new pet sea turtle, her path to buying a home in the Bay Area, and tales of grandbabies and middle management and losing 50 lbs in a year.  Incredible!  When we said goodbye we agreed to a weekly meeting when the weather is nice.  This turned out to be a mini-brick (which means a bike and run workout back-to-back) which is fantastic - and it was oh so fun to see an old friend's face!

This week I'm looking forward to tagging along with Dan for a Thursday morning workout with the Vitruvian club at Lake Merritt *and* Billy and I are also talking about going on a long ride this weekend (somewhere between 40 and 60 miles) so I can barely contain my excitement for that.

It feels so good to be training again.  I can feel my body coming back one day at a time.

I'm baaaaaa-aaaack

After five excruciatingly long weeks of rest, ice and heat, yesterday I met an old friend who I haven't seen since our high school graduation for a jog along the beach in Alameda.  I am pleased to report that my strained achilles tendon (which landed me in bed rest since mid-January) has finally healed.  We did a 3 mile out-and-back and *man* it felt grrrrreat to be back!  I'm already looking forward to my next buddy run tomorrow morning with a friend from college who I haven't seen (again) since graduation.  It's so incredible to be able to get back in touch with these fit friends to gather a little momentum for hoisting this bag of potato chips back on the tri-training horse.  As long as I stay healthy for the next month I'll be training for the Oakland Running Festival - a half marathon - which takes place on March 22nd.  Woohoo.  That's all for now.  More later!

California, I'm Coming Home!

January: American Film Appreciation Month

This month I was holed up at home in bed nursing two sprained ankles and a terrible cold that wouldn't quit.  On top of that, when I wasn't looking at my watch and calculating exactly how much time it was before Billy got here, I was trying to not go crazy by consciously distracting myself from how much time it was before Billy got here.  Oy!

Now, if you don't know me that well, this may come as news to you, but I am, admittedly, somewhat of a nitwit when it comes to common knowledge.  For example, I have been the butt of many a joke when conversations turn toward the cultural canon.  Vocabulary, books, band names, TV shows, actors, and movies that are considered common knowledge by my peers evidently inhabit a black hole in my brain.  References to media from my generation mostly go over my head.  And while my anti-climactic-explanation-eliciting blank stares were coquettish in my twenties, in my thirties, it turns out it's just embarrassing.

So, in January, I made a pact with myself.  I, Amy Moor, will use this month of forced rest and relaxation wisely and educate myself in the American entertainment industry.

I watched all the Star Wars, all the Die Hards, all the Lethal Weapons, all the Godfathers, and uhhh, every Johnny Depp movie from blockbuster to cult classic.  I watched Platoon, Stir Crazy, Blazing Saddles, Annie Hall, When Harry Met Sally, Man on the Moon, Magnolia, Steel Magnolias, Boogie Nights, Saturday Night Fever, Pulp Fiction, From Dusk Til Dawn, Natural Born Killers, An Officer and a Gentlemen...  It did not take me long to start forming strong opinions about these films and the Hollywood professionals that inhabit them.  The big picture though is:  WOW!  The American film industry is awesome!  The rest of my revelations are blips on the radar compared to this one, but here is a small sample anyway:

1. I don't like Johnny Depp's work as much as I thought.
2. A New Hope is the best Star Wars.
3. Die Hard is way better than Lethal Weapon.
4. Uh...  the Godfather - who needs him??
5. Gene Wilder is my favorite actor of all time.
6. I need someone to expose me to the work of Richard Pryor because I still don't get why every contemporary comedian says he's the greatest.

Well, that's about it!  Just wanted to let you all know that I found a way to thrive in the midst of ankle-breaking pain, mind-blowing boredom, and soul-squashing sickness.  Thanks to my new friends in the tele.

A Curious Creature of Habit

This is my fourth day in Montmartre.  It is *so* amazing and cute!  Every day since I've been here, I've done the exact same thing:

1.  Wake up early to skype with Billy
2.  Breakfast at the hostel (pack a picnic lunch)
3.  Wander around the neighborhood to find things that Billy and I can do when he gets here
4.  Eat lunch and feed the birds
5.  Get some *real* coffee (fyi - this is the best coffee shop in Paris)
6.  Yoga
7.  Walk/hike up to Sacré Coeur to see the sunset over Paris
8.  Pick up quiche and veggie side dishes for dinner
9.  Chat with the cool traveler girls that are boarding in the same room as me
10.  Settle into a book and bed

I'm sad to be saying goodbye to Paris tomorrow, but so so grateful for this ten-day yoga vacation.  Today, I plan to attend my last Bikram class of 2013 (and my ninth class in a row) and then catch the New Year's Eve fireworks display from the Eiffel Tour and the Champs Elysées.

In 2014, I'm looking forward to the second half of our season, a visit from Billy in February, and, in May, a return trip to California via Amsterdam.  Happy New Year to everyone back home!

All I Want for Christmas

Here's my Christmas wish list:
1.  peanut butter power bars
2.  refried beans
3.  $ for travel (Paris/Amsterdam???), gloves, and winter boots

Of course, if you want to send a care package, pretty much anything you can think of will be appreciated.  You can sponsor #3 here just by clicking the big blue button that says donate.

I'm wishing everyone at home a great holiday!  Big huge hugs!

Disney Was Right... It's A Small World!

Yesterday, I was walking down the wrong aisle in the grocery store looking for bar soap and some people passed by casually speaking English.  I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around as quickly as I could and just shouted at them "Are you American?!?" like any sane, but slightly lonely and desperate person might.  The couple was Canadian.  Oops?  They were collecting a lost-luggage-esque assortment of items along with an American woman who lives here in Tours.  When I told her I was here playing volleyball, she told me that she met Kelli Smith (THE marathon winning, ass-kicking wife of TVB star middle blocker David Smith) at this very same supermarket under the exact same circumstances (ie totally randomly).  It's a small world after all  ...and it was about to get even smaller.  After chatting for barely five minutes we discovered that we were both invited to the same Thanksgiving dinner.  What?!?  After we picked up the parts of our exploded heads, we said our goodbyes and I found the bar soap at the end of the aerosol deodorant aisle.

I hope you are all looking forward to Thanksgiving.  I know I am!  :)

Poetry is Bravery

Last week I picked up a mini magazine called PROG! at my local newsstand/coffee shop/bar.  The postcard-sized booklet advertises 24 pages worth of cool cultural happenings in and around Tours.  Lo and behold!  The first Monday of every month, a café in Tours Centre hosts a free *keyword* poetry reading.  So, before my usual Monday night sauna and swimming sesh, I built up some courage and jumped on the tram to find some poets, poems, and poetry.  Oh la la! 

Opening the thick door to the café, I realized that the average age was 62 (this number was significantly lowered by one young suicidal-looking gentleman).  Central themes were nature, family, love and tenderness.  Under normal circumstances, this poetry might induce vomiting.  However, since I was too distracted by the meanings of the words (pronounced loudly and clearly), the poetry reading became more like an extraordinary listening exercise.  We went around the room and everyone read something…  Luckily, before I left the house, I jotted down a few of my favorite poems from Birds of Arizona, by William Moor (just in case - anticipating that I might need some material myself).  Here is what I read:

Greater White-fronted Goose

And

june

Mallard

I

Cinnamon Teal

Mandela and when you are going

Ruddy Duck

A house plan

Wild Turkey

If

all

of the

huge

cost

all of

us

all

just

Montezuma Quail

Are

they are and are in

R a

R

R and

who are in the

R

R

R

R

Neotropic Cormorant

The

Cedar Warwing

That

, that

man

that the

Yelllow Warbler

Click the

...  Cool right?!  Haha!  I stayed for a while afterwards to talk to the president of their association (who happens to live right down the street from me in Saint Cyr) and another very nice woman who pretty much told me her life story.  Their poetry was not at all what I’m used to.  Poetry where I come from challenges great big ideas with interesting sounding words that cut into your thoughts and graft them with your feelings.  Truly, this experience left me with a deep sense of gratitude for Billy and his poetry and the poetry community in the Bay Area.

I've realized that, no matter what topic you choose to write about or what country you inhabit, writing poetry is an incredibly brave act.  So I wrote a poem.   I’m sure the poem I'm about to share with you has been written before – either by a sad solitary peace corps worker, or a lonely soldier in some dugout somewhere craving the greatest creation to ever come from the United States besides the internet…  I'm warning you - it's so bad that it's even more bad, but here it is anyway:

Peanut Butter Poem

On a sunny afternoon

I will lick you from a spoon

Chunky, smooth, sweet

You’re all I ever want to eat

You make me more me

Pee

Bee

This week I've been working on a few poems inspired by different circumstances I've encountered while living here in Saint Cyr.  I'm also working overtime on my French...  Billy sent me a link to this site, which is a fun way to learn a new language:  www.duolingo.com  Check it out!

That's all for now.  More later!

Joints

So, there's no word for knuckle in French.  It's just called a finger joint.  You can probably imagine the conversation where I found this out, but here it is anyways:

Me:  "Hey cool wow!  What's your skin doing on your fingers?"
Nono:  "It's paint."
Me:  "Haha, not that.  I'm talking about the weird peeling thing on your - wait - what do you call that?"
Nono:  "What?"
Me:  "How do you say that in French?"  [points at knuckle and does a weird wiggly finger dance]
Nono:  "Joint."  [makes movements with elbows]
Me:  "No, not 'joint'.  What do you call the joint on your finger?"
Nono:  "Finger joint."  [articulates at the knuckle]
Me:  [digging in purse for dictionary]  "Really?!  There's not a more specific word in French for knuckle?!"
Nono:  "Nop.  It's just 'joint'."
Me:  [Frantically flipping the pages in dictionary to find knuckle]  ABCDEFGH...M?!?  Grr...  "Ahhhhhh OKAY!  'Joint'!  You're right!" [triumphantly... trying to look cute to native French speakers who seem less satisfied with the outcome of this conversation]  So, then how would you say knuckle ba...?  Shut up, English speaking brain!  There's no baseball in France!!!  

Me:  "So hey cool!  I have the same dry skin thing on my finger joints as you do.  What is that?"
Nono:  "Dry skin."

WAH WAH!

Vocabulary:
Dry:  Sec (m), Seche (f)
Finger = la droigt
Joint = l'articulation
Knuckle = l'articulation
Paint = la peinture
Skin = la peau
Weird = bizarre

Me, Myself, and Bike!

Without my strict regimen of yoga, karate, agility, running, stairs, weights, rock climbing, and swimming, I must admit that I haven't really felt like myself lately (though this feeling might also stem from the fact that my digestive tract has been fermenting a fetus' weight in baguette and croissant dough for the last 3 days).  Oy!  This blog has really helped me to cope with my feelings of being culturally displaced and lonely, and when THAT doesn't work, the pastries always do (Haha!).  :)

In all seriousness though, my foot is feeling way better, so it's time to quit the sweets and ratchet up my training again!

On Saturday morning, I went to the Jour des Associations in Saint-Cyr-sur-Loire where, once a year, all the local clubs get together in one big room and do show and tell.  It was really cool to see all the different displays of what's going on here.  There was a table for rock climbing, karate, the pool and the library!

In the afternoon, a friend of the club took me out to coffee (At Lavazza, they offer cappuccinos with and without whipped cream - GENIUS!) and then he gave me his own personal bike!  I rode home and immediately signed up for the first group ride I could find - haha - YES!

On Sunday, I rode into town early to discover that downtown Tours had been taken over by the annual flea market.  Cool antiques and stolen stuff from all over Europe was displayed up and down the streets.  It was a real feast for the eyes!  Furniture, china, porcelain, chests, lamps, dolls, birdcages, records, photos, books, woodwork, paintings, cigar boxes, just everything...

At 3pm I met up with some local cyclists for a guided tour of all the streets in Tours named after famous doctors.  Cool, right?  Most of the riders were in their 60s (fit as fiddles and sharp as tacks) - a very tightly knit bunch.  They shit talked motorists almost as much as Billy and me!  I felt immediately in my element.  It was nice to get accustomed to how people ride here (very cautiously, but without helmets mind you).  I feel so happy to be back on a bike and riding everywhere all the time again!  I started feeling more like myself right away.

Today, I went to the Jardin Botanique.  It was really misty and empty.  Beautiful opportunity to reassess my goals for the season.  Tomorrow, I have a weight lifting date with another player on the team.  I'm very excited about this - in a super nerdy way!

That's all for now.  More later!