French Milestone #3

This evening I celebrated International Day of the Woman with a whole stadium at the Tours vs. Sète professional men's volleyball game. A few guys from my men's regional team were seated up in the stands together like a good volleyball mafia family, so we watched together as TVB won handily.

We caught the tram back to Saint-Cyr and bantered the whole way.  Now, granted, #1 these guys are joksters (most of the time they're laughing anyway because they'll laugh at almost anything), #2 they are accustomed to my accent and humoring me, and #3 it isn't always easy to differentiate whether they are laughing at me or with me, but - audience aside - I'm pretty sure I was on fire tonight.  I made a couple of well-timed zingers that genuinely made this whole group of native french guys laugh out loud.  Ahhhh - felt so good!  Group laughter is a new high for me - so I thought I'd share!  :)

Alright, that's all for now.  More later!

Random Ramblings - Part III

Forget About It

The French say "laisser tomber" like gangsters say "forget about it".  What does it mean??  Make up your minds!!!

A Tall Drink of Anything

You know the feeling when you order a large orange juice at a diner and you're super let down when it comes out because it's 8 oz?  Imagine a whole country with cupboards packed full of this special brand of diner-sized disappointments.  French cups are designed for sipping on much smaller serving sizes.  I now guzzle juice directly from the carton and (more often than not) while standing in front of the refrigerator.  I know - it's sad - but it doesn't make sense to dirty a glass for one gulp...  it's not even a big gulp.  Hehe... ;)

Basic Instincts

Dropping Billy off at the airport reminded me that I haven't seen a wax paper toilet seat cover in a while.  In fact, you're lucky if you get a toilet seat at all in most public restrooms around here.  And, oh, instead of the little handle, the French use a myriad of levers, buttons, and hand-sized trick-door-style contraptions to flush their business.  Each visit to the lou is followed by a multiple choice quiz:  a. #1, b. #2, or c. all of the above.  You can normally choose c (all options available) without fail, and yes, sometimes you still have to jiggle it a little.  Ha!

Random Ramblings - Part II

The *Right* Right of Way

After getting (almost) run over several times, it has been explained to me that the right turn *always* has the right of way here.  So, for example, say you're driving fast down a straight road, but you're approaching an intersecting street on your right.  If and only if there is a vehicle barreling down that street about to make a fast and completely legal right turn onto the street upon which you are driving, it's your responsibility to prepare to stop.  

Video Killed the Radio Star

You don't have to be attractive to be on TV here.  There *are* lots of attractive people on TV here, but it certainly does not appear to be a universal rule like it is in the States.  There are loads of normal looking people on TV.  Makeup, lighting and airbrushing are used sparingly.  This has not affected how disinclined I am to watch TV.  When I do, every other commercial is for cheese or chocolate.

Fun with Verbs!

Here are some of my favorite new verbs in French!

faire valloir - to make the most of
focaliser - to focus
mener - to lead
mouvoir - to drive, propel, move
parachever - to perfect
parvenir - to reach, succeed in
percer - to break through
planer - to soar
pointer - to sharpen, aim, check off
potentialiser - to increase the effect of
pourchasser - to pursue
rentabiliser - to make profitable
surélever - to heighten, raise
tâter - to feel out
taper - to bounce
turbiner - to work, toil
valoriser - to increase the value of
vivifier - to invigorate

... and last, but certainly not least!!
zozoter - to lisp

Their word for LISP is even meaner than ours!  Isn't that crazy?!?
Je zozote
Tu zozotes
Il/elle zozote
Nous zozotons
Vous zozotez
Ils/elles zozotent

...SO MEAN!

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!

Bordeaux!

At 10:30 AM Sunday morning the whole team piled into a nine-person van to make our 4PM match against team AMAZON (I mean, Bordeaux Merignac).  This team came down from National 1 at the end of last season and has been dominating National 2 with their scrappy defense and ferocious offense ever since. 

Unfortunately for our record, the road trip was the highlight of the day.  The freeways here are fast, direct, and cost a fortune.  The gas was 110 euros, and the tolls totaled 150 euros!  OUCH!  Coach Maguy said if you aren’t pressed for time the national routes here are beautiful *free* back roads that wind through the countryside and tiny town centers (a great way to see the French way of life up close).

Bordeaux was unlike any wine country I’ve ever seen...  Lush vines extended from the freeway in their uniform lines for as far as the eye could see in every direction.  Vineyards weren’t nestled in a valley, or shelved along steep, rocky cliffs.  They just stretched on and on and on forever.  Rows of trees and solitary farm houses spotted the landscape and spurred deep conversations about food, farming, and the environment. 

You will never believe this, but it turns out that on this three hour car ride, I happened to be sitting next to a girl on the team who has also been to Madagascar!  Oh, we went on and on, sharing with Maguy all the coolest things about Mada.  Since Maguy spent most of her life in Brazil, she could relate to a lot of the eating habits that characterize that latitude (ie tons of rice, a million different types of bananas, and avocados for dessert).  Mmmmm… 

I often forget that Madagascar is where I first developed a respect for food.  Despite annual family outings to Apple Hill and my mom’s lifelong gardening and fearless foraging habits, before studying abroad in Madagascar in my mind food primarily existed prepared, packaged, and priced on a shelf, in an aisle, in a huge air-conditioned building with slick floors and friendly employees.  Madagascar is where I finally realized that even the ingredients for pop tarts are planted, grown, and harvested, before being shook up in a test tube, squirted out a mechanical arm and zipped up in a rectangular foil wrapper.  Haha!

That reminds me of a great bit from Jerry Seinfeld on pop-tarts:

Pop-Tarts aside, it’s really rare to meet someone else who has been to Madagascar!  It was so nice being reminded of the year I spent learning, eating, and experiencing life there while studying abroad.  So many names, faces, moments, and meals flooded back into my memory; devouring banana and nutella sandwiches around a campfire; meditatively chatting while peeling apples and oranges; snacking on boiled manioc doused in sweetened condensed milk; harvesting, de-husking, sorting, washing, and cooking huge pots of white, red, brown, and black rice; savoring samosas and skewers of beef with lemony hot sauce; and washing everything down with THB (Three Horses Beer)...  It made me want to go back so bad!

To put it lightly, the game we played once we arrived in Bordeaux left something to be desired...  Enough said.  Bordeaux Merignac provided post-match pâté and crêpes (YUM!) and on the ride home we chowed down on a yogurt and nutella cake that our setter baked and my dad’s famous chocolate chip cookies (which arrived in the mail this week!).   Even though all of us were stuffed from the snacks, the club paid for a pit-stop.  We sat inside a gas station dining area and supped on delicious (by American standards) microwaveable pasta boxes.  Outside the sun set on distant forests and farms in hues of highlighter yellow, orange, and pink behind wide blankets of dark purple clouds. 

We made it home by 10:30 PM.  My head hit the pillow hard, gears still turning over missed serves and bad plays from earlier that night.   Alas!  Sunday nights remind me to look forward to a sit in the sauna and swimming, and a week of hard work for our next match.

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!