I see your Neruda, and I raise you a Poe

Hellllooooo everybody. Did I seem to disappear for a bit? I was kind of staying in because of my ankle, and I did not think that was very interesting to hear about.
Anyway, the FAIRE ATTENTION has been effective, both at reminding be to be aware and attentive to my surroundings and for striking up conversations with French people, who want to know why the heck I have that written on my arm. They all still keep thinking I am Spanish, all though I have also gotten English and Brazilian as alternate guesses at this point.
I got lost in Aix a couple days ago. Not the best thing on a sprain, but fun nonetheless. The ankle is still angry with me for getting lost, but I feel optimistic. Also, I think it was worth it. Aix is a perfect city to get lost in, filled with narrow, winding alleyways that end in secret fountains or little bookshops or boulangeries. Even when you are lost, it is a small, safe, sun-filled (have I mentioned how beautiful the light is here?) city, so there is never a feeling of danger, only of exploration. I discovered where all the comic-book shops are, and there was a book store called, "Le Bateau Livre," which made me smile. It doesn't even feel dangerous at night, really, but I always get a guy to walk me home anyway.
Not that there have been many instances where I needed to be walked home, thanks to my stupid ankle.
My host parents went to Amsterdam this weekend, and Alexis stayed with a friend, so not only was I unable to go out, I was all alone. I may have gone a little bit stir-crazy. Well, maybe a lot stir-crazy. I am an active person! I get cabin fever. Anyway, I couldn't get a hold of other students either for a long time, as most of them didn't have phones yet. Finally, on saturday, one of my Marchutz friends, Matt, texted me to say he'd gotten a phone, so I bribed him with the copious amounts of food Jade made for me to get him to come over. We watched youtube videos. It was great fun. In spite of his fast metabolism, not even Matt was able to finish the ratatouille and bouef bourguignon that Jade made me. On top of that, they left me multiple ready-made dinners and were appalled when they returned to find that I had not even finished the two dishes Jade made.
"It was a lot of food!" I protested.
"FOUR DAYS!" they replied. They also keep reminding me of good snacking times. They're great. All their food is really healthy, though, so I am not worried about gaining weight. Well, I was never worried about gaining weight, but mom was and I don't think she needs to worry about the food I'm getting at home. If I get fat, it will be because of going to patisseries and boulangeries on my own. On that account, I can make no promises.
Have I mentioned that bread is on a whole other level in this country? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!
Haha, this blog is going to end up being all about food. Oh well.

A way of saying hello that I have learned in France: Cou-cou! Really! I love it. It's like we are all little clocks. Cou-cou!

CLASSES. I have them. My French class is extremely slow. We are an advanced class, and yet we are going over conjugating the present tense and are not scheduled to review the subjunctive until December. Hmm. I am going to try to switch into another class.

Archaeology, on the other hand, is freaking awesome. The professor, one Guillaume Durand, is highly animated, French, and hilarious. Sound effects, all the time! I don't know why, but he likes quacking when he collects his thoughts. Also, very questionable hand-drawn maps of Europe. I wish I could record his class to show it to people. It is awesome, entertaining, and educational. You know, the way school is supposed to be.

DEAR EDUCATIONAL ESTABLISHMENTS: YOU DO NOT NEED TO ASSIGN LOTS OF HOMEWORK IN ORDER TO EDUCATE PROPERLY. SEE: MY ARCHAEOLOGY CLASS. LOVE, CARLA.
I mean, we do have homework, but it's reasonable. For the first time in years, my homework load is reasonable!


By far, the most work intensive stuff I have is from Marchutz, which is fine by me. I enjoy working hard at art, and it's nice to get out of the hyper-academic Sarah Lawrence mind-set and get credit for painting naked ladies and mountains. And learn from it! Crazy!
We have been doing lots of figure drawing. Here is my favorite drawing I have made so far, of our ludicrously stunning model, Pauline. Also, a random doodle I made today as a demonstration of an ink-brush pen to another student.

A couple nights ago, I had a bit of a poetry off with Jacob. He had never heard Neruda in Spanish before and he is currently compiling a book of Neruda poems with illustrations, so he had me say some aloud for him while he read the French translations. He liked it so much, he immediately had me do it with Walt Whitman also, but though he loves Whitman (which surprised me, as I think of Whitman as hyper-American), he didn't think the sounds had music in the original language. He then went on to say that he didn't think English poetry had the same music as poetry in Spanish or French. Obviously, I protested. I started using Shakespeare as my defense, but he brushed that aside as theater, and thus irrelevant to the discussion. "I just mean poems. Poems in english don't have the same lyric quality out loud as with other languages, like Spanish or French," he said. I raised an eyebrow at him and recited the first three stanzas of "The Raven."
He conceded that that rather aptly made my point. :)
Then he had me try to translate some of my own poetry into French for him, which made me appreciate how hard it is to translate poetry.

There was a special half-off drinking night for international students that I went to, but I left after not too long. Bars aren't that amazing to begin with, but put that many people in them and they lose all their charm. You can't get a drink, and you can't hear anyone speak! I went elsewhere with a couple friends, and there was a live band with an accordion (my favorite instrument, tied with the glass harmonica http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glass_harmonica) so I was happy. On the way home, my friends Matt, Francesco, and I stopped and sat in front of this "http://fr.academic.ru/pictures/frwiki/65/Aix-en-Provence_Cathedrale_Saint-Sauveur_1_20061227.jpg cathedral and chatted for a while. There were these funny lights cleverly placed in the ground so that I hadn't noticed them before that night, so everything was very picturesque and interesting looking. Unlike in the photograph, there were no hobos. Anyway, we sat there a while and Matt looked very cool smoking his cigarette in front of all the statues in the doorway and Francesco bounced around on his toes and I sat down under the statue in between the two doors to rest my ankle. It was by far the best part of my evening. Then they walked me home, because they are gentlemen. Also, the two of them are both gay, and black belts in karate, so I may very well have been the safest girl in Aix that night.

To end, more pictures. They are: Jade in the Castle, me being French in my room, me on the couch with Jacob and Alexis, and the amazing sunset we got to watch during dinner yesterday. On an unrelated note, I think some cats just got into a fight outside my window. The noises just ended abruptly, which I find a little ominous.




A bientôt!

FAIRE ATTENTION

GUH.
So, as some of you may know, I sprained my ankle right before coming to France. Pretty annoying. Well, it was almost better.
Was.
I hurt it again today, meaning it has to start healing all over again. Also, the art studio where most of my art classes happen is a 30 minute walk away. At least a nice French lady helped me home afterward.
I'm pretty annoyed though. The only way the timing could be worse would be if it was also opening night of a dance heavy show in which I played the lead.
So, anyway, I have to be all homebody-like and careful at a time when I want more than ever to be out-and-about and (responsibly, I say, to any parents who may or may not be reading this)impulsive.
My plan: Until I am all the way better, I am going to write on my arms FAIRE ATTENTION(be careful/pay attention) on my arms first thing when I wake up every day.
So: GUH.

In other news:
The day after I arrived my host family took me out into the country to visit some close friends of theirs who just moved into a 12 century castle about a week ago.
That's right. They live in a castle. An approximately 850-900-year-old castle in the French countryside. You know, like ya do. We had lunch.
Being as it is 900-or-so, it definitely needs some work, but I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty awesome. The drive was nice too, about 45 minutes. It was a bit like moving through a 3D Cezanne painting, which is not surprising as this is where he lived and worked. I also saw Picasso's castle from the car.
Anyway, they are a couple of singers named Christophe and Cecile, and they have a little two-year-old named Basil who, like two-year-old all over the world, takes great joy in being contrary. He was extraordinarily adorable(there is something extra cute about a small child speaking French), but I don't have a picture because when I asked him if I could photograph him he said, "Non!" I made the mistake of asking when we weren't really friends yet. He was not into me at first, since he didn't already know me, which obviously meant I was bad news. It took longer with him than it usually does for me with kids, but I eventually won him over by refusing to agree with anything he said. We went back and forth for a while:
Basil: Oui!
Me: Non!
Basil: Oui:
Me: Non!
Basil: Oui!
Me: Non!
Then I pulled a Bugs Bunny on him, which is the only time in my life that has ever worked.
Basil: Non!
Me: Oui!
And then he did it to me and I went along with it and he said, "I win!"
"C'est vrai," I replied, nodding. "You won."
Then he told me I had to leave and I refused. From then on we were biffles.
Here are some pictures of the chateau(castle). The one of the fields I took from a window in the oldest part of the castle.



Christophe is always making wry jokes and Cecile is always smiling, which I love. For the most part, the French don't really smile. They are taught when they are young that you should not smile unless you specifically have a reason too. Maybe I'm just not being understanding of their culture and should have a more open mind, but I think that that is kind of lame. In the states, especially California, we smile a lot, and often at strangers. In France, you are not supposed to even make eye contact with strangers, especially not boys, as they will think you are flirting with them. It is a challenge for me, but I think I am starting to get the hang of it. I bet it will help if I look at the ground to make sure that I don't, I don't know, INJURE myself or something.
Guh.

Here is an average street in Aix.
OH MAN. So. There is this thing, this wonderful, wonderful thing called fromage blanc, which literally means "white cheese." However, it is closer in consistency and flavor to yogurt, such that that's what I thought it was at first. But no. It is to yogurt what Tesla is to Edison. That is to say, far more awesome and tasty.
I like the French custom of having a light breakfast and and early lunch. It feels healthier, and I often don't want something too heavy when I first wake up.
Three other things I recently experienced in French cuisine that I adore: Ratatouille, pain au chocolat, and roquefort. But the fact is, everything I have eaten here is delicious.

This weird thing keeps happening now, when I speak to people in English (most of the IAU students speak very little French) where I don't understand what they are saying because my brain is trying to translate the English into English. Does that make sense? My ears are listening to the English as if it is french, but as it is NOT french my brain goes, "sorry, that is not in our French vocabulary. Nous ne comprenons pas" and then I have no idea what the person just said. It is a very strange feeling.

My favorite new phrase I have learned in French was won through the most extensive game of charades I have had to play so far to make my homestay family understand what I was trying. It was Alexis who figured it out, and very proud of himself he was, too. To have pins and needles=Avoir des fourmis. Literally translated, it is "to have ants."

We had orientation yesterday, which was way too long and way too hot, and today was the first day of class. It's funny, American students keep thinking that I'm French and French people keep thinking that I am Spanish. I think that is a good sign. I have found that I am more fluent in French then I realized, and getting to speak it every day is truly a joy. I am thinking in Spanish more too, in part from having stayed with Mar and Stephan, and in part from the fact that it is closer to French than English is, so that when I am looking for a word I don't know my brain will sometimes go to Spanish first.

So: things from my first day of class: I am no longer worried about being advanced enough for French 300. Also, the Marchutz students all met and, following our fearless leader and teacher John, made the half hour walk to the art studio together, stopping to look at the art supply store and to have a picnic along the way. As I said before, the studio (or, attelier) is about a half-hour walk from the center of Aix (not including our stops) and was quite lovely, though in retrospect may have contributed to my ankle troubles. I am finding that I get along quite swimmingly with my fellow Marchutz folk, and one of them is even a theater person like me. I think I'm the only one who has studies molecular biology though. Alan, the other teacher talked us through what the class would be like, but we all paid attention to the kitten that was walking around the room instead, while John tried to subtly get it to come to him which was, of course, not possible. But the thing that I think made me the happiest was buying school supplies, as I got the MOST BADASS BINDER EVER. It has a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex on it. He is roaring/smiling. I have named him Donatien.

I went out to a bar last night to meet up with some other IAU students. They say that it is really hard to meet young French people, thet they are cold to people they don't know, but I did not find that to be the case at all! It was fun. I am making lots of friends, and we often run into eachother and stop for a bite or drink at a cafe at random. I really love that, and it's part of way the ankle thing is frustrating because it means I can't go out as much right when I want to be getting to know them. Oh well. It'll wait.

Sleep, however, will not. I think that is enough for now. To end, here is a picture of another kitten that I met, on my way home a couple nights ago, who I named Verlaine.

Heading down South

Today was amazing. I started by flying with Pablo during his lesson and I got to see the Chateaux de Versailles from the sky, which was pretty awesome. I got a little sick from it, which is unusual for me, but Pablo says it happens to people a lot when they have a bumpy ride in a small plane like that one, which we did since he was practicing landings. Here are a couples pictures of the Chateaux de Versailles from the sky.

Then we had lunch with the family, they took me to the airport, and I said goodbye to everyone and it was sad and scary. We were there at a reasonable hour, but the line was so long, I probably would not have made my flight were it not for Mar pulling strings on my behalf.
I talked to an elderly woman on the plane named Rosa who was very nice, very french, and very charmed by me. I wasn't making an effort to be charming, but I think speaking to someone in a decent but somewhat broken version of their language makes you automatically endearing.

I thought the school was going to pick me up, and I was grumbling to myself about my many things I had to carry (mainly my coat, which was annoying in the heat) and what would you know but when I stepped out into the baggage claim area the first people in front of me were a middle aged man and a young lad holding a sign that said Carla Lerner! My homestay family had come to fetch me themselves! I informed them that I was Carla Lerner and they immediately hugged and kissed me, took my bags before I could protest, and told me that their names were Jacob and Alexis (pronounced Alex-y. All this happened in French) Jacob is a short and slightly portly man with three large Einstein-esque tufts of orange hair and a permanent smile when he is not talking (but more often he is talking.) If French clowns were generally likable, they would look like Jacob. I adored him immediately. Alexis is already taller than his father, with much darker features. He is eleven, and has a bit of the round faced pudginess that many boys have at that age, but he has a sweet smile and I think will grow up to be quite handsome once he passes through the ordeal of puberty.
God, I'm glad I'm not in puberty anymore.
They insisted that I speak to them in the casual “tu” instead of the formal “vous” since “we are family now!” and I was only too happy to oblige.
I was blazing outside, and I felt like I was back in California. The quality of light is a bit similar too. They drove me home and we soon discovered that we love all of the same things. When we arrived in Aix (it was about a twenty minute drive) I think my eyes must has looked like soup plates. I was stunned by how beautiful it was. None of the pictures I saw do it justice. It is the way I always imagined and hoped Europe would be from movies and books growing up, and better even. There were wonderful winding, cobbled roads with beautiful, ornatete old building, and FOUNTAINS EVERYWHERE. And what's more, YOU CAN DRINK FROM THEM!
I CAN DRINK WATER FROM A MERMAID! ...Well, a mermaid statue.
Here are a couple fountain pictures, and other Aix stuff.




Today was the last day of a yearly festival of music in the streets. There was a classical music concert going on in the village square, and they had chops, especially the oboe player. YOUNG FOLK WERE IN ATTENDANCE. It was crazy.
As we drove through the town, I asked Jacob if it was just him, Alexis, and his wife. His face lit up. “Yes!” He said. “She is Vietnamese, and very young and beautiful. I first saw her here in Aix, a little Vietnamese woman, completely lovely. It is a good thing. I am not handsome, but my son is!” He turned to grin at Alexis who grinned back.
“You are very lucky,” I said.”
He smiled. “I am not handsome, but I am smart. I knew what I wanted and I went for it.”
He did not lie about his wife's beauty. We arrived at their address and out stepped a stunning Vietnamese woman with her hair pulled softly back, wearing a teal dress and a small smile. Her name is Jade. She hugged and kissed me right away like her menfolk, then the boys grabbed my smaller (but still heavy) pieces of luggage, and went upstairs. I was a bit surprised, and then Jade started to help me with by big suitcase and I understood that the had acted as they did because Jade's strength is akin to that of PopEye. I mean, dayum. Anyway, we only had to carry it up one story luckily, and then I started to settle into my room, which is well lit and lovely, and had a giant antique wardrobe. It's perfect. They are perfect. I have so much more to write, but I need to sleep because we are going to a museum tomorrow morning. Bon nuit!

-Carla