Home at last. After a grueling series of flights home I arrived home at 4:30AM Tuesday, albeit a bit tired.
My last day in France consisted of a great hike and picnic. It was a fantastic way to end my trip. I miss the weather and the breeze--it's so humid and sticky here. Welcome home to Michigan.
Monday proved to be less than stellar. I misread the weight limit for my baggage three times and ended up paying an overage fee of 75 Euros (about $110). That sucked, but there was really nothing I can do about it. It was a hassle to pay the fine; the guy gave me lip about my card not being valid unless signed. Anyone can use it then, which I think is bullshit. Anyone can use the card IF signed. They didn't ask for an ID; he honestly didn't know at all if I was who I said I was. Signing my card isn't magic, and they don't make pens that can sign cards very well.
I actually enjoyed the flight from Marseilles to Amsterdam. They fed us a decent lunch (no butter on my sandwich) and cookie! Navigating the Amsterdam airport proved a much easier task than previously, and I found my gate with no issues.
I finally had to go through a full body scanner, and I guess I don't quite get what the deal is. It was quick and easy, and I didn't get groped. The only trouble I had was when I had to board the plane. A little background information first: when I payed my baggage fee, the guy gave me copies of my receipt to give to the people boarding the plane. I guess to prove I'd paid a fee, so I wouldn't have to again.
When my flight to Detroit started boarding, I got in line. I showed the woman my boarding pass and started to give her the receipt, but she ushered me forward. I stopped and tried to explain to which I got an "I'm busy, please board the plane." Whatever, I stepped aside and waited for a moment before uttering another "ma'am" The response to which was a curt and rude "I'll help you in a minute. I'm trying to do my job!" Eventually she did turn around to me and I attempted once again to explain that I was told I had to give this to the person boarding the plane. She looked at me like I was an idiot and told me she had no idea what I was talking about.
During this whole ordeal, the rest of the people boarding the plane had stopped to wait in line. I'm still trying to explain and apologize because "this is just what I was told." The lady snapped at the people waiting and told them "to just board the plane." What the hell?! She completely stopped checking boarding passes and let everyone on. I realize we've already gone through some security to get into the waiting area, but she just let everyone walk on. God.
Besides not sleeping and some stomach upset toward the end, the flight to Detroit was actually okay. I mean, the main chicken dish they served us was crap, but near the end they gave us pizza and believe it or not, ice cream! I've never had ice cream on a plane before.
Welcome to America! I must have watched that video ten times before I got through the line at customs. I was so tired by the time I got through and found my next gate. I had an hour before my flight was supposed to leave--I thought I had an hour at least. In reality, my flight had been delayed three hours. Perfect. I was now supposed to fly to Grand Rapids at 1:30 in the morning.
So I sat and waited with everyone else. The crew offered us no information on what was going on, just that the flight was delayed. They offered no other solutions or means of transportation. You really could have walked to Grand Rapids faster in the time it took me to get home. Finally, at 1:10 the plane coming in from Washington (that we would be taking to GR) arrived. She announced it and even tried to get us to cheer. Lady, we're tired. Happy that it is here, but tired none the less. We could board the plane.
I called my parents to let them know that we were finally boarding and should be home in an hour/ hour and a half. As we got on they handed us complimentary bottles of water (really, water?). We sat down; the doors closed, and the pilot announced we would fuel up and be on our way. I fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was an hour later and we still hadn't let. Once again, they hadn't made any announcement about what was going on and why we weren't leaving. One of the passengers had to go argue with a steward for a minute before we got anything. Apparently, the guy fueling the plane isn't qualified to read the fuel gauge. I really have to wonder why he's qualified to fuel the plane but can't tell when it's full. He had called his supervisor, who hasn't yet arrived. And to make it worse, the crew was reaching duty time, so if this guy doesn't show up in the next 10 minutes, our flight will be canceled.
Wonderful isn't it? Naturally, everyone I was sitting next to was very upset. Another lady, like myself had already been up and traveling for 26 hours. A stewardess came back and talked to us when we asked what was going to happen. She explained duty time and told us that if it happens our flight would get canceled. At that point, I sort of broke. I started crying out of frustration and fatigue. The stewardess left and returned with a bottle of water. I'm tired and smelly and kind of sick, and she thinks water will make it better? Sorry, but no.
I guess the supervisor arrived because we managed to leave Detroit at 3:10AM--almost four hours and forty-five minutes later than we were supposed to.
But I'm home now, and happy to be here.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Final Moments
I'm not feeling well today. Frankly, I haven't been feeling well for the last two or three days. With all of the good and delicious food I've fed it, I'm largely disappointed in my stomach for acting in this manner, especially in the last week. I will power through, though I hope that I'm feeling much better by the time I have to board the plane on Monday. I'm already nauseous on planes, this would not help the situation.
Less than five days left here in Crestet, and it has been a week of final moments. My final trip to the market was marked with a good deal of spending--buying final presents and the last of the things I'd been eyeing for weeks. Last night, I said goodbye to the table d’hôte, though not entirely as Marion has given me her recipe for fruit mousse and creme brûlée. Yordi has also promised me his recipe for creme brûlée.
I look forward to making them both with the creme brûlée torch they gave me on Tuesday. I'm touched by and extremely excited about this gift. After them allowing me to eat with them for a week and a half while Paul was away, I feel that I should be giving them something for the pleasure of their company---not the other way around.
In the same vein, I don't know how I can ever thank Paul and Miriam for the opportunity I've been given this summer. While I haven't had a conventional trip (who wants that anyway?), it has been fun and a great experience.
Today, I've helped clean the big house. However, Paul took me back early because my stomach is still rebelling against me. I'll take it easy for the rest of the day because tomorrow is going to a lot of cleaning!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
The Roman Ruins
Today has been a good day. Well, besides trying to brush the dogs, but that's never fun.
I spent my morning and early afternoon traipsing around the Roman ruins located around Vaison. It was interesting to go back, considering I had been there once before when I was ten. Some things were exactly as I remembered them, such as the mosaic in the museum and the old theatre and, of course, others I didn't remember at all.
I opted out of the audio guide considering that it would mean more time spent sitting, and I don't listen to those sorts of things very well. I have the same problem with audio books. I don't pay attention to it. Either way, I took pictures of all of the signs, some of which had English on them and the others I will bother to translate later.
Tomorrow, I will wander my way through the old village of Vaison, and Tuesday will be my final market. This will be a week of lasts. I should probably stop putting my dirty clothes in the laundry basket and start packing them away to go home. I won't do laundry before I leave.
I've also been watching a great deal of The Big Bang Theory in my time sitting at the house. It's amazing; I'm surprised I've gone so long without getting into it. It was one of those shows that I had always liked when on but never sat down and watched. I did the same thing with How I Met Your Mother.
I spent my morning and early afternoon traipsing around the Roman ruins located around Vaison. It was interesting to go back, considering I had been there once before when I was ten. Some things were exactly as I remembered them, such as the mosaic in the museum and the old theatre and, of course, others I didn't remember at all.
I opted out of the audio guide considering that it would mean more time spent sitting, and I don't listen to those sorts of things very well. I have the same problem with audio books. I don't pay attention to it. Either way, I took pictures of all of the signs, some of which had English on them and the others I will bother to translate later.
Tomorrow, I will wander my way through the old village of Vaison, and Tuesday will be my final market. This will be a week of lasts. I should probably stop putting my dirty clothes in the laundry basket and start packing them away to go home. I won't do laundry before I leave.
I've also been watching a great deal of The Big Bang Theory in my time sitting at the house. It's amazing; I'm surprised I've gone so long without getting into it. It was one of those shows that I had always liked when on but never sat down and watched. I did the same thing with How I Met Your Mother.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Le Tour de France and Avignon
The dogs are driving me a bit up the wall. I'm not used to any dogs, let alone three that bark when spooked. Brundel is old and deaf and can't tell when Radja and Bacchus stop. Besides being old and deaf, he's also grumpy. He takes this out on Bacchus. Their barking startles me.
The Tour de France came nearby on Tuesday, and I was fortunate enough to be invited to tag along. It was great even though it is a long time waiting for a short time of seeing the bikers. The merchandising cars come well before the riders and sponsor trucks throw free things at you. Then, you wait.
The arrival of helicopters overhead signals that the riders are only five or ten minutes away. The bikers came and went so quickly that I barely had time to register that they were even there. It showed me just how fast a human is capable of going on a bicycle, something I could not have gleaned from watching the Tour on television.
Yesterday, Marion took me to Avignon with a few people she knows from Holland. It was the first touristy experience that I have had since coming to France. We saw the part of the pope's palace, and had a great lunch. Since it is also festival there were performers in the street. Shakespearean actors, moving statues, dancers and others brought lots of crowds. Unfortunately, my camera battery died and I forgot the memory card for my other camera. I did manage a few shots.
There's a bridge in Avignon that doesn't go all the across the river. Upon further investigation (i.e. Wikipedia), I discovered that it has been destroyed by flooding many times and they eventually stopped bothering to repair it. Cool huh?
The rest of the day was spent at the mall, which was really the point of the day anyway. I guess shopping malls don't exist in Holland.
Table d'hote is tonight because it has been either too cold or too wet to have it earlier in the week. Tomorrow and Saturday are cleaning and next week I will finally see the ruins and monuments in Vaison. My final week in France starts soon!
I'm almost home, and I'm ready to go home. I love it here, but I'm ready to go back to 'normality.' I'm actually even ready for school to start (shocker, I know). So much has happened this year, and so much more is still to go.
The Tour de France came nearby on Tuesday, and I was fortunate enough to be invited to tag along. It was great even though it is a long time waiting for a short time of seeing the bikers. The merchandising cars come well before the riders and sponsor trucks throw free things at you. Then, you wait.
The arrival of helicopters overhead signals that the riders are only five or ten minutes away. The bikers came and went so quickly that I barely had time to register that they were even there. It showed me just how fast a human is capable of going on a bicycle, something I could not have gleaned from watching the Tour on television.
Yesterday, Marion took me to Avignon with a few people she knows from Holland. It was the first touristy experience that I have had since coming to France. We saw the part of the pope's palace, and had a great lunch. Since it is also festival there were performers in the street. Shakespearean actors, moving statues, dancers and others brought lots of crowds. Unfortunately, my camera battery died and I forgot the memory card for my other camera. I did manage a few shots.
There's a bridge in Avignon that doesn't go all the across the river. Upon further investigation (i.e. Wikipedia), I discovered that it has been destroyed by flooding many times and they eventually stopped bothering to repair it. Cool huh?
The rest of the day was spent at the mall, which was really the point of the day anyway. I guess shopping malls don't exist in Holland.
Table d'hote is tonight because it has been either too cold or too wet to have it earlier in the week. Tomorrow and Saturday are cleaning and next week I will finally see the ruins and monuments in Vaison. My final week in France starts soon!
I'm almost home, and I'm ready to go home. I love it here, but I'm ready to go back to 'normality.' I'm actually even ready for school to start (shocker, I know). So much has happened this year, and so much more is still to go.
Monday, July 18, 2011
All by Myself
Paul left for Holland on Saturday, so I'm here alone with the dogs for the time being. It isn't so bad being here alone, but the weather hasn't been great. The neighbors,and Paul and Miriam's business partners, have been kind enough to allow me to eat dinner with them, so I'm not completely by myself, which is nice.
It rained almost all day on Sunday, so my plans to go into Vaison were dashed. You can't exactly bike in the rain. Well, you can, but it isn't pleasant. I spent most of the day inside with the dogs looking at food recipes on foodgawker. I think that website must only exist to tempt me. When I get home, I'm going to be more adventurous in the kitchen. I need to find more actual food recipes as well. Though there are plenty of desserts for me to still try.
The rest of the weekend was pretty standard. There was cleaning on Saturday. Friday was mostly nothing as well since the house we clean on Friday is still occupied until the end of this week. Paul and I didn't get to see any fireworks on Thursday night for Bastille day. Unfortunately, the Mistral was too strong, and they canceled the show. The music was nice, however.
Friday was also a dinner at the neighbors with the same friends we went up the Mount Ventoux with. The food was delicious as usual. However, I got to make dessert. Paul and I had to go to three different stores before we could find rhubarb. I guess the season is ending here in France, but we found it, and I made strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert.
The highest compliment I could be paid? Being asked to make it for the table d'hote if the ingredients can be found and aren't too expensive. It was good pie.
Marion (neighbor), took me to Bedoin this morning, and we went to the market. It was a nice market, much smaller than the one in Vaison. It served for a fun morning with a few more fantastic views to add to my memories.
Afternoon was largely uneventful. I thought about riding my bike to Vaison. Looking at the clock showed that it was two in the afternoon, which meant all of the shops would probably be closed. I went on a walk instead because I'd done nothing all day yesterday (and I ate a lot of chocolate today). I also finally explored the pottery shop near the house. I found several things I wished to purchase; however, the shop doesn't take bank cards (seriously?), and I only had five euros. I bought one of the items and will have to return later with more cash in hand.
Tomorrow, if the weather is alright (and I hope it is), we might go and see the part of the Tour de France that is near the area. It is supposed to rain in the morning, but I hope it is nice enough to go. It would be fantastic to witness part of the Tour while I'm here.
It rained almost all day on Sunday, so my plans to go into Vaison were dashed. You can't exactly bike in the rain. Well, you can, but it isn't pleasant. I spent most of the day inside with the dogs looking at food recipes on foodgawker. I think that website must only exist to tempt me. When I get home, I'm going to be more adventurous in the kitchen. I need to find more actual food recipes as well. Though there are plenty of desserts for me to still try.
The rest of the weekend was pretty standard. There was cleaning on Saturday. Friday was mostly nothing as well since the house we clean on Friday is still occupied until the end of this week. Paul and I didn't get to see any fireworks on Thursday night for Bastille day. Unfortunately, the Mistral was too strong, and they canceled the show. The music was nice, however.
Friday was also a dinner at the neighbors with the same friends we went up the Mount Ventoux with. The food was delicious as usual. However, I got to make dessert. Paul and I had to go to three different stores before we could find rhubarb. I guess the season is ending here in France, but we found it, and I made strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert.
The highest compliment I could be paid? Being asked to make it for the table d'hote if the ingredients can be found and aren't too expensive. It was good pie.
Marion (neighbor), took me to Bedoin this morning, and we went to the market. It was a nice market, much smaller than the one in Vaison. It served for a fun morning with a few more fantastic views to add to my memories.
Afternoon was largely uneventful. I thought about riding my bike to Vaison. Looking at the clock showed that it was two in the afternoon, which meant all of the shops would probably be closed. I went on a walk instead because I'd done nothing all day yesterday (and I ate a lot of chocolate today). I also finally explored the pottery shop near the house. I found several things I wished to purchase; however, the shop doesn't take bank cards (seriously?), and I only had five euros. I bought one of the items and will have to return later with more cash in hand.
Tomorrow, if the weather is alright (and I hope it is), we might go and see the part of the Tour de France that is near the area. It is supposed to rain in the morning, but I hope it is nice enough to go. It would be fantastic to witness part of the Tour while I'm here.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Mount Ventoux and Bastille Day
Happy Bastille Day!
Haven't updated in awhile and for that, I am sorry. As I said last time, the days really just blow by me like minutes lately. Of the weeks events, most were of the normal fair. I headed to the market on Tuesday, and we had the table d'hôte. I also lounged around the pool, started a new book and went for a walk.
However, this week also hosted a few different events as well.
Miriam left Monday evening for Holland; however, a large part of the day was taken by going into Avignon for Paul's final check up with the doctor. While Paul and Miriam talked to the surgeon, I wandered the sales at the mall. I've found in my experiences abroad that malls, with the exception of the Meadowhall Mall in Shefield (look it up, it's HUGE) are a fairly universal concept. Though, in Europe, you seem to often find grocery stores attached. I don't know what to entirely think of the idea when I wonder what it would be like to have a Meijer and a Macy's in the same building.
The good news is though that Paul, who had cut a tendon in his hand prior to my arrival, is able to drive. Wonderful news considering Miriam's departure later that night.
Tuesday, as stated, was market day once again. And once again, I wandered the stalls and bought a few things to bring home as gifts. Sometimes, I think I'm more worried about bringing something back for everyone than I am about getting cute things for myself. I consider far too many people gift worthy. You should all stop being amazing.
Another wonderful meal, as prepared by Yordi. Crepes and goat cheese, pork fillet mignon, chocolate mousse and creme brulee rounded out with guitar music. While the food was fantastic as always, what I enjoyed this week was the opportunity to converse with people my age from different parts of the world. I've once again learned that I spend far too much time on the internet, but that the excessive number of cousins I have (love you guys) is not as strange in Europe as it is in United States. Dad's 200+ is still strange, and I received yet another confirmation that my family is, in fact, weird.
The wind picked up as soon as it hit Wednesday, and the dinner ended with everyone scrambling to get things off of the table so it wouldn't blow away. It rained and stormed through the morning, but the afternoon proved nice enough to walk to the postbox.
Today is Bastille Day in France, and to celebrate, we will hopefully be going out to see fireworks in Vaison once it gets dark. However, we also went for hike on the Mount Ventoux today. Moun Ventoux is a very popular biking destination especially since it was featured in the Tour de France a few years ago. Paul has biked up several times and enjoyed commenting about which bikers he thought would make it to the top as we passed them in the car. It was one thing to walk up the Ventoux; I'm pretty sure I will never reach the top by bike. The view from the mountain is amazing considering that even though it was hazy in the distance, you could still see the alps. We climbed over rocks and under trees while following the small rock piles that marked the path. We didn't go all the way up to the top, but maybe we can drive up there one day. I am surprisingly not sore, though I'm sure that will catch up with me tomorrow. Hiking has proven to be an activity that I enjoy. I've always loved being in the woods, and it has been something I've wanted to do for sometime. Must do it more once I get back into the states. Who wants to go hiking with me?
Hiking was followed by a delicious and large lunch consisting of salad, lamb and ice cream. I'm having toast and tea for dinner and maybe breakfast and lunch tomorrow as well I ate so much. Then a shower, watched an episode of Royal Pains online and now I'm sitting here updating my blog.
I'm tired though, so I'm going to eat something.
Haven't updated in awhile and for that, I am sorry. As I said last time, the days really just blow by me like minutes lately. Of the weeks events, most were of the normal fair. I headed to the market on Tuesday, and we had the table d'hôte. I also lounged around the pool, started a new book and went for a walk.
However, this week also hosted a few different events as well.
Miriam left Monday evening for Holland; however, a large part of the day was taken by going into Avignon for Paul's final check up with the doctor. While Paul and Miriam talked to the surgeon, I wandered the sales at the mall. I've found in my experiences abroad that malls, with the exception of the Meadowhall Mall in Shefield (look it up, it's HUGE) are a fairly universal concept. Though, in Europe, you seem to often find grocery stores attached. I don't know what to entirely think of the idea when I wonder what it would be like to have a Meijer and a Macy's in the same building.
The good news is though that Paul, who had cut a tendon in his hand prior to my arrival, is able to drive. Wonderful news considering Miriam's departure later that night.
Tuesday, as stated, was market day once again. And once again, I wandered the stalls and bought a few things to bring home as gifts. Sometimes, I think I'm more worried about bringing something back for everyone than I am about getting cute things for myself. I consider far too many people gift worthy. You should all stop being amazing.
Another wonderful meal, as prepared by Yordi. Crepes and goat cheese, pork fillet mignon, chocolate mousse and creme brulee rounded out with guitar music. While the food was fantastic as always, what I enjoyed this week was the opportunity to converse with people my age from different parts of the world. I've once again learned that I spend far too much time on the internet, but that the excessive number of cousins I have (love you guys) is not as strange in Europe as it is in United States. Dad's 200+ is still strange, and I received yet another confirmation that my family is, in fact, weird.
The wind picked up as soon as it hit Wednesday, and the dinner ended with everyone scrambling to get things off of the table so it wouldn't blow away. It rained and stormed through the morning, but the afternoon proved nice enough to walk to the postbox.
Today is Bastille Day in France, and to celebrate, we will hopefully be going out to see fireworks in Vaison once it gets dark. However, we also went for hike on the Mount Ventoux today. Moun Ventoux is a very popular biking destination especially since it was featured in the Tour de France a few years ago. Paul has biked up several times and enjoyed commenting about which bikers he thought would make it to the top as we passed them in the car. It was one thing to walk up the Ventoux; I'm pretty sure I will never reach the top by bike. The view from the mountain is amazing considering that even though it was hazy in the distance, you could still see the alps. We climbed over rocks and under trees while following the small rock piles that marked the path. We didn't go all the way up to the top, but maybe we can drive up there one day. I am surprisingly not sore, though I'm sure that will catch up with me tomorrow. Hiking has proven to be an activity that I enjoy. I've always loved being in the woods, and it has been something I've wanted to do for sometime. Must do it more once I get back into the states. Who wants to go hiking with me?
Hiking was followed by a delicious and large lunch consisting of salad, lamb and ice cream. I'm having toast and tea for dinner and maybe breakfast and lunch tomorrow as well I ate so much. Then a shower, watched an episode of Royal Pains online and now I'm sitting here updating my blog.
I'm tired though, so I'm going to eat something.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Zombies are Universal
Saturday already. The days seem to fly by here, and soon I'll be on a plane to go back home. I lose track of time and the day easily here, and because there isn't much to do, sometimes I find myself doing nothing. While it's all relaxing, I'm determined to get out more next week and finally explore Vaison's medieval town. I went up for awhile after walking the market on Tuesday, but I hadn't come prepared for that much more walking and eventually turned back to Crestet.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll feel like I haven't done enough or seen enough while I was here. Having been for so long means I should have done it all right? However, I must also remember that doing everything wouldn't be that much fun either. I like that I can be here and have days where I don't go anywhere. I feel more like I'm a part of the place rather than just visiting.
It's been a busy week, and I'm especially tired right now because Friday and Saturday are cleaning days. While it's hard work, it isn't stressful work. And after I can fall asleep for awhile (which I did today) or go to the pool (which I did yesterday).
My two favourite parts of the week remain market day and the table d'hôte which landed on the same day this week. So Tuesday I spent my morning roaming the market place and wandering a bit in the old town and my evening setting the table and helping to eat and serve another amazing meal. Dessert this week included another mousse, this time in apricot, only convincing me more that I must have the recipe to bring home. I've also been trying to take stock of what we've been eating on an everyday basis--hoping that when I get home I can be more inventive with my own cooking. While I love chicken, sweet potatoes and green beans, I eat them A LOT. Maybe that's what I should buy for myself here, a cookbook.
Miriam is leaving on Monday to go back to Holland to be with her sister, who is very ill. It's important that she goes, but I'll be sad to see her leave for an undetermined amount of time.
Welcome drink for the people arriving this week. There's a family from England here with a daughter named Hannah who, I think, is just a few years younger than me. I always get excited when there are people who speak English as their first language. It is much easier to flow into a conversation with them. The Dutch and Germans also all speak very good English, and I've had good conversations. However, so many Dutch and German people stay here, I often feel left out because, of course they'll want to (rightfully so) converse in their own language. Add in that I speak absolutely no Dutch or German (and frankly have a hard time distinguishing the two), and I'm sitting silently quite a lot. I like the welcome drink for one of the same reasons I love the table d'hôte; I get to meet the people staying in the houses.
This last week there have been lots of families with young kids staying. I guess schools have just let out for vacation. During the table d'hôte, the kids took to making paper airplanes and throwing them through the air to watch them glide for a second and fall. After helping to switch the courses, I became a terrifying monster. Planes flew past me until, finally, I was struck in the chest and fell to the ground dead and supposedly defeated. I lay on the ground until something within me stirred. I rose, arms out and advanced toward one of the Belgian boys.
"Zombie! Zombie!" he cried as he smiled and backed off. I gave chase as they attempted once again to kill me with their airplanes. We kept at the game for at least another seven minutes until I decided it was time for me to try some cheese. I glad though because even though there was no way I could understand what those kids said to me, some concepts are universal.
It was great fun.
Sometimes I wonder if I'll feel like I haven't done enough or seen enough while I was here. Having been for so long means I should have done it all right? However, I must also remember that doing everything wouldn't be that much fun either. I like that I can be here and have days where I don't go anywhere. I feel more like I'm a part of the place rather than just visiting.
It's been a busy week, and I'm especially tired right now because Friday and Saturday are cleaning days. While it's hard work, it isn't stressful work. And after I can fall asleep for awhile (which I did today) or go to the pool (which I did yesterday).
My two favourite parts of the week remain market day and the table d'hôte which landed on the same day this week. So Tuesday I spent my morning roaming the market place and wandering a bit in the old town and my evening setting the table and helping to eat and serve another amazing meal. Dessert this week included another mousse, this time in apricot, only convincing me more that I must have the recipe to bring home. I've also been trying to take stock of what we've been eating on an everyday basis--hoping that when I get home I can be more inventive with my own cooking. While I love chicken, sweet potatoes and green beans, I eat them A LOT. Maybe that's what I should buy for myself here, a cookbook.
Miriam is leaving on Monday to go back to Holland to be with her sister, who is very ill. It's important that she goes, but I'll be sad to see her leave for an undetermined amount of time.
Welcome drink for the people arriving this week. There's a family from England here with a daughter named Hannah who, I think, is just a few years younger than me. I always get excited when there are people who speak English as their first language. It is much easier to flow into a conversation with them. The Dutch and Germans also all speak very good English, and I've had good conversations. However, so many Dutch and German people stay here, I often feel left out because, of course they'll want to (rightfully so) converse in their own language. Add in that I speak absolutely no Dutch or German (and frankly have a hard time distinguishing the two), and I'm sitting silently quite a lot. I like the welcome drink for one of the same reasons I love the table d'hôte; I get to meet the people staying in the houses.
This last week there have been lots of families with young kids staying. I guess schools have just let out for vacation. During the table d'hôte, the kids took to making paper airplanes and throwing them through the air to watch them glide for a second and fall. After helping to switch the courses, I became a terrifying monster. Planes flew past me until, finally, I was struck in the chest and fell to the ground dead and supposedly defeated. I lay on the ground until something within me stirred. I rose, arms out and advanced toward one of the Belgian boys.
"Zombie! Zombie!" he cried as he smiled and backed off. I gave chase as they attempted once again to kill me with their airplanes. We kept at the game for at least another seven minutes until I decided it was time for me to try some cheese. I glad though because even though there was no way I could understand what those kids said to me, some concepts are universal.
It was great fun.
Monday, July 4, 2011
4th of July
Happy 4th of July everyone! While everyone in the States is barbequing up a storm and watching fireworks, today is a normal day in France.
I finished a walk I started last week. The final part of the path diverges from the road in a secluded spot, and last week I was unable to find it and didn't want to get lost. But this week I did, and I got to take a nice walk through the woods. I have my phone set up now, so I should be able to venture out more on my own.
My French got a little practice this weekend. It was a big weekend here in Crestet, as Miriam's birthday was on Friday. There were many get togethers and lots of food. We had two six hour dinners this weekend. Saturday, we drove to Avignon to have dinner at Paul and Miriam's daughter, Tami's house. This family loves to barbeque, and Saturday was Tami's boyfriend's first time cooking for a large amount of people. I spoke some French to Tami's neighbor, who speaks less English than I can manage in French and also spoke a little to Fabienne's boyfriend, who I'd met for the first time.
We had brunch yesterday, with me once again making scrambled eggs. Fabienne and I went into town to buy bread and bought croissants from a chocolate shop I'd only seen from the outside. We had ice cream there during the Fete de la musique, which was fantastic, but I've determined that I never should have set foot in the shop.
Everything looks AMAZING, which frankly does nothing for the idea of not gaining a ridiculous amount of weight while here in France. I decided that I would come back on my final week and buy sweets to bring home.
We attended yet another dinner on Sunday at the summer house of some of Paul and Miriam's good friends. No French need be spoken there, which was nice, but then I have a worse time of it when they switch over to Dutch. I at least understand some words of French that's spoken. Dutch just sounds like gibberish to me.
I also made a carrot cake this weekend. Well not as perfect as I would like it to be, considering the lack of some of my normal ingredients and being unable to properly juice the carrots (I had to grate them). It turned out delicous. Everyone liked it and both Fabienne and Miriam and Paul's friend asked me for the recipe. I'm glad something I've worked on and fiddled with is well accepted by people who aren't my family.
One of the things I love about being here is that meals always seem to be eaten together. The emphasis is put on food and company and being together. I know that is why these dinners last so long. However, I'm not used to to so many long dinners. I love it, but it goes so late into the evening.
I'm used to being in bed by midnight and waking up at seven, but it is quite different here. The main dinner often isn't served until eight in the evening, and add the multiple courses and talking means that dinner continues until midnight or later. The combination of staying up and trying to decipher French tires me more quickly than usual. However, the slowness of time here relaxes me, and I hope it is something I can take home with me.
There are still things I'm not used to.
I finished a walk I started last week. The final part of the path diverges from the road in a secluded spot, and last week I was unable to find it and didn't want to get lost. But this week I did, and I got to take a nice walk through the woods. I have my phone set up now, so I should be able to venture out more on my own.
My French got a little practice this weekend. It was a big weekend here in Crestet, as Miriam's birthday was on Friday. There were many get togethers and lots of food. We had two six hour dinners this weekend. Saturday, we drove to Avignon to have dinner at Paul and Miriam's daughter, Tami's house. This family loves to barbeque, and Saturday was Tami's boyfriend's first time cooking for a large amount of people. I spoke some French to Tami's neighbor, who speaks less English than I can manage in French and also spoke a little to Fabienne's boyfriend, who I'd met for the first time.
We had brunch yesterday, with me once again making scrambled eggs. Fabienne and I went into town to buy bread and bought croissants from a chocolate shop I'd only seen from the outside. We had ice cream there during the Fete de la musique, which was fantastic, but I've determined that I never should have set foot in the shop.
Everything looks AMAZING, which frankly does nothing for the idea of not gaining a ridiculous amount of weight while here in France. I decided that I would come back on my final week and buy sweets to bring home.
We attended yet another dinner on Sunday at the summer house of some of Paul and Miriam's good friends. No French need be spoken there, which was nice, but then I have a worse time of it when they switch over to Dutch. I at least understand some words of French that's spoken. Dutch just sounds like gibberish to me.
I also made a carrot cake this weekend. Well not as perfect as I would like it to be, considering the lack of some of my normal ingredients and being unable to properly juice the carrots (I had to grate them). It turned out delicous. Everyone liked it and both Fabienne and Miriam and Paul's friend asked me for the recipe. I'm glad something I've worked on and fiddled with is well accepted by people who aren't my family.
One of the things I love about being here is that meals always seem to be eaten together. The emphasis is put on food and company and being together. I know that is why these dinners last so long. However, I'm not used to to so many long dinners. I love it, but it goes so late into the evening.
I'm used to being in bed by midnight and waking up at seven, but it is quite different here. The main dinner often isn't served until eight in the evening, and add the multiple courses and talking means that dinner continues until midnight or later. The combination of staying up and trying to decipher French tires me more quickly than usual. However, the slowness of time here relaxes me, and I hope it is something I can take home with me.
There are still things I'm not used to.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Apples and Peanut Butter
Welcome to July.
It has been an interesting week with Miriam leaving for Holland and returning on Wednesday.
Market day on Tuesday again. I bought a scarf. I probably would have gotten more, but I couldn't find the bank behind all of the stalls.
Wednesday was once again the Table d'hote. Yordi, who is the neighbors' son, cooked everything. He's worked in a few restaurants from what I've gathered and it certainly has rubbed off nicely on him. And, of course, my favourite course was dessert.
He made raspberry mousse, creme brule, and caramelized apples. I ate two of the mousse because the woman across from me didn't want hers. Fantastic, but I was told it was his mother's recipe so I would have to ask her.
She told me she could only give it to me in French. I said I would translate it.
There are six American women staying here this week, so I sat among them during the meal. They've been all over the world together. My heart skipped a beat when I was talking about my journey in Ireland, and one of the older women turned and said "You've been to Tully?"
What are the odds? I had so much fun talking to them. I wish people stayed longer than a week. You really can't get to know anything in such a short amount of time.
Yesterday, I made breakfast. The most I've really cooked on my own here consists of eggs, and that's what we ate. I also decided to throw in a few potatoes that we had from some of the people who left a house early. I cooked them with some basil, oil and threw in a bit of garlic. Seemed pretty typical to me.
Oops. While garlic is a much loved food here, it is never consumed in the morning, which I guess I can understand. At least they were nice and tried the potatoes.
Other cultural food incidents include me eating an apple and peanut butter. I sat down with an apple, the jar of peanut butter and a knife then proceeding to cut the apple up and spread peanut butter on the slices and eat them. Miriam tried it and thought (rightfully so) that it would taste better on Granny Smith apples.
We also went for a hike yesterday. We took Radja and Bacchus (the dogs) and hiked to the ruins of a 7th century monastery. I love places like that. It's completely secluded and invisible from the road. There's an old stone bridge and a river that runs by the path. The dogs loved running through the water and jumping in the puddles. They were completely muddy by the time we got home.
Got to wander the shops in Vaison a bit, and today was a big cleaning day.
All is good.
It has been an interesting week with Miriam leaving for Holland and returning on Wednesday.
Market day on Tuesday again. I bought a scarf. I probably would have gotten more, but I couldn't find the bank behind all of the stalls.
Wednesday was once again the Table d'hote. Yordi, who is the neighbors' son, cooked everything. He's worked in a few restaurants from what I've gathered and it certainly has rubbed off nicely on him. And, of course, my favourite course was dessert.
He made raspberry mousse, creme brule, and caramelized apples. I ate two of the mousse because the woman across from me didn't want hers. Fantastic, but I was told it was his mother's recipe so I would have to ask her.
She told me she could only give it to me in French. I said I would translate it.
There are six American women staying here this week, so I sat among them during the meal. They've been all over the world together. My heart skipped a beat when I was talking about my journey in Ireland, and one of the older women turned and said "You've been to Tully?"
What are the odds? I had so much fun talking to them. I wish people stayed longer than a week. You really can't get to know anything in such a short amount of time.
Yesterday, I made breakfast. The most I've really cooked on my own here consists of eggs, and that's what we ate. I also decided to throw in a few potatoes that we had from some of the people who left a house early. I cooked them with some basil, oil and threw in a bit of garlic. Seemed pretty typical to me.
Oops. While garlic is a much loved food here, it is never consumed in the morning, which I guess I can understand. At least they were nice and tried the potatoes.
Other cultural food incidents include me eating an apple and peanut butter. I sat down with an apple, the jar of peanut butter and a knife then proceeding to cut the apple up and spread peanut butter on the slices and eat them. Miriam tried it and thought (rightfully so) that it would taste better on Granny Smith apples.
We also went for a hike yesterday. We took Radja and Bacchus (the dogs) and hiked to the ruins of a 7th century monastery. I love places like that. It's completely secluded and invisible from the road. There's an old stone bridge and a river that runs by the path. The dogs loved running through the water and jumping in the puddles. They were completely muddy by the time we got home.
Got to wander the shops in Vaison a bit, and today was a big cleaning day.
All is good.
Monday, June 27, 2011
It's hard to believe that almost two weeks have gone by since I arrived here. I feel as if I've been here longer, but, at the same time, can't believe how time has gone.
Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to work on my French a little bit. I seem to understand much more than I can communicate; I'll get there eventually.
Saturday, I attended a Rotary meeting with Paul, who was turning the presidency over to someone else that night. Having met Rotarians at home, the members of the club in Vaison seemed similar to the ones back in Grand Rapids. Overall, the night was fun (as I found myself faced, once again, with good food).
I've gotten used to answering questions about myself while I'm here. To every new person I meet, I must explain what my purpose is here in France and other various questions about myself. While I felt everyone was overwhelmingly accepting of me, it was during one of these question sections that I found myself feeling uncomfortable.
I don't believe that the comments were in anyway meant to be judgmental, but not being able to properly defend my position or explain anything makes it come off that way. Of course, all of this stemmed from the always unavoidably uncomfortable question:
What do you want to do when you get out of school? (At least she spoke English, right?)
Then comes the lengthy explanation of "I'm not completely sure, probably I'd like publishing. There aren't a lot options for that though in the area. Of course the ultimate goal is to have my work published blah blah blah..." Continuing to say that while I'm almost done with school, my boyfriend works at the moment to save money to go back and won't be done for another few years. So likely, I'll work toward finding a job in the area first.
That's when I got the look and the sort of tutting noise that people make when they hear about in old friend from school who went down the wrong path and is now addicted to all sorts of drugs.
This woman was disappointed in me. Because, quite clearly, in her eyes, I was planning my life around a boy. Now, I didn't (and won't here either) go into how much I agree that planning your life around a boy is one of the stupidest thing a young girl can do. After all, how often does it work out? Instead, I politely explained how long we'd known each other and how long we'd been together.
The response (which normally consists of a smile and "that's so cute and nice to hear") was another shake of the head and soft tutting. The second woman shook her head as well this time and seemed to woefully explain how her daughter has been with the same boy for ten years, but what can you do?
Much of the remainder of our conversation consisted of me being told that I needed to "Get out of Grand Rapids" if I wanted to experience the world. That I should go and take an au pair job for a year and to "learn languages" to open the world to me. If my boyfriend loves me, he'll wait etc etc etc etc.
I can't disagree with getting out of Grand Rapids and seeing the world (what else was I doing for six weeks in France? and hadn't I just told her how much I'd loved Ireland?). And learning languages is a wonderful way to open yourself to the world. I love to travel; I want to go to Japan and Australia, Spain or China. But I'd like to do a lot of those things with my boyfriend.
We've been together for over six years now; I think there's a point where you decide you'd like to include somebody like that in your plans for the future. Granted, no, we aren't married or even engaged at this point, but I'm not going to go tromping around the world by myself with out considering our relationship and where it is likely headed in the future.
Anyway, small rant aside, the evening proved fun. I got to sit next to a nice woman who was a new member of the Rotary group, and I had a lovely conversation with her.
Every year when the children get out of school, Crestet has a small festival. There were bumper cars and a few carnival games, but the main event was a big meal.
So last night, I got to practice my French a bit. Because the town is so small, everyone really knows everyone else, so Paul introduced me to quite a few people. A live band played, and people danced the Madison (which has become strangely popular in France).
For the first time, the food I couldn't handle. I don't like seafood. The mussels I tried because I'd had them in Ireland (with lots of garlic mind you) and enjoyed them. These ones just tasted like sea water. So I pecked at my chicken and rice and ate bread until the cheese and salad came. It was a small town get together, and it was fun.
More and more I find I like the slow the quietness of Provence. No one is in a big rush to be anywhere. Meals at Domaine de Crestet, for the most part, are eaten together. Evening tea (did I mention I was starting to like Green Tea a bit? Mission Accomplished). It's all so relaxing.
Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to work on my French a little bit. I seem to understand much more than I can communicate; I'll get there eventually.
Saturday, I attended a Rotary meeting with Paul, who was turning the presidency over to someone else that night. Having met Rotarians at home, the members of the club in Vaison seemed similar to the ones back in Grand Rapids. Overall, the night was fun (as I found myself faced, once again, with good food).
I've gotten used to answering questions about myself while I'm here. To every new person I meet, I must explain what my purpose is here in France and other various questions about myself. While I felt everyone was overwhelmingly accepting of me, it was during one of these question sections that I found myself feeling uncomfortable.
I don't believe that the comments were in anyway meant to be judgmental, but not being able to properly defend my position or explain anything makes it come off that way. Of course, all of this stemmed from the always unavoidably uncomfortable question:
What do you want to do when you get out of school? (At least she spoke English, right?)
Then comes the lengthy explanation of "I'm not completely sure, probably I'd like publishing. There aren't a lot options for that though in the area. Of course the ultimate goal is to have my work published blah blah blah..." Continuing to say that while I'm almost done with school, my boyfriend works at the moment to save money to go back and won't be done for another few years. So likely, I'll work toward finding a job in the area first.
That's when I got the look and the sort of tutting noise that people make when they hear about in old friend from school who went down the wrong path and is now addicted to all sorts of drugs.
This woman was disappointed in me. Because, quite clearly, in her eyes, I was planning my life around a boy. Now, I didn't (and won't here either) go into how much I agree that planning your life around a boy is one of the stupidest thing a young girl can do. After all, how often does it work out? Instead, I politely explained how long we'd known each other and how long we'd been together.
The response (which normally consists of a smile and "that's so cute and nice to hear") was another shake of the head and soft tutting. The second woman shook her head as well this time and seemed to woefully explain how her daughter has been with the same boy for ten years, but what can you do?
Much of the remainder of our conversation consisted of me being told that I needed to "Get out of Grand Rapids" if I wanted to experience the world. That I should go and take an au pair job for a year and to "learn languages" to open the world to me. If my boyfriend loves me, he'll wait etc etc etc etc.
I can't disagree with getting out of Grand Rapids and seeing the world (what else was I doing for six weeks in France? and hadn't I just told her how much I'd loved Ireland?). And learning languages is a wonderful way to open yourself to the world. I love to travel; I want to go to Japan and Australia, Spain or China. But I'd like to do a lot of those things with my boyfriend.
We've been together for over six years now; I think there's a point where you decide you'd like to include somebody like that in your plans for the future. Granted, no, we aren't married or even engaged at this point, but I'm not going to go tromping around the world by myself with out considering our relationship and where it is likely headed in the future.
Anyway, small rant aside, the evening proved fun. I got to sit next to a nice woman who was a new member of the Rotary group, and I had a lovely conversation with her.
Every year when the children get out of school, Crestet has a small festival. There were bumper cars and a few carnival games, but the main event was a big meal.
So last night, I got to practice my French a bit. Because the town is so small, everyone really knows everyone else, so Paul introduced me to quite a few people. A live band played, and people danced the Madison (which has become strangely popular in France).
For the first time, the food I couldn't handle. I don't like seafood. The mussels I tried because I'd had them in Ireland (with lots of garlic mind you) and enjoyed them. These ones just tasted like sea water. So I pecked at my chicken and rice and ate bread until the cheese and salad came. It was a small town get together, and it was fun.
More and more I find I like the slow the quietness of Provence. No one is in a big rush to be anywhere. Meals at Domaine de Crestet, for the most part, are eaten together. Evening tea (did I mention I was starting to like Green Tea a bit? Mission Accomplished). It's all so relaxing.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Table d’hôte
On Tuesdays, the market invades Vaison. The smell of fresh fruit, cooking food and baked bread fill the nostrils and keep you walking around. Other scents also invade the senses, as there are soap merchants and spice/herb sellers as well. I don’t get much pleasure from these scents, though, as I’m allergic to much of them. Despite that, I did purchase a bar of framboise (raspberry) scented soap from a shop.
It would be insanely easy to spend hours in the market; it’s huge. Everywhere you look; there are clothes or shoes, food or any number of other things being sold. It was a bit overwhelming, but I love to look at things. While wandering, I came across a place where people had puppies (I supposed they were selling them). I didn’t take a picture of the dogs, but I wanted to take the tiny, eager things home with me. I spent an hour and a half in the market, which doesn’t seem like much, but I’ll go again next week.
The way to Vaison seems to be uphill both ways at least that was how I felt while riding my bike. The roads here have bike lanes at the side of most of the road. I’m told cars still drive in them, so of course it is always important to be an aware biker. However, the presence of the lanes alone makes it safer than trying to ride your bike in the street back at home. I made it to Vaison and back and look forward to seeing where else I can go on my bike.
On Monday, I walked to the old village of Crestet. I seem to be only spending a short amount of time in places so far, but I enjoy my exploring. Crestet is a medieval town that people still inhabit. There are small car parks because, mostly, the residents can’t drive their cars into town. Go up the winding cobblestones and reach the top to find a panoramic view of the surrounding area with an illustration that details which of the mountains in the distance are which.
Yesterday, I discovered the pool. I’d known it was there the whole time, of course, but hadn’t ventured in yet. When I arrived, there was nobody else there. However, others followed shortly. In particular, I was greeted by JoAnne, and we talked while wading through the water. As a French teacher, she’s been to France many times over the years and has taken student groups as well. It was nice to hear that she likes to come in order to stay current on what it’s like in France. Things change so much in places over the years; staying current is important.
I’m being careful to remember sunscreen, but the sun still warms my skin. Who knows? Maybe I might actually be tan when I come back. (That’d be something, eh?)
Both Tuesday and Wednesday consisted of a great amount of cooking for the table d’hôte. Guests sign up for the table d’hôte just after arriving, and if there are enough people interested, a very large meal is cooked. Twenty-one people gathered last night, and everyone sits around one big table. Fantastic.
I love to cook, and there was so much to do. I helped peel mushrooms, apples and potatoes. On Tuesday, I tried to help with the onions, but I only managed to get a few. They were too strong; my eyes stung and watered to the point that I thought I might cut off my finger. My favourite thing to make (and they were sooo good) were the chocolate covered cherries. I’ve never liked cherries very much in my life, but the one’s I’ve eaten here are delicious (especially when covered in chocolate!). Cooking for twenty-one people is a big job, but it got done, and we set the table.
Once again I’ve experienced good food and good company. An amazing four course meal:
1st: Soup
Tomato Gazpacho with basil and cheese. (Soo Good!)
2nd: Main Dish
Beef cooked with onion, carrot, wine, olives among other things
Potatoes sliced thinly with cream and nutmeg
Veggies—peas, mushrooms etc.
3rd: Cheese
4th: Dessert
Raspberry-Apple Crumble
Chocolate covered Cherries
Vanilla Ice Cream
Of course there was also plenty of wine.
The whole night was so much fun. I sat next across from JoAnne and next to her husband. She’s lots of fun to talk to and very nice. It also helps that she’s from the States, and as such, speaks English. I’ll miss her when they leave on Saturday. It makes me a little bit sad that people come and only stay for a week at a time.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday Lunch
A hundred year old wagon sits outside the front door of Domaine Crestet. At one time, it was used to carry wine barrels into town. Now, it sits and looks pretty against the hills of the French countryside. What intrigues me most about the wagon are the two names that appear on either side of a small drawer underneath: Farrud Clovis and Louis Carle. Clovis was the proprietor of the wagon, and Carle’s name appears with the word ‘Forge,’ which likely makes him the blacksmith of the ironwork.
The wagon at Domaine Crestet is yellow, but there is a second, blue, wagon at another house that Paul and Miriam rent out. I haven’t looked to see if there are names on this one.
I love these wagons, and I’ve left my folder of writing on my external harddrive instead of remembering to put it on my new computer after the backup. This means I can’t work on any old projects and becomes the perfect opportunity to start a new one. I’ve been given two characters so far and somewhat of a setting; now I just need a story to write. What sort of life can I give to Louis Carle et Farrud Clovis?
It rained a bit on Thursday and Friday. I’m actually surprised that it has been colder than I thought it would be. There is a wind that blows in the area with a name that sounds like Mistral when Omi (Miriam’s mother) says it. The heat is also dry, which differs so significantly from Michigan’s constant humidity. I prefer the weather here as I’m not dripping wet every second of the day.
I haven’t explored much on my own. I’ve gone along with Paul and Miriam on errands, a nice way to see the surrounding area, and I get to help out. Saturday was cleaning day because there were people coming to the Olivier house, so I vacuumed and mopped the floors and helped to make the bed.
Being helpful is an easy trade off for the wonderful opportunity I have.
Saturday night welcomes the new and current guests to the villas. A welcome drink provides an opportunity for the different people to get to know their neighbors. One couple in particular had arrived from Pennsylvania. The woman, Joanne, enthusiastically greeted each person she met. I talked to her for awhile, since she spoke English (the other couples were German and Dutch, and they spoke some, but little, English). Joanne teaches French at a small college near her home. She excitedly offered to help me with my French and seemed overly enthused to be in the area. I liked her; it is important to be excited and open to meeting new people. I’m still a bit shy in that area, so I hope I will be able to see her again.
Sunday is Father’s Day in France as well as in the States, but the French also have a Sunday tradition, of which I learned today: LUNCH. It goes without saying that France and good food are like tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches—a perfect combination.
The amount of good food I have consumed in the last five days makes my regular meals at home look like bean paste. Maybe it’s because I’m somewhere new and it’s France, but even the simplest meals are beautiful and delicious.
But Sunday lunch is a big deal. In fact, the whole day is dedicated to it. We ate a very small breakfast this morning and had already started cooking for today’s meal yesterday. However, there was more to be done. I taught Miriam how to use a spoon to shell hard boiled eggs. Peeling eggs by hand works poorly for me, so I pulled out a spoon. Miriam liked the trick, and it’s interesting to see what sort of weird things you take for granted that other people just know. Stuffed (deviled) eggs were made by Fabienne (Paul and Miriam’s daughter) and me. Paul put a leg of lamb on the barbecue.
At twelve/twelve-thirty, the parents and sister of Fabienne’s boyfriend (who couldn’t make it) arrived. All eight of us sat in the courtyard to drink champagne and eat the eggs—lunch officially started.
I was thankful as we sat there when people spoke to me in English. I have been far too timid in my own use of French, and I’m sure it is probably rude of me. I say little sometimes because I’m not sure I’ll be able to form the words. I will have to make more of an effort.
Eventually, we moved to a larger table. We cleaned the small table of eggs and glasses and set the other for the larger meal. Pasta salad made the day before and freshly baked and bought baguettes sat between wine glasses, water pitchers, and plates. We helped ourselves to pasta and, soon, the lamb was done. Once again, the food is beautiful, simple and delicious.
Lunch turned into dessert and red wine into white. We ate a small chocolate cake and a raspberry dessert that I can only (unfairly) compare to the blueberry/strawberry dessert people make for the fourth of July with Cool Whip. Then back to the small table for coffee (or, in my case, water) and a bit of the chocolate Paul received for Father’s Day.
I said we started around 1:00PM, right?
Well, it wasn’t over until 6:00PM.
Five hours of good food and good company as a Sunday tradition. Beautiful. We need to start doing this at home.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Windmills in the Water and Mowing the Lawn
I’m crap on planes. They make me nauseous, and nothing productive gets done. The actual traveling part of going abroad, or going anywhere really, has proven itself time and time again to be my least favourite.
For my flight from Grand Rapids to Marseilles, I was required to take a commuter plane from Grand Rapids to Detroit, a commercial jet to Amsterdam and another commuter into Marseilles, where I was greeted by Paul and Miriam. Small commuter planes are the worst, and I spent most of those flights with my eyes closed or my head on my knees. Normally the larger planes are better.
Not this one.
Much of the eight hour flight was spent praying that I wouldn’t throw up and about five minutes thinking I was really going to. Almost all of the flight attendants recognized me by the end of the flight. The most fortunate thing about the flight to Amsterdam is that I had no one sitting beside me. The unaccompanied minor who originally occupied the seat was moved so that he might sit by himself. Where the kid was moved to, I’m not sure, but it meant I got to lay down a bit when I got tired instead of having to sleep awkwardly while sitting straight. While no one ever sleeps fantastically on an airplane, I probably received a much better night of sleep and more than I would have otherwise.
Despite my issues of motion sickness, one of my favourite things about flying is being able to look out the window and see the world below. My heart nearly skipped a beat when the pilot said we would be flying over Shannon airport (Which is the airport I flew into when I went to Ireland). I probably wasn’t awake for that portion of the flight though.
Flying into Amsterdam was beautiful though. As we flew over the water, I noticed that beside the boats there were small fields of wind turbines. It’s nice to see clean energy sources being utilized. I’ve often thought it would be a good idea to put turbines out in Lake Michigan. Lots of people think they’re ugly; I don’t mind them. However, putting them out in the lake would mean no one has to look at them. Plus, it’s windier out there anyway.
Thursday marks my second day in Crestet which is near Vaison La Romaine. My journey from Grand Rapids to Marseilles was long, but it is surprising that I am not more jet lagged. I arrived yesterday at 12:20 local time and then it was a ninety minute drive back into Vaison.
The French countryside here is amazing. Hills and mountains creep up toward the sky with old villages nestled into the rock. It’s right in the middle of wine country, so grapes grow in Provence like corn does in Michigan. Everywhere you turn there’s a vineyard. However, I think grape vines are more aesthetically pleasing than corn is, so I don’t mind.
Yesterday is sort of a blur; however, lunch consisted of bread from the boulangerie. I had pain au chocolat for lunch yesterday and again for breakfast this morning. It’s flaky and delicious, and I think you can get it sometimes at Schulers at home, though I’m sure it isn’t the same.
There was a lot of touring the house, meeting the dogs (whose names I can’t remember at the moment or even know how to type), and settling in my room. I managed to stay up until eleven without much effort, but when I did go to sleep, I fell asleep quickly and slept until almost nine am local time. I’ll try to start getting up earlier tomorrow.
After breakfast this morning, Paul, Miriam and I headed into Vaison la Romaine. Paul had a few errands to run and so I got to walk around town for about an hour. There are quite a few shops as well as places to get ice cream or chocolat, and of course, restaurants. I only recognized a small part of the town from the time I spent here with my family when I was eleven. It will be nice to maybe go to the market next week.
Today, I was put to work and started helping out around the house. Paul has hurt his left hand and can’t do many things that require both hands, such as driving or in this case, pushing a lawn mower. So it was my job to mow the lawn. Which, of course, I was happy to do.
Man was it hard. Their mower is electric to start and very hard to push. The main lawn was easy as it simply consisted of grass. However, there is a patch that they mow near the vineyard which largely consists of very tall weeds. Pushing the mower through that was certainly a workout.
I’ve gotten quite a bit sun already, but I’ve been given a bottle of sunscreen, which I must remember to wear religiously. It’s hot here in Crestet and the sun is constant.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Ticket to Ride
It's Official.
I bought my ticket to France Tuesday morning. The whole trip has seemed like one big maybe up until this moment. Now I'm committed to going--in just two weeks.
Next step, packing my bags.
My plane leaves on June 14th; I'll return on August 1st, with just enough time to get myself ready for my very last year at GVSU. Everything seems like a whirlwind, and I'm hitting that point where I'm wondering where the hell the last few years of my life have gone. The final stretch has begun.
This trip to France has offered me the wonderful opportunity to work toward a distinction in writing, which I was told about this last fall. I was told that most people start it in their sophomore year at Grand Valley, but as it would be, I'd already worked my way through half of it.
I told myself when I came to Grand Valley to study writing that I would do as many writing related activities as I felt I could handle. That was the whole purpose of coming to GVSU--writing.
I've had my ups and downs over the last three years, but I'm hoping this trip proves to be a productive one.
The writing across cultures aspect of the distinction in writing interested me greatly especially after having spent five months in Ireland at the end of my senior year of high school. I knew I wanted to go abroad, but none of the study abroad programs appealed to me.
Well, all the distinction says under study abroad is that you have to keep a journal/blog about what you've learned and where you've traveled. Any credits I'd earn on a study abroad trip would be empty credits--they wouldn't be going toward anything except the distinction and just be free electives.
I was told I could just go for six weeks and keep my blog--make it about writing. So that's what I'm doing.
I've been offered room and board through a Rotary connection my dad made while in France for a wine festival in March (To learn more about what Rotary is and the wonderful work they do, please visit www.rotary.org). In exchange, I'll help out a few days a week with the villa's (on a vineyard!) the couple rents to tourists. It's a fantastic opportunity, and I'm extremely grateful and excited to have it.
I've added a donation button to my blog if you would like to help me recoup some of the cost of my trip (as I'd like to still be able to buy books come the beginning of Fall semester. You know the whole poor college student shtick). Immense gratitude would be sent to anyone who gives me just $1 (I don't expect you to go broke either) and sends this along to other people.
Here's to an awesome summer!
I bought my ticket to France Tuesday morning. The whole trip has seemed like one big maybe up until this moment. Now I'm committed to going--in just two weeks.
Next step, packing my bags.
My plane leaves on June 14th; I'll return on August 1st, with just enough time to get myself ready for my very last year at GVSU. Everything seems like a whirlwind, and I'm hitting that point where I'm wondering where the hell the last few years of my life have gone. The final stretch has begun.
This trip to France has offered me the wonderful opportunity to work toward a distinction in writing, which I was told about this last fall. I was told that most people start it in their sophomore year at Grand Valley, but as it would be, I'd already worked my way through half of it.
I told myself when I came to Grand Valley to study writing that I would do as many writing related activities as I felt I could handle. That was the whole purpose of coming to GVSU--writing.
I've had my ups and downs over the last three years, but I'm hoping this trip proves to be a productive one.
The writing across cultures aspect of the distinction in writing interested me greatly especially after having spent five months in Ireland at the end of my senior year of high school. I knew I wanted to go abroad, but none of the study abroad programs appealed to me.
Well, all the distinction says under study abroad is that you have to keep a journal/blog about what you've learned and where you've traveled. Any credits I'd earn on a study abroad trip would be empty credits--they wouldn't be going toward anything except the distinction and just be free electives.
I was told I could just go for six weeks and keep my blog--make it about writing. So that's what I'm doing.
I've been offered room and board through a Rotary connection my dad made while in France for a wine festival in March (To learn more about what Rotary is and the wonderful work they do, please visit www.rotary.org). In exchange, I'll help out a few days a week with the villa's (on a vineyard!) the couple rents to tourists. It's a fantastic opportunity, and I'm extremely grateful and excited to have it.
I've added a donation button to my blog if you would like to help me recoup some of the cost of my trip (as I'd like to still be able to buy books come the beginning of Fall semester. You know the whole poor college student shtick). Immense gratitude would be sent to anyone who gives me just $1 (I don't expect you to go broke either) and sends this along to other people.
Here's to an awesome summer!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Two Weeks Gone
I've been trying to write this blog post since about a week ago, but things (as well as laziness) appear to have gotten in the way. Things are certainly picking up what with work starting this last week. Much of my homework involves reading, something I still haven't gotten completely used to it would seem. However, I'll just have to get used to it because besides writing and a project for my Creativity class, that's all my homework is all semester. Sounds nice doesn't it?
All of my classes seem pretty awesome so far, with maybe the exception being Art History. As cool as I think learning about dead guys who painted and sculpted amazing things, the class is boring. I am not a 'take notes on what the professor is saying' sort of person. I feel like I can't internalize anything she's saying as I'm scrambling to write it down (this isn't the prof's fault either. She's actually pretty cool-ethereal almost. She literally glides. No joke). Not to mention the room is cold, and I've been sick this past week. This combination as does not promote learning either.
What I do like about all of my other classes in comparison to Art History is that we get to talk about things. Two English classes (World Lit and Studies in Drama) promote discussion and deep thought about the text. Creativity, well this class is honestly just weird at the moment. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be taking out of it quite yet. Our end goal in class is a final project (everything we turn in is related to that project). We're supposed to do something we've never done before that is still, in some way, related to our hobbies and interests. On top of that we're meant to contemplate this idea of transcendence, social change etc. Our projects are, understandably, meant to have a purpose behind them, but I don't entirely know what I have to transcend in my life.
Winter is in full swing this weekend with it being -2 degrees this morning according to Google. There's well over a foot of snow on the ground and as much as I should take out the trash and do the laundry today (note, this was written on Sunday. I did get my laundry done)...I really don't want to trudge through it. The snow is not conducive to the various chores I need to get done.
Today is now Monday, and I should be leaving for class soon, but don't particularly want to. Walking through the snow isn't (as I've said) the funniest thing in the world to do. However, I've got three classes on Monday, two of which I actually enjoy going to.
That being said, I think I'll put on my boots and finish putting my bag together.
Happy Day.
All of my classes seem pretty awesome so far, with maybe the exception being Art History. As cool as I think learning about dead guys who painted and sculpted amazing things, the class is boring. I am not a 'take notes on what the professor is saying' sort of person. I feel like I can't internalize anything she's saying as I'm scrambling to write it down (this isn't the prof's fault either. She's actually pretty cool-ethereal almost. She literally glides. No joke). Not to mention the room is cold, and I've been sick this past week. This combination as does not promote learning either.
What I do like about all of my other classes in comparison to Art History is that we get to talk about things. Two English classes (World Lit and Studies in Drama) promote discussion and deep thought about the text. Creativity, well this class is honestly just weird at the moment. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be taking out of it quite yet. Our end goal in class is a final project (everything we turn in is related to that project). We're supposed to do something we've never done before that is still, in some way, related to our hobbies and interests. On top of that we're meant to contemplate this idea of transcendence, social change etc. Our projects are, understandably, meant to have a purpose behind them, but I don't entirely know what I have to transcend in my life.
Winter is in full swing this weekend with it being -2 degrees this morning according to Google. There's well over a foot of snow on the ground and as much as I should take out the trash and do the laundry today (note, this was written on Sunday. I did get my laundry done)...I really don't want to trudge through it. The snow is not conducive to the various chores I need to get done.
Today is now Monday, and I should be leaving for class soon, but don't particularly want to. Walking through the snow isn't (as I've said) the funniest thing in the world to do. However, I've got three classes on Monday, two of which I actually enjoy going to.
That being said, I think I'll put on my boots and finish putting my bag together.
Happy Day.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
New Years and Nostalgia
It's a bit late, but Happy New Year.
Winter semester starts tomorrow, and I am officially back on campus as per yesterday. It always seems awkward to me moving in between campus and home--packing up all of my stuff into the van and staying in my room at home which is now home to wintering plants and an unused exercise stepper. I enjoy coming home and spending the break with my parents; however, it is during these times that I also wish I had my own apartment (and a license for that matter), so that I might have some sense of permanence.
Either way, I am excited for the beginning of a new semester and, with it, new classes to explore. The prospect of not having art for six hours a week fills me with a sense of joy and the hopes of more free time and maybe a few more work hours as well. But the first week of class is always an interesting one that almost makes me nervous. With no work and few assignments this early on, I am left with an ungodly amount of time on my hands, which I am always at a loss to deal with. I can't settle into a schedule during this week and for that reason, this week unnerves me. But a schedule will come eventually, and, I am sure, this semester will be over all too soon and, with it, my Junior year at GVSU.
Despite the apparently rapid forthcoming of my senior year of college and the excitement that should come with that, I have been desperately nostalgic for years past in the last few days. A friend of mine, who is a professor at a different school, is once again one of the faculty on a study abroad trip to Tully Cross, Ireland. I was fortunate to be invited along on this trip three years ago when my aunt, also a professor, asked me if I wanted to come. I graduated early from high school, forgoing the 'traditional' senior year and swapping it with four months on the Renvyle Peninsula.
There are just some places that you fall in love with, and Tully Cross was one of them. I get sentimental from time to time when I look the pictures and other scraps of adventure I brought back with me. I even fancied returning on the trip, this time as an actual student, for about a month. I only dropped the idea at the prospect of being apart from everyone for another four months, and that it would set my graduation from school back a whole semester. However, conversing with her through email and reading her own blog of adventures has made my heart ache for Ireland. I was extremely touched to hear that Brian, a local shop owner and sweet, old guy, had asked about me. I miss him and the other people in town, who must only have it worse than students like me. Every year, for the last 38 or so years, a new group of students comes and goes. I'll go back. Maybe I can make it a graduation trip.
I need to finish putting away my things and cleaning the things I left dirty before I left. Tomorrow, I head out to my first three classes of the semester and, probably, the bookstore. I still have a few more books to acquire. Why do they have to be so damned expensive?
Here's to a great semester.
Winter semester starts tomorrow, and I am officially back on campus as per yesterday. It always seems awkward to me moving in between campus and home--packing up all of my stuff into the van and staying in my room at home which is now home to wintering plants and an unused exercise stepper. I enjoy coming home and spending the break with my parents; however, it is during these times that I also wish I had my own apartment (and a license for that matter), so that I might have some sense of permanence.
Either way, I am excited for the beginning of a new semester and, with it, new classes to explore. The prospect of not having art for six hours a week fills me with a sense of joy and the hopes of more free time and maybe a few more work hours as well. But the first week of class is always an interesting one that almost makes me nervous. With no work and few assignments this early on, I am left with an ungodly amount of time on my hands, which I am always at a loss to deal with. I can't settle into a schedule during this week and for that reason, this week unnerves me. But a schedule will come eventually, and, I am sure, this semester will be over all too soon and, with it, my Junior year at GVSU.
Despite the apparently rapid forthcoming of my senior year of college and the excitement that should come with that, I have been desperately nostalgic for years past in the last few days. A friend of mine, who is a professor at a different school, is once again one of the faculty on a study abroad trip to Tully Cross, Ireland. I was fortunate to be invited along on this trip three years ago when my aunt, also a professor, asked me if I wanted to come. I graduated early from high school, forgoing the 'traditional' senior year and swapping it with four months on the Renvyle Peninsula.
There are just some places that you fall in love with, and Tully Cross was one of them. I get sentimental from time to time when I look the pictures and other scraps of adventure I brought back with me. I even fancied returning on the trip, this time as an actual student, for about a month. I only dropped the idea at the prospect of being apart from everyone for another four months, and that it would set my graduation from school back a whole semester. However, conversing with her through email and reading her own blog of adventures has made my heart ache for Ireland. I was extremely touched to hear that Brian, a local shop owner and sweet, old guy, had asked about me. I miss him and the other people in town, who must only have it worse than students like me. Every year, for the last 38 or so years, a new group of students comes and goes. I'll go back. Maybe I can make it a graduation trip.
I need to finish putting away my things and cleaning the things I left dirty before I left. Tomorrow, I head out to my first three classes of the semester and, probably, the bookstore. I still have a few more books to acquire. Why do they have to be so damned expensive?
Here's to a great semester.
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