Very Frustrated With Myself

Never mind.

Everything I posted here earlier? Not true.

I forgot that there is such a thing as an exchange rate.

The Zen of X

One of the things I like about travelling alone is the fact that I can notice more and absorb more than I would if I were with a friend.

My way of bringing someone along is to blog. In travelling alone and blogging about it, I feel like I kind of have the best of both worlds: experiencing what I see and then sharing it with friends. However, there are drawbacks to blogging as well. Sometimes I find myself experiencing my surroundings as a writer and, rather than a direct experience of the event, I am experiencing the event as if I am writing about it and hearing my own running commentary. But then, come to think of it, this may not be all that different from most everybody else. How many people actually have direct and immediate experiences without attending thoughts about what they are experiencing?

I'm not saying this is a bad thing, but the "ideal" situation I think would be to have a direct experience of the event and then re-create the event in words from memory.

Whatever.

When hearing Mozart's music, the emperor uttered: "too many notes" (Amadeus). I have found that comment to be the most hilarious thing, but have not, as yet, found anyone who shares my sentiment. I also think my paraphrase is pretty funny: "too many words." That being said, today I am taking a break from blogging. I am just absorbing and relaxing and trying to have the equivalent of a meditative travel experience, if you will — the Zen of Aix ("X").

And now, to remind myself to "keep a green bough….."

If you keep a green bough in your heart,

surely the singing bird will come.
(Chinese proverb — as per Shalem Institute's Facebook post today.)

In Aix

Well, I have made it to Aix-en-Provence, despite various complications which are too tedious to mention, and which I am too pooped to describe.

My accommodations in the B+B are not as I pictured them. I knew it was a very, very old building; however, the photos on the Internet gave quite a different impression, and upon my arrival I felt a little disappointed; however, the young proprietress is friendly, my bed is comfortable (tested it out), and I have a very nice bathroom with a tub. Also, the salon opens out onto a lovely enclosed garden space — a haven of peace and quiet. In addition, there is wifi, tea/coffee available anytime during the day, and a small fridge I can use (which is not in my room, so no disturbance there).

I told her that I may shorten my stay (from six nights to four), and by Monday I can tell her if I want to do this without being charged. I'll just see how it goes for the next couple of days.  I'm glad I told her this, since this allows me some options, should I desire to leave sooner. In the meantime, I have a lovely sense of complete freedom. She gave me my own code to use in order to enter the building, and I have my own key to my chambers inside, so I can come and go as I please and not have to see a soul (although there doesn't seem to be other souls here). This, too, could get old after a while, but, after the last three weeks, I think I'll really enjoy having "my own" place.

The suitcase and backpack are unpacked and now it's just me and my little Baggallini, carrying only my bank card, some cash, my tiny rented cellphone, and my room key (I don't even feel like carrying my camera).This will be wonderful, not having to lug around my backpack for a few days. Just knowing this makes me feel better already.

And, ooh la la! I just climbed the tiny stairs up to the nook where my bed is situated and logged on to Netflix. If the first few minutes are any indication, it appears as if the connection is strong enough for me to watch some movies in bed. Hallelujah baby! I'll be testing that out tonight.

In the meantime, I'm going to take a stroll, find the Tourist Center for info on what to see and do, get some food, and then come home and soak in a hot tub and slather some ointment on my back and shoulders. Then, some movies. (And if that ends up not working out, I am really enjoying my vacation read: The Secret History by Donna Tartt.)

This situation could bode ill for the blog. I may not have enough to photo and post about. Well, them's the breaks. I'm now officially on my rest-cure.

————————————

Walked around town, or rather, dragged myself around town, feeling as if each bone in my body was more tired than the other. I was so very hungry, but, upon checking with a restaurant, found they weren't serving dinner until 6:30, and it was only 5 pm. I found a bar that served food and went inside (since smoking is allowed at outdoor cafes). I enjoyed watching the slim, quick-moving waiters, moving with precision and grace as they swirled around each other in the tiny, enclosed space, expertly managing the small trays loaded with drinks, not spilling a drop, as they totalled up and printed up bills from the computer screen, cracked a joke, or kissed new waiters hello as they came on shift, or goodbye as they left. (How is it that the French can even make waiting tables look like an art?) I had some moules a la moulinier and a Heinekin; and after the beer came home in a bit of a happy haze and ate an entire (small) box of petit-fours from a local patisserie, while soaking in the most wonderful hot bath. Then relaxed on my bed (SO more comfortable than my bed in Montpellier) and watched a movie.

Now to do some reading and sleeping.

Very sorry to be missing a family get-together in Southern Illinois today. It's always a good time. Happy 65th Anniversary, Aunt Delores and Uncle Richard!

Au Revoir, Montpellier

I had a great night's sleep last night. Ooh la la, what a difference. This morning, at school, I had to complete a written evaluation of the school and of my living accommodations. I spoke very positively about the teacher and the class, and, regarding the latter, I simply said that my hostess was a very conscientious housekeeper and very good cook, and that the apartment was very convenient for using the tram.

I felt a bit of sentimentality, receiving my "diploma," saying goodbye to Christian, and making my way down the ancient, winding stairs for the last time. Once I reached the Place de la Comedie, and heard my old friend playing his classical guitar, I decided to sit at one of the open-air cafes and have a salad avec chèvre chaud. Under a deep blue sky, the huge, open plaza was filled with people, bright, warm sunshine, and the sounds of his melancholy guitar. I felt very happy and content — happy to have successfully navigated this, the first 21 of 36 days of my journey, and sentimental about this being my last day in Montpellier.

I leave tomorrow morning (Saturday) on the 9:13 train for Marseilles, where I will change trains for Aix.

Au revoir, Montpellier!

Leaving the Galleries Lafayette (a large shopping centre) and entering the Antigone — a large area adjacent to the old city, full of large plazas and fountains, and home of government offices, apartments, schools, restaurants, etc.

A restaurant (or two or three) in the Antigone. Continuing on for quite a ways, one reaches the bibliotheque.

If one walks through the entire Antigone, one comes to the Place de l'Europe.

Place de l'Europe
The statue is a replica of the Winged Victory of Samothrace (circa 220-185 BC)
I'll have to look up the original when I visit the Louvre

Happy at the Thought of Moving On

Today Ananda and I went to the Brazilian restaurant we had seen last week and we had a fabulous meal. I wish I had written down what I ate! I do know that I had chicken, lamb, and beef! When my plate was brought to the table it had chicken, along with all of the accompanying food. A few minutes later, the waiter brought out the lamb, and a few minutes after that, he brought out the beef. All was served as pictured below.

Yesterday I said that I would try to post photos of the other parts of town. But, guess what? I just didn't feel like taking a lot of photos today. The experience here has been wonderful; however, I'm really ready to move on to my "vacation from my vacation."

The entrance to Jacqueline's apartment is off a large plaza adjacent to the Hotel de Ville. This part of the city has large, wide boulevards and beautiful large buildings and has an air of openness and freedom about it. Here is a photo of the back of the HdV:

Today's pilgrimage was, once again, to the English-language bookstore, where I had a cup of tea and bought my reading material for my rest-cure in Aix (LOL). ("The Secret History" by Donna Tartt) 

I'm going to miss this charming little place.
Le Bookshop, along with the bibliotheque, have been two places where I've been the most comfortable

http://lebookshop.jimdo.com

LISTS — in the making

EVERYTHING I LIKE

• Traveling with one suitcase.
• Not buying a lot of stuff.
• Being able to learn and to grow
• Feeling confident, overall
• People — being happy to be a part of the human race
• Being able to live simply in one room, knowing exactly where everything is
• The fact that everything on my "don't like" list is temporary and relatively minor 
• The thought of moving on to the next stage of the journey

EVERYTHING I DON'T LIKE
Getting up with an alarm clock every morning, especially after nights of difficult sleep; my little bed, which is not all that comfortable; having to eat whatever it is that is placed in front of me; gaining weight; having to carry everything I need in my backpack; aching shoulders; stairs that make me dizzy; being on tenterhooks with Jacqueline; having to wait for heavy traffic to pass while observing the tram's arrival in the morning; having to run an entire block to catch the tram; having the tram leave, just as I begin to press the button to open its doors; irregular bathroom habits and never knowing when or where a toilette may be available; struggling with coins to enter said bathroom; the water, therefore not drinking enough water; having to ask for everything (is there any toilet paper?); missing comfort — sitting in my armchair and watching tv (the Cubs!); having an easy conversation with a friend…..

PACKING (for my own future reference)

What I wasn't sure of, but now am glad I brought:                                                                 

• My travel yoga mat (although it's a "travel" mat, it's still about 13x13x4 - NOT terribly small, and space is limited and precious; however, this was a good decision. No way I would be doing yoga on this hard, marble surface in my room without it.)

What I brought and wish I hadn't: 

• The second pair of shoes. (I was worried about my plantar fasciitis, and so brought two really good pairs of shoes. However, I have had no foot problems and that extra pair of shoes is taking up a lot of space. Even if I had foot problems, not sure what problem a second pair would solve.) Note to self: my good pair of Clark's and one pair of Crocs is all I needed.         
• My good prescription sunglasses.  I've worn them to protect my eyes; however, even though it's sunny here, I'm not experiencing the mac.degeneration symptoms brought on by sunlight (YAY) and, besides, I keep forgetting them (and don't really want the extra weight in my backpack).                                                                                                                                    
• My beach towel and shirt for the beach (didn't use; going to ditch them) and my guidebook for Cathar country, which I won't use, since I'm not going there (but will keep).

What I wish I had brought:                                                                                                        

• The right adaptor for appliances and the right camera battery charger!!!
• A bigger purse. I HATE carrying purses and for the last few months have mostly relied on my little baggallini, which is what I brought with me (and which is big enough for my money, cellphone, and camera without its case, but nothing else).                                                          
• A coin purse (had to buy one for all those Euro coins. (My baggallini has a coin section, so don't need a coin purse when I use it; however, when I lug my backpack around - 90% of the time so far, there is no place to put my coins.)                                                                                 
• My driver's license. I debated about this at home and decided NO; however, there's places one can't get to without a car. SO? I will simply go to places that one CAN get to without a car, and leave the driving to someone else. Besides, I enjoy taking the train! 

A Little Tour of Montpellier

The day began, as it sometimes does, in a very difficult manner. I awakened in the middle of the night and could not go back to sleep for some time. It was almost painful to get going, and, in class, I really struggled as well. However, after I had my morning cup of espresso from the little machine at school (something I never drink at home, but here, everyday), I began to feel better. I brought my camera with me, to document some of the city with photos.  By this afternoon, despite being tired, I had a sense of freedom and happiness as I explored parts of the city I had never seen before.

The doors to the building that houses Ecole Klesse

One must navigate several flights of stairs to the fourth floor. Coming down, I find these stairs very disorienting.
Twice I've caught my shoe on the edge of the stair, but, fortunately, managed to keep from tumbling down. 

After class, as usual, I walked the one block to the Place de la Comedie and took a shot of the opera house (at the far end) and the large, central plaza, which is the heart of the town. But, instead of heading in the direction of the Polygone for lunch at Flunch, I turned left (to the right, in this photo) and walked north.

Place de la Comedie, where I have sat at an outdoor cafe for lunch once or twice.

I walked along the long, broad Esplanade Charles de Gaulle, and, winding left at the end, I came out onto the street that bordered the old city to the north. I ambled along the old streets and, coming upon Monsolopasta (Trattoria Siciliana), with a sign "slow food" on the door, I entered. It was a two-person operation: a tall, muscular young man managed the bar and took and served orders, while an older woman cooked. I had a delicious dish of spinach ravioli with a tomato sauce and sat there for quite some time, waiting for my bill, as the young man was also the pastry chef as well, filling pastry bags with cream and loading up the cannelloni. Although I was tempted, I passed on dessert and resumed my walk.

Espace Martin Luther King (across from the restaurant)

One of the old gates into the city (to the left is the Couvent des Ursulines, built in 1641,
later turned into a prison for women during the Revolution.
Now is a home for various forms of the arts.

I ambled along old, winding streets, people-watching and taking photos.

Cathedral St. Pierre. Pope Urban V, a former student of Montpellier, had a monastery and church built in 1364,
later to become the Saint-Pierre Cathedral in 1536. 

One of the towers of Saint-Pierre

I was now on the western edge of the quarter, and making my way south, to the Arc de Triomphe and the Roman aqueduct. 

One of the many gardens in Montpellier.
(In many little quarters there are small gardens tucked away. This garden is larger than most.)

L'Arc de Triomphe de Montpellier.
I have been taking photo after photo, trying to get the perfect shot of the French flag and voila!

At the aqueduct, I was trying to take a selfie, and a middle-aged man came up and volunteered to take my photo. I looked at the photo (and even though it was not "blog-worthy") I thanked him and said "perfect!" He replied "Vous etes parfaite, madame!" What a lovely thing for him to say — a kind word from a stranger that did my heart good.

From this point I walked back to one of my favourite spots: Le Bookshop, the English-language bookstore, and learned that I can return books I purchased there for credit. I sat in a comfortable chair and had a scone with jam and cream, English-style, along with some hot tea. (Needless to say, my dietary habits have completely changed here. In addition to coffee everyday, I have a croissant or bread every day — I never eat/drink these things at home!) Anyway, the scone was delish and I felt so comfortable there. I will return tomorrow, and return my current books for a credit for a new book (and will also take a photo of the place). On my way to the tram, I passed a group of musicians who were making very lively, happy music. 

Montpellier is a large city, with many sectors. It is a very rich city, filled with beautiful homes, and it is growing out in all directions. Tomorrow I'm hoping for another beautiful day so I can take some shots of Antigone (a beautiful area near the old ville), and of the area surrounding the apartment where I live (which is very, very modern). 

Une catastrophe

I just arrived at home to find that, earlier this afternoon, the beautiful, modern, black glass kitchen cabinets in Jacqueline's kitchen had crashed to the floor. The cabinets broke loose from their moorings on the wall and, when I entered the apartment a couple of minutes ago, there she was, sweeping up buckets full of broken glass and porcelain. She told me that, just a few minutes prior to the crash, she had been standing in the kitchen, preparing her lunch. As soon as she sat down at the table in the dining area adjacent to the kitchen, everything crashed to the floor. Had she been there a few minutes later, she said, I would have come home to find her dead.

She said something about a sandwich for dinner, and when I said that I would get my own dinner, she held up a bag. No, no! I have bought two sandwiches! Here she is, in the midst of an unbelievable mess and the first thing she does is to go and get me a sandwich so that I won't go without dinner. I almost wanted to cry.

In other news, in our class we are now three students. In addition to Ananda and myself, we now have Margot, a very pretty and very smart high school sophomore from Oregon, who is here with her mother, a professor of French, who is on sabbatical.

After class I had my usual $6 lunch at Flunch, then went to Sauramps, the huge bookstore, and found a French grammar book and accompanying pronunciation book and CD. I'm going to work through the book during the six days I'm in Aix. Then, to the bibliotheque (mediatheque) to do some studying in my new grammar workbook. And finally, home, to discover the horrible mess.

My bed and yoga mat

The desk, upon which I am writing this

The little balcony outside my room

This evening, Jacqueline's friend, Martine, dropped of a casserole for our dinner. Jacqueline was most grateful.

Well, that's all the news that's fit to print.

A demain!

A Mozart Opera in Paris? ooh la la!!

When I am in Paris, I am really hoping to go to the Palais Garnier (the grand opera house) and to see Don Giovanni; however the tickets are about 150E each and I am not paying that.

A random search resulted in finding this great little website, Paris Cheapskate, according to which, one can stand in line the day of the performance and get tickets for as cheap as $10. Most definitely going to try that!!!

http://www.parischeapskate.com/2013/11/cheap-paris-opera-tickets.html

Excited at the prospect! (and going to check out her other tips as well)

Monday ended up not being too bad, after all.

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day….

Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Oh, Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be.

Don't mind me, sitting here, using free wifi ("wee fee") at the restaurant, after having a good salad for lunch after class.

It's just Monday and I'm having little patience with everyone — myself included. It seems as if, rather than progressing in French, that I am regressing. Don't get me wrong, I love my teacher. He is a wonderful teacher and a very kind human being with a sense of humour. I really, really like him a lot. And what he does, he does very, very well. But, as I've explained before, the teaching here is so different from what I'm used to. For example, last week we spent three days on the past tense. THREE DAYS! — two days on verbs used with "avoir" and one day on verbs with "etre." Anyone who knows anything about French verbs knows how impossible it would be to absorb everything, especially since one has not had time to learn the conjugations in the present tense! Our lessons consist of Christian giving an explanation in French and us taking notes, and then a sheet of examples for us to complete for practice and then, voila! We are done with that and then we move on to learning about vocabulary words related to housing, for example. My problem is that I'm so pooped after class that I don't have the energy to practice on my own. If I would take the lesson of the day and practice in my notebook I could absorb at least a bit more. 

We do have a lot of conversation in class, and Jacqueline has noticed that I understand much more of her conversation than when I first arrived; however, I have not improved my capability to speak. To tell the truth, I feel I could speak more prior to when I arrived than I can now. I think my brain just feels completely bombarded. As I stated the other day, I am having problems remembering words in English. And when Christian asks what I did yesterday afternoon after class, sometimes I have to work to remember that. 

It seems to me that the system here, designed as it is, is intended to give as much of an overview as possible and that individual students simply need to practice on their own. In addition, since students can come for as many weeks as they wish, each week needs to be self-contained (and each day seems to be self-contained as well). Ecole Klesse (my school) is considered one of the better schools and it is a testing site for the Cambridge English exams so….

I think the true test for me will be when I have completed this course and continue on my own. I do believe this course will definitely prove to be an advantage overall. I'm going to check out French classes at Black Hawk and WIU, and am considering signing up for one this coming January. THEN we shall see just how beneficial it has been.

It may come as no surprise when I say that living in Jacqueline's apartment is also beginning to wear on my nerves. This morning, for example. No, never mind. I'm just going to leave that here and move on.

Last evening, when I told Jacqueline of the plans I had made to stay in Aix-En-Provence for six days she looked at me with a bit of exasperation. But why, she wanted to know? Why not three days in Aix and then three days in Avignon? She was concerned that I would not have enough to do. After our conversation I began to doubt my plan; however, I'm going to stick to it. I just found out, for example, that Avignon is less than a half hour away by train. So, why would I have to stay in Avignon, when I can just visit without having to pack my bags and move? Marseille is also just a few minutes away, and there are other cities/towns in the region that I can visit by bus or train.

I think she has very little comprehension of what this experience is like for me. I mean, she certainly understands what it is to be tired, since she has worse sleeping problems than I do, but when it comes to travel experiences. . .  Take yesterday, for example. She was saying what a beautiful day it was and that it would be a good day for me to visit Carcassonne. She reiterated this with emphasis two or three times; however, all I could manage was taking a quick tram ride to Flunch for a salad for lunch, then a bit of a walk around town, and then back home, where I did internet searching to make plans for the next leg of my journey. Even just the thought of getting on a train and walking around Carcassonne was almost more than I could bear yesterday (despite the fact that Carcassonne had been on my "must-do" list. Maybe I'll see it another time 'round).

Yesterday I found and made reservations to stay in a lovely B+B in an old house in Aix-En-Provence, with an enclosed garden. The photos look lovely; one comment said the breakfast was fantastic (yay), and the description of the proprietors indicated that they were very pleasant (yay, oh yay).

So, I've decided that I'll certainly do some sight-seeing in/around Aix; however, I'm going to the English-language bookstore here and finding a long novel. I'll have slow days of doing some centering, some yoga, some walking and reading. I'll also attempt to spend some time practicing French. And, if the establishment has a GOOD internet connection, I'll pull up Netflix and watch some movies. In other words, I'm going to really take it slow. And I'm not going to apologise to anyone, not even Jacqueline, for this choice.  ;-)

Slow day, need to make plans

9:50 a.m.
Just had une petite dejeuner (breakfast) with Jacqueline. She found it amusing the other night when I was explaining that I usually have une grande petite dejeuner. She also finds it interesting that I usually have un oeuf a la coc (a boiled egg) and when I first arrived she looked through all her cupboards and managed to retrieve one little crystal glass egg cup. A few nights ago she told me with glee that, when she went shopping for another egg cup for me, all she could find were cups with Mickee Mouse et Batman, since, (according to her) in France, only children eat their eggs this way.

She was in good spirits this morning. We each shared our horror stories of being awake Friday night. She said it was because of the change in the moon.

I know I'm leaving here on Saturday, but I do not, as yet, know where I am going. I wish I had not expressed this to Jacqueline at breakfast today, because it occasioned quite long and complicated interchanges, most of which I did not understand. It involved moving bowls around the table to show me the locations of various cities, and when I told her of my desire to go to Carcassonne (further west) for a couple of days, and then to travel to Aix-en-Provence (quite a bit of distance back to the east) for a couple of days (and then up to Lyon and, finally Paris), she was wagging her finger with a "non-non" and an explanation as to why this was a very bad idea. I couldn't quite figure out why. I think she was saying I should choose one direction or the other. But one thing was very clear: "Samedi, la porte est ferme a dix heure."

So, by 10 a.m. Saturday I must be on the other side of the door. Therefore, I am going to begin to plan where it is I am going once that door is ferme.

Il pleut ici

Il pleut ici. Cats and dogs. In torrents.

9 a.m.
I had THE most dreadful night of sleep last night. Awake most of the night and feeling quite wound up, as if I was having withdrawal from drugs (without having taken said drugs), and wrestling with some emotional angst, and feeling a bit desperate. Today, I just need to make it through the day. This morning Jacqueline put my breakfast on the table and sat and ate hers without a word being spoken. She, too, was up and down last night. We are now each in our respective chambers. It is now raining in torrents and I'm wondering what I will do for lunch. (She is only obligated to provide me with breakfast and dinner.) This is one of those days where I feel like I'm on tenterhooks with her. I just need to remember two of The Four Agreements: never assume, and don't take anything personally.

————————————————

1:30 p.m.
I have just finished updating my blog with photos and commentary from yesterday, and have taken a long, hot shower after having managed to get myself on the yoga mat. Although it really feels like more than I want to do, I might shop for a new blouse today (tired of wearing one of the same four for the last 14 days). And if not that, I am at least going to get some lunch.

————————————————

5:30 p.m.
I have had a most lovely afternoon. It began to rain again, just before I left, and I donned my raincoat and decided to head to the old part of the city. I took myself to a restaurant and decided that, unlike every other day so far, I would have a "real" lunch. I ordered an aperitif — muscat Frontignan, along with moules mouliniere and frites, and for dessert I had an espresso and mousse chocolat. Yum, yum, yum, and yum.

After lunch it had stopped raining, but it was dank and overcast. Walking along, I came to a square where about 15 young people, all dressed in Breton-like blue and white striped shirts, and Breton caps, were playing the most irresistible music. They were playing music with very complicated and catchy Latin rhythms and were moving and dancing to the music as they played trombones, saxophones, a clarinet, tuba, a drum and various percussion instruments. Of course I couldn't resist tossing a couple of Euros into the hat on the ground, and there were smiles all around, as little children, Japanese tourists, a woman in a hajib, and various others stepped forward to offer their coins as well. I stood and swayed to the music for at least a half hour, feeling such joy — like I was a part of something greater than myself and that I was in a place where I belonged.

Eventually I tore myself away and began walking through the narrow winding streets to look for a blouse, but, rather than shopping for clothes, I ended up in the most amazing toy store. Oh my. So very, very charming. Wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling butterflies, and puppets and music boxes and sailboats and cabinets full of teeny, tiny dolls and furniture and cabinets of teddy bears and gadgets and card games and a room full of magic and one full of wind up robots and another a museum of old, old toys. I spent about two hours there. One cramped little room led to little nooks and crannies and opened up into other little rooms.

I always like to bring my family back some souvenirs and I found a little something for everyone at the store. They asked me if these were gifts and I said yes, and so a very kind, elderly, white-haired gentleman patiently and carefully wrapped each and every one. It took him quite some time, and as he wrapped, he would look up as new customers entered the store and offer a "bonjour," and every once in a while he would look over at me and give me a smile. Music was playing — I could only describe it as Edith Piaff at 10 years old — which added to the charm, and, behind him were jewellery boxes, and over his head, there were moons and stars hanging from the ceiling, marionettes and puppets, and and displays of golden angels and carousels circulating over the heat of little light bulbs, and as he wrapped, I discovered a couple of other little treasures and added them to the pile. As I said, these are more "souvenirs" — some things to let my family know I was thinking of them — nothing terribly elaborate, but I hope they will be enjoyed. I think the real gift was to myself, having so much fun in such an enchanting place.

What began as a sleepless night and difficult morning has been transformed into a magical afternoon.

Canfield in Arles

Today I took a pilgrimage to les toilettes —a pilgrimage up the ancient, dark, winding stairs just inside the door of Le Cafe La Nuit.

I was really looking forward to going to Arles for its associations with Van Gogh. There were two minivans of us — about 12 or 15 people — all students from the various language schools in Montpellier, and I had some delightful companions. Hegla, born in Germany, now living in Switzerland, shared the back seat of one van with me and in Arles, during our free hour, we joined up with a lovely young Englishwoman and another German girl, and had a cup of tea in Le Cafe La Nuit, Defying our teachers at our respective schools, we spoke English the entire time.

Today was an incredibly long day. I left the apartment at 8 am, and returned around 10:45 pm. After class I had lunch and then went to Arles. Returning from Arles, Helga and I hurried over to Gare St. Roch (the train station),  where I paid the obligatory 50 cents to use the facilities, and then she very kindly walked with me to show me L'Eglise St. Roch — the site of the concert I was attending that began at 8:30 pm. I found a place to sit and a few minutes later, who should come in and make her way to a seat right next to mine but Jacqueline and her friend (another Martine).

The concert was one of Corsican music. According to Jacqueline, it was the president of Corsica who welcomed the crowd (I didn't know there was a president — it is part of France), and then four men, all dressed in black, came out and the concert began.

This was some of THE most incredible music I have ever heard, and the stone walls of the ancient church provided the perfect setting. They began singing a cappella, and the sounds were so resonant, soft, and sweet. They began with some religious chants (which could possibly be described as a mix of styles — Gregorian chant and very, very light barbershop quartet), and from what I could tell from their comments between songs, they also sang us traditional songs from the culture, as well as love songs. Every once in a while one fellow accompanied the singing with an acoustical guitar, but I loved the a cappella music more. The music was so full of purity and tenderness, and awakened such yearning in my heart. As the concert went on, there was one point where I was listening so intently that I was surprised to "come to" and find that tears were streaming down my cheeks.

The entrance to the (former) Roman bridge over the River Rhone.

A pont (bridge) that had been built by the Romans and bombed by Americans
in WW II. I don't know the name. Our guides were terribly lackadaisical, not
providing us with much information as to names and dates, etc.

A street leading up to the coliseum in Arles.

The killing of Le Taureau is now banned in parts of Spain.
In France it is only killed in Arles, Nimes, and Beziers. I have
read about the art of the bullfight and, even though it's not
something I would want to see, I have an understanding of why
it is considered an art. After the killing, the meat is eaten, and I wonder
if it makes any difference to le taureau if he meets his end in an arena
or at Tyson. 

This is a bridal party of some sort — I assume it's a bride and her friends.
In France, the law requires a civil ceremony prior to any religious ceremony
that the couple may choose. The civil marriages take place at "City Hall"
(the mairie in a village; le hotel de ville in a larger town).
This in the city square, adjacent to the Cathedral of St. Trophime.

Une voiture provided by city officials for all bridal parties to use for their photos.

The garden in the hospital in Arles, where Vincent stayed.

Le Cafe de La Nuit, now Cafe Van Gogh. Being here was very evocative for me.
My three companions and I sat at a table — I sat just under that black plaque on the wall — and we had some tea.

Just one little section of an average little patisserie.
I think this may be my next pilgrimage — shooting and eating in as many of these places as possible

Through the storm and into calm waters

Sitting here, watching Money Drop, a French quiz game that "we" watch every night from the dinner table. To tell the truth, I'm becoming a bit fond of the plump, blonde hostess of the game — it has become something familiar in my life now, hearing the familiar music and seeing the blue and red lights and the tension! Mon dieu! Tres exciting! Jacqueline is one sharp cookie. I haven't heard her get one wrong answer in all the evenings we've been watching. I usually absolutely have no clue — even though the script of the questions is written on the screen, I usually can't even decipher what they are asking, let alone, what the answer is. But, last night I understood the question about the colour of Mars, and, very surprisingly, Jacqueline didn't know the answer! Found that hard to believe. Mais, I had the answer: rouge! This was definitely one of the easier questions. Une question about the U.S. department of defense came up and she made me get up from the dinner table so I could more easily read the tv screen, and, thank goodness, I knew that it was related to the Pentagon. Would have been tres, tres embarrassing to miss that.

Jacqueline's young friend, Martine, just arrived and I gave her the traditional kiss. I am sitting sitting here, writing this, excusing myself, saying that I am writing to my family (hoping my family is reading this, so it turns out I am not lying). We just had an aperitif, Frontignan, made from the grapes grown locally. I'm thinking of buying a bottle and bringing it home.

I read somewhere a few months ago about the stages of …. can't think of the English words… this is becoming a problem… ah, yes, culture shock. The stages of culture shock. Like grief, there are stages of culture shock and, although it may be needless to state it, I've had a pretty rough time of it these last few days. Ananda's arrival has been a bright spot, not just because of who she is, but the fact that she knows no French at all, and so we speak in English. I told her today that I felt like I was cheating, speaking English. Anyway, during lunch today, I told her that this trip was much more difficult psychologically than the trip I took to Nepal. My difficulties with Nepal were all before the trip — dealing with an incredible amount of fear; but once I arrived, despite many challenges, I was very happy there. But this trip has been so difficult in so many ways.

I have been practicing centering prayer for many years; however, I found that I couldn't even practice that here. Centering prayer has many similarities to meditation. One must centre and quiet the mind. I've been practicing this for quite some time; however, here, whenever I would sit in quietness and try to pray, all I could hear were French words and phrases and echoes of French words and phrases, and the feeling was "who's in here with me?" When I said the other day that I felt I had no where to go for comfort and retreat I wasn't kidding. I couldn't even enter my own interior without feeling disoriented!

But today has been a good day. I feel as if I have navigated the storm and arrived in calm waters. I feel better, not only psychologically, but this is also the first day I haven't felt tense and exhausted. So, thank God for breakthroughs.

The "laugh of the day" (which I always seem to unintentionally provide) was related to my trying to tell the class in French about Henry County being the hog capital of the world. When one thinks about it, it could be understood that it is the capital for the hogs of the world. I don't know how to explain how it was understood, but we had a gigantic laugh.

After lunch I navigated the train station, figuring out where the ticket office was and how to get a ticket to get in line to buy a ticket and which platform to get on and how to get on the platform. A kind woman answered my question, "is the for the train to Sete?"And I said I would follow her onto the train. She kindly accommodated me, finding a seat so I could sit with her and for the 20+ minute trip, we conversed in French.

Once I arrived in Sete I had to check the time for the return train and then to figure out how to get a bus to the centre of town. On the bus, an elderly woman with shopping bags, returning from Montpellier, took it upon herself to "adopt" me. She was very kind, touching my arm, holding my hand, and then walking with me after we departed the bus. She told me to stay with her and she would lead me to the "five best photos" to take in Sete. She walked me to a local bus at the Hotel de Ville, and explained to the driver that "she is an American" and asked him to let me off at a designated spot. How very, very kind of her.



The driver apparently agreed to take over from there and motioned for me to sit down. Sete is a lovely town, full of ancient, narrow, winding streets, and the driver navigated the huge bus in an expert fashion, only rolling over one curb. We travelled through and around and up and up, past the deep blue of the Mediterranean and up and around streets lining amazing steep terraces with lovely homes and tropical trees and flowers. Once we reached the very top — Mount St. Clair, he motioned to me and pointed to the bus stop where I needed to wait, in order to return.

I was concerned about making the train back to Montpellier in time for dinner and so I just took a shots and then went back to the bus stop and got on the bus back down to the Hotel de Ville, from which I needed to walk several blocks to the bus which returned me to the station.

It turned out to be a whirlwind trip — kind of crazy in a way. But it only cost me 12 E round-trip, and I felt quite happy in navigating my way in French. Also, I''m now more comfortable with the idea of traveling elsewhere once I leave Montpellier.

Well, Jacqueline is dishing out the soup — "a soup Arabe" as she explained to me. If I've understood her correctly it is a soup that Muslims eat during Ramadan. (Jacqueline lived with her husband in Algeria for 10 years.)

Note: the Britishisms in spelling aren't mine. That's the computer, and it has something to do with the fact I'm in Europe. (blogspot automatically gave me an .fr address for this blog.)

That's all for today.

Bullet Points

• The Internet is terribly slow in my room. It takes an incredibly long time to upload photos and posts (and, disappointingly, I can't watch old movies on Youtube — my favourite routine before sleep).  I may begin taking my computer with me to the bibliotheque and doing my posts there. I don't want to stop — I like doing this and keeping a record of my journey, even if it is only for me.
• We began the study of the past tense in class today. The class is really good. We are now four: Jens (from Germany), Ananda (from Venezuela), Christian, our teacher, and me. Jens leaves at the end of this week and we will probably have a new student or more next Monday. Considering that the courses are designed for people to drop in for one week or 10, or however many they wish, it's done very well. I still prefer the teaching methods in the US, but I AM learning.
• After class I went to Flunch for lunch.
• Then, to Sauramps, a huge bookstore ["librarie"] and tried my best in French to ask for a phrase book. I got sent back to the travel books. When I asked the second person she said "une guide de conversation?" "Oui, oui, merci!" Once I found the book, it took me forever to find the cashier, having to wind myself down a few sets of stairs, and then I had to ask for directions on how to get out of the store.
• I'm dealing with the basics of life — drinking water, toilets, and regularity. Once I can solve these problems I can conquer anything.
• So, to the pharmacie, where a very patient woman assisted me in finding the medicament I required for le constipation. After she had explained and rang up one product she said it was necessary to refrigerate it and I lied and said I had no fridge (no way am I using that thing!) and so she kindly found another product and explained the best she could. The entire conversation was in French. I really appreciated her kindness and patience. Please believe me, the French are  very, very nice. I've not had a single encounter with an unpleasant person (unless you count the tattooed guy on the beach, but he was pleasant in his own vulgar way).
• Then to le bibliothèque (library) to do some studying. Now home.
• Ooo la la! I forgot that I had told Jacqueline that I would go to a concert with her on Friday evening. We just had an incredibly long and complicated conversation, because I also bought a ticket to go to Arles on Friday afternoon and we had to figure out what time I was returning, and whether or not I would come "home" and eat here before the concert. Well, I think it is settled. I am going to Arles, returning here for a quick bite, and then off to a concert of Corsican music. (She is of Corsican descent.)
• I brought a travel yoga mat with me. It's a great mat, when I remember to use it. Getting it out now and doing some stretches and downdogs. Although I walk A LOT, I'm really tense and tight. I must do yoga every day. Hopefully more exciting things to write about tomorrow. If not, I have that visit to Arles coming up on Friday afternoon, and then the concert. Stay tuned.

A few shots of everyday life.

Le Tram — how I arrive and depart everywhere
in Montpellier. Unlimited rides in one week
for 15 E. There's always a tram in 5 minutes or less.

Ananda, Christian (our teacher), moi, and Jens

Flunch — a cafeteria in the Polygone (a large shopping center,
where I sometimes have lunch)

My lunch. Good food at a good price about 7E ($7.82 US)
This is a GREAT time to travel in France, money-wise!

Miscellaneous Musings

I don't want to be a tourist — just passing through on a bus and hearing commentary about what one sees. I have enjoyed and will enjoy some tourist-like experiences here; however, seeing the sights is not the key thing for me. For me, a good travelogue on tv, or a good book is much more preferable. One can have some great armchair travel experiences without having to give up any comfort.  Yes, I'd rather sit at home and watch a travel show on tv than to simply be a tourist on a bus passing through.

For me, the ideal type of travel is that of a pilgrimage. And by pilgrimage I don't mean simply something like walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, although that was a great pilgrimage/experience for me. A pilgrimage can be something much simpler and it does not have to have religious overtones, although, for me, there is something sacred about travel.

And then, if not a pilgrimage, then at least a time away that gives me a sense of what life is like in the  place where I am visiting. This is why I like to go and stay in one place for as long a time as possible, and why I like to travel alone. Travelling alone allows me to come and go as I please and it makes me more accessible to others and more likely to interact with others than if I was traveling with a companion.

Usually when I travel I am thrilled and excited, from the planning stages, through the travel experience itself, and then recalling the adventure when I return home. But this trip is different. Although I have dreamed of coming to France for a long visit for many, many years, there was a part of me that simply did not want to come because of an emotional attachment I've had for some time, but from which I have needed to detach myself.

It has become very apparent to me that getting on a plane and putting distance between oneself and one's concerns does not provide an escape. Time, not distance, is the answer; although I do pray that I will return home with a new perspective. Travel certainly does broaden one's mind, and with that must certainly come a new perspective. I don't think I will return home as the same person, but trying to foresee that is impossible. This is part of the adventure, isn't it? To go and to explore and then to return and then reflect. All of this is part of a pilgrimage — exploring one's environment, both exterior and interior and finding something new. Seeing new sights is wonderful, but finding something new within one's self is the ultimate travel experience.

While sitting in the bibliotheque today and doing my homework I felt such a low point emotionally. For a few moments I felt what could almost be described as revulsion at my surroundings. I felt as if there was no refuge anywhere, that there was no place familiar or comfortable or any place where I felt I really belonged. I felt homeless and root-less and as if there was nothing in my environment that held any emotional attachment or importance to me. Mind you, this was just a fleeting few moments, but this was quite a new and different sensation. I've never really felt this way while travelling before. But I did not rush to conclusions or judgement of this experience. I simply had it and let it pass. And now that I'm writing about the experience, I'm actually kind of glad that I had it. Does that make any sense? Isn't this — the novelty and the unexpected — part of the adventure? I think so.

Well, I've been trying to explain part of why travel appeals to me, although some of you who are reading this may think what the hell is she doing this for? This doesn't sound like much fun! I'm not quite sure I've captured just what it is that I want to say, but I'll keep trying.

On a more practical note, we have a new student in our class — Ananda, a beautiful young woman (about 30) who was born and lived in Venezuela for 15 years, and has lived in Florida for the last 15. She has her own software development company, and makes apps for phones. She is travelling the world for six months and managing her company via long distance. She and I went to lunch at a Japanese restaurant and, boy, that was a challenge — trying to understand a Japanese menu in French! We had the most interesting conversation and decided that we were very much alike in our outlook on life.  During lunch, I was reminded that this experience too is why I travel — meeting someone who turns out to be a kindred spirit, and having a common basis of understanding with each other from the get-go.

Ananda went with me to the bibliotheque, so I could show her a good place where there are (free) toilettes, a coffee shop and some nice places to study. She ended up falling asleep (and, unlike home, no librarians came along to wake her up). I nudged her awake to tell her I was leaving. After my little "episode" I decided that I would return to Le Bookshop and find another book to read. I ended up with an Alexander McCall Smith novel (something cozy and light) and then I took myself to an outdoor table at a bistro and had a glass of red wine, while I sat and read.

Also, I'm happy to report that things are a little more settled on the home front. I slept the sleep of the dead last night and Jacqueline tried three times to awaken me this morning, knocking on my door, calling me, and raising the large blinds in my room. I did not hear a thing for 45 minutes!!! I have not slept like that since I was a kid. Jacqueline said something about her thinking I was a little bit dead. Tonight, as I was returning home I had decided to put my best foot forward with Jacqueline and she also seemed in a better mood. She made une omelette de Mont St. Michel for dinner, served with noodles. The omelet was so light and fluffy. It was like eating meringue.

So, now I'm going to snuggle up with an English novel and then to sleep. Good night all.

Wherever you go, there you are

In this morning's class, in response to what is your (astrological) sign, my comment was "I am a swimming pool." I felt quite pleased with myself: pisces = piscine, right? Wrong. I should have said  "poisson" (fish). My comment brought a lot of laughter to the room, and then Christian, my teacher, joked "Je suis le Piscene Olympique de Montpellier," referring to an actual pool here. (And though the joke seems pretty tame now, it had us in tears.) This was the bright spot of my day.

I am loving my class, and my teacher is really, really good. But life has a way…..

There is a saying related to a Buddhist teaching that goes something like "no matter where you go, there you are."As I study and travel and sightsee, I see all through the lens of who and what I am, as well as some attending emotional baggage, which still needs to be unpacked. As I wrote in on a postcard recently, I am doing my best to understand and to be understood. In that regard, life is not all that different here.

When one travels, one hopes for some refreshment and new perspective, and while I have seen some amazing sights, I am finding this journey to be quite challenging. Yesterday, as I sat on the lovely balcony on a lovely, bright Sunday morning, I found myself fretting and feeling quite frustrated with what seems to be an immeasurable distance between what I can do with the French language and what I hear from native speakers. I felt totally discouraged. And then I stopped and said "Hey! You're on vacation! You're learning French for fun, remember????"

And I need to remind myself that this is a working vacation. Very much so. When Jacqueline asked me on Saturday where I was going to go that day I told her that I did not want to go anywhere. She looked at me with surprise. I tried to explain that I had left seven days ago, had two days of travel, and immediately upon my arrival I began French class and have been doing a lot of sight-seeing. I spent the morning puttering around my room and putting things away and, in the afternoon, I took the tram into the centre of town and found Le Bookshop, a little store that sells English-language titles. I have very much felt the need to have a book to read, to give me some escape in the evening. I have lived alone for many, many years, and there are times where I may go for two or three days alone, without speaking to anybody. I really like alone time. A lot. And I have absolutely no alone time here at all. I decided today that, upon leaving Montpellier, I am going to a spot where I can really rest and recharge (a vacation!!) because, once I reach Paris, I am going to want to be sociable and to be on the go.

Jacqueline is a very conscientious hostess. Her meals are really, really good. In the evenings she prepares a full repast — bouef bourgignon, ratatouille, roasted chicken, all sorts of fresh vegetables and salads. One night we had a dish comprised of cod and anchovies laced with tomatoes and pickles. I had never had anchovies before, and I found the dish quite tasty. Another evening we had, what appeared to be, deviled eggs, only these contained sardines. They were served with a fennel salad and a carrot salad and a fruit salad that she had spent a good part of the afternoon in preparing.

Jacqueline is very old school French. Everything in her household runs on a regular schedule. The meal is on the table at 7 pm sharp, like clockwork. No nonsense in this household! The other day she told me she had cleaned house, and when I asked her if she cleaned once a week she looked at me with a look of horror! Mais, non! Trois fois! (Three times!) Jacqueline reminds me of my very proper and correct English mother. The only difference is, my mother had a sense of humor, as well as the capability to bend a little.

I am soon to get another explanation of how to use the toilet. I have followed directions regarding its use; however, well…. there is a problem. Jacqueline is on the phone now, I think possibly with someone to give her further assistance, since her efforts have not been successful in repairing the problem.

And the little fridge in my room is running. Again! Even though there is only a handful of grapes in it, and even though I told her the other morning that I had turned it off because it had awakened me several times during the night. Yesterday I had left the grapes sitting in my room, and when I came home, they were in the fridge and the fridge was running. When I removed most of the grapes this morning I turned off the fridge. I have turned it off three times and she has turned it on three times. Tonight I am turning it off before bed; however, I will turn it back on in the morning, even though there is nothing in it to keep cold.

Last night I felt homesick as my friends were all commenting on the blood moon on Facebook. I would have loved to have walked out in my yard and looked at the moon. I couldn't do it here because, once darkness hits, all the shades go down on the large sliding glass doors. And these are not just your little pull-down items. These are large, mechanical devices, the likes of which I could not have raised without disturbing Jacqueline. So, I did not get to see the moon.

I am in a bit of a state today, having awakened in the middle of the night, and having stayed awake. This afternoon, in order to get out of the apartment and in order to force myself to stay awake, I took the tram down to the Mediterranean. At the end of the line is a bus stop, but, rather than wait for the bus, I decided to walk. It was a little further than I realised. What with having a sore toe and my Crocs (instead of my sturdy walking shoes), it was a bit of a challenge; however I kept on walking and walking, and I eventually made it to the beach.

There were just a few people there on a long stretch of sand and rocks. A fellow approached with his towel and I took the liberty of asking him if he could tell me where the bus stop was. He explained in very, very broken English. Then he proceeded to strip down for a tan, and I began to snap some photos. As I was shooting, he called to me. He was laying on his stomach and made a motion with his hands and a sound that seemed as if he was asking me to put on his suntan lotion. Egads! No, as it turned out, he wasn't asking for suntan lotion; he wanted me to take a shot of all of the tattoos of women in very suggestive positions that were displayed across his back. I accommodated his wish and he laughed and I decided maybe it was time to try to find the bus stop.

Well, I couldn't figure out the schedule, and so I began to walk, now not just with sore toe and Crocs, but with sandy feet, a sore toe and Crocs, and now, unlike the walk out, I knew how far I had to walk to get back to the tram stop. I also had no water and hoped I could get a drink at a place I had seen as I entered the area; however, it was closed. Long story short, I was really, really lucky. When I got to the next bus stop, people were waiting and a bus soon arrived and it was mine and I dealt with a very impatient bus driver whom I couldn't understand and trusted that he gave me back the correct change for my 10E bill and even if he hadn't I wouldn't have cared, cause I was exhausted and the bus was air-conditioned. Thank you.

From the bus, took the tram home to find the toilet issue and the fact that I was locked out of my credit card account and couldn't reach the number they had given me on my cell phone, so had to hunt and search for a number to call from overseas. I finally reached an operator and reset my online access, but have still to go to the bathroom, something I have needed to do since leaving the beach.

And THIS is what it is really like to travel (well, some days, at least).

In case you don't know what water looks like...

And here is some air, with some birds

       

Crocs on Rocks