Ah yes, I've been slacking on my blog posting, yet again. Perhaps it's due to a general lack of interesting events in my life over the past month, but it's probably more likely I've been weathering a funk of the quarter-life crisis kind.
Ok, so crisis is a bit of an overstatement...maybe quarter-life wrestling match is more accurate. I wrestle with whether or not I should try and apply grad schools for next year; which jobs to apply to that will best leave my future plans open, while contributing to them at the same time; and then with myself for getting so caught up in the theoretical and failing to put any of it into practice. I think my friend Rebecca put it best when she said (or rather typed, on gmail chat), "if you're too worried about aligning the present with some unknown future, you risk losing appreciation for the here and now, i think". Fantastic insight. While that may seem obvious, it really helps to hear (or rather read) it. I know that it's important to keep future goals in mind, to have goals to work towards period. But, there's a fine line between living for some vague point in the future and living for what's here and now while keeping the future in mind. One involves actually living, while the other throws you into a dizzying circular rut.
It's kind of like when you're outside at night and you look up at the stars, and try and spin around while focusing on one point of light. It's fun, and can be kind of exhilarating holding onto that single star, but it always better when you fall to the ground. On your back you have the entire night sky stretched before you and you can take in as many stars as you'd like, from constellations to galaxies - including that single star. You're simultaneously more grounded and have a greater perspective, which ultimately (I suppose) makes for a richer, and more meaningful experience.
December 2, 2008
November 4, 2008
November 3, 2008
Get out and vote!
I don't care who you vote for (well...you know who I lean towards...), just get out and do it!
But just in case you're undecided, here's a video for some inspiration.
Happy Voting!
But just in case you're undecided, here's a video for some inspiration.
Happy Voting!
October 15, 2008
Buy a hat. Spread some love.
These people make my idealistic little heart feel warm and fuzzy. They've managed to creatively address a major global issue (poverty) and are doing their part towards making a difference. AND their solution involves crafting. AND Africa. And apparently lots of love. Rock on, Krochet Kids.
October 6, 2008
White Privilege
A friend passed this essay on to me. Sadly, I think there's a lot of truth in it. Read on to see if you agree, and let me know what you think!
White Privilege and the 2008 Election
By Tim Wise
For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.
White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.
White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," as Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.
White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years as Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.
White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."
White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.
White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.
White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.
White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."
White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.
White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.
White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.
White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it, a "light" burden.
And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.
White privilege is, in short, the problem.
Tim Wise is the author of White Like Me (Soft Skull, 2005, revised 2008), and of Speaking Treason Fluently, publishing this month, also by Soft Skull.
White Privilege and the 2008 Election
By Tim Wise
For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.
White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.
White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," as Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.
White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years as Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.
White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."
White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.
White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.
White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.
White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."
White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.
White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.
White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.
White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it, a "light" burden.
And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.
White privilege is, in short, the problem.
Tim Wise is the author of White Like Me (Soft Skull, 2005, revised 2008), and of Speaking Treason Fluently, publishing this month, also by Soft Skull.
September 22, 2008
Why I had a fantastic weekend...
- Enjoyed a pint and sweet potato fries over a rousing game of scrabble with two of my besties.
- Went to Fremont Oktoberfest (a little bit of Munich in the middle of Seattle!).
- Rocked out with Rockband - I've got the medium difficulty drum part on Dani California DOWN.
- Ate Ethiopian food for the first time - lots of lentils. no utensils. love it.
- Spent lots of time with some super duper friends.
In other news, I'm pretty pumped to be officially moving up to Seattle this week. I've got an internship and a place to live...now I just need a paying gig to round it out. Let's hope that last part falls into place quickly.
And finally, FALL is here! I love the crisp edge in the air. I love the reappearance of the pumpkin spice latte. I love breaking out the sweaters and the scarves. I love that Halloween and Thanksgiving are coming up.
Fall. Seattle. Fall in Seattle. Good times. :)
- Went to Fremont Oktoberfest (a little bit of Munich in the middle of Seattle!).
- Rocked out with Rockband - I've got the medium difficulty drum part on Dani California DOWN.
- Ate Ethiopian food for the first time - lots of lentils. no utensils. love it.
- Spent lots of time with some super duper friends.
In other news, I'm pretty pumped to be officially moving up to Seattle this week. I've got an internship and a place to live...now I just need a paying gig to round it out. Let's hope that last part falls into place quickly.
And finally, FALL is here! I love the crisp edge in the air. I love the reappearance of the pumpkin spice latte. I love breaking out the sweaters and the scarves. I love that Halloween and Thanksgiving are coming up.
Fall. Seattle. Fall in Seattle. Good times. :)
September 16, 2008
Love it.
"Someone needs to remind Sarah Palin that Jesus Christ was a community organizer and Pontius Pilate was a governor." goodnewsfortheinsane, a commenter on Mudflats, an Alaskan political blog, Sept. 4
August 26, 2008
Because a dripping fir is a thousand times more sexy than a sunburnt palm
Last night my good friend Christine shared with me a fabulous excerpt from an essay by Tom Robbins about his love for Northwest Washington. It is fabulous and sums up so many of the things that make Northwest Washington pretty much the best place to live on earth. I particularly love how he describes (so accurately) the weather, in particular the rain, that gives the NW it's irreproducible character and charm. Here, take a read:
"And it will rain a fever. And it will rain a sacrifice. And it will rain sorceries and saturnine eyes of the totem.
Rain will primitivize the cities, slowing every wheel, animating every gutter, diffusing commercial neon into smeary blooms of esoteric calligraphy. Rain will dramatize the countryside, sewing pearls into every web, winding silk around every stump, re-drawing the horizon line with a badly frayed brush dipped in tea.
And it will rain an omen. And it will rain a trance. And it will rain a seizure. And it will rain dangers and pale eggs of the beast.
Rain will pour for days unceasing. Flooding will occur. Wells will fill with drowned ants, basements with fossils. Mossy-haired lunatics will roam the dripping peninsulas. Moisture will gleam on the beak of the Raven. Ancient shamans, rained from their rest in dead tree trunks, will clack their clamshell teeth in the submerged doorways of video parlors. Rivers will swell, sloughs will ferment. Vapors will billow from the troll-infested ditches, challenging windshield wipers, disguising telephone booths. Water will stream off eaves and umbrellas. It will take on the colors of the beer signs and headlamps. It will glisten on the claws of nighttime animals.
And it will rain a screaming. And it will rain a rawness. And it will rain a disorder, and hair-raising hisses from the oldest snake in the world. Rain will hiss on the freeways. It will hiss around the prows of fishing boats. It will hiss in electrical substations, on the tips of lit cigarettes and in the trash fires of the dispossessed. Legends will wash from the desecrated burial grounds, graffiti will run down alley walls. Rain will eat the old warpaths, spill the huckleberries, cause toadstools to rise like loaves. It will make poets drunk and winos sober, and polish the horns of the slugs.
And it will rain a miracle. And it will rain a comfort. And it will rain a sense of salvation from the philistinic graspings of the world."
Fantastic, no? Click here to read the full essay.
No matter where I end up in the world, I'm pretty sure I'll never find anywhere that quite compares to the Pacific Northwest. I love where I'm from.
"And it will rain a fever. And it will rain a sacrifice. And it will rain sorceries and saturnine eyes of the totem.
Rain will primitivize the cities, slowing every wheel, animating every gutter, diffusing commercial neon into smeary blooms of esoteric calligraphy. Rain will dramatize the countryside, sewing pearls into every web, winding silk around every stump, re-drawing the horizon line with a badly frayed brush dipped in tea.
And it will rain an omen. And it will rain a trance. And it will rain a seizure. And it will rain dangers and pale eggs of the beast.
Rain will pour for days unceasing. Flooding will occur. Wells will fill with drowned ants, basements with fossils. Mossy-haired lunatics will roam the dripping peninsulas. Moisture will gleam on the beak of the Raven. Ancient shamans, rained from their rest in dead tree trunks, will clack their clamshell teeth in the submerged doorways of video parlors. Rivers will swell, sloughs will ferment. Vapors will billow from the troll-infested ditches, challenging windshield wipers, disguising telephone booths. Water will stream off eaves and umbrellas. It will take on the colors of the beer signs and headlamps. It will glisten on the claws of nighttime animals.
And it will rain a screaming. And it will rain a rawness. And it will rain a disorder, and hair-raising hisses from the oldest snake in the world. Rain will hiss on the freeways. It will hiss around the prows of fishing boats. It will hiss in electrical substations, on the tips of lit cigarettes and in the trash fires of the dispossessed. Legends will wash from the desecrated burial grounds, graffiti will run down alley walls. Rain will eat the old warpaths, spill the huckleberries, cause toadstools to rise like loaves. It will make poets drunk and winos sober, and polish the horns of the slugs.
And it will rain a miracle. And it will rain a comfort. And it will rain a sense of salvation from the philistinic graspings of the world."
Fantastic, no? Click here to read the full essay.
No matter where I end up in the world, I'm pretty sure I'll never find anywhere that quite compares to the Pacific Northwest. I love where I'm from.
Back from the dead
Hi readers. I figure it's high time to resurrect this blog after six months of lifelessness. Rather than do a painstakingly long overview of six months, I will instead post six pictures accompanied by six haiku to sum up my experience.
March:
Sorry, no picture.
Camera stolen by punk kids.
Still had good times, though.
April:
Look at these winners!
Nothing like good wholesome sport
with your friends in France.
May:
Too many goodbyes
kept us at the train station.
Good thing there was beer.
June:
Wrapping up French life
is messy. Michael Scott makes
it much easier.
July:
Met lots of nice folks
while traveling through Europe.
Some got a bit fresh.
August:
The view from my room:
Mediterranean Sea.
Who lives like this? Me!
...and that about wraps up life in Europe. I almost feel as if I communicated more in those six haiku than I could have in six paragraphs. Perhaps future blog posts will show up in haiku form...
I arrived back in the states the 20th and am now just chillin', trying to craft some sort of a plan for the next step. Really just trying to take the next step. Who needs a plan, anyway?
March:
Sorry, no picture.
Camera stolen by punk kids.
Still had good times, though.
April:
Look at these winners!
Nothing like good wholesome sport
with your friends in France.
May:
Too many goodbyes
kept us at the train station.
Good thing there was beer.
June:
Wrapping up French life
is messy. Michael Scott makes
it much easier.
July:
Met lots of nice folks
while traveling through Europe.
Some got a bit fresh.
August:
The view from my room:
Mediterranean Sea.
Who lives like this? Me!
...and that about wraps up life in Europe. I almost feel as if I communicated more in those six haiku than I could have in six paragraphs. Perhaps future blog posts will show up in haiku form...
I arrived back in the states the 20th and am now just chillin', trying to craft some sort of a plan for the next step. Really just trying to take the next step. Who needs a plan, anyway?
February 18, 2008
Le temps file (time flies)...
Already halfway through February! Not only is the month flying by, but my time in France is too. Tomorrow marks my 5 month anniversary of being here...holy crap, where has the time gone? I'm just hovering around the halfway point (over the halfway point for teaching, but a little less than halfway for being here in Europe), and I can hardly believe it.
I have two more days of teaching before I'm off for February breaks. This time I'm heading to Colchester, England to visit a good friend of mine (who is actually French...go figure). I'll make day trips into London and Cambridge and wherever else the wind takes me from her place, and am thoroughly looking forward to being back in an anglophone country. Not that I don't like France, but after 5 months, it'll be nice to have a little break...
Which leads me to a few comments on language...after five months here, I feel as if I should be well on my way to fluency - especially since I also have a degree in French. In reality, I live with several other native English speakers and if I don't force myself don't end up speaking a ton of French on a daily basis. At first, this really bothered me, as my sole goal in coming back to France was to improve my language skills. However, day by day, I'm realizing how much my language as actually improved, despite not being completely immersed in it. A few examples:
- The other day I walked into a store wearing a skirt from the GAP that I had worn several times before. As I walked through the security scanners, I set them off. Having just bought a pair of jeans at another store, I assumed they had forgotten to take off the security tags. Turns out there was a security tag still inside my skirt that had never gone off in any other store as along as I've had it, which has been at least eight or nine months. The woman working at the front counter came over and made me go in and out of the scanner several times, and it took the both of us several tries to narrow down what was causing the problem. Without thinking too much, the French was flying off my tongue as she literally got on her knees with scissors to cut the tag out of my skirt - it was awkward, but at least I held my own in the language department.
- Yesterday some punk kid stole my phone, my watch and 10 euros from my locker while I was at the pool (ok, ok, so I didn't lock it...but still!). I was pissed off, and sad to lose the watch, which was a graduation gift from the family I nannied for in Bellingham. After calming down, I was mostly just annoyed that I'd have to go sort out the phone thing (and that I'd have to spend at least another 30 euros to get a new one...). I'm past the point of panicking when I have to conduct business in French, but there's always still a bit of anxiety that something will come up that I don't understood and I'll be caught dumbfounded like a deer in the headlights. I went to the phone provider's shop today, explained my situation, asked some questions and walked away with my new phone in about 10 minutes - no problem! It wasn't by any means perfect, but it was more or less fluid and I walked out of the store feeling just a bit more French than when I entered.
So, moral of the story is that I had some pretty high expectations of myself and of what my situation would be like when I arrived here in France; expectations which made me feel like I wasn't making any progress in improving my French skills. In reality, when I stop thinking about it and just go for it, turns out I'm not doing all that badly. If it wasn't for the little everyday annoyances like the embaressment of having a store clerk's hand up my skirt and the inconvenience of having my phone stolen, I might never realize the progress I'm actually making - go figure.
I'll leave you all with a few amazing pictures of the Brittany coast, taken on a little day trip last weekend with one of the teacher's I work with and her husband. I thought I'd be hard pressed to find places that rivaled NW Washington in terms of natural beauty, but it seems that la Bretagne might be a solid competitor.
I have two more days of teaching before I'm off for February breaks. This time I'm heading to Colchester, England to visit a good friend of mine (who is actually French...go figure). I'll make day trips into London and Cambridge and wherever else the wind takes me from her place, and am thoroughly looking forward to being back in an anglophone country. Not that I don't like France, but after 5 months, it'll be nice to have a little break...
Which leads me to a few comments on language...after five months here, I feel as if I should be well on my way to fluency - especially since I also have a degree in French. In reality, I live with several other native English speakers and if I don't force myself don't end up speaking a ton of French on a daily basis. At first, this really bothered me, as my sole goal in coming back to France was to improve my language skills. However, day by day, I'm realizing how much my language as actually improved, despite not being completely immersed in it. A few examples:
- The other day I walked into a store wearing a skirt from the GAP that I had worn several times before. As I walked through the security scanners, I set them off. Having just bought a pair of jeans at another store, I assumed they had forgotten to take off the security tags. Turns out there was a security tag still inside my skirt that had never gone off in any other store as along as I've had it, which has been at least eight or nine months. The woman working at the front counter came over and made me go in and out of the scanner several times, and it took the both of us several tries to narrow down what was causing the problem. Without thinking too much, the French was flying off my tongue as she literally got on her knees with scissors to cut the tag out of my skirt - it was awkward, but at least I held my own in the language department.
- Yesterday some punk kid stole my phone, my watch and 10 euros from my locker while I was at the pool (ok, ok, so I didn't lock it...but still!). I was pissed off, and sad to lose the watch, which was a graduation gift from the family I nannied for in Bellingham. After calming down, I was mostly just annoyed that I'd have to go sort out the phone thing (and that I'd have to spend at least another 30 euros to get a new one...). I'm past the point of panicking when I have to conduct business in French, but there's always still a bit of anxiety that something will come up that I don't understood and I'll be caught dumbfounded like a deer in the headlights. I went to the phone provider's shop today, explained my situation, asked some questions and walked away with my new phone in about 10 minutes - no problem! It wasn't by any means perfect, but it was more or less fluid and I walked out of the store feeling just a bit more French than when I entered.
So, moral of the story is that I had some pretty high expectations of myself and of what my situation would be like when I arrived here in France; expectations which made me feel like I wasn't making any progress in improving my French skills. In reality, when I stop thinking about it and just go for it, turns out I'm not doing all that badly. If it wasn't for the little everyday annoyances like the embaressment of having a store clerk's hand up my skirt and the inconvenience of having my phone stolen, I might never realize the progress I'm actually making - go figure.
I'll leave you all with a few amazing pictures of the Brittany coast, taken on a little day trip last weekend with one of the teacher's I work with and her husband. I thought I'd be hard pressed to find places that rivaled NW Washington in terms of natural beauty, but it seems that la Bretagne might be a solid competitor.
January 30, 2008
January 23, 2008
France in January
This is my first January in France, and it seems to me that this month is mostly reserved for three things:
- galette des rois
- les soldes
- New Year's greetings
Galette des rois is a traditional cake, meant to commemorate Epiphany (galette des rois roughly equals cake of kings). There is a little figurine baked into the cake and whoever gets it in their piece becomes the king or queen for the day (theses cakes are always sold with little paper crowns). It also serves as an excuse to eat cake. I've had four "galette des rois" celebrations this month, not one of which fell on Epiphany!
"Les soldes" are the huge yearly sales that sweep France every year after Christmas. Yes, the gov't regulates when stores can have sales. Things can, of course, go on sale during other times, but "les soldes" are really a free-for-all, lasting for about a month, in which EVERY SINGLE STORE has huge markdowns on nearly all of their merchandise.
New Year's greetings...it might seem weird that I cited this as being particular to France, but France has a particular way of delivering it's New Years wishes. Not particular weird, but particular as in specific. The first time you see someone you know after New Years, even if it's one, two, three weeks after the fact - you MUST wish them "Bonne Année" and fais le bise (the kiss on the cheek thing). However, most people don't stop there. It's "Happy New Year and best wishes for you and all your family. I hope that this new year brings health and all the happiness you desire" and on and on and on. Not at all a bad tradition, kind of nice actually - but it does get slightly awkward when you've forgotten who you've seen already and who you haven't. Or when all you said was "Happy New Year" and you receive a 10 minute disseratation as a response.
Anyway, that's January in France. I'll let you know what February's like in a few weeks. Ciao!
- galette des rois
- les soldes
- New Year's greetings
Galette des rois is a traditional cake, meant to commemorate Epiphany (galette des rois roughly equals cake of kings). There is a little figurine baked into the cake and whoever gets it in their piece becomes the king or queen for the day (theses cakes are always sold with little paper crowns). It also serves as an excuse to eat cake. I've had four "galette des rois" celebrations this month, not one of which fell on Epiphany!
"Les soldes" are the huge yearly sales that sweep France every year after Christmas. Yes, the gov't regulates when stores can have sales. Things can, of course, go on sale during other times, but "les soldes" are really a free-for-all, lasting for about a month, in which EVERY SINGLE STORE has huge markdowns on nearly all of their merchandise.
New Year's greetings...it might seem weird that I cited this as being particular to France, but France has a particular way of delivering it's New Years wishes. Not particular weird, but particular as in specific. The first time you see someone you know after New Years, even if it's one, two, three weeks after the fact - you MUST wish them "Bonne Année" and fais le bise (the kiss on the cheek thing). However, most people don't stop there. It's "Happy New Year and best wishes for you and all your family. I hope that this new year brings health and all the happiness you desire" and on and on and on. Not at all a bad tradition, kind of nice actually - but it does get slightly awkward when you've forgotten who you've seen already and who you haven't. Or when all you said was "Happy New Year" and you receive a 10 minute disseratation as a response.
Anyway, that's January in France. I'll let you know what February's like in a few weeks. Ciao!
January 12, 2008
A much deserved update...
Let me start off this post by saying that I am currently enjoying the most DELICIOUS chocolate muffin. I know, I know - not exactly a hallmark of the french pastry repetoire...but at this particular café where I write to you today, they serve divine muffins to rival the best I've had back home.
Muffin updates aside, let me move on to the REAL point of this post - the rundown of what I did over the Christmas holidays. Christmas itself and the days both leading up to and following were spent with family friends in Paris. If it's possible, I fell even more in love with the city this time around than on my other visists. I think this is due to the fact that Paris is fabulous at Christmas time, and the fact that there are more cultural opportunities in one square block of Paris than there are in the whole of Quimper. Well, that's probably an exaggeration. But Paris makes it its job to nourish its inhabitants and visitors with rich and varied cultural opportunities, while Quimper prefers to stash them in secret locations (and even once found it's likely that the median age of participants is about 50). Then again, I'm pretty sure Paris makes just about any city (at least in France) dim in comparison of it's cultural offerings. But, I digress. The point of all of this is that being in Paris was both beautiful and fantastically intellectually stimulating.
The time that wasn't spent taking in museums and momunments was spent in the company of the fantastic Salomon-Corlobé family. They are my "family" here in France and make me feel nothing but welcomed when I'm at their home. I enjoyed a fabulous spread of food and an abudance of American movies and TV shows on DVD. It was fabulous. :)
Here's a little something to give you an idea of the beauty that is Paris at Christmas (and this was literally taken 30 seconds down the street from where the S-C family live).
After six days in Paris, I headed down to Barcelona for New Years on an 11 hour overnight train. It was actually a much better way to travel than I imagined! After a nice seven hours of sleep in the "couchette" I woke up in time to watch the sunrise over the Mediterranean as we chugged through southern France and into northern Spain. Here's a little taste:
Once in Barcelona, I had several hours to kill before being able to check into my hostel, and almost twice as long to wait for the friend I was meeting to arrive. I spent a long time sitting around the train station before venturing into town and eventually finding the hostel. Turns out the girl who checked me in was from Nantes, a city about two hours from Quimper, so we had a nice little chat in French as she showed me to the apartment (this hostel had one centrally located office and then several lofts throughout the city, each with three or four private rooms and communal bathrooms, kitchens and living spaces). It was nice to have a little French in my life as I felt rather overwhelmed by my lack of Spanish knowledge!
Once Rebecca, my travelling buddy, arrived, we got to business and started to take in all that Bacelona has to offer. Among some of the highlights were Gaudi's "Sagrada Familia", a massive cathedral started in 1882 which is still nowhere near completion, and Guëll Park, another Gaudi creation. Gaudi was a hugely influencial Barcelonan artist with really modern ideas about his art. His work is all bright, intricate and noticably lacking in straight lines. Very cool. Here's a pic. of La Sagrada Familia:
For New Years itself, Rebecca and I wondered for a long time before finally finding a restaurant that had enough room to let us in. We finally got seated around 11, which was perfect as it provided us a place to bring in the New Year. We had a lovely three course meal and about 15 minutes before midnight received our "goody bags". The waitresses brought around little bags full of noismakers, streamers, hats and grapes for use once the clock struck 12. The grapes are a Spanish things. It's a tradition to eat 12 grapes at the stroke of midnight, one for each toll of the clock. I was told the tradition started one year as a way for Spain to get rid of it's surplus grape crop, but it stuck and apparently is done every year all over the country.
The restaurant was a fun place to be, everyone singing and yelling and making noise long after midnight struck. We finally left the restaurant around 1 am, to find that the streets were packed with people. We spent a good hour wandering, at first in search of a bar to settle into, but finally just decided to take in the craziness that surrounded us. It was good times! Here's a pic from the restaurant:
After a few more days of taking in the beaches (just the scenery, it was cold!), former Olympic stadiums and a few churches, it was back on the train for nearly 24 hours of travel back to Quimper (11 hours to Paris, 4 and a half from Paris to Quimper with about 8 hours of waiting in train stations in between...) The rest of the vacation was spent doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING and it was wonderful.
I hope you all had wonderful Christmases and New Years! Thanks for being patient with my posting...I'm really liking this internet café that I'm writing from...maybe I'll make it my weekly routine to come here and write (I seem to be more productive here than at home). Until next time, take care!
Un gros bisous a tous mes chèrs amis :)
Muffin updates aside, let me move on to the REAL point of this post - the rundown of what I did over the Christmas holidays. Christmas itself and the days both leading up to and following were spent with family friends in Paris. If it's possible, I fell even more in love with the city this time around than on my other visists. I think this is due to the fact that Paris is fabulous at Christmas time, and the fact that there are more cultural opportunities in one square block of Paris than there are in the whole of Quimper. Well, that's probably an exaggeration. But Paris makes it its job to nourish its inhabitants and visitors with rich and varied cultural opportunities, while Quimper prefers to stash them in secret locations (and even once found it's likely that the median age of participants is about 50). Then again, I'm pretty sure Paris makes just about any city (at least in France) dim in comparison of it's cultural offerings. But, I digress. The point of all of this is that being in Paris was both beautiful and fantastically intellectually stimulating.
The time that wasn't spent taking in museums and momunments was spent in the company of the fantastic Salomon-Corlobé family. They are my "family" here in France and make me feel nothing but welcomed when I'm at their home. I enjoyed a fabulous spread of food and an abudance of American movies and TV shows on DVD. It was fabulous. :)
Here's a little something to give you an idea of the beauty that is Paris at Christmas (and this was literally taken 30 seconds down the street from where the S-C family live).
After six days in Paris, I headed down to Barcelona for New Years on an 11 hour overnight train. It was actually a much better way to travel than I imagined! After a nice seven hours of sleep in the "couchette" I woke up in time to watch the sunrise over the Mediterranean as we chugged through southern France and into northern Spain. Here's a little taste:
Once in Barcelona, I had several hours to kill before being able to check into my hostel, and almost twice as long to wait for the friend I was meeting to arrive. I spent a long time sitting around the train station before venturing into town and eventually finding the hostel. Turns out the girl who checked me in was from Nantes, a city about two hours from Quimper, so we had a nice little chat in French as she showed me to the apartment (this hostel had one centrally located office and then several lofts throughout the city, each with three or four private rooms and communal bathrooms, kitchens and living spaces). It was nice to have a little French in my life as I felt rather overwhelmed by my lack of Spanish knowledge!
Once Rebecca, my travelling buddy, arrived, we got to business and started to take in all that Bacelona has to offer. Among some of the highlights were Gaudi's "Sagrada Familia", a massive cathedral started in 1882 which is still nowhere near completion, and Guëll Park, another Gaudi creation. Gaudi was a hugely influencial Barcelonan artist with really modern ideas about his art. His work is all bright, intricate and noticably lacking in straight lines. Very cool. Here's a pic. of La Sagrada Familia:
For New Years itself, Rebecca and I wondered for a long time before finally finding a restaurant that had enough room to let us in. We finally got seated around 11, which was perfect as it provided us a place to bring in the New Year. We had a lovely three course meal and about 15 minutes before midnight received our "goody bags". The waitresses brought around little bags full of noismakers, streamers, hats and grapes for use once the clock struck 12. The grapes are a Spanish things. It's a tradition to eat 12 grapes at the stroke of midnight, one for each toll of the clock. I was told the tradition started one year as a way for Spain to get rid of it's surplus grape crop, but it stuck and apparently is done every year all over the country.
The restaurant was a fun place to be, everyone singing and yelling and making noise long after midnight struck. We finally left the restaurant around 1 am, to find that the streets were packed with people. We spent a good hour wandering, at first in search of a bar to settle into, but finally just decided to take in the craziness that surrounded us. It was good times! Here's a pic from the restaurant:
After a few more days of taking in the beaches (just the scenery, it was cold!), former Olympic stadiums and a few churches, it was back on the train for nearly 24 hours of travel back to Quimper (11 hours to Paris, 4 and a half from Paris to Quimper with about 8 hours of waiting in train stations in between...) The rest of the vacation was spent doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING and it was wonderful.
I hope you all had wonderful Christmases and New Years! Thanks for being patient with my posting...I'm really liking this internet café that I'm writing from...maybe I'll make it my weekly routine to come here and write (I seem to be more productive here than at home). Until next time, take care!
Un gros bisous a tous mes chèrs amis :)
January 7, 2008
Blocked blogger...
Happy 2008! I arrived back in Quimper not long ago, only to discover that the wireless network I normally use at my house has mysteriously disappeared and that the other one available to me blocks blogger. So...I'll try and get an update out soon, in the meantime, I hope all is off to a fantastic start in the New Year for all of you!
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