last night in Paris

I'm home!

My last few days in France. Eventful.

Yeterday's couchsurfers picnic was moved indoors by the rain in Paris. My hosts (Jeff and his Canadian girlfriend Shannon) and I hit the only open grocery store in Paris - to their knowledge - for supplies for dinner and headed over to meet the Paris peops. I had sent a blanket email to the Paris group asking for a place to stay, as I hadn't planned ahead very well, (perhaps wishing to stay in denial of leaving France for as long as possible) and many of the people at the party recognized me and said hello. It was another event that confirmed my belief in couchsurfers as being some of the best people in the world. There were people there from Paris, of course, Brazil, New Zealand, Germany... and all very friendly, and so interesting. There was a guy from Brazil who was a lawyer there, and had decided to move to Paris to do some kind of work in law and homlessness issues. A phD student in some kind of physics (yeah, in French it's harder to grasp the science words. The evening's drink of choice was the Monaco (beer mixed with lemonade and grenadine) The crowd was boisterous and clearly in for good conversation. If only I could have recorded them. I suppose it makes sense that the people who would open their homes to strangers and stay with the same when they travel would be nice, but it is hard to describe the breadth of their adventures, and the depth of what is shared in this organization. What love one has for the person who offers up a bed at the last minute on a rainy last day in Paris.
The bar closed early, as everything does in Pairs on a Sunday, if they're open at all, so the CSers parted reluctantly. I am sure that the majority of the group went to another location to continue festivities, but it was dinnertime and I was cooking for my hosts and a few people we recruited from the party. Diamana, a Parisian girl who still has family in Mali; Andrew, an American living in Paris, by way of Portland, formerly from Ohio, and Robin, a girl from New Jersey about to start a bicycle ride through France to bring attention to the ongoing strife in Sudan. The tiny Parisian kitchen was pretty cosy with several of us washing, chopping and cooking. We ended up making a lovely Moroccan-type dinner. The discussion was a little challenging. Everyone in attendance had strong opinions, mostly in agreement with one another, but nonetheless the discussion turned more than once into a heated debate over semantics. For instance, Shannon gets offended when Americans call the U.S. "America" because it implies that Canada - and Central and South Americas - are not in the Americas. I get the argument, but the conversation on that topic lasted way longer than was interesting to me. All in all it was a great time. A fantastic end to two months in this beautiful country.

Side note: I have ignored a mosquito for the last time. I went to bed last night knowing there was one in the room, and I woke with my left eye swollen from bites this morning. It was too early to find a regular pharmacy, and I had a plane to catch. I left Jeff's house at 7 and caught the trains to CDG. I checked my baggage, and with 40 minutes to my plane's departure time, I ran downstairs, through an underground parking lot, up stairs to the other terminal and to the pharmacy there, just to find that they didn't have Benadryl. So I have spent the remainder of the day on the plane with this bulb of swollen flesh on my face. People have been kind. I keep wondering what they think. Does it look like a black eye that hasn't bruised yet? It's a little humbling. Which is a good thing. I think too much about how I appear to others, even though I would like not to, and I hate admitting it, even to myself.
The above was written on the plane home. I have more to reflect upon and write, but I leave for Burningman today (Wednesday). More when I return....

not so long

Yeah, I know, my blog entries are long. Thanks, ma peops for commenting. I feel loved!
Had some thoughts tonight while making dinner here at the chateau, about the benefits of being unable to participate fully in conversation. Currently, it is practically impossible to have my own thoughts and comprehend what is being said in a group of French people. So I end up living more in the moment. If I want to keep up with the conversation and participate in life as it goes on around me, I sacrifice the wandering mind. I've noticed more where my mind wants to go and it's rarely somewhere useful. Talk about a boon. Attention: gift from the universe!
It's like when I've been meditating a lot and I get in touch with the reality of how unimportant it is to express every little thing that occurs to me. I love this feeling. I started to fight against it here for awhile, and to feel stifled, but today I embraced it. Feeling pretty darn grateful right now.
Yesterday I was invited to have lunch with the gay couple across the lane (Jean-Claude was away working), so I reluctantly left my painting and walked over. It turned out to be a full-on afternoon luncheon. Thierry, one of the guys, cooked some fabulous food. Homemade bread with frommage blanc, plums, pistachios and onions on it, BBQ pork, 4 different types of vegetable purées (like hummous, but with artichoke, carrot, avocado and something undetermined), fruit salad in rum and of course, more bread and cheese... And about 15 of their friends. All people who've done theater together. I could tell as they arrived. Those of you who've done theater know what I mean. There's a generosity in the faces of seasoned actors. Life in their eyes and a propensity to dominate the conversation. It was great. Especially since my French conversation skills are limited.
Afterwards, a friend of J-C's showed up here, Veronique with her two kids - Aurore, 19 and Julian, 12. They are simpatico. After settling in, we made dinner together and got ready for the nights event. J-C informed us that a group of 50 people would be showing up around midnight for drinks and dancing. It ended up being more like 40 people, who drank but didn't dance, and they arrived at 1:30 and left at 4:#0 - but it was fun. The evening was cloudy but warm and you can't beat sitting in a castle courtyard garden in the wee hours of the morning, drinking Chenin and exchanging colloquialisms with francophones. I slept in until noon.
Today, while Veronique and the fam went to sightsee, J-C and I ended up droving to a town 30 minutes away (which isn't far in these parts) to see some friends and pick vegies for dinner. It all started because I wanted to have some vegetables with the lamb he had defrosting in the sink, and snce today is a holiday - some saint's day, I think - none of the stores are open. So he put in a call to his friend and in the pouring rain, we picked cucumbers, tomatoes, beets... we were also given onions and shallots, and a few glasses of champagne. They can't help it here. It's required to be hospitable apparently. His friends (whose names I will get in here soon) live in one of a string of absolutely adorable villages. Tcked away down a little dirt road. These people have character. The kind of people who mean it when they look at you. Know what I mean? I hope I get to see them again when I can say more.
Tomorrow, I paint the downstairs bathroom. I think I know what color I'll choose already.

the French Riviera

Fréjus is a small town in the French Riviera. I hopped off my train at the station there and called Keveen, who headed over in a friend's camper-van, greeted me with a big hug, and we were off to the campsite/resort where he's been living and working this summer. It's an odd phenomenon in France, one of the most beautiful countries I've been to, these "campsites" which are really mobile home parks where people vacation. It's great for people with kids because there's a pool and activities (which was part of Keveen's job) but the places I'm talking about are not beautiful. They're utilitarian. I suppose they are way less expensive than hotels, and they do have toilettes and running water, but nothing like camping. It was the same with Mélanie's friends in Toulon, except they didn't have children. If I remember rightly, there are not many places here where people can actually camp, so that is their alternative.
As for me, it seemed the perfect place to wrap up vacation time in a laid-back kind of way. It was clear that aside from the time he had to work, Keveen was excited to hang out and show me around the area. He is someone I want to follow around and make a documentary of. He's one of a kind. He has a French father, American mother, he's French, but he speaks English like an American (or like a Scot when the mood takes him), fluent Spanish, and a useful amount of just about every language he's come across. The Dutch children at the campsite are teaching him Dutch, for example. He'll talk about growing up in West Africa, and it all makes sense, he's like Mowgli from the Jungle Book, except he's not really shy about anything. He's travelled quite a bit, including a long stint in India. His philosophy is "spread the love" which he does in many ways. He can never turn down an opportunity to flirt. He takes beautiful, poignant photographs and considers himself a bard. I didn't get to hear him play ukelele, but I imagine he's good at that as well.
He told me that there was a girl who was supposed to have arrived the night before, but had not shown up. He had waited at the station for a good long time, and had not received a phone call. With that mystery lingering, we walked down to the centre ville for a glass of wine and a lookabout. It's a charming town. We sat in the main square just by the church and drank sangria. We met a woman there whom we joined and ended up making plans for Saturday with her. She knew of a party happening in a smaller town nearby, and close to Keveen's dad's place, where we were headed Saturday nonetheless.
While we sat enjoying the weather and conversation with Patricia, Keveen got a call from his coworker saying that the other couchsurfer had shown up, so we headed back to meet her, hoping very much that she would be a fun person to spend time with. We were not disappointed. Kalela is a beautiful girl from Sebastapol, who currently lives and studies in Sweden. She's got a great smile and super-fun energy. The three of us really clicked. I threw together some dinner with what Keveen had in the fridge and we all agreed that we'd have a leisurely evening, being that we were all pretty tired.
Friday Kalela and I walked about 45 minutes to the beach while Keveen was working. It was lovely to have someone so sweet and easygoing to spend time with. On the beach we went au natural - to the extent that we could - to get the full experience of the beaches of the riviera, and to avoid tan lines. The Mediterranean is not warm. Somehow I had gotten it in my head that it was. It was nice, but a little too cold for me that day. It was just cool and breezy enough to be perfect for sunbathing but not hot enough for swimming. Afterwards we walked back to the downtown to get some supplies for dinner. Some house-made harissa from a little North-African market, fresh mint, rice and lentils. And when we got back, a bunch of campers leaving the site were dropping off leftover food, so we were set for the weekend. We had a great dinner. Keveen made this fantastic stuff with frommage blanc, mint and spices that we ate with baguette, and I made a vegetable curry and rice with lentils. That night we went to watch the show that Keveen and his coworkers had put together with the little kids on vacation there. It was darling. They did little dance step to songs like "YMCA" and skits and stuff. A couple of K's coworkers bought some wine and we sat, drank and laughed. After that we all danced at the club there. Surprisingly, the DJ wasn't bad.
Saturday the three of us were picked up by K's uncle, Thierry, whose wife and kids were vacationing in Spain, and we picked up Patricia down at the train station. We had a nice afternoon at his house, about 10 or 15 miles to the north. He made lunch, we played with his dogs and lounged in the hammocks in his yard. K took us girls down to the river, which reminded me a lot of Butano. We got a ride to his father's house, where we met his dad, stepmom and her sister.They let us take their car, and K set about showing us the area where he lives. We saw the highest town in Provence, and a fantastic waterfall in a canyon surrounded with fig trees. And then we went to the party Patricia told us about. It turned out to be an open-air Basque-themed party. They had what I suppose was Basque food (I've only ever had it once before): spiced chickpeas, Spanish tortilla, cheese and Serrano-style ham. It was strange. The people there were the homeliest people I've seen in France. It was an entire town of odd looking but friendly people. There was a DJ playing, a mix of French pop and random American songs. James Brown followed by house music.
We crashed in little cabin on his dad's property and spent the next morning in another small town, having coffee and pastries before dropping Kalela off at the train station. Spent the rest of the day taking it easy, eating, went to the beach in the evening for a bit, played a bunch of music for each other. Fortunately, Keveen's dad let him keep the car, so I didn't have to hoof it to the train station this morning. Now I'm on the train to Tours, by way of Paris of all places. Jean-Claude will pick me up at St. Aignan around dinnertime. He told me on the phone yesterday that he's got a bunch of friends coming through this week, so it should be fun. We're holding a wedding at the Chateau on Saturday, Sunday I head to Paris, Monday morning I fly to SFO. It's great to be glad to still be here and also happy that I'll be back in a week. Before I headed off to Toulouse I was on the verge of wanting to go home, but I am so glad I didn't.
photos: Kalela, Keveen and me; me and Kalela looking out over Provence; in the river; the Riviera

Toulon

Just after I finished my last entry, I ceased to enjoy the smells coming through the window. As we approached Marseilles, the industrial smell of the city overwhelmed all else. I began to sincerely appreciate the fact that my next host lived in a town 45 minutes further by train. I had a few hours to kill and a train ticket to buy in Marseilles, so I got in line. It was a complete zoo at the station. It's the second-biggest city in France and one of the oldest. There were several people in line with a completely different idea of what personal space consists, hence I found myself needing to strategically position my baggage as to keep them from breathing down my neck. 45 minutes later, I left the station to take in what I could of Marseilles. Some friends in Lyon told me that one either loves or hates Marseilles. I didn't get enough time to really decide, but I can say that I doubt I could live there. There were some really interesting things I observed, like groups of people in traditional African tribal dress. A huge diversity of races, many Middle Easterners, people from all over Africa and lots of tourists. I had a kebab and headed back to the station.
My host, Mélanie, picked me up at the station in Toulon, and whisked me off to a BBQ with some of her friends (from Nantes) who were camping nearby. I spent the next couple of days walking around the small villages and a small island just off the coast here, called isle de Portquerolles. The isle was beautiful but it was chilly and I'd left my hoodie at home since the weather was supposed to be hot. I stayed a few hours, saw some fantastic beaches, wished it were warmer, and went back. There's only so long I can tolerate the cold.
Mélanie had printed out maps for me, and I took the bus most of the time. She lives a ways from the centre of her town, and she was great about picking me up when I needed it. I didn't even need to ask. We had another dinner with her friends and last night with her colleagues. She works for an agency that plans group tours of the region.
Figs grow everywhere here. Walking home yesterday I stopped at a field and picked blackberries and figs to have with lunch. I love that. If I have to miss the greater part of berry season in Oregon, at least I have figs here. The blackberries are not the same. Not bad, just not the same.
Currently, I'm on the train on my way towards Nice. My next host, Keveen, lives in a small town close to Nice, and I hope it won't be difficult to get there. I feel I must at least see it. But that's the thing about couchsurfing, you have to go with the flow of things. So far, I have been really glad to have the people I was with influencing what I chose to do. I think I would be a bit lonely otherwise.
photos: Marseilles, me in a small village near Toulon and my last dinner with my host Mélanie (last one on left) and her friends from work.

Lyon

Lyon, Lyon, Lyon...
It reminds me a bit of San Francisco, a little bit gritty, and beautiful in a very urban way. ---rivers---graffiti --- huge glorious buildings. It's a mix of the typical French - with smaller streets paved with stones, huge old churches, outdoor cafes everywhere, and the newer parts of the city with larger roads, more modern buildings and the first shopping mall I've seen since I've been in France. The weather is perfect. hot days and warm nights. Finally I can wear dresses without freezing.
Thomas - a friend from school who lives and works in Lyon at a newspaper - met me at the train station and promptly took me up the hill in a tram to see a huge church and a spectacular view of the city and the Alps. He was leaving the next day on vacation, and he wanted to make sure that I saw it. We went to a restaurant, Koodeta, with his boss, Pierre, and met the chef who was to do a demonstration of molecular cuisine for me, and they would videotape it to post on their website. It turned out that the demo had to happen the next day, so, exhausted, I headed to the place where I was to stay.
My host, Greg, had dinner ready when I arrived. He's someone who really needs to live in New York. He loves le rock, and parties like a rock star most nights of the week. He lives down the street from an Asian-themed café (Café Indo) where he and his friends hang out. We went there that night and he introduced me to everybody. Many of his friends are also couchsurfers. I think they told me that they have the most CSers of any city in France. It was nice to meet some of his female friends - it's difficult to meet other women here. I have tried, but there seems to be a cultural difference between us. Women generally don't talk to other women outside their group of friends. I am looking forward to a time when I can have better conversations in French. I can only express a small part of what I think and feel, and that weighs on me.

Friday morning, I met up with Thomas and we went back to the restaurant for the demo. The chef du cuisine, Olivier, at 25, is one of the youngest in his position in France. He's been cooking for 10 years. He has great talent. He and the pastry chef each had me participate in putting together a simple dish, one was puréed melon dropped into what I think was a solution of agar agar and water, coating the blob of melon and solidifying it into a small egg-shaped sphere. That with a strip of serrano ham, some fried basil and a skewer made out of a tube of port, was the most unique twist on an appetizer that I've ever seen. The desserts were two: one was simple - strawberries and black summer truffle sliced thin and fanned out on a plate with vanilla bean olive oil. Had the strawberries been the small super-sweet kind I found at the farmer's market, it would have been fantastic. But summer truffles are not the rich, heady truffles that I've had in the past, so I was a little disappointed in the dish. I think it's great to have some desserts on the menu without sugar, but it has to be done right. The second dessert, however, was absolutely delicious. He had diced strawberries and house-cured olives (cured with only water, so they weren't salty) and on top of that placed a small scoop of bubble gum flavored ice cream. Not just any bubble gum though. There is a kind here called Malabar, that everyone knows. Thomas told me that he had it as a child, and that this ice cream tasted just like it. The combination sounds strange, but it was actually really good. The whole experience of the demonstration was a bit frustrating because my French is so limited, I couldn't really say what I thought, nor could I ask the questions I wanted to ask; and with the molecular cooking, they used processes that, when explained, exceeded greatly my French vocabulary. (Thomas would have interpreted, but I felt like that would have been too time consuming.) Overall, I am glad that I went. Chef Olivier asked if I'd come back to eat dinner, and I said yes, for Saturday night.

Greg and his friends were planning a party/BBQ for Friday night, for all the couchsurfers in the area, and I spent Friday with two of them, Van and Lilian, shopping for supplies for the party. I ended up spending the better part of my time in Lyon with them. Van was born in Vietnam, but has lived in France for many years. He's a darling. He is one of those people who brings friends together, always planning events and such. Very sweet and generous. He seems to know everyone and it is clear that everyone loves him. He's traveled a lot. Lilian is more reserved, and a lovely person to spend time with. He strikes me as an artist who hasn't yet embraced his medium. Also well traveled, he has a friend's art hanging around his flat in lieu of a gallery, as he tries to create a market for it. He told me stories of Burma, where he met his artist-friend, and we exchanged colloquialisms and grammar lessons. The language barrier was most frustrating here. If I remembered Spanish, it would have been great, as he speaks it fluently, but alas, my Spanish is worse than my French at this point.

We had a lovely afternoon Friday...long lunch at Van's beautiful flat, drinking wine and listening to music, getting stuff ready. The party was a blast. About 50 people showed up to the spot by the lake they had chosen. We had a sound system and we rotated ipods, the guys barbequed, I put together a salad. There were people from all over. There were 3 guys named Guillaume.
Van had bought tea light candles and once the sun went down they were lit and placed around the site. It was fantastic. One friend, T.T. (pronounced te te) who runs the Café Indo, was hysterically funny. He had drunk quite a bit, and he was walking around, snapping photos at random with the camera at arms length. More than once he came over to where some of us were sitting and collapsed into people's laps, giggling and saying "you're a boy!, you're a girl!" I should have gotten it on video, it was priceless. Afterwards some of us went out to a club on the river - there are lots of boats that serve as nightclubs and cafés - and some others went to one of the Guillaume's houses. That's where I lost Greg. Apparently, he partied at Guillaume's house all night, got up at 11am, and with a group of people, went to the nearest pub to party all day Saturday. After that, he partied somewhere else all of Saturday night. He came back to his apartment at 5:30 Sunday morning with another CSer guy from the BBQ, laughing and carrying on, but I was so tired I didn't get up to say hi. When I got up to go to the farmer's market with Lilian on Sunday morning, the two of them were passed out in Greg's room in pile of clothes, blankets and empty beer bottles. Like I said, Greg parties like a rock star.

In the mean time I had a good time hanging out with Lilian and Van. They both spoke a mix of English and French with me, but I have to admit, I often abandoned French in my desire for good conversation. Both of them speak better English than my French - though I've improved quite a bit - so it was easy for me to be lazy. The three of us had dinner at Koodeta Saturday night. We asked that Olivier send out whatever he wanted us to have, and the food was fantastic. It was tapas-style in long ceramic dishes. We had chevre-basil ravioli, tiny fried fish with lemon, dorado sashimi, seared scallops with parmesan "essence" which was like carbonated parmesan cream or something. It was very good. We also drank some variations on the mojito. The one I had was exactly like a regular mojito, except instead of using sparkling water, they used beer. Again, something that sounds odd, but was tasty. The service was great, and the bartenders flipped bottles around à la Tom Cruise in that movie - what was it? Cocktail? I never saw that movie, but you get the gist... before we could say that we were too full for dessert, they told us it was coming. And although we were all stuffed, we were glad because the desserts were so good. We each were given a platter with three small desserts: Ice cream flavored like a strawberry candy (another French childhood favorite,) a barely-sweet concoction of geléed peaches with ginger foam, and house-made nougat with fresh nectarine. We all agreed that the nougat was divine, and that all three were perfectly matched. If you haven't had nougat in France, you must. It's not like the stuff in American candy bars, not by a long shot. After that, Olivier came out with some tiny glasses of a rum concoction and had some conversation with us. As I suspected, Olivier made sure that we were only charged for only a fraction of what we ate, and then Van paid the bill without letting us contribute. I am awed by the generosity of the people I have met here. [Side note for Matthew: many of the staff members from the Cosmopolitan were there at Koodeta partying that night, but I asked, and none of them had been at the Cosmo when you were there.)
Sunday was beautiful, the farmer's markets, where I heard the only loud French people outside of the bars, had stalls of art- some very good painters - books, and the usual crafts, and row after row of perfect produce, cheeses, and many more things that you can really only find here. We had lunch at the top of a neighborhood called the Croix Russe, a neighborhood of artisans and several Middle Eastern hangouts. Apparently it's being gentrified, and has changed quite a bit in the last few years. I had a sausage that's a Lyonnaise specialty. Need I say that it was fantastic? It was a perfect day.
I am so grateful to have had such good people taking care of me here. The only thing I didn't do was get to the Cosmopolitan , the bar where my friend Matthew used to work. I guess I'll have to go back!

Right now I'm on the train to Marseilles, and somewhere nearby, there is sagebrush burning, or something that smells like burning sage. The windows of our car are open - thankfully, as the weather is warm - and I'm enjoying the smells as well as the sights. My host, Melanie is picking me up at the train station, does life get any better?
the photos: two of the CS BBQ, the whole group by day and night, Lyon from the river and me with Van and Lilian at Koodeta.

from Veuil to Toulouse to Lyon

On the TGV between Toulouse and Lyon. Whew, the last few days have been non-stop.
There are a few things I've left out, so I"ll start there:
The night before we all left Angers I had dinner with Annick's family again. This time was much more fun. Understading conversations and being able to contribute was gratifying. They all made it clear that I have a place to stay if I return, which I told them I was sure to do. Annick's 7-year-old grandaughter, Emelie, again, sat on my lap for most of the evening and was loathe to leave when he time came. She made me realize how much I miss being around kids.
The party that ended my program in Angers was a mish-mash of interesting multimedia presentations , dance and song. As expected (at least on my part) the students from Japan wore yukatas. They were so cute, singing along to a Japanese pop song like karaoke. But then the one Japanese guy who ventured to perform broke out with some freestyle hip-hop dance with some African guys he met down at the train station, and they were amazing. Students from Russia, Kazakhstan and Lebanon gave informative and funny presentation on their countries, most notably the students from Kazakhstan, whose presentation started off with an "anti-Borat" symbol - hilarious. A big group of teachers from Spain, whom I might have mentioned in an earlier entry, performed a medley of songs, including "La Bamba," again, highly amusing. And then there were a couple of students that played piano, guitar, some played their own songs, I was amazed at how much talent we had among us. The party ended with everyone rushing the stage when our monotrices (the girls who were our teacher's aides) played Gwen Stefani's new single, which in earlier bus trips had, with repetition, become a theme song for our group. We danced and said goodbye, and some people slipped out with their host families to get a few hours of sleep before leaving the next day. My host mom, Annick was there with me, and patiently waited as I made the rounds. Saturday was great, got to Veuil, and from there...

Sunday morning we - Jean-Claude (J-C), Drew and myself - were up and at-em at 8. Ten minutes to get dressed and we were off to Jackie's patisserie for a little tour and croissants fresh out of the oven. Spent the rest of the day finishing what we could of the paint job in the kitchen (we ran out of paint, and no stores are open Sundays here, other than the patisserie which is a notable exception) and cleaning the house. J-C was blown away at the job Drew and I did on the house. He kept coming through the room we were working on saying things in his cute French accent, like "formidable!" and "incroyable!" He's a great person to work for because he is so expressive about his happiness. Helping to restore a house of this kind is like a dream. It is a thing that should be preserved. We were expecting J-C's sons Sunday night, so we gathered some flowers and then went back to the bakery to get pastries for "tea" and dessert. Had a little fun with them see photo), before eating a few with tea. And when the arrival was postponed, we ate the rest for dessert. They were lovely.
Monday J-C's sons showed up - Pierre,17, angelic blonde darling and Batiste,19, a computer genius with girlfriend in tow, as they were all leaving the next day for a vacation in Sweden. I was making dinner - a special thing for J-C who is always entertaining others, so he set up a table in the grass outside between the house, the castle and the grange, with candles on tall iron holders surrounding. I brought out my ipod and stereo and put on some classical cello, which just about sent J-C over the edge. It was amazingly perfect. The moon rose as we ate. J-C had bought a bottle of "le VRAI champagne" as he put it, meaning champagne from Champagne, the only region of France legally allowed to call their sparkling wine "champagne." His sons are, like all the teens I've encountered here so far, courteous, helpful and could hold their own in interesting conversation. Not that I had all that much to say - given my limitations in French, but they even tolerated that with grace. And, of course, when I cheated with a word or two in English, they understood. Drew, bless him, was consistently helping me with rewording phrases and vocab. We all departed together the next morning for our respective adventures, me to the South, Drew to another chateau called Nitray, and the family to their vacation.
I had a weird kind of backwards route to a stopover in Tours, where I checked out the town. Their was a German film crew at the cathedral in town shooting a scene wherein the pope arrives to a crowd of cheering "fans" and cardinals and the like. I was exhausted and fell asleep on the grass nearby to the sounds of directions to the extras in French, to the crew in German and random English phrases that I suppose are universal to the film biz now.
Long train ride to Toulouse (I read "The Life of Pi") and the first truly warm weather since I've been in France. Skirt weather! Yaaaaaaay! My host, Timothee, was waiting for me at his flat, just a 5 minute walk from the Metro station. Toulouse is beautiful! I love it there. And people there are good looking. More than any other location in France so far. Don't know why.
So, Timothee had friends and a picnic waiting by the banks of the River Garonne a short walk away. Many rivers and towns upon rivers here. I love it. It often makes for a stunning combination of natural beauty and architecture. Many many chateaux and cathedrals are right on the water, or just above. There were tons of people out, down by the river, fire jugglers and spinners, families having picnics, random groups playing soccer or petanque. We played petanque after our picnic, and I did alright. His friends were sweet and kindly warned me that calling petanque "boule" was risky as the word "boules" is also the word for "balls" and they weren't talking about the metal ones you throw in the game...
That brings me to yesterday, which I spent walking around Toulouse. It's a college town with lots of fun shops and beautiful brick buildings. The people are friendly and a little less guarded that those in Paris. Toulouse is a walking town. Everything is within walking distance. It is a city I could see myself living in, at least so far. I found an AWESOME adorable little candy store, right out of a dream. Olivia, if you're reading this, yes, I have something for you... I wanted to buy everything! As I'm running low on funds I restricted myself to 15 euro, but it was hard. There were syrups and sauces of so many interesting flavors and candies I'd never seen before. I made it to two of the cathedrals in town, St. Etienne smelled so beautifully of the incense I remember from midnight mass on Christamas's past, and had faint Gregorian chant playing. I am continuously in awe at the intricacy and beauty of the churches and cathedrals here.
I got a few things to make dinner for Timothee and the two other couchsurfers who were showing up that evening - two girls from Portugal, and called another couchsurfing person (Benjamin Levine who speaks English like his Jewish-American father and French like his French mother) in town to see if he and his roomate wanted to get tea. They were making jam at their apartment across the main square, but invited me over. Lovely people, who were insistent that I change my ticket for Lyon and stay in Toulouse longer. Alas, I have plans with my friend Thomas and couldn't do it. They did, however, meet me and the gang out for drinks after dinner that night. We went to a bar near the river that reminded me of bars in SF. Where people were friendly, the guys weren't overly forward (unlike Angers) and everyone had a good time. I'm sure it's where I would hang out if I lived there. I introduced Timothee and the girls to Benjamin and his peops and they collectively introduces us to the rest of the bar, basically. Between Tim, Ben and their friends, they knew everybody. I love making worlds collide! So that was last night. Went to someone's house after that for a bit, got home, had some tea, slept from 4 to 6am and walked to the train station, which brings me to now.
On my way to Lyon to stay with a couchsurfing city embassador, and Friday night there is already a party planned - wheee! But first, my friend Thomas, who was at Southern Oregon U with me last year, and was my conversation group leader, is meeting me at the train station to film me "discovering Lyon" so he can post it on the website of the newspaper he works for. I hope my French holds up, I"m really tired. Hopefully the'll be buying me lunch. :) Regardless, I'll be glad to see Thomas and I think that traveling is always more fun with objectives, so this little project makes my day. I'll post a link here once our little foray is on the net.

Things I want to mention: shutters on all the windows, the feeling of people living closer to nature (farming/land), the "way things are" the cultural expectations that start to feel comfy. One is expected to sit down and relax for a meal. One does not get up, unless absoutely necessary, until all the courses and conversation are finished. There is an unspoken agreement made at a certain point and everyone gets up together to get ready to go out or do whatever is next. There is not a lot of TV watching, thankfully. French people are extremely social. They go out late.
Otters in the Loire. The smell of the cathedrals, age and incense. The relationship of the people who live in the small towns in the country. The sense of history here, how it informs everything that people here do, and how easy it is to picture the people that came before walking about. Just a few random thoughts from one tired girl...
Update, as I post this, I'm in Thomas' office in downtown Lyon. We're about to head to a restaurant that has an innovative chef. I heard something about "molecular cooking." Supposedly cutting edge. So I"ll be speaking in French, and hopefully eating some cool stuff.
The photos: candlelight dinner at the castle, pastry, candy store in Toulouse