USAC Excursion #2: Gavarnie.
Weather update: Rainy and cold. But who's really surprised?


So this was USAC's second attempt at an excursion. Unfortunately, it was still raining. Misting, actually. Regardless, it was fun and clearly, absolutely beautiful.

We started off our adventure with the Beret museum in Nay, France. The picture to the right of the stream with the house in the background is at the beret factory. The factory is one of, I think, 2 left in France that still make the beret the old fashioned way. It's a tiny spit of a town nestled into the foothills of the Pyrenees. I learned that the Beret originated in Bearn (the region I'm in), and the most common colors for the beret are brown or black, depending on if you live more towards the mountains or more towards the sea. Red is worn for special days. However, there was one man on the video we watched that said that brown was for holidays, and he wore brown all the time, because he said life was a party. Good thought, but I like the red better anyway. We also went to eat, and had a wonderful three course meal of salad with duck, chicken, and a wonderful tart for dessert. This little fox fellow was part of the decor in the restaurant. He was one of about 3 dressed foxes.

After that, we drove about another hour to the foothills of le Cirque de Gavarnie. Gavarnie was a tiny town that is apparently very popular for hikers. It was a beautiful hike at the beginning, very level and pleasant. Towards the end, it got a little steeper. And the last 150 meters were torture; it was a slate/ gravel mountainside that you were supposed to climb to get to the waterfall. To be honest, not all that pretty. But I am competitive, and I couldn't stop just halfway. So yes, I climbed all the way up, and just about slid all the way down (I only fell twice...). I really don't have any more to say, but I put up a lot of pictures! There's Jennilynn and I (we're neighbors), and a lot of the trail along the way. Enjoy~

Our teacher mentioned something the other day that I had noticed unconsciously but couldn't put into words: the French are pessimistic. Not just one or two, but all of them seem to look for the bad. Why is that?

Our professor mentioned that the negative phrasing is more commonly used. Which means, if they want to say that it's hot, they'll say "It's not cold in here." Even for positive expressions, like "The bus is always on time," they will say "The bus is never late." By the definition of their language construction, they will say everything negatively. And I think, eventually, that gets into your psyche. Maybe that's why people think the French complain all the time. It's true, but it's something that's bred into them by their very language. Not an excuse, but something to think about.

Moral of the story: say things positively. It can affect the way you think!

I have won twice today. I went to buy a cherry coke, and when I put my .70€ in the machine, it spit it out. I was about to be sad, but in a desperate moment, I pressed the button anyway. The machine started to make its noises, and out falls a Cherry Coke! THEN, about an hour ago, I went to buy a water. No one was around the machine (so I'm not cheating people here), and there was 1.00€ credit in the machine!! Water only costs .60€. So I got .40€ back. It was wonderful!! I love this country...

I am finally posting the last episode in the Dublin saga (you're welcome Mom!).

Before I start, one quick correction: Wonder Wall is not American-they're British. Je me trompe.

Ok, here we go:
After we went to St. Audoen's, we headed back to the hostel to rest before we got dinner. We got there, are we were just trying to decide what to get to eat when a couple staying in the same hostel room walked in with 2 friends. We all said hello, and they said they were going to play a game, would we like to play? We declined the first few times, but eventually we gave in and agreed to join them. Thus we met Jonathan from Finland, Peri the Iranian from Sweden, Charles and Anna, both from Detroit. We played a really ridiculous game with animal sounds, and at the end of it, most of our new friends are well on their way to being a tad intoxicated.

Well, we then discover, as fate would have it, that Peri is into martial arts. Nick didn't really believe her, so he said "show me" (Mistake #1). Peri refused, but Nick pressed her and said "Show me." "Ok," Peri said. "Choke me." So Nick acted like he was choking her (Mistake #2). Peri told him to choke harder. Nick does it (Mistake #3), and all of a sudden, Nick's hands are twisted around at his waist. And he just looks at Peri and goes "Oouuhh..." She starts to knee him, then she twist and spins or something, and before we know it, Nick is on the ground, sliding towards the other side of the room. It was really one of the fastest and most surprising things I've ever seen. She spent the rest of the evening apologizing, and Nick spent the rest of the evening nursing his wounded pride...

So, after that little adventure, we joined them on their way to the Temple Bar district. We went to a pub, danced ridiculously, and had a great time! We agreed to go eat breakfast with them the next morning, and then we walked an hour to Kilmanhaim jail. It was extremely informative, a brief overview of recent Irish history, and intriguing. Afterwards, the three of us went back to the hostel to rest, and we planned to meet Charles at 8 for coffee. We met him at 8, and he and Nick decided they wanted tea instead. Well, in France, a cafe is always open. Not really true in Ireland. The only thing we could find that sounded at all remotely offering tea was the Thunderoad Cafe (doesn't that sound like it's going to have tea? I mean, any establishment that has "thunderoad" in the title shound definitely have tea...) Notwithstanding, we sat down in a booth next to some Dutch people. Correction: crazy Dutch men. And when I say "we " sat next to them, I mean that I was the only one actually physically next to them. By the by, after less than 5 minutes, Dutch boy A (let's call him Hans) tries to start a conversation. I was polite, but very short, but Hans just kept talking. Clearly, drunk or something else, something isn't quite right with Hans & Co. Anyway, in the course of this one sided "conversation," Hans picks up a hair off the floor and says "Is this yours?" I said no. He asked again, and I said no, I was sure that wasn't mine. Then Hans did the unthinkable. He put the hair in his mouth. I almost gagged. Our whole table just "ewwed..." but it gets better. After putting the hair from the floor in his mouth, Hans turns to me and asks
"Can I taste your hair?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because. No, you cannot touch my hair."
Then Hans says, "watch this" and grabs Fritz and stands in the open space in front of our table. Hans stands there and Fritz does a handstand. A handstand. In the restaurant. Fritz locks his knees over Han's head and tries to crawl all the way around him. We're just staring at them, open mouthed. The bartender finally came over and asked them to stop, but by that time, Nick and Charles were both chugging scalding tea to just get us out. As we got our stuff together, Dutch man C leaned over to us and said "We're not all like this..." Like I'm taking the chance to find out!

So that pretty much concludes Ireland. We flew out the next morning to Carcassone and took a train back to Pau. It was pretty unforgettable! Yay Ireland!

I know this song is really old, but I really like it. I think I like the honesty of this guy yelling at God. I also like that he meets God at the corner of first and Amistad (which means friendship in Spanish). God says "Ask me anything," and the songwriter just goes for it.

Where were you, when everything was falling apart.
All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang
And all I needed was a call that never came
To the corner of 1st and Amistad.

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

And it does seem, so often, that God comes too late, that He finally shows up just when everything is lost. Ah, but do not despair, that's just because He's dramatic.
At church on Sunday, we looked at the book of Ruth. Great book. It comes right after Judges, which as Mr. Sciacca once said, is the armpit of Jewish history. Bad king after bad king, and horrible, horrible crimes committed by the people. Absolutely godlessness. But in the midst of this blackness, you have the bright book of Ruth, who stands as the single good thing out of this period of just depravity. The pastor came up with some great points from the passage. But the phrase that I loved was "par hasard" in chapter 2 verse 3. It says "So [Ruth] went out and gleaned in the field after the reapers, and she happened to come to the part of the field belonging to Boaz, who was of the clan of Elimelech [Ruth's father in law]." Life was going to be hard for Ruth; she was a foreigner (and what's more, a "forbidden" foreigner), she was widowed, and she had no livelihood nor any relatives to look to. But, she happened into the field which happened to be owned by Boaz who happened to be related to her. He happened to be a man of God and happened to be single and happened to find Ruth beautiful. Really? Concidence? i think not.
The book of Esther doesn't mention God's name once, but His fingerprints are all over that. What seems like coincidence isn't. Things just happen, but the trick is to connect all those little dots. Eventually, the bread crumbs lead back to God. But you have to keep a weather eye open, He comes to those who look for Him.

A few times, including today, we've talked about religion in my French classes. I love it, because I think I'm just hoping that eventually I'll get to talk about Jesus. But until then, my heart is just hurting from all of these misconceptions of God that the French (among others) have. People here time and time again have pinned me as "the Southern conservative." They apologize to me when they curse, they try to watch their actions around me, and they say, "oh, don't talk about that around her..." because I'll get offended. Which is fine- I'm a child. But, I hate that people automatically categorize my beliefs simply because of where I'm from. I have been undoubtedly shaped by my family and my surroundings, and I know that, and that's good, but there's more to it than that. The fact that I just might have a real relationship with a very real God that supercedes "church" and "religion" and "Southern Baptist conservatives" doesn't factor in at all, and it should! It's not about religion. It's about Jesus; His redemptive work on the cross that paid, once for all, my debt; and the response to that. What are you going to do with a man that claimed to be God and did what he did? Where do you turn with that? Oh, that I could just jump out with the truth. But I can't. It doesn't work that way, especially here. France needs Jesus. No, correction: people need Jesus. Full stop.

This is inspired by an incident I saw in the grocery today: a woman dropped 2 potatoes on the floor. She just bent down, picked them up, and placed them back on the bin. Gross.

Also, all of the bathrooms have individual rooms for stalls, and in one building, they have their own lights. Which is really ingenious because it uses so much less electricity. Also, the lights in the dorms aren't on until you press a button, and they go off after a certain amount of time. How much money does Auburn waste on lighting bills, I wonder?

Also, you can, in fact, buy just one Coke can from the grocery. When I first got here, I thought it was just a pack of Coke that fell off and broke. But no, you can open a 12 pack of Coke, take one can, and pay .37€ for a can. So weird. Try doing that in Wal-Mart, and let me know how that goes. (; Also, goat cheese flavored chips. Only in France.

And lastly, I love that when you go to a restaurant (really nice, or just a kebab place), when they give water to your table, they don't come around 5 times and refill your glass. They put a wine bottle of chilled water on your table. It's so much more efficient! Their service isn't the same as ours in anyway, so this is really just a way for the server to not have to come visit your table every 20 minutes, but it works in your favor too. Just thought I would share these small things.

Well, today was a lovely day. It started out a little rough, I won't lie to you, when I got up at 6:30. I was supposed to go to the Pyrenees today to go hiking, which I was super excited about. Upon getting up at 6:30, being driven by my kind host dad, and waiting in the bitterly cold, misting morning, the professor showed up. He lent us our shoes, we waited some more, and after about an hour, he told us that we would have to wait til next week. I couldn't get a clear answer as to why we couldn't go today; I think it was probably the weather in the mountains, or there weren't enough spaces on the bus.

Regardless, I got on the bus and rode the 39 minutes home (which really isn't as bad as it sounds). I started watching a movie, and about 10 I went downstairs and surprised my host mom and host sister, Caroline. They had invited me to go shopping with them this afternoon, and as I had planned on going to the mountains, I was sad to refuse. But since we didn't go hiking, I was glad to tell them I could go!
We had chili for lunch (which was really good), and we left after that. We went to a clothes store, a shoe store (where I bought the most beautiful pair of cream colored shoes), and to a mall with a lot of stores (where I bought socks. Woo hoo...) When we got to the mall, Caroline and I had hot chocolate and Claudie had a cup of tea. It was lovely. Very good bonding time.

Caroline is about to be 18 in a few months, and she'll get her driver's license. In France, you have to fill out a log of all your "accompanied driving" times, including how many kilometers, weather conditions, etc. So Caroline drove us today to practice in the rain. She did a wonderful job, really, because it's hard to learn to drive in France! It's a nerve-racking thing to learn anyway, just driving for real, but add to that the fact that they learn on manuals! Driving a stick shift in France is insane: these people drive like fools! It's ridiculous! So, not only are you 1) learning to drive 2) on a stick shift, but 3) the other drivers are maniacs! It's crazy. Brave Caroline and Paul... bravo.

I noted two interesting things today. 1). No dressing rooms have doors. They're all curtains. I don't think I really like that. /:
Also, when we were at the store, we came back outside, Caroline pulled out of the parking place and got in line to exit the parking lot. But, we realized that the cars in the middle of the aisle were actually parked there! Yes, middle of the aisle! My friend Mena has a picture of two cars parked at the university in the entrance to the parking lot. One car entrance- blocked by a parked car. Amazing. Oh, the French.

Finally! We made it! Well, we got in really early in the morning, and we didn't waste any time. We passed by the Bank of Ireland, which was very important in the Irish war for independence. You can still see the nicks it got from bullets during the war. Nick and I are sporting our "excited to be in Ireland" faces; Tony didn't quite get the message...

First thing, book of Kells. Marvelous. I had never heard of this before, this was all Nick, but I absolutely loved it. Basically, it's a book from the Middle Ages that's illuminated text, meaning it was engraved and painted over years and years by dozens of men. It's a Bible in pictures, really intricate and Celtic-ly fascinating. But the best part was the Long Room upstairs. You walk up a stairway and at the top, you turn the corner and in front of you this room opens up. It's just like the library in Beauty and the Beast- only better, because you can smell the old books. It's two stories full of books with an enormously tall, domed ceiling. It's got sliding ladders for each section of books and dark, polished wood. It was amazing. We couldn't take pictures, which is just as well, because even the postcards couldn't do it justice. I found this on the internet, and it's pretty good. At least it tries. (:

After that, we walked around Trinity College a bit and from there headed to the (free!) Museum of Irish history. I am here to tell you, Ireland is a lot older than I ever give it credit! They have Viking age things, Middle Age age things (Celts), and even Roman ruins. So, we looked at all that, and Nick and I stumbled on something that I was not expecting in Ireland, or ever for that matter. We walked into one exhibition called "Kings and Sacrifices" I think, and all along the length of the room, there were spiral walls. The first one we went into had a sign outside, but we didn't notice it and just walked around the spiral into the opening. Would you like to know what awaited us? Bog men.

That's right. Bog men. Shriveled, preserved men that they had found in a field while cutting peat. We walked into that unknowingly- all of a sudden this leathery form of a man is lying there, hair and all. Shocking and also strangely intriguing (is that a problem?). Anyway, there was a small child also visiting the exhibit, which is weird, but we looked at all 4 bog men, including the one that had been cut in half by the peat machine (what a sad way to find an ancient relic). Anyway, that's the 2 things I took away from the Irish museum of history: 1). It's free. 2). Bog men.

We were hungry, and we went to a pub for lunch. I am so pleased to announce that the Irish pub does in fact exist and it looks just like it should! I got fish and chips (delicious) and I just tickled pink by the whole situation. Also, we ate at about 4pm, which is impossible in France. Here, if you don't eat between 12 and 2:30, you just missed lunch and you will starve until dinner at 7:45. So, it was so freeing to be able to eat whenever you want!

Another cultural difference was the architecture. I guess I'm just really used to French architecture, which is ostentatious and flowery and decorative. Irish architecture is very cut and dried, block, Industrial-Revolution style houses. Very indicative of the British Isles, I would imagine, and deliciously different from France. It was funny, though, when we got back to France and I noticed that every single building had a balcony, a decorative window or door frame, or some other decoration. Every building. So interesting.

So, moving on, we also visited the Potato Famine memorial and other sights. That evening, we went to a pub and spent a tranquil evening listening to the live music and being entertained by a group of dancing strangers. We heard some great songs, but we were missing out traveling song: "wonder wall." When we were in San Sebastian, we heard a song in a jazz bar called "Wonder Wall." Every European knew this American song, and it appeared that I was the only one who had never heard it before. So, it became a constant source of conversation that I didn't know this song. We also heard the song when we traveled to Bordeaux. Back to Dublin: we got tired and left the pub, and as we were walking along the street, Nick said casually "Just about the only thing missing from this night is 'Wonder Wall.'" And I kid you not, not 2 full seconds later, a random musician in the street began the first few chords of Wonder Wall. Not kidding. We all flipped out, and had a really moment in the middle of the road. We sang it out loud, and marveled at notre chance. What are the odds? This is why we study abroad, eh boys?

The next day we headed to Christ Church Cathedral, went into St. Patrick's Cathedral <--- (after all, how many times are you in Dublin? You have to see St. Pat's Cathedral...) and saw Jonathan Swift's grave. They have beautiful stained glass there, and apparently, they also collect their funds for the children's choir in a keg. No lie. Look at the picture: people drop church donations into a keg. Welcome to Ireland! (:




We went by the Dublin Castle, too, and actually, upon leaving the Castle, we were approached by a lady asking where we were from. They were looking for people to interview about a referendum they were voting on that day. We weren't European, so we couldn't really help, which was sad. We also went to the Guiness Brewery (which tastes similar to what I imagine motor oil would taste like. Horrible, horrible stuff). We almost got lost going to the Brewery, but then we smelled something: I thought it smelled like a bakery, but Tony thought it smelled like a farm. The solution: I smelled the yeast, and Tony smelled the barley. Just depends on if you've actually ever been to a farm (Tony) to know what they smell like...

Lastly, we headed to St. Audoen's church, which is the oldest church in Ireland to still be holding services (over 800 years). It was free, informative, quiet, and you were free to take pictures. I have a big beef with churches that make you pay (which is a whole 'other entry), so I enjoyed the free opportunity.

This picture is deceptive: this is the tower from St. Audoen's, and it looks like it's in the country. I'm going to let you believe that. The other picture is the wall of Dublin. Been there an awful long time. And yet, it would be so easy to miss...





Also of note, there was a restaurant we passed called "Stonewall Jackson's Bar and Restaurant." I knew he was famous, but Ireland? that's true fame: I'm pretty sure there are Americans that have no idea who Stonewall Jackson was. Southern history: ever intriguing.
Well, for those besides my immediate family, if you've stuck around this long, thanks! There's more to come. We're not done yet!

First off, why does the Belgium airport call itself the friendly airport? And the real question is why they wrote that in English. Belgium speaks French...
Regardless,
we (Tony, Nick and I) finally decided (Mon) to go to Dublin for our 5 day weekend (which began that Thursday). We first flew to Brussels. Well, that’s a loose term. We flew to Charleroi-Brussels airport, where the minimum fare for a cab out of the airport started at 20. So, not knowing what else to do, we took a taxi to our hotel, only to find out that we could have easily walked the distance. That notwithstanding, we got our rooms, put our stuff down and asked the front desk where we could get something to eat. And this will tell you where we were: he told us that the gas station about 400m (a fourth a mile) was the closest thing. Yes, we’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s not the middle of nowhere Birmingham airport, where you could walk somewhere if you want to get shot. No, this really is the middle of nowhere; I could see the airport, this gas station, about 3 hotels, and the autoroute.

Anyway, we walked to the gas station and got snacks. Nick wandered around looking for waffles (just on principle) while Renee and I searched for Belgian chocolate (what else?). When Nick saw the bag of 16 waffles, I thought he might cry; Renee found a 2 pack of chocolate that took me all of 36 hours to eat, and Tony downed a whole Powerade in about 42 seconds flat. We also found Paprika Potato chips as well as Heinz ketchup flavored chips. Three words: no thank you. That being fun, we head back to the hotel, where we spend the next 6 hours amusing ourselves. Renee’s idea: Yuker. What is Yuker, you might ask. Good question: I’m still not really sure. It seems like hearts, but you only play with cards above a 10, and the color of the suit makes a big difference in which card holds what value. It seems like a really fun game, but unfortunately for us, we only had a pencil and pieces of paper. Not very conducive to playing a card game based on suit color; makes that a tad more challenging. Also, what we didn’t really discuss until we actually played is that sometimes the Jack of a certain suit will change over and become another suit (but it changes every hand). So I’d play a diamond, but then Renee would say: “No- that’s a heart!” And we’d figure out that I just unknowingly cheated the whole hand and I’d have to go back and try to sort myself out. So confusing…

To add to all of this excitement, we begin to notice that Tony is turning purple. No lie: lips and cheeks are purple. And so I said, “Tony, take off your jacket.” But he said without the jacket, he was cold, with it he was turning purple (read: fever). [All this really happened, by the way. Not exaggerating just to make it read better]. So, let’s review, shall we? Nick has now eaten probably 10 waffles and half a pot of jam, I’ve consumed ridiculous amounts of chocolate, we just spent the last 3 hours playing a card game none of us understand while watching French teledramas, we are stuck in this room for forever, and Tony has a fever. So what do we do? What anyone in our situation would do: we ordered pizza! No really, they had told us it would take a while, so we called early.

So we called and were told it would be about an hour. Perfect. We weren’t really hungry anyway. But then we wait. And wait. And wait. For 3 hours, we sat in that room and waited for our pizza. It was ridiculous. We finally concluded that the airport has a deal with the taxi drivers and the Etap hotel has a deal with the pizza company. It’s a scam. After that, I had no idea what we did until we went to bed at 11:30, but I think I fell asleep around 2:30, (so what’s the difference anyway?) and we woke up at 4:30 to get to the airport to catch our flight. (:
So, it’s sad to say that Belgium, Brussels brings with it a large number of funny moments, and unavoidable, wonderfully hysterical frustration! And can you believe we haven’t even gotten to Ireland yet! If you thought this was adventurous/ funny/ ridiculous, you just wait. You haven’t heard anything yet!

to come: next installment- martial arts demonstration and Wonder Wall.
Then: why I will never go to Holland.

Well, things started rough when we got to the train station (need I go on?) to catch our train to Bordeaux, only to discover that there had been a wreck on the lines and no trains were going to Bordeaux for the rest of the afternoon/ evening. Great. Well, we tossed around the idea of going to Toulouse, but in the end, decided to go to Bordeaux on the bus. 2 hour train ride, 3 hour bus ride, no big deal. So, finally situated on the bus, we head off, only to get stuck in traffic and arrive in Bordeaux after 4 hours on a bus.

But, it builds character!

It was after 8 when we got to Bordeaux, and after catching the awesome trams (really, really wonderful idea. It's like the trains, but local. Better than the bus system, because they're so constant, but safer and less intense than a metro system. They should consider that as a solution for 280.), we headed to the hotel, checked in and put our stuff up. But then, it was a tad tard (late) and what we found to eat was... kebabs!
France's greatest culinary invention (joke)!! Delicious, fast, cheap- what's not to love? In fact, some of us loved them so much we had them for dinner again the next night...


Also this evening, we ran into some skaters. Roller skaters. TONS of them. Apparently, like in Paris, there's a weekly skate club that goes out on Friday night and skates around Bordeaux. There were different age levels that went by at different times, and one very nice guy offered us a brochure. Anyway, we thought it was really comical.

The next day, we just walked around Bordeaux; saw the beaux Arts museum with it's beautiful flowers as well as the interesting enormous crocodile head in shiny material in front. No lie.




Then, there was the important fountain in the square (demonstrating some type of architecture typical of Louis the 16? I'm not sure, but it was in the guidebook).

We also saw the Mirror of water, way too much fun to play in. It was a large area that held about an inch of water. It then drained the water, and when it was dry and you were about to turn away and say "Well, that was strange," it begins to mist. After the mist, water bubbles up from the ground and fills the cauldron again. Pretty fun for us, and probably pretty amusing for the watchful parents of the 5 year olds also playing in the water. what can we say? We're small children.









We tried to go on the walking tour suggested in the guidebook from here, but that was pretty much an exercise in futility. The guidebook was in French (although the others dominated that part), the directions were vague, and who wants to see another back alley anyway? Actually, the problem is that French road signs are more like suggestions: if they are actually on the corner, they're on one of the four corners of the intersection, and they can be on either of the two sides of the four buildings that make up said intersection. So you can see why directions that only use street names would be a little difficult to follow. (: That notwithstanding, we did see the Grosse Cloche (Giant Clock), place de la Victoire, Rue de St. Catherine, and other worthy sights around town.











Saturday evening we saw a fountain that I especially liked (though I have no clear idea as to why). It had some chariots and there was a bunch of symbolism in who was driving the chariot and who pulled the chariot... cha cha cha... I think I really liked that the horses were half horses, half sea creatures. Their hooves were webbed and clawed. It was really cool, anyway.




I liked Bordeaux immensely; I thought it was a lovely city, vibrant but manageable. There was a large public park that was absolutely filled when we went on a lovely Saturday afternoon. I took some pictures to show how the French spend their leisure time (of which they have a lot!), it's really quite beautiful. Hope you enjoyed Bordeaux!

844. Pick daisies in a meadow in the country.
845. Get hit by a car.
846. Eat a mollusk that the French lovingly try to dress up by calling it "escargo." (great article. http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,753365,00.html)

Well, haven't done all of those. Rephrase, I've only done number 845. Yes, yesterday I was hit by a car. That sounds so crazy, but I was riding my bike when I was attacked by an older lady in a car. Clearly, I'm fine, but it was an unusual experience for sure.


I was riding my bike home, minding my own, when up comes another roundabout. Number 3. It's a biggie. There are a ton of cars because it's 5:30 and we had to wait a bit to pull out because of traffic. Finally, I get to go, and as I'm continuing my way counterclockwise around the roundabout, an old lady just doesn't see me and turns right in front of / into me. No lie. I hit the side of the car and then just eat the pavement. The car behind me stopped, because clearly now I'm in the way of traffic and my bike is splayed out in the middle of a busy intersection and my shoe is who knows where, and the nice guy (who was really cute...) asked me ça va? about 4 times and I just kept saying, yes it's fine. ça va. ça va. Crazy!! So now, I have several scrapes that have bruised and swollen, and the whole left side of my bum is swollen the size of a grapefruit and bruised so badly that it's not even showing yet... Am I an accident waiting to happen or what?
Since I've been here, I've consistently had some sort of healing scrape. The first few weeks, it was the numerous little scrapes on my ankles that I got from walking my bike home. Then last week, as I noticed that those were going away, I (in the dark) ran into a metal stake in the garden and slashed my shin open again in a 2 inch long laceration that is still a deep red. And now, I have multiple scrapes that will remain with me for life.

You know, it's really miraculous that I've made it to 21 alive. You would think that I would have found something really dangerous to fall, walk, or trip into, but so far it's minor (knock on wood). Oh France...

No kidding.

Well, I'm really behind, sorry friends. About 3 weekends ago, we went on our first excursion with USAC to 2 coastal towns in France and a coastal town, San Sebastian, in Spain. I was really excited about getting a tan but as it turned out, I ended up not bringing enough to layer. It was so cold!

First, we visited Bayonne, a very typical French Basque fishing village. We had a cool tour of that, visited the cathedral, visited a chocolate shop which was amazing, of course. My goal was to find hot chocolate because it was raining cats and dogs and we were freezing. So we stopped in a local chocolatier and got hot chocolate with flavors!
This is ginger chocolate... oohhh. I got hot chocolate with cinnamon- delicious. To top it off, she got a piece of the cinnamon chocolate (which looked like a sheet of paper) and set it on top so it melted in. She made all the chocolate by hand and had it around the store. As I said, it looked just like paper or fabric that had folded, only it was chocolate. Very interesting. And then we had to get back to the bus. So, we tried to hop from awning to awning, but unsuccessfully. Puddles unseen soaked our jeans and the edges of the awnings just poured water down the backs of our necks. By the time we made it back to the bus, we looked like wet cats. Really. Look at that picture. And we found out that Bayonne hasn't had rain since July, and this particular weekend it rained so much that they evacuated people for the flash flooding. What luck have we!! (:

From there we went on to San Sebastian, which I have heard praised as one of the most beautiful cities in all of Spain (clearly by those who haven't seen La Granja or Segovia). Anyway, I had tapas for the first time (isn't that sad?) of kalamari, mussels (gross), and fries with a really good sauce. And of course, bread. I actually really liked the kalamari, and what was really fun was that after eating the mussels, you just threw the shells in this little trough on the floor. Reminded me of Logan's, but it was very messy. Not advisable.



It was still raining, so my pictures of San Sebastian are few. However, these are pictures of the beach at night, the lovely buildings, and the town in general. Also, as it turns out, Brad Pitt was in town (no lie) for a famous film festival, but we didn't get to meet. He called to see if I wanted to meet for tapas, but I was busy. What a shame, right? The most, let's see, tragic / comical part of San Sebastian, though, was that evening. We left from the hotel about 9:15, going to look for some food. The others were going to take a bus, but we decided to walk. It was about 1.5 miles, more or less, and as soon as we got down the street, it started to rain. Lightly, at first, but pretty soon it came down. I mean, the heavens were opened and what evaporated in the parting of the Red Sea poured down on us. I had an umbrella, and so did the other 3 girls, but the boys had nothing. And so they got absolutely drenched. Through their jackets, both of their passports got wet, and we walked for well over 30 minutes. Did I mention it was cold? Like, heavy coats and scarves cold. So, while they're beginning to shiver from hypothermia, we begin to look for something to eat. It is now beginning to close in on 10:30. We didn't think any restaurants were still serving, so we decided to go to a cafe to get something to drink. Closed. We start turning down side streets, looking for something a). spanish and b). open. Finally we stumbled into this tiny tapas bar, I used my stumbling Spanish to find out that we had to order quickly as they were turning off the stoves. We got sandwiches with omelets, and spent the rest of the evening in the bee bop bar listening to jazz (debatable) and other forgotten songs from America. So, that's all I've got of Spain so far.



Things aren't over yet, though, guys. After San Sebastian, we headed over to the touristy town of St. jean de Luz back in France. This is another coastal town famous in France as a weekend getaway. It really was adorable. We also got to watch them set up for a Basque freedom meeting... ooohhh. Yes, we walked away gracefully.


This next picture is of typical Basque architecture. Most of the houses look like this, although the red could be blue or green, mostly paint that's left over from painting the boats. Originally, it was red because they used to paint it with oxblood. That's right, ox blood to protect from insects or something like that... not really sure.


Anyway, it was a memorable weekend. It wasn't much fun at the time, but I smile when I think about it, so that's good. And I'll leave you with a Viva Espana!!

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I thought this was so fun.

I rode the bus yesterday to school and back (abt. 45 minutes each way) and on the way back, this older man sat with me. His wife sat in front of us, and by and by this older man started talking to me (also, he asked if I was English, which I usually say yes to, and if I was Swedish. Really? Swedish?) Anyway, his son is in New York right now and he and his wife got really excited when I was American and when they found out that I lived right near them, took the same stop as a matter of fact. They insisted that I come to their house, but I had class and couldn't, so they wrote down their address and phone number and showed me where the house was. Second street, second house on the right, I think. So cute.

While we're talking about the bus and I mentioned being British, here's a story. I got on the bus last week and talked to the bus driver as I got my ticket out. He asked me "English?" to which I responded yes, because of course, clearly, I speak English. However; he then proceeded to tell me that his wife was from England too. I didn't correct him, but I hadn't used a British accent or anything and I figured he would realize that. He said the town his wife was from, and I asked him to repeat it. He did, and I asked him where it was. He told me, but I said I wasn't familiar with that area. He then asked me where I was from. I just got the Birmingham out, didn't even get to Alabama, when he burst out "You're from Birmingham and you don't know where lkqfjmlqkjf is? That's right in the same region!! How do you not know where that is?!?" Apparently he hadn't noticed my lack of accent and apparently his wife is from the same region as Birmingham, England and now I look like the fool because I didn't know a small village in the same region that I'm presumably from. But I shrugged it off, adopted an accent, and we chatted it up for the 20 minute ride into centre ville.

The French people have a bad rap, but I tell you, everyone I've met has been incredibly friendly. Really, it almost borders on ridiculous that I've had 3 people I have just met give me their numbers in case I needed anything (no guys, in case anyone was wondering...) They're so kind!
Welcome to France!!

Bonjour!

Well, today I'm going to give some more information about Pau. Pau is a much bigger town than I anticipated, I actually live in a suburb called Lons. We bike 2.5 miles to school every day. It's kind of a pain to be so far, but it's fine. The family is very sweet, and I'm getting a good workout!

The first picture is some signs around campus. It means "Knowledge is not merchandise, university is not an enterprise." Our french professor said yesterday that "Striking is a national sport." The French love to demonstrate, and this is some of the student's form of expression. I'll come back to this.

The second picture is a picturesque part of Pau. The Pyrenees aren't far, so they built this beautiful boulevard where you can see the mountains in the distance and there are flowers... all of Pau doesn't look like this, I assure you, but this is the pretty part.

The third picture is of the Faculte de Lettres, and the second is my room in the house. The campus of Pau is very interesting; like most of France they don't care that things are old and need repair. The whole campus reminds me of Haley: it's just older and dingy and needs to be renovated. But this is the whole campus and they don't care about making it look new and shiny. The French don't mind things being old, where we would say repaint and reshingle and renovate, they just use what they have. Also, French universities are very cheap for French citizens, about 500 Euros for the year, and still French students demonstrate all the time about lowering costs. So, you get what you pay for, in a sense. Where we pay exorbitant amounts, we expect nice buildings. The French don't pay enough to care about keeping up their things. It's just a different mindset.

The next picture is my room in the house (for you, Annie, so you can visualize where I am). I share a bathroom with the 2 kids in the house, but the room is all for me! It's great to be able to be with the family and learn their way of life. We've watched this really funny French teledrama "Plus belle la vie" most every evening, and yesterday we watched an hour of Grey's Anatomy in French. So funny! I can't understand much at all, so it's a great mental workout!

A few cultural differences, just so you know. Not better or worse than ours, just differences:
1). I was confused about wearing shoes, as I noted last post. I asked Caroline (my host sister) and she said that they wear shoes downstairs, but not necessarily upstairs. just kind of different.
2). There's no shower curtain. I'm not the only one, there are several students living with host families that don't have shower curtains. There are also several students that don't have showers, only baths.
3). Most of us don't have top sheets. There's a bottom fitted sheet on the bed, but then it's just the comforter. What about when you wash the sheets?
4). It's not necessarily true that the French take forever to eat. My family eats super fast, always cleans their plates, and I'm the last one, struggling to finish all that they put on my plate. I think they hear alot about how Americans eat so much more so they're putting more on my plate, but I don't eat a lot in one sitting. Oh well. It's a struggle, but somebody's got to do it! (:

I did spend one morning/ early afternoon in town and that was fun. I went to church on Sunday: didn't get much. But, we did read some passages I was familiar with. We read Ezekiel 37, the dry bones chapter, and that was a good reminder. Especially in France, where religion is so dead, it was good to read these strong promises: "Prophesy to these bones... and they will live, and become a great army." Anything can happen, even with things that seem completely lifeless. God didn't give up His power post-cross, He makes dry, dead, empty things full and whole and alive. Very good reminder as I sit in a church of maybe 40 people.
Also, we read The beginning of Ezra, with bits of Nehemiah. The beginning of Ezra is so cool, because it is King Cyrus, king of Persia, says that the Lord of Israel has given him so much, so he commissions the rebuilding of the temple. That a pagan king should not only allow, but pay for the return of a people brought into his country as slaves to rebuild a temple to a God he doesn't believe in... if God can work that much in Cyrus's heart, then the people I know can see Him too. I trust Him to good in me here, through me and in me. He can work in my heart to burden me for these people. Whatever He does, it will be good. Of that I am sure.

So, that's us. We're going on an excursion to Spain tomorrow, so I'm super excited! I'll let you know how it goes!