J'ai Malade

I have decided that becoming sick is my personal way of claiming a foreign country as my own. Or maybe it is the country's way of claiming me. In either case, I am now a little more French. A few months ago I would have been quite displeased about being at all Froggian (Puh French! Yeah, Spanish!), but now I don't think being a bit Provençalian is quite so bad. Besides, this newly acquired French-ness is still tempered by my Guatemalan experience with Montezuma ;)


P.S. - please vote in the new poll on the right side of the webpage!

Les Escargot

Warning: Melanie and Carol (and anyone else who might not like slimy things), don't look at the pictures below.

Snails are incredibly common here. If you walk in open grass, it's uncommon to not see at least five snail shells (habited or uninhabited). There are thousands of empty shells around the studio. They're usually white, but sometimes the larger ones have patterning and earthy colors. The smallest I've seen has been about a millimeter long/wide. I find all the shells fascinating. Apparently small children here do, too; last weekend, in Nimes, Heather and I heard some of them yelling "Escargot! Escargot! Escargot!" as they ran up and down a steep hill to show their guardian.

A few weeks ago, I was privileged in seeing The Biggest Escargot Ever:

That's the toe of my boot

Recette pour Gâteau

In case any of you were interestested in making the raisin-cake for yourself, the recipe is:

Les oeufs
La farine
Le beurre
Le sucre
Le fruit

Mix together approximately equal amounts of the first four ingrediants, then add whatever kind of fruit you prefer. Make sure to add some citrus and citrus zest, though, it's great. Bake until it's done. Agnes prefers this cake to be thin, and it took hers about half an hour. Basically, just customize until you like it!

Newness

Today I ate:

a piece of a heart-shaped raisin cake. Yogurt with strawberry jam. A bowl (yes, bowl) of earl grey tea. Orange juice that my new host, Agnes, had squeezed this same morning. Homemade bread was also available.

Butter cookies and an apple from the market. Some nutella.

A homemade tart of egg, gruyere, swiss chard, and carrot. A glass of wine. Fennel with lemon juice and olive oil that Agnes' friend had produced. A piece of the homemade bread. Salade that had been cut within the past two days, with walnuts that Agnes had just cracked. A piece of a raspberry tart that Guillomette's grandmother had sent.

Did I mention that everything Agnes cooks or buys is organic?

Wohoo, des Annonces

J'ai des annonces:

The adventures of yesterday occurred in Nimes and at the Pont du Gard. I shall blog about it more later.

Il y a des nouvelles photos a Facebook. There are about 230 spread out over the latest two albums, and they're already rotated! I have a couple more on my phone to upload later ('couple' in Steph's photo-dialect means around twenty).

I had my first extended conversation that was mostly in French on Friday evening. It was very rough and I had to look up almost as many words as when I do Greek homework, but this is exciting progress!

I move tomorrow! And I will be purchasing a bike. This new place is quite far away, but I believe it will be a significant improvement. Besides, a bike will be so useful for further exploration of la ville!
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On Friday night I went out with my friend Jackie. This was only the third time I've been to a French bar (or...any bar!), and only the second time during regular hours. We went first to the Wohoo, which is a bar that is near the Centre. It caters to foreign students. The Wohoo is where I went during the first week here for a free cheese and wine tasting. In the small underground part of the location, we each ordered a large, fruity cocktail. Jackie's had a sort of sour-apple taste (with strong alcohol flavoring). I had a 'Russian Institute': Champagne, peach-flavored whiskey, apple juice, Grenadine, and a few small ice cubes. They were served in tall, curvy glasses with two straws and two glow sticks each. I still haven't experienced even tipsiness, which is good - but I'd feel more comfortable if I had some idea of what 'my limit' is.

It turned out to be Karaoke night, so we watched as a very pretty French lady and her friend performed the first round. They were really quite awful, but it was fun. Later, a couple guys began singing Aqua's Barbie Girl. Jackie and I couldn't resist. We began singing along from our seats, to the point that the two men began holding the microphone to us for the "ah ah ahs." Then they gestured for us to get up, and we had a sort of shoulder-to-shoulder sing along. Turns out the guys were Swedish. It was pretty cool. After that, Jackie sang Blink182's All the Small Things. I helped with the chorus, but didn't know it well enough to do much more. Unfortunately, I couldn't convince her to sing Dragostea Din Tei (the original Romanian version of Numa Numa) with me. . . .

Apres, we headed to the Bar Sextius (Sextius was the Roman General who founded Aix). It was techno night, and most people were "gothed-out" in their garb and makeup. There were top hats, corsets, and masks. Jackie, in her usual black clothing and heavy black eye-makeup, was thrilled. Don't ask me what techno music has to do with these costumes. In any case, it was fun. I got home safely by about midnight.

Quick Nimes

Today I sat in a Roman temple (and walked in another), perched on the windy top ledge of an ancient arena, climbed the outside of an old tower fortress,and sprinted by the Pont du Gard.

Nourriture Indienne en France

I called Madame a "butterhead" last night.

Steph unlocks and opens the main door, starts to head out - "Au revoir, Madame, you're a butterhead." "Bonsoir."

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I went out to dinner last night for an early birthday celebration with my friends Heather, Nadia, and Jackie. We went to a cheap, authentic Indian restaurant. Note that there is a significant difference between a cheap restaurant at home and a cheap restaurant in Aix, where even a 'fast' food meal for a single person can cost 10€. The French don't do bad food in restaurants. It would be sacrilege.

My entire meal cost less than 16€, which is almost outrageously cheap here. Nevertheless, it was one of the best meals I've had since arriving in France. The atmosphere of the restaurant was gorgeous. The gentle and unoppressive but warm, hot colors and lighting; the rich decorative details; and the delicious, savory-sweet, and comfortingly ubiquitous smell of Indian cuisine were everywhere.... We sat in a corner of the restaurant, right next to the large picture window that looked out on the cold, rain-drenched street. Even with this bleak contrast, I was warm and happy in my wet clothing and hair. The wall behind us had a pattern of raised, carved flowers. The servers were polite and helpful, though we had no reservation. The table was set with stemmed wine and water glasses. There were golden elephants by the door.

I had a vegetable samosa as an entrée, with sauce. From the fresh-boiled taste of the potato contents, it was obvious that this samosa has not been a cheap, frozen blasphemy of a samosa. You could see hints of the cubes that the potatoes had been cut into for cooking and mashing. There were many fresh peas inside. The envelope was crispy, but not too greasy. Knowledge and love went into both the creation and the destruction of this lovely samosa. What a perfect circle of samosa-life.

For an aperitif I had my first-ever experience with a lassi. It was wonderful in its large, conical glass, while its cool-yellow color and its cool, yogurty-mango taste and smooth texture contrasted and complimented perfectly with the atmosphere of the room. It was deceptively light-tasting. I drank it with a straw.

My main dish consisted of aromatic riz, garlic naan, and a lentil dal. The rice was flavoured with cardamum and another spice whose name I couldn't quite remember. I mentioned to my friends that my Indian mother always seasons her rice with cardamum, but that she also uses cloves and cinnamon. This was my first taste of naan, too. The garlic was fresh and sharp. The bread itself was dense and soft. The creamy, yellow-green dal was tinted orange by the light. It had an obvious layering of spices. I mixed in the deep red, sweet-spicy sauce that I had used on the samosa. I believe it may have been tamarind. My friends shared equally in the rice and naan. Nadia and Heather had chicken tikka masala, and Jackie had a lamb and spinach concoction. It was all so good. So familiar.

I've missed Indian food.

Dit Quoi?

Dear Mme B----------,

I apologize. I meant to get this e-mail to you yesterday, but since then its content has required several major edits. I know you read my mother's last e-mail, which stated that after hearing of our meeting it would perhaps be best for me to stay with Madame G---- and to just work things out. Until yesterday, I was of that same opinion (I did not have the opportunity to say this during our meeting). As my mother said, I really do enjoy my roommate and appreciate eating vegetarian meals. I developed a list of problems and things that I believed needed to be improved.

Unfortunately, I no longer believe that these are issues that can be fixed. I have tried to explain, to understand, to compromise, and to adapt, but it has not helped. I would like to move forward with the process of changing hosts. Staying with Madame G---- has begun to deteriorate my physical and mental health, to the point that some of my
professors have noticed. I want to enjoy this time in France, so that in several decades I can look back on it fondly. I want to be able to speak well of France and the French after I return home. Let it be clear that I love my classes and the education I am receiving here; the teaching is just about tailor-made for my style of learning. I feel as if I have learned more here in half a semester than I have in two and a half years at my college in the States. Staying with Madame, though, is ruining my entire attitude to this experience. This is unacceptable, particularly as my parents are paying for me to live here. As Madame G---- has made it abundantly clear, her apartment is not my home. I am not a member of the 'family.' This leaves me in the position of 'tennant,' but Madame
does not treat me with the respect or privileges of someone who is paying to live here.

This is my greatest complaint against Madame G----. She consistently treats me with disrespect and a lack of common courtesy. Among other ways of showing this, she has made her disdain (or perhaps 'contempt' would be a better word) for the North American culture well known, and then continued on to tease me for being American. She has made noises of
disgust at me, and even rolled her eyes at me. It is not uncommon for her to scold me unkindly or for her to raise her voice at me. Sometimes she does this first thing in the morning. Again, I have tried to understand and to adapt, but it has not helped.

Madame G---- does not uphold her end of the contract (for even if it is not filed legally, Mme Boudellal, it is a document with certain agreements that she agreed to by signature). Our demi-pension plan states that we have paid for "continental breakfast every day," "Dinner six days per week," "One load of laundry per week (per student)," and "A complete room cleaning every week." Madame G---- has delayed our laundry being done
so many times that she owes me a total of two and a half extra loads at this moment. Laying aside the "complete" part of the room cleaning she is supposed to provide every week, she has gone multiple weeks without even vacuuming in our room. Madame refuses to provide us with continental breakfasts on the weekends if we wake up after nine o'clock, to the point that I once woke up eighteen minutes late and was not given breakfast. She
shows her displeasure if my roommate and I wake up to eat then go back to sleep. She has also just informed us that if we return to the apartment after 20:30 we forfeit our dinner, even if we have told her days in advance that we will be late. I could understand her not providing the dinner we have paid for if we returned at a truly late time of
evening, but 18:30 is not late. Many people eat dinner at that time. By saying we will be late, we are not asking her to to do any more work or to make any extra preparations. She could just leave food out for us and allow us eat it cold, but instead she has decided to
simply deny us.

Madame G---- has also complained that my roommate and I eat too much jelly for breakfasts. She said that she cannot buy one jar of jelly per week. I know from researching the products and brands she buys, however, that both my roommate and I save Madame money by being vegetarian and not eating meat. It is therefore absurd to complain that a single jar of jelly for a week of breakfasts is too much.

Madame G---- has made me late for classes twice, once by half an hour. She did this by breaking the normal pattern of the morning bathroom schedule without notice. I could not even brush my teeth. If she had forewarned me so that I could have woken up earlier it would have been different, but she did not. Again, I think this comes down to a basic lack of respect and courtesy.

Beside all of this there is the situation that occurred for winter break. She caused my family to spend 150 euros for my lodging and meals that she had already been paid to provide. She harrassed and guilted me into leaving by asking every single day if I knew what my plans were, even though I had already told her that I was waiting on an answer
from someone, and even after I had assured her that I would tell her as soon as I knew. She told us that she wanted to go see her family in Algeria, whom she had not visited for two years. After all this pressure my family and I finally capitulated, and said that I would leave. Unfortunately, the prices for travel skyrocketed the very next day, which
made if far too expensive for me to leave. When I told Madame G---- that I was staying in Aix, her eyes bugged out and she began exclaiming about how she was going to turn off the heat and electricity. She would not calm down until I said that I would rent an apartment from a friend for the week. I did not realize at that point that I was actually, by the paper agreement, allowed to stay in Madame's apartment even if she left.
Thinking about it later it made sense, though, because she had been paid for my meals and my lodging. In any case, she asked me to leave her apartment by 14:30 on the Saturday before break, and to not come back. I freely admit that on Wednesday I did stop by to pick up something of mine, but I had not realized she meant "don't come back" until my roommate retold me after break had ended what Madame G---- had said. On Wednesday Madame was sitting on the couch as usual. She told us after the break that she had gone to Paris, returned for a day, then gone to Rome. I find it highly doubtful that she truly did turn off the electricity and water, considering she returned during the middle of the week and they were on. You told me, Mme B---------, that you too had seen her during the
week, and that she had told you she "was here" (to use your exact words) because of me. Unfortunately, Madame G---- never told me that she would be in town at all, never checked on me, and - again - asked me not to return to her apartment. Thus, her explanation for being in Aix during break does not ring true. My parents and grandparents are furious about this omission of truth or lie, whichever it may be. I, too, am angry. My parents and I view this entire situation as a theft of the 150euros I was forced to
spend for lodging, six dinners, and breakfasts. If I had known I was permitted to stay in the apartment, I would have stayed there.

Thank you for your assistance in this matter,

Sincerely,

Stephanie Maniaci.

OFII, Metro, et la Nutella

Yesterday many of us went to Marseille for the OFII medical exams. They say that they are making sure we are generally healthy and do not have tuberculosis. Really, though, it is just a way for the French governmment to squeeze 55€ out of each long-sojourn visitor. Oh well. At least we each came away with a really cool X-ray of our chests. Actually, I've two now - Sloan didn't want hers. I know they could have just pricked us to do the test, and that I've had a vaccine for TB anyway, but I'm pretty psyched about my new "wall art." I teasingly asked Mme (in French!) if I could hang mine on the fridge ^_^

It's tres cool. My spine is relatively thick, my ribs are really thin, my lungs are large (and placed quite high!), and my heart is truly about the size of my fist. I suppose it's better to have thin ribs than a thin spine :)

Also had my first ever experience on a subway yesterday! Fun, but I prefer busses and trains, I think. It was strange to be so far underground. Ma copine Jackie says that in Montreal, where she is from, the metro cars are blue and "rounder." I summarized this as "prettier," but really 'not ugly' would have been more appropriate. The subway cars in Marseille are boxy and an ugly orange color. Man-made orange does not belong underground.

Today I went to Monoprix for groceries. I found a 1kg glass jar of Nutella for 4€59! Yesss.
I also purchased a cheap memory card reader, and it seems the internet signal is strong enough here that it is actually possible to upload photos. So, go to my facebook page to see a few (hundred) new photos!

Thought I'd take this opportunity to not read for class

Monte Carlo ou Les Gorges du Verdun?

Hmm...Monaco and Monte Carlo or Les Gorges du Verdun?

Les Leçons

Blog time! :D I am currently sitting on my bed, propped against the wall with my two pillows. The sheets are nice and clean. I just changed them yesterday from the pink set (who said Mme doesn't have a sense of humor?)

Today I had a crepe avec fromage (emmental) et gelato (cioccolato and stracciatella). We had another potluck tonight, too, but I left early. J'ai mal a la tete. Mais, ca va.

Thought I'd post a few  lines from some of our class readings that we (or I) have found inspirational or instructional.

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"It is the placement of the shadows and their harmonious rapport upon which depends the luminous effect of the whole."

"One must leave the paper the power to act by itself in order to give birth to the light."

"'Line is the means by which a man accounts for the effect of light on objects, but in nature there are no lines --in nature everything is continuous and whole.'"

"While he was talking, the strange old man touched every part of the painting . . . always to such effect that it seemed a new picture, but a picture steeped in light."

"[The quality without a name] is a subtle kind of freedom from inner contradictions."

"It is so filled with the will of its maker that there is no room for its own nature."

"A good picture, which is a faithful equivalent of the dream which has begotten it, should be brought into being like a world. Just as the creation, as we see it, is the result of several creations in which the preceding ones are always completed by the following, so a harmoniously conducted picture consists of a series of pictures superimposed on one another, each new layer conferring greater reality upon the dream, and raising it by one degree towards perfection."

"The meaning of a story has to be embodied in it, has to be made concrete in it. A story is a way to say something that can't be said in any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is. You tell a story because a statement would be inadequate. When anybody asks what a story is about, the only proper thing is to tell him to read the story. The meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experienced meaning. . .".

"In fiction two and two is always more than four."

"You ought to be able to discover something from your stories. If you don't, probably nobody else will."

"The old man sniffed. 'Good? . . . Yes and no. Your lady is assembled nicely enough, but she's not alive. You people think you've done it all once you've drawn a body correctly and put everything where it belongs, according to the laws of anatomy! You fill in your outline with flesh tones mixed in advance on your palette, carefully keeping one side darker than the other, and because you glance now and then at a naked woman standing on a table, you think you're copying nature--you call yourselves painters and suppose you've stolen God's secrets! . . . Brr! A man's not a great poet just because he knows a little grammar and doesn't violate usage!'"

"'It's not the mission of art to copy nature, but to express it! Remember, artists aren't just imitators, they're poets!'"

"'It's our task to seize the physiognomy, the spirit, the soul of our models, whether objects or living beings!'"

"'In Raphael's figures, Form is what it is in all of us: an intermediary for the communication of ideas and sensations, a vast poetry! Each figure is a world, a portrait whose model has appeared in a sublime vision. . .".

"The fact is that the difference between a good building and a bad building, between a good town and a bad town, is an objective matter. It is the difference betwen health and sickness, wholeness and dividedness, self-maintenance and self-destruction."

 "'The right art,' cried the Master, 'is purposeless, aimless! The more obstinantly you try to learn how to shoot the arrow for the sake of hitting the goal, the less you will succeed. . .. What stands in your way is a much too wilful will. You think what you do not do yourself does not happen.'"

"By letting go of yourself . . . that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension."

"The first law of art is sacrifice."

"'You know already that you should not grieve over bad shots; learn now not to rejoice over the good ones.'"

Some sketches

Va!

Functioning computer = go!

Initiation of process to switch hosts = go!