So here's a video about the Easter Fair that has been the spot to go for the past few weeks. Famous last hangout for my friends Bing, Samuel and Rana who were looking for a fun, memorable last evening before they left la france. I've also been with friends just looking for something fun to do on a Saturday when it's nice outside. So many rides. So much dizzy. So many lights. See for yourself.
Full-disclosure: this was the first time I actually tried editing a video. And it's a video I took on my webcam and cell phone. So I am aware that it is really terribly done. But I'll keep trying.
Things I left out of the video:
-How I screamed so hard on the upside down ride that my friend asked me if I had another cold the next day because I had lost my voice.
-How I got really into the haunted house and running out looking scared that a really nice lady pulled my friend aside to ask him if I was OK.
-How I spent about 2 euros (20 centimes per try) trying to win T a little bear and failed miserably, while Whit totally won a stuffed mario on her first try.
-How a silly mom wore a skirt to the foire and a gust of wind at the funhouse showed everyone everything.
-Another thing I noticed that def would not fly in the USA:
(Yeah, just go ahead and zoom in on that beach scene)
Things I left in the video:
-Me searching for the word jam. Cause most of the time I still can't believe I learned french and love when I forget words in English.
-Me saying I'm going to the Foire tomorrow. It's definitely over now. Sorry, took my time uploading.
I'm not talking about [enter smelly and loud person, animal or character here]. I'm talking about how I like my memories.
We all know that the olfactory sense has super-strong ties to the memory. To me, the best memories are always the ones linked to a smell or sound. They’re like a happy surprise. Usually, when I have a memory of something it’s because I was talking about a time with someone else, or I was thinking about a specific epoch in my history. In those cases, the memories are good, but predictable. I know they’re coming.
But every once in a while, I hear a song or specific noise, or I smell or taste something and this huge wave of nostalgia washes over me. And I prefer these memories to any other type. They’re always so much stronger. When I hear a song from Mariah Carey’s CD Rainbow, I’m not just reminiscing about the Christmas of 7th grade. I’m there, sitting on the old couch, my mom is on the floor with my brother and we’re opening presents. When I smell Victoria’s Secret Heavenly lotion, I don’t just remember the time that I wore it; I’m there in my past, in my car driving to Williamstown for an interview with a vacuum-cleaner pyramid scheme, reaching into my new green purse, listening to the Legally Blonde the Musical soundtrack. Listening to any song by Avant takes me back to my BFF Jenn’s house in middle school; American Baby by DMB puts my in my car at 4:30 am driving to open the airport store; any song by the Books and I’m in the living room in Ocean City with all my best friends. I brought Tapan’s cologne with me here, and sometimes I spray it on the shirt he gave me so that when I miss him I can cuddle with it. And I’m not just with the shirt when I do that – I really am back in his arms.
I’m reminded of this whole phenomenon every time I walk home from or to Laplace. I pass a particularly stinky area on the way - I think it’s a sewage drain or something – and I have memories of sea. I know it doesn’t sound too nice, that the smell of sewage reminds me of one of the best summers of my life, but it’s the truth. The MS Explorer sometimes had its problems with stinky toilet smell. The first level especially, so sometimes when we arrived in port and had to pass through there to get on and off the ship, we’d be a little inconvenienced. It was never so bad that we’d have to cover our noses or anything, and I don’t think there was any sanitation problem involved. And it’s the same here on that road to Laplace. In fact sometimes I feel rather twisted that I smell that and a smile immediately comes across my face because I’m back at sea, about to have some adventures with McKenzie in Costa Rica, or on the brink of gaining some street cred in Callou, Peru with Jesse and Claire.
But that’s the power of the olfactory sense. And whenever a smell or sound triggers a memory I feel incredibly satisfied. Oh, there are so many things I wish I could share with you all that I just can’t. Sure, I can record a sound and post it here, but it’s just impossible to do that with smell. I wish I could send vials of the smell of pain chaud from La Mie Caline, or this new apple-vanilla artisan soap I bought, or the air last night right before it rained. It makes me at once sad that I can’t share it, and grateful that there are some things that will always be just mine.
And whenever I have one of these memories I wonder what will be the smells that remind me of France in the future. Will it be cranberries (my first shampoo)? Will it be the smell of warm brioche? The honey & milk hand soap that I use? The bitter smell of the scarf that I keep forgetting to wash? The deodorant I use here? And what will be the sounds that take me back? What tastes?
What do you guys think? Have you any smells or sounds that bring you back to a specific place or time, good or bad?
I thought I would be able to forget about Christmas this year. Being away from my family and friends sucks. So I figured I would just convince myself that Christmas is just a day like any other day. Hey, Tapan doesn't celebrate Christmas, I thought, I'll just pretend like I'm him.
Not so. First, the Christmas Market came to Lisieux. For such a small town square as we have, there certainly were a surprising amount of vendors. Santa hats for sale, hot wine, chi-chi (like funnel cake in thin strips), handmade soaps, special teas, all kinds of great stuff. I even bought a mesh tea ball so now I can drink loose-leaf tea. How chic is that?
Then, Lizzi and I went to an English choir, which was a really fun way to get into the Christmas spirit and hear/sing some nostalgic English hymns. And, on the way back, we ran into this cute little tree and presents that was all spray-painted with fake snow. Nice touch, Lisieux.
And then, to really get myself into the spirit, I bought my very first very own Christmas tree. OK so maybe a cactus is not the conventional tree of the holidays, but I wanted something original. I know all the followers of Oh, Ashley are just waiting to know how long it took me to stab myself with my new cactus. Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. It took circa ten seconds. And I didn't just stab myself. I happened to stab myself in a vein. And it was all purple and hurty for two days. Because of this, I named my cactus after one of my brattiest students. And then I decorated my Nicolas with some Xmasey stuff and set my new camel right next to him. Sweet!
I'm going to Caen to spend Christmas with Milena. I think it's gonna rock. And then I'm going to a costume New Year Party! I hope everyone has a great holiday and an awesome New Year.
I don't know when I'll be on again, so I'll leave you with this, my favorite clip from A Charlie Brown Christmas:
The folks at cheezburger have launched a-nother website. This one caught my eye right away because it's filed under "nostalgia win" and we all know how much I love nostalgia, especially now that I'm in a different country.
But I don't know how I feel right now about this website. To be fair, at the moment, there are only three pages. Maybe it just needs time to work out the kinks. But my first impression is that it lacks the hilarity of cheezburger, failblog, graphjam. Maybe if there were captions on the photos? I mean, we all love seeing things that take us back, like this great pic of Bob Ross:
but how come no funny pun? The picture is not enough. It's always the caption that provides the gutbusting laughs. Also, I haven't had the chance yet to watch the videos on the site - maybe they're way redeeming.
Or maybe it's just that each picture is titled "epic win - (insert subject here)." I'm pretty tired of the epic abuse of the word epic as an exaggeratory adjective. It's getting old. I think we should let it die. Let's use something else now, and reserve "epic" for the most serious cases.
I swear I'm not crotchety right now or anything, just a little disappointed. When I saw "nostalgia" I couldn't wait to see how hard I would laugh. But in fact, I'm having another best weekend ever in Rennes. I flipped crêpes last night and am about to go to a music festival! So videos and pics to come!
My father and I have a lot of movies we consider to be ours. Terminator 2. True Romance. Pretty much anything with Christopher Walken. But I think the one that will always mean the most to me is Forrest Gump. Since the first time we watched it together, Forrest has had a sort of thrall over me. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen the film, but I do know that I’ve never once watched it without crying. I can’t exactly put a finger on what the magic is in this movie. Is it Tom Hanks’ incredible performance? Alan Silvestri’s inspiring score? The completely accurate soundtrack? Or is it the way that Forrest can so simply answer some of the most complicated questions we have in this life? As is usually the case with the tough questions, I think the answer is a combination of all of the theories.
There's no question in my mind that all the awards and nominations given to Forrest Gump were justified. Although I do think that Gary Sinise should have won supporting actor Oscar too. It's a damn shame he didn't.
I watched Forrest Gump the other night and, since I was all alone, I could really enjoy the film. Really appreciate all of its best moments, without feeling like a tool for crying.
Honorable Mentions: These moments come in after the top ten, mostly because I think they’re always recognized as awesome moments. But I just can’t leave them out of this entry.
-Freebird scene -We was like peas and carrots -Little Forrest grunts like the disgusting principal -All of Forrest's encounters with the presidents -Run, Forrest, Run
And now, without further adieu, here are what I found to be the ten awesomest moments in the film.
10. Shrimp conversation – This scene is of course wonderful because of Bubba. I’ve heard there are Bubba Gump restaurants out there, and it’s my dream to eat at one someday. Bubba is such an incredible character. He’s Forrest’s best good friend in the army, and it’s hard to pick a favorite scene, because I think all the one’s he’s in are great. It was a toss-up between the shrimp scene and his death scene. I chose shrimp because it’s more upbeat, and also what I find to be a unique depiction of life in the army. It really demonstrates just how mundane life in the army can be. Bubba prattles on and on about all the types of shrimp and Forrest listens while they assemble guns, wash floors and shine shoes. Maybe in movie time the speech is only two minutes long, but you know in “real” time this conversation spanned days. What an incredible way to show life in the army.
9. I just felt like running – This is what Forrest says in response to all the reporters questioning him on why he continues to run across America. They push possible reasons down his throat: “Are you doing it for world peace?” “Are you doing it to fight hunger?” “Are you doing it for animals?” Forrest’s response is at once the most simple and the most genuine. He just felt like running. Sometimes I feel like that too.
8. Lt. Dan pushes drunk chick off him for asking if Forrest is stupid – I don’t remember the chick’s name, despite having seen the movie [insert ridiculous number here] times, and I think that’s kind of the point. She’s some plastered hussy ready to give Lt. Dan some action which, considering his attitude, one would assume he doesn’t get too much. That in mind, and especially after all the terrible things he has said and done to Gump, Lt. Dan’s impulse to push this woman off of him for speaking negatively of Gump speaks volumes.
7. Forrest jumps off his shrimping boat when he hears his momma is sick – There are two moments when Forrest jumps off his shrimping boat. The first is when he sees Lt. Dan on the dock. He abandons ship completely just to say hello. But I think the second time, after he hears his mother is sick, is even more effective. I think it’s because when Forrest jumped for Lt. Dan it wasn’t a very far swim to the dock. When Forrest hears his mother is sick, there is no land nearby. The land that can be seen is far in the distance. But Forrest doesn’t take that into consideration. I’m a bit envious of how easy decisions are for Forrest. Mama is sick. So he goes to her. And that’s that.
6. Lt. Dan comes to Forrest’s wedding – Another Lt. Dan moment. What can I say? He’s an incredible character, and the one who I think changes the most throughout the film. And this moment is the one in which we can see the ultimate result of all those changes. He walks into that wedding with his titanium legs. “astronaut” goes back to the time when Lt. Dan said to Forrest, “The day you become a shrimping boat captain, that’s the day I’m an astronaut.” One gets the sense that Lt. Dan is finally content with being alive. He’s no longer angry with Forrest for rescuing him in Vietnam.
5. Fat southern man laughs off Forrest about shrimp company – the man in question, the very round one at the bus stop, has listened to Forrest’s stories about Vietnam and about his shrimping days. But when Forrest explains that he’s the owner of BubbaGump shrimp, the man laughs hysterically and walks away, refusing to believe it. After he’s gone, Forrest shows the woman on the bench a picture of Lt. Dan, which is in fact the cover of a Fortune magazine, which proves that Forrest was being truthful the whole time. This moment reminds me of how clear things are to Forrest. He knows the truth, and that is enough for him. It doesn’t matter who believes him or who doesn’t. He doesn’t challenge the man; he just lets it go. How many of us can do that, when someone doubts we’ve been involved with something we’re proud of? I know I wouldn’t be able to let that man go. 4. Forrest names his boat – I have to admit, I like this part of the movie because it’s the part where I feel most involved. When that man whose name I forgot tells Forrest it’s bad luck to have a boat without a name, and then Forrest says, “There was only one name I could think of,” I was like…I know what it is! I know what it is! It feels good to know the answer before your told, and that’s why I love this moment. Also because it’s a reminder of how pure Forrest’s devotion is to Jenny. He will never forget her. She will never not be on his mind. Don’t we all want someone to care about us that unyieldingly? 3. Lt. Dan makes his peace with God – there have been a few shoutouts to Lt. Dan already, but this scene is my absolute favorite of his. Just after the great storm on the shrimping boat, Lt. Dan admits that he never thanked Forrest for saving his life. (About 5:00 on the video below) He then throws himself into the ocean. And Forrest can understand exactly what is happening: “I think Lt. Dan finally made his peace with God.” Lt. Dan looks so comfortable in all that water, so natural in that great sea, that whenever I see the scene I kind of feel like I’ve made my peace with God too.
2. Forrest doesn’t open little Forrest’s letter – Since the scene takes place at Jenny’s grave it’s already a tearjerker. But when he says, talking about their son, “he wrote you a letter. He says I can’t read it so I’ll just leave it here,” I can’t help but go into ugly cry. This line illustrates so clearly how much Forrest cares for his son. He would never do anything to hurt him, or betray his trust. It reminds me a little of the relationship between John Connor and the terminator. 1. Forrest asks if his son is smart, or like… - Forrest doesn’t get to finish what comes after the ellipses because Jenny assures him that little Forrest is smart. I haven’t seen all of Tom Hanks’ movies, but I dare anyone to find a moment where Tom Hanks acts better than this. This is Forrest’s first concern when he finds out he’s a father, and Tom Hanks is able to capture the sheer volume of his anxiety. The way he stumbles back before he asks the question, and the relief he exhibits when he hears the answer… it’s just astounding. This is why he won the Oscar for best actor. And since I can't find a good video of that performance, go watch this video of Tom accepting the Oscar, which is also a tearjerker. Best quote ever, and how I define my life: "I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But I, I think maybe it's both."
Obama won. Obama fucking won! My dad often said, when talking about this election, "if democrats can't win this election, I don't see how democrats can win any election." I'm really happy we won, and I don't have to think of a world where we couldn't. So what does it mean to be an American? And what does it mean to be an American living overseas?
It means that people are eager to talk to me if they know I am American. The landlord: "What do you think of the new president?" The man at the post office (in attempted English): "Chicago? Home of new president?" My friend Mourad (quoting Obama's speech): "It is not a black America. It is not a white America."
It means I have to stop every so often and remind myself what a historic day this is. As Tom reminded me, I can look into the future and see children twenty years from now asking me, "where were you when Barack Obama was elected President?"
It means I had to stifle tears as I watched this speech in the library.
It means I couldn't help it when the pride I felt made my chest swell. It means all of these "it means"s just scratch the surface of how I feel.
Obama talks a lot about hope. Here are my hopes: I hope great things for his presidency. I hope predictions of assassination don't come true. I hope conservatives don't try to blame a Democratic (or worse, black) president when the economy finally goes down the shitter, and I hope that if they do the American people are smart enough not to buy it.
I hope Americans are as passionate about every election as they were about this one.
Today I feel better about America. And hey, I did vow that I wouldn't come home if McCain won. Guess it looks like the States will welcome me back in May!
Right now it is Monday morning and I am watching a program on TV. It’s called Musicsix Star, and I find it kinda bizarre. On the surface it seems to be a trashy celebrity TMI-type show, but it’s different than those in the States. There are a man and a woman sitting at the desk like news anchors, and they play games with callers and stuff. And they keep playing this game with a sort of fill-in-the-blanks word search or something. And every time the camera goes to this board they play the suite from Terminator 2. I’m not sure exactly why, but I find it pretty funny. And it also reminds me that I promised you a blog on this a while back. Here ya go!
The other night, on French television, I saw a “stay tuned for…” ad for Terminator 2: Judgment Day. I haven’t been so excited about a single television program since I’ve been here. I think it could only be topped by an ad for Forrest Gump. Just the mention of T2 brings me back to the days when I was ten years old. My mom is at work, and I don’t know where my brother is – probably on a date. It’s just me and dad at home. I’ve never seen the movie before, so dad preps me by giving me his T2 speech. I’ve heard it so many times I can paraphrase: You see, T2 is the better film. It’s hard for a sequel to beat the original. This is one of the few that does. You have to remember though, that T1 is also important. Without T1, you wouldn’t have the setup for T2. T2 wouldn’t exist, and it wouldn’t be so heavy when Linda Hamilton sees Arnold for the first time. Something like that, and I couldn’t agree more. Terminator 2 is never going to stop filling me with nostalgia. It’s one of those films that I could watch every day and not bore of. Really, who could get tired of checking out Linda Hamilton’s arm muscles or listening to Arnold’s monotone?
Which brings me to the prime reason I didn’t enjoy the French-dubbed version of the film. I stayed up until midnight on a very tired day just to see this movie, and I was totally disappointed. Let’s be honest about the reason we all love Arnold (I won’t take that sweeping generalization back because it gives me far too much pain to imagine a world where not everyone loves Arnold). It’s that voice. That no-inflection monotone that he has even when he’s not playing a machine. It’s magnified when he’s the Terminator. It’s perfect. And it’s what the voice actor didn’t understand. I’ve only been immersed in French for a month, and I’m certainly not fluent enough to detect accents in the language, and even I could tell the voice actor was emoting. His voice had inflection. WTF, voice actor! Did anyone tell you you’re supposed to be playing a Termnator? A machine? Did you even watch the movie in its original English to get a sense of the role? Oh, it was so disappointing.
I never before realized how highly critical I could be about a movie when it means so much to me. I mean, I hate to be all gripey about a voice, but the voice is one of the elements that makes the film what it is. Even the kickass scene with Linda Hamilton shooting the bejeezus out of the bad Terminator at the end didn’t make me feel better.
I’ll have to watch some Buffy in French. I find their voice actors to be really talented, and enthused.
I was being all mopey not too long ago about how holidays are gonna suck without all my best friends and family. And you know, everyone expects me to be sad about missing Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years, but they’re not the ones I’m upset about. There are two holidays I’m cringing about not being home for. My two favorite of the entire year. Let’s not talk about V-Day and the gaping hole I’m going to have in February. Let’s talk about Halloween.
It’s my second favorite holiday. Why? It’s something about being able to turn into someone else for one night. Whether you’re a little kid whose mom is helping you zip the back of your poofy Minnie Mouse dress, a college kid deciding which outfit would be better suited to play beer pong in, or a young woman in France trying to figure out how to possibly make a costume out of the seven outfits, three scarves, and one pair of sneakers you brought, Halloween is a time to be inventive and escape everyday life. “It’s come as you aren’t night.” And there’s also candy.
As you should have gathered by now, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to share this holiday with anyone here. That I would just sit in my apartment watching Little Monsters and munching candy corn. I didn’t count on making awesome friends who would be just as stoked about Halloween as I am.
Yesterday I got together with Tom, Cecil, Lizzi and Gary to have a pumpkin-carving fest, which was totally inspired by Maureen and John’s pumpkin. I went and bought two pumpkins, and was surprised at how different they were from the American pumpkins I’m used to. They were practically horizontal pumpkins, which gave our pumpkins a sort of squished look when they were all finished, as opposed to the typical round and robust look of the pumpkins in the US.
As we listened to a quite eclectic mix of music on my iTunes and enjoyed yummy blush wine, we carved some wicked awesome pumpkins. Mine is the one that kinda looks like a grumpy grandpa, and Cecil and Tom’s is the one with the wicked awesome cat eye and jagged mouth. I forgot how much fun it is to carve a pumpkin with friends. The inevitable smearing of pumpkin guts on each other’s arms and faces, the inevitable staining of the floor because the newspaper wasn’t enough to sop up all the nasty pumpkin juices, the way someone is going to leave some insides hanging from the carved mouth so it gives the appearance of an infant’s gums (me, of course). I had a really, really great time.
After pumpkins, we played a game of the French scrabble I found in my room! We were all a little imbued with wine, which made the game fun. And we decided to play English, American, French and Spanish words, which still doesn’t explain how such words as SEXO, FUNS, TRAMPE, VAGQE, AND CUEHU made their way onto the board.
I had a dream the other night that I was in a supermarket here in France and there was an entire aisle of peanut butter. The creamy kind, the chunky kind; organic and processed; Peter Pan, Omega Balance, Jif, Skippy, all of them. It was like – well – it was like a dream.
This vacation period (vacances) has been really nice so far. I’ve spent some quality bonding time with some really important people. I watched Dracula: Dead and Loving It with the other assistants and explained to them (in French!) how I love this movie because it’s nostalgia for all the times my cousin Beenie and I watched it when we were younger. And of course, nostalgia for Thursday night movies at E03 my last semester at Stockton. I couldn’t help but laugh at rasper-babies and when the wig went flying at the end. It was nice to have a little get-together at chez moi. My studio is small, and the four of us pretty much filled it, but it felt comfy. I had some snacks and wine and soda and music. It was nice. And since the Spanish assistant Milena came and she doesn’t speak English, we had to speak French the whole time. Very cool.
The day after, I went to Deauville with two of my teachers from Laplace. Best Day Ever! S (one teacher) picked me up at Gambier (where I live) with her little puppy, who was the cutest thing ever, and whose name I couldn’t even begin to spell. Together we drove through the lovely countryside (and also through a hailstorm) to get to M’s house. M is another teacher at Laplace. And her house is friggin awesome! I would love to live somewhere just like it. It’s got a lovely inside complete with a real fireplace, and it sits on a lot of land. Also a big plus: her neighbors have ponies! M also has two sons who came with us to Deauville. They are lovely kids and very well-behaved.
We all drove to Deauville together, hoping it wouldn’t rain while we were there. I learned that Deauville is one of the most famous places here in Normandy. There is a festival every year in September with lots of music food and dancing, and many American celebrities come to visit. And I can see why. It’s a really lovely beach, and it almost reminded me of the Jersey Shore, except that the sand was a different color. And you know, I was happy that it was a cloudy, overcast day. The deep gray color of the sky was a very nice complement to the almost-orange of the sand. And as I was talking to M and S, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the color of their skin looked against this contrast. If I were a professional photographer I would have seized upon this opportunity.
Along the boardwalk there were several changing stations for tourists to use in the summer. And each changing booth was named for a celebrity. Tobey Maguire was there, and Francis Ford Coppola, and Adam Sandler and countless others. When it rained a little, we took shelter in Sean Connery. I’m so happy I can say that!
After the boardwalk my guides showed me the luxurious city of Deauville. The Hotel Normandy is huge and from what I was told very expensive. There is also a casino there that is really decadent inside. It was small, even compared to the ones in Atlantic City, which in turn are dwarfs compared to the ones in Las Vegas. I thought it was interesting to look at the names of the slot machines in this casino. There weren’t many French ones. I found they were mostly “Lucky Sevens” and “Star Wars” and “Try your Luck.” I guess the names on the machines don’t typically get translated. Maybe gambling has strong English or American roots?
Then we took me to the expensive shopping district. Hermès was there, and Vuitton, Dior and Chanel. I didn’t buy anything. Maybe next week. We also went to a toy store, where I found a whole aisle devoted to Babar, which I think made Donna very happy. Then we went to a café, and then our day was over. It was dark already at 6pm, since we just had our time change. In the car, I gave everyone some candy corn that I brought from home. I love giving candy corn to people here! I explained that it was an American candy, and that you can only find it on Halloween. And I think they liked it. Take that Chris Moore!
Driving back from Deauville we listened to the radio, and I knew two out of every three songs. I think it’s funny that everyone listens to American songs here, even people who don’t speak English. American culture is everywhere. The other night I watched The Incredbles followed by Terminator 2: Judgment Day (blog recap to come). Yesterday when I woke up The Bold and the Beautiful was on. In the supermarket the bath and body aisle is filled with American products. And as much as I want all the French culture I can get, I’m OK with this. It makes it a little harder to be homesick when I’m surrounded by reminders of home.
Win of the day: I solved a puzzle on French wheel of Fortune! Yeah! OK, to be fair, the answer was faire du tobaggin, and it looked like this:
_ _ _ _ _ D _ T O B _ G G _ N
But whatever. It was still French and I still solved it!
It occurred to me this weekend, as I was sitting in my teeny, tiny apartment, that I had not yet eaten French food. What the hell! I've been so preoccupied with getting settled in my apartment and teaching that the only food I've eaten has come from the local supermarket. Pathetic!
I am here in France, the land of the chefs, why have I not had any real food?
So I went to the first place I saw and bought this, crudites poulet. Not too original as far as sandwiches go - it was sliced chicken with lettuce, egg, and onions. And a lot of mayo too, which I am definitely not opposed to.
And for dessert, I bought myself this tasty little treat, a tarte fraises. I think you can tell by looking at it what that translates into. And it was absurdly delicious! Decadent, yes, but a good portion size, which is something I am not used to with the way portions in the US are out of control.
On Sunday I didn't do too much. I was grateful to have a veg-day. I wrote a lot in my journal, made a brand new poem, and just had time to think. It was nice. I also went out and bought this for dinner: I didn't finish it because it was just slathered in mayo. Hey, I like mayo, but this was overboard. It's like a sea.
Then today I enjoyed my first meal in a restaurant. To hell with waiting for someone to dine with. I am independent. I came to Europe on my own; I can certainly walk into a restaurant by myself. So I did. I don't have pictures for you (didn't want to be a complete tourist) but I can tell you it was a delicious plate of meat, potatoes, rice, mushrooms and carrots. I'm not exactly sure what the meat was because it was the plate of the day, and the waitress recited it too quickly for my non-fluent ears. Then for dessert I got the most delicious brownie! I'm so happy that chocolate is universal.
June 17th, 2007 was my first day at sea. i was getting to know my roommate and about 200 other people rapid-fire. i was unpacking my clothes and preparing for my first day of classes. i was nervous and excited about our first day in the port of Acapulco. i knew that i could live at sea forever.
June 17th, 2008 i got a new bike. a candy apple red one with room on the back for a basket. i took a bike ride with chris moore, and then later he and andy and i took a walk down to the beach to check out the bright full moon. we were only slightly intoxicated from free red wine (which always tastes sweeter to me).
as we were walking home from the beach, someone passing yelled out to me, "What's SAS?" he had seen the letters embroidered on my blue sweatshirt. assuming he was some drunk, obnoxious tourist, i ignored him. he persisted, "no, seriously, what's SAS stand for?"
"Semester at Sea," i told him as politely as i could, expecting him to keep walking past with the rest of his stumbling friends.
but he stopped and talked to me. he had done Semester at Sea in 2006. and there we were: two people who didn't have much in common except for that we were on the Ocean City Boardwalk, slightly buzzed, with ripe memories of an experience we were lucky to have had.
i've been missing sea a lot. and of course i sometimes fear that i'll never see the friends i made there again. in fact, just the other day i saw through facebook that a bunch of my "friends" had a reunion in Atlantic City. sigh. i guess no one in that particular group remembered me.
but i am glad that i ran into that guy on the boardwalk. he helped me channel my bitterness about the reunion into gratitude. he reminded me that i will always be a part of a community that has contacts all over the states and abroad.
i haven't seen you in a lot of years, and i don't know what you are doing since we lost touch. sometimes i worry because the last time i talked to you we were fifteen and you were using and had just fallen off a roof and broken your leg. and you said you would come to mays landing and steal me from my life, but you never did. and then you disappeared from AIM. i loved you in a teen way, but the someone else lived in jersey, and in high school virginia seems a world away. happy twenty second. i hope you know i wanted you to steal me.
I was in Philadelphia. I was bored and being me, so I decided to start rapping "Ice Ice Baby" to Jason because it was in my head. And I saw a man. He was very tall, very muscled, very tattoed, and he looked like he may have spent some time in prison. My first instinct was to distance myself a little but then I saw the shirt he was wearing:
