Friday a la Francais: Monday, June 9, 2003

(I know, it's only Tuesday, but it's my party and I'll break the rules if I want to)

This evening Christina helped me with my French homework. I had to decipher between country and peoples' nationalities. I think she had fun helping me. We often sit around the T.V. at night. She likes to watch artsy films. They're rather bizarre, but I guess she's into them. Jean-Yves likes to watch the nature channel. Today was also a religious holiday, though I don't recall the name. It was interesting to see everyone out and about, hanging out with their friends and family. As I walked along side a grassy area by the port I saw a family having a nice picnic and just enjoying each others' company. I can't remember the last time I saw that. Sometimes it is hard to grasp this culture; not being able to see into the tiny cracks and crevices of the cumulative history of these people to make them what they are today. Part of me feels like this is who and where I am meant to be, living the way these people live, simplifying life. And yet another part of me is the go-get-em business woman who pushes herself to the limit to get what she wants. I have to remember that wherever I am, that I have brought God along with me. Who I really am is determined by Him.

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Fridays a la Francais: Saturday, June 8, 2003

The best thing about today was that I got my camera back.

It's been a very long day. Today was La Fete de la Cabannes (Festival of the Cabanas), a gathering of local farmers, artists (both professional and amateur), and people from the town for the sake of getting together to have a good time under the pretext of making art by constructing creative looking "cabannes". There were probably 250 people there at any given time.

With vague and different versions of directions floating in my head, two and a half hours later I made it to the location. Unfortunately by the time I got there I only had a couple hours before a van came to pick us up, and I used that time to sketch the 30 heads assigned for my class, so I think I saw a couple of cabanas from afar. To top off the long walk, after I walked all the way up the steep dirt trail that accessed the festival, I realized I didn't have my camera with me! I prayed to God that it would be safe and promised I would put my info with it. So I ran back down to check the spots where I was sitting, and thanks be to God, a young man had picked it up for safe keeping and gave it to me! Oh the relief!

Up the hill I walked and eventually made it back home despite the fact that we had a flat tire and had to change it with funky European tools. On top of everything, to start the day as I was walking back home from the Echomarché, I dropped one of my bags, the only bag with a glass jar in it, and made a mess of my other groceries. When I got home, I realized that I had left my house keys in the bag I was going to take to the festival. To pass the time, I decided to pet the cat, which then decided to bite and scratch my hand. Oh la la, as the French would say. A nice lady from the flower shop offered me a bag to carry my soggy groceries and a rag to wipe my hands which was nice. It's just one of those Shel Silverstein days. Perhaps tonight I'll sit in the tub.

It was interesting watching people at the Fete. It was like I stepped back into the middle ages. The first sound I heard as I entered the grounds was a hand accordion being played. It was a very simple song but reminded me of those movies portraying those old European festivals that the poor townspeople had. There was a table that sold a variety of drinks. I got a great big bottle of water for only one euro! People were enjoying visiting one another. Couples were very lovey dovey. There is no myth or stereotype that the French are lovers. Children played half-naked in the stream, and it's sad to think that that would be an issue in America. People milled around the cabanas looking and enjoying a product of what it means to be French: to live well and full; full of love, family, art, good food and drink and the company of others to enjoy those things with. They also had barbecue pits and food stands, and dogs a-runnin' rampant and free to bark at whatever.

On my way back, I rode with a nice girl named Yelena who is from a country that used to be the former Yugoslavia. She is one of the Pont-Aven School of Art interns and is here for one year on a grant that lets her make art and have her own studio to paint. I wonder what it would be like to live a whole year in Pont-Aven?

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F a la F: Friday, June 7, 2003

Today our school went to Carnac and visited a chateau called Domaine de Kerguéhennec.

Carnac was a very interesting place. Apparently there are stones erected all over Brittany from the Paleolithic to Neolithic periods, about 7,000 years ago. Druids somehow used them as burial sites or something. First we went to one small site. The stones ranged from 4 feet to 20 feet high. Most stood on their points. One stone that I saw there was said to weigh 300 tons!

Just like Stonehenge (which was raised after Carnac), no one knows how they moved them to their spot, how they got them out of the ground without leaving a mark and how, once they got them to their place, found the center of gravity to keep them standing. It was pretty weird and amazing to see. I also heard that these were put up before the invention of the wheel.

The larger site at Carnac was pretty impressive. About a mile's worth of stones stood row after row, thousands of huge oblong boulders. This site had been gated off because throughout the years as more people came to visit this site, the walking around the stones loosened them from the ground causing them to topple.

Carnac is definitely a mystery.

keepin' 'er steady...

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F a la F: Friday, June 6, 2003

Today my illustration class went out to draw cows. Since the pasture was right next to a beach, I decided to walk down to it. It was very different from the beaches I'm accustomed to. As I eased my way down the steep path, flowers and shrubbery surrounded me on both sides and made the air smell like honey. The greenery was beautiful there. Bright red poppies just like in the Monet painting popped up here and there. Tons of tiny wild flowers, mustard flowers, and tiny white and pink honeysuckles crowded the ground. The landscape was beautiful. In one area there were rolling pastures and planted fields, and in other areas there were dark but bright green magnificent trees that piled themselves to the edge of the rocky cliffs that looked over the ocean.

It was exciting for me as it was my first time seeing the Atlantic ocean. It was cloudy weather and the ocean was grey, as I somehow pictured it would be. But then for about 20 minutes, the sun came out and revealed a refreshingly blue sea with aquamarine turf--not at all what I was expecting.

The tide pools were different as well. Below the pools themselves were mostly just sandy bottoms. The rocks were jagged and oddly shaped. Hundreds of thousands of minuscule mussels covered the rocks. There were also large barnacles and weird bulbous things that clung to the rocks. I thought they were a type of keyhole limpet that I had once seen at Little Corona del Mar, but when I touched it, it felt like a slimy water balloon. Then on the wet sand I saw the bell of a jellyfish. It was dead but perfectly intact--about the size of my palm. The sound of the waves was never ceasing but a continuous drone. I took a nice nap on the beach.

It was interesting, or at least different, drawing cows. After crawling under the electric fence and dodging hundreds of meadow muffins, we got up close and personal to about 15-20 cows. Some were Jerseys but others were the black and white mottled Angus cows. When they weren't standing and eating grass, they were sitting and chewing cud. I drew a couple cows that turned out fairly well, but overall it was an okay experience. I think I enjoyed the fact more that I was in a French cow pasture by the Atlantic ocean than just drawing cows.

I came home afterward and had dinner with my host family. We had a menagerie of items: hard boiled eggs, salami, potatoes (pomme de terre), steak (boef) and salad. It was all pretty good despite the hastiness of it. The beef was cooked in a cream sauce which actually tasted good. In fact, the beef was the neighbor's cow. I've never had a neighbor's cow before. At the table we talked about the difference between American food and French food. John was saying how bad American food was because it was full of hormones and antibiotics, but I said that we were so much bigger than the French are, and pointed out the heavy smoking allowed in Europe as opposed to the States. Ah well.

In the evening I sat with Christine and drew her portrait which she was very pleased to have me do. We tried conversing and made progress overall, though we did hit a dead end here and there. All in all it was pretty amusing.

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F a la F: Wednesday, June 4, 2003

In the morning we had French class. There are about 7 of us all together. We learned (or at least tried to) the alphabet or "l'alphabet" and all the pronunciations for each letter which was pretty helpful. We also learned the sounds that different animals make to learn the various tonalities of the language. It would probably be a sight for a French person to see.

In illustration class we went up to Tremeleau Chappelle to the old man who took care of it. This chapel, by the way, houses the same "yellow Christ" that Gauguin painted which was pretty cool to see in person. I remember for some reason in high school we were having a slide show of art and one of them was the "Yellow Christ." I think it stood out to me because of the reason why Gauguin painted it, to capture the purity of the Breton people and a desire to find a more natural, pure way of living. To be standing there looking up at the very spot from which Gauguin painted it really was a hit-home experience for me.

But as I was saying, the old man, probably in his 70s, was kind enough to pose as a model for us on his garden bench outside. He sat there for probably 2 hours straight, and I think I questioned the sanity (?) of his vital status a few times. Tourists at one point raided our drawing area and took pictures of we American students. I think they were German. While we were there drawing, the weather couldn't make up its mind. At times the wind would howl through the trees and clouds darken the sky, while other times it would be warm and sunny. The weather would change every 10-30 seconds. I don't know if I can get used to Atlantic weather.

Looking around all the beautiful nature, simplicity and smallness of the town, I wonder if people who've grown up here ever take it for granted or get used to it?

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F a la F: Tuesday, June 3, 2003

There are supposedly 108 stairs that lead up to the school, though it feels like 200. The only reason I am glad for them is because it will get me in shape for our family's trip to Tuolumne in August.

Today is my birthday. I've never had my birthday in France, let alone any other country, before. It was just another ordinary day, so it was actually a pretty good day. After dinner, all of my classmates sang happy birthday to me and the French director of the school gave me a strawberry tart (tarte fraise) with 2 sparklers on top. It was pretty fun.

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Monday, June 2, 2003

Today I found out where faeries live. I went outside this morning to the smell of campfire--it was great. The river is just lovely. Boats from Ireland, Spain and other coastal regions doc here in the summer time. The tide affects the level of the water by about 10 feet. There are flowers everywhere. Pretty little white ones pop up where you wouldn't think anything would grow. They grow on the tops of moss-laden rocks, brick crevices, anywhere. There are also flowers that have caught my eye. They look like bells. Some are large and purple but most are very young and small and green. I can't wait to see what they look like when they're in full bloom. Even these grow on the rocks.

Today in illustration class we experimented with the printing press. We did monotype prints of drawings of the townscape. It was a bit of a haphazard ordeal, it seems as if the class were being put together at the last minute. We'll see how things go. If anything, I'm just glad to be here.

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Sunday, June 1, 2003

I fianlly made it to Pont-Aven. I've been through 12 hours of flight, 4 hours in the airport trying to find the meeting point, and 7 1/2 hours on a bus amidst blue sky, dark clouds, hail storm, blue skies again and a light rain by the time we reached Pont-Aven.

It's a small little town of 3,000 and it reminds me of The Canyon in Sierra Madre. Our families met us as we exited the bus. The lady I'm staying with is named Christine and her husband's name is John. They're very nice and willing to say whatever they can in English. For a late dinner we had seasoned sliced tomatoes (tamat?) and ham (jambon) and bread (pain). For dessert was a dairy product that tasted like yogurt except without the tartness. You mix into it sugar and milk. It's an acquired taste.

The house I am staying in is apparently one of some historical significance--very nice. The roofs are covered with lichen, there is green and flowers everywhere. The house is made of grey stone brick and the roofs are of grey slate.  It is two storeys and there is even a spire on top. A man by the name of Botrel owned it and he was apparently very well-known for bringing Breton folklore to popularity in other parts of Europe. The director of our school said that he was like a Liberace because he was a showman. He loved Pont-Aven so much that he wrote Breton folklore and poetry even though he wasn't even Breton himself.

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May 30, 2003

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

I knew I'd come back. I had to. I promised. It's 12:20 pm PST, 3:20 EST and 9:20 pm Paris time. I'm into the 3rd hour of my 12 hour flight. I can't say I enjoy the long hours, but just knowing that I will be half way around the world in a culture different from my own makes it worth it. It is my first time flying alone for any long period so it's all very exciting, liberating and a little scary as well. I don't think God had ever intended me to be a homebody. And who knows why? No one else in my family has really traveled, although my granddad did; he was in the war, so he traveled whether he wanted to or not. I credit God for any ounce of gumption, bravery and accomplishments in my life. It is all because of Him that I am sitting in this plane that is destined for France. I wouldn't be surprised it I lived there, but we'll see what happens...

I'm curious to know where everyone is destined to, It would be fun to follow them. I'm very excited to see my host mom. The only things I know about her is that she has a historical house (which could mean a real fixer-upper or an 18th century mansion), she's a bit "fussy" (we'll find out all that "fussy" entails) and she wants someone who's quiet and can speak a little French.

I'm pretty sure I'll pick up on the language pretty fast, but I know I'm going to be tongue-tied in the meantime.

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Friday a la Francais

On random Fridays I will be transcribing an entry of a journal I kept while studying abroad in France and traveling in 2003. I go back to it every now and then, though I've largely forgotten the details of what I've written. Since I'm pretty sure there's nothing scandalous in it, I'll be blogifying it as-is, warts and all, in hopes of entertaining myself as I type down memory lane, as well as humor/bore any other nosy folks out there who have nothing to better to do with their time. Now pack a baguette and some crepes and allons-y!

Friday a la Francais posts

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