I'm the most French of all the Americans.

It's so true! I got back from the Cévennes Tuesday evening. Of all the places in the world you could possibly go home to, Paris is surely one of the best. It's strangely welcoming. 

Last night I was back on the town on the left bank to bid a friend farewell, and was having a troublesome time finding my way. Over the course of an hour, I asked several strangers for directions, pleading with them, "I'm sorry, I'm from the right bank and I have no knowledge of the 6th arrondissement." With the right kind of smile, most Parisians will lend a helping hand. I finally arrived at my destination. 

I recall one afternoon when two female metro officials asked a cluster of young men and women, myself included, to help carry a wheelchair-bound man up a flight of stairs to exit the station. Three of us automatically stepped forward, took hold of the old man's chair, and carried his old bones up the stairs. It was but a small effort; he was very light. Still, it was a unique moment, taking part in an unrewarded good deed.

Anyways, les Cévennes were wonderful. We spent five and a half days relaxing, eating, walking, and exploring in the beautiful surroundings. In the company of these French friends, there is no uneasy language barrier to bar our relationships. In the calm of the countryside, we got to know one another without the additional stresses of school, the city, or our personal schedules. We were all at ease in a large house in a beautiful place with a full refrigerator, a decent stereo (what a luxury!), and absolutely nothing to do all day but talk, cook, dance, and stroll. I have many special memories from this extended weekend. Here are some photos. 

More photos to come, I'm needed at the moment!

CIAO

Friends,

I wanted to be sure to post before departing for the weekend. Thursday morning I board a TGV train bound for Nîmes, an ancient city in Southern France. It's a beautiful city full of Roman ruins. I and several friends from the Clignancourt history university will be staying at a friend's vacation home. I believe there will be eight of us in total. 

I return late Tuesday evening in time to attend my first class of the semester the following morning. I've been on vacation for more than a month! It's about time to get back to the books, don't you think?

This is not intended to be a debaucherous weekend! Those poor, French souls have been slaving away in preparation for their final exams, from which we international students were exempted. I suspect the themes of the furlough will be rest, revitalization, and romping in the woods. I'll be taking charge of the last one, as I've got a head start on the first two. As for educational activity, we will be learning le rock, a partner dance that reminds me of post-liberation and roaring fifties France. Then there will be cookie baking, where I am expected to blow away the competition, as the American. Wish me luck.  

Am I wrong in saying that? That this dance is kind of dated??

This photo is to attest the smog suffered by non-smokers at French house parties. I have more photos, but wouldn't post them without permission. Anyways, you get the idea!

mp3s! 

follow the links to download

Harlem - South of France

Beck - Mexico

Honey Is Cool - Nach Heart

Thanks for tuning in!

Life's Not So Hard

The typical work day in an art gallery is not severe. Though for some reason my alarm clock (cell phone) went off an hour late, I still had no problem fitting in the leisurely morning I've grown accustomed to, the French term for which translating to 'fat morning'. Arriving at the gallery at 13h30, I was quickly put to work in the reserve stock room preparing large format photographs for a potential buyer, the cultural director of the city of Rennes. This did involve me windex-ing each work, which struck me as somewhat menial, but as the day progressed, I realized that such a task is fundamental this type of work. My boss was as or more physically involved in the labor as I was. I like to think that this calibrated the two of us, or more simply, that we bonded over our labor. 

What I really want to say is that immediately after closing the gallery (at 19h00), I was able to just stroll into the adjacent arrondissement and catch a fantastic concert. Ah, the Parisian lifestyle! I saw Animal Collective, a fairly well known New York art/noise group, at le Bataclan. I didn't even have a ticket, I was just lucky enough to bump into a nice guy willing to sell me his friend's ticket for the advertised price. I might have bought a ticket before they were sold out, had any of the friends I asked expressed interest. No matter, everything worked out, and I'm so glad for having gone, albeit alone. 

While I wouldn't have called myself a great Animal Collective fan before the show, I knew that the type of people associating themselves with the band would be closer to my type. Simply from the address of the concert hall, I knew in advance the type of audience to expect. It was French-hipster heaven! To set the record straight, I'm not a hipster. I don't own a single pair of neon-accented high-top Nike's. I'll just tell you what I saw: A lot of beards, a lot of thick-rimmed (at times non-prescription) glasses, a lot of hoodies (no doubt American Apparel), a lot of smokers, lots of beer, a lot of bad haircuts, and a whole lot of lingering irony and sarcasm. I really ought to make some hipster friends here so I can compare them to my hipster friends in America. 

As I don't listen to Animal Collective save for the rare occasion, I was lucky to find myself in a slight resurgence of interest. There upcoming album has been well received, as it has already leaked on the internet, and the bloggers are, as usual, expressing how they feel about it, and the DJs are remixing it (quite likely at this very moment). Their set was good, perhaps a little more than an hour of trance to noise to nonsense music. As I write this several hours after the fact, my ears are still ringing from the venue's acoustics. And I'm glad! I have missd Kenyon, where you can open your door and play your music as loudly as you choose. Tonight's mild deafness will probably make up for an entire semester missed blasting my music at Kenyon. The encore number was familiar. Take a look. 

   Here's the same song in mp3 format.

Animal Collective - My Girls

My American Side

When I first arrived in France, one of my chief concerns was fitting in, as you can imagine. It was time to be French, not American! My friends and I would speak in hushed voices on the metro, some of us not speaking English at all, if we could help it.

Well, it's different now. I am quite in touch with my American impulses and act on them as often as I can. This means drinking (real) coffee in Starbucks, reading American literature, American soirées with American friends, limiting the cholesterol in my diet, and doing manly things. I make very little effort to dress like the French, and have in fact come to despise certain French trends! I try not to be too harsh, though. 

I miss America, it's true. Perhaps this is one reason for my mild bitterness. These things considered, I still have a great time. It is a mild winter that facilitates, rather than prohibits, activity. Living in the magnificent city of Paris makes having fun easy. All the same, my friends and I eagerly await Spring. 

In the meanwhile, my command of the French language is better than ever. This Friday I begin an internship at an art gallery in the 3e arrondissement, la galerie Polaris. This is fantastic news to me, as I'm pushing four consecutive weeks of vacation now, not including my German class. I attended an opening this weekend and was shocked, even a bit repulsed, by the artist's work. Nonetheless, I think the experience will be marvelous. More news to come.

On the sports front, I think I may need to cancel my plan to run in the Paris marathon. After some debilitating pain in my knee experienced at the end of November, I was led to take the entire month of December to rest and recover. I ran yesterday for the first time since then, and though the run was quite nice, I experienced the same pain in my knee later that evening. Besides, there will be many more marathons to run in the future. Who wants to train in the winter, anyway? 

  And now, mp3s! Follow the link to download, and please, let me know if you encounter any problems. 

Johnny Western - Cowpoke

Eddie Vedder - Hard Sun

Bertrand Burgalat - Spring Isn't Fair

M83 - Kim & Jessie

Crystal Castles - Crimewave      

Back Already?

      Yes, I am. Auvergne was great! I didn't get to taste any of the famous Bleu d'Auvergne, much to my disappointment. The next time you find yourself at the magnificent cheese counter at Whole Foods, look for it. It's really quite good, very French, and it's possible that I crossed paths with the cow(s) who produced it's key ingredient. 

      I started walking at 12pm Saturday and continued until Tuesday morning, when I awoke to temperatures nearing 10º fahrenheit, much colder than conditions I had been expecting. And I can attest to the fact it was even colder overnight, although my body put up with it all pretty well in spite of my 32º rated sleeping bag. Winter hiking can be intimidating, but with the right attitude and knowhow, it can be a dream. Given the chance, I wouldn't have made any decision differently. 

      It was a kind of sad to come to the realization that I needed to quit the trail. It's not the first time I've been faced with such a decision. However, the odds in this case were stacked against me. I surely wasn't properly outfitted for nighttime temperatures below 10º, I wasn't equipped with snowshoes to traverse sections of trail where more than 4' of snow had fallen within a few weeks. With barely 9 hours of daylight each day, progress was slow, considering all the extra time that must be devoted to putting up with the cold. Most of all, I realized that in such adverse conditions, if I were to get lost or become disoriented, things could get dismal quickly.

      And so Tuesday morning, after finding a way to heat the frozen leather of my boots, I packed up my rig, walked a kilometer to a chapel, took shelter from the wind, and stuck my thumb out. First I caught a ride with a farmer on his way to fetch some sheep, then I walked some more, then I caught a ride with a man whose business was animal reproduction. Next thing I knew I was in St. Alban-sur-Limagnole arranging a ride to St. Chely, where I hopped a bus to Clermont, where I bought a sandwich and newspaper, and then boarded a Paris-bound train. Then I realized I would arrive in time to attend my German class at the Goethe Institut, which I did after showering. 

      Ok, you've put up with my doleful explanation. Here are pictures, as well as a few key mp3's. Yes, this was the first time I brought my iPod (shuffle) on a hike. Shameful? Not when you're spending 12-14 hours a night in your sleeping bag. 

      Cathédrale Notre-Dame du Puy, where the trail begins. A pretty little place with kind bakers. Check out the wikipedia article. 

                                                          The Black Virgin (a copy). 

     Here I go!

         That's me.

 I asked them about the cheese. They had nothing to say.

It was frozen.

Circumnavigate hazardous ice. Beware of barbed wire.

Photo taken from the height of the snow drift I found. Apart from the lumpy ice/snow, I slept pretty well.

Wakey-wakey

Photo's no good, but I am led to believe this village is where the film Chocolat was filmed. I'll have to look into that one.

They didn't know the whereabouts of the cheese either!

I couldn't believe it either!

Blogger seems to be having some trouble uploading my photos, so I'm going to flip the cassette over and enrich your lives with a few songs I enjoyed while hiking and while hanging out alone in my sleeping bag. Follow the links to download.

Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson - My Rifle, My Pony, and Me

Bertrand Bugalat - Out of Touch

Cansei de Ser Sexy - Let's Make Love and Listen DFA (RAC2 Mix)

Blonde Redhead - Silently

Department of Eagles - No One Does It Like You (Alternate Take)

Portugal The Man - Colors

Jimi Hendrix, Curtis Knight & the Squires - I'm a Man (Live)

The Velvet Underground - Temptation Inside Your Heart

Back to the photos. This was a nice spot.

Okay, so the trouble with the blogger photo uploader continues. That's probably my cue to get out of the house. Check back later, I'll give it another shot, I promise. 

Overdue

     Sorry to post so infrequently. I really ought to be more diligent, as this is the sole form of contact linking some of you to me. Well, Merry Christmas to all, and by now, Happy New Year. I've been thoroughly enjoying myself here in France, first with my host family in Le Touquet, then with my pal Perry, an old chum from Kenyon who paid me a visit for New Years. 

     An uproarious time was had on all fronts. I'm writing this hurriedly, as tomorrow morning I board a train for Le Puy-en-Velay, where I will start a short hike. It could last anywhere from 4-12 days, depending on my comfort, enjoyment, and progress. This is the Chemin du Puy, which is one of the French feeder trails to the great Pèlerinage du Chemin de St Jacques de Compostelle, an ancient religious pilgrimage. I just found out today, to my relief, that you don't have to be Catholic to do all this! I'm in the clear. Well, from what I know, the trail will be much different than what I'm accustomed to in the States, meaning the trail is more like an extended walk in the country. The terrain is agreeable, while undulating, and it passes through towns at least once a day. This means I will collect water from established sources and will not need to treat it, and that I should never be carrying more than 2 days of food with me at any time. Yes! I'm taking my new 35 liter pack, and even though I'm outfitted for winter weather, my rig is gonna be nice and light. I've got my good, solid, American gear to depend on (thanks for sending it all, mom). I'm 93% sure I'll be comfortable. But don't worry, this is my third winter hiking trip, and I've got what it takes. 

     Here are some pics from Perry's visit. Wish me luck!

     Perry found a copy of the literary journal in which he has a poem published. This is in the way famous bookstore, Shakespeare & Co. Woowie.


     We had seen about 2 dozen reliquaires or reliquaries that day, so I grabbed the duck bone off my plate and treated it as if it had come from a Saint. 

     Later on we took a ride on an abandoned baggage cart. See, my Vélib card is only good for one bike, so we were forced to improvise.

      Perry really wanted a shot in front of Courbet's The Origin of the World. It took three rounds of asking museum goers to take our picture to get a good one. Pushing a camera towards uneasy tourists and saying simply, ''photo'' just doesn't guarantee a good outcome.

    

      Perry and I were on the Île de la Cité for the strike of midnight. We sung a hearty round of The Star Spangled Banner, because we didn't know the words to that song that goes, "...may old acquaintances be forgot ...". This attracted four German girls, well, we approached them, and chatted with them in German. At some point this Algerian guy and his friend appeared out of nowhere and were just a bit bothersome. I told him about every crêperie I knew of in the area, but he didn't go away till we took this picture. What a laugh.

      Roommates in a bar enjoying several pints. It was a blast.