Solitude; anti-social or just quiet?

I am a person that really enjoys her quiet time. I enjoy being with people, but there is something so exciting about being undisturbed by sounds and action. Not listening to music or anything for that matter. Getting away from the sounds of the television in the other room, people in a rush, pressures from friends and family, or people talking on their cell phones on the bus in a harsh sounding foreign language and the "lead anchor" happens to clearly be pissed off (happened today, then I stuck my ear phones in). Anyway, one of my favorite creative people Chase Jarvis posted a blog entry about creativity. It was nice to see how Chase does things because I practice some of those habits too! I keep a notepad and scribble ideas as they come. I take photos of things that capture my interest. I'm curious and I ask a lot of questions. I'm starting to sound futile but I guess it's just nice to find something in common with such an interested/interesting person. He also links to the blog "Zen Habits" which has a great post that shares a collection of responses from other creative people. For me, seeking quiet time gives me the opportunity to collect my thoughts, ideas, get past mental road blocks either by writing it on paper, walking in less populated areas (where-ever that may be, mountains, quiet city streets, whatever), creating photos, snowboarding (yes, it's quiet for me because it's singular and fleeting) and more. I think these acts help me to be less attention deficit when the moment strikes, because sometimes I find myself zoning out if I haven't had proper "me" time.

Thanks for reading!

Ah Marseille

I had a great time with some new friends this weekend! Had a fabulous dinner at an even more fabulous couple's home. They had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the Notre Dame de la Garde. Our host made a delicious curry. I was just telling some other assistants how imperative it was for me to have some yellow curry or maybe a chicken tikka masala, so it was fate. Dinner was filled with several bottles of wine, good conversation, story swapping and french language corrections. After dinner, a strapping young french man picked us up to go to a party that was "close." Well, I guess the 30 minute walk wouldn't have been so bad, but the mistral was blowing and let me tell you- it was icy! We arrived at the party and it was filled with frenchies! Yeah my first french party (excluding the millions of parties I've had with my family...)! A good time was had by all, even my smiling, happy, sleeping model friend. It was great, the frenchies spoke in english to me and I spoke in french to them! The dudes were dancing, wore gummy candy vampire teeth and tried to launch them to the neighboring roof and the boys played some sort of drinking game with bottle caps. I laughed a lot.

After a long night, and public transportation schedules in search for an easier way home, we headed home à pied (on foot). On our hour long journey home, we stopped for fresh crêpes and gyros from a street vendor. (Yes folks, late night food in France doesn't consist of dollar menus and drive-thru's). We three ladies were walked to our doorstep by the strapping young french gentleman. At 5 am, after we climbed the 3 flights of stairs at my friends apartment, we crashed out until lunch. We just didn't want this weekend to end.

We went out on a trek to find pizza, a great idea by my ladies! Store after store was closed, we finally found a boulangerie which made fresh pizzas. Two young handsome young men (they were brothers) ran the store with smiles, they were very busy! Took our nosh back to the fab apartment, watched a film and ended up staying for dinner too! These ladies like to cook, thank goodness. Homemade puff-pastry, homemade panisse, and pasta. Delicious! You may be thinking, "that's a lot of carbs," yes ladies and gentlemen, yes it is. Vive La France.

Thank goodness it's Friday- too bad I have to work at 9 am every Saturday

I have 16 different classes that I am assisting. Not gonna lie, it's a little much but I'll get thru it. Today I met with 2 classes and I had a great time. After class around noon I went wandering around the neighborhood in search for something to eat and for listings of apartments for rent. There was a little outdoor market selling old comic books and records, I browsed.

Just up the way, I came across a really awesome part of town where there are play grounds and cafés. There was a little building near it selling all sorts of food. On their menu were sandwiches, paninis, and hamburgers! The names they gave the hamburgers were awesome; Le LA, Le Boston, Le Vegas, La New York, Le Obama- I think I got the Vegas one because it had bacon on it mmmmmm. Mine originally came with bleu cheese, but gross! I asked sans blue cheese si vous plait. Then he was like you want Cheddar? Me not wanting to be too American said, noooo. He was like then would you like camembert or gruyere? I said camembert, then he asked me what kind of sauce I would like and I replied just mustard (that's how I always make my sandwiches, mmmm) and he says no mayo and ketchup? I make a sour face in response- of course not! I tuck the wrapped up burger into my handbag and I'm off in search for some apartments. My trek was not satisfied. On a side note, I don't think this is normal, but there have been enormous piles of trash in the streets where trash cans usually are. You can't see them because they are buried in trash. Since many public workers have been on strike, it's been pretty dirty.

Anyway, as I eat my hamburger although filling, it did not really hit the spot. Maybe it was the french cheese or the Dijon mustard...  At any rate, I had a difficult afternoon. Since many of us assistants have reloadable phones (not really practical for us to enter into contracts), my plans to meet up with a friend went down the drain, c'est ok. Instead, I decide to head home after a busy day. I got to the nearest Métro station which happened to be Vieux Port and my RTM card (trans pass) is denied. I go to the office and wait in line for 3 minutes when I get to the front of the line, the man behind the counter is clearly annoyed, hates his job and doesn't want to deal with anyone- including the girl with the heavy accent. He refused to help me telling me I needed to bring in a new photo and I.D. card so he can print me another one, so I say well what am I supposed to do now? He says buy a ticket! Me totally pissed decided I didn't want to buy a ticket because I spent 40 euros or so on an unlimited monthly pass- screw that. So I decided to take the road less traveled. I walked down the Vieux Port and slowly there were less and less people around. Now I'm walking along the sidewalk with a view of a cruise ship. Ahhh, peace. It's crazy, I totally knew where I was going despite me being so new to the city. I walked to Joliette where I boarded the bus (I stuck my ticket in hoping it would work, it didn't) but the bus driver let me by anyway. Ahh sweet sweet victory, grumpy little french métro man.

Home Grown

For real, this a-mazing tomato came out of my aunt and uncles garden. I mean, they've had consistently delicious tomatoes since before I arrived.  Yummmm. You don't find tomatoes like these at the supermarket. 

Le grève! (Strike!)

Ever since I've arrived in the South of France, there has been a lot of talk about le grève (grev). The public transportation workers were on strike, then they were on strike again. Then some of the professors told me they weren't going to be in class because they were striking on Tuesday (today). At first I thought they were striking for teacher reasons, boy was I wrong. After my third class, I was walking thru a hall with an open window. The professor I was walking with mentioned the chanting of the strike, again I'm thinking "teachers... wow that's loud." I get out of the building to grab lunch since I have 3 hours before my next class in the afternoon. Here is what I come out to. 

There is no way to describe how many people were striking except that they filled the major streets. It was insane. They were striking because the French government is raising the age for retirement. Not only were teachers striking, transportation workers were striking, also lycéens (highschool students) were striking. The French love their strikes and they do it joyfully. They strike as much as there are national holidays ;-)

I'm learning more about the french education system and it's more complicated than any school system in the States. In a nutshell, the students until age 15 are in "General" education then they choose a tract. Science or Literature (broadly defined) which they will study until they are 18, then at the end of school they take the BAC, either Sci. or Lit. Students taking the science route will have more job options. If they pass the BAC Science, they move on to University where they will have many more options for "majors." And at that age how many people really know what they want to do? Ok, at this point you may be wondering, "and how does this relate to the strike?" Well, the students who are moving on to higher education will end up working a little later in life, and therefore retiring later. You need a certain number of trimesters of work and be at least a certain age to retire (or something like that). The more highly educated students, with this new law, won't be eligible for reitrement until age 70. So, the lycéens participated in the strike as well. Bravo for the youngins for participating in this big event.  Anyway, thanks for reading thru my stream of consciousness.

Again, my camera battery died so I only got these few photos. Either way it's good to have a handy dandy point and shoot in my purse at all times.

Stories of Marseille

My parents have told me many stories of growing up in Marseille. My mom talked about a café called Narval she would go to with her friends as a school girl. My dad about the navy and his auto shop. As I pass by places with my uncles and aunts, sometimes they have a little tidbit or story to tell be about a place or a person. While I'm here, I'm going to rediscover these places and make my own memories.

Grenade de jardin et le bouchon de champagne français

The french kiss

bisous (bee-zoo) = kiss

Ok so when french people greet eachother, if they already know the person or are being introduced to someone, they kiss on the cheeks. Left cheek first then right. In other regions they may do it 3 or 4 times, but the standard in the south is 2 kisses. Because I grew up in the states, I've really only done that with family and it's like second nature with them. I literally don't even realize when I do it. When coming to France it's a whole new ballpark for me because I'm greeting different people. For example, I'm greeting American people who find the sport quite delightful (me included). I also am beginning to meet people my age and we greet eachother this way too, I even greet little children this way- it's adorable. When signing letters to family you write "Grosses Bisous" (big kisses), I sometimes get the spelling wrong, it'll be gros bise, or gross bissous or grosse bisous. I always get it twisted, but oh how delightful it is, the act of french kissing!