Droit au But

This weekend was super-full: starting out with Maria's birthday. We had a little party at our house for her Friday night where everyone cooked something, and I had THE BEST cherry chocolate cake of my life that our German friend Maraika made. Pauline's friend from Paris, Mathilde, came in town so we got to see her again. Saturday the weather was gorgeous again: just over 60 degrees and sunny, blue skies. So I put on my big sunglasses (in case I saw any of my students I didn't want them to recognize me), then headed out for a nice stroll to the Pharo park. This park is built around Napoleon III's Pharo Palace that he built next to one of the forts overlooking the ocean and the Vieux Port, but never actually lived in it. So I had every intention of walking up there, reading a book in the sun by the sea, but then I walked past Rue St Ferreol..........[ominous music].....the shopping district.

The huge after-Christmas sales don't start until January 11th here, so everyone is going stir-crazy, waiting for these MEGA---I mean, like -50% everything---sales, then once the 11th hits it is a complete mob scene in this part of town. In french you would say, "c'est le bazaar". So I'm on my way to a tranquil sit by the sea, when the "soldes" start calling my name. It takes me 2 hours to buy 2 t-shirts in Zara, the store is so crowded. Never again, I tell myself.....haha we'll see.

Saturday night we went out again for Maria's birthday, but last night, Sunday, I attended my first OM match! that's Olympique de Marseille, the football team here. I mean soccer...you get it. We scored these tickets from a friend of a friend of....I have no idea, but it turns out our seats are in the "ultra" section. like the super-fans. There's a guy with a microphone in front of us leading songs and chants, at the beginning of the game we all held up different color papers and made the OM symbol on our inzone, and there's CONFETTI. everywhere. With all this confetti and singing going on, I'm curious to see what will happen when someone makes a goal. OM scores and all hell breaks loose: these guys are so happy they start moshing. I mean, head-butting, punching, body-slamming, throwing each other to the ground....then they start singing again and throwing confetti at each other until something else happens. They even had a 2 year old boy with them; conditioning him to be the next microphone guy, I guess.

In the end, OM won and we had a great time (nobody got injured in the mosh, at least). They had a big fireworks show in the stadium after, which made me happy since I didn't get fireworks on New Years. As for the difference between this and an American football game, I can't say I prefer one or the other. I will say, however, that there's something nostalgic about cheerleaders, marching bands, fight songs, and yelling the word "TOUCHDOWN!"

Hellooooo 2011

Well the holidays were lovely in Bordeaux, Niort, and Paris but they were COLD! So instead of a White Christmas like everyone back home I was stuck with super-cold rainy and clear days alternating through the 10 days. In Paris, though, it was pretty puch a steady overcast and cold (now I remember why Versailles was so depressing). But despite the weather we managed to keep the holiday cheer: in Bordeaux we stayed in a cute bed and breakfast owned by a man named Jean-Pierre and his fat gray cat, Chanel. Chanel ate breakfast with us every morning. There in Bordeaux we enjoyed the Christmas market, beautiful Christmas lights, and went to the cinema to see Harry Potter in English. On Christmas Eve we made it out to a small town called Saint Emilion, which is famous for its wine; bottles usually run around 30-40 euros in the rest of the country.

Then after Bordeaux we went to Niort, chez Brita to relax for a few days. There, in Niort, I found a spectacular Karaoke bar called Uncle Sam full of old French townies singing 80s love ballads in French. It was hands-down the most eventful night of my holiday (yes, even beating New Years). So there is this overweight woman in her 30s spilling out of a black satin boustier, drunk as a sailor on leave in Amsterdam. She keeps going behind the bar and pretending to pour drinks for people; lecturing me about how horrible men are and that I should never trust them. All the while, some old lesbians in the back are wailing into a microphone some love ballad, while on the karaoke screen some bizarre video of a man on a motorcycle is playing on a loop. (BTW, the karaoke machine was so old it used records. Not CDs or even 8-tracks, records.) So I pop outside to answer my phone, when an extremely drunk woman in her late 30s comes barreling out the door, then starts crying about her boyfriend. Boustier women comes out to console her, both of them leaning on me (I am, at this moment, very uncomfortable). Apparently, her boyfriend was cheating on her with his ex-girlfriend, so the woman says, "I know! Ill tell him Im pregnant" boustier woman: "thats a great idea, honey, you show him what-for!" It is this moment that I seize the opportunity to slip inside. To close the night, Brita and I sang "Come Together" by the Beatles (as the only English songs they had were by the Beatles), bowed our goodbyes, then woke up early the next morning for Paris.

Paris wasnt terribly eventful; we went shopping, saw the lights on the Champs-Elysées and the windows of the Galeries Lafayette (Broadway show themed this year!!), then ended up in Montmartre for the New Year where we watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle at midnight. Somehow, that will never compare to watching the ball drop in Times Square.

This morning I showed up to work and--surprise surprise--the professor neglected to tell me he wasnt at school. So now Im killing time, about to break this French keyboard because all the letters are in the wrong places and I still cant figure out how to stroke an apostrophe. In any case, Bonne Année to everyone, and Meilleures Veaux!