Books and Beer

Yesterday afternoon, after visiting the supermarché and picking up some foods, I decided to go looking for books. I didn't really need any for class, but it never hurts to look. This foray turned out to successful. My first and only stop was a bouquiniste on rue Bressigny, not far from UCO.



The shop isn't big. I'd put it in dimensions approximating 20x12. Pretty tiny, by American standards. The room was stacked from floor to ceiling with books, most of them three or four deep. Merveilleux. I had originally gone seeking dictionaries. There's a couple people back home who I know would appreciate one. Unfortunately, I didn't find anything that popped out at me. That might be because I saw this first.

There's nothing spectacular about the contents in and of themselves. It's more the presentation. It covers the high points of medieval French literature. The pictures, most of them reproductions of illustrations from manuscripts, are fantastic. Inspired by this find, I started poking around for more books à propos to this'un. I found many more, some of which (the one below especially) will prove indispensible for my ancien français class. Being the only customer, the vendeuse noticed my interest and began retrieving several other books that she thought might interest me. They did. A short while later, someone came in selling books. I grabbed this from their stack. 5 euros.

Nothing flashy. It's basically taking a couple different excerpts (here from Le charroi de Nîmes and from Le Conte du Graal) and breaking them down into each individual word, its context, etymology, derivations, declination, and variations in spelling. Wow. So this book basically does what all of my professors have done when I've studied ancien français. Or words, really. I'm currently looking for similar works. Here's another fun one:

I've wanted this for awhile. I've been tired of reading it online. Only the modern translation though. Sad.

The following evening was spent out on the town with friends. French ones, mind you. We went to a pub in the northern part of the city center. Le Welsh. I kid you not. The sign out front displayed a red dragon, sitting in a drunken stupor. I'll have to get a picture of it. Fun place. Small, warm. It was actually my second time there, it being one of my first stops after figuring out how to get around Angers' center. The beer list there is incredible. They have a menu full of them. Most of them are in bottles, but that's pretty normal for lots of beer styles that are bottle aged. It's not cheap, so there's not much chance of me getting plastered regularly. You know, like I do at home.

We had a good evening, me, my South African friend, and a couple of Frenchies. Apparently there's a large supply of board games. We wound up spending a good deal of time playing some sort of dominoes game. It was fun. The pub (because it's not really a bar) is very conducive to such interaction. No TVs. No slot machines. Lots of French, people from the neighborhood. Authentic in the sense that it's not for tourists or students. Not authentic in terms to living up to its name. Not one word of gallois. Pity. I'll have to teach them one or two. Cwrw!

The beer: Etienne ordered me the beer of the month (i.e., whatever wasn't popular last month). It was a Carolus Ambrio, and it was good. Sadly, I didn't take a picture of it. It was served in a 33cl goblet (a little less than 12 oz.) that had the brewery's name and logo. Presentation seems to be everything here in France. As far as drinks are concerned, each has it's own glass. The color, as you might have guessed from the name, was a nice dark amber. It was very light, not heavy at all. But the flavor was pretty powerful, although not hoppy. I miss my IPAs. There were other herbs in there too. Dunno what. The brewery, Het Anker, is just north of Brussels. From what I gathered online in perusing their site, the base recipe for this beer dates from the 15th century. History in a glass.

The picture below is me and a Murphy's Stout. A little bit better than Guinness.



See the twinkle in my eye? There you have it. I plan on spending my winter vacances in Belgium. For the, uh, museums.

Cheers.

Phone call.

Quick. You're getting a veritable barrage this weekend. However, I'm not posting this one on facebook, so only the devoted will find this one. Maybe.

I have a funny I want to share that took place just a few minutes ago. I just walked in the house, having gone of into the cité to buy a gâteau and browse a bouquinistes or deux. My mom stopped me and declared that she had one good thing to share with me and one bad thing. The first referred to a phone call that I made to my family in Amory. Calls to landlines in the US are free on my French family's line. Momma V started by saying that my call to the US had been free. "However," she added (in French, so not really), "this other number that you called was not free."

It was at this moment that I remembered the events that transpired leading up to my phone call back home. My first attempt lacked the first two zeroes that initiate a call outside of the country. Instead, the call was routed to a line inside the country. I immediately realized my mistake in two different ways: 1) the woman on the other end of line was speaking French; 2) there was wasn't much speaking, due to the fact that she was very excité to talk to me (those of you using Google Translator will want to refer to the second meaning of that word).

So that call lasted about thirty seconds, which was just enough time for the call to be put through and for me to realize my mistake, laugh about it, and hang up. However, I had forgotten about any charges that may have been applied, which brings me back to the beginning of the story. "I can pay for the charges," I told her, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. "No, no," she responded, "it wasn't that much." I hope not, I thought. Otherwise I didn't get my money's worth.

I then decided to try and explain what happened in order to assert that I was a moron instead of a pervert. However, my vocabulaire was somewhat lacking in nuance to explain my situation delicately. I explained that I had punched in the numbers wrong and that I had been directed to a woman. She didn't seem to understand the emphasis I was putting on woman, accompanied by that insider's look of mutual understanding. She just stared at me. So I followed up with what I thought at the time meant, "a woman you call when one is feeling lonely." Of course, in a tribute to Seinfeld (shoutout to Neil) that apparently even the French understand, I said "when one is alone."

At this my host mom burst out into hysterical laughter.

Once again, I find the we are all not that different.

Food. Cheese.

The week has gone by and I've still got two class I haven't attended yet. Hopefully I can sort it all out on Monday. I think I'm almost ready to officially register for classes (that's due in a couple of weeks). The system is so weird. My poetry class meets every other week. My ancien français class doesn't meet again until March. It's hard to say what's going to be the hardest. I'll let you know by the end of the semester.

I don't have any huge plans this weekend. It's a bit cold here, and I haven't been to keen on ranging very far. That being said, I did do a bit of shopping yesterday, again at the french mall. I bought some carrots and some weird looking french apples. And I got some postcards and biscuits (cookies). And tea (it's cold). I've gotten some sausage and chicken from the reduced rack. Oh, and wine. Good wine is one thing that can be pretty cheap here.

The cheese isn't very expensive either. I can now say I've tried Roquefort, which I'm sure Amelia's going to love. Basically, it's bleu cheese, but it's made from sheep's milk and it's aged in caves in the region from which it gets its name. Legend has it that a shepherd left a bit of his cheese by accident in such a cave and returned a few months later to pleasantly rediscover his molded morsel was delicious. What fun. Like many gastronomic products in France, the label is directly tied to the location, for example, bubbly is only called champagne if it's come from Champagne. I think that's kind of neat.

Speaking of cheese, I forgot to mention that last Friday I had raclette with my host family. It's the same idea as fondue (melted cheese). It's kind of like a mini-oven with trays in which to place your cheese or meat and slots in the oven to melt it. Once it reaches the desired consistency, you pour it over a boiled potato. It was very good. Served with bacon, ham, chorizo. Good.

I'm heading out with a friend tonight, so I'll share some of my escapades from yesterday afternoon (books) and this evening (beer) tomorrow.

Oh, and I got my memory card. Hopefully I'll have some pictures up soon.

I've got nothing.

Well, quelle semaine. I've almost made it an entire week since last posting.

My rendez-vous with the director of my department was unabashedly rude and unapologetically confusing. There was talk of mutiny, but after that first guy was verbally disemboweled, our courage was decimated, our hopes shattered. I'm making the best of it though. I've managed to wriggle into a class of Old French. I don't know if I'm going to appreciate that come the end of the semester, but doubtless I'll learn something useful.

Classes are going well. The grand majority of my time is spent in the library, studying before, in between, and after classes. Imagine my horror when I heard I could only check out five livres at a time. She very nearly throttled me when I told her I checked out nigh on forty last semester. However, with the help of one Ally Watkins, I made it to one of the city libraries on Saturday, where I proceeded to check out several more books.

I then went to le Muséum des Sciences Naturelles. Very fun. It was split into two different sections, one on nature(?)(the living kind), the other on prehistory. The first was pretty neat. It put a lot of emphasis on the surrounding Anjou region, with specific references to the flora and fauna around the rivers. The 'county' I live in, Maine-et-Loire, is situated around two major rivers that lend their names to the region. Very neat. Good vocabulary builder. The prehistoric exhibit was also interesting, though it was easy to get lost in the details. Lots of fossils of stuff that swam in the ocean. A few interesting notes about the mining history of the regions. A few skeletons, a few skulls, and fairly large nugget of gold.

The evening proved entertaining. My host family was again celebrating the birthday of their youngest daughter, this time with extended family. Luckily, I got invited. There were about ten or so people who showed up, making it a rather large crowd. It was a bit intimidating at first, but after a couple of glasses of champagne and speaking with a septuagenarian about her theatre days, it turned out to be a rather fun evening. Pâté, lasagna, cheese, salad, galette, and fruit. Quite a meal. The best part? I was seated next to Lancelot. His brother, Tristan, was a few seats away. Very cool names.

Nothing much to report now but school.

Everybody's working for le week-end.

If I don't start writing soon, things are gonna start backing up. So far, I have Sunday, Monday, and today to cover. Let's hope for the best.

Sunday morning, I visited a small church about 20 minutes away. It was a protestant church, specifically, baptist. They are one of the few that have a site-Web. Otherwise, I would have never known about it. Despite having the address, I arrived almost too late. Almost. The service was a tad different, with emphasis on what they called louange. There were two baptême, which included testimonies from the two baptisés. This was followed by a message. And then cake, celebrating the new believers. Afterall, they're still baptists.

After the service, I left to find a baguette. Baguette, among students in France, is synonymous with 'meal'.  While at the boulangerie, I encountered a young Taiwanese woman who recognized me from the église. She did what, to date, no other person in France has done with/to me. She faire'd la bise. Elle m'a embrassé. I think the beard keeps most people at bay.

Anyway, she introduced me to a new friend Etienne, who I mistook for being French (he spoke English with a French accent). He turns out to be South African (Afrikaans); he has a job in researching the effects of climate change on viticulture. Very cool. We chatted a bit as we walked home, and agreed to meet at a café later, with a few other people. French people. At last.

I forgot to mention that the weather was spectacular. Blue skies.

The soirée turned out to be pretty fun. We went to a café, ambiguosly named Chez Toi, where I was informed that chocolat viennois is a girly drink. Not that it stopped me. We passed a pretty decent night chatting it up. The usual subjects cropped up: la musique, le cinéma, la language, etc.

The chocolat viennois didn't agree with me. Too much cream.

A short bit about Monday: it sucked. The first class I attended was, more or less, Comparative Literature. It was on Cervantes (Don Quixote) and Homer(The Illiad). You may have noticed an absence of any French writers. We did too. I've wanted to study the classics more, but I think that this is neither time nor place for it. The next class began with a presentation of the texts we'd be studying, all of which were French. The professeur than began to lecture on the first book, entitled 'Les Faux-Monayeurs'. Two hours later, I may have caught about 1/4 of what he was trying to get across. My fellow ERASMUS (they call all foreigners ERASMUS) students were just as lost. At the end of the course, the majority of us (including myself) told him that we'd be coming next time. I highly doubt that (especially on my part).

Today is proving better, albeit I've only attended one class. The exact subject of the class escapes me  (I think it might be grammar driven), but we spent the class analyzing two poems. However, the professor seems well versed in linguistics, so I was pleased. I could also understand her well, which helped.

I have one meeting left today, with the head of the institut where I'm taking the majority of my class. I should have had this meeting last week, but they don't exactly seem to have it together. I've literally been going to classes without knowing the fundamental information about the subject matter. After tonight, I should be able to attend classes with a definitive idea of what's in them. Hopefully.

A small note: there is both an Ancien Français course and a Phililogie Latine course. One way or another, I'm going to wriggle into at least one of them.

Window Licking

And it tasted terrible. Worst yet in France. Except for the Bag(uette) Mac. More about that below.

If you want to lecher les vitrines in France, now's the time to do it. My mom informed me that the soldes is going on right now. Basically, it's their Black Friday. Which means everybody's out and about. Not wanting to miss the action, I went to the mall.

To clarify further (for those of you who know well my shopping habits), I need a backpack. So I first went to a small supermarché. No dice. All I managed to do was scare a couple of kids, since my walk to the store took me past a school. I'm starting to think that no one in France grows a beard.

Eventually, my mom got me a backpack. It looks like something a 4 year old might wear, and that's no exaggeration. Everything's small here, except for the stupid paper, which is 2 inches longer than our sort. Again, le sigh.

I went out again this morning (Saturday) to see what I could. The weather is rather pleasant, if a little cooler than it has been. I've noticed that I'm the only one on the street who's not wearing a coat. I've also noticed (when it's wet) that I'm the only one who wears a brightly colored rain jacket. It's light blue. It goes well with my cheveux. The French prefer black, grey, and off-white. It's like the fifties here.

Anyway, today I did a bit of flânerie. No, I did not eat dessert at a Mexican restau. I did, however, wander around for a bit in the city center. There's plenty to see. Angers is a pretty big city. There's tons of shops, restaurants, and cathedrals. Lots of cathedrals. There's also a fair few museums and, of course, the château.

I found a bar called Le Welsh. Sounds like my kind of place. Alas, it was closed. I also found a large market en plein air, selling everything from pastries to knickknacks, with some flowers as well. Pretty fun. My best find was the rue with all the bouqinistes. That will be revisited. My lunch wasn't so great. I thought I was getting what would amount to be a philly steak and cheese. It amounted to the contents of a bigmac in a baguette. Oh, and fries. In the baguette. Yrch.

My return home was timed well. My host family, who are now all here for the weekend, was celebrating the birthday of the youngest daughter, with several friends from her dance school. I got galette and café, and got to tune in to a little français ado(lescente), which, contrary to what I thought I had heard (français à dos), is not someone speaking behind you.

The party is now ended, and while I sit and write this blog post, the girls are downstairs playing the WiiFit. I have to draw the line somewhere.

Chunky paragraphs now.

The day after I arrived in France, I met the rest of the exchange and ERASMUS (that's European for 'we get more money than you'. you won't find it in the dictionary.) students for orientation at the unversity. L'Université Catholique de l'Ouest. Don't bother translating that.

It was a fairly long day. Most of it was spent listening to important information. I spent most of it wondering what I would eat for lunch. And after lunch, dîner. But the directors seem nice. Oh, and we had to take a test. That was loads of fun. It was more or less a placement exam, consisting of a couple essays. I hope I did alright. I know I did better than the two Bulgarian students I sat next to. Normally, I would feel bad about saying that, but all they do is talk in Bulgarian about everyone. Every time they look at me they laugh. Not that I blame them.

The rest of the students are assez sympa. There's a Latvian I really like. I don't know any other Latvians to compare her to, but based on her, it seems like a nice place. There's a Finn too. And a couple of Greeks. There's this Italian guy that is so laid back. I didn't know that was possible. And of course, there are Americans. There are actually only three Americans. The rest are from Texas. I swear, anywhere I go in the world, there's always some Texan following me around. The first time I saw them, I marked them by what they wore (boots). They were speaking espagnol, too. Le sigh.

I haven't eaten any kebab yet. My mom has been cooking for me every evening, and I've been getting lunch on my own. Lunch has been a sandwich (barbecue chicken) and a panini from an on-campus café that tasted like pizza. Some things don't change. Dinner was veal with mushrooms and purée the first night, and some sort of pork and des haricots last night. Both were good. We had king cake, too. I found the fève, a little different than the baby I'm used to. My mom thought so, too. At least, she couldn't understand why I was pointing to the galette and saying, 'bébé'.

My French is getting better though. It was pretty rusty at first, and it still catches every now and then, but I think we're making progress.

First. Also, first in France. This isn't a coincidence. I don't believe in those.

This past Monday marked my entry into France. This is my story.

But this isn't artsy, so don't go jumping to conclusions. I'm just scatterbrained right now. I'm still adjusting to the time zone. They call that décalage in French.

Warning. There will be other french words in this post. They are in bold for your viewing pleasure. Dictionaries are fun. Voilà.

I don't really like going into details about travel. I hate flying.  It's fairly monotonous. When reflecting, I always remember the waiting, the lines, the confusion.

There was a beautiful sunrise though, viewed over the shoulder of my seatmate.

And for once, I wasn't seated next to a baby. High school girls with an insatiable need to journal at 3AM were a welcome relief.

I like trains. The train ride from Paris to Angers was my favorite part. There's so much more to see. Farms. Vineyards. French rednecks. The countryside was pretty wet. Several rivers were flooded.

There was a bum at the railway station in Angers. I was waiting on my ride, and I made an easy target. He followed me around the gare. Yelling irlandais, irlandais. I wanted to tell him he was right, but I figured he'd want a euro for it. 

My room here on rue Edgar Degas is pretty comfy. I have a bed, a chifferobe (again, dictionary, but this one has made into English), and a desk. I have since eaten two meals (exclusing breakfast. let's be honest, that's not really a meal. toast is toast. but it was better.) with my host-mom.

I call her mom for short. I'm sure there's more than one person who will find that disturbing, and at least one person who'll be a tad put off.

More about my university and doings there later.