More adventures with the parents

Goodneess gracious it has been so long since my last blog post!! Since my parents visit I've finished work and been off galavanting in Spain for a bit, then I worked for a week on a farm in the South of France with the organization WWOOF. Now I'm back in Toulouse with the roomies and my friends for another 2 weeks before I leave. 

Stopped outside a boulangerie for our carb-fix

So, first things first. I have some exciting news!! About ten days after I get back from Toulouse, I will be starting a summer job with a company called VISIONS Service Adventures working as a counselor for American high school kids...in Guadeloupe! John's sister Christine has worked with this company over the summers for the past 4 years in South America, and now works for them full time in CT. A few months back she told me that they were doing their final hiring and might be looking for a French speaking counselor for their 6-week program in Guadeloupe, so, I applied and a few weeks later had a Skype interview, and shortly after I received the news that I had been accepted!! So, I have an orientation in Montana on June 17th and after I will fly (somewhat indirectly) to Guadeloupe! The camp is structured as part community service, part excursions/outdoor adventures for the campers. I will be in charge of 5 teenagers, and during the week they have the choice of 5 community service projects they want to work on for the day. Afterwards they can go to the beach, or can do internships with locals such as fishing, making ice cream, weaving, etc. The weekends are dedicated to hikes, kayaking, snorkeling, visiting other islands, etc. Pretty cool right? I'm very excited. One of the parts I'm looking most forward to is the food, obviously. Apparently they have a Guadeloupean woman who comes every evening to prepare dinner with a group of campers. During my interview I expressed a lot of interest cooking and gastronomy and the director said they needed a counselor to do the grocery shopping and be more involved with the meal process, and that perhaps that might be me!!

Ok, so anyway, that's the update folks. Now back to past... 

Mom, Ana and I at an outdoor café for a coffee, look familiar Loren and Dyan?? I take all my tour groups there :)

 We had a Breton-style crepe dinner one night complete with hard cider that really reminded me of the food I ate when I studied in Rennes 2 years ago. Above: goat cheese and honey crepe with an egg on top.

The rest of my parents visit went splendidly, despite the less than gentle awakening that, lo and behold, I still have parents, and no, they are never going to stop worrying about me. Aside from long walks around Toulouse, sharing meals with my roomies, meeting my friends, and trying to get them to ingest as much good French food and wine as possible. They were troopers and really saw and did the city the way I have been, we rented them bikes and only took the metro two times (one of which my father got caught riding without a ticket, of course there would be a control that day...thankfully the non-French speaking New Yorker bit worked). They even came to eat with the Mangesters for our last dinner together as a group. 

Dad crusing around an old Peugot

We rented a car for the week and made a couple day trips around the region as well. Renting a car was an adventure in and of itself, and one I knew all too well. When  my parents came to visit me in Rennes we traveled around the Provence region a bit with a var and ended up getting nowhere but lost. Granted, it was a lovely ride, we had no idea where we were or what we were seeing. This time, I was avowed to be a better copilot. Direction-wise, everything went incredibly smoothly, if I do say so, however one week is not enough time to get accustomed to the way the French whip those economy-sized cars around a roundabout 3 lanes wide at mach 4. To my Dad, everyone was "Dale Earnhart Jr", and I think he got pretty well acquainted with French car makes thanks to the proximity of the hood ornaments in the rear view. 

 We made a stop at the famous Carcassonne fortress where I brought John when he came back in December.

Next we made 2 hours north to a town built into a cliff called Rocamadour, it was really incredible. This photo is from when we stopped for a pick-me-up coffee along the way, I think the rents get a little nutty after all the caffeine they pack into those tiny European coffees.

 My Dad standing out on a lookout walkway at the top of he city of Rocamadour.

 Dad and I on top of Rocamadour, outside of the cathedral which was a popular pilgrimage site.

Inside the crazy underground river, before realizing photos were forbidden.

After Rocamadour we set off for this underground cave that Gisele had told me was a must-see if I was in the area. After leaving the town, I reassumed my role as copilot and we set off through farmland (see below my first reaction upon seeing sheep in real life for the first time), that, while beautiful, did not reassure us that we were coming up on a popular tourist site, let alone an underground river. My Dad, despite the fact that I had thus far navigated us 300 kilometers without getting lost ONCE, ahem, did not keep those doubts to himself. So, after about 20 minutes, lo and behold, we arrived at....LE GOUFFRE (the cave). I made him take this picture as his punishment for not being a believer.

Our final trip with the car we went to Roquefort-des-Corbieres to stay at my colleague Martine's house that she so nicely lent us. We did some grocery shopping in Toulouse and left Thursday evening after my last day of work. My Dad prepared this incredible seafood pasta dish despite the fact that he was working with an unfinished kitchen equipped with only 2 gas bunsen burners.

Seafood over linguini with Tariquet from the region 

 Parents on the hike I took them on around Martine's house through some vineyards. 

We saw some gorgeous Mediterranean springtime flowers on our hike

 A mini gouffre, a grotte. 

 Quite the life back in Toulouse huh?? Private cabana, macaroons, light reading....

We came back to Toulouse from Roquefort on Easter Sunday and had one last dinner at home with Gisele, her companion Gilou, Gabby, and her boyfriend Geoffrey. 

French-style aperitif chez moi, duck gizzard, olives, and a white from Burgundy, 1989.

 

On our way out the door for the airport Monday morning we stopped for one last photo-op.

Les Walters

They don't look too bad after almost 24 hours of travel do they?

Welp the rent are here! After over 8 hours of delay my parents finally arrived in Toulouse Friday evening, and I'm sure my father has a few new friends with AirFrance.

We took a little stroll along the river so that they could stretch their legs and see a bit of the city. That night Gisele prepared a really lovely dinner for us along with her partner Gilou, my roommate Gabby, and her boyfriend Geoffrey. My parents are staying at my house in my room and I'm sleeping in the spare room in the house.

After a solid week of preparing the house and planning their visit, they're finally here, and I have to say, I've forgotten a bit what it's like to have parents.

Case in point: I made the mistake of going out Saturday night to unwind a bit after we spent the whole day together with one of my colleagues. We parted ways after we all went out to dinner, and apparently, they couldn't get to sleep until they heard me come home. Sheesh. Apparently I'll "know what it's like when I have kids of my own."

Anyway, Saturday as I said we spent the day with one of my colleagues who took us in her car to an old town called Revel and then picnicked at a man-made lake called St. Ferrol which was designed by the same man who designed the Canal Du Midi that runs from Setes, through Toulouse, and out to Bordeaux and the Atlantic ocean. The lake serves as a main source for the canal and offers parks, hiking and swimming. We spent the whole day outside which I think helped bypass the jet-lag.

Really cool old covered marketplace or "halles" we went to on Saturday in Revel

That evening we went out to a traditional French restaurant in town:  I had duck confit and my Dad tried cassoulet, a very traditional Toulousain bean-duck-sausage dish. The food was great, despite our love-hate relationship with our garçon. When we sat down he seemed a bit miffed that we were 4 instead of 3, and somewhat haphazardly set the 4th place setting, however when I asked him to suggest a white wine, he lit up like a Christmas tree and when he brought the bottle continued to recount the story of the wine and how it is named after a celebration that takes place in small towns when they refurbish old church bells, and auction off barrels of the wine to raise money for the construction. Things took a turn for the worse however when my father asked me to ask for some butter to go with the bread. Against my better judgement, and, ahem, being the good daughter that I am, I obliged, having some idea of what was coming.

Translated version of the conversation:
Me: "Excuse me sir, could we please have some butter when you have a moment?"
Garçon: "What do you want the butter for?"
Me: "To go with the bread."
Garçon: "Have you tasted this bread??"
Me: "Yes. "
Garçon: "No."

He did eventually return with a neat little terrine of butter, but not before saying that this was "exceptional."

You see in France, to ask for butter means that the bread isn't good and that you want to mask the taste by smearing it with butter.

Cultural differences.

We've been having top ten weather so far, 70s and sunny!

Sunday we hit the marché St. Aubin, came home to eat lunch in the garden, and then toured the city on bikes. St. Sernin, Capitole, Place St. Georges,  Jacobins, I hit all the main sights, stopping for questions, comments and photo ops. I should be getting an hourly rate. That evening we made an asparagus and mushroom risotto with ingredients we bought that morning and ate for a second time in the garden with Gabby.

This morning we biked the canal du Midi for 45 minutes, and grabbed a coffee before I had to go into work. Tonight we're going to the last Mangesters dinner at Bonnie and Alberto's, and tomorrow is Carcassonne!

Wish me strength and patience.

A bientôt!

Un Peu de la Mer et un Peu de la Merde

Ana and I by the Mediterranean

I had a lovely Saturday at the beach. Then Saturday night my wallet got stolen. C'est la vie. 

Saturday 5 of us went in our friend's car to Port Leucate, about 2 hours from Toulouse and not far at all from my colleague's house in Roquefort where I have been several times. The weather was amazing, we even went swimming! The beach was a small and not crowded at all at the base of a pretty steep descent down some cliffs. The water, while chilly, was super clear and very salty - I could definitely feel the difference in buoyancy from the Sound. 

We all went out when we got back to Toulouse Saturday night, and Sunday morning (after only a few hours of sleep) I woke up early to take a train to go meet Martine in Roquefort for the day. While doing my last-minute make-sure-I-have-all-my-essential  check I realized that my wallet from the night before was missing from my bag. There was a frantic 10 minutes where I still could have made the train when I turned my room upside down, then I resigned myself to the idea that the wallet was gone and I wasn't going anywhere. 

I spent Sunday calling credit card companies and, even more fun, at the Hôtel de la Police to file a declaration of theft to give to my bank here in case there were any fraudulent charges. Sunday seemed to be bring your screaming kid to the police department day. And after waiting in a long line, and kicking it in the waiting area even longer to give my report, I found myself in front of an older policeman who seemed to have never used a computer before. After, no joke, 25 minutes of search-and-pick typing, I started to feel like I was in The Shining and that he would turn the screen around at the end and have been hitting the space bar the whole time. Finally, as the way things go, after much agonizing time and energy, I received a piece of paper that will supposedly be indispensable. Anyway, alls in order now, not too much damage done. It had been a while since I'd dealt with French bureaucracy anyway, I needed a reality check.

The rentals arrive Friday for a 10 day stay. We'll spend Friday-Thursday in Toulouse, probably making a few day trips around the region, then Thursday-Sunday we are going to Roquefort to stay at Martine's house for the 2nd weekend they are here, and they leave on Monday. 

Bisous et a bientôt!

Springtime In The City

Place de la Daurade 

With the heat, all of the bars have started spilling out on the street

My French friend, just after realizing he was already a walking cliché with his mustache and cigarette, he grabbed a baguette and journal to top it off

Kristen, Ana and I at the Prairie des Filtres

Alberto catching some rays

Brittany and her "parasol"

The Spaniards 

and Michaela!

Let's Give 'Em Something to Râle About

 Râler. What a great word. It means to complain, but slightly stronger, more like, excuse my French, to bitch and moan. Complaining happens so frequently and organically here in France, even the French will tell you that their language is built to râler. I don’t like to think I’m a big complainer, and in fact, passing a conversation by simply complaining about things is one of my pet peeves, however, I find but here it’s it's just so damn easy, and sounds so gooood to complain in French: it’s also somehow so much more dramatic and satisfying.

To accompany the myriad of phrases and expressions of angst and frustration, the French also have this amazing array of stock facial expressions and sounds that I swear they master before even learning to speak. One of my favorites is the "Pfff." The way you execute it is you puff out your cheeks and blow out the air slowly, letting your lips pout like a fish. There are some variations; some people like to blow out the air in a short blast, resulting in a kind of unlanded raspberry. The noise can kind of catch you off guard if you’re not expecting it, let me tell you.  The Pfff can also be accompanied by a shoulder shrug, depending on what degree of incredulosity, I-don't-care or I-don't-know you want to express.

So anyway, we were all sitting around in the teacher's lounge the other day (actually, on Tuesday just before my 4-day weekend trip to Grenoble - how appropriate), taking turns râler -ing and pfff-ing about our jobs and the French Ministry of Education in general. The general consensus I get from my colleagues (especially the more leftist ones) is that the French education system is going to the merde. So, they were all swapping their morose predictions of what their fates will be as state workers. I mean, with the retirement age having already been raised to 63, what other abominations could there be in store? A 40-hour work week? Having to come into work at a fixed time in the morning even if you don’t have a class? Covering for colleagues when they’re out instead of calling a sub? Shorter lunch breaks??

We got to comparing school systems and discussing what we think works from others and what doesn’t. England, as described by our only British English teacher, was quickly blacklisted as they have their teachers perform both teaching and administrative duties to cut costs (one of the reasons their education system costs the state so little, and maybe the reason he came to teach in France). Spain quickly took the lead for the model system when one of my Spanish colleagues came out with: “In Spain we work from 9-12, then 3-5.” Unable to contain myself, I ventured an incredulous; “you have a 3 hour lunch?” “Well yes,” she replied, “you know we have the siesta.” 


It was there that I halted my pff-ing right in its tracks. Sometimes, you know, I have to stop and remind myself that I work less in a week than most people I know at home work in a day. Holy merde. How am I ever going to hack it back home?

A Healthy Dose of Nature

Julia and I

This past “weekend” (Thursday – Monday, my life is a weekend) I went northeast to Grenoble to visit my friend Julia who is an English teaching assistant there. Totally motivated from my trip to Lyon about a month ago, I bought the tickets shortly after I got back, and, as the pattern here seems to go, the trip came and went in a flash.

Magnolia tree at Julia's old host family's house

We had am amazingly adventure packed weekend. Whereas my trip to Lyon focused a lot on the city and the history, this weekend was all about the area surrounding Grenoble, as it’s situated right in a valley in the middle of the Alps. Julia is quite sporty (she’s actually running a full marathon in Paris next Saturday!!), and we did everything from gorgeous hikes in the mountains, to camping (for my first time) to rock climbing (another first). Julia studied abroad in Grenoble 2 years ago and knows the area really well. She also has made friends with this awesome couple in their mid-thirties who she babysits for who live about 30 minutes outside of Grenoble in this adorable village that’s perched up in the mountains. What an incredible place to grow up as a kid, it really made me think about moving out of a city, at least for a little while, or at least to somewhere were you can easily get out and away to do something outdoorsy.

Trying to put chains on after getting stuck. Apparently taking your shirt off helps?

Julia and I looking out onto Grenoble from our campsite  the next morning

I arrived Thursday night and we hung out in at one of her friend’s apartments. Friday she had to work in the afternoon so after having a lovely lunch at her old host family’s house, I went for a hike up to the Bastille that overlooks the city. Friday we had pizza and beer by the river with some of her friends, but, I have to say, the Grenoble river scene is nothing like the Toulouse one. They don’t really have a bank, just some stairs, and, it’s just missing that rosy Toulouse charm. Anyway, Saturday we went for a great hike up Charmant Som. After some unforeseen delay of getting her friend’s car stuck in the snow (yes, snow), we raced back down to town to pack for our night of camping – we were trying to catch the sunset from our campsite. On the way back up we stopped for provisions for a BBQ, and just caught the very tail end of the sunset over the city. The campsite was incredible – a tiny plateau at the true tip of a mountain. It was unreal, the only bummer was that as soon as the sun went down a very strong wind started that did not die down till the next morning. We had a cookout with 9 people, but only Julia, myself and her friend Olivier ended up braving the elements for un nuit a la belle étoile. I encased myself in 2 sleeping bags and wasn’t cold at all, but I could literally feel the wind picking up my mattress pad. The sunrise in the morning over the Alps was definitely worth it though, you could even see Mont Blanc off in the distance.

Bundled up like a sausage in 2 sleeping bags

Just starting out

Sunday we woke up and drive down into the town where her friends live and ate a picnic breakfast in a park. We then picked up a harness from her friends and headed off to what we heard was a good rockface for beginners, like me! We ended up climbing for 5 hours, and for the first 3 we had the place to ourself, it was wonderful. Rockclimbing was amazing, it’s something I’ve wanted to try for a long time and now feel a bit spoiled that my frist time was in the French Alps J My shining achievement was a climb about 40 meters up. For me, the hardest part was after I had reached the top, getting my head around the idea that you are then supposed to just let go of this rockface you’ve been clinging to for dear life for the past 20 minutes to repel down. The first time it took me a solid 8 minutes to finally let go and belay down in what I’m sure was the most awkward fashion ever, as I never fully relaxed the way you are supposed to.

And finally Sunday night, after about 40 hours of being outdoors, Ju and I had epic showers and a movie night and painted our nails.

That's me up there!

I got back to Toulouse and it has be absolutely gorgeous: mid 70’s and sunny and none of that annoying Mistrail wind either. We’ve had all the windows and doors to the house open all week, our laundry has been drying in half a day on the line (a nice change from the 3-4 days it took inside mid-winter, the rooms would get so humid!), the markets have made the change to spring vegetables and there’s asparagus and strawberries abound.

Me thinking: "Woah."

Me after my big climb

Last night Ana and I went to the grocery store in my neighborhood to get some bread, cheese, jam, and beer to eat by the river and all the baguettes were gone and there were only a handful of cases of beer left. After we locked up our bikes and walked down to the river bank we understood why: it seemed that everyone in Toulouse had the same low-cost idea for dinner we did. It was 10pm and it seemed like noon. It was like a giant block party with music and everything. I love this city.

A bientôt,

Linz