So, I realized that Megan, the other American in my class, from Chicago- probably hates me. And I am perfectly okay with that- really because honestly, I don't care for her all that much. Realistically, it's not like I will talk to her when I go home. But some times, she says these things about America, that I don't particularly agree with, so I call her out, and I don't think she likes it all that much. Oh, and if she says something, I can totally counter it. Oh, and since I am one of the only native English speakers in the class- she talks to me about her problems- usually a bad move on anyone's part, unless we are close- mostly because I am ridiculously blunt.After class yesterday, and after the internet just magically shut off way before time, we headed to the gare to pick up our tickets to Paris for next month. We bought them online about a month ago, and we went up to the machine at the gare, as instructed, but our foreign cards didn't work in terms of acknowledging who we are. So we had to go to information. Now we are presented with two choices at this point- A. Wait until the 19th, or go now. So we went then, and as soon as we stepped in, we were really happy that we went for it then. When we stepped in, we saw the big sign saying what number they were on, then heard them yell. Laura didn't see where they got their numbers, but I just made my way across the room, found the machine and retrieved the ticket.
This is basically why Laura needs me- her French is a lot better than mine, to be expected I suppose because she is older than me, and has taken way more French classes at home before coming here, but the girl has little to no common sense- I find the tickets, I know when to cross the road, I know random, useful vocabulary, how to spell things in English- it's a pretty fair partnership though because she talks when I need her to. But I back her up when she needs me to. Fair enough to me.
The women behind the counter was very nice, and was able to help us, so now I have the ticket- it is sitting on my desk a few feet away from me, and that in itself is pretty exciting. On the way to the gare, we went through the Christmas market, and saw tehe little wooden houses, with their items on display- scarves, spices, hats, jewelry, hot wine, roasted chestnuts, toys, and Christmas stuff galore. Laura and I are going back on Friday, as well as some other stores we have in mind to do our Christmas shopping.
We picked up a brochure about Christmas in Tours, and noticed that it said the lights go on at 5:30 that night, so we looked up at the clock, and it said 5:25- what luck! We waited in the square in front of the tree, our little toes frozen, and waited, and waited. A woman came up to me, and asked if it was 5:30, I said yes, then she asked if it lights up that day, I said yes. But like most things French, it was 15 minutes late. The big tree was kind of an epic disappointment, but the road, and all the little ironic white trees were pretty.
That night at dinner, I itried to talk more- about whatever I could think of- I told M & P that the Christmas market was dangerous for me because there were a lot of necklaces, they laughed. I said that I was excited about my excursion. We had spaghetti- like real spaghetti, with tomato sauce, and mussles, and calamari, and shrimp- I think seafood is cheaper here. But P & M started telling me about their last American. He was a young, black student from New York- he wore his pants below his butt, he talked all the time, he always went out, and he had my room, cranking the heat up so high that Marie said she didn't know how he could breathe.They said that this confused them because I am the polar opposite, I don't talk as much as they think I should, I wear my pants normal, I hardly ever go out, I do my homework, and I leave the heater off, and when they walk in my room, they freeze. This made them come to the conclusion that all Americans are very different. Whatever works, I guess?
So we needed to meet at Kevin's house for the excursion at 9:15, but Laura and I couldn't remember if it was then, or 9- so we rolled in at 9:02, apologized for being late, Kevin said we were early. I ate my rice pudding out of my lunch (I didn't have time for breakfast), then the other girls arrived and we piled into the van. I had reminded Kevin to bring music- and wow, did I regret that error. Mostly for the other girls, I had my Ipod with me, but they were forced to listen to techno for that 2 and a half hour drive. Sorry girls!I just popped in my Ipod, and passed out in the back seat of the van, after making baby feet on the window with the side of my hand. Sameen took some pictures of me sleeping, she always does....I'm sure they will find their way to facebook eventually. Our first stop was a small church- from the outside of it, it looked like nothing extraordinary, but of course, the good things are always on the inside.
Upon entering, you just see the yellow walls, the chandeliers and the mosiac way at the back hidden behind some pillars- the guy giving us the lesson spoke very well, we were able to catch almost everything he said- though sometimes we get a little lost when it comes to Biblical terms. Anyways, the mosaic was made at a time when religious art was forbidden, and is 1,200 years old! It's actually a pretty incredible story.
During the Wars of Religion, churches were abandonned, or scavenged, for expensive items- golds, silvers, jewels- and mostly, irrevocably, destroyed. In the case of the mosaic, the pieces were worth very little, so to hide it instead, they painted over it. Instead of destroying, this had a preserving effect. Slowly the paint came off, and apparently the church was abandonned. Well one day, at a nearby school, boys were playing with shiny pieces of glass with their slingshots. A teacher came up to them, said it was beautiful and asked them to show him where they got it.
They took the teacher there- and poked at the ceiling, and shiny pieces of glass fell down. It was at this time, that they cleaned the paint off, and exposed the brilliant picture beneath. The mosaics surrounding, are mostly gone- and ridiculously faded. But this one- is beautiful, so vibrant, and detailed, from the Byzantine era, and overall, 1200 years old, seriously.Next stop was a "picnic area"- Kevin's criteria for a "place de pique-nique" is pretty simple, in the sun, out of the wind, and with a great view. So, he took us to a castle, that still has its moat- directed us to benches, and then went off to eat at a restaurant, extending the invitation for us to join him when we were done. We sat very close to each other, almost huddled for warmth, and ate our little lunches. The other girls always have home made sandwiches- I always have store bought. I guess our families have a little different of priorities.
We finished our food, our delegated pieces of chocolate cake from Whitney, then headed over to meet Kevin at the restaurant. When we got there, he was very standoffish- he sat at a table with only three extra chairs- well, there are five of us. He didn't help us fix that problem at all, and sat there texting on his phone. Funny- because he invited us. Laura and Whitney had hot chocolate, Charity and Sameen had coffee, and I had tea.
We had another meeting to get off to, so we didn't stay long. But of course we wanted to see the chateau! So we did it in crime fashion- which means that you speed through all the rooms without actually having the time to let all of them soak in. We took funny pictures, then found our way out to the courtyard- where someone decided it would be a great idea to do a human pyramid. Yeah....those will be on facebook too........what was weird is that we were having fun. We were doing something as a group- Kevin had long since retreated somewhere for his sanity, but we were laughing, we were taking pictures together, smiling, being a real group. It was a strange, but wonderful turn of events.
Our next stop was the "Abbaye de Fleury"- where we were met by a Swedish monk- he spoke French, English, Latin, and Italian- talk about your mouthful! Kevin told him to talk to us in French, so he did- very slowly, very clearly, and with this beautiful accent. He was very funny, constantly cracking jokes. At the end of our tour- he asked if we had questions, or anything we wanted to say, and we were all quiet, like normal. He just smiled and said "In English, if you like" and we all rambled off comments we had, about the relics, or the church, I talked about the faded colors on the doorway.Next he told us about some of the things that the Monks who live there make, like honey, candies, etc.- the candy, is called "Moinillons"- there are shaped like little monks- and there isn't a word that translates into English for that. So he told us to just call candy "Monk-ees"- and when he said that, it was so cute. Laura bought the miel (honey) flavored ones, and shared them in the car. They were surprisingly good, like melt in your mouth as they caress your tongue good- yeah.
Before we headed home, I really had to go to the bathroom, so Whitney and I made our way over to it, it was one of those ones that you would find at like a park. I opened the door to the first stall, and found myself staring at the stand up- toilet. The one Nelson used to always tease me about when I was younger, and would talk about going to France- he would always warn me- I thought he was kidding. But no, there it was- those two little footprints, and that hole that you are supposed to just stand over, and pee. Um, it wasn't happening- I opened the next stall, and found a toilet, thank you. A cold toilet, but a toilet nonetheless.The ride home, I passed out again, surprise, surprise, it happens everytime I am in that van. More pictures, I'm sure. Dinner last night was a cheese fondue, but really, I just wasn't hungry- granted M & P don't believe me, but really, I just didn't really want anything let alone a bunch of warm cheese. There was fruit salad too, but I didn't linger, mostly because Pierre was here with his girlfriend- so I definitely did not feel like family. I went to bed shortly after.
Today- I had nothing to do, we have more guests for lunch, and Laura and I went out for about an hour, back to the market, still trying to get Christmas ideas...and yeah, Thanksgiving was good, I almost forgot. We went to a little restaurant called Le Zinc, and we had this really good chevre cheese with salad, turkey with mushroom sauce and noodles, and a chocolate cake thing. We didn't get home until like two in the morning though. That was rough. And then get up and go to school? Eesh.....
...anyways, I am about to eat dinner, so I'll write maybe tomorrow if anything else comes to mind.
Until tomorrow- or whenever~~
