ici.

we are there. the future gently cupped us...

forcing my lips to fit that dienstag.

here, i came running to the

chain-linked fence:

while walking past rain

one of us will leave the other

marking the lost shore of eden.

secret revelations.

date unknown. recent, but unknown.

--i ran from here to there to make it on time. the brief respite of these train rides prepare me for the intensity that will be them in an hour. i am laughing...it was only three days ago when i was filled with loneliness and now i have no time alone! it all works out in the end. one of the "mixes" keeps me company...strobes in the pool. deep breaths. soon we will be there and i must be on my best behaviour. summertime would be mroe eventful with close friends but right now i must make some news and try my hand at french! one month! oh! so much to do...by the time this mix is finished i will be swallowing the old air of this city wishing for water.... AYEAYEAYEAYEAYEAYE.

daydrifter

they are sleeping when i leave them.
i pin my dress down to prevent my legs height from showing.

the wind is picking up and blows the left loose flaps from east to west.

looking around i long to feel the difference in the buildings faces, an amendment to my 

exploratory essence.

the park nearby offers a shady spot to read about april and the end of the war.

a chill slips by and urges me to make my way home.

i recall my initial moments of this day...wandering into the sengelese consulate, sitting down and just reading amongst 

the faces. im a pale abstraction but right then, i realized how comfortable i felt...a good omen.

the rescue.

...i saved a bee from death...

il faut aller de l'avant.

time has suddenly ceased to exist in my brain. days melted into mere hours while years stretched out into eons. it would be impossible to be in schedule now. sleep has come and gone and come and gone and come and gone elsewhere. music is my only sanity. my impulses and synapses are firing and flowing and pushing me directions i can only find maps to in my dreams. School has ended, and london too has flew through my being…here i am trying to make sense of my backwards direction. loneliness is the only thing that feels right. soon surprises will be seen and soon things will begin to slip into position. is there really a need for me to do anything? YES.

i arrived from london breathless and sans speech. a whirlwind of confusion and reserve and wildness co-existing within the same storm, it is beautiful what a good shot of whiskey will do, let alone three…i’m trying to reign myself in, but some things are better left alone to greater spirits. Morphing like a deep bruise---black purple blue yellow skin---that spot will forever maintain the memory even when the stain has faded.

the family greeted me with such love. conversations and hugs and invitations for dinner and promises of future visits…i loved at instant. their sweetness overwhelms.

soon to figure myself out. soon to find the path i will take. So dangerous a time…please forgive me, but really i’m lacking the language to say what i mean.

kismet.

the movement is moving me. and i am allowing the water to direct my path. wonderful times ahead. so much to do today! the end of days...before i start on yet another path. to do list is becoming shorter and i am getting more sleepy. these last days have really changed my life...i couldn't be more content. the excitement for life is large and terribly intense. so much is happening around me...and elsewhere. my stomach is craving more, but it is not lunch time...last little things before it is time to leave. 1o things left to do. 5 heures. not much to say, everything is just a feeling, a pressure. my english is fading my eyes are drifting..a late night with new friends. wonder what the weekend will bring...?

a dieu.

the music in my head.

sway and swoon and see stars. sipping some sweetness she said salut. sounds of sea slursh south. sayonara tours.

quickstep.

La fin est proche. I find myself packing, but while packing I think this is too soon, and yet, I am not packing to go home…I am packing to stay elsewhere. OH! the life of the nomad. A few days in London should do me good, then back to Tours to explore the région, seule, et puis mon père, ma soeur, et mon frère will be here to share the delights of the area with me, followed by an adventure in Paris…then Berlin.

School is getting easier and less sévère. I feel at home walking through these rues and subsisting off only the most basics. I have made it to stage four…can I come back to the life that is là-bas? I am not sure. My experience here has been one of self-directed reflection. If I return where will my place be? Is there room for the new me? I don’t want to go back to speaking English, really. I don’t want to get comfortable only to move again.

Senegal is calling at my ear now.  An adresse and a place to sleep, a new life with which to become acquainted. So many new things. They say this is the year of the tiger and all the animals will be too busy to sleep. I am moving moving moving until it is my year next…and then, where will I be and who?

posstcardds kisses and other embraces.

Heat madness. The temperatures creep high and the air is filled with tensions. So much has occurred within the last few days, week even, that I find myself at a loss of words. Je suis muette. Je n'ai pas les mots a dire mes emotions. There is just so much to look forward to and express...

Mercredi left me feeling alive again. School had stopped feeling so serious or I had stopped finding it so serious. My interview was over. My paper was turned in. Things were out of my control. I was laughing and free and full.

Thursday overwhelmed me with anticipation. I found myself following a new path embracing new and neglected aspects of my ame. My smile less forced and more sly, more sincere. A day of heated exhaustion. 

Friday was the fin. Life was really lived. My words became me. Good notes too! Good news! Good conversations! Goodness all around...I walked until my feet were torn and tattered and full of pain. I giggled with my friends. I was embracing my lightness again. The moonlight and the wine turned the river to silver liquid. I found a new sound to bubbling and boiling and cooling metal water waves that soothed my fears and gave me courage and a nice sheen. I read therese raquin. I fell asleep at 5 in the morning.

Saturday, today, or rather yesterday...I slept through breakfast, almost through dejeuner. My skin slick with humid air and nostalgia. Letters and lounging in light shade jardin. No energy to maintain or initiate conversation. Smiles and naps. Advice. Dinner with the dear p'tit et pepite. Time now to sleep.

Lucky necklace released its hold on me to make way for better lucks to come my way. I cannot only wait with..."sweet anticipation"...for the days ahead of me.

Room with a view.

  

View from my classroom...how is one supposed to focus with this around...

jardinvoir.

Finally life here is feeling, natural. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that these last few weeks of classes are less intense and less important. Or maybe it has something to with the fact that all the important things like interviews and papers are finished, no longer burdening me. I spent the day in class learning direct/indirect objects...doing paperwork like in preschool...which was so nice so relaxing so blah.

Lunch really hit me in the chest. I walked through Les Halles immediately overcome by various scents! I may have died and drifted to market heaven. Meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, pastries, things I cannot describe, prepared sandwishes. Each step falling more in love, smiling to myself...Really though, the market is amazing and I would like to sleep nestled up in its bossom of goods.

I ate lunch in the le petit parc by school and then took in the breeze of a shady spot before Civilisation francaise. Walked home in the sunshine. 

Evening in the park..reading Therese Raquin, one of my favorite books. Barely finished a chapter due to all the wonderful distractions: bouncing soccer balls, joggers, dogs with sticks to big for their bodies, couples embracing, old ladies carrying groceries, fellow students walking, ducks sticking their bums in the air. I am so content to be here...I am so content to see all this beautiful humanity. 

lost view of paris.

            solitude by the seine. river to my left notre dame to my right.

midterm, evaluations.

"Those who visit foreign nations but associate only with their own countrymen, change their climate but not their customs; and with their heads as empty as their pockets, return home with traveled bodies but untraveled minds". --Charles Caleb Colton

This quote has really moved me today as I explore the regions of my paralysassions here in Tours. It would be nice to blame it all on the little things I needed to accomplish in my first weeks here like finish papers or assist family with traveling information, but really it was all me. My timid nature snuck to the surface and here I find myself only barely discovering its existence! ugh. Thankfully it is floating on the highest layer and it may be all to possible to skim it off the top. A previous post documented my plan to turn off the distractions of my home world, but I think more needs to be done. I have one week of my intense french class left and then another week of french culture...I would like to get the most out of these experiences, but I find my self disinterested in their schedules and longing for more time to wander-which is where my mind mostly finds itself anyway. Yet, back to the quote! While the school has definitely helped my understanding of the language it has also put me back in high school (an uncomfortable memory) and made it difficult to separate myself from the instituion, or rather from my english speaking classmates. I tried for the first week to speak only french, but when suddenly you realize that everyone around you is speaking english and finds it weird that you are "following the rules of the school, of the program"--well I think you see where this is going. In all honesty I had foresaken myself and my goal in my attempt to fit in with my comrades, to fit in with high school. ugh.

I have always claimed to be an explorer and here I find myself getting all caught up with the intracracies of reliving a less than ideal reproduction of a time past its prime. sigh. 

An any case, I share because that is the first step-admitting. Step two-changing. Step three-unknown.

Also, I saw something disturbingly beautiful today: a small dead bird kissing a small heart-shaped apricot on the cement. I would have loved to take a picture, but with nothing but my eyes upon me...it just was not possible.

Tonight is La jour de la fete de la musique....and I cannot wait to wander the streets listening! It should be amazing.

diner.

This weekend was strange, although Geoffrey, one of my host family's older sons, arrived on thursday, we did not meet until saturday afternoon, when I found where I had misplaced my health. He left today after a little fete pour la jour de pere, but the last meal ensemble was quite touching. I was amazed by the beauty. Just watching a family interact. Playful disruptive distant argumentative loving laughing teazing...all those other things that mark such essence. True, I understood not a word they said, but it was beautiful to capture the view. Some things are forever.

letters en poste, long promenades, and low temperatures.

I had a leisurely morning today, filled with light breakfast and midday naps. I guess the day isn't even half over. Strange. My walk in the park meant more solitude and time to write friends, yet when the breeze started chilling my hands it was time to make it back home into the warmth of my bed. I tried capturing the mosstrees, but to no avail. I believe it was a special sight for only passerbys with keen eyes. The bottle of sparkling wine was there when I arrived...

Good Luck?

This giant monster flew into my window just moments ago. I gave a little scream, et puis I took a piece of paper and picked the little guy up and set him outside. He was just so beautiful and shiny..it would have been nice to keep him. Although he definitely terrified me!

revelation

It all finally caught up with me...the restless nights, the soif, the pressure, etc. I find myself laying in bed with a heavy heart and mal a la tete. Yet even here there is a lesson to learn. Without this moment to catch my physical up with my pysche I think I would be lost into darkness. 

There is a picture in my mind I want to take of this little piece of moss with red strings growing like trees out its base. Tomorrow if it still exists I will share. 

This fatigue has come about like a new year. Here I have been in France for three weeks! and I've forgot to really live. Starting tuesday evening I regret to inform that I will be shutting down my computer for awhile.  I am going to begin doing some strange out of character things and relish in this new me. My old skin just isn't fitting anymore and this weekend will mark my full release into freshness. 

From forward on my language will be french, my heart too. I must prepare for the time when the visit of them comes and show them the power of what I have experienced. I must be "shamelessly me"...

Au Revoir...and a good note to come. 

Doucement, Surement.

I’ve been swimming in the humidity. The other it day it was 97% humidity, is that real? Possible? Yes. My fingers stained violet from fresh cerises. I do the butterfly all the way to school. Speak some French and then rush home to work on last semester's paper, which I am happy to report is finished.

These last moments before the final sentence was writ, were spent sitting at the poste. I was looking around at the different types of envelopes that could get my seven pages of signed agreements to Salt Lake by tomorrow…not possible, but Thursday will do and it was 80 dollars well spent, spit up beverage here.

While I was browsing the envelopes the line grew and instead of helping all those others waiting in the que with their queries, the gent started inquiring as to how he could help me. I stated my case and he directed me to the only envelope…which made my eyes bulge, but I had no choice. After purchasing the envelope I continued to search for a stylo to address and direct my letter, seeing as there were none I sat down at a table to wait for someone to be free, when a stranger writing numerous checks (almost a whole book full) asked if I need something with which to write. I said yes, to which he responded he’d be done shortly. We continued to chat about my whereabouts and my learning the language of this "pays" in French and English, both broken. He gave me a card with his profession attached…and I gave him back his pen, said au revoir and went on my way.

My literature course followed soon after where we discussed French poets, namely Baudelaire and Verlaine…it really moved me and I feel inspired to start memorizing these short little beauties…The professor is also enchanting with his “par-seh que” drawn out for days in a way that captures all the students attention. He hides his lack of height in his pant's hem and excellent posture, really so intriguing! His favorite student is (Juan) Pablo who has the most beautiful handwriting and speaks French with an envious ease.

After class I pestered some readers and then proceeded to learn about cuisine. I ate flowers, flower salad with dressing, flowers and fruit, and croque monsieur. Then I went home for the French version of shepherd’s pie…and œufs de chèvre.

A shower and some music later and I am falling asleep…

Des Romas et Des Reves.

Hier was an interesting day. Full of laziness and must-do's I tried to finish some papers for last semester that have been weighing me down and preventing me from full focus on my french studies. I finally made it out into the air to go out for kebab with some friends, which was just the stimulus needed to get me back on track.

Our adventure began on the corner of Rue Origet and Rue Jehan-Foucquet. The three of us were pestered by a young gypsy boy who mumbled words under his breath while following us on his bike. Apparently he had followed Em and Juls to the their house asking them questions and then proceeded to knock on the door when they went inside. Soon after we were approached by a small leathered woman who also  was demanding something of us. I told her we were leaving to go eat after she started to small talk us and I could sense the situation getting strange. Moving forward the young boy came up again and started bothering us...Finally I had to turn around and tell "NON! ARRETEZ!" over and over again before he got the point and went away. Feeling better we picked up our pleasant gait once again before we suddenly encoutered him randomly again, only this time he left us alone.

We remarked on some of the stranger sides of Tours...like the dog poop that is everywhere and how some of the people can be rather strange...finding the kabab place was easy but not being familiar with the ways of ordering and paying we had to take or social cues from others. The server came up to us asking about were we came from and upon finding out that we were from Les Etats-Unis mentioned the game against L'Angleterre. We spoke english and had delightful conversation, until Em made a joke that I laughed at trop fort and had to apologize to the family next to us...My sense was that they enjoyed my reaction just as much as I did. Another man crept up to ask for some change, which we again declined, followed by a group of Frenchman, one of who was wearing fake boobs naughty panties and a wig offering bras to the ladies in exchange for who knows what. But this was typical as le footbal has created a wave of mania amongst even the most sane folk.

Stopping in the best candy/alcohol shop in Place Plum so Em could grab some bonbons and I some water, I began chatting up the vendeur about the game asking him which team he preferred. We had a nice simple conversation in french about him liking L'Angleterre and me being from the States. I think I will go back again and make more delibrate friends.

Our journey continued to the La Loire and we walked up and down the boardwalk talking and laughing...later on we came across the Chateau de Tours and decided to come back soon for an awesome exhibit on Pierrots. Eventually making our way home and seperating at the corner, our journey now full circle, we bid adieu.  It was later than I expected but my heart was not tired or heavy and I had a difficult time getting to sleep no matter how many lambs jumped through my dreams.

TCHICAS, TEQUILLA, TIPTOES, TIMETRAVEL...

The rain here is relentless. I woke yesterday to find hints of a beautifully warm day ahead, which it was, until I stepped foot inside and the rain began to pour. I had spent the moments after lunch with some new friends who hail from various spanish speaking regions. They chatter and clatter in another tongue and I wonder if, only accidently, I may learn to speak spanish in lieu of french. A few were from Mexico and were seriously invested in le match de foot contre l'Afrique de Sud...constantly turning to me and saying something or other which on occasion I understood, but at which, for the most part could only smile. She had said that for every goal that mexico scores she was to take a shot of tequila. Yet, when it came down to the last 8 minutes and mexico scored I found myself with countless others taking shots of tequila, a celebration. The bar tender brought us nachos--which unlike the states and perhaps more appropriately were really just chips. We walked around the city together until i snuck off to go eat at home...a nice meal of fish and pasta (and cheese and wine and dessert). Tipsy enough at the beginning of the meal my head was much lighter at the end. I slinked upstairs to work on some homework when my host mum brought me a tisane to help me in my studies, coupled with a bon courage and a bonne chance. Two things I desperatley needed!

Routine remarks, random risks, et reading rues

I have begun to reflect a bit more on my moments here and finding inspiration in these thoughts.

Going back a few days I recalled the taxi ride back to the hostel where I in all exhaustion yet full of life began to take my hatchet tongue and speak with the cab driver from Haiti who has lived here 21 years with his family and has yet to return to his homeland. In all truth I think it was this moment that soothed all my fears and prepared me for my future in speaking French with native speakers.

Flashing forward a bit I have decided to start playing out the ideas in my head…like smiling to the little French babies I see to teach them the joy of smiling at others…or taking my iPod and listening to music that gets me to groove a little bit while walking around the city -smiling- to unsuspecting strangers, giving them quite the shock.

To share a little bit of my day to day here in Tours and also to give a sense of a the city in its most basic elements I offer this little description:

It rained again, everyone claims this is atypical but my previous experience reminds me that this is the weather of memory, of the last sojourn. The night falls and so does the noise. On occasion late in the evening a voice will slur some French outside my window and remind me of where I am. When the morning comes so do the bird chirps floating through my window on a cool river breeze. I stay in bed too long, of course savoring the last bits of warmth under my primary-red couverture wishing that my dream could last just a bit longer, it was just so good like the dream before, and the dream before that. After my time has been condensed from minutes to seconds I throw myself together eat some bread and nutella and dash out the door, tunes playing to keep up spirit from faltering under the sleepyspell. I read the street signs and learn about famous French notables at the same time: Rue Descartes philosophe 1596-1650, Rue George-Sand femme de lettres 1804-1876, etc. Even though the rain has stopped, I can still feel the memory of the rain all around. It’s not cold or wet per se, but there is this lingering of saturation, like everything was at one point a dry sponge and now is so full that if they came in contact with another a splash would spray out encouraging a grandiose sense of distance whilst in a confined space…Class on the fourth floor begins at 9, lasts until 11 or 12 depending on the day. Lunch from then until 1330 followed by more classes until 1630… with devoir for the next day.

The city rests between two rivers, Loire et Cher…the medieval architecture in the vielle-ville are definitely something special…and prices radiate outwards from high to low from this point. Gardens dot the city and the one proche de chez moi has a giant sequoia tree grown from a seedling or something like that, given by the US to France.

My days are often touched by sweetness as little alley cats come up to me for a pet or two and maybe a morceux de croissant if I have some.

And like now the sun has decided to shine and warm up the city…making it perfect for a café and a saunter in the park before class…

Departing, debuts, downbeats, dancing and drinks jusqu'à daytime.

leaving salt lake felt surreal. i kept asking myself what my one-way ticket meant, but decided to keep that a secret from myself.

the first leg of the trip dropped me in new york for a brief 12 hours where i was graciously greeted by marcus and a cup of coffee at 6, or wait was it 5 am? tired and tried we took the "scenic" route, otherwise known as the taxi driver's idea of a shortcut, from JFK to the place where david's cat silo is lord overall, including my bags. my productivity wanned as my eyelids kept drooping and i found myself curled up in a little ball on the weird red-velvet, throne chair in the corner of the room. the city was already full bustle and lulled me to sleep with sirens and screetches. in my neglect i forgot to plan where i would stay in paris once i arrived and spent hours online and on the phone calling various hostels and hotels speaking in broken french asking if they had any room. RIEN! yet, finally i found a cheapie that would not overwhelm my wallet. breakfast with david and marcus was a nice send off as was le petit cadeau around my neck. despite the awkward time for hailing cabs, marcus managed to catch me one and sent me on my way. the second departure was rocky. batting my eyelashes in desperate fear that my "mutilated" passport would prevent me from boarding the plane to reykjavik, the icelandair officals reprimanded me and let me on my way once i promised to get a new passport in paris~my final destination. i have not followed through with my end of the bargin, yet.

three strange nights in paris left a lingering in my heart as i met up with my other comrades at charles de gaulle to complete the voyage à tours.

once meeting my host family and speaking with them for two hours straight-french my head hurt, but i felt at home in their welcoming grace and thoroughly enjoyed my new name: Saïdi. first days at school were overwhelming and i found myself in the B1++ niveau class, haute but not too haute. many changes and faces, comings and goings, greetings and stumbles, rainy days and hot sweats, mosquito piques and technical difficulties later left me a bit overwhelmed and discouraged.

i decided to leave for paris friday night and meet up with dan who had arrived from berlin a bit early in the week. we walked and walked and played the city by ear talking and taking a picture or two, which may or may not turn out and if so you may or may not see for christmas. the next day-to-night was more unexpected. i checked out of my hostel and sat by the Jules Joffrin metro station stop listening to the awesome jams of the merry-go-round ride a few feet away reading a dictionary waiting for dan. when he showed up we began our walking trek. ordering cafes and yougurt at a nice little cafe, which was near the club we would visit later, was a nice repose between our trek from one part of paris to the other. refreshing ourselves in the other hostel was desperately needed due to the intense muggy city heat that surrounded us and made us smell a bit overripe. we arrived early at the club following the empty blue lights downstairs to find patrick pounding sound checks on his drums. while that was going on dan and i went for a beer and cafe at a nearby spot. when they were finished we spent the hour or so before the show eating with the band et al. at a funny matrix restaurant. dan commented on the schnitzel-esque appearance of a dish and the other two dans and patrick made some jokes which killed me to tears, most of which no one else would find humerous at all so i will not share them here. the show was amazing and meeting so many other special faces made the night even more pleasant. a bit of debauchery later found us being escorted from backstage out of the club, which was now closed, into the daylight of sunday morning. three hours of sleep at the hostel and then long walks around paris again left me exhausted to an extreme...my sleepiness wasn't aided by the fact that my train would be 4 hours late, but it was all for the best as a french girl, for who i saved a seat, helped me with my homework and lent me a french magazine to read...and upon leaving the gare wished me courage with my studies.

my host mum greeted me with much love and compassion and a hot meal of duck and vegetables and wine and water and cheese and bread. we discussed the joys of my journey until i was too sleepy. a much needed shower later and then sleeping in left me well prepared, but late for my class the next day, which so far has been better than all the others...