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…