SNOW a beast and a beauty

Wednesday is my day to attend university, have a one hour tutoring session with Brigitte and then we attend an exercise class together at a school gymnasium.

I was delighted that it had finally begun to snow in Gap. I decided to walk the 3 kilometres into town. A great idea. Exercise and experience the novelty of the weather phenomenon. The snowflakes fell with feathery lightness and the landscape began to transform before my eyes.

I put on a couple of coats and other various garments that I thought were appropriate for the conditions. Had I known how the day would have eventuated, I would have worn much more sensible undergarments.

The brisk half hour walk into town eventuated into a very slow full hour and a bit. The snow made the footpath slippery, and the cold was quite ...........   chilling. I was 20 minutes late for the university class which was a bit embarrassing.

Throughout the two hour session, I could see out the window that the snow had developed into a full blown heavy drop. The sky was thick with descending white snowflakes. It just became thicker and thicker; more heavy and opaque with each passing minute.

After class, I negotiated my way to the bus stop. Cars were driving very slowly. All the windows were coated in snow and I felt empathy for the drivers as their vision must have been close to zero. Some cars slipped, swerved and slithered around the roundabouts. Some young drivers treated the experience as if it were a rally. One poor person was pushing their scooter home. One car was free planing for a long time as solid chunks of ice stuck beneath the rear wheels preventing traction.

I stood at the bus stop thank full that the bus would arrive soon, so that I didn't have to wait too long in these freezing conditions. After waiting for some considerable time, I realised that the bus was late as the traffic had slowed down immensely. After 50 minutes the hard, cold reality had sunk in: the bus was not going to arrive at all. I rang Brigitte to cancel out on our plans.

I negotiated my way to another bus stop to try and make a different connection to make my way home. There were a large number of people at this bus stop, so I thought this was a good sign. I knew that my bus didn't need to negotiate any significant slope so MY bus should be in action. 

I stood there in the freezing conditions. My fingers began to turn into solid blocks. I began to shiver and realisation sunk in that I wasn't coping too well with body heat. If I began the trek home on foot, I would be in a precarious situation as I didn't have the right footwear, and I could fall prey to the elements. 

I had a lovely vista as I waited with increasing trepidation for the second bus. 

Eventually the bus turned up and thoughts of defrosting my bones when I arrived home, filled my soggy head.

The bus was sardine-packed. The bus inched its way along the flat snowy- congested road. My delight transformed into horror when the bus driver called out to all the passengers that after the next stop, everyone had to get off.

I was defeated. So I trudged home getting wetter and wetter with each miserable step. My pace was slow in order to feel where the solid ground was. 

I bravely stopped to remove my gloves and take a snap of the scene that was in front of me.

I was deeply grateful that I had made it home with no severe effects from experiencing the elements with raw authenticity, despite the 2 and a half hour ordeal.

When I put my bag down, I began to relax and SEE  the beauty of my garden. As the day began the transition into night, the light seemed to be pink.

And then, lo and behold, all of a sudden the air turned icy blue.

I smiled to myself. Grateful and in awe of the magical light show that Mother nature provided.

Interculturality

Before I departed New Zealand, I really enjoyed reading about a young american girl that was heavily influenced by her 6 month stay with an affluent Parisian family.

*********************************************************************************

Here's an interesting question to ponder:

When living in another country, should immigrants/international students follow their native culture or the one in their new surroundings?

We have a lot of immigrants in Auckland. Tolerance of head covers, driving habits, cooking odours, etc is varied.

I mentioned the wall in a previous blog. It is a well-known phenomenon, and yet a difficult hurdle to overcome. Everybody overcomes it in their own way. My way of dealing with it was to talk to friends and loved ones about my feelings. This needed to be coupled with a strong belief that it is temporary; confidence that I have the strength to pull myself through it; and patience with my own shortcomings.

I am in the process of adapting to my surrounding culture.

I interact with the locals, which helps to increase my knowledge of the local culture which helps me blend in; feel included in the community; feel personally fulfilled and promote connectivity.

On the whole, the people here in Gap, have a very strong sense of community; exceptionally strong values,(that I have thoroughly enjoyed tapping into); a strong connection and respect for the land; and empathy towards others that consistently transcends themselves.

However, through 5 months of being out of my comfort zone, I have had my perceptions of life challenged. Sometimes these perceptions trickle into my consciousness, sometimes they hit me over the head with a hammer(it hurts!), and sometimes, in times of solitude clarity of perception opens with steadily increasing focus. What is very cool about all of this, is that it is always taken with a spoonful of fun and ability to laugh at myself.

I definitely will return with a newfound respect for the immigrants and international students that visit or settle in Auckland. The battering to one's self confidence as one negotiates all the unwritten rules of the community can be harrowing.

In particular, my own understanding of New Zealand's norms and expectations has been heightened. Culture shock for me seemed to be a matter of how much I hung on to my own native culture. I have adapted and, despite still being a hobbit-like oddity, I am beginning to blend in more. 

Living in Europe has opened my eyes, not just to a bicultural identity, but to pluri-cultural understanding. Living on an island nation has benefits and draw backs; living in Europe with a larger geographical perspective is a daily experience: radio, TV, supermarket, cars on the road, product selection in shops and leisure time pursuits.

Supermarket shopping in Auckland.

Supermarket shopping in Gap.

Auckland scene.

Parisian scene.

Native snail in the bush not far from where I live in Auckland.

Escargots ready for consumption.

Seasonal beauty.

Seasonal beauty.

National pride

National pride

Strong family values

Strong family values

Home comforts

Home comforts

Donkey love.

Donkey love.

New Zealand version

French version

Doggie love. 

Doggie love.

Bedroom comfort chez moi, NZ.

Single bed in accommodation in Nice

The good life in NZ

La belle vie en France

Food

Observation: 

Café = Bar /coffee

Salon du Thé = Tea/ coffee/ crépes

Croissanterie = lunch/ coffee/ cold drinks

Patisserie = bakery/ machine dispensed coffee

Below is a croissanterie where I treated myself to a bought lunch.

At 12:05 p.m. the queue was quite long as a large number of people converged on this centre-of-town eatery. (Remember, most businesses close for two hours in the middle of the day!)

I had plenty of time to deliberate on my choice of meal whilst standing in the queue. I also had time to do a survey on what was the most common type of lunch purchased; what cross-section of people ate in joints like this and what was the best value for money.

I decided upon a Ceasar salad, with a bottle of lemon water and a dessert of the world's most exquisite raspberry tart.

The raspberry tart was a sweet, delicate short pastry, with just the right amount of custard. The raspberries were fresh as the day they were born. Their taste was piquant, ripe and a soft texture; topped with a sweet wobbly jam'jelly. Oh My Goodness! This cost 8.9 Euros.

The filled rolls are called, "Sandwich".

The cheese toasted sandwiches are called, "Croque Monsieur."

The array of delicious little dessert treats are WONDERFULLY WICKED.

I sat for half an hour whilst American pop songs (videos) belted out noise from the two large screen TVs. I observed families, couples and business people as they performed the lunch ritual with french flair.

Weather Watch

The last few posts have been quite negative about the weather.

Welllllllll ……….

"Cold" is a matter of opinion.

I feel the cold in winter in Auckland. Anyone who knows me, can attest to my gloves and scarves "style". So when the temperature hits 1 degree, I call it cold. 

Today I have been told that January has been unusually "hot". I shuddered to my core, when the same charming person told me that February will be REALLY cold!

Last week, I purchased some bright red ski pants; a bright pink ski jacket; a matching purple hat and scarf; and black cosy ski mittens. I was rather p[leased with my "opportunity shop" purchases that totalled the fine sum of 82 dollars. I am now ready for the ski pistes.

I took the opportunity to take my clothes out for a walk on Sunday. It is a day for relaxing as there is very little "action" in Gap on this day of rest. The bleak, grey, drizzly weather didn't dampen my spirit as I strutted the streets in my clashing red and pink attire. There was not a soul to be seen as I enjoyed the fresh air.

As you can see, in this photo, the sombre light cast a soft haze over the nearby hillside.

The days are somewhat short. So when I rise to commence school at 8:00 a.m., I am amazed that the sun hasn't fully risen yet when the students assemble in the schoolyard before beginning their lessons.

Wet wet wet, but worth it!

Day 2 of the Monte Carlo Rally

After a busy day at school, I dumped my school gear in the apartment and raced off to meet the rally cars as they returned from a full day of adventure elsewhere. It was pissing with mid-winter rain. The rain drops were large, heavy drops that ensured whatever they fell upon, would be coated in freezing, wet water. Well prepared with my free Chuppa Chups promotional umbrella, my sumptuous fur-lined anorak, boots, gloves, 2 scarves and a hat I hustled down the county lane, (no footpath) towards the headquarters. The sun had almost disappeared, painting the wet scenery with a velvety brush of inky blue/black.

Once again, as is becoming habitual in my experiences in France, I was taken by surprise at the amount of people, mainly men, shrouded in black wet weather gear, that had parked their cars in the surrounding streets and were milling around the makeshift headquarters. Puddles the size of swimming pools; lawn that had morphed into squidgy mud; glaring lights that attempted to illuminate the scene into something intelligible and dark shapes of motor-mad fans milled amongst the drenching raindrops.

My first stop was watching a rally car being loaded into a fire-engine red covered trailer. There was whizzing, whirring and thumping as all kinds of mechanical wizardry wove it's magic to settle the car into the trailer. People swarmed around the car in fascination. To take the photo whilst holding my umbrella and gloves meant a great deal of dexterous manoeuvring. In the process my i phone was coated in wetness. I realised that this was "playing with fire" as potentially I could permanently ruin my precious apparatus.

The next stop was gazing at mechanics tapping into computers, and working with mechanical apparatus that were totally foreign to me. There were crowds of people watching the mechanics in silence. I stood there for 10 minutes thinking that I might see something interesting, but soon the wintry bleakness made me feel uncomfortable so I moved on.

 

Next, I took a snapshot of the local radio station talking into some microphones. Their technical dialogue was as interesting as watching paint dry, so I moved on to see what else I could see.

I was sopping wet, and despite my layers of clothing, I began to feel the wicked fingers of cold clawing at my bones. Not to be thwarted, my inner voice reminded me that this opportunity would never find it's way to my door again.

I saw that there was a tent-like canopy that had some blazing lights announcing that there might be some action to be enjoyed in this area. With red tape encircling the canopy I stood in the rain along with many, mainly male, spectators. It transpired that I waited for what seemed like about 45 minutes before the winning rally car came in to the final checkpoint where I was well-positioned. Right at this point in time, a grey haired git shuffled in front of me with his umbrella so that I saw nothing. After the rally car drove on, the grey haired git remained. I was furious. His umbrella spoke dug into the corner of my right eyeball. I was furious. Without thinking too hard, I found my mouth opening and out came a fluent string of polite but forceful french, announcing my disappointment at his lack of consideration for me. ( I was quite surprised at my wonderful ability to communicate with such confidence in french!!!) Someone else remarked to the grey-haired git that I was mad. He retreated with an apology.

 Here is a photo of the second car that arrived.

I didn't take many photos because my i phone became very wet every time I took a photo.

I think you can get a good idea of the atmosphere from the photos that I did manage to take.

The two attractive young girls with red bull backpacks were not only eye candy for the spectators and rally officials, but they also provided an effective block of my view. Er …..  youth and beauty takes precedence, me thinks.

After hanging around in this area for quite a while, I decided that enough was enough and I retreated back to the warmth and comfort of my apartment as fast as my little water laden legs would carry me.

Rally rally vrooom vrooom

The Monte Carlo Car Rally

The large rally headquarters erected a mini city right next door to Collége de Fontreyne, where I work. It was soooo easy to be distracted with the goings on next door. There was lots of noises and official men with all kinds of equipment. It was easy for the students to be distracted from their lesson.

The setting up took three days.

I had a pamphlet that explained everything that you needed to know about the rally. It had a timetable, maps of routes, and explanations. 

The rally took place over three days. Despite the efforts of the pamphlet to inform me, in french of course, I misunderstood almost everything that it said. This goes to prove that I am not yet ready to sit a formal french exam, showing my high level of comprehension.

Anyway, I thought that I was going to miss out on the action ….. and so I took it upon myself to be proactive. I thought that the rally cars were going to depart, on Wednesday morning, from headquartersi in Gap, to go to another destination, to race. So, I rose at the wicked hour of quarter to six in the morning to watch the cars depart. The sunrises at 8:00 a.m. , so it seemed like it was the middle of the night. The biting cold, reminded me that I was high in the Alps and the surrounding silence as i approached headquarters that there wasn't any action. I berated myself for somehow missing the action.

Not to be easily, thwarted ….. I stealthily passed through a hole in the fence. There were security guards around and I immediately saw the irony of the situation as I infiltrated the bordered headquarters. A bit like a foreign spy situation in Auckland in the late 1980s!!!!

I walked around as if I was an official, so that nobody would ask me what my business was. However, I couldn't take photos, because that would have blown my cover. Nevertheless, I did take this photo before exiting.

Isn't she a beauty?

I returned home and wondered how I interpreted the information so incorrectly!

Later in the morning, I heard the grunty sound of rally cars on the main street not far from where I live. When I stood at the bus stop, I was treated to a rally car zooming past every 10 minutes. On examining my informative pamphlet, I then realised that today was practise day. The cars get to do the circuit four times in preparation for the big event the next day.

I hopped on the bus and at the next stop, I saw that there was a full blown carnival going on! Making a snap decision, quick as a wink, I jumped off the bus to check out the action. There were lots and lots of stalls selling promotional products.

Here is a candy floss stall. Remember what candy floss is in french? Barbe au Papa. Dad's beard.

There were tons of people, groovy music, and lots of food stalls. I cringed at how I could so misinterpret the information in my pamphlet. All my undercover, secret squirrel work in the morning was for NOTHING. I was quite disappointed that I only had ten minutes to suck in the atmosphere before scurrying on into town for my university classes and my private french tutoring.

However, I did have time to snap this audacious number plate!

There were officials EVERYWHERE!!! And there was an overload of police cars. In this snap there are 5 police cars!!!!

Check out this shot of a massive boiling cauldron of something.