Observations

Another promenade the next day, Friday, vendredi. My feet led me straight back to the very cheap twin to the Salvation Army shop. It's called, "Main de Partage". I think directly translates as something like, "sharing hands". I couldn't help but be delighted with such a lovely way to express the name for an association of people who help others, through the goodness of their hearts (on a voluntary basis), through collecting, collating, sorting and putting on offer, goods for the needy ........ like me. As I browsed the dust-coated, assortment of bric-a-brac and clothing, I smiled to myself with the understanding that I was part of the circle of recycling. I have contributed countless objets d'arts and used,( but in good condition clothing), to the Margen Ave Salvation Army shop. What goes around, comes around. Part of my smile was also the feeling of being in need of basic items, but not wanting to spend lots of Euros. The words "pauvre" and "misérable" came to mind.

I took a photo of this sign, with the lovely backdrop of the attractively presented building. 

Firstly, I liked the purple colour accents. He he he.

Secondly, the sign illustrates the need for an emergency service to attend to needy mountain climbers, skiiers that have strayed from the route, avalanche victims etc. The mountains have their own unique perils, just as the sea and beach in New Zealand.

Thirdly, the cute picture of the little marmot is a creature that is common in the mountains. a creature that is a curiosity to some New Zealanders.

And last of all, please note the way the french write their telephone numbers. I must say, it makes it easy to remember. For example, in french, one would say, zero four, ninety-two, fifty-three, ninety one. Although this makes it easy to remember and dictate phone numbers, i still have difficulty with the numbers larger than seventy. Their counting system requires a lot of intelligence. Something that I am currently working on. He he he.

I took a photo of this sign on the side wall of a building. I think it is a primary school. I think it translates as "School of Tryers".  Does that mean that they will always "trying" and never being able to achieve?  ????  He he he.

The grandeur and majesty of the mountains are ever present from every viewpoint. They never fail to fill me with awe. 

 Lots and lots of cyclists, either cycling as a sporting activity, or summertime commuting. The law requires one to wear a helmet, however, most of the commuters ignore the requirement. Very pleasant scenery for leisure time cycling, nest-ce pas?

The mountain in the picture above is called, Charance. I look forward to witness it's  change of seasons's outfits.

A Moment in Time

Last Thursday, I embarked on an excursion into town under the premise of exercise. In reality, it was to investigate a 2nd hand clothing shop that Marthe had recommended to me. I was quite flummoxed to find virtually not one garment that was brightly coloured. Quelle horreur! 

So, I ventured a little further and sat next to a sweet little fountain that provided a watery musical backdrop to my "reverie," (dream-state) This quaint little shop, pictured below, was right in front of me. Au chat qui fume, the name of this shop, could be directly translated as "At the Cat's Place, Who Smokes." Hmmmm. A cat that smokes. He must be a very cool, chic cat. Anyway, it's a far better name than simply, Tabac, nest-ce pas?

I paused for about 15 minutes, absorbing the ambience as the tourists drifted by; the elegantly dressed madame on a pressing errand; the attractive young couple with a misbehaved dog; young adolescent boys on motorised foot scooters zooming through  pedestrians, momentarily disturbing the peace; two fifty-ish women on a brisk walk whilst engaging in animated discussions; an old gentleman giving his aging dog a gentle "pee" walk; and a fifty-ish blonde women perched on a water fountain wall quizzically gazing at the passers-by.

The colours of this shop front had me captivated, "I wonder what the neighbours would say if Kev and I painted our mediterranean mansion this colour palette?"
More importantly, "I wonder what Kev would say if I suggested this colour palette!"

Pleasantries.

Today Marthe and I took a brisk half hour walk into town to do BUSINESS! "It's business time."

The first stop was the Tourism Office.
Painted pink of course.

Marthe took care of things in fluent french. She asked about bus departures for the town, Aix en Provence. I intend to visit with another LIA teacher for a weekend in the near future.

The next stop was the regular Wednesday market. Colour, noise, dogs, bicycles, old ladies with baskets on wheels, etc.

Ah, time to pause at an outdoor café. I have been to told to enjoy the sun while it is here. The winter is impending.

Marthe suggested that we buy fish for lunch. What a splendid idea!

" Do you want to do a circuit of the market, Viki?"

"Er .... yes please."

Onward on foot to pick up Marthe and Hervé's little jeep that was in at the garage getting fixed. The garage owner, Claudio, was argentinian. His eyes were chocolate brown, longish hair tied back in a ponytail, and he sported a gentle, jovial and very chatty disposition. He spoke english very well. His son had spent a year in NZ as a woofer.

Marthe took the opportunity to inform him that I don't like rugby. That prompted a good laugh from both of them. I could see why he had become a good friend to both Marthe and Hervé.

Both Hervé and Claudio like motorbikes. Hervé has two. This is one that Claudio had at the back of his garage. Hervé chuckled when he learnt that I had taken a photo of it. "It doesn't GO."

Lunch: fresh, softly cooked fish with potatoes sprinkled with olive oil. Accompanied with a small glass of red wine.

I spent a fine couple of hours making some VERY INTERESTING purchases at a local shop that I had noted the previous day. I guess you could say that it is similar to our Salvation Army shops. 

My hosts have 3 vehicles. Each serves their purpose. One for holiday excursions, one for skirting mountain roads and one for "about town."

My hostess is exceptionally clever. She obtains carded wool. She then spins, washes, natural dyes and knits. She runs this as a part time business. I love the colours that she dyed today. They hang to dry like a rainbow of happiness.

Everywhere I turn, I am surrounded with intricacies and suchlike of everything to do with wool. I am quite at home, as a long time ago, I did pretty much the same as Marthe. Only I didn't run it as a business. My three young urchins, in their younger years, had some pretty damned amazing home-knitted garments. 

Marthe is in the process of knitting some awesome socks. Her hands weave magic as she makes knitting on four needles so easy. How she manages to talk, count rows and stitches at the same time, I DON'T KNOW!

Stacks of clean, carded wool and a home knitted garment on a manequin.

Whilst walking to the supermarket, I was delighted to find a gorgeous cemetery. Note to self: come back here for a walk. Why is it that cemeteries have a great view????

The supermarket was interesting. I ended up spending about an hour there. It's one of those SUPER SUPER HUGE "sell-everything" kind of a supermarket. Whilst there, I smiled when the lady's voice came over the loud speaker: Come and get your kiwifruit. Fresh from New Zealand." I wonder what would have happened if I had announced to everybody that I was a kiwi fresh from New Zealand as well!!!

The queues for the cashiers were quite long. I was quite put out when the cashier indicated that there was something wrong with the vegetables that I wanted to purchase. I couldn't make out what she was trying to tell me. (Why must the french speak their language as if it's a race and as if each paragraph all belongs in the same breath without a single pause?) I marched back to the vegetable department, not really knowing what I was needing to do. Fortunately, my french was good enough to find out from someone that it was necessary to weigh and label the vegies myself. On my return to the cashier, the man waiting in the queue was thoroughly "gnawed off!"

When I am no longer with my host family, I may need to get my dinner from the adjoining café to the supermarket. What do YOU think? Expensive?

I cooked a chicken stir fry for dinner, amidst cries of deep appreciation.I swear the quality ingredients can make even a chicken stir fry taste a little exotic.

After dinner, I showed Hervé my goals for my stay in France. After reading that it was necessary to improve my language acquisition by watching french cinema, he snapped on the TV and made me watch the national "soap" programme. He was delighted. It was then that I realised that he had been missing his nightly ritual, because of the courtesy to me to dine at the dinner table. He patiently explained the intricacies of the characters and the plot development.

And so another day comes to an end.
Lucky that I didn't have to go to school today.
Tomorrow I meet with the english teachers at a midday meeting to decide how they will utilise me best over the coming months.
 Eek!

Lost in Translation

At school: La Vie en Scolaire

The students are informed of events and information via screens in the foyer.

The small, but adequate staffroom is sunny, warm and has an ambience of goodwill as each day they greet each other in the morning with three kisses and handshakes. We say good morning to each other in the staffroom at GEIS, but it was very evident to me about the touching in this staffroom. I feel very awkward as I don't want to offend anybody by not doing the three kisses thing, but I don't know anyone very well and it seems a bit strange. Also, it is important that no-one is left out as this is very impolite. When I expressed my inadequacies about social protocol, a charming english teacher of greek origin said, "If someone leans in for the three kissing thing, don't pull back."

The staffroom whiteboard is not too dissimilar to the whiteboard at GEIS.

The day began very early, as my body clock hasn't quite adjusted. I woke bright and breezy at 4:30 a.m. That was Ok because we had to be at school by 7:45 a.m. for the annual photograph ritual. It was EXACTLY the same kind of procedure as ours. The venue, the milling around beforehand, the jokes about people's heights, the jokes about wearing a tie, etc. The first two lessons were observing english being taught. The funny thing is that I learnt a lot of french vocab in these two classes.   :)

Lunchtime. This picture is the stupendous view from the canteen window.  I was entranced.   I found the lunchtime banter very difficult to follow. When people talk to me, it needs to be to my face, enunciating words with clarity. So, I ate happily gazing out the window.
In order to eat in the beautifully clean and very attractively presented canteen it goes like this:

1. by pass all the students patiently lining up 
2. wash hands thoroughly and dry them
3. by pass even more students patiently lining up
4. greet the official overseeing the process with a pen and paper... there to remind people of their code should they forget
5. tap in four digit code into computer 
6. place spread-fingered hand on sensor which scans for verification
7. a machine spits out a tray
8. take serviette and move along the production line

this is what I had for lunch today:

•  a glass of water
• a bread roll
• a pottle of pureed apple
• a ham salad
• a pottle of grated cheese
• a pear
• a bowl of delicious warm ravioli in a blanket of rich, herbed tomato sauce

I was kinda hungry and only thought of taking a photo after I had demolished this epicurian delight. So when I finished I cleared the empty dishes and took a photo of the design on the tray. He he he.

The afternoon turned into a disaster. I wasn't sure where the teacher that I was supposed to be attached to was. I went home for an hour. On my return, I sat in the sun and tried to sort out my papers, affairs, record vocabulary and make sense of my endless goals. After that I still failed to understand where I should be, so I went home for another hour. Feeling a bit guilty about not doing any "work" I went back to school and tried again. This time I arrived late to a class. It was an advanced french grammar class. The teacher welcomed me in, and presented me to the class, but I think I committed a faux pas when I sat at the back of the class. The kids snorted. I think he must have asked me a question but I didn't realise that at that the time. He was a bit taken aback. But I didn't have a clue what he had just said. All very humiliating as the class watched. I must have looked dumb. Hmmmmm. He gave me the papers that they were following for the lesson. Everything he uttered was double dutch. Let's put it this way. I was way out of my depth. I was praying that he wouldn't ask me a question to expose my inadequacies. I was starting to sweat. I wanted to escape out of the classroom, but that in itself would have been humiliating. I was saved when after 40 minutes, the class arose and exited for their class photo to be taken. I was left in the classroom by myself. Perfect. I took the opportunity to retreat without being noticed.

Here are a couple of photos of what all the classrooms look like when not occupied with a class. Different to Room 9, GEIS.

Here is a wall display in an english class.

Here are the lockers in the students' foyer. There is a cool piece of art work on top. As you can see, the school is clean and tidy. The school is only a few years old.

Here is the classroom just after everybody up and left for the class photo.

After my day of total misunderstandings of directions, conversations and information, I took a long walk around the neighbourhood. I felt miserable. All my confidence was knocked out of me well and truly. After being quite controlled about eating healthy food during my one week stay in France, I resorted to buying and eating a small packet of chocolate balls and a Snickers bar. Oh the sin! But it medicated me well.

In order to make the chocolate purchase, I had to go to a Tabac. This was my first time. The entire wall behind the counter was crammed with packets of cigarettes. My stomach lurched as I realised the commerce fed cancer to the masses.
  On the way home from this walk, after the chocolate medication, two good things happened. 
Firsty, I discovered a second hand clothing and bric a brac shop. I checked out the hours and committed its location to my memory.
Secondly, I spotted this very cool garden. It immediately picked up my spirits as the creative spirit that created it, talked to my heart.
And then, I returned to my ever gracious and kind hosts. Hervé presented me with a very cool book to read ..... ... in English! Yay!
And we dined and laughed over a couple of glasses of rich red wine, sundried tomatoes, with salted butter on fresh bread. Large slices of fresh champagne ham and pureed vegetable soup, finished off with cheese.

This is a notice on the staffroom whiteboard that invites everyone to a picnic on Saturday. That should be jolly fun, nest-ce pas?  Very difficult to interpret, don't you think?

And...... I have been invited to join the greek english teacher to dinner at her place with her husband who is a principal of another school on Friday night. LUCKY!!!!!! Note to self: be kind to visiting teachers at GEIS. i hope I don't make any faux pas.

Bye bye Cappuccino

This picture isn't mine. As you can see it came off the net. But I have something a little bit disturbing to share with you.
I have over the last year or two developed a most social habit of taking a regular cappuccino once a day.
I think this habit is about to be blown out of existence for ten months.

When I showed the students at school my collection of gorgeous cappuccino decorations they were in awe. They asked  how do you do that? It was then the truth that I had been denying over the past week, was in fact a reality. The cappuccino culture belongs in Auckland, not here. Cappuccinos, as I have come to know and love them, don't exist.

The other day I drank a strong mugful of rich black coffee. It seemed extremely bitter, but I drank it nonetheless.
A couple of hours later my skin was hypersensitive and I could almost see the coursing coffee in my veins on the insides of my arms. Note to self: don't do that again. It simply cannot be tolerated by my body.

Aside from that, it is a daily luxury that is far too expensive. I will need to watch my $$$$. I found out how much I will have to pay for canteen lunches per week. Let's just say that it is quite A LOT! Eeek.

A Walk in the Park

A little bit of rain today. When the clouds parted, Marthe and I went for a stroll in the park. Here is a map of our route.

Moody!

A corridor of loveliness.

Simply lovely.

J'adore la nature.

The view. Check out the moody clouds.

Spot the Stereotypes

Sunday lunch.


How many french clichés do you see?????
Guess correctly and you win a trip to France to visit me.
"Yeah right."