Nights Eleven and Twelve

The Nightlife

I am the oldest person on earth…okay, maybe not on earth, but certainly on this planet. Everybody – EVERYBODY – I’ve met so far in the assistantship program is fresh out of college, which, really, is the sensible way to do something like run off to France for 7 months, when you’re in transition anyway and you have no clue what to do with your life.

We were in Marseille for two days last week for orientation, and I noticed that there was a lot of talk amongst the assistants about nightlife, proximity to which seems to be the chief factor in determining a town’s value, as in “Where are you placed?” “Manosque” “What is there to do there?” They don’t mean hiking in the French countryside or sitting on your balcony reading. They mean drinking—drinking and dancing. I’m exaggerating a little bit of course. I know that there are other assistants who, like me, are more than happy to spend their evenings quietly. Plus, I like to drink and dance as much as the next Alabama sorority girl. It’s just not really what I came to France for, so I’m less disappointed than some that Manosque has the nightlife equivalent of Thanksgiving dinner: it’s centered around food, and everyone falls asleep early. There are a few nice-looking restaurants in town, though we won’t be able to afford to eat in any of them until our first paycheques come at the end of October. So, we ate last night in one of the not-so-nice looking ones, a crêperie near our house that specializes in extremely salty chicken and cold red wine. But it’s cheap, and charming in a generic ketchup and faux wood-beam roof sort of way.

Before dinner we went to see Mamma Mia!, the film version of the stage version of ABBA’s Greatest Hits album, with Meryl Streep. We thought that it would be in English with French subtitles, but it was dubbed (except for the songs). We were a little disappointed, as we were both looking forward to giving our brains a break from French (Carmen’s English is very good), but the movie is so broad and campy that it was pretty easy to follow. Also, it cracked me up that every time a song started, Colin Firth went from sounding like Gerard Depardieu to Donovan.

The movie theatre, Le Lido, is adorable, with big cushy red seats that look like they were transported out of a 60s Hollywood producer’s screening room.



When I tried to order a medium Coke, the concessions guy looked at me like I was an alien and said (incredulously and in English) “What language are you speaking?” This is the only problem with living with a bunch of foreigners—we have quickly developed our own language that makes perfect sense to us—a mixture of French, English, Italian, German and Spanish—but none to anyone else. The other night one of us said something like “Puedo dire ça please?”

But we love our little polyglot boarding house, and I think that we all feel like we hit the roommate jackpot. Hopefully we’ll still feel that way in seven months.

Here’s Carmen last night. We are equally addicted to our cameras.



And here are a couple of one of the two main doors into the old village—this is about a block from La Dortoir (our dorm).





The students return tomorrow so our internet access is going to become limited and I might not be able to blog again until next weekend. Have a lovely week.