Me and this dog, we're both waiting for something (though me with significantly more enthusiasm). Matt gets here in 4 hours...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Fifty-Seven
on attende
Me and this dog, we're both waiting for something (though me with significantly more enthusiasm). Matt gets here in 4 hours...
Me and this dog, we're both waiting for something (though me with significantly more enthusiasm). Matt gets here in 4 hours...
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Fifty-Three
my favorite house in Manosque
Photographed today on the walk to Yves and Anne's for lunch, which was, yes, very delicious.
Photographed today on the walk to Yves and Anne's for lunch, which was, yes, very delicious.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Fifty-Two
saturday morning still life
espresso, Paris Match, Friday night detritus
espresso, Paris Match, Friday night detritus
Friday, February 13, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Fifty-One
au LEP, vendredi, 8h56
Took this on my way into work this morning at the LEP, where I spend my Fridays.
Took this on my way into work this morning at the LEP, where I spend my Fridays.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Nights One-Hundred Thirty-Six through One-Hundred Forty-Seven
les weekends
My students crack me up all the time by asking me how to say words in English that are already (and, to me, transparently) English words. They say “Madame, comment dire camping en anglais? Madame, comment dire sandwich? Comment dire weekend?” Really? Weekend? Does that sound like a French word to you? If you don’t get why this is funny, imagine an American kid asking their French teacher what the word is for “rendezvous” in French.
Anyway, this post is about weekends (in French: weekends) and how we’ve been spending them lately. We have less than three months to go and, as they say, il faut profiter. And we have been profiting pretty well for ourselves. Over the past two weeks, we’ve been to Avignon:
Chapel at the Palais des papes. Avignon was the Papal seat from 1305 - 1378.
Aix-en-Provence (twice):
a couple of cute buttons
La Rotonde (also in Aix), 1860
Sisteron:
Rocher de la baume (this one's for Dave)
and the annual truffle market in Forcalquier:
No, these are not truffles. They are delicious, locally-made aperitifs. I bought a thyme one. Mmmm...
And here's one of our little local posse (minus the pineapple) on Sunday at the lake here in Manosque:
Me, Paola, Carmen, Linda, Dunia, Sébastien and Patrice
My students crack me up all the time by asking me how to say words in English that are already (and, to me, transparently) English words. They say “Madame, comment dire camping en anglais? Madame, comment dire sandwich? Comment dire weekend?” Really? Weekend? Does that sound like a French word to you? If you don’t get why this is funny, imagine an American kid asking their French teacher what the word is for “rendezvous” in French.
Anyway, this post is about weekends (in French: weekends) and how we’ve been spending them lately. We have less than three months to go and, as they say, il faut profiter. And we have been profiting pretty well for ourselves. Over the past two weeks, we’ve been to Avignon:
Chapel at the Palais des papes. Avignon was the Papal seat from 1305 - 1378.
Aix-en-Provence (twice):
a couple of cute buttons
La Rotonde (also in Aix), 1860
Sisteron:
Rocher de la baume (this one's for Dave)
and the annual truffle market in Forcalquier:
No, these are not truffles. They are delicious, locally-made aperitifs. I bought a thyme one. Mmmm...
And here's one of our little local posse (minus the pineapple) on Sunday at the lake here in Manosque:
Me, Paola, Carmen, Linda, Dunia, Sébastien and Patrice
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Forty-Six
The sky is getting pretty again. I hope this means that Spring is coming.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Twenty-Eight
mountain of gold
January 21st marked two special occasions: the first day we all got to say “President Obama”, and the first anniversary of my first date with the man who will be my husband by this time next year. It seemed like a good moment to climb something and take a look around, so Carmen and I found the highest point in the immediate vicinity – Mont d’or – and we went up it.
We didn’t really know the route, but we knew where to start and we figured if we just kept going up, eventually we’d get there.
And we did. It was a perfect, sunny day. The path up the mountain goes through olive orchards…
…and when you get to the top, there are two sides of a tower – the remnants of the dungeon of the palace of Count William I of Provence…
…and an unbelievable view of the countryside and the Luberon mountain range.
We took the wrong path to get back down and found ourselves on the backside of the mountain in the middle of a bunch of farms.
This, for some reason, made me feel completely giddy, but Carmen was less amused, having twisted her ankle, so I wandered way out into a field to ask a farmer which was the way back to Manosque. He gave me the most French directions ever (which is to say that he took about 15 minutes to say “take this road here and walk that way”) and I thanked him and walked away thinking about how scared I would have been to have had that same conversation a few months ago when I first arrived here.
Mais oui, comme tout, ça change.
January 21st marked two special occasions: the first day we all got to say “President Obama”, and the first anniversary of my first date with the man who will be my husband by this time next year. It seemed like a good moment to climb something and take a look around, so Carmen and I found the highest point in the immediate vicinity – Mont d’or – and we went up it.
We didn’t really know the route, but we knew where to start and we figured if we just kept going up, eventually we’d get there.
And we did. It was a perfect, sunny day. The path up the mountain goes through olive orchards…
…and when you get to the top, there are two sides of a tower – the remnants of the dungeon of the palace of Count William I of Provence…
…and an unbelievable view of the countryside and the Luberon mountain range.
We took the wrong path to get back down and found ourselves on the backside of the mountain in the middle of a bunch of farms.
This, for some reason, made me feel completely giddy, but Carmen was less amused, having twisted her ankle, so I wandered way out into a field to ask a farmer which was the way back to Manosque. He gave me the most French directions ever (which is to say that he took about 15 minutes to say “take this road here and walk that way”) and I thanked him and walked away thinking about how scared I would have been to have had that same conversation a few months ago when I first arrived here.
Mais oui, comme tout, ça change.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Night One-Hundred and Thirty-Nine
lundi, 14h36
I came to Le Caffé to post a blog post that I wrote last night about climbing Mont d'or, but I forgot that it's Monday and the café is closed. So, I'm crouched on a stoop outside stealing their wifi, and I realized that this - this constant search for internet, dashed hopes and disabled wifi connections - has been such a huge part of my experience here that I should record it. So, here's the picture that I just took with PhotoBooth, of where I am, right now, this moment:
I came to Le Caffé to post a blog post that I wrote last night about climbing Mont d'or, but I forgot that it's Monday and the café is closed. So, I'm crouched on a stoop outside stealing their wifi, and I realized that this - this constant search for internet, dashed hopes and disabled wifi connections - has been such a huge part of my experience here that I should record it. So, here's the picture that I just took with PhotoBooth, of where I am, right now, this moment:
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