Happy May Day!

France is lovely...especially when it's warm out, the sun is shining, and there are green leaves on the trees! They've started up all the fountains in Dijon, a sure sign that warm weather is upon us, and Josette has been in a better mood than usual (another sign that something is up :0) Right now I have papers to write and a psychology exam to study for, but after May 20th I will have literally nothing to do. And thus I will be happily soaking up the sun in Place Wilson, reading in my favorite park behind the Palais des Ducs, and well, enjoying my last few weeks in Dijon. I leave June 10th - soon enough to start fretting about leaving my french life behind, but far away enough to enjoy the month of May in Dijon with friends and good weather!

A bus ride to London

Tonight (or tomorrow if you're being precise) at 4 am, I leave for the Eurolines bus station in Dijon. I know I'm crazy, but taking a 13 hour bus ride to London is the cheapest way to go! Plus, there is so much to talk about afterwards...the funny people, the smells (ick?!), the positions in which the body conforms to after hours and hours in an uncomfortable seat... I will arrive tomorrow at Victoria Station (is it just me or does everything in London sound proper and stylish?) where a friend from Acton will be waiting for me with open arms. My one goal in London is to go to Harrods (case in point) and then after we'll be heading to the Cotswalds, the area where my friend's grandparents live. I can't wait to spend some quality time in an American speaking country, and perhaps eat some wankers and black pudding!

P.S. I Love You

Letters have become so very important in my stay here in France, perhaps even more so than the emails or the Skype conversations. When I receive a letter, it’s truly like welcoming that person into the room – I am overcome by warmth that only loved ones can bring, and my sometimes lonely French life is given a large dose of American love in one full swoop. I’ll see the letter propped up on the blackboard in the kitchen, and my heart soars knowing that someone spent the time to sit down and send some snail-mail. I have received holiday cards, letters, even care packages full of American candy and English magazines (thanks Lo!) Although the candy has disappeared, the letters will forever stay in my possession – for example the one from my grandpa. He is a terrific writer, and the way he expressed his pride in his granddaughter living in France was enough to bring her to tears. (I also noted where my father’s funky penmanship comes from) I received one from a good friend, Catherine Scott, who just recently transferred schools and is now settling at Boston College. Hearing from her was wonderful, for after years of living lives that never seemed to cross we were able to span the Atlantic Ocean to rekindle a deep-rooted friendship. And, just yesterday, I received one from an Acton neighbor Molly Dane, who is volunteering in Belize for two years. Hearing from her was simply a breath of fresh air because we are living out similar stories – Molly and I both flew to different countries (where the native tongue is NOT English) to discover more of who we are and to explore our independence. Obviously not always a walk in the park, I'm sure my French experiences can parallel hers in Belize. I find her words to be a great comfort.

I wrote my fist letter, to my grandparents, back in September - and from then, I never stopped. I’ve had to buy packets of pre-stamped envelopes to the states because I write so many. I have found a way to communicate my thoughts, just like in my blog, by expressing feelings with words. I know that I’ll continue writing letters no matter where I am living, because I have realized how special and meaningful it is.

The simple things

I love my coffee in the morning, with a hint of milk, in the mug from Rome. I love the colors and the sounds at the outdoor markets in France. I love gabbing on the phone with my friend Leslie in French, allowing me to work on my “argot.” I love the way that my silk scarf feels around my neck, but not the way my feet feel after being in high heels all day. I love the woman at the train station who told me I had a great accent. I love that call I receive from my dad from time to time, knowing that he is “en route,” coming home from work and is just dropping me a line. I love going on a run in the morning and passing the boulangerie, making sure to inhale deeply as the smells of fresh, warm croissants waft up from the “sous-sol.” I love seeing French children all bundled up in their adorable hats and scarves. I love the smell of the bookstore, as I sift through foreign books with enticing titles and thick covers. I love the man at the café who smokes his pipe and reads his book, completely content with who he is. I love the woman who I have grown to be, and know that I won’t be able to readily forget these beloved simple aspects of French life.

Argot = Slang
En route = On the road
Sous-sol = Basement

Provence!

This past weekend I went on an organized trip to Provence, France - and it truly stole my heart. With its colorful rooftops, warm climate, subtle scent of lavendar, palm tress, olive tress, and cherry blossom trees (and not to mention the mediterranean!) I was in heaven. Such a difference from stoic and often cold Dijon.

In 3 days we actually visited 11 cities! In Orange we saw the impressive roman amphitheatre, in Arles we walked along the colorful and flavorful market, in Nimes drank wine next to its pantheon, in Baux de Provence we wandered its tranquil streets, sunbathed along the Mediterranean in St. Marie, in Avignon visited the Palais des Papes (the Palace of the Popes) and sipped tea while basking in the sun at an outdoor cafe, sampled mouth-watering "creme glace" in Lyon, and took model shots next to the famous aqueduct, le Pont du Gard. Overall, a physically tiring but mentally stimulating long weekend!

I will no doubt be back to Provence one day...