Virtually Home

The big buzz in Bordeaux of late is that the network that operates the trams and buses is now implementing the same kind of pick-up-and-drop-off bicycle system as already exists in Paris and most of the larger cities in France. I'm very excited about this system. I'm hoping it will put an end to the days when I can't go to the campus because the transportation workers are on strike, and also to the nights I want to come home after midnight on a school night but the trams have already gone back to wherever it is the trams sleep. And the times when there are just too many people crowded into a poorly-ventilated tram car for my American sensibilities. This last varies with the outside air temperature, my mood, and seemingly the amount of time I spend in France in general. My ideas about personal space are shrinking...much like my actual personal space shrunk on arrival here. All good things. I just hope that, when I get back, I'm not that awkward person who stands too ...

I tried to go to bed relatively early last night -- and by that I mean around 2 a.m. Instead, I was awake until sometime after 5 a.m., and woke up when my alarm went off at 10 in a haze of dream-confusion and grainy-eyed pessimism. I got online and bought a plane ticket from London to Geneva to meet up with Rachel on Christmas Eve. The next plan was to head over to the SNCF office and get a ticket from Bordeaux to London to visit Tom, since their website has been steadfastedly refusing to show me train schedules for days now. But after a comically cold shower, while on the point of pouring cereal into a bowl, I was surprised by a phone call from our landlady regarding the washing machine problem. Yes, the washing machine problem is ongoing. Yes, this is three months. And of course, since I can't stand letting cereal sit in milk for any length of time longer than strictly necessary, I halted my breakfast preparations. As it turns out, Auchan mailed the estimate to my address in ...

This morning I woke up oddly motivated to work on my project, but had to go to class. Maria and I went to the tram stop about ten minutes later than I usually do, which seemed fine since I usually get to class about fifteen minutes early. Except that the tram was going to be 12 minutes arriving, and when it finally did arrive, it was too packed for us to get on. I had to wait another 5 minutes, at this point knowing I was going to be at least 20 minutes late to class. I was planning on not going, but just then the tram pulled up and I couldn't really keep myself from getting on it. Twenty-five minutes later, I walk into the auditorium, expecting 200 heads to turn around and look at the disturbance. Instead, I found myself alone in a large empty room. I love it when class is canceled without notice. So I spent 30 more minutes waiting on and taking the tram. It wasn't the best way to start my day. One thing I noticed on campus was the rather prolific amount of anti-fascist ...

Or, so I infer from the greetings around here. When it starts getting toward that time in the afternoon (which apparently falls anywhere between 3:30 and 8 pm, depending on the various people I've been greeted by), people start saying "bon soir" by way of hello -- for goodbye, on the other hand, they use "bonne soirée". They both mean good evening, but I'm still amused because we also use "soirée" to talk about parties. It's like wherever you are, someone is always hoping you'll have an awesome party. The cashier at the grocery store, the guy that asks you for money on your way home -- everyone! You can tell I didn't have an eventful day, 'cause I don't have much to say. Class as usual, and home now just before the rush exploded on the tram.

This morning I was walking to the tram past a couple of ladies with clipboards. I learned after the first week that once the ladies with the clipboards conducting the survey or trying to get signatures for the petition figure out that you're not French, they absolutely refuse to talk to you further even if you display interest. So I was walking by with my headphones and they made eye contact and I just told them sorry, I'm not French (except I said it in French) - and they're like "wait! Are you English?" (in English) and the confused, resulting conversation that took place in mixed French (on my part) and English (on theirs) was apparently intended to lure me into the church of scientology. I was confused at first -- aside from passing some Jehova's Witnesses at a tram stop once, I have not been proselytized to once since arriving here -- not even in all the churches and cathedrals I've visited. When I looked confused they said "Scientology...you h...

Match facial piercings of the passengers. For some reason there are a lot more people with facial piercings who ride the B line than there seem to be in the general Bordeaux population. Even-numbered sets earn a point. Watch people's eyes dart back and forth when they look out the window. This is also good for cars. Count kebab stands and laundromats as we go by. Watch bikers who are riding parallel with the train, and if applicable, count how many times the tram passes or is passed. Listen to children tell elaborate and enthusiastic stories to their bored guardians. Children are easiest to understand because they speak very directly, with limited vocabulary, and with plenty of expressive facial expressions, vocal intonations, and gestures.

I will start by saying that this is the only photo I have from Amsterdam. It was a delicious pizza, and the photo illustrates an interesting quality of European pizzas, which is that not every slice is guaranteed to have all the ingredients you might have ordered on a single pizza. I particularly enjoyed the artistry of the ascending triangles of sliced ham on the left side overlayed by the more organic shapes of the onions. However, as "only" photos go? I probably should have tried to get some shots of the actual city with my phone. Every time I was outside it was cold and raining and I had other concerns, like not being run over by bicycles. So I will backtrack and start from the beginning. Alex and I left for Amsterdam on Saturday morning. The train left at 8:30 a.m., which meant leaving around 7:40 to take the two tram lines to Gare St. Jean. It should be noted that this was about 4 hours earlier than I've been waking up lately, and only two and a half hours after ...