The next day we awoke early and headed down to breakfast. When you stay in a rich person's home, you expect rich people to act a certain way. And these ones did. But I suppose once you have a self-designed and -built house of 13 bedrooms and an open floor plan, I guess it happens. They have a very strict "look with your eyes, not with your hands" policy for children and decorations and I came down in the morning to a bit of a stereotype of the architect father working on some drawings with his glasses on, listening to classical music which echoed through the many rooms of the ground (and upper) floor. We ate bits of breakfast cake and fruit and soon it was time for goodbyes and off to the train station at Avignon for me - for I had changed my ticket so it would be easier for them to drop me off at Avignon station, rather than drive all the way back to Montpellier.
After Annie and Guilhem dropped me at the train station, I began to chill out. I noticed my train was on platform 4 so I went over and there was a train sitting there. As I got on I asked a man, "This train goes to Paris, right?" and he looks at me and says, "No." as the doors to the train close with a sudden thump. My heart, stomach and brain sunk into a delirious stupor. I had gotten on the wrong train. I looked at my watch - I don't know what I was thinking when I got on, my proper train didn't even ARRIVE at Avignon for another 20 minutes and was supposed to be 15 minutes late, so WHY did I get ON this train? The man with the dog who had answered me looked at me with a reassuring face, "Don't worry, you can get on a train to Paris from the next station."
"It's true," interjected an old woman who had witnessed me practically flop to the floor, "I used to live there - trains to Paris all the time." As reassuring as this was, it didn't help my inability to breathe or stand at this point - I was in a foreign country on the wrong train and had NO IDEA in what direction it was going, "How far 'til the next station?"
"Oh, shouldn't be more than twenty minutes." He said with a smile and shushed his whinging dog. Sufficed to say, that was the longest twenty minutes I had ever lived through - most of my thoughts consisting of "Oh God, oh God!" and that I would never make it to Paris that day and would miss my plane to Dublin tomorrow. Soon, the Controller came by and the man with the dog stopped him and we explained what was wrong to him - mostly that I was a lost Australian boy who had gotten on the wrong train and needed to go to Paris. He told me not to worry, that in fact, this train was going in the same direction and that it would stop in a place just 10 minutes train ride from the center of Paris. The Controller was extra nice when I told him where I was from at the next station, gave me an official seat on the train, "There's no point changing trains to the one to Paris," he said, "it will cost you an extra 30 euros [for fucking up] to change the ticket and all that - just stay on this train and I'll come by and let you know when we have to get off and I'll show you where to go." and he smiled under his Clouseau-esque mustache, "On est sympa ici, en France. On est gentil les francophones." ["We are nice here in France. We are nice us francophones."] he said as he installed me into a seat.
I'm starting to breathe a litte more normally, now. Calming down from an anxiety attack-like experience. I don't think I'll get much writing done on the train and I'll probably just do it in the hotel room. My brain is completely fried. I didn't think I'd be able to eat, but I finished a nice, big sandwich because that adrenaline made me tired and hungry.
There is a small baby sitting across from me and he keeps trying to pass me his books to share, to play. It's adorable. So the ontrolled is taking me directly to the place I need to go to because he doesn't want me to get lost again, "C'est trop gentil." ["That's really nice."] I said.
"C'est rien. Comment ca ce fait t'a manque ton train?" ["It's nothing. How is it that you missed your train?"] So I explained it to him and he just laughed a little to himself and he told me not to worry and that he would take me.
But even on the train, I'm near babies whose parents seem incapable of shutting them up. Sigh.
It's interesting noticing that as we travel further north, the cloud cover becames heavier and more prominent, leaving the sunshine and the warmth and the south behind.
I got off the train at Massay-Varriers and found the Controller who took me up the stairs and pointed me in the right direction to catch the train to Charles de Gaulle airport and my double room, "Il y a jamais des problemes en France, toujours les solutions. On est sympa, pas comme les Anglais ou quoi!" ["There are never problems in France, always solutions. We're nice here, not like the English or whatever!"] he said with a coy smile.
"Oui, trop vrai." ["Yeah, too true."] I said enthusiastically.
When I got to the appropriate building I got on a train to the airport, where I had to change trains at Gare du Nord, where again I had some difficulty, mainly because of the Gare's poor design. Once finally on the train, I sat across from an Asian man who spoke no French and some good English, who asked me where to get off at for arrivals at the airport. I pointed out the appropriate stop at CdG airport and he thanked me, but some people just don't understand "leave me alone". When I put my headphones in it means "leave me alone" not "keep talking to me about inane deatils in your life of which I don't care". Yes, I'm talking to you annoying Asian accounting who's picking up a friend at the airport who works in New Zealand and L.A.!
At the airport I finally headed up to my Novotel hotel room and as I walked into the single room with a double bed I burst into joyful laughter (I could've cried) and immediately stripped naked and jumped on the bed, lay around for a while and took a shower. I had left Avignon at 12:20, I got to the hotel at 17:20, imagine how I felt. But I was finally in a room where I could walk around naked, watch crappy TV and just lounge - some private time. And what a shower. I didn't even care that I was alone on Christmas Day, the hotel room was my gift and I loved it. That night I fell asleep in front of the TV at 21:15.
- from The Journal December 25th 2008
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Chapter 14: Christmas Eve
Having felt a bit sickly and being in need of sleep last night, I slept until midday today. We were going to see Alice that morning so we instead were going to see her that afternoon before the family and I headed over to a town just beyond Avignon to meet their relatives for Christmas dinner that night - whom I had all met last time I was here. We quickly ate some food and Guilhem and I took the old bikes out of the garage. I hadn't ridden a bike in years and I told Guilhem I'd probably be awful and he laughed and said that's fine. For the first leg of the trip I struggled to remain upright on the thing, but soon gained a sense of balance, except for on hills which were impossible to climb on an old bike without gears and we finally got to Alice's after a laboured trip. We got to her door and, as she had lost the keys to the door, we had to climb in through the window.
Guilhem spent the time there booking train tickets to Paris for later that week and I spent my time playing with Zoe and Alice's cat and talking to Alice. When we had to head off, I said my goodbyes to Alice, "Ben, au revois. J'espere a la prochaine et a bientot," she said, "c'est domage que tu ne peux pas rester pour la fete du nouvelle ans..." [Well, goodbye. I hope to see you next time and soon...it's a shame you won't be able to stay for the New Year's Eve party..."] she said and smiled downwards with her big, brown eyes shining, "Maybe next time." I said, and climbed back out through the window, wishing I was staying as I missed my Montpellier friends very much, but knowing it would still be a lot of fun in Dublin. As we cycled home, downhill, I felt the breeze on my face and understood why so many people enjoyed cycling - one feels free.
When we got home, after an hour or so we were ready to head off. After closing all the windows we packed our things into the car and drove off, and after about an hour and a half we arrived. We stopped in first at Anouk and JP's to say hello and then went over to Paty and Jean-Paul's to drop off our gear.
Note: JP's real name is ALSO Jean-Paul, but they call him JP to not get confused.
Guilhem and I made trips between the two houses getting necessities for the dinner that night, accompanied by Artus - JP and Anouk's son.
Soon enough it was time for pre-dinner drinks and degustations (like...hor d'oeuvres) and Artus brought out his guitar for me to play - which felt brilliant after 3 weeks of going without - and Guilhem brought me a rum and orange. Before dinner had even began I had drunk 2 of these and a glass of wine, when a giant caricature of a man walked through the door with his equally bizare wife. He was a giant of a man, 6 ft 3 and about as wide around - with oddly thin legs - and no chin. But his face was most impressive - a street caricaturist would have a field day. Just this joyful bear of a man with an earing in both ears, glasses, white hair and a dry, husky, booming voice in an indecipherable Southern French accent. His wife was a very loud American woman with an exceptionally loud laugh - which Guilhem spent the whole night marvelling at every time she burst out laughing, which was often - who spoke French like a Frenchwoman and who could have done with wearing a bra.
Dinner was an amazing raqulette. When gift time came around, I expected nothing, as I was a guest, but they still got me a scarf with the names of Annie, Andre, Benjamin and Guilhem embroidered on it.
By the end of desert everyone was thoroughly pissed and we decided to hit the bed, "Should we take the ladder?" I asked.
"No, it's too cold!" Said Zoyra, Benjamin's girlfriend.
"Let's drive!" Said gay cousin Thomas. So we did. We all piled into his tiny car, whose windows were frosted over, and drove at 15 km/h the 300m to Paty's house and we all fell asleep as our heads hit the pillow.
- from The Journal December 24th 2008
Guilhem spent the time there booking train tickets to Paris for later that week and I spent my time playing with Zoe and Alice's cat and talking to Alice. When we had to head off, I said my goodbyes to Alice, "Ben, au revois. J'espere a la prochaine et a bientot," she said, "c'est domage que tu ne peux pas rester pour la fete du nouvelle ans..." [Well, goodbye. I hope to see you next time and soon...it's a shame you won't be able to stay for the New Year's Eve party..."] she said and smiled downwards with her big, brown eyes shining, "Maybe next time." I said, and climbed back out through the window, wishing I was staying as I missed my Montpellier friends very much, but knowing it would still be a lot of fun in Dublin. As we cycled home, downhill, I felt the breeze on my face and understood why so many people enjoyed cycling - one feels free.
When we got home, after an hour or so we were ready to head off. After closing all the windows we packed our things into the car and drove off, and after about an hour and a half we arrived. We stopped in first at Anouk and JP's to say hello and then went over to Paty and Jean-Paul's to drop off our gear.
Note: JP's real name is ALSO Jean-Paul, but they call him JP to not get confused.
Guilhem and I made trips between the two houses getting necessities for the dinner that night, accompanied by Artus - JP and Anouk's son.
Soon enough it was time for pre-dinner drinks and degustations (like...hor d'oeuvres) and Artus brought out his guitar for me to play - which felt brilliant after 3 weeks of going without - and Guilhem brought me a rum and orange. Before dinner had even began I had drunk 2 of these and a glass of wine, when a giant caricature of a man walked through the door with his equally bizare wife. He was a giant of a man, 6 ft 3 and about as wide around - with oddly thin legs - and no chin. But his face was most impressive - a street caricaturist would have a field day. Just this joyful bear of a man with an earing in both ears, glasses, white hair and a dry, husky, booming voice in an indecipherable Southern French accent. His wife was a very loud American woman with an exceptionally loud laugh - which Guilhem spent the whole night marvelling at every time she burst out laughing, which was often - who spoke French like a Frenchwoman and who could have done with wearing a bra.
Dinner was an amazing raqulette. When gift time came around, I expected nothing, as I was a guest, but they still got me a scarf with the names of Annie, Andre, Benjamin and Guilhem embroidered on it.
By the end of desert everyone was thoroughly pissed and we decided to hit the bed, "Should we take the ladder?" I asked.
"No, it's too cold!" Said Zoyra, Benjamin's girlfriend.
"Let's drive!" Said gay cousin Thomas. So we did. We all piled into his tiny car, whose windows were frosted over, and drove at 15 km/h the 300m to Paty's house and we all fell asleep as our heads hit the pillow.
- from The Journal December 24th 2008
Chapter 13: Mountain Lunch
Today I was awoken at 9:15, and re-awoken at 9:30 for the country walk picnic that Guilhem and his friends had planned. Alice picked us up at 10 a.m. and then we headed over to Armand's. A big surprise as we got in the car was Alice's 5 moth old Dalmatian puppy Zoe; an energetic and stupid young dog, but adorable and kept sticking her head and shoulders over the seat to be near whoever was in the back seat, i.e. me.
We pick up Armand and he is less than pleased to see the dog, "Oh, putain merde." [Oh, fucking shit.] he says as he approaches and Zoe goes to lick him. He sits in the back with me and he is always flinching or moving away and telling the dog to "degager!" [get away!] or "casse toi!" [fuck off!] to try and make it move away from him.
We drive from his to Marie's and Armand steals Guilhem's front seat, and Guilhem gets in Marie's car, and we drive to Laura's. Here, to piss him off, I steal Armand's front seat, but he gets in Marie's car with Laura and Guilhem gets in the back of Alice's car. Vehicular musical chairs with these people.
From here, we drive out across hill and countryside and small town to reach the walkway to begin our trek and picnic.
After getting lost once in a small town and asking for directions, we finally make it to the area we need to get to and we unpack the cars and get Zoe on a leash. We started on the dirt trail up the hills passing small, icy puddles of muddy water in the shade of the trees and hills. We amused ourselves by jumping on them and breaking the ice, occasionally attempting to walk across them without breaking the ice. We always failed. We soon arrived at the man-made lake/dam and ate by the side of it on the bank, under the bright sun, in the cool, crisp air as the dog roamed and ran free. I inhaled the two sandwiches, mandarin and bottled water I had prepared and just enjoyed the sunlight and the crisp air.
Soon I began skipping rocks on the quiet surface of the water - which was very cold, as we found out, as Guilhem attempted to swim in it, but stopped just after taking off his shoes. Guilhem also began launching rocks in the direction of a small trio of ducks, trying jovially to hit one - from therein evertime ducks came near us, we'd all go, "Guilhem, ducks!". After we all finished eating we started a nice walk around the perimeter of the hills of the lake, passing giant pools of water, covered in thick layers of ice, "It's so odd," said Alice, "15 degrees and puddles of ice."
"Yeah," I replied, "surely a bit gob-smacking for me, anyway." We smiled. We hit a particularily big pool of water with a thick ice covering. Guilhem put his goot heavily on the top and the ice didn't move. He took a full step on it before it began to crack, supporting his full body weight for a moment. He bashed his foot down and cracked off a big piece of ice and admired its thickness, "Fuck." He said, "That must be two inches thick!" He threw it into the middle of the pool, attempting to break the whole lot and the piece just ended up getting stuck in the middle. Zoe just ran through it, ignoring the ice and the cold and breaking apart large chunks of the pool, like so many other puddles, and we moved on. We soon made it to the connection point between where we were, and where we started; connected by the thin concrete strip of the dam wall. So, we decided to make our way across it, freezing lake on the one side, small, icy plaform with a very long drop on the other. We all made it across with no problem - Alice carrying Zoe - and began out trip back down the hills to the car and back home. When we got back home we originally made plans to meet up again another time that night before I left, but it ended up not panning out and I hit that hat at 22h30.
- from The Journal December 23rd 2008
We pick up Armand and he is less than pleased to see the dog, "Oh, putain merde." [Oh, fucking shit.] he says as he approaches and Zoe goes to lick him. He sits in the back with me and he is always flinching or moving away and telling the dog to "degager!" [get away!] or "casse toi!" [fuck off!] to try and make it move away from him.
We drive from his to Marie's and Armand steals Guilhem's front seat, and Guilhem gets in Marie's car, and we drive to Laura's. Here, to piss him off, I steal Armand's front seat, but he gets in Marie's car with Laura and Guilhem gets in the back of Alice's car. Vehicular musical chairs with these people.
From here, we drive out across hill and countryside and small town to reach the walkway to begin our trek and picnic.
After getting lost once in a small town and asking for directions, we finally make it to the area we need to get to and we unpack the cars and get Zoe on a leash. We started on the dirt trail up the hills passing small, icy puddles of muddy water in the shade of the trees and hills. We amused ourselves by jumping on them and breaking the ice, occasionally attempting to walk across them without breaking the ice. We always failed. We soon arrived at the man-made lake/dam and ate by the side of it on the bank, under the bright sun, in the cool, crisp air as the dog roamed and ran free. I inhaled the two sandwiches, mandarin and bottled water I had prepared and just enjoyed the sunlight and the crisp air.
Soon I began skipping rocks on the quiet surface of the water - which was very cold, as we found out, as Guilhem attempted to swim in it, but stopped just after taking off his shoes. Guilhem also began launching rocks in the direction of a small trio of ducks, trying jovially to hit one - from therein evertime ducks came near us, we'd all go, "Guilhem, ducks!". After we all finished eating we started a nice walk around the perimeter of the hills of the lake, passing giant pools of water, covered in thick layers of ice, "It's so odd," said Alice, "15 degrees and puddles of ice."
"Yeah," I replied, "surely a bit gob-smacking for me, anyway." We smiled. We hit a particularily big pool of water with a thick ice covering. Guilhem put his goot heavily on the top and the ice didn't move. He took a full step on it before it began to crack, supporting his full body weight for a moment. He bashed his foot down and cracked off a big piece of ice and admired its thickness, "Fuck." He said, "That must be two inches thick!" He threw it into the middle of the pool, attempting to break the whole lot and the piece just ended up getting stuck in the middle. Zoe just ran through it, ignoring the ice and the cold and breaking apart large chunks of the pool, like so many other puddles, and we moved on. We soon made it to the connection point between where we were, and where we started; connected by the thin concrete strip of the dam wall. So, we decided to make our way across it, freezing lake on the one side, small, icy plaform with a very long drop on the other. We all made it across with no problem - Alice carrying Zoe - and began out trip back down the hills to the car and back home. When we got back home we originally made plans to meet up again another time that night before I left, but it ended up not panning out and I hit that hat at 22h30.
- from The Journal December 23rd 2008
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Chapter 12: The Road to Montpellier and the First Day
I got up at 4:45 this morning and Mary and I had a sleepy breakfast at her kitchen counter of hot chocolate and bread with peanut butter. We sat and chatted sleepily for a while before heading to the Gare, only to find my train was to be ten minutes...fifteen...twenty-five...half an hour late, "SNCF de merde," Mary said, "it's always like this." We waited in the 6 a.m. cold on the platform until the train finally arrived. I put my bag on the train and hugged Mary goodbye, "Thank you for coming and changing your plans to do so!"
"It was my pleasure. Thank you for letting me stay."
"That was my pleasure. I guess it's my turn again, to come in Australia."
"Yeah," I said, "I guess it is. Sorry my turn was so short."
"Don't be," she said, "you came and that's what matters. I'll see you soon." She said with a big smile and we hugged again and kissed cheeks goodbye, "Twice in Bordeaux, three in Montpellier, don't forget!"
"I won't. See you soon." and we waved as the train pulled away.
On the train in the early hours of the morn and they turn the lights off briefly for me to see the thick fog bounding either side of the train. There are farm fields covered by it that appear to be the setting of a bad horror film if the script could only get off the ground. Just underneath the fog is a thin layer of snow covering everything in a thin layer of white which makes everything look not quite real.
She sun has come out on another sunny French day and to my left is the blue sky and yellow and green fields stretching towards fairytale, snowtoppes peaks of the mountains beyond - of which mountain range, I cannot be sure - and on my right there is a thick layer of cloud that just seems to stop over the border of a farm a few kilometers out, hanging just below the mountains and stretching as far as the trainline.
I arrived at Gare de Montpellier at just before 12 and wandered around for some time trying to find Annie. I was 2 hours late and I honestly hoped she had waited. As I wandered through the station I suddenly hear, "Jordan!" from the bench beside me. I'm sure as I quickly turned my head, my curls must have swished impressively. I saw Annie sitting there, but some things were very different about her from last time I was here - admittedly, that was 4 years ago, now. Her face had more lines and her hair was short, cut just above the shoulders. She even seemed smaller. She smiled broadly and marvelled at how tall I'd gotten and how long my hair was. We walked out of the station into the beautiful sunlight - my second day of sun in Europe.
As we walked through the parking lot I noticed the same old van sitting in the parking space and I knew where we were going. I loaded my bags in the trunk and we got in.
"So, what's new?" I asked, and Annie began regailing me with tales of her retired life and how Andre seems a bit more tired these days and how Benjamin was out with a long-term girlfriend with a steady job and that he'd bought himself a house.
"And Guilhem?" Here, her face fell.
"We've been having trouble with Guilhem." She explained to me how, since he failed his Med School course, he had dropped all interest in study altogether and how he was planning a trip to India - for what, she didn't know - and this worried her. She also recognised, though, that is must be hard for him, having none of his friends around as they are all at university in different parts of France, but was worried because he barely leaves his room. He just sounded lonely to me.
We got home shortly - pulling into the familiar area of St Georges D'Orques - and I deposited my bags in my old room. In Benjamin's old room. I went downstairs with the intention of calling my parents - after I had called Thibault to arrange a time to see him; 2 p.m. that day - and ran into Andre as he was coming home. He, indeed, had changed. From what I remembered as a big, impressive man, was now a much slighter man with slightly less hair. What hadn't changed, however, was his impressively loud voice with slurred Southern French accent - which I couldn't understand for the two weeks the first time I met him.
Not long after him, Guilhem came home and he had barely changed at all. He was still thin as bones, but he had shaved down some of his beared and tamed the incredible wildeness of his shot, blonde, curled hair. He asked me how I was and what I had planned for my stay and told him about my plans with Thibault later that day and he said that was cool as Marie was picking him up to go to the city soon and they'd drop me off at La Comedie - Les Trois Graces - to meet Thibault at 2, and that later that night they had a small evening planned with Alice and Armand. I told him that sounded great and that I would like to go see them.
Soon, we had lunch and what was once a table of animated discussion was now shrouded in an intimate and bizarre silence, as if everyone at the table knew something the others didn't or wanted to know, including me. Afterwards Marie showed at the door and we left in her car - to connect with a tram - into the 'city' of Montpellier. Marie left us here for a meet and Fuilgem waited with me until Thibault came and then headed off on his own to a meet of his own.
Thibault had changed, if only a little. Physically, I found he looked older, more mature, and his hair seemed thicker, it was shorter. But his accent when he spoke English hadn't changed - still the same mongrel of French and Irish, as he had spent 7 years in Ireland.
"How are you, dude?" he asked.
"Man, I'm doing great." and we hugged. We began walking towards the mall and walked through it to the gardens on the other side where a copy of Winged Victory stood, just near the "Outback" Australian club/bar. There we sat and filled each other in on our university lives and our love lives and just our lives in general, gushing off fountains of information to each other, trying to fit 4 years of info into a few hours.
"How're things with your girl? Did you sort it all out?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, in the end. But I feel more blank about her, you know? After he wanted to break up and regretting it, I feel..weird," and I nodded, "and you? Tell me about this girlfriend." So I did.
We got up and walked back through the gardens and the mall, "Where we headed?" I asked.
"I'm just gonna show you 'round a few places." He took me down the small alleys of Montpellier and we talked about nothing, "If I shaved off my eyebrows, would my face be a lot colder?" I asked. He laughed, "Jordan in France, asking the big questions." He said, and we laughed some more. He took me to the bottom of a hill where there lay the oldest and best medical school in France for the past THOUSAND years. It was a beautiful, castle of a building, complete with sundial and towers. After marvelling at that for some time, we walked up a hill to the Henry III park and just over that to the ancient Roman building that still stands in a quiet area at the centre of the city. We sat there and talked for a while before I walked Thibault to his dentist appointment, "Meet you out here in 20 mins?" he said.
"Sure thing." I said. I wandered through the nearby streets, buying another sugar crepe and then leaned against a wall to wait and eat. It was strange to note how many people make and kept eye contact with me as I stood there, leaning against a wall.
I also noticed a black kid wearing Jamaican colours, a young Jewish kid with a faux-hawk and prominently displayed Chamsah and an Arab kid all walking together in the street - world peace in 3 small children.
"J'ai besoin d'un euro dix...he to donnera un joint si tu veux..." [I need one euro twn...I'll give you a joint if you want.]
"...desole, j'ai rien avec moi." [Sorry, I have nothing with me.] Was what interrupted my reverie as a homeless beggar asked for change.
A half hour later Thibault emerged from his dentist appointment and we continued our walks, "Sorry I'm late, bro." he said.
"No problem." and we walked through the tiny streets.
"This is what I like doing," he said, "just walking aimlessly, calmly, through the streets, talking to a friend. Few people enjoy this."
"I find the same." I said. He took me to a narrow alleyway that was lined wall to wall with cards and art to buy - it was even carpeted, "The carpet is different every time I come." Thibault said. I bought a couple of postcards and then we headed back to the Roman aqueducts and photographed the sunset. Soon after we walked to the bus station and made our farwells, "Well, I'll see ya, dude." He said.
"Yeah, man, soon right? You gotta come to Australia next time." and I smiled.
"Yeah, next time. I just wanna thank you for coming and seeing me, dude."
"Hey man, it was my pleasure." I said and stepped onto the bus after we hugged.
I think I slept on the bus ride back to St Georges because when I opened my eyes we were at the city centre and I had that taste in my mouth of having just slept.
When I got home I headed up to my room and ended up having a nap just before dinner. We ate amongst animated conversation and then, at around 21:30, we jetted off out the door to wait in the cold for Alice to come pick us up.
She pulled up within a few minutes and we got in. Alice had changed a little, too. She was basically the same, but her hair was longer. And it seemed she smiled more, and was a bit more talkative. It was good to see her again, too.
"Mais, c'est trop fort son accent, j'avais oublier!" [Woah, but it's so strong his accent, I'd forgotten!] She said as we headed to Armand's house.
"Oui, trop Quebecois, non?" [Yeah, too Quebecois, no?] Guilhem agreed, smiling cheekily, "When we get to Armand's," he said, "greet him with something really Quebecois, that'll get him so good."
"Top shape, mon big." I said as I walked in the door, shaking Armand's hand, and he burst into tearful laughter. We then spent the night chatting, and writing pastiche songs for their friend's birthday and we ended up getting home and to bed at around 1 a.m.
- from The Journal December 22nd 2008
"It was my pleasure. Thank you for letting me stay."
"That was my pleasure. I guess it's my turn again, to come in Australia."
"Yeah," I said, "I guess it is. Sorry my turn was so short."
"Don't be," she said, "you came and that's what matters. I'll see you soon." She said with a big smile and we hugged again and kissed cheeks goodbye, "Twice in Bordeaux, three in Montpellier, don't forget!"
"I won't. See you soon." and we waved as the train pulled away.
On the train in the early hours of the morn and they turn the lights off briefly for me to see the thick fog bounding either side of the train. There are farm fields covered by it that appear to be the setting of a bad horror film if the script could only get off the ground. Just underneath the fog is a thin layer of snow covering everything in a thin layer of white which makes everything look not quite real.
She sun has come out on another sunny French day and to my left is the blue sky and yellow and green fields stretching towards fairytale, snowtoppes peaks of the mountains beyond - of which mountain range, I cannot be sure - and on my right there is a thick layer of cloud that just seems to stop over the border of a farm a few kilometers out, hanging just below the mountains and stretching as far as the trainline.
I arrived at Gare de Montpellier at just before 12 and wandered around for some time trying to find Annie. I was 2 hours late and I honestly hoped she had waited. As I wandered through the station I suddenly hear, "Jordan!" from the bench beside me. I'm sure as I quickly turned my head, my curls must have swished impressively. I saw Annie sitting there, but some things were very different about her from last time I was here - admittedly, that was 4 years ago, now. Her face had more lines and her hair was short, cut just above the shoulders. She even seemed smaller. She smiled broadly and marvelled at how tall I'd gotten and how long my hair was. We walked out of the station into the beautiful sunlight - my second day of sun in Europe.
As we walked through the parking lot I noticed the same old van sitting in the parking space and I knew where we were going. I loaded my bags in the trunk and we got in.
"So, what's new?" I asked, and Annie began regailing me with tales of her retired life and how Andre seems a bit more tired these days and how Benjamin was out with a long-term girlfriend with a steady job and that he'd bought himself a house.
"And Guilhem?" Here, her face fell.
"We've been having trouble with Guilhem." She explained to me how, since he failed his Med School course, he had dropped all interest in study altogether and how he was planning a trip to India - for what, she didn't know - and this worried her. She also recognised, though, that is must be hard for him, having none of his friends around as they are all at university in different parts of France, but was worried because he barely leaves his room. He just sounded lonely to me.
We got home shortly - pulling into the familiar area of St Georges D'Orques - and I deposited my bags in my old room. In Benjamin's old room. I went downstairs with the intention of calling my parents - after I had called Thibault to arrange a time to see him; 2 p.m. that day - and ran into Andre as he was coming home. He, indeed, had changed. From what I remembered as a big, impressive man, was now a much slighter man with slightly less hair. What hadn't changed, however, was his impressively loud voice with slurred Southern French accent - which I couldn't understand for the two weeks the first time I met him.
Not long after him, Guilhem came home and he had barely changed at all. He was still thin as bones, but he had shaved down some of his beared and tamed the incredible wildeness of his shot, blonde, curled hair. He asked me how I was and what I had planned for my stay and told him about my plans with Thibault later that day and he said that was cool as Marie was picking him up to go to the city soon and they'd drop me off at La Comedie - Les Trois Graces - to meet Thibault at 2, and that later that night they had a small evening planned with Alice and Armand. I told him that sounded great and that I would like to go see them.
Soon, we had lunch and what was once a table of animated discussion was now shrouded in an intimate and bizarre silence, as if everyone at the table knew something the others didn't or wanted to know, including me. Afterwards Marie showed at the door and we left in her car - to connect with a tram - into the 'city' of Montpellier. Marie left us here for a meet and Fuilgem waited with me until Thibault came and then headed off on his own to a meet of his own.
Thibault had changed, if only a little. Physically, I found he looked older, more mature, and his hair seemed thicker, it was shorter. But his accent when he spoke English hadn't changed - still the same mongrel of French and Irish, as he had spent 7 years in Ireland.
"How are you, dude?" he asked.
"Man, I'm doing great." and we hugged. We began walking towards the mall and walked through it to the gardens on the other side where a copy of Winged Victory stood, just near the "Outback" Australian club/bar. There we sat and filled each other in on our university lives and our love lives and just our lives in general, gushing off fountains of information to each other, trying to fit 4 years of info into a few hours.
"How're things with your girl? Did you sort it all out?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, in the end. But I feel more blank about her, you know? After he wanted to break up and regretting it, I feel..weird," and I nodded, "and you? Tell me about this girlfriend." So I did.
We got up and walked back through the gardens and the mall, "Where we headed?" I asked.
"I'm just gonna show you 'round a few places." He took me down the small alleys of Montpellier and we talked about nothing, "If I shaved off my eyebrows, would my face be a lot colder?" I asked. He laughed, "Jordan in France, asking the big questions." He said, and we laughed some more. He took me to the bottom of a hill where there lay the oldest and best medical school in France for the past THOUSAND years. It was a beautiful, castle of a building, complete with sundial and towers. After marvelling at that for some time, we walked up a hill to the Henry III park and just over that to the ancient Roman building that still stands in a quiet area at the centre of the city. We sat there and talked for a while before I walked Thibault to his dentist appointment, "Meet you out here in 20 mins?" he said.
"Sure thing." I said. I wandered through the nearby streets, buying another sugar crepe and then leaned against a wall to wait and eat. It was strange to note how many people make and kept eye contact with me as I stood there, leaning against a wall.
I also noticed a black kid wearing Jamaican colours, a young Jewish kid with a faux-hawk and prominently displayed Chamsah and an Arab kid all walking together in the street - world peace in 3 small children.
"J'ai besoin d'un euro dix...he to donnera un joint si tu veux..." [I need one euro twn...I'll give you a joint if you want.]
"...desole, j'ai rien avec moi." [Sorry, I have nothing with me.] Was what interrupted my reverie as a homeless beggar asked for change.
A half hour later Thibault emerged from his dentist appointment and we continued our walks, "Sorry I'm late, bro." he said.
"No problem." and we walked through the tiny streets.
"This is what I like doing," he said, "just walking aimlessly, calmly, through the streets, talking to a friend. Few people enjoy this."
"I find the same." I said. He took me to a narrow alleyway that was lined wall to wall with cards and art to buy - it was even carpeted, "The carpet is different every time I come." Thibault said. I bought a couple of postcards and then we headed back to the Roman aqueducts and photographed the sunset. Soon after we walked to the bus station and made our farwells, "Well, I'll see ya, dude." He said.
"Yeah, man, soon right? You gotta come to Australia next time." and I smiled.
"Yeah, next time. I just wanna thank you for coming and seeing me, dude."
"Hey man, it was my pleasure." I said and stepped onto the bus after we hugged.
I think I slept on the bus ride back to St Georges because when I opened my eyes we were at the city centre and I had that taste in my mouth of having just slept.
When I got home I headed up to my room and ended up having a nap just before dinner. We ate amongst animated conversation and then, at around 21:30, we jetted off out the door to wait in the cold for Alice to come pick us up.
She pulled up within a few minutes and we got in. Alice had changed a little, too. She was basically the same, but her hair was longer. And it seemed she smiled more, and was a bit more talkative. It was good to see her again, too.
"Mais, c'est trop fort son accent, j'avais oublier!" [Woah, but it's so strong his accent, I'd forgotten!] She said as we headed to Armand's house.
"Oui, trop Quebecois, non?" [Yeah, too Quebecois, no?] Guilhem agreed, smiling cheekily, "When we get to Armand's," he said, "greet him with something really Quebecois, that'll get him so good."
"Top shape, mon big." I said as I walked in the door, shaking Armand's hand, and he burst into tearful laughter. We then spent the night chatting, and writing pastiche songs for their friend's birthday and we ended up getting home and to bed at around 1 a.m.
- from The Journal December 22nd 2008
Chapter 11: Mordeaux - The end of the Road.
The next morning I awoke with a start to a text message from Anna, letting me know she was online so we could video chat. We chatted for some time, while I lay in my bed and soon I rose to open the blinds to my first sunny day in Europe. When I hung up with Anna, Mary and I went out to the second market area in town and had a brunch of a cheese and meat plate.
After which, Mary finally bought herself a beanie which she knocked down from 5 to 3 euros, "But I have only 3 euros. I don't even have 50 centimes!"
"Oh, okay."
"You're sneaky." I said as we walked away. Mary showed me her school and the beautiful old church next to it and then we walked down to the giant park nearby - once there we saw ganders of geese and flocks of swan and ducks and I thumbed my ring and though of Anna.
After here, we trammed across town to find me some new pens (which I write with now, ho ho) and Mary a scarf - which she never ended up buying. On our way down the road, I bought a couple of Super Cookies for 2 euros. Seriously, these things were like the size of my face. We turned off Rue St Katherine onto a side street, just exploring before we hit the cinema at 17h30.
"I like exploring the city with you," Mary said as we walked down a small cobblestone street, "I discover new places, even for me who lives here!"
Pretty soon it was time to catch the train to the cinema to see "L'Emmerdeur" - the closest description to which is a French version of "The Odd Couple"...if one of them were an assassin and the other suicidal and emotional. I know. But it was pretty good. We left there hungry and we decided to get some dinner, "I know a place." she said. We caught the tram back and began walking and soon, Mary grimaced, "What's wrong?" I asked.
"We're at my place," she said, "We went the wrong way. We were supposed to go 2 stops that way," she said pointing behind us, "but now we have to travel 4 because we came 2 this way." So we did. We reached the finance offices and a fork in the road, "Which way do you think?" she asked.
"Let's take the left." So we did and soon found the restaurant.
It was a racqulette specialty house, but with a stupid policy that only the person who ordered the racqulette can eat it, and anyone caught sharing in it would have to pay full price also, so our evening consisted of me and Mary finding creative ways to sneak her racqulette while the waitresses backs were turned. Beside us sat an older couple, who were obviously a little drunk, but also very obviously in love as they held each other's hands across the table the whole time and when the food was gone they kissed the hands, and they'd giggle.
"I love seeing that," said Mary, "you can tell they are young in their head and very in love. It's very sweet."
"Yeah," I said, "may we all be so lucky at that age."
Along with our meal we ordered a cocktail called a Green Day, made with blue curacao, orange juice and liquer. It was tall, fruity and delicious.
After we paid for dinner we walked home, the cold wind against our uncovered faces, walking off the intense amount of cheese I had just injested, "I think my soul is covered with cheese." I said as we walked, and we laughed.
We climbed the cold, stone steps up to Mary's apartment and I called Anna for a while. Mary, too, called her boyfriend and ended up angry, so when I hung up with Anna, I went to comfort her. She was in the living rroom, curled on the couch eating chocolate. So I gave her a big hug and we walked about it for a while and watched "Les Experts" - or CSI translated into French. I soon packed my bags and we hit the bed, to wake up in 4 and a half hours to get me to my train station.
- from The Journal December 21st 2008.
After which, Mary finally bought herself a beanie which she knocked down from 5 to 3 euros, "But I have only 3 euros. I don't even have 50 centimes!"
"Oh, okay."
"You're sneaky." I said as we walked away. Mary showed me her school and the beautiful old church next to it and then we walked down to the giant park nearby - once there we saw ganders of geese and flocks of swan and ducks and I thumbed my ring and though of Anna.
After here, we trammed across town to find me some new pens (which I write with now, ho ho) and Mary a scarf - which she never ended up buying. On our way down the road, I bought a couple of Super Cookies for 2 euros. Seriously, these things were like the size of my face. We turned off Rue St Katherine onto a side street, just exploring before we hit the cinema at 17h30.
"I like exploring the city with you," Mary said as we walked down a small cobblestone street, "I discover new places, even for me who lives here!"
Pretty soon it was time to catch the train to the cinema to see "L'Emmerdeur" - the closest description to which is a French version of "The Odd Couple"...if one of them were an assassin and the other suicidal and emotional. I know. But it was pretty good. We left there hungry and we decided to get some dinner, "I know a place." she said. We caught the tram back and began walking and soon, Mary grimaced, "What's wrong?" I asked.
"We're at my place," she said, "We went the wrong way. We were supposed to go 2 stops that way," she said pointing behind us, "but now we have to travel 4 because we came 2 this way." So we did. We reached the finance offices and a fork in the road, "Which way do you think?" she asked.
"Let's take the left." So we did and soon found the restaurant.
It was a racqulette specialty house, but with a stupid policy that only the person who ordered the racqulette can eat it, and anyone caught sharing in it would have to pay full price also, so our evening consisted of me and Mary finding creative ways to sneak her racqulette while the waitresses backs were turned. Beside us sat an older couple, who were obviously a little drunk, but also very obviously in love as they held each other's hands across the table the whole time and when the food was gone they kissed the hands, and they'd giggle.
"I love seeing that," said Mary, "you can tell they are young in their head and very in love. It's very sweet."
"Yeah," I said, "may we all be so lucky at that age."
Along with our meal we ordered a cocktail called a Green Day, made with blue curacao, orange juice and liquer. It was tall, fruity and delicious.
After we paid for dinner we walked home, the cold wind against our uncovered faces, walking off the intense amount of cheese I had just injested, "I think my soul is covered with cheese." I said as we walked, and we laughed.
We climbed the cold, stone steps up to Mary's apartment and I called Anna for a while. Mary, too, called her boyfriend and ended up angry, so when I hung up with Anna, I went to comfort her. She was in the living rroom, curled on the couch eating chocolate. So I gave her a big hug and we walked about it for a while and watched "Les Experts" - or CSI translated into French. I soon packed my bags and we hit the bed, to wake up in 4 and a half hours to get me to my train station.
- from The Journal December 21st 2008.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Chapter 10: Bordeaux Meanderings
I got up at midday after my first long and satisfying sleep. Today, we have no idea what we're going to do, but Mary is making a breakfast of Flammekueche, a pizza base with fresh cream, onion and bacon, a dish from Alsace. And then some chocolate cake while we listened to old 1930s jazz, and because I was a guest and felt I needed to contribute something, I washed the dishes.
We went out to St Michel and the markets there, which were like an open air Vinnies. It's warmer here and I can go out with hat and gloves and scarcely need a scarf. After walking around the basic markets for a while, we started on the main road of Bordeaux near Place de la Bourse, where there is a flat, black stone monument, a few hundred meters long and about 20 meters wide and is sometimes covered with a thin layer of water. Today it was.
"Something people take off their shoes and run through the water," Mary said, "this is the first time I've been here when there's water."
"You want to run through it, don't you?"
"...yes." It was overcast and maybe 8 degrees. So, I took off my shoes and socks and ran through it. At first, the water was like ice, burning my feet with the cold. But I soon got used to it and called Mary over, "It's alright!" So, she took off her shoes and socks and ran across the plain after me, "It's so cold!" she yelled, laughing and smiling, hugging herself, "how can you be so calm?!" I shrugged, "Canadian blood?" We stamp around for a little more until our feet go numb and run back to dry land, leaving wet footprints on the stone. I put my shoes back on and now they feel so warm after the freezing cold, "I can feel my feet again." I said.
"So can I. Just." She said, smiling, "And I was still sick."
And we did it, because we're idiots. But it was fun.
We walked through the large park past a monument fountain to the fallen of some war or other, dedicated to those in Bordeaux, past the fake arc de triumphe, where a castle once stood, and gathered around the base of this fountain were about two dozen Santas and elves, dressed and ready to roam the streets to hand out to chocolate to the populous.
We soon moved from there to the Christmas markets, where I ate an entire assortment of French food from the area, including a native Bordeaux sweet called cannele, a sandwich with smoked ham and onions from Bayonne, l'Aligot - a speciality from Avignon - which is mashed potatoes and lots of cheese - and a crepe with pure dark chocolate.
As we sat eating our crepes, there was a children's merry-go-round that played high pitched, tonalised versions of Jingle Bells. After a couple of round, the machine broke and the music broke down into a chorus of off tune beeps and tones that I could only describe as the machine vomiting.
We continued our way through the large, open air markets and I bought myself a new, betterr flap hat, bigger and black this time. As it was getting dark, all the lights of the city, including the special Christmas lights, got switched on. The main square lit up like something out of a Christmas film. We decided to head out across the main square, down Rue St Katherine, Bordeaux's main shopping drag. On the wy, we passed a man drinking a beer, and dressed as a giant penis, so I did what any self-respecting tourist would do, and took of photo with him. Just a little further was a big band playing some funky tunes, so Mary and I danced like idiots in the crowd doing a mock tango and mock swing dancing. Penis man then jumped from behind the band and into the dance circle below, dancing with people's small children.
We began walking down the crowded Rue St Katherine, just taking in the main Bordeaux shopping district and its many tiny alleys and shops. Pretty soon we decided to check cinema times for tomorrow and moved down a side alley. The film we wanted wasn't at this cinema, but we did find a woman on the street singing and playing the blues on a double bass, so we stopped and danced some more.
As we reached the end of the road, we decided we were hungry and decided to head home to eat, as nowhere but kebab stores and McDonald's were open. We headed home and Mary cooked up some of the left-over pasta and some fish fillets, with an entree of tomatoes and carrots with dressing. As we ate we watched the French dubbed Disney "Sword in the Stone" and then a French film called "Prete Moi ta Main (Lend Me Your Hand)". We talked until about 1 a.m, then hit the hay.
- from The Journal December 20th 2008
We went out to St Michel and the markets there, which were like an open air Vinnies. It's warmer here and I can go out with hat and gloves and scarcely need a scarf. After walking around the basic markets for a while, we started on the main road of Bordeaux near Place de la Bourse, where there is a flat, black stone monument, a few hundred meters long and about 20 meters wide and is sometimes covered with a thin layer of water. Today it was.
"Something people take off their shoes and run through the water," Mary said, "this is the first time I've been here when there's water."
"You want to run through it, don't you?"
"...yes." It was overcast and maybe 8 degrees. So, I took off my shoes and socks and ran through it. At first, the water was like ice, burning my feet with the cold. But I soon got used to it and called Mary over, "It's alright!" So, she took off her shoes and socks and ran across the plain after me, "It's so cold!" she yelled, laughing and smiling, hugging herself, "how can you be so calm?!" I shrugged, "Canadian blood?" We stamp around for a little more until our feet go numb and run back to dry land, leaving wet footprints on the stone. I put my shoes back on and now they feel so warm after the freezing cold, "I can feel my feet again." I said.
"So can I. Just." She said, smiling, "And I was still sick."
And we did it, because we're idiots. But it was fun.
We walked through the large park past a monument fountain to the fallen of some war or other, dedicated to those in Bordeaux, past the fake arc de triumphe, where a castle once stood, and gathered around the base of this fountain were about two dozen Santas and elves, dressed and ready to roam the streets to hand out to chocolate to the populous.
We soon moved from there to the Christmas markets, where I ate an entire assortment of French food from the area, including a native Bordeaux sweet called cannele, a sandwich with smoked ham and onions from Bayonne, l'Aligot - a speciality from Avignon - which is mashed potatoes and lots of cheese - and a crepe with pure dark chocolate.
As we sat eating our crepes, there was a children's merry-go-round that played high pitched, tonalised versions of Jingle Bells. After a couple of round, the machine broke and the music broke down into a chorus of off tune beeps and tones that I could only describe as the machine vomiting.
We continued our way through the large, open air markets and I bought myself a new, betterr flap hat, bigger and black this time. As it was getting dark, all the lights of the city, including the special Christmas lights, got switched on. The main square lit up like something out of a Christmas film. We decided to head out across the main square, down Rue St Katherine, Bordeaux's main shopping drag. On the wy, we passed a man drinking a beer, and dressed as a giant penis, so I did what any self-respecting tourist would do, and took of photo with him. Just a little further was a big band playing some funky tunes, so Mary and I danced like idiots in the crowd doing a mock tango and mock swing dancing. Penis man then jumped from behind the band and into the dance circle below, dancing with people's small children.
We began walking down the crowded Rue St Katherine, just taking in the main Bordeaux shopping district and its many tiny alleys and shops. Pretty soon we decided to check cinema times for tomorrow and moved down a side alley. The film we wanted wasn't at this cinema, but we did find a woman on the street singing and playing the blues on a double bass, so we stopped and danced some more.
As we reached the end of the road, we decided we were hungry and decided to head home to eat, as nowhere but kebab stores and McDonald's were open. We headed home and Mary cooked up some of the left-over pasta and some fish fillets, with an entree of tomatoes and carrots with dressing. As we ate we watched the French dubbed Disney "Sword in the Stone" and then a French film called "Prete Moi ta Main (Lend Me Your Hand)". We talked until about 1 a.m, then hit the hay.
- from The Journal December 20th 2008
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