One Hour Extra

8.24pm Sunday 29 March 2009

Sunset and Raindrops

From my bedroom window

Yes, we Caen!

Ouest France, Friday 27 March 2009

He is coming! Barack Obama is continuing a tradition started by Jimmy Carter 30 years ago, ensuring no U.S. president has "forgotten" the region of Normandy. No doubt there will be puns at the expense of Omaha Beach (Colleville-sur-Mer), the site of one of the most bloody battles of the Allied landings. I had hoped he would make a visit, and not for any particular reason other than the excitement of Obamarama.

I visited Omaha Beach a few weeks ago on a weekend tour of the Landing Beaches, and have to admit the American Cemetery is a very impressive place. Someone must cut the grass with scissors -the attention to detail and respect given to the fallen soldiers is outstanding.

If I haven't taken off in search of summer adventures by then, I think I'll stick around and see if I can catch a glimpse of the man himself.

Une café, s'il vouz plait

Location: My favourite street in Caen

Enlightenment

When you are a student in a 'boring' town like Caen, you spend a lot of time in front of your computer. Everyone is complaining that there is nothing to do. So this afternoon, when they were all in class and I had a truckload of free time, I decided to become better acquainted with my bike.

I put my camera, jacket and bag in the very handy basket and practically flew down the hill into town, dodging roadworks and illegally parked cars at around 84km/h. I must have looked silly with my orange scarf clinging to my neck for dear life, but I wasn't the only one - the sun was out again and plenty of people had the same idea. Someone yelled out when the jacket fell out and was kind enough to pick it up for me while I screeched to a halt, turned around and walked the bike back up the hill.

I churned my breakfast milk to butter over the cobblestones but when the excitement of the ride was over, I leant the bike against a tree in the square and lay under the blossoms to contemplate enlightenment and/or the episode of Grey's Anatomy I watched last night.

This is what I saw:

Dear Spring

Bonjour, mon nouvel ami

I must apologise for my eagerness. It seems I was a little premature in my welcome. So eager for your arrival was I that I believed you'd arrived 3 weeks ago.

Bien sûr, I wasn't to know that you weren't officially here till the Vernal Equinox, which was only 2 days ago. We had exactly the same amount of daylight and night but I had no idea, you sly devil. Come to think of it, Friday was particularly sunny and I think I may even have a tan line from that brief exposure at lunchtime. Alors, it's nice to see you.

I hear you're gone on June 21, to make way for Summer. It's my birthday then, so I could be distracted and might miss your departure but stick around for a while, won't you? I'm hanging out to see the trees with leaves, flowers in the gardens and less grey skies.

Avec toute mon affection,
Kate xx

Eggs and Artichokes

Location: Caen Sunday Market

Late Night Navigations

The streets were totally devoid of vehicles and it was barely 1.30am.

My breath formed a cloud and I pretended I was smoking, my black leather jacket and overgrown fringe giving me some kind of rock star attitude as I traced my way home along the tram line.

I counted not less than 12 rabbits as I walked - their little shadows bouncing across the dewy grass - and I wondered what they did in the daylight. The mornings bore the piles of dirt and droppings they left behind, evidence of the mischief they'd been up to overnight. They breed like... well, you know. Easter is coming up.

The birds sang like it was nearly dawn but sunrise was still a long way off. The sound made my solitary moment unscary, even among the silent shadows. I passed the school, sitting quietly in the dark, relaxing for a few days until Monday when it would once again draw the crowds and act as some sort of hive full of worker bees.

The red neon glow of the neighbouring Buffalo Grill was reflected on the grey concrete walls of the Residence as I neared. Opening the door to the hall, the thick, warm laundry air filled my lungs and I remembered pulling my sheets out of the dryer earlier in the day.

Opening the door to my apartment, the smell became familiar - a combination I cannot yet dissect, but one that is not unpleasant. I scowled when I saw my clean sheets on the end of the bed, forgotten in my rush to leave. I threw them over the mattress and climbed between them as I dialled his number to say goodnight. Speaking at what was nearly lunchtime there, he wished me sweet dreams and I said I'd speak longer tomorrow.

"Miss you."

"Miss you too."

...

"Love you."

"Love you too."

You looked so pretty

I bought a bike.

It was 40 euros and I paid a little extra for a basket and lock, but I feel like I am getting so much more, bon rapport qualité-prix.

Maybe it was just the baguette in the basket but something felt very French about riding on the wrong side of the road, sans helmet. The brakes are average and the steering a little wobbly, but feeling the wind chill my bones and make my nose run as I roll along the street was a taste of adventures to come.

And speaking of physical activity, I also joined the gym - some 35 euros, paperwork, cartes and a photo later, I was enrolled in boxing, yoga and swimming. It's scheduled classes only (the French do love their control) and the bike ride there will be the perfect warm up. Now I just need to learn how to float like a papillon and sting like an abeille.

Spring Blossom

Blue skies and 15 degrees.

The Destination

Source: ADAA 2008, Matt Sartain

I was thinking about what I wrote yesterday and while there are words there, it doesn't really say anything.

We watched a French film in class today - L'auberge espagnole - which translates literally as The Spanish Apartment but is a French idiom meaning something more like The Melting Pot. It looks at the journey of Xavier, a French graduate who goes on exchange to Barcelona under the Erasmus program. In Australia we just call it an exchange, but in Europe, the word Erasmus gives birth to all sorts of knowing looks and the common "Ahh, you're on Erasmus..." We're every local authority's nightmare, apparently.

The movie is based on Erasmus' famed "In Praise of Folly", a literary work that sounds familiar but of which I have no personal knowledge. Je ne connais pas! Desiderius Erasmus Roterodamus was a 15th century humanist and theologian and the European exchange program is named after him.

For what injustice is it that when we allow every course of life its recreation, that study only should have none? - Desiderius Erasmus, 1509

So Xavier was on a journey. Before getting out 'in the real world', he went abroad for a year. He took off to another country, he barely spoke the language and he was surrounded by all sorts of crazy new people. Maybe they went into his objectives for the journey, but there weren't any subtitles so I missed them if they were discussed. But I was beginning to feel reflective.

I sat in the dark auditorium and I barely understood a word, but at the same time I did understand. I wondered how many of the same experiences would pop up in my journey, how many I'd be able to relate to by the end of this year. Hopefully not all of them. Particularly not the having-an-affair-with-a-married-woman one.

Somebody help me out, please. It's all turning into clichés. Listen to your parents, kids. Turns out they do know a thing or two. I don't have many specific goals for this journey. The Destination is really a lot less important than the experience itself. If I can say one thing when I get home, it will be: Je sais qui je suis.

I know who I am.

We are all on a journey

Source: ADAA 2008, Matt Sartain

I've been kind of quiet, virtually. I started all sorts of literary masterpieces but I just couldn't decide which to finish first. Did the world need a rundown of my weekend or was it hanging out to hear deeply considered reflections on the works of Monet as prompted by my French culture teacher? Big questions requiring big answers, yet my level of enthusiasm for all things blog is unintentionally onomatopoeic. I feel a bit blog, if that is a state one might experience. I don't know, the word just sounds good. Like 'combustible' (a family favourite). 

But seriously. This is France. Most words sounds funny.

What is this guy doing? He has lots of books. Maybe he's moving house. Maybe he's a Med student. Whatever, he's on a journey. We are all on a journey. That is a good way to start some interesting conversation, because regardless of whether you agree, we'll have something to talk about for the next 10 minutes.

I'd like to describe my journey in a really artsy way. I'd liken it to a pilgrimage, a quest for enlightenment or some such. I'd make you all jealous that you weren't off in Europe somewhere, living the carefree life of a student, satiating your thirst for knowledge and cultural integrity. In reality, I just found a nice picture. And I wanted to share it and have something to say about it. 

What journey are you on? Does it matter? Where are you headed? Do you have to carry lots of books?

PS: Don't be jealous. It's not quite the daydream you would think. But it is getting better.

Whatever makes you happy...

Source: Agent Lee gallery.ru

Deauville to Trouville

Last official day of Winter | 28 February 2009

Tulips and Toes

Being homesick follows you around like a dark shadow, waiting for the chance to rub salt into the wound and ruin your day. I guess I've been a bit vulnerable of late, and homesickness took advantage of that.

It's not just a matter of blocking the gap under the door so it can't get in, either. You really have to do everything you can to stop it coming and that's why I bought the tulips. You need to have things you like around you, you need to tell yourself to be happy and you have to know that it just takes time. Grey skies and icy winds exacerbate the situation but they seem to be melting away and I'm taking it as a sign of things to come.

We farewelled winter yesterday. Jumping on a bus headed for the coast, we slapped it on the backside and warned it not to hurry back. After hours and hours of tears, I woke up with puffy eyes, put on my sunglasses and felt the sand between my toes. I felt the sun warm my back and I decided not to be upset any more.

I think the tulips helped.