more amvil

A Picture of Life

Paulo in the sky with diamonds

Brief:
First session over. CK cried when the kids left, especially Bugs Bunny and Spiderman, though they were little terrors the entire two weeks. ESL class sucked two weeks straight; the food might actually be getting worse. Amy is exhausted. Lyon may be the prettiest French city I have seen yet. Amy is even more tired now. Soup and Twinkle switched sites after the two days off, a last minute change in the schedule.

At length:
After a tiring but fun two weeks living life in summer camp, we gratefully, though in some cases tearfully, put the children into their parents' cars or onto the bus and said goodbye. The kids were a really good group to start the summer off with, even if they didn't always appreciate our efforts to entertain them. Many of them were very sweet, and I was sorry to see them go. Of course, with ten minutes of silence after the last one left, all thoughts of wishing they were around dissapated. Two hours after that, five of us, a guitar, and two giant suitcases somehow fit into Bauer's (our director) tiny French car and drove the hour to Lyon. We had a picnic outside until after dark, then walked to the river and sat on the steps under a bridge and hung out until early in the morning. The next day was Bastille Day and we returned to the same stairs along with half the city to watch the fireworks. Paulo in the sky with diamonds...that's what the fireworks looked like. The ooohing and aaahing reminds me that a nice fireworks display still impresses people of all ages. I met several counselors from another site and saw Batman again to say goodbye. We drove back to Tour de Buis the following evening and I was not rested at all to start the new session. Alas, tired again. Still tired? Something like this.

Pictures from camp

outside tour de buis at sunset...

warm down with soup and carcass. yes, i play the tambourine.

with spritz on Mount Segur

Tour de Buis picnic

looging with spritz at Mount D'Olmes

hiking at Mt. D'Olmes

Monopoly, coming down Mount Segur, Counselor Boom in backstage clothes

Life at Tour (de Buis)

I will write in more detail later, but this is just a quick note to assure that I am still alive and well. Three weeks of spring session were fun, and summer session starts today. We have been preparing for the last three days, so the days have been long and stretched out, but productive. I have been coloring a lot, which I love. I am teaching again this session, and looking forward to it. I like all the counselors here at the new site, so it should be a fun couple of weeks. It is a bit strange adjusting to camp names again, since at BAFA we were going by our real names, mostly. I am starting to feel like I have multiple personalities; CK and Amy are not the same person, and since camp hasn't started yet I have been both all week.

BAFA training was an interesting experience last week. It was an excericise both in being a camper and a counselor. More on this later.

I got to my new site on Tuesday after spending a relaxing three days in Bordeaux. The new site, Tour de Buis, is known as the best camp food in Amvil (American Village). Regardless, I am sick of camp food already. It isn't bad, but it's repetitious and mostly prepackaged or canned, which I hate. I would stop eating entirely, but we have to try everything just like the kids, so it will be two months of bad food. Small portions is key here. On the upside, there is a wonderful automatic coffee maker which we have access to at all time of the day. What a perk!

I have some pictures I will post when I have some extra time too. A child stole my memory card on the last night of last session, which was disappointing, but I think I had most of the good pictures off of it already, and others have taken many pictures as well.

Well, that's all for now. Hope this finds everyone well; email when you have time. Signing off - CK

My first week...

I have finished my first week here at the American Village camp in Mt. D'Olmes. High in the Pyrenees mountains, the weather has been unpredictable at best. It snowed on Monday, we have fog daily and at any given time of day, though a little sunshine has made it's way through as well. An english immersion camp, it's hard to tell how much the kids understand. We have two hours of English class in the morning, and the rest of the day is left to entertainment and activities. As counselors, we spend a lot of time dressing up and jumping around, singing songs, and attempting to keep the kids' attention, which isn't always easy. The group (of 52 kids) that we had last week is apparently the worst group that any of the veteran counselors have ever seen. It was definitely difficult to keep them from going wild and being loud, but if that is as bad as it gets, then I have hope for the summer. I was just getting to know and like the kids when we had to send them away. A few of the kids cried, they all wanted us to take their pictures, or take ours, and we finally got them all onto the bus. Doing one last cheer for them to watch through the windows, we waved cheerfully (knowing wine was waiting for us indoors to toast their departure) when suddenly a very big noise sounded from the other side of the bus...a tire had blown. All the kids filed back inside. We weren't sure what to do because technically we weren't working anymore, nor did we have to entertain or help the teachers, but in order to keep our own sanity we jumped in and attempted to keep them entertained and organized. We played some loud music a while for dancing, and let them play games in the snack area. Five hours later, we again put them on the bus and held our breaths until they made it onto the road. A cheer sounded throughout camp as we waved after them, no longer feeling sad at their departure.

Yesterday, a French guy (our director, but he didn't take us as our director, just as a French guy) took us to a castle on top of a mountain. It was beautiful and we got a history lesson on the last battle of the Cathars and saw the field where the almost 300 Cathars were burned at the stake after refusing to renounce their beliefs.

Today the new counselors arrived, and they are all veterans, which makes both Spritz and I feel a little better, since we are still new. I am not sure I can do this again this week, but once everything starts, things begin moving so fast there is really no time to think about how idiotic we are acting. It is so out of my nature to be gregarious that I am struggling with the bulk of the work for this job, but I am really enjoying the ESL teaching. The rest of it just kind of happens, and again, I hope the summer goes fast. I think ultimately it will be a good experience to have had, though not one I will want to repeat.

The camp is beautiful though, and while working, the kids are fun. Remember to email me with any news, or any non-news. I get the chance to check my email often and would love to hear all or anything that is happening with everyone outside of this camp. It is good to have news of the real world, especially since it is so surreal being here. It really is one big act, nothing real at all, so hearing about the real lives of real people would be a nice change from time to time.

At summer camp

Well, I arrived in Foix yesterday and was picked up by the site director and driven up into a fog shrouded mountain to the summer camp where I wil begin my job tomorrow. I am a little nervous about it now that I am here, because it is going to be a time intensive job and there is a pretty specific schedule to follow, which I have only a vague understanding of. I think the first week will be a bit rocky, and then hopefully I will settle into the swing of it and enjoy hanging out with the kids.

All the other counselors seem pretty nice so far. There are three Canadians, two Americans, an English woman, and yesterday there was a French guy, but he left this morning for another camp. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves so far, and also have offered help in settling in. I found the coffee pot this morning and made coffee straight away, so I am feeling alright so far.

My week in London was uneventful, but relaxing. It was nice spending a bit more time with Nat there, and I really like the area of London that she lives in. It was rainy most of the time I was there, but the sun broke through a couple of times. By the time I got to Toulouse, late on Tuesday night, I was used to the cooler weather and when I ventured into the center the next day I was completely unprepared for the heat wave that hit me. I walked around the center for a while, going in and out of stores for the air conditioning, and finally I found a shady place in the park to rest a while. My hotel was a twenty minute bus ride from the center, or an hour walk, so going back to change wasn't really an option. But I dressed more appropriately the next two days and got a little more sun on my still white legs, so they aren't such a shocking difference compared to my very brown arms and face.

Toulouse is the 5th largest city in France and it is called the pink city because of the distinctive color of brick used to build many of the buildings. One of the things that is nice about most of Europe, especially the larger cities, is how international the populations tend to be, and Toulouse is no exception. There were a ton of people around at every time of day, including tourists, many of them French. In the morning on the main road into the center, the sidewalks were lined with food markets stretching for several blocks. There were flowers, vegetebals, all kinds of fruits, and of course fresh meats and cheeses. The guy who runs the hotel I stayed at said that there is a restuarant in one of the buildings on that street that is only open for lunch and all the meals are prepared using food that comes from that market. Needless to say, it is a popular place to lunch and fills up quickly.

It's raining in England

Lisbon was great. It felt much more like a big city than Porto, but was pretty and super fun. There was tons going on, and tons of people everywhere. Also, we found a restaurant where we ate a wonderful Portuguese meal and listened to fado, a locally famous type of music. We weren't sure what we were in for, but once we got there and ordered, it started almost immediately. There were three different singers and each got up and sang 3 or 4 songs with one guitarist for the background music. Fado is a loud, melancholy, operatic kind of song, and it was wonderful. We liked it so much we each bought a cd from each one of the first two professional singers. The last singer was one of the cooks from the restaurant. It was a wonderful evening. We made it back to Porto and spent the afternoon by the waterside before catching our plane back to Marseilles on Sunday night. All of Monday was spent getting retrieving our luggage from the hostel and making it back across town to the train station. Then we took the TGV from Marseilles to Paris. (The TGV recently broke the record for the fastest train in the world at 357 mph.)

Upon arriving in Paris we were met at the train station by Christina and after getting all of our stuff back to the apartment, we went to the steps of Sacre Couer and saw the lights of the whole city from the hill. Despite Jed trying to start a fight, it was nice spending one last night with Justin and Christina. The next day I accompanied all three to Charles De Gaulle to see them off. After a few small issues, and Justin buying an extra bag to distribute the weight out of his gigantic suitcase, everyone made it off ok. So I spent the next three days in Paris alone and staying in Christina's friend's apartment in Montmarte, the neighborhood made famous by the film Amelie. I even shopped at the store highlighted in the film, and had a lovely conversation (albeit a short one) with the guy running the shop.

I wandered around Notre Dame, The Orangerie and the Eiffel tower on Thursday. The Orangerie is a lovely museum with some of Monet's giant Waterlilies paintings exhibited and a lot of other expressionist paintings there. It wasn't open last time I was in Paris, so I was excited to get to see it this time. Then, at the hostel I stayed in my last night in Paris I met a girl from New York state, Kristy, who was super nice and invited me out to hang with her Parisian friends, and it was super fun.

I am now in England with Nat. All of her flatmates are really nice (there are 5 of them, three Brits, an Aussie, and another Kiwi besides Nat). It's been raining since I got here, but I think I will take my chances with the weather tomorrow and go and see some of the sights. London is huge and feels even bigger than Paris. I think that by the time I get back to Toulouse I will be ready for a medium sized city in the south of France, complete with mountains and sunshine.

More Pictures...

Lisbon, Porto, Porto, Justin in Lisbon, Amy in Lisbon (notice the short hair and big glasses...)

Pictures...

Justin in his class on the last day, Justin and Amy in St. Aff for a picnic on the last day, & Amy, Christina and our friend Liz in Millau...

My Soapbox

I recently heard a statistic that only 15% of Americans have passports, and fewer than that travel abroad with them. I am on month 8 of my total travel abroad experiences, and month 3 of this particular trip (and yes I understand the luxury I have as a young American when I say month 3, though my sister would use the word priority instead of luxury...) and still it's not enough time to see all the things that should be seen, experience all the things that should be experienced in a foreign culture, to learn all that can be learned from other lifestyles and perspectives. We rented a car for a week and saw most of Aveyron, the county I have been living in) and yet when I look at the map of France, I think to myself how little of it I have actually seen.

Perhaps we can really only ever know our homes well, but I think that traveling abroad as an American is an important experience and seeing foreign customs against foreign landscapes with a foreign language being spoken all around gives a new perspective about what is important in life. It's a sad thing about American culture how few Americans travel, but even more sad that so few want to. Traveling abroad is not only a chance to learn about foreign cultures, but to learn more about your own.

It's true that time and time again travelers are subjected to the same questions, especially as Americans: Do you like France? What do you think of the war in Iraq? How do you feel about President Bush? And while this line of questioning happens often, and can become tedious, it helps define one's sense of being an American, and also it makes me realize that we truly are spokespeople for our country, and suddenly it feels even more important to travel and meet foreigners. These conversations also include the line, I know and like Americans, but the government blah blah blah. It is that knowing and liking of Americans, or Frenchmen, or Iraqis, or Turks, or whatever nationality that helps to lessen the gap between cultures. There is no other way to break down the cultural divide which sometimes seems so wide. Jed has said more than once over the past few weeks how much he has come to understand that the French are just people, and people are just people everywhere. This isn't a novel concept, yet it is one which can't be properly understood without being experienced. It's easy to say that the French hate Americans, that they are lazy for shutting everything down for their daily two hour lunch breaks and for not wanting to work more than 35 hours per week. But the truth is, they have different priorities than Americans, and they integrate those priorities (for instance time spent with family) into society at large. Certainly we all have cultural beliefs based from a sense of Nationalism which lead to how we stereotype others, but it isn't often that you come across someone who isn't more interested in meeting and having discussions than they are in condemning you for your nationality. And if the French want you to like their country, it isn't because they feel superior, it is simply because they love it, as much as we love Montana, and even the United States.

Beyond these more academic things, I also believe that being a part of and experiencing something extremely foreign, witnessing another successful lifestyle, has personal advantages as well. American society is far too insular on this point, too full of self-regard, and a good dose of 'foreign travel' is necessary from time to time to keep one's head of the clouds of egocentrism. Is France better than America? Yes and no, and in the opposite ways that America is better than France. It's not about superiority of culture or even lifestyle, it's about the all the pieces making up the whole of the global community. Experiencing other cultures is more than vacation, or even discussion. For me, it's about seeing the world map in my mind's eye as I walk the shores of a river so distant from my own home, seeing the lines I cross on this map by foot, and knowing that no one in the world knows where I am - sometimes not even myself - as I ask myself over and over again, in this foreign land, "Where am I?" Being lost and finding your way out is good for the soul; being lost and learning that lost isn't so bad is good for the soul, and finding out that you were never really lost in the first place is better still.

Port in Porto

Well, we packed up and moved out of the chalet this weekend. Christina and Jed left for Paris on Sunday morning, so I went to St. Aff on Saturday night to stay with Justin, because we didn't leave for Marseilles until Monday afternoon. We had intended leaving on Tuesday, but as today is the first day of May, everything is closed, and we couldn't get a bus out of St. Aff on Tuedsday, and so had to leave classes early and take off on Monday afternoon. May 1st is a worldwide holiday like labor day where people strike, or don't work in order to express worker rights. I don't think it is very prevalent in the U.S. because we have Labor Day later in the year. Anyway, on Monday I went to Justin's last classes with him, and it was again really fun to see all the kids again. We played bingo and gave out prizes. All the prizes were things left over from Justin's apt that he didn' want to pack home or throw away, and included a penny bank in the shape of two smiling bananas, two flurouscent yellow plastic vests, a Casino (the supermarket) teddy bear, and a Casino lanyard. Of course, in the second class 7 out of 9 children got a cover-all bingo at the same time and so we gave away all of the gifts along with two dollars and 50 cents of American money. In all the subsequent classes, because they had heard about the previous prize giving, we gave away one dollar bills, which were pretty much a hit. In the last class we didn't play bingo, but Justin just talked to the class for a few minuutes because we had to leave like 15 minutes early to catch our bus. They had just got an aquarian and they told him that they wanted to name one of their fish after them, and they let him choose the fish. It was very cute. Then we had to grab all of our stuff and run to bus station through the rain. We made it, but just barely.

In Marseilles we had two goals: to eat boullibasse and have my hair cut. I am in Porto, Portugal right now, and happy to say that we accomplished both of these goals. Bouilliabasse is a fish stew famous from the Provence region of Southern France, particularly in Marseilles. It was delicious and I am glad that we found it. We earned it, after walking into the center of town from our hostel (2.5 hours) and searching out a restaurant that was selling it for less that 35 euro. Also, I got my hair cut, causing us to again just barely catch our flight to Porto, but it looks good and is so much easier for traveling than when it was longer. I will probably post a picture at some point, but it is quite similar to the last time I had my hair cut off, for those of you who remember it.

This brings us to Porto. We are so excited to be here still. Last night after getting in, we walked around for a while and saw quite a few cathedrals all lit up. Many of their buildings here are tiled, and they are hideously gaudy and gorgeous at once. I love them. We walked all over Porto today, and by all over I mean that all together we probably spent about 7 hours just walking. But we saw a lot of the city, and disregarding the painful blisters on my feet and the many hills and stairs that we climbed, and then walked down only to climb again, it was beautiful. We made it to the coast and saw the ocean, we spent time in the center where the river goes through town, I got pictures of quite a few bridges, and to wrap things up, we tried Port, which is from Porto and also the thing it is famed for. Never having had it, or even having wanted to try it, it was truly a cultural experience. We went to the museum of Port first to learn about it, and then finally found the recommended cafe to have it. I had mine with chocolate cake, and learned why port is an after dinner drink. It is a sweet, strong, wine served in small amounts and is certainly a slow sipping drink. We really liked it and are glad that we got the chance to try it here in Porto.

Besides that, things have worked our swimmingly for us to go to Lisbon tomorrow, so we are on our way. I am looking forward to more of Portugal. Both Justin and I agree that Portugal is not like anywhere else either of us has ever been. And of course, as always, being here really inspires me to learn the language. It is just close enough to seem easy, and just different enough to seem entirely exotic and beautiful. Perhaps someday I will speak all the languages. I think I would like that, but for now, I guess I will stick to learning the essential words and traveling where I can get.

Pictures

My cat, out in St. Affrique, Amy in Millau, Amy and Augustin, Christina and Jed in Albi

Pictures

Christina and Amy in the rain, Amy and Justin on my birthday, drinking champagne, Justin and Jed at Mr.Gil's party, and Christina and Amy dolmen hunting

Always use your French English Dictionary

So, for Christina's spring vacation, after much deliberation and number crunching, we decided that the least expensive and most fun idea would be to rent a car and drive around Aveyron (the district (county) in France where Millau is, and of which Rodez is the "county seat"). There is a ton to see here, including Roquefort, the home of the very pungent cheese of the same name, and much of it can't be seen by bus or train. The first day we saw a famous boat shaped chateau (castle) and then went dolmen hunting. The second day we drove to the Lakes then went to Chateau le Brousse, which is an old castle in a small village. Driving around the countryside has been amazing, especially in springtime here, everything here is so green and lovely. It is a rolling hill kind of place, with vast fields divided by old stone fences, lines of trees, and some kind of low bushes. We have also seen a lot of livestock over the last five days, and while this is something that we have a lot of at home (across the street in Billings for me) it's still cool to see so much of the local life. We went to Albi on Monday, which is actually just on the other side of the Aveyron border in the Tarn district. The river Tarn runs through Millau and into Albi, and the city itself is very pretty. We had a nice walk along the river there, a city of bridges, and saw a giant Cather church in the center. The church wasn't open to go inside, but as I have said, and heard said many times before,including on the steps of this cathedral, you've seen one cathedral you've seen them all. This sounds cynical, but it doesn't take many magnificent cathedrals for this to be true. Each is amazing in it's own right, and they quickly become redundant; we found out that this is also true for castles.

That aside, we have seen a ton of countryside and taken hundreds of pictures. Today, after filling the tank of the super-SuperU car, we drove to Le Coutreveraude (something like this), another castle, and had a look around. It was free to walk around, besides the €2 it would cost to get back out of the parking lot. The castle is actually part of a fortified city that now houses many little shops and boasts some great views of the countryside. Though rainy, we enjoyed wandering around there for a couple of hours, but were ready to go when we were done, because as aforementioned; it was raining. It was at this point that our previously unmentioned fears about having put the wrong gas in the car were proven correct. In France, green is for unleaded and Diesel is also called Gazoil. We had filled our almost empty tank with Unleaded by mistake, and were suddenly stranded at the castle, in the middle of rural France and no phone book.

Christina talked to some road workers nearby who called a garage for us, and pretty soon we were in the front seat of a tow truck with the SuperU car safely strapped on back. A couple pastis and hours later, not to mention the €130 we "had to pay to fix our mistake," and we were on the road again. On the upside, we didn`t have to pay the 2 euro parking fee.

After my fun Russia experiences Mindy told me that it is not a trip unless you visit the police station just once. Well, already having done that, my French trip has been marked instead with a mechanic`s garage. Due to unexpected expenses we had to cut our car vacation a little short, but we still saw a ton of Aveyron, and in the end it was much cheaper then anything else we could have done; though double what we were expecting thanks to our guesswork. The moral of the story is, use your French English dictionary.

Chuck Norris doesn't dance, he round-house kicks...

Justin came to Millau last weekend for Mr. Gil's party. Mr. Gil is one of the people who works in Christina's school system, and he invited us to his bi-annual academic party last time Chrisitna and I were at Inspection and he called in a favor to get her in to see the dentist at the last minute (remnants of their bad trip to Barcelona a couple of weeks earlier). Anway, March 31st finally arrived and Christina, Jed, Justin and I all caught a ride with one of the other assistans, Anna Maria, to St. Georges Luzecon (Louis-san-son). It was so much fun; the French really know how to have a good time. There was lots of crazy French dancing, and a dj playing terrible music. The party was also a dinner, and everyone brought some kind of dish, so really it was a glorified pot luck (Christina made a French version of potatoe salad that was really good). There were over 100 people there and we had a really fun time. Anna Maria took Jed and Christina home earlier than Justin and I wanted to leave, so we caught a ride back to Millau with a guy we had been talking to earlier in the evening. I spoke Spanish with a guy from Cuba who now teaches in France, and practiced my few French phrases, like "I don't speak French" and "I am American," the last not always met with a smile. I got this great video on my camera of Justin and some random French guy (the one who didn't like that we were Americans) dancing to some kind of French polka music while simultaneously drinking champagne. If there is a way to get it on this blog, I will do it. It's hilarious and awesome at the same time.

Anyway, we didn't really do anything the next day and Justin and I finally made it out of the chalet around 5pm to have some dinner before he caught his 8:40pm bus back to St. Aff. Somehow, after eating pizza at Pizza Miam Miam (idiotic name, great pizza) and talking to some Irish rock climbers in there, we stopped by the Bodeghita for a glass of wine before going to the bus station. Next thing we know, Justin has yet again missed his bus. We made it back to the chalet around 11:30, then stayed up until 4 am. Justin had to get up at 6 to make his bus, which was imperative this go-around because his first class on Mondays is at 8:30am. I think he was unhappy to get up because he was making a lot of noise, and I am sure it is unnecessary to say that I did not offer to walk him to the bus station this time. I heard later that he ran 10k that afternoon. My only explanation for this is that he is 22.

From Montpelier to Sete and home again

Well, we made it to Montpelier for our birthdays, and though the weather was ok (we are weather obsessed here...actually, to be accurate Jed is weather obsessed; he watches the French weather five times a day and is always analyzing and explaining the weather maps to us)however, after losing Jed in the afternoon, and spending the rest of our time trying to plan for the spring break that we are now in, we didn't do much celebrating on Saturday. To make matters worse, I was beginning to get sick, which I am just now getting over, and felt crappy. We ate pizza at one of Christina's favorite places, and then went to bed listening to CNN world news and Jon Stewart (in English!). The next day was the time change, which we didn't know, so we just barely made our train to Sete (is there a pattern here?)

We had earlier to decided to spend Sunday in Sete, a short train ride from Montpelier to the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, and though it was very windy, and I hate windy, it was otherwise lovely. Boats line the river of the city and the harbors on the sea, and the water was a beautifully bright aqua that commanded our attention for sometime. We ate pizza in the park and then walked up to the cemetary where the French poet Paul Valery is buried. I don't want to be buried, but if I ever changed my mind about that it would be to be buried in a place like this. Not only is the view from the hill the cemetary sits on beautiful, the place itself is beautiful. If my computer weren't on the fritz, I could put up some pictures, but alas, techonology doesn't seem to like France. Anyhow, from the hill you can see the aqua water extend as a calm sheet all the way to the horizon, where it joins the darker blue of the smooth, cloudless sky. The place itself is huge, and terraced into the hill, though it feels small and one feels more at home among these crosses and monuments for the dead than you would think possible. It deserves the label breathtaking, and though we didn't find Paul Valery's grave, we were happy to have made the trek up the hill to see it. It remains my favorite place visited so far.

I am 27

So a week later, Christina, Jed, and I headed to Justin's for a dinner party. We got there on the last bus and Justin made us fresh mussels and we had fresh chocolate and strawberries. Then we took a walk and decided to go to the club La Bama. The catch is that La Bama is a 25 minute walk or a 5 minute car ride. So we hitchhiked. This is something that I would never attempt in America, but is apparently done all the time in southern France. So, we got there and danced to crazy techno music, for a while and then got a ride back to Justin's in a tiny car with two guys and a dog.

The next day we had pizza from the African Queen. She is this interesting older French woman who has a tiny place in St. Affrique (St. Aff). She lived in Israel for a while where she learned Hebrew and met her husband. They moved back to France and now they have this little restaurant shop where you can order homemade food to go. We waited about 30 minutes for 2 pizzas, which were delicious, and were offered tea and conversation while we were waiting. The African Queen, as the woman is locally known, told us a little about herself and also about St. Aff. She said that it's a good place because it used to be a larger place and then started to die. About 5 years ago it was only 4000 people, and now it is growing again. She said it isn't like France at all; there are people from all over France and an international population as well. All in all, I think I like St. Aff more than Millau. It helps that Justin lives right in the middle of this small town, so nothing was ever more than 5 minutes away.

Anyway, Christina and Jed left for Millau Sunday night and I stayed with Justin until Wednesday morning. It was at this point when we all realized that my birthday was Monday; I decided to stay anyway because I wanted to attend Justin's classes with him. I love traveling because you always meet the most interesting people and become instant friends because of sharing a language. Justin took me to all of his classes with him on Monday and Tuesday; he does all of his hours in the first two days of the week which keeps the rest of the week open for traveling. We drank tea on our breaks and bobbed in and out of the rooms for times varying from 20 to 45 minutes, depending on the age of the students, which vary from 5-11. I participated in all of the classes and had a great time with the students and the lessons. The last lessons we did on Tuesday consisted of drawing monsters. I would say to the class in enlish, "The monster has 5 feet," then the kids would deconstruct the sentence and Justin would help them in French if they needed it. It was super fun to watch the kids get excited to draw, understand what I was saying, and then get upset because the monster had 5 feet and three legs. They just couldn't figure this out, no matter how many times we explained it to them.

Then, for my birthday we got a bottle of wine, a bottle of champagne and Justin made us omellettes. We got pastries from the bakery for "cake" and they were chocolatey and delicious. On Tuesday, we basically repeated Monday. We had a really fun time hanging out and talking and walking around St. Aff. I can't belive that I am 27, but I had a lovely birthday, and am looking forward to this coming up weekend when Christina and I will celebrate our birthdays (hers in March 23) together in Montpellier.

A weekend in Nimes

I met Christina's friend Justin, who is teaching in St. Affrique, the first weekend we came to Millau. We hung out for about 20 minutes before we had to head back to Millau and he mentioned going to Nimes in few couple of weeks and wanting someone to travel with. I told him I might be interested. He came to Millau a couple of weeks later and stayed the weekend, and we decided to go for sure. I met him at the bus station in Millau at 7:30 am, he coming in from St. Aff and then we took the bus to Montpellier. We ate chocolate crepes and had coffe and then we wandered around the shopping district before we caught our train to Nimes. We walked out of the train station into a beautiful spring day and straight up to the Arena, which looks like a smaller version of the colloseum and where they still have bullfights. Though we had no solid plans of what to see or where to stay, everything just fell into place. We went to the tourism office and on the way came across the Roman ruins that makes Nimes a place to visit. It looked simultaneously huge and too small for the space in it was in. I will attach pictures later when I can use my own computer...

Anyway, we got the directions to the hostel where we could stay for 15 euro a night and a 40 minute walk from the center. Then we found a cafe to eat lunch outside. We sat there for a couple of hours and ate salad and drank wine. We decided to walk around and check out the local hotel scene. We found a one star hotel (they mark everything by stars here on the signs) and it was 35 euro a night for two, so we took it. It was just a couple blocks away from the colliseum, so we came out great on that one. Then we wandered about for a bit and came across the Roman gardens. There were a bunch of white statues and a pond and some stairs built into the hill at the end. We wandered about and took some pictures and then headed back to the center for dinner. We ate pizza and I tried a traditional French apertif, cassis with kir. Then we went to a bar for gin and tonic and found the first of many glow sticks from the night. We found one gay bar where we found more glow sticks, and had champagne; then we hit a club like place which was tightly packed. This place had a monitor in the front room showing the back room where there is supposed to be dancing; all we saw was a bunch of people standing still. We wandered from bar to bar, just to check things out, and noticed how many highschool students and middle aged people were out and about. I guess most of the people our age live in other places, like Montpellier.

The next day, we slept in and then found ourselves a good French breakfast of coffee (the only time I've had coffee in large cups in France by the way) baguette and jam and croissants. It was great. Then we went walking to find the tower that was one Justin's photocopied page of the town. We found a little park entrance that we decided to take a detour through. After a rambling park walk of about 20 minutes, it led us straight to the tower. All in the all weekend worked like this the whole time, things just falling into place. Then we had a leisurely lunch of crepes and red wine (a theme of my southern France experience) and finished with a glass of champagne.

The train back to Montpellier left us just enough time to catch our bus. So we go wait for the bus and then try and get on it, and the guy is like, no you can't get on this bus, this is a private bus. So we go back to the train station and the lady is like, it wasn't a bus, it was a train, and you missed it. But you can catch the next bus. So, we wandered around Montpellier a while and got to the bus station just as the bus was pulling away. We flagged it down and just barely made it back to Millau by midnight.

Mr. Vincent is cleaning the pool

I have easily settled into Millau. Our little chalet porch overlooks the only gym in Millau, which is run by Mr. Vincent, who also owns the chalets. He is an intersting little man with eighties permed and frosted hair, full of gel and somehow still a little frizzy. We can always hear it when he teaches aerobics, because the bad eighties music gets loud enought to drift through our usually open front door. Whenever he sees us sitting outdoors, he comes out and greet us in French, then for my and Jed's benefit adds in English, France is good, no? It is, we agree.

Millau is a compact city and everything radiates out from the Village Centre, which is marked by the giant water fountain that comes on around 9 am. All the red rooved buildings are settled into the valley and up on the fills around it, and the road out heads straight under the Viaduct. In the evening sunset it would make a great ending to a French Western. Do the French have Western movies? I don't know, I gave up on French TV shortly after my dive into French Wheel of Fortune.

All the women here, and most of the men, walk the streets with prams. According to French Glamour all the women who don't already have babies by the time they are 35 will have them afterwards for sure. Crossing the street can be tricky business, because one is so easily disctracted by cute small children that there isn't always time to look for oncoming traffic. This may actually work to my benefit because you need a great deal of confidence to cross the streets. They don't have stop signs and rarely have signals. There are roundabouts instead, and if you want to cross the best thing to do is step out into the street and hope the drivers will stop for you. I haven't made up my mind yet, but the overall consensus as far as I can tell is that the French are good drivers (translation: good brakers) and though they drive fast, they also stop fast so pedestrians aren't usually in danger. Justin says the key is making eye contact; I guess the idea is that if they acknowledge your presence they cannot in good conscience pretend they didn't see you and then run you down.

There are bakeries and butcher shops everywhere, though the idea of the "super store" is becoming more common. More and more western style stores with everything available are around, like Super U and Spar. Yesterday, we ventured out to Geant which is a sad little mini-mall like place with two cheap shoe stores, only one of which was opened, a cheap clothing store, closed for renovation, and two giant and cheap supermarkets. I guess I prefer the Super U at first, and the market second.

Jed and I went to the market the other day and it was lovely. Besides being a beautiful sunny day, we wandered through the closed streets and watched all the people buying meat, fruit and bread for the next few day's of meals. Market it three days a week. The sidewalk we came down to walk into it went past a long row of interesting and delicious looking breads, but not before we passed a trailer full of raw meat. I looked over just in time to see the proprietor swinging two dead and skinned rabbits up onto the scale. I don't want to say that they were bloody, but they were certainly freshly dead and quite red. I think it may have scarred me; I can't fully explain how, because fresh meat is better than frozen, but I don't want to eat rabbit and besides that it was just gross.

The days here alternate between slightly cloudy but warm and super warm with endless blue, unbroken by so much as a wisp of clouds. There are hanggliders over the cliff daily, and to top it all off, Mr. Vincent is cleaning the pool. Spring is afoot.

La Roue de la Fortune

Does watching tv still count as bad for you if you can't understand any of it? Last week I put the tv on for some background noise and to give my computer speakers a break. I watched about 15 minutes of the Tom Hanks movie Cast Away, dubbed in French. Then I was watching a French game show, thinking that with sentences outside of dialogue I may have a better idea of getting some words out of it. Of course, only knowing the French words for hello, goodbye, and the check please, it has turned out be quite unlikely that I will learn any words from watching TV. After giving up on the game show, I was channel surfing the 5 French channels that we get here in the chalet and I came across Will and Grace dubbed in French. Never being a huge fan of the show, it is possible I have seen this episode before, but I still had no idea what was happening. I am wondering if the laugh track is also re-dubbed in to better match the french version of the dialogue. I didn't watch any TV in Russia, but Dana said that the dubbing is really bad, often over top of the English which can still be heard. The French obviously have more time or money, because everything I have seen thus far has been dubbed very well. I guess this episode is pretty funny too, because there is much laughter; it's lost on me though.

So tonight, after losing Jed (leaving Jed, depending on who you ask), Christina and I came back to the chalet after a short stop at the Super U for groceries and wanting to watch a movie, had to settle for French television. I found Veronica Mars, which is kind of a guilty pleasure for me because it comes on after the Gilmore Girls on the WB, and so I started watching it, but soon got bored because I couldn't follow in French. So, I turned the channel and found French Wheel of Fortune. I was kind of excited, because for some reason I think that if the words are up on a board that I will be able to read and then understand them, even in French. Plus, I am a Wheel of Fortune fan from way back. So we are watching the 'French Vanna White' and decide that is like a California tan Pamela Anderson version of Vanna White, and then while talking in French to 'Pat' we hear say something in English; it was a quick phrase but I didn't detect an accent, so now I am intrigued. I google French Wheel of Fortune and after following a line from Google to Wikipedia I find out that she has her own website. She is a Swedish super-model who was once on the Swedish Olympic ski team and then was Miss Sweden in the the Miss World pageant in South Africa in the mid-nineties. She was picked up as a high fashion model in Paris, and while trying to break into acting, she has extended herself into the world of game shows. What you can't learn on the internet...

Also, Wheel of Fortune is just one example of how French tv is one big dance party. After one round, they began playing this famous french pop song that was the subject of one of the rounds and pretty soon 'Vanna' and the contestants are all dancing on the stage. It was madness, especially since, as Christina points out, though the French love to dance, they suck at it. Last week we watched this crazy music special on Friday night with all the really present famous French singers. It was on for like three hours, and each song had it's own theme complete with sets and costumes. It was supremely weird, but also supremely entertaining, and the highlight of the night was when the French sang, in English, the Bryan Adams song Everything I Do and a rockin' version of The Arrow's I Love Rock and Roll, complete with goth makeup and Victorian dresses. The rain makes want to hate this country, but the crazy music makes me love it. (By the way, in case you were worried, Jed turned up and is in tact and just fine; he even had a kebab.)

Where I live...

This is the front porch of the chalet; and notice the French bike. Below is the view of the Viaduct from just behind the Super U.

Life in France

The chalet is situated just below the highway that runs through these parts. The chalet itself is part of a group of little cabins that are meant more as vacation spots than regular apartments, and the 'road' that they are on, which is really a walking path, is called Montana. So we live at 315 Montana; this seems appropriate since we are three Montanans living in France. (Me, my best friend Christina from Bozeman, and her boyfriend from Eureka.) There is a wonderful view of the whole city just below it extending back into the mountains on the other side and the cliffs that border Millau on the right side. Far to the left is the Viaduct, which is visible from just about everywhere in town. In the middle of town are these bizarrely gnarly trees that probably look like totally normal trees in summer but right now just look like something out of a stylized horror film. We went to Roquefort, where they make the cheese and age it in caves-I personally think this cheese tasted rancid. There are these giant posters of butterflys everywhere and you are supposed to follow the butterfly, which if you look closely is made of roquefort cheese, to the caves.


They were closed when we found them, but the countryside was pretty.

Then we went to St. Afrique (pop. approx 7000) last week to visit one of Christina's fellow assistants, and friend Justin (Ohio, 22). (Roquefort, Millau, and St. Afrique are all within 30 minutes of each other, so this was easily achieved because we still had the Super U car at this point...) After getting the grand tour (consisting of 5 minutes and the church - not a cathedral, just a church) Justin commented on a French park on the 'main drag' (St. Afrique is very small, so I use the term main drag loosely) and how the French really keep everything really manicured because they really like to try and control nature. I must also point out at this time that this tendency seems to mostly apply to large trees, because this French park, 'like most French parks,' had no grass.

Justin came and stayed with us last weekend here in Millau. He is the only assistant, and only American, in St. Afrique, so needless to say, he was happy to hang out with us. We all had dinner then went out and drank some beer. We didn't get back to the chalet until 4am (I was shocked by the time) and then Justin and I stayed up talking until 6 am. He is 22, from Ohio, and I pretty much love him. Justin and I walked back from town together on Saturday together, discussed the celebrities we saw in Chrisitna's French Glamour magazines, and talked about books and philosophy. I love this whole traveling thing, because everywhere I go I stay up late at night like I am back in college and discuss current events, global politics, philosophy, and the endlessly entertaining world of famous people. Dana and I did it about language and culture shock; Dana's friend Kostya and I did it about history and Russia in general; Dana, her friend Maxim (who was kind enough to put us up a couple of time in Moscow at his apartment) did it about Russia and the world economy and our generation's place in it; and Christina and Jed and I have had some of the same conversations, revolving around history, the American economy, the English language, and how much we love creme fraise (French sour cream). Anyway, we were all pretty tired on Sunday, and it was the only truly nice we've had so we went to the park (which has free wi-fi) and played on the internet and read some more bad magazines in French.

This weekend I am going to go to Nimes (Neme) with Justin and maybe Christina and Jed also. It should be cheap, and I am looking forward to it.

How is water so many different colors?

I was walking to the Super U tonight to buy a couple of things for dinner. But rounding the corner and coming over the hill, I noticed that the giant U was not lit up in its bright red Super U glory, nor were there any cars in the parking lot. Alas, the Super U was closed because I forgot that it is Sunday in Europe. Much like the two hour lunches and how things close at 8 pm on a normal day anyway, I am once again reminded that I am in a foreign land, and I am spoiled by living in America. Spoiled by having access to whatever I want at almost any time of day, and also in thinking that it I should have that access.

(Which brings me to a quick comment about Wal-Mart. I know that we all have our own opinions about Wal-Mart; many of us hate it as one of the big box stores which is no good for independent business, and most of us shop there anyway. I would just like to point out that Wal-Mart exists as a by-product of our economic system, one which allows competition and supplies a demand in product, cost, and time. While there are obvious draw backs to the big box store model, it exists because of our economic system, which I will stand by as one of the best in the world. I mean who wants to buy underwear outside in the winter?)

Anyway, instead of turning around, or even being disappointed, I walked a little bit further to the bridge that crosses into Millau proper and down to the river bank. In the misty, foggy, evening, I was staring at the water amazed that it is yet another color of water I have come across. Is it the day, the time, the fog? I don't know, but the more-blue-then-green teal color of the water had me staring at it for a while. I am attaching a picture, but unfortunately the evening darkness effects the coloring in the photo, and even photoshopped it doesn't come out quite right. (Also, my camera seems to be on the fritz...as soon as it dies that is every single that I brought me, broken or gone; it's amazing what you think you need that ou don't really...)

Millau is a little smaller than Bozeman in population. The buildings are all a pinky tan color, with mostly red rooves dotting the densely built skyline from our view here on the hill overlooking the town. With the fresh, wet, green of this early and rainy spring, Millau is certainly a better place to be than Russia or Montana (if only for weather). Most of the cars stop for me as a pedestrian, but I wonder if they can tell by looking at me, or perhaps just because I am walking where they are driving, that I am a foreigner, an American. I imagine that my shoes or my coat give me away. Still, I try to blend in by saying Bonjour, and Au Revoir when I walk in and out of shops. I can figure out the French well enough to buy groceries so far. And we have a coffee maker here, though I have been drinking just as much (or more) tea over the last month, and dare I say that I even like it!

(And just to put your minds at ease, I had a lovely dinner anyway; a French-bacon and potato "scramble" with garlic and cream, topped with melted cheese and Creme Fraise (a sour cream like substance) and of course, a little French red wine. I may become something a cook after all.

Arriving in France

Upon arriving in Paris, I was so happy to be met by friends and English speakers!! We went to the catacombs in the afternoon, see the new link. It was pretty much creepy all the way around. But Paris is beautiful in the spring, I didn't really even need a coat. We walked to a park and up this beautiful little street which had an early building of a famous architect at the end. The building itself isn't famous, but with two "architecture boys" (as Dez and Christina like to call them) we were kept well informed about what we were looking at and entertained by the sheer number of pictures they take of all the buildings around here. It gives a person new eyes when looking at things, following these guys around. It was also nice to feel like I recognized something. I went with Mark and Dez (Christina's friends from Bozeman) to the Champs-Elysees and upon seeing the Arc de Triomphe at the end, I felt happy to be somewhere I have a memory of. Plus, it's Paris. Maybe not my favorite city in the world, but a beautiful one, just entering springtime.

We drove across France the next day, five people and 10 bags, just barely fitting in the tiny tiny car that Jed and Christina rented from the grocery store. France gets more beautiful the farther south you go, and it is nice weather. If not sunny, at least it isn't snowy. It rains every couple or hours, but I can handle that. I have been here in the chalet by myself for the last couple of days (everyone else went to Barcelona, which I decided to forego for now in order to rest and put my mind back together.


This picture was taken from the front porch of the chalet. It is Millau as seen from our front door. I feel like I am walking in the picture I had on my computer desktop. If I walk just down the driveway, I can see the bridge also. It's pretty much amazing.

Pictures

These are a few pictures, finally. My new backpack. It looks a little sad in this picture, but it's great. Also, me and Tonya, Dana's friend & fellow English teacher. Her boyfriend Kostya and Dana are there too, at the party we were at on the Saturday before I left. And me, on my first night in Moscow (and in Russia) standing in front of St. Basil's church. That was a good thing about Moscow, and an impressive first night there (though freezing, freezing, freezing...) Also seen, Dana and me in front of a giant statue of Lenin and me in front of Patriot's Park, which is in The Master and Margarita, one of my favorite books by the Russian writer Mikhail Bulgakov.

Russian Impressions...

Kostya told me the other night, that Moscow is not Russia, and that St. Petersburg is also not Russia. Well, I didn't go to St. Petersburg, but I am glad that a Russian told me that Moscow is not Russia because I didn't like Moscow. Not even a little bit. It is huge, gray, dirty, chaotic, covered in dirty slush and snow, wet, and cold. The only thing I liked about it was the Metro system, which is the only efficient think I saw in Russia in two and a half weeks, and even that a series of escalators and stairs, crowded train cars (some with fake wood paneling) and hallways, and just far too many people. How much of this has to do with the weather, probably a lot, but I am not sure that I would like it more in the summer time. And it is because of this, this intense dislike of Moscow, that I had such a good time in Russia.

My Russia trip was not a tourist trip. I was a visitor, staying with a friend, meeting her friends, attending her classes, living a very short Russian life in provincial Russia. I only spent a couple of days in Moscow total, and did see the major Moscow sights: the Kremlin and Red Square. We attempted to see some other stuff, but somehow time just gets away from you there. We stayed up late talking, discussing what we saw the essential Russian problem and attempting to think of ways to fix it. We made broad generalizations based of the details of our problems there, trying to define Russia and what appears to be her broken system. We drank a lot of tea, which I think I can say that I like now, and almost as much coffee, which was consumed while sitting in cafes because Russia hasn't grasped the concept of coffee to go yet.

I attended two of Dana's classes and helped to 'teach' them, which means that I particpated in the discussion of english vocabulary and the differences between Russian and American culture. We also had an American Club meeting, something Dana does weekly for any students that want extra practice speaking English.

I attended two parties with Dana's friends, one in Tula and one Moscow the night before I left. These parties entail much food and much vodka, and on Saturday I found out that Russia also has an equivalent of box wine. Most of the people at these parties do not speak English, so I was left to Dana's translating, her friend Tonya, who speaks excellent English and teaches at the University that Dana works at, my very few words, and after much vodka, Tonya's boyfriend Kostya would begin speaking to me in English. It was broken, but he tried and I think that we mostly understood each other. Incidentally, Kostya is the most animated Russian I met. He used voices and large arm movements every time he told a story, and each was usually followed by his laughter.

In Moscow, the people seem brooding and morose, and little wonder with how crowded it is. People crowd one another, pushing through lines and pushing you aside if you let them. However, once you know someone, it seems that the hospitality is overwhelming. They give you directions, help you problems or questions, use what little english they have, feed you, offer you more, make toasts to you, offer you tea and vodka etc. I am very grateful to Tonya for taking time from a busy schedule to help us with my registration and also to invite us to Moscow for her best friend's birthday party on my last night there, where we also spent the night. We weren't sent away until we had a good breakfast, tea, and they made us sit for a moment and 'have one for the road' (a drink of white wine) which is a tradition in Russia. Then, Tonya's friend Anya's boyfriend walked us to the transportation spot and hailed and then paid for our cab to the metro so we could get to the airport. I never even got his name.

Yesterday, Today...

Yesterday was my day of Russian culture. Dead Lenin, check. Kremlin, check. St.Basil's cathedral, check. Exhausted, we finished the day off with a meal at the Yalki Palki and then a beer at a pub on the main tourist street, Arbat. Back to russian life as usual this week, and I think I prefer it; small town life in the provinces is much easier to deal with than the crazy speed of Moscow. Small town, of course, is near 600 million people. More later, but all is well and the food is still great. I am going to buy a Russian cookbook now, and all who really know me well know that I don't really cook. But I think Russian food has inspired me. Who knew?

There are, however, many police in the metro stations today. We aren't sure why, but suspect it has something to do with the new registration law, and it makes us nervous. We are totally legal at this point, but it seems that it doesn't always help here to have everything in order. And you may not know it, but the police aren't the most trustworthy group to deal with. Dana won't even ask for directions from them on the streets...imagine then how we felt when we were told to go there for help with registration...

I was not deported, and somehow everything has worked out...

I have only been in Russia for six days and I have spent five of those day afraid of being deported.  You see, when you come to Russia, you must register with the Russian government within three days so that they can track your whereabouts.  Well, I am going on day seven, and still no registration. But it's not like we haven't tried...we go one place, they tell us to go somewhere else, and they tell us to wait before they tell us to go somewhere else. Today, I finally got to the point that it has been so much trouble I would buy another ticket to leave early, but alas, neither can I leave this country without first being registered.  This is a really long story, which really includes far too many police stations and too many overly made-up women saying No.  I have never been so rejected in my life; I mean, I've been rejected, but never so often in so little time and over and over again.  And the thing is, I can't even take it personally, because there is this new Russian law that we really don't understand.  The real problem is that none of the Russian officials or tourist agencies understand it either, and they are passing us around from person to person, from office to office, from agency to agency in order to avoid responsibility for fixing my problem, even though they created in the first place.  

I have learned a few words, particularly 'spasiba' which means thank you.  At the end of the day when the man helping us (the only man, incidentally-i don't know what this means since every person who rejected us was a woman) after Dana had translated what he said, I stopped before I left and called to him through his office door, Spasiba, Spasiba.  He looked up and laughed, nodding.  (I think he really wanted to help us.)  Dana laughed also, and then said to him, "This is her only Russian word so she wanted to use it, but she is very, very grateful."  And I am.  

I could go on and on, trying to explain the days and hours spent worrying and working on this; I could try and count the number of people that we have tried to talk to (9 in 5 days) but I don't want to bore you with the details.  And actually, it is a fascinating story filled with the philosophy of and our personal theories surrounding the Russian bureaucratic system, but it is a long, varied, complicated story.  Suffice it to say, once I am officially 'in' this country I will have a truly Russian story under my belt. And the story ends with me, after having so much trouble with a simple problem, ready to give the Russian government anything they want...copies of my passport, my visa, my customs card...my picture! my money! my books! Anything anything anything to get them to register me and then leave me alone until I leave the country; and it is in this moment, this moment of utter desperation, ready to do anything to be left alone, that I realize the power of a police state.

The rest of my Russian experience has been very Russian as well.  I have eaten much Russian food, ridden on all three of kinds of public transportation used here in the provinces, including the marshuke (a mini-van that you ride in with abut 14 other people) bought food and gloves and an orange hat at the outside market...each day and experience is truly a story in itself.  At the market, for example, they sell shoes, sweaters, socks, and underwear.  And can I tell you, it is snowing.  It is below zero.  I cannot imagine buying a bra outside in the middle of rural Russina.  When I commented on this to Dana, she said, yeah, I realized that I was really comfortable living here when I tried on a bra at one of the markets last year.  I do not know how this works, and I did not ask for details, but I guess it just goes to prove that acclimation to any situation is possible.  

Denver, really?

I will not repeat it here due to length, but there is a Chinese folk tale about a man and his son and their horse and a broken leg...well, it's a long story. But the moral of the story is that sometimes when something happens it may seem like it is bad, but really it is good. And when it looks good, it may be bad. I guess this sounds like the moral of the story is that you cannot take anything at face value, or that you should always be optimistic, unless something good happens, then maybe negative is ok. Or perhaps it is about contradiction, how it exists and we should just accept that. Really, the story is about a horse, but in any case, disregarding the horse, I have learned in the last five days that all these things apply to Russia.

My story is about a lost bag. A beautiful blue bag, filled with all kinds of essential items, all picked out meticulously to meet my needs on this particular trip. But with that bag, I would have missed my flight, not fit on the first marshuke ride to Tula (where Dana teaches and lives) and would have altogether a harder time getting around, as it weighs far more than twice the one I now carry. So I guess my horse with a broken leg has turned out in my favor after all. I can only hope that if the bag has made it all the Denver in the last two weeks, it will make it back home unharmed.

Perhaps the most important thing a person needs when attempting to survive in a police state is optimism. I have never considered myself to be an optimist; a cynic at best. However, I have found myself saying things like, 'maybe today' or 'it's bound to work out somehow,' over and over here. Weather or not I believe these things when I say them, is evern unknown to myself. But it is a mark of the country's effect on me that I say them.

I do however love the food.