My one Xmas tradition

I know that I can be a bit "bah-humbuggy" during the month of December.  I get annoyed with the bombardment of Christmas into every day life.  I get frustrated with the music, the over-decoration, the rush to purchase large gifts and the stress of travel.  I'm also SERIOUSLY annoyed when people wish me a merry Christmas, as though it is assumed that I am Christian (one of my favorite things is to then wish them Happy Hannukkah and watch them get confused).  

I've had two Decembers that didn't frustrate me me to tears:  December 1997 and December 2000.  These two are significant because they are two holiday seasons where I wasn't in the US.  In 1997, my family took a trip to Israel and it was the first time I realized that the entire world didn't hum Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.  There were Hannukkah celebrations in our hotel lobby (but just the candle-lighting, no crappy decorations) and on Christmas day, instead of going to a movie and being frustrated by all the store closings, I went scuba diving in the Red Sea (amazing, seriously).  December 2000 I was traveling through Europe and had the pleasure of celebrating the holiday with a good friend in Luxembourg.  We still had an issue with store and restaurant closings (we ate at Chi Chis) but we went to a lovely church service and spent the day taking in Luxembourg City.  So last minute sales, no chinese food, no 24-hour Christmas Story.  It was heaven.

Since then I have strived to create my own Christmas traditions, above and beyond the stereotypical "chinese food and a movie" that most of America thinks that is all Jews can do on December 25.  I've started by going to New York each Christmas.  And, though I never do it on Christmas, my favorite holiday tradition is to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and see the Creche.  This is an amazing work of art.  It's a 360 degree village of characters, including Mary, Jesus and Joseph (plus the Wise Men), at the base of a beautiful tree filled with floating angels.  There is fake water in a stream, people having conversations not related to the nativity, and gives the sense of the common setting of the nativity while still celebrating the birth of Jesus.  Set in front of a choir panel from Spain, with light classical holiday music being played in the background, I get a sense that, if I thought Jesus was the Savior, this is EXACTLY how I would want to celebrate it.  Simple, beautiful, classic.  I wish every December could be described that way.

Are we there yet?

So the Big Cornfield is a vast open space, where it seems to take at least two hours to get anywhere.  As a kid, going to the lake was easily a four hour trip.  Camp was a nine hour trip.  The nearest big city?  At least three and a half ('cause I refuse to count Omaha as a big city).  So it perplexes most people I know from the Cornfield when I tell them that I can hop on a bus in DC and be in downtown NYC in 4.5 hours.  They do the math and realize that in 4.5 hours, I will have traveled through four states and a District (5 states if you take the cheap route through Philly), all of which can be done while surfing the web (thanks Boltbus) or talking on one battery life of my cell.  You know where 4.5 hours gets me in the Cornfield?  Nebraska.  If your pedal is to the metal and you don't get a speeding ticket in Buchanan County, Iowa, it'll get to you Madison.  But by in large, 4.5 hours in the Cornfield gets you from one Cornfield to, maybe, one Soybean Field.

I'm happy I live in a part of the world where 4.5 hours gets me to so many amazing cities with so much incredible stuff to do.  And the transportation system out East is such that you can almost always find a way to get somewhere you need to go at just about any point in the day.   But as I sat on the bus, somewhere in the middle of New Jersey (it all looks the same from the bus), I couldn't help but realize that while 4.5 hours in the Big Cornfield is ACTUALLY 4.5 hours in a big cornfield, it's a beautiful cornfield that most don't stop and appreciate.  I personally find nothing serene about the drive from DC to NYC.  It is nothing but time spent stressed out (which is why I take the bus).  But that same time period, driving through the Cornfield, I find it mellow, calming, and even a little zen.  So while I'm happy that 4.5 hours takes me from one great city to another, I sort of wish I got the cornfield in between.   

I want to be Nick Hornby

I'm totally serious.  Nick Hornby is absolutely one of the coolest people I don't know.  First of all, he writes amazing books.  I'll admit to enjoying some more than others (Slam is no High Fidelity kids) and I'm constantly astounded by his ability to put my thoughts into words and phrases that just never would have come to my mind.  I admire him for his life-long love of Arsenal (read Fever Pitch, don't bother with the movies) and his ability to discuss music without having one of those "I remember this song 'cause it was playing when . . ." moments (Songbook is incredible!).  And I love that part of his job is just to sit around and read.  And talk about it.  And essentially get paid for it.  'Cause I soooooo want to do that.

Right now I'm in the middle of his latest book Shakespeare Wrote For Money, the third collection of his columns from The Believer.  The Believer is a literary magazine that sadly costs as much as it is worth (ie $$$) but thankfully they also put Nick Hornby's columns into books.  His columns have kind of the greatest premise ever: a list of books Nick bought this month, a list of books he read this month, and a long discussion of the books, his life, and his general thoughts on literature.  Sometimes all he talks about is why he didn't really read.  I don't care if that might sound self-indulgent, it's always fascinating.  The column has ended, which is sad, but if you have the opportunity to pick up these books, please do.  He reads books I've never heard of and can't wait to pick up and stuff I would never read in a million years.  Sometimes, he even reads books I've already read.  But no matter what the columns are thought provoking and engaging.  They make me want to be a better reader, a better writer, and a generally more informed person, and it's hard to ask for much more from someone who I've never met and really want to be.

Current Song Obsession

I'm not going to lie, I tend to obsess over music.  I find a song that hits my fancy at a given moment and I'm hooked.  Sometimes for a week, sometimes more.  I can't hear it enough and I play it over and over again.  I'm pretty sure my neighbor hates me.  

But I don't care!  Current Song Obsession: Valerie Plame by the Decemberists.  The song came out a few months ago, but I didn't download it until last week and now I can't listen enough.  It's peppy and jumpy, despite being about Valerie Plame's CIA work and her eventual exposure as an agent.  The Decemberists are pretty well known for this type of folky, almost medieval storytelling in their stories (current song obsession runner up right now is Crane Wife 3), so I love that they took on a modern story.  This isn't a downer tale of any of President Bush's actions over the past 8 years or a call for peace against the Vietnam War, it's just a plunky song about a girl who ended up kind of dicked over by people peeved at her husband.  There is sort of a oompah sound to the song, with a bass line that seems similar to a german polka and I adore the "Hey Jude" moment at the end.  I'm kinda convinced everyone should have a moment where they hear their name song at the end of a song by a chorus in multi-part harmony; Valerie Plame's moment sounds perfect. 

Still in the cornfield . . . . 

The hazards of making the annual trip back to the cornfield for Thanksgiving is that with the family and friends comes the flight cancelations.  This year is no exception.  I decided to scout out possible Cyber Monday deals by going to the mall today and started rolling my eyes when Mom kept checking my flights.  But 2 hours before I was to take off, sure enough, my flight to Milwaukee was canceled.  We then hopped in the car to the airport, with me on hold with the airline.  The call lasted ONE HOUR AND 33 SECONDS.  Around 45 minutes of that I was on hold.  And at the end of it I was rebooked on a 5:55 am flight tomorrow morning.  The silver lining to this pretty mediocre tale of the airline industry vs mother nature is that I get to spend the night with my brother, which is consisting of ordering pizza, taking a seriously awesome shower, and watching TV on an obscenely large TV screen.  Rock on.

Shout out:  Apple Stores.  I don't have a blackberry or an iphone so I'm usually without internet access when I'm not glued to a computer.  I love Apple Stores 'cause they let you check your email (and flight times) for free and don't bug you to buy the macbook while you type (waste of breath anyway, I already own one).  So kudos to them, the free internet is MUCH appreciated.

So I used to have this blog what feels like half a bzillion years ago to keep my family and friends up-to-date on my adventures and thoughts during my year abroad.  And once I got back to the States I sort of let it go as I got wrapped up with moving to the east coast, getting a job, losing a job, working retail, getting another job, going to grad school, and getting yet another job.  Which was pretty dumb on my part 'cause it's clearly a good outlet for thoughts, musings, and observations.  Or I hope it is.  Anyway, I'm restarting this little gig.  So here goes.

Though this blog is titled "Life out of the big cornfield" I'm actually in the Cornfield as I restart this.  I'm at the end of my annual pilgrimage home for Thanksgiving.  My family does a great job with this holiday with my father cooking an amazing meal, my mother making outstanding pies, and the family hosting my dad's international students for a traditional thanksgiving dinner.  As much as I love living on the east coast, I really love trips home.  They sort of reset my system.  They remind me that life exists outside the beltway, that there are issues that Americans face that have nothing to do with big cities, and that there is a part of the world that remembers me when I was shorter, had longer hair, and was less cynical.  I was shopping at JC Pennys and the woman who rang me up proclaimed she didn't have to ID me (to check my credit card) because she had known me for over 25 years.  'Cause she also works at the grocery store my family has been going to for 28 years.  Part of me loves that this sort of thing never happens when I'm in DC; I sort of love the anonymity of big cities, with the "I could be anyone" vibe.  But part of me sort of misses the random people that knew me back when.

Either way, I'm headed out of the cornfield again tomorrow (weather permitting of course).  Back to anonymity, urban problems, work, metros, and smog.  It'll be good to be home.

I realize that my last posting was about the cafeteria, but food is really one of the most interesting things around. So I was walking through the cafeteria the other day in Des Moines when I happened to glance at the menu. Yes, they were serving hot meat sandwiches again, but then I noticed that they were also serving Wisconsin Cheese soup. I asked the cafeteria guy (who always wears a VERY LARGE gold crusafix that kind of scares me) if the cheese actually came from Wisconsin or if it came from Iowa, or even perhaps California (which is, contrary to popular belief, the diary capital of the US), and he said he didn't know, that it was just called that. Has anyone ever heard of Iowa Cheese soup? No, it is always Wisconsin.
I actually have no idea where I'm going with this, but I just found it interesting that almost everytime a cheese soup is made, they name it Wisconsin Cheese soup (even in our state capital) no matter what the origin of the cheese and completely forgetting the fact that California produces more cheese than Wisconsin. Perhaps Wisconsin should take the phrase "America's Dairyland" off of it's license plates.
Conclusion of the day: Never trust the title of food with states in the name, you never know where it came from.

Why is it that cafeterias seem to be the most uncreative places to eat? I am speaking most specifically (though not exclusively) about the cafeteria here at the state capitol in Des Moines, IA. I have now been lunching here for just over a week only to find a menu item already repeated. Not hamburgers and fries or pizza, things that are repeated everyday for those people who don't like variety, but the hot roast beef sandwich. Why the hot roast beef sandwich? Why repeat that?
The only reason I can come up with is that they are good. I don't know who is doing their gravy, but it tastes and awful lot like KFC's, which is a personal favorite, and they serve it with rather taste ice cream-scoop-shaped mashed potatoes, alway a hot lunch favorite. But really, why repeat this? It boggles the mind I tell you. Perhaps they are repeating because so many people are just focused on getting hot lunches that they don't care about what they eat. Or perhaps it is just because they had roast beef left over from last week, but isn't that gross to be using it? Is it still fresh? Hmmmmm, will have to investigate and get back to one and all.
Conclusion of the day: I have to change the title of this blog and start bringing my lunch should I care for any variety in my lunch meal.

Hello everyone from America! After god only knows how many hours of traveling, I finally made it back to the states early this morning. It really sucked leaving France, but I know that I will return someday.
A slight change from my usual rant, I would just like to list a few things that were great about my trip home:
AirFrance played the movie "Amelie Poulain", with english subtitles, so I got to see it for a third time! And they served excellent duck for dinner. and I finally got to come home and sleep in a bed that wasn't two feet off the ground. And I got the Loft Story CD!
Bad things: The 5 hour wait in Chicago seem unnecessary and well, I was damn tired.
Sorry this isn't long, I don't have a lot to say at the moment, just a lot of sleep to catch up on.
Conclusion of the day: Never trust Chicago weather and fly AirFrance for the food and the movies

Oh hey, as of June 15th, I will be leaving France (SOB!) and I have no idea what to do with this blog as I will no longer be in France! So, please give me your ideas about what to do! Email me at hyperchouette@hotmail.com!

Why is sour cream called "creme fraiche" (fresh cream) in French? Which is it, fresh or sour? Who is right, the Americans or the French?
Well, if you ask the French, they will say they are the ones who are right, after all, their civilization has been around since before they can remember and we all know that French wine kicks California's wine's butt, plus, they don't have the death penalty. They will start ranting about what a huge impact their revolution had on the world (what ours was just a spat between two continents over tea?) and how we should all appreciate what they have given us over the past century (Charles de Gaulle and bad pop music are what come to mind first, though my roommate asked me not to forget Gerald Depardieu). Hmmmm, probably a little biased.
If you ask an America, they will say, THEY are the ones who are correct because hey, we all know that the USA kicks butt and the world bows to our every whim. The american will start ranting, in an increasingly annoying voice and at an uncontrolable volume, about how the french are weak (hell, we had to save them from the Germans how many times?), chain-smoking, american-hating jerks who just eat up american culture (so true). Heck, the american is surprised they haven't changed the name yet seeing as the French are all just american wannabes anyway.
So again, who is right, the American or the French? Both are right. The French Revolution did have a big impact, their wine is better, and they only good things that they have given us are Charles de Gaulle (the airport that is) and, well, let's not discuss their music. But, America did save them from the Germans, at least once, they are chain-smoking, and american-hating (though not all, and not all are jerks), and a lot of them are American wannabes. That brings us to the big question, sour cream or fresh cream. Well, it tastes neither fresh nor sour to me, so who really cares.
Conclusion of the day: My brain is filled with comparitive political institutions so my only conclusion is that minorities are highly unrepresented in political systems using unitary representation and non-proportional voting systems.

What is it about a girl sitting alone, reading, that makes French guys want to come up to her and attempt to pick her up? Is there an invisible sign that says, "Hey, come over and bug me, please!" Not last I checked. This, of course, happened to me yesterday. I was sitting out on the steps of my the Marseille train station when low and behold, this exceptionally icky man, who had to be at least 55 if not older, came up to me, sat down, and proceeded to attempt conversation. I tried looking disinterested (wasn't hard) and give him the cold shoulder, but that didn't stop him from making a move. He wanted to know if I wanted to go for a walk underneath the trees with him and his friends (!) 'cause I looked like I was getting too much sun. I turned to him, disgusted by all his missing teeth and told him that no, I was just fine where I was. He asked me several times again, each time I promptly told him no. After ten minutes, he got the clue and left. But why me? The fact is is that southern guys (we have had the problem in Spain and Italy) think that every girl is just waiting to be with them and that they should let the girls know how they feel the minute they are spotted. This results in massive whistling and cat calls on such a regular basis I'm afraid I'll miss it when I go back home (but trust me I won't). And we can't figure out if they are yelling at us because they actually think we are pretty or if it is just because we are female. And they never seem to get the clue that we aren't interested. All of these catcalls and whistles must have worked at one point, otherwise why continue? Somehow this all got culturally accepted, and no one knows why. Why are French women putting up with this crap? Are their self-esteems so low that they need gross, chain-smoking, beer guzzellling French guys calling to them to make them feel attractive? Who is giving in to this that it has become a norm? Well, certainly not me.
Conclusion de jour: Try not sitting by yourself in Marseille, and learn how to say "bug off!" to French guys, 'cause they will attempt to pick you up, no worries on that.

Was anyone else aware that the French hate multiple choice exams? Or at least they never give them? The majority of the exams given at the Institute d'Etudes Politiques are actually oral, meaning I show up at the appointed time, the prof gives me a question (which is usually a statement anyway) then I get 10-15 minutes to think about it and create a plan. While you are creating a plan, someone else is already talking. After they are done, you go up, sit with the prof, wait for someone else to come in and get their question, then give what ever little presentation you have come up with in the last 10 minutes. After the prof has stared off into space for the majority of your speaking time, he asks you a few questions on what ever he feels like. They have been anything from "Who is the greatest creator in cinema in the US?" to "What was a very important US legislative act in the 1960s having to do with the press?" (the Freedom of Information Act, which I had already mentioned had the prof been listening to my presentation). After that, you wait several days, then they post your score on a bulletin board, right next to your name, so everyone on earth knows what you got. And you know what they got. It's very open, but can be really horrible because if you did too well or really bad, everyone knows and we have found that they have the tendancy to gossip about it. This is one of the big faults I see in the French education system, this open scoring. In the secondary schools, they actually call out the kids' scores and then make comments about their work right in front of the whole class, which leads to a lot of embarassment. And the teachers have no shame, trust me on that, I have seen and heard that first hand (though never about me thank god!).
So, Conclusion de jour: Prepare for who-knows-what come exam time and pray you did well, 'cause your whole class will know if you bombed.

I keep forgetting to write everyone, but about two weeks ago I saw the most wonderful movie I think I have seen all year. This movie made my roommate sight for a good 15 hours afterwards, all because it was just so wonderful. Everyone must go see "Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain", or "Amelie from Montmartre" as it will be called when it is released soon in the rest of the world. Don't let the fact that this movie is French distract you from it's inexplicable charm. I don't know anyone who has seen this movie and hated it. Everyone I know who has seen it has seen it more than once they loved it so much (I saw it twice the first week it opened!). Time just wrote an article on it (click on the word "Time" to read it) and it has gotten considerable press here in France not only 'cause it rocks (yea!) but because it wasn't accepted for the film festival in Cannes, then Cannes kicked itself over that decision and decided to show it at an open-air screening at night, then the director got so ticked that he pulled it from the festival all together. Whatever, this movie is amazing You will leave with so many warm fuzzies that you will just feel the need to hug everyone as they come out of the theater.
So what the heck is the movie about? It is the story of this kinda quirky girl who decides to make everyone else's lives a little better while forgetting to help herself. In the process she helps people and falls in love. I don't to give anymore away, just go, GO NOW and see this movie. You will smile for hours afterwards, isn't that reason enough?
Conclusion of the past few weeks: This movie is one of the best I have ever seen and those who have the opportunity to see it and don't simply wouldn't know a good time if it bumped into them on the street. Or at a photo booth (movie hint!).

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud Americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendency to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarily the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of American tourists (it's not just the Americans who are the problem, they are merely the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in English, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarrassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tour guides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud Americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendency to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarily the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of American tourists (it's not just the Americans who are the problem, they are merely the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in English, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarrassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tour guides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

I found a piece of grass to lay on!!!!!!!!! I can't remember if I ever wrote about this before, but the parks here in Aix are notorious for being full of beautiful grass and having signs everwhere telling citizens not to walk or lay on it. It has been killing me! All that greenery in the middle of so much cement and I'm not allowed to spread out there? What the heck is the park for then? Apparently, in some areas, parks are only good for walking, which is what you do on the nicely groomed paths. The grass is simply there to look pretty and give the place a little color. Whatever. Why can't I lay there? Why can't I walk there? Is it because you don't want to pay someone to for all the up keep (not trying to chip away at that 10% unemployment rate eh?) or perhaps because there is dog crap all over the grass (dog poop isn't just reserved for the sidewalks and streets here in France)? But, what does it matter, I have finally located two, yes count them two, parks that will let you bring a towel and lay down at your own risk.
So that is what we have been doing, laying there, reading, lauging, sunning ourselves. That is until the bum comes up to you. It appears to be obligatory, every park must have a bum who is most likely wearing army fatigues, and, for some reason, always wants a cigarette. For get the lighter (they always have those for some reason), they want a cigarette. And they look really disappointed in you when you tell them that you don't smoke. Sacre bleu! Someone in France who doesn't smoke? Oh la vache! Who would have thought? And for some reason, in the course of a few hours, the same guy comes up to you at least twice, apparently forgetting that he asked you before and that you haven't moved since. My friend Mark wondered if they expect people to just give them cigarettes because of socialism and communism and the idea that everyone kind of shares the wealth so to speak. Any ideas?
Conclusion du jour: when you find a patch of green without a "do not walk" sign, rejoice, and bring cigarettes, someone will definitly want one.