Avignon

Dear readers,

I apologize for the radio silence. The only connection to the outside world I had on the trip was my phone, which only worked about 25% of the time for what I needed it to. On the bright side, I took about five hundred pictures while I was in the South, the best of which I shall share with you here.

The bus. It was a huge, really comfortable Mercedes coach of some sort, and we traveled in style.

French countryside. There are fields of all manner of vegetation, but right now the lavender fields are in bloom and so the hills are purple.

It is very, very difficult to be vegetarian in France. This is probably the tenth bowl of tabbouleh I've had since I got here. It's not bad, especially since I love couscous, but after a while I just want to go home and eat Mexican food until my arteries turn to stone.

Sur le pont d'Avignon, on y danse, on y danse!

Granny Jane, I saw this trumpet vine and thought of you.

At the Chartreuse.

The French are avid gardeners. Often one will see decorative flowers among herbs. Here, we have mint (Yes, Granny, mint still reminds me of you too), marigolds, basil, thyme, and chives (which didn't make it into the frame).

The book nerd in its natural habitat. This is my friend Ross. I am almost 90% sure that he is my long lost identical cousin from Arkansas (he looks a little like my dad). A sophomore in college, Ross plays Starcraft and Brawl, but he also enjoys ethics and has read more philosophy than most adults I know. And he keeps asking me French questions so I have fun pretending to be a teacher before I get to actually be one in the fall. Oh, and he's a vegetarian too so we work together to find food we can actually eat that isn't couscous or caprese salad. Really good kid, this one.

Just kickin' down the cobblestones, lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy.

The actual mausoleum of Pope Innocent VI. My question: If you are of the opinion that every human being is intrinsically sinful, what kind of hubris does it take to name yourself Innocent? Also, does the pope have to go to confession?

At first look, I thought this was some sacred, secret code. Actually, each bricklayer got paid by the number of bricks he laid per day, so each repeating mark means that those bricks were laid by the same sweaty sucker.

Mary and headless baby Jesus. This reminds me of our disturbing annual family Christmas nativity extravaganza in which half of the figurines lack some body part or another and they are all in somewhat compromising positions.

The cloister cemetery. You'll note that there are absolutely no headstones, but I assure you, there are bones below that grass. The monks, you see, thought it humble to be buried with no marker.

Cypress trees planted around the cemetery. They are a symbol of death.

Fresco of the beheading of John the Baptist. The tour guide asked what it was and out of a good thirty people, I was the only one able to identify it. 

My good friends Valentina from Argentina and Marta from Catalonia. Valentina is a total geek who loves anime and Irish punk, and Marta is an entrepreneur and an athlete and a total badass, among other things.

Random unmarked headless fresco of Jesus, which I found odd.

Kitty!

I don't know what this was, but I found it beautiful.

This machine dispenses funny balloons! I wonder what they are...(if you cannot detect my sarcasm, then please remove yourself from the internet and go take sarcasm lessons.)

The Avignonais are obsessed with posters.

Except this guy. (Translation: No posters. Thanks!)

I am a student of graffiti, if you hadn't noticed.

I found this one particularly interesting.

This made me think of my Big Granny, whose name was also Marie.

A crazy man ironing and putting on his clothes to "Tu vuò fà' l'americano"

There is an art/theatre/music/whatever other medium festival going on in Avignon right now, and if you hadn't noticed, Avignon is bizarro world. It's full of people walking through the streets in all manner of costumes, singing, handing out flyers, and generally being weird.

This is hysterical but somewhat off-color, so as a courtesy I have made it slightly less NSFW. One of my professors came on this trip in the capacity of as sort of tour guide, and as we were walking down the street, she was asking me about my name, since it is somewhat unique. And she began with "C'est un prénom très commun aux États-Unis..." but then she saw this sign, and she was so thrown off by the sign that she just read it out loud. Essentially, in translation, she wanted to say "Is that a common name in the US, Hope?" but instead she said "Is that a common name in the US, F*** Off?" (Mind you, my professor is a sweet lady in her mid-sixties.) She actually called me "F*** Off." And then the rest of my group burst into laughter and now I have a rather colorful nickname.

War memorial

Memorial for those murdered by the Nazis. (The names in white were children.)

Nora, I'm sorry I that I found some Rosenbergs on here, but I thought you should know.

Another shot of the Pont D'Avignon.

A super disturbing puppet show emcee'd by this beauty. I didn't watch the puppets. I just watched her. She was extremely talented at the accordion, she had a beautiful voice, and she always looked like she had a secret in her eyes. The park closed in the middle of the show and we all got kicked out, but she took it like a champ and I totally put 2€ in the kitty.

Me and the Rhône

This amazing girl was doing all these crazy acrobatics, mostly over a blanket spread over cobblestones. Then she got down and thanked everyone, in a thick Catalonian accent, and proceeded to tell us her name was Marta, which made our Marta smile.

I just captured it at the right moment so she's just suspended in the air...

They have Scientologists even in Avignon. *backs away, hissing and holding up the Sword of Logic*

This one's for Madison and Katie.

I thank you all for your patience, and I hope to have some more up tomorrow. As this is the last week of class, I've had loads of work to do, but I haven't forgotten you. I'm just crazy busy.

Love,

Me