Together in Paris

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

Weekend in Avignon and Nîmes

I don't have my laptop and cellular data is expensive, so I'll keep this short, but I am currently in the hottest youth hostel in France. It is a million degrees in here. Also, somebody got the numbers wrong and there was only room for 18 girls and I was the 19th girl to sign up but there was one extra bunk in the boys' room so I had to sleep in there. Nobody minded but it's kinda awkward. We are leaving for the beach in a couple hours and I am super excited because it's too hot to be alive right now.

I wish you all a happy yesterday.

—Your humble, somewhat sunburned correspondent 

Flood-O-Pictures

In another apology for my poor connectivity, I not-so-humbly present these bloody awesome pictures of Lyon for your perusal in hopes that you may forgive me.

Fountain on Presqu'île near Bellecour. My favorite fountain in Lyon. I like it better than the Bartholdi.

Just another fountain. These populate the Presqu'île and they all make me quite happy.

Fontaine Bartholdi. This was created by the same man who did the Statue of Liberty. The woman represents France, and the four horses represent the four great rivers of France, the Loire, the Seine, the Garonne, and the Rhône. The statue was supposed to be in Bordeaux, but those fools didn't want it so Lyon bought it.

Mah skool wer eye lern fings.

Just a view from the Quai Claude-Bernard, upon which my school is located. It borders the Rhône.

Cobblestones in Vieux Lyon.

Typical apartment building. Note the green cross on the pharmacy. In Los Angeles, where medical marijuana is now quite ubiquitous, a dispensary is almost always made distinguishable by a green cross. I was very confused when I first got here.

American Slurpee < Canadian Slurpee < Granita Tropicale from Brioche Dorée. Although this may partly be affected by my staunch view that most things taste better when they're blue.

Fountain in Bellecour

Random weird-looking dead weasel wearing aviators in a storefront. Because I can.

Marriage equality sticker war.

Louis XIV dressed like Vercingétorix, being a self-absorbed jerk.

Kinda gives you a bit of perspective of how massive Place Bellecour actually is.

Public piano for your enjoyment.

Random massive bouquet.

These are freaking everywhere.

View of the Rhône from a bridge.

That building in the background is the Palais de Justice.

Basilique de Saint-Jean on Fourvière.

Pay no attention to the girl in the white sweater.

For the longest time I thought this was a green fairy. It's actually the Archangel Michael. Note that he's totally surfing on the back of a dragon.

Graffiti on the railing. I didn't do it, but I found it pertinent so I took a picture.

The Green Fairy at night.

J'avais pas les mots.

More Saint-Jean

So for one of my classes I had to go out and take pictures of cute couples. Don't ask. It was super awkward. However, the results were somewhat adorable.

My favorite couple. They both saw my camera and made the same face at the same time. I hope all their kids inherit it.

These two didn't even stop walking

I have to take a tramway to school, and this is where I stop to walk to school.

Another view from my stop

So you don't think I'm rhapsodizing about the absolute perfection of this city, I present you with of its worst problems: litter. It's everywhere, and it's also really hard to recycle.

Massive graffitied building with nothing in it.

Random mirror shop that is always, always closed but has really cool mirrors. I noticed this one cuts you up in weird pieces and I couldn't resist.

This is the Louis XIV that the tourists photograph.

This is the Louis XIV I see.

Vandals seem to enjoy painting the toenails of the representations of the Rhône and the Saône. The Saône's toenails are currently a lovely jungle green.

Well, I hope this tides you over for a bit. I will be spending the weekend (read: Bastille Day) in Avignon, Nice, and Arles on a class trip. I don't know what the internet situation will be like, so please do not be too frustrated with me if I'm less than super active over the weekend. I just hope it's less hot in Avignon, because the heat here is absolutely stifling. That is bad enough, but it's also humid. I took a shower this morning, and my hair is still wet. I'd use my hairdryer, but mine won't work here.

Anyways, I have a bit of homework to do before I try to convince some friends to go to the pool with me because I'm dying.

—A chicken which is slowly being rotisseried alive