Monday, November 23, 2009

Written 23 November 2009

Saturday, I went to the train station for a trip to an undecided location. Examining the train schedule, I realized I wanted to venture out a little further from Montpellier than the previous trips. I saw a train to Nice was departing soon so I went for it. Nice, I knew, is in the south of France and, with this knowledge, I expected a short train ride. Only when no information for Nice appeared in my Languedoc-Roussillon travel guide did I realize I could be going a little further than expected. Nonetheless, it seemed to be the right thing to do.

The train ride was a little more than four hours to Nice. If I had had to turn right back around and come back as soon as I got to Nice, the money and the time would have been well spent. The scenery was beautiful. Normally, on trains, I read the majority of the time. Going through Provence on the way to Nice, the book was in the bag and the head was turning from window to window. One side was mountainous, hilly countryside of vineyards, mountainside villas, red clay and rock. The colors were amazing. Sides of mountains were set ablaze by the reds, yellows, and oranges emanating from vineyards, farms, rooftops, rock and earth. It was more than the color, the earth was a beautifully formed, rugged and harsh land of dramatic slopes and rises. It was quite the show. On the opposite side of the train, I could see the Mediterranean. As mentioned above, my neck was sore by the end. Look one way to see a vineyard, turn to catch a wave crashing against the side of a cliff, and repeat again.

In Nice, I spent most of my time on the french riviera and in old Nice. I climbed to the top of a mountain/large hill to an old fort that was once the city's defenses. At the summit was the remnants of the old chateau and, what I was really there for, a panorama of the city and its harbor. The old parts of Nice looked like a spanish-tiled jungle. The rooftops canopied the streets and people below. I thought I could walk from one end of town to its opposite, never having to jump from rooftop to rooftop. The bay is crescent shaped with both tips extending rocky arms out into the sea. I could see further than the harbor and the town to the mountains that separate the city from the rest of France to the north, bays farther down the riviera to the west and east, and miles of sea to the south.

In the city itself, I walked around the old section for most of the time. There is a beautiful flower market which, in the morning, includes many products (fruits, vegetables, olive oil, soap, etc.) made and/or grown in Provence. Adding the colors and smells to a square of old, beautiful, and colorful buildings, it is tough to out-do. Old Nice is a maze of narrow streets filled with restaurants, bars, shops, markets, churches, and old government buildings. I thought if I extended my arms full length, I could touch the buildings on both sides of the street. One of the neatest shops I saw was one where you could create your own pasta from scratch. The restaurants were diverse. Being as close as Nice is to Italy and northern Africa, the culture is much less french and more of a eclectic mixture of just about anything and everything.

Saturday night, I went to a russian cathedral in town and missed my train. I had no problem missing my train, the extra night made it more of a vacation. For dinner, I wanted a good, french meal, but was lured by a fantastic, turk dinner instead. The hotel was nice, I always enjoy staying in one. Sunday morning, I awoke early and watched the sunrise on the french riviera. I started with a walk up the rocky beach and ended in a cafe for breakfast. As I ate, I watched a sail boat race in the harbor and looked out on the water, the cliffs, and the pink and blue sky. I wanted time to stop and stay the way it was forever, great vacation.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Written 8 November 2009

Wow, it is amazing how fast time flies. I see my last entry was nearly two weeks ago. What to write about? What is there I would want to share? I face not a lack of subjects, but an overflow of material. So much is done in so little amount of time, each event seems a blur. Yet, there is a design to it all. Exact events and experiences are washed away by the streams of a continuous, chaotic schedule. What is left are the remnants of past experiences in the shape of new knowledge and understanding. Not everything seems as new and strange, yet, nothing is sedentary, nothing is ordinary.  I continue to learn, continue to lose myself in what was once unknown. Looking back, it seems so much. Like reading far too many pages in a book in too short a time, you progress in understanding, yet, you strain to isolate a single event and its impact on your overall outlook. I am lost, yet, there is something detached from it all which seems to take comfort in the course of events. I can't explain it, but there is an over-arching sense of progression and satisfaction I have yet to experience. 

Three weeks ago, feeling a little fatigued from a week of school and work, I promised myself I would travel to a different city each weekend. With a friend or alone, it didn't matter. Each Saturday, go to the train station and see something new. I have done just that the past two Saturdays. Two Saturdays ago, I went to Avignon. It is a beautiful city in the south of France. I spent the afternoon in the city, most of which was taken up by a tour of the Palais des Papes. I was amazed with it all. The luxurious, voluptuous halls of the palace, the seat of the church's once all-imminent power as ruler of man and territory, seemed so foreign to the church I see back home. There is no better place to see what once was and, now, what is than Europe. The sights from the palace's terraces were amazing. I was there at sunset, the sky was lit purple, pink, orange, and gold by the fading rays. The view was expansive, capturing an entire region it seemed from one high vantage point.  I could see where the rivers ran and collided with one another, the entire river-island city of Avignon, as well as hundreds of miles of countryside, was at my viewing disposal. It was magnificent, a place and a feeling with no match.

This past Saturday, I went to Toulouse. I was surprised by the size of the city. For some reason, it reminded me of the historic district of Philadelphia. There was a big difference between Toulouse and Montpellier and Avignon. This might be obvious, Montpellier and Avignon are more "mediterranean" style (don't know enough about the style to call it anything different), stucco, romanesque style buildings. Toulouse is more colonial, red brick buildings, beautiful palaces built for le "gloire" of past monarchs. It is a beautiful town, called the "rose city" or something to that effect (it appears a pinkish color at certain times, in certain light). I, like usual, wanted to get lost in the town, see as much of the city as possible. I did indeed do just that, making it across a great portion of the city in one afternoon. The only negative was the rain. It rained very heavily shortly after I arrived. There was no way I was wasting the afternoon and the money, so I stayed out in it and got soaked. I had to walk around cold and wet for the majority of the day, but the sights were worth the efforts. I went to a beautiful park, found a very neat, outdoor antique market, and saw a couple beautiful churches. If I was to rank the cities I have been to, Toulouse would be at the top. This Saturday, I think a trip to Lyon is in order. 

Sunday, October 25, 2009

25 October 2009 at 9:02 Montpellier Time

My activities this weekend were very representative of my overall experience in Montpellier up to this point. These events or experiences often involve the uncovering of new realities and the suppression of past prejudices, stereotypes, and expectations. Personally, socially, educationally, and in many other areas of my life, everything seems to take a different shape, breaking a shell of immaturity and ignorance piece by piece, allowing its contents to seep and form itself according to its new environment. It occurs in simpler environments like a Joan Baez concert or gym, as well as in the necessities of life such as school and work. I have come across so many things that tweak previously held opinions. I might not have been completely wrong before or come to find a truth in its final form, but, nonetheless, each event provides material for a much broader database of intelligence, confidence, and well-roundedness. I have not come close to reaching the full potential of my stay, but, only after this short amount of time, I take notice of immense changes to the point in which it is hard to relate to that person I was before I came. 

The change and constant revision is rampant, but not the only characteristic. Another aspect involves the senses.  Sights, smells, sounds, and touch creating a collage of the most beautiful and the most hideous things I can register to memory. Tonight, I will write of what truly disgusts me. The aspects of Montpellier I have detested from the moment of my first encounter, to each and every moment I am unlucky enough to come upon them. I have several examples and can cite many different experiences. I will only write of what occurs each Sunday morning when I walk to church. I start from my apartment down a road overhanging with trees and bordered by two stone fences, one on each side, providing the partition between the road and the park on one side, and the road and a cemetery on the other side. It is pleasant, tranquil, and set apart from the hustle and bustle of the main road which the stone-fenced road runs into. I cross a tramway line and a main road, then begin down the road leading into town. The first five to ten minutes is lovely. I pass the famous and beautiful Saint Lazare cemetery, a park, several shops devoted to creating marble tombstones and crypts, and a few boulangeries and flower shops. As I get closer into town, the scene becomes more depressing. Most of the buildings look the same as those I pass in the initial five to minutes of my walk, but the wears and tears of the night before become oppressively much more visible as I continue. I pass a night club that continues its operation until Sunday morning, serenading and infecting the early Sunday air with techno music and the sounds and smells of those who have been partying from Saturday night to late Sunday morning.  Around these parts, the passer-byers carry all the traits of extreme intoxication, the glazed eyes, the wobbly stature when walking or standing, the slurred speech, breath you want to keep your distance from, stained and unkempt clothing. The sidewalk is littered with broken bottles, bags of fast food, and torn beer boxes. Today, I saw, in the middle of the sidewalk and covering the width of the sidewalk, vomit that had, by the smell of it, been sitting there for a few hours. A few weeks ago, I saw a man much like me (by this I mean, not homeless, a student) passed out in the middle of the sidewalk. He was there sleeping when I went to church and, again, at the same spot, in the same position, using his shoe as a pillow, when I returned from church. Knowing I will arrive at a church always keeps me from feeling completely miserable. However, even a church, a place of such beauty and goodness, is not spared the over-indulgences of a very over-indulgent youth. Today, each step (there is about twelve long steps from the street to the church entrance) was littered with broken wine, beer, and liquor bottles. You could not avoid stepping on something, it covered the steps as a finishing coat of paint covers a wall. And here, the church and the walk to church, I find what I hate most about Montpellier. The aspects of life, the products of too much youth in too small of a city, I will have no problem getting away from. 

I took things fairly slow this weekend. The highlights were a wonderful Joan Baez concert, a nice evening out on the town and a couple of culinary accomplishments. Other than that, I filled the rest of my time with studying, reading, exercising and running. 

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Written 15 October 2009 at 9:41 p.m. Montpellier Time

It was a regular day of school and lifting. I am happy Thursday is coming to a close, I look forward to this weekend. I have several activities planned. My roommates and I are going to the Indian festival Saturday afternoon, a nature preserve Sunday, and, of course, football on Sunday night. If the advertisement for the fair is any indication of its content, we are in for a real treat. The advertisement is of a Maharaja riding an elephant, an immediate attention grabber. I love indian food. One would think at an indian-themed fair one could find indian food. However, this is France, certainty is uncertain. I hope the weekend lives up to the anticipation. The weather has turned cool in Montpellier. I don't know the temperature, but it's long-sleeve, hands-in-your-pockets weather in the mornings and evenings, warming up slightly through the afternoon, often leaving you regretting your decision to wear the long sleeves. I am greeting the cooler weather with open arms. The crisp, cool air seems to accentuate the smells of the city. The boulangeries baking bread, homes heating their night with wood fires, the freshly cut lawns along my route to school, all pungently provide a sensuous and unique aroma one captures with the brisk wave of the breeze. It is lovely. Although it arrived later, it is not much different than autumn in Louisville, which, in my opinion, is the best time of the year. it should make my swim in the Mediterranean a little more painful. Nonetheless, let's see what I can handle. 

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Written 13 October 2009 at 9:14 p.m. Montpellier Time

My language class is split into two parts. Half of the time is devoted to grammar, the other half is designed to enrich our language comprehension skills. Grammar is self-explanatory, verb tenses, relative pronouns, and every other element of the french language. The language comprehension portion of the class is most entertaining, as well as, at times, the most painful. Often, we read a text, watch a television program, or listen to a recording and discuss the meaning of the passage. Our topics range from consumer products to politics and religion. It can be very dry, like last week's discussion on e-bay and how it has revolutionized the shopping world. I prefer the deeper subjects, politics, weighing in on theoretical laws, or gay marriage. It provides what I have come to value the most from France, learning about different cultures and how their environment back home has shaped the beliefs they hold. The conversation is contained within the boundary of our language skills. Nonetheless, if you take the time to piece together the broken french, you can learn a thing or two. Of course, there are sources that provide the views of distant places and people. I knew a thing or two about many of the cultures I have come in contact with before I arrived. From my experiences, I found this to be only half the story, the sum of facts and majorities. There is no back story, no way of piecing together why one thinks the way they do. Here, through daily interactions with several different shades and sizes of people, you get the real story, the backgrounds and influences that craft the religious views of someone from China and those coming from England or Sweden. I find it incredibly stimulating, far better than the beautiful buildings and castles lining french streets across this beautiful country. We have vast differences in the United States. If we take the time to research our history, our failures and victories, we can find the roots that lead to the flowering of our diversity in all its different forms and points of emphasis. On a much grander scale, the same is true of the global population. However, there is no common starting point to draw from. Each place has its own isolated story. We might share cultural similarities, we might practice the same religion or claim the same form of government. However, what did it take to get there? How has the past shaped our minds? How does it affect contemporary social structures? Each day, I keep these questions in the back of my mind. I am lucky, in Montpellier, the opportunities to crack these queries are all around me. It might be only one person's point of view from a land far away, but they know their home. They are a product of their environment and, like me, have an educated knowledge of what paints their country's picture. We, exchange students, have the privilege of being strangers. Our loneliness leaves us receptive and giving. We want to talk about things, we want to have friends. In this environment, we have no cliques to cling to other than ourselves, no security blanket of individuals who think and act in the same manner we do. We are united by our differences and have no problems sharing the stories of what separates us. For example, today, we continued our discussion on gay marriage. Mr. Gomez provided the topic, we had to choose whether we were against it or for it and state our reasons for the opinion. The conversation highlighted our differences with each, individual stance. Most people relate their opinions to home, to how such a subject is thought of and acted on by the cultures that make up their world. At times, I found my expectations of how one would respond disappointed. At other moments, I found them supported. Once class has ended and I have the benefit of hindsight, I always wish I could have said more, could have asked more questions, could have understood more of my friends' french. However, regardless of the difficulties, the conversation is always transformative, always expansive. Each one makes a dint in a generalization or two. Each stretches the sources of your opinions and beliefs, annihilating those that lean on falsity, ignorance, and prejudice, strengthening those supported by fact and feeling, and leaving unknowns, those social mores we accept because we find them all around us, yet claim no part of our spirit, a little more questionable, a little more uncertain and changeable. We become a little less american, swedish, or ghanese in thought and adopt a much more worldly outlook. An outlook concentrated and devoted to a certain region, yet can claim the influences of a dozen places. Perhaps, this is too dramatic. Maybe, this will fade with time and distance. Nonetheless, we have the chance to understand a little more about the lot of others. It would be disappointing to misuse this gift.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Written 13 October 2009 at 9:51 p.m. Montpellier Time

I had the best morning most men could ask for. Yesterday, I subscribed to a program through NFL.com that allows me to view any game live and in high definition. I just can't live without football on Sundays. This morning, I awoke at 5 a.m. as usual to make breakfast and prepare for a small test coming up in my first class of the day. I have grown to love early mornings, but this was no ordinary morning, at least it wasn't today. I had awoken early enough to catch the final quarter of the Monday night game. I can't think of a better way to start out the day than live football, coffee, and a large bowl of fresh fruit. I was in heaven. It was a great preview of the type of access I will have each and every Sunday. Football is back!!

I strolled into my afternoon class today as usual, tired and ready to get as far away from my aesthetically challenged university as quickly as possible. Standing outside of the classroom, I talked with friends, telling them my stories of my voyage home. Patiently listening to each and every detail from my trip, my fellow pupils had news for me. During my absence, they had elected me as one of two representatives for our group.  I immediately looked for the balloons and the streamers, the band to burst out of the phonetics classroom and serenade my triumph with the Marseillaise or university fight song (if one exists). I would be disappointed, no balloons, no band, no celebration. Instead, the conversation drifted to the obligations and responsibilities of the office I was about to swear an oath to. In broken french and a little english, we patched together the duties I would be expected to fulfill. Similar to a labor union representative (on an extremely, extremely small scale), I take grievances and complaints from my constituents and report them to program directors. I am the middle man, the guy who runs between those that run the system and those that are run by the system. I still don't have a good picture of what I am expected to do but, whatever it is, I hope to satisfy those I serve. The campaign was hard fought, a lot of mud-slinging and muck-raking. I drew from my domestic situation and bribery to secure my election. We have a large asian majority in our group. I live with two asian students. Running up to the campaign, I studied my roommates' moods, memorized what made them happy and what disgruntled them. I took what I learned to the classroom, trying to place myself in cordial friendship with the majority. When the ice wouldn't break, I resorted to a warm baguette or croissant in the morning and a thirst-quenching boisson froid in the afternoons when the wears and tears of a long, hot day at school begin to show. Obviously, as my victory shows, I must have crafted quite the relationship with my asian friends. In the case of uncertainty, I thought I could use my size as an intimidation factor. On average, my asian friends barely measure up to my chest. I thought a scowl and flex on election day would secure any dissenters from my camp. I didn't even have to go that far, the impact I made was so compelling I didn't even need to be present to get voted into office. In truth, there was no campaign, no machinations or strategies to get elected. I had forgotten about the elections until I found out I had been chosen. I find the other story much more entertaining though, I might have to stick with it. 

Upon my return, I found my removed introspection had rededicated myself to experiencing everything I can in France. I am starting from the bottom, the seemingly meaningless activities that are special because I do them here. I have had several similar experiences so far. I find them so compelling and new at the time, then realize I can do the same thing in a similar fashion, yet much less satisfactory way in Kentucky. The cafe seems to be the best example of this experience. I start small this weekend, at a place I have been several times but failed to experience fully. I promised myself that I would swim in the Mediterranean this weekend. From there, a hiking trip to the Cevennes, hopefully, reaching the summit of the mountain, is next on the agenda. I want to test myself, see what I can do both physically and mentally. I will start with a swim and a french novel and continue to progress from there. 

Rep. Patrick H. Mcdonald

Monday, October 12, 2009

Written on 12 October 2009 at 9:15 Montpellier Time.

Last Wednesday, I left Montpellier for the first time since my arrival. My destination was not Barcelona or Italy, but Louisville, Kentucky. Yes, I got to go home for my sister's wedding and four days of relaxation. I had heard of the dangers of such a voyage. What can, at first, seem like a wonderful deviation from the new status quo back to the old status quo, I have heard, can make the return to your home abroad completely miserable. The old taste comes and besmirches all future encounters and the new routine you have settled into. I kept this in the back of my mind and began to worry when my stay turned out to be completely flawless. It could not have been orchestrated any better. I was lucky to spend each moment with someone I care dearly for. I could hardly contain my satisfaction and happiness, it was spewing from me each moment, in every situation. Even the eight-hour flight went wonderfully. I found myself dropping the books and thinking of the activities I had been lucky to take part in, barely containing random smiles that would have made my neighbors question my sanity. And yet, I had no apprehension, no depressive feeling about returning to Monpellier. I was actually looking forward to getting back, to putting my ideas of bettering my situation in France into action. There were so many unknowns when I first arrived. My mind was full of questions, not answers, when I made my initial journey. Did I have what it took to live in France, to thrive in a situation so far from what had become customary in my life back home? I had failed to adapt to Thomas More College, could I really handle France on my own? Through time, many failures, adaptations, growth, and some improvement, I started to find that I had an answer to these questions. I realized with effort and patience, I could do it, I could accomplish my goals. I settled into a routine of school, exercise, work, and social activities, the way of life I, at some level, doubted I could handle. With this in mind, it was not difficult to return to my sunny city. In five weeks, Montpellier had transformed itself, in my mind, from self-orchestrated, not to mention unhappy, exile into a home. I have learned to no longer fear it, to stop looking past it, and enjoy each and every situation. From sunrise to sunset, I have so much to learn, so many ways to improve myself. It is satisfying to come back to something that challenges you especially when you think it was starting to sweep you away. It is a life laboratory and you hold the chemicals and instruments in your hand. Finding which hypothesis and which combinations work the best is what is fun, what has made my time hear seem to be a blur of exhilaration, a memory mixed with several tones and patterns. Each element is not beautiful in its singularity, but they come together to create a very agreeable conglomeration of feeling and experience. I am looking forward to continuing, to correcting the faults and errors, and completing the next stage of my stay. The break was beneficial in several aspects, it offered a chance for a distant perspective, for a refreshment of energy and discipline, and time to enjoy those I love. I am happy to be back.

26 September 2009


I had my first full, real week of classes this week. Tuesday through Thursday, my schedule is grueling. Most of my classes are two or two and a half hours long and I have three a day. I leave each class fairly exhausted. With the different language, I have to really stay alert the entire period. There is no oppurtunity to allow my mind to wonder if I want to know what is going on. However, I can tell my courses are improving my language skills already. I can comprehend and contribute much better to conversations with native speakers, people I thought spoke a different language than french a week ago. Seeing the benefits of attending class for this short, beginner’s phase, I am very enthusiastic about the improvement I will have after a month or a semester. Other than the work, I find many aspects of the class very amusing. I attend classes with other exchange students, no locals. I believe we are good students or else we would not have had the oppurtunity of studying abroad. In our own language, we have the capabilities of toppling all the loftiest subject material the academic world can throw at us. However, in a different language, we have trouble forming the simplest ideas into writing or speech. Our minds encompass far greater knowledge than what we are able to actually get out.  We could speak knowledgeably on the writings of Cicero in our native language, but we are confined to the types of clothes we like to wear or the meals we like to prepare in french. These incapabilities, mixed with confusion over what the professor tells us to do, makes a very enjoyable scene upon reflection. At the time, it is not funny. It can be exasperating, frustrating, and nearly impossible to surmount such difficulties. Our language classes are broken up into two sections, grammar and oral comprehension, which encompasses listening and speaking. We had an exercise last Thursday in which we had to describe to a classmate something we knew how to do and they didn’t. Our broken french left all explanations nearly incomprehensible. A chinese girl explained the traditional way of creating a dumpling, supposedly a must know in chinese culture. I have many chinese people in my class. One or two of the other chinese girls found her explanation at odds with the traditional chinese way of creating dumplings. This led to a thirty minute conversation about the proper way to prepare a dumpling. One of the girls just would not let it go. She insisted on correcting the fallacies spoken by our instructor. It was comical. Not knowing myself the truth of the matter, I sat back, twiddled my thumbs and chuckled at the intense discourse. I don’t see how my professor does it sometimes, but he is very good with us. He has to be a very patient man. Such confusion is common when we enter a subject other than verb tenses. We are uncertain about many of our exercises and instructions, so we do our best with what we are certain of, which is usually something a little different than what the professor had in mind. We all make a good effort and, despite our difficulties and blunders, I think, after repetition, we make a dint in the subject assigned to us. It is not pretty, but I think it is effective. At least for me, I can see the fruits of our labors. I am excited for the future possibilities such hard work will bring.


27 September 2009


The weekend went extremely well. Friday night, I went to dinner and a movie with Suzanna. It was a wonderful evening. We went to Subway for dinner and saw Inglorious Bastards. When looking for a place to eat, I was surprised when Suzanna chose Subway. I have always loved Subway. I love it so much, I had to have it as my last lunch in the United States. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she shared my passion for this wonderful place. Like me, she would go to Subway often with friends back home. It was splendid sinking my teeth back into my familiar tuna club, nothing can compare to it. The movie was wonderful and in english. It was a typical Tarantino film, so if you are fan of Pulp Fiction, I would suggest seeing the film. We walked around the city center after the film. It was my first time in the city late at night. The place really comes alive. It is jam-packed with the old and the young, all walking with friends or enjoying a few drinks and a snack at one of the many cafes or bars. The french love their frites, also known as french fries. It was a wonderful setting and a very pleasant evening, made better by the immaculate weather we have here in Montpellier, especially at night. 


We have a tradition in our household. Each Saturday night, we come together and share a meal. One member assumes the burdens of cooking, the others enjoy the food and clean up after the meal is over. This week, it was my turn to cook. Last Saturday, I very hesitantly claimed my role. I had never cooked for others, only myself. The most I have done to prepare a formal meal are the very simple tasks my mother would give me when we would have relatives or friends over for dinner. She was always there though, ready to take over if I started down the wrong path. Needless to say, I was on pins and needles. I like my cooking and feel I do a fairly good job. However, I am not a picky eater and felt as though my standards might not be as high as more experienced chefs. I was extremely nervous. First of all, I didn’t want to be that guy who sends a friend to the hospital because he serves a dish not much better than poison. Secondly, I didn’t want to embarrass myself and be the only member of the household who can’t cook. All week, my mind churned thinking of the different foods I would be capable of making. Saturday afternoon, I settled on my course, shrimp and fish with fruits, cheeses, lentil salad, nuts, and white wine. I played it conservatively, trying to keep my friends out of the hospital and make something at least I knew I enjoyed. I make fish often at home and I had confidence in my abilities. The shrimp were a different story. I had only seen those made. They seemed easy enough, why not give it a go. As Saturday evening approached ever closer, these were my thoughts and my plans of action. Thankfully, Suzanna was nice enough to acquiesce to my request and stay in the kitchen while I cooked to prevent any catastrophies. I was extremely nervous, yet, excited about the opportunity to please the palates of my friends with my own creation. I fried the fish with butter, salt, lemon, and a spanish spice I had found at the grocery store. For the shrimp, I boiled them in water with tomatoes (Suzanna’s idea, I can’t take credit) and salt. The cooking was very simple and amounted to more slicing and arranging than actual cooking. I won’t lie, in mere aesthetics, the meal was beautiful. There were so many different colors, at least I knew what was spread out on the table would be pleasing to the eye. Then came the moment when we took our first bites and I would see the product of my labor. Thankfully, we all loved it. Each shrimp and each slice of fish was eaten, all the fruit, nuts, and wine were consumed (Fruit selection that I prepared: dates(my favorite food), kiwi, bananas, peaches, and oranges), and only a small portion of the lentil salad and plate of cheese was left. I was successful. I can’t explain how proud I was of myself. I know it seems so minor, but it is and was a big deal to me. I wanted to call my Mom and Dee, report my triumph and share the feeling of a successful chef, the feeling they must have each time I eat their cooking. It is funny, now that I know I can do it, I can’t wait to cook again. 


Two aspects of my life have changed over the past week,I have given up public transportation and I finally joined a gym. I walk everywhere know. The walks to school and the city center(work) take only twenty minutes. I found public transportation to be horribly unpleasant. It is so crowded and everyone seems to be in the worst mood. I try, like most, to stay away from places that bring my mood down a couple notches. I think my decision to ban myself from the tram and bus stop will make me much happier. I can’t explain how happy I was to get back in the gym Friday afternoon. It is a beautiful place, rather expensive but worth every penny. Lifting had become an everyday activity for me in the United States. Without it, I was not a happy camper. I already feel better, more active, alert, and in control. With the gym, successful dinner, challenging week of school, movie, and lack of public transportation, I had my best weekend and really feel settled in a life I will enjoy.


29 September 2009 at 7:56 Montpellier Time


I feel so fortunate to have a happy home in my new country. Despite it’s problems and defects, it is a pleasure to come home each night. With so many differences under one roof, so many different ways of doing things, it amazes me that everything runs so smoothly. I was lucky to be placed with roommates who are tidy, respectful, and responsible. It makes what I am here to do much easier to do. I find this amusing. For the first few weeks, I would look for any and all opportunities to be away from it, to be out, engaged in something. Now that I have school, work, and the gym to go to, my time is limited. I actually have something to do, which makes me appreciate and relish the moments when I have nothing. I find my two favorite times of the day to be at home, before and after my daily activities. First, I love to watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee each morning. In my opinion, there is no better way to prepare yourself for the day than seating yourself outside on a crisp morning, watching nature’s free film. Second, not surprisingly, I love to repeat the act for nature’s closing performance before a night’s rest. About the time I finish dinner and fill my first cup of coffee, dusk is upon Montpellier and, each night, is nice enough to soften the wears and tears of a long day. Everything seems to go by so quickly, going here and there, doing this or doing that. I won’t complain about it, I love it. I think to devote your time to something other than what pleases you works in reverse at times. It makes familiarity and sedation much more pleasing. Relaxation and leisure is no longer seen as what deprives me from being active in my world. In the end, at least for me, I love the work because it satisfies my ambitions, talents, and interests, but it sweetens the time where I do not have responsibilities, when I can kick back and relax at home with my friends and my thoughts. However, it is not work alone. When you live with others, your world depends, in some aspects, on them. They often dictate the effort you must make. With the home I have here, we have found a simple formula. Take care of what is yours and the other roommates will reciprocate. So far, we have stayed loyal to this creed. We do what we need to do and we do it promptly. I think at times, in a defective apartment, it may seem to be all but a wasted effort. They place us in a place that is sub-par, why should we keep up with it. That’s simple, we must live in it. We might as well make it as nice as our abilities can make it. We could be in much worse situations than what we are in now. I think that effort pays off each day. Perhaps we haven’t gone as far as eliminating all the household problems, such as the small leak in our kitchen, but we do enough to make it comfortable and sanitary. It gives us what we need, a place to relax, a place to enjoy the sun rise and set each day. 


6 October 2009 at 8:26 Montpellier


I am afraid I have neglected my blog for far too long. I became absorbed in my new schedule and routine, I lost my emphasis on transcribing my experiences in familiar words. I have had concerns and disappointments, misfortunes and failures, successes and  improvements. I have met so many new people. Their backgrounds span the globe, touching each continent, all with a separate story and way to be related to. This weekend was rather calm. A few of Suzanna’s friends from Germany came down to see her late last week and stayed through the weekend. They were all very nice. We went to the beach Saturday and had dinner together Friday and Saturday night. Since my successful dinner last Saturday, I have been dying to cook again. I had my chance this weekend. Once again, I prepared fish. I thought, why change what you have had success with, why diversify and run the risk of losing the trust I built last weekend? I didn’t think I was ready. I need time to grow, to study the skills of my roommates. Suzanna calls me her protege, which, without a doubt, accurately describes our relationship. She supplies me with not only friendship, but a veteran of Europe. She knows the language and the culture, she knows what it is to be european. She helps to bridge the gaps between books and reality. She introduces me to the things that differentiate our cultures, aiding me in aspects I fail to comprehend and emphasizing a total immersion in the features of our new home. When she cooks, I keep an eye on her tactics. When I cook, I always ask for suggestions and corrections.I supply what I can. All I have to offer is friendship, the self-satisfaction of seeing me grow under her shadow and guidance, and my best attempt at colorful and intelligent conversation. It seems, so far, to be enough. What fuels the friendship, in my opinion, arises from the inevitability of  our situation. We both want to see and experience something new, the quest provides a rallying point. Our curiosities are our bind. We meet such interests everywhere we turn. We don’t even have to leave the house, a conversation with our roommates is a course in international relations. I often find what I do away from school makes a much greater impact on me than the lessons I learn in class. You learn to use the language, the features of distant cultures and its impact on the character of an individual, the skills needed to relate to others with far different points-of-view. It can be frustrating and embarrassing, but it always keeps me coming back for more. 


Today, the sixth of October, is no ordinary day. In my home, I believe the day will be celebrated as a holiday for years to come. It started out no different than any other day. Late in the afternoon, two arrivals would bring sheer joy to our household. I arrived at five o’clock (not the arrival I was talking about) to find my roommates impatiently, yet cheerfully, waiting for me at the kitchen table. The customary bonjour and ca va were left unsaid, a greeting of a different kind was in store for me. The first words out of their mouths were, “nous avons l’internet (we have the internet).” Yes, it has finally arrived after weeks of waiting. We were all so happy. There was an energy and excitement in the air rare to any other day other than Christmas. We were also visited by the apartment complex’s mechanic who fixed my shower drain and a couple other problems we had had over the past few weeks. It was pandemonium. It would have been great if only one of these sublime events occurred, the fact that both occurred on the same day and left out house fully functional is, in my opinion, an act of God. I must leave tonight to go back to Louisville for my sister’s wedding. I know this brief taste of Kentucky will embitter my return. However, I already feel better. Coming back to an orderly house is much more reassuring than the continued dilemma of our once seemingly endless list of domestic issues. I can’t wait to experience our new conveniences. 




20 September 2009 at 8:24 Montpellier Time


I didn’t do anything too exciting this weekend. I ate far too many french pastries and miscellaneous desserts. Ever since I first introduced myself to the art that is french pastry cooking on Wednesday, I had been craving some more. This weekend, I had eclairs, croissants, cakes, and more, all delicious and all worth it. Other than the chocolate and bead, I attended the honey fair that took place in Montpellier this weekend. It reminded me of the events I see up north when I go to stay with my Mom. I guess it was my version of the Southington apple or italian festival. Montpellier has tons of events such as this. I have seen at least three separate festivals during my stay already. I love it, they foster a real sense of community cohesiveness, yet supporting community outreach. People who live in the same neighborhood have a place to go and chit-chat, as well as learn of a trade or aspect of the world they might not experience regularly. For example, there were honey farmers from Iraq in attendance. The subjects of these fairs and festivals might not be exciting, however, their true worth, in my eyes, is their promotion of constructive, positive community interaction, recreation, and diversification. Learning or seeing something new is always exciting. Getting past the sweets, I went to mass at a beautiful 14th century cathedral named Saint-Pierre. It’s stunningly beautiful both inside and out. It has everything you would expect a cathedral of some prominence to posses: the large nave, bell towers, stained-glass windows, gargoyles, etc. Surprisingly, I comprehended the better part of both the sermon and the biblical readings.  The service was much more informal than what I am used to in Louisville. The service seemed thrown together at the last moment. It wasn’t nearly as polished or fluid as mass at St. Louis Bertrand. Nonetheless, I enjoyed it and am hoping to make it a weekly habit. Other than these activities and a couple of dinners with the roommates, that was the weekend. It was rather slow, yet relaxing and rejuvenating. I am ready for a new week.


Since I do not have much to report this weekend, I thought I would describe my living situation here in Montpellier. I mostly share the experiences and activities I encounter outside of my home. Obviously, these aspects of my life are far more entertaining. However, I would like to share what I do day in and day out, what my home looks like and what I do when I am not in the city center. For me, the sights and sounds of downtown Montpellier are far less dissimilar from my past than my home life. I find it entertaining to compare the differences, to weigh the positive and the negatives of both existences. First, I will describe the aesthetics. My home is a two-story apartment situated in a sleepy suburb about ten minutes outside of downtown Montpellier (twenty to thirty minutes outside when you add the walk to the apartment from the train station). The apartment complex sits between a neighborhood of middle to upper class housing and a beautiful park. There are really only two directions you can go from our apartment building. If you take a right out of the complex and follow the road towards the main road and tramway line, you will be journeying along the outer walls of the park, down a narrow street lined with stone fencing. If you cross the main road and tramway line, you will be going towards St. Lazare cemetery, known as the most beautiful cemetery in Montpellier. Passing up the cemetery, you will find several small shops specializing in crafting marble tombs, a few apartment complexes, and a couple parks. The road is lined with trees and the buildings are very quaint, giving the area a very small-town feel. This is my favorite route to get to different places. It is beautiful and secluded from the hustle and bustle of the main transportation routes. The other area around the apartment, traveling away from the park, is far less pleasant. Their is a neighborhood that, save for a few pretty houses, is rather dull and unimpressive. If you walk out of the neighborhood, you reach another street with a shopping center and other small stores on it. This area is far busier and much less pleasing to the eye, I avoid if I can. The apartment itself is nothing special, but it gets the job done. My possessions include my room and a bathroom and a one-quarter share in the common area made up of the kitchen, a small dining area, stairs, and storage space. My room has a bed, desk, a book case, and a closet. As for my bathroom, it has a shower that does not work properly, a sink, and closet. It’s all the basics, nothing too fancy. The rooms on the second floor are much nicer than mine and Tiangia’s on the first floor. Qibin and Suzanna have much more spacious rooms, each with a most coveted balcony. When alone, we usually stay in our rooms doing whatever it is we do. I have no tv, radio, internet, or phone. My free time is divvied  up between reading, writing, running, taking walks in the park, and studying (other than adventuring around the city and hanging out with the roommates). Life is much slower and simpler here than in Louisville. I find myself taking more walks or reading in the park after dinner or before lunch. I run three or four miles daily and read, write, and/or practice french for the rest of my alone time. It is a simple existence, void of all aspects that can distract or postpone things. You can’t stay out too late because the tram stops running around midnight and the bus even earlier(unless you want to walk back from the city center). I find myself enjoying many aspects of life I simply did not notice or have time for in Louisville, a nice walk after dinner, a reading session in the park, and the pleasure of a nice sit-down dinner with friends. All in all, I enjoy it. It is a far cry from what I believe are many people’s expectations of a college trip to Europe, but I am not disappointed, I enjoy it for what it is.


11 September 2009 at 9:00 Montpellier Time


Well, it’s nine o’clock and I feel as if I stopped typing, I would fall asleep and awake at the same time tomorrow. Today, I had no official duties and I spent the day doing mostly what I wanted to do. I spent the early morning and late afternoon in my cafe, sipping some coffee, reading, talking with a friend, and enjoying the sights of Montpellier. I love it. No matter how small the cup of coffee is, it is always worth the 2.30 euros I have to spend on it. You are paying for an experience, a hot liquid message somehow reaching each nook and cranny of your body, relaxing and gently guiding you through a chunk of time in your day. The sights, smells, sounds are all the same. Several times I have sat right across the street on a bench in the small park facing the cafe and the beautiful buildings lurking behind it. The seats are relatively as comfortable and you are only about twenty feet away from the cafe. Basically, nothing distinguishes the two positions other than that one looks into the park and one is actually in the park looking facing the cafe. Yet, the experiences are not representative of the distance or comfort of either situation. I could stay for hours in the cafe. After a short time in the park, I am ready to go. I can’t explain it. The cafe takes a hold of me, rendering me motionless for at least an hour. I read, think, and do whatever one could do planted in a seat. Everyone is curious about the french diet. How do they eat such high fat, high calorie food and stay a very healthy nation. I think I have cracked that one, they walk a lot. However, I find the cafe more perplexing. What are they putting in their coffee? Some secret tranquilizer that immobilizes its’ victims. That makes no sense. A person like me who sits in the cafe far longer than his cup of coffee takes the seat away from the next paying customer. I keep them from making more money off a potential buyer. Yet, they never stare you down for lingering or try to hurry you out the door. Often, you are the one who has to ask for the check, it is not waiting for you. Maybe I like to go to the cafe here in France because I think it is an aspect of french culture. By going to a cafe, I am integrating, getting to know, and becoming part of the french system of life. I enjoy it because it makes me feel more in touch with the society I have felt alienated from since I arrived. Whatever it is, the kind waitresses, the tranquilizer coffee, or me posing as a frenchman, I can’t deny the cafe’s potency. It’s wonderful, an everyday routine adding pleasure and relaxation to my unfamiliar world.


Other than the cafe stops, I spent my day catching up on e-mails and blogs. I had a wonderful opportunity to talk to my mother, it was so nice to hear her voice. It truly made my day. I took Suzanna to a couple of the places she hadn’t seen yet. The aqueducts, the Promenade du Peyrou, the Jardin des Plantes, all looking just as beautifully as the time I first saw them. That’s all i got, Bon Soir!


12 September 2009 at 9:06 Montpellier Time


Today was an excellent day. A large portion of my morning was spent in my cafe and, on my way home, a trip to the grocery store. The afternoon was spent at the beach. Once again, the weather was perfect and the atmosphere was very relaxing. I got home around six this evening for the day’s main event. Qibin and Xiangia had planned an authentic chinese dinner for us. It was magnificent. A five course meal of beef tips, chicken, sausage, tofu, noodles, rices, lotus flower, cucumbers, sausage and tomato soup, some other things I fail to remember, and, for dessert, an orange and rice pudding. The food was excellently cooked in a wonderful chinese sauce. The sauce was a delicious mystery. When asked, Qibin could not translate into french or english the numerous ingredients it took to create such a masterpiece, a combination of spicy and sweet that brought each food item to life. It was enough spice to make you sweat and I had a few tears, but you never felt like you could breathe fire. I can truthfully say my pants felt tighter after the meal. I didn’t think my skin was elastic enough to hold such an expansion. All in all, it was wonderful. We have so many differences in our household. Linguistically, culturally, religiously, yet, good food is a universal language. Over dinner, communication came easier. Words were replaced with smiles, sounds of joyous dining(mmmmm!), and hand and arm gestures (the thumbs up and rub of the stomach). In the moment, we could all relate and come together with ease on common ground. We were joyous consumers, sharing in the connectivity of food. After dinner, as hard as it was, we thought a walk in the park would help to digest the load we had just eaten. It was nice, relaxing. We shared stories of home and identified ways in which our cultures intersect with one another (ex: Yao Ming). It was a lovely evening and it should be a great night’s sleep, I was almost too full to type.


13 September 2009 at 8:57 Montpellier Time


Today was another good day. This afternoon, Suzanna and I went to the Musee Fabre, a Montpellier art museum in the center of town. It was very nice. I still do not have the eyes for modern, abstract art. No matter how hard I try, I can’t see anything more than a couple of splotches of paint here, dabs there, and random swipes all over. I know they are made to convey a message or certain vibe to them, I just can’t put it together. I always come away thinking they have come up with their designs on accident. They picked up a cardboard slab from the floor of their garage, saw some streaks of paint had seeped over from the neighboring paint cans from last month’s kitchen project or a shriveled piece of tin or metal, and there it is, your income and the beginning of countless interpretations made by art gallery visitors such as myself. I know that is not the case. I know, or at least I assume, it is labor intensive, detailed way of work. A way of crafting a piece of art or sending a message through, on the surface, erratic and chaotic elements. It’s just not for me. I preferred the older art. The impressionists and romanticists of the nineteenth and eighteenth centuries. The scene is there for you. I relate to these better. I can see these situations in my own life. The skyline, the landscape, the people, the buildings, can all be transcribed to a feeling or experience I once had that mirrored it. For me, it links the past with the present. The farmer laying in his fields one morning surrounded by his dog and cattle, although in a different context, reflects a similar feeling I would have one lazy sunday morning after breakfast, at the farm. I found most, if not all, of the paintings as worthwhile to have seen and I was pleased with the visit. After the museum and a stop at the cafe, I walked the streets of Montpellier and returned home in time for the chinese dinner, part two. I found out a little more information on the meal, it is called a chinese fondu. The sauce is still a mystery, but I learned how it used. They create the sauce in a large pan, not unlike the large bowl of cheese used in the fondus I am used to, and cook each course item separately in the sauce. First was the meats, second the potatoes and noodles, and last the vegetables. While you are dining, the upcoming course is stewing in the fondu and the course following that is sitting on the table in front of you rare and in water. Once again, the food was great and filling. One thing that struck me as odd though, the music we listened to at dinner, the conversations we would have about common interests in various subjects, and many of the clothes we were wearing were american. Television stars, songs, television shows, actors and actresses, brands of t-shirts, were almost all made in or come from the United States. The conversation would converge on these topics even without me in the lead. Often, what my german and chinese friends found common ground on were american and often subjects I had not seen or heard or could comment on knowledgeably. Each one of us has a unique culture derived from our situations back home. I thought the conversation would be more polarized, involving far different examples revolving around a central genre. We would share our country’s shade of classical music or drama television. However, it was not like this. Many of the things they mentioned come from the U.S. Two things really struck me. First, the ability of our communications and broadcasting systems to reach distances across the globe and several time zones away. I guess, I really never thought of the tv show Heroes having an international, at least not a chinese audience. Second, with such an influence over so many parts of the world, I caught a glimpse of the responsibility of U.S. citizens, government, private sector, entertainment, media, and communications outlets (others as well). That what we do is seen by more than those that inhabit our country. We are here to make an example for all of the world. That is an awesome responsibility and one that can not be misused. We have the opportunity to set the stage in world affairs, under a common cause and by certain principles. I hope we can live up to the awesome responsibility our industry and hard work, in the past and present, has created for us.


14 September 2009 at 9:13 Montpellier


I received my class schedule today and begin school tomorrow. It’s exciting to get back into something I enjoy. I have enjoyed the relative freedom I have had my first couple of weeks in Montpellier. However, I was starting to get restless. I had the same feeling before I left to come to Montpellier. Summer, although wonderful, seems to take a little bit too long sometimes. I wanted, and will get tomorrow, an avenue to channel my energies. Something productive, challenging, and educational that will force me to use my mind in a result oriented setting.  My challenges will be four separate french language courses, a french economic and social class, and a history class. Altogether, it will be sixteen hours per week of classes spoken entirely in french. My schedule is heavy Tuesday through Thursday with only one class on Monday evening and nothing on Friday. I will work Monday and Friday afternoons for three hours at the Office of International Relations. All in all, I love the schedule. It will keep me busy throughout the week yet allow me enough time to study on Monday and Friday. Most importantly, it is nice to finally have a plan. Taking away the uncertainties of what you will do next will undoubtedly help me get more comfortable here. Although somethings are still not fine tuned, I like to be back in the thick of things. After a while, I felt as if I was fomenting on the fringes of life, sitting and watching at my cafe as others pass through their everyday routines while I stood by contemplating thoughts that had no concrete way of being expressed in a current outlet. I will try not to take way from summer too much, I love it. It is a chance to engage yourself in what you are truly passionate about. However, school and other enterprises allow you to express the improvements or diminutions you have either gained or slacked off in obtaining over your break. For this reason, it is nice to plunge my efforts back into something that does not permeate from me, but dictated by others and the course I wish to take with my life. 


15 September 2009 at 7:31 Montpellier Time


Today was the first day of the new semester. If I was a thoroughbred and my semester was the Kentucky Derby, I would have been the horse foaming at the mouth, prancing and dancing in the paddock, my tail raised and my neck arched in attention and excitement. It was back to the old routine I had fallen in love with in Louisville. Up at five for coffee, breakfast, and reading. It all went as planned. This morning was beautiful, the air crisp and cold, slightly overcast skies, and a firm breeze. If the morning cups of coffee didn’t wake me up, the chill this morning definitely would have. The bus was on time and I was early for class. My first class went well. I liked the professor and the subject material seems to be interesting. He spoke in a clear, slow voice, all in french, yet much easier to understand than most Montpellierains. It all went as smoothly as most my hopes had foreseen. However, the successes of the a.m. receded into a whole lot of hype for minimum action this afternoon. My classes this afternoon were cancelled. I guess that doesn’t sound so bad, but the start of the semester is always exciting for me. Needless to say, when the classes you have been waiting to get a first impression of fail to pan out, it is a little disappointing. Stung by the reverses of a productive morning and the hopes of a solid orientation to my new classes, I thought I would devote myself to my correspondences. Everything seemed to stymie from there. Computers, although fantastic when they work for you, are horrid when working against you. I failed three separate times to find the workable internet I needed. Here is where I noticed my reliance not only on workable computers, but also on being able to get from one place to another quickly. At home, I have to walk a good distance to get to school, but it doesn’t take too much time and my car is always ready to go whenever you get back to it. Today, I seemed to do more going there or here to do something than actually doing anything. At home, if one instrument doesn’t work, their is one not too far away or I always have the car as an escape route to give up and go home where you know you can do what you are trying to do. Here, it will take an adjustment and more in-depth knowledge of how to most efficiently get the things you want done, done. My resources are completely different and, although I have used the tram and bus often my first couple of weeks, more pronounced when you have a schedule. I guess it was my learning lesson for the day. I thought it would come in one of my french courses, but, nonetheless, it’s valuable when trying to find a way to succeed in my affairs. The one stand out today was that I was able to talk to my father on the phone. It was not long, only a few minutes, but it was great to hear his voice. Thinking of the conversation with my dad and my mother a week ago, I noticed that when I thought of them or other loved ones, I don’t think of a major event or activity we had attended or done together. The memories I cherish do not include baseball stadiums, vacations, museums, or celebrations. They are the scenes that often get left out of the story you tell to a friend or colleague. For me, they are moments that involve a lot less action and more connection. Early morning coffee with my Mom, the ride to church with Mimi and Papaw, sitting on the porch with Dad and Dee, getting a bite to eat with a close friend. Those moments are often not celebrated and definitely not reported to third persons. To others, they are not as exciting as hearing about deep sea fishing or a Cubs game. Yet, they are the moments I most miss.  I found that odd. I often can’t remember each morning with my mom or session on the porch with my Dad and Dee, however, the legacy they left with me is profound and unforgettable. 


16 September 2009 at 9:21 Montpellier Time


I saw something today I didn’t think was possible, it rained in Montpellier. Over the past twelve days, I have barely seen a cloud in the sky much less a drop of rain. You could tell it doesn’t happen very often as well. The Montpellerains looked miserable. Hands plunged into jean pockets, fingers itching at the eject button on umbrellas, hoods up, and a pace of walking that would have made Michael Johnson look out of shape, all scrambling to get to where they were going as quickly and dryly as possibly. It was a scene of misery, I have never seen as many scowls in my life. The day was unusually cool, starting out in the 50s and probably staying in the 60s for most of the day. I have always loved overcast, cool days and it did not rain enough to ruin it for me. Other than the rain, I had both of my classes today. I was introduced to my other french teacher, Mme Monier, whom I found very likable, understandable, and brought a strong energy to the classroom. My phonetics class seems to be the tough one. We had to watch a television program and answer questions relating to the material we had seen. It was tough trying to find answers to questions and comprehending what the anchors were saying all at the same time. I had a couple mishaps. First, I got on the wrong bus this afternoon and ended up going far out of my way, about twenty minutes outside of town. With my hopes dashed of making it home for lunch, I went out to eat for the first time (really the second, but the first was at a sandwich stand) in Montpellier. I had a brie salad sandwich. I love the sandwiches here, the bread is always fantastic, the insides very fresh and tasty, and, not to mention, it’s very long and filling. It was a stuffed baguette and what a treat. I also proved a theory. Montpellier has tons of bread and dessert choices, most displayed in its respective cafe’s front window or inside a glass-top sandwich and bread stand adjoining a cafe, restaurant, or food hut (These stands I speak of most likely have a name. However, I don’t know what it is so you will have to put up with my very poor explanation). They look so good it is always hard to tear yourself away. Croissants, danishes, pastries, and other sorts of bread stuffed and/or topped with custards, chocolates, jams, fruits, nuts, most of the time with several of these items and more together, all combined to make up one handsome treat. I try to eat healthy and keep my distance. You see them so often, you would think you would get used to them. You just kind of look away, knowing what’s there but trying to keep yourself from acknowledging that they are there. Worst of all, they are cheap, very cheap. Saying that you don’t want to pay the money is never an excuse. Well, being in a restaurant with a very impressive display of these little drops of heaven was too much for me. I had to try one. I knew, if I was ever to stop moving when one of these things were within the range of my voice, I would get one. I did, and they were better than advertised. A thin, long role of bread with nuts and powdered sugar on top and chocolate on the inside. Amazing, absolutely amazing and, not to mention, a great way to knock off the rust of an hour ride on the tramway. It even softened the blow of my next, real mishap, I lost my tramway pass. Although it’s not life or death and there is not much to say other than I got careless for a moment, it’s going to be a hassle having to subject myself to having to get another. I guess I should have thought of that. Other than the food and the mistakes, I got a tremendous amount of work done today. All the homework and errands were done successfully. I don’t know if I am still buzzing off my dessert this afternoon or truly satisfied to have had a hard day of work, but I feel pretty good to back into life again.


17 September 2009 at 7:18 Montpellier Time


Today was my first real day of school. The past two days, my classes have been introductions to the course, the program, and the objectives we hope to achieve. That ended today and course material began. I learned a new verb tense, as if there weren’t enough, and that it is going to be a challenge to grasp new material. When your oral comprehension skills of a particular language are not flawless and your vocabulary is not robust, applying what you learn or know to new words and phrases and understanding the new material being inputted to you is challenging. At times, it is hard to apply concepts to use in english, much less in french. You really have to be patient, reference the new vocabulary, put together the context of its usage, and apply the rules and concepts you know. If you know the language, you are much more familiar with the first two steps. You can focus more attention on applying the concept rather than figuring out the meaning of your subject. Here, in a foreign language, the subject or  element you have to work with is often something you don’t know. You must go through all three steps: define, understand, and apply. It doesn’t help that your teacher speaks french either. I am not great at oral comprehension, I do much better with the written word. It’s a struggle to focus your attention on crafting the meaning of what is spoken to you and then applying it. It will take sometime, but I’m sure I will get used to it. School was about all that happened today, six hours of classes. It’s weird not to have class on Friday, I always have, but to think that this is the start of my weekend is a refreshing thought. All was back to normal in Montpellier. Although it was a little cooler, the skies were clear and sun was shining. All in all, it was a good day. Good night!


Friday, September 25, 2009

Written on 14 September 2009 Montpellier Time

I received my class schedule today and begin school tomorrow. It's exciting to get back into something I enjoy. I have loved the relative freedom I have had my first couple of weeks in Montpellier. However, I was starting to get restless. I had the same feeling before I left to come to Montpellier. Summer, although wonderful, seems to take a little bit too long sometimes. I wanted, and will get tomorrow, an avenue to channel my energies. Something productive, challenging, and educational that will force me to use my mind in a result oriented setting. My challenges will be four seperate french language courses, a french economic and social class, and a history class. Altogether, it will be sixteen hours per week of classes spoken entirely in french. My schedule is heavy Tuesday through Thursday with only one class on Monday evening and nothing on Friday. I will work Monday and Friday afternoons for three hours at the Office of International Relations. All in all, I love the schedule. It will keep me busy throughout the week yet allow me enough time to study on Monday and Friday. Most importantly, it is nice to finally have a plan. Taking away the uncertainties of what you will do next will undoubtedly help me get more comfortable here. Although, somethings are still not fine-tuned, I like to back in the thick of things. After a while, I felt as if I was fomenting on the fringes of life, sitting and watching at my café as others pass through their everyday routines while I stood by contemplating thoughts that had no concrette way of being express in a contemporary outlet. I will try not to take away from summer too much, I love it. It is a chance to engage yourself in what you are truly passionate about. However, school and other enterprises allow you to express the improvements or diminutions you have either gained or slacked off in obtaining over you break. For this reason, it is nice to plunge my efforts back into something that does not permeate from me, dictated by others and the course I wish to take with my life.
Written on 13 September 2009 at 8:57 Montpellier Time

Today was another good day. This afternoon, Suzanna and I went to the Musée Fabre, a Montpellier art museum in the center of town. It was very nice. I still do not have the eyes for modern, abstract art. No matter how hard I try, I can't see anything more than a couple of splotches of paint here, dabs there, and random swipes all over. I know they are made to convey a message or have a certain vibe to them, I just can't put it together. I always come away thinking they have come up with with their designs on accident. They picked up a cardboard slab from the floor of the garage, saw some streaks of paint had seeped over from the neighboring paint cans from last month's kitchen project or a shriveled piece of tin, and there it is, your income and the beginning of countless interpretations made by art gallery visitors such as myself. I know that is not the case, I know, or at least I assume, it is a labor intensive, detailed way of work. A way of crafting a piece of art or sending a message through once erratic and chaotic elements. It's just not for me. I preferred the older art. The impressionists and romanticists of the past. The scene is there for you. I relate to these better. I can see these situations in my own life. the skyline, the landscape, the people, the buildings, can all be transcribed to a feeling or experience I once had that mirrored it. For me, it links the past with the present, the unknown with the known. The painting of the farmer laying in his fields one morning surrounded by his dog and cattle, although in a different context, reflects a similar feeling I would have one lazy Sunday morning after breakfast, at the farm. I found most, if not all, of the paintings as worthwhile to have seen and I was pleased with the visit. After the museum and a stop at a café, I walked the streets of Montpellier and returned home in time for the chinese dinner, part two. I found out a little more information on the meal, it is called a chinese fondu. The sauce is still a mystery, but I learned how it is used. They create the sauce in a large pan, not unlike the large bowl of cheese used in the fondus I am used to, and cook each course item separately in the sauce. First, was the meats, second, the potatoes and noodles, and last, the vegetables. While you are dining, the upcoming course is stewing in the fondu and the course following that is sitting on the table in front of you, rare and in water. Once again, the food was great and filling. One thing that struck me as odd though, the music we listened to at dinner, the conversations we would have about common interests in various subjects, and many of the clothes we were wearing were American. Televsion stars, songs, televsion shows, actors, and actresses, brands of t-shirts, were almost all made in or come from the United States. The conversation would converge on these topics even without me in the lead. Often, what my german and chinese friends found common ground on were American and often subjects I had not seen or heard or comment on knowledgeably. Each one of us has a uniaue culture deriveed from our situations back home. I thought the conversation would be more polarized, involving far differrent examples revolving around a central genre. We would share our country's shade of classical music or drama television. However, it was not like this. Many of the things they mentioned come from the U.S. Two things really struck me. First, the ability of our communications and broadcasting systems to reach distances across the globe and several time zones away. I guess, I really never thought of the tv show Heroes having an international, at least not chinese audience. Second, with such an influence over so many parts of the world, I caught a glimpse of the responsibility of U.S. citizens, government, private sector, entertainment, media, and communications outlets (others as well). What we do is seen by more than those that inhabit our country. We are here to make an example for all of the world. What an awesome responsibility and one that cannot be mishandled. We have the oppurtunity to set the stage in world affairs, under a common cause and by certain, over-arching principles. I hope we can live up to the awesome task or industry and hard work, in the past and present, has created for us.

Friday, September 18, 2009

12 September 2009 at 9:06 Montpellier Time

Today was an excellent day. A large portion of my morning was spent in my café and, on my way home, a trip to the grocery store. The afternoon was spent at the beach. Once again, the weather was perfect and the atmosphere was very relaxing. I got home around six this evening for the day's main event. Qibin and Tianghia had planned an authentic chinese dinner for us. It was magnificent. A five course meal of beef tips, chicken , sausage, tofu, noodles, rice, lotus flower, cucumbers, sausage tomato soup, some other things I fail to remember, and, for dessert, an orange and rice pudding. The food was excellently cooked in a wonderful chinese sauce. The sauce was a delicious mystery. When asked, Qibin could not translate into french or english the numerous ingredients it took to create such a masterpiece, a combination of spicy and sweet that brought each food item to life. It was enough spice to make you sweat and I had a few tears, but you never felt like you could breathe fire. I can truthfully say my pants felt tighter after the meal. I didn't think my skin was elastic enough to hold such an expansion. All in all, it was wonderful. We have so many differences in our household. Linguistically, culturally, religiously, yet, good food is a universal language. Over dinner, communication was easier. Words were replaced with smiles, sounds of joyous dining (mmmmm!), and hand and arm gestures (the thumbs up and rub of the stomach). In the moment, we could all relate and come together with ease and on common ground. We were happy consumers, sharing in the connectivity of food. After dinner, as hard as it was, we thought a walk in the park would help to digest the load we had just eaten. It was nice, relaxing. We shared stories of home and identified ways in which our cultures intersect with one another (ex: Yao Ming). It was a lovely evening and it should be a great night's sleep, I was almost too full to type.
11 September 2009 at 9:00 Montpellier time



Well it's nine o'clock and I feel as if I stopped typing, I would fall asleep and awake at the same time tomorrow. Today, I has no official duties and I spent the day doing mostly what I wanted to do. I spent the early morning and late afternoon in my café, sipping some coffee, reading, talking with a friend, and enjoying the sights of Montpellier. I love it. No matter how small the cup of coffee is, it is always worth the 2.30 euros I have to spend on it. You are paying for an experience, a hot liquid massage somehow reaching each nook and cranny of your body, relaxing and gently guiding you through a chunk of time in your day. The sights, smells, sounds are all the same. Several times I have sat right across the street on a bench in the small park facing the café and the beautiful buildings lurking behind it. The seats are relatively as comfortable and you are only about twenty feet away from the café. Basically, nothing distinguishes the two positions other than that one looks into the park and one is actually in the park facing the café. Yet, the experiences are not representative of the distance or comfort of either situation. I could stay for hours in the café. After a short time in the park, I am ready to go. I cant't explain it. The café takes a hold of me, rendering me motionless for at at least an hour. I read, think, and do whatever else one could do planted in a seat. Everyone is curious about the french diet. How do they eat such high fat, high calorie food and stay a very healthy nation. I think I have cracked that one, they walk, a lot. However, I find the café more perplexing. What are they putting in their coffee? Some secret tranquilizer that immobilizes its' victims. That makes no sense. A person like me who sits in the café far longer than his cup of coffee takes the seat away from the next paying customer. I keep them from making more money off a potential buyer. Yet, they never stare you down for lingering or try to hurry you out the door. Often, you are the one who has to ask for the check, it is not waiting for you. Maybe, I like to go to the café here in France becuase I think it is an aspect of french culture. By going to a café, I am integrating, getting to know, and becoming part of the french system of life. I enjoy it because it makes me feel more in touch with the society I have felt alienated from since I arrived. Whatever it is, the kind waitresses, the tranquilizer coffee, or me posing as a frenchman, I can't deny its potency. It's wonderful, an everyday routine adding pleasure and relaxation to my unfamiliar world.

Other than the café stops, I spent my day catching up on e-mails and blogs. I had a wonderful oppurtunity to talk to my mother, it was so nice to hear her voice. It truly made my day. I took Suzanna to a couple of the places she hadn't seen yet. The aqueducts, the Promenade du Peyrou, the Jardin des Plantes, all looking just as beautifully as the time I first saw them. That's all I got, Bon Soir!

Friday, September 11, 2009

Written 09-10 September 2009 at 8:36 Montpellier

The past two mornings have been the mornings from hell. Hours spent at those locations in France everyone knows to avoid. Even I, after only a week into my stay, have come to dread any and all official obligations leading me to one of the many government-run offices in Montpellier. The task was simple when contemplated. Go, submit a dossier I had already assembled and be granted a carte du sejour. Like many other passes of entry and residence, I wasn't too sure of its necessity other than it was demanded by the French government. I should have known it was going to be a trying experience. Whenever the process is mentioned, it is never stated as something to go get, rather, as something to go ask for. If that didn't give me a clue, the preliminary events, obtainting a certain, special stamp obligatory to the process, should have warned me that misery was on its way. When I say special, I mean special. We went to more than ten different locations looking for this rare item. Finally, after nearly three hours of search and destroyed missioned, we arrived at the Préfecture and received the stamp in less than two minutes. Then, it was off to the University of of Montpellier to ask for the carte du sejour. By this time we had been at it for a few hours, legs wobbly, stomachs growling in disappointment that mid-day lunch had not been served. We arrived, waited for almost an hour, and were finally taken back for our turn to ask permission to have a carte du sejour. If the wait and searching was not painful enough, the real agony came when the civil servicewoman told us it was not necessary for us to have a carte du sejour, our passport would do the trick. Well, that was enough for me. I have grown accustomed to this in France. Ninety percent of the battle is getting to the point where you are actually able to acquire what you are looking for. Once you are there, it's quick and painless. Give your dossier and files, get what you are looking for. The difficult part is assembling the things you need to get whatever you are trying to get. Whether photos, school papers, or official signatures, something always seems to go awry and take up far too much time. For me, When told we didn't need the card that was enough. She spoke english to me so I understood what she was saying and the justification for the change of plans seemed sufficient. However, my roommate, Qibin, who havs been so helpful in getting me to and from and acquiring the things I need, came in to help his seemingly lost roommate and seriously complicated things. I knew what was going on, she could speak english. Qibin didn't take her for her word. Here came the problem. Qibin spoke to her in french and came out unsure of the information he had heard. He didn't believe her. Mind you, he speaks good french, but I understand and speak english much better than he does either in french and she spoke to me in english. I knew what was going. However, confusion set in it when Qibin insisted that we report the situation to our director. Here it is, Qibin was confused, he didn't really know the reason why we didn't have to get the card. However, my french is not good enough to explain the entire situation to Qibin and his english is not good enough for me to have assure him in english. Welcome to the miseries of communication problems. It's a maze, no, rather a bermuda triangle where when something goes through it doesn't come out the same, it it comes out at all. We went back to the office and notified our director. This precipitated into into a twenty-minute conversation of the event, our director sighting precedents of past cases where the card was needed, Qibin dismayed over the entire ordeal, and me, standing silently, unable to enlighten the group and solve our issues. It's a scene when something doesn't go the way a french woman had expected it to go. Speech and bodily gestures rage rapidly. It seemed as though someone had a fast forward button capable of speeding up a human being. The speech is fast, colorful, and ranged in volume from low and slow to high and extremely fast. The arms flailed, the legs stomped, and hair was grabbed. The solution was that we would return the next morning to the bureau with Christelle, our director, and she would sort out the confusion. We arrived this morning for session number two. It was shorter and an even bigger waste of time. A servicemen successfully satisfied Christelle and Qibin with the original assessment I had had, yet, was incapable of relaying. We left, Christelle shouting "Vivre la France" as we exited the building. This is about the worst it gets here. It might not seem like much, but, in the moment, the world seems to stop functioning, everything beautiful and worthwhile in the world seems to die. It seems like a dream, more like a nightmare, something you wake up from with a cold sweat, running and screaming. It's not though, it's part of France and, I think it is fair to say, it's completely miserable. I recovered and had a good time later this afternoon with our new roommate, Suzanna, at a café in the Place de la Comédie. She is very very helpful and fun to talk to. I successfully closed, actually Suzanna did the work, my internet contract that proved incapable or supplying the thing it was supposed to. The past two days, despite the hellish mornings, have overall been good and I seem to be creating something of a routine in Montpellier.
Written 08 September 2009 at 8:15 Montpellier Time

I awoke this morning to the normal routine. A morning of mind-numbing, seemingly inconsequential errands of establishing a life in very bureaucratic France. It was a trip to the bank to get checks in which we were told we could get checks, but we would have to come back eight days later to apply for them. Some of the things we must do defty reason, seem extremely ineffecient for both the buyer and seller, the civil servant and the citizen. After the bank we went to the center of town to pick up our dossiers for our carte de sejour application, the card that alolows us to reside and work legally in France, followed by a trip to establish a bank account for our new roommate, Suzanna, and to terminate my existing internet contract?. It was nice, I had a friend to do my errands with. It seems to go much smoother with Suwanna, a german fluent in french and pretty good at italian, latin, and english. We accomplished nothing of what we set out to do, she was not having the long line at the bank and the person who sold me the internet contract was not at the store so we could not terminate the internet access I had purchased (that makes no sense to me). We returned to the aprtment for lunch and coffee, a power nap for my friends and a trip to the park for me. We returned to the city this afternoon. We parted ways. I stayed at the international house to catch up on e-mails and the other left for a day of shopping. Suzanna and I met up later on to take a second stab at the internet contract. The lady was not there, our attempt was frustrated again. We spent some time shopping for a few things my new roommate needed. We parted way, her in the direction of the local grocery while I took another walk around town. I was with people all day. I noticed I could speak a little more french, my vocabulary swelling to encompass new topics and deeper conversation. It was nothing ground-breaking but it was a definite improvement. Perhaps, I find it easier to comprehend french with a german accent attached to it than a chinese accent. Whatever it was, I could more clearly communicate my thoughts and comprehend more verbally that I have since I first landed. It can get exhausting, you never get to relax in a conversation. Your ears are always cocked, trying to transform vibrations in your ears into coherent meaning and thought. At some moments, I wish I could somehow push a button and make every person in Montpellier speak english. Nonetheless, I can see and feel an improvement in my language skills and a firmer grasp on the life I now live.
Written on 07 September 2009 at 8:15 Montpellier Time

After a few errands this morning, I thought i would head to to the beach. As should be expected in France, people were free to roam nude? Yes, the infamous, nudist beaches of Europe. That place, when mentioned before I left, that inevitably led to a "Sweet Dude" response from my male, not to mention college, friends. There I was, amidst the place that intrigued me so deeply as a child watching the slide show of my parents' trip to Europe. But what I found was more National Geographic that Playboy, more reading than observing. I had to give it to these women, if males can walk bare chested around a beach, so should women. In the settting, the objects lost the sexual power they hold over us men. It was natural, consistent with the demands of the environment. There was something very egalitarian about it. Without hiding the objects of many a man's lure and other's obsession, it exemplified taking a woman for more than her sexual appeal, which, I believe is done far too often by kids my age. Perhaps that is a little too dramatic, maybe it would just be better to add it to the list of things described as french. Add it to wine, cafés, cuisine, arrogance, fashion, architecture, the arts, and protest. I guess it was odd seeing it at first, but, after a few minutes, it became a nonentity.

My final roommate arrived this evening, she is an exchange student from Germany. She seems nice and should be a pleasure to live with.
Written on 06 September 2009 at 7:40 Montpellier Time

I awoke this morning to the sounds of Sunday cleaning. My roommates and I have a three-week rotational schedule. When it's your turn, you responsibility is to clean the common area. Luckily, this wasn't my week. I straightened up my room, ate lunch, and planned to look for a ride to the beach. "Ce n'est pas possible," my roommate informs me. On Sunday, mmost of Montpellier shuts down, including the buses responsible for me getting to th beach. I was bored. When you are in a situation like mine, no tv, no internet, just books, barely understandable conversation, and your thoughts, it's hard to find a way to waste time. You can only read and write in your journal for so long. I had to get out of the house. I thought I would walk, follow the tramway tracks to the center of town. It is about a forty-five minute walk from where I live to the center of town. Everything my roommate said was right. Monday through Sunday, all the streets, from my neck of the woods to the center of town, are bustling with people. Today, there was hardly anyone, cars or people. On the way into town, I only saw two open shops and , in town, the only places open were cafés and the train station. The contrast is amazing. The same places are jam packed with people throughout the week, young and old, college students , professionals, they are all there. It felt like I was on Notre Dame's campus one Saturday afternoon, the day they play Michigan at home and was one of the unlucky souls who couldn't get a ticket or would rather gaze at that golden dome. In short, no one is there, you the place to yourself and a few other. The early afternonn was beautiful, bright sun, blue sky like always and very comfortable. After walking around a little bit and checking out the prices of train tickets to different cities in France, I thought it would be best to do something extremely French, something, I am sad to say, I had not done yet. I grabbed a cup of coffee, actually two, the serving siwes in France are extremely small, took a seat at a table in the middle of the Place de la Comédie and lounged for awhile. I could see why such an acticity is so beloved in France. The temperature, the architecture, the vacancy, the beauty, all kept me in my seat far longer than the duration of my cup(s) of coffee. I was in a trance, looking about, thinking of whatever crept into my mind. It was this moment, and a later one at the park this evening, I realized this wasn't so bad. I have thought that before but it has always been strongly countered by a feeling of loneliness or a lack of confidence. Sure, some things are up in the air right now. I spenk franglais, find it difficult, if not sometimes impossible, to understand native speakers, my apartment has troubles, and the cpmputer situation is up in the air. Yet, for once I overlooked these, I finally found my natural confidence in the good side of things. I realiwed, perhaps it won't be so bad to live here for a year after all.