vaporous vendredi wanderings

I slept at Julia’s last night and I had to ride my bike to get home this morning. It felt so wonderful; it's nice to wake up and know that there's a place to get to at the starting hours of the weekend. There were cigarette butts on the pavement as I rode out of centre ville. They were matted and flatted down from the rain that fell the night before. I wondered who they belonged to and what the night had been like--if the smokers meant to leave a trace, if they hope to leave a indication of who they are. Everyone smokes here, even the most gorgeous girls. It’s true that French women make smoking look sexy.

I was riding over cigarettes butts and trailing in the exhaust of the city buses,
I was following grafitti tracks and buried railroad plaques,
I was zooming past too many chilled SDFs* and sleepless boulangerie chefs,
But all the time I was rolling upward, my movements unheard.

There were tractors riding all through the center of town yesterday. Hundreds of tractors. It was a manifestation, a grève, a strike. It is the first I've seen in Besançon. I was in the midst of a conversation with Sibylle (a new friend) when all the tractors began honking and blowing their noise-makers and flashing their lights and making their way toward…toward change I suppose. Sibylle said that they were "fed up with the government." "What did the government do?" I asked. "Nothing, really," she said with a chuckle. But then she explained how the farmers are upset because there had been cuts in goverment aid because of too much milk production. So the farmers are upset. All I can say is that the French like to manifest (and they like milk-products). Here, the police block off the streets and protect the manifesters. If this happened in the States, there'd be cops out there pushing the people back and if it got really crazy, maybe there'd be guns!
Guns.
Guns.
Guns.
Foreigners associate America with guns (thanks, Michael Moore). I've already had two French people ask me about guns and violence in the U.S. They are curious to know the truth from a real American. I have to tell them that yes, people have guns in the United States. The laws are different according to each state. I explain that Texas’ gun laws are scary in theory, but I was never afraid of someone pulling a gun on me.
I lived in Texas for half my life, eleven years, but I lived the first half of my life in Chicago. So, I just get to choose to say where I’m from. I usually tell people that I studied in Texas, but I am from Chicago. This way I get to mention both states, as they both are a part of who I am. I also get to gain perspective and am asked questions about both places. So far, here are some observations I have made from personal interaction and experience**:
When the French hear “Texas,” they think of:
- George Bush
- “Dallas” (the TV show)
- deserts
- Houston
When the French hear “Chicago,” they think of:
- Barak Obama
- gangsters
- The Bulls
So that’s that.

Yesterday I had a true French lunch chez M. Bassenne petite ‘bricolage’ apartment, the man who gave me Jiddu’s book (see previous entry). It was absolutely amazing and I think I may very well become good friends with this sweet old man…he’s so generous and just wants a friendly face around. He eats all “bio” (organic). We ate:
- BRUT Champagne
- salad with mixed greens, sunflower seeds, beets, radishes, and citron-based dressing
- raw corn on the cob
- Ratatouille! (yummmmmmm…completely organic and phenomenal!!!)
- fresh grain bread and three kinds of “chèvre” (goat cheese): moist, semi-dry, and dry
- “infusion” – the absolute BEST tea I’ve ever had in my life, ever.
- a spoonful straight of fresh honey from the forest not far away
- small pieces of chocolate
I brought him a baguette but he wouldn’t accept it and made me take it back, along with an ear of corn and a “bio” muffin from his favorite “bio” boulangerie. heehee.

Later I met Sibylle at Bar de l’Université for a language exchange. She is 18, her first year the “fac” (university) studying English. She told me she thinks I’m better at French than she is at English. I told her the same thing but vise versa. She’s a keeper.

It was cold and rainy so instead of trekking it all the way back home, I rode over to Julia’s and she introduced me to a program called ‘garage band’ on her Mac. Amazing. How I have never seen or played with it before?!? She also showed my her boyfriend’s poetry. I slept in Estelle’s (Estelle is Julia’s roomie) sleeping bag. Estelle looks like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She’s an artist, very loving, and giggly. We all love Estelle. Also, Estelle smokes.

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*"SDF" stands for "sans domicile fix," which means 'homeless'
**these are generalizations....and I'm no sociologist....so that's that.

Music: The Helio Sequence:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wF01UyuV5xk