Cassis :D

I told Carmen I wanted to go to St Tropez, and she had the fabulous idea of visiting the Calanques in Cassis, a beach about 2 hours away on the train. Worked out perfectly for me, because Nimes was on the way so I got to visit Audrey, and her and I went together and met Carmen and the other American girl on the way at the train layover. So our plan was, arrive in Cassis, walk about a mile to calanques, hike up the cliff, nap on calanques and read the rest of the day, get tan/burnt, walk back to the train station, go home.

Hiccup numero uno: 

I had my overnight bag with me. Which is like NBD but it’s ROLLY and HEAVY. And I have Nigel. Who is fat. Not only does this make walking the 2 miles up and down curbs and through gravel pathways SUPER annoying and time consuming (and also that’s really bad for my poor wheels!), there is no way I can hike with this thing. So we know hiking is out the window, but we also noticed it would be because this cliff is the HIGHEST IN EUROPE. It’s vertical. Like a million feet. No climbing period.

Hiccup numero dos: 

We have to walk two miles to get to the beach. We thought it’d be a simple like 1 mile walk.. nope- up and down, on or off sidewalk, with rolly polly in the back and it took us 30 minutes. At this point we decide a taxi cab back would be the best bet.

Hiccup numero tres: We.cannot.find.the.beach. Or the calanques. We stop somewhere to eat, all starving and ask the server- how do we get to the calanques? She says you can either take a boat tour or WALK TWO AND A HALF HOURS. No.thank.you. So we’re kinda bumming, but ask her about the beach anyway, she says it’s down to the port, take a right, walk 15 minutes.

Fabulous thing numero uno: We get to the port to look for the beach, and decide we really do want to see the calanques and we should figure it out. So we look around and right away, there’s this little red shack that sells tickets for a boat ride to see the calanques. You can’t hop off and chill at the calanques, but you do get a boat ride to go see three of them for 14 euro. Not bad, not bad at all.

Fabulous thing numero dos: The boat left like 10 minutes after we bought our tickets. How perfectly imperfect would that have been if we arrived right after it left.

Fabulous thing numero tres: The boat ride. We got to sit up front in the open air, and Carmen got to experience her first boat ride. The calanques were beautiful, and definitely set deep into the cliffs and we would’ve taken at least two and a half hours to get there. Good thing we didn’t try.

Fabulous thing numero cuatro: We found the beach. RIGHT by the port. Would’ve been hiccup numero cuatro if we had tried to walk all the way to the beach the server mentioned and found out about this beach on the way back. All the women, topless. Young, old, flirting with boys and drinking wine, talking to neighbors, sleeping, eating, playing with children, it doesn’t matter. Women are topless.

No I didn't get a picture of that.

So I've been in the Mediterranean now a good amount of times.

Dangit I wish I would've written that on my Bucket List before I did it so I could scratch it off.

Crap, what happens when I'm done with my Bucket List?

Other pictures of the Calanques :)

Mini Recap

My first day taking the tram all the way to work, although Fred dropped me off at the tram station so I don’t really have the full effect of leaving from the house, taking the tram for an hour, and bussing to work. But surely it’s not a bad thing if I get to skip that entire process once or twice. So I shall be timing this ride.

In the mean while, let’s recap.

I moved to France.

I moved into a dorm with Rachelle, the girl who randomly spotted me on the train from Paris to Montpellier.

I met Carmen from Chicago, who I hung out with every day.

I went to Nimes to visit Audrey.

Audrey, Carmen, another American girl, and I went to Cassis to visit the Calanques.

I struggled for housing.

I found housing.

I now live in a home with a 13 year old girl, a 10 year old buy and a single dad, who is engaged and likes to spend a lot of time with his fiancée, hence why I am moving in.

So there’s the plot highlights. Now let’s do details.

The past week has been such a blur of transportation and waiting in line and running errands and eating at new places and seeing things right around the corner that you would travel hundreds of miles for. I don’t know how not to be so cliché when I say that Montpellier is like a treasure chest... or a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Like the chocolate pudding pie from my favorite sandwich shop for only one euro- totally gross. But the crepe place in the mall that offers hot chocolate and a crepe for 3 euro? Fabulous. I would be gaining 40 lbs a week if I didn’t make a super delicious salad every other night and if I didn’t walk 400 miles a day.

Surprisingly, the only time my knees hurt are when I’m wearing running shoes? But then my feet feel just fine... on the other hand, when I wear flats, my feet are super sore but my knees are fine. I’ll take the sore feet fo shizzo.

A few random stories:

1.     

1. Met up randomly with another assistant (another “Are you Asia?!”) and we were sitting eating some crepes a La Place De La Comedie (which is like the downtown of Montpellier)… so naturally we’re people watching and commenting as loud as we want because people in France don’t speak English (that’s wrong, they do... and we are going to get caught one day)...and there’s a huge ruckus in the corner with some lady shrieking “Papa! Papa!” and squeezing water over his forehead- he’s DRENCHED in sweat- and trying to shove some sort of fruit down his throat. Anyway, I’m looking past a guy who is looking at the same thing and I asked him what was going on and he started SHOUTING AT ME IN FRENCH! From what I could understand, he told me this is for eating not for looking and something something something and PUT HIS HAND IN MY FACE! I couldn’t believe it! You were looking too! Don’t lie! I just ignored him and kept watching. I would’ve had a retort or seventeen if I could speak that fast. I wasn’t as angry as I was like flabbergasted. Woah, dude, relax. This is France.

2.    

 2. Standing on the tram with a dress on. Violated by a homeless dog. Enough said.

3.    

3.  Sitting on the tramway, a man sits across from me… and now you’re going to have to sit next to somebody on the tram, for sure. That’s fine. But I knew from how he was leaning, elbows on knees, that he was going to try to talk to me. Oh and try he did. My French comprehension isn’t perfect. My French druggie comprehension is about null. My get-out-of-jail-free card is “I don’t speak French, sorry” (which doesn’t work when they hear you speaking French earlier)... sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. For sure doesn’t work when they hear you speaking French earlier, or if they speak English, or if they’re drunk or on drugs. So the latter was the case with this man who knew about four words in English. “I love you babeh”. Leaned over and tried to kiss me. A lot. Kissy faces. Carmen bolted and I followed her. Guh-ross. 

More to come, like always.

Last day in French dorm.. new chapter beginning!

Nîmes

Although this post has skipped a few important days, I'm in Nîmes with Audrey now, and figure I could post better about this since it's happening now!


So after our failed train attempt to meet, I decided to spend the whopping 4 euro to take the train 30 minutes to come see Audrey. Got here Saturday morning at 9 am :)

Nîmes is apparently famous for this huge arena where they had bull fights and gladiators. I will eventually take a picture with that.. so I won't write about it til I get a picture with it.

We had pastries for breakfast, of course.. and then had a lovely brunch with some of the other assistants from Nimes.. bought an air mattress for me to sleep on at Audrey's (thanks!) and decided that for lunch we would have to do something fresh with actual vegetables.. 
which was my whole plan for France anyway because I didn't think I'd like the food, because I don't like any food.
Wrong.
Wrong.
WRONNGG
I love French food.

And even Lebanese food, as it turns out.


I would've never had anything like that in the states.
But when in Rome.. That's not right.
When in France, do as the Lebanese do?
Idk, anyway it was good. A great dinner with a whole bunch of assistants, 25 Americans just hanging out in France. Lovee it.








I feel like cool things only happen when Nigel isn't around. After dinner, we walked to a bar but were greeted half way with a huge concert in an opening in some alley way. There were Jamaican performers and dancers who did a heads, shoulders, knees and toes kind of thing, but in French. "Tete, epaules.." and lots of shake, shake, shake. It was so fun! One of the assistants let me ride on his shoulders to get a better view until I got to jump in in the middle of dancing myself. Lots of Conga line cha cha cha dancing. 
No photos but great memory.


And today, we are off to the calanques in Cassis. 
This you can be jealous of.

http://www.france-travel-photos.com/tourism-photo-243-da-provence-alpes-côtes-d-azur-bouches-du-rhône-cassis-calanque-beach-of-en-vau.html

Almost there.. (Post blog)

Let’s pick up from Nashville airport. Not bad here. Nashville to New York, nothing to report. New York airport.. last time with my cell phone and I was panicked. Who should I call? I called my Grandma, but she didn’t answer. I talked to my mom about four times. I called CJ and Megan and Genoa and texted Lauren and everyone I could think of that wasn’t already tired of my goodbyes. It felt VERY real that I was leaving the country.

On the plane, I sat next to a beautiful French-Jewish woman who is a singer/actress in New York. She spent the first few minutes on the phone speaking French, and I was absolutely devastated to realize that I didn’t understand A WORD she was saying. Later I told her so and she told me she was actually speaking Hebrew. Phew. She gave me her card and I got to listen to some of her songs.. check her out!

That flight, although only about 7 hours, felt like the longest flight of my life. Australia with 16 hours had nothing on this. I couldn’t sleep, I was uncomfortable, my Kindle had died from all the Sarah’s Key reading.. it SUCKED.

We landed. Finally. First thing I got to see was sunrise in Paris.

Not a bad start.

I wish Nigel wasn’t stashed away or I would’ve snapped a photo. Sometimes I wish Nigel could be in my eyeballs.

The next thing I noticed was that English was the italicizd, smaller font under all the directions at the airport. Oh right. I’m in France.

I got lost trying to get to the shuttle, dumped over all my suitcases, found some French very helpful and others flat out a-holes.

Kind of like Americans.

Got to my shuttle, where I met a nice trilingual lady with whom I got to practice all my languages. Once at the train station, I dragged all four of my bags up some stairs, to the train where I was supposed to meet Audrey.

THE TIME HAD COME! Audrey and I would emet after months and months of Skyping and planning and building a friendship.

Mais, non.

When I boarded, I thought for sure she’d be on there somewhere so I travelled up and down EVERY.SINGLE.CART looking for her. On my second trip, a random girl said “Asia?” and I expected to see Audrey but Rachelle manifested in my eyes- she recognized my face from our Facebook Montpellier group and was on her way to the dorm I would be staying in as well! And her French was PERFECT. She has a boyfriend here, had lived here for a while.. needless to say I was intimated as hell. Very good to have around for survival, very bad to have around for ego. But she is s kind- eager to share (food.. wash cloths.. I didn’t  bring a towel so she offered her wash cloth for my drying off!) and helpful with French. She even runs in the morning, so we went on a run (okay we walked the whole time because we were kind of lost..) and I praised God that I brought my running shoes last minute even though it put my suitcase over weight.

So anyway, we get to our dorm. 5 euro a night until we find a place, a month tops. Not bad. Our room isn’t super tiny.. thought I had a picture, but I will have to take another one.. coming soon.

Everything is fine but some minor disadvantages:

1.     You have to bring your toilet paper that the front desk provides you (ONE roll) to the bathroom and back with you. Because it will get stolen. Thankfully my room is right next to the bathroom..

2.      BUT down the HUGEEE hallway from the shower. Where you have to HOLD THE BUTTON DOWN for water to come out. Shaving was a chore and a half. It was warm though.

3.     There is a microwave and a fridge that is divided into four compartments, three of which are locked and all smell.

4.     The only place for Wifi is the “kitchen” where everyone gathers (the kitchen is about 15 feet long by four feet wide) to use the same wifi, the same password, that probably doesn’t even belong to anyone still living in this dorm. Needless to say, it’s slow as molasses and frustrating. We’ve been going to McDonalds to use their Wifi.

5.     I live on the third floor.

6.     Okay that’s it.

It’s much like the dorm I lived in freshman year of college (GROSS I say it like it was so long ago). Communal bathroom, showers.. only a fridge and a microwave.. etc. Oh right. Hold on.

7.     Everyone speaks French

My.French.sucks.

Let the record show that at this point, this is only up to September 28th. Sorry! Working on the posts..

Last days in the US (Post blog)

I may have been putting off this blog because I keep thinking I Have to write it in French.

Voila! I do not!

So I must post a little more about Georgia and Nashville.

One more thing about Georgia..

Megan took me to a huge forest that was a botanical garden right around the corner from her house.  This very same garden captured Megan for several hours in her first couple weeks in Georgia.. that’s how large it is, one can seriously get lost. It was bloody hot so I didn’t get great pictures, but I did get a nice one of myself in the bathroom mirror with my super cute lima bean dress on that CJ said I would never wear. Point, Asia. 

Also, I’m pretty sure I picked up some Southern twang when I was down there. I am almost positive if I were there for more than a week or so I would definitely have a drawl.

Now Nashvile..

Well, starts off more about Georgia. I’ve only taken the Greyhound in Australia where it’s actually quite nice. So when I was warned about the Greyhound here I didn’t think anything of it.. oh but NOW I KNOW. All stations stink like urine, smoke and BO. The lady behind me in line asked me where I was going, nice friendly chit chat.. only gawked at the huge scar across her face for like four seconds.. I asked her where sh was going.. to Indiana, for a funeral. Her cousin, who was 17. I asked, only in hopes and wishes, if he was sick. But he was gunned down. I told her I didn’t know Indiana was so violent. She said it’s like that everywhere these days. Am I naïve to think that that’s actually not the case? It took me a while to recover from realizing that her world and my world are so very different.

The man behind me talked on his phone the entire time (although the  bus driver explicitly said after every stop, don’t talk on your cell phone so the whole bus can hear and NO CURSING. Like they said it a zillion times as if this were a serious concern on Greyhound buses.). Maybe the phone conversation wouldn’t have been so attention grabbing had it not been like this.

“No, Carly think that she gon’ keep me from my child just cause my baby girl in prison?! But she be getting out in Six months! We gon’ be a family.. I know, shoot I just got out in December, and I been doin a real good job with my life, ain’t no way she gon’ keep me from my child just cause I got my baby girl Stephanie around..”

Don’t get me wrong, this is not the funniest prisoner encounter I’ve ever had (Per request, I shall post some stories about a sublessor I had last summer who was not only engaged to a convict in prison, but was impregnated by two and dating another on the side... more to come)

Anyway, I survived the Greyhound. I read the entire book called Sarah’s Key, about a Jewish-French girl during the Holocaust.. there was a huge round up of Jews that they call Vel D’Hiv, which took place at a velodrome where races were held. The author makes sure to ntoe that although the plot is fictional, the events surrounding were not. Many people haven’t heven heard of this round up in Paris- I hadn’t but that doesn’t say much about the rest of the educated world- and it appalled me. 4000 Jews were taken from Paris, from French police- not Nazis, and never returned. Although sad, it was a great book.

.

Thank God for the Kindle.

In Nashville, I was blessed enough to stay with a family-friend of Dave’s. Husband, wife and ten-year-old son. Not only did they pick me up at the bus station, house me, AND take me to the air port, but they fed me in between! They took me to Cracker Barrel, a very southern restaurant that was carb filled and superb. And the lady of the house made biscuits and gravy for breakfast! I got to laugh and tell jokes and was very at home with them. Very thankful that was my last night in the US!