Narbonne Rugby

Rugby is the sport of choice in southern France.   Last night we went to our first rugby match in Narbonne.  Actually, it was our first rugby match–ever!  Racing Club de Narbonne hosted Bourgoin for their final home match of the season.  Racing is a pro D2 team that has been on a bit of a winning streak lately but still has an overall record of 11 wins/17 losses for the season.

If you barely understand American football, like myself, then rugby might be a challenge to follow.  It was an interesting game to watch, however, and Narbonne won 29/22!  

Some things that I found interesting about rugby is that the clock counts up to eighty minutes with a short halftime break after 40 minutes of play.  I was glad to see the clock hit 80 only because it had begun to rain.   The rugby scrum is also interesting to watch.  This is where the players re-start the play by lining up three deep and interlocking limbs.  They then push against each other, trying to get possession of the ball.  Watching the scrum in action would definitely explain why the players have such muscular thighs.  In general, rugby is a pretty intense sport.  There are lots of injuries and they wear virtually no padding!

Aller Raaacing!!!!

The scrum!

 

Paris? Friendly?

I have said it before and I will say it again.  People are very friendly here in the south!  I have got in the habit here of greeting people when I walk in to a shop or a lobby with a simple “Bonjour/soir madame/monsieur.”  But my favorite is the multiple person greeting, “messieurs-dames“, that I am still trying to perfect.

So, what about Paris?  We just spent a few days in this beautiful city but to get a really good picture, I think we would have had to stay longer than just four days.  I did, however, observe less of the “niceties” that I would normally see in the south.  In Paris, though, one must still greet shopkeepers in the same manor as French etiquette demands.  To skip this step is considered rude.  That being said, I also want to add that we ran in to some very nice Parisians!  In the Métro, a twenty-somthing woman, seeing my niece struggle with her suitcase down the stairs, ran up behind her and grabbed a handle.  She helped her guide her cumbersome suitcase all the way down the steps à l’Amélie.  Another time, we were looking at our “bible”, Paris par Arrondissement, on a street corner near the Eiffel Tower and an older gentleman asked if we needed help.  He then insisted on guiding us to the Métro stop, himself.  These were the most dramatic strokes of friendliness but everywhere we went in Paris we were greeted warmly.

So, did we just luck out and run in to the right people at the right time?  Many Americans return from Paris with the common view that Parisians are rude, unfriendly or even anti-American.  Is this just a result of a series of cultural misunderstandings?  Perhaps I need to return to Paris to do some more empirical research on the subject.

 

La bise

Everyone knows about the cultural tradition of kissing in France.   But I find it very interesting to see how it plays out on a day to day basis and, also, from region to region.  As an American living in France, it can sometimes be difficult to navigate the bise.  If you meet someone for the first time, you can simply shake their hand, which is something Americans are comfortable with.  But once you know someone, the bise becomes more important.  But how often??  Every day?  Once a week?  And who??  A colleague?  The neighbor’s kid?

Answer:  You bise just about everyone…at every age.  The one exception that I have seen is that sometimes men and adolescent males may shake hands.  But, I also see men faire la bise quite often.  The frequency of the bise varies.  At work, I don’t see this greeting too much on a daily basis.  But, after the weekend…possibly.  After one of the two-week vacations, there is a lot of kissing going on in the salle des profs.  When you run in to a friend or colleague at the market or in the square, you kiss. So, last weekend, we headed north to the Alps to visit friends.  And would you believe it…we passed through two separate kissing zones!  Yes, we kiss according to the cultural norms of the region.  Allow me to explain.

In the Aude, where Narbonne is located, we give two kisses, one on each cheek.  So, we left the Aude and arrived at our friend’s house in the Drôme.  Wait!!  Three kisses??  We got used to that for the night.  My friend, Carrie, had a dinner party and we all exchanged kisses as we met her friends.  So, in the Drôme we give three kisses.  Then, the next morning, we headed to the Alps, where we went back to two kisses! So, in case you are totally confused about how many kisses to give, I have included a link to a map that advises us on the number of kisses required.  In addition, this map is interactive and people weigh in on how many kisses they give and on which cheek they start on.

http://www.combiendebises.com/

Water Polo

A team meeting.

The following is one swim parent’s cultural observations from the pool deck in southern France.  It seems that there are just as many similarities as differences between water polo tournaments in France and in the U.S.  Please take in to consideration that these are what I saw today and there are always exceptions on both sides of the Atlantic.

1.  There is far less parent turnout in France.  Only two parents came to watch the games.  This may have been for a number of reasons.  The tournament was held in Montpellier, which is about an hour drive from Narbonne.  There were two parents that drove with the team but then left.  Maybe the good shopping in Montpellier proved to be too much of a draw.  Also, as I will mention later, the players are generally older, which would explain why their parents weren’t there.  Oh, and by the way…even the few parents that were there still thought that that one foul should have been called in favor of their kid!  Sound familiar??

Alex trying to rally as he came down with a fever and cough the night before.

2.  Here we still carpool, caravan, text and GPS our way to matches.  We happened to arrive as a team, already behind schedule, at the wrong pool!  This is neither French or American but added to the adventure.

3.  In France, or at least in this region, the time/score keeper may enjoy a cigarette from time to time.  Oh, and the referee, too.  During the game.  On deck, that is.  If this happened in California, parents would have charged with torches and pitchforks hurling claims of second-hand smoke and a “my kid has asthma” for good measure.  In France ce n’est pas grand chose.

4.  There are no high school teams really to speak of in France.  So, in a smaller club team like ours, there may be a 24-year-old playing against your 13-year-old.  It’s good practice for them, I think, but can be kind of daunting at first for the younger kids.

Alex's coach, on the right, talking to another player.

5.  Parking can get pretty interesting in France.  This morning was unique because there was a flea market right next to the pool.  Normally, in the downtown areas in France, parking is at a premium because of the small roads so drivers will therefore park just about anywhere.  Sidewalks, planters, and any surface that is generally flat are all fair game.  This morning, the market traffic mixed and swirled with the swim meet/water polo traffic to the point where they parked and or stopped around in a circle creating several spirally layers of parking faux pas hell.  I thought it was hilarious but I think the coach was annoyed since we were already late!  But now we were gridlocked!  And then, yes…you guessed it!  The honking began.  Finally, a gitan or gypsy lady got out of her van but not with the intention of blaming or getting angry at the other drivers.  She proceeded to solve the situation by going from car to car and asking what their goal was.  Then, she used this knowledge to direct traffic and everybody listened to her.  As I was making my exit I clapped and said, “Bravo, Madame!“  She smiled and got back in her van.

6.  Yes, the locker rooms are co-ed.  In addition to this, at this pool, they wanted everyone to proceed on to the deck aux pieds nus.  They had a check-in counter for shoes, even if you weren’t going to swim.

7.  The coaches get mad, frustrated and, yes, even shout at their players.  No difference here!  Even our super easy-going coach got mad and shouted at his players once in a while.  In addition, he was playing along in the match with the team. (That one was for you, Ron.)

8.  They use a lot of English words in France in the sport of water polo.  Words like “pool”, “shoot”, “let’s go, man” and you might possibly hear an occasional “shit” amongst all the merdes and putains.

The swim meet people lucked out and got the indoor pool!

Les flamants roses

It has been a while since I have written anything.  I returned from the February break and had to face up the fact that I had ignored all of my work during my vacation even though I had every good intention of grading tests.  So…been working non-stop all week.

But today was different.  Today I slept in until after 10 a.m!  I decided that I would finally go look for the flamingos after I struck out a few weeks ago.  I headed for Bages, which is about 15 minutes from Narbonne.  Bages is located on the étangs or ponds/back bay area of the Mediterranean.  As I arrived in Bages, I could see them wading in the ponds.  They are so beautiful and cartoon-like at the same time.

My plan was to stop and have lunch.  I have mentioned before that if you don’t make it by 1:30-2 at the latest, you will be out of luck.  We have found ourselves in this situation several times and I wasn’t going to let it happen today.  I didn’t find anything in Bages so I headed on to Peyriac de Mer.

Bages in the distance.

In Peyriac de Mer, not only did I find even more flamingos but a really cute restaurant/café called Ô Vieux Tonneaux that I will definitely be returning to.  One side is a restaurant and the other side is a cozy café with sofas.  There are also books and newspapers everywhere, which was good since I absolutely hate eating out alone.  I found a copy of the history of the town with tons of photos that kept me busy so I didn’t have to feel as awkward having nobody to talk to.  There is also a bar there and on the weekends they have live blues, rock and other genres of music.  They have an interesting menu that features local stuff and a pretty good tapas menu, too.  I had some calamari and a potato tart.

Centre ville of Peyriac de mer.

After lunch, I did a little tour of the village.  I discovered the Eglise Saint-Paul, which dates back to the 14th century.  The church was fortified back in the medieval times.

The best part of my trip, however, was seeing the flamingos.  There must have been at least 100 of them out on the ponds.  They are difficult to photograph because they are constantly moving and the wind is pretty strong out on the étangs but I did my best to capture their beauty and elegance.

Every city, town and village pays tribute to those who served in World War I and usually II. This soldier is smiling.

The city hall of Peyriac de mer and Eglise Saint-Paul.

Florence

Alex and I in front of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

The Duomo peaking out from behind the campanile – Florence, Italy

Not much I can say about Florence that hasn’t already been said.  It is pure beauty.  There are Renaissance sculptures out in the squares, on the sides of buildings and tucked away in their niches like in the case of David.  I am still in awe.  We walked a lot and rode the busses because we stayed on the outskirts of town.

The best part of Florence was seeing all the artwork!  David was even more awesome than I imagined.  I loved The Birth of Venus by Botticelli along with his Primavera.  Venus of Urbino by Tiziano was totally captivating.  I loved seeing the Renaissance develop before my eyes as I progressed from room to room at the Uffizi gallery and former home of the Medici dynasty.

If you can’t make it to Florence any time soon, Google has put the Uffizi along with several other museums around the world online at:

http://www.googleartproject.com/museums/uffizi

Florence is just too beautiful for words.

Perseus holding the severed head of Medusa in the Piazza della Signoria.

Venice

Water taxi ride at sunset.

They say that the best way to discover this magical city is to get yourself lost.  We did just that and it proved to be interesting.  Every turn brings a new surprise in Venice.  A local market, a church, a new and interesting neighborhood.  If you really have a destination, you can follow the signs that point to the main destinations like San Marco or Rialto Bridge.  Using a map seems pointless.

Some highlights from Venice:  The sunset ride on the vaporetto.  I took some of the best pictures of my life with little effort.  It is really hard to take a bad picture in this town.  Also,this morning I helped an old man up and over a canal bridge when I was out on a morning walk.  He stopped me and said, “Mano, per favore?”  He held out his arm and I linked mine with his and we made for the steps.  He asked me if I was English and I told him I was American.  The first thing he said was, “Obama.”  Just the one word.

Alex trying to keep warm.

 

I also had some good wine, great coffee, and too many of these little fried donut things called fritole.  

Now we are off to Florence to hit the museums.

Ciao!  (I love saying ciao!  It sounds kind of pretentious when you say it in the U.S. but in France they say it a lot.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In front of San Marco.

Sheet

Wait! What?  I said look at those sheets I just gave you!!!  What’s so funny?!?!  Oh, I see…  This is funny for a French adolescents.  You see, “sheet” is what it sounds like when a person with a French accent says a certain word that rhymes with hit or spit or knit.  I have so much to learn…

Les Tuyaux Congelés

Alex in Agde before they put the COLD in the wind!!

I love southern France!  I love pretty much everything about living in this part of the world!  Except for the last two days…

An unexpected cold settled upon the region last week.  Weather like they have not seen since, maybe, 60 years ago!  It started when I was in Poitiers last week.  I returned to Narbonne to find frozen pipes.  The situation resolved itself by the afternoon.  Fast forward to yesterday.  We woke up to no water.  OK.  We can wait it out…for, like, a few hours!?!  I received many invitations to shower at the neighbors or at the home of a colleague but I decided to wait it out one more day.  This morning…no water!

This afternoon, in the photocopy room, amidst invitations to shower and other offers of hospitality, I broke down and cried!  On the one hand, I felt overwhelmed and happy by the kind offers of help.  On the other hand, I just felt like being home.  I wanted to be home.

I am so lucky to have colleagues that want to help me.  But most of all, my English teaching team!  They all invited me in to their homes should I need to use the facilities.  My friend, Françoise, invited us for dinner and a shower.  I was determined to get my water running, however.  That is where my neighbor and fellow teacher at Lacroix stepped in.  Thierry and I sat out at the curb, braving the coldest wind you could imagine, with two blow dryers!  We thawed those pipes within 15 minutes!

I immediately did the dishes once the water returned!  Now, I am about to take a quiche out of the oven!  All is back to normal.  Ahh.

La Chandeleur

Yumm!

Our beloved Punxsutawny Phil, harbinger of the onset of spring or possibly more winter, has a European counterpart.  The crêpe.  Well, kind of.   On both sides of the Atlantic, it is believed that the weather on February 2 will predict an early spring or several more weeks of winter.  I am informed that the groudhog saw his shadow last Thursday.  I can confirm his prediction in this part of the world by reporting some considerably cold weather.

I know, I know…but what about the crêpes?  In France and Belgium they eat crêpes on February 2.  There is a tradition that goes along with the crêpe eating.  You flip the crêpe with your right hand and if the crêpe lands back in the pan, it means good fortune for your family for the next harvest.  Oh, but you must hold a coin in your left hand.  In England, they eat pancakes.

La Chandeleur, like many other traditions, follows the Catholic religious calendar.  For example, in France, we are tripping over galettes des rois everywhere we go for the whole month of January.  The Epiphany is on January 6th.  The galettes are still on the shelves when all the crêpe-making ingredients fill the seasonal shelves.  The feast of the presentation of Jesus coincides to this time.

So how did I celebrate la Chalendeur?  I was in cold, cold Poitiers (hence no spring for a while) and all of us American Fulbright teachers went out for crêpes at a Breton restaurant.  We started with some cider.  Then a crêpe salé (savory crepe) and, to finish, a crêpe sucré (sweet crepe).  I had a crêpe mexicaine. When I described this delicious dinner to Alex when I got home he said, “Mom?  A Mexicain crepe?  Isn’t that a burrito??”