Being the haggard old lady that I am – well, at least compared to these Energizer bunny students – I took the third day of the Festival “off” to stay in Juan Les Pins and catch up on sleep, sanity, and computer usage.
Posting up in the wifi-friendly lobby of our residence, I sunk deeper and deeper into one of the cracked leather couches for approximately seven hours – accomplishing way less, blog-wise, than I had set out to complete. It’s amazing how accustomed we (in America) have become to instant gratification, technologically. When the loading of a website or the upload of a photo takes longer than .5 seconds it feels like an eternity. Needless to say, it has been a struggle --- in France, I achieve as much in an hour as I would in ten minutes back in the States. And yes, I WILL take some cheese with this whine – preferably camembert and emmental.
Besides my time-sucking-blackhole-of-an-internet experience there were a couple noteworthy anecdotes I’ll take the time to share…
Living in a French residence makes for some fantastic people-watching in our very own lobby. The slue of characters is similar in that they are mostly European vacationers – a lot of times with families (read: adorable kids with even more adorable accents) – or they are quirky, elderly locals. On this, my day off, I was lucky enough to have encounters with both of these ‘types’.
The first encounter occurred with the former of these examples. A pack of siblings plopped themselves down on the plush, brown couches around where I sat. There was the older, adolescent sister who quietly set the example – there was the husky, middle-child brother whose slicked back hair and bowling ball-esque stature was more than amusing, and then there was the youngest sister with curly hair down to her back who was full of life and too cute for words. All three were pre-occupied with electronic devices that matched each child perfectly – size and age-wise. It was like the three bears in Goldie Locks and the sizes of their furniture. The oldest typed on her regular-sized laptop, the middle child gazed at his personal DVD player, and the youngest energetically played on her tiny handheld Nintendo device. The site of these kids with their perfectly-sized gadgets, respectively, was entertainment enough….that is, until the youngest little girl started loudly cussing at her Nintendo. Repeatedly. It was HILARIOUS! Her older brother and sister were hardly fazed by her outbursts – which made me wonder if this type of language/behavior was normal. The little girl couldn’t have been more than five, yet she was shouting “merde” at poor little “Mario” on her screen. “Merde! Mario a tué!” If I heard a kindergartener in America yell, “Shit, Mario died,” I would correct them – or in the very least strongly question the way they’ve been parented. Is this a cultural difference? It was my understanding that ‘merde’ means ‘shit’ and ‘shit’ is equivocal to a cuss word. Am I wrong? Has this term been lost in translation? Perhaps ‘merde’ is more closely aligned with ‘crap’ – still getting the meaning of ‘shit’ across, but in a less severe word form. I don’t know – this encounter really made me wonder…
Second, there is an old man whose walks through the lobby I have managed to witness twice daily. He often takes up complaints about who knows what with the front desk – he seems to really make the staff work for his approval, which I like. The students refer to him as “a boss” (not in the workforce sense…but in the current college lingo sense). From behind, in his flannel shirts and fitted jeans, he has the frame of a 30-year-old version of himself – yet when he turns around to face forward his 70-year-old potbelly and wrinkles are revealed and I love him all over again. My favorite accessory is his blue NY Yankees hat that he wears constantly. So badly I want to take a picture of this man for Pete Heid (one of my advertising coworkers and the biggest Yankees fan I’ve ever met). Anyway, on this day I find myself in the elevator with him for a few brief moments. I seize this opportunity to tell him, “J’aime beacoup ton chapeau” (aka- I really like your hat). He says, “New York!” and continues on to tell me an unlikely story. Instead of the typical ‘I went to NYC and bought this hat’ tale he told me he had gone on a trip to Spain and found this hat for sale en Espagne. He bought it there solely because he like the hat, admitting to me that he had never even been to New York let alone the United States. I laughed in French (quoi?) and bid him ‘au revoir’ as the elevator stopped at his floor. I smiled the rest of the way up to my floor.
Finally, I got a small taste of home. Through a quick gchat with Dan I learned that Charley (mine and Dan’s sweet little Puggle) was in daycare back in Atlanta. I immediately go to Bark ATL’s website to take a peak in its three dog rooms – Little Pup Lane, Mid-Hound Lounge, & Big Dog Way – via the online motion cameras the daycare provides. I found Charley and her doggy friends PASSED OUT in the Mid-Hound Lounge, her white underside exposed, in prime position for a belly rub. I took a quick still shot of the room and dragged the photo to my desktop (see below). I love that even 4,735.2 miles away (yep, check it: http://www.distancefromto.net/) I can see my baby girl and get a little jolt of happiness from home. God bless Bark ATL’s video cameras (and skype)!
Courtesy of services provided by: www.barkatl.com
Around 8pm I venture out from my comfortable lobby setup with our program’s Telecom professor, Dr. Jennifer Smith. Jen needs dinner and my stomach’s gurgling indicates that I do too. I suggest in an instant that we dine at “Pasta de Lys,” the cheapest, best pizza/pasta place in Juan. Jen has heard me raving about it since last year, so she is eager to try it.
*Cool bonus: “Pasta de Lys” will provide you a Chinese takeout-esqe ‘to go’ box for your leftovers should you choose to take them with you. In a country where ‘doggy bags’ are virtually non-existent (and definitely taboo to request) this is a huge perk worth mentioning. The restaurant also offers delivery service. Yes, delivery service in France. It’s so cute – they have a little motorbike that sits out front with a plastic crate strapped on the back that can hold pizza boxes. I love it.
[insert food pic]
As you can see, this place – and this food – is fantastic.
After we finished carbo-loading the ball was in Jen’s court to guide us to a dessert place. Being the nutella crepe connoisseur that she is, Jen immediately leads the way to “Grand Marnier” – the fanciest, shmanciest crepe stand I have ever seen. Like its closely-situated competitors “Grand Marnier” possesses the standard round, heated crepe maker, metal crepe spreader, and oversized jar of nutella. Unlike the other crepe stands “Grand Marnier” trounces the competition with sprawling marble countertops – an unrivaled luxury provided to the walk-up customers. Additionally, there are two crepe-constructors extraordinaire (as opposed to the usual, one-man crepe operation) and this tag-team duo perpetuates their professionalism through their uniform chef hats, at least a foot high, and their crisp, white chef jackets. They clearly take their crepe-making seriously.
*Cool bonus: “Grand Marnier” provides a never-before-seen (at least in my quarter life) crepe eating device: plastic tongs! Genius! Beige in color and free for the taking, these tongs are also labeled with the “Grand Marnier” name – as are the napkins. Needless to say their investments have paid off.
[insert crepe pic]
“Grand Marnier’s” crepe is, hands down, the best nutella crepe I have ever consumed.
