I am not alone, though – no. For tonight I am accompanied by some white noise in the background… “French Idol” (entitled “Nouvelle Star”). Exactly like “American Idol” – which, incidentally I never watch at home – this French version of the show features pretty-faced young folks who are mediocre karaoke singers, at best. The greatest factor by far, however, is that these poor native Frenchies find themselves singing almost exclusively American songs. For instance, one of the male contestants just gave his best shot at the classic hit, “Well Comb Two Zee Oh Tell Callie Four Knee Ah.”
*Holy crepe! Important interruption! A fantastic French commercial that I’ve never seen before just came on – only it’s in English and the people in it are George Clooney and John Malkovich. (Do the Coen Freres work on international ad campaigns in their down time? Makes you wonder…) Anyway, wow. I must instantly find this on YouTube and add the link on here so you can share in this amazingness with me. Voila: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODB9xXLZ2oE&feature=related
Okay, back to typing my blog and watching “Nouvelle Star” (so much for white noise. Anybody got an Adderall?)
…two hours later...
Okay, just remembered I have my final meeting of the year for the ‘09/’10 GDS Alumni Board. Crap. Gotta run downstairs and see if I can get on internet to join this online board meeting. If it works I will be occupied with that from midnight-2am. Ah, the joys of having a full plate. Wish me luck!
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.
Sophie, Lily, and I headed in to Cannes around midday to catch the Market Screening of “William Vincent,” a film that James Franco both starred in and produced with his company, ‘RabbitBandini.’ I’ll be honest, we (along with the students who showed up for the screening) were mostly holding out hope that the present-day James Dean would show up in-person to present his film to the 60-person market screening audience. He did not – and the film was beyond awful, soooo… 1 point James Franco, 0 points us.
Synopsis:
From James Franco’s RabbitBandini Productions comes the story of William Vincent, a man (Franco) who assumes a new identity for the sole purpose, it seems [read: NO purpose], of disappearing in plain sight. He is living in the shadows of New York City, until one day chance brings him in contact with a vague crime syndicate [keyword: vague] made up of a trio of unlikely criminals [read: uninteresting people], one of whom is Ann, the couresan/confidant of the syndicate boss. William and Ann fall in love almost immediately [without explanation – about as much build-up of a paltry RomCom], to the great displeasure of the Boss. When the Boss prohibits William from seeing Ann [senselessly], the reluctant criminal’s reaction is swift and extreme, and forces him to flee the city, leaving behind Ann and whatever small life he had constructed for himself [keyword: small (read: uneventful, hardly making a dent on anyone or anything, pointless – just like this plot)]. The film begins when William, after four years in exile, returns to the city to rescue Ann from her enslavement by the Boss [interesting’ish premise uninterestingly played out].
At least we all got a free glass of wine out of enduring the “my first film school” film. While we waited in line before the screening we were handed some petite glasses of vino by a couple of Festival waitresses. Methinks this was an attempt to drug us so we would enjoy the film. Unfortunately for them I don’t think we would’ve enjoyed it even if they had passed out pills of ecstasy and free passes to Euro Disney. This flimsy, painfully dull, wannabe-existential movie did not stand a chance – it tried WAY to hard. Better just stick to soap operas and weed movies, James.
Après le film, the students scattered to go catch more screening and Sophie headed back to Juan for dinner. Lily and I strolled along the International Village and walked through the park to grab some food at the little outdoor café by the carousel and fountain. (Same place I had that meet’n’eat session with Dr. Smith and those students a few days prior).
Feeling a bit Frenchy I ordered a classic dish, a Croque Monsieur (which is basically a glorified ham and cheese). Lily and I ate and enjoyed the bustling scenery before heading over to the Cinéma de la Plage (aka- Movie on the Beach).
We flashed our badges, were handed a plush, white, fleece ‘Stella Artois’ blanket (which now sits in my hotel room after I expertly smuggled it out – hey, gotta get souvenirs where you can!), and made our way up towards the front to grab a couple primo seats in the rows of cloth folding chairs.
Before long the familiar sounds of a man yelling, “Shoo-shoo! Shoo-shoo!,” reverberated into our eardrums. This is exactly what I had been waiting for. This same guy is here EVERY YEAR walking the aisles of cloth beach chairs selling his “shoo-shoos”, which are basically little plastic bags of praline-covered nuts. It’s 2€ for one bag or 3€ for two. Of course I opt for the two-bag option, so Lily and I can each enjoy a treat during the movie.
The movie playing on the screen out over the Med tonight is, “From Here to Eternity.” Ahh…a movie about Hawaii and the U.S. military as I sit on the beaches of southern France…could this BE anymore perfect for me?!?!
About halfway through the film we are distracted by the booming music and flashing lights of another projection. It seems that a Chinese cinema party is on and popping just a little ways down the beach from us. Lily and I attempt to stay focused on the large screen in front of us as best we can – we don’t want this to ruin our beach movie experience.
A half our later, just when we had successfully zoned out the noise from the neighboring party – FLASHES of FIREWORKS appear above our screen out over the waters of the Mediterranean. It was truly a moment worthy of “oos” and “ahhs.” We were mesmerized and taken aback as this would turn out to be the BEST fireworks show that Lily or I had ever experienced in our lives. Hands down. I immediately mentally apologize to the Chinese party people for the mean thoughts I had toward them earlier --- because THIS was truly a spectacle. I’ve never seen anything like it. Amazing.
Just on the other side of the bushes from us in the park was a full-scale Bocce Ball Tournament, complete with concessions, announcers on loud speakers, and chairs for spectators. It was intense - each team wore matching bocce t-shirts or track jackets (many of which you could tell were made with iron-on letters) - I loved it. There's old men playing bocce on the park's little courts all day everyday, but on THIS day it was for all the marbles. 
This is my perch.
My voyeuristic spells upon this perch are becoming longer and longer – it’s so easy to just gaze out and daze out. I feel like I’m a part of my own, personal neighborhood watch. I also feel like the creepy American staring down at everyone from the window. Hm.
Jaz-Z, Beyonce – is that you? Meet you in St. Tropez!
Brangelina – is that you? Shiloh needs a life vest!
Notice in that last picture - there's a person at the back left side of the boat pulling a jet ski into the back/bottom of the boat. Yeah - that yacht is HUGE. ...Aaaaand I'm stalking it. :)
Couldn’t fall asleep 'til 3 last night even though I thought I was tired. Thanks, body, for more mixed messages. Sheesh.
Finally fell asleep after 3, but was awoken at 6 to what I thought was the Gestapo pounding angrily on my apartment door. Turns out the Gestapo were not at my door (or, really, anywhere in the last 60 years) – but nonetheless, I shoot out of bed like a mistress being caught by Elin. Once awake the loud noises fail to cease. I decide that Juan-Les-Pins is being invaded by a noisy fleet of tanks. Wrong again. Turns out 6am on Thursday morning is when France decided it was best to bring out several humongo trucks to clean – nay, POWER wash – the streets of this itty bitty beach town….for an HOUR AND A HALF. (*Namita later told me it was probably some sort of a strike. Ah, the French.)
Note to self: Buy ear plugs today at Casino (the grocery store around the corner).
Since I haven’t really eaten a meal since the picnic-style Moe’s and Joe’s lunch of chicken quesadillas on the floor of Carl’s cube Tuesday afternoon -- (had to get my Cinco de Mayo fill early) -- I was turning into quite the Ana Anna. (that’s eating disorder speak, folks. look it up.)
*SIDENOTE (aka- Completely Unrelated Tangential Meandering): Not only does my last name stand for “lady bits” (‘Beaver’), but my first name is lucky enough to have the honor of standing for 'Ana', a glorified personification of an eating disordered girl (think, Fiona Apple) - derived from, ‘anorexia'. Ana is often spotted hanging out with fellow skinny bitch, ‘Mia’ (you know, like, buliMIA). I’m not even making this up, folks. This is the type of information I learn when I see a friend on facebook who has gotten too skinny and then spend the next hour and half of my ADD-plagued life on urban dictionary-esque sites centered around eating disorders. I also read about some sort of weird tie-in about what it stands for when these types of girls wear red and purple bracelets?? I don’t know - I learned a lot of crazy things during that Google search. So beware, skinny friends, I'm watching you...
Anyway, getting back to it. I was STARVING, J, but still not quite ready to indulge in the delicious richness often found in typical French cuisine. So I opt to go the salad route and start wandering the local streets.
Saw this on the way.
I finally stumble into a little pizza place across the street from my residence. I ask if they can make a salad "à emporter" (aka- 'to go'). The owner was overtly accommodating and assured me he could do this - offered me a place to sit down in the restaurant while I waited. It was a good thing I sat down because it took him about 40min - no lie - to prepare it. I guess he was just trying to make it perfect. I didn't mind waiting - it was nice being out of my room and listening to a nearby table of French folks chatting over their meals. Anyway, when he finally brought it out - he gave me the salad in a big thing of tupperware - ha! If I had known they didn't do take-out, I wouldn't have made him go through all that - but he was so nice. Anyway, I promised him I would bring back the tupperware, silverware, and dressing container he gave me because "je reste juste la-bas" (indicating my residence was right across the street). He knew because he said he saw me get out of the taxi the other morning. That would've been creepy if he wasn't so nice - but I didn't get that vibe from him at all. He was legitimately just looking out for an apparent out-of-towner. So nice.
My delicious salad. Can you tell it was a pizza place? Notice the pesto covered mozzarella. LOVE. IT. This shall now be known as "Le Anna Special."
Slept in (as in I slept from midnight to 11:30am), woke up, and tried to shake my shakiness from the day before. Still a bit uneasy, but managed to force down a croissant. I repeat – FORCE down a croissant. It was hot, freshly baked, and I had to FORCE it down. Didn’t taste it either. Hmm...considering this is what my mouth has been watering for all Spring leading up to this, I immediately know that I am still not quite up to par. I mean, BODY, get with the program! We’re in freaking FRANCE for crepe’s sake.
Anyway – I go with my body’s unwillingness to participate and say to myself, ‘go back to bed, young lady.’ So I did. Until 4:30 that evening.
I woke up to my beeping travel alarm alerting me to get my derrière into gear – as I had a scheduled time to meet our on-the-ground France correspondent, Namita, who helps out with the program with logistics and such throughout the year. I had to meet her at 5:42pm in the next town over, Antibes. Thankfully it is only one stop away via train – a total of 2 minutes on the tracks.
Seeing Namita get off the train brought a much-needed smile to my face. She gave me a suitcase full of things I need to set up my “personal office” back in my room (printer, cords, CD’s, about a thousand cell phones, etc). We sat in the Antibes train station for 10min before she had to continue on her way to Nice. After an express espresso with her and the suitcase now in tow – I hopped the train back one stop to my quaint little stomping grounds in Juan Les Pins.
Et voila! Here I am on my laptop --- answering emails and taking names…
Saw this at the Antibes train station. Good ol' Steve Carrell and Tina Fey. What if I just stuck it to the Cannes Film Fest and went to see this movie in one of the local theatres instead of one of the flashy red carpet premieres one night? Not cool? No? Alright.
Yesterday was my first day on the ground here back in France. I would have written had a crazy person not taken over my body.
Due to a combination of jetlag and a severe, adverse reaction to something I took on the plane from JFK to Nice – I morphed into my own worst nightmare. Constant shaking, teeth chattering, afraid to sit down in my own room, no appetite, disorientation, etc. etc. etc. -- I was in A GLASS CASE OF EMOOOTIONNNNNN. If I never experience anything like that again it will be too soon.
Yikes! Glad that is O-V-E-R.
