So I've updated my blog.
I'm no longer in France. That experience has come and gone and I loved it completely. Things could have been done differently, others probably shouldn't have been done at all, but overall I'm glad that I did it.
Life, opportunities, chances, they're all there for the taking. Now to go for it.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
On Love (The Unbearable Lightness of Being. pg 297-298)
From this jumble of ideas came the sacrilegious thought that Tereza could not shake off: the love that tied her to Karenin was better than the love between her and Tomas. Better, not bigger. Tereza did not wish to fault either Tomas or herself; she did not wish to claim that they could love each other more. Her feeling was rather that, given the nature of the human couple, the love of man and woman is a priori inferior to that which can exist (at least in the best instances) in the love between man and dog, that oddity of human history probably unplanned by the Creator.
It is a completely selfless love: Tereza did not want anything of Karenin; she did not ever ask him to love her back. Nor had she ever asked herself the questions that plague human couples: Does he love me? Does he love anyone more than me? Does he love me more than I love him? Perhaps all the questions we ask of love, to measure, test, probe, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves up to him demand-free and asking for nothing but his company.
And something else: Tereza accepted Karenin for what he was; she did not try to make him over in her image; she agreed from the outset with his dog’s life, did not wish to deprive him of it, did not envy him his secret intrigues. The reason she trained him was not to transform him (as a husband tries to reform his wife and a wife her husband), but to provide him with the elementary language that enabled them to communicate and live together.
Then too: No one forced her to love Karenin; love for dogs is voluntary. (Tereza was again reminded of her mother, and regretted everything that had happened between them. If her mother had been one of the anonymous women in the village, she might well have found her easygoing coarseness agreeable. Oh, if only her mother had been a stranger! From childhood on, Tereza had been ashamed of the way her mother occupied the features of her face and confiscated her “I”. What made it even worse was the age-old imperative “Love your father and mother!” forced her to agree with that occupation, to call the aggression love! It was not her mother’s fault that Tereza broke with her. Tereza broke with her not because she was the mother she was but because she was a mother.)
If Karenin had been a person instead of a dog, he would surely have long since said to Tereza, “Look, I’m sick and tired of carrying that roll in my mouth every day. Can’t you come up with something different?” And therein lies the whole of man’s plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition.
Yes, happiness is the longing for repetition, Tereza said to herself.
It is a completely selfless love: Tereza did not want anything of Karenin; she did not ever ask him to love her back. Nor had she ever asked herself the questions that plague human couples: Does he love me? Does he love anyone more than me? Does he love me more than I love him? Perhaps all the questions we ask of love, to measure, test, probe, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves up to him demand-free and asking for nothing but his company.
And something else: Tereza accepted Karenin for what he was; she did not try to make him over in her image; she agreed from the outset with his dog’s life, did not wish to deprive him of it, did not envy him his secret intrigues. The reason she trained him was not to transform him (as a husband tries to reform his wife and a wife her husband), but to provide him with the elementary language that enabled them to communicate and live together.
Then too: No one forced her to love Karenin; love for dogs is voluntary. (Tereza was again reminded of her mother, and regretted everything that had happened between them. If her mother had been one of the anonymous women in the village, she might well have found her easygoing coarseness agreeable. Oh, if only her mother had been a stranger! From childhood on, Tereza had been ashamed of the way her mother occupied the features of her face and confiscated her “I”. What made it even worse was the age-old imperative “Love your father and mother!” forced her to agree with that occupation, to call the aggression love! It was not her mother’s fault that Tereza broke with her. Tereza broke with her not because she was the mother she was but because she was a mother.)
If Karenin had been a person instead of a dog, he would surely have long since said to Tereza, “Look, I’m sick and tired of carrying that roll in my mouth every day. Can’t you come up with something different?” And therein lies the whole of man’s plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition.
Yes, happiness is the longing for repetition, Tereza said to herself.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Château Tour!
Château de Vincennes, Paris
the donjon (keep) of Vincennes
at Tours. the Tours Cathedral.
so all gothic cathedrals are generally the same. this one however is missing some key figures. what's missing?
Château de Chenonceau, Tours
one of the most visited châteaux of Loire Valley.
this hall is above a river. isn't that cool? :)
the exterior
the tour bus sans driver!
Clois-lucé, Amboise.
this is where leonardo da vinci lived but not buried
Château d'Amboise, Amboise
interesting chateau with many examples of both gothic and renaissance influence
not sure, but another castle along the loire river
Château de Chambord, Chambord.
the guy who made this invested so much money on the architecture of it that he ran out of money to fill it apparently. tant pis. but isn't it amazing??
Château de Cheverny
the fourth generation of the duke/earl (forgot which) still resides in this castle.
aren't they amazingg?? unfortunately, due to the tour I was on, I didn't get a chance to see the two major châteaux i wanted to see: Villandry and Azay-le-Rideau. bummer bummer..
the donjon (keep) of Vincennes
at Tours. the Tours Cathedral. so all gothic cathedrals are generally the same. this one however is missing some key figures. what's missing?
Château de Chenonceau, Toursone of the most visited châteaux of Loire Valley.
this hall is above a river. isn't that cool? :)
the exterior
the tour bus sans driver!
Clois-lucé, Amboise.this is where leonardo da vinci lived but not buried
Château d'Amboise, Amboiseinteresting chateau with many examples of both gothic and renaissance influence
not sure, but another castle along the loire river
Château de Chambord, Chambord.the guy who made this invested so much money on the architecture of it that he ran out of money to fill it apparently. tant pis. but isn't it amazing??
Château de Chevernythe fourth generation of the duke/earl (forgot which) still resides in this castle.
aren't they amazingg?? unfortunately, due to the tour I was on, I didn't get a chance to see the two major châteaux i wanted to see: Villandry and Azay-le-Rideau. bummer bummer..
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
lessons of frace: part 4
Lesson #4: 2005 is a good year for any French wine. 2003 is a close second.
Or so the guy at the wine cellar in Bordeaux said. He didn't have an open bottle of a 2005 for me to try, but he gave me something similar to the bottle I ultimately bought and man, that was smooth. So I still don't know much about wine, but I figure, if it has a strong alcoholic taste it's not a good wine. And, my friends, the two bottles I bought from him definitely didn't have an alcoholic taste.
But alas, apparently the 2005 is a bottle to keep for another 50 years. I still don't know how you'll know if it'll be good then. Guess it's time for some research!
:) mm wine... Napa trip once I return anyone?
Or so the guy at the wine cellar in Bordeaux said. He didn't have an open bottle of a 2005 for me to try, but he gave me something similar to the bottle I ultimately bought and man, that was smooth. So I still don't know much about wine, but I figure, if it has a strong alcoholic taste it's not a good wine. And, my friends, the two bottles I bought from him definitely didn't have an alcoholic taste.
But alas, apparently the 2005 is a bottle to keep for another 50 years. I still don't know how you'll know if it'll be good then. Guess it's time for some research!
:) mm wine... Napa trip once I return anyone?
lessons of frace: part 3
Lesson #3: Not everyone has a George or a Mr. Grumbles.
First, perhaps a little story about George. (Ask my sister about the creation of Mr. Grumbles.)
Once upon a time, in the summer of 2005, I was traveling through the United Kingdom, France, Italy, and Spain with three friends. We visited sight after sight, opening our eyes to as much as we could absorb in the few days we were in each city. The four of us flew, took trains, took metros, took buses, and walked. And I must say, there were lots and lots of walking.
Each day we’d get up, get ready, and review our route for the day. Museums, cathedrals, landmarks, street markets, food. We’d have a small breakfast depending on the city we were in, but ultimately it was some bread or a sandwich and coffee or tea. Then we’d go out, explore something or another, and then we’d somehow find ourselves finding food. Then there’d be lunch and we’d eat a wonderful meal. Carry on with touring around on a hot summer day. Perhaps even have a siesta here and there. Find another place for a snack. Continue our day. And find a place to eat dinner. Enjoy the evening, then finally retire to our home away from home (yay hostels!)
After a while, Howard decides to question my requests. “Jane Ann, we just ate _breakfast/lunch/dinner_! Why are you hungry again??”
“I don’t know I just am?”
So we stop and we get something to appease my hunger.
Only, two or three hours later I’d be hungry again. And after several occasions as such, Hannah decides there must be something wrong with me.
“Dude Jane Ann, do you have a tapeworm in you or something? You keep eating!”
“She must, seeing how much she eats!”
And so after a while, my stomach, or rather the tapeworm that must explain my voracious appetite, was given a name: George.
Thus, the creation of George.
Now I knew before coming here that the French are known for smaller but richer portions at the table, and many of my friends joked that I’ll need two portions to satisfy George, but at a proper meal, you’ll have several courses.
First, the apértif. This is usually where we wait for people to arrive. There’ll be wine, drinks, and little snacks to curb your appetite and make everyone friendlier (haha) until the last guest arrives. In most cases, the less formal ones, it’s just a drink at a bar or at home before the meal.
We move to the dining room and then comes the entrée. Not to be confused with the American entrée. The French entrée is the appetizer. Similarly, it’s a small portion of food to get you started. To date, the best one was the fois gras entrée I had in Bordeaux. Wonderfully flavored, and silky smooth. And went well with the white wine that the server presented us.
Afterwards comes the plat or the main dish. Occasionally there’ll be two or three main dishes for you, but not necessarily. (Surely this already seems to be quite a bit, but again, their portions are small.)
Then there’ll be dessert or cheese. Sometimes a salad comes before this, but I haven’t seen this very often. A platter or a basket of cheese, and dining continues encore.
After cheese and dessert, will be coffee or tea to top off the French two-hour meals.
C’est très gentil non?
But meals with people my age often never follow this pattern. Instead, when cooking with my friends, we’ll usually start munching on the baguettes that we’ve bought in attempts to curb our hunger as we start cooking. The butter and cheese come out and some how we’ve managed to consume half a baguette per person. Eek.
Once dinner is finally finished, we move to the dining table and we eat, and eat, and well.. eat some more. Usually there’ll be seconds, and on the occasion, thirds. Très American non?
Dessert hardly comes, but the rest of the baguette is consumed with the cheese all throughout the meal. By the end, we usually look back at all we eat and realize it could have fed maybe five or six people, but alas, we’re only three. Funny thing is, I’m not the last to stop eating. Though I'm definitely not the first. Some people who eat with us will ultimately point out how we (my californian friend here who can out-eat me and myself) can still eat after everyone else has stopped. We'll look at each other and shrug. "We're still hungry though..." Though with a big group I'll stop eating when everyone else has stopped, but I'll still munch on baguettes or other stuff until two hours later when I'm back in the safety of my own home and I'll eat just a bit more. ;)
And so now I think back at all I’ve eaten here and my growing George and I definitely think I should watch what I eat from now on. Well till I get home. Then there’ll be a few weeks dedicated to catching up on all I’ve missed by being in France. And THEN I’ll start up again.
:) Cheers!
First, perhaps a little story about George. (Ask my sister about the creation of Mr. Grumbles.)
Once upon a time, in the summer of 2005, I was traveling through the United Kingdom, France, Italy, and Spain with three friends. We visited sight after sight, opening our eyes to as much as we could absorb in the few days we were in each city. The four of us flew, took trains, took metros, took buses, and walked. And I must say, there were lots and lots of walking.
Each day we’d get up, get ready, and review our route for the day. Museums, cathedrals, landmarks, street markets, food. We’d have a small breakfast depending on the city we were in, but ultimately it was some bread or a sandwich and coffee or tea. Then we’d go out, explore something or another, and then we’d somehow find ourselves finding food. Then there’d be lunch and we’d eat a wonderful meal. Carry on with touring around on a hot summer day. Perhaps even have a siesta here and there. Find another place for a snack. Continue our day. And find a place to eat dinner. Enjoy the evening, then finally retire to our home away from home (yay hostels!)
After a while, Howard decides to question my requests. “Jane Ann, we just ate _breakfast/lunch/dinner_! Why are you hungry again??”
“I don’t know I just am?”
So we stop and we get something to appease my hunger.
Only, two or three hours later I’d be hungry again. And after several occasions as such, Hannah decides there must be something wrong with me.
“Dude Jane Ann, do you have a tapeworm in you or something? You keep eating!”
“She must, seeing how much she eats!”
And so after a while, my stomach, or rather the tapeworm that must explain my voracious appetite, was given a name: George.
Thus, the creation of George.
Now I knew before coming here that the French are known for smaller but richer portions at the table, and many of my friends joked that I’ll need two portions to satisfy George, but at a proper meal, you’ll have several courses.
First, the apértif. This is usually where we wait for people to arrive. There’ll be wine, drinks, and little snacks to curb your appetite and make everyone friendlier (haha) until the last guest arrives. In most cases, the less formal ones, it’s just a drink at a bar or at home before the meal.
We move to the dining room and then comes the entrée. Not to be confused with the American entrée. The French entrée is the appetizer. Similarly, it’s a small portion of food to get you started. To date, the best one was the fois gras entrée I had in Bordeaux. Wonderfully flavored, and silky smooth. And went well with the white wine that the server presented us.
Afterwards comes the plat or the main dish. Occasionally there’ll be two or three main dishes for you, but not necessarily. (Surely this already seems to be quite a bit, but again, their portions are small.)
Then there’ll be dessert or cheese. Sometimes a salad comes before this, but I haven’t seen this very often. A platter or a basket of cheese, and dining continues encore.
After cheese and dessert, will be coffee or tea to top off the French two-hour meals.
C’est très gentil non?
But meals with people my age often never follow this pattern. Instead, when cooking with my friends, we’ll usually start munching on the baguettes that we’ve bought in attempts to curb our hunger as we start cooking. The butter and cheese come out and some how we’ve managed to consume half a baguette per person. Eek.
Once dinner is finally finished, we move to the dining table and we eat, and eat, and well.. eat some more. Usually there’ll be seconds, and on the occasion, thirds. Très American non?
Dessert hardly comes, but the rest of the baguette is consumed with the cheese all throughout the meal. By the end, we usually look back at all we eat and realize it could have fed maybe five or six people, but alas, we’re only three. Funny thing is, I’m not the last to stop eating. Though I'm definitely not the first. Some people who eat with us will ultimately point out how we (my californian friend here who can out-eat me and myself) can still eat after everyone else has stopped. We'll look at each other and shrug. "We're still hungry though..." Though with a big group I'll stop eating when everyone else has stopped, but I'll still munch on baguettes or other stuff until two hours later when I'm back in the safety of my own home and I'll eat just a bit more. ;)
And so now I think back at all I’ve eaten here and my growing George and I definitely think I should watch what I eat from now on. Well till I get home. Then there’ll be a few weeks dedicated to catching up on all I’ve missed by being in France. And THEN I’ll start up again.
:) Cheers!
lessons of frace: part 2
lesson #2: masculinity versus femininity and the art of flirtation
And this doesn't mean the "You're cute, I want you, I must have you in bed with me" flirting, but the feel good, coy smile, lingering glance, that's not creepy, feeling from a nice conversation, a compliment, leaves you with a lingering smile, flirtation. The charming, light-hearted banter that makes France, Paris, the City of Love. It's the in the moment quick, coy, wit that lasts with just that, no second move, no call later. Just for that moment of friendly conversation, compliment, one liners (no "I wish I were a derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.") or cute little phrases like: Sois sage! (Be good!), Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi? (What would I do without you?), Tu t'en vas déjà? (You're leaving already?), Allez! Reste encore un peu. (Come on! Stay a little bit longer.), T'es drôle! (You're funny!). Yes, even a smile can get you out of an unstamped train ticket (which usually result in a fine), coffee, or just a conversation outside the Louvre.
To be continued..
And this doesn't mean the "You're cute, I want you, I must have you in bed with me" flirting, but the feel good, coy smile, lingering glance, that's not creepy, feeling from a nice conversation, a compliment, leaves you with a lingering smile, flirtation. The charming, light-hearted banter that makes France, Paris, the City of Love. It's the in the moment quick, coy, wit that lasts with just that, no second move, no call later. Just for that moment of friendly conversation, compliment, one liners (no "I wish I were a derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.") or cute little phrases like: Sois sage! (Be good!), Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi? (What would I do without you?), Tu t'en vas déjà? (You're leaving already?), Allez! Reste encore un peu. (Come on! Stay a little bit longer.), T'es drôle! (You're funny!). Yes, even a smile can get you out of an unstamped train ticket (which usually result in a fine), coffee, or just a conversation outside the Louvre.
To be continued..
lessons of frace: part 1
Last Friday was my last day of school and my first afternoon of vacation and as much as I’m glad to be done with some of my kiddies, I’m really sad to be finished. Partially because that means my time in France is coming to an end, and partially because now I must start the job search (or rather I should have, but I’ve figured I have Challenger/Stratford to fall back on).
And so, like all experiences, one must be able to come out of it with something learned. After seven months here surely I’ve learned many things. They say you should learn a new thing every day. So technically I should have learned at least two hundred and twenty-eight things by the time I leave.
Lesson #1: Relationships NEED time and effort, and most importantly communication.
I feel like I should have known this by now, but with an ocean, a continent, and nine time zones apart, it’s easy to let relationships falter. Even with the aid of the internet and Skype, it seems that it would be easier to make long distances not feel so far. Skype and even Google now had video chats (though if the other person has no camera it defeats the purpose of video chats versus just a phone call). And yet, it really is the time zones that make talking to someone overseas hard. My evenings are their mornings, their evenings my mornings. And so encounters, or long conversations just become harder and harder. And as much time as I spend on my computer, I am really a person who thrives on social encounters, coffee dates, meetings around food, meetings around activities.
And so I’ve learned, with long distance relationships, friendship or otherwise, one really must put a lot more effort into conversations, face time (or voice time in cameraless cases), emails, and just thoughts about the other person. With coming here, I had a sense of selfishness with me where I wanted to see all I could but wanted to do things on my time. And well, one learns that the world doesn’t always work with you. Time schedules, time zones, time fleeting… time sometimes just isn’t on your side.
And so, like all experiences, one must be able to come out of it with something learned. After seven months here surely I’ve learned many things. They say you should learn a new thing every day. So technically I should have learned at least two hundred and twenty-eight things by the time I leave.
Lesson #1: Relationships NEED time and effort, and most importantly communication.
I feel like I should have known this by now, but with an ocean, a continent, and nine time zones apart, it’s easy to let relationships falter. Even with the aid of the internet and Skype, it seems that it would be easier to make long distances not feel so far. Skype and even Google now had video chats (though if the other person has no camera it defeats the purpose of video chats versus just a phone call). And yet, it really is the time zones that make talking to someone overseas hard. My evenings are their mornings, their evenings my mornings. And so encounters, or long conversations just become harder and harder. And as much time as I spend on my computer, I am really a person who thrives on social encounters, coffee dates, meetings around food, meetings around activities.
And so I’ve learned, with long distance relationships, friendship or otherwise, one really must put a lot more effort into conversations, face time (or voice time in cameraless cases), emails, and just thoughts about the other person. With coming here, I had a sense of selfishness with me where I wanted to see all I could but wanted to do things on my time. And well, one learns that the world doesn’t always work with you. Time schedules, time zones, time fleeting… time sometimes just isn’t on your side.
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