Mangy Cat

Here's a recent Travel Writing assignment for class, which is supposed to be a 500 word essay centered around an Angers animal.

Amid the lawless French drivers, bicyclists, and summiting high heels, I’m not sure there’s much room for an animal to survive the streets and sidewalks of Angers. The poor creatures would probably get hit and splatter on the sidewalk along with the dog shit, before an Angevin could utter out a, “pardon!” It is odd though, in Austin squirrels stare at you at every corner, frozen with acorns stuffed in their mouths, and grackles hover over restaurant tables. Here there is an uneasy absence of scavenging animals outside of the many cafes and savory patisseries. Angers should be the land of milk and honey to an Austin sparrow. Here it would be a bird’s dream, as long as they are as quick as the French step.

I did, however, spot one pigeon at the chateau of Angers, perching in a stone crevice, blending into the grey hues that cloak the city. Perhaps they are hiding everywhere-all sorts of animals, blending into old buildings, and ever so often, like the bats I saw on our first night, they shriek and fly across rooftops, but no one takes notice.

On the way from the chateau towards the medieval homes near the gothic St. Maurice Cathedral, sat a mangy white cat, perhaps pretending it too could blend into the beautiful old architecture. It did, however, succeed in looking old. Ignoring my momentary co-existence, like any great cat, it remained completely disinterested in me. In the narrow cobblestone street, it was the only breathing being besides me, if in fact it was still breathing. It then dropped its eyelids and opened them, in that cat-like wink of confidence.

I wondered if he was an old soul, maybe someone who used to attend mass at the cathedral, now content to being an ugly cat, sitting in the warm sun, waiting on its next bowl of crème. Perhaps the masses paid off nicely. Maybe, he had lived in the castle, and had ruled over Anjou, and was resentful of his downgraded status to cat, therefore stuck his nose up above my presence. Perhaps it’s Jean Bodin*, the Renaissance philosopher, returned to his birthplace at last to find peace and his own sovereignty as king of feral cats.

I felt a twinge of pity for him, kindness must be scarce for such an ugly cat, and earlier my peers had laughed at him as they walked by. Even I had, I must admit, smiled amusingly at his unusual appearance. Where are the rest of the Angers cats? They’re not off chasing birds. The dogs seem to be leashed up to their chic owners stably. This would seem like the kind of place where mice would be of plenty. But Mr. Bodin has been the only cat so far I’ve noticed, the only animal in fact, besides the fancy little terriers women stroll along with them. He pulled his ears straight back in annoyance, so I walked on, leaving him to the sun’s beams and silence.

*Jean Bodin, philosopher and politician, is noted for theory of sovereignty, writing a dialogue for coexistence between religions, and quantity theory of money.

Thus Far

Everyone has something to say about the french. For example, my mother and uncle say french boys are dirty. Rude, sexy, ugly, beautiful, pretentious, arrogant, anti-American...whatever. I think they don't try as hard to be something. When you walk into a boulangerie, which I have done many times this week, I'm always greeted with "Bonjour" sung with two notes, first a high and then a low one, and an honest smile. No one is faking anything here.

Today, I got up and walked over to this little garden/park area with the fountain in the picture above. Saturday pony rides took children around the park, as lovers were making out on park benches. I watched a little boy throwing coins off his bike into the fountain, and so many families stroll around, enjoying the day.
I think what I've loved most are the fathers here. Really I haven't seen a single parent scolding their child so far, and there are sooo many children in Angers! But with almost every child, I've seen a smiling father holding their hand, strolling around, teaching them to obey street lights, whilst never holding a cell phone, or rushing their steps to quickly get somewhere (and the french seem to walk pretty fast usually).
It is true, most people have the weekends off, have two hour lunch breaks, more holidays and vacation time, and school children have Wednesdays off and half days to be with family or work on extracurricular activities. They have made family and life their biggest priority.

Yesterday, we toured the Chateau of Angers. A beautiful castle, built in the 9th century, first used by Romans. The chateau holds a famous tapestry with interesting scenes of the Apocalypse.

Then we walked into the Saint-Maurice Cathedral, a beautiful gothic cathedral, conveniently the organ player was practicing some songs right out of horror movie, which set the mood nicely. I'm not catholic but i might enjoy going to a mass tomorrow, especially one so haunting, dark, with music from the Dracula soundtrack.

Thursday nights are student nights in Angers, much like "Thirsty Thursdays" on 6th street in Austin. The pubs were packed with students watching the France versus Spain Handball Tournament (a cross between soccer and basketball), and I ended up at a international club playing of course American hip hop, reggae, and world music. Thursday night I also attended our first french film screening of the semester, Les Plagues de Agnes (The Beaches of Agnes), an autobiographical documentary by the enchanting and imaginative Agnes Varda. I wish I could have her eyes and imagination for a day. Just found out she teaches at the European Graduate School in Switzerland (um can I go there please?).

The rest of the week consisted of pubs and classes. I keep forgetting I'm in school, although the classes are interesting.
I seem to have a lot of extra time on my hands, so some creative projects might be in due order, until next time...: D
Au Revoir!

I wish there was yoga here...

"Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things-air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky-all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it."-Cesare Parese

I was working at a doctor's office this past summer in Fort Worth, conducting ABI's (circulation tests) on people, saving up my money for this study abroad trip. I remember what one lady had told me, after I had said I was about to go to France. She said, "honey, whenever you're feeling lost, or stressed, and just needing some calm and peace, go to the water." She said find a fountain, a lake, a river, a spring, whatever you can-There's something about water.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm loving it here. To be honest, I just feel off kilter. Perhaps it's the culture shock of the first week-the chaos of trying to buy a phone, and not being able to communicate with the vender, the hovering toilettes, the way I pronounced peu (little) like "poo" this whole week, when saying "Je parle un peu Francais." I realize now than ever, why people are so afraid of change and anything unfamiliar. I've always felt extremely open to new things, and mocked those needing absolute answers, straight and narrow plans, and a life with nothing too unordinary. I understand.
There is something exhilarating about it though, far away, every word and sentence a challenge, tension you just have to keep pushing through like thick mud-it almost makes you want to be a little wreckless. It feels as with every step towards this fear, into this challenge, and with every action I'm stretching out of my skin, expanding out of my comfort zone, but really I could do so much better.

Today I plan on just walking around the city by myself, most likely stopping at the beautiful fountain nearby. I would go buy something from the sweet boulangerie owner nearby, but I ate a whole kabob by myself last night. A whole one by myself. I feel as if I'm deserved a free round of drinks at the next pub outing, thank you very much.

-i'll give an update of the week so far later, as well as pictures : D

My mom just posted this of our cat Queenie loving her tunnel I gave her.

Je suis ici!

Now that my mind is finally recovered from the long flights (in between a screaming child and a gaseous woman), long bus ride, and 48-hours of no sleep, I'm in Angers. It's a lovely partly cloudy 55 degrees (much better than what it was in Texas), cathedral bells are ringing for Sunday's church services, and most of the city has shut down.

Yesterday, we walked down the narrow streets to the supermarket to pick up some groceries for the week. Sunday most everything shuts down, so Saturday was chaos. It felt like I was on an episode of supermarket sweep, speedily twisting my cart to avoid crashing into others coming straight at me, whilst attempting to make out french foods, think through the cost in euros, and bag all my items before the next person's groceries got all mixed up with mine.

The streets are packed with students. Long legged French women silently demand their way through the crowds. There is no concept of dodging it seems, only just walking straight until a collision of pedestrians or someone weaker (or politer) gives in. Dreamy dark French boys loiter in the narrow street, smoking cigarettes giving off cool gazes. The streets are neither marked with clear sidewalks, but narrow, in between tall old buildings with curved etchings and details. Bats fly from roof top to roof top shrieking, while fathers stroll along with their beautiful babies, and plump middle aged French women, with their high cheek bones and wise tones, carry their groceries back home or to the metro.

Last night we got a taste of a freedom we don't have in America. Purchasing alcohol, and not one person asked for my id. I bought a bottle of Rigal, a french Malbec, quite tasty. Fun Fact: It says on the back that Cahors, Southwest France, is actually the birthplace of the Malbec, appreciated for its legendary intense colour since the 18th century, brought to Argentina by a Cahors winegrower. Sooo Family-it's from France not Argentina! : D

The First-year in France students also took us to a few bars last night as well. First it was a lounge-like one with couches, a d.j. (mixing American music that might have been at my 8th grade dance-funny), and dancing lasers and light. Then it was off to another, with bubble gum shots, and big golden buddha statues and again American music playing, with french couples swing dancing in the corners.

I'll post pictures and more later, but for now that's it, and I'm off to eat at one of the open cafes before it rains.
Au Revoir!

9 days...

9 days. Currently have a map of paris spread out on my bed, along with a Rick Steves France guide, and a bunch of tabs open on European festivals. I still think it will take me being in the airport or even on a plane to realize it and be like "What the fuck, where am I going?!"

Tonight I'm off for some drumming and dancing at our weekly drum circle in Dallas.
Today's theme song:

I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night-Galileo

11 days.
It's a lazy morning, full of sunbeams flowing through the window shades, the dogs are howling at ambulances, and a bunch of cardboard boxes stare at me, waiting to get sorted through before I leave. My father's guitar hangs on the wall, reminding me of things I haven't touched in awhile. I wonder how much fear consumes my everyday choices...and conquers my creativity and my playfulness and my joyfulness, and makes my friends oversleep and stay home...Who was it that said you either live by fear or joy?
It's a day I almost wish was rainy, so I'd feel better about getting stuff done inside...Instead I think I'll walk the dogs and head for some coffee. Sweet Melancholy.

2010 Christmas Bits

Queenie enjoyed her Crackle Shoot, as well as her new catnip toy...here she is sleeping it off.

French Christmas Feast this year: Aperitifs, Homemade French Bread & Herb Butter, Caramelized Onion Goat Cheese Puff Pastry Tart, Garlic & Herb Roasted Chicken with vegetables & garlic green beans, small mixed green salad, French Cheeses, Baked Brie on Croute, and my CREME BRULEE. Oh and Wine.

My little reindeer.

My homemade French Bread and Baked Brie on Croute, puff pastry wrapped brie with dried cherries, rosemary, thyme, roasted pecans, and honey.