I stayed up until 12:30 listening to stories on my ipod, so the 7:30 wake-up time was kind of a drag. My mom woke me up, you see, because it was the day of the organic market and she was afraid that all the food would run out by 8:30 (the market ended at 1PM).
The market was, after all, great despite my tiredness. My mom and dad made me buy some carrots by myself. That was embarrassing, speaking in french. They made Frances by some flowers. All together, we bought some more: spinach, mache, sprouts, potatoes, pears, kiwi and kiwi juice, cheeses (sheep ricotta, goat cheese, and a sharp, stinky hard cheese), cashews, dense bread, olives with garlic (my heroes!), lamb (we at that for dinner tonight), salmon, onions, cabbage, and Papa Piggy sneaked (as we predicted) some salami. Frances broke one of the stems on her flowers and made a bandaid for it, so it would feel better.
After the market, and after lunch, and after reading, and after math, and after a nap, we headed out on the town.
First Stop: la Poste! Where my parents made me speak french to the postwoman to send off a postcard to my penpal, Logan. Frances had to do the same for her penpal Cody. Frances says, "It was like eating popsicles, it was soooo fun!" I say, it was awful and embarrassing and I said I would never do it again in my life...but my mom says, "Yes, you will, Eleanore, many more times."
2nd Stop: art show. Kent was from Boulder, Co, but had moved to France with his wife, Monique. The art was spectacular: all white paint on a black natural canvas. He showed us one painting he did of a hand and rotated it a quarter turn and showed how, as he turned it, it was a new piece of art. We got to know him quite well. My mom asked him why he loved France. He explained how in the US, because he is African American, the owners of grocery stores followed him around to make sure he wasn't stealing anything. Racism. But when he saw another African American on the streets, he felt a relationship--a connection. In France, he feels ignored. He likes it but thinks it's really strange. He also likes the how France feels kind of ancient. And he loves to eat and drink. We'll see him and Monique on Saturday for their opening.
3rd Stop: We walked around the perimeter of the town and found the only bike store that my dad says is a "prank bike store." They sold fairy dresses and play sets and a few bikes. We also went inside a church from the 1100s--Frances says, "That church was cold!" I say, the church was really musty and old. Then we saw the river, the park and the CLAY TENNIS COURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ooopsie: still covered in snow)
4th Stop: Patisserie for lunch's best friend, dessert. We sat next to a woman and her daughter Eloise. We know her name because of course, my mom is brave enough to ask. She found out Eloise is my age and they live one town away and she thinks they said there are horses nearby and art lessons, too. They gave us their phone number and told us to call them. My mom says, "That's my absolutely favorite thing about France...talking to people and finding new ways to hang out with locals."
5th Stop: Home. Music. Dinner. Blog.
Au revoir!
Eleanore
The market was, after all, great despite my tiredness. My mom and dad made me buy some carrots by myself. That was embarrassing, speaking in french. They made Frances by some flowers. All together, we bought some more: spinach, mache, sprouts, potatoes, pears, kiwi and kiwi juice, cheeses (sheep ricotta, goat cheese, and a sharp, stinky hard cheese), cashews, dense bread, olives with garlic (my heroes!), lamb (we at that for dinner tonight), salmon, onions, cabbage, and Papa Piggy sneaked (as we predicted) some salami. Frances broke one of the stems on her flowers and made a bandaid for it, so it would feel better.
After the market, and after lunch, and after reading, and after math, and after a nap, we headed out on the town.
First Stop: la Poste! Where my parents made me speak french to the postwoman to send off a postcard to my penpal, Logan. Frances had to do the same for her penpal Cody. Frances says, "It was like eating popsicles, it was soooo fun!" I say, it was awful and embarrassing and I said I would never do it again in my life...but my mom says, "Yes, you will, Eleanore, many more times."
2nd Stop: art show. Kent was from Boulder, Co, but had moved to France with his wife, Monique. The art was spectacular: all white paint on a black natural canvas. He showed us one painting he did of a hand and rotated it a quarter turn and showed how, as he turned it, it was a new piece of art. We got to know him quite well. My mom asked him why he loved France. He explained how in the US, because he is African American, the owners of grocery stores followed him around to make sure he wasn't stealing anything. Racism. But when he saw another African American on the streets, he felt a relationship--a connection. In France, he feels ignored. He likes it but thinks it's really strange. He also likes the how France feels kind of ancient. And he loves to eat and drink. We'll see him and Monique on Saturday for their opening.
3rd Stop: We walked around the perimeter of the town and found the only bike store that my dad says is a "prank bike store." They sold fairy dresses and play sets and a few bikes. We also went inside a church from the 1100s--Frances says, "That church was cold!" I say, the church was really musty and old. Then we saw the river, the park and the CLAY TENNIS COURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ooopsie: still covered in snow)
4th Stop: Patisserie for lunch's best friend, dessert. We sat next to a woman and her daughter Eloise. We know her name because of course, my mom is brave enough to ask. She found out Eloise is my age and they live one town away and she thinks they said there are horses nearby and art lessons, too. They gave us their phone number and told us to call them. My mom says, "That's my absolutely favorite thing about France...talking to people and finding new ways to hang out with locals."
5th Stop: Home. Music. Dinner. Blog.
Au revoir!
Eleanore
Sounds to me like another great day in France. We MIGHT, go to Palm Springs over Spring Break, and IF we do, I have to repay you for Hawaii, and get you girls something, and if we don't, I'll get you something from Bricklle town, and or Arizona/Santa Fe. The market place sounds so fun! (ha ha ha) whenever I write on you blog it makes me laugh because you are sleeping
ReplyDeleteNiki :)
i am so overwhelmed by how it is actually happening.
ReplyDeleteyou are becoming french.
you are seeing the world in a new way. when you come home, please excuse our sometimes naughty ways and be there to remind us what they might have done in france. i look forward to that. i look forward to learning french from our darling granddaughters. i look ahead to tomorrow and talking to you all. but i must say, again and again, you have GIVEN FRANCE A CHANCE AND FRANCE WON!!! my but i love and admit how much i am missing you FOUR. grommy (somewhat mixed with happiness and sadness).