Obama, my Host Family, and Geography

Every Friday night in the summer (ending with a special event on Tuesday), the city of Montpellier hosts a wine-tasting festival on the Esplanade, the large tree-lined promenade off the city center. Tons and tons of people turn out! There were easily 10,000 people there last night at any given time. There were flamenco dancers (nice to see, but not particularly exciting), live music (eurotrash - which is to say it was literally eurotrash; that's not a band name), and three glasses of wine for three euros (and you can keep the glass - or break it, trying to see if your cell phone will fit inside of it, as was the case for me). It was a lot of fun, especially since it was the last night all the Americans were in the dorms together.

Yesterday, one of the Americans, Rachel (who is staying in the dorms for the semester and has already acquired an extra mattress, and thus, couch surfers) and her Colombian-Australian couch surfer Camilo and I went to the zoo. I am a big fan of zoos, and a bigger fan of free zoos. Montpellier's Lunaret Zoo is quite large and is, of course, free. We barely scratched a quarter of it in the course of two hours. We saw ostriches, lemurs, macaws, zebras, leopards (which are called guépards in French), rhesus monkeys, and maribous, which are the evilest looking birds in existence. They have gnarled, prehistoric faces and needle-point beaks that are about a foot long. It didn't help that the sign said they were predatory birds, either, nor the fact that they are about four feet tall and could easily impale me. I look forward to going back sometime. Apparently, it is also a popular place to go running, and it's about ten minutes walk from the University.

A quick word about Camilo and all the other Australians I've met. I am constantly envious of their lifestyle. They seem to come from a carefree land where everyone eventually leaves Australia to go on the first of several year-long voyages to Europe, Southeast Asia, East Asia, or in Camilo's case, all three. He began his voyage in Thailand two years ago, traveled to China, then to South Korea, worked there teaching English for a while, took the Beijing-Ulaanbataar connection to get on the Tran-Siberian Railroad to Moscow, wound up in Moscow, made his way to Denmark, and hitch-hiked to Spain. While not achieving the speed of Phineas Fogg, he certainly has achieved much of the same breadth. And when I asked him, he said he doesn't have a cellphone or laptop, he has a pair of Crocs, a pair of hiking boots, one pair of pants, one pair of shorts, a few shirts, a couple of sweaters, and socks. Probably a few other things, but still.

I was unpacking my things today, and I realized just how much stuff I packed that I probably don't need. I brought three pullovers, about a dozen T-shirts, eight long sleeves, six pairs of jeans, two pairs of cords, four pair long socks, five pair short, three pairs of shoes (having my running shoes sent - along with various school supplies), three pairs of shorts, two pairs nylon shorts, six pairs boxers, a towel (the single most useful article I brought), a scarf, a pair of mittens, my toiletries, five books, a box of photos, my two cameras, my water bottle, my laptop, and of course, a pen. This, after reluctantly agreeing to leave behind a three-piece suit, a matching pair of chaise lounges, six beavers, a set of encyclopedias in Farsi, a Vermeer, a 50-lb bag of sorghum, two cinderblocks and the transmission of a 1991 Honda Civic. And naturally, I've added to my already preposterous load by beginning the European edition of my rock collection. It already fills a shoe.

Of course, this is all prelude to what you've been waiting to read. And that is about my host family! They are quite nice. They are M. and Mme. Luc-Amauré (or just Amauré) and Véronique Mittifiot de Belair. He is very distinguished looking with graying hair and a beard in typical French style, and is rather tan. She is extremely nice and has blond hair and reminds me a bit like Joy Laine, my former philosophy professor. They have two sons at home, Arthur and Timothé, who have so far stayed in their rooms and not engaged me in much conversation. Ce n'est pas grand chose. (Trans. "It's no big deal") They live in a two-story house on a somewhat busy street that my room faces (I hope the traffic noise will not keep me up, as the window is somewhat flimsy in noise-dampening). The first floor is the kitchen, dining room and living room, with a little courtyard where Arthur smokes. They, like most French people whose houses I've been in, have paintings everywhere instead of photographs. The floors are all stone, as the house is quite old (I've yet to ask how old). The upstairs is where all the bedrooms are. All the beds are lofted, even Luc-Amauré and Véronique's. They have tons and tons of books on the walls, although not quite as many as back home, I'd wager. They even have a cute white dog named Tannhauser. And it is rather nice, all things considered. I suppose it could out that they are only hosting me to harvest my organs later on, but apparently they've been hosts for students on the U of M program for a few years now. Haven't met the daughter yet, nor do I know if I will for certain. I was especially happy to finally be in a place that had good-tasting drinking water. Montpellier has crap tap water.

I was going to mention geography, and Obama, but this is turning into more of an autobiography than a post. Nonetheless, I knew that history would judge me poorly if I did not endure, and so I did. I went on to win the Kentucky Derby and save a small Amazonian village from rebel forces. I also admit that the rumors are true: I am the Lindbergh Baby.

Wait, that's not my life...

My last posts were about the silliness of John McCain. I will confess there was once a time when I would have voted for him for President of these United States (Wyoming and Hawaii are not real states, thank you whomever that was), but that was when George W. Bush was the other option, and I was too young to vote in any case. I've been reading any number of articles about how McCain's pick of Sarah Palin to be the vice president indicate a state of desperation and a tremendous gamble on his part. It negates his otherwise-strong argument that Barack Obama was inexperienced (Wasilla has fewer people than many large apartment buildings, and Sarah Palin was elected by the same number of people who live in the... well, I'm trying to think of a comparison to like the population of the Loop or Midtown Manhattan, but they both have more people). Also, it makes me feel bad because John McCain is (or was) much too classy of a man to stoop to the level of the conservative, evangelic wing of his party. It is truly astounding that John McCain picked someone who he has met twice before and could honestly be his daughter as his running mate. I wonder if Tim Pawlenty didn't get offered the job and actually turned it down. I mean, why jump off your own boat to climb on to a sinking one? (Much less a burning one crewed by the damned.)

I also wanted to mention geography because I am slowly but inevitably becoming convinced that I have found the coolest thing to do in the world with my life. In what other field of study can you legitimately play with dirt, tear down structures, redirect traffic, build things at the scale of miles instead of inches or feet, tell people to live there, make sure it all works and at the end of the day make pretty maps of it all? And do it all by yourself?! Only in SimCity, or as a high-ranking party official in China. I'd want to become an architect if it wasn't limited to the admittedly enormous field of designing and building buildings (No disrespect Colby). Sometimes, I just can't wait for what's store for tomorrow.

This Is Too Silly To Pass Up

Alright, John McCain. You are a silly, silly man. I know you're trying to project the image (in a vain, after-the-fact attempt) of being a Washington outsider. I know you're trying to appeal to the part of the electorate that isn't voting for Obama (Williams, Oklahoma, pop. 19). I know that you were born around the time Roosevelt was winning his second term in office (and that you have lived through 1/3 of the nation's existence). I know that you may have been a veteran of the Vietnam war and lived through that turmoil (so did all of our parents, about 200 million+ Americans). I know you may be an Arizona senator who has been critical of the Bush administration (so were the 50 Democratic senators and majority of Congress). I know that you may be struggling to compete against my man, Obama (so is... okay, no one is. That would be silly, too). But honestly, you're a damned fool.

If I were running against Barack Obama (which I wouldn't), I would pick Tim Pawlenty, who I find to be a rather reasonable and clever Republican (not that I voted for the slimy bastard, or would, ever) to be my vice president. Barring that, I would've chosen Charlie Christ, governor of the 4th most populous state in the union. Barring that, I would've picked Mitt Romney, the man (besides McCain) most admired by the Republican party (not saying much). But no, being a silly old man (like Reagan, Bush I, Bush II) you pick Sarah Palin, a woman who has been governor of the last state of join the Union and the largest and least populous of that group, for two years, and a woman you claim to be similar to Hillary Clinton. Okay. Fuck off, the both of you. If Obama had not won the nomination to be President (Praise Jesus, Allah, Buddha), I would've voted for Hillary.

Anyways, it's 2AM now, and I have no reason for talking about this anymore. 300 million Americans (okay, not all of them, but everyone who isn't currently in infancy or senility) will be carrying on this conversation for me.

God Bless President Obama.

Sometimes It's Just Too Funny

Sarah Palin.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I don't even think I have to vote. Ladies and Gentlemen, give a round of applause for President Obama.

A Quick Update

Not much to report. Classes for 3 hours starting at 8AM - grammar and oral expression - and having another 2 hours of class - French culture - every other day at 4PM really drains you. Je suis fatigué as they would say here. I move in with my host family on Saturday, not Monday as I had thought. I will be glad to get out of the dorm, to be honest. It's kind of annoying and getting dirty.

It's a Candy Shop For Me, Not You

Because I woke up late this morning (entirely by design of course - I may be in France but I'll be damned if I can't sleep in on weekends), and after discovering Obama chose Joe Biden as VP in spite of my karmic messages telling him it should be Kathleen Sebelius, I was perusing Facebook quickly before getting dressed and heading out to do... who knows. However, therein lay the aside that has me here, nearly three hours later still in my boxers.

Among my friends in the geography department, few are more enthusiastic about new and cool things than Aaron Brown. He is from Portland after all, which in my opinion, and probably his too, is the most likely place to secede from the US and form its own truly equitable collectivist state. I just happened to look that he had a note up about something or other - what it was about was not important, rather what is important is that got me on the track of looking up a whole bunch of geography blogs. Jesus Christ! There are tons of them! I currently have like two dozen tabs open on Firefox and I'm honestly like a kid in a candy store whose parents have just said, "You've still got your baby teeth and we've got full dental. Have at 'em, tiger!"

True, this does mean a lovely day in Montpellier will be wasted while I drool all over myself reading about cool geographical, urban and urban landscape things, but... I'm allowed to indulge. Besides, I am a geographer, and this is "research".

In France, On Island America

Je suis ici, but in spite of the overwhelming number of signs in French, people wearing tight jeans and smoking cigarettes like they were candy, I have not had a whole lot of interactions with les Francaises yet. I - and the other participants on the program - are living in dorms at the University of Montpellier for two weeks before moving in with our host families. This means, though, that we have to live like average college students and buy everything that we didn't bring with. This includes things like food and toilet paper (the big two), but we were graciously provided with a pot, a plate, a bowl, and a set of silverware by our program office.

The Americans are all very nice. That is all I'll say for the sake of diplomacy. I have met a few people who I've been spending time with more than others, although the dorms where we are staying are about 20 minutes walk and tram ride from the city center, so I haven't been down there as often as I like. Montpellier itself is rather small (250,000 people) but it, like the Twin Cities, has limited mass transit, and like any city, takes a while to get used to. I also figure that since I'll be here for the next four months, I don't necessarily have to rush to discover everything.

I think also the lack of people I know especially well and who know the area especially well has contributed to my slow pace of discovery. Were my friends from home here, no doubt we'd be bounding up and down the rues at such a pace that the gendarmes would hardly have time to extinguish their cigarettes before chasing after us. In case you can't tell, I've been slightly homesick. Some parts of me have been reluctant to make yet another set of friends - especially since the bar is so high thanks to my various cohorts. Other parts realize that I'll be miserable sans amis. But, it's early in the semester yet, and I haven't even met all the French people! Who knows, they might not even laugh when I speak.

Montpellier At Last

Montpellier. Clean. Lots of young people. University is up a hill, about 25 minutes walk from downtown. Haven't been to downtown too often 'cuz of this. Then again, it's only my third day here. Met a few Americans. Well, met several Americans. Befriended a few. Experience is a lot like the first couple days of college, which, delightful as they were, I don't really have an interest in repeating. French classes are mostly grammar, oral expression and history. Pretty easy. Real class starts September 7th. Dorm room is small but manageable. It has its own bathroom and kitchen, so I can cook for myself and not have to pay exorbitant restaurant fees. I still need to do laundry. Haven't yet unpacked. Most've been speaking English, but will try to get out of that soon. Blue skies, sunny, about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I am eager for the weekend when I can spend some time exploring. Tomorrow, we will go to the beach. Hopefully I will not get sunburnt. Please send addresses if you want postcards. That is all.

Delightful Little French Towns, Populated By the British

Well, to be honest, only one British woman (Jan, the proprietor of the fine little hostel at which I am staying) but four Australians, a Welsh girl, an Irishman, two New Zealanders, and about four Germans (different ones today), and a Czech-Canadian. As it stands, I have met most of the Commonwealth but very few citoyens de la République. Except a stereotypically impolite and put-upon restaurant owner who, every time we spoke to her, tried to shoot lasers out of her eyes to kill us horribly.

Preixan (not Perxian, sorry) is a quaint little town 10km outside of Carcassonne. I'll be going into town tomorrow, but today I wandered about the vineyards and walked to the top of a hill and saw some spectacular views. And this evening, I sat around talking to my fellow hostellers for several hours. It was great fun. Colm, the Irishman who is about 65 or so was very interesting, and does watercolors, works as an artistic psychotherapist, although originally he was a factory worker. Dave, Heather and her boyfriend, whose name escapes me, are all from Perth and seem like what you'd expect if Southern California had been part of the British Empire. Rose and Simon are still here, but now we've added another German contingent, Arcturis, Sabrina and two whose names I haven't caught yet. They are very nice. There are also a couple older guests, a couple named Anne and yet to be named from Wellington. Anyways, my roommates are all off to sleep, so I should be too.

Here are a few pictures from Granada and Barcelona. More later.