noel / balader

street musicians in Montpellier

Well I kind of failed at celebrating Christmas in France, but it wasn't my fault...Scottie and I were both sick, so we spent it mostly in bed watching cheesy Christmas movies (if you ever get the urge to watch a film called Noel, don't because it is horrid and weird). I got the gastro, again. I was going to call this entry "gastro, part 2," but I didn't want to give it that much credit. By again I mean I got it the last time I lived in France 2 years ago.

But it was still nice, we had Christmas eve dinner with my host family, and Mamie came over and me and Scottie sang some tunes, and everyone had their fill of foie gras.

But before that, we were in Toulouse where Scottie and Julia were both getting non-American boys to fall in love with them, and I was, well, drinking vin chaud.

me and julia eating pastries in the cold while we wait for scottie to arrive

Then in Montpellier we did a lot of the same thing, except there were also boxes with animals in them. First a box with a goat in it, then two different boxes with piglets and kittens together. I'm not sure why, but I guess it's a winning combination.

piglet + kittens

The day after Christmas, Scottie and I headed to Rennes, and I was nervous about seeing my old host family and everyone, but it was really nice. It was really surreal to be there though. The night I got there, their newest grand-child (une petite fille!) was born literally right as I walked in the door. Chaos! And it was Marc's birthday, so they are birthday twins. Grandpa and babygirl. Patricia told me that me coming to visit them fait chaud au coeur, which was a nice thing to say. There were new teenagers living there, who I instantly bonded with, which made me wonder what went wrong with the ones who lived there while I lived there. I made them pancakes the morning before I left. The girl from Mongolia, who had only been there 3 days and didn't speak hardly any French, did know how to say c'est trop bon, which she said about most things that were edible, including my pancakes. Tant mieux.

I spent an afternoon/evening with Scottie and her host family, which includes three little girls who remembered me somehow from two years ago. Hanging out with kids makes me miss being 4 years old when driving around a parking garage is equally as fun as being on the carousel, both of which we did that afternoon. J'aime bien quand ca monte, said Brune, the littlest. About the parking garage, not about the carousel.

The morning I left, I walked outside to the crachin breton, the spit-rain. It even made me smile a little because it brought back so many memories of living there and walking outside to the sky spitting on my face nearly every single day.

The trip back was kind of a disaster, but it all worked out somehow. Always does. Scottie and I were in different cars on our first train, and she wasn't paying attention and didn't get off at our first connection. By the time I realized she hadn't gotten off, the train was rolling away as I was rapping on her window telling her to get the heck off that train. Trop tard. Bye, Scottie.

Then my long long train to Toulouse, which was already a 7-hour train ride, broke down about halfway through in the middle of nowhere. Un probleme locomotif. We were told that we would be sitting there for a  periode indeterminee. Super. The girl sitting next to me, who was French and reading a book in English (sitting next to me, an American reading a book in French) got up to smoke a cigarette and came back laughing saying they told her the train was too heavy. Well then. But about an hour later, we were on our way. Unfortunately, this meant that I would not make it to Toulouse in time to make the last train back to Albi. I spent a few hours (because I had plennnnty of time) racking my brain trying to figure out what I was going to do. When, all of a sudden, the man on the intercom miraculously announced that if anyone on the train happened to be going to Albi (only me, I'm pretty sure), they should get off at Montauban where they can take a bus that leaves at 21h40. Whew! So I got off at Montauban, where I have never been before, hoping I would be able to find said bus. Found it, started to get on with my giant water bottle in one hand and an instant coffee in the other, and the bus driver was like, "I'll take the coffee, I don't drink water." Huh? Oh, he's joking. French people are always joking. I smiled kind of and then offered to go get him a coffee from the machine if he wanted, he declined so I installed myself in the front seat and waited for the bus to take off. He didn't even look at my ticket, which was good because I hadn't actually paid to go all the way to Albi, only to Toulouse. I didn't really think too much of it, he didn't really seem like he would have minded anyway, and he kept joking with me, but I couldn't hardly understand a word he said because his accent was so thick. So I got a free ride from Montauban to Albi. I was so relieved to be off that train that a bus ride was a welcome change. I like sitting up front with the driver, who was listening to rugby announcers on the radio. I listened for a little, but quickly resorted to my headphones and Abigail Washburn and Bob Dylan. Speaking of whom, he was my age when this video was made http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nN88vWk8obo

I felt kind of like I was on the cat bus, come to save the day. Relic from my childhood . Also because the driver drove kinda crazy. Faut pas conduire comme ca, he said to me. Thanks for the advice?

Tonight there will be du monde in Toulouse for New Years and we are going to have a nuit blanche. Oh boy...