Yesterday, I ended up hanging out with the older ladies from class in Fuvea, France, which was a great decision. I did two sketches from the vantage point of a wall overlooking Mt. Sainte Victoire and a later sketch from a better view of the mountain in a small cobblestone park. The beauty of the latter location was surreal. The birch above scattered the light about the pebbled road. A salmon-colored dress hung in a small sunroom window on the second floor of a beautiful old building with soft light orange stucco and cool mint green painted accents about the doors and windows.
The ladies were all practicing different arts: Laura was writing about the depth of the mountain, Sharon was doing an ink lithography print of the park and the mountain, and Catriona was doing a pastel of the warm yellow, tiled roofs of a series of houses below.
When we arrived back in town, I joined the ladies for some grocery shopping. I saw a poster hanging on the side of a temporary metal construction site wall. It was of the monster truck show from the night before—Les Cascadeurs—so, I had to steal it for Quentin. At the grocery store, which was a rather expensive organic-type establishment, I purchased some smoked salmon, olive bread, chocolate and two interesting-looking types of craft beers for next week’s lunch. It cost me around 15 euro, which didn’t seem terrible.
I said goodbye to the ladies, trying to hurry home to catch dinner, but ended up briefly walking through a women’s suffrage exhibit in front of a random hotel in Aix. When I got back, I found that my host mom had prepared for us this scrumptious egg, bread, ham, cheese, basil block thing. I asked her what it was called and she answered, “Je ne sais pas,” which is to say “I don’t know.”
This morning I awoke and boarded a tourist bus to Arles, which had no, absolutely no IAU folks on it. As I took my seat, I was surrounded by a funny little group of young Swedes, who assumed that I couldn’t understand a lick of French and proceeded to say random, stupid things about me. Nevertheless, I was really in a good mood, ready to enjoy the comfort of myself and the countryside and the sweet lulling of the bus.
The kids ended up being alright. They were 17-18 years old and, as I predicted, from Sweden. They came to Aix through a high-school excursion for intensive French language immersion. Most of the young guys wanted to major in Finance or Economics: the youth of the world in general seem to be following this trend. The most interesting thing that I learned from them was that, although Swedish media portrays the society as very liberal, most Swedes don’t ascribe to their philosophies. The young guys I talked to in particular pointed out that the free education and healthcare system does a good job at de-incentivizing the general population from developing a good work ethic.
In Arles, we saw historic churches and an arena and a theater built in the first century. Nearby the theater was a man playing wonderful, familiar—to the whole world, I think—tunes on a small wind/piano instrument with a mic and a small speaker. The theater was incredible and I sat eating my lunch between two columns that date somewhere around 2000 years back, feeling oddly nostalgic.
At the arena, I made friends with some kids from Princeton: Ryan, Eddie, Denisiya, Hannah, and another girl. I took some pictures with them. I hopped the safety rails several times to try to get a better feel for the place. I could better take in a view of the Rhone and the salmon-tiled houses below and feel the wind blowing through the window looking out into the Arena. As I made it back to the bus rendezvous at 12:30pm, I met a girl Dahlia from Lithuania who speaks, wait a moment, Russian, Lithuanian, German, English, Polish, and French and is studying Law in Aix. One more thing: she’s only 18. On the bus ride back into Aix, I sat by her and we she told me about kangaroos in Australia, practicing yoga in Costa Rica, and fighter pilot friends in a nearby French town.
At some point, we arrived at Saintes Maries de la Mer and I took a dip in the Mediterranean which had refreshing cool water that was salty, but a “softer” salty as my other new friend from Pennsylvania Olivia pointed out.
I also had the opportunity to walk far out onto a jetty with Hannah and Ryan. The Mediterranean waters were a beautiful deep purple, a soft green, and a cool red. I sat down by the edge and could feel the terrifying strength of the ocean, but as soon as I had this sensation the soft salt splash ran cooly down the side of my body as a friend comforting another in need.
Some of the things you sense traveling are truly incredible.
Some of the people you meet traveling are equally truly incredible.
The ladies were all practicing different arts: Laura was writing about the depth of the mountain, Sharon was doing an ink lithography print of the park and the mountain, and Catriona was doing a pastel of the warm yellow, tiled roofs of a series of houses below.
When we arrived back in town, I joined the ladies for some grocery shopping. I saw a poster hanging on the side of a temporary metal construction site wall. It was of the monster truck show from the night before—Les Cascadeurs—so, I had to steal it for Quentin. At the grocery store, which was a rather expensive organic-type establishment, I purchased some smoked salmon, olive bread, chocolate and two interesting-looking types of craft beers for next week’s lunch. It cost me around 15 euro, which didn’t seem terrible.
I said goodbye to the ladies, trying to hurry home to catch dinner, but ended up briefly walking through a women’s suffrage exhibit in front of a random hotel in Aix. When I got back, I found that my host mom had prepared for us this scrumptious egg, bread, ham, cheese, basil block thing. I asked her what it was called and she answered, “Je ne sais pas,” which is to say “I don’t know.”
This morning I awoke and boarded a tourist bus to Arles, which had no, absolutely no IAU folks on it. As I took my seat, I was surrounded by a funny little group of young Swedes, who assumed that I couldn’t understand a lick of French and proceeded to say random, stupid things about me. Nevertheless, I was really in a good mood, ready to enjoy the comfort of myself and the countryside and the sweet lulling of the bus.
The kids ended up being alright. They were 17-18 years old and, as I predicted, from Sweden. They came to Aix through a high-school excursion for intensive French language immersion. Most of the young guys wanted to major in Finance or Economics: the youth of the world in general seem to be following this trend. The most interesting thing that I learned from them was that, although Swedish media portrays the society as very liberal, most Swedes don’t ascribe to their philosophies. The young guys I talked to in particular pointed out that the free education and healthcare system does a good job at de-incentivizing the general population from developing a good work ethic.
In Arles, we saw historic churches and an arena and a theater built in the first century. Nearby the theater was a man playing wonderful, familiar—to the whole world, I think—tunes on a small wind/piano instrument with a mic and a small speaker. The theater was incredible and I sat eating my lunch between two columns that date somewhere around 2000 years back, feeling oddly nostalgic.
At the arena, I made friends with some kids from Princeton: Ryan, Eddie, Denisiya, Hannah, and another girl. I took some pictures with them. I hopped the safety rails several times to try to get a better feel for the place. I could better take in a view of the Rhone and the salmon-tiled houses below and feel the wind blowing through the window looking out into the Arena. As I made it back to the bus rendezvous at 12:30pm, I met a girl Dahlia from Lithuania who speaks, wait a moment, Russian, Lithuanian, German, English, Polish, and French and is studying Law in Aix. One more thing: she’s only 18. On the bus ride back into Aix, I sat by her and we she told me about kangaroos in Australia, practicing yoga in Costa Rica, and fighter pilot friends in a nearby French town.
At some point, we arrived at Saintes Maries de la Mer and I took a dip in the Mediterranean which had refreshing cool water that was salty, but a “softer” salty as my other new friend from Pennsylvania Olivia pointed out.
I also had the opportunity to walk far out onto a jetty with Hannah and Ryan. The Mediterranean waters were a beautiful deep purple, a soft green, and a cool red. I sat down by the edge and could feel the terrifying strength of the ocean, but as soon as I had this sensation the soft salt splash ran cooly down the side of my body as a friend comforting another in need.
Some of the things you sense traveling are truly incredible.
Some of the people you meet traveling are equally truly incredible.
View from Arena in Arles, France.
Inside the Arena in Arles, France.
View from Theater in Arles, France.
Outside of the Theater in Arles, France.