Late Bloomers

Before I started travelling, I was really disappointed that I hadn't yet. Everyone seems to go off travelling in their late teens or early twenties, but I didn't start until I was 26. However, since I started travelling, I've often felt relieved that I didn't start until I was a little older. Travel, like so many other things, is thoroughly wasted on the young. The number of people I see who are in fantastic locations with amazing people living all around them, but who chose to stick to English, hang out with other English speakers, and spend their time getting really, really drunk astounds me. This is pretty much applicable to ALL language groups. Now, I've met some fabulous people who were travelling like I was, and I love meeting other travellers. But one has to move beyond one's normal boundaries to discover new things, and hanging with the same old in a new locale is not pushing yourself to do anything new. Also, I've become a fan of sleep. I literally ragefully hate people who keep me from it. Like Johnny Depp said, in your twenties, you brag about how little sleep you get. In your thirties (well, he may have said forties, but I'm not there yet), you brag about how much sleep you get.

Back into Touristland

After four months of living in France with French families, it is strange to find myself a tourist again. It was a bit surreal arriving in Spain a few days ago and losing my ability to understand what is going on around me: I never spoke much Spanish, and the last time I used it was in Mexico and Guatemala five years ago. French has triumphed--it has successfully pushed all Spanish out of my brain completely. At the train station I couldn't even remember the word for tomorrow! Because I associate Spanish with Mexico and Central/South America, I've had images of dusty cowboy frontiers in my head since I arrived.

Language makes a huge difference. In France, when I have a coffee in a cafe or when I shop at the market, I can and do have conversations with people. In Spain I am cut off from everything but the English speaking tourist world. I find myself seeking out French speakers when I sit in the hostel lobby, or when I'm wandering the boulevards. English speakers are a last resort; last night I shared a room with a group of French people and their American friend; it was a great night of sangria and English/French conversation. Sunday night in Barcelona turned out to be not too bad--at 2am we found a red-lit bar with bazouki-fusion music and a tired waitress.

Barcelona is beautiful. My first day of wandering about, I litterally stopped in my tracks and nearly exclaimed, 'Gaudi!' Barcelona is studded with his works, including the candyland hallucination Parc Güell. I spent forever just sketching and marvelling, watching people and listening to the musicians in a mosaic-covered cavern.

It's been fabulously sunny lately, and I spent one afternoon watching the skaters ramp along the square in front of the MAC BA and CCCB, two art contemporary art and culture galleries. MAC BA had an exhibit of Rodney Graham's work, and if anyone can explain why his work is so revered, please explain it to me, because I find him thoroughly boring. (NB: he was born in Abottsford!) John Baldessari's work, however, cracks me up. I also enjoyed öyvind Fahlström's 'Mao-Hope March', Eleanor Antin's '100 Boots', and Miralda's 'Pas mal,' and 'Pas mal de tout.' The CCCB had a show called Atopia, on the city and the civilian. There were some wonderful works there, including the whimsical if somehow disturbing sculptures by Erwin Wurm, especially 'Squirt', and the plainly bizarre sculptures of Evan Penny. I also really enjoyed Nuno Cara's photography series, 'Room with a View'.

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and there was a slow procession up the main street of a sculpture of Jesus on a donkey. At La Sagrada Família, mass was in progress outside, and the park facing it was overrun with families. It was a good picture day.

Thanks to the forces of colonisation, I'll be back en francais by the end of the week (more of less). Until then, I'll be getting a sunburn and buying postcards whilts bungling the Spanish language...

April letters!

Because I prefer them to showers!

c/o Houthof/Schipper
St.Martin deVere 81140 Castelnau de Montmiral

I don't know if you need the first line or not--the last names of the hosts--but I thought I'd put it in, since it looks a little skinny if it isn't there. I'll be there until the 15th of May, so you've been warned! You have until the 5th of May, I would guess, to get something sent. You've got plenty of time!

I'm off to Toulouse tomorrow and then to Spain and Morocco. Oh my life!

Well, it's finally starting to warm up in France! After a week of freezing weather, it may all be over soon. I'm staying in an unheated bedroom full of sprouting potatoes, and I'm craving a bit of hot weather. The thought of swimming in the Mediterranean this summer perks me up more than a strong cup of coffee these days.

Sunday I'm off to Toulouse for a few days, then I leave for Morocco, one way or another! This may include a train trip through southern Spain, but I have yet to decide. Morocco looks great, and I'm excited for the mini holiday.

I'm living with a family on a property--a proper property. When I first arrived, staring throught the gate at the sprawling chateau, I thought I'd made a mistake. I've had my fill of chateaus (and the attitudes that go along with them), or was I at the wrong address?

Berangere's parents live in the chateau that they've been reconstructing for the last twenty years. The two impressive towers at either end are pigeon towers (pictures to come), something that is really common in this part of France. Berangere and her family live in the smaller house, and she rents a feild in the neighbouring town, where she has two very large greenhouses and plenty of field to work. She has been doing regular basket delivery--a little like Green Earth Organics, or other delivery systems, but this is farm direct. In May, she's starting up with AMAP, a co-operative of farmers who pool their produce together so sell. In other words: I'm finally learning something! I've arranged to come back in early June, so those of you who are inclined to write, you can send me mail here (check my March address for the actual address...) That also means that I get to see what became of all the things I'm planting now. I'm hoping to coincide with strawberry season, even if strawberry picking is slow and tedious.

I was the first WWOOFer this year, and it's been two weeks of harvesting winter vegetables, and prepering the earth for plowing. The snow and cold kept us closer to home the last week, so we've been sewing seeds and transplanting seedlings in the small greenhouse in the backyard. 5 degrees in the greenhouse beats 2 degrees outside in the wind. I'm trying to develope a greater appreciation of radishes--I'm not the biggest fan, but they are one of the earliest garden rewards, and they are quite pretty all bundled up in a rosette. I've also discovered manche, a winter lettuce that I've only encountered in France so far, and blette, which I suspect is a sturdier cousin of swiss chard. I made a raclette sauce for the blette this evening--delicious.

I've also discovered Godeale--something like good ale in the name, and what a wonderful beer! Not the dark and molasses I usually go for, but golden and super tasty. Look for it, beer drinkers! Wine is overwhelming here, I have to say. There is a whole aisle of red wine, and only a skinny self of beer, so when I don't have the energy to concentrate, it's easier to pick a French beer than a French wine. I'm also less interested in red these days, and the white selection is much slimmer and more expensive than the reds. I need to drink more water anyway.

I've been devouring graphic novels since Jean-Fred showed me their library of band dessiné. Trois Ombres by Cyril Pedrosa, and Muchacho by Emmanuel Lepage were both fantastic. I've got Le Combat Odinaire by Manu Larcenet at my side for when I'm ready to brave the cold of my room! They've got Chris Ware and Craig Thompson in French, but I'm not tempted enough to read them again. Have I mentioned how great the French graphic novels are? The selection is incredible...

I should have an address for April soon--keep on the lookout!

Some lovely links to lovely stuff I've found in France...

Les petites papiers de Flo in Montpellier, and Tiket clothing, too.

And in Toulouse, a lovely friperie named Groucho.