Tired, cold, mad: bad combination

Just plain mad. I exited my apartment in a flurry with all kinds of bad French words in my head ready to hit the first person that gave me a bad look. Still the heat problem here, and today I was given a gas heater which when turned off, smokes. Lovely. It is ten thirty in the evening here, I wanted to go to bed, but the adrenaline from the conversation and the fumes that still linger even with the windows open are keeping me awake. So I fume, the wind whips through my apartment and well Merry Christmas to all of you.
It has been a little while since I have written I have been in kind of a funk lately. I am tired, frustrated not to be able to climb, so I am running. I didn’t realize how much I really don’t like it, but I have a race coming up in a few months so I have to put in the time. Laura is coming soon, followed by the Loya’s so all that will be really nice.
And in two days I leave for Barcelona to be with the Spanish assistant, her family and boyfriend and little baby, Martina. Just turned one. I promise that I will post pictures of this trip and write a little something as well.
Merry Christmas. Some I will see sooner than others…

Done

Well that is about it. One week in the life of an American in France. It was such a great exercise and it really made me think about every day and highlight one thing that was meaningful or stuck out to me. The literary part was fun as well, I would end up with two hundred words, and then have to shave them down to half sentences. I will definitely do more of it in the future, but for the moment, I think I am tired. Not tired of writing, just tired. Tuesdays are the long days, up at six thirty, and I am just now getting home, it is eleven. I ate at Jean Baptiste's apartment after climbing, well I taught them ultimate instead. He is coming to my place Thursday to have soup. Well here goes my first French soup called Pot-au-feu, it is considered a classic French dish. And yes, this is one hundred and sixty words.

2.12.07

The lights are up. Waves of yellow hang over the walking streets of Castres, signaling the Christmas season merriment. Maybe once or twice a week I go on a night walk. Nowhere in particuar, just to be out at night and see the city. Kids yelling outside McDonalds, a couple enjoying an after dinner stroll, the Domino’s delivery guy on a scooter. I happily talk to my parents for a bit, they don’t know it but they have called during church. I don’t have one here. Tonight I decide that the streets will be my sanctuary, a conversation with the Father the sermon. Reassurance is the message. Almost immediately as I pass the train station, there is a presence. Nothing said, just a calm and I am thankful. Thankful mostly for the people I know, the opportunity to be here; the fact that I am alone. It has taken almost ten weeks to be thankful for that, but I am.

1.12.07

I don’t like Paris much. Too big, dirty, impersonal, daunting, expensive. Toulouse however is another matter. I pulled myself out of bed at eight thirty, wanting to visit the Saturday market. I make the tour first to see what is there. Old men selling eggs and honey. Women selling pumpkins and clumps of garlic. All is sufficiently surveyed, I go back once more, hands out of my pea coat, ready to harvest for the week. Eggs, carrots, cabbage, a pre-made soup mélange, cheese. I ask for two I like, then ask him to propose something, highly recommended. An old cantal. Strong, breaks like parmesan. Running home with my treasures, Nico, David and Cecil are on the street. I am late. Today is a trip to Toulouse for wandering and presents. The city has rain. I can’t remember any of the sounds, only the feeling of contentment. Buying doesn’t entice, I go in on a Frisbee. Dinner for one at nine.

30.11.07

I taught my first official, sweaty underarm, dry throat, all in French class today. In front of thirty-two kids and one economics teacher I talked about my ‘financial testimony in America’. It felt fairly natural. Class started at eight, one student. We talked about video games. The two afternoon classes were equally inspiring, but after I did get to encourage one of the guys who was trying, despite the two girls around him making fart noises. Apparently, the headmaster made a few decisions that have rendered the Lycee Soult less than tranquil. The profs are uniting next week to form their response. I am part of the French Alpine Club here. The one hundred ninety participants got together to look at the pictures from the year, eat and drink; talk. I starred in three pictures. Nico’s mom came to get us at 11. Good thing, I used up all my good French for the day. It was going downhill quick.

29.11.07

Not a usual Thursday, but welcomed. I slip easily into habit. Trying to be disciplined to work on lessons at night makes it tough to touch the floor four hours before the bus the next day. Heaving myself out of bed, donning spandex and a shirt I ran my hill course. I only have two routes, this is my favorite. The space heater warmed the bathroom so upon returning the shave and shower were delicious. Ninety minutes until departure. I drink coffee and read. Grab the bus at eleven twenty-five, the slightly grumpy pony-tailed blond woman chauffeuring. A quick prep for class; perfect; the class I dread is next week. Three classes, ending at five, debates raised more emotion than I thought. Substituted soccer for watching climbing. Tendonitis equals no climbing. Nico and his mom took me home while recounting Sarkosy’s speech on TV. Note to self, ‘Friends’ does not inspire. Wrote, ate the last bit of food, bed.

28.11.07

Rotten apples spoil the bunch; a rotten kid can ruin your day. I try. Try to make the topics interesting, but today one kid would not shut up. Tried to ignore him, nothing. He was interrupting with useless English words. The third straight hour of teaching and thankfully the last, I was a little tired and edgy. Raphael, who took me home, gave me ammunition I can use to discipline them. Made it home before one and don’t have class for twenty-four hours, so I take the afternoon off. Looking for a pot to cook soup in, hesitated, to big? Left empty-handed. Right to the lovely library. I like it there, the clientele is interesting. Came home, napped, spent time being quiet in front of Jesus, and made crepes while talking to Laura on Skype. Looking for class ideas so watched some episodes of Friends. Yannick called. Quickly crawled into sub-zero bed, the first five seconds are the worst.