Notes

I've been traveling and getting settled the last few days so I haven't had much time to blog... and I can't remember much I wanted to say except these things:
1. I like steak tartar (I'm sure it isn't written like that but that's how it sounds...)I don't even like cooked steak, but I like it raw. I tried a bite of it (thanks to Joanna's bravery)a few months ago, but I had more at a nice restaurant somewhere in the South of France and it was simply very good. I recommend it.
2. I miss the country. Being in Corsica (which is where I will be for the next three weeks) where I can breathe and play outside without ever running into a person is a freeing feeling. I miss that. It makes me miss home.
3. Taking off swimming pool covers is much more difficult than it looks.

That's all for now.

Corsican Path

The cliff's edge made passable
By man-made stone-carved steps
I walk them, then run, along the brink
Where She and humans met

Inhale the air of purity
The wind can sweep you up
A timeless place in short-lived times
I drink from Mother's cup

The path gets steep, the stones get rough
I stop here now, below the bluff

Afraid only of nature's wrath
And not the ones who tame her.

Avignon

We stopped in Avignon for the night and explored the city a little. It was beautiful. Fully walled and all the buildings were old. It reminded me a bit of Rome. All those squares Erica and I were perpetually lost in. Then we got dinner. Once again the waitress questioned my age. "Juene Fille" (spelling?) she called me. Young girl. She couldn't have been any older than me. Perhaps it is that I tend to be quiet when we order around here... due to my bad/non-existant French. Does that make me come off as much younger? The other night grandpa and I were telling Ellen's sister about how people keep questioning my age to drink (I think last night makes 4 times and I've been here 7 days) and we told her the drinking age in America and she got this horrified look on her face.
"But.. when can you vote?"
"18."
"But you can't vote and not be able to drink. Really? I don't believe it."

Neither do I, neither do I. Also, I think the drinking age in America has stunted my growth as far as ordering cocktails is concerned. I always end up ordering something I don't really like because I don't know the names of anything else. Or saying "I'll have what she's/he's having".

I must sign off now. We're heading out to a winery (you obvi. can never have enough wine) and then going to lunch and then boarding the mini-Titanic to Corsica.

A demain! Or the next day.

From The Road

As I write I am sitting in the backseat of the car as we drive South towards Avignon. It is about 2:30 and we have about three hours ahead of us. I somehow managed to sleep the first two hours. I arranged all our coats and made pillows and blankets like a little kid. Then we had a little lunch and now we’re back on the road. This drive is mostly beautiful. Rolling hills, green fields, little red-roofed villages, the occasional small castle. This drive reminds me of something I can’t quite put my finger on but I have a feeling it just reminds me of France. I remember attempting to take photos out the car window the last time we made this journey but they all came out a blur or primary colors and now those images are finally coming into focus gain.

Grandpa has GPS. Mom got it for her car but I haven’t been home to see it so this is my first GPS-guided car ride. Grandpa says he likes it because the GPS system is very polite. It never yells if you mess up. It also has a nice woman’s voice and speaks British. I’m sure you can imagine: Hello dears, pop onto the motorway in your driving machines. Make sure you have a torch in the back and look out for a hole in the wall in case you need some money! Cheery-o! I think I need one! Although I have a funny feeling you need a sense of direction for one to be useful since it seems to lie sometimes. The first thing it did when we set off was ask us to drive straight into a brick wall. I can just see the lawsuits. “Mr. Smith, why did you drive off the bridge?” “The GPS told me to. I’m suing!”

We just stopped off at a “rest area” (there’s a reason I put that in quotes). It was terrifying. The toilet was literally a hole in the ground. It was the second time I’d seen one like that… the first time in a Monestery in the mountains of Greece. Gold star America for having proper toilets.

I think I will make a table about the advantages and disadvantages of Greece, France and America. Someday.

Might not have Internet again until Thursday (I will post this at the hotel tonight) unless they have Internet on the boat... but don't fret! I'll be back. And thank you to all the nice friends and relatives who have emailed me and seem to be enjoying the blog. Cheers, loves.

Blog 'Till You Drop

I should stop with the titles since I generally have a difficult time staying on topic and they may not be representative of the actual entry. 

Maybe this entire blog should just be called "nonsequitors" rather than just the title of the pictures I posted yesterday. Or maybe every entry should have that title. (By the way, those black and white photos were photographs here at the Paris apartment that I took pictures of and then uploaded. So they were relevant in terms of the fact that I just got them on my computer.)

So anyway... I am obviously an amateur blogger... and one blogging about nothing rather than something (a key issue in the world of blogs, I'd assume) but I found this article interesting... primarily because I had no idea people BLOGGED for a living. What fun! (Except maybe not. You'll understand if you read the article.) The whole concept of writing for a living generally seems to be wonderful and terribly stressful all at once. But perhaps jobs in generally are stressful. I wouldn't really know since I haven't had a real 9-5 American job. I hope I never know.

Am I getting off topic? (Oh wait, anything I think or do can be considered on topic as long as I'm sufficiently far away, right?) 

So I've decided to learn some French while I'm here. Ellen and I are exchanging French lessons for computer lessons. I don't think it will take too long for me to remember the French I have buried behind Greek and Russian and Spanish (which is also buried...). And, let's face it, French is a whole world easier than Greek. It is even easier for me to hear French. As if they speak in actual words instead of a serious of hard-accented sounds. I will forever be fascinated by language... and I will probably live my life knowing lots of pieces of lots of languages but never being able to make it much past a friendly conversation in any of them. Oh well. 

This is a picture Alex took of me last night. (How weird has technology gotten?) We were Skyping and I was being restless and swinging my Mac over my head while we spoke and apparently his Skype can take "video snapshots". Basically, it gives anyone you Skype the ability to take really awful pictures of you without you even knowing. 

Also, in the name of nonsequitors and stream of consciousness writing... did you hear Charlton Heston died?

nonsequitors

Mommy on her horse when she was a baby, me as a baby, and lots of wine currently on the dining room table here in Paris. 

too young to drink

Today, in a beautiful cafe, I was not poured wine. Apparently I did not look like I could legally drink. In France. I looked like I could not legally drink in France. Which means I look about six years old. A few years ago I would have been offended, but at this point I'm OK with looking young (finally... everyone has been telling me that would happen since I really was six years old. "Someday you'll WANT to look young").

I don't have much else to say right now, so here are some quotes about my blog: (aka: testimonials from satisfied readers!)

"you sort of narrate your life from this sarcasatic, lost-in-europe type attitude." -Scott

"I've read your new blog - you're like a professional writer now" -Mason