le sud: jeudi et vendredi.

thursday, i woke up refreshed and feeling better. we woke up early, disturbed by the cries of young emma. i headed downstairs in my pajamas, wanting to be there for breakfast. breakfast was very relaxed, everyone was left to fend for themselves. that morning, we went to a french open market, which is like a huge collective yard sale. i found an old tobacco pipe with the a carving of a round-cheeked gust of male wind, and a pocket watch that wouldnt open. i didnt buy them, as i had no cash. but it was still really interesting to see the things people had collected over the years, then randomly decided to get rid of.

after the market, i showered, got ready, and went back down, prepared for whatever the day would bring. it didnt bring much, just hours of sitting around speaking french, which is much more exhausting than you would expect. romain and i gardened some, lay by the pool, fooled around with his camera, and played some fighting video games. [i won, as always.] it was this day when his family begun to try to get me to stay in france. romain's belle sœur even begun trying to get her baby to say "tante anna", claiming if she said it i couldnt on good conscience ever leave france. they also referred to romain's mother as my future mother-in-law. however, i think that was just cause they didnt know any other words or the meaning attached to it. they also kept using the phrase "what's the hell??", which i absolutely loved.

as romain is a photographer, his idea of complete entertainment happens only with a camera [or techno music]. these are the result:

and my personal favorite:

he also adores taking videos, here are a couple:


 
hear the french in the background??



for dinner, i got to experience true french wine. they dug deep into their cave de vin [wine cellar] and pulled out a bottle from the late eighties. it was good, i was suitably impressed, yet i am not a big fan of wine. never have been. everybody said that would change once i got into france. i think i like it less, cause i am surrounded by it and have no other affordable options. for dinner, ro's mom made enchiladas. he had told her i like them. they were good, but they made me miss home, where they are exceptional. again, we stayed up talking but not as late as the last night. the exciting charm of reunion had worn off, and people were just tired.

friday, after much delibaration and arguing by the family, we decided to go to the beach. we went to cassis, ate in  fancy restuarant, played in the waves, and laid in the sand. we didnt go to the coves, but it was still an amazing trip. i ate at my first fancy french restaurant, each course was around twenty euro. now, i am not classy. i am an artist. this was a huge deal for me, one i was not comfortable with. romain has spent too much money on me, as has his family. but my complaints were ignored.

it was weird, being with the frenchies at the beach. not a single one had any desire to go anywhere near the water. they sat on the edge of the beach, in their tights and shoes. it took a lot of prodding to get romain down to the water, and even more major convincing to get his shoes off.

after the beach, we went home and ate dinner. this time the wine was from 1978! a full ten years older than me. i didnt like it, but neither did romain, which made me feel better. i guess some wines age well, and some dont. there is no way to tell. romains mom had mad chicken, and placed barbecue sauce on the table solely for me. now i dont really like barbecue sauce, but apparently, its the american thing to eat!!

after dinner, we ironically enough watched an american movie about a country singer in arizona. it wasnt very realistic of my life, at all. it made us all seem like backward rednecks. romains family was amused by this portrayal, especially romain. he vowed jokingly never go to flagstaff. the movie was the first true english i'd heard all weekend, and it felt very weird to hear it. i keep thinking the phrases over again in french. i'm at that point in between languages. im definitely not comfortable hearing french, but im no longer completely comfortable hearing english. its a very odd place to be. 

i found an aerial view of romain's house on his camera, dont ask me how he got it. ill leave you with that. i am off to uni!

le sud: le premier jour

well, i came back from the south today. it was an amazing trip, and to be completely honest, i'm a little sad to be back in paris. the south of france was beautiful, better than anywhere else i have been so far. the architecture was bright and colorful, but quaint and old. the weather was gorgeous, the clouds were bright and fluffy and stood still in the sky, and the blue was almost electric neon, shining down in shades i had never seen before. the sun was bright but there was a slight wind to lessen the burn. i am so tan, i finally feel mixed again. it took six days in the south to undo what seven months in london/paris had done to my skin color!

meeting ro's family was both like and unlike everything i had expected. there was nine of us, four couples and a baby girl of six months. a couple of days before we were supposed to leave, i looked up french etiquette online. i was told, by multiple sites, to always always always bring a gift. so i walked myself to monoprix, and bought a potted plant. bright orange gerber daisies, with lots of leaves. but that didnt seem like me, nor did it seem like enough. anyone can bring a plant, especially an unmarked one that was only five euro. so i hunted through my newly-acquired phildar stash and stumbled upon two skeins of dk purple wool blend that just wanted to be made into a baby dress. so i started it, realizing i had less than 48 hours to both knit the dress and prepare myself. i knit until six in the morning, and in my fatigue, forgot to shut the window on the freezing storm that was pouring down on the paris streets. i would feel the effects of that later.

the day before our departure, ro's aunt decided that she wanted to meet me as well. she had been trying for months, after realizing i was illicitly staying in her shared home with romain, when she and her husband went out of town. [i threw away a tampon. she's going through menopause. not a hard puzzle to figure out.] i had managed to avoid meeting her, stating the obvious fears of speaking english, social faux pas, etc. however, that excuse becomes a little ridiculous once youve agreed to stay with a boys parents for a week. meeting the aunt seems a little less daunting...

so, after ro's work, i met him there with my valise in hand. she was incredibly nice, and only laughed about ro breaking the rules and letting me stay there. she didnt seem mad one bit, whereas i had expected her to at least chastise. she spoke frenglish, just as i do. she offered food and left us alone, heading to bed. it gave me more hope for the next day.

due to the aforementioned open window, i spent the night in a cold sweat, unable to sleep but unable to wake up. i kept sneezing, coughing, and shaking romain to bring me water and mouchoirs or tissues. i barely slept an hour.

the day broke bright and early, and i felt like my head was going to explode. but i ripped myself out of my bed, wanting so badly to dress myself properly for the first meeting. we arrived at the train station right on time, and i passed the four hours knitting furiously. i was still unable to finish, upon arrival, only the ties on the dress were left. we sat for twenty or so minutes, until his mom arrived. a short, small woman dressed in jeans with bright grey roots and auburn hair stepped out of a dented dark turquoise car. this was not what i expected. where was the majesty that being rich and french affords? where was the haughty attitude, the condescending smile, and the judging looks? it was then that i realized i was not in paris anymore. i was in the south. i had heard things were different, people were different, but i had not realized. she bounce-stepped before me awkwardly, shyly, and i could tell she was searching her words, trying to speak english. i knew the moment she gave up on that, because out came a bubbling stream of french syllables that i could never have hoped to understood. bright turquoise eyes, a mirror of romains, stared welcomingly at me, waiting for an answer. i only smiled, said i didnt understand as we both looked at romain for translation. that would be how it was for the rest of the trip, for mme clerc did not speak a word of english. what she did speak was made-up in her head, [she liked to add "-ly" to words] and i had to work harder to decipher her english than her french. but she was a beautiful, happy woman who was frustrated by our language barrier and unbelievably excited to have her sons at home.

his dad arrived moments later, in a separate car. the family has eight people, traveling anywhere is an adventure to say the least. the car matched more what i expected, european, shiny silver paint and dark leather interior that smells like rental car. the man was also more what i expected, polos and khakis, pressed to fit. until he spoke english in a quiet friendly rumble, his face split by a smile and creased by laughlines. his ears, his jaw, his nose, all reminded me so much of romain. it was amusing to see romain standing in between them, and be able to match each feature of his with theirs. because my parents are different races, its much harder to assign specific features to each. this was a novelty i am not used to.

we waited a couple hours for his brothers to arrive, making chitchat in the car, in the rain, and in the station. chitchat when you dont know each other is hard enough, chitchat between the significant other of a child and its parents is even harder, but chitchat when you dont speak the same language is impossible. the combination of all three was overwhelming for my already sick body, and i fell asleep, my head on romains lap in the back of the car.

then, suddenly, his brothers were there. it was like a storm hit.  i was met by delighted cries, kisses, and baby coos. expecting to be forgotten in the jumble of reunion, i took a step back and prepared to wait. it took only seconds before i was swept up in a cloud of bisous, immediately greeted. i answered every question, but clung to romain. one thing not made evident by this blog is i dont like to speak. i'm not a talker, i was raised by the silent types and prefer to be that way myself. not a single thing about this family was quiet, the chatter was nonstop and switched languages so fast i could barely keep up. however, in those six days, i learned more french than i have during my whole stay in paris.

we drove the forty minutes to his house, and i was treated to views of blossoming early vineyards and mountains painted by all the best impressionists.

his house was large, two sprawling stories, and bright yellow. it was situated at an angle, running diagonal to the street, and set back a few hundred meters. a pool and a garden that would be better called a forest surrounded it, a terrace covered in bright yellow flowers was on one side. bright aqua shutters bordered each window and each door, much like every other house in the south. i had never seen a cuter, more quietly stylish, house.

by the time we got to his house, i could barely stand i felt so sick. unsure of whether i was ill or simply always looked this way, romain's mother tentatively asked me i needed some medicine. i responded quickly that yes i sure did, and she pumped me full of three different pills, handed me a robe and some slippers, and turned to play with the baby.

it was only two at this time, and lunch was promptly served. we all gathered around a very large table and began to speak. romains mother brought out a couscous and a cucumber dish that i was very pleasantly surprised to discover i liked. i ate my fill, rejoicing that the food was so light and perfect for me. i had feared that my stomach would not be able to handle the french eating habits, and was so happy to find that fear unfounded.

that was, of course, until she brought another dish. i had forgotten that french meals all have three courses. it was an amazing meal, but i could barely eat more than a few bites. romain explained my stomach to his family, and i was met with sympathetic glances. being able to only eat one course seemed interminable to them.

after lunch, we all gathered around, sat and talked until dinner. we ate a meal of fresh french and spanish charcuterie. possibly the worst thing i could have eaten for my stomach, but the best tasting thing i have had in a while. i discovered on this trip that i could subsist solely on baguettes, saucisson, and goat cheese without a problem. dinner was fewer courses than lunch, but not by much. dessert was an almond butter fudge, brought back from spain, i forgot the name, if anybody knows it, please tell me!

 we stayed up talking until midnight, and romain would not allow me to go to bed before any else, declaring it insufferably rude. so i nodded off in my chair a couple of times, head clouded with cough medicines and fever. my fever broke during the night, and i woke up the next morning refreshed and with only a slight sniffle that would persist the rest of my stay.

but it is one in the morning here, i am worn out from a day of travel and this entry has already gotten quite long. i will post more details tomorrow, what we did on the rest of the trip. goodnight! i'll leave you with one last photo!

a new endeavor.

i realized that this blog, and my life, has been severly lacking the very thing i started it for: knitting. i have completed three projects in france, which i promise i will post soon. last night, i had the brilliant idea last that i should combine my two loves of knitting and travel! i will now start going to yarn stores and posting about them. hopefully, if i ever get to travel around europe, i will be able to go to at least one yarn store in each country. i really enjoy going to yarn stores, i have yarn bought from all across the united states, a couple of different cities in england, and of course, france.

it's odd, but i always feel like a fraud when i go into a new yarn store. i feel like an inadequate knittter, with too few years of experience, much to learn, and something to prove. its a very humbling experience, im always too shy to talk to the staff and ask for advice at first. i think it is because a yarn store can be such a personal place, for the regulars, that i feel as if im intruding. its really hard to explain, its such an odd sensation and ive never understood it myself. it may be because im so young, and so inactive in the knitting community. back home, i always make my mom come with me. everyone always assumes she is the knitter, and she acts as a buffer/conversation starter. i dont know if ive mentioned this in the blog before, or if it comes across at all, but in the real world i really am quite shy and am horrible at small talk.

now don't get me wrong, i really do enjoy going to new stores. i love the moment of surprise when i first walk in, as each shop is set up differently. that first second when my mind perceives the array of colors, of textures, always stops me in the doorway. ill look around for a few seconds, to acclimate myself and take in all i can, and let the calm that crafting always creates set in. then someone will usually approach me, and the calm is scared away; i immediately feel like i dont know anything about knitting at all. i think that is it right there: its easy to be confident with people who dont knit. but when confronted with someone who is living my dream and knows so much more than i do, i feel like a novice. but after a few moments of conversation, i settle down and the calm comes back. there is something very relaxing in sitting in a new yarn store, connecting with the staff, learning new tricks and tips, and discovering yarn you never knew existed. 

so, i will begin my reviews with the first yarn stores i ever went to. [review just sounds so pretentious, i mean, who i am to review? so if anybody knows a better word, please let me know.] it is my favorite by far and is the standard on which all stores are now judged. im sure its grown and changed through the years, i would love to make it back there sometime.

stash.

[source.]

country: united states.
website: stashyarn.com
address:  
884 colusa ave
(between catalina ave & solano ave)
berkeley, ca 94707
neighborhoods: east solano ave, north berkeley.
hours:
closed monday.
tue-fri: 11:00 - 18:00.
sat: 10:00 - 18:00.
sun: 12:00 - 17:00.


this store specializes in handmade specialty yarns so it is quite expensive, but definitely worth it. the store is set up in a pleasing way and i remember wandering for hours, getting lost in the many textures and feels. before this shop, i had been to only micheals and jo-anns, thinking acrylic was as soft and as good as it gets. when i first walked in, my fifteen year old self couldn't even speak. i was living in berkeley as a nanny for the summer, with a self-confident, expressive mother from germany. she, upon seeing my inability to speak, instantly took over the conversation and i was left to my own devices. i had charged myself with buying yarn for my second sweater and my first hat, to be made for a potential boyfriend. [yes, i was trying to use knitting to con him into dating me. it worked.] i left the store with needles and skeins of grey yarn in tow, figuring grey was the most manly color. in those days, i refused to wear greys and blacks as i had an enormous fear people would think i was depressed. my sweater would be fire engine red. i started the hat, with no concept of gauge or even needle size. i simply followed the pattern's directions, ignoring that fiddly bit at the top. it just didnt seem important. i usually ignore the amounts in a recipe, so why shouldnt i do that with a pattern? a few hours later, i had a hat! unfortunately, i had knit it on a 32 inch circular instead of a 16 inch, adding a "few" extra stitches because it was too tight. i'm sure you can guess the result: i ended up with a bag instead of a hat. [i gave it to the boy, remarkably he kept it and two years later, we ended up giving it as a bed to our ferrets.] but i digress. the point of the story is, after my debacle with gauge, i was quite confused and had no idea where to go next.


so, back to the store we went. the woman who owned the store sat down with me and very patiently explained gauge and using a circular needle to me. i will never forget how nice she was, how long she sat without charging me, and how much she helped with my second sweater. i started modifying patterns in that very yarn store, using formulas for conversion i learned in chemistry. unfortunately, i never finished that sweater. i came back to phoenix and forgot the pattern in berkeley. but that store, with the yarn organized by color instead of size, with the wonderfully expensive yarns that caused me to overdraft my account [yes, you read right.], and the knowledge that lead to me becoming the knitter i am today, will always have a place in my memory, as cliched as it may be. if you're ever in the area, i highly suggest you check it out.

formspring friday, art inspiration, and five days.

first some art: 

 

[berges de la seine à chatou, maurice de vlaminck.]

we studied fauvism in my art history class yesterday. it was then that it hit me: i am studying about a movement of art in its home country, and in its native tongue. beyond that,  in the early 20th century, a new movement was formed that combined fauvism and cubism. it was labeled "l'ecole de montparnasse", because all the artists lived in montparnasse. guess where i now live? montparnasse! i tend to forget, get wrapped up in my money troubles, but i am amazingly lucky.

well, my first week on formspring? it was much more fun than i expected, although i did feel a bit narcissistic each time i answered a question. it got to me think about things that i had been avoiding for a while now, so thank you! if you have a formspring, let me know! i want to know more about you.  

questions i have answered this week: 

whats on your needles now? and next?
well, a few weeks ago i finished my manu. sadly, i havent cast on anything since then and am starting to feel just how much i miss it. problem is, none of the patterns out there are catching my interest. i really want to make a lacy cardigan or featherweight hoodie, but nothing is striking me as interesting. i chose manu because of all the little details, which were quite interesting. manu is a wonderfully written pattern and produces an amazing garment. but even that got a little old with its miles and miles of stockinette.

i want a challenge. i think its high time i start designing.

either that, or ill just make a summery, v-necked version of this thing of beauty.

do YOU have any ideas for me??

If you could go anywhere after you leave your semester abroad, where would you go, and what would you do?

i've been thinking a lot about this, because my desire for a prolonged return to the states is not strong. dont get me wrong, i want to go home and see my family. i just dont want to stay.

in a perfect world, i would return to france with noodle in tow.

in an ideal world with no money problems, i would spend a semester teaching english or studying in greece.

in my highest hopes and dreams, i would live on a farm in south america and learn to spin wool into yarn from llamas or sheep.

Delete Your Response favorite thing you ever knit? link to pattern?

that's easy! my truffle cardigan, hands down.

project page. blog post. tutorial.

Who's the most overrated athlete?

now, you know i pay no attention to sports... so, you tell me.   

Girl, you crazy. How'd you get so CRAZY?

hahaha no clue but im definitely glad i am!

what do you miss most about the states?

it's hard to think of things like that right off the top of my head and not in the moment... um... i definitely miss my family, my dog, speaking without feeling self-conscious of an american accent, and peanut butter. oh, and everything being open on sunday.

How do you support yourself while living abroad? Did you save for a long time? Do you have help? I would love to study abroad, and I was just wondering how you do it :]

i took out an oversized loan, to be honest. i really wish i had saved up instead, but i was unable to find employment over the summer. in paris, i have a job which really really helps. in addition, im planning on getting a babyspeaking job after school ends. my parents, and especially my sister, have been a huge help, i couldnt have done this without them. if you can study abroad, do it! it is worth it, no matter how hard you have to save or how much debt you incur! 

Where do you get inspiration for your knitting?

when i was living in arizona, i would scour the internet through ravelry or various fashion blogs. thats changed since living in london and paris. i now just watch people on the streets and sometimes am even inspired by the architecture. also, the cold weather and rain really make a person want to knit! 

Do you have any plans to write your own knitting patterns?

yes, i do! i actually have two sketches drawn up already. i have a very rough draft of the one i'm most excited about, and even a few swatches. i'll be looking for test knitters once ive actually finished the garment!!


Have you broken any bones? If so, how?

surprisingly, i have never broken any bones.

Do you want to be buried or cremated?

cremated, with my ashes spread along the coast of oregon.

the promise of a train ride: six days.

last night, the boy bought us train tickets! [yeah, he bought them, i'm poor. more on that later.] there is a sort of family gathering at his home in the south, and we will be attending. in less than a week, i will be on the beach, swimming in his pool, relaxing in a tiny town outside of aix, and, oh yeah, meeting ro's mother. yep, the stereotypically overprotective, head-of-the-household european mother who speaks only french. eep.

that's aix. it's so cute and quaint!!

[source]

i couldn't be more excited and more scared all at the same time. meeting the family in a foreign language is something i never thought i would do. i have one week to become completely fluent! i guess i better start practicing my french even more...

tattouage.

lately, i have had images floating around in my head. some have been there for years, others only weeks. now i am not posting this for anybody to tell me tattoos are a stupid idea. if you dont approve of tattoos, please, i dont need to know. that being said, if you have any ideas, helpful criticism, or just any advice, i would love to hear it.

now, this is a serious undertaking for me.  i want to put thought into this, and plan accordingly, as i hope to be adding more than a few to my body. i have found my tattoo artist, which i admittedly didnt put as much thought into as i have the designs. however, he tattoos my friends, speaks minimal english, parties with us, and is willing to do them at a discounted price. he isnt some stranger who cant understand my french and will never see me again, it actually matters if he messes up. he specializes in detail, which is perfect as i want only black outlines. i have high hopes for this partnership.

in the past few days, i have been reading blog after blog about tattooing. i have learned quite a bit about the process, how to prepare, and what to expect.

all that is left, is the designing. i am going to leave most of the designing to him. i cannot draw nearly as well as he can, and he knows what looks best. that being said, there are key elements that i will include. i am going to try to write them out, so as to clear my head.

my own drawings:

right forearm/dip: train tracks viewed from side, simple telephone poles with one black bird on wire. possibly one flying away as well. [this tattoo idea inspired my new header.]

right shoulder blade: a triangle of airplanes [just the outline] turning into a flock of black birds, flying towards the top of my shoulder.

helpful images-

left inner upper arm: end design unknown, elements to be included: one or two from a set of classic matryoshkas, a spool of thread with thread branching out attached to needle, empty birdcage hanging by thread, and a mini ribbon pottery tool. this one will need a lot more thought.

helpful images-

not my own drawings:
[more cliched, less designed, but just as meaningful.]

left rib cage: the little prince taking advantage of a flock of wild birds to make his escape from his asteroid, including stars and flower.

left wrist: a ball of yarn, with thin needles at diagonal.

behind right ear or outer left forearm: a small anchor.

every single one has an intense personal meaning, which i am sure is easily guessed just by reading through my 'about me' and the post detailing the search for my yellow bird.

they still need some thought, and i am going to wait just to be sure i always want them. that being said, i have had my piercings for years, some since i was fourteen, and i havent regretted a single one yet. in fact, i miss the ones that have healed. it took four months of debating to just get my lip pierced. it takes me so long to actually get something, that when i finally get around to it, i love it for life.

any thoughts? this is a really big deal, and i want to know everything i can.