travels with ali

up to the country for a weekend with my motley family- my french maman and petit frère, and my dee. from the bustling bordeaux to a little baby town of 100 people. portet.

we were greeted by jacques and catherine, vic’s parents. catherine was a super hippie. kinda what i figure i might be when i get past 55. she had her healing crystals and ate only organic and had a giant vegetable garden and six donkeys that didn’t do anything, but were the most good-natured donkeys i’ve ever met. jacques loved to make guttural noises- a true frenchman- and bonded over boyscouts with my dee.

their house was an absolute dream. it was what i picture the house of anthropology professors looking like. traveling the world in search of all things bright.

but they were not anthro professors. they were artists. each room had either giant skittles-colored paintings, or african percussion instruments. japanese kites and queen amadela like statues.

it was really funny because dee was wearing a mt. shasta tee (his favorite, he literally wears it everyday) and catherine said MT. SHASTA! oh i know mt. shasta. and proceeded to take out her books on lemurians, the magical fairies that live in mt. shasta. it was quite a coincidence.

and of course, she had never been there.

the next day, we toured the neighbors’ house. it was super gaudy, very natural history museum. stuffed animals and shit. it was funny because the old countess (i dunno if she was, but she really seemed like it) had another house in san francisco.

after the tour, we took a daytrip out to lourdes and pau. lourdes is strange. bernadette saw the virgin mary there a buncha times, and since then, it’s attracted the sick and the sad from all over the world. the water is supposedly magical. there are spigots right outside the grotto so visitors can fill their virgin mary water bottles or giant gallon jugs.

dee soaked his scalp in it, saying, “maybe tomorrow i’ll wake up with hair.”

maybe dee.

and pau. well i’m just glad i went there because of my pau home in la. i went to his city.

yes PAULINE’S BIRTHDAY!

spent the weekend with anne-laure and guillaume and family at guillaume’s mom’s house in the beach town royan. very arcachon like with its named mansions and seasonal businesses.

i think ive met pretty much EVERYONE in both of their families… just guillaume’s dad, crazy sister, and younger brother left. his sister caroline had the cutest little baby ever clement. yes i know i was a baby hater before… but when you have this little thing that grasps your fingers so tightly and is laughing all the time, how can you resist?

i ate like a mofo way too much and way too quickly. i swear every meal was like five courses and an apero. plus there was a gummy bear jar that i couldnt help but sneak into some of the time…

we spent the night, all slightly buzzed, playing french cranium. i only knew one song that was hummed (like a virgin…) and had some words explained to me. obviously i was horrible at the spelling backwards with accent marks, but so were all of them, so it was fine

afterward all the humdingers and charades, a karaoke bar sounded amazing. i was drunk enough to sing around six songs…

THE SETLIST

me (danny) + anne-laure (sandy) summer nights, grease

me i’ll be there, michael jackson

me +anne-laure aux champs elysées, joe dassin

me+random old french dudes amerique, ?

me +anne-laure baby one more time, britney spears

me+bar owner, another brick in the wall

what a night…

the next day anne-laure took me to the marché and i found a panniere AND super hot chili peppers (which guillaume tried later… he hated me for it, but whatever, i warned him). also went shrimping with guillaume (he went and dragged the net in the water i just picked through his findings ). we were super unsuccessful. ten shrimp…

stopped at a little baby town on the way home with the most vibrant blues painted on ever door/windowsill. i love little french villages.

galway.

i think ive found my next city. with such nice people, beautiful scenery, a dynamic feel because of all the tourists, and the most casual, fun pubs, we couldn’t help but love galway. first we visited the farmer’s market; it reminded me a lot of berkeley or ashland’s, and we bought a bag of bagels to sustain us for two days.

we stumbled across a lot of cute organic restaurants, small bakeries, and a lot of street musicians. the bay is gorgeous, with all of its enormous rocks and bright colored houses.

we checked into a hostel.

” is one of you alison?” the shaggy guy behind the desk asked.

huh?

turns out i sent him a couchsurfing request earlier and he was just checking it. his name was matteo.

” i already have people staying with me, but we can pick up a beer after i got off of work.”

the hostel felt super lux. really clean, murals everywhere… and 21 euros a night. eeks.

after a quickie nap, we went out. some girl handed us stickers on the street for free shots at a place called the coyote. couldnt pass up free alcohol so we went. what a place.

if you took every stereotype of america then translated it into a bar, this was the place. license plates everywhere, the bleach blonde bartenders wearing american flag tummy shirts. a mechanical bull. and oh. a giant poster of tyra banks and co. from coyote ugly.

almost immediately some guys started chatting us up. all from trinity uni, they had driven four hours to spend a night at the pubs in galway (wow). damien (from ireland), chitty (from london), alfredo (from italy), and jean-jacques (from paris). they had all had a bottle of whisky and tequila before they had met us and were completely shit-faced. the mechanical bull was calling them.

it was sad how badly that bull ravaged those boys. and lindsay.

after a while, we decided that they were way too drunk for us; it was like we were babysitting. we made up some excuse and moved to roisin dubh. my new favorite pub.

quite the opposite ambiance. everyone casually dressed, talking amongst themselves in intimate little circles. wood and darkness and warmth. the music was good, old rock n roll. music i actually enjoy dancing to. we shared a guinness and decided we would return the next night. met up with matteo just to say hello. he was high and with some woman, so we went home right afterwards.

the next day we took a trip to the cliffs of moher, a spectacular place in the middle of nowhere. we drove through real ireland. with its sheep and cows and towns with populations of 200.

it was the scariest bus ride ever; i couldn’t look out the window for fear that we would either crash into a car or a stone wall. upon exiting the bus we were welcomed with the most chilling wind i have ever experienced. it blew right through my north face jacket and my jeans.

the sheer cliffs reminded me of harold’s “suicide.” we wanted a better glimpse of things so we took the muddy path beyond the “do not go past this sign you will die” sign. though lindsay almost died three times from slipping, it was totally worth it.

our couchsurfer for the night bailed on us last minute so we found another MUCH CHEAPER hostel. cooked up some spaghetti while a parisian group cooked up some gourmet pheasants and i dunno what else. i was too bitter to take notice.

anyone’s last night in ireland has to be spent in a pub. we returned to roisin dubh for a concert at what was advertised to be 10 PM.

no one was there. the bartender was still cleaning up from the previous night. we would be sipping our guinnesses for quite some time before the band showed up. the goddamn liars.

loved them. i think they only played covers, but it didn’t matter. SO GOOD. after sex machine, they did some tom waits, and ended with teenage wasteland. the band was quite a mix of boys- there was the lead singer, a rough looking red head bearded and crazy, the emo guitar player with his exposed midriff, too tight pants, and awkward stiff movements during dramatic silences, the bass player with his classic plain t shirt and jeans kinda looked like john stamos from full house, hipster second guitar player with his cute shyness and long shaggy dark hair, and geek drummer with his pulp fiction shirt from threadless (i need that shirt). we stayed a little afterwards hoping to chat them up a bit- they seemed like nice guys… but to no avail.

oh well. there’s always

next time.

lindsay and i arrived in limerick in the late evening after nine hours of transit. couldnt figure out how to dial stefano’s number (our couchsurfing host) even with the help of an irishman.

excuse me mister.

yes… aw ya need help, do ya dearie!

he was such a jolly man. he didnt know how to dial the number, but he helped us find our way to the bar stefano said he’d be at. he warned us of the rough parts of town, and recommended an american breakfast place owned by a hilarious old woman named ruth.

we parted ways and then waited. still no stefano. just drunken irish teenagers in their mini skirts in 8°C weather.

finally figured out the number around one am. and up pulled stefano.

arrived at his place, cozy and log cabin like, to tea and christmas cake made by mike’s (the irish roomie) mother. the two italian transplants, the irishman, and the two american girls. they were amazing. good humored, loud ( i guess that comes with being italian/irish) and super amusing. we made ourselves at home instantly.

the next day we walked into town by way of the university, where we left stefano (they were all phd’s in biochemical engineering), and proceeded to be impressed by the enchanted forest like quality of the place. the river shannon flowed by the path we were on, wild blackberry bushes and green green green. we were greeted by every passerby with a hearty hello. after three months in a country where people are either staring at the ground to avoid dogshit, or intensely eyeing you with that special i know youre not from here glare, ireland felt so so warm and welcoming.

we took our friend’s advice and went to the american breakfast place. we could hear the cook’s chicago accent and could smell the hashbrowns and omelets that we so dearly missed. though im not the biggest fan when im at home, a dose of america in any form feels good when abroad. i hadnt had real toast or salsa for far too long.

needless to say, we cleaned our plates.

“wow, good job girls!” ruth said. “you know what they say, a hearty appetite means a clear conscience.

¨that doesn’t mean you’re not guilty of anything,¨she added. “it just means you dont care.”

oh ruth.

now limerick isnt the biggest town, i wouldnt really call it a city. it is, however, big for ireland. the fourth largest. we walked around it three times, visiting every old cathedral, an art museum, the shopping streets, and a park. in one day. we ate thai food for dinner (avoiding irish food) and afterwards met alessi and stefano at a pub.

after a guinness (oh so good in ireland, it is golden when you first get it, you wait a little for it to brown, and there’s this perfect hint of chocolate) and a hilarious dj- couldnt tell if he was a big woman or a man ( a man) because of the way he danced. moved to another pub, a favorite of alessi.

it was indoor-outdoor with christmas lights and two giant screens playing concert videos. we danced like maniacs for three hours. pretty much sober in a crowd that was getting drunker and drunker. i cant describe to you how funny it was, alessi and stefano’s dancing. they had all the moves down. it made us just love them more.

when we left in the morning for galway, it was like we were leaving good friends. maybe we’ll see you in bologna/turin, boys! come to berkeley!

i love coming home to quinoa and vegetable stirfry, a merveilleux sunset, and maman et petit frere. i love all the salut’s, kiss kiss, and ciao’s.

my assimilation into the french culture has been a little rocky, but after meeting our lovely jeudi bordelais crowd, things have seemed a lot easier. aperitifs wednesdays and thursdays, and a little more wine friday and saturday have got my liver taking quite the beating. thankfully i’m somewhat of a lightweight, so i’m not turning yellow just yet.

i went to my first spectacle last night, a dance performance. got to say it was a bit strange for me, but i enjoyed it. it was very japanese and random. my favorite scene was probably with the women in fat suits, sumo wrestling. bubble music and really slow movement. they kinda looked like horny nudibranchs.

a lot. and i mean. a lot. has happened since i’ve written this blog. most of it has just been pure fun. no need to describe it. i’ve just been having a great time here.

but now.

for the play.

—-> *trumpet* le more cruelle

now for you frenchies reading this blog and you feel like maybe you want to see this play. skip the entire block below. definitely spoilers.

vic and i are crowded into a little holding room, because we’re told that part of the ambiance is this fog stuff and the darkness of the place. “circulez” (translation: walk around) the man tells us. it’s part of the audience’s job. so we get into the place. the actors are dispersed throughout this pitch black room with a raised center stage in the middle. we, the audience, are doing our part, walking about. i think it was supposed to be some comment on the subject and the object (the play was about a slave and his master).

so the master decides to let his slave free. and the slave, being filled with hatred for his master (obviously), decides to take revenge on the master. he finds a way to get the master’s wife and children on some island. he ravages her. pulls off her dress. grabs the children (dolls) and dangles them above the scene in a cage. he then takes a skinned dead rabbit (real) and rapes her with it, to the disgust of the audience. he smears it’s blood all over her underpinnings. and then kills the children. a hunk of meat with doll arms and legs falls from the ceiling.

he taunts the master, who is walking amongst us, to cut his nose to save his wife. he does. puddle of blood on the floor.

he kills the wife anyways. slitting her throat. i had to watch. yup. looked pretty damn real.

then the slave kills himself. with a rope. choke choke choke. eyeballs pop. and wow. la fin.

only in france.

yes. an epic night. worthy of its own reality tv series.

when we got invited to the campagne we were expecting blackberry picking, horseback riding, and maybe a little run through the wheat fields.

before i knew it there were sixteen of us playing drinking games in an eighteenth century chateau.

boys running around naked and dancing on chairs. cat stevens singalongs. one stella after another.

someone even brought the.

oh yeah. this is a pg-rated blog.

so my host family is perfect.

they pretty much belong in san francisco. or nyc.

but they’re here in bordeaux.

she is a cultural events coordinator at city hall.

he is a beautiful little man.

they both talk a lot so hopefully i will be fluent come december.

we went to a gathering last night.

a kind of huge block party with a potluck and lots of children running around.

she is friends with a lot of artists.

i talked to them in english mostly (too tired to speak french, the night before was too long).

animators and illustrators.

and they were all so interesting. i felt like some sort of celebrity. californians are exotic here i guess?

then victoire and i went to a bar where her friend was supposed to be performing. but she had finished before we got there. it was one of those grimy bars with cheap drinks and dirty punks. there was an old old man with his bassett hound. naturally i pet him.

then we went to a boite (club) by the train station. pretty much just a buncha wasted high schoolers. dancing horribly to techno music. a lot of hanging ikea lamps.

—-> i kinda forgot what happened on saturday but i definitely met up with lindsay and jess. we OH! we went to the mall. and i bought a bionicle for lucas’ fifth birthday.

SUNDAY

went to the couchsurfing hosts for some celebrating. the big five for lucas. met all sorts of family. i think i’ve met just about everyone. all so nice so friendly.  we went to the most amazing nudist beach. by a nudist colony bien sur. with a nuddie golf course.

i picked up so many shells. and found a live sea anenome. but with no rock! i really wish i had some visuals to show you. but none. no camera with me.

( well here’s a picture of a nudie boy flying a kite )

ANYWAYS. NOT SO HOMESICK ANYMORE. i like it here a lot. so happy to be in the city.

i love you all. <3

i’m a bit homesick today. more than usual.

probably because last night was a horrible night. went to bed on an empty stomach (nothing is open on sundays after noon and i’ve run out of food). and the mosquitoes woke me up every hour. could hear them a buzzin’ in my ears. killed three.

woke up with a stye. probably from the flea market yesterday. handled a lot of dirty clothes/bikes. probably picked up staph somewhere.

and then had a three hour test at nine.

i’m ready for a bit of a break. need another st. emilion day.OR I JUST NEED MY HOST FAMILY.

blah. i don’t want to complain anymore. this blog is supposed to be full of adventures and fun stuff like that.

um.so we didn’t really know what we were getting into going to a french movie theatre. all we knew was that we wanted to see qt’s latest and that the french (of all people) would not ruin the authenticity of a film by dubbing it.

but they fooled us. and “vo” or version originale was not the inglourious basterds we saw. we saw brad pitt as some old french guy that we could barely comprehend. all of us his snide remarks and THE GREAT QT DIALOGUE erased.

humor is really difficult in another language. especially when you’re not exactly fluent…

anyone that doesn’t have an iron stomach should not watch inglourious basterds. i think i might have watched 3/4 of it. too much scalping for me to bear…

the rest of the day was full of shitty bikes (went to a bike shop outside of town a bit… overpriced and janky), pasta (and about a half an hour looking for the place. apparently our mall navigating skills are shabby at best…) and the most caricatured version of a creepster i’ve ever seen. he sported wraparound shades, a dark jacket, middle-aged and pockmarked. i looked at him once and lowered his glasses and gave me this creepily deep stare. i tried not to look at him again. but i did and he did the same thing.

(ew)

and en route to the movies we were discussing the penis graffiti everywhere. and an older woman comes up to us and asks if we speak english. if we’re going to be here past january (one yes-lindsay). and boom. she has a job now! speaking english with this woman’s son.

random.

and i’m finishing up freaks and geeks now. and looking forward to tomorrow when i’m buying my nice road bike at the marche aux puces. marche with an accent aigu on the e.

hello. yes it’s been a while.

i’ve had five hours of class a day so i haven’t really had much to add. my prof is hilarious though. he likes to go through the etymological roots of every french word. greek latin. whatever it happens to be. we’ve learned some french slang. that seems to me to be very complicated. they reverse syllables. so femme would be meuf. it’s really weird. it’s called verlan like l’envers backwards. yes. weird. apparently in a part of paris called les halles there lived a buncha butchers and they all spoke some weird slang language that no one else could understand.

i’m learning a lot more history and strange facts than grammar. which is nice

so today we went on a little excursion to francois mauriac’s summer house. it was beautiful. surrounded by vineyards and very rustic. oh and he’s a writer that i’ve never heard of. there was actually an exhibition of modern art in his barn. really beautiful pieces carved out of wood. the artist was even there

and the cutest little garden. with every fruit tree imaginable (including jessica’s fave the fig) and lots of tomatoes. we ate a few figs because no one else was.

then onto the vineyard. welcomed by a rotund older man who was the owner. he toured us around, explaining to us the process of winemaking. i could understand a little bit, but there are so many specialized words that some of it just slipped right through. he was also an exotic bird connoisseur. had all sorts of strange birds wandering around his backyard. giant swans, weird black turkey swans with red beaks. and peacocks of course.

he let us taste the sweetest wine i’ve ever tasted. it was dégouttant (disgusting). i had to gulp it down in order to finish it. and then all of us passed out on the bus ride home.

no toulouse this weekend unfortunately, but hopefully some good flea markets and a bike (!) in the city.