(two holiday tales)

Last week I asked all my classes about how they spent their vacations. Here is a rough break-down of their responses:

Went to see Grandparents: 52%
Went skiing: 24%
Had sleepovers/went to birthday parties: 14%
Stayed home/played video games: 9%

The very astute among you will have noticed that 1% of my students is still unaccounted for. It's English class name is Homer (after the Simpsons character, of course), and his vacation-relation went like this:

Me: Did you have a GOOD vacation or a BAD vacation?
Homer: uhh...okay.
Me: What did you do?
Homer (pronounced with the cool nonchalance of an Aveyronnais hooligan-in-training): Behn....j'ai embêté des poules.

To which I react with un-masterable, if quiet laughter. In English, "Homer's" declaration was "Ehh... I bothered some chickens."

***

Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to bother any chickens over vacation, but I did manage to get into some great mischief of my own in England, and more specifically, in Bath. Here are some pictures to prove it.

There was a speed limit of 4 knots here, on the river Avon, just by the Parade Gardens. As there were no boats in sight, I assume it was a warning to the ducks.

Pulteney Bridge, and another view of the gray weather we started out with.

Outside the famous Pump Room. When Jane Austen was writing and Bath was the social center of the day, the Pump Room is where people to socialize and drink the mineral water from the spring over which the spa was built. (The Romans were the first ones to have baths here, thus the name of the town.) In a fun twist of coincidence, I read Austen's Persuasion for the first time on my way to England, and really enjoyed getting to experience the places where the story took place. Like the Pump Room.

And here we have the famous pump in it's room. It brings up warm mineral water (once renowned for its healing properties) so that people can "enjoy" drinking it while benefiting from the sophisticated atmosphere of the restaurant and its society.

"Enjoy" in that last caption was in quotation marks because it's not an especially delectable experience, drinking the Bath Spa waters. It's lukewarm and, well, you can definitely tell that there are plenty of minerals in it. For a video of the water bubbling away just on the other side of the window, scroll down. I don't know why the website won't let me put the video where I want.

D'yon and I rewarded ourselves for drinking our healthy water with my first Fish and Chips for lunch! It was totally delicious, and gleefully washed down with a Bath ale. British English lesson for the day: Chips = Fries, and Crisps = Chips.

On Gay Street, which is a steepish road that leads up towards the Royal Crescent, you can find the Jane Austen Centre, complete with costumed doorman. Austen lived here for a while, as did some of her Characters.

The Royal Crescent is uphill from Gay Street, and is a residential half-circle road. People still live here, in apartments and such. The houses look out across Royal Victoria Park, where D'yon and I got into all kinds of outdoor fun. Notice the sun coming out.

Peek-a-boo windows looking through a tree on the Royal Crescent.

One of the coolest trees ever. We found it on the way into the park where we ambled and played. If it wasn't on private property, we'd have totally been trying to walk the balance beam that is the bottom branch.

As it turns out, though, we weren't lacking for playground equipment. The sun came out in full force just as we discovered this amazing playground--complete with toys we'd never seen before like this spinning version of a see-saw. All D'yon and I needed was a daddy to push us in circles--but bouncing around was quite enough fun.

Look, I'm climbing! How cool is it that the toys on this playground were plenty big for grown-ups? And if you're thinking of a snide remark about me not really being grown-up-sized, it was all big enough for D'yon, too :P

I leave you with this photo of D'yon's and my "Titanic Pose" once we got to the top of the climbing web.

A day of sunshine, mineral water, fish and chips, Jane Austen, tea time, playgrounds and a long-lost Parisian roommate is a good one in anyone's book, I would venture to say. In mine, it's a spectacular one. Look for more posts with glimpses into our forays in Lyme Regis, Bristol, Cardiff, and London!

May you have many days as lovely as the one these pictures are from!

Oh, and don't forget to check out the video of the water we drank here. Appetizing, no? You can hear the music of the Pump Room, and there's a special cameo at the end!

(happy birthday ode)

I have more than my fair share of amazing people in my life--a fact that, when remembered on one's birthday, ensures that said birthday will be a happy one. I am humbled by the presence and caring of the extraordinary individuals that love me and let me share their lives with them.

I can't help but think immediately of my parents. Starting today 23 years ago, they both began the intense labor of loving and raising a child who doesn't always appreciate the sacrifices they've made for her. It's a testament to the constancy of their love that I could ever take it for granted--but I'm slowly learning not to.

My grandparents and other dear extended family have supported my interests and dreams just because I belong to them. They've loved me since before I remember being a person, and always let me know how proud they were of me, whether I felt I deserved it or not. Their unquestioning support has given me courage to trust myself and pursue my own path even when it leads me far from home.

My little brother who's not so little any more is becoming a man to be depended on--and I do depend on him. Our years of rivalry have fizzled out over time and lots of distance, but knowing that this guy will always be part of my life, until we're really old, is one of the most comforting things I can think of. He's my ally.

My few but precious long-haul friends are pretty much--scratch that--just plain up there with family. We've had the reassuring pleasure of discovering by now that our friendships have a stronger base than common interests and circumstances, as we have all gone through several incarnations of both. We have the freedom to watch each other change without fearing alienation and we fall right back into easy interactions when we cross paths, even as adulthood ensures that those paths become increasingly divergent. They are my necessary anchors, who have taught me about constancy and unconditional love.

Roommates who are friends are one of the best things in my life, ever. I have to marvel at the great luck I've had, randomly falling in with people who have turned into near souls, as well as proximate bodies. These are the ones who have crawled over to hold my hand on the kitchen floor as I screamed and cried into the phone, the ones who would bring me a souvenir stick from the first day of Spring, who would set their alarm for 3:30 a.m. without being asked to make sure I really did get up to finish that term paper, who would help justify worthwhile procrastination, sing songs on repeat with me, and who have trusted me to occupy the same role in their own daily lives for a spell.

Smack in the middle of a second year in France, I have accumulated a few friends whom I suppose I could label the foreigners. Much like the roommate friends, we were thrown in together by random circumstance and usually bonded quickly through shared travel fiascos and a sense of co-adventuring and discovery. There's nothing like a facing a night-train horror or a pig foot in the Frenchies' refrigerator for a couple months to bring people together. They share parts of my life that none of the other people I've mentioned do, and make far-away places feel like home. Plus, they keep me on my toes--mentally, culturally, grammatically, and personally.

I have benefited enormously from the great teacher/mentors in my life. Unlike my family, these people have no real "obligation" to take an interest in providing for my development. They have made sacrifices of time, space, and energy to share their experience's wisdom with me, in addition to living lives that demand my respect and make me trust their advice. A few have been around for quite a while, sharing everything from guest bedrooms to recipes to advice and encouragement, and have lent sympathetic ears to often immature musings/perceived injustices on my part with patience.

For all of this and all of you, I am humbled and thankful. And had a happy birthday largely because I remembered to reflect on these extraordinary blessings.

Pictures and England tales to come very shortly.

(sheepish return)

I can't believe it's been almost two months since my last update (ok, ok, a month and a half--but February is shorter)--and it's been far too long.

My life since New Years had been rather quiet up until last week, a fact on which I can place teensy bit of the blame for not having written. However, most of the blame for my "absence" rests on me and the fact that I just wasn't in the mood to write. I wasn't taking tons of pictures, and wasn't doing much out of the ordinary--just traipsing along, contentedly buried in routine and many layers of clothing.

There were a few moments of interest, however. Here's of them to bait you into remembering my blog, as the appetizer for the on-its-way post that will be full of pictures and stories from my trip to England (!!!). And yes, in case you weren't clear, I just took a 9-day trip in the middle of February because the French schools were quite naturally on holiday. Again.

Anyway, onto a short Rodez outtake:

This one is called (a southern soul grows up, sort of).

A couple of weeks ago, I had a totally foreign experience, which my northern friends will laugh at and my southern ones will struggle to fathom. I woke up on a Tuesday morning, dreading the chill that would too-soon succeed my exit from bed. I got out anyway, knowing that some of my most difficult classes were counting on me, and bumped down to the floor between my bed and radiator, heavy under that knowledge mingling with remnants of still-real dreams. Sitting with my back to the radiator in the mornings has become my ritual concession to the rough transition into the cold, waking world. As I sidled up against the heat, I struggled to focus on my surroundings and I soon noticed the roof across the street. I see it every morning, and it was usually black. This morning, though, it was white, and the fuzziness outside wasn't entirely due to my bleary eyes. No, it was snowing. And here's where the story gets worth telling: For the first time in my life, my spirits sank at this realization. No childlike glee for a pretty rarity anywhere. Can you imagine? Oh, don't be sad--I'm sure that there will be plenty of other gleeful snow-finds in my future. But the grown-up southern soul has realized what many of the colder climes have long known--that sometimes, snow just means dampness and slippery sidewalks on the way to a chilly school building. The funny thing about life that I remembered here is that it's really amazing, how our own insides can take us by surprise and buck a life-long attitude in an instant.

But I don't think that's a bad thing to realize. A malleable soul is an asset, I suppose--because it won't always go in the direction of a disappointment. :)

So, that's all for now, folks! Come look soon, for there will be many photos and more enchanting stories than this last one.