Charlotte: being safe on the metro.
It is evident that I have become a lazy blogger, but it is in the interest of my devout readership that I have not been posting often. I’ve been bored and I have had nothing interesting to tell you. However, over the past week or so, I’ve come up with enough events and thoughts of note such that I can justify another entry.
In the late afternoon, in the deep corners of Spain, there is a ruined church and the end of the earth.
I’d already been to Salamanca and honestly, it’s not worth another visit: full of college kids and too turisty. I came back for companionship. I’ve been gone for so long now that my desire to see new places is overcome by my need to be in comfortable surroundings. I made friends with some kids in Salamanca back in April, kept in touch, and Andre invited me back. So I went.
Old and new friends: our own quiet afterparty on the sidewalk.
I’m already back in Lyon, but early this morning I was still in Paris, hanging out on the street with Eva and some other folks. This was the other reason to return to Paris: an old friend from home, Eva Salina Primack, was on tour with Slavic Soul Party, hitting up Paris. Continue reading ‘Soul Party’
Oh, and I went out to dinner with my Cuban-American, English-teaching, Squat-inhabiting, tour-guiding, new friend at a fab little bistro, somewhere rive droite.
I am back in Paris. On a whim. It’s been a strange and wonderful time already; I’ve been here less than 48 hours. It’s been like this: I dropped off my bags as the sun was setting, no time to bathe or nap, I’m off to the other side of the city; there are artists awaiting open microphones and small beers for which to exchange small coins. The guys who started talking to me on the street seemed nice enough, so I brought them along. 
There is nothing like a cheap meal, cooked in bulk, giant pots of healthy things concocted in co-op kitchens. La musique est froid, but the crowd is totally high; I am high on speaking french with Africans, the way they sing the language and throw in some yo! wassup! every now and again. And again. Continue reading ‘Non Stop’
O.K. The title of this post is my new favorite thing to say in French. It translates to “I have an invitation” but it means “I’m on the list!” Thanks to Charlotte of TuDanseMonChou, Brian maker of bicycle films, Eva’s knack for being and performing over the world all the time, and some very cool Senegalese dudes, I am getting in free to all the places I want to be.
The Caletti at the border between Centre and Rhone-Alpes.
So, I made to Lyon. Actually, I’ve been here since Friday, but there was laundry to do and dance parties to attend. I’m staying with some very cool and creative kids in the urban part of the city. I met them in Barcelona way back before I went to Egypt! First they came to the bike workshop at G’s co*op and then we saw them play a show at a street festival later that night. Four of the folks from Lyon perform as a group called TuDanseMonChou, which I think means “Would you like to dance, my little cabbage” but I could be wrong about the cabbage part. Anyway, they set up fake portable computers and pretend to be techie DJ’s. But, really, they’ve picked the playlist in advance and they just ham it up and dance around, while playing an epic mix of mambo, marimba, soul, funk and old rock ‘n’ roll. It’s more than a little brilliant. They had a show on Saturday night and they we had a dinner at the house where I’m staying last night that escalated into a dance party. Last night, I chose the music, starting with James Brown and later on (after almost everyone had gone home and the neighbors complained about the noise) we played 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, Selena, TLC and Bel Biv Devoe at a reasonable volume. The French kids were glued to the computer screen, transfixed by the exotic videos of 1990′s America. Cultural exchange at it’s best.
My love for the music of James Brown is sometimes more obvious than others.
Teeth-Brushing Party with Nat and Luna.
Luna is a little terror. She talks loudly, screams often, throws dishes, and does this droning hum while she’s eating (through no fault of her parents as far as I can tell). Nonetheless, I really love the poor thing. Continue reading ‘Good Bye To The Farm’
The dry, rocky, and now quite flat earth.
When some French person who doesn’t speak much English and some American who doesn’t speak french very well are charged with installing the winter fixtures on the greenhouses and spend the morning working together, some amusing linguistic constructions (not to mention gestures) will inevitably occur. For example, the title of this post. Indeed, when the earth is not flat and you want it to be flat, you should use a shovel or perhaps a pick, if the gound is too hard. And then the “earth” will be “flattened.” Or perhaps the “ground” will be “leveled”, but that’s really not the point. Continue reading ‘The Earth is Not Flat’
After tearing out some Summer crops to make way for the Fall, craddling the refugees in my hand.
Man. I’m tuckered out. This is exactly what I wanted. I wake up early; I feel the cool morning air and the dampness of the earth. I am working. Hard. And my muscles are fighting eachother. The ones I use for cycling are not the ones I use for squating in rows of herbs and lifting boxes of tomatoes. It doesn’t feel bad, but I can feel my body moving in a way to which it is unaccustomed. Calluses are developing on my hands. At the end of the day I feel like I deserve dinner and I want to go to bed early.
Les Bouteille.
Last weekend we went wine tasting at an organic vineyard operated by some client of François and Nat. It turns out that “pinot noir” is just some rock…or maybe I just don’t understand French so well after 6 small glasses of wine. And then we went for a pique nique by the river. Lovely.
Looks like a pierre to me.
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