Nostalgia, Ahoy!

Last Thursday afternoon after working my first two morning classes, I had a quick hour to throw my life into a backpack and a messenger bag before taking off for the Gare. Unfortunately, it appears that I left during one of the few nice weekend Rennes has—it was gorgeous when I hopped on my train. I was able to get a direct train to Avignon and not have to switch in Paris, which was a nice treat. That said, there were still plenty of stops and it was not as high speed as it could’ve been, so it was nearly 9pm when I made it into Avignon.

When I first found out I’d be working in France (but not in Provence), I immediately decided that I had to go back to Avignon. It seems a little silly to return to a place where you lived for four months when there are still plenty of places around Brittany that I’ve yet to see. That said, I had such a wonderful time in Provence that I wanted to revisit it, and when I visited Amelia in October, she agreed, and we finally settled on last weekend as a good time to head there.

Amelia and her friend weren’t arriving until Friday, so I had a very low budget hotel right by the TGV station on my own for the first night. It was a bit sketchy, but no one tried to attack me, so it turned out okay. I entertained myself by watching Dirty Dancing dubbed in French, which was an excellent use of my time. I’m ashamed to admit it I noticed this, as that means I’m publically acknowledging the fact that I have most of the movie memorized, but there were several differences between the dubbing and the original words, and some of them were pretty significant. I did not approve—they even changed Baby’s real name to a typically French one.

Woke up earlier than I would’ve liked the next morning and hopped on the navette into town. It was gorgeous out, which made me quite happy—I’d have been disappointed to discover that Avignon’s weather wasn’t as lovely as I remember it. I grabbed myself a pain au chocolat from the boulangerie that I always remembered as being packed, and it was quite delicious. From there I walked to l’Institut, my old school, mostly out of habit. That was always a meeting spot, or just a place to check your email, so it seemed normal to stop by there first. Unfortunately, as of the end of January, the Avignon center is closed. I was pretty sad to hear the news—it’s been around for over thirty years, and it was a fantastic program. It’s associated with a program in Aix that’s still going on, but the Aix program doesn’t do homestays, which was one of the really fantastic things about the Avignon program. I’m not sure what they’re going to do with the building. It’s this gorgeous old 12^th century church, and it’ll be a shame if it can’t be used anymore.

After staring wistfully at the building for a bit, I decided to try and make my way to Place Pie, which was where I would grab my bus back in the day. Much to my delight, I took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up back on Rue de la Republique. So no, the streets in Avignon have not become any more orderly since I left. I was always getting lost there, and it felt terribly fitting to be getting lost there again. Finally found Place Pie, wandered around Les Halles, and then the lack of caffeine was starting to get to me. Stopped at a café and enjoyed a café au lait while reflecting a bit. By the time I finished, the stores were opening up, so I browsed some of them. Amelia’s train was late getting in, but I found out that Daniel, another student who did IAU with us, was also coming in for the day. Like us, he’s doing the teaching assistant program, and he actually got placed just an hour or two from Avignon. He came in with another assistant, and once I met up with them, we went to the Palais de Pape to luxuriate in the sun. They’ve added an upside down elephant statue there (for reasons I do not entirely understand)—the elephant is standing on its trunk. QUITE entertaining, especially when compared with the very classy residence behind it that used to host popes back in the day. Amelia joined us there, and we went off to grab some food.

We went to a tartine place Daniel remembered, and apparently it’s actually one that’s associated with the tartine place here in Rennes, and actually has an identical menu. Thus, I ordered my tomato, pesto, and mozzarella tartine that has never failed me, and we all split some wine. We sat outside and enjoyed the gorgeous weather—Amelia and I were particularly grateful for it, since we see so much rain up north. Post-lunch, we went to pick up Amelia’s friend, Emma, from the train station, and then the three of us went to check into our hotel for the night (I had, by this point, tired of carrying my backpack and messenger bag around).

Emma, Amelia, and I then went to rejoin Daniel and Odessa, and we searched out some old haunts. We also did a brief walk along the outside of the walls, but it was pretty blustery, so we decided to head back inside of them. We stopped at a tapas place to chill out for a bit, and we enjoyed sangria, fried zucchini, and an eggplanty-tomatoey-deliciousy thing until Daniel and Odessa had to catch their train (they were headed off to Nice for the weekend to see a lemon festival). Emma, Amelia and I lingered a bit longer before deciding to seek out a real place for dinner.

I would like to take a moment to apologize to Avignon. I’ve spent the last three years thinking that it was outrageously expensive, and even while in Brittany, I still had the idea that Avignon was more expensive. After all, I could never afford to eat out there, and even buying a kebab from a street vendor was a splurge. Well, it turns out that my memories were just tarnished by the following facts: 1) The exchange rate at the time was the worst it had ever been, 2) I had no income at the time, 3) What money I did have was in dollars, meaning that it was getting me nowhere, and 4) I was getting fed for free at Mireille’s. Amelia and I were laughing at the fact that a restaurant that she remembered as outrageously expensive had a menu (entrée+main+dessert) for 15€. So sorry, Avignon, for giving you a bad rep on the money front!

We ended up getting dinner at a place called Love & Epices (spices), which Amelia had tried and loved the last time we were in Avignon. It was absolutely delicious—one of those places where the menus are handwritten, since they change based on what is available. We ordered some rosé, since Provence is the place to do rosé, Amelia and Emma got quail, and I got Greek lasagna (which had feta cheese, ground beef, and lots of mushrooms). It was amazingly delicious. We all had dessert as well (crème brûlé for myself and Emma, and…oh dear, I forgot what Amelia got, but I’m pretty sure it was yummy) before we went back to the hotel and collapsed, because we are all grandmas and like our sleep. We were serenaded to sleep by the wonders of French VH1, which played such hits as “No Scrubs” and “In the Navy.”

The next morning, once we all made ourselves presentable, we grabbed pastries at the same boulangerie I’d hit up the day before, and we went to enjoy them at Rôcher des Doms—a chance for Amelia and I to relive our memories of Avignon, since that was one of the two preferred picnic spots at IAU. We wandered the area, still enamored of the sun, and ended up running into two Chinese girls trying to find a movie theater. We happened to know which movie theater they were looking for and where it was, but our ability to describe how to get there through the winding streets of Avignon was not up to snuff, so we decided to just walk them there. They briefly suggested we speak English when we told them we were American, but we soon discovered that English was not going to be an efficient means of communication. After asking them several questions about what they were doing in France and getting some very confusing responses, it appeared that French wasn’t that efficient of a means of communication, either. Anyway, we deposited them at Utopia, the theater, and then I headed to Place Pie so I could grab a bus to have lunch with Mireille, my host from when I studied in Avignon.

By some twisty turn of fate (expression © Paul Hetman), I actually remembered what bus to get on and what stop to get off at—quelle chance! Mireille’s first comment upon seeing me was “Ah! Tu n’as pas changé!” Question du jour: is it a good thing or a bad thing that I haven’t changed? She’d also invited one of her friends, Marie-Thérèse, to join us—I’d met Marie-Thérèse several times when I lived with Mireille, and she’d also hosted students from IAU. As she always did when I lived with her, Mireille stuffed me with food. We had some rice chips for an appetizer, along with a sweet nut wine. Then we moved on to quiche Lorraine (which is my favorite thing Mireille makes), followed by chili con carne (but sans spice, as this is, of course, France), followed by salad, followed by two desserts (chocolate flan and tarte aux pommes), followed by the cheese course. At this point I was ready to fall over from all the food, but it was all quite delicious. It was great to see her again and we had a wonderful conversation over the meal—movies, Barack Obama, Sarkozy (while Mireille used to think Sarkozy was an okay president, the retirement issue got her quite fired up and she is no longer a fan), and several dozen other things that I can no longer remember.

When I finally left (absolutely stuffed), I took the bus back in to Avignon and then walked over to the Ile, where Amelia and Emma were. It sadly had gotten rather cloudy, but cloudy by Avignon standards is practically sunny by Rennes standards. We sat around for a while and chatted, enjoying the view of the Pont and the Palais, and then we returned to wandering about the city. For dinner that night we went the thrifty route—an indoor picnic with dried sausage, cheese, bread, and fruit. It was lots of fun, and we followed it up by playing card games, which was also quite enjoyable. I headed to bed pretty early, since I had an early train back to Rennes, and that was that. It was a really nice weekend trip, and it was lots of fun to hang out with new and old friends.

A quick note on the quirks of school life in France—it just occurred to me today when I was talking to Anna, but I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet the ridiculous amount of PDA that goes on in my school hallways. The French clearly have no shame when it comes to making out in the hallways, and I find this seriously uncomfortable. It didn’t both me much before I knew any of my students, but now I do know them, and I really do not need to see them attached at the lips every time I try and walk down the hallway. It’s all made even more awkward by the French lack of a personal bubble—fine, make out, fine, do it in the hallways, but there is no need to do it THREE INCHES FROM MY FACE. In my lesson about the myriad meanings of the verb ‘to get,’ I clearly forgot to include the meaning of “get a room.” I’ve already done one lesson on social conceptions of personal space…it appears I’ll have to do another one on propriety. My country was founded by Puritans. We’re big on at least pretending to be quite proper.

Next time on la jeune fille Katrine: Mont St. Michel !