When Dallas and South of France Met

Antoine and Nelly greet us at the airport

The view from the porch the first night we arrived in Eze Village, 11thC. Castle

Exploring the castle the first night with Dorian and Becca

Our view during the day

It is Time...

So two weeks ago I was basking in French sunlight.  Today I was soaked in ultraviolet rays that came through overcast English skies.  I thought reminiscing memories with you all would bring a little France to England.  I fear this might get a little long, but only because there is so much to share, so I have titled each section.  You can read it all or just what sparks your interest. 

Little Boy Road Kill

The trip started out hectic.  That Thursday all of us had finished a three hour test.  I was in the middle of a cold. And we found out ten minutes before our bus left for the airport that our third companion, Becca was flying from a different airport than us (Dorian and I).  They ran up to Dorian's room to try to figure it all out, so when I came down stairs I concluded they headed to the bus.  With only ten minutes till the bus left, I ran down the last flight of stairs, and with heavy force pushed the door open.  A hallow thud...and a the sound of hands slapping against the cement.  If there are any children reading, shield your eyes and cover your ears. 

 Imagine a fiercest English accent you can, "What the fuck are you doing you wanker! What is wrong with you! He was just standing there.  Who the fuck opens the door like that you shit!"  Screamed the obscene mother of a very small boy.  I stood their stunned, he couldn't have been much older than three.  Self punishment seemed appropriate so I stood there longer than necessary and endured the ceaseless verbal abuse from mama bear.  I felt a minute and a half was appropriate punishment which if followed up by repeating, "I am sorry," for about another minute and then took off running.  

When I got to the bus there were no traveling companions.  In between huffs I asked a man on the bus to watch my stuff.  My flip-flops flopped, as I sprinted the 800 yards back to the dorm.  Dorian and Becca stood outside confused.  "We gotta run," I yelled to them.  Becca decided that weekend trip was an just reason to use her ex-large backpacking bag. So we all sprinted together, as I held Becca's bag up with my right hand so she could run faster.  Explanations of the flight mix up came in between gasps of air. 

We reached the bus as the untrustworthy gentleman I asked to watch my stuff was putting it on the curb.  "We are here I yelled as I rushed the bus.  Angry grimaces met my flush face, while the bus driver scolded Dorian, "Stupid American Students!"  Our sweaty bodies rested against the seat as we waved to Becca.  She stayed behind to catch a bus to the other airport.  As we turned the corner Dorian said melancholily, "I hope she makes it."  

French Kisses

Flying into Nice was spectacular.  The city glittered in the water.  "It looks like San Francisco from up here," I said to myself.  

We went through immigration and I got my Nice stamp on my passport.  When we walked out the door, an elderly man jumped up.  He grabbed Dorian and christened his checks with kisses, one for each side.  I was so caught in the moment of Dorian and his grandfather that I nearly missed mine.  A little lady about half my size, stood in front of me with her head lifted up.  "My grandma does not speak a word of English," I remembered Dorian saying.  I bent down, and received my first authentic French kiss.  

Becca slowly moved into the picture and we were all united.  Dorian and his grandparents (Antoine and Nelly), and Becca.  I was a little jealous because as we walked to the parking lot I noticed red lipstick on Becca's check, my kiss from Nelly's didn't leave any lipstick.  The warm weather even a night was great.  We watched Nelly and Antoine walk slowly hand and hand to the car, they are precious.  

The First Night

We winded in an out of roads until we arrived in Eze Village.  The house we were staying at was directly across from a 11th Century Castle and the Mediterranean.  It was beautiful at night.  Nelly made prepared for us some french food: couscous, cheese, french bread, pepperoni.  We ate and ate.  Then we went for a hike and climbed the castle.  It was like a movie set, but real, I kept pressing against buildings to make sure it was more than a facade. 

The First Morning

Nelly woke up at 5 a.m. to start making us breakfast.  There was a feast, fresh croissants, orange juice, fruit, cheese, and almond d' cigar.  Almonde d' cigar (spelled differently than a second ago because unsure of spelling) are crepe like bread filled with honey and almonds and then fried.  Ooooh so good.  We all showered and got ready for the day.  

I spent a lot of time in Eze on the balcony looking at the castle and the Mediterranean, and with Cookie.  Mr. Cookie is a rodent/dog that I some how started liking.  When I was trying to enjoy the sun, Cookie would come and throw his squeaky toy before me. Usually on any other occasion I would just let it stay there.  But because I was in such a good mood, I picked that thing up and Cookie and I played like that for the whole trip.  I never grew tired and he certainly couldn't, some sort of dog gene prevents it. 

There is more to come: beautifully crafted stories, breath taking pictures, and fun thrilled video...stay tuned...I am tired for the night. 

Sometimes great is not good with out not-so-great

Wahoooo!  I just returned from my tutorial with my 17th Century tutor.  It was vastly different than last week.  Okay, not vastly, but enough that I feel much more confident.  I was working on my paper until 11:30pm.   The tutor said I had "read widely and obviously got into the topic."  That is great news compared to last weeks feedback.  I also liked that When he asked my questions I did not freeze up and utter a defeated "I don't know."  This week I was able to respond, I showed I knew more than my paper demonstrated.  I don't know if this would feel so successful if I didn't have last weeks unsuccessful attempt.  Cheers!

"Uhh, I don't know..."

So I just returned from my first official tutorial experience.  Luckily for me mine is rather kind.  I have heard of some tutors just shredding papers and crushing the academic spirit of others.  As for me, i feel a little defeated.  Not because he said I did poorly, but because I want an honest tutorial experience but I feel like I just did not know my stuff going in there.  I mean he is an expert in his field and he reads my half developed ideas and asks me questions, which with some frequency I say, "I don't know," as my face gets a little red.   

I know this was the first time and that I will get the hang of this new system but right now, it is quite the adjustment.  Tomorrow I have my other tutorial, so I better get started on my 10 page paper.  I will not give up, but boy this is quite the load.  Or maybe its not and I should...okay I don't know what I should do but something besides getting disappointed in myself.  

I Was Sworn In

     

The libraries at Oxford are serious about their books.  I knew they were important, but experiential learning has taught how serious.  Last week I was sworn into the Bodleian library.  They ushered us into a wooden clad room, which during the 17th C. while in civil war, Parliament used this room to meet.  I sat against the historic benches and listened to the history of the library (a quick Wiki), and the rules which deserve their own sentence.  So there is no drinks, no food, no smoking, no taking out books, and absolutely no fire.  I guess it is a rule that has been in place since before there was electricity, but even then no candles.  

I was so excited about the whole thing.  We had to go up two at a time and get sworn in.  I read the Bodleian Oath, raised my right hand (which was not necessary but I felt it sealed the deal), and then received my Bodleian card, which gives me access to the largest library in England. Pretty great stuff.

The inspiration came from my first visit to the Library.  I had to order three books from the stacks.  The "stacks"  is huge area with many floors built under the ground of the Bodleian.  When you order a book it is pulled by someone in the stacks and then placed on a conveyer that runs underground to the study room that you request.  

Every student should have a library to study at like the Bodleian.  Just the architecture requires a reverence for books and study.  I know that I learned more than I would in my room, just because of the environment.  Chills literally ran down my body as I sat there studying, I was were I have dreamt about for so long.  It is everything I have hoped it would.  

The picture at the top left is of the outside of the Bodleian Radcliff and Old Library, the picture at top right is of the room we were sworn into, and the bottom is of me getting sworn in and then with my official Bodleian card.

                                                                  

The Master!

Today was the first day I met with my tutor for my tutorial on Monarchy to Liberty in the 17c. I was impressed by how relatable he was and the excitement he had for his subject.  Our meeting only lasted for about 15 minutes but it was good overall.  He is emailing me my reading list, and my first essay will be due next Thursday, 2000 words, about 7 pages.  This is definitely what I was hoping for, a new look into education.  Well new to me but not to the education world. 

The Great 90's

So as I study the wonderful Middle Ages, I have been listening to pop music from the 90's.  Here are some of my favorites in no particular order:

1.  Savage Garden, "Affirmation"

2. La Bouche "Sweet Dreams"

3. Haddaway, "What is Love"

4. Third Eye Blind "Semi-Charmed LIfe"

4.5. No Mercy "Where do you go" (I do not think it actual makes the list but I had the CD once so I have to be consistent. right?)

5. Suzanne Vega "Tom's Dinner"

6. Lit "My Own Worst Enemy"

7. Hanson "Mmm Bop"

You can click on the title to see the video.  Share your favorites.  Or just remember the 90's