An American Girl in Avignon

Knowing that we had an excursion today, Kristina and I stayed in last night to watch a movie after our very, very late dinner. Getting up at the last second, realizing that we had less than fifteen minutes to be at our assigned meeting spot, we grabbed a makeshift lunch by throwing a baguette, a jar of off-brand nutella, apples, and a knife in my purse. Classy and nutritious, I know. Nutella and bread: the lunch of champions. I need to put that knife back in the Morviellez’s drawer by the way…It was of course freezing and raining on the day we would be going to the Beaux de Provence: a beautiful village up on a mountain with an ancient chateau and the cathedral d’images, but thankfully, God invented umbrellas and hot drinks.

The town was gorgeous: little sweets shops, endless cafes, and boutiques lined the cobblestone streets. The chateau ruins were really tucked away in the hills like something out of a storybook, and climbing the steep stairs, while fighting the chilly wind, was worth the hike once one reached the top. Although overcast, the view was breathtaking: miles of lush vineyards and little villages dotted the hilly countryside. It was like something out of a postcard; but at the same time, this was of those places that’s beauty is hard to capture on film. After two hours of free time, there was a trebuchet demonstration, which Brad, John, Adam, Kelby, and Meghan volunteered for without hesitation. It was so funny to watch them try to turn the wheels of the Middle Age contraption, only to tire themselves out before lowering the bar to launch the rocks sky-high. Good show indeed.

After the longest ten minute walk in the rain, we arrived at the Cathedral d’Images. Not knowing what on Earth I was about to see, I walked into the massive building, assuming I was probably about to take a tour of some old church. I was pleasantly surprised when I approached a massive, modern cave-like structure tucked inside a hill. Yet, I had no idea what to expect as I walked into the Picasso exhibit. I was delighted to be greeted by enormous, glowing images of Picasso’s paintings flashing across the walls and ground in a spinning spectacle set to music. As cheesy as it sounds, it WAS living art. One could become part of a painting: you could lay in the flashing colorful images, lean against them, and be completely surrounded by these oversized masterpieces. It was one of the coolest places I have ever been. The concept was very creative, and truly artistic. I am just disappointed that my camera died before I got to capture the show on film. As nerdy as it sounds, the show was moving, I stood in awe as I watched the paintings circle around me and thought to myself how talented Picasso really was. His paintings, although some are a little strange, were brilliant. He was an artist after all. I guess you could say I had one of those deep moments of reflection while sitting on a bench, watching the images float by as I listened to the booming soundtrack. I suddenly felt inspired to take up painting myself, or find my own creative passion or muse. I was disappointed when it was time to leave, and vowed to return someday.

Our pit stop on the way back to Avignon was a little village called St. Remy de Provence, a place famous for its chocolates. Our stop at the Joel Durand Chocolatier to taste exotic eats which came in flavors such as Vanilla, Provence, Honey, Salted butter and crème, Coffee, Earl Grey, Orange, Violet, Honey, Lavender, Orange, and Mint was worth getting rained on. It was magnificent! After taste testing, I stood in line to buy some of the gourmet goodies. Sadly, Rachel and I were served last, and by the time we were finished, everyone had already headed back to the bus. I am just going to blame my fatigue and lack of caffeine that day for not remembering how on earth to get back. We wandered around the streets for awhile, and assuming we had an idea where we were going, we took a wrong turn and ended up in some shady back alley parking lot, only to end up caught in the rain without an umbrella. It was pouring cats and dogs! Soaked to the bone, and freezing, we traced our steps backward (more like ran), until we got a call from an (so we thought) angry Christophe wondering where the heck we were…everyone was waiting for us. We felt even worse when we got on the bus, and after a round of applause for our lack of direction, discovered that Christophe’s girlfriend Katie was in the hospital. He had been waiting on us, so he could leave and go see her. I felt horrible as the bus pulled into the Avignon hospital, as he rushed to get out. He didn’t act mad at us, just worried more like. I hope she is okay.

After sitting in my wet clothes for quite some time, I was thrilled to get home and change,. Walking into an empty house, Kristina and I greeted Paul. Instead of sticking to my original plan of running upstairs to change and sleep, we ended up staying downstairs to watch French MTV and VH1 for an hour or two. It was funny to see that the same songs in the US are just as popular (if not more popular) here. We saw Enrique Iglesias music videos five times in the period of an hour, and Beyonce was all over every channel! I even figured out the names of the two French songs I fell in love with at the discotheque the other night: Discobitch’s (classy name, right?) “C'est beau la bourgeoisie” and Helmut Fritz’s “Ca m’enerve.” Soo catchy! I decided that love French music...well, some of it. After talking, we invited Paul out with us that night to Red Sky and Red Zone, our two usual go-to places, with our friends.

Well, the discotheque was interesting…some creepy French boy followed me around the room for a while, but thankfully, Jenny (our student assistant) was there to save me! Just when I thought I was safe, I got another creepy stalker! They sure are persistent overseas! I had to wander around the room like five times, trying to lose the one, before he finally gave up and left. It was really weird. Also, another thing: sorry to be rude and stereotypical, but French people need to wear more deodorant when they go out dancing; the place smelled like BO last night. Usually it’s not that bad, but last night in particular was quite ripe if I do say so myself. In all, it was another good night full of dancing and laughs (aside from the creepy weirdness and another bizarre/frightening happening which shall remain unmentioned). Tomorrow we have an Easter feast at noon with our host family and their friends. Get ready for Easter in France….XX