After starting this blog, I was sleepy and tried to nap at noon but couldn't fall asleep. I got ready to go to the supermarket with Josh and crew and was just putting on my scarf when I saw Josh dashing across the street to knock on my door. Their van, "the Master," is a beast--big, old, not easily parked on the narrow streets, so he leaves it running on the corner, blocking traffic. I have no phone, so he can't call me to say they are waiting for me. This leaving vehicles to block traffic is quite common; however, I am appalled by the waste of expensive gas. I'm also appalled that it's all diesel because that is very bad for my damaged lungs.
The supermarket is a German discount chain. If you are familiar with Aldi's in the States, you'll know what this is like--off brands, good prices. Gerard, the young Dutchman who is in charge of the kitchen/cooking, and his helper Camilla from Poland zipped through the store and then went across the street to another one by the time I got through the check out. They bought food for 30 people for two days; the back of the van was piled high. They had one small bag. Because I had taken so long, their time was up, so we had to rush back. Gerard needed to get the evening meal going, and Josh had a meeting/prayer time with the other staff members. They dropped me off at my house, and I did a small load of laundry and swept the floor. I should have gone out to walk along the ocean front because it was a gorgeous day--warm, no wind, no clouds. Soon, Josh was back at the door. He had ridden over on a bike (no easy feat given the slant of the streets in this cliff-side city). He stayed about 30 minutes and left his phone with me so that my ride could call to tell me she was ready to pick me up. Wouldn't you know: I couldn't figure out HOW TO ANSWER THE PHONE!!!! Poor Kate kept calling, and poor Deb kept trying to turn on the phone. Finally, I decided I'd just walk in the direction of her place, and miraculously, she was just coming around the corner with Lilly's stroller and Elle walking to their car when I approached the place I would have turned to go on to their house. This is amazing because they have to park wherever they can find a spot. This spot was quite far from the house. Josh kept shaking his head all evening over the fact that we connected this way without the help of the phone.
At the surf hostel, Gerard and the people on KP had made a delicious meal of lemon chicken, sweet potatoes, and veggie salad. Kourtney from Oklahoma also made a spicy chicken with so much cayenne pepper that we were all coughing BEFORE the meal. The bread on the table was scrumptious. I had not eaten any the night before--worried about the calories. I'll have to be careful with it; it's better than chocolate! Toward the end of meals, they give announcements. My table wasn't listening but rather engaging in a mini-food fight. Kourtney hit Camilla squarely in the eyes with a slice of lemon. Clearing the table later, I found cucumber and lettuce everywhere on the floor. I missed most of the announcements but enjoyed watching my table mates have their fun.
Our dinner conversation centered on food. Several of us tried to explain fried okra to the others. This put us on a "Southern foods" tangent; by the end of the discussion, all of us who love Southern cooking were groaning at the thought of candied sweet potatoes and pickled okra. Juan from Columbia had never heard of okra. During this time, we also had a discussion about the politically correct words for black Americans and folks from Mexico in the States. Gerard explained that he was telling Kourtney about his trip to South Africa and used the term "colored people." Kourtney had given him "the look" for it. Gerard quickly learned this is not the right term to use around African Americans. Then, the Canadians had a good laugh about Americans and political correctness, after which, we Americans spelled words we wanted to hear the Canadians pronounce (about, house, eh). Once again, it was all good fun.
As I helped clear the tables, the Swiss girls clucked and said how kind I am because they were on clean up for the evening. No, not kind; just doing what my mom taught me to do 55 years ago!
Shoshannah from England had not seen a photo of Alex, so I had Josh pull up some from Face Book. Then, it was time to hop into the Master to deliver some of the girls home to their house. With them tucked securely in for the night, Josh took me on a driving tour of the "centre ville"--the center or heart of the city--pointing out all of the expensive shops and eateries as well as a palace built by Napoleon III for his mistress that is now a hotel. We stopped at the light house to look south over the well-lit city: beautiful! We also saw "the Virgin," a statue of Mary lit up on a rock that juts from the ocean, and Josh explained that the bridge out to her was built by Gustave Eiffel--one of his lesser known works. Wink.
The town seemed nearly empty of people. Fridays in the winter are low key. The French are more family oriented than Americans and spend most evenings with their children. Of course, in the summer, the streets teem with people day and night.
Back at the house, Josh had more gateau Basque, charged my computer, and showed me hysterical things from the internet. We laughed so hard we cried. I imagine our neighbors were wishing we would go to bed. Actually, we don't hear each other much because the walls are so thick. Because I needed to get up early, Josh left about 11:15. I didn't sleep much and must now rise from bed to shower and do my hair before going to the flea market in Anglet this morning. I've been told to be prepared to see an impressive array of items for sale.
A bientot (until soon)
Friday, February 24, 2012
"There was morning, and there was evening--the first day": Wed-Thursday, February 23-24
I intended to start with my travel day, but if I don't get going on the actual stay in France, I'll lag behind and give up, so here's a short run down of my first 28 hours in Biarritz:
My flight from Paris arrived about 30 minutes EARLY, so Josh wasn't at the airport. I waited for my bags to come and found a seat. With only 3 hours of sleep in the previous 48, I wasn't sure how long I was going to be able to hold it together. On the last flight, I felt like I was coming apart at the seems--like jello shaking on a plate!
The Biarritz airport is "international" but not much bigger than one you'd find in a small Iowa town. I kept thinking, "People like Johnny Depp have walked right here!!!" (Biarritz is one of the world's surfing meccas and is also a playground for the rich/famous.)
Within a few minutes, the place had cleared completely of all my co-passengers, so Josh and I spotted each other the minute he came through the door. He looks terrific! His hair is longer, and he pretty much has a beard. It's still short but looks good. I have such handsome sons!
Even though the sun had set as we were landing (wow! incredible sunsets here--like Hawaii, Jamaica, etc.), Josh drove me around a little to see the ocean front, the surf hostel where he lives with the current DTS students, and the house where the staff lives in 4 different apartments). Then, we struggled to find a parking place near my little house. As with all European cities, the streets are incredibly narrow, so parking is at a premium.
Bless Josh's sweet heart: He had potted flowers on the table for me along with a big bag of peanut M & M's, Cadbury chocolate, caramel corn, a bottle of rose wine (real French wine!!!! made in Bordeaux!!!!--to my American, Christian friends: yes, Paul told Timothy to take a little wine for his stomach, and the two of them did NOT use grape juice for communion, so please don't be offended), and "gateau basque"--Basque cake--a dense vanilla cake made with a creamy filling. I can feel the 13 pounds I lost in Mesa glopping back on every second here ;-)
In the fridge, he had milk, two types of cheeses, and yogurt. In addition to the shopping, he had swept the floors and dusted, giving the place an over all cleaning because no one had rented since September.
He had the place neat as a pin. About it: Though extremely small by American standards, it is quaint and cute and actually spacious for a French "home" in the city. You will understand this well if you watch House Hunters International. Places like this go for $400,000 American dollars. Believe me, you and I wouldn't pay 20,000! Still, as I said, it's cute. Some of you may not know this: The French have regular windows like we do, but they open fully. On the outside of houses are shutters--not fake ones; real ones. During the day, you throw them wide open (no screens!!!) but keep the heavy window locked. This lets in light during the day and shuts it out/keeps you safe at night. These shutters are heavy beasts that lock with large, heavy metal clasps. Exterior doors are equally heavy and have a post that goes into the ground below the door as well as one that goes into the top of the door. Next is a HUGE deadbolt that turns TWICE. I feel super safe/secure--like living in a mini-fortress--even though I'm on the ground floor, and when people pass on the sidewalk, they are only 2 1/2 feet from where I now sit on the sofa.
I have two bedrooms and five beds that could sleep 6-7 people. Another could sleep on the couch. Most of us wouldn't want to put that many in here b/c of the one small bath, but believe me, young adults and European families on vacation could cram probably 8 people into the place and be comfy.
Rather than the front/master bedroom with the queen sized bed, I chose the back room that has a set of bunk beds and a twin bed with a trundle beneath it. The trundle bed is very firm, and this room is quiet--set back from the street noise.
The decor is French rustic with beachy colors of orange, salmon, yellow, and seafoam green. Pictures, posters, and other art on the walls center on the locale--the largest of a huge wave with the Spanish coastline in the background. Viewing it, the wave doesnt' look that impressive until you walk up close and see the two dots that are surfers riding it. They look miniscule and powerless beneath the snarl of the wave coming down above them. No wonder this is a surf capital!
Someone asked about the weather. My two days thus far have been sunny and about 45-55 degrees. And yes, people do surf daily!!! That's what wetsuits are for. I could use a coat, but I didn't want to be loaded down with extra things to carry on the plane. I'm only a little cold outside in a suit jacket, skirt, top, scarf, and gloves. As long as the sun is out, I'm fine. Breezes are cool--I assume because of the ocean, but down at the beach, it is warmer. Yesterday, there was NO breeze there though it was blowing a bit on the city streets.
Right next door is a city park. A quiet section is filled with benches and flowers (yes, in bloom in February), an area with a playground built as a pirate ship, a large court for various French and Basque games played with different types of racquets, and another area for toddlers. Dogs are welcome as long as they are on leashes. Although there are "poop bags" in dispensers----free!!--Josh says no one uses them. I, however, have not seen lots of dog poop lying around as many Americans claim. Instead, just like on my last trip in 1968, I see shopkeepers hosing down the streets/walkways in front of their businesses, and it all seems quite clean to me.
From my front door and the master bedroom window, I can see a slice of ocean when looking down the long narrow street. The buildings are all old and of varied architecture ranging from picturesque to lovely to stately.
After sleeping until 10 a.m. my first morning, I unpacked, discovered I won't be watching much TV because most of it is in French or is boring news delivered by Brits or Arabs (!). If I wanted to watch something like "Friends" I could, but it's weird seeing Ross and Rachel speak French ;-) (It's okay; I don't like "Friends" anyway.)
About the language: I can read almost everything in the stores/shops/on signs. I can not understand more than a few words here/there and am struggling to find words when I try to speak. The students at Josh's school who are Francophone are super patient with me and encourage me to speak in French, but it embarrasses me. They are kind.
When Josh was finished with work for the day, he came to get me about 3 p.m. and walked me to the market (that had just closed at 3:30), a corner grocery, past several bakeries with to-die-for pastries in the windows, into a small pharmacy, through the park, and down along the ocean front. Biarritz is set high above the beach/port. To get down there, people must descend via 300+ steps or take the gradually sloping and very long ramps that zig-zag in switchbacks down the side of the mountain. It's beautiful, of course. We can see Spain and the Pyrannees Mountains behind us and off to the south.
Following our walk and shopping, Josh returned to the surf hostel where he and the students live. I did email and tried to find some news that made sense to me. At 6:10, Kate, the school leader's wife, and her two tiny girls (Elle and Lilly, the baby) picked me up to drive me to the surf hostel for dinner and the birthday party for one student--Tabea, from Switzerland. The meal was: gnocci stuffed with ricotta cheese and covered with a lovely marinara sauce, bread and cheese (always), and a large lettuce/veggie salad.
I felt overwhelmed by names, noise, and languages. I want to know everyone's name, so I spent time repeating names and looking at faces as the others ate. At announcement time, Josh introduced me. Some of the American students are calling me Mama Menning. It's obvious they all love Josh, especially the girls ;-). I spent time talking with Esther, the Amish girl from Lancaster, PA; Carissa, a staffer from Eden Prairie, MN who attended Bethel; Burr Powell Harrison, IV, of the Virginia Harrisons ; Florence--a new Christian from Paris who is preparing to go to DTS in Kona, Hawaii, soon and is nervous about her flawless English--go figure!--as well as how to dress/ what she will be able to buy there; Kelsey, an American girl who has a staph infection; and a knot of Swiss girls who speak mostly only French and giggle a lot over Josh and Alex. They say I'm "cute."
The food was good; the fellowship was sweet, and the birthday party was loud. I passed on the too-heavy, dark chocolate cake made without much sugar. Josh spent much of the evening with his computer doing school-related email and searching for worship songs in French. (And being embarrassed by me, no doubt.) I had a great time and even got to call Mom, John, and Banj (who wasn't home, so I talked with Jed).
A little after ten, Josh sent me home with the staff girls who live in one of the apartments just two blocks from my place. I was a little fearful b/c he couldn't come stay with me again as he did on my first night, but once I got the shutters/door locks opened and shut again, I was fine. I had a fun time with the students. The girls want to have a "sleepover" at my place. Me, not so much! ;-) Right now, I'm too tired. On top of that, it's exhausting and puts me in a brain fog listening to all their languages/accents and not knowing what's being discussed 85% of the time.
Josh will come today about 2 and take me to a super market. Tomorrow, we will hit the flea market looking for clothes to supplement my limited wardrobe. Last night, I battled to picture the calendar in my head and realized I have only 27 more days here. Looking at it from the States, I thought that might be too long; now, I know it won't be nearly long enough at all!
Au revoir pour maintenant (good bye for now)! I am NOT proofing this; sorry for errors.
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