[La Vienne]Strasbourg and Les Vosges

Last night, we went to the Poiriers’ for dinner. Their home is truly magical – we sat in the garden for the first while enjoying the fading sun on their garden and the adjacent fields. The first course was pesto pasta, and Anne asked if I ever make it. Then she wondered if hers was as good as mine, and I told her it was (my grandmother is Italian). The meal, too, was an amazing work of art. The subject of Little Richard came up, so between dinner and desert we danced our heads off to oldies (from a record called “Roots of Rhythm”; Anne observed what a sorry place the US would be without African-Americans). I don’t know when I have ever danced like that with a group of my parents’ friends. It was super fun.

Yesterday was one of the first days since I have been here with no rain. However, the weather made up for it in the night with an outrageous and violent thunderstorm right over our heads. My bed has a metal frame, and I was careful none of me was touching it during the storm. We woke to the phone not working, but no other serious damage (other than my laundry which was almost dry when I went to sleep last night; darn it!).

Now back to catching up…. Last Saturday in Strasbourg, Bertrand wanted to work. But first, in the morning, we went to the farmers’ market and then a grocery store to get some food. He got some beautiful peaches. It was a natural food store; we discussed the importance of where you spend your money.

As a brief aside, my parents don’t seem to subscribe to this sort of thinking. They claim very progressive politics, and yet prefer to get their food at the European equivalent of Costco (a German store, LIDL, Bertrand says about them: "I never buy anything there, because they deliberately and consistently try to reduce the number of employees at the lowest possible level in order to reduce costs. And
they're proud of it and claim it. I don't trust what they're selling
either, they only care about the price. They just should be banned from
everywhere."). My mother says, “I would rather spend my money on Bali Children’s Project”. I don’t think she realizes that the global implications of her shopping decisions cost her and the Bali Children’s Project, much more than she knows.

After lunch, he had arranged for me to go the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art with his nephew, Gwen, and friends (an American girl named Leila, I think, and another French boy, Sebastian). We were particularly interested in an exhibit of works of a famous French cartoonist, who seemed to mostly draw images with sexual content that were very creative but I couldn’t quite relate to. I did enjoy a video (cartoon, no words) about a small village that is taken over by l’escargot. I stayed to see the remainder of the museum while they went for some food. They had some nice pieces in the modern section, particularly a Delanay (sp? whose work I really like despite the fact that he was a fascist) and some post-impressionists whose names I have forgotten. I couldn’t really relate to the contemporary collection. I met up with the group again in front of the cathedral and we tried to shop (it was the end of the sales) but no luck. They are all art students.

In the evening, Bertrand wanted to see a film. We selected Mystic River (with French subtitles, of course, which, incidentally, sometimes helped me understand what they were saying) because it was playing in the nicer theater with a balcony. I resented the conservative vision of what is a family portrayed in the film: these children murdered this girl ostensibly because they didn’t have a father; their father had been murdered by the father of the girl they murdered for turning him in years before. But, of course, lots of children grow up without fathers and don’t end up murdering people. Otherwise, I would say that it is a really good movie.

Sunday, we (Bertrand, Gwen, Sebastian, and I) got up early to hike Les Vosges (which was particularly difficult since we had been up late talking about the movie and such). Bertrand says that the area to the south is the most beautiful (more diverse topography), so that is where we went. The hike began with a long descent through a lush forest littered with tall purple foxgloves. Bertrand says they are native to the area. He wanted to hike quite a bit further (2 hours?) than we ended up doing, to a lake, but the rest of us revolted. The returning crest was covered with cows eating grass with large bells attached to their necks with leather belts. It was really quite an experience at the top of the mountain, rolling green hills surrounded by low forests, a cool breeze blowing through the humid air, the sun beating down, and the cacophony of 25+ cow bells ringing at irregular rhythms. I would like to go back up there and film it, but I am not certain what the purpose would be. Maybe some kind of post-post-modern music video.

Humidity doesn’t really agree with me (I am a Californian after all), and maybe I’m a bit out of shape. So, I was probably annoyingly slow esp. on the ascents. The hike was exhausting, and one of the best experiences of my trip so far. When we got back home, we had tea and marzipan on the balcony.

I am worried that these blogs are getting a bit disjointed. Meanwhile, I still have one more day to tell you about before being completely caught up. I’ll do it tomorrow. So, I don’t know, this too will pass….