---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Fri, 5 Jul 2002 05:15:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Cathy Gellis 
To: cathyg@csua.berkeley.edu
Subject: dispatch from France

I am in France!  While this is to be expected, it follows a greater 
shlep than normal.  Last week on Tuesday my friend Alisa dropped me off at 
SFO airport in plenty of time for my 11am flight to Chicago, as well as for 
several earlier Chicago flights.  But the gate agent assured me I had plenty of
time to make my connection in Chicago and checked me in for the 11am
flight.  Ha.  My flight boarded on time, pulled away from the gate on
time, then promptly parked on the tarmac for 2.5 hours.  Fortunately, I
had about 8oz. of leftover prime rib from a celebratory dinner the 
night before with me so at least I ate well.  Unfortunately, we didn't arrive
into Chicago until 15 min. after my connection to Paris left.

I went to customer service and told them that they had to either get me 
to Paris in time to catch my connecting train, or they had to get me 
directly to Marseille.  They balked initially, but I reminded them that it was
under their agent's advice that I hadn't taken an earlier flight, and that
they'd done things like that before.  So they got me on the next flight 
to Frankfurt, with a connection on Air France to Marseille.  (I was very
fortunate, there was another person on my program on the same SF 
flight, and they ended up sending him back to SF to try again the next day.  He
didn't show up for days...)

All would have been perfect except the Frankfurt flight got delayed 
too. I arrived in Frankfurt just after my flight to Marseille, again just 15
minutes too late.  So I waited in the airport for the next flight for 5
hours.  It wasn't too bad though.  From many places you can watch all 
the planes take off and land.  I ate dinner at a McDonalds which was 
running a World Cup soccer promotion.  In honor of the Asian hosts, they were
serving "Asian Menus": fries, soda, and a box of egg rolls.

It turns out I should have waited to eat though, because on a 37-seat 
1.5 hour flight to Provence, Air France served this incredible French meal:
jambon cru, a lentil-legume salad, bread, butter, cheese, raspberry
dessert, chocolate, and wine.

I eventually arrived in Marseille, and so did one of my suitcases.  I
dealt with the clerk there, who was very nice, to arrange for them to 
find and deliver it.  Then I took a cab to Aix-en-Provence and had my first
all-French conversation with the cab driver.  French is slowly coming 
back to me.

The first few nights we were staying in a hotel.  Unfortunately my
roommates were both already in bed when I came in, so we didn't have a
chance to get the room sorted properly.  I ended up sharing a bed with
"Sarah".

All was well for about 2 hours until Sarah started to get up
every 5 minutes to throw up.  As I laid there, sleeplessly, listening 
to this stranger vomiting I could see the moon glowing ethereally over
Provence in the way many Van Gogh paintings do.  And I suddenly 
understood exactly why Van Gogh went nuts.  He must not have been able to sleep
either.  Fortunately, I persevered without removing any of my 
appendages. Sarah also survived in spite of my strong desire to dismember her...

In retrospect, having gotten to know Sarah better subsequently, I 
regret having resisted the temptation.  Many people on this trip are
young (17-22) and full of youthful stupidity (staying out too late,
personally keeping Phillip Morris in business, as well as all vintners 
and breweries).  Sarah is all of that, and a spoiled brat.  Most other 
people are nice, though, to varying degrees: they don't all indulge in various
toxic substances, and some are even closer to my age.  My apartment
roommate Jennifer is 31, and we get along very well.  For instance, we
both agree that the people banging on the door downstairs last night at
2am looking for one of their friends were way out of line.... (we're
thinking of stocking up on water balloons to drop on their heads should
there be subsequent occasions.  Either that or boiling oil.)

Last weekend we moved into our apartments.  Ours is on the top floor 
(3rd by US standards) and has a large kitchen with kitchenette, a little
hallway, a large bedroom, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with toilet,
shower, and sink.  I list these fixtures specifically because they 
aren't always available in French apartments.  It has the general advantage of
being large, airy, bright if we have the shutters open, and reasonably
well located.  Central Aix-en-Provence is fairly small though, so it's
hard to be too far from anything.

Classes began on Monday and I have been placed in what is now the 4th
highest out of 5.  My teachers alternate weeks.  I just finished with 
one, and will have another next week.  Then the cycle repeats.  Also, Monday through
Wednesday there's an informal class where we've been discussing the 
French political landscape under the auspices of French journalism.  My class
originally had 19 people, but today they added a new one so there will 
be about 13 going forward.

Outside class I am busy, although not quite as insanely busy as I was
before France.  I run errands, yesterday I swam at the local pool, and 
I'm looking into renting a bike.  Last weekend I travelled to Marseille and 
to the Chateau d'If and a little island beyond it with a little beach.
Tomorrow I will visit the Luberon with the school and the day after
another area whose name I can't remember offhand with my program.

There are surely more interesting details to regale you with, but it 
took me over a week to write this much so I should quit while I'm ahead 
(hence why there is more info about my flight than about the actual time I 
spent in France...) (However, that flight is nothing to dismiss!  Between the
huge shelp, the jetlag, and then the two hours of sleep following 
thanks to Sarah's wretching, I was ridiculously exhausted.  I had to take a
French placement test the next day, and apparently I can speak French 
in my sleep.  I know this because I actually fell asleep during my test 
(and yet still ended up in a fairly advanced group).  I would start writing 
a word, sort of blank out, and then suddenly look down to see that I 
hadn't finished writing the word but my pencil had left a wandering mark.  It 
was weird....)

So I will continue on with my day so that I can have new and 
exciting stories to report back.  Or not.  We'll see :-)  I think everything 
might turn out to be a reference to eating, sleeping (or the notable lack
thereof), or Sarah's chutzpa.  (Which reminds me, the people on this 
trip have an atrocious knowledge of important Yiddishisms.  It might be too
much to expect the French to know them, but even the Americans don't 
seem to know such important words like 'shlep' or 'shlock'.)

With regard to food, I haven't had any truly memorable meals here yet, 
but certain people will be happy to know that I've only eaten McDonalds in 
the airport on that one occasion, and I ate once at Quick mostly for the
nostalgia (it certainly wasn't for the food...).  I've eaten a lot of 
ham and butter sandwiches, and also chocolate croissants.  I cannot find 
any pain au chocolat-pistache, which I remember from 3 years ago, and am
therefore most distressed.

For those of you who would like to keep in touch other than by email, 
my contact info is as such:

11, rue Somewhere
13100 Aix-en-Provence FRANCE

Phone
(country code) 33 (area code) 4 (actual #) xx xx xx xx

I'll be at the apartment until the last Saturday of July, at which 
point I will roam around Europe for a bunch of days before returning home Aug. 
1. Feel free to telephone, but note the 9 hour time difference from
California :-) (6 from NY)  For those of you currently living in 
Slovakia, there is no time zone difference between our respective abodes, for a
change...

Happy Huey Lewis' birthday,
Cathy

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3