dust on the bookshelf

Paul Marchand, F.M.C

2009-06-25T11:37:00.004-04:00

ok, so i just need to work this out a little, in type.
Last night I read this book called Paul Marchand, F.M.C. by Charles W. Chesnutt. It is a good novel, a fast read with a quickly turning plot.
The "F.M.C." stands for "Free man of color" and the story is set in New Orleans around 1820, when the state neared a score of years under American control.
So i finish this book around 1am and then of course can't fall asleep. My mind is racing for two more hours. here's one of the thoughts that ran through my mind in these wee hours...

OK.
When the French and Spanish were first settling Louisiana, they, according to most historians, because of their Latin not Anglo white roots, were not opposed to mating and forming unions with the natives of the new world, namely the Indians and the blacks.
This went on for quite some time until Louisiana saw forming what was called the "Quadroon race." These were free people of color who were probably only one-fourth black or less. They were considered better than "Negros" and slaves, but were still inferior to the white Creoles. As a result, they were still denied many civil rights such as suffrage and the right to bear arms.

Now, as a side note, the French Code Noir was the rule for treatment of slaves, and was considerably less inhumane than the British or Anglo laws. No one contributes this to the "Latins' innate love of the darker races" but anyways it's an interesting difference.
I say all this because the book focuses on a man who looks white, very white, but who is labeled a quadroon and his frustrations with this. (twists of fate soon abound) But what I've found amazing, in a sort of superficial way, in my reading is this neurotic and almost laughable obsession in New Orleans of distinguishing between these three castes. The people once considered "dusky" or of some black ancestry look more than white to the modern observer. I cannot get over the old photos myself.

So, it seems that at the time there were the white creoles, many of whom were Spaniards having their own dark features, and then the quadroons who mostly looked just like the white creoles except maybe a "slight wave in the hair" or a complexion "of dark olive." Finally, the third group is the blacks, well let's call them "obviously black" people. I wonder did the middle groups wear signs on the street? How could you tell from glancing? It seems people could not, but memories for social standing were incredible in New Orleans at the time. People just knew. More importantly, people knew that the white Creoles were the ones growing and populating this quadroon class. With institutions like (excuse the lack of accent marks) Placage which "placed" beautiful quadroon women in the care of white Creoles who supported them and fornicated with them while they waited for their pure, chaste white Creole women to come of age. This often resulted in 'double families' and these second darker families were almost always supported financially by the man.

Anyways, last night laying in bed I tried to connect this with the racial pictures we see today. My semi-conscious conclusion was this: As the Americans came into New Orleans a somewhat slow process of "Americanization" began. The Anglo perceptions of race began to pervade and slowly Creoles began to be lumped with their darker brothers, losing more and more of the privileges they'd previously enjoyed and cherished.

This continued on, through the civil war, (Reconstruction did not help them) until Jim Crow and the "one-drop" rule drew strict lines creating the binary racial view most of us hold today. As a result, this quadroon caste, this group of people whose ancestry was so mixed, began to stop mixing. Thus, over the decades, blacks became blacker and whites became whiter (at least in the South) Weird!
Slavery was gone. Miscegenation was illegal. Slim were the chances a black and white person would reproduce. And ta-dah! you have what our parents grew up with and what most of us saw persisting in spite of desegregation, two very visually and culturally distinct races.

The irony is that people pushing for segregation, especially in Louisiana, were likely fighting against their own ancestors. White supremacists of that time likely had more 'black blood' in them than they could stand. Chesnutt touches on this in the last paragraph of his book saying,

"but the survivors and descendants... were ever in the forefront of any agitation to limit the rights or restrict the privileges of their darker fellow citizens. They helped procure the passage of a law forbidding the manumission of slaves and lead an abortive movement to expel all free colored people from Louisiana...A grandson of Henri Beaurepas not long since introduced into the Louisiana legislature an amendment to the criminal code, making marriage a felony between a white person and person of colored blood to the thirty-second degree inclusive. One wonders if he had ever learned of the ancestral possibility."

I would like to end by saying that this little historical nugget, this era of the Creole Crescent City is mostly forgotten today, but I think in its issues of blurred racial lines it holds important lessons. And I think of the future when I say this because, with the slow but steady mixing of races going on in this country today, we should look to past situations (though there are few) to be aware of the benefits and difficulties to be found when a binary racial system does not apply.

here's a link to the google books page, if you're interested.
http://books.google.com/books?id=HZ85ExCmbpsC&pg=PP1&dq=Paul+Marchand,+F.M.C.&ei=maJDSrfFE4SwNIi5jdoO

double vision

2009-06-23T16:07:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I saw a toddler. And it was me. She was me. I was looking at myself maybe 18 years ago. This was actually very freaky. My heartbeat shot up! I was afraid. The man holding her was older, too old to be her father, I think. He was white, probably an ex hippie wearing a silver ponytail, shorts and a pink t-shirt. The child was animated, moving her hands around as if to signal me. She had the same light brown skin, the same airy golden brown hair. It was pulled up in a wild poof on top of her head like I used to wear. Her lightweight blue summer dress would not have looked peculiar on my own toddler self.

I was instantly afraid to get closer because I would surely blurt out something like, “That child looks just like me when I was little!” And then what would the man say? What could he say? I would sound like a crazy person. A crazy person with an unusual fascination with his child. But then he waved at me! Why did he wave at me from across the street? Was that necessary? Did he see that I was staring? Did he see that I was the future embodiment of the child he held? I waved back and shouted a hello. Luckily the dog pulled me along away from them. But they were just standing there. Why? It was almost like a vision. No one else was around and he was just holding her. Holding me.

She didn’t look like his child. Maybe a grandchild? Why couldn’t I get them out of my mind? How can I be so sure of what I looked like? I mean, I’ve seen a lot of pictures. But I was so afraid to get close to them because what if I saw the details of her face were the details of mine? What if that baby was another me, growing up with a different life. They say everyone has at least one twin in the world. People are always telling me “oh, I know someone who looks just like you” but I never know these people. I never see them. Until yesterday. I saw myself and it was a little me.

Maybe that child is about to destroy me! Maybe she’s my doppelganger. If she can’t physically take me, maybe she is out to take my mind. Drive me insane! Maybe I’ll see them on that corner of my neighborhood every night. Are they haunting it? Or me? Is it a message? A warning? If I talk to the man I can find out the child’s name and its real life not involving me. If I make her her own individual I won’t need to be afraid. But what if I find out her name is Sarah! My fear is real but so is my curiosity. And you know what they say about that cat. What if I get scratched?

Huey Long

2009-06-21T22:35:00.006-04:00

Today I watched a documentary, Ken Burns' America: Huey Long. I found it to be very informative, filling in a lot of the detail holes left by the brief lectures on Huey Long we had in Southern Literature and Culture as we read All the King's Men. (I love the way that book was written) Anyway, (the author) Robert Penn Warren was featured in this film. I believe the film's main points about Huey P. Long are: people only had strong feelings about Long one way or the other. They either adored or despised him. He wanted to and did good things, (such as building many roads and bridges, giving kids free textbooks) but his methods were very questionable, especially in his later career. The movie is very objective. It presents a lot of opinions, but I was left unsure if Huey was legit or not. I found him amusing and admire what he did, but he also seemed a little bit crazy.

By the end of his career he was a dictator running Louisiana with total control. This most surprised me and I can see why this was a concern for the FDR white house. Anyway, my mom’s old boss, Russell Long, was featured in the film and he kind of seemed like a sad character. I believe he knew his dad was ridiculous. But he also only knew his dad until he was 16 years old. I guess he had to defend a man he barely knew, which is hard, while trying to live his own distinct political life as a Senator. I really enjoyed the extensive video footage of Long. One man in the film called him “Louisiana’s last great orator” and I can see why people felt that way. This must have been the end of the era of the orator-celebre, but Huey Long hammed it up until the end, waving his arms, hitting his fists, nearly spinning around on podiums. It’s like he mimed everything he said except you could hear him. It think it was an effective emphasis, especially combined with a mantra like “share our wealth.” In 1935 he was shot. Many people cheered, many cried.

"here we go again... she's back in town, again"

2009-06-19T19:38:00.004-04:00

"i'll play the fool again, i will. one more time."

Sing it Ray.
yup, i'm back doing the blog thing again. i must dedicate this second wind to my roommate leah who has restarted her hilarious summer blog (check it out) to record her travels in europe. i will not be abroad this summer and will thus have no beach pictures to post up (sigh) however! i am living in one of america's greatest cities. Austin, capital of my great homestate Texas. allow me a moment...

"texas, our texas! all hail the mighty state.
texas, our texas! so wonderful, so great.
boldest and grandest, withstanding ev'ry test.
oh empire wide and glorious, you stand supremely blest"

yes, that was from memory, because while louisiana stalled to even create a public school system,* its neighbor dutifully drilled all of its students in its state song and pledge. as a result, all remain loyal, including the expatriates. of which i am normally one, but not this summer! no, i am enjoying every single 100 degree day, because it just honestly doesnt feel that hot.

so i hope those of you who read last summer will also find this segment worth your time. i am housesitting for UT profesors all summer and doing personal "pre-thesis" research that is being funded by my Mellon Mays Fellowship (thank you!) as i dont plan to do much traveling south of sixth street ;) i will try to make these posts interesting. they will likely focus on (mis)adventures in the most musical city on earth and the books and articles i read while staying inside during the hottest hours.

i plan to kick back and meet some fun people. visitors are more than welcome. i appreciate your comments and would love to hear what you're all up to this summer (preferably in post card form, duh) i will try to add pics, here's one: the view out my bedroom window.

relaxed yet?

and finally, i want to share brief anecdotes about austin that will hopefully give those unlucky few of you who havent visited, an idea of its unique character.
atxdote #1: Amy's ice cream is a delicious local chain with many locations. one of them has a marquee that reads, "let us fill your pie hole with our cream" ... yum.

* this is actually referring to the city of New Orleans, which had no public school system until 1850 when John McDonogh bequeathed his fortune the poor illiterate children of the crescent city. who knows how long it took the whole state to get it ;)

final days in aix

2008-07-25T08:44:00.002-04:00

it's a weird mixture of feelings, leaving aix. first of all, i am not going home. not just yet. most of the students are heading back to the states tomorrow. so their emotions towards leaving are completely different. i'm trying not think about going home home feelings. moi, je vais a paris to start another adventure. i will write another post shortly that is more reflective.

but for now it's on to the city of lights!!

jazz au Luberon

2008-07-22T04:53:00.004-04:00

Quelle chance! saturday night i went with a 'french friend and his family to see a jazz concert. it was outdoors under the stars on a hill in the Luberon, an area previously mentioned in a blog that is up in the mountains with old ancient villages, and lots of stars!
the band played a lot of classic french songs and some american jazz too. i tried to explain to some french people how that sort of "french style" (picture old man in beret with accordion on the side of the road) permeates all their music types, jazz and pop included. they did not quite catch my drift. but it was really fun because i spoke with lots of french people about lots of subjects.
for the record, everyone here is REALLY for obama. (emphasis on the "MAH" as opposed to america's pronunciation emphasizing the "BAH") for most french people "MAC-CANE" is another bush and not exciting at all.
the band moved indoors once it got pretty late and some of them continued to play in there. they asked me to sing but unfortunately they did not know any english songs that i knew and we had to leave before things got organized. everyone was so curious about american things, mostly the education system and certain destinations like new york and california. people were curious about texas because i came from there, but most people associated it with bush :( a frequent response of mine to that was: " Bush etait le guvernor du texas, et il a detruit le systeme d'education au Texas. Et puis il a detruit le systeme d'education des etats-unis!"

le mistral

2008-07-14T10:32:00.004-04:00

Le mistral is actually very frightening at times. it flies through the house without mercy slamming doors and disturbing papers. today it is especially violent. i could barely walk through the street earlier. i had to put on my hood in fear of losing my hair.
le mistral is in fact unique to this part of the world. according to wikipedia (who knows all) the mistral is "a fresh or cold, often violent, and usually dry wind, blowing throughout the year but is most frequent in winter and spring. It blows from the northwest or north of Europe through the valley of the Rhône River to the Mediterranean. In the south of France the name comes from the Languedoc dialect of the provençal language and means "masterly." The same wind is called mistrau in the occitan language, mestral in Catalan and maestrale in Italian and Corsican."
it is indeed hard to get over and hard to believe at times. "but sarah, it's just a wind," you say. well in that case it's just a wind that will likely cancel tonight's bastille day "fers d'articfices" or fireworks. this is NOT okay. we will go to marseille if this is the case. and fireworks on the port over the water will be nice.
in any case the apartment is shaking which makes it hard to concentrate on the article i must read on the changes being made to France's public television networks. they will now be restricted on advertisements by the government and en plus, the president will now choose the "patron de France Televisions." THIS IS SERIOUS, PEOPLE.
actually french television is quite good, and the news is superb. it just makes american tv news look like babbling parrots whose layers of makeup have slowly leaked into their brains limiting certain functions there within like, original thought for example, or genuine emotion.
a little harsh? perhaps, but french news both in print and on tv puts american media to shame.
some links if you're not conviced:
- Directsoir: a free daily pm newspaper that is handed out on the street
- le monde, bien sur
- metro: a sweet daily am paper, also free
- public channel french 3
- public channel french 2, also cool

... also people, there is a new poll (look to the left of your screen) take it!

en retard...

2008-07-08T04:43:00.011-04:00

I've had slight blogger's block as of recently. it's as if i've been doing so much that i dont know where to begin to write about it. so to jump start the creative process i'll put up more pictures. because they equal at least what, a thousand words? right?

the beach at Cassis, there is so much salt in the med sea you can float very easily, so i just chilled on top of the water forever

a view of the city of Cassis

the beach at Mersailles, lovely little pebbles, dont have to worry about sand getting everwhere. we swam behind that jettison sort of thing on the right and found these huge flat rocks to climb and lay on

me with David, not quite sure why there is a huge reproduction of him there, but David is the symbol of the beach prophete

this painting was randomly on a wall in the village of St. Remy, it roughly translates to "i am the mother of those who need love" which i feel is up for interpretation

me on the beach at cassis, hopefully not to scandalous of a pic

la glace a cassis= manifique, c'est la parfum de la "mangue" (mango)

myself and fellow american student Ben celebrating the fourth of july (hence my outfit colors). we could not find fireworks that night... hmmm, and no bbq ah well.

some flowers outside of the sanitorium where Van Gogh placed himself after cutting off his ear in Arles (ladybugs)

a mini lavendar field!! sooo beautiful and smelled so good.

pretty little piazza garden thing

me in front of the olive trees that van gogh struggled to paint.

Jennika and I on top of the Valley of Hell!! we had a pique nique there.

huge ancient roman ruins! crazy! just out in the middle of nowhere!

me with the lavendar! yum

view from the chateux on the top of the Les Beux de Provence, a really cool old city

everyone in front of the cathedral d'images!

images of van gogh art inside the cathedral (natural limestone cave type place)

another image from it. imagine the cold and the loud classical music

So I won a prize for singing in the talent show at the institut. the prize was a ticket to an opera. aix does not usually have operas or orchestras in town, there are no permanant ones. however, july is the festival de theatre. sooo many groups come to town to play.
last night i went with a few other students to see Zaine by Mozart, done with a modern twist. it was my first opera and i really enjoyed myself. the hall is outdoors and surrounded by real buildings which is really cool. the night was nice and they provided blankets for the wind. the singers were excellent and their songs were very catchy. of course, when you repeat the same few phrases for 2 hours it becomes easy to remember....

... more to come soon

racial ambiguity in france

2008-06-29T05:46:00.012-04:00

As i sit on the terrace of the apartment, the last song i expect to hear blasting through the streets of france invades my ears: "The Boy is Mine" by Brandy and Monica, a vocal battle of the heart between two singers with just one name each. you remember it, how both singers try to outsing each other to prove that the obviously double-crossing man's real affection theirs. i remember loving that song and singing it with my younger cousins, but now that I think about it, it really is kind of sad and pathetic. viola, a few of the lyrics:

Chorus:
You need to give it up
Had about enough
It's not hard to see
The boy is mine
I'm sorry that you
seem to be confused
He belongs to me
The boy is mine

Brandy:
Think its time we got this straight
Sit and talk face to face
There is no way you could mistake
Him for your man are you insane

Monica:
But see I know that you may be
Just a bit jealous of me
But your blind if you can't see
That his love is all in me

Brandy:
See I tried to hesitate
I didn't want to say what he told me
He said without me he couldn't make it
Through the day, Aint that a shame

Monica:
But maybe you misunderstood
Cause I can't see how he could
Wanna change something thats so good
All my love was all it took
(The boy is mine)

... and this goes on further. in the end, there is no resolution, it is still unclear who really has his heart. however, i do faintly recall something in the music video where the two girls confront him at the end of the song and become friends or something like that, but it's hazy. thank god for youtube i always say.

and now for the title of the post.
i did a final project last semester for my protest lit class (which im sure i forced many of you to read) that discussed the issues of "passing," "mixing," and intraracial discrimination in general within the african-american community. i included some personal stories of problems i've encountered involving racial insensitivity. people are more times than not pretty rude when they want to figure out, guess, or even tell you your race.
so maybe you're wondering if it the same in france? i wondered before coming too, because my friend Idriss, who is from the ivory coast but grew up in france, told me that people "would not know what to think of me" and that i could probably say that I was any race. i thought this might make an interesting social experiment, of course i wouldnt make up a race. but anyways... some encounters, conversations, interactions i've had so far:
1. while sitting at an outside table with friends on the night of the fete de la musique, i noticed a lady kind of looking at me sideways (literally, she was bent over trying to see my face). i was naturally confused and felt a little awkward like "what are you doing lady?" finally she realized i wasnt who she thought i was and proceeded to explain in french. she said, "oh my husband thought that you looked just like a friend of ours. she's the daughter of so and so famous person so and so. do you know her? oh no? well you look just like her." then she asked me if i was Brazilian. i nearly laughed in her face saying no. but yeah, that's a new one for me, Brazilian? really?
2. i bought a ring in a huge outdoor market in Louberin, a perched ancient village west of Aix. the lady selling the jewelery was african and so nice. she chatted with me and the other two girls i was with while we negotiated size, price quality etc. she asked where i was from and i told her. (everyone has heard of dallas, texas; i assume it's either because of the show DALLAS or dubya, neither of which are very flattering or accurate representatives of the place) anyways, she then asked me if i was "métisse" meaning mixed race or half and half more literally. i told her no and she was confused and then said in french "oh both your parents are white? really?" then i said no that i was african-american, of course most french people only hear the africa part and grow confident that they understand because well, they know all about africa of course. after some hurried explanation on my part about how varied african-americans are, especially in louisiana etc etc she said, "oh ok, because my son Bila's father is white and Bila is your color" then she showed me a snapshot. he was cute. our conversation ended with Obama, the election and our voting abilities and how she hoped that he would win. i really like the ring.
3. jennika and i were relaxing on the lovely pebble beach in Cassis, when these two guys start talking to us. they are friendly and impressed by our french of course. we talked with them about the most random things really. i think jennika mentioned that she was german and one guy Stefan then politely asked me, "et quel est ton heritage?" or what is your heritage. i told him and he sort of seemed to get it but not really. it's kind of amusing. but i feel like people are less rude/brass/offensive about it in southern france. i guess it's just a genuine curiosity, and im a foreigner so..
maybe i should start comparing myself to people, giving example of famous african-americans they might know: "je suis african-americaine, comme Martin Luther King, comme Beyonce, comme Will Smith, comme Michael Jackson.." no, that's probably not the best example.

(if you want to read the project here's the link, im not sure if it will work: Passing, Mixing, Fixing)

et des photos bien sur:

a little nook of the perched village of Bonnieux

this bridge is named le Pont Julien and it was constructed by the romans and is still used today by all kinds of vehicles. i feel like in was around 300 bc! amazing!

les carrières d'ocres de Rustrel- amazing, looks like colorado. "ocre"describes the soil and its color

Jennika et moi

those are snails, they're all over the plants in places. i find this really bizarre, we werent near the ocean or anything...

dog and old old old church built by the ancient protestant "heritics" this sits on the top of Bonnieux

an old well near the church

on top of bonnieux. what a view?!

a bee on a plant similar to lavendar, on Albert Camus' grave

Albert Camus' simple grave.

bangles at the market in Lourmarin

du fromage au marche de Lourmarin
this was really tastey

a little ensemble in Lourmarin

Lourmarin from afar. sooo beautiful

coqueliquo: poppies , and snails, geez those snails are crazy

in france this is the equivalent of "you are now leaving Lourmarin"
(notice the snails)

a statue outside of the chateux de Lourmarin

a peek inside the chateux

african art inside the chateux, ricky looks curious

a cute sign in Lourmarin

rear window

2008-06-25T15:25:00.004-04:00

The sirens from the ambulances are pretty loud even up on the sixth floor. granted, the windows are open, but i can't help but notice how different the tune is . In america ambulances sound like, "weeerrww,weerrwww,weeerrrwwww" but here their sound is, "beeyooumm, beeyooum, beeeyouum." Amazingly enough it is a less startling sound, almost pleasant as if it saying, "dont get up from your quiche or cheese or wine, french people. we're just quickly trying to get through traffic to a slightly more urgent happening, but please do sit back down."

earlier these two girls were rolling down the hill below my window in a office chair and a stroller. they were not young enough to be shamelessly doing that, i'd guess 13 yrs old at least. but their echoing laughter caught my attention and i must admit it was amusing to watch them crash into the weird stumps that lines the streets of aix. someone commented at school that it was nice for the city to put up protection for pedestrians (the stone or steel stumps line the sidewalk where it meets the road) and one of the teachers quickly replied, "no, they're there to prevent french people from parking on the sidewalks, because they will"

and with those random thoughts i leave you with the view from my window (sans girls on wheels) and some dramatic pics to prove i really live here. (yes, i took them myself)

Arles, France et La Fete de la Musique

2008-06-22T15:11:00.012-04:00

Voila! Lady Luck has found me in France and has decided to aide my adventures. Saturday Kate and I took the bus to Arles, a beautiful city about an hour west of Aix. The big market was set up in the morning where one could buy just about anything, minus electrical appliances. But even there were a few of those. We thought, “oh a fresh lunch? Of course? 2 euros! Ok!” Thus, we bought some fresh goat cheese, strawberries, cherries and a baguette. It was so fun speaking with the different vendors, many of whom were extra friendly and chatty. I bought some Provencal “tissue” for my mom (a tablecloth) and the man selling them didn’t think that I was American once I started speaking French to him, but then asked me where I was from and when I answered he was confused!!

But the real adventure begins in the Centre Ville. Kate and I walked into a cute art exhibit from a school where the students drew and painted pictures about Africa. The project was to celebrate their twin school in a city in Africa. We spoke happily with the man about the project and he was proud to tell us about. After that, we went into and OLD catholic church that was breathtaking and also very cool and dark. Then we decided to eat our lunch on the steps of the center fountain. The French love their fountains, let me tell ya, everytime you turn around…

So then while we were taking pictures of a Provencal brass band that was parading through the square a man comes up to us and is smiling because he and Kate have the same super fancy expensive camera. They begin using French photo vocabulary that I do not understand. The man’s name is Patrick and he is photographer for the city’s event magazine. First he asks us to look online for his friends in the states who have not been heard from since around September 11th. He said he couldnt read the english websites. (sad) But then we spoke about lighter things and said goodbye. But before we could walk away he asked us to be in the pictures that he had to take of THE CHILDREN'S AFRICAN ART EXHIBIT. so since we were standing right there we go in and help. The old man was happy to see us again and offered us an apperatif (afternoon beverage) and quiche. only in france! so after that I ask the old man for directions to the Espace de Van Gogh (pronounced "gog" here) and we proceed to be confused by the map. Patrick then offers to walk us there. While this may sound sketchy, it just was not, et voila..

Ok, so Patrick, as the local photographer, knows almost everyone in the town and he got us in free to the ruins and Van Gogh's reconstructed bedroom and a few other places. Also, he got the key to the back rooms and stairs of the ancient roman ruins! It was incredible. We scaled all of them and saw sights no normal visitors can. And of course we had someone to take pictures of both of us. We climbed to the top and crossed to the forbidden part that isnt blocked off with bars. he thought kate was studying in Arles and offered her a job for freelance work. basically french people are friendly than i think our government would like most americans to believe, although Dubya and Sarko have always been very chummy...

We hit rush hour on the way back to Aix, so Kate and I both got a little "sieste" in. We needed to rest up because that night was "La Fete de la Musique," a nationwide night of music. In practically every city, any musical talent can perform in the streets. There were bands everywhere, on every corner. This carried on til 4am and it was beautiful chaos. Drunk people everywhere taking advantage of the state-sponsored mega-party. I heard many great bands and saw many funny sights. It was perfect weather, i cant describe a perfect nighttime temperature, but just right for the streets in which you could hardly move. I was with both american and french students, exploring the streets and enjoying the shows. I highly recommend visiting france during this time of the summer, and I wish I could have seen the Paris version, though Aix was UNBELIEVABLE, INCROYABLE!!

ok now for some pics, sorry they are in reverse sequential order from the story.

drunk people in the city's main fountain (this is illegal)

drunk people dancing (very poorly) in the street. this was especially amusing. i hate to say it, but french people dont seem to have any special knack for dancing.

a teen rock group singing for their peers and onlookers.

me and Ara (pronounced like my name without an S) scope out the crowd outside

two of our french friends: Julien and of course, Pierre

this does not do the crowd justice

a group of kids singing in Arles, it was too cute.

Kate doing what she does best

on top of the ruins, voila the city of Arles

another view, look carefully to see the area we should have been
"l'interdit est toujours mieux"

kate and i on top of the world!

Je vous presente: Patrick!

the ruin, la ruines

Patrick, encore

la centre ville d'Arles

the children's african art exhibit

me in the church, with a baguette of course.

mmm des oranges, des melons, des pastèques

Kate greedily eyes the meat (she's vegetarian)

J'aime le pain de la France

des epices

au marche d'Arles

france loses, again

2008-06-18T04:44:00.004-04:00

Last night was the big football (soccer) match between France and Italy. The whole town, at least everyone under 40, was outside watching the game on makeshift outdoor screens and tvs put up by local bars and restaurants. it was a beautiful night, the perfect temperature, and the atmosphere was very jovial, you could smell the national pride in the air. but helas, france was red-carded at the beginning which proved to be an omen of her luck in the match. the screen was very small but i think it ended 2-0 Italy or something like that. there were many injuries and missed goals on both sides.
not that i can follow soccer that well at all... i mostly watched the young french people and observed their ways. we've been told not to smile at people, that gives away that we are american (i suppose it's more obvious than our clothes, english or confused lost expressions lol) we were also told that girls here have mastered the art of being coquettish and that we should not be forward with guys are talk to them or smile, again. however, the girls are pretty loud and dont seem that coquettish. those are just my initial observations. i plan to make some young french friends and see how it is up close and personal.

ok enough rambling on about that... this morning i finally felt awake enough in the morning to run. it was a nice one. i found the park my french mom told me about and there is also an outdoor market on the way back that is open mon, wed, friday and sometimes sunday. so i think that on those days i will take a few euros with me in my pocket and buy my fruit for the day. mmmm fresh, cheap fruit. cant beat that.
today i went to the post office to buy stamps and such and apparently appeared to be both knowlegeable and french. here's why: it seems that they had a new queing system a la poste, with a number ticket machine like at many american delis and DMVs. so of course the little machine in the back corner was difficult to find, and indeed i probably lost two or three number places thinking that i was in line somewhere. but i found it. and during the long wait of course many french people came in, looked confusedly at the jumble of people in the room and then asked me if i was in line. I said simply "oh, vous avez besoin d'un ticket. le machine est just la" (you need a ticket, the machine is just over there) everyone was very grateful and we all bonded over the choas and disorganization a la poste d'aix.

Une petite leçon du français pour vous:
A few of the many ways to say goodbye…

Au revoir

- A bientôt (until the next time)

- A la prochaine

- A tout a l’heure (until i see you later today)

- A demain (until tomorrow)

- Bonne nuit (good night, before bed)

- A plus tard

- A tout de suite (ill see you less than five minutes)

- Bonne soirée (good night out and about)

- Bonne nuit de sommeil (have a good night’s sleep)

- Faites de beaux rêves (sweet dreams)

- Bonne matinée (good lateish morning)

- Bon après-midi (good afternoon)

les premieres photos d'Aix

2008-06-17T04:22:00.015-04:00

And now for the promised pictures. This is in chronological order because of the magic of blogger. So please enjoy and tell me what you think. I appreciated all the comment on the last entry. It please s me to know that so many people are concerned withe sleeping. Last night was beautiful and i was a rock.Madame Solon and my housemate Kate as we walk around Sainte Victoire and le barrage (dam) de Zola built by the father of writer Emile Zola

a descent landscape of the area. it was so quiet and beautiful.

me and the mountain Sainte Victoire

the library down the street from where i live. yes, these are giant books taller than the building, Le Petit Prince and L'estranger by Camus.

A few things i will try to avoid...

a random building with an old sign, i just like it okay

The Cathedral around the corner from school. I haven't been inside yet

one of many winding roads in Aix. this one is near the IAU school

a neat mural along my walk to school. the word is everywhere in this town. i think it's the roman numeral?

an apartment complex near ours. i like this structure

trouble sleeping

2008-06-16T13:36:00.002-04:00

Ah, La France. Today is the first day of the baccalauréat for the French students. It is a big deal because it is necessary that they pass one of the tests to get a job in france. Or that is how I perceive it. But today was “le philo” or philosophy test. For me it was a different type of test, my orientation or first day at the Institute of American Universities. We met in a room with all the American students and the instructors and administrators gave us useful advice and information. This ranged from subjects of culture, etiquette, education and social life. The others students are nice and of course my housemate Kate is too cool for words. During the break we got lunch off the street. I had a sandwich, “« bonjour monsieur, le Fremier s’il vous plaît. C’est combien? »

I can communicate well with the french people. Sometimes there are things that are not communicated well, but for the most part all the French I’ve learned has become very useful, and natural. The reason that I think I couldn’t hardly sleep last night is that there is a battle going on inside my head between the two languages. I try to think in English to relax but the French creeps in and occupies my brain as I try to translate everything I think or hear. This makes it difficult to calm the mind and lord knows I cannot sleep if my mind is not settled or thinking about one thing. Il y a un conflit dans ma tête entre les deux langues. Je pense que le française va gagner. ( i think that french will win)

But it was horrible not being able to sleep. It is the worst thing for me I think . I went to bed around 10pm because I was so tired (we hiked around a mountain, Saint Victoire, yesterday for three hours) But then I woke up at midnight so sure that it was 630 am, and time for me to run. But it wasn’t and then after that I could not sleep. I think that I was overstimulated! Like when a baby takes in too many new things in one day, it gets fussy and cries. Well I almost cried, but I tried every way I could to fall asleep. I tried counting, tried relaxing every muscle in my body one by one, tried listening to Amos Lee, tried drinking water, tried eating Heart to Heart, tried listening to a short story on my ipod from the New Yorker. But ça ne marche pas. Finally I did what I should have done from the beginning, and that is to listen to my favorite John Coltrane album Coltrane skipping the first song “Bakai” because it is more upbeat, going straight to “Violets for Your Furs.” After the album I found peace and was able to fall asleep slowly around 3am. Quel horreur!!

Okay, so tomorrow I being my classes. I will have my first male french teacher ever. His name is Ahmed. This of course excites me because he is teaching my postcolonial literature class and he shares a name with one of my good friends Ahmed Mabruk from Austin, Tx originally Lybia!
photos coming soon!

le depart

2008-06-13T13:55:00.003-04:00

The countdown to departure is less than an hour! i am very excited and nervous and ready to get there. expect a really neat blog entry once i'm in france.
if you're curious, my french address is:
Transimène Porte 3
80 Avenue de Pérouse
aix-en-provence, FRANCE

send me letters or whatever, ill be there for 6 wks. i would also love postcards (i collect them) to my home address from wherever you are this summer

Next time you hear from me i'll be in Aix!

back to bush country

2008-06-08T23:50:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow morning i fly back with my parents to texas. i'm excited to get home home.
some things i look forward to (a list because lately ive been making them)
1. my own bed finally!
2. my dog Hanna
3. the hammock swing hanging in the backyard
4. dry heat/hot sun
5. migas
6. mom's cajun cooking
7. the fresh cut grass smell
8. Bette, my car assuming she's running
9. highway driving (related to #9)
10. free starbucks.. oh wait.

i leave friday for france. and it must be slightly boring to read again but i cant believe it! i just packed, ill get home and unpack and then repack two days later. i really will have no break from this living-out-of-a-suitcase life. sigh.

funny story: i was at a grad party with my cousin danae and this girl, her friend, comes up to us. danae introduces me as her cousin sarah from texas and then the girl makes a face and says "you don't look like cousins." we didn't know what to say. in my mind i thought, "that's because we're cousins numnuts."
you be the judge: cousins? relatives? relationship imposters?

tornadoes in the district?

2008-06-05T21:27:00.006-04:00

Thanks to ALL my readers who are also up on their tejas history.
I have been informed that the birds are more than likely Lady Bird Johnson and her two daughters. Though I think one resembles Jackie O, which would be an interesting artistic statement i suppose.

i would have posted a few days earlier, if it werent for the wacky weather that follows me everywhere. I'm in Silverspring, MD (D.C. basically) for two weeks with family and the other day 3 tornadoes touched down across the area. as a result, the internet has been out of service. how HAVE i lived?!

first i'd like to congratulate my cousin Danae for graduating today. She's a stud so I really enjoyed her graduation. the speaker was a storyteller who has narrated shows on the Discovery Channel the History Channel. His message was simple: you are as powerful as the story you tell. something like that... i remember he was very excited about his acronym for the word POWER, but was so pumped that he couldnt finish.. it was Persistence Overcome Wsomethin Enthusiasm Rsomethin.

in other news, i found out my french host in Aix; her name is Mme. Solon. That's all I know! She is most likely a single mother. I'm pumped! also i cut my toe walking today from the graduation, im worried it will be difficult to run in tennis shoes. so ill finish with one of my favorite permanent pieces at the Ft. Worth Modern Art Museum (a museum def worth checking out, and you can get bbq like no other while you're out there!)
Jacques Villeglé
Rue de Tolbiac, c'est normal, c'est normand, 1962
Ripped posters mounted on canvas
52 3/16 x 76 1/4 inches

june bugs

2008-06-03T12:49:00.005-04:00

I leave for france in 10 days. wow. it really has snuck up on me. i am ready but wont feel really ready until i'm there, stepping onto french soil. the soil of my ancestors right? since everyone is a descendant of charlemagne?

okay, maybe not.

but still! it is exciting! i've got june bugs in my pants. which reminds me of a joke i think i made up when i was little:
"if april showers bring may flowers what do may flowers bring? June bugs!"

no pilgrims here. though i have been thinking about what I would study in the History and Literature department. While the Postcolonial track does sound inticing, i'm thinking that America and France might be a good focus for me especially if i'm thinking of looking at louisiana...

movies i've watched recently: (following tracy's idea)
- iron man
- meet the robinsons
- disturbia
- jackass 2: the movie
respective reactions to these:
- funnier than expected
- clever cartoon twist
- just as suspenseful the 2nd time
- hilarious after i was persuaded to watch

thought all the texans would appreciate this piece of art from the NYC MoMa, i believe the artist was german or taiwanese. who are the birds? i dont know!

"i'll take the legs off some old table, and the arms from some old chair...

2008-05-25T23:10:00.005-04:00

... I'll take the neck from some old bottle. and from a horse i'll take the hair. i'll take the hands and face from off the clock. and baby, when i'm through i'll get more lovin' from that dumb dumb dummy, than i ever got from you."

that song by Louis Armstrong has been in my head all day since this trio played it in washington square park this afternoon. they played a happy word-less version instantly taking me back to the scene in the movie You've Got Mail when Tom Hanks takes the little kids to the carnival in the city. this is appropriate because it was a sunny day in New York City today and Kristia and I walked everywhere taking in the rays.
apparently May is the best part of summer in the city. Kristia described it as "sunny without being hot, a warm breeze but a breeze. and you can wear jeans without overheating and short sleeves without feeling cold." I agree with that and have enjoyed my days here immensely.
Each time I go to the city I recognize more and more, feeling less and less like a tourist. However, i am always struck with the feeling that I could not live here permanently. I wonder why that is? It might be the crowds or how many tourists there really are, having to constantly differentiate the residents from the people who don't know where they are walking. I already feel like I live in a zoo sometimes at Harvard, especially when laying out on grass that is roped off while tourists stare and point and take pictures.
Anyways, I have big plans for this blog. I will be studying abroad in Aix-en-Provence, France this summer for 7 weeks and I want to document as much as possible both onpaper and online. Pictures will hopefully be uploaded along with my always amusing musings. So I hope family and friends enjoy keeping tabs on me this summer. It should be an amazing adventure and submersion.

but for now, it's back to the law and order marathon...

"I wanna hurry home to you. put on a slow, dumb show for you, and crack you up... god I'm very, very frightened i'll overdo it"

2008-05-05T00:36:00.009-04:00

put me in your suitcase.
let me help you pack.
cuz you're never coming back.
no you're never coming back.
cook me in your breakfast
and put me on your plate.
cuz you know i taste great.
yeah you know i taste great.
at the hop it's greaseball heaven,
with candypants and archie too.
put me in your dry dreams.
put me in your wet
if you haven't yet.
no if you haven't' yet.
light me with your candle
and watch the flames grow high
it doesn't hurt to try
no it doesn't hurt to try
well i wont stop all of my pretending
that you'll come home, you'll be coming home
some day soon.
put me in your blue skies.
put me in your gray.
there's gotta be someway.
there's gotta be someway.
put me in your tongue tie.
make it hard to say
that you aint gonna stay.
that you aint gonna stay.
wrap me in your marrow.
stuff me in your bones.
sing a mending moan.
a song to bring you home.
- devendra banhart

this is kind of a play off of Verlaine's "Mon Reve Familier" (sorry to those who dont read french)

2008-04-16T21:10:00.002-04:00

Mon Rêve Familial

Par: Sarah Jessica Johnson

À coup sûr, chaque soir, j’ai un rêve très bizarre

Où mes famille et mes amis

Sont sous les étoiles.

Et ils m’appellent, de concert avec

La lune et le vent qui

Chantent du

Soir.

Mais la voix de la lune et la voix du vent

Sont moins forte que

La voix du soleil.

Le soleil se lève tranquillement

En chantant son chanson belle

Du jour et du commencement.

Je me sens je dois fuir,

Mais mes amis me pourchassent

En hurlant.

Tout à coup, je m’arrête.

Mes pieds sont coincés

Dans le fromage de la lune

Et la terre du pays!

Je vois ma famille s’égarent au loin

Et je pleure incessant

Comme un bébé.

Mais, ce moment-là,

Le soleil m’a ébloui avec une accolade chaleureuse.

Et ce moment-là, j’ai réalisé

Tout était un rêve étrange et malheureux.

first impressions of Turning Rock Casino

2008-04-11T00:13:00.005-04:00

i've decided that casinos located in central new york state are on the whole, depressing.
an overuse of indoor plants combined with christmas tree lights in april is most unsettling. not to mention the hordes of overweight overaged people with fanny packs full of tokens and bills. they kill me most of all because their faces lack all expression when they gamble. i'm no expert, but isn't throwing away large amounts of money in short amounts of time supposed to be exhilarating... fun at the least? maybe not. maybe it's the signs for Sinbad's show in May or the Rolling Stones tribute bands that get to me. maybe it's the inescapable smell of cigarette smoke in the air that fills our non-smoking room like napalm.

i cannot shake this feeling that i am completely out of place here. on so many levels. it's kind of exciting, tickling even. i have absolutely no business being here. here! in this buffet-lined, neon-lighted, bingo-gamed, refuge for america's decomposing citizens. it looks like both a hospital and an airport and the toilet seats have plastic seran-wrap seat covers that change themselves with a wave of your hand.
tomorrow i'll find the one's that take a crap for you- then i'll know i've hit the jackpot!

i wrote this poem, all the lines are song titles.

2008-04-04T13:27:00.001-04:00

An Answer, A plea, Un coup de fils

There’ll come a time--any day now

when your lover has gone.

At last. I’m with you.

Chances are you know I’m no good.

I’m a bitch.

I’m a loser.

I’m going slightly mad.

Heal me, I’m heartsick.

You and I both can’t stop making out.

Tell the truth.

Tell her tonight.

Something’s gotta give.

Now I’m here as you’re gone again.

Wish you were here.

You’re the one that I want.

You’re beautiful.

You don’t fool me.

Everybody knows you cried last night.

How come you don’t call me?

Listen, if I could staple it together--

Loose ends tied down…

Do you remember down in Mexico?

Swimming in the sun?

Eventually in the evening, when I look to the sky, pieces of the sun

Fall

Your

Feet.

Can’t take my eyes off you!

You look like gold.

Heaven is falling! How can it be?

I’m coming!

Catch my fall!

Fall in love with me.

smoking in lecture

2008-03-19T10:19:00.002-04:00

"Someone is smoking!" Professor Rosen cried. "I smell cigarettes in here. Not only is that not okay, it's illegal."

Only a minute before this outburst did I lean over to Dee and whisper, "It smells like cigarettes and cupcakes in here." The smoke smell is still a mystery but we have attributed the smell of cupcakes to Iris. But Rosen is serious. He has moved on to the creation of Israel, but the smoke still lingers in the air and my head aches. All this talk of bombs and the soviet union only intensified the numbing of my brain.

"Turkey! Iraq! Pakistan! These are the so-called northern tier countries!"

I cannot imagine living in the 1920s where everyone smoked everywhere. in the bathroom, in the pool, in the garden, in the boardroom. My lungs can't take it. they are weak. And as beautiful as the winding floating curls of smoke look in Casablanca and Good Night, and Good Luck, I could only enjoy their ghostly beauty on the screen.

the gato

2008-03-17T14:44:00.003-04:00

aaron fallon is a god. he gets me free drinks at cafe gato rojo.
today i was privileged to his own chai latte creation. it really is quite remarkable. however, i do not think that brandon and i are helping him concentrate on his expos essay on some schizophrenic man named Spider.
oh! a call from mi morena! the love of my life, becky mendizabal.
She is in school in austin, the coolest city in Texas. we will soon meet up and float in the river.

unfortunately, this blog is very disoriented mostly because brandon and aaron are very distracting...

"Baila. Let me see you dance!"

gumbo

2008-03-14T10:46:00.001-04:00

I feel rather ridiculous answering people’s questions about my skin color. I cannot count the time in my life when someone has approached me saying, “You have such light skin!” To which I refrain from responding, “Wait! Are you serious? Oh! Ah, would you look at that?” Of course their next immediate question is, “Are you mixed?” My answer of “no” is usually a disappointment or perplexity, and my interrogator continues to stare at me in wonder. I’m often asked “Are you sure?” or “Well what are you then?” It is then that I usually oblige them by explaining that both my parents are African-American and from Louisiana. I go on to say that father has very dark skin, the color of bittersweet chocolate in the summer. My mom’s side of the family comes from a more Cajun part of the state in which blacks tend to have lighter complexions, ranging from caramel, to café-au-lait, even to milky white. I look just like my mom, who tells me that, at the age I am now, she had even lighter skin than mine. This too is baffling to the listener, especially the northern one.

However, while having to explain my own skin to strangers used to upset me a lot when I was little (people take no mercy on small children in their questioning), now I find it more of an interesting, often amusing, social experiment. The gall of my fellow human beings never ceases to, well, disappoint me. At the present I have found peace with my “light skin”, for it caused many the tear-filled night in the past. I consider myself another tile in the mosaic, another ray in the spectrum of the beautiful composite that is the African-American race. How different we all look! (Part in thanks to the reality of interracial attraction and the original souls who consummated that reality) To say that we are all the same is a fallacy, that we can all be lumped together, a lazy assumption; but it is fair to say that we are “mixed”, a living breathing pot of gumbo, our juices simmering together until it is time for the feast.

john butler trio

2008-03-11T19:58:00.005-04:00

so the single life is nice i can't deny it. the privacy, liberation, independence and nudity.

at the moment i choose blogging over Freiden's chapter on "the bretton woods system in action." international economics can be very bland. but john and the other two guys help me get through it. i keep having flash backs to their concert i attended this summer. it was probably one of the top two best concerts i've ever been to. the bassists played upright and electric with such command and the chill confidence/intensity every good bass player should have. the drummer was the most exciting most GIGANTIC man i've ever seen- i swear he came straight out of the amazon with his rippling muscles and long black hair. He told the audience when to clap by standing up and banging his sticks together like nobody's business. my favorite part was when he ran over to the bass player who took a drumstick and began sliding it up and down the fingerboard with all his strength. it produced this crazy electric gooey sound as the drummer played the bass with his leftover stick.

my mind was blown. i was only 6 feet away. they were recently in dallas and i asked my friend to go so i could live vicariously through him (it was the same venue!) but alas he could not manage it. so here i sit, reminiscing, wondering when they'll next be in boston.

"I walk for miles.
Circumnavigate these lands.
Walking blindly,
Holding out my hands.
And I pass the stones
That remind me why I'm here.
I follow the setting sun
And you were there."
- JBT "Bound to Ramble"

the district sleeps alone tonight

2008-03-04T21:51:00.002-05:00

I'm amused by the attention Texas is now getting in this election. Suddenly, national newspapers are researching and sending reporters to dissect the "tangled two-step of Texas." The nation is suddenly realizing how big a state it really is, and how diverse, and how divided. To me it is a natural understanding and so I can't help but chuckle, when I hear: "your state has a lot of precincts" "texas' system is so confusing" "why the hell is it like that?"
I have no good responses to those questions, so I chalk it up to the union.
What union?
Texas was its own union before it was a state, after it was pretty much stolen from Mexico. It ran itself as the United States debated over what to do with it. It was originally going to be seceded as at least four separate states. I'm not sure why that didn't pan out, however I know that where I live is drastically different from Austin, San An, Houston, El Paso, well I can't even spell with certainty most of the other cities I know. But what makes it a great place to live is that travel within the state is always an adventure, like going abroad every time.

I've never had a lot of state pride, but I am proud to see my state's elections finally have an impact.

finding my voice, no really i lost it.

2008-02-28T20:52:00.002-05:00

so i've been sick for the past few days. A legitimate excuse for not blogging? maybe, maybe. but really i hate this weak voice, no one can understand me on the phone and the phlegm gets in the way of daily activities like coughing, sneezing, talking, breathing...

i just finished an amazing short stories for my american protest lit class. the first was The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gibbons which is an haunting and intriguing tale of a women with what they used to call "nervousness" who is put in a nursery room by her husband (also her doctor) to get well. the room has this hideous yellow wallpaper that the narrator quickly becomes obsessed with. the reader quicks scan her daily journal entries and finds her subtlety and easily slipping into madness. i love how she used the word creep as a way to describe the woman's movements and the final scenes leaves a horrifying image, one that made me cringe and chuckle in spite of myself. i love books like this, Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar is great longer novel with a similar turmoil, a narrator forced to believe that she is mentally unstable by the world around her, and who eventually begins to believe it. or maybe she is crazy from the start?

maybe i've been crazy from the start?
"I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo."- the bell jar

my life is a barbara walters special

2008-02-24T19:49:00.004-05:00

I currently sit with jason's arm around my shoulder looking at harrison ford's face freezing up on dana's tv. the suspense to the oscar's is building up. we're practically going crazy, esther just fed me grapes like cleopatra (her idea) But otherwise the banquet leah arranged is amazingly DECADENT! We have cheese and crackers from around the world. greatness.
but seriously this is taking forever. where is jon stewart?

formalities..

2008-02-23T15:28:00.002-05:00

last night was the freshman formal on campus and so we all trudged through the snow in our boots and dresses the whole 3 blocks to the Charles hotel. i'm truly amazed to learn that people took cabs and limos to this event from the yard, and even more amazed that someone in pennypacker paid 100 dollars for a ticket. i had a lot of fun but i would never ever ever ever pay 100 bucks for a dance ticket, let alone a concert ticket. however, maybe that person promised their girlfriend and didnt wanna look like the loser who forgot to get tickets in time, and maybe that person's girlfriend is a psycho demanding bitch. maybe!
otherwise, midterms are next week but i feel like i just started taking these classes. i for sure have only had 2 sections. when will the work all get done? not when im blogging it seems. sigh..

a new hobby?

2008-02-21T23:44:00.006-05:00

so i've been inspired by my roommate esther and leah to make a blog.

I suppose today i'm wondering why the sun here is so deceivingly bright, yet produces almost no heat. I miss a sun that makes me feel the skin cancer developing on my body.

also, i surprised myself today in the cafeteria, when i heard this guy speak to his girlfriend with an australian accent and his voice annoyingly stuck in my mind. i was surprised by how nostalgic i got for that accent and i guess... the person who used to have it. maybe? it's been over a year since i've seen jonny though.

so that was a blog post!