Hello All!

Just a brief post including my plans for the next two weeks and a very funny story.

I am leaving Saturday afternoon for...ITALY! Spring vacation is two weeks long here so I will be spending the first 5 days with my dear friend Julie who lives in Milan. We are going to take a day trip to Lake Como in the Italian Alps. Then, for Easter (and my birthday) weekend, Lauren (my friend in London) and my Julie here with me in Nantes are both flying to Italy. The 4 of us are going to Cinque Terre (look up pictures on line, it's gorgeous)...five little villages built into the cliffs on the Italian coast line, connected by hiking trails (no cars allowed). After our relaxing weekend, I will be heading south to meet my Grandma Ginger and Papa John in La Spezia. We are planning to visit the village of my great-great grandmother in Tuscany...and then onto Florence for a couple of days. I will put up pictures and stories when I return!

Ok, and for the funny story before I have to go pack...
As you all should know, the presidential elections in France are this spring. Nearly every other conversation I have concerns politics. There are 2-3 major contenders: Segolene Royal of the socialist party (the major liberal party in France), Nicolas Sarkozy head of the UMP (Union for a Popular Movement, the major conservative party in France), and pulling suprisingly into the competetion more recently, Francois Bayrou (a used-to-be-UMP-member dissenchanted with the battle between the major political parties pulling a middle ground ticket). My conservative Catholic family is fanatic about Sarkozy. Two weekends ago, Sarkozy's campaign tour brought him to the Zenith (a huge stadium) in Nantes. Exstatic, my family reserved places and invited me to join...a once in a life-time opportunity that I jumped on! I sat in the student section at the Zenith with a giant SARKOZY poster and a French flag...cheering crazily on signal regardless of whether or not I understood what was going on. (note for all of my French friends: I was enjoying the experience...not necessarily agreeing with the politics). I sat next to my host sister Anne-Edith and she explained each of the political figures that spoke before Sarko etc. Welllll, on of those political figures was Francois Pinte who is running for Mayor of Nantes. He was a dynamic speaker, very engergetic. Then Sarko spoke, we all went nuts and finished by standing and singing the Marseillaise (the French national anthem).
jumping forward two weeks...

Last weekend downtown Nantes was packed for the annual spring side-walk sale. I was navigating my way through masses of people toward my lunch rendez vous point on the steps of the theater, where, upon arriving, I find Sam talking to this man in a suite. He introduces me, "M Pinte, I present you to Brianne", "Brianne, Francois Pinte." I say "hi" confusedly, and proceed to mention that M Pinte looks familiar to me.
"You probably saw him and the Sarko rally," Sam says.
"Oh, that's it! You really livened up the audience at the Zenith!" I exclaimed. ( a compliment avoiding any political affiliation).

Suddenly, his camera man appears from behind and says,
"That's perfect with your accent! We are going to be so multicultural on our web-site!"

so, here I am, the new poster young person with a cute accent encouraging all Nantais to vote Francois Pinte for the 2007 elections: http://www.francoispinte.fr/videos.php3
(I follow the secretary general of the UMP! click on the link beneath the video box that says "micro trottoir: reaction au discours du Zenith")

Hahaha!

Happy Easter to all,
bisous,
Brianne

It was 8:30, which according to Nantais public transportation, is late. With only one remaining gold earring, completely soaked feet from getting caught on the beach in a thunderstorm and a bursting bladder from the cups of coffee intended to counter-act cold sandy sogginess, I couldn't wait to get off the tour bus and into bus 23, direction free bathroom and dry socks.

Unfortunately, when the clocks chime 8:30, all of the public transportation buses turn into pumpkins or something and only one bus runs, on the hour 30 just until midnight, to the northwest corner of the city. Having missed the 8:30 bus by about 3 minutes, I was exasperatedly preparing to sit outside on a cold metal bench for the 9:30 bus when my friend Cassie (who lives close to the city center) offered let me borrow her brand new bike. What fun! I thought. I hoped on and had just begun reflecting on how I love bikes and how all I needed to complete the image of Frenchness was a baguette strapped to the back...when it started to pour rain. Of course.

About 50 meters after the beginning of the torrential downpour, I heard the most lovely noise. "ptt!! sssssssss sssssssssss sssssssssss." In seconds the front tire had gone from bouncy brand new to flabby unpeddal-able-ness. Of couse.

But, what luck!, just at that minute bus 23 pulled up to the stop several meters in front of me. I had caught up to it! I started peddaling madly and the front tire that was refusing to turn punctuated its rebellion by getting stuck in the cobble stone side walk. I crashed off the bike onto the wet rocks. Of course.

Determined, I jumped up from my spill, grabbed the bike by its handlebars, and sprinted toward the bus stop. I arrived just as the bus was pulling away but the bus driver saw me, and in a moment of compassion (or maybe concern at the look on my face), stopped the bus. "Thank you sir" I exclaimed. He looked at me - soaked, limping and panting me - and said, "Bikes are not allowed on the bus." Of course.

"But wait, sir please," and here my near hysteria and lack of vocabulary for mechanical bicycle terms produced the following explanation, "Please, you see, I can not ride this bike! So, which, I can not go home...there was a, there was a"
"There was a what?"
"A thing that broke this part here, you see!" I cried hitting the front tire with my fist to show its uselessness (and mentally kicking myself for not being able to think of the words for "sharp object that slashed a hole into the tire").

The combination of my desperation, my ridiculous explanation and the rivulets of rain streaming down my face must have touched him.
"Alright," he said. "But just this one time. You recognize that I am being very very generous."
"Yes! thank you so much!"

I telephoned Cassie, who didn't know whether to pity me or laugh, and told her that I would get the tire fixed as soon as possible. It was Friday evening. My host mom informed me that the bicycle repair man would not be open until Tuesday. Of course.

Tuesday morning dawned crisp and clear. The bike, of course, did not fit in the trunk of the family car so I had to walk it to the bicycle repair shop about 1.5 miles away. .5 miles into the journey it began to rain. Of course.

I dropped the bike off at the shop and the repair man said to come back the next afternoon to pick it up. So, the next afternoon, I walked the 1.5 miles back to the bike garage, found out the tiny shard of glass had caused a $35 repair, and handed over my credit card frusterated but thankful that the ordeal was over. But, of course, my credit card didn't work because it's not thumb print equipped like the European cards. I had to walk back to my house to get cash and then back to the shop. I paid, hopped on the bike, and got lost on my way to the city center. When I finally arrived, I found only one of my red leather thinsulate lined driving gloves in my coat pocket where I had put them. Of course.

I locked up the bike and in my amused exasperation, called my dad to relay the story. I vented on my way from center city to the IES building. I finished the story just as I was rounding the corner to the entry stairs when my dad said, "Well, I guess all that has to happen next is for you to fall into a hole or something...watch out!"

Marked off in yellow caution tape at the base of the stairwell was a 10 foot deep hole (dug for plumbing repair)!!

Thankfully, I did not fall in.




This weekend I had a positive experience with bicycles.


We (about 20 IES students) rented bikes for 1 euro and explored the trials that run all along the river in Nantes. The weather was mild and the endorphins from exercising put everyone in fantastic moods...which were only increased by our stop at the end of the trip (see below)


Gelato. And the best part, for people like me who enter ice cream shops and suddenly realize that philosophical questions about religion pale in comparison with the difficulty of committing to nutella over tiramisu or mango or mint or cafe caramel...., is that at Amora you can actually choose as many flavors as you want. Pure pure happiness!



So, the moral of the post is: One can only experience the best italian gelato in the world by moving beyond frustrations and calamities of the past.

bisous,
Brianne

"A child may ask, 'What is the world's story about?' And a grown man or woman may wonder, 'What way will the world go? How does it end and, while we're at it, what's the story about?'

I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one, that has frightened and inspired us, so that we live in a Pearl White serial of continuing though and wonder. Humans are caught-in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too- in a net of good and evil."

~John Steinbeck~


"Peace is not a gift from God to man, but a gift from man to himself"

~Elie Wiesel~












Below: The American Memorial at Omaha Beach remembering the sacrafice of 9,400 soldiers. Near by, a German memorial honors the sacrafice of the thousands of young men who gave their lives on the same day.




Below: Omaha Beach, one of the many shorelines of debarkement of the American troops (Canadian and British troops as well) on D-day . In the distance you can see Point du Hoc, the strategic German stronghold built on top of a cliff that juts into the sea . On D-Day, a troop of 225 American soldiers stormed the German stronghold, climbing up the cliffs on rope ladders. Reinforcement did not arrive until 2 days later. 90 American soldiers were left.



Below: One of many huge wounds in the earth from American bombs dropped before D-day.



Below: Twisted remains of a cable.



Normandy was heavy with the weight of humanity and humanity's actions, with questions of right and wrong, freedom and captivity, sacrafice, love, death. Pondering is useful but dwelling can be destructive...so I will end with pictures of springtime and sunshine (and new life for those of you who haven't caught the analogy ;)









It was a lovely sunny morning, so I took advantage of the blue skies and my 4 hour break between classes to stroll through Le Jardin des plantes (The Garden/Park of plants). So, here is a little spring-time for all of you.




The castle (le chateau) in Nantes. After three years of renovation, it opened last weekend. What a beautiful morning.