18 Février 2009. 6 pm. Ma cuisinette.
Today was one of the hottest days I can remember. After waking up after a fitful night of sleep (my fan stopped working, so it was pretty uncomfortable), I did some laundry with Stephanie. We remarked on how heavy wet laundry is. We thought back to the sum of our remembered pre-industrial art: those women had guns. We attributed it to doing all the laundry by hand, carrying toddlers around for years, and generally hauling things back and forth without the aid of cars, busses, and ..ahem.. men. We also decided that by the time we leave, our arms and backs will be just as strong- there’s a lot of manual labor to be done here.
A short trip to Jumbo (the grocery store) enlightened me to even more Réunionais culture. We were searching for “something American” for an international dinner tonight. I settled on macaroni and cheese. I was surprised that after so much seemingly Western influence that there was such a “lack” of American food to be bought. How presumptuous of me. We’ll see how the mac and cheese turns out, seeing as even the crappiest cheese in France is about five times better than cheese in the US.
Other quirky, cultural things I’ve noticed: women here really like shoes, and really like to dress up. I feel like an absolute scrub when I wear my favorite outfit of Nike shorts and a t-shirt. Most everyone here looks great- brightly colored scarves, shirts, pants, cute tops, and really nice sandals or heels that look like they give some serious blisters. Additionally, I’ve noticed that women really like having their bra straps show. That’d be really weird in the US, in my opinion. Regardless, the women are all gorgeous all the time.
I had my first solo outing to downtown St. Denis today to exchange mon ventilateur (fan). That’s when I really started paying attention to the people and places around me. Everything I can see is a picture: the colors are so lively- the walls, the clothes, their skin, the sky, the tropical trees… I never want to close my eyes. On this trip I also continued thinking about how I live here; I am learning to pick my way through crowds like a Créole, carry myself like one, and take care of myself like one. Yea, I live here. It feels good to finally be getting a hold of it. Honestly, I don’t ever want to stop.
My French is improving daily. I was remarking just the other day how I don’t notice as much how I struggle to converse with people; I can wake up and speak relatively well and not feel (as) tired from a day of speaking when I go to bed. I pick things up from people when I’m in public, too. I’m learning so much vocabulary, so many verbs, thanks to my very patient neighbors and friends. They ask me how to say something in English and I ask them how to say everything from hiccup (houque) to bloomed (éblouissant) in French, and rarely, Créole. I love listening to people speak French, and I love learning it. Five months is not enough.
For now, that’s all. You may (or may not) have heard, but nearly all of the universities in France are striking. Mine is too, but I’m not that adversely affected. More on that in the next post. For now, I’ll wait on my macaroni and then head to my Réunionais Folk Dance class. Yes, I’m learning how to dance. Hold your laughter until after you see my sweet skills. À plus!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I Live Here.
Wednesday, February 11th. 3:47 am. My room.
Today was just one of those beautiful, simple days. It could have easily happened at any time of the year, or any day of the week, but I suddenly realized that I was living here. And that what I was doing wasn't an event that I planned (or didn't). Today, I lived a day in my life, and yesterday, I did too. And tomorrow will be my life. Whether I liked it, or whether I wanted it to turn out this way is not important, because this life is the one I've got and is the one that makes me what I am. Not vice versa. My life's doings don't create me. My life just happens, and I am a principal character in whatever is around me. Which is, to say, the intersection of everyone else's lives with mine. Theirs are worthy and charmed too.
I live here now, and it's a wonderful thing. My life would have happened in Maryville or Brentwood, or at any other French university for that matter. What's even more remarkable is that I have realized this. I think it's good, anyways. I mean, I can only change the future. That's something we've been telling ourselves often- it's a freeing statement. Try saying it outloud sometime. But -- being in this production and living -- is that the same as "changing" your future? Food for thought, definitely.
For now, I will continue to fall deeper in love with being a novelty and everything else being a novelty to me. After nearly three miniscule weeks, I don't think I can ever tire of learning about the new cracks and crevices to being a Reunionnaise. At the same time, I maintain my frienships back home. It's odd how some of them are slightly prodding and poking me all the way over here. It gives a nice dichotemy to my two, seemingly parallel worlds, that, to anyone else, would seem to be 180 degrees apart (yes, try to figure that out in your mind's eye-- that's what I get for writing at 3:52 am). I love it a lot- both the writing and the thinking. Cathartic.
The cyclone is over (the heat is back), the ocean is 34 shades of blue again, and I am living. More to come. There always is.
Today was just one of those beautiful, simple days. It could have easily happened at any time of the year, or any day of the week, but I suddenly realized that I was living here. And that what I was doing wasn't an event that I planned (or didn't). Today, I lived a day in my life, and yesterday, I did too. And tomorrow will be my life. Whether I liked it, or whether I wanted it to turn out this way is not important, because this life is the one I've got and is the one that makes me what I am. Not vice versa. My life's doings don't create me. My life just happens, and I am a principal character in whatever is around me. Which is, to say, the intersection of everyone else's lives with mine. Theirs are worthy and charmed too.
I live here now, and it's a wonderful thing. My life would have happened in Maryville or Brentwood, or at any other French university for that matter. What's even more remarkable is that I have realized this. I think it's good, anyways. I mean, I can only change the future. That's something we've been telling ourselves often- it's a freeing statement. Try saying it outloud sometime. But -- being in this production and living -- is that the same as "changing" your future? Food for thought, definitely.
For now, I will continue to fall deeper in love with being a novelty and everything else being a novelty to me. After nearly three miniscule weeks, I don't think I can ever tire of learning about the new cracks and crevices to being a Reunionnaise. At the same time, I maintain my frienships back home. It's odd how some of them are slightly prodding and poking me all the way over here. It gives a nice dichotemy to my two, seemingly parallel worlds, that, to anyone else, would seem to be 180 degrees apart (yes, try to figure that out in your mind's eye-- that's what I get for writing at 3:52 am). I love it a lot- both the writing and the thinking. Cathartic.
The cyclone is over (the heat is back), the ocean is 34 shades of blue again, and I am living. More to come. There always is.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Cyclones, Letchis, And More Cultural Lessons
6 February 2009. 3:25 pm. IN the library, for once.
Lots to tell! First things first: Yes, there's a cyclone in Reunion, but I AM FINE, and I anticipate that nothing that exciting will actually happen. Mostly it just makes being outside a THRILL-- at any moment once could be consumed in a 20 second wall of la pluie (rain). For the most part, nothing too exciting has happened. The grocery stores are now offering "Cyclone Specials" where you get an extra two liters of water for free. (Generally, after cyclones, the water isn't safe to drink for a few days). Stephanie and I stocked up in case it becomes unsafe and also bought food we could prepare without electricity. Sadly, it's pretty much useless to stock up on baguettes because they go stale. I can't imagine a day here without a baguette. It could be intense. I'll let you know. Anyways, I think the storm's kind of far off the island, and is only making very strong winds, and crazy sporadic rain spells. It may get worse, but probably not. I'm sort of bitter because I wanted to go hiking and mountain biking this weekend, but I'd rather be alive than caught in the cyclone on a mountain. All of the internationals are somewhat bummed because we wanted to get caught indoors for a few days, have some time off class, and generally have an enormous slumber party. Alas, who knows-- there is more time yet in the cyclone season. You can track it at: http://www.meteo.fr/temps/domtom/La_Reunion/Cmr/SaisonCourante/satellite/animation.html
Next: Letchis. A small, candy-tasting fruit that is like the mascot of La Reunion. They have a hard, red, bumpy outer shell but a soft pink inside. Unfortunately, their season ended in January, so I won't taste a fresh one. So, you may ask, how do I know what it tastes like? Sound question, blog-followers. Two opportunities. Danone (Dannon, for all you yogurt afectionados out there) produces "Creole" flavored yogurts that are all over the place. The french consume a crazy amount of yogurt, by the way. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, swimming pools (what??).. etc. Anyways, the letchi-flavored yogurt is delicious. My other opportunity came just the other night at a party, when a dear friend of mine who hails from this wonderful island, offered me a rum-soaked letchi. For my Tennesseans: think moonshine-flavored fruit. For all others: think of the taste of ethanol alcohol that has the consistency of calamari. It was quite potent, but suprisingly sweet. Needless to say, I'll do my best to adhere to the addage: "try everything at least (and for rum-soaked letchi fruits, only--) once."
More cultural lessons: The most prominent is that I think people take friendship more seriously here. Last week, one our my friends invited me to her birthday celebration. For me, it happened to be a day I had to get a lot of errands done. So, by the time I was back to campus, I couldn't make it for hunger, tiredness, etc. After a day or so of the Cold Shoulder and Awkward Eye Contact Doesn't Mean I Recognize You As A Friend, she patiently explained to a very confused and culturally inept me that when someone invites you to something- a party, to eat at the cafeteria, to get cafe (coffee), and you accept, that basically binds you to going. It's as good as a contract. I had actually hurt her feelings because I didn't go out with the group and didn't tell anyone I wasn't going to make it, and why not, etc. I tried my best to explain that it's SO different in the U.S.-- that everyone gets invited to everything, and you sort of feel it out if 1) you're really actually expected to be there, 2) who's going, and will it be worth it? and 3) if it's something you want to do. It didn't seem to translate, but she isn't mad. I have to say it's so relieving to have the wonderfully patient friends I've been fortunate enough to meet. Lesson learned, and no worse for wear.
Now a paragraph of little things in list form: I am officially enrolled in surfing class, the campus doctor has a picture he DREW of President Obama framed on his office wall, I do my laundry in my shower because it's so expensive for one load (about $3.30 American buckeroos per wash, per dry), discotheques play OLD American pop music that make the club go CRAZY (think: a techno YMCA, techno Chris Brown, a techno Grease montage [as in, John Travolta/Olivia Newton-John Grease], and techno Eurythmics--- do you TECHNO notice a TECHNO pattern??). Perhaps more on the epic discotheque experience to come. This post is too long as it is.
Finally, I'm trying to outsmart the ants that I share my room with by hiding my baguette so they won't find it. Secret Baguette Hide Out Place (SBHOP) #1: My closet, with my t-shirts. Mediocre response; it took them about 3 times as long to find it. Dissatisfied. SBHOP #2: on my chalkboard. Results to be published.
I miss you all immensely. Be well.
Bisoux,
Chelsea
Lots to tell! First things first: Yes, there's a cyclone in Reunion, but I AM FINE, and I anticipate that nothing that exciting will actually happen. Mostly it just makes being outside a THRILL-- at any moment once could be consumed in a 20 second wall of la pluie (rain). For the most part, nothing too exciting has happened. The grocery stores are now offering "Cyclone Specials" where you get an extra two liters of water for free. (Generally, after cyclones, the water isn't safe to drink for a few days). Stephanie and I stocked up in case it becomes unsafe and also bought food we could prepare without electricity. Sadly, it's pretty much useless to stock up on baguettes because they go stale. I can't imagine a day here without a baguette. It could be intense. I'll let you know. Anyways, I think the storm's kind of far off the island, and is only making very strong winds, and crazy sporadic rain spells. It may get worse, but probably not. I'm sort of bitter because I wanted to go hiking and mountain biking this weekend, but I'd rather be alive than caught in the cyclone on a mountain. All of the internationals are somewhat bummed because we wanted to get caught indoors for a few days, have some time off class, and generally have an enormous slumber party. Alas, who knows-- there is more time yet in the cyclone season. You can track it at: http://www.meteo.fr/temps/domtom/La_Reunion/Cmr/SaisonCourante/satellite/animation.html
Next: Letchis. A small, candy-tasting fruit that is like the mascot of La Reunion. They have a hard, red, bumpy outer shell but a soft pink inside. Unfortunately, their season ended in January, so I won't taste a fresh one. So, you may ask, how do I know what it tastes like? Sound question, blog-followers. Two opportunities. Danone (Dannon, for all you yogurt afectionados out there) produces "Creole" flavored yogurts that are all over the place. The french consume a crazy amount of yogurt, by the way. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, swimming pools (what??).. etc. Anyways, the letchi-flavored yogurt is delicious. My other opportunity came just the other night at a party, when a dear friend of mine who hails from this wonderful island, offered me a rum-soaked letchi. For my Tennesseans: think moonshine-flavored fruit. For all others: think of the taste of ethanol alcohol that has the consistency of calamari. It was quite potent, but suprisingly sweet. Needless to say, I'll do my best to adhere to the addage: "try everything at least (and for rum-soaked letchi fruits, only--) once."
More cultural lessons: The most prominent is that I think people take friendship more seriously here. Last week, one our my friends invited me to her birthday celebration. For me, it happened to be a day I had to get a lot of errands done. So, by the time I was back to campus, I couldn't make it for hunger, tiredness, etc. After a day or so of the Cold Shoulder and Awkward Eye Contact Doesn't Mean I Recognize You As A Friend, she patiently explained to a very confused and culturally inept me that when someone invites you to something- a party, to eat at the cafeteria, to get cafe (coffee), and you accept, that basically binds you to going. It's as good as a contract. I had actually hurt her feelings because I didn't go out with the group and didn't tell anyone I wasn't going to make it, and why not, etc. I tried my best to explain that it's SO different in the U.S.-- that everyone gets invited to everything, and you sort of feel it out if 1) you're really actually expected to be there, 2) who's going, and will it be worth it? and 3) if it's something you want to do. It didn't seem to translate, but she isn't mad. I have to say it's so relieving to have the wonderfully patient friends I've been fortunate enough to meet. Lesson learned, and no worse for wear.
Now a paragraph of little things in list form: I am officially enrolled in surfing class, the campus doctor has a picture he DREW of President Obama framed on his office wall, I do my laundry in my shower because it's so expensive for one load (about $3.30 American buckeroos per wash, per dry), discotheques play OLD American pop music that make the club go CRAZY (think: a techno YMCA, techno Chris Brown, a techno Grease montage [as in, John Travolta/Olivia Newton-John Grease], and techno Eurythmics--- do you TECHNO notice a TECHNO pattern??). Perhaps more on the epic discotheque experience to come. This post is too long as it is.
Finally, I'm trying to outsmart the ants that I share my room with by hiding my baguette so they won't find it. Secret Baguette Hide Out Place (SBHOP) #1: My closet, with my t-shirts. Mediocre response; it took them about 3 times as long to find it. Dissatisfied. SBHOP #2: on my chalkboard. Results to be published.
I miss you all immensely. Be well.
Bisoux,
Chelsea
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Colors of Reunion
1 Fevrier 2009. 1:12pm. Steps of the bibliothèque (library).
You may be wondering why I’m on the steps of the library, and not inside. Well, it’s Sunday. The entire island shuts down on Sundays. No markets, school services (including the library), stores, restaurants, even the kitchens on the dorm floors are locked. It definitely takes getting used to. I’m slightly peeved that I can’t do much of anything on Sundays. Moreover, the internet never works consistently, so this is being written in a word document to be uploaded later. Lesson #87523 of Réunion: patience, patience, patience.
Yesterday we went to the beach. I invested in a snorkeling set and explored the coral reefs all afternoon. It was the best 9€ I’ve ever spent. It was so amazing! I saw fish that were straight out of Finding Nemo! The brightest colored beings God ever created, I’m convinced, live in coral reefs. I saw lots of fish, sea cucumbers (I think), an eel, and sea urchins. I can’t wait to go back. The European students go all the time and know the good places to go and what to look for. I’ll try to take some pictures with an underwater camera. I wish you guys could go snorkeling with me.
On the way home, the sun began to set. Our university is on the north side of the island, and mountains block the west side from our view. So, since we were on the beaches on the west side, we had a spectacular view of le couche de soleil (sunset). First, the sun began to sink very slowly in front of us. Its light projected the slightest tinge of melon onto the clouds. Then, it was more intense. Les nuages (the clouds) absorbed it until they were positively tangerine. Their complexion was slightly pink as well. Rose on the edges, and then smoked salmon and a simultaneous hot pink and lobster at the sunset’s zenith. The sky itself reflected that wonderful time of day when it’s both orange and blue- a visual anomaly my brain will just never comprehend. Then, slowly, after its peak, the colors reverse, and the sun finally fades beyond the mountains. All we can see is its echo on the omnipresent, always-perfect clouds. Orange sherbert, then bubblegum pink. Later, the sea and the sky exchange colors, and the sky is painted a soft, cornflower blue. The clouds are a steely gray edged with lavender and infused with ribbons the color of a robin’s egg. The space above grew deeper and deeper blue, as though all the mystery and life of the ocean projected into the endless vista. And then, rather quickly, it was done. The painting was wiped clean, and the colors were packed up for another day. All that remained were the clouds. It is true: they are always present and they are always perfect. Last night, as I watched this evolution of season and color, it seemed as though God had inhaled a giant breath of the island of Réunion-its sounds, people, smells, tropicality- and exhaled them into his hands, molding and prodding and feathering at them until He was satisfied. They stand guard over the island, opposite the great rock cliffs and the yuccas’ tall flower shoots, like sentries facing off. The clouds are perfect. Their whiteness accepts and graciously reflects every color and mood of the island, from the raucous Créole music jams and cookouts in the Cirques to the shouting mango and vanilla bean vendors at the downtown markets to the sinking sun that casts its personality over the enormous and intricate white canvases. This is discovery.
You may be wondering why I’m on the steps of the library, and not inside. Well, it’s Sunday. The entire island shuts down on Sundays. No markets, school services (including the library), stores, restaurants, even the kitchens on the dorm floors are locked. It definitely takes getting used to. I’m slightly peeved that I can’t do much of anything on Sundays. Moreover, the internet never works consistently, so this is being written in a word document to be uploaded later. Lesson #87523 of Réunion: patience, patience, patience.
Yesterday we went to the beach. I invested in a snorkeling set and explored the coral reefs all afternoon. It was the best 9€ I’ve ever spent. It was so amazing! I saw fish that were straight out of Finding Nemo! The brightest colored beings God ever created, I’m convinced, live in coral reefs. I saw lots of fish, sea cucumbers (I think), an eel, and sea urchins. I can’t wait to go back. The European students go all the time and know the good places to go and what to look for. I’ll try to take some pictures with an underwater camera. I wish you guys could go snorkeling with me.
On the way home, the sun began to set. Our university is on the north side of the island, and mountains block the west side from our view. So, since we were on the beaches on the west side, we had a spectacular view of le couche de soleil (sunset). First, the sun began to sink very slowly in front of us. Its light projected the slightest tinge of melon onto the clouds. Then, it was more intense. Les nuages (the clouds) absorbed it until they were positively tangerine. Their complexion was slightly pink as well. Rose on the edges, and then smoked salmon and a simultaneous hot pink and lobster at the sunset’s zenith. The sky itself reflected that wonderful time of day when it’s both orange and blue- a visual anomaly my brain will just never comprehend. Then, slowly, after its peak, the colors reverse, and the sun finally fades beyond the mountains. All we can see is its echo on the omnipresent, always-perfect clouds. Orange sherbert, then bubblegum pink. Later, the sea and the sky exchange colors, and the sky is painted a soft, cornflower blue. The clouds are a steely gray edged with lavender and infused with ribbons the color of a robin’s egg. The space above grew deeper and deeper blue, as though all the mystery and life of the ocean projected into the endless vista. And then, rather quickly, it was done. The painting was wiped clean, and the colors were packed up for another day. All that remained were the clouds. It is true: they are always present and they are always perfect. Last night, as I watched this evolution of season and color, it seemed as though God had inhaled a giant breath of the island of Réunion-its sounds, people, smells, tropicality- and exhaled them into his hands, molding and prodding and feathering at them until He was satisfied. They stand guard over the island, opposite the great rock cliffs and the yuccas’ tall flower shoots, like sentries facing off. The clouds are perfect. Their whiteness accepts and graciously reflects every color and mood of the island, from the raucous Créole music jams and cookouts in the Cirques to the shouting mango and vanilla bean vendors at the downtown markets to the sinking sun that casts its personality over the enormous and intricate white canvases. This is discovery.
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