This weekend, I participated in "Challenge Nature" (but you have to say it with a French accent: Shah-lahnge Nah-tyure). It was SUPER fun, albeit exhausting and frustrating at times. Here's the breakdown.
Teams of four (that had to have at least one girl on them) assembled at 6:30 am outside the Gymnase. I really had no idea what I was getting into. All I knew was that we were biking, running, climbing, doing some archery, and swimming. All in one day. As a team. Tight.
We recieved team tshirts, gatorade (my first in several months, and OH how I relished it!), and stopped at the table for free cafe (how could you expect the Frenchies to compete without their daily espresso?). We got our two bikes and were escorted to the starting line, which was several kilometers away from the school. Once we started, we had 6 "enigmes" (clues) to decipher at each stop. It was pirate themed, so we had to answer questions about treasure and ships and such. Stephanie was actually part of our last clue; our friend Romuauld is a magician, and did a trick for the last symbol, which magically appeared on the arm of Stephanie the Lovely Assisstant (also dressed as a pirate). Throughout the race, we had to submit our answers to recieve the clue for the next stop and also get a sticker with a symbol on it. Some were cipher based, some were word problems (we let Youssef, the only Francophone on the team, handle those ones), and some were just physical challenges or challenges of wit. It was all fun!
We had a sixteen kilometer run/bike from St. Denis to St. Suzanne, two towns over. We rode through a park that extended along the shoreline. It was a gorgeous, sweltering day. I was excited for the physical rigor of it. It also marked one year exactly since I completed my first marathon in Nashville, so it was definitely nostalgic. While I'm at it, congrats to my friends who ran in the half and full! I am jealous.
We took turns running and biking, solving, and cheering each other on. We ran along the beaches, past goats, in tiny neighborhoods, and through what seemed like hours of sugar cane, taller than any man. They swayed in the sea winds, clunking together lacksidaisically, and sheltering us from the heat of mid-morning. As we progressed, our symbols corresponded to numbers. Team Fraize (Team Strawberry, but a little more hardcore, as we spelled it with a "z") learned some archery (which was more difficult than you'd think) and then ran just a bit more to a waterfall, where I did some climbing to get a clue, and Luke swam to the waterfall to recover another. It all finished with a nice kayak down the river back to the place where we did the archery. We were the second to last team to finish, but that didn't matter to us. We had a blast and just enjoyed each others' company.
I didn't move for most of Sunday, except to go get some ice cream with a friend. In a true Carpe Diem moment, I tried a new flavor, patate douce banana. Yes, I had sweet potato-banana ice cream. Much to my surprise, it was delicious! High five, Reunion Island for making yet another excellent parfum (flavor) of dessert.
This week, I started summer vacation- not that much changes, but I celebrate the occasion nonetheless. Next week, a bunch of the foreign students rented a house in the south of the island before people start getting on planes to leave here for reals. After that, six of us are spending around 8-10 days hiking across the island. I'm will expect to be exhausted but probably see some of the best sights of my life. Then, it's just two weeks more until Paris and my parents!
I hope to accomplish a lot between now and then. I hope all is well back home. Please avoid swines of any sort. I miss you, and love you (especially my family and my dedicated neighbors in Brentwood!) I'll see you all in the second half of June!
Until next time,
Chelsea
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
good morning!
Jeudi, le 16 avril 2009. 10h. My desk.
My alarm goes off at 5:05am. Uggh. I slowly rise, and get dressed. For breakfast, the sweetest and softest bananas I’ve ever had, with some granola and local honey. I fill my water bottle, tie my keys into my shoelaces, and meet Priya. Time for our morning run.
It’s dark, and for once, cool outside. The stars are still winking at us and the city is quiet beneath our campus on a hill. Quiet greetings. Watch set. The stray dog that lives outside our dorm, creatively named Spot, licks my leg as I stretch and he wags his skinny tail, waiting for some acknowledgement. Even dogs whom no one loves are loyal. Priya and I leave campus, running through the gates, past the mosque, and turning left at the Conseil Regional (like the capitol building of the island, which is both a department and a region of France). Spot skips ahead, pees, and waits for us. We’re slow today. We go left at the roundabout, crossing under a campus bridge heading west, towards downtown. It’s a flat sidewalk that accommodates for runners, strays, lingering drunkards, and old ladies on their morning walk.
We pass the light morning traffic. There’s a little house on the left with a swing set, banana tree, and rooster in the front yard. Bonjour. Other runners pass. ‘jour. By the time we get to our turnaround point, the clouds are mottled with pewter and the beginnings of blue. The sun lends the picture grapefruit gelato and butter cream. The sea is choppy today, after the lingering cyclone and heavy rains. Its tips reflect bits of white my way. At another roundabout, and underneath a billboard advertising reduced yogurt prices, we run beneath an enormous tree. She has innumerable vines cascading from her canopy and is LOUD with the chittering, tweeting, squeaking and jibber jabber of a thousand small finches. No other tree is like that here- it’s as though they just found out Cinderella can go to the ball after all, or something. My first smile of the day at the thought of their happy, happy conversation.
Priya and I wind up a hill in the park, catch our breath, and do some sun salutations after stretching. Spot lolls around on the mini-plateau and considers chasing a german shepard nearby. He’s totally out of his league, so he concedes and trots back, seemingly unfazed by the mileage, increading heat, or humidity. He snuffles my arm and bucks off like a puppy. It makes my heart ache for my dog back home.
We return along the sidewalk and pass the construction workers beginning their day with a joint of the ever ubiquitous zamal (marijuana, in créole) at the pizza shop on the corner. Although under construction, for a paltry 12 Euros you can buy pizza with tandoori chicken, or another with pineapple and tuna and some weird cream sauce. This culture is something quite unique, I’m reminded.
We’re nearing campus, thank God. Priya runs away from me, having properly warmed up her legs that never seem to end. Spot chases after her. The sun is almost visible over the mountains, and the sky is a lemon yellow and cotton candy pink girdled by long lines of periwinkle clouds. Mademoiselles, bon matin, mademoiselles! I hate that the men yell at women here. It makes me feel like an object. Priya and I bite our tongues- expressing our slim knowledge of French insults would be a waste of breath, and we have a hill to conquer before we can feel vindicated. Breathing deeply, leaning into the hill, leading with my knees, I slowly eek past the gendarmerie, whose ranks are just beginning their day. Cool down into campus, past the mosque-goers, eating samoussas (a Réunionais specialty: a fried triangle with a meat, veggie, or fish filling) and rubbing sleep out of their eyes for morning prayer. Pour Spot my remaining water in a styrofoam leftover container. A small snort of thanks in my ear as I free my keys. Success: we’ve gone and returned before the sun is even up. Even now, only an hour later, I can feel the difference in the breezy tropical air from when we began. My face is red, and I’m tired, but I’m satisfied, having properly greeted my pretty island as it arose. It’s hard not to love Réunion.
Classes are going to be over by next week, and some of my friends are leaving in just three weeks. Signs about check-out procedures have been posted, too. I can’t even imagine leaving now. Or soon. Or at all. Didn’t I just get here? Nevertheless, I too will be on a plane in only six weeks. I don’t let myself think about that right now, though. I have a bucket and some clothes to wash before I can go to the market, which is possibly my favorite thing ever. Mango and pineapple seasons are over, but tangerine/avocado/banana season has begun. I’ve never lived such a colorful, flavorful, exciting, and different life. Goddamn, I’m lucky.
Wish you were here,
Chelsea
My alarm goes off at 5:05am. Uggh. I slowly rise, and get dressed. For breakfast, the sweetest and softest bananas I’ve ever had, with some granola and local honey. I fill my water bottle, tie my keys into my shoelaces, and meet Priya. Time for our morning run.
It’s dark, and for once, cool outside. The stars are still winking at us and the city is quiet beneath our campus on a hill. Quiet greetings. Watch set. The stray dog that lives outside our dorm, creatively named Spot, licks my leg as I stretch and he wags his skinny tail, waiting for some acknowledgement. Even dogs whom no one loves are loyal. Priya and I leave campus, running through the gates, past the mosque, and turning left at the Conseil Regional (like the capitol building of the island, which is both a department and a region of France). Spot skips ahead, pees, and waits for us. We’re slow today. We go left at the roundabout, crossing under a campus bridge heading west, towards downtown. It’s a flat sidewalk that accommodates for runners, strays, lingering drunkards, and old ladies on their morning walk.
We pass the light morning traffic. There’s a little house on the left with a swing set, banana tree, and rooster in the front yard. Bonjour. Other runners pass. ‘jour. By the time we get to our turnaround point, the clouds are mottled with pewter and the beginnings of blue. The sun lends the picture grapefruit gelato and butter cream. The sea is choppy today, after the lingering cyclone and heavy rains. Its tips reflect bits of white my way. At another roundabout, and underneath a billboard advertising reduced yogurt prices, we run beneath an enormous tree. She has innumerable vines cascading from her canopy and is LOUD with the chittering, tweeting, squeaking and jibber jabber of a thousand small finches. No other tree is like that here- it’s as though they just found out Cinderella can go to the ball after all, or something. My first smile of the day at the thought of their happy, happy conversation.
Priya and I wind up a hill in the park, catch our breath, and do some sun salutations after stretching. Spot lolls around on the mini-plateau and considers chasing a german shepard nearby. He’s totally out of his league, so he concedes and trots back, seemingly unfazed by the mileage, increading heat, or humidity. He snuffles my arm and bucks off like a puppy. It makes my heart ache for my dog back home.
We return along the sidewalk and pass the construction workers beginning their day with a joint of the ever ubiquitous zamal (marijuana, in créole) at the pizza shop on the corner. Although under construction, for a paltry 12 Euros you can buy pizza with tandoori chicken, or another with pineapple and tuna and some weird cream sauce. This culture is something quite unique, I’m reminded.
We’re nearing campus, thank God. Priya runs away from me, having properly warmed up her legs that never seem to end. Spot chases after her. The sun is almost visible over the mountains, and the sky is a lemon yellow and cotton candy pink girdled by long lines of periwinkle clouds. Mademoiselles, bon matin, mademoiselles! I hate that the men yell at women here. It makes me feel like an object. Priya and I bite our tongues- expressing our slim knowledge of French insults would be a waste of breath, and we have a hill to conquer before we can feel vindicated. Breathing deeply, leaning into the hill, leading with my knees, I slowly eek past the gendarmerie, whose ranks are just beginning their day. Cool down into campus, past the mosque-goers, eating samoussas (a Réunionais specialty: a fried triangle with a meat, veggie, or fish filling) and rubbing sleep out of their eyes for morning prayer. Pour Spot my remaining water in a styrofoam leftover container. A small snort of thanks in my ear as I free my keys. Success: we’ve gone and returned before the sun is even up. Even now, only an hour later, I can feel the difference in the breezy tropical air from when we began. My face is red, and I’m tired, but I’m satisfied, having properly greeted my pretty island as it arose. It’s hard not to love Réunion.
Classes are going to be over by next week, and some of my friends are leaving in just three weeks. Signs about check-out procedures have been posted, too. I can’t even imagine leaving now. Or soon. Or at all. Didn’t I just get here? Nevertheless, I too will be on a plane in only six weeks. I don’t let myself think about that right now, though. I have a bucket and some clothes to wash before I can go to the market, which is possibly my favorite thing ever. Mango and pineapple seasons are over, but tangerine/avocado/banana season has begun. I’ve never lived such a colorful, flavorful, exciting, and different life. Goddamn, I’m lucky.
Wish you were here,
Chelsea
Monday, April 6, 2009
Rain Makes You Feel Weird Everywhere
Normally, I love the rain, especially on Sundays. It rained on and off all day yesterday. The island was cool and quiet, and my curtain made my whole room feel alive and fresh; like a diaphragm lending fresh air in and escorting used air out of my happy little half-pink-and-half-gray-walled chambre. It was a perfect day to watch episodes of Friends in French and eat warm food without leaving my jammies. A good day indeed.
Today, though, is Monday. It's not that I have a particularly huge amount of work to be done, or a lot of class to attend. On the contrary, my life here is much quieter than it is in Maryville. I have less class, and fewer responsibilities. While I do have a small job teaching English to kindergarteners in the local public schools (my hat goes off to all teachers and care givers of small children everywhere), my agenda is rather liberal. I really miss the hustle and bustle of Maryville and my responsibilities to my amazing school and my friends and my team. It's hard being so far away from my life. But, as I keep reminding myself, my life is not put on hold simply because I am here and it is there. I wrote about this (with a slightly more optimistic view) a few months back. I live here now, and this here is as much my life as are my cross country team, ResLife job, and SGA Class Presidency (which I may actually miss the most- my classmates mean the world to me and it's hard being away from their lives. Incidentally, I am up for re-election, and will have to run a campaign from over here starting tomorrow, so please wish me your best).
I sort of forgot what the point of this post was. Perhaps to vent, or to publicly share some of me, but whatever the case, Tropical Storm Jade (a surprise for us Indian Oceaners post-cyclone season) is getting into my head.
Studying abroad is the best thing I could have done for my growth. I find myself striving to communicate more effectively, make clear my ideas and motivations, make friends with complete strangers, and identify what exactly drives me to do, say, and feel the way I do-and, more importantly, how others percieve those things. As much as I'm learning French and riding the roller coaster of new cultural experiences, I am meeting a girl named Chelsea. And I like where it's going.
Today I took the Myers-Briggs personality test (http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm) for the first time in several years. I've found that "my personality" (ENFJ) has become slightly more moderate since the last time I took it. I wonder if that's really true, but it's nice to read up on the profile of my type and feel like someone gets me in the sense that they understand where I'm coming from. It's a great test; I suggest everyone takes it. It'll only take you about 3 minutes, and it's not like you can get anything wrong.
For now, though, I will continue on my merry way for a chocolat chaud and a solid bit of translation work to clear my head. Thanks for loving me.
Always,
Chelsea
BARKER Chelsea
Chambre 628
Cité Internationale
Université de La Réunion
15, Avenue René Cassin - BP 7151
97 715 Saint-Denis Messag.9 Cedex
LA REUNION
FRENCH OVERSEAS TERRITORY
chelsea.barker@my.maryvillecollege.edu
Today, though, is Monday. It's not that I have a particularly huge amount of work to be done, or a lot of class to attend. On the contrary, my life here is much quieter than it is in Maryville. I have less class, and fewer responsibilities. While I do have a small job teaching English to kindergarteners in the local public schools (my hat goes off to all teachers and care givers of small children everywhere), my agenda is rather liberal. I really miss the hustle and bustle of Maryville and my responsibilities to my amazing school and my friends and my team. It's hard being so far away from my life. But, as I keep reminding myself, my life is not put on hold simply because I am here and it is there. I wrote about this (with a slightly more optimistic view) a few months back. I live here now, and this here is as much my life as are my cross country team, ResLife job, and SGA Class Presidency (which I may actually miss the most- my classmates mean the world to me and it's hard being away from their lives. Incidentally, I am up for re-election, and will have to run a campaign from over here starting tomorrow, so please wish me your best).
I sort of forgot what the point of this post was. Perhaps to vent, or to publicly share some of me, but whatever the case, Tropical Storm Jade (a surprise for us Indian Oceaners post-cyclone season) is getting into my head.
Studying abroad is the best thing I could have done for my growth. I find myself striving to communicate more effectively, make clear my ideas and motivations, make friends with complete strangers, and identify what exactly drives me to do, say, and feel the way I do-and, more importantly, how others percieve those things. As much as I'm learning French and riding the roller coaster of new cultural experiences, I am meeting a girl named Chelsea. And I like where it's going.
Today I took the Myers-Briggs personality test (http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm) for the first time in several years. I've found that "my personality" (ENFJ) has become slightly more moderate since the last time I took it. I wonder if that's really true, but it's nice to read up on the profile of my type and feel like someone gets me in the sense that they understand where I'm coming from. It's a great test; I suggest everyone takes it. It'll only take you about 3 minutes, and it's not like you can get anything wrong.
For now, though, I will continue on my merry way for a chocolat chaud and a solid bit of translation work to clear my head. Thanks for loving me.
Always,
Chelsea
BARKER Chelsea
Chambre 628
Cité Internationale
Université de La Réunion
15, Avenue René Cassin - BP 7151
97 715 Saint-Denis Messag.9 Cedex
LA REUNION
FRENCH OVERSEAS TERRITORY
chelsea.barker@my.maryvillecollege.edu
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