Of Socializing and Weekend Getaways -- Toulon/Nice

Couchsurfing is officially one of the best organizations I've ever come across. I whiled away a lovely evening with Catherine (the workaway girl from England),  Lena (the workaway girl from Germany), and two young men I met on couchsurfing. We enjoyed meat fondue, martinis, wine, and pastries (rum raisin ice-cream for me) at his apartment near the harbor. I did my best to speak a sentence or two in French every now and then, and succeeded in thoroughly butchering the impossible language before leaving for the Pernot's apartment around eleven.

A fondue machine? I really don't know what they're called. I enjoy this way of eating though, because it forces one to eat very slowly and enjoy the food. You get a tiny morsel of chicken or beef every two or three minutes, so you have plenty of time to chew and converse between each bite.

The pastry box

Catherine, me, and Lena

After I'd slowly sipped two martinis and a glass of red wine, I was able to muster up enough courage to ask Xavier and his friend for an interview. They both agreed and we set a date for next week. This will be my first time interviewing people who don't speak english since I was in Taglio di Po. Catherine and Lena agreed to join us for the interview and help with the translation (I really don't trust google translator), so that should make things go a bit more smoothly than they did in Italy.

I've been teaching yoga once or twice a week to Caroline and a few of her friends. After our yoga lesson last Friday, Jerome, Bibou and I were invited to stay for dinner. Aurelie and Vincent prepared one of my absolute favorite french dishes (the blood sausage with applesauce I mentioned earlier), and I once again felt overwhelmed by the generosity of the people with whom I stay.

As I'd only spent a few short hours in Nice after flying into France, I decided I'd like to see a bit more of it. Baris was such an amazing host during my last visit that I asked if I could surf with him again. He was quite happy to give up his weekend to show me around Nice, so I boarded the train with Catherine (she was visiting a few friends in Nice at the same time, coincidentally), and set off to meet Baris.

Despite the cold-snap momentarily hitting France, we had a marvelous weekend. He made me a tasty dinner, we chatted over martinis (I'm well on my way to becoming a martini lady), and then went out for a walk along the coast. The walk was very short as the weather was BRISK, but it was nice to get outside and see all the lights reflecting on the water. Baris mentioned that Turkish people are very good at picking up new languages, having none of the difficulties French people have with the soft and hard English THs or the problems that Americans have with the French R. He said that Turkish people really don't have accents. A few minutes later, he started talking to me about how he gaged his fitness level. He confidently said, "If I can vhistle as I vaLk up the stairs, I know I'm okay."

He was completely unaware of the poor L's silent nature. I couldn't help calling him on all his voiced Ls for the rest of the evening. VaLk, taLk, couLd, wouLd, shouLd, etc..

I also learned that there is an age-old rivalry between Turkey and Greece concerning who was the first to invent moussaka, the thick Turkish/Greek coffee, and the fact that they've spent many years massacring one another. I think they're most concerned about the coffee, though. If you go to Greece and order a Turkish coffee, you won't be served. Make sure you know where you are when ordering your caffeinated beverages.

Baris is a phenomenal amateur photographer, so he was quite happy to take me to a Sarah Moon gallery on Saturday afternoon. I don't think I've ever been so affected by photography before -- it was my first real experience with impressionistic photography, and Sarah Moon is one of the best photographers in France.

Baris might be unhappy with me for posting this (sorry, Baris), but here's a link to his deviantart account:

Baris's Photography

After the gallery, Baris took me out for a few drinks at one of his favorite bars. We talked about various artistic projects, drank red wine, and caught a few minutes of the rugby game every now and then. Being both American and not a big sports fan anyway, I'd never watched rugby before, but I'd heard all sorts of stories about what a violent sport rugby is. However, I believe I've been a bit desensitized to hardcore sports, as French rugby seemed quite mild when compared to Irish football and hurling. Rugby is one of the primary sports in France though, so I shan't be voicing my opinion to any native. 

After the drinks, Baris and I hopped on a bus and went back to his apartment near the airport. We ate an absurd amount of sinfully good chocolate and watched a film called "Quills". As everything is dubbed in France (and english subtitles are very hard to find), it was the first movie I've seen in over a month. It was very nice to watch a film in english again. Dubbing really does rub me the wrong way -- can you imagine True Grit dubbed in french? Rooster will lose all of his unintelligible charm. 

Sunday was a lazy day -- as most days with Baris tend to be. We walked down the coast at half past twelve, stopped for an afternoon drink (French people drink wine all the time), and then headed off in search of a second-hand store and a hill to climb. We were on our way to the shop when one of Baris's friends spotted us and asked us if we'd like to join him for a glass of wine, some olives, and a rehearsal for his band. As this sounded even nicer than a second-hand store, I immediately agreed.

Baris. 

Hearing a Turk and a Greek argue about who invented what first is hysterical.

Olives are served absolutely drenched in olive oil. 

Here are a few clips from the band I got to watch rehearse. The woman is singing in a dead Spanish dialect  -- much older than the Castilian spoken in Spain.

This is what Baris gets to wake up to every morning

After helping Baris with one of his photography projects, he left for work and I left for the train station. I made the same exact mistake I made last time -- taking the wrong bus #23 -- but I was much better at fixing the mistake this time. I will forever get lost, but I will NOT always panic.

Upon arriving back at the Pernot residence, I discovered that poor Bibou had caught a rather nasty bug which  manifested itself in extreme vomiting and diarrhea.

The joys of being three.