Today was my last day in Montpellier. As always, it was very surreal. My family made a nice little parting dinner for me, and I finished packing. Tomorrow I have to get up ridiculously early to catch the train back to Lille, and then to London, where my dad will be meeting me.
I'm going to do a longer post where I'll reflect a bit on my experiences, but for now, I need to go to sleep. Good night!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
The Hitchhiker's Guide to Montpellier
I'M ALIVE!
It figures that, two days before I'm set to leave, I would have one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The one upshot to a situation that still has me shaking is the fact that I can now check hitchhiking off my bucket list.
Today, I had decided, was going to be my last day in the city center. I felt like I had to take at least one more stroll around all the streets that I'd gotten to know so well over the past few months, and to say goodbye to some of my favorite places, like the bakeries and the comic book store where I had provided such good business.
I set out for the bus stop at around two o'clock, and waited. The bus was half an hour late. I realize now that I probably should have thought a little more about that.
I had a nice time in town, though it was very crowded- clearly the tourists were now arriving in full force. I can only imagine what it might be like in the July or August. A bunch of the shops that I wanted to visit were closed- another sign that I should have paid more attention to- and though it wasn't that sunny, it was very humid. I paid one last visit to the comic book store, and bought myself some macarons from my favorite bakery.
I headed out at around five o'clock, just as it was beginning to drizzle. My host mom had mentioned that there was an extreme sports exposition taking place this week just a few tram stops away, and had suggested that I go check it out. I've never seen extreme sports up close, and so wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
It was really cool, and really crowded, and people did crazy tricks on bikes and, amazingly, no one died. And I stayed a bit longer than I should have. I wasn't too worried, because I knew the buses ran until nine o'clock, but eventually I told myself that I really needed to go. I took the tram back into the city, then caught another that took me to the bus stop.
It was around eight o'clock at this point, and I knew that this late in the day, the buses only ran once per hour. I checked the schedule, and was dismayed to see that the next bus- the last bas- ran at exactly nine o'clock, meaning I had a long, lonely wait ahead of me.
There were a few other people at the bus station with me, but eventually they all left, and as time passed, I grew more and more worried. What if the bus didn't come? It was, after all, the last bus of the day. And it was getting late. And I was the only person at the bus stop. What if the driver just decided it wasn't worth the effort to stop by and see if anyone needed a ride?
I waited. And I waited. I ate the macarons I had bought earlier. And nine o'clock came and went. And the bus didn't arrive.
At this point it was getting dark, and I was getting really scared. I began to seriously consider whether or not I could survive spending the night by myself at the bus stop. I wondered if there was any way I could walk to the house, before dismissing that as ridiculous. It was much too far (maybe a fifteen minute bus ride), and I didn't know the way. I searched through my backpack, but didn't find my phone. It was back at the house. And I didn't know my host mom's phone number, so even if I could find someone else and borrow their phone, it wouldn't do any good.
I wondered if my host mom had returned to the house yet (she had been at the hospital all day with my host sister, who had a kidney infection) and would wonder where I was, and come looking for me. I wondered how long that would take. The night before, she hadn't returned home until around eleven. Could I sit here by myself in the dark for two more hours, or possibly longer? I began to consider the likelihood of being kidnapped or mugged or worse.
I'm a big Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fan, and the best piece of advice I've gained from that is: Don't panic. I tried not to panic. It was difficult. I was frightened, and I was helpless. There was literally nothing I could do, and that is one of the most terrifying realizations a person can have. I could panic. I could cry. I could lose it completely. But even then, my situation would not change. So I didn't actually cry. I just waited as it got later and colder, and I wondered if I was capable of hitchhiking. The fact that I even considered this option shows how desperate I was, because strangers frighten me. I trust no one. But I walked up to the side of the road and meekly stuck out my thumb.
No one stopped. I was caught between disappointment and relief.
And then, at maybe 9:20, the tram came by, and a man got off and joined me at the bus stop. He was youngish and dressed in black, and he asked if I had a lighter. I said no. I asked him if there was a bus. He said no. He said that it was a something (I didn't recognize the word) day, and the buses didn't run as late.
I had begun to suspect as much. I allowed myself, finally, to press my hands against my face and acknowledge the fact that I was royally screwed- or at least, I would be, if I didn't do something a little bit reckless.
He asked me where I was going. I told him the name of the village. He said he lived in the next village over. And so, in uncomfortable, broken French, I asked if he could give me a ride.
He said he would have to ask the friend who was coming to pick him up, but that he thought so.
And so we waited for the friend to arrive. The man was very pleasant- he asked me where I was from, and how I liked Montpellier. He told me he was trying to learn English, but that it was difficult, and he asked me if I found French to be difficult too. I found that I trusted him- though that may have been more out of necessity than anything else. In any case, he was short and fairly skinny, and I thought I might be able to take him in a fight if I had to.
I wondered, briefly, if he was lying about the friend, but the fact remained that there were no buses, and surely he had to get home somehow.
And finally, after maybe twenty minutes of waiting, a car pulled up with a man and a woman inside. The guy I'd been talking to explained the situation, and they cheerfully agreed to give me a lift.
I got in the car.
They chatted animatedly throughout the ride, and dropped me off where I indicated- a short distance from my neighborhood. I thanked them profusely, got out of the car, and walked home. It was ten o'clock at this point.
I'm still shaking, and thinking about how lucky I am, and about the fact that I could, right now, still be standing alone at the bus stop.
When my host mom arrived home, about an hour later, she was exhausted from spending the day at the hospital with her daughter, so I didn't tell her about my adventure. She didn't need to know.
It figures that, two days before I'm set to leave, I would have one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The one upshot to a situation that still has me shaking is the fact that I can now check hitchhiking off my bucket list.
Today, I had decided, was going to be my last day in the city center. I felt like I had to take at least one more stroll around all the streets that I'd gotten to know so well over the past few months, and to say goodbye to some of my favorite places, like the bakeries and the comic book store where I had provided such good business.
I set out for the bus stop at around two o'clock, and waited. The bus was half an hour late. I realize now that I probably should have thought a little more about that.
I had a nice time in town, though it was very crowded- clearly the tourists were now arriving in full force. I can only imagine what it might be like in the July or August. A bunch of the shops that I wanted to visit were closed- another sign that I should have paid more attention to- and though it wasn't that sunny, it was very humid. I paid one last visit to the comic book store, and bought myself some macarons from my favorite bakery.
I headed out at around five o'clock, just as it was beginning to drizzle. My host mom had mentioned that there was an extreme sports exposition taking place this week just a few tram stops away, and had suggested that I go check it out. I've never seen extreme sports up close, and so wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
It was really cool, and really crowded, and people did crazy tricks on bikes and, amazingly, no one died. And I stayed a bit longer than I should have. I wasn't too worried, because I knew the buses ran until nine o'clock, but eventually I told myself that I really needed to go. I took the tram back into the city, then caught another that took me to the bus stop.
It was around eight o'clock at this point, and I knew that this late in the day, the buses only ran once per hour. I checked the schedule, and was dismayed to see that the next bus- the last bas- ran at exactly nine o'clock, meaning I had a long, lonely wait ahead of me.
There were a few other people at the bus station with me, but eventually they all left, and as time passed, I grew more and more worried. What if the bus didn't come? It was, after all, the last bus of the day. And it was getting late. And I was the only person at the bus stop. What if the driver just decided it wasn't worth the effort to stop by and see if anyone needed a ride?
I waited. And I waited. I ate the macarons I had bought earlier. And nine o'clock came and went. And the bus didn't arrive.
At this point it was getting dark, and I was getting really scared. I began to seriously consider whether or not I could survive spending the night by myself at the bus stop. I wondered if there was any way I could walk to the house, before dismissing that as ridiculous. It was much too far (maybe a fifteen minute bus ride), and I didn't know the way. I searched through my backpack, but didn't find my phone. It was back at the house. And I didn't know my host mom's phone number, so even if I could find someone else and borrow their phone, it wouldn't do any good.
I wondered if my host mom had returned to the house yet (she had been at the hospital all day with my host sister, who had a kidney infection) and would wonder where I was, and come looking for me. I wondered how long that would take. The night before, she hadn't returned home until around eleven. Could I sit here by myself in the dark for two more hours, or possibly longer? I began to consider the likelihood of being kidnapped or mugged or worse.
I'm a big Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fan, and the best piece of advice I've gained from that is: Don't panic. I tried not to panic. It was difficult. I was frightened, and I was helpless. There was literally nothing I could do, and that is one of the most terrifying realizations a person can have. I could panic. I could cry. I could lose it completely. But even then, my situation would not change. So I didn't actually cry. I just waited as it got later and colder, and I wondered if I was capable of hitchhiking. The fact that I even considered this option shows how desperate I was, because strangers frighten me. I trust no one. But I walked up to the side of the road and meekly stuck out my thumb.
No one stopped. I was caught between disappointment and relief.
And then, at maybe 9:20, the tram came by, and a man got off and joined me at the bus stop. He was youngish and dressed in black, and he asked if I had a lighter. I said no. I asked him if there was a bus. He said no. He said that it was a something (I didn't recognize the word) day, and the buses didn't run as late.
I had begun to suspect as much. I allowed myself, finally, to press my hands against my face and acknowledge the fact that I was royally screwed- or at least, I would be, if I didn't do something a little bit reckless.
He asked me where I was going. I told him the name of the village. He said he lived in the next village over. And so, in uncomfortable, broken French, I asked if he could give me a ride.
He said he would have to ask the friend who was coming to pick him up, but that he thought so.
And so we waited for the friend to arrive. The man was very pleasant- he asked me where I was from, and how I liked Montpellier. He told me he was trying to learn English, but that it was difficult, and he asked me if I found French to be difficult too. I found that I trusted him- though that may have been more out of necessity than anything else. In any case, he was short and fairly skinny, and I thought I might be able to take him in a fight if I had to.
I wondered, briefly, if he was lying about the friend, but the fact remained that there were no buses, and surely he had to get home somehow.
And finally, after maybe twenty minutes of waiting, a car pulled up with a man and a woman inside. The guy I'd been talking to explained the situation, and they cheerfully agreed to give me a lift.
I got in the car.
They chatted animatedly throughout the ride, and dropped me off where I indicated- a short distance from my neighborhood. I thanked them profusely, got out of the car, and walked home. It was ten o'clock at this point.
I'm still shaking, and thinking about how lucky I am, and about the fact that I could, right now, still be standing alone at the bus stop.
When my host mom arrived home, about an hour later, she was exhausted from spending the day at the hospital with her daughter, so I didn't tell her about my adventure. She didn't need to know.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Aimless Wandering in the French Countryside
I don't think I've mentioned it, because I've been rubbish at maintaining this blog (more on that later), but I have actually been outside Montpellier several times during the past few months. My host mom really likes the countryside, so I've seen a lot of it. My friend really wanted me to go to Marseilles, but I was taught to say no to peer pressure, so I didn't.
There's not going to be a lot of commentary here, because for once I don't have much to say.
A bunch of the traveling we did was because of my host sister, who is in the process of looking at colleges. She wants to be an artist, and there are a surprising number of art schools within about a two-hour radius of Montpellier. She and my host mom went to take a look at a bunch of them, and brought me along for the ride, which meant I got to stand around awkwardly in in the middle of some really col art classrooms. "Yes, this is my daughter. She's here for the open house. And this is the American kid who follows us around."
This is Carcassonne, a small medieval town about an hour-or-so from Montpellier, with a nice art school and a big castle.
The outside was very majestic and dramatic, and the inside was lined with tourist shops.
Just like most castles, really.
Le stormtrooper- a common sight in rural France.
One of the other art schools we visited was located in Sete, a small port town that's apparently a very popular tourist destination.
But not on the day we visited, because it was cold and rainy.
The city is built on a hill, and the art school was in this really interesting old building at the top of the hill, with lots of stained glass and a big garden in front.
Sete apparently has a very prominent artistic community, and there was graffiti and cool street art all over town.
For Easter (Pac in French) we went to visit my host mom's oldest daughter, who lives with her son and a whole bunch of pets in a tiny village up in the mountains. The mountains are located in the middle of southern France, and are called Massif Central, which either means "Big Middle-ness" or "Middle Big-ness". Either way, someone clearly put a lot of thought into that name. The drive up was all narrow, twisting roads with sheer drops on the side. It was great.
We didn't do much for Easter. We had lunch (pork, which is apparently traditional. Is it traditional for Easter in the US too? I don't actually know) and then we went for a walk.
That's not, in fact, a giant cotton ball with legs. That is a rabbit on a leash.
This is Pont du Gard, the site of a Roman aquaduct and some really cool nature, where we spent an afternoon.
Guild graffiti from 1774 on the bridge running alongside the aquaduct.
Eeeeewwww.
I mentioned cool nature, right?
Olive trees are amazing. They're very tough and very resilient, and they have incredibly long lives. According to the sign, this olive tree has been around since 908.
It's over a thousand years old.
Think about that for a minute.
After hanging out at Pont du Gard, we went to visit the Haribo factory and museum. Haribo is a very popular candy brand in Europe, and I've recently started noticing it in the US too, so they have clearly begun expanding their evil sugar empire.
One of the things I like about Haribo (apart from the obvious) is that they're really creative. They make gummies in pretty much any shape you can think of, from fried eggs to alligators to Smurfs.
Either some sort of candy-making contraption, or a Star Wars extra. I'm not sure.
The store. It's even more beautiful in person.
There's not going to be a lot of commentary here, because for once I don't have much to say.
A bunch of the traveling we did was because of my host sister, who is in the process of looking at colleges. She wants to be an artist, and there are a surprising number of art schools within about a two-hour radius of Montpellier. She and my host mom went to take a look at a bunch of them, and brought me along for the ride, which meant I got to stand around awkwardly in in the middle of some really col art classrooms. "Yes, this is my daughter. She's here for the open house. And this is the American kid who follows us around."
This is Carcassonne, a small medieval town about an hour-or-so from Montpellier, with a nice art school and a big castle.
The outside was very majestic and dramatic, and the inside was lined with tourist shops.
Just like most castles, really.
Le stormtrooper- a common sight in rural France.
One of the other art schools we visited was located in Sete, a small port town that's apparently a very popular tourist destination.
But not on the day we visited, because it was cold and rainy.
The city is built on a hill, and the art school was in this really interesting old building at the top of the hill, with lots of stained glass and a big garden in front.
Sete apparently has a very prominent artistic community, and there was graffiti and cool street art all over town.
For Easter (Pac in French) we went to visit my host mom's oldest daughter, who lives with her son and a whole bunch of pets in a tiny village up in the mountains. The mountains are located in the middle of southern France, and are called Massif Central, which either means "Big Middle-ness" or "Middle Big-ness". Either way, someone clearly put a lot of thought into that name. The drive up was all narrow, twisting roads with sheer drops on the side. It was great.
We didn't do much for Easter. We had lunch (pork, which is apparently traditional. Is it traditional for Easter in the US too? I don't actually know) and then we went for a walk.
 |
That's not, in fact, a giant cotton ball with legs. That is a rabbit on a leash.
This is Pont du Gard, the site of a Roman aquaduct and some really cool nature, where we spent an afternoon.
Guild graffiti from 1774 on the bridge running alongside the aquaduct.
Eeeeewwww.
I mentioned cool nature, right?
Olive trees are amazing. They're very tough and very resilient, and they have incredibly long lives. According to the sign, this olive tree has been around since 908.
It's over a thousand years old.
Think about that for a minute.
After hanging out at Pont du Gard, we went to visit the Haribo factory and museum. Haribo is a very popular candy brand in Europe, and I've recently started noticing it in the US too, so they have clearly begun expanding their evil sugar empire.
One of the things I like about Haribo (apart from the obvious) is that they're really creative. They make gummies in pretty much any shape you can think of, from fried eggs to alligators to Smurfs.
Either some sort of candy-making contraption, or a Star Wars extra. I'm not sure.
The store. It's even more beautiful in person.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Je suis Iron Man
I mentioned it to my host sister, and she instantly and enthusiastically agreed to go with me. Which was fantastic.
Sadly, my family's complicated schedules and general chaos meant that we didn't get to go as soon as I had hoped. We finally went tonight, and were accompanied by one of my host mom's other daughters, who happened to be visiting for the weekend.
We just got back. My initial report is that it's a fantastic movie, with lots of plot twists and excellent acting.
Even more exciting to me is the fact that, though it was dubbed in French, I understood maybe 90% of it, and was able to follow what turned about to be a very complex story.
And for that, I'm really proud of myself.
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