Garlic, Grammar, and Grandpas

What a lovely dimanche! I went to bed late last night and did not wake up until 10:30 this morning - slept right through my alarm and thus missed church :(

So I wanted to be productive - I got my grammar books together and headed out in search of a cafe that would be open on a Sunday. Much to my surprise, upon exiting the front door, I was met by all the people of Tours. The streets were jammed pack - it was the festival of garlic. Every you turned, there was a table set up with bouquets - and I mean bouquets- of all different kinds of garlic! Most were woven into bunches with flowers and stems and looked tres joli. Like the festival of music that took place last month, there were vendors and people galore out on the street. So my friend and I took a little digression and hit up the flea market and farmer's market and garlic fair.

Afterwards, we went to Les Trois Rois (The three Kings) cafe and studied French grammar for a good 3 hours. I love French grammar, though I'm very bad at it - I just love how there are so many little rules and once you get it - it all makes sense - even if it is just for a moment...until I forget.

Then we returned home so that I could go on a loooong run. It was very lovely outside - in the low 80's, and everyone, their french dog, and their french mother was outside walking about. So, after talking with some friends on skype, I exited the hostel and headed towards the river.

I like to run away from the main road - it's much more peaceful, less people, better ambiance, more trees and nature and scenic views. But also, I like to regard the little fishermen who like to set up every so often on a small bank. So after a while, I came to a small clearing and decided to take a little dirt road closer to the bank - and from my point of view, I looked down and saw a little old man sitting in his folding chair. At first, I hesitated, not knowing whether I should disturb him or if he would turn out to be a grumpy dude who did not want to be disturbed by a sweaty student jogger. But then I saw his Che Guevara hat hanging on a stick stuck in the bank and I couldn't resist.

So I headed down and pestered him with questions about what he was doing, what kind of fish were in the Loire, if he came there often, etc., etc. He showed me the fish he had already caught - a perch amongst many little ones, and then he asked me if I wanted to give it a go.

So I don't know if you know, but I can't stand reeling in fish. I've only been fishing one time in my life - and that was when I was around 13 years old, with my dad, at a fish farm - ie - a pond full of already caught fish that you can catch to make you feel like a cool fisherman. And after a day of several tramautic experiences (including some very sad accounts of watching bloody, desperately floundering fish gasping on the soggy ground, and my sister swinging her reel too excitedly, thus swinging her rod above her head and hooking me in the leg), I wasn't too keen on trying it out again. But before I came, I resolved to never turn anyone's invitation down if I could help it, so I grabbed the hook from him and gave it a go.

It all came back to me - little black bodies moving through the water, blood, guts, worms, that terrible flapping noise of fruitless attempts to escape - and then I felt a tug - You got one! he told me. So I swung the rod up - but a little too fast - and the fish I had caught glimmered in the air for one moment before my hook slashed completely through his lip and he fell back into the water with a soft *splash!*

Oh my, I said aloud, more frightened then anything. "Goodness, goodness, goodness," said my new friend. "That fish is going to die now" (pointing into the water) "you cut straight through his mouth - he hasn't got a chance."

I apologized profusely, event though I didn't feel that bad because a) if I reeled it in there is no doubt that he would have made me grasp my hand around its flapping lungs and tug it free from the hook, and b) because he said it so kindly I knew he wasn't actually cross.

So for the rest of the time there we spoke and he did the fishing. After an hour, I helped him carry all his things back to his car and was about to head off to finish my run when he invited me to his second home, (next to his mother in law's house) for a drink. So despite my previous experience with getting into a stranger's car and the whole thing turning a bit sour, I went off with Andre - a 59 year old retired half-Spanish half-French man to his place.

After about a 2 minute drive, we stopped in front of these green gates and entered into a lovely garden. Then Andre gave me a tour of his home which was absolutely beautiful complete with a huge open loft-like space upstairs with two big dining tables for entertaining. Then we sat outside on the patio and talked about politics, history, his voyages to North Africa, Greece, Italy, Spain, Crete, Laos (Basically this guy's been everywhere but the states). I was thinking that I should leave, when he told me to stay because he wanted to introduce me to his wife. So we talked about his other house in the countryside, where he has a big garden that produces strawberries, tomatoes, squash, onions, melons, cucumbers - he is SO cool.

Then his wife came home, who was also very nice but not quite as much of an immediate kindrid spirit as Andre. And then they commenced cutting open and gutting the fish. Finally, I said I had to head back and we exchanged e-mail addresses - then I was invited to come to their place in the countryside for a traditional French dinner! And also, to go catch bigger fish with Andre near Amboise. Yay for meeting cool strangers!

I returned home, cut opened my pineapple (which I bought at the market this morning for 50 centimes), and steamed some salmon, mushrooms, onions, and brocolli. After a lovely dinner, I headed to the common room to finish my French homework. But after 20 minutes, I was stuck because I didn't understand when to make an accord between the past participle and the auxiliary verb. Right then, in walked this cool dude from Senegal who lives in my hall. He's a Biology professor and speaks English but refuses to speak it with us since we're supposed to be studying French :) So I asked him for his help and 20 minutes later - I understood. He is such a good teacher! Then I asked him what he did this past weekend and he talked about how he's recovering from Malaria. An expression of terror covered my Korean friend's face - which he saw and thus tried to calm her - "Oh, it's such a normal thing in the place where I come from. Don't worry." Then I talked with the Algerian dude (who also spoke Arabic) and the Moroccan dude (who also spoke a little Hebrew) for another 2 hours about a small French region in Israel and current relations between Israel and Palestine. Sweeeet.

Overall, successful day. I'm a little sore but excited about soon to occur events - Tomorrow, I and the other Rotary scholar are talking with the events coordinator at the Institut about hosting discussion groups about international relations (very broad but I will describe in my future blog posts).
Then I'm making sushi with my friend and going to an "international cafe" even in Tours for international students. Tuesday, I'm going to the Serpant Volant to play blues guitar with Moroccan friend (whose name I forget and must retrieve soon). Wednesday I'm going on a biking trip to a chateau, then hopefully going on a longer biking trip this coming weekend.

Oh - and did I tell you? I'm going to Ireland!!! YIPEEEE!!!!

Love
Jean