Jackercrackie

Aaaaah Paree. I feel so comfortable here, like I already spent ten days exploring this city from end to end two months ago. Two months!!! It wouldn't be Paris without losing my way. At least this time I wasn't dragging my bags to and fro. The hotel I'm staying at is in St. Germain de Pres, which is adjacent to the arrondissment that I lived in when I first arrived. Therefore, I really do know this area pretty well, and I knew exactly what I was looking for. I only have a day and a half here, so I have to do major shopping...for presents...There is a chocolaterie in my old neighborhood that was fabulous, so I set off looking for it. Unfortunately, I couldn't situate myself, and ended up passing the same cafe literally five ... read more

You would think that, being twenty minutes from the French border, citizens of western Belgium would speak French. But that would be too easy. Belgium splits itself up, linguisticall, by North and South. In southern Belgium, they do indeed speak French. But in northern Belgium, where I was in Gent, they speak Flemish. D'oh. The most interesting part was, after conveying the fact that I don't understand Flemish, people immediately switched to English, instead of French like I expected. It seems to be the second-most spoken language there. Odd, but nice for me. The intent of the trip to Belgium was not for Jackie to be a tourist in yet another country. It was so some Lilliputians (hahaha) could go to a drum-and-bass concert. Europeans have a much different style to their night-life than American youth; ... read more

I decided to leave my last place in Sourdeval a few days early, as I’ve discovered that 2 weeks is an ample amount of time to live with one family. The kids seemed upset that I was leaving early, and had their own ways of showing it. On my last day, the little five-year-old kept coming into my/his room, and just hanging about the doorway, not really doing anything, just talking nonsense. I went to the bathroom across the hall, and heard a knock on my bedroom door. “Can I come in?” he chirped. Shaking my head, and knowing I might regret speaking up, I told Finlay that I was in the bathroom. Outside the door, I could audibly hear the wheels in his head turning. Then, after a pregnant pause, he says, “did you know ... read more

Today I witnessed full-circle the process of existance. It makes me marvel everyday how connected to nature you become living in the country, and how detached us city-folk are. My sunday morning started (with a bit of a hangover) unwittingly one hour ahead of schedule. Today the clocks went back in France and GB, so what I thought was a late wake-up of 10am, was really a fairly reasonable 9 o'clock. I was the second one up, Nigel having woke up early to try to fix the heater. It was hazy and cold, the first real day of Autumn upon us. I set about tidying up (a little work on the weekends is warranted, I think. It's not like they stop feeding me), and Nigel started fileting some mackerel. I've eaten mincemeat pies (which have no ... read more

It’s funny how free I can be with complete strangers. One of the best things about this host is that Jayne busies herself with a lot of social activities, and while she’s doing them, I typically come with her. There’s not much work I can do on my own at her house. I get the benefit of glimpsing into the subculture of older, British ex-pats in France. It’s remarkable, and worth a study. I don’t’ really have a control specimen, as I don’t know too many American women this age, but I find the most notable sentiment to extract from these ladies is that of discontent. My French friend, Chantal, said of the British women she knows that they were “ennuissant” (I’m not sure how to spell it), basically meaning they are bored. She marveled at ... read more

The Wilson’s have taught me many lessons during my two weeks on their farm. One thing I’d like to clear up from earlier is some phraseology. I mentioned a couple entries ago that their “garden” was hardly such, but much more. The other day Enid explained that in England, the small houses were allotted a tiny patch of grass behind the building, and this was called a “yard”. Therefore, when a Brit hears that someone has a yard, they feel sorry for the poor sap who can’t afford more than a tiny plot. But a “garden”, that can be acres of fruits and vegetables. Now that explains why Enid would always say we were working in the garden. Another gem of information was giving while driving to town with Kevin. The area of La Bretonie is ... read more

I came on this trip to learn something. I think that's ninety percent of the reason anyone travels (even if they don't realize it). When I travel, I mostly learn about myself, which is a selfish way to look at it, and I don't intend it to be that way, it just happens. Also I hope to learn about a different culture. Right now, I'm not learning too much about French culture, but more about the British. Good thing I'm not particular, since nearly everyone I'm staying with is a Brit. I'm one of those people that loves accents, and when a foreigner chooses to live in America for an extended period of time, I'm always disappointed when his or her accent fades. Some even feel this loss of vernacular is a form of "selling out". ... read more