Mon Jardin d’Hiver

Instead of crossing the atlantic to come back to the US during the holidays I spent a lovely Christmas in Agen with Ludo and his family.  It was wonderful to experience the Christmas traditions in France.  I must say I missed you all quite a lot …

After Christmas I  took a train to Paris to meet up with Kate Clairemont, a friend I made this summer at French language school.  We spent five days touring the city by foot, refusing to take the metro in hopes of seeing more of the city and trying to burn off all of the Christmas food.  We saw this great Picasso exposition which compared the works of Picasso with those that inspired him.  It was amazing how they were able to organize all of these great works under one roof.  One of my favorites was the comparison of Manet’s Olympia with the Nu couché jouant avec un chat (1964), by Pablo Picasso.

Manet

Picasso

*A French Website with pictures from the exposition:

http://www.lexpress.fr/culture/art-plastique/le-choc-picasso_584254.html

*An article in English which explains the exposition, however  there are no pictures:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/12/15/AR2008121503402_pf.html

The second semester has now started.  I’m taking, two translation courses (french – english, english – french); a contemporary art history course; three writing courses focusing on french grammar, stylistic and expression.  At Sciences Politiques, the political science university, I’m taking International Migrations, and Subsaharian Africa.  I play on the Sciences Po girl’s soccer team every monday and wednesday and my german friend Johanna and I go running together on the other days.  I hope that you are all well and I’d love to hear from you! My email is cmcollin@middlebury.edu

Gros BISOUS!

FRANCE

Here are some pictures of my fall in France:

Sarlat is a small medieval town in the southern part of France which I visited with a group of students from Middlebury. We also visited the Perigord Region which is home to Foie Gras, Duck, Walnuts, the famous grottes de Lasco (cave found in the 30’s), and countless Châteaux.

Soulac, is the name a beach town on the atlantic where my family goes each weekend and in the summer.  The family’s mantra at Soulac is “On mange n’importe quoi, n’importe quand et n’importe comment”  translating into we eat whatever we want, whenever we want and however we want.  Needless to say the youngest girl Jeanne was frequently snacking on a candy.

Hossegor is where I went with my good friend from Middlebury, Katie Hubbard,  two other foreign exchange students, Phillipe and Sebastien.  We stayed at Phillipe’s family summer house which was gorgeous, cooked dinner, swam in the ocean (I was the only one brave enough to go in) and used the Hammam (a really cool Steam room). Apparently the weekend before there was the National Championships for surfing!

Paris, was another place I visited, a little city not too well known in France, let alone in the world.  There I saw some old paintings and stuff….nothing too exciting, just the tour eiffel, centre madeline, jardin de luxembourg.  One word to sum it up,  Amazing.  However after visiting this great city I decided to stay in Bordeaux for the entire school year as I have wonderful living accomadations, friends and feel at home in the city.

Bonjour! Tout le monde …

So I’ve promised all of you that I will right and I’m sorry it’s taken so long – I’ve been in the middle of moving in a new place…  dealing with the French Beaucracy, an integral part of all that is French (Schools, Banks, Post Office etc…), perhaps with the exception of restaurants!

Nonethless I’ve been jotting a few little things and I’m putting them up on my blog for all of you to read.  Some of them are radom little poems … others just memoires and thoughts on certain days and others just nouvelles de ma vie (news about my life).

Bissous!

10 rue de la Prévoté

Sky Mall

The following piece was inspired by Cara Magazine found in the pocket in the seat infront of me during my seven hour flight.  I flipped through various pages writting down words:

{safety, shades, escape, hours, adorned, oyster, white and black, baroque, amid, building blocks, ventilation, gourmet, uncover, office building, natural like, towers, dauntingly, historic, edge, tradegy, sophisticated gusto}

And then wrote this…

This country needs someone with a sophisticated gusto.  Not someone adorned in oyster shades perhaps in white and black, dauntingly natural, the jcrew fall colors.

One who will bring ventilation into the baroque office buildings and towers.

A fantasy as such can only last on hours edge – our synical society is bound to uncover rust on the stowed away past, a historical tradegy would always last.

Kitchen Love

I wake to the smell of French Roast coffee brewing on the marble countertop and the distant mumbling of NPR on my grandmothers’ radio.  My grandmother is buzzing around the kitchen in a systematic way, a daily ritual, with cooking as a domestic art, and an expression of love.  She reaches on her tip toes to grab the white plates with thick navy swirls.  The stove is desolate, like my stomach.  I am puzzled by the sweet smell dominating my senses, laden in the kitchen air.  Without me asking, my grandmother replies, “It’s the oven baked pancake.”  Ah yes, my awakened senses tell me.  The colossal, sugared, popover baked in the cast iron skillet.  I am salivating at the thought of the breakfast treat.  Breaking the delicacy into pieces at the table, slathering it with grandma’s raspberry jam, “the nectar of the god’s” as my grandpa always says, then pouring dark amber maple syrup.  “Only eight more minutes, and your grandfather should be down in five, perfect timing,” she remarks in a voice barely audible.  I smile to myself hearing her inner dialogue and sit on the oak kitchen chairs, watching her guide herself through the kitchen with her instructions and suddenly I’m ebullient like the pot of coffee for my morning meal. 

 

Saturday Afternoon

Lunch break on a drizzling Saturday afternoon, once again Dad tracks through the kitchen.  Muddy Docksiders taint the checkered tile floor, a soppy blue jacket cloaks the pine chair, and his floppy black hat cushions the keys thrown onto the counter.  Fumbling around in the cabinet, his windburn hands clutch economy pack of Campbell’s tomato soup.  Holding the can out at an arms length, he reads cancer fighting agents, sounds good to me.  The rusted can opener reluctantly pierces the tin.  The pot clinks to meet the stove, and the thick natural concentrate spills onto the bottom.  A wooden spoon churns the creamy mixture, it’s tapped twice on the side of the pot, and then rests on the counter, settling into a round pool of its sauce.  Dad stands over the burner waiting for the bubbles to rise and pop at the surface.  He turns on the griddle, slowly slathers four pieces of bread with butter, and flops them down onto the now sizzling grill. Using his Leatherman he cuts into a new brick of Cabot cheese, and with cautious dexterity places each slice on the bread.  His hands are tip – toeing on the edge of the wheat crust and heated surface, he plucks each piece up, enclosing the melted slices. Ladles the soup into a salad bowl, and flips the sandwiches onto a plate. 

 

My Life of Food

Strawberry Shortcakes

She’s not looking directly at the camera,

But smiles knowing she is the subject in focus.

Drapi ng to the side, her hair is dirty blonde,

Streaked with hints of champagne from the summer sun.

Her teeth are a mold of whipped cream – an enamel of sugar and vanilla.

This sweet treat is pressed between the two strawberry glossed lips. 

Joining at both ends are her flour puffed cheeks,

Splashed with red from the juice of the berries or a day on the lake.

At first glance she looks tough, and intense. 

But once nudged with a spoon her warm, and delicate layers crumble.

Click.

People?

AVOCADOS.

Nutty and smooth, a green pasty facial.

         The strongest of the fruits, understated and tender.

Mixed with the meat is fat. But is fat, fat? She’s unsaturated, so good.

A voluptuous beauty in hibernation.

 

GRAPEFRUIT.

Teardrop cells.

Turgid and translucent, like her skin.

One before each meal.

Now hunger subsides,

Only temporarily.

 

GRAPES.

The teeth pierce the skin, a juicy sensation.

Hang off of the ears caressed with a kiss – now glossed.

 

SALAD.

Will you make it?

But you are so good at it. A perfectionist.

Cherry tomatoes, European cucumbers, and Chopped Romaine.

In a bowl matching the counter top, so essential.

     Her largest meal of the day.