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lagilmanAnyone know the French for "Madame, there is a goose on your table?"
*stares at goose, who stares back. Goose wins. Person backs off*
I'm SO having foie gras tonight....
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As per the will of the hoi-poll-y, herein are some notes, broken down into hopefully manageable day-bites. If you enjoy,feel free to leave a few coins in the begging-bowl...
Saturday I slept in. And I do mean sleep in. Despite resetting my internal clock the day before, I didn't wake up until almost 10am. I blame it on the bed, which is king-sized and very comfortable. Or maybe it was the lack of felines demanding food at 6am? That might have had something to do with it too, yeah.
The first day in a new city is always given over to wandering. No map, no plan, and no panic. You can't get lost if you're not heading somewhere particular, non? I found the open market mainly by walking down a street and there it was. Bought a few foodstuffs for later, once again managing in a mix of French and Italian. Note to self: the hard c in Italian? Not so useful in French, even when it is an Italian word. As a native English speaker, I have no rights to gripe about what one language does to the pronunciation of another.
Proof that travel opens the brain: I saw a woman walking toward me, and something about her triggered a thought about the Vinart world I hadn't considered before, and that cascaded into not only a new scene that needs to be written, but a new and deeper understanding of the world itself. Also, the colors of the locale are solidifying in my brain. You can say "they used such-and-such a material" but until you've seen and touched it, the understanding isn't complete. Hopefully I'll be able to convey some of that when I describe my own settings.
After walking for about three hours, I realized that I needed to eat something. This is the only time I admit to needing a keeper -- my tendency to get caught up in Discovering Things trumps all, until my blood sugar levels clobber me, and I fall over. A galette dijonaise (I have no idea what was actually in it, and don't care -- it was filling and tasty) and espresso put me back to rights, and I was able to hammer out not only clarifications of the thought mentioned above, but also a promised bit for an article on the Luna Myspace page.
The thing I love the most about cafes in Europe, and something I delight to seeing happen more now in NYC, is that there was no rush to move me from my street-side people-watching table, even after my plate was cleared. My waitress was watchful but not overattentive, and patient when my language failed to follow her quickly enough (if she spoke any English, she did not let on -- unlike Paris, people here are happy to let me try my French out on them, including the saleswoman who willingly repeated words from English in French, so I could learn in-context).
Refreshed, I headed out again. At this point, I was recognizing streets and landmarks. Admittedly, I've only walked around the center of town, but that's still a decent tract of land. Despite swearing never ever again to enter another church evah (too many duomos in Italy wear you down), I found myself in yet-another-every-city-has-one Notre Dame. *sighs contentedly* There is just something about unadorned, unapologetic Gothic architecture that soothes me. Keep your gilding and your vulgar ornamentation, and give me glorious light streaming in through pointed arches.
I lit a candle for those of my best-beloveds currently in need, as is my tradition. I suspect La Madonna does not care what your faith, so long as you love.
Some more wandering, a little bit of shopping, and at this point I started to feel the effects of walking, and repaired back to my courtyard,
where I worked on the new short story, drank some more of the excellent wine B. presented me with on arrival [I thought I would like Aligoté. I was right], and noshed on the day's goodies (local bread, goat cheese, cured meats, and local grapes) until I felt the urge to go out again.
(one of the great advantages to renting an apartment rather than a hotel room: if I don't feel like going out for a meal, I make my own. Plus, I've already met [and possibly scandalized] the little old lady who lives on the first floor. A hotel makes you a transient. An apartment; you're part of the neighborhood.)
Dijon's not much on the nightlife (unlike Paris, where I found myself staying out until oh-fkcu-late), so I may actually get serious amounts of sleep this trip. That would be a nice change....
------------
As some of you cleverly noted, today is my birthday. Trip-notes to resume at some later point, assuming I'm sober/awake enough to type.
*stares at goose, who stares back. Goose wins. Person backs off*
I'm SO having foie gras tonight....
----------------
As per the will of the hoi-poll-y, herein are some notes, broken down into hopefully manageable day-bites. If you enjoy,feel free to leave a few coins in the begging-bowl...
Saturday I slept in. And I do mean sleep in. Despite resetting my internal clock the day before, I didn't wake up until almost 10am. I blame it on the bed, which is king-sized and very comfortable. Or maybe it was the lack of felines demanding food at 6am? That might have had something to do with it too, yeah.
The first day in a new city is always given over to wandering. No map, no plan, and no panic. You can't get lost if you're not heading somewhere particular, non? I found the open market mainly by walking down a street and there it was. Bought a few foodstuffs for later, once again managing in a mix of French and Italian. Note to self: the hard c in Italian? Not so useful in French, even when it is an Italian word. As a native English speaker, I have no rights to gripe about what one language does to the pronunciation of another.
Proof that travel opens the brain: I saw a woman walking toward me, and something about her triggered a thought about the Vinart world I hadn't considered before, and that cascaded into not only a new scene that needs to be written, but a new and deeper understanding of the world itself. Also, the colors of the locale are solidifying in my brain. You can say "they used such-and-such a material" but until you've seen and touched it, the understanding isn't complete. Hopefully I'll be able to convey some of that when I describe my own settings.
After walking for about three hours, I realized that I needed to eat something. This is the only time I admit to needing a keeper -- my tendency to get caught up in Discovering Things trumps all, until my blood sugar levels clobber me, and I fall over. A galette dijonaise (I have no idea what was actually in it, and don't care -- it was filling and tasty) and espresso put me back to rights, and I was able to hammer out not only clarifications of the thought mentioned above, but also a promised bit for an article on the Luna Myspace page.
The thing I love the most about cafes in Europe, and something I delight to seeing happen more now in NYC, is that there was no rush to move me from my street-side people-watching table, even after my plate was cleared. My waitress was watchful but not overattentive, and patient when my language failed to follow her quickly enough (if she spoke any English, she did not let on -- unlike Paris, people here are happy to let me try my French out on them, including the saleswoman who willingly repeated words from English in French, so I could learn in-context).
Refreshed, I headed out again. At this point, I was recognizing streets and landmarks. Admittedly, I've only walked around the center of town, but that's still a decent tract of land. Despite swearing never ever again to enter another church evah (too many duomos in Italy wear you down), I found myself in yet-another-every-city-has-one Notre Dame. *sighs contentedly* There is just something about unadorned, unapologetic Gothic architecture that soothes me. Keep your gilding and your vulgar ornamentation, and give me glorious light streaming in through pointed arches.
I lit a candle for those of my best-beloveds currently in need, as is my tradition. I suspect La Madonna does not care what your faith, so long as you love.
Some more wandering, a little bit of shopping, and at this point I started to feel the effects of walking, and repaired back to my courtyard,
where I worked on the new short story, drank some more of the excellent wine B. presented me with on arrival [I thought I would like Aligoté. I was right], and noshed on the day's goodies (local bread, goat cheese, cured meats, and local grapes) until I felt the urge to go out again.
(one of the great advantages to renting an apartment rather than a hotel room: if I don't feel like going out for a meal, I make my own. Plus, I've already met [and possibly scandalized] the little old lady who lives on the first floor. A hotel makes you a transient. An apartment; you're part of the neighborhood.)
Dijon's not much on the nightlife (unlike Paris, where I found myself staying out until oh-fkcu-late), so I may actually get serious amounts of sleep this trip. That would be a nice change....
------------
As some of you cleverly noted, today is my birthday. Trip-notes to resume at some later point, assuming I'm sober/awake enough to type.
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no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 04:46 pm (UTC)I'm with you on the apartment rental -- it's more like living like a native than a guest.
Reading your adventures is giving me a raging case of France-envy.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 06:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 07:30 pm (UTC)Happy birthday. Have some feline love.
ETA:Photocasket changed the file name
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:06 pm (UTC)red wine should limit the damage, oui?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:09 pm (UTC)*misses her own kittens*
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:10 pm (UTC)But geese can break your arm with those wings.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-25 09:17 pm (UTC)We should band together and give them damn geese a taste of their own medicine!!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-26 05:04 am (UTC)Cheers and confetti,
Jean Marie