High Contrast Grey.

After dinner we take the metro back home and as we come out of the Kennedy station we hear African drumming. For the past few days tents have been set up next to the metro station, but none of us are quite sure as to why. During the day they seem to have booths set up to talk about growing plants in the urban center, and other things just seeming to talk about what can be done in an urban center to better it. There as well seem to be presentations for children as seas of children appear before the stage from time to time as I pass through the area. One of those odd little nuances it seems. Coming home from dinner and running into some African drumming on the street. Why not? Its France.

Carousel at sunset. I went out to dinner last night with the other Americans from Carolina. Pizza and spaghetti sitdown joint. Because we were a group of five we were placed in the backroom next to the refridgerator. I made a joke about us all being too ugly to be allowed to sit up front. I got weird looks as a response to the joke. I got a vegetarian pizza with mushrooms, green peppers, and eggplant. And a shot glass half filled with pastis and one quickly melting round ice cube. It had a beautiful soft green color to it. I have heard it called an old man drink, but like usual I like the flavor of licorice (or anise seed in this case).

I think this was my first time actually walking on a red carpet and not just some cheap rug that happens to be red and someone is calling a red carpet.

So not all of yesterday was a bust. Before the drunken bloody Rue de la soif escapade happened I went by the mayor’s house for a speech to the study abroad students welcoming them to the city. The interior of the building was absolutely gorgeous, although this was to be expected since the exterior is as well gorgeous. The building had quite the age though and if one were to look closely they would see faided colors and old scratches, but still looking closely one would as well notice that the wallpaper was not wallpaper but a design (a symbol on the flag for the region) painted meticulously by hand from chair rail to ceiling.

I am so done with going out to the bars in a group. The 20 year old americans all ‘pregamed’ it too much that once they made it downtown they were already too drunk to figure out which bar they were going to. Then the Russian girl who came along, and attached herself to me, was even more drunk than them and ended up cutting her hand on some broken glass and the night turned into trying to get her home so we could bandage her hand, but her being too drunk to realize what was going on. So she became angry with me because I wouldn’t let go of her hand because I was keeping it above her heart and applying pressure because it just kept bleeding, but she still just thought it was a scratch. The whole night was a clusterfuck of a disaster.

Hanging out in my tiny apartment in France. This tickle in the back of my throat seems to be getting worse. But the motivation to go to the Carrefour and get soups and whatnot is not exactly there.. Thankfully I am done with classes until Monday.

My first homemade meal since arriving in France. Noodles with red sauce, of course. I don’t have a cutting board, or a knife other than my new pocket knife, so the process of making this was rather slow and hazardous, as I try not to cut my thumb while slicing. Thankfully I didn’t but making the sauce took forever because I only have one item for the stove and it is a pot and not a pan.. Regardless, I have finally made a meal and will not have to rely on food that can be microwaved or sandwiches.

I am going to have to give a presentation on Sartre in december for my French lit class so I went by the Sainte Anne metro stop to check out the books for sale on the street. I had already spent most of my afternoon in the tea house next to the drawbridge painting so by the time I arrived most of the book sellers were either gone or packing up. Except for one who had two tables haphazardly strewn with books and cardboard torn and placed upright in the middle with permenent marker writing saying that all books are only 1 euro. Being late in the afternoon (actually it was already evening) most of the books had already been picked through, but I still found two. Although they don’t seem to do much for me content wise, they are definitely attractive enough to try and figure out how to use them in an art project. The man selling the books kept coming over to me to tell me little things about the books I was looking at. He had the smell of cheap beer on his breath. After buying the b

My first tea cup and teapot bought in France. The tea cup and its saucer don’t match exactly, but it was 2 euros, and both are from France with a similar design… And the tea pot well… I have been jealous of my friend Charlotte’s awesome elephant tea pot for years now and I saw this and just fell in love with it. Even if it is a bit more kitsch than any of my other teapots. I asked the woman who was selling it if it was from France, she said probably and then reassured the ‘yes it is french [or, ‘oui, ce faisait en france’]’ when I asked about the sticker on the side signifying that I is from a shop in La Rochelle. So, the antique market was the same thing that I had seen the night before and wasn’t much more like I had hoped, but there was another market a little ways off that after meeting Esha at the antique market we headed over to. After hours of walking all over and down street after street, there is no way we saw it all. Esha found what seemed to be most of the things s

I returned to the market this morning, although I read the internets wrong and thought that the market opened back up at 8h. In reality it opened at 10h, so I wandered the streets for two hours and since it was a Sunday and nothing in France was open, except for a few bakeries that I walk by in the chill morning air. I bought some pastry with apples that I had never heard of before. I used this purchase to break a larger bill in preparation for the market. Instead of euro coins I was given a small handfull of 50 centimes. I saw the bartender from the ‘crazy’ Breton bar [I walked by it to find out the real name; Distribil]. He smiled and said ‘salut.’ I think he lives in the bar and was going out for his morning shopping. I felt as though I was in a dance with the street sweeper. The Rue de la Soif was a mine field of broken glass and discarded plastic cups. I’m still not sure if all the red drips I see on the ground are blood or not… The drips that then smeared onto the sto

I showed up to the flea market as they were setting up to see if I could find any great deals, on things that I am in need of. Two handpainted (which seems to be the regional thing and less of the fine porcelaine like Limoges like I suspected) plates and one dinner fork and one tea spoon where what I found while they were setting up. I have found that the French like to stamp their silverware on the front near the handle, but I am now having to learn all over again what any of the stamps mean. Maybe I will find a book. Now all I need is some pots and pans and I will be able to start making food that I use my new plates and silverware for. I will admit that the old girlscout fork, spoon, knife camping set has been nice and useful, but it will be nice to move on to things that are a bit more proportionate than things that were originally intended for little girls.

[soundcloud]https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/2629257[/soundcloud] http://assets.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/10310447606/tumblr_lrnwhfUrCZ1qa6icr&color=FFFFFF&logo=soundcloud Sitting in a wicker chair covered in pillows (none of the chairs and tables match) in a café for only tea next to the drawbridge in the middle of town, music plays over the tiny radio by the counter. The ceiling sags. [The building is probably older than any building I have been in in the States.] The walls have pictures, mostly of women. Some nude, some old pictures. Two older ladies are cleaning up in the back as I am the only customer. [I theorize that they are an old lesbian couple.] They take their leave after eatting some salads to sit at the table just outside and next to the door to smoke and continue their conversation. All I can see of them is through the door one of their hands hanging down with a cigarette. The radio anouncer says something in Fre

Sitting at a café I watch the carousel workers remove the metal grating and tarp that was put on for the night. Children and parents gather to get on and watch, some bring chairs. The song Nantes by Beirut chimes its opening note through the old cracking speakers and the carousel begins to turn. The first rides of the day begin. Parfait.

I went by the market this morning to get a few item for making food. Garlic now hangs from my window latch. The decor is sparse, but that will change. [Hopefully there will be some cheap pots and pans at the flea market tomorrow. Until then I got some avacados, so french bread and avacados will have to do.] These beautiful overcast days have been perfect..

The same ‘crazy’ Breton café/bar. The walls have all kinds of interesting little pictures on them and the only theme that I could find between any of them is that of cats dressed in people clothing looking depressed at bars. I kind of wish I could find my own copy of this Lenin poster.

A day without tea is a day with me not being able to function properly. I have still yet to find the perfect little old, cheap, tea cup, or a means of boiling water to make my own tea, but this was the first time I got a nice cup (bowl) of Earl Grey. From this point I could say that my residence began in this town. I’ve never quite caught the name of this café/bar, but the owner told me that the name is the word ‘crazy’ in the local language of Breton.

My assignment for my architecture class is that the class is extremely independent and that I don’t need to worry about such things as assignments. I have taken this to mean that I should build up a collection of photography and sketches of architecture in Rennes. I guess the class meeting times will be filled with discussions, although I am not too sure what this will mean. I need to return to this spot again though to capture the giant wall mural by Blu. First time I don’t have my camera when I come across it. Second time I thought that I had blocked the sun with my hand from leaving a spot on the picture, but when looking at it on the computer screen a small one had made it though, right to the center. This photo is my cliché contrast of old and new architecture.

http://assets.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/10273461097/tumblr_lrm46eqSFC1qa6icr&color=FFFFFF Josephine Baker - Avec The music that has been my playlist to walking the French streets.

The view my from apartment window. 7h00 The first few days of being in France all my modern technology failed me and I was left with only my watch from the early 1900s to help me with telling the time. [France doesn’t seem to have a concept of placing wall clocks in almost every room like the States do.] So my alarm clock became the stress of knowing that I couldn’t sleep in and that I would have to make sure that I kept my watch wound, for fear of it stopping and not knowing of a means of setting it. This in turn resulted in me experiencing the city at hours that not many people would be out. Bakers prepairing their shop. Garbage left out on the street from the night before. The area near the university where I am housed has garnished the name from the other american students of, ‘the projects’ due to the modern architecture and the immigrants that we see in the area. The graffiti that exists in this area though is gorgeous. Murals that seem like they would have been com

Since I have arrived my exploring nature has led me to many parts of the city, but when looking at a map I have barely experienced any of it. I leave my maps of the city back in my room and let my feet take me where they will. To find the parc du Thabor I saw a giant sculpture upon the top of a church of the virgin Mary holding the baby Christ and just walked until I got there to find this massive park. Fountains, statues, gardens, a carousel, an icecream shop, aviary… it just goes on and every corner seems to hide another treasure.

I’m in France. Namely the town of Rennes in the Britany region. I’m not quite sure what to say about this place. The task of even starting the documenting of it on here was daunting with just how much there is everywhere that I would like to comment on, to share and express. The city is gorgeous, with different sections seeming to represent completely different eras, but yet allowing all the different sections to bleed into one another.