Arles : The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

Arles. 70 km west of Aix-en-Provence. Saturday 11 april, three friends and myself make the trip: we are going to see a bull-fight. Can't wait, it will be so cool. This is the sort of thing you do not see everyday, get ready.We arrive in Arles to a steady rain-fall. This was previewed, jackets, umbrellas, etc. But I mean, nothing stops the bulls from going ; a little mud, no problem, they're used to it.

After a casual jaunt through center-city, voila the coliseum. It is old, it is authentic, this ought to be good. Tickets now in hand, we walk around the city a bit more. We see the Van Gogh cafe, otherwise known as cafe terrace at night



On returning to the coliseum, we find our gate ; a trailer drives past us, smelling distinctly of bulls, this is reality ; but wait, a delay of 1/2 hr due to weather. Well that is odd, but oh well, as long as they take care of business.

Return yet a third time, find our gate again, only to receive the loud speaker : the worst of news : cancelled. The event is cancelled today due to incliment conditions. Merde, this is not possible.

Spirits dashed, we make our way out of there, we walk some more of the city, rain soaking both body and heart. One does not make the day-long occasion here on a rainy day, and nothing more. But that is essentially what is happening.

Oh well, we take a cafe ; the 1230 bus ought to work out, the day is not lost. We try to get the bus where they normally take off, no luck. As this is a special weekend in Arles, they are not here. We ask a traffic-man, who informs us of the Gare Routiere, next to Gare SNCF across town (bus and train stations). Okay, we have 10 mins to get there, but we have to try. On arriving all the way across town, we ask one more time for the station, which we are certain is nearby, but this is a crossroads, caution do not be wrong. The traffic-sir is ignorant, the passer-bys ignorant, but finally we are pointed there. Once there, it is clearly closed. I ask the woman at the train-station, who has no idea, other than the bus is closed. There is only one choice : the original location. We go back and find that the point of depart had been moved, but the postings are found at the new place, not where we ought to have left. Right there, logic in motion. Now 1pm, next bus : 4:40. Terrific. Two cafe hrs later, one under the awning in the rain, and we are on our way, successful day at the bulls.

Chilling, just chilling

I enjoy the fact that I have had work to do lately.
The first portion of my semester was rather sterile academically.
I am a firm proponent in work. He who works not, eats not. Taking it back to Colonial America. Remembering my roots from afar.

The French language is worthwhile. By that I mean it is a good one. Il vaut la peine de l'apprendre. Yesterday, I stood in front of my class for one hour, no less. My only weapon: French. Scary proposition, given my oft-evident ineptitude on that. But the point is, I begin to learn a French habit, downright indispensible: talk, whether or not you have the slightest idea of what you speak. Anyone can be an expert on anything. Quickest step to brilliance? Pretend.

Other than that, I am chilling.