Me Sing French One Day

Since I've been working on the ukulele for quite awhile now it's about time I drop my first single. Unfortunately without my lovely lyricists, original verses are hard to come by. 

So I stole this from Edith Piaf.

Scrappy

As a new year starts it seems more clear that my previous one is leaving me behind. This continuous locomotive is pushing and trudging and pretty soon, before I know it it'll be time for me to get off of the B.A. Express. I can't help but hope that everything has mattered though, that my life and the lives of those I've crashed into are somehow shifted: by school, by work, by life and by love.

Because no vehicle of thought leaves a crash sight without a bit of leftover scrap metal underneath their skin.

My time in France is still a mystery; how that portion of time will affect me as my final year of organizing folders and writing on college ruled paper approaches and passes me by remains unclear. But I guess I'm ready?!

La France, tu me manques un peu.

Je Te Dirais 'A La Prochaine', Montpellier

Chère Ma Petite Montpellier,
These last ten months have been amazing with...

The dirty nights at St. Roch Church...

Surprising beauty...

The markets...

Tunisian treats...

And the best of friends...

Now my next part of my adventure sends me WWOOFing at a goat farm in the north of France.
Merci pour tout, a corner of my heart shall always be found here.
Love,
Rebecca

The Smells That Will Linger

They say that smell holds the strongest key to memory. That being said, Montpellier will be difficult to forget. As my time in Montpellier is winding down I find myself nostalgically walking through its windy streets and alleyways. Walking with friends at night and walking with my groceries during the day I stumble across scents fragrant and foul. Here I've compiled a list of the daily things I've been smelling for the last 10 months.
- coffee
- the stink before rain, rain and the refreshing after-rain
- pain au chocolat and bakeries
- poop, pee, sewer, garbage and exhaust
- Frenchy body odor
- chrysanthemum, hydrangea and sperm trees
- curry and garlic
- l'herbe qui n'est pas de qualité
- "the oaky afterbirth of wine" - Michael Scott
- salty beach air and the swamp
- people smoking cigarettes outside of bars, restaurants, classes and the health clinic
- lavender laundry

Pasta Primavera

 

Post-beach, if you boil pasta in red wine, add tomato, onion, garlic, lots of basil and friends; you get a Montpellier Family Dinner.

No Class, Friday Sass

Cancelled Class = studying + trip to Musée Fabre + wine with friends + weird-oh play

And perhaps the life of an aristocratic elderly man.

One can pretend.

Look at this f*ckin' ...

HIPSTER

Montpellier, the dirty way

Pas de cours? Pas de soucis. On s'amuse, quand même.

Karnaval and the Klown

Montpellier came out to play for Karnaval 2012 on Tuesday night.

About five years ago the city cancelled the parade of crazies due to rowdiness. Since then, the rebellious hippy youth of Montpellier has organized a colorful counterculture celebration mixed with anarchist sentiments and silly costumes.

We followed a loud drum circle as well as a shredded fabric minstrel through the tiny streets and into the squares around the downtown area.

 Emma with the ever infamous Hugo : ex-anarchist clown

Fierce make-up for a fierce Sarah 

The Ascent of the Wolf

It's been on my list of things-to-do ever since I knew it existed. Pic St. Loup is the highest point in the south of France and a steep hike to a glorious view.

Kip, Julien and I set out in the morning in search of a lush picnic at the top of this peak. Some winding roads, wrong turns and false trailheads we found our challenge. At 658 meters it's not quite the San Francisco Peaks but nonetheless impressionante throughout the Languedoc and Montpellier region.

Although the car rental was expensive and none-short of hidden fees, the views were priceless. The vista was rich with the Mediterranean coastline and the small vineyards that wind around its base.

There's nothing like a sunny landscape and a day in nature to reheat the winter in preparation for spring.

 Only in France is there a church at the summit...

How To Burn Fossil Fuels

1. Pick a gorgeous area in which you'd like to be driven around in; such as the South of France.

 

2. Pack nice weather, necessary supplies, snacks and friends

3. Frolic in the nature

4. Trespass on the private property

5. Stay in a culturally relevant hotel (or just take a picture of one)

6. Buy the local products (boats, mussels, etc.)

7. Take artsy photos to be hopefully used in future independent travel magazines

8. Appreciate what wildlife there might be.

9. Enjoy!

Beaches Be Deserted

Le Mafia et Le Makroud

This is where the Lebanese Montpellier Mafia operates. It's a small corner store equipped with vegetables and fruits. It's next to a hip bar where I've spent a few nights dancing.

Before knowing this, I bought my clementines from the jolly round man quite often. He even offered unknowing-me a job (which was probably prostitution/drug smuggling). We even talked American politics. Well, he more like talked vicariously through me to Obama about his anti-semitic plans for Congress.

And yes; yes this does all occur in my favorite neighborhood, Figuerolles.

Figuerolles is considered 'the rough part of town'. It's bustling with mostly North African and Arabic immigrants, bazaars stuffed with canned and fresh goods and real life. Highly concentrated with attractive student-aged-peoples, Montpellier misses that 'vie quotidienne' or sense of daily life. Figuerolles has become my remedy for grounding; trekking out there reminds me of truth and that the world isn't a perfect sphere. I love searching through the veggies, barely understanding the market conductors in their accented French and dodging dangerous driving.

I also love these puppies, a Makroud Figue. An all-too-sweet pastry imported from Maghreb. I've found my favorite little shop where they know me as the American and we talk about the differences between here and there. 

Figuerolles has been necessary for when I forget what life's about. It puts me back in the real world. I'm lucky to have this rundown and vibrant quartier.

Luigi, why are you the bee's knees in a jelly jar?

Under the stresses of life it is easy to forget how lucky you are. There are so many church steps to be sat on, so many lovely people to share bad jokes with and classy Prohibition man drinks to try.

Bee's Knees

2 oz whiskey

.5 oz lemon juice

.5 oz honey

credit : all photos taken by Sarah Varca