Sedona's Board of Tourism

I'm starting to think that my day hikes should be more lucrative...

People Profile, Part 5: Phall

Mary and I have been exploring the aspens changing up on Mt. Humprey's. Mary is my other lady that I hang out with. Quite opposite of home-bound Mildred, I go exploring, get stuck on dirt roads and visit Sedona vortexes with Miss Mary. She has quite a wealth of knowledge about natural healing and every time we get together I learn something new. Hopefully one day I will be as eccentric as her.

Mildred Does the Olympics

Watching the Olympics with my 101 year old client inspires some of the most interesting commentary.

Here is just a tidbit of the funny things she says:

While watching women's volleyball
Mildred: "Are those afros on the American team?"
Me: "Yes, that's team USA"
Mildred: "I don't know..."

While watching women's water polo
"My, those are some big girls and some tiny swimsuits."

While watching men's volleyball
"There's some good looking men on the team. Oh, and then there are some not so good looking ones..."
"He must be Jewish, he's got a big nose and all"

Pretty Pretty Santorini

View of volcano 

Lovely coastlines

The oldest toilet I've ever seen

Red Beach

Renting ATV's and getting lost

Black Beach

Lucky to be Jumping

"I don't know, we're here... Let's do it!"

Perhaps sometimes one should advance despite their better judgement. 

A sea kayaking trip, cliff jumping into the Aegean and dinner with Rob the Australian teacher later the small island Milos treated us extremely well.

La Semaine Vite Fait : A List of Potential Book Titles

Sète

Paris and The Shins ; Sète and the Cabaret ; Beaches, Babe ; Class and Having No Food ; How Studying in Bars Doesn't Work ; The Five Hour Hike ; Biking to the Beach and Getting So Much Sun, Twice ; We Started the Wine at 4 PM ; Friends Sleeping Over With Their Stuff Everywhere ; Walking for Hamburgers ; Forgetting the Camera on the Mountain ; Happy Hour and Pistache.

Sarah's Pistache and His Beer

And now it's April?!?!?!

Championnat National d'Ultimate

 
For a little bit, my life was 3 skipped days of class for a 22 hour road trip to Nantes in order to play a 36 hour French National Championship of Ultimate Frisbee. All that I'm left with is sore legs, memories, some photos of a suspension bridge and a dark video of my teammates rapping.

A scrappy Montpellierian crew left Wednesday afternoon to Nantes in a short bus with high hopes. After our arrival early in the morning, we checked into the hotel for just a little rest. Thursday morning we found ourself in an empty gym standing across from the biggest tools I have ever seen : huge thighs, short shorts and scum-staches. We lost the dirty match. Next team was an engineering school from Strasbourg and perhaps one of the most cordial teams I've ever met. And so the day and Friday went, 'skying' the different cities 25 minute matches at a time.

Overall we got 9th out of 15th; not-too-shabby considering we'd only practiced a total of two months together. France takes their frisbee serious, a concept a little difficult for me to grasp. However, through all the intense strategy talks, opponent evaluation cards and the bureaucratic pomp and circumstance; the true spirit of the silly game of frisbee lives on.

On the road... to the Ultimate Frisbee Championships of France

We (Team Montpellier III) set out on a three hour road trip to Lyon on Thursday to participate in the Ultimate Frisbee Regional Championships. We’re a motley crew of French guys serious about their frisbee, an anglo-man and two anglo-ladies. Lost in translation, yes. But on the volleyball courts (because we play indoors) most of the terms are English spoken with a French accent. Up becomes more like uap and dive is deyiveh. Starting the stall ‘compte … un … deux … ‘ is just part of the extra challenge.

Our next tournament will be in March in Nantes and I think we’ve got quite the chance for a winning weekend.

Allez! Allez! Allez!

There was groping. There was wrestling. There was some running and at one point everyone was suddenly overjoyed.

Sunday morning I awoke at 9 am to walk to the Irish Tavern to watch the Rugby World Championship between New Zealand and France. A friend from frisbee had invited us to join her painted face and cheer for either team. 

Needless to say the crowd was mostly pro-France. They chanted their swears, national anthem and other rallying encouragements. After the one French score, they raised a caged rooster (which I later learned is France’s ‘mascot’) and sang with their beers raised and flung on our heads. Who knew a beer shower in the morning could be so revitalizing. All of a sudden I was getting anxious with the crowd, gritting my teeth when someone was battered and relieved when the All Blacks turned it over. However, I still don’t know the rules of rugby. 

Courir Toujours

 {[Went on an ice cream date on Thursday. He didn’t get ice cream, but a Cola zero. I am not responding to his text messages any longer. You don’t go out and let the lady eat ice cream by herself, boys.]}

This weekend Cassie came from Barcelona to 

A. Visit Montpellier and I

B. Run a marathon, NBD

She’s a champ. 

Once again we found ourselves playing tourist and ‘food crawling’. You know, when you eat at every restaurant of interest, all desserts (Turkish delights) are on limits, super spicy Indian food to your hearts delight, coffee and ice cream. 

The big day was Sunday, so Saturday was spent taking it easy and walking through the botanical gardens of Montpellier. Fall has fallen here. And I like it. We got our swag bags complete with a bottle of wine, shirt, poster, applesauce, etc. 

Sunday came and we rose early to do some French warmup aerobics and get nervous for the course. It went all around Montpellier. I’m pretty sure Cassie saw more of Montpellier than I ever will! We thought we could start together but me being on a relay team was ripped from her and reprimanded and forced to wait 20 minutes while Cassie began her 42 km adventure. Then I started my 6.5 km jaunt. It was cool and I wish I could’ve gone farther before having to pass on the baton to a Couchsurfing teammate. After I hung out with an awkward Parisian boy for a few hours I set out to watch Champ finish. 200 meters before the finish line I saw her turn the corner and I almost cried. We grabbed hands and I could tell she was tired but the crowd was egging her on. “Bravo fille!”. She did awesome and we were able to finish together in la Place de la Comèdie and greeted by flowers and French congratulations. A victory kebab was well deserved. Chicken pox to marathon running, I’m lucky to have such an awesome friend.