claquer les doigts: snap your fingers
These past few weeks I've found myself in a strange new quarter of my Niçois experience. If my calculations are correct, I seem to have stumbled into an alternate universe inhabited almost exclusively by Canadians. And you know what? It's not half bad. (Before you get your panties in a bunch, yes, I still speak French a lot. Zheesh.)
They've taken me under their proverbial wing of maple syrup and good sportsmanship, and I feel like I can just be myself. Whatever that is. And I'm pretty sure they think I'm super weird since I name my plants and can reference archipelagos in everyday conversation. But I think it's a good kind of weird.
I've also been a wee bit sick these past few days with a cold and then a bout of dehydration and now some everlasting allergy-induced sniffles. But I'm getting better I think.
So here's a brief exposé of all the things I've done these past few days. They are few and far between, but they are varied.
#1: Trivia Night
Last Thursday, I went out with Emily to an Irish pub by the port for the weekly trivia night. We met up with some friends there, and, though we arrived late and unfortunately missed round 1, our little team still came out #15 out of 45.
That'll do, pig. That'll do.
That'll do, pig. That'll do.
I beasted the movie round. But like Seinfeld I usually "break even," and this time was no different. But, honestly, I didn't expect the music round to play music I listen to anyway. I'm just not mainstream enough. Eh, you win some, you lose some.
#2: Marché en plein air
On Saturday, I invited Steph and Nikita to the outdoor food and flower market in the morning since neither of them had ever been, even after living in Nice for nearly 7 months! It was a B-E-A-utiful day outside, so we grabbed some fresh fruit, and headed to the beach for a picnic (pique-nique) with their friend Chas. It was truly a glorious day. We ate and basked in the sun like lizards for a few hours, tanning our faces and arms, as we were still wearing people clothes. (I made another pass at peeling a grapefruit, but tired halfway through eating it.)
|I'd venture to guess this is not how Nikita expected to wake up.|
If you know me even a little bit, you'll know I adore the mountains. Not really the beach. Why I'm in Nice I have no idea. But much to my pleasant surprise, the mountains are literally RIGHT next door!
And what you also probably know about me is that I'm really not a sporty person. But, friends, I can ski. Unfortunately, apparently I'm a little afraid of heights, so I'll chalk up my refusal to attend the trip down the black diamond to this phobia and nothing else.
I've only actually ever been skiing once before in my life, almost 4 years ago exactly. But it was as if I'd never left. Apparently skiing is a lot like riding a bike, but down an icy cold frictionless surface with no brakes and also no bike.
"We should bundle up. Surely it will be cold."
|Psych! It's not cold at all.|
And don't call me Shirley. . .
About halfway through the day, we had a costume change, a few of us shedding most of our outer "ski" clothes, as the strange combination of the powdery white snow and riviera sunshine manifested itself in a way that significantly confused me.
Like the skiiers that fly . . .
|This looks a lot more serene than it was. I was actually flying|
down the hill uncontrollably, arms flailing, poles flapping,
finally coming to a stop near the bottom using the power of
gravity, friction, and my butt. (cred: Elizabeth)
I took this video post-wipe out. I truly am a force to be reckoned with.
Did you hear that part about me jumping through a hoop? 'Cause that totally happened. Pinky swear.
About an hour before our bus was to depart, we discovered we were on what we assumed was the wrong side of the mountain. So we were forced to do our best to scale the mountain and traverse the blue paths (2nd level, suckers) as fast as we could. Long story short, I pizza wedged it the entire way down.
|Pizza wedge--the skiing equivalent to riding your brakes.|
But it was a great time. Skiing, you should be in my life more often because I love you.
#4: Le Slam
On Wednesday, I went with Emily and some new friends to this little hole-in-the-wall café/pub thing where there was supposed to be a poetry slam. It was so much cooler than I was expecting. Basically it was a cozy little room filled with middle-aged and older artsy French men and women who were laughing and drinking and actually being joyful for once. This was the first time I felt like I had found the place where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came. It was so chill. Anyone could read poetry, their own or a famous piece, a slam or a ballad, a monologue or a story. It was really open-ended.
2 of my friends actually got up and read something. (I didn't have anything prepared. But it happens once a month, and I really want to go back.)
But it is now the weekend. For me, anyway. Actually all my friends back home are gearing up to start their spring breaks, which is nostalgic to say the least. But, I mean, I guess I am already at the beach.
Spring Break 2012, here I come.