I am back home in Provence after my French class and the most exciting thing I’ve done since I’ve been here is pull weeds and plant my vegetable garden so I’m going to post some postings that I’ve had saved up for a while.

I was supposed to meet a friend-Lisa of www.theboldsoul.com-at the Picasso Museum. I don’t know why but when I saw the P of Picasso in her email, I read Pompidou so when she called asking where I was I finally figured out that I was in the wrong place. As it turned out neither place was open due to the strikes that day and they aren’t that far apart from each other. Anyway, while waiting for Lisa I took a few photos of the exterior of the Pompidou. It’s such a strange building in my eyes, all inside out, but I guess it’s interesting. It can be very lively in the area but it was quiet when I was there.

The clear tubes are the escalators. If you go to the top, there is a splendid view and a restaurant called George.

I guess these are for ventilation. There are eight of them outside.

Some exterior modern art.

Well, Dear Diary, I did it. I finished four weeks at the Institut de Francais. I remember now that an instructor said that by the last week we would be dragging, on our last legs, and I didn’t believe him at the time but I do now. I keep wishing I had stopped at three weeks. All of my bad French has returned when I have to use it extemporaneously. My verbs are all wrong and I forget to use common French words and phrases. I don’t know why that is-brain overload, my old brain rebelling. Sometimes, I just want to throw in the towel and revert back to my English, especially with Maurice, but I’m going to try and hang in there. I’m hoping Maurice will be tough with me too and not let me use English with him.
We students are all chipping in to get a good bottle of champagne for our teacher, Cecile. I hope she is here the last day as she has been having some back pain and I can tell she is in pain as she sits there or stands and listens to us, mainly me, massacre her language. Mostly, she is encouraging and fun but she must be a little disappointed when we say something wrong after she has been over it many times and we have practiced it over and over.

I think most of the students in my class have had a very positive experience. I had hoped to be much more fluent myself when the class is over. I’m not sure how that is going to come about. Use it or lose it, mostly, I’m sure, and just keep plugging along. Most of the French people I know and spend the most time with, speak very good English and will let me just speak English with them. I’m going to try and force myself to stay in French with them which I know will be painful for them, not to mention me.

The last day we took tests, written and spoken, to track our progress or improvement. There was an actual improvement from the test I took the first day. That’s good to knowAt least it’s over.) The last day we had a little party with champagne and each student was given their “diploma”. It turned out that a few students, one from each class, got the most improved type of rating and one girl got the best of all. I met her, a very nice young girl originally from Serbia, now living in London but taking a 3 month long sabatical to live in Paris.

I do know one thing–I will miss that spectacular view. I loved looking out at the bay and seeing a big cruise ship anchored there with little boats taking passengers back and forth to the shore, or a sail boat setting out early in the morning for a lovely day at sea. I’d love to do that, go exploring along the coast line but I have an unfortunate condition of mal de mer, sea sickness. I also see people rowing those little skifs out into the bay I guess for exercise. What a nice place to live.

Eze is one of those magical places perched on the edge of a hill with breathtaking views of the sea below and bays and other villages on the horizon which happens to be a 10 minute bus ride away from Villefranche. We’ve been there before but I wanted to see it again.

As you climb to the top of the hill, and it is some climb, you pass many windows and doors to enchant.

And many shops along the way to tempt you.

At the very top, along with some of the remains of a chateau, is a garden filled with tropical and dessert plants. It has got to be one of the best view ever. There is a table telling you what you are lolooking at. On a clear day you can see Corsica in the distance.

An agave plant with the ocean far down below.

Dear Diary,
I haven’t written much about my fellow class mates or my teacher. My teacher’s name is Cecile. She is funny and fun and hasn’t once screamed in frustration by our attempts to speak French or the countless times we make the same mistakes. Why she hasn’t thrown in the towel and walked out is a mystery to me.

In our class is a man from Switzerland, the part that speaks German, a woman from Hong Kong who is a lawyer and who works in a bank there, two Australian ladies who are friends in Melbourne, a man from Texas and another from North Carolina, a lady who lives in the States but is from South Africa, a lady from Canada who lives below my apartment, and an Australian from Greece who wants to live in Paris. Everyone is really nice and we have fun in class. There isn’t someone like a guy in the other intermediate class who I think would be very difficult to tolerate-who has all the answers and is just basically very bosy. Everyday our classes are combined and when they split us up into little groups to work on something, I always seem to end up with him. He takes over and listens to very little input from the rest of us. He’s some sort of professor, I think. He may be very nice but I haven’t gotten past that iron like exterior yet.

We are exposed to several other teachers and I enjoy all of them. I think they must be hired not only on their ability to teach but also on their personalities which are fun and patient. The other day we had a class learning some of the vocabulary of cooking and cooking utensils and the teacher made crepes and then we got to eat some. Again, not something you would find in another class not in France.

The food has been very good, something different every day. The chef, Natalie, comes out and helps serve and sort of mingles with all of us and she corrects our French along with the teachers. Sometimes the food isn’t something that is my favorite, such as a country pate and one day we even had, eek, rabbit, which I finally tried. It was ok but I just have trouble eating it but I got past eating foie gras so who knows?
The basic intent for this school is getting us to speak everyday French and we seem to spend a lot of time doing that-which is something I of course need. It’s everday French using the most commonly used words and phrases. Sometimes one of us will say something which is correct but the teacher gives us a better way to say it, in the way that is commonly used by the French. Several of use routinely forget to use the liason, the way of combining two words together as the French are wont to do. I know to do this but when trying to say something outloud in front of the other students I forget to do it just about everytime. We have each had to prepare a ten minute talk about any subject we choose and we can’t have it written down and in front of us but have to try and give it using correct French-both past and present verbs too. Mine, unfortunately, falls on Monday so I have the weekend to worry about it. Luckily I have a built in French speaker here that I can practice with. Since most people are amazed that I not only live in France but give walking tours in Paris, I thought that I would give a talk on that. I’m sure my mind will go blank and I will be throwing out verbs like bullets all over the place, past, present and probably some non existant.

On Mondays Nice has the largest brochante on the Cote d’Azur. You can find a list of the best of the brocantes-flea markets-in this very nice book:

I love this bedside table.

A stuffed bear waiting for someone to love him again.

I think these are for wine.

A nice display of spoons.

Aren’t these colorful?

I love the color in Nice. There really is an Italian feel there.

I think I have only seen shutters like this, that have one section that open outwards, in Nice and in Italy.

When you live in a city in a small apartment, you become very inventive with drying laundry.

I especially love these colors on the front of a church in Nice.

Don’t you just want to go into this alley and explore?

Seen at a news stand in Nice. I think the French find Mrs. Obama very stylish.