blackbird to nest
at last i am able to break radio silence - a week of no reporting due
primarily to alcohol induced inability to use a keyboard. currently
writing on a 1998 french keyboard that requires one to press the shift
button to use a fullstop (like a semicolon is more frequented?!), so
this post won't be much more than a covert update
currently under deep cover in a french household (that of joris the
poitiers flatmate) in his home town of forbach: somewhere near metz
and strasbourg. needless to say spent a week drinking with liam in
poitiers; the cute town that i will most probably never see again but
for some freak visit in the future. liam himself is only there for
another 2 teary weeks and then will go home via the UK after a
magnificent year (i am sure) perfecting his very fluent grasp on the
language. not to mention claiming ownership of the "most drunk man in
poitiers ever" title several times. one of which was on his birthday
last saturday.
aside to liam (please avert eyes all other readers): mate thanks for
your generosity and kindness in allowing me the priviledge of your bed
on my birthday; and i am indebted for the softness of your carpet which did
wonders for my back.
so i am at this point headed in the general direction of the man known
as zoltan (aka steve hunyor) in leuven, belgium. originally planned to
take the train from good ol' poitiers but struck some luck and have
found myself on a birthday roadtrip alongside my previous and only
other roadtrip companions: vien and joris. just to fill you in they are
actually flatmates of liam in poitiers and thus, believe it or not, it
is more strange that we hung out in scotland than this adventure. but
the unplanned-ness of my accompiament on the 8hr drive to strasbourg
was both unusual and fortunate because, as the only other manual
driver, joris didn't have to face the french roads alone.
gruelling conditions threatened our adventure but the storm of heavy
rain and non-indicating speeding french drivers was braved and we made
it into gorgeous/fairytale strasbourg without incident and in time for
a dangerously good meal of crepe's and cider for joris' birthday.
strasbourg itself is not what i expected at all; sporting a canal
system and gingerbread-house-esque buildings. not to mention bars that
have beer lists the length of minature bibles. we also chanced upon
the strasbourg christmas fair, being the first weekend of the month
and all, and thus wandered the streets all day today marvelling at
endless stalls of christmas decoration, local specialities (including
hot mulled wine), and nativity scenes. best of all we were shown
around by a childhood friend of joris; the sweet and tres french
julie, who was even so kind as to give us her whole appartment to sleep
while she went to her friends place. as it happened i ended up on the floor
(again) but deep cover agents such as myself must do these things.
so i am now writing from joris' home town of forbach which is at this point
very dark but the inside of his lovely house is warm and, being joris'
actual birthday today, his mother put on a massive fondue and wine
feast which has more than contented us weary travellers. my minimal
french comprehension has been at work this last week and for all
intensive purposes, given the context, i am surviving quite suitably.
of course the aide of simone, vien and anglaise liz is helpful but
more often than not it's pure french and much guesswork on my behalf.
has convinced me once again and for all to get my act together with my
italian which will be a focus upon my return.
to metz tomorrow and then will somehow rendezvouz avec the zoltan
blackbird out
primarily to alcohol induced inability to use a keyboard. currently
writing on a 1998 french keyboard that requires one to press the shift
button to use a fullstop (like a semicolon is more frequented?!), so
this post won't be much more than a covert update
currently under deep cover in a french household (that of joris the
poitiers flatmate) in his home town of forbach: somewhere near metz
and strasbourg. needless to say spent a week drinking with liam in
poitiers; the cute town that i will most probably never see again but
for some freak visit in the future. liam himself is only there for
another 2 teary weeks and then will go home via the UK after a
magnificent year (i am sure) perfecting his very fluent grasp on the
language. not to mention claiming ownership of the "most drunk man in
poitiers ever" title several times. one of which was on his birthday
last saturday.
aside to liam (please avert eyes all other readers): mate thanks for
your generosity and kindness in allowing me the priviledge of your bed
on my birthday; and i am indebted for the softness of your carpet which did
wonders for my back.
so i am at this point headed in the general direction of the man known
as zoltan (aka steve hunyor) in leuven, belgium. originally planned to
take the train from good ol' poitiers but struck some luck and have
found myself on a birthday roadtrip alongside my previous and only
other roadtrip companions: vien and joris. just to fill you in they are
actually flatmates of liam in poitiers and thus, believe it or not, it
is more strange that we hung out in scotland than this adventure. but
the unplanned-ness of my accompiament on the 8hr drive to strasbourg
was both unusual and fortunate because, as the only other manual
driver, joris didn't have to face the french roads alone.
gruelling conditions threatened our adventure but the storm of heavy
rain and non-indicating speeding french drivers was braved and we made
it into gorgeous/fairytale strasbourg without incident and in time for
a dangerously good meal of crepe's and cider for joris' birthday.
strasbourg itself is not what i expected at all; sporting a canal
system and gingerbread-house-esque buildings. not to mention bars that
have beer lists the length of minature bibles. we also chanced upon
the strasbourg christmas fair, being the first weekend of the month
and all, and thus wandered the streets all day today marvelling at
endless stalls of christmas decoration, local specialities (including
hot mulled wine), and nativity scenes. best of all we were shown
around by a childhood friend of joris; the sweet and tres french
julie, who was even so kind as to give us her whole appartment to sleep
while she went to her friends place. as it happened i ended up on the floor
(again) but deep cover agents such as myself must do these things.
so i am now writing from joris' home town of forbach which is at this point
very dark but the inside of his lovely house is warm and, being joris'
actual birthday today, his mother put on a massive fondue and wine
feast which has more than contented us weary travellers. my minimal
french comprehension has been at work this last week and for all
intensive purposes, given the context, i am surviving quite suitably.
of course the aide of simone, vien and anglaise liz is helpful but
more often than not it's pure french and much guesswork on my behalf.
has convinced me once again and for all to get my act together with my
italian which will be a focus upon my return.
to metz tomorrow and then will somehow rendezvouz avec the zoltan
blackbird out
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