little sunbeams

sunshine on my walk in to the ballet

My days are getting fuller, stretching out in some really nice places, little pieces falling more into place.  So while I'm sure there are more political outbursts brewing, today I'd just like to share some vignettes of a day in my life here.

Mornings are settling into a wonderful routine, with bright crisp sunshine and bus drivers who know my smile and will stop my second bus as it's passing so I can dash across the street and save myself half of the 20 minute walk to the studio.  The Seattle girl in me is still trying to make up for the years of sun deprivation, though, so I find myself walking down the middle of the street grinning and wanting to fling my arms out wide to the sun.  Mid-October, and we've had maybe 3 days of rain in the two months I've been here? I can deal with that :)

my new teapot, and "Lets Mots" by Jean-Paul Sartre

The men at my vegetable stand at the market know me enough now to have me help them force their wares on unsuspecting passer-bys (oui oui, the mangos are great!)  and ask about how the dancing is going, when our next performance is.  I went back to the book seller where I'd searched unsuccessfully for Notre Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo last week, and he remembered me and what I'd been looking for.  I picked up Sartre's Les Mots and so we had a quick conversation about Camus and Sartre (I was in way over my head) and I promised to report back as I worked my way through it (I'm sure it will continue to be over my head for a while).  And at long last, the pottery man was back, and I couldn't resist getting a tea pot to match my hand-painted cups.  I'm learning quickly that no matter how much cash I bring with me to the market, I can find ways of spending it all (bring less bring less!).

for chateau quatre bouffons, and their infamous bastard

Errands are getting more and more efficient, I'm finding really lovely comfortable spaces talking to strangers and getting compliments on my French, letting conversations pick up where I'm not at all invested in the outcome, so I can afford to be open to saying what I really think, and to listening to the advice they have to offer me.  Time spent wandering skinny little French streets lined with brick, and sitting at cafés people watching -- little kids being my favorite: some little ones in Halloween costumes tottering by the car that stopped to let them cross with the cutest little "merci monsieur!" you've ever heard in your life from an almost 3 foot tall knight, a wide-eyed "c'est froid!" ("it's cold!") from the little girl sharing orange juice and a croissant with her mother at the table next to me -- reminds me that I'm really here, really living my life in France.  The novelty of that hasn't worn off, and I'm excited about what more I can do to take advantage of being here as my comfort level continues to grow.  I passed this street sign as I was wandering yesterday, and couldn't resist taking a picture for my quatre-bouffons... :)

Evenings at the yoga studio are unfailingly calming and fulfilling, usually with class being followed by lovely conversations with Christine, the teacher, and Julian, my Norwegian dancer-by-day-yogi-by-night friend.  Julian is moving to a new apartment, so we spent Sunday with a few other dancers hauling the first load of stuff over (the new apartment has 3 huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Garonne River through the trees on the bank, it is possible I'll be moving in with him if he isn't careful) and cooking dinner and watching a movie making fun of the French northerners' strong accents and nasal quacks...  And dinners with the family are increasingly wonderful, Christine (the mum) walked in to Philippe's room the other night to catch us in the middle of a story, me and the three littlest ones piled into Philippe's little twin bed under the covers.  Tonight actually, Philippe spent a while talking just to me for the first time, (though he's always been good at just crawling into my lap when we don't have enough chair space) telling me about the comic strip they read in English class about a Jack-in-the-box and "who are you?" as a question they learned.  Super precious.  Isaure showed me her little lunchbox-sized suitcase of "Il était une fois..." stories -- once upon a time -- and I got to tell her about how I was a bird in the ballet version of Hansel and Gretel, eating up the bread crumbs.  There isn't a whole lot better than a warm cuddly little body curled up next to you reading bed time stories...

In other incredibly exciting news, my Dad's coming next week, for a week and a half, to see La Reine Morte and me, and Toulouse.  I can't wait to get to have him here, and to have a partner in crime to explore even more.  Oh, and for the next two weeks we're rehearsing and performing in the theatre, so when I say that I'm going in to work, this is what it looks like :) -->>