The mountains of Soraluze

A friend of mine from French class, Jon, (pronounced more like Yon than the American name John) invited me to see some of the mountains near his hometown this weekend and so this AM we went for a lovely long and chilly hike near his small town of "origin" near Éibar, called Soraluze. The natural park where we started was called Karakate and on a clear day you could see to the sea and to the southern region. Just the drive up was quite the mountain drive, and it wasn't too steep an incline of a hike, but a lovely walk. We trudged through mud and snow a bit, making my Camino de Santiago training more effective.
The funny little objects are mailboxes that sports societies/clubs used to use for a sort of game. I found them quite comical and so took pictures of the several at each of the mountain peaks. Jon has great patience for speaking Spanish with me and I learned that "mancho" means calm or kind of lazy, it's the opposite of savage. We had seen some horses that were just grazing on the mountain side, that were "mancho". Jon had told me that a gentleman who owns horses regularly has to go looking for them because they wander too much in the mountains. It was a pleasant inside view of Basque life, some good Castellaño practice and amazingly I ran into some students that I knew up on the mountain. Despite being on top of the world, there were people I knew, which is a really pleasant thing being in Eibar and a smaller town. Off to coffee with some friends¡

Marzo, Primavera and new beginnings

So the first of the month I moved to an apartment with two Frenchmen from the residence. One is Basque-French, Bixente, and the other is French from Nice, Steeve. The apartment is right next to the Official Language School, in downtown Eibar, and I have been quite content. I like having my own space and being so close to downtown, I can enjoy the Spanish paseo, or afternoon stroll and feel a little closer to Spanish life. I didn’t go out much from the residence because of such a walk to get to downtown to take a walk.

I have also started an English conversation group on Friday afternoons and have started attending a Pilates class at the gym. I love the class, and the teacher, Nerea, is fabulous. I can strengthen my core, posture, balance and Spanish all in one. I am still thoroughly enjoying my French class and go out for coffee usually every week with some of my French-class mates. Although I am living with two Frenchies, we mostly just speak in Castellaño, but I employ their aid each week for my homework.

The first day we got the keys for the apartment, we walked up to the apartment with the land-lady to look over details and how certain things worked. The first thing we tried, the hot water was not working. We played a bit and with different buttons in various places in the kitchen and under the sink, but to no avail. Bixente and Irene left to look for an “albañil” maybe? Or someone to help and came back with a gentleman. He as well did not know how to get it to work, Steeve, the other Frenchman, suggested maybe we didn’t have gas. So after playing a bit, Irene, our elderly land-lady said that hopefully tomorrow someone could come and fix the water-heater and if we needed to shower we could do so at her house. After they left, one of the roomies thought he found the solution and as we pushed buttons and played with gadgets, he turned a switch on a tube. We could start to hear a slight hiss noise of movement and then suddenly, water was spraying out under the water heater, (which is located above the counter) onto the microwave and all over the counter. I was thinking in English, but said, “La microondas” and Bixente and STeeve were talking about needing to turn the water off under the sink and the switch under the water-heater. Within a moment the water was not spraying out and we had rescued the microwave soon enough that it was fine, no water-damage. We mopped up half a bucket of water off the floor and water still seeped a bit out under the counter until the next AM. I was cracking up laughing, but I don’t think the other two thought it was as funny. After work, Marcello and Camille helped me move my things into the apartment and told the Frenchmen to look after me.
While arranging our things, the boys offered me what room I wanted first, but I thought that wasn’t very fair because I am going to be here the shortest time. We played rock, paper, scissors and I won and picked the room with the biggest closet. The boys also gave me my choice of bathroom, which I took the smaller of the two playing eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I think that is at least fair they get the bigger bathroom, sharing and all. So I am in the company of gentlemen and loving being able to cook. I have bought some basic groceries and things and some candles for decoration. I made Mexican style soup and peanut-thai soba noodles and some salads. I feel much better in Eibar in my own place. I have more time to be in-town and experience the Spanish life a bit more and to do things during the day that I couldn’t before because I was at the lunch-cafeteria.

The night after we moved in, Bixente came out of his room in his boxer briefs, but was walking like a chicken pulling them down and I had the hardest time not laughing but taking him seriously talking about some things he had bought for the kitchen. I mentioned this to a Basque friend that I saw on the street and she said it is quite normal to be in underwear when you share an apartment. I won’t be doing that but I will get over seeing the guys. Although after Steeve and I’s comments, I don’t know if Bixente will cat-walk the patterned boxer briefs down the hall again. When he came out of his room, I said, “Que pijamas” and Steeve uttered something to him in French. But I still can’t help but laugh when I think about it.

The photos are from a lovely hike near Eibar, but sadly I hadn't noticed a spot on my lens until I uploaded the pictures to my computer. Birgitte, the Austrian language assistant at the school in Eibar stayed over for a weekend, and we went out to see Eibar from above. She lives in Bilbao, but came to the theatre with us Friday evening and then out for a drink at a pub in Eibar. She and I made French toast Saturday AM, which Steeve told me really is French, but is called Pain Perdue, and usually takes advantage of old bread. He even said it tasted like Pain Perdue. Birgitte and I then hiked Monte Urko on the side of Eibar, which took us two hours to climb and just under one to descend. It was great weather and we even saw a few eagles at the top. We were incredibly wiped out and incredibly sore the next day but it was really enjoyable and hopefully will help prep me for Camino de Santiago. We could see all of the surrounding areas and distant mountains and I picked a few other places I would like to climb to.
I am loving having my own kitchen, eating as I please and feeling at home where I am. It was really nice to have Birgitte here for the weekend, as she is a pleasant person and we made some delicious hearty breakfasts.

At the new apartment there is a bar just facing us in front of my bedroom window and one Sunday afternoon there was a group of men singing. It was beautiful music but I am not sure what the occasion was. The son of the landlady who used to live here told me it is a bar, but “sociedad” which sort of means private club-cooking bar, but I asked him then if we couldn’t go, normally the gastronomic societies here are open by invitation only. He told me, “No, it is a bar” and that I should go in and find out. “Just go in” he encouraged me. I have yet to "enter" though.

Lyon, France

I got into Lyon, visited the tourist office and found the hostel with the help of a man on the street, the bus-driver, and a random worker at the metro station who told me he would see me soon in Los Angeles. I told him to have a good day. The hostel was a great location. The first picture is the view out of my hostel window. The hostel was located a small hike up on the hill in Vieux Lyon, had granola for breakfast and clean rooms. I met some other Americans there from Washington, WSU, to be exact who graduated last year too. The Spanish expression is the world is a handkerchief, so it’s a small world. I visited the textile museum and the gentleman who sold me my ticket gave me a free ticket to the extra exhibits because I am a textile student. They were really great, one about gloves in the modern world and the other about modern and technological textiles in design and art. The museum gentleman was very kind and kind of cute, he gave me the tickets with a wink and explained to me in French that I could go to the exhibits. I half understood, but the body language helped. I think I enjoyed the exhibits all the much more because someone thought it important enough for me to go to them that he gave me a free ticket. I didn't realize he had given to them for me for free at first because it was all in French, but afterwards I wanted to thank him and he wasn't there. Thank you random French people!

I walked around a lot and enjoyed some shopping. I finally found a striped shirt. It isn’t navy and white, but black and white but still serves as a fabulous stereotypical French souvenir. I met some people at my hostel, rode around on public transport to see the city a bit, visited the House of the “Canuts” which I believe can be translated as silk-workers or silk-weavers. I had a tour of the jacquard loom and a short lecture about the silk-cultivation brought over by priests to Lyon, silk’s first birthplace in Europe, it was illegally imported from the East. The tour was all in French however, so I didn’t even understand anything about the worker’s revolution that I had gone on the tour to find out about. I bought a silk scarf that was actually made in France not in China, is that actually fitting?, and was given a silk cocoon as a souvenir for the tour. I had asked if the tour would be in English, because at the tourist office they had mentioned that it would be. I walked around, and did a lot of window-shopping. I bought some cheese at the market on the street that had mildew growing on it. The hostel receptionist said it was good to eat. The inside was good, but the skin was too strong and not very pleasing. Some “sympa” French girls that I talked to told me it was okay to eat the skin, but wouldn’t taste good. It was just best not too. Lyon in all was a pleasant place to visit and I had a great placed hostel. If anyone ever goes, I would recommend going on a traboules tour, a tour of alleys in-between buildings and in blocks, somewhat non-secretive secret corridors if you didn’t know to look for them. The tourist office had a map with red lines highlighting them, so I went in search of some myself. It was quite fun, but I didn’t find them all. Some of them you just kind of happen to come upon them if you follow the crowds though. I liked the people in Lyon too. It merits a day or two in a site-seeing tour. If you like museums there are plenty to see and they do have a museum-pass with a student discount.

The other photos are of one of the traboules, or alleyways, one of a poster in the Silk-Weavers' House, the higher Basilique in Old Lyon, and the Hotel de Ville. Lovely place with lots of photo opportunities.

Aix-les-Baines et beaucoup fromageries

After my long weekend in Switzerland I stopped by Aix-les-Baines in France on my way to Lyon. The first day I went to a French movie. I at least understood the storyline and picked up a few expressions. After the movie I went back to the hostel and talked to the receptionist about hiking nearby. I met my roommate, Nadage, who was “trés sympa” at my hostel. She chauffeured me on a tour of the region’s cheese-shops. We visited trois fromageries in one day and went for a short hike looking out over the Massif Central, I believe. Aix-les-Baines is the in Savoie region and there are some beautiful mountains as well as a gorgeous lake right there. I spent the day enjoying cheese and the sun and was speaking with Nadage in English and in French. I am sure I learned a lot of French that day and worked on my fluency. That sounds funny to say because I really just have a few months of French lessons, but have had some great tutors along the way. She was from Bretagne or Brittany and was in-town for an interview but had a free day in-between. She had to collect some good cheeses to bring home because she said that this region really had better cheese than Brittany so she was bringing some to her parents. She really was a sweetheart and I felt so fortunate to have met her. Nadage even drove me to the train station the next day before her interview, after an eventful night of the wind blowing open a window.

It was an ideal day visiting fromageries (cheese-shops), one even had a tour/museum on the cheese making process, and a hike in the mountains as well as a short walk through Aix-les-Baines. The hike was at the top of a skiing slope and there was a beautiful look-out point onto Aix-les-Baines below. At the hostel before leaving the next day I had a conversation with the director about my view of my country; he had asked. It was quite challenging in French to explain so that will be my French homework for the next week. They were really welcoming and fun people and if anyone is traveling in France, in that region, I would recommend the hostel. Hosteling International proved a more helpful company than Hostelworld.com because I couldn’t find anything in that region on Hostelworld and very few things even in Lyon. For Hosteling International, you have to initially buy a 15 euro membership card that lasts for a year, but I was very happy with the two hostels I stayed in. The maximum amount of people in one room was 6, at least in the two I stayed in. Breakfasts were included at both places and they both had a good atmosphere.

Geneva, Switzerland

We got into Geneva after a late night and then got to Nicole’s house. I got up the next day and poorly communicated with the Madame that Nicole lives with. We spoke French and English and she told Nicole later that I was from Canada. I thought I had said I was from the U.S. near Canada. That was the start of my French, but by the end of the week I was doing better. I saw the U.N. in Geneva and embarrassing was given money by an older man, when I just meant to ask for change, not to be given money. I almost started crying because I thought it was so nice and I was having a hard time communicating. It was kind of funny. I was at the bus stop and didn’t have change to buy a day ticket, so I thought I would get on and buy one after getting change but there was a ticket control right there, so I tried to ask him if I could buy a ticket from him and he just told me that it wasn’t a good excuse to not have change to not buy a ticket. So then I went to a museum that was closed and then to a pastry shop to ask for change and finally got change, but then went back to the machine and didn’t have the right change and I didn’t want to pay ten francs for a seven franc day ticket. So then I asked a man who got off the bus if he had change and he asked me in English what I needed. I signed and said, “Oh good, you speak English” and then he just gave me money and hurried off. I think I was stunned for a moment and then he was gone. I didn’t need two dollars I just needed change, but I was so thankful for that man’s kind act. So after that I visited the U.N. and enjoyed a quick tour. The Human Rights Delegation was meeting the day I visited and there was a demonstration in the U.N. plaza about the Islamic Republic of Iran. I met up with Nicole afterwards and we visited the cathedral and the world’s longest bench. Nicole is an inspiration, a grad student on a Rotary scholarship with a variety of activities. I enjoyed some interesting discussion with her on some international issues and also just girl-topics about life. We played knee-size checkers, which I think they call tic-tac or tric-trac, in the park with all the male senior-citizens. We went second-hand thrift store shopping, which was fun after not seeing any in Spain for ages.
Geneva is quite expensive despite the dollar and franc being relatively equivalent, but we went ice-skating for two francs a person, and it was Fauston’s treat. He is fun and charming close friend of Nicole’s.
We also went for a lake cruise which was quite economical because we took the water taxi and could use a bus ticket. We made raclette (I can’t remember the spelling) but it is a cheese you melt over potatoes and it was quite delicious as well.

I of course got a fair amount of chocolate tasting. I will further the Swiss stereotype of fabulous chocolate and announce on my blog that it is some of the best.
Overall, Geneva was a bit expensive so far as food is concerned, but there were ways to entertain ourselves economically and it was refreshing to be in such a big, international and excited place.
Thank you Nicole for such a wonderful long weekend!

A Swiss Alps weekend

Switzerland was fabulous. Nicole met me in Geneva after my night train from Hendaye or the Spanish-French border and we headed up to Lausanne and visited the Olympic Museum for Vancouvers inauguration. We met some used-ski equipment artists, practiced bob-sledding, bizarrely some some local art from the Vancouver region (being on the other side of the world and seeing things from home at a museum felt ironic for me), and got pins for our curling competition with some young children. After a picnic in Lausanne we headed up to meet Desiree in Evionnaz, which was a small town in the Swiss Alps. We couch-surfed their attic which was adorable and had the most lovely Swiss dinner of fondue and good bread. Nicole worked hard on her bread brading skills thanks to M. Lauper who was a character and shared his antique car collection with us. It made me miss home. Desiree, Nicole and I went "sledging" or sledding the next day on a seven kilometer sledge run. We rode the ski-lift up the mountain and enjoyed a scenic 7 km run down. I ran into the side netting on several curves and entertained some onlookers but mostly it was incredible scenery that sledging allows for better than skiing, at least with my level of skiing and always falling. We were really warmly welcomed by Desiree and her family and felt so fortunate for the authentic experience in the Swiss mountains for a weekend. After sledging, Nicole and I stopped by the spa, or thermal baths, before going back to Geneva. It just so happened to be Valentine's day and you might imagine the spa was packed full of couples. It was a lovely spa though and are favorite place was the female turkish bath, which was an herbal hot steam room. After spa-ing, we put back on all our luggage and hauled a half an hour to the train station. It was entertaining.
The second picture above was the view from the bathroom on the top of the mountains. We took the MontBlanc express from Martigny up the mountain but I can't remember the name of the slope. It was great.
Also it was Carnaval weekend. While Nicole and I were waiting to take the bus to the baths from the train station, some men came and asked her something. She said, "Pardon?" and then he threw confetti in her face. We both ended up covered in confetti that we even brought some with us (even after being at the spa) to Geneva.

Plus du Paris

These are some more pics from Paris.

Above, see a sleeper couchette train. I shared a compartment with all women which was fortunate. It wasn't a bad experience. I only woke up a few times rolling to the edge on a stop. I had a few dreams that I was talking to the people in my cabin and then I woke up very confused thinking that we had to move at the next train station, but everyone was sleeping.

On the right, from the inside of the Musee Carnavalet. It was warm, smelled of sweet wood, and was crowded with furniture and things. Sadly it was partly closing because I got in a little late, but enjoyed browsing a few of the rooms.

The others are all taken in Montmarte. I am not sure on that spelling... But this is where Emilie was filmed.

The video below is taken by the Louvre. I wished Alli and Mary could see it, so I took a small video. The quality isn't great, but here's an idea.