Le jazz

Cultural Lesson # 2: Le jazz français


If anyone is looking for some good French music recommendations, I have some! I haven't been able to stop listening to a few artists recently, and they're so good that I have been trying to find excuses to share them with people. 


The first artist is ZAZ who is described as a pop singer with gypsy jazz influences. Le jazz manouche (or gypsy jazz) was born in the 1930s with group of gypsy musicians called Djanjo. Originally, this music was sans percussion and relied heavily on acoustic guitar and also the violin, clarinet, and accordion. A rhythmic guitar replaced the traditional percussion set-up. Most of her music makes use of traditional percussion, but you can still just feel the influence of the jazz manouche.


ZAZ- Ni oui ni non(2010)

The second artist is Le Comptoir des Fous. This group, self described as swing'n'roll is actually from Montpellier! They remind me a lot of the zydeco music to which I've listened, and I just feel like eating a big bowl of gumbo and dancing on Bourbon Street when I'm listening to them. They should blast this in the Tar Heel locker room to get our boys motivated (Go Heels!).

Le comptoir des fous- Pourquoi s'emmerder



Happy swinging!

Le marchée

I've decided that in addition to my "peur du jour"s I'm going to mix in some cultural lessons for everyone!

 Cultural Lesson #1: French Markets

Today's lesson is (as the title indicates) about French markets (pronounced mar-SHAY). Since I don't drink coffee and try not to blow my budget on French pastries and wine, going to the market is the thing I do that makes me feel the most French. Every Saturday morning I get up early (for a Saturday in France) to go to le marchée des arceux (the market that is under the arches of the aqueduct). Because I live in centre-ville and the market is just outside of the main part of town, I get to observe the activity in Montpellier during my 15 minute walk.

La place de la comédie

I always see something noteworthy while walking through the place de la comédie (the heart of town). This morning I heard a fanfare (I'll probably do a cultural lesson about this later) playing. Other times there will be protests, street performers, and other colorful manifestations of human activity (like the gypsy petting zoo). While walking through le jardin de Peyrou, I'm usually always harangued by someone trying to get me to sign something or give them money. You'd think that, as a university student, I would be used to this and would be skilled at avoiding interaction with these people. However, I've found that people who want something from you are a lot more aggressive in France. One time a gypsie girl saw me from across the park and made a beeline for me. She was only about 10 or 11, so I wasn't too concerned. But as I said "merci" and stuck my hand out like a stop sign (I learned from my Northern friends that this is a very French thing to do), she latched on to my elbow and would not let go. I literally had to shake her off. I felt bad because she was so young, but at the same time, it's definitely NOT okay to physically interact with someone like that...

Jardin de Peyrou (beware of gypsie girls!)

Now to the fun part! The market! I've already talked about the market in Arles (which is the biggest of it's kind in France, or at least in the South of France). Montpellier's Saturday market may be smaller, but it's of no lesser quality! Every time, I wander to the same stand at the opposite end of the market to buy apples and carrots for the week.

Under these arches, the vendors set up their stands!

During this journey, one thing I love to do is close my eyes and guess which stands I'm passing (I can ALWAYS guess the olives). In my head I'm always drafting detailed descriptions (and sometimes even poetry) of what I'm experiencing, so today I decided to stop to note some of the things that I find the most striking. I always marvel at the seas of olives whose scent I drown in, the chickens whose necks and clawed feet still dangle from their bodies and the rabbits whose eyes watch over the passersby, the piles of fresh, crusty bread, miles of fresh cheese pressed with rosemary and thyme, a rainbow of homemade jams, yards of sausage in curled heaps, burlap sacks brimming with dried herbs and spices, hills of lettuce and radishes, apples in every color, crates upon crates of pears and oranges, row after row of strawberry cartons, pyramids of fresh farm eggs, succulent pastries and cakes heaped with chocolate and fruit, a jungle of fresh-cut and potted flowers, canopies of scarves and cloth, and beaches of jewelry that glitter in the sunlight.

And the people are usually just as interesting. There is always the Arab man with his cart selling mint tea, a man playing the ukulele, puppeteers with marionettes, and a number of people soliciting religious and political causes.

Now, markets are a huge cultural thing for a lot of reasons. The first reason being that food is life in France. Meals are less about "nourishing" as we tend to think of them in America and more about "sharing" and "enjoying." I tend a be a I-eat-what-is-put-in-front-of-me type of person. But my host mother always talks about how you shouldn't eat something unless it really brings you pleasure to eat it (I agree to a certain extent, but I don't think she's ever had to eat dining hall food). But in seeing food differently, I think the French take a lot more pride in buying the best ingredients (which of course come from the markets and not the SUPERmarkets). Of course, I know this exists in the US as well (the best corn in the world is sold at the Grayslake farmer's market... yum!), but it's just such a part of mainstream culture here.

Another reason that markets are culturally significant is that they are such a smorgasbord (had to use spell check for that word) of regionally distinct products. I've tried to buy only local products while in France (I figure that I can eat Brazilian bananas in the United States) which is easy to do at the markets. There are all sorts of French,  Mediterranean, and middle eastern (which really is a part of the culture here) specialties. I like to taste the different olives and cookies and breads; I'll even occasionally buy something for lunch from the market (my eye is on the paella for next time!). Not only is each stand brimming with edible cultural manifestations, but also each vendor is brimming with knowledge. When the market's not very busy (which is not often now that le grand froid is over), I love to talk to the vendors about their food! They're so proud of what they do and are always happy to share knowledge with a bright-eyed bushy-tailed American student.

Markets are one thing I'm really going to miss about France!

As Usher would say: these are my confessions

Peur du jour- 22 Mars 2012: Confession

So, I'll just be honest. Confession is something that still kind of causes me to get stressed out. I didn't grow up doing it, which means the first time that I went I was a wreck. I probably gave myself a week of reconnaissance work:
1) I scoped out the church ahead of time to make sure I knew where the confessional was
2) Then I did research online about the dialogue to say.
3) Then I went to a week day mass to observe what others did before and after they went to confession.

I was like Nancy Drew, man.

So since confession is something that I had not decided to do regularly until this past year, I still am a little apprehensive when I go. And never in a million years did I ever think that I'd be confessing in French. From not knowing the script to not ever thinking about that kind of vocabulary to imagining how hard it would be to have a conversation in French in a muffled and dark compartment (having French phone conversations is still a somewhat painful experience), the excuses that I could come up with were as abundant as Abraham's descendents.

But last night at La Source, that's what the theme was-- confession. So I swallowed my uncertainties and went for it. Confession in this context was way more casual than anything I'd ever experienced in the US. First of all, there was no confessional. It was just me sitting with the priest (this may have been because it was a special mass and a special group... but I'm not sure). Also, there was no script. No "forgive me father for I have sinned", no statement of how long it had been since my last time. I asked the Priest how I should start, having explained that I was American and had never confessed in French before, and he told me to be honest and sincere and jump right in.

This experience was totally nothing like I was expecting it to be. I'm also so glad I had the courage to just go for it. And if ever you're a little apprehensive about going to confession, take heart; if I can do it in French, you can do it in English!

Being a teacher is hard

Peur du jour- 19 Mars 2012: Pulling teeth (in the figurative sense)

So sometimes volunteering at lycée Jules Guesde is like pulling teeth. I get the feeling that most of the students are either not terribly confident with their English or they don't really care about the subject. This can sometimes be a little frustrating when what the teacher wants me to do is talk with the students one-on-one about a random topic (There's really only so much you can say about malbouffe and the documentary Super Size Me).

So this Monday, I decided to just talk to the kids about themselves. The whole point is to get them talking with a native speaker, and half of them didn't even pay attention to the documentary anyways (not to mention that I watched it over four years ago, so my recollection is pretty foggy). In this effort, I found out some pretty cool things!

One kid I was talking to kept saying "j'suis nul en anglais" ("I'm no good in English") to which I had to keep saying "That's okay, just give it your best shot. I'm here to help you." I eventually asked him if he had any desire to learn English or if he was just trying to get through the class because it was required. He then told me (en français, malheureusement) about how when he was little, he spoke German, English, and French, but then had some sort of mental block/language overload and couldn't speak at all. His doctor told him (or, rather, his parents, because he was only five) that he had to pick one language, because three was too much for him.

Another kid I met was wearing a bulls hat! I got so excited as I explained that I was from Chicago and that I was a student from the university where Jordan played college ball! He didn't seem to be super jazzed about basketball, but did say that he loves Air Jordans. I also found out that he is from Senegal and plays for the football (read: soccer) team in Sète. We talked about how he balances school with being on the football team and the differences he has noticed between Senegal and France. As a side note, he was wearing Beats, which made me miss the athletes back in Tar-Heel-Land

The world is just full of interesting people, and clearly, the only way you're gonna find out more about them is by asking!

Communion wine is better in France

Peur du jour- 18 Mars 2012: Branching out

It's so easy to get into a routine (well, for me). For me it's so easy to find little excuses to just stick to what I know. But tonight I decided to try a new church (gutsy, I know). A friend that I made last weekend on the retreat lives with the Dominican monks in Montpellier and he said that the mass there is really fantastic. Luckily, it's not too far from where I live and the time more or less worked with my schedule (we eat dinner at 20h00 every night).

So Beth and I ventured to this church to try something new. And it was maybe the best church I've been to in Montpellier. There was an interesting juxtaposition of medieval architecture and contemporary art. The choir was FANTASTIC and the way that the voices just filled the barrel vaulting of the church was truly incredible. Also the wine at communion was out of this world (it is the blood of Christ, after all). I actually have not seen wine at communion since I've been to France and I usually don't even take the wine because I'm such a germaphobe (but my friend jokingly said that the Dominicans have the best communion wine around, so I figured I had to partake).

Also, it the bulletin there were plenty of concerts and lectures advertised which would be really fun to see! This week there is a contemporary organ and saxophone concert with a saxophonist who is apparently renowned in Montpellier. There's also a big choral concert next Sunday.

All in all, it was a very good choice to branch out. Lesson learned.

Flamingos and horses and beaches, oh my!

Peur du jour- 17 Mars 2012: Solo Adventure

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! I'm positive this day means absolutely nothing in France (except for people who just want an excuse to do something festive at an Irish Pub). The past few years I've spent Saint Patrick's day in Chicago, so it's kind of a big change for me to not be walking next to a green river and weaving through the green waves of people who have been drinking since 8 AM.

I decided to celebrate Saint Patrick's day by biking to Palavas-Les-Flots, a little beach town just south of Montpellier. I sprained my foot last week and have had to take a forced hiatus from running, so a nice long bike ride was just what my body had been craving. After packing my lunch and a few calls to some of the girls in my group who were familiar with the Velomagg system, I was ready to go! Vélomagg (vélo = bike, magasin = store) is like Bikeshare in the US. I got the bike for four hours for 1€, which is not bad at all! The bike itself was not very fancy, but it served its purpose. It only had three gears, but it did have a bell (which I could never convince my mom to let me have on my bike)!

My trusty steed

The ride there was really nice. The trail, which follows the river, is in great condition in most sections. I did get a little confused when I had to take a detour which was not super obvious. I was riding along and then came around a blind turn and nearly ran into a barrier announcing construction. Luckily I found the yellow arrows pointing me to Palavas. The detour lead through an area with a bunch of condos, and not a lot of sidewalk space. I was trying to keep my promise to my dad that I would stay off the roads (and away from the crazy Medi drivers), but the narrow sidewalks were not kind to me. At one point I had to choose between a thorn bush and a street sign and in my inability to make a decision, I ran into both. Graceful. But I kept my promise, dad! Suffice it to say, I was happy to find the bike trail again. Throughout the rest of the ride, I saw a lot of horses (and even made friends with a few of them!). 

This guy walked right up to me when I made my horse-clicking noises, but wanted nothing to do with the carrots I brought especially for him!

Where the Lez River meets the Mediterranean Sea, it feeds into many marshes and bogs. It was very similar to the Camargue region that I saw when I visisted Arles and Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. This type of terrain is, of course, abundant with wildlife. In addition to seeing a lot of herons and cranes, I even saw some wild flamingos!

Not something that I see everyday!

Flamingos in flight!

I finally made it to the beach and basically had it to myself. My host mother told me that she loves to go to the beach in May and June, but avoids it at all costs in July and August because that's when the "Northerners" come. She complains about how the Parisians fill the beach just like they fill the metro and leave no personal space for anyone. I can't wait to come back to the beach when it gets a little warmer to lay out in the sun and treat myself to some ice cream from one of the dozens of glaceries I saw!

Just me, my vélomagg, and la mer méditerrané

Pas de souci (No Worries!)

Peur du jour: 14 Mars 2012: Inquiry

So for my class at UPV that nearly always flabbergasts me, we found out that we have our final paper due very shortly. Like in two weeks (the professor may move it back because the French students were NOT happy).

Luckily it is a partner project, so Jason and I will work on it together. All the same, we have been kind of agitated with the situation because the professor never seems to be very helpful when we ask him about what the requirements are. We had kind of settled on a topic and were going to start brainstorming about what the paper would be investigating when Jason just decided to go ask the professor (again) what the deal was exactly.

So glad he did that. I guess the billionth time is a charm and this time the professor finally understood that we were American students in a final-semester French class. This means that we aren't being pushed out into the real world like the other French students (either for more schooling or for a job which relates to this subject matter). This also means that French is not our first language, and maybe it would be a little unrealistic to expect us to craft something on the same level as the other students who have been doing it for years.

So he told us how to do the assignment in a way that works better for our strengths. Essentially we will be creating a dossier that does explore a topic, but also that is a portfolio of our research (which means we can have lots of graphs and primary-source documents.) He also said that he would be evaluating us while keeping in mind our status as American study-abroad students.

Relief.