When I Was French

Between the now successful move to a new host, busy days at the fishtank complete with overtime (easy thing for the part time king), and the arrival of my love – my powerbook g4, I haven’t been blogging properly. Take one of these and call me in the mornin, I should be telling you. I’ll get to the thank you’s and the Powerbook Porno shots tomorrow, today I wanted to tell you bout how my present and my past are linked.

One of the French fishes at the tank decided for all my hard work and all the bla bla bla I have to endure from international students, I deserved to have dinner cooked for me. And she decided she’d do the cooking, and baking I might add! And so I made the trek to that suburb that -I vow- I will never live in. because it’s just NOT Amsterdam when its that far away, and sat down to a meal full of reminiscing.

This because she’s from Marseille, and I studied just outside that city, in Aix-en-Provence, Southern France. But that was a whole 5 years ago, back when every weekend you’d find BM in a different country and I was heartbroken about some feminina back in Jersey. Aix was a ritzy city with cushy programs for foreigners like myself. School shacked me up with a lovely yet quirky madame, probably because we were both veggies or because I myself am quirky.

But I digress, this is about my meal and the conversations about Marseille. We talked and talked. I still remember the street names and the different neighborhoods, 5 years and I still know what goes on all around the Vieux Port. She spoke of the towns we used to invade for the day; St. Tropez, Cassis, and even the poshy-posh Cannes. Some of my memories of those places have spilled over into each other. St. Paul de Vence tastes alot like Grasse. Antibes smells like St. Tropez. Sloppy memory, making a mess.

She had even cooked a few familiar dishes, a very provincial salad, a gateaux, and that cheesebread that I forget the name of. For shame, I’m forgetting names. But one thing for sure, I’m not forgetting that dark city. The mountains of Couscous, the fleet of ships, the Gateway where France meets the wondrous realms of North Africa and the Middle East. Snobs in Aix used to say “Marseille, ce n’est pas la France.” Ah non? I used to respond, well that not-France city over there, overflowing with culture and history, I absolutely love it!

I also met the Mindcaster today. More proof that if you get along online, you’ll have just as many laughs and things to talk about in real life. More on those great conversations in the next podcast.

Today’s Sounds: If I lean in close, I still cant hear I peep from the New Powerbook