Permettez-moi de vous présenter M. Yves Jamait

Allow me to introduce you to M. Yves Jamait.

(the first part of this video is him introducing his band, skip ahead to minute 5:00 to get to the song)



Lyrics
for "Dimanche"

June 2003 : Release of his first album « De verre en vers »
April 2006 : Release of his 2nd album « Le Coquelicot »

Jamait's website (en français)

My host mother introduced me to him, via his CD "De verre en vers", and have now played it over and over and over again. I hope some of you enjoy it as much as I do.

Ciao!

Le café français

Any traveler, in any French city (town, village...) cannot escape one of the universal French institions: the café.

The French have embraced this caffeine-filled liquid with such fervor that one is unable to throw a stick without hitting at least 17. The actual establishments ressemble their silverscreen imitators fairly well. A handful to a couple dozen little tables, cigarette smoke, a few people in the corners working on the next great novel and des serveurs ready to take your order before you've barely planted your butt in the whicker chair.

For anyone who would like to know, here are some of the possible cafés to be ordered:

1) Un café = the straight-up classic with almost no frills. Either drink up the shot of espresso black or with some of the sugar provided on the side (never, ever worry about being without sugar).

Just remember that even though it is only about the size of a shot, people can take up to an hour nursing this baby, whether over a lively discussion about how the strike is still going on or by their lonesome and thinking about how the strike is still going on.

2) Un café crème= for those who would like to cut down the full strength of a café, order this baby. You get the creme on the side, so that you can add as much, or as little, as you want.

Something to note: if they say crème, they mean crème. Only order one or two daily, if you want to still be able to get into your own pants (Because that's the only French gastronomic indulgence, hah!)

3) Une noisette= a café with a splash of cream. Not a bad choice at all, plus you really sound as if you've been haunting cafés all your life.

***
Those are the main caffeinated beverages to order from, though there are plenty of others depending on how much cream/milk you'd like or the quantity (Scrire, café viennoise...).

Another note: For those used to the 16 + oz coffees, à la Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts, you're in for a shock. Those "normal-sized" coffees are on streroids compared to the tiny tasse of café that you're served here.

Also, there is barely any coffee-to-go done here. I haven't seen one person on the métro sipping on a travel mug since I got here, almost 4 months ago. It just isn't done.

***
So, to conclude, here is the formula for the perfect afternoon in a Frence café:

Drink order ready to give + Saying "bonjour" to the serveur(serveuse) + 2 and 1/2 hours to kill + (thoughts about the on/off again strike x blank journal to contain your chef d'oeuvre) = an authentic, truely enjoyable experience

***

And, in case the underlying theme was missed, the students are striking again.



Ciao et bises!

Going, going...not going

Ring, ring...

Whoops, no London this weekend. The our train is out of order due to the grève.

Next month for sure...

Dublin Pictures

You almost have to hunt for them.
If you scroll down to the post entitled "And I'm Spent...", you will find find the jackpot.

***

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, friends and family. Miss you all, and have another slice of turkey for me, since I have two exams today instead of vacation.

(I also miss watching the NY Giants.)

Cheers!

P.S. I tried fiddling with the cartoon to get it to fit, just click on it to get the punchline.

Pictures are finally up!

The thumbdrive was found and the pictures from the weekend in Dublin are up.

***

In other news, classes have started back up after an unforeseen week-long break, only to interupted again by a full- country day of striking tomorrow.

***
Also, the next trip will be this weekend to London.
With a hash lined up on Saturday, this is shaping up to be another good mini-break. Hopefully the transportation goes smoothly. It's not a big deal if it falls through, tickets not used during strikes can be reimboursed. Quel système...

-Bises

Another movie recommendation

De l'autre côté (German title: Auf der anderen Seite)

Directed by Fatih Akin
(German/Turk)

Synopsis (French)

Malgré les réticences de son fils Nejat, Ali, veuf, décide de vivre avec Yeter, une prostituée d'origine turque comme lui. Mais Nejat, jeune prof d'allemand, se prend d'affection pour Yeter lorsqu'il comprend qu'elle envoie son argent à sa fille en Turquie, pour lui payer des études. La mort accidentelle de Yeter éloigne durablement le père de son fils. Nejat se rend à Istanbul dans l'espoir de retrouver la trace d'Ayten, la fille de Yeter. A Hambourg, Ayten sympathise avec Lotte, une étudiante allemande aussitôt séduite par le charme et l'engagement politique de la jeune Turque. Lotte propose même à Ayten de l'héberger chez elle, malgré les réticences de sa mère, Susanne. Arrêtée et placée en détention, Ayten est finalement reconduite à la frontière puis incarcérée en Turquie. Sur un coup de tête, Lotte décide de tout abandonner et de se rendre en Turquie.

***

(English version, my translation)

Despite the reluctance of his son Nejat, Ali, a widower, decides to live with Yeter, a prostiture from Turkey like him. But Nejat, a young professor of German, starts to warm up to Yeter when he finds out that she sends her money to her daughter in Turkey, in order to pay for her studies. The accidental death of Yeter estranges the father from his son. Nejat, than, finds himself in Istanbul with the hope of finding news about Ayten, Yeter's daughter.

In Hambourg, Ayten sympathizes with Lotte, a German student, seduced by the charm and politcal devotion of the young Turk. Lotte even suggests to Ayten to live with her, in spite of the reluctance from her mother, Susanne. However arrested and placed in detention, Ayten is finally expelled from the country and incarcerated in Turkey. On a sudden impluse, Lotte decides to abandon everything and go to Turkey.

The students, they strike

This has been a pretty hectic month for anyone who wants to go to classes regularly or travel by train, bus, metro or plane around the country. Due to reforms presented by the President Nicholas Sarkozy, many unions and labor groups have rallied together in order to strike. Last night (Tuesday, 11/13) at 20h 00, a good portion of the transportation employees walked out.

At my university, there have been a general blocking of all educational and administrative buildings since late last week. During this time period there have been General Assemblies almost every day to discuss the official decision to strike or not. There was a vote on Monday by the students to see if there would be a strike. 60% of those who voted against it. The classes would have been supended indefinately until a compromise could be made.

Since the vote was against the strike, students tried to go to classes on Tuesday morning but a healthy number of zealous supporters, armed with metal pipes and wooden canes, forcibly blocked the buildings. So, the president of the university shut down classes till tomorrow.

***
The main issue: The government would like to start stripping the public universities of their state benefits and create a more privitized system, like that found in the United States.
***

Some links to news coverage on the strikes:

BBC article
French newspaper, Ouest-France
(in French, but you can take a look at the picture to see what a General Assembly looks like.)

And I'm spent

O, the memories.

Here are our Thursday night accomodations. The National Police were right down the hall. Though I suppose that wasn't sleep, maybe a long nap.
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Now here's some good advertising:
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Statue of O'Connell on the main street: ***
Keep up the good work MESSrs Maguire:
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Just try and forget the name of this store:
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Trinity Collage campus
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Dublin Castle
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Whiskey Mecca
***
Whoops, I left my platinium card in my other pair of old, frayed jeans. I normally have no problem spending 50,000€ (73,242.90 USD)for a bottle of whiskey. All I'm saying is that that whiskey better be magical.
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Christ's Church
Site of the first church:
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St. Andrew's Church.
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Oldest pub in Ireland (according to the sign). Let's celebrate with a pint.

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On the way to the Guinness Storehouse, by the Liffey River.

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A Mecca for beer lovers.
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Guinness wishing fountain. I wish I had a never-emptying pint....and also that I didn't smell like airport.

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A Guinness harp.
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Roger that.***
Keisha and I enjoying a long needed Guinness. They make you work for it. We hiked 7 stories for a pint of the dark stuff and the view. Also, the picture was taken by a Scotsman, who turned 18 that day and got a pint on the house. Now that's a birthday.
***
Bird's eye view from the Guinness Storehouse Gravity Bar. ***
Sunset over the Liffey River.
*** Good evening shot of Dublin, complete with statue of O'Connell and the Spire. Apparently the Spire is supposed to represent the New Ireland. For Keisha and I, it was an excellent way to figure out how to get back to are hostel.

"The Dublin Spire is one hundred and twenty metres tall (about 394 feet!), making it by far the tallest structure in Dublin city centre. It is three metres wide at the base and tapers to a 15 centimentre wide beacon at the top. The top section is perforated and lit by small LEDs."


***

Slainte!

Pionta Guinness, le do thoil.

The above phrase is ever useful when you want to make a bartender do a double take. It's also dead useful for getting a pint of the smooth and roasty Guinness to put to your lips.
***

However, getting to the land of shamrocks and James Joyce was a little tricky. But Keisha (my travel buddy for this weekend) and I had the excitement of the trip to keep us going. And if it were always easy, it wouldn't be fun (and no one would get to hear any interesting stories).
***

To start off, we were supposed to leave Rennes late Thursday afternoon and spend the night in Nantes (south of Rennes by 2 hours on the train), but this didn't happen. Turns out that the stricking students moved their protest from the university to the train lines, blocking all trains for coming and going for 2 - 2 1/2 hours. I'm sure I don't have to describe the mood of the stranded passengers in the packed station.

In order to keep it short and you, my dear blog reader, interested; here are the Cliffnotes version:

1. Arrived in the transfer station before the conductor of the train. Another delay.
2. Arrived in Nantes to late to take the AirTram.
3. Walked about an hour to the end of the city and hailed a cap. Saved about 15 euros, but got awkwardedly propositioned by the cabbie. No tip for him and went straight into the airport where the National Police were.
4. Spent the night in the airport. The National Police guys were keepinga watch over us. 3 hours of sleep. Didn't need alarm clock due to baggage carausel starting up at 5 a.m.
5. Arrive in Dublin at 11h, smelling like airport and ready to go.
***

Friday was a great day, with the help of many cups of coffee (only a few of them Irish). Turns out that Keisha has a friend living in Dublin, who also in enrolled at Trinity College. So for the rest of the day Keisha, Courtney and I were off wandering the city. We received a personalized tour of Trinity College, saw Dublin Castle, and went to Jameson & Son Whiskey Distillery (mmmm...it's so good once it hits your lips.). At the distillery, we had the distinct pleasure of watching 6 other members of the tour group take 6 shots of whiskey at the end. I hope they ate something beforehand. No one wants to babysit a sloppy drunk at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.

Friday night was just as good. After resting our feet a little bit, Keisha and I went off to find The Stag's Head, where I bought her her first pint of Guinness. We met a couple of nice Irish guys, Emmitt and Henry; who were shocked by the "traditional music" that was being played. So we all took a field trip to the truely Irish pub, Cobblestones. They were right about the music, we could've stayed there all night if it hadn't been standing room only.
***
Saturday was for exploring and finding the Guinness Storehouse (it was found). I, also, purchased a 100% Irish wool sweater and hat and had some Irish stew and soda bread. (I don't think it could be possible to be more tourist-y that day.)

And later on that night, we found a great bar with a dance floor. No great mystery about what we did. Saw some crazy dance moves (including, but not limited to, the lawnmower, the shopping cart, and the back wash). This is where we met some overly-friendly Hungarians. That was our cue: Exit, stage right...
***

Sunday was all travel with no sleeping in airports, no propositions, and more stuff on our backs than when we entered the country. It felt so good to sleep in my own bed that night and to finally shower off the last of the airport carpet smell.

Slainte! Cheers! Santé!

(Since this post was long enough, text-wise, the photos will go up in the next one.)

Off on a whirlwind adventure!

Dublin or bust!

Un goût de chez moi

(a taste from my home)
Tonight was my first time in the kitchen on this side of the Atlantic and it was met with clean plates and no leftovers. ("Much success!")

To combat the homesickness that has been coming and going this past week, I decided that I would try and work my way through the French supermarket, Champion, and make the classic baked mac & cheese. This meal is one of my favorites that my mom would make on those cold autumn or winter nights, so it felt good to be reminded of it (think Proust with his madeleines).

There was a need for a substitution. I couldn't find any heavy cream, or any milk products aside from butter and cheese. So I used lait ribot, which is one-of-a-kind. It's a fermented milk that tastes like liquid sour cream. No joke. And some people drink this by the half liter. ("[Lait ribot] was a bad choice.") As for its addition to the mac & cheese, it worked out just fine.

I'm now the proud inventor of Breton mac & cheese. And thank you for the understanding in reference to the movie quotes.

Ciao et bises!