This is a picture of the church in Duclair. And the clouds of Normandy. The clouds here are beautiful.
Today is my last full day at the MJC in Duclair, I think. I have three more weeks in France. A lot of the internship has been...well, not what I expected. "Expected" namely being that I expected to have a defined role--ie something to do. Even so, there is a lot to look back on and it has been a good experience.
The plan the MJC people came up with to occupy me for the next three weeks is the next week off (except Wednesday evening, which is an apero and a barbeque), then for two weeks I am going to participate in a sculpture workshop. I don't really want to participate in a sculpture workshop. I don't know why I have such a bad attitude about it. It really will be interesting, I imagine. And how could I participate and not learn things?
Last night, the mother of Jennifer's host family, Caroline, showed us how to make crepes. While we were making them, Caroline talked about how she thinks it's important to travel. She spent two and a half months in Boston when she was twenty-two. Her son is that age now, and is looking at starting a job. She thinks it's too soon for him to settle down like that.
The family is doing some work on their garage, and they found a German rifle from WWII hidden in the wall. A few weeks ago, a woman who used to live in the house visited them. There were Germans in the house and in surrounding houses during the war, and the woman thinks it was her father that hid the when they left.
Wednseday night, Christine Rolland, the internship coordinator, had Jennifer and I to dinner. There, much of the conversation was on the horror of the newer laws that prevent restaurants preparing their own sauces (must be prepackaged) and that the milk in cheese had to be pasturied. Christine and her husband insisted that it was to boister industry at the detriment of small business and flavor. Personally, I've had a few I'm-going-to-die-of-food-poisioning moments. Well, I exagerate. But things like how leftovers are often left on the stove rather than in the fridge. Food service people take money and prepare food without gloves or soap in between, and food items are often stored at room temperature here, too. There was a barbeque a few weeks ago at the MJC, and the raw sausages came strait out of a plastic grocery sack. So I think restaurants not being able to prepare their own mayo (doesn't mayo have raw egg?) has more of a reason behind it that to insult the taste buds.
1 comment:
I just found out I can comment on here using my gmail account! I didn't even realize it until I saw the little note on blogger - yay!
Anyways, I know exactly what you mean about the whole "what the crap? That milk... it's not in the refrigerator. They're trying to KILL ME with their spoiled FOOD. RUN!"
Ok, not that dramatic, but yeah. I was really confused about their food handling.
I hope your experience has been a good one at the MJC! Not what you expected though?
I think your friend Caroline is right - traveling is so important. Not just for recreational purposes of course. I remember feeling like I had been hit in the face when I was in France, and even moreso in Germany, Austria, Hungary, and the Czech Republic where I hadn't a clue how to communicate with the locals. It forced me to reevaluate quite a few of my assumptions about culture and society in fact.
I know you're probably having a ball in France, but I cannot WAIT until the Harry and the Potters concert in August! And Peter Bjorn and John! You must come to both. Must.
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