Surviving Les Oiseaux One Fine Day at a Time

Springtime has finally visibly arrived. I no longer feel inclined to layer 3 of my old lady cardigans every morning, flowers are in bloom, and insects are beginning to obnoxiously make their presences very known.

I took advantage of the clear blue sky and dormant Mistral to take another walking tour of Avignon. My goal was to find a park I had stumbled upon a couple of days ago. I personally thought it was lost forever to the cobblestone of the city but, much to my surprise, it resurfaced. It was beautiful: bordered by what I can only classify as vines of dangling lilacs (no, I at least know that they were not grapes) and white shuttered, suntanned looking buildings. I did some writing and reading, making sure the French title of my book was clearly displayed. It was a vain attempt to trick others into believing that I was an Avignon native when In reality I had failed to find the huge Rhone river that boarders the city just hours before.

I was having a peaceful afternoon when I made an almost fatal mistake. I began to eat a sandwich. As soon as I peeled back the foil, I was surrounded by a menacing ring of pigeons. I’m more terrified of getting carried off by a gang of fearless birds then of walking anywhere in the city. The situation dissolved into a ruthless staring contest. I was fortunately victorious and so was free to continue stroll through Avignon. I saw a monk, a guy hanging out on a street drinking out of a flask, the miracle of half price store brand Nutella, and four spandex clad police officers dealing with one case of shop lifting at a grocery store. Obviously, my walks are going to be a daily ritual.

Work continues to pile up in all of my classes and I continue my struggle (with the rest of the class) to stay conscious in Society and Culture. I definitely think it’s fascinating and worthwhile to learn about, but when asked to explain aspects of American culture, no one can exactly agree. America, the salad bowl-candy dish-melting pot, is the love child of so many cultures and its citizens are spread over such a vast stretch of land that it’s almost impossible to accurately define Americans as a group. I also lost faith in the class when I realized that we were learning French social standards from a book that was published the year I was born.

But it’s still interesting to learn about, and next week I’ll drink an extra cup of coffee and give it another chance. If I’m learning anything, it’s the value of persistence and a cup of coffee.