Breather?

Whew. Blogging nearly every day is exhausting. But I don't want to write about my voyages in Europe from the United States; that seems like cheating.

Speaking of which, the countdown's at eight days. That's within the ten-day forecast (and looking like rain; typical travel day).

Chronologically, this blog is now liable to recount two timelines simultaneously for a bit. My thoughts from today, my actions from last week.

So, last week: I spent the whole week blogging.
Not really.
Last Monday, my gym classes ended. So, observations on those:

Salsa:

In case you were wondering, Salsa translates into French as Salsa. Woo.

Je fais de la Salsa - I dance Salsa.

 

This course had some ridiculous number of students at the outset, in the environs of one hundred I think. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but it's also possible that I'm underestimating; I don't know.

It had about twenty the last day. Granted Monday was optional, but in any case...

We learned a handful of salsa maneuvers, but we had a very rigid order we were supposed to perform them in during the class. On the other hand, the instructrice deplored us to be less rigid as we danced as militarily as possible.

What I'll always remember from this course:

• Chevalier - the lead 
• Chevalière - the follow
• Trying to hear the subtleties in pronunciation difference of the above
• The ridiculous number of female Chevaliers sans Chevalière
• Tac Tac Tac - French nonsense word marking completed actions
• Un pas en avance/recule - A step forward/back
• Cross-Body (Tour) - Cross-body (turn)
• Les Caresses, Le "Shine" - More moves
• The long walk from IEFEE (Institut d'Etudes Françaises pour Etudiants Etrangers) 
• Dancing to the same Spanish song every week with Sarah Kay

Basketball

Cours Mirabeau, as car-free as it will ever be.

And here's a surprise: Basketball translates as basketball. Wonder what language that comes from.
Je joue au basket -
I play basketball.

I had this 90 minute course each Monday immediately after my 90 minutes of Salsa.

In an interesting counterpoint to the salsa course, the basketball course was half-filled Monday with people I'd never seen before trying to make up the classes they'd missed for other levels (I played competition level).

What I'll always remember from this course:

• Airball - Airball (Don't worry, it wasn't chanted at me)
• Faute - Foul
• Coude - Elbow (Learned after somebody elbowed me hard on the nose and tried to call me for a foul)
• Partout - Literally means throughout. Six partout - six all
• Arguing about who would win the NBA title this year. I said the Thunder. We shall see
• Watching an alley-oop dunk among two mecs (guys). Impressive for amateurs, but it wasn't against my team
• Being challenged to a one-on-one by someone who was clearly looking for someone bad to practice against and absolutely dominating him. He gave up down about 20-0 or so
• A friendly, very good German kid (Tom) who I saw at the airport when picking up my mom, where he made sure that I was coming the final day. I'm pretty sure he would have blackmailed me or something if I'd refused. Anyway, he didn't show
• Eating large 3€ dinners in Café Les Gazelles and then returning to my homestay to eat a second dinner
• Meeting random Irish people during said dinners
• The really long walk home from my 3 hours of weekly sports - 40 minutes

It's a good thing I did these sports; it's about all that kept me fit other than walking while here.

But now it's finals week. I had a comprehension final today, which I didn't understand.

The Fountain. They were right, it is beautiful in Spring.

So I guess I'm thankful that as long as I pass (i.e. get a 9 out of 20), I pass at Pitt, and it doesn't affect my GPA. But I'm not too worried in any case, as it appears no one in my class did well. I hope French culture doesn't permit teachers to fail everybody...

And on the note of French culture: I don't like the beggars here. They just seem lazy to me; they're frequently well-dressed to the extent of having nicer clothes than I, they often eat and seeing them smoke isn't too unusual. I even saw one who had clearly bought food from the local, fairly expensive pasta shop with a cupful of money. I'm sure there are some who honestly need help, but they're difficult to find amongst the rogues.

I forgot to mention the avian gladiator fights I witnessed in Rome. While at the Colosseum, I looked up and saw two pigeons exchanging blows. One would give the other a strong smack across the beak with the heft of his wing, and the other would retaliate in kind. The were both perched precariously, and several times nearly fell from the wall. Whenever either made an attempt to flee, he was pursued and the battle reengaged. I stood transfixed for several minutes, but when it became clear that there could be no victor in the comedic affair, I moved on.