8-29-09
Hello world! I'm currently typing this blog entry into a .txt document on my train from
Bordeaux to Saint Jean De Luz.

I'm sorry for the lack of updates on, it's not so much that I was busy, (on the contrary, I had a lot of free time in Flaine) but just too lazy to write an entry.

The past week was a bit more interesting than the first week. For starters, Miguel took the viola class on a hiking trip through the Alps. I think that was the turning point in terms of my social life in Flaine, because it was on that trip that I started talking to my fellow violists, of whom a good number spoke fluent English and were very helpful with my French. It should also be noted that at around this point in the hiking trip, my camera battery ran out and for some reason it cannot be recharged despite the adapter saying that it's compatible with the voltage. So unfortunately, I have no pictures of the past week.

After the hiking trip there were about five concerts over the course of the week, and after every one I would go to the local bar with my colleagues (and newfound friends) for a beer or a glass of wine. By the way, I'm 21 now, in case you haven't noticed. Happened sometime over the summer. I might've posted this earlier, but French people love to smoke. In the U.S., or at least in California, there's always this certain character archetype of people who smoke (i.e. thugs at a bar, hoochies at the club, etc) but in France, it's such a natural part of the culture to just step outside with someone and have a smoke. For those wondering so far, no, I didn't smoke, but I have been the recipient of a lot of second hand smoke for the past two weeks. I think if anybody was in France in general, they would get a lot of second hand smoke.

I was a participant of two of the aforementioned concerts, one of which was the viola class concert and the second being the chamber music. For the viola concert I played two movements of the Brahms Sonata in F Minor, Op. 120a. Considering I started learning it about seven days prior, I would have to say it wasn't half bad. For my chamber concert I played the a piano quartet by Joaquin Turina, a Spanish composer from the early 1900's. And boy, was that a nightmare. It wasn't so much the difficulty of the music, not at all, but in the personalities of my fellow quartet members. There were constant arguments between our violinist and cellist, while our pianist, who was super nice, and I, who doesn't understand French at all, would just timidly sit there in silence. The biggest argument was about an hour before the concert, and we almost didn't play until we were informed by our chamber coach that we were required to perform. The whole experience made me learn of the difficulties involved with chamber music, and the professionalism required to be able to play your absolute best despite whatever circumstances you're in. Case in point: My teacher, Richard, has tours internationally all the time during the school year. Despite that, he'll take the time out to fly back to Los Angeles (and they're usually 16 hour flights since he's usually in Korea or Europe), teach us for the entire day, and then fly back to give another concert, and the general audience will could have never known. It's things like that that draw the line between good, and great. In any case, it was a lesson well-learned for me.

The end of the Flaine festival was signified by a great deal of packing and very little sleep. This morning, I woke up at 6 am, hopped on the bus that would take us to the train station at 7, and boarded my train that would take me to Paris Gare Lyon at 9:48. Afterwards, I hopped onto the Parisian metro. I took the A line from Gare Lyon to Châtelet, switched to the 4 line down to Paris Montparnasse, and made it just in time for my 2:10 train to Bordeaux. The Parisian metro system is very similar to New York, and is actually really easy to navigate once you understand one of them. I feel like I know how to get around New York and Paris better than San Francisco, which is kind of sad. Something interesting that I noticed is that in the French train stations, their announcements of preceded by a little chime of notes. Usually in American airports and the like, the chime is a major triad, like C E G or something to that nature. But in French train stations, it's this very sinister C minor 6th chime (C G Ab, go play C E G and then C G Ab to see what I mean). Sure gets your attention though, even if you don't understand a word of the announcement.

There's an old traveler's adage that goes something like "pack whatever you think
you need, and then take half of it." This is VERY true. Hauling a heavy suitcase (it must've been like 50 pounds at least, I don't even know what I packed) up and down the stair ways of French train and metro stations, along with your viola and backpack which contains your computer, is very, very, tiresome.

Anyway, this whole time I'm absolutely starving, and I'm also out of Euros. Word of advice to future travellers, TRAVELER'S CHECKS ARE WORTHLESS. NOBODY ACCEPTS THEM, EXCEPT FOR THE CITY CENTER THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TIME TO GO TO. Get your euros, pesos, NT, yen, whatever from the bank in advance. I have about 1600 euros worth of traveler's checks that nobody will take. By the way, please don't tell anybody in Europe that, I don't want to get mugged.

During my hour and a half layover in Bordeaux, I decided to walk around the city just outside the station (I was in the Saint Jean neighborhood of Bordeaux, which is obviously why the station is called Bordeaux Saint Jean; this is not to be confused with the actual city of Saint Jean de Luz, the French like to recycle their names apparently, like Paris Gare Lyon). Saint Jean is a neighborhood that is apparently heavily populated with Arabics or Persians, given the number of ethnic restaurants there were. This whole day I've been craving an American hamburger like that of McDonalds, but I resisted and instead went to a little brasserie that served kebab sandwiches, and oh my God it was amazing. The meat was juicy and well-seasoned, and the sandwich was lined with the craziest dijon mustard I had ever tasted. It tasted more like wasabi than it did of mustard because of how concentrated the horseradish flavor was. The sandwich even brought me to tears (not because of how good it was, although it was good) but because of the kick the horseradish brought to my face.

And that brings this update to the present. Me, in a very comfortable first class chair on a train, typing this entry onto a text document. Trains are so much more pleasant than planes, there's no crazed security line where you take off your shoes belts guns, no chance of losing your luggage since you're with it the whole time, and the large, comfy seats in first class are much cheaper than the tiny seats with no legroom found in the economy class of an airline. Why don't more people take more trains?

I hope everything is well back in the States, and I really miss all two of you loyal readers (actually I have no idea how many people read this.)


8-30-09
Well, I've settled into my new flat in Saint Jean De Luz, and let me tell you, Saint Jean De Luz is absolutely beeautiful. My apartment is about 100 yards from the beach. I wish I had my camera here but alas, it doesn't work at the moment.

So after I arrived in my apartment, I met my new apartmentmates; There's Josh, an American baritone who studies in Germany, Marie, a French pianist from Paris, and Hermine, a cellist from burgundy. Yes, I'm living with two women, and for me the most awkward part is that I want to go number two but I can't because I'm too embarrassed. They're all super nice, and we spent all last night working on our respective languages, English for Marie and Hermine, and French for me and Josh.

The four of us went out to dinner last night on the boardwalk. It's a completely different culture here in Saint Jean De Luz and it's very different even from first glance. Because city is very close to the Spanish border, there's a lot of Basque and Spanish influence in the architecture and the food. For instance, last night the speciality of most of the restaurants was seafood paella, something I hadn't had since my Spain tour. Let me just tell you, that was some intense paella. They literally just fished up the fruit de Mer and the fish like hours before cooking it, it was nuts. Paired with sangrias, good company, and an awesome view of the night beach, I had this feeling of contentment that made me want to stay here forever.

The only downside? I have even less access to internet here; again I'm typing this into a text document. Josh and I were talking about this last night and we sort of realized how addicted to the internet we Americans are; Hermine joked it's probably how French are addicted to smoking. Entire cultures all have their own vices I suppose.