My Muse is not a Method Actress

I took an acting class in college.  I don't know what possessed me, or why I thought I'd enjoy it.  I didn't.  The idea of being an actress was a glimmering pool of water enticing me, and I was the cat that plunged in, only to realize milliseconds later, with claws splayed and ears flat against my head, that it wasn't in my nature to be wet.  Life experiences teach us about ourselves.  That semester I learned I have too many inhibitions to stand on a stage and howl at an imaginary moon at the top of my voice, or hop around pretending I'm a rabbit and then morphing into a human who embodies the physical and emotional characteristics of the rabbit.  Method acting, improv, vocalization -- just not in my nature to explore.


Maybe that's why writing is so appealing to me.  I conjure the character in my mind, and explore her through written words.  I read once on a writer's blog that she liked to get up in her writing studio and physically act out the scene she was crafting, capturing a realistic account of her characters' movements and gestures.  Somehow, I can't even picture myself doing that.  Not from fear of being seen or looking ridiculous.  It just wouldn't feel natural to me.


I prefer to observe people in everyday life.  Always having a notebook handy helps me record what I later use in my writing, but when it isn't polite to spontaneously scribble in public, I store slice-of-life moments in mental files, to be journaled later.


Last week, we adopted a baby kitten -- and yet another opportunity for characterization ideas presented itself.  Getting to know a new pet is surprisingly similar to getting to know a new character.  At first glance, the physical characteristics are noted.  (This kitten looks black, but upon closer examination you see much of her fur is gray with black tips.)  As she becomes more comfortable here and we gain her trust, her true personality begins to shine through.  And, as she is confronted with new challenges (locating her litter box; processing noise from the vacuum cleaner; figuring out what lies beyond the hallway entrance), we see her inner conflicts come into play (she was only a couple weeks old when she was abandoned by her owner, and was later rescued from a drain pipe -- her first instinct when frightened is to hide).


Characters are everywhere, around us and inside us.  To truly capture them is to be a writer.


Here are some pics of Lily-poo, newest princess of our castle:

Too cute for words!

Ooh, scary claws!

Take me to your leader.

Have you ever been inspired for a character by a pet?

Almost eleven...that's five pm in France...

I can't seem to get back into the swing of non-vacation life.  Is jet lag supposed to last a week??  Hindering my return to day-to-day life is the arrival of our newest family member, Lily-poo.  She's a shy, rescued 10-week old kitten who's needed lots of love as she adjusts to our lively home.  Wait until you see her.  She's a real beauty!  (Pics to come...)

Also, my friend and next door neighbor went into premature labor at 34 weeks, and gave birth by c-section to sweet baby boy.  I'm helping her out, watching her two older girls and anything else I can do, while baby and mama are gaining their strength.

But the real problem is my head and heart are still in France. *sigh*  Here are a couple pics of the Eiffel Tower, taken the night before our flight home.  It was the Sunday of the World Cup Finals between Spain and The Netherlands. (Bravo l'España!!)  


These pics were shot at about 9:30 at night.  It doesn't begin to get dark in France in the summertime until well after 10 pm.  

Each of the four anchor towers house an elevator to this first level, as well as staircases for those brave enough to climb, or too reluctant to stand in the long lines for the lifts.  Other elevators can be taken from this first level to the second observation deck, and a single elevator from there takes you to the very top.  In the early years, the top of the tower was the location of Mr. Gustave Eiffel's personal office.  Today it is a restaurant.

We didn't go up, and the growing crowds of World Cup enthusiasts awaiting the match on the giant screens erected on the lawns around the Tower shortened our stay.

Cody, me, and Sidney, beneath the Eiffel Tower

I've only made it to a couple blogs, but I'm looking forward to visiting yours SOON!!!  Have a fab day!

And the Winner of Vive la France! is...

You left 320 comments for me while I was away on vacation!

That's a LOT of blog love!

You guys are awesome cyber friends, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for making me feel so appreciated!!  I wish I could send each and every one of you a gift from France.

But, this time there is only one prize package up for grabs, and after scribbling every comment-leaver's name on paper and putting all the scraps in a bowl, I enlisted the help of my daughter, Sidney:

With eyes closed, and after a ridiculously long time stirring up the papers, until I finally said, "All right, already!  Pull one out," she did as told....

....and the paper she pulled....

....had one name on it....

....and that name was....

Yay!!!!  Congrats, Jessica!!!!!!  All the prizes described in detail HERE are coming your way, sista!

Jessica, please email me your address over there in Greece, and I think we'll have to work something out about the movie because American and European DVDs aren't compatible... but we'll figure all that out via email.  Sound good?

Everyone, thanks again for playing along, and for being your truly awesome selves!  I look forward to getting around to your blogs in the coming days.  I've missed you!

Have a wonderful day!

Prize Package Revealed

Tomorrow I'll announce the winner of the Vive la France! Contest.  Here's what one lucky entrant will win:

...First, let me tell you that one of my favorite movies of late is A Good Year, starring Russel Crowe (who I'm not a huge fan of, except in this movie) and the gorgeous French actress, Marion Cotillard.  The movie is based on Peter Mayle's best-selling book of the same title.

Except for the introduction of Crowe's character in an early scene in London, the movie is almost exclusively shot in the south of France.  Although the name of the village is never mentioned, hubby and I recognized it as Gordes.  The film offers an exceptional view of Provence (as this area of southern France is called).  Since the film is also a favorite of hubby and the kids, and since we were traveling through that region on our vacation, we put Gordes on our itinerary.

The photographer in you really comes out when you visit Gordes.  Every turn of the head reveals another breathtaking image you can't bear to leave undocumented.

The picturesque shops and boutiques in the center of town are no exception.  I chose this village to buy the prizes for the contest, and I photographed the shop I bought them in.  I'll include the photo with the prize package!  Here are the souvenirs the contest winner will receive:

From left to right:  A spoon rest, hand painted in typical Provençal colors and picturing an olive-laden branch. (Olive trees thrive in the rocky soil and sea balmy air of Provence, and olives and their oil are important regional products.)  Next is a matching rap ail (garlic grater).  Drag a garlic clove across this plate's rough central section to shred its surface and release its flavorful juices before rubbing the garlic on toasted bread or raw meats going into the pot.  And finally, a server set of salad fork and spoon, carved from local olive wood.  The distinctive, natural grain of olive wood gives these utensils their exotic look.  

While we were in Gordes, we hunted out several key settings in the movie A Good Year and took pictures of them.  It will be fun for the contest winner to match the actual photos with scenes from the movie, both of which I'm including in this prize package!

You will fall in love with France after watching this movie!  As I mentioned, this movie was based on a book by Peter Mayle.  Mayle is one of my favorite authors.  His style is comical and insightful.  For yet another peek into the wonderful world of Provençal France, I am also including with this prize package a different Peter Mayle book -- one of my favorites -- called A Year in Provence.

 

So, there you have it!  One lucky follower who left at least one comment on my France posts while I was away will win this prize package that includes the spoon rest, rap ail, salad fork and spoon, copy of the movie A Good Year, copy of the book A Year in Provence, and several photographs I took of Gordes.  I hope it's you! 

Best of luck to everyone!!

I'm B-A-C-K-!-!-!

It's great to back online!  Taking a break from all things computer has its definite advantages, and it was nice to spend three weeks tooling around France, completely unplugged.  But I missed all my cyber buddies SO much!

Yesterday, during breaks from unpacking, I read through all your wonderful comments on the posts during my absence.  You are all so warm, funny, and truly awesome!  Thanks for your kind words and friendly messages.  You rock!!

As you can imagine, I'm in the process of getting caught up.  I have mountains of laundry to wash, gifts to distribute, phone calls to make, 469 unread emails to sift through -- and jet lag to deal with.  I'm also uploading a full memory card of photos -- some of which are important to the Vive la France contest which ended yesterday.

It turns out I'll need a couple extra days to determine the winner of the contest.  Tomorrow, I'll explain the prize package -- it's a good one!!  And on Friday, I will announce the winner.  Remember, each post you commented on between 6/17 and 7/12 earns you one entry.  Thanks to all of you who entered, and extra thanks to you who commented on multiple posts.  You really helped me feel connected, even when I was far away!

I hope you are having a fantastic day!  I'm looking forward to reading your blogs in the coming days!!

Le Tour de France

It took me a while to understand bicycle racing.  At first glance, it looks like a massive swarm of bikes (the peloton) moving at uniform speed in a pack, with a few stronger riders way out in front who will clearly win the race.  I wondered why those in the peloton seemed okay with letting the break-away riders win so easily.  Shouldn't they challenge them, chase them down, at least try to win?  When I first voiced these criticisms to my husband, a longtime bicycle racing fan, he began the long process of explaining the strategies of the sport to me.

Now I understand the racers are actually on teams.  The strongest riders are supported by their team members, and each team member is called upon to do the hardest work on the days the course requires his personal strengths.

Some racers are sprinters; they excel on the flat courses and can attain high speeds for long distances.  Other racers are climbers; they have the power to race at fast speeds up steep mountain grades.  And some, the elite in the sport, are masters of both terrains.  They are the racers who win the Tour de France.  Lance Armstrong is one of the greatest of all time from that elite group.

The first time I saw Lance Armstrong race was the Tour de France 1999.  Hubby was excited a race stage was passing so close to our house that year.  He told me we had to find a place to watch early, because the police close the road at least two hours before the racers are due to pass.  We brought a picnic basket and found a quiet stretch of country road, and settled in for the afternoon.  Eventually, people lined the road to watch, but this pic was taken early, when we'd first arrived.

Before the racers come through, they are preceded by an hour long parade convoy of "floats," each decorated for a different sponsor of the race.  They blare rocking dance music and throw product samples and candy to onlookers.  The ambiance becomes very festive as the floats pass, getting everyone excited for the racers to come.  It helps lengthen the event, too.  Once the racers arrive, they pass in a blur, racing at 50 kph and out of view in a flash.  (How much fun would it be to man one of those floats?  Spending a month traveling around France, ending each leg of the race in a different village where parties invariably pop up for all the non-athletes on the Tour.  If I were younger...)

Interestingly, 1999 was the first Tour de France Lance Armstrong had raced in since beating testicular cancer (and he would eventually win), and this day he was wearing the yellow jersey, signifying that he had the highest accumulated racing points.  In other words, he was winning.  It was easy to pick him out of the peloton, since he was dressed in yellow.  Making it easier still to spot him, he was sitting up in the saddle, drinking from an official Tour water bottle.  As he passed, he finished off the drink and tossed it to the side of the road.  I kid you not: it landed in the middle of our blanket!  

This is a page from our vacation scrapbook 2003.

Lance Armstrong won an unprecedented seven straight Tour de France titles from 1999 to 2005.  He retired from bicycle racing in July of 2005, but couldn't stay away from the sport.  He came out of retirement and competed in the 2009 Tour de France, finishing third -- an amazing feat for a man his age who hadn't been training during retirement.  And he's racing again this year.

I'd love to see him in the yellow jersey at the end of Tour de France 2010!

Me, (waiting for the 2000 Tour de France to pass) -- cheering on Lance!

Do you follow bicycle racing?  If you're interested in this year's 97th Tour de France, it begins on July 3rd and finishes on July 25th.  Information and routes of each stage are found HERE.  The best television station to watch the Tour is Versus.  Check them out HERE.

Leave me a comment and earn one entry in my Vive la France! Contest.

Click here for full contest details.

Testing, testing!

In 1997, after I'd been a French resident for one year, I was no longer eligible for auto insurance with my international driver's license.  If I wanted to maintain my covereage, I had to get my French driver's licence.

And I was nervous.

 Everyone had a story.  Failed attempts, outrageous amounts of money spent, conspiracy theories. From what I could understand, given my fledgling language proficiency, I was screwed.

There are two tests to pass in order to obtain your French driver's licence.  The first is a written test, called Le Code de la Route.  The second is the driving test, called Le Permis de Conduire.  To take both tests, you must be a student of l'auto école, or driving school.

The problems began when I enrolled.  The school's administrator wanted me to surrender my New York State driver's licence.  I politely refused.  So she said we'd have to consider me a new driver, in that case, and I wouldn't be able to drive for the next two years without being accompanied by a licensed driver.  Grrrr.  My husband took over the conversation at that point, much of which I couldn't follow, and in the end he convinced her that my fifteen years driving experience -- documented by the date on my NY licence -- should exempt me from the status of jeune conductrice.

I was required to attend twenty hours of classroom instruction at l'auto école.  During our sessions, the instructor taught us the rules of the road by projecting a series of images on a screen.  Each image was a photograph, shot out a windshield, from the vantage point of the driver.  Based on what we observed in the photo, we had to answer the question.  Incidentally, the actual written test was in this same format:  75 multiple choice questions, each based on photographs projected in the test gallery.  Test takers had thirty seconds to respond by pressing the button corresponding to their answer choice on a handheld voting device, before the next photograph/question was shown.

Here's an example.  Based on this photo, we can tell the driver is merging onto an auto-route (the car is doing 80 kph and accelerating, since the rpm needle is reaching 2.5).  There is a bifurcation (junction where two auto-routes [41 and 1] cross) coming up, as indicated by the large blue sign.  The engine is cool (gauge on the right) and the gas tank is three-quarters full (gauge on the left).  It isn't raining, so the maximum speed limit for this road is 130 kmp.  (If it were raining, the max speed would be 110.)

The test question could have been anything, but in just thirty seconds you would have to appraise all the clues in this photo and choose the correct answer, before the image changed.  If you missed more than 6 out of 75 questions, you failed.

Somehow, I was one of less that half that passed the day I took le code de la route.  I don't have any French friends, including my husband, who passed the first time they took it.

Next hurdle: the driving test.  The number of hours you must practice driving with an instructor before you're eligible to take the test depends on your level of expertise.  Since I'd been driving for a long time, I was only obligated to practice maneuvers with an instructor for a total of 8 hours.  Thank goodness, because they charged a lot per hour.  Of course, I was still nervous because although I'd been a licensed driver since I was sixteen, I'd only driven automatic cars.  The stick shift was a challenge, especially when attempting three point turns, parallel parking, and stopping and starting on hills.  (I love the message on this bumper:  Calages Fréquents -- Frequent Stalls.)

Nonetheless, I nailed the test and now have my French driver's licence for life.  That's right.  No expiration date, no need to renew or update (unless I change my name, etc.).  But guess how much it cost?

.......hold on to your hat......

When all was said and done, and I'd paid for driving school, driving lessons with the instructors, fees to take the tests, and photo for the licence, the cost was right around $500 USD.

Thank goodness I'll have it for life!

Leave me a comment and earn one entry in my Vive la France! Contest.

Click here for full details.