JOB INTERVIEW

I had my first job interview last Wednesday.

I was at the ANPE office attending some kind of tutorial session on How To Make A Proper Letter of Motivation when my phone rang, and it was a woman asking me to come in for an interview that afternoon.

I kept on thinking, "There must be some way to calm down, god I'm going to mess up bigtime, I can't mess up I want this job, oh god I'm going to mess up bigtime, I can't remember the French word for 'teach' what is it? There must be something to help me calm down..."

But of course there was something to calm me down. It's called vodka.

The interview went well and was very pleasant, I didn't mix up my 'tu' with 'vous', and the lady actually wrote down on my file : ETRANGER MAIS TRES BON FRANCAIS, and I was really glad about that.

The only thing is, the person supposed to conduct the second interview is on holidays, and I'll have to come back at the end of July.

I wanted to grab her by the lapels of her coat begging, "You won't forget me, right? RIGHT??? You'll call me if anything else comes up, won't you? WON'T YOU???" but I'm glad I didn't, because I don't think that's the best way to actually land a job, and anyway I wouldn't want to give her the impression that I'm 'desperate'.

Tribute to blue skies, swimming pools, and grass (with scorpions)

Green and blue

Living far away from the chaos that is known as Centre Ville...

Necessities

Another necessity

Don't worry, it's a really tiny one, assured Julien.

A TINY SCORPION ON MY TOWEL.

THE EXPLANATION :

It had probably crawled from the grass and onto my towel the other day when we had gone swimming. There wasn't any space around the poolside, so we had settled for the grass instead.

And since scorpions like warm places like the cement surrounding the grass area, it hitched a ride to our apartment via my towel.

WHAT ARE SCORPIONS :

They are twenty feet tall, with snapping jaws and salivating mouths. Their saliva is coloured green. They have claws that are as huge as trees, and their eyes are red and shoot laser beams if they don't like you.

THE MATH :

A TOWEL is something I use to wipe water off my body.
SCORPIONS are monsters.
They do not go together.

I've just been to the library! I borrowed two books and tons of cds, amongst them Stephen Malkmus and Calla. Stephen Malkmus is adorable!

The band my brother is in will be playing at the Fete de la Musique. I don't know where, I don't know when, I don't know what time, but they're called Bagetsafoniks. Yes, seriously, that's their name.

Last night was spent in Aix en Provence's liveliest nightspot with friends. It was tiny underground cave, small and hot and smoky --- meaning it had all the elements of a nightspot. A band was doing a line-up of English songs -- Franz Ferdinand, U2, Travis, Lenny Kravitz, Nivana. They were very good musically, but oh! The lyrics! The pronunciation!

(singer singing 'Rape Me' by Nirvana)
... "rayme ma freeeeen... rayme agyen... I'm nutle honey wa... Yaaaaa-ie-aie...I'm nutle honey wa..."

(singer singing 'Fly Away' by Lenny Kravitz... at least, I think that's the song's title)
... "Ji wanna gishaway... Ji wanna fire way... yeah, yeah, yeah... un, deux trois, quatre!" (me: "Huh?!")

You might think I'm making fun of them but I'm not; like I mentioned they were a very good band, although their song line up was a bit mainstream and the singer was, well, you know.

The guitarist was decked in full indie attire and I like indie attire, and I would have paid more attention to the band if it weren't for this old woman in a bandanna-like skirt dancing her heart out. And when I say old I mean 55 or so. She was pretending to know the words of each song. She was even mouthing along to them, but she didn't get one word right.

A wise-assed-faced guy hopped off the bar and started grooving next to bandanna-skirted Olivia Newton John. And you know what she did --- she turned her back on him! At this point, I didn't know what to laugh at --- the singer's lyrics or Olivia Newton John snubbing the guy. You would have thought she would be pleased by the attention, but no. Maybe he wasn't her type, because afterwards as we were leaving, I saw her rubbing her butt next to an even younger looking kid, who looked as if he would smash his Smirnoff Ice bottle against his head because he couldn't move away from her, it was that crowded.

Now it is Sunday night and I don't want to go to school tomorrow, life can be boo sometimes.

I don't really know how to say this without sounding like I exaggerate, but I'm going to die if I don't smoke within the next three days. I swear it. I've tried so hard to quit. And so far I've been successful. But what drives me crazy is that Julien is smoking the roll-it-yerself cigarettes (which is common in Europe, because it's cheaper) and I can't stand smoking the stuff without filters. Doobie is different; that is to say that weed is weed and it's not supposed to be smoked with a filter. But pure tabacco is urggghht-pffft.

So, I don't smoke. It's something personal now, to quit smoking.

I find myself weeping when I see old photos of myself happily holding a cigarette. Ah, I was so happy then... 25 pesos for a pack of Marlboro Lights, plus you could buy them tingi, meaning one stick at a time.

If life were to be perfect, one of our fingers would be a cig. Then, giving handjobs would be literally and figuratively "hot".

Amen.

Fountains, Fountains

You'll never get lost here. The heart of this city is a fucking big fountain. And everything spreads outside in circles after that. All the roads lead to one circle or another.

Actually, Aix is known as the City of A Thousand Fountains, or some title indicating that there are actually a lot of fountains. Like this next picture, which is my favourite fountain of all, because it's in the middle of a supposedly-abandoned square, and usually there are lots of students or buskers with guitars, or artists who sketch your portrait. Although I lucked out in finding the square empty for a picture.

Errrr... Also, I like the walls around Aix. How stupid I am with words today.

There are a total of 3 cinemas here in Aix. One is the commercial one, the other is along Cours Mirabeau meaning hoity-toity, and the third is Cinema Mazarin, which is tucked discreetly between side streets. They feature un-Hollywood/independent films in their original versions, and they have monthly theme screenings --- Italian movie month, lesbian-and-gay film fests, stuff like that.

Of course, it's a shit to watch films from Armenia and Japan since I can't really follow, but in fairness, they put French subtitles, which is bearable. And they have nice drawings on their walls. Plus points.

Weekend On Some Hill

We spent the last two weekends on hills --- this weekend we went up to Lyon, and the one before we tried to find a quiet place whose peace we could disrupt with our guitar playing.

So yeah.. we're quite lucky that there are a lot of peaceful places around Aix, and we found one by driving without my horrendous map-reading skills.

The place we had found was straight out of the movie Blair Witch Project (first one. the second royally sucked ass). There were fallen branches everywhere and the remains of a burned-down house.

Obviously, though, we didn't care.

What I need now is a nice glass filled with alcoholic liquid. I'm in such a lousy mood to write. And I will blog the reason why I am uninspired...

And that, folks, is all you need to know about my art.

Nice Weekend, Tagalog, and all things nice

I was supposed to tell you about my weekend, wasn't I?

I got an SMS Saturday night from a sculptor from the Philippines (he sculpted that metal circular fountain in Greenbelt, though I've never seen it personally). Apparently he and another friend Ivan (photographer) were in Aix and were wondering if we could meet up for drinks.

It's not so often that I get SMSs like this, in fact it was only the second time, so Julien and I went downtown where we met up with these two fantastic artists.

Dinner at our place was a hoot: talking about Philippines politics, traveling, films. I wanted to take them to the cinema to watch Jim Jarmurch's Coffee and Cigarettes, but of course it wasn't playing anymore.

(PS. I watched Kill Bill 2 last night. Quentin, I love you)

The next day we took them around the South : the Luberon, the castle of Les Baux, Lacoste. Mostly, we roadtripped and talked. On the way to Les Baux, we saw a field full of sheep and we stopped to take pictures. The weather was perfect, as it had been for the past week. Summer is almost here. I remember Reggie commenting that it was the first time he ever perspired in France.

If ever anyone comes to the south of France, please send me an email, I'll show you around, we'll have so much fun, and we'll speak in Tagalog all day!

People in my Nose

(time for conversations)

Me : Jul, I have a pimple in my nose and it's not so funny.

Jul : Well, dinner's almost ready... why don't you invite them for dinner, you'll be sure that they'll come out.

Me : Mmmmm. (remains quiet and pensive)

Then:

Me : Errr... why would they come out for dinner again?

Jul : What?

Me : I said, why would pimples come out for dinner? I don't get it.

Jul : Oh, pimple! Sorry, I thought you said 'people'. I thought you had people in your nose.

Me: That's okay.

Rubiks Cube

I don't know about you, but I've been trying to find a Rubiks Cube for a year now and it's only here that I've managed to buy one. It's not even the nice model: it's a cheap plastic one where the rows keep on sticking to each other. But at least there are still Rubiks cubes for sale.

The other evening I was reading a book with my feet up on the futon, and I was very comfortable and didn't want so much to be bothered, but Julien came up to me "exclaiming ecstatically" that he had found a solution to the Rubiks Cube!

He forced me to put down my book to witness the pattern he had cracked. I was a bit bummed out to be bothered from my reading of course, but I'll admit I was a bit curious, too. A pattern to solve all the sides of a Rubiks Cube was intriguing.

He started twisting and turning the thing, methodically, in one direction first, then on the other. Top, then bottom. He did it for a long time. Years passed. The sun went up and down and up again and down. It rained, leaves fell, it snowed, the sun shone again. I say all this to make you believe that it did feel like a very long time. And that it actually was. I started counting the turns he made.

After the 127th twist, he looked at me proudly, practically rubbing the Rubiks Cube on my nose. "See?" he said, "See? It worked!"

I told him I didn't see anything. The cube looked exactly as it did when he started.

"Exactly! That's it! You see, if you turn the cube 127 times in that direction, you find yourself back where you started! Isn't it amazing?"

"So you let me stop reading my book to watch you turn the Rubiks Cube 127 times just to see that nothing would change in the end?"

"Well, yes... In fact, I showed you a pattern."

....

I leave you to imagine exactly what I told him about what I thought of his 'pattern'.

Mahmud

Oi, by the way, my robot Mahmud has made friends with a box of sugar. Here he is posing with his best friend.

Ok, I have to go check on the dish I'm cooking. Muy caliente!

Avignon's pretty much known for the Palais des Papes, or Pope's Palace. Way back early 14th century, the papal court was moved to Avignon, where it remained till 1376. It's strange how it seems more like a citadel than an overly-comfortable home for a pope, though. The palace is enclosed by heavy fortification, a mark of the 14th century's insecure religious life.

Of course, virtually all the furnishings and artworks were looted over the centuries. Viva les mercenaires!

There's also the (12th cent.) Pont St Bénézet. Pont means bridge, but I would say it's half a bridge, because it really is. It's kind of funny, as if someone ordered the bridge to be cut in half just for kicks. The truth is that it was largely destroyed by floods.

LUBERON

Lacoste

Another weekend we visited the Luberon, a huge limestone range full of villages perched on mountains. It has a silent beauty appeal, like an undercurrent pushing you out to sea without knowing it. Luberon transports you to the set of the film Chocolat or something similar.

Lacoste is a little village perched on the mountains, because as I said, every village is perched on mountains in this area. The ruins of Marquis de Sade's castle are here (Ooooo...) I'm not so much a fan of M de Sade (God, I saw this horrible film based on his writings; scarred me for life), but he's a celebrity so I mention him anyway.

I'm guessing this is where M de Sade wrote beautiful fairytales for children

We spent the rest of the morning walking around the streets of Lacoste. All I can remember about it is seeing more cats than people. They were all over the place, just hanging out and peeking at you from the tops of the walls they conquered.

Then we had lunch in a little town called Ménerbes, where I had the most fantastic duck I've ever eaten in my whole life. Then we slept in the car for around 2 hours at the parking lot, with all the tourists passing by. What disgraceful bastards.

OPPEDE-LE-VIEUX

Two words : Ghost Town.

If I were to make up Oppède-le-Vieux's history, I would say it was infested with ghosts, and the mayor called the Ghostbusters over for some ghost-cleaning. Only, Egon Spengler's gun malfunctioned and took all the townsfolk along. The whole town is still trapped in the little ghost box thing, which Slimer guards to this day.

Hello, I am a castle ruin in a deserted town and I'm so cool

But the real story behind this medieval village is less dramatic. It was slowly abandoned around the 16th century and was finally empty by the early 20th century. You aren't even allowed to park inside the village; there's a parking spot about 10 minutes away from the village proper. There's a little square and some artist's studio at the foot of the village, and a little café where you can buy cokes. That was the only sign of life there. If you want to live in peace and harmony, you can squat here.

And then, as always, there's a castle and a church. "No trespassing" signs are plastered all over the castle, which you can gleefully ignore because, being deserted, no one's going to arrest you anyway.

Since moving to the south, I've developed a certain love for castles. Not intact ones; I prefer the castle ruins. They're playgrounds for one's imagination. Exploring the surroundings can be quite dangerous though, because, I repeat myself, "... villages are perched on the mountains blah blah blah..."

Oppède-le-Vieux

I was nervous as hell. Usually I have no fear of heights. But this being a deserted town and all, who was going to save me if ever I plunged down the side of the steep cliff? No one. Julien, however, was having the time of his life leaning over the crumbling walls. I almost had a heart attack.

ST-EMILION

A bit southwest France now, St-Emilion is right smack in the red wine district (not red light district, you dirty leetul minds!). And if you thought my Ghostbuster story above was magnificent, I pass the torch to the 8th century hermit - Emilion - who dug himself a little cave out of rock, which eventually became a monastery, which eventually became the town St-Emilion in the Middle Ages. Bravissimo!

St-Emilion at sunset

God, this town is beautiful. The narrow, cobblestone streets reek of history and turbulence of the Middle Ages. We spent a few hours walking around town, trying to get a peek inside a church under construction, and looking over the town as the sun started to set.

St-Emilion boasts of one of the best wines in France. But then again, it seems like, in the red wine districts of southwest France, every town says the same thing about its wine.

CARCASSONNE

People criticize that the restoration of this citadel looks too new, and that the romantic-ruin theme it had going for it was gone.

Sunset at Carcassonne

But I don't care, because I think that being in such a huge restored medieval town is romantic enough. "Imagine all the people who died here!" I sighed contentedly, basking in its romanticism. Because indeed, France eliminated the Cathars from Carcassonne for over a century of killings and tortures.

Walls and ways of the citadel

The Cathars were a Christian sect from the 13th century who believed in the duality of good and evil. Meaning, everything the material world had to offer was evil. A new pail? Evil!!! New robe? The workings of Satan... Evil!!! I exaggerate, of course, but you get the idea.

I don't think it was very nice of the crusaders, though, to massacre the Cathars, who were world-renouncers, believers of non-violence, vegetarian, and sexually abstinent. I mean, they couldn't even have sex, wasn't that enough torture for them?

"Yoo-hoo! It's us, the Crusaders! We just want to talk! Promise!"

Carcassonne is very huge, and crowded with tourists who take pictures like madmen, so you aren't going to have a hard time finding a hotel or a bar inside the citadel, although you can find much cheaper accomodations and restaurants outside. I met around twenty kids brandishing swords and assorted plastic massacre paraphernalia. But apart from the tourist traps and crowded streets, it's a magnificent place to visit.

PONT DU GARD

The weeks have been kind of busy for us, and the last sight we visited was over two weeks ago, the Pont de Gard.

Say what you want about Pont du Gard --- that the 5€ parking fee is exorbitant, that the designers of the tourist center broke a back and a leg to make it look like the Louvre's. But once you're standing at the foot of the 2000-year old testimony to the Roman Empire's greatness, you won't be bitching.

Imagine all the slaves it took to build this

This 17 km aqueduct carried fresh water 31 miles from a spring at Uzes to Nîmes. It is 160 ft high, the highest bridge those crazy Roman engineers ever built in their whole Roman lives. It was made from blocks of stone (some weighing up to 6 tons), a pulley system, and a whole lot of slaves.

Oh. There's a damaged phallus carving between two arcs, as a sign of good luck. I can only imagine what was going on in the mind of the carver when he was ordered to carve a phallus 160 ft above the ground. Not a very happy job.

Visitors were allowed to walk along the very top of the aqueduct, but it's prohibited now. Only the "first" level is open to tourists, and there are open spaces at each side of the aqueduct for a full view. Doubtless, this is one of the most extravagant sights I've ever seen in my whole life. And when you come to France, don't give this a miss, it's worth buying TGV tickets for.

Alors, those Roman engineers were brilliant, but I drink to the slaves who built it. And, of course, to the person who carved the phallus.