The Will To Live

Hello out there,
There's not too much to report about the past week. We were all a little spacey with the gray sky above our heads. Yet, what really woke me up and shook my brain a little was the first American movie I've seen since I've moved to this side of the world (actually that's a lie, I saw Blue Valentine but it was in English and way too depressing to discuss). Anyways, my friend Cedric had free movie passes to see 127 Hours. While I was in no way interested, I'm glad I went because it wasn't at all what I expected. I had heard rumors about this film but since I'm so out of the American loop, I thought it was a horror film. Once I was told that James Franco stared as the main character, I was ready to go. (Spoiler Alert: If you don't want me to ruin the film for you, skip over the following paragraph.)

Let's begin with saying how amazing the cinematography was; that was the first thing that caught my eye (besides James Franco's beautiful smile, sigh). Let's just say the man knows how to use cameras; he was able to keep my attention by continuously switching between angles, thoughts, and reality/imagination. Now that I've researched the director a bit, I can see the resemblance to Slumdog Millionaire ( another favorite of mine).  Danny Boyle is the name I was looking for and now am interested in researching more of his work. Moving on, the colors were bright and bold, the music perfectly set, and the portrayal of delusion really played with my mind (especially for the following few days/nights). I'll just explain one repeated scene that was really beautifully done. Every time Aron (James Franco) took a sip out of his Camelback, the camera (or whatever they use nowadays with this technology business), went inside and followed the route of the water, from the bottom of the container, up the straw, and into his mouth. The bubbles, the sounds, the sharpness of the camera lined up so nicely. The most amazing thing of all though is the fact that the film was based on a true story (aren't we all suckers for those types?)  Aron still lives and continues to do crazy hikes, climbs, and jumps after cutting off his own arm (spoiler, wamp wamp). It really puts into prospective the will to live, the appreciation of life,  and the want to do more in the future. And, he also teaches anyone who ever wants to climb anything to always have a knife just in case.

On Friday I traveled back into time, back to high school, back to the age of babysitting. My first French babysitting experience really made me miss my family: namely because the two girls really remind me of my sister and I when we were little and also because the first story that the younger sister, Jade, told me made me think of my little brother ( he would definitely say this to someone he first met). It goes something like this: My friend Manon, she was taking a bath with her little brother, Adrien, and they were having a farting contest and he was trying to beat Manon's and he pooped in the tub! It was this big brown turd and he was so embarrassed he just sat there and Manon started to scream but she was laughing too because he pooped and it was floating in the tub. To give you a glimpse into her facial expressions, she reminded me a lot of this famous storyteller. Yeah, and to top that off, they asked me to read them a story in French. Best part? Having to ask an 8 year old how to say a French word (which yet again had to do with poop.)

On Saturday the old roommates of this adobe came to pay a visit. The one I replaced, Camille, brought her boyfriend from Marseille. The first accomplishment: understanding his Southern accent. I now understand when people complain when my sister and I mumble quickly in English. The second accomplishment (well sorta): teaching French people how to play baseball with a wiffle ball set. Just getting them to hold the bat with two hands was a challenge, let alone explaining that you want to throw the ball to the basemen not at the hitter. They enjoyed themselves though, I was told the rest of the night how exhausting but funny it was.

And on behalf of President's Day, I taught my after-school group about our 43 men; some true heroes, others not so much. Whatever your political party may be, you have to admit that most of them were not lookers and that's exactly what I heard yesterday. "Ewww, comme il est moche; lui, ça va mais uhhh, Kate est-ce que tu peut faire montrer encore une fois le dernier? Ouaiii, il est le plus moche." (Ew, he's ugly; He's okay but, um, Kate, can you show us that last one again? Yeah, he's the ugliest.) I gave one or two facts for each, not really thinking about omitting the fact that a bunch were assassinated. Hence came repetitive question, "Why would anyone want to kill the President?" Good question kid. The best part of all though was when I came to Andrew Jackson. "AHHH, c'est l'arrière, arrière, arrière, arrière grand-père de Michael Jackson."


I will never escape MJ! And in case you're all getting hungry over there waiting for lunchtime, check out my latest cooking accomplishment! Granola bars made with Bulgarian honey :)

Tootles y'all!