I went to Cruz, a province in the very center of France. My host mom owns a cottage out there. Actually, her family owns the town of La Petite Faye. It's about 10 houses, and each house belongs to a sibling or another. It was really cool. We ate all day. We would have lunch, and it would take three hours. And then we'd sleep, whatever, and then we'd eat again, for another three hours. Crazy.
My host mom's cottage.
Weird thing, though, they don't believe in cooking meat in France. Last week, my host mom made steaks. I got all excited, being a red-blooded Texan, and I was about to MANGE. But I cut into it, and the exterior had simply been browned. The inside was so raw, I could swear I could see the tendons moving. To be polite, I ate it, but I felt like lead in my tummy. Weird. I got served an appetizer in Cruz. I took it, once again to be polite, before I looked at it. It was raw ham. No joke.
I hid it in my hands until I could throw it away.
On a better note, I have fallen in love with French cheese.It's not pasteurized, and it's basically milk with fermented bacteria. AWESOME!
My current favorite is La Vache Qui Rit. It's 2 euro for 24 slices and it's so creamy and good, it makes me forget that I'm unfortunately lactose-intolerant.
When I wasn't eating, I was exploring. The countryside is so pristine there, I could imagine the times when people rode horses and walked for three weeks to Paris to go to Versailles to see the king.Alot of the homes out there are gajillions of years old, too, with just the insides renovated.
But alas, la campagne is not perfect.
There was NO INTERNET.
So I was very very glad to get back to Paris.
Today was filled with classes. We studied Baudelaire's Les Fleurs de Mal (Flowers of Evil for those French-ly challeged.)
Tomorrow is class and in pursuit of dance lessons! Stay tuned.
A bientot!
--C.
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