‘Melia’s Little Secret’ or ‘Reflection on the Frustrations of Crush-hood’
Visit to goat farm in small Alsatian village (Lapoutroie): 12 euros
Final paper on the subject of goat farm in small Alsatian village (Lapoutroie): 6 hours
Partying to punk reggae with the goat farmer’s son after turning in the final paper: priceless.
My ears are still ringing from 3+ hours of rocking music, from UK Rasta band “Zion Train” to main attraction, French “pungle” (punk + jungle/reggae) band “La Phase”, to a rock-your-socks finale of break beats and Queen courtesy of français DJ Justice. It’s hard to believe I woke up at 7 am this morning to get to a five-hour language final by quarter past eight. It’s even harder to believe I’m *almost* done with the whole “academic” part of the semester, with only an oral exposé left for Monday. And it’s totally out of my conscious mind to imagine leaving here... for good. Of course I plan to come back... I mean, I can’t just leave a place like that and say it’s the end. Especially a place that, with each passing month, seems to grow in character and coolness. And the number of fun people encountered...
My little secret? I seem to have developed quite the little crush on this Lapoutroie native who introduced his goat farm, brought me to a rockin’ birthday party, passed on the invite to reign in the summer with three days of dancing in the Vosges mountains come June, enlightened my French musical experience... and just sent a text wishing me good night and sweet dreams. *Arrrrgh!*
I have to say, this semester hasn’t exactly been rife with “interests” due, perhaps, to the less-than-ideal situation that bar-life now offers... want to meet french people? Sure! Just go to a bar, be female, and dance... you’re bound to meet some keepers... you know, the salivating ones that come and say they like the way you move... and if you’re really lucky, they may even use the line (translated into french, of course) “Your place or mine?” (“Chez toi ou chez moi?”). Oy. Given, this is not always the case. I did meet Ahmed, who was fun to salsa with the various times we went, who took me rollerblading in the park on the first sunny day in spring, and who offered cute, if not dorky attempts to drop the hint that he was interested... but he didn’t quite make it onto the radar of “interested” for more than an evening (even though i tend to be quite the sucker for somewhat dorky attempts... much preferred to the sleazy ones often encountered in drunken bar scenes). And (as far as myself and another girl on the program could tell) there’s no such thing as a gay bar in Stras...
I’ve been quite content, for the most part, to explore my “unlinked” self during my time here, free of significant others, whether they be love interests or best friends/roommates. I’ve certainly had more time for conversations in my own head, solitary reflections, and the chance to build a relationship with moi-même (myself). Yes, yes, it sounds all hokey and what not, but having been someone linked to significant others for the first six years of adolescence/teenage-hood, and sporadically attached – whether to significant others or best best friends – for the years that followed, this whole exploration of self is a rather novel and ongoing process. Mais quand-même... (even so...)
It can be fun, for someone like me who simply does not crush easily, to find yourself in the company of someone who makes you wonder (that’s always the first stage). Someone who’s fun, “sympa,” attractive-in-whole (i.e. not just the outer shell, thank you... god, I’m sick of the question “well, is he hot?” – in appearance – as soon as someone mentions a potential interest)... Someone who adds a little spark, who loves to dance (okay, so perhaps that’s one of my weakness), who wears a genuine smile and isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who’s not just filled with sketchy intentions but who actually seems interested in friendship and fun times beyond the sleazy bar scene. Someone... who’s already taken.
It makes perfect sense, right? It’s not on their mind because it doesn’t have to be... there’s a natural feeling of comfort and ease around them because they’re not striving for something... and the whole non-sketchy business of wanting to hang out and just have fun is based on the lack of any ulterior motives. I’m sure the story doesn’t always follow these lines, but for the record, I haven’t met too many single guys in this region who, after a mere conversation (or a two-second glance, depending), don’t drop some sort of hint along the lines of “let’s get to know each other better...” Such is the dance floor situation... and perhaps I’ve just met the majority of my Strasbourg male-encounters within this genre (one that usually involves some amount of alcohol), so my assessment isn’t globally objective.
Was it the French that first came up with the Harry and Sally motif? Or do I just go to a wonderfully gender-bending liberal arts school back home, in which females and males, in addition to looking much more similar in style and dress, coexist as friends on a much higher level than the young world outside the LC bubble?
In any case, I’m not complaining... well, in the general sense perhaps, but not concerning this particular situation. I’m simply excited to have met some really awesome French folk who love to dance and really know how to party (and by that I don’t mean the completely shit-faced, flirting up the bar, go home with a stranger kind of partying that some choose to partake in). Perhaps its more of a friend-crush anyway... one of those “I want to get to know you because you’re cool and seem to have a great personality” kind of things, that doesn’t necessarily have to be linked with anything sexual/sensual.
In any case, I have quite enough to keep me occupied as it is...
In six hours, I’m set to get up for a morning of more dancing... one of my last Modern Jazz classes at the university sport’s center, which has probably been one of the highlights of my time here – an excellent choice of music, a creative moving teacher with a beautiful French voice, and the chance to really move my body one to two times per week. Tomorrow night looks like it may be another concert at the Laiterie, this time in the company of music-connoisseur Alex (our token LC male), who promises me the doowop-influenced indie band – TV on the Radio – is wonderful live. And Saturday, Martina and I are set to meet up with Albane, the French girl I was introduced to by the strasbourg-living-sister-of-my-mom’s-old-college-boyfriend (*whew!*) for a daylong hike at the foot of the Vosges with other students courtesy of the University. For the evening? Maybe a free night at the modern art museum (right next door and which I still haven’t visited!)... a “soirée Camouroune” including food and dance... a play... too much to choose from! And the choices just keep growing as we near the end of our time in this ever-happening city. Given, i should definitely set aside some time in my one week left to... oh, you know, prepare for my 69 days of upcoming travel... and perhaps put together what I’m going to say for my oral presentation come Monday... But really, “il faut profiter!!”... One needs to take advantage of all this Alsatian goodness before time runs out! I just need to make sure I have a good chunk of money left with which to travel...
Okay, 3 am = bedtime. Perhaps something more event-related, less Melia-musing-about-the-nature-of-crushes next time. We’ll see.
À plus!
Final paper on the subject of goat farm in small Alsatian village (Lapoutroie): 6 hours
Partying to punk reggae with the goat farmer’s son after turning in the final paper: priceless.
My ears are still ringing from 3+ hours of rocking music, from UK Rasta band “Zion Train” to main attraction, French “pungle” (punk + jungle/reggae) band “La Phase”, to a rock-your-socks finale of break beats and Queen courtesy of français DJ Justice. It’s hard to believe I woke up at 7 am this morning to get to a five-hour language final by quarter past eight. It’s even harder to believe I’m *almost* done with the whole “academic” part of the semester, with only an oral exposé left for Monday. And it’s totally out of my conscious mind to imagine leaving here... for good. Of course I plan to come back... I mean, I can’t just leave a place like that and say it’s the end. Especially a place that, with each passing month, seems to grow in character and coolness. And the number of fun people encountered...
My little secret? I seem to have developed quite the little crush on this Lapoutroie native who introduced his goat farm, brought me to a rockin’ birthday party, passed on the invite to reign in the summer with three days of dancing in the Vosges mountains come June, enlightened my French musical experience... and just sent a text wishing me good night and sweet dreams. *Arrrrgh!*
I have to say, this semester hasn’t exactly been rife with “interests” due, perhaps, to the less-than-ideal situation that bar-life now offers... want to meet french people? Sure! Just go to a bar, be female, and dance... you’re bound to meet some keepers... you know, the salivating ones that come and say they like the way you move... and if you’re really lucky, they may even use the line (translated into french, of course) “Your place or mine?” (“Chez toi ou chez moi?”). Oy. Given, this is not always the case. I did meet Ahmed, who was fun to salsa with the various times we went, who took me rollerblading in the park on the first sunny day in spring, and who offered cute, if not dorky attempts to drop the hint that he was interested... but he didn’t quite make it onto the radar of “interested” for more than an evening (even though i tend to be quite the sucker for somewhat dorky attempts... much preferred to the sleazy ones often encountered in drunken bar scenes). And (as far as myself and another girl on the program could tell) there’s no such thing as a gay bar in Stras...
I’ve been quite content, for the most part, to explore my “unlinked” self during my time here, free of significant others, whether they be love interests or best friends/roommates. I’ve certainly had more time for conversations in my own head, solitary reflections, and the chance to build a relationship with moi-même (myself). Yes, yes, it sounds all hokey and what not, but having been someone linked to significant others for the first six years of adolescence/teenage-hood, and sporadically attached – whether to significant others or best best friends – for the years that followed, this whole exploration of self is a rather novel and ongoing process. Mais quand-même... (even so...)
It can be fun, for someone like me who simply does not crush easily, to find yourself in the company of someone who makes you wonder (that’s always the first stage). Someone who’s fun, “sympa,” attractive-in-whole (i.e. not just the outer shell, thank you... god, I’m sick of the question “well, is he hot?” – in appearance – as soon as someone mentions a potential interest)... Someone who adds a little spark, who loves to dance (okay, so perhaps that’s one of my weakness), who wears a genuine smile and isn’t afraid to show it. Someone who’s not just filled with sketchy intentions but who actually seems interested in friendship and fun times beyond the sleazy bar scene. Someone... who’s already taken.
It makes perfect sense, right? It’s not on their mind because it doesn’t have to be... there’s a natural feeling of comfort and ease around them because they’re not striving for something... and the whole non-sketchy business of wanting to hang out and just have fun is based on the lack of any ulterior motives. I’m sure the story doesn’t always follow these lines, but for the record, I haven’t met too many single guys in this region who, after a mere conversation (or a two-second glance, depending), don’t drop some sort of hint along the lines of “let’s get to know each other better...” Such is the dance floor situation... and perhaps I’ve just met the majority of my Strasbourg male-encounters within this genre (one that usually involves some amount of alcohol), so my assessment isn’t globally objective.
Was it the French that first came up with the Harry and Sally motif? Or do I just go to a wonderfully gender-bending liberal arts school back home, in which females and males, in addition to looking much more similar in style and dress, coexist as friends on a much higher level than the young world outside the LC bubble?
In any case, I’m not complaining... well, in the general sense perhaps, but not concerning this particular situation. I’m simply excited to have met some really awesome French folk who love to dance and really know how to party (and by that I don’t mean the completely shit-faced, flirting up the bar, go home with a stranger kind of partying that some choose to partake in). Perhaps its more of a friend-crush anyway... one of those “I want to get to know you because you’re cool and seem to have a great personality” kind of things, that doesn’t necessarily have to be linked with anything sexual/sensual.
In any case, I have quite enough to keep me occupied as it is...
In six hours, I’m set to get up for a morning of more dancing... one of my last Modern Jazz classes at the university sport’s center, which has probably been one of the highlights of my time here – an excellent choice of music, a creative moving teacher with a beautiful French voice, and the chance to really move my body one to two times per week. Tomorrow night looks like it may be another concert at the Laiterie, this time in the company of music-connoisseur Alex (our token LC male), who promises me the doowop-influenced indie band – TV on the Radio – is wonderful live. And Saturday, Martina and I are set to meet up with Albane, the French girl I was introduced to by the strasbourg-living-sister-of-my-mom’s-old-college-boyfriend (*whew!*) for a daylong hike at the foot of the Vosges with other students courtesy of the University. For the evening? Maybe a free night at the modern art museum (right next door and which I still haven’t visited!)... a “soirée Camouroune” including food and dance... a play... too much to choose from! And the choices just keep growing as we near the end of our time in this ever-happening city. Given, i should definitely set aside some time in my one week left to... oh, you know, prepare for my 69 days of upcoming travel... and perhaps put together what I’m going to say for my oral presentation come Monday... But really, “il faut profiter!!”... One needs to take advantage of all this Alsatian goodness before time runs out! I just need to make sure I have a good chunk of money left with which to travel...
Okay, 3 am = bedtime. Perhaps something more event-related, less Melia-musing-about-the-nature-of-crushes next time. We’ll see.
À plus!
posted by Melia at 9:22 AM
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