Have just returned from a very exciting weekend. My host mom had to go to an AFS weekend so my host sister Camille, father Claude and I decided to go and visit the god-parents of my other host sister Diane in their little village about 45 mins from central Bordeaux. This was so that my host dad could go and read some very very very very old documents from the 1800's about wine shipments from Bordeaux. (He's a wine dealer). The god parents are awesome people. The god-father Oliviay is an antique dealer (he told me what I think literally translates to a seller of expensive junk) (That is littered all over the property). And the god-mother Julia is an antique costume and textiles dealer, you will know her work without even realising it. Ever seen a little film called Pirates of the Carribean? Well the fabrics and the basic costume work was her doing. So going through her warehouse was like heaven for me. Everything from giant burlesque dancer feather fans the same size as me, to bullet bras, to full victorian dresses and french war nurse skirts. All authentic. But I will leave photos of that for a later day.
One of the best things I think about the french culture is the Sunday breakfasts. The colors of french food are just a part of what makes its. Being in this country is in a strange way a time warp and even though you might have used a modern oven to cook the food its still presented on a plate older than the country that I come from. I get to stir my coffee with a spoon as old a Marie Antoinette. Now that is cool.
And of course the ray of golden sunshine in a basket, the holy grail of all French breakfasts. Reverved only for Sunday mornings because of its mighty price. I present to you, not a croissance, but a Croissant. I had been wondering for the past week why my history teacher loved to discuss the economic situation of the croissant. That is, until I worked out that croissance (pro-nouced basically exactly the same) means growth. However if you eat too many croissants you may experience a croissance.
Im starting to get used to everything around me being written in another language that I don't really understand . Its less exciting now. However when I discovered this on the side of the taps I couldn't control my excitement.
After breakfast I decided to go for a small walk next door where I discovered a church. The door was open so I thought why not go in for a look. The little church was actually a big church. A big abandoned church that looked as though no-body had used it since it was built, apparently Julia was saying in the early 1800s so its not that old. It was quite eerie being the only person standing in a giant church. The family said it was really ugly but I found it oddly compelling. I like the crazy wallpaper.
