Oh well.
Here's some pictures from Berlin.
 |
| Berlin 1st 24 hours |
Best,
Alain
Saturday, April 24, 2010
"Grillen"
That's Germany for "crickets" - aka the sound of silence on this here space.
Oh well.
Here's some pictures from Berlin.
Best,
Alain
Oh well.
Here's some pictures from Berlin.
Best,
Alain
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Another week, another post!
Nothing as exciting as a race-track this week.
Monday: School work
Tuesday: School work
Wednesday: School work
Thursday: Lunch date followed by school work
Friday: School work followed by a hilarious evening at a real-live club! Guest list made the entire thing rather like a safari expedition. Seriously, how many times in my life will I get the chance to party under Pont Alexandre III at a bar where a Magnum of Dom Peringon costs 5000 Euro?
Saturday: School work followed by an evening at quite possibly the nicest bar I have ever seen in my life. An American friend was having her birthday and treated everyone their first cocktail and to a glass of champagne. Wowzer. Definitely going back there. First time I've thought a cocktail that costs more than 10 dollars to be justified.
Sunday: School work (finished my essay at last) followed by dinner and movie!
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Monday: School work
Tuesday: School work
Wednesday: School work
Thursday: Lunch date followed by school work
Friday: School work followed by a hilarious evening at a real-live club! Guest list made the entire thing rather like a safari expedition. Seriously, how many times in my life will I get the chance to party under Pont Alexandre III at a bar where a Magnum of Dom Peringon costs 5000 Euro?
Saturday: School work followed by an evening at quite possibly the nicest bar I have ever seen in my life. An American friend was having her birthday and treated everyone their first cocktail and to a glass of champagne. Wowzer. Definitely going back there. First time I've thought a cocktail that costs more than 10 dollars to be justified.
Sunday: School work (finished my essay at last) followed by dinner and movie!
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Steeplechase!
Went to the race-track yesterday!
Bet on the first race and lost. Decided that I would stop wasting my money. Looked at the lineup of the 2nd race and couldn't help myself! Sitting at number 3 was 'Six Des Champs' with 9:1 odds to win. How could I resist my namesake? I plopped down a whoppping 2 Euro bet on him to 'place' (ie: top 3) and went outside in the freezing cold to cheer with my friends.
I took a quick video on the first lap and you can hear my disappointment in my horses performance right at the end!
However! He staged an awesome comeback near the end and ended up in 3rd place and I got paid ~3:1! Won 6.80 for my 2 Euro bet!
Bet on the first race and lost. Decided that I would stop wasting my money. Looked at the lineup of the 2nd race and couldn't help myself! Sitting at number 3 was 'Six Des Champs' with 9:1 odds to win. How could I resist my namesake? I plopped down a whoppping 2 Euro bet on him to 'place' (ie: top 3) and went outside in the freezing cold to cheer with my friends.
I took a quick video on the first lap and you can hear my disappointment in my horses performance right at the end!
However! He staged an awesome comeback near the end and ended up in 3rd place and I got paid ~3:1! Won 6.80 for my 2 Euro bet!
Monday, March 1, 2010
An outing
Took my camera with me and was inspired to actually take some photos!
http://picasaweb.google.com/shollos/19thAndButtesChaumont#
http://picasaweb.google.com/shollos/19thAndButtesChaumont#
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Aside from the odd poem I’ve not been too motivated to write lately. Even the poetry has been a little forced. For instance, I was to write a confessional poem for class and struggled quite a bit with it. I was not feeling particularly motivated and even though I spent most of last Sunday night writing, nothing good came of it. So, I woke up Monday morning and ended up writing the following.
Pavlov’s Dog
This confession is forced.
Inadmissible in court!
Forced by the deadline
whose guillotine looms.
I put my pen to paper
and words spring forth.
They are not free like eagles
yet they soar on hot air.
I thought it would be easy
this confession of sin.
Yet long did I struggle
on how to disclose.
That my treasures are many,
my daily misdeeds.
Should I be subtle and witty
or humble, contrite.
Many drafts I did write
yet none did please.
Finally I settled on this,
my effort last minute.
I admit I lacked motivation.
No inspiration came.
Distracted from work I felt
like Pavlov's laboratory dogs.
Whoses mouths would water
but food was not my trigger.
Five new messages would await
and read them I must!
So now I sit here and write
and reluctantly submit.
It is strange and a little sad that my now twice daily commute past the Eiffel tower has begun to feel routine. It is strange that I’ve now been here for over a month and cannot look back on any one single moment as a hall-mark, defining high-water mark. Perhaps it’s because I’ve not taken to documenting my daily life; the lack of pictures and diary allows the days to slip away unremarked. Perhaps it’s because the routine imposed by school acts like a metronome, each week and assignment marks another beat. Perhaps it’s merely the fact that life is routinely banal, no matter how romantic and alluring your surroundings.
In any case, I don’t wish to sound too downbeat. I am merely trying to explain that a month and a half in Paris going to school is not at all like a month and a half of vacation; the demands of daily life do not easily lend themselves to a sense of wonder and exploration. I would be terribly remiss if I let this sentiment pass without an effort to provide balance and perspective in the form of the wonderful things I’ve seen and done.
It’s hard to put a value on the small moments one gets of extreme exhilaration as one spots a particularly beautiful vista, the flashing ray of sunlight which strikes your eye as you bike along the Seine and catches the dome of Des Invalides just so. Or when you’re wandering in a new quartier and you turn a corner and have a perfect view of the Notre Dame hit by flood-lights. Not to mention the jolt of surprise when trying a new route to a friend’s house and realizing your chemin provides you an unobstructed view of Sacre Coeur lit brilliantly in yellow by the setting sun.
Another upside is that my French has improved tremendously. French classes, French cinema, and other exchange students eager to practice all have contributed to a growing ease of speaking and comprehension. Of course, it’s still embarrassing when talking to French people in a bar and asking them to repeat themselves every other sentence because I can’t understand what they’re saying. The language barrier compounds an already existing difficulty; I cannot understand people in my native tongue in a crowded noisy environment, nevermind in French!
This next week should prove to be interesting for me. I’m on vacation for real. No school this week! Due to a serious lack of funds, I am not travelling like almost every other friend that I have met in Paris. So, I plan on playing tourist finally. I want to visit museums (a phrase I thought I would never utter). First however, there is the small matter of the gold medal hockey game. I’m going to watch it at 3 a.m here with a few Canadians I’ve met – and then sleep all day Monday! Woohoo!
Pavlov’s Dog
This confession is forced.
Inadmissible in court!
Forced by the deadline
whose guillotine looms.
I put my pen to paper
and words spring forth.
They are not free like eagles
yet they soar on hot air.
I thought it would be easy
this confession of sin.
Yet long did I struggle
on how to disclose.
That my treasures are many,
my daily misdeeds.
Should I be subtle and witty
or humble, contrite.
Many drafts I did write
yet none did please.
Finally I settled on this,
my effort last minute.
I admit I lacked motivation.
No inspiration came.
Distracted from work I felt
like Pavlov's laboratory dogs.
Whoses mouths would water
but food was not my trigger.
Five new messages would await
and read them I must!
So now I sit here and write
and reluctantly submit.
It is strange and a little sad that my now twice daily commute past the Eiffel tower has begun to feel routine. It is strange that I’ve now been here for over a month and cannot look back on any one single moment as a hall-mark, defining high-water mark. Perhaps it’s because I’ve not taken to documenting my daily life; the lack of pictures and diary allows the days to slip away unremarked. Perhaps it’s because the routine imposed by school acts like a metronome, each week and assignment marks another beat. Perhaps it’s merely the fact that life is routinely banal, no matter how romantic and alluring your surroundings.
In any case, I don’t wish to sound too downbeat. I am merely trying to explain that a month and a half in Paris going to school is not at all like a month and a half of vacation; the demands of daily life do not easily lend themselves to a sense of wonder and exploration. I would be terribly remiss if I let this sentiment pass without an effort to provide balance and perspective in the form of the wonderful things I’ve seen and done.
It’s hard to put a value on the small moments one gets of extreme exhilaration as one spots a particularly beautiful vista, the flashing ray of sunlight which strikes your eye as you bike along the Seine and catches the dome of Des Invalides just so. Or when you’re wandering in a new quartier and you turn a corner and have a perfect view of the Notre Dame hit by flood-lights. Not to mention the jolt of surprise when trying a new route to a friend’s house and realizing your chemin provides you an unobstructed view of Sacre Coeur lit brilliantly in yellow by the setting sun.
Another upside is that my French has improved tremendously. French classes, French cinema, and other exchange students eager to practice all have contributed to a growing ease of speaking and comprehension. Of course, it’s still embarrassing when talking to French people in a bar and asking them to repeat themselves every other sentence because I can’t understand what they’re saying. The language barrier compounds an already existing difficulty; I cannot understand people in my native tongue in a crowded noisy environment, nevermind in French!
This next week should prove to be interesting for me. I’m on vacation for real. No school this week! Due to a serious lack of funds, I am not travelling like almost every other friend that I have met in Paris. So, I plan on playing tourist finally. I want to visit museums (a phrase I thought I would never utter). First however, there is the small matter of the gold medal hockey game. I’m going to watch it at 3 a.m here with a few Canadians I’ve met – and then sleep all day Monday! Woohoo!
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Hunt
The homework from the Poetry workshop this week was a "self-portrait" poem. I figured I'd be a little clever.
The Hunt
i ask your help dear friends
to aid me in my search
its crafty game i seek
whose cunning outwits mine
who no trap can ensnare
nor chase or hunt fatigue
though my quarry escapes
short flashes have i seen
small glimpses of my prey
reflected in your eyes
i call these my collage
a portrait of my toil
imperfect though it be
i hope one day complete
more cunning as I age
with every passing year
my eyes no longer search
directly for my prey
oblique now is their aim
to glimpse my quarrys face
reflected in your eyes
as i pursue my shade.
The Hunt
i ask your help dear friends
to aid me in my search
its crafty game i seek
whose cunning outwits mine
who no trap can ensnare
nor chase or hunt fatigue
though my quarry escapes
short flashes have i seen
small glimpses of my prey
reflected in your eyes
i call these my collage
a portrait of my toil
imperfect though it be
i hope one day complete
more cunning as I age
with every passing year
my eyes no longer search
directly for my prey
oblique now is their aim
to glimpse my quarrys face
reflected in your eyes
as i pursue my shade.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
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