I am going to keep doing these Monday Memories posts, even though some think they're confusing. Come on...this is simple! I wrote this a year ago at this very same time. This year, I'm in my own apartment and my biggest noise problem is the bruyant girlfriend of my neighbor. But that is today, this article was then.
French Word of the Day
Bruit: noise
Bruyant: noisy
I
decided long ago that I would always live in a University town. There’s just
something about the energy that a college brings to a city; the exuberance and
the life that the students contribute as well as all the cool stuff that University offers the community. You know...theater, educational forums, musical programs....beer parties!
I
bought my first house in a college neighborhood and really loved it there. Of
course, there were people my age and elderly people as well as the students but
I loved how we all lived together. It wasn't white bread. It was a club sandwich with dark bread, light bread, aged cheese, spicy sausage, sweet tomatoes and some some piquant mustard that often would make my eyes water. And really tasty.
Sure, there are always problems. For
instance the night the students cut down my elderly neighbor’s’ evergreen to
use for a Christmas tree. It was a rotten thing to do but certainly not
the norm and when we moved from Chippewa Street to “suburbia” I was sure I would
die of boredom. Luckily the new baby that arrived just after the move did
a thorough job of preventing that little problem but I always wanted to move
back down into “college land.”
When
it was time to make a decision about what city in France I was actually going
to move to, I had no problem selecting the region. I had been to Provence
before and knew it was where I wanted to return. But after that, it was
just a crapshoot. I chose 3 towns that began with the letter A (it seemed a
good place to start) and then did a little research. After learning that
Aix en Provence was not only beautiful and cultured but also had a large
University presence (1/3 of the population is students), I decided this was the
place for me. Finally!
But
let me digress just a little. When I lived in “college land” in Eau
Claire, Wisconsin, I had 4 insulated walls and insulated windows, a yard and a
fence, and a wide street that distanced me from my neighbors. Not enough to
prevent a morning chat but enough for privacy and peace. The students
would often have parties and I spent many a morning picking up beer cups that
seemed to procreate in my yard (for that matter, so did the students...well maybe they didn't procreate but they did copulate... under my pine tree) but it was never enough to get too worked up
about.
However, because my apartment won't be ready until October 1st, I am now I am staying with French boyfriend in the central part of the city, 2 blocks from 2 Universities,
in a building that is at least 400 years old and all that separates us from the
neighbors is a floor, a ceiling, a wall, a street the width of a European car,
and a couple of very old and very large windows.
The
students have returned for the fall and I don’t think they have much to do
right now because the parties begin on Wednesday night. And believe me,
when you live this close together, the party might as well be happening in your
own living room. If two apartments across the street from each other are
partying simultaneously, the revelers can chat (or shriek...this form of
communication is saved for after 2 in the morning when the music has become so
loud they can’t hear each other) out the windows, pass each other beverages and
pretend the rest of us don’t exist. And of course, they only choose to do this
when I have to be up at 6 am. Actually, I will be up at 6 am no matter
what because the street cleaners live elsewhere and have obviously gotten
plenty of sleep. They are hell bent on getting that street done by 6:30 and
they have to shout at each other as well to be heard above the gushing water.
And
if we’re really, really lucky, by Saturday night the students are either
exhausted or in some other poor sucker’s neighborhood. However, we are also
above a restaurant run by Sicilians. They don’t talk.... they yell. In fact, at
first I thought they were constantly mad at each other until I heard them
talking affectionately to a child in the same manner. So they yell before
dinner as they’re preparing the evening’s menu, they yell at the customers
throughout dinner and afterwards, and when it’s 2 am and all the diners have gone
home and are sleeping soundly in their homes somewhere outside the city, they
sit down for a little vino and a yell fest.
I
guess I can’t blame my bad humor and baggy eyes on just college students so I
will continue to believe in their good qualities. But something has to be done
about this before I collapse in my croissant!
So
I went to the pharmacy to purchase earplugs yesterday. I didn’t know what
they were called so I asked for some bouchons des l’oreilles, which translates
to “cork for your ears” and the woman knew exactly what I needed. I’m obviously
not the first to ask because they had stacks of them. I bought a lovely
box with a set in 3 different colors, because if I’m going to be having parties
with beautiful, young, French strangers practically in my living room, and
dark, handsome Italians just below my window, I want to make sure my earplugs
match my shoes.
Hey! What do you mean, you don't think this is me? Of course its me! I'm wearing my red earplugs, you just can't see them.
