Pain Au Chocolat ou Chocolatine?

Je ne vais écrire ce texte qu'en français tout simplement parce qu'il n'aurait aucune espèce d'intérêt pour un non-francophone. 

Avant de commencer, voici l'objet de la discorde:

Un petit quart de la population française (le Sud-Ouest) appelle ceci une chocolatine. Tous les autres (donc la grande majorité des français) appelle ça un pain au chocolat.

Pourquoi je vous parle de ça aujourd'hui? Parce que je suis tombée sur un meme ce matin, photo à l'appui, comme quoi, à Tokyo, les japonais avaient appelé ça chocolatine. Et forcément, ça en a fait réagir certain avec virulence...

Alors oui, je me doute bien que c'est de l'humour (quoique) mais je ne comprendrai jamais ce besoin d'établir qui a raison, qui a tort, si cette délicieuse viennoiserie doit s'appeler un pain au chocolat ou une chocolatine. Vous imaginez que ça a même été présenté à l'Assemblée pour qu'elle tranche sur la question (bon, la demande a été déboutée mais ça va quand même loin cette affaire!)

Perso, j'appelle ça une chocolatine. Et quand je vais chez mon boulanger préféré, ils vendent des chocolatines. Normal, je suis originaire du Sud Ouest et j'y vis encore. Mes potes du reste de la France, ils appellent ça un pain au chocolat. Quand je vais dans une boulangerie qui appelle ça un pain au chocolat, je demande un pain au chocolat. Et même si ma langue fourche et que je demande une chocolatine, le débat a fait suffisamment de vagues pour qu'ils sachent de quoi je parle. Et si c'est pas le cas, je montre ce que je veux. C'est pas compliqué. Comme quand tu achètes du pain. Y'a des boulangeries, ils appellent ça du pain tradition, d'autre, exactement le même pain, c'est un pain de campagne, tu vas dans une troisième boulangerie, ce sera encore un autre nom, c'est pas pour ça que je vais faire une scène parce que moi j'appelle ça d'une manière et eux d'une autre!

En Charente, une serpillière, ils appellent ça une since (pas sûre de l'orthographe!). Quand j'ai entendu ce mot pour la première fois, j'ai demandé ce que c'était. On m'a montré l'objet, ah ok, c'est une serpillière. Je continue d'appeler ça une serpillière et on se comprend entre ceux qui disent serpillière et ceux qui disent since. Bon, c'est vrai que c'est pas un mot qui revient souvent dans une conversation mais vous voyez ce que je veux dire. 

Chaque région a ses propres idiomes et bien que je comprenne l'attachement qu'on puisse avoir à ses origines, encore une fois, ce n'est pas parce que les autres disent certaines choses différemment de vous qu'ils ont forcément tort. A mes yeux, c'est ça qui fait la richesse d'une langue. C'est comme les accents.

Alors je ne me fais pas l'avocat du diable, je ne me fais pas non plus l'étendard des diseurs de chocolatine mais je trouve que cette guéguerre a pris des proportions hallucinantes alors qu'au bout du compte, on parle tous de la même chose. 

Et puis de toute façon, moi, je m'en fous, je préfère les chaussons aux pommes!

Putain de Pluie

J'ai écrit un post il y a déjà un moment sur les clients des bateaux de croisière dont je m'occupais qui systématiquement lorsqu'il pleuvait demandaient s'il allait pleuvoir comme ça toute la journée. Bon je comprends, t'es en vacances, tu fais une escale d'une journée au Mexique et t'as prévu une excursion à la plage, t'as pas forcément envie d'être sous la flotte. Même s'il fait 30º et que pour les locaux, ça fait du bien. Sauf que là, je suis en France, qu'on est certes en hiver mais qu'on a eu quasiment 2 mois entiers de flotte non-stop. Il a plu pratiquement TOUS LES JOURS DEPUIS DÉBUT DÉCEMBRE.

AU SECOURS!

Sans déconner, c'est infernal ce temps. Je sais bien que c'est l'hiver, je sais bien qu'on en avait grandement besoin mais ça déborde de partout, les champs sont détrempés, rien que d'y marcher en bottes, on s'enfonce jusqu'à mi-mollet et on a beau s'équiper avec vêtements de pluie (j'ai un ensemble pantalon/veste de pêcheur) et bottes, y'a toujours un moment où t'es mouillé. Et donc où tu te cailles.

Et puis ce ciel, toujours gris, toujours menaçant depuis 2 mois, c'est déprimant au possible. Déjà qu'en soi, janvier, c'est pas un super mois pour le moral (les fêtes de fin d'année sont terminées et en général, on n'a plus un sou en poche!) mais alors quand en plus, il fait ce genre de temps tout pourri, c'est l'horreur absolue.

Je préfère cent fois qu'il fasse des températures négatives avec tous les inconvénients que ça entraîne (grattage de pare-brise le matin, le compresseur du camion de vidange qu'est gelé, les 15 épaisseurs de vêtements et les 2 paires de gants ...) plutôt que de la flotte.

Enfin, c'est comme ça. On n'y peut rien mais on peut se plaindre ce qu'est déjà pas mal! LOL. Au moins, on n'est pas inondés comme beaucoup de gens en région parisienne ... Courage à tous, peut être que c'est bientôt la fin du déluge et des crues.

Fucking Rain

I wrote a post some time ago about cruise ship guests i was taking care of whom, when it was raining on the pier, were systematically asking me if it was going to rain all day. OK, i understand you're on holidays, you're making a one day stop in Puerto Vallarta Mexico and you've booked a beach day and you don't want to be enduring rain. Even though it's still 30º outside and all locals are actually happy about it. Except that right now, i'm in France and yes I know it's winter but for crying out loud it's been raining for nearly 2 months EVERY SINGLE FREAKING DAY SINCE THE BEGINING OF DECEMBER.

HELP!

Seriously, this weather is INSANE. I know it's winter, i know we badly needed it but for crying out loud, all rivers are overflowing, fields are soaking wet and even if you're using rain equipment (i have fisherman equipment) and rain boots, there's always a moment that stupid rain will get through and you'll get wet. And then you're freazing cold.

And it's not just the rain. That sky ... aargh, always grey, always threatening for the past 2 months. It's depressing. In itself, January is not the best month mood wise. Christmas and New Year celebrations are long gone and most of the time, you're broke but when to top it all, you have that shitty weather, yuk, it's the absolute worse.

I'd much rather have freezing temperatures with all the inconveniences it implies (gratting your windshield, truck's compressor frozen, 15 layers of clothes, 2 pairs of gloves ...) than rain.

Well, not much we can do about it apart from complaining! LOL. At least, we're not flooded like some people we know around the Paris area. Good luck all. Maybe it's almost the end of the flood.

La Vie Sur Roues

Ça va faire près d'un an que je voulais écrire ce post, suite à un WE passé à Paris avec ma fille de 4 mois à l'époque. J'accompagnais Bruno en arbitrage sur une compétition de karaté et je voulais en profiter pour visiter de la famille ainsi que passer une journée à flâner dans la capitale. J'ai toujours aimé me promener à Paris et j'ai systématiquement utilisé le métro pour me déplacer. Et c'était bien mon intention de faire de même, avec ma fille et sa poussette.

Et c'est là que je me suis rendue compte que même en ville, et qui plus est, une GRANDE ville, la vie n'était absolument pas adaptée aux roulettes. Et je vous parle d'une poussette avec un bébé de 4kg dedans, que je pouvais plier si besoin et porter ma fille au cou. Sauf que dans le métro, ou n'importe où d'ailleurs, les gens te voient galérer ta race et personne ne te propose de l'aide. 

Tout comme passer mon permis poids lourds a radicalement changé ma manière de conduire une voiture, avoir un enfant à radicalement changé ma perception des choses pour les gens à mobilité réduite. 

Je suis d'accord pour dire qu'à Paris comme dans d'autres villes, il existe d'autres moyens que le métro pour se déplacer quand tu as une poussette. Sauf que le métro, c'est économique et qu'on n'a pas tous les moyens de se mouvoir en taxi. Et le bus, c'est comme le métro, il y en a quelques uns, certes, qui sont adaptés pour des fauteuils roulants et/ou des poussettes mais en règle générale, à moins d'avoir l'usage de tes 2 jambes, c'est mort. 

Pareil pour entrer dans un resto ou un bar. Une fois sur 2 y'a des marches pour y accéder et une fois à l'intérieur, y'a pas de place pour circuler. 

Alors oui, je suis d'accord sur le fait que ce soit coûteux de faire des aménagements pour ces gens là, surtout quand on sait que seulement entre 2 et 3% de la population se déplace en fauteuil roulant et que les enfants de moins de 2 ans (susceptibles donc de se déplacer en poussette) représente un peu moins de 1,5% de la population française (ce sont des chiffres de l'INSEE et qui datent de 2014).

Mais ce que je me dis, c'est que ça ne coûte strictement rien de filer un coup de main quand c'est nécessaire ... 

Quelques exemples tout cons: (que ce soit pour une personne en fauteuil roulant ou une personne qui pousse une poussette)

- tenir une porte pour entrer ou sortir (parce qu'en général, les portes qui ne s'ouvrent pas toute seule pèsent une tonne et se referment automatiquement. Donc je vous raconte pas comment c'est pratique quand t'as les 2 mains prises pour mouvoir ton "véhicule" à roulettes.

- filer un coup de main quand le sol est couvert de pavés. C'est grandiose des pavés. Ça roule VACHEMENT bien!

- ramasser un truc tombé par terre ou attraper un truc en hauteur.

- LAISSER LA PLACE DE PARKING RÉSERVÉE À CET EFFET AUX PERSONNES CONCERNÉES. il existe depuis des années, des places de parking, souvent de couleur bleu réservées aux personnes à mobilités réduites et qui, de plus, ont un macaron qui l'indique d’apposé sur leur pare-brise. Alors, effectivement, ces places sont fantastiques pour 2 raisons: d'abord parce qu'elles se trouvent JUSTE DEVANT l'entrée du magasin et parce qu'elles sont larges et qu'on peut ouvrir les portières de la voiture en grand sans craindre de cogner la voiture d'à côté. Sauf que je ne vous apprends rien en disant que les gens pour qui ces places sont réservées ont BESOIN de ces facilités pour accéder à leur véhicule. Et je suis certaine qu'ils rendraient leur macaron immédiatement si on leur enlevait le handicap à cause duquel ils ont eu dit macaron.

Depuis peu, il existe sur certains parking de grandes surfaces, des places peintes en rose cette fois, réservées aux familles avec enfants en bas âge. Alors là, pareil, c'est vraiment super pratique. Tu peux ouvrir tes portières en grand pour sortir la poussette et ton gamin de la voiture, le mettre dans sa poussette sans être dans l'allée où circulent les autres véhicules, bref, ça simplifie pas mal la vie quand tu fais tes courses avec ton enfant.

Eh bien comme pour les places handicapé, la connerie et la feignantise n'étant pas des handicaps, tu te gares ailleurs et tu marches. Et si tu circules dans une voiture de société et que tu te gares sur une place rose, ben t'es un aussi gros connard que si tu te gares sur une place bleue. Je ne dis pas que la vie avec une poussette est aussi compliquée que la vie en fauteuil roulant, loin de là, mais pour une fois que des choses sont faites pour simplifier la vie de certains usagers, ça ne coûte rien de faire preuve d'un peu de civisme.

PS: un truc positif sur Paris cependant ... depuis que les quais sont fermés à la circulation, je dois dire que se balader avec une poussette sur ces routes qui sont lisses comme des tapis de billard, c'est que du bonheur. 

I Missed the Fireworks

Yesterday was July 14th. Bastille Day as they call it in the States. Rightfully so, since it's the taking of the Bastille back in 1789, during the French Revolution, which officially put an end to France's monarchy and the begining of it being a democracy. I won't comment on that knowing that the French Democratic Republic is more a name than the true meaning of it. Moving on.

So yesterday was a celebration nonetheless and i wouldn't normally miss the fireworks. I absolutely adore them and it's always very emotional for me. Don't ask me why, i wouldn't know. But i can't help but tear up a little when i watch fireworks. I can somehow feel it in my gutts, i don't know, it's a weird feeling.

But i wasn't in a good place yesterday and by the time they actually started firing them, i was already in bed only wanting to sleep to make that awful day come to an end. Needless to say it's always when you truly want to sleep to make the hurt go away that you can't find any. 

So here's a picture of beautiful fireworks (i've also watched some online while trying to fall asleep!). There's another one planned to be fired in August, at the fare. I'll go for sure then!

Oh No, Not Again!

It's harvest time! I missed it last year cuz i wasn't working there yet and i missed it this year cuz well, i had to call in sick. DAMN IT. But anyway, the day i got back to work, i was sent back in the fields with my tractor to start preparing the land of newly harvested fields. And off i was. 

A lot of people i know don't like being in the fields, working the land with a tractor cuz generally, you're going super slow. For this particular work I'm doing, I'm going 5km/h. Needless to say it's gonna take me for fucking ever to do a 17 hectares field but i don't care. Drawing lines in a field has this amazingly soothing feeling for me. I'm focusing on the lines, not thinking about much else and i drains any bad thoughts from my mind.

At some point, i was making it back to a place where i had to skim the neighbor's field when i saw this big slice of un-worked land ... My first thought was: wow, was i this bad the first time, passing this far from the neighbor's field's edge? I mean it was a good 6 meters wide and I knew i hadn't been that far off. Right at that very second, i saw a massive harvester pulling out of the wheat's field. 

Security scream (as my colleague calls it!). And off i was again, minding my own business!

A short time later, i heard an unfamiliar sound/noise as i was making a U-turn in the field. I turned around and i was like: holy crap, I've lost a wheel!

I was cartoon-like, when the driver loses a wheel and he sees it going its own way rolling away. Took me a few meters to stop and contemplate the "work".

CRAP.

Called the Boss, told him that, hum, well, i had lost a wheel. He started to ask me about mechanical shit and i was like, i don't know any of that: the wheel is unattached to the trailer it's supposed to be on, nothing seems broken, please come help me!

Verdict: bearings are DEAD. We'll have the new ones in 3 days.

Well, i guess i ain't working in there for the rest of the week then. Booo.

Does this kinda thing only happen to me? I mean, seriously? I've pretty much been on the spot for every breaking there's been with agricultural equipment ... (** sighs **) Maybe once I've had broken every single one of them at least once, I'll be able to work properly! One can only hope!

The Reason Behind It All

I started this blog quite a few years ago, i believe in 2009 ... As i mentioned it in one of my first post, it was after 2 guys told me to do so. I obviously enjoyed writing but didn't know how to share it. 

I've always tried to keep this blog as "apolitical" as possible. Politics are not my thing. Never were and probably never will be. I just wanted a support where i could express myself freely about very light stuff that either makes me laugh or makes me cry but things that create a strong feeling within myself. And i'd say that so far, so good.

Something terrible happened in France 2 days ago. 2 armed guys rushed into the buildings of a French satirical newspaper called Charlie Hebdo and cold-blooded killed 12 people, harmed 11 more, 4 of which critically. Amongst them, journalists, cartoonists, humorists and a few non-press related people, a cleaning guy, 2 policemen and people who had the misfortune to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Regardless who those people are and how famous they may or may not be, the act itself is horrendous. 

An entire nation has since rised in support of what these people (and this newspaper) represented: the freedom of speech.

And with that in mind, it reminded me of the main reason of why i started this blog in the first place.

I was then living in Mexico and working for one of the biggest tour company in the country. We were 700+ employees there and one day, a guy in charge of who knows what suggested that it would be nice to have/make a little internal newspaper. And i immediately thought: fuck yeah. As soon as he asked for volunteers, i signed up for 2 columns. One was interviewing the oldest employees (by oldest i mean the people who were working there the longest, basically since day one ...) and the other one was something i called: "me and ..." and it was kind of a prototype version of what this blog was going to be (so not so much in direct relation with the company but something funny and light-hearted to read)

Well, he probably thought highly of himself since he censored me pretty much from day 1. And i don't like being censored. I don't like censorship in general. There was so many little details he didn't like, i couldn't write what people were telling me in the interviews because it made either Big Boss look bad and/or the company better in its old days than what it was now. So i ended up giving up the interview column after just a few interviews. And for my second column, it was even worse on the censorship when i had the bad idea of writing about Mexico City's insane traffic (he was from there you see).

Anyway, i won't write about this old story again, mainly because i did so already in this amazing post of mine ... but also because a great deal has happened since then and i honestly don't hold grudges for that kind of insignificant things.

Or so i thought.

Ok, grudge is probably a bit over-the-top, but i remember perfectly the feeling i got when he censored me and when he completely modified my text. It was infuriating, it was frustrating and the only thing it made me want to do was to keep on writing to show him that nothing he could do or say could/would stop me. And that's exactly what i did. 

As i said earlier, this blog is not very commited. Of course, i do have my opinions on things happening in the world and i sometimes ramble about things and raise my voice pen about it. But given the recent attacks on that newspaper which can be totally said as an attack on our freedom of speech, it reminded me that our greatest power against religious radicalism and extremism is culture. Words are more powerful than any weapon. And as long as there'll be words, then there is still hope for this world to become a better place. 

It's been amazing how people have stood united. I believe last time it happened was in 1968. Maybe there's a new revolution in the making. It's about time we stand together against oppression and for our liberties. 

France, you kinda make me proud to be one of yours today. 

Encounter of the Third Kind

I honestly have no idea what the other 2 kinds of encounters might be but for me, today, it was one of the third kind. Why? Because it was extraordinary. At the root-sense of the word. Meaning, something out of the ordinary. 

(OK just checked, technically, an encounter of the third kind is when you see an UFO which is nothing of the sort).

As most of you know by now (and if you don't, you should read this blog more often! and be ashamed of yourself for not doing so earlier) I now live in the countryside. And even though i don't work with animals, needless to say i've come across cattle more than once. 

I'm not confortable with big animals. Not because i think they're scary or gross but because i've never had interracted with them because i know knew nobody who actually breed them. Up until now obviously.

One of my better half's karatéka is the son of a cow breeder, another one the son of horses and ponies breeder (yep, not comfy with horses either). My grand father in law used to breed swines, my father in law used to breed sheeps but they only have cats left now. And as cats are concerned, i'm pretty well served with my 3. So when i was told that a cow has a tongue that is raspy like one of a cat, i was in shock. I thought they had a smooth one like a dog. Same when i heard that cows are actually pretty affectionate animals. And i thought, damn, i need to go see (and maybe even pet one) from up close.

So i called the guy after my man had told him about my little query. And i met him and his cows today. 

When i parked by the field they were staying in, first thing that came to my mind was, damn, they are huge animals. It's very impressive. And i was quite far away from them still! We went in, but since it was in the field where a couple of born-yesterday calves were at, mommy cows were extremely alert and following our every move. So he took me to another field, to introduce me to Marguerite (this is such a stereotype name for a cow, i love it), a cow whom mother died calving and that he pretty much raised on his own, feeding her with a baby bottle.

Daniel and Marguerite

He kept her horns because other cows, as she was growing up, were mean to her because she acted different than they did. Animals are just like human beings, they're racist! They don't like Different. So now, she can actually defend her food when others are trying to steal it from her. 

It was amazing how he called her by her name and how she recognized it and came to us. We had brought some flour that she voraciously devoured. She even ate from my hands. I mean I HAND-FED A COW!!!! (no pic here, it was so over the top that i didn't think about asking him to take a picture)

Marguerite so very much enjoying her food!

I was a lot more nervous when he called the bull. We were in a field with about 15 cows with their calves and one bull. A one point two ton bull. It's bigger (and heavier) than my very own CAR! But i pet him. I PET A FREAKING BULL!!!

THAT bigger-than-everybody-else's bull

We then went to a third field with another baby-bottle fed cow named Peach (Pêche in French). And i couldn't help but ask for my picture taken with her. Otherwise nobody would trust me that i did go in a field full of cows and actually gotten close enough to pet them. 

Peach and I

 I couldn't pet a calf. They're fearful and always stand aback. But jeez aren't they curious. You can tell they're scared but their curiosity is still stronger than their fear and they want to get closer! It's funny. They're like a little kid hidding into mommy's skirt!!

I even got to drive that little tractor (it's not a tractor but i don't know the name of it, not even in French, let alone in English!) to bring a haybale to them. I was on my own (with the farmer's dog) in that little engine, in the middle of a dozen cows, bringing them that caramel flavored candy to them (seriously, this stuff smells like caramel, no wonder they like it!).

Farmers in France, even in the countryside, have a reputation of being assholes. And jerks. Well i have yet to meet one of these nasty specimen because all the ones that i've crossed path with have been nothing but awesome with me. Maybe it's because i'm new to this world, maybe it's because i'm a woman, maybe it's because i'm the wife and the daughter in law of a very well known family here, or maybe it's just because i'm excited about learning and discovering all these new things.

The way he talked about his cows was touching. He could pretty much tell which calf belonged to which cow, and he talked about Marguerite and Peach with some kind of pride but most of all, a tremendous amount of love and affection. This guy cares for his animals and it shows.

It was a fantastic experience for me. And you could tell he was only too happy to show me his "babies". And what is probably so natural for him was an extraordinary encounter for me. Kinda made my day :D

Best Birthday Gift Ever

NOT!!! LOL

Every year, you know, there are dates that are automatically coming back, anniversaries and birthdays being some of these. Obviously. I'm not a big fan of big birthday bashes, nor is my better half so we didn't plan anything special, just a dinner at a restaurant and that was pretty much it! 

What my boss had in store for me though, was quite another story!

Totally oblivious it was my birthday (which kinda makes me think it would probably have been a lot worse!), i got sent with my pal and co-worker Anthony down a shite pit we're installing right now, the day after it had rained pretty much all night. And no it wasn't shit i was stepping onto but clay.

Go down in the pit, he said, it's dry he added. 

DRY MY ASS!

It took me for freaking ever to get the clay off of my boots and i had to drive home barefoot in order not to plaster that crap all over the carpets of my car. 

That pleasant interaction with one of nature's stickiest shit was only the hors-d'oeuvre.  In the afternoon, the boss said that he needed the two of us on another kind of oh-so-enjoyable task: standing at the back of the crop-spreader because he had just ordered several tons of chicken shit mix to spread onto the newly planted rapeseed. And since the mix was with chicken shit and sawdust, we had to make sure that it wouldn't get blocked inside hence, not spread where it should be.

It was 27ºC outside, we were under the burning sun, with hats, gaz mask for the dust and our sticks to break up the occasional block of chicken shit and long story short, we were COVERED in chicken shit dust. The only place that mess didn't get into was my panties.

But we did it. And as we've grown accustomed to, we had fun doing it. Anthony shot a video but no picture is here to show the apocalyptic look i had! Doesn't matter. I still think it's the most unusual yet awesome way of celebrating my birthday.

I freaking love my job!

I Have A New Friend!

We're not technically "friends" per say, but in the fields i've been spending time in, i've noticed this big bird of prey, probably a different one each time since i'm not on the same spot every time. Don't get me wrong, i'm not a big fan of birds, but strangely, i don't mind birds of prey. My problem is that i can't seem to find its name. 

It's a big grey hawk that looks like a mix between a Northern Goshawk (but doesn't have as much white as this one) and the Crane Hawk (but that one is from America so can't be).

Northern Goshawk

Crane Hawk

I've seen it hunt and get mice, walking on the fresh plowed land and chasing another one off of his dinning "room"! These birds are majectic. It's a utter pleasure to watch them be. I wish i could get closer. I even wish i could touch them.

I love the countryside. 

Life In The Slow Lane

As of today, i have started a new job and oh, what a 180º turn around it's been! I am now officially a farmer. I don't work with animals, i work with the land. So obviously, I've had to learn how to drive a tractor. And god knows it's nowhere close to driving a car. Or a truck since i now can. But let's put those details aside for now. 

On my first day, my boss, who happens to also be my father-in-law, brought me to a big ass field (17 something hectares to be exact), showed me how to drive the tractor, drew a couple of lines with it to show me and then told me, OK, off you go, call me if you have a problem. 

And there i was, alone, in the middle of the field, thinking of all the buttons and shit i had to do before even thinking on moving the tractor and more than a hundred and seventy thousand square meters of land to furrow. 

I followed big boss's advice, got myself in 4th of the slow gear, blocked the speed to 5km/h and off i was. FIVE FREAKING KILOMETER AN HOUR. Do you even realize how stupidly SLOW that is? 

Well so i thought. Up until i actually got going ... and then trust me, in a field, behind a wheel of a tractor, 5km/h shakes the crap out of you and it truly feels like you're going 100km/h. And honestly, it helps you put things into perspective. 

I have seen, while in that field, animals i hadn't seen in years: all kind of birds, hares, rabbits, mice, all kind of insects and butterflies and this quietness i was so longing for. Obviously, the tractor's engine is loud but in the air conditioned cabin with the radio on, i'm like in a cocoon, all by my lonesome self.

And i'm going slow. Very slow.

And it feels good.

Here, time seems to have stopped. And after all the frenzy of the city and life in general, it's a huge bowl of fresh air.

I'm loving every second of it.

I Can Hear My Neighbor Pee

I know, i know, that doesn't sound glamour whatsoever but it is unfortunately true. The studio I live in is so freaking small and the walls are so freaking thin that I can pretty much hear anything that is going on in the building. OK, maybe i'm exaggerating a little. But just a little.

I have quite a few neighbors since there are 20 studios in the building. Let's not talk about the dirt-bag in 42, just mentioning it might give my man rashes. But the girl just above us uses heels to walk (and it's annoying you have no idea) and I can hear when she pees. It's kinda gross and I thought, ok, let's just imagining that she's doing the dishes but the water falling in the sink does not make the same sound as the piss hitting the water in the toilet! On the plus side, I can't hear when she poops, thank God.

The neighbor just next to her, so not directly above us, is apparently a gamer. We can hear it cursing at his computer when he loses, especially in the evening. He drives this big ass jeep/pick up truck and drives in the parking lot like a maniac.

We also have an old man who makes me sad every time I see him because it's a residence for students mainly and he doesn't seem to have friends, a single dad who gets his kid once every fortnight, a slightly handicapped guy who always wants to sell me his furniture (especially stuff I so don't have room for like a couch and a washing machine (no idea how he fits it in his studio!!)), a couple of “doudou” as we call them (they're from Martinique), a guy who must be playing soccer since I always seem him with a big sports bag and a ball, a student whose mom and younger sister come visit on the week end, a guy with a scooter that he locks on the bar of his window, a cherry tree, a stray cat, an occasional hedgehog and magpies my cats are dying to catch (I don't think they've ever seen a bird that big).

All in all, a pleasant place to live, if it wasn't for that ass in 42 and for the 20 square meter we live in.