Subject: a tours part deux

Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2006

A quick e-mail before class.

The evening after I first wrote, I met my host parents who had returned from a wedding. I hope they ate lots of cake for me. I love cake, just like Marie Antionette. Bernadette and Jacques are quite nice and seemingly easy-going. Bernadette is a little ball of spunk who is a good cook.

We've been having ateliers (workshops) in the afternoons after our classes. We have to attend a minimum of four, though I've signed up for five. Phew! What an overachiever I am! I know, I know, I’ll cool it soon. Don’t worry.

The first atelier, “architecture and history,” was obligatory for all ye little kiddies. It focused on the Tours Cathedral. The professor who the workshop had facial like the narcoleptic Austrian in the film Moulin Rouge, a pointy and black bear, accented by heavy sideburns and a short, curved, handlebar-style mustache. He was little and hopped all over the place like a Mexican jumping bean, excited about the Cathedral. I figured it must be overflowing with free candy, because, hey, why else would anyone get as excited as that? The cathedral, I learned, was built over a few centuries from, I believe, 1300's to late 1500's. Way back in those 1300’s, Tours was a nice town full of nice people and nice farm animals. Everyone was happy. Peace reigned over the land. Things were calm. Things were happy. Apparently all this was possible without laughing gas. This placid, peaceful state of being was reflected in the burgeoning of the in-progress cathedral – everything was matching and unified and symmetrical. Then, like Genghis Kahn with a swathe of warriors, RAR! along came the black plague in 1354, hand in hand with chaos. Unity disappeared from the church's architecture and the facade was built in as mismatched a way as if designed by a two-year-old. For example, thirty feet up may be a set of square windows on the left, whereas thirty feet up on the right are round windows or just no windows at all.

The next day I went to the "Gourmandeise" atelier where we learned about the traditional way of making "sucrolettes" (little sugar drops) and "prunos farcis" (stuffed prunes). As suited to French ‘snobbish’ culinary preferences, this shop made these specialties as they were made way back in the 17th or 18th century when they were invented. We watched as the apron-clad chef melted down sugar, added a dash of this a bit of that and "voila!" In fact, mid demonstration, a girl fainted! Perhaps she was so blown away by the process that she couldn’t contain herself, but I think she might have been ill and affected by the hot-cold of the nearby stove and overhead air-conditioning. Everyone turned in surprise. There was a pause. The chef said “Ah yeaaas, well dis has happened before,” and after a moment more, continued on. (The girl was alright, no worries). After the talk, we got to sample. I love samples, especially those involving candied delicacies. Don't you? C'etait delicieux.

Yesterday’s workshop was a boat ride on the Loire. Not worth talking much about. We lollicked down the Loire River at a frog’s crawl as the boat driver gave a monotone talk into the microphone with a mouth full of gravel. Top that with my shoddy comprehension and I couldn't understand for the life of me. We did see some neat, pricey homes though, carved in modern-caveman style into the front of a cliff.

I learned the word for cotton candy walking through a market: "barbe a papa" which literally means "daddy's beard."

Time for class maintenant!
Hannah