Megafun (Monteneuf Redux)

I don't think that I'll ever forget this day. Four hours amongst the megaliths with the kids (commemorated here, at its end, by my discovery of the self-timer on the camera!) - romping, playing, imagining, talking, laughing, romping some more. It's the freest I've ever felt. This site actually gets more and more amazing to me each time I go. I can hardly believe, for instance, that it's so open, so completely accessible. We were there completely alone for most of the time, with hikers picking up the trails that are all around every once in a while. I just let the kids go - we left only when they were ready for hot chocolate and some rest.

But first, we fortified ourselves with a picnic. Oliver professed being tired of the same picnic all the time (ham and butter on baguette, boiled egg, cheese, fruit) but the girls and I don't ever tire of it. Those super simple meals are just the best sometimes. But how are you going to keep them liking simple picnics after they've tasted of the restaurant scolaire? :-)

I loved watching the kids enter the megaliths area - slowly walking around them at first, and then landing on two or three around which they staged games (or ate apples). The art historian in me was hyper aware of the "don't touch the art!" feeling inside - but, really, these are a(n art) world apart. The kids could do no harm to these wonderful stones - they could, in fact, touch the art.

The entire time we were there, I just could not believe that there I was, watching my children amongst 5000 year old stones arrangements. The ubiquity of their play (they'll play at home, on equipment at school, in parks) and the utter uniqueness of this site made for quite the stunning combination. They knew it was something special, too, and actually, I'd want to know more about what makes it special for them: it's not the neolithic street cred that the site has (that's for grown-ups mostly) - there must be something deeper (the arrangements themselves? the size? the scale?) that calls out to them.

Watching Eleanor play was like watching the earliest chapters of the history of art unfold before my eyes. First she found the rock, then she played in the puddles of water left by yesterday's rain, then she started making hand imprints. Calling Peche-Merle! I'm always wary of "infantilizing" the past (they were like children! if we watch children (and, more sinisterly, other "primitives") today, we can understand the Neolithic (sometimes people even say the medieval) past). So what Eleanor did does not "explain" Peche-Merle (and its incredible "hand signature" - you see it right there are the top of the website linked above). Rather, it has me turn to the late German Romantics, to their idea of the Kunstwollen - the, as I translate it to my students, "will to art" that is in all of us. But even more interesting to me, is that I've never seen Eleanor do this anywhere else. What was it about the stone that called out for her touch? There is something about the sheer size of that open surface (an existentially open representation field elicits a horror vacui response?) that is irresistible. Or maybe it's the textures: the sleek wetness of the water satisfyingly slapping against the unmoveable solidity of the stone. Whatever it was, Eleanor was at it for a really long time. When Oliver and Iris came over to play, it was like another chapter: possession. Within minutes, Oliver had put his wet handprint on the stone and said "This stone shall be mine." (Part of his taking the site seriously was his using Olde English speak, and no longer using contractions - love that). Incredible!

Oliver indeed had one game after another. Watching him, watching all of them, made me realize how much I talk dear Mac's ears off when we're out with the kids. Must learn to just be quiet and watch - and listen. Here, Oliver was explaining his found weapon to me. It looked like a slim branch that had been pruned (the French prune trees like I've never seen - there are branches everywhere all around all the time as spring approaches), but to him, it was a fearsome spear. "Look," he said, "It's even been cut the way the Neos would have done it." The Neos? This must be how I refer to Neolithic Peoples from now on.

The pedagogical site here is awesome. Unintrusive, and truly instructive! There's a Neolithic house to your left, and three stages in the movement of megaliths (from supine to transported to hoisted). I found completely amazing things about how the site itself was rediscovered in the 1980s, too. Apparently, a series of forest fires uncovered enough of the underbrush to reveal the buried stones. There were only 3 stones standing at the time, but when archaeologists were brought in, 420 (420!) were eventually found. The incredible work that went on here from 1989-1997 uncovered more of the stones, raised 42 of them again (what a labor of love!), cleared the area and created hiking trails (where you can see some of the other standing stones in the 7 acre area) and set up the pedagogical area. I want to know more about the kind of archaeologists they brought in, because apparently they obtained a great deal of historical information from the ground itself (is there such a thing as a geo-archaeoligst?) (cool!) (really cool!) - for instance, the (still and ever astounding fact) that hundreds of stones were laid down (can't really say knocked over) around the year 1000. If I were a creative writer, I'd write that unwritten chapter of history - all the fear and power and will involved in deciding to take down hundreds of great stones like these...

I could envision using the kids for several re-enactment shots of Neolithic life, but settled for asking Oliver to pose as a to-scale model for the stones. The sword is, arhum, anachronistic, but I'll deal. This site is definitely expanding my section on Stonehenge in the art history survey. There's nothing like Stonehenge, of course, but students need to know more about other, less structured sites. Stonehenge's post-Neo-lithic history is a heavy burden upon the site as well (all of the expectations that it carries as a British monument - I could go on). Here, we have this site discovered only 30 years ago, after lying dormant (all too literally) for hundreds of years.

I spent a lot of the afternoon musing about all of this - one slow, winding thought at a time (haven't thought that way in forever - it's mesmerizing). The kids' games wove in and out of thinking through all of this, and somehow we whiled away four hours amongst the standing stones. Towards the end, not seeing Eleanor, I called out for her and heard a giggle. I ran around to find her here, "napping" in a crevasse of a megalith. That girl really communed with those stones!

We made it home for that hot chocolate and finished Asterix in Switzerland (which seemed vaguely appropriate somehow). Then, I heated up the lasagna from the cute butcher (Iris has already vowed to make him a card thanking him for his lasagna, which we eat weekly) and "made" (assembled is more the word) one of my favorite desserts: a petit suisse (petit suisse in English, too!), drizzled with honey. Oliver decorated his own in what I find to be a rather lovely and appetizing pattern. Each kid got a (huge!) date that Iris had picked out at the fruit seller's yesterday, and that was the end of a great day! (P.S. I know that you are all following the health care votes - just wanted you to know that the second round of regional elections happened here yesterday: the Socialists cleaned up in Brittany and everywhere else. Perhaps that leftist breeze will blow west to America and we'll see some progressive social change!)

Pink Rice is Nice

I scaled back the cheese purchases a bit this week, since Mac "Mangeur de Fromage" Mackenzie is enjoying German cheeses this week (he's now left Nuremberg and is in Berlin doing more archival work - huzzah!). Top left is "Le Murol," a cheese which (appropriately enough, since Mac studies German art between the two World Wars) was created between the two World Wars. It has a very mild (dare I say too mild? I, who can scarcely fathom criticizing a French cheese) flavor, but Eleanor and Oliver like it. Iris was the one to ask for a wedge of the Livarot, a beautiful AOC cheese from Normandy which will be giving everything in the fridge a run for its money in about three days. (She looked at the cheese, looked up at me and asked "Is this the cheese that curdled our milk?" - when I answered "yes" (it didn't really, but it really is strong), she said "that's the one I want." Done! The big slab is what's left of last week's Beaufort - there for aesthetics, really.

So, I wondered how today was going to go: rainy day, kids cooped up inside. I use Eleanor's disconcertingly grown-up little face to express my bemusement. (That is such an odd picture, but I kind of love it). In fact, we were all over the place: the marché (getting busier and busier with more and more vendors every week), then off to Sam Textile to buy Oliver a pair of sweatpants (required for his "Circus Studio" which goes on all four days next week!), when Sam was closed, off to the Super U, when the Super U didn't have anything, off to the Carrefour. We had success at the Carrefour and now Oliver is suited up for his Circus studio. Note to self, though: try to avoid going grocery stores as the only adult with three children when these have enormous displays of Easter candy up. I didn't succumb, and they were actually pretty good about it - I'll take a picture Monday and you'll see the temptations they resisted. A Hello Kitty chocolate egg that comes in a keepsake egg cup? However did I walk away??

The afternoon flowed by very quickly with games and various and sundry crafts. Iris opened up a little store of sundries (she, too, looks unnervingly knowing in this photo - what gives?) for which Oliver and I made dozens of bills of "Funny Bunny Money" (the Easter theme is definitely going to be sticking around). She also landed on the idea that she really, really, really wanted to learn to do a cross-stitch with me. Now, arts and crafts as a rule strike fear and terror in my heart, as I am so appallingly bad at doing anything at all constructive with my hands - I lack some key motor skills or something, and everything I touch winds up looking either crudely childlike or gruesome (I got a lot (a lot) of sad faces for Art class when I was a kid in Switzerland - thus why seeing Eleanor's sad face brought back so many memories!). This is the subject of much humor (poor Mac is actually puzzled at times at how bad my drawings or construction efforts are), and also (and this is so dear) much encouragement from the kids: "Come on, Mom, you can do it" - and then even they see how bad my "fearsome" dragon is. But when I saw the cross-stitch kit (for 4 year olds!) at the Super-U, I had to get it for Iris, even though I knew I'd be fumbling to get us even started.

Well, by gum, look what we've accomplished so far! She's done the green and the brown and we're starting on the red of the train! The kit came with instructions (thank goodness) and after a couple of false starts, Iris and I were able to figure it out together. Meant for 4 year olds, mind you, and I still couldn't figure it out by myself. Best that she does it on her own, anyway. I'm so proud of her! She wants this to be either the front of a t-shirt for Eleanor or a surprise for her dad (look away, Mac!). Either way, it's going to be terrific. Choo-choo!

My other major accomplishment of the day was to make pink rice. Eleanor asked me this morning if there was such a thing as pink rice, and when I answered "No, I don't think so" she said "Too bad, life would be better with pink rice." Well, when I saw that my onion and garlic guy was selling already baked beets at the market, I grabbed a couple (what a luxury! fresh beets that somebody else baked!) and was able to chop them up into our basmati rice. And you know what? It was pretty good! It went very well with the brussels sprouts (in garlic butter - and is there any more wonderful smell that garlic cooking in butter? don't think so) and the pork chops with herbes de provence. We got those from the cute butcher who looked at the kids and said "I'll slice them thin" - how sweet is that? They were splendid (and rapidly devoured by said kids). I wish that we could all go the market together, all of us everybody - maybe I'll bring the video camera one sunny day.

Spit-Turner to the King

How would you have liked to be the person that turned the spit that roasted the meat for the king? It could have happened, as there was indeed such a position listed in the king's household at the end of the 15th century. Wow - official Royal Spit-Turner - mom will be so proud! This terrific book by R.J. Knecht that I've been reading (The French Renaissance Court, 1483-1589. Yale University Press, 2008) is marvelously detailed with tidbits like that one. It's not trying to prove a big thesis, but it is trying to tell me everything, absolutely everything, about life in a French court from 1483 to 1589. I love that kind of descriptive history, because there are always surprises within it: a detail that doesn't quite match up to the big narrative. There's a running joke in the original sources he uses and it involves how much the Italian ambassadors to France complain of the uncouth qualities of the French. I knew that I was getting in deep when I burst out (I mean really burst out) laughing at the following phrase of another forlorn Italian ambassador who was following François Ier and his incredibly cumbersome court from hunting lodge to hunting lodge: "His majesty did not stay longer than a day, but departed suddenly with his usual company and explores the strangest places in the country while chasing the poor deer."


This calls for another picture of a medieval spit-turner! Ooo, wonder if you could have been Royal Sauce Guy, too? Of course, there was a "saucier" - and if you were good enough, you were magic! Now, lest you think the 15th century was a decadent time of royal debauchery, do know that the king's court was still itinerant (it's really only Henry III (reigned 1574-1589) who settled down in Paris) - the may have had a spit-turner, but he still roamed with his entire staff and furniture from castle to lodge to castle (ok, that does sound pretty decadent, actually). I read about half of the book today taking notes, hunting down bibliography. It's a very internal history in that it really doesn't take on the court internationally, more just within its own (ever-shifting) national borders. And yet, François Ier worked out treaties and truces with the Turks!! I'll have to read another book for that side of the story. In the meantime, I think that I may actually end tonight by continuing with the Knecht book - I finished the 1887 guide to the Morbihan (the rest was just a list of the towns in the departments) and am too tired for both the Rohan dukes book and dear D'Artagnang (who is just getting one scrape after another). So, a quick update on the wee ones, and then off to nerd land on a Friday nite!

Here is my petite femme extraordinaire, reading one of all-time favorite books - it's a reprint of a 1959 book by the Czech author Miroslav Sasek entitled This is Paris and it whets the kids' appetite for the city each and every time. Here's Iris reading about Notre-Dame (not quite as exciting as the Eiffel Tower to the kids, but there you have it). The book even has an image of a Breton woman with a coiffe who is "a Breton peasant from the countryside on a visit to Paris" - guess the Breton 19th-century lasted into at least 1959, eh? The book is great - has all the landmarks of the city. I can't believe we're going to be there with them in July. I still have to pinch myself every once in a while that we're here, and I can read a book most of the day, and actually put two thoughts together (the Women's Studies course really started coming together today as well, but I'll just let you know when that one's done!).

This was our chocolate mousse break during our screening of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. (Just look at Eleanor's face - could she be eating her mousse with more ferocious gusto? yikes!) Oliver finished the 7th book again today (he's been rereading - it must be really good!). Always makes me wince a little bit to think of him reading in school (boy does that sound wrong! - but I mean reading Harry when he could be learning French - but I think that I'm looking at it all wrong if I think of it that way). And yet, Oliver's teacher said that he is starting to speak in class (!) and that he made a joke today (!!), a little play on words, and that his verb conjugations are excellent (!!!). So three cheers for Oliver - nary a word of French for his mum, so I just have to go with my hungry imagination if I'm to conceive of Oliver speaking French. The girls, meanwhile, for the first time spoke French to each other - it wasn't much of a conversation ("Pousse-toi!" "Non! pas du tout"!) ("Move over!" "No way!"), but it was still an exchange, oui? :-) Anyhoo, we watched the Potter movie and snuggled on the couch - add that it was raining outside and you can count me so cozy. It looks like it's going to rain all day tomorrow which dashes my plans for romping around and picnicking at the megaliths, but Sunday looks better, so we may get out after all. The rain kept the kids in bed this early morning, but they're determined to get croissants tomorrow - entirely successful baguette run this afternoon, this time it was all three of them and they got three KinderSurprise eggs, too (good for them). Think tomorrow we'll just go to the market and (oh, this is nice and odd) go buy Oliver some sweatpants as they are required for his "Atelier Cirque" ("Circus Studio") all next week - can I tell you how excited he is that he'll be learning to juggle? Move over Dickens, come on down P.T. Barnum!!!

Congratulations, Simone Veil!

Today, at 2 p.m. in Paris, France Simone Veil became the 6th woman to join the Académie Française. She now numbers amongst those humbly known as "les immortels" and pursues the tradition (of women in the Académie) begun thirty years ago by Marguerite Yourcenar. Wonder if Richelieu (who founded the Académie in 1635) saw this coming! They gave her the seat once occupied by Racine! Her Wikipedia entry describes her as "une femme politique française" and she is that and so much more. When you join the Académie Française, you get a sword - Simone Veil had her concentration camp deportation number engraved upon it. Her family was separated before she was sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau: she never saw her father or brother after they were sent to Lithuania; she and her sister survived Bergen-Belsen - her mother did not. She's been in French politics forever, and is best known for her work as Minister of Health from 1974-79, during which she won the hard fight for women of procuring safe and legal abortions. As I understand it, it was under her administration that the term IVG (Interruption Volontaire de Grossesse), (Voluntary Interruption of Pregnancy) was introduced - to this day, French women can receive counseling, medical advice and medical attention, and, above all, dignity during a time of difficult decisions. In 1979, Veil became the President of the European Parliament - but I will confess to you that I have no idea what that means in 1979 (I know what it would mean after the creation of the European Union, which I think of as being created in 1992 - but I could use help on this one!). So you might be asking yourself, "What does it take to be inducted into the Académie Française?" Well, there are 40 members at any given time, and any new member is elected by the current peers. What you have to do is have used the French language well. This is such a beautiful idea, because it can mean so much: used to persuade, to convince, to change the world, to improve its aesthetic, to reveal a truth, to explain a mystery, to alter a thought, to memorialize an event, to create history. An induction into the Acadmémie is about as solemn a ceremony as you can possibly imagine - these images from Le Monde give you just a hint of the pomp and circumstance - there were no less than three past and current French presidents there today - magnifique! Simone Veil was recently voted the "favorite woman" of the French - that makes me love the French and Simone Veil all the more! You can see why in this in-depth profile (filled with lots of videos!) presented by (who else?) Le Monde. In it, she talks about the necessity of representing and discussing the Holocaust, about politics, about Sarajevo, and much much more. Her inauguration into the Académie, in my humble opinion, marks another very important day in the history of human ideas!

Things here at home proceeded on a much less grand scale. As you can see by the drawing of the hatching chick, Oliver has entered his Easter phase in full force - he is going to love May here, as I remember there being a holiday (and a day off) every three minutes in may in France. I read a lot (too much, several articles and they're all swimming in my head aimlessly) and tomorrow am planning on tackling a history book on the French Renaissance court (very satisfying, a book). The kids had great days in school: Oliver says that he's participating more (although Iris reports that he is still "reading [I should say, re-reading] Harry Potter in the shed during recess" - argh! but he's happy, so that's good) and he had homework today which he did very well (verb conjugations). I don't think that I mentioned this the other day, but the nurse that was examining Iris has a daughter in CE1 and she said that it's the toughest grade in the elementary education cycle because it's the one where the fun stops and the work begins - my poor Oliver! Born for Montessori, taught by Dickens. (I exaggerate, but the contrast is what I'm after). But he loves language so much, and is actually fascinated that French verbs "do more" (all those different endings) than English verbs. We talked today about how there are only six types of voices that our verbs can accommodate (first, second and third person singular, first, second and third person plural) and that kind of blew both of our minds. Iris and Eleanor had a blast today, too - motricity came a day early in the form of an obstacle course.

Otherwise, we read Asterix in Switzerland, which is very funny and is getting the kids in touch with their Swiss roots. The joke here is that the Swiss are an extremely neat and tidy people, thus the shiny quality of their road sign (declaring the beginning of the Helvetian (Swiss) Roman Empire), as opposed to the French side of the divide. Ting! (sound of shiny sign). :-) Iris really likes this book. My little girl just shone this afternoon: we were driving back and I was inspired by a scene I had witnessed at the boulangerie the day before, of a little girl in Oliver's class getting the baguette while her mom waited in the car. I asked Oliver if he wanted to hop out and get us a baguette - he said no (sigh), but Iris immediately jumped up and said "Moi! Moi! Moi!" - so up she hopped with a 2Euro piece and within minutes she came back with a baguette (which just looked huge in her arms) and a little bag of candy - crafty girl! She calculated how much she needed for both! She loved the whole exchange (and said her "s'il-vous-plait"s and "merci"s just fine, she told me) and so wants to go get croissants with Oliver and Eleanor (who have enthusiastically agreed - yea!) tomorrow morning. Don't worry, Mac, I'll be five steps behind - but I'm not allowed to enter the boulangerie. So, speaking of Mac (who is getting great work done in Germany according to a lovely phone call last night) - the kids really miss him! It's not like when a parent takes off for a conference or a research trip in America - I think there, there's so much going on that, well, it's not that the kids don't notice, but so much of what makes their lives their lives is still all around them. It makes me realize how lucky we are to have such great friends in Greencastle, how "surrounded" we are (great French idea of being "entourrés" by your friends) by our dear friends. We miss you, comrades of Château Vert!

And finally, two tiny forays into "history in film" - tonight, I watched Henry IV sign the Edict of Nantes (an Edict that I find down right moving, and let me tell you, when the Château here in town opens up, I will be making a beeline for the table upon which the Edict was signed, which is purportedly housed in said château!), and do good things, and then be assassinated. Sigh.

Teaser Henri IV - Ma-Tvideo France3
Henri IV, avec Julien Boisselier et Armelle Deutsch

I've always had a soft spot for Henry IV, and not just for the "Paris is well worth a mass" quote of legend which he said before converting back to Catholicism in order to become the king of France. No, no, it's that phenomenal Rubens cycle at the Louvre (wow, that is a fantastic Wikipedia article!) that did it (the one commissioned by his wife, Marie de Medici who may or may not have had something to do with his assassination) - he just looks so dear checking out her portrait, and he actually looks quite, well, regal in his apotheosis. Turns out he's France's favorite king, too - almost a populist, certainly courageous on the battlefield, true lover of Gabrielle d'Estrée, and oh yes, that Edict.

Last tiny bit: the new Robin Hood movie looks promising indeed - oh my, yes. I can't quite believe I'm going to miss the opening - it should be in Paris in July when we're there, though - oh joy!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day (of course)

Here's my little leprechaun, all "Irished" up - and plenty to do. That's the fittingly dubbed "Patrick" in his right hand, and the "airplane of the day" (thanks, Uncle Steve for the Airplane-A-Day calendar!) in his left. If you need more shots of St. Patrick's Day around the world, the MSNBC slide show is pretty swell. Today was all about Saint Patrick's Day (which passes very low beneath the radar in France, if it's noticed at all). Oliver declared in the morning that since he "doesn't believe in saints and things" today was actually "Good Luck Day." Terrific! (How does this happen, that I have one child who rushes into every church she sees to pray, and the other who is a religious skeptic?). Well, we did have good luck as it turns out, because today was the first true day of spring spring spring!

It was 18 degrees Celsius (around 65 Farenheit) and we headed out with a picnic to the Lists. (Note the various shades of green on the kids). None of us could believe how balmy and warm it was. The kids stripped their coats off after running around just a few minutes, and looked like they were just enjoying being able to move. It was a warm reminder of how the best is yet to come: when the trees and flowers start to bloom, this already wonderful little town will become even more incredible. It's a 3-flower "Ville Fleurie" (kind of like a Michelin Guide system) and everyone here takes great pride in their gardens. I'm ready for that from Indiana and so can't wait to see the results of serious gardening here.

Oliver (and Patrick, who was with us all day) were blissed out. Wednesdays will be bittersweet days when we'll be back in the States. I still sometimes find myself saying "Really? A day to ourselves? Just like that? Aren't I supposed to be doing something specific with the kids?" but less and less. Today, I just enjoyed watching them run around, climb trees, make up games, eat and run (and eat again), and laugh. I thought briefly that I should have brought a book or an article to read, but no no no. Let this time be. And the truth is, about an hour into our time outside (we were out for close to four hours today!), my Leeds paper started coming together in my head - with possibilities for book chapters forming, too. I want to concentrate on the Heroïdes and the Triomphe des Vertus - it's an interesting and provocative pairing on the ambivalent space and desire for "Outre-Mer" issue (I love that French term, "outre-mer" - you'd translate it as "overseas," but it has more romance than that, I swear.) What makes me happy is that I'm talking about pairing images as well. So hoorah for time to think and breathe.

Which brings me to a short paragraph about why sabbaticals really do work and are a good idea. And yes, everyone should have them. They're definitely great for work, for the production of work - you have a project, time, you can get work done. They are unbelievable for new ideas (is there any way to "shake things up" at home that could have the same effect? No number of "brainstorming retreats" can do the creative work of sabbatical.) But I'm starting to realize that, for me this time around, it's also about renewing the teaching mission of the liberal arts - allowing yourself to research for discovery; allowing curiosity to take over. Being curious takes tons of energy (and we all sadly see students seriously lacking the ability to be curious) - and (yes, I'm going to say it), being curious makes the world a better place. If you stop, listen, ask, and wonder, you're engaging in the best of what makes us human, you're on your way to social change. It sounds hopelessly naïve and optimistic, but yes, this is absolutely what I believe. I teach curiosity as well as research and writing skills. And no, it's not ever one class or one painting that makes all the difference - it's the cumulative effect of asking questions about seemingly unrelated things that matters. Always. I tend to see art history both materially and allegorically: materially, it is the study of objects in the world (paintings, stained glass windows, sculpture, etc.); but allegorically, it's about problem-solving and interpretation - it's a preparation for future discernments that will have to be made, for future interpretations you will need to convince others of. Art history is about art, but it's also about persuasion and argumentation (two aptitudes I would consider essential if one if going to make one's way in this world).

I stuck with the green food theme as much as possible (we had pesto pasta for dinner tonight) - these pistachio "pots de creme" are one of the kids' favorites. They get very serious about eating this dessert - and it is really good. Truth be told, being with the kids and watching their voracious curiosity, their gripping fascination helps me remember What It's All About, as well. "Childlike wonder" is actually rarely a passive thing: they seek out the object of their obsession (and I'm not just talking about Oliver and St. Patrick) and relentlessly pursue it and seemingly never get tired of it. I am happiest and most productive in my research when I'm the same way. And so, yes, my heart sank a bit when I saw that both Eleanor and Iris's teachers were going to be on strike next Tuesday (another day of work lost!), but I also know that I can't wait to see where they take me.


After about three hours, Oliver and Eleanor actually got a bit tired. Or maybe it was just the sheer pleasure of lying in the warm sun (on a 14th century ruin!) that had them relaxing beneath the arches. Nice.


Iris did not join them as she was too busy chasing a butterfly - you can just see its flitting, yellow body! She never did catch it, but was busy hatching many different ways to do so. Almost as satisfying.

Oliver's been restless sometimes at night here (seems like something to expect), and so I've been fixing him a glass of warm milk (that's what they did in the olden times, right?) and we chat a little bit and he goes back up and, he says, "It works every time, mom!" I've come to love these warm milk breaks. Tonight, when I asked him how his St. Patrick's Day was, he said "Great! But now it's time to start looking forward to Easter." I, myself, am looking forward to screening La Reine Margot, graciously loaned to me by our new friend!, in preparation for part two of the TV movie about "Henry IV" (she was his first (most unwilling) wife) that will be on tomorrow night! Late 16th-century mayhem!

Three Remarkable Things... and then some

There were three remarkable things about today, and none of them has anything to do with the images. The first half of the double fish counter at the local Carrefour, though, is pretty remarkable all on its own. This side is the everything-but-fish side (mmmm)...

... and this side is the all-fish-all-the-time side. I bought some lovely "Julienne" fish for dinner tonight, as we were having one of our friends from the house on the island over! (that's the top remarkable thing of the day). The kids were wild with joy, which sounds cute, but was actually really loud. Why can't they express their excitement with witty banter and whimsical anecdotes instead of goofy noises and bad jokes? Oh yes, because they're tiny kids.

Once they had a little food in their bellies (fish!), Oliver did calm down enough to talk about his house and its village (which I had snapped a picture of when I had gone with Iris to her "Visite Médicale" - second remarkable thing of the day). So, as he pointed out, "all of the houses are about the same, but you can design your own yard." So he put himself in a rounded yard, overlooking the river; and indeed, there is a bridge (starting in brown the lower right-hand corner of the page), and then a black part of the bridge - this is said to resemble the bridge set-up of the house on the island, and our guest agreed!

Here is a more panoramic view of the village - lots of trim yards! And there's Oliver's little semi-oval of a garden at the top left. It must have been so cool to have all of the kids painting and designing at the same time - he carved out a pretty nice spot for himself. :-) Today was nice and tomorrow promises to be nice, too, so all of this greenery isn't just a fantasy!

Fantasy (of the Middle East, of Jerusalem, of a Golden Age, of an Empire, of a united world, and more) was the subject of my reading today. I plowed through several articles on the intersection of medievalism and postcolonialism (since medievals never feared anachronisms, neither do medievalists). I've long asked myself: "Do I really need Homi Bhabha to talk about "hybridity" and "ambivalence"?" (both are abundant in medieval images and culture). The logical answer is "no," but the more interesting answer is "yes," because it will allow me to discuss Louise de Savoie and François Ier's manuscripts within the specific hybridity that colonialism breeds: one dealing with territories (the 1517 call to crusade, to repossess the lands of Jerusalem) and the other with subjectivities (Thenaud (who went to Jerusalem on François's behalf at Louise's request in 1512) portrays himself as a lost dreamer in the Triomphe des Forces texts - only Dame Prudence can guide him - and you'll recall what a hybrid (old man, young woman) Prudence is!). Increasingly, I see the potential to rethink Robinet Testard's Heroïdes window scenes in terms of ambivalent spaces of violent desires (think, Medea, who writes one of those letters) (and now think Medea, and that violence, in connection with the desire and violence for a Crusade). One of my research questions is "How was François Ier educated about the Middle East?" The picture that is starting to emerge is not, no surprise, one of rational fact-gathering about Jerusalem etc., but rather a series of fantasies, of dream-narrative, and elaborate allegories. The question is worth asking, I believe, because we still need to ask after Western education of the Middle East - especially this generation of students I am about to start teaching, who were 10 years old when the current war started. As soon as I get a good image of a Triomphe landscape, I'll post it here and hopefully the connection with the Heroïdes will make more sense. One thing that is absolutely lacking is any discussion between postcolonialism and medieval art history - just last week, the very first group to try to take this on inaugurated their web site, "Postcolonizing the Medieval Image" - they're based at Leeds, and that's the conference I'll be presenting my paper to in July! Some really good things are coming together, and I'd be thrilled if I could make some kind of contribution/inroads to an emerging discussion intersecting medieval images and postcolonial theory (with an emphasis on medieval image, not just theory!).

Wow - that was remarkably long is what that was (3rd remarkable thing). I have no pictures from Iris's "Visite Médicale" by a nurse, but some lasting impressions: Iris was asked if she slept in a bed alone or with someone else - the nurse heartily approved of she and her sister sharing a bed ("Young siblings should sleep together," she said - wow, who knew?); she was asked if she had any strange dreams (I wondered if a Freudian analysis might be next!); turns out she is not colorblind (yea!); also, her vision is 20/20 (yea!); but her hearing fell a little short (hmmm). The whole time, Iris was asking eagerly for when she would start to see some medical instruments "you know, to make sure my heart is beating and my eyes are in my head the right way" (vivid kid!). She had to trace things, and walk certain ways and so on. So this is a service the state provides: twice-yearly check-ups at school, and each kid has a "Carnet de Santé" ("Health Notebook") and each time you see a doctor, he or she adds a line or two - and you keep that Carnet your entire life - it can become a whole life story!

I should have taken pictures of the gorgeous wines our friend brought over, or the meal, or the cheeses, or the dessert - but we were too busy talking and the kids were too "excited" (i.e. nuts). I settled them into a movie, and so the grown-ups had an hour and a half cheese and wine course - heaven! (Thank you, Finding Nemo). For me there's always such a gladness and excitement to discover that one has interests in common with someone - makes you feel like the friendship is meant to be if you both think Henry IV is cool and that colonialism is a tale that still needs telling in France (actually, by all accounts, that should make me best friends with about 90% of French people, but there you have it - I am thrilled with this friendship!). I did learn one really interesting thing about the regional elections that I want to pass on (oh! and there are two great posts by my astute students to yesterday's "coverage" of the regional elections that you can actually learn from!) - regional "conseils" (councils) take care of very specific things: enterprise/entrepreneurship; education; transportation. Add to that that these councils are new, that the whole idea of "regions" are new (after years and years of thinking of "départements") and the low voter turn-out starts to make sense. Well, next week-end is round 2 - the Socialist Party and the Greens have joined forces in almost all regions except Brittany, where they will have a three-way run-off with the UMP instead.

So - to remarkable things and realizations and people. And to you a good night!

French Regional Elections Results (woo-hoo!)

If you're reading this in the hopes of learning something reliable and concrete about the French political system, please read no further. (You may want to try my astute student's blog, instead!). I can offer a bottom line: the Socialist Party did well (but there's also talk in the news of late-night negotiations with the Ecological Party for a coalition for the second round next week - and see, I've already been left in the dust). Having spent some time in Chicago, I love regional politics, the more parties and intrigues the better, and for some reason, I am not troubled to understand all of the ins and outs of the system - I like to follow the personalities (typically American, I know) and, as of tonight, I am an avid fan of the names of the different parties that are running. If you think French politics are just about the PS (Socialist Party) or the UMP (Union (?) of the Popular Movement) or (ugh) the FN (National Front), a lovely surprise is on its way to you.

But first! May I present to you, our budding architect! Oliver was bursting with pride when I picked him up at the end of the day - he built this little house "on my own!" he told me, "well, on my own with instructions." Oui, of course. Now, a tiny bit of comparative analysis about the French and American educational system (before the poetry of French political party names!). Had this house project been done at New Pathways or Ridpath, the kids would have been simply told to build a house using whatever materials they wanted to (this has actually happened - to build a boat at New Pathways, and to design a room at Ridpath). The houses/boats/rooms are all highly individualistic and (let's be honest) look, uh, earnest but unstable, as far as engineering or architecture goes. But the kids did it themselves by golly! Here it's different: the kids were given the choice of three floor plans, and then glued cardboard walls for the outside structure...

... and partitions for the interior. The result is impressively professional for a bunch of 7 year-olds! Nice, neat, and tight, and the houses are all fitted together into a village display at school. As ever, I'm not going to favor one over the other, there are aspects of both that are appealing: the pluckiness and individualism of the American house model; the professionalism and coherence of the French house model. In both instances, kids are given something to dream about (fantasy and imagination is at play in both models, I would argue). America: the dream of eclecticism, France: the dream of coherence. Am I overdetermining my interpretation here? Maybe, maybe not. Both dreams are valid and interesting, both are utopic. And it's the French, after all, who gave us Gaston Bachelard and his (philosophical) houses of memory, i.e. there's beautiful, evocative thinking within French philosophy about the thinking structures that houses create - so I know that there's a poetic, lyrical approach to architecture within French thinking. I spend a lot of time thinking about innovation vs. tradition (there are ethical promises and dilemmas to both) and it's so interesting to see that tension at play within the two school systems. Oliver remains blessedly free of this comparative analysis - he's just really proud he made a cool-looking house. Actually, he wants me to see the village, too, because he connected his house to another house using an architectural feature he saw at the house on the island here in town - cool!

Oh, I hope that you're still with me. Because if there's one place French innovation shines (actually, it's architecture, now that I think about it) - ok, if there's another place French innovation shines, it's in the titles of the various political parties. What follows is a list of the political parties that made a showing in nearby Ploërmel - I also include my translation-transliteration of the party names. Ok, and my own beffudled/snarky comments.

• The Socialist Party is known here as "La Bretagne solidaire, créative et responsable - PS" = "Loyal, creative and responsable Brittany" (just the kind of Brittany we want!). These guys carried the day with 36.71% of the vote.
• The "Majorité Présidentielle" = the "Presidential Majority" came in with 31.99% of the vote. Now I think that this is really the UMP in disguise, but they're calling it the Presidential Majority party because Sarkozy in president and he's UMP. Tricky!
• Next comes "Europe Ecologie Bretagne" = "Europe Ecology Brittany" (there's no syntax, there, just words you want to see associated!). These guys are the greens that are trying to work something with out with the Socialist Party (they were all on their cell phones on the news). They came in with a respectable 9.75% (I don't know - is that respectable?)
• Next, the MoDEM, the "Mouvement Democrate" = the "Democratic Movement" (sounds like a good, solid name, doesn't it? and yet, according to the news, they had a dismal showing with 5.54% of the vote (well, those are the Ploërmel numbers, but they're reflective of the country) and everyone saying they're practically dead. I believe this is the centrist party, and I'm sorry to see it get crunched in the polarization between the left and the right - so thank goodness for the little guys about to follow).
• Well, actually, except for "Bretagne LePen 2010 - FN" = "Brittany, le Pen 2010 - National Front" who came in with 5.03% of the vote and called it a rousing victory, clearly taking a page in truth distortion from Fox News (shudder). They actually did significantly better in other regions: a whopping 15.89% in Champagne-Ardenne (I'd love an explanation for that one), and a scary 18.31% in Nord-Pas-de-Calais (what's going on there?). Wait! I just ran through all the regions and Brittany had the lowest percentage for the FN (6.18%) - the next highest up was the Pays-de-la-Loire region with 7.05% - three cheers for Brittany!!! What's going on, Champagne and Nord-Pas-de-Calais? This is the "France for the French" party, French being quite narrowly defined. It's a father and daughter team, now, and the daughter is making herself the champion of "laïcité" (lay (i.e. non-religious) culture) so that she can protest every single manifestation of Muslim presence in France. Urgh and ack and let's move on.
• The next party received 2.36% of the vote, but that may have something to do with its title: "Ensemble pour une Bretagne à gauche, solidaire, écologique et citoyenne" = "Together for a Brittany that's to the left, together, ecological and civic-minded" (quite a mouthful! I like to think of it as a poem, rather - a lovely poem to a really great party: those are all awesome goals!)
• 2.29% went to "Nous te ferons Bretagne - DVG" = "We'll make you Brittany - DVG" (DVG itself stands for "Diverses Gauches" = "various (and sundry?) leftists" (this is the home for the other liberals - and hey, their website says it all in Breton, too!)
• The "Terres de Bretagne" = "Lands of Brittany" also received 2.29% of the vote (what's their platform? Poking around a bit on the web (they don't have a website) indicates that they are indeed a farmers' party, specifically a Breton farmers' party).
• I wish that more than 1.74% of the vote had gone to "Vraiment à gauche, unitaire, anticapitaliste pour une écologie radicale - NPA" = "Truly to the left, united, anticapitalist for a radical ecology - NPA" (NPA itself stands for "New Anticapitalist Movement" (go, go, guys - better luck in six years!)
• 1.23% went to the little poem, "Bretagne phare du nouveau monde - DVD" = "Brittany Lighthouse of the New World - DVD" (DVD being the other side of the spectrum from DVG, i.e. "Diverses Droites" = "various (and sundry?) rightists"
• And last but not least (oh, no, wait, they actually were least), 1.06 went to the "Lutte Ouvrière soutenue par Arlette Laguiller - LO" = "The Workers' Struggle Upheld by Arlette Laguiller - LO" - LO being "Lutte Ouvrière" = "Workers' Struggle" (I love that their website specifies that they are a Trotskyite Communist Party). Wow!

So what does all of this mean? It means that the Socialist Party did well against the UMP (Sarokozy's party, the Union (?) of the Popular Movement). But what does that mean? Will the UMP now have to work more closely with the PS? People keep saying these are just the "regional" elections, but then others are saying that this a referendum on Sarkozy, etc. Well, there's another round next Sunday in which some (I don't think all) parties will have another go. (Why?) Everyone is hoping for a greater voter turnout (only 53% of the nation voted this time around). I hope that more people vote: there are a great many platforms to choose from (I still can't believe how "For Dummies" the American political system is - we can't squeeze a third party in there to save our lives) - and all those great names! For super-astute political commentary, you'll want to consult Les Guignols, of course. Or, Le Monde. Enjoy!