voilée (derrière le papier calque translucide de ses infos typographiques) / dévoilée, de devant / de derrière, la très belle pochette enneigée du seven inch « frozen music » de spoono (cf. ci-dessous).

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découverte : cela se passe le 22 avril dernier (2009) dans les écuries de la ferme du biéreau à louvain-la-neuve. un double concert de cam deas et spoono, deux jeunes guitaristes anglais, auquel on se rend un peu plus par ‘devoir’ et par amitié, pour soutenir ceux qui l’organisent, que par vrai engouement préalable pour la musique… – et dont on sort hébété et ému, avec une petite poignée de disques-souvenirs sous le bras et triste de ne pas avoir fait partager ce ‘risque’ (les guillemets comptent) à quelques amis qui auraient sûrement apprécié. pas mal plus convaincants en concert que sur les titres mis en écoute à cette époque sur leurs mysp@#€$ respectifs (fort marqués des empreintes encore très fraiches à l’esprit de leurs ainés ès fingerpicking), les deux jeunes musiciens avaient fait régler le volume de la sono relativement fort pour un concert de guitare acoustique. le son (résonnances, harmoniques… ) joue aussi un rôle important dans leur musique et la manière dont interagissent les notes a autant à voir avec l’entrechoquement et la superposition de couches qu’avec l’enfilement virtuose de perles sur une ligne mélodique en forme de volute…  une très très belle soirée qui, comme vous pourrez bientôt le lire, figurera dans mon top5 de mes concerts de 2009…

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confirmation récente : cette année ; le très bon petit label anglais gps – the great pop supplement (dans le passé, des 17cm e.a. de vibracathedral orchestra, hush arbors, jack rose & the black twigs, phosporescent, wooden wand, spacemen 3, wooden shjips… et beaucoup d’autres) a sorti en juin « untitled blues » de cam deas (malheureusement épuisé) et il y a quelques semaines « frozen music / what’s around the corner ? more corners » de jack allett / spoono (« few copies left »). dans la très belle pochette reproduite ci-dessus (et associant impression photographique sur gros carton légèrement gaufré et infos typographiques sur papier calque translucide), est niché un seven inch noir tournant à 33 rotations par minute et qui propose deux longs morceaux intrigants et hypnotiques, quelque part entre les compositions les plus abstraites, harmoniques et structurelles du regretté jack rose et de lointains échos du vini reilly (the durutti column) du début des années quatre-vingt. le tout enregistré par jack allett lui-même, chez lui à walworth (quartier londonien auquel il avait déjà consacré un walworth road blues sur le très beau split-lp de sa tournée avec cam deas, sorti sur le label blackest rainbow de sheffield).

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séances de rattrapage : dans un mois – fin janvier 2010 – les deux compères retraversent la manche pour une petite tournée qui, après la scandinavie et la germanie, les verra passer par le brabant wallon, la flandre occidentale, la bretagne et la normandie [cf. ci-dessous]. ne les ratez pas, cette fois – à vos agendas !!

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jack allett (was spoono) (gb) – cam deas (uk)
dimanche 24 janvier 2010 – 19h – ferme du biéreau
3 scavée du biéreau – 1348 louvain-la-neuve – belgique –  env. 5 eur

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jack allett (was spoono) (gb) – cam deas (uk)
lundi 25 janvier 2010 – villa drashoek
gent – belgië

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jack allett (was spoono) (gb) – cam deas (uk)
mercredi 27 janvier 2010 – la bascule
rennes – bretagne – france

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jack allett (was spoono) (gb) – cam deas (uk)
jeudi 28 janvier 2010 – studio chaudelande
cherbourg – normandie – france

Look at me, using the verb “neiger”. I won’t lie, I never expected to use that verb in context whilst in France. Anyway, after days of rumours of snow, it finally happened. At around 4am this morning. I know this, as I was still awake, this time at Maire’s. We had been out for one last proper night out in Rennes before peoples go home. On that note, I go home tomorrow. I am both excited and worried. Excited, as I am going home!! But, worried because of all this snow, and the Eurostar strike. I’m sure it will all work out anyway… I will make this my last post in France. Here a few things I will miss in France:

• The McDo walk-thru
• Crossing roads without looking
• Speaking in English right in front of people, just because they don’t understand, about them
• The ghetto
• The métro

What I shan’t miss:

• The ghetto
• The lack of carpetted facilities
• The staring
• The Brittany weather

I feel I haven’t exhausted this list, but it will grow as more things spring to mind. Maybe.

This semester is rapidly coming to a close… I’ve had so much fun with everyone I’ve had the luck to meet here.  I still have a full 5 and 1/2 months left in France, but lots of people are going home, or are studying somewhere else the second semester, so we’ve been doing lots of goodbyes.  Nick left last night and I think tonight is the last night for Barbara and the Michaels, although they will be back in January….

Basically… there are just so many memories from this semester. Too many to even list… but I’ll never forget them! I promise.

I really am going to miss everyone so much!

BIZ xxo

So, I forgot to mention the one thing that has made my life in Rennes worthwhile : the Guyenne Ghetto.

No, I kid. I despise this place. Anyone who comes to Rennes as a student should avoid this place like the plague. Seriously. It’s awful. It lacks heating, and adequate kitchen facilities. The bed lacks a matress, it is just a giant sponge. The shutters shut from the outside, losing all heat gained inside in doing so. You room comes with a bidet, but no toilet. Or, in my case, it comes with a space where a bidet used to be and was ripped out. I disliked having only one plug.

On the plus side, I liked being able to lay on my bed, and feel the sun burning me. It was like being in Malaga, or somewhere. That appears to be it for the positives.

Long story short: get carpet, central heating and double glazing, ghetto. Biz.

Well, okay, so I leave France in 5 days, but I leave the ghetto tomorrow morning. I thought I’d do a blog dedicated to my bitches at Rennes, who I am gonna miss so very much.

Well, and this is in no particular order:

Ann-Charlotte – my crazy American… The moment we met, across the dimly lit square that is Ste. Anne (It was meant to be, surely?) I knew I wouldn’t be able to shake you off We were united in our dislike of our shabby accommodation, and our love of our individual languages (even though mine is right)… In short, we disagree, but the love is there In short: It’s pronounced Pee-can, Al-you-min-ium and They are called Trousers.

Liz - From the moment I saw you and Sinead stalking me through campus, I knew we were meant to be… The following days when Robert and I tried our hardest to latch on to you were difficult, but we won. Eye heart point. Nuff said. And, ‘Take a photo of me and Martin!!’

Sinead - I have been told to make this ‘extra special’, by yourself no less. So, you are dead special. Like a special child. But I will miss you, despite your efforts to try to replace the wife. Expect to hear from her lawyer soon, so. Also, that stalker stuff I said to Liz too.

Robert - Well, let me see… You have smashing hair, and live in a fucking palace. Need I say more? I feel I should. Well, okay. We kept the Lancaster love alive, but you need to continue it when I am gone. Also, never forget you are from Yorkshire. Yorkshire Power.

Derek - Oh, Derek. We have talked about some crazy things. You are so American, yet so not at the same time. I will miss your green trousers (or pants, I suppose as you call them…) Remember that time I ‘wore you’, as Sinead described it? I do it frequently at home. I hope you don’t mind.

Victoria - Well, I have gotten to know you better in more recent times, and I wish we’d been as close throughout the semester… I’m gonna miss you LOADS (WAY more than Liz… *To Liz: Nowhere near as much*, WAY more than Liz, Victoria)… You shocked me with your Combine Harvester euphemisms (here). I hope you enjoy my pants!

Nick(ers) - Well, despite your Southerness, you were still accepted into the group (albeit very lately). I will miss your HORRENDOUS attempts at a Northern accent, and your chivalrous walks home. And your hugs. You did well with them. “Happy in the club, with a bottle of red wine.” Or cider in your case.

Maire - Or Moya and Moire as you have been put in my phone as (when we met originally, obviously). You, with your small principality in which you live. I will miss our cooking times, whilst laughing at Helmut Fritz’s songs, and the French excuse for music. And CNN, of course. Sorry for spilling wine all the time at yours. I did attempt to clean it up… Enjoy your kettle! Or, as I believe you say in Irlande, “bain sult as mo ceitlín!”

Fiona - Arrr, how are you now? I will miss the drunken times we had… You rogue, you! I remember that time you dragged me into a clothes shop, expecting my expert opinion on things, followed by my “yes, it’s fine” response? I do. It makes me chuckle. Silly. AND, I remember coming to bother you at silly-o’clock ‘cos I wanted McDo. Classy. Fiona Ni Whall-ier. Look at me, spelling it how it’s said. Kinda. Proud much?

Jennie - I think the look you do when you’re in disbelief is actually priceless. Seriously. And your damned ability to skate effortlessly. Grr. You are lovely, and I’ll miss your Irishness. Not Sinead’s fake Irishness. “Mom”. Seriously.

Brahbrah - Oh, Barbara. I can’t believe it took us nearly all semester to make that link. Seriously. I’m ashamed. Anyway, what I love most about you is how cute you get when you get drunk… Seriously, you get all giggley. It is sooo funny! And, I appreciate your efforts trying to teach me Irish, albeit when I’m drunk. But, I now know that Taoiseach is pronounced “Tee-she(c)”, and how to say various people’s surnames.

MJ - It took me so long to remember which of you were which. Seriously, it’s a challenge. What are the odds of there being two Irish people called Michael in the same place at the same time. It’s just mad. Tales of your crazy antics always entertained us all… Sleeping with the Ste. Anne bums etc…

The other Michael – You couldn’t get any Irish. Unless you were going round selling potatoes. With a hat on. You with your Irish, and your respectful handshakes. Erm…. ¿que más?…. Did I mention you’re Irish? Well, you are. I remember having no idea what you were saying for the first few weeks. Seriously. I applied the ‘oui-nod’ with perfection

I suppose Tyler will want a mention too… Well… You are incredibly tall, and southern. This has been established. You have also somehow worked the word “y’all” into my vocabulary. Shame on you.

So, yes, there you have it biatches. Vous allez tous me manquer trop! And I will try my hardest to come see y’all when I has some pennies. Or centimes, as it were.

Bisous x

Rennes '09!

It really is. Rennes has two ’seasonal’ markets. Christmas lights are up. Christmas lights are finally on. Carrefour has gotten the traditional generic gifts in stock. So, let us begin at the beginning : a very good place to start.

#1. Markets.

About a fortnight ago, well, barely that, a few of us toddled off to le Marché de l’Avent at the mysterious Parc Expo. It involved getting a bus ‘out of town’ to the Parc Expo just next to the airport. If you don’t know, which I don’t expect you to, Parc Expo is essentially a couple of abandoned air hangars that the city of Rennes use for expositions and various events – Transmusicals or this Marché de l’Avent for example. So, yes, off we went. We arrived, and followed the mass of people who left the bus to go to the Marché, to be confronted with a long queue.

The queue. It got worse.

Anyway, we got in, finally. This is what greeted us:

If Christmas and Halloween had a baby, that is what it would look like. I’ll be honest, that was the highlight. It was, in essence, just a giant craft fair. That, and the random box with Santa and his elves in, was the most Christmassy thing there. Seriously. Santa was in the middle of the giant hall, in a present with Mrs. Claus, the elves etc. All of which were of a certain age. It was just weird. And wrong. But French. Anyway, we left, after buying a panini (they fucking love paninis here) to emerge outside to see an enormous queue. Seriously. Ridiculously big. We were all shocked at it’s length. Mainly because it was so shit inside. Anyway, after waiting for the bus for AGES, it arrived, and we went back to town, to the REAL Christmas Market. Much better, and I had tartiflette. Om. Nom. Nom. If you don’t know what Tartiflette is (I won’t lie, I’m still not sure), then my oldest friend, Wikipedia,will tell you. You see that lovely picture they have put in there? Well, our tartiflette didn’t look anything like that:

Not as minging as it looks...

Tartiflette in the pan. Om nom nom.

I assure you though, it was delicious.

#2. Lights.

For quite some time here, the Christmas lights have been up, but not on. That was until recently (well, about 11 days ago now). They are actually really nice, and are all in white (the town ones), and don’t look tacky. I miss tacky. Tacky is replaced by the people who, whilst being on the 135th floor of their building (I exaggerate, it’s actually the 13th), still put lights up in their windows. We’re talking light-up Santa’s (maybe, it’s hard to tell as they’re high up) and colours. Tacky Christmas colours. It. Is. GREAT. So yes, here are some photos that I have stolen, or rather used without him knowing, from Derek:

Lights at Ste. Anne

Possibly Rue le Bastard...

The Opera House.

They had been up for ages, but were only turned on around the 2nd décembre Decembre December. But now they’re on, c’est chouette!!

a lot

#3. Christmas tat.

I will explain this term, since not everyone speaks Northern English, mainly the South and Americans. ‘Tat’ is general tacky produce. The kind you find at Lourdes for example or London. You known, touristy shit, generally. Although, ‘tat’ experiences seasonal fluctuation. For example, back home, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Hallowe’en are the three main ‘tat’ periods.  Here, it appears to just be Christmas. Although, I imagine 14 juillet to be tat-tastic. Anyway, Carrefour has been stocking up seasonal chocolates for a while : Celebrations, Ferrero Rocher, plus some French brands that no-one cares for. Recently, apart from adding a self-service checkout, they have added a ‘clothes’ section, which is just a clothes rack slotted one of the larger aisles. It includes Christmassy outfits. Well, kind of. It is silly. I also noticed the traditional ‘generic’ gifts. You know the kind, generally deodorant sets – shower gel and deodorant – the kind that say “Sorry, you smell. But ‘Merry Christmas, anyway!’” This makes me happy.

Aside from this, Christmas cheer is lacking in France. Filthy looks were received for wearing our Santa hats on the métro. Bastards. Smile, it’s Christmas!

Vous avez la grippe A
Vous avez la grippe A
Vous allez tous mourrir à Rennes

Alors, on Saturday soir, we proceeded to Le Liberté, some function place in town, to see Franz Ferdinand – the band, not the dead Austrian. You’ve heard of them, surely. They’ve been around since erm… *checks Wikipedia* 2002, but I’m sure I’ve only known them since 2004. They remind me of my later years in high school – meant in the REAL sense of the term, not silly American high school, which is actually college. Anyway, when I found out a few months ago that they were gonna be in Rennes, I got a little bit excited. Not as excited as I was when I bought my Muse tickets – that was pure ecstasy – but incredibly excited nonetheless. So, 35,20€ and nearly 2 months later, the time had come to go see Franz Ferdinand.

We approached the venue. It was dead. Apparently we had missed the two warm-up bands, cos we were late. We missed The Cribs. Local pride had no time to come out. Anyway, we shimmied on down the the front (ish), and waited for the spectacle to begin. It did, which was followed by a huge surge towards the front from the crowd. We seized our chance and got into the swell of people pushing forward. I died inside. I abandoned all Englishness, and pushed forward. Anyway, we got into the middle. Then the jumping began. I can safely say that this was my first, well maybe second, proper gig. You have to jump and put your hand(s) in the hair. It is sweaty, close and hot. On several occasions, I ended up with a mouthful of hair, or an elbow to the head, or a bead of sweat from someone close by. It was an experience. That said, Franz Ferdinand are actually amazing live. He spoke to the crowd in French, which they loved, and at one point they all seemed to be playing a giant drum set. I have no idea why, but it seemed to work. A randomer from the crowd came on and played bass for a bit, which was equally awesome. Then, 1h30 later, after an eternity of hypnotic music, they departed. Seriously, awesome.

Voici quelques photos:

Soooo.  When I chose to study abroad in Bretagne (Brittany to you non-French speaking people) I had a vague understanding that the region was different from the rest of France, but for the most part I really had no idea

about it’s long history (here’s the Wikipedia entry if you need to brush up) and how that its impact is still very much present today.

The people here are fiercely proud of their heritage and its very common to see the Breton flag on bumper stickers, in shops, and even in murals/graffiti on the sides of buildings.

Which is why I find it particularly interesting that it seems to me that many of the “French stereotypes” come from Bretagne.

For example, that whole stripes thing.  First of all, this is one stereotype that is very much alive and well- I see people wearing stripes all the time- but the history of the stripes comes from Bretagne’s fishermen.  So the whole striped nautical thing is actually a Breton thing….and check out the Breton flag itself: stripe-y.

Another thing that France is famous for is its crepes.  I don’t know the whole history of it, but for some reason, they are native to Bretagne.  There are creperies- restaurants that serve only crepes and galettes- all over Rennes but they aren’t as prolific in other areas of the country.

There are other stereotypes of Bretagne that I’m glad have not permeated France, however.  This would be the Andouillette (which is technically Alsatian, but since I ordered it in Rennes, I’m blaming Bretagne. Ha. ), and the whole Bretagne Hippie style which is really really unfashionable…I wish I had a photo that encompassed this trend, but google image search has failed me in this department.

Other stereotypes of France that I’ve noticed are so incredibly true, but are so not limited to Bretagne:

1. Smoking.  I would say the majority of French people smoke and a large percentage of those people seem to roll their cigarettes.  They have these cute little pouches they keep their tobacco in.  Its a whole other side of accessories that I had never thought of.  Anyway, you’ll see students leaving classes with their tobacco pouch and a bag of filters in one hand and they’ll start to roll as soon as they get out the door.  Also you’ll often see people with cigarettes in their mouths on the metro, waiting for the doors to open,  so they are prepared to light up the second they hit fresh air.

2. Strikes aka Grèves.  Yes.  In my short time here, I have witnesses countless protests, railworkers strikes, marches etc etc.  Basically the French are very vocal about their right to strike and voice complaints about their country or their situation. I’m pretty sure there is a grève des sans-papiers going on right now- which is a undocumented workers strike.  Needless to say, undocumented workers striking is sort of an oxymoron, but people living in France who don’t even have the right to strike are going on strike.

3. Baguettes.  Enough said. This one is true beyond belief.  In the “Restos” or the university cafeterias, you get a free baguette roll with whatever you order…even if you dont really want it.  Haha.

More stereotype debunking to come (nudity, hotness, eyesight, fashion sense, etc)!!

xxo

Lyon were forced to settle for a point after narrowly failing to claim all three in a dramatic conclusion.

Gyan Asamoah had given Rennes a first-half lead, but Lisandro Lopez levelled before the interval.

And Bafetimbi Gomis’ superb effort hit the bar with three minutes remaining to leave the sides level and prevent Lyon going level on points with new Ligue 1 leaders Bordeaux.

Asamoah struck with his first touch of the ball just before the quarter-hour mark. Ismael Bangoura played in the Ghana striker who outfoxed Jean-Alain Boumsong and fired into the far corner.

Lyon went in search of an equaliser straight away and Jean Makoun set up defender Cris to volley narrowly wide from 25 yards before visiting keeper Abdoulaye Diallo made a stunning double save.

Cesar Delgado played in Miralem Pjanic, but Diallo blocked the Bosnia-Herzegovina midfielder’s close-range effort and then reacted superbly to save Michel Bastos’ follow-up.

But the pressure told three minutes before half-time as Lisandro’s free-kick deceived Diallo and found the net.

Lisandro saw a volley blocked on the line early in the second half before the game settled into a predictable pattern with few chances.

Rennes, encouraged by having frustrated their illustrious hosts for so long, launched a late charge for a winner and went close several times in the last 10 minutes.

Sylvain Marveaux and Samba Sow combined to set up Bruno Cheyrou, whose effort was superbly saved by Hugo Lloris.

And the France keeper was in action again soon afterwards to save Jires Kembo-Ekoko’s long-range effort and Fabian Lemoine’s drive, following Cris’ poor clearance, skimmed the post on its way to safety.

But they were unable to break through and almost paid the price for their adventure as Gomis’ instinctive volley was repelled by the woodwork and Lisandro’s free-kick deep into injury time was kept out by Diallo.

ESPNSoccernet.com

Face à sa bête noire, le Stade Rennais, l’Olympique Lyonnais a confirmé ses difficultés actuelles en partageant les points avec le club breton (1-1), en épilogue de la 15e journée de Ligue 1. Transparents en début de partie, les Gones ont subi l’ouverture du score par l’intermédiaire de Gyan (14e) avant que Lisandro n’égalise sur coup franc (42e). Si un vent de folie s’est levé en fin de partie, les Rhôdaniens ne sont pas parvenus à doubler la mise et laissent filer une occasion de revenir à hauteur de Bordeaux, en tête du championnat.

Du côté de Gerland, une réaction était attendue alors que le septuple champion de France n’a pas encore connu les joies de la victoire en novembre. Mais pour ne pas clore le mois automnal par une diète de succès, Lyon avait fort à faire en recevant une équipe qui ne lui réussit guère, le Stade Rennais. Depuis janvier 2005, le club breton oppose une résistance sans faille aux Gones et sur ses quatre dernières visites entre Saône et Rhône, les Rouge et Noir ont signé une victoire et trois matches nuls. En confiance face à l’OL, les hommes de Frédéric Antonetti, absent du banc pour cause de grippe A, le rappellent dès l’entame de match en prenant le meilleur sur leurs apathiques homologues.

Lisandro bien seul

A force de déjouer, Lyon se fait même punir lorsque Bangoura adresse un amour de ballon à Gyan dans le dos de la défense locale. L’attaquant ghanéen fixe Lloris et le crucifie d’une superbe frappe croisée qui heurte violemment le poteau avant de faire trembler les filets (0-1, 14e). L’histoire se répète et voilà Lyon condamné à réagir, à défaut d’agir. Sur le front de l’attaque, Lisandro semble bien seul aux côtés des peu inspirés Bastos et Delgado. L’Argentin, encore et toujours impressionnant de générosité, est au four et au moulin et remet les siens sur le droit chemin tout seul, comme un grand. Après avoir provoqué un coup franc, l’ancien buteur de Porto le transforme admirablement à quelques encablures du repos (1-1, 42e).

Avant ça, le dernier rempart rennais, Abdoulaye Diallo, 17 ans et néophyte au plus haut niveau, connaissait un baptême du feu plutôt agréable puisqu’il avait remporté son duel face à Pjanic (35e) et vu Cris et le Bosnien manquer la cible, respectivement sur une frappe lointaine (25e) et sur coup franc (29e). Au retour des vestiaires, les occasions de but laissent la place à une âpre bataille du milieu de terrain. Claude Puel tente bien de dynamiser ses troupes en lançant Govou et Gomis (61e) mais Lyon peine à se montrer dangereux.

Diallo, des débuts décisifs

Le calme est plat et les 22 acteurs du soir se dirigent vers un partage des points. C’est sans compter des dernières minutes très animées qui voient les deux équipes s’offrir un festival d’occasions. Lloris confirme sa forme resplendissante en barrant la route d’un tir de Cheyrou (82e), avant que Lemoine ne manque le cadre à la suite d’une mauvaise relance signée Cris (87e). Lyon n’est pas en reste et Gomis voit son missile du droit prolongé sur la transversale par la main ferme de Diallo (88e), qui ne risque pas d’oublier ses premiers pas dans l’élite. Les filets ne trembleront plus, au grand bonheur des Bordelais qui aborderont la prochaine levée dans le fauteuil de leader, avec deux unités de plus que les Lyonnais. Des Lyonnais qui tenteront d’oublier ce mois de novembre et se relancer sur la pelouse de Lille, dimanche prochain…

Football.fr

Since Thursday, a few things have happened. Probably. At present, everything seems to be merging into everything else. Anyway, after checking, it seems that the last thing I blogged about was it being Thanksgiving. So, I will inform you what happened.

As an Englishman – not mademoiselle as a great deal of Frenches think – my concept of Thanksgiving is quite a limited one. I know it involved pilgrims, and Native Americans – not Indians – oh, and turkeys. And lots of eating. This is one of the more collective memories we have in England of Thanksgiving:

With Swedish subtitles, obviously. So, that is Thanksgiving as viewed from afar. I believe for the American folk – and Canadians, apparently – it’s all about family, and togetherness. Basically, Christmas, but a month early, minus Jesus. So yes, we had chicken – roast obviously, turkey was too complex to get – mash – potatoes peeled my yours truly- carrots, gravy, sweetcorn – ew ew ewww – and for pudding, a lemon meringue and something that was a bit like pecan pie – pronounced “pee-kun”, not “p-carn”. I won’t lie, the lemon meringue was the highlight. With some cheap Chantilly cream wannabe. Om nom nom. Ann-Charlotte also gave us *ahem* traditional Native American face paint, like so:

Getting made into a Native

So yes, the ‘racism’ didn’t stop there. I won’t lie, Ann-Charlotte did a rain dance. It did indeed rain. And, we made a Totem Pole, like so:

Totem Pole attempt 3/10

So, yes. That was Thanksgiving. Friday involved my 8h15, which I made it to, but couldn’t help but think that, once again, my heritage was being picked on. Once again banging on about how we even managed to oppress the Native Americans. So, at present, I have learnt, just in lessons, how the British oppressed:

• the Irish,
• the French,
• the Native Americans
• and the Scotch.

On top of this, however, I have learnt how the British defeated:

• the French [repeatedly],
• the Spanish
• and the Russians.

So, yes. I have had an enlightening term. Anyway, Victoria, Nick and myself went to check out the Christmas market in town. You could tell it had only just opened. It was a bit pants. It was mostly African stuff, which, no offence to Africa, just isn’t Christmassy. There are some jewellery stalls, and one selling traditional Québecois products, which mostly seemed to be Maple Syrup. So, yeah, waste of time.

Today I managed to drag myself out of bed in the AM again, and went down the market – the normal one – with V, mainly for a crêpe beurre-sucre. It was worth it. On the way to meeting V, I decided to take photos of the area around which I live. Voilà:

A *yellow* postvan? Madness.

A map of campus, in Breton, hidden on the back of the map in French. Crafty.

Marché des Lices

V with her crepe (left) and galette (left)

Me avec my crepe

So, that was today and yesterday.

Le mouvement des chômeurs et précaires en lutte de Rennes occupe la mairie de Rennes depuis ce matin.

Dès 10h une quarantaine de chômeurs et précaires a occupé un pôle emploi pour dénoncer la délation pratiquée par les pôle emploi avec la mise en place de “la lampe bleue”. Devant le nombre conséquent de personnes, la direction de l’agence a annulé les rendez vous et empêché l’accueil des chômeurs.

A la suite de cette action nous nous sommes dirigés vers la mairie pour l’occuper et nous nous sommes installés dans le hall de la mairie, façade gauche.

Comme le mouvement brestois, nous comptons y rester. Nous appelons le maximum de personnes à nous rejoindre et à occuper les bâtiments publics et mairies de toutes les villes de France. Nous risquons d’être expulsés à 18 heures, venez nombreux.

MCPL Rennes

voir
Mcpl : Engageons dès maintenant une grève des chômeurs contre notre subordination à l’ordre économique

http://www.cip-idf.org/article.php3?id_article=4738

(La Mairie de Rennes a été évacuée par la BAC avec quelques coups des flics à l’attention des chômeurs et précaires NDLR)

Well, today was a national strike day here. Apparently. It involved a strike taking place in the centre of Rennes. Click here to see Rennes in the regional paper. Some kind of reform, as per. France does not like change. Anyway, I knew for certain that the library was on strike, but apparently all the eating establishments on campus were shut today. I mean seriously, what do they expect students to do? Starve? Inconsiderate bastards. Anyway, this explains why there was a large queue for Subway and for the foodery next to it, and inside Carrefour. It’s just not cricket, France.

In other news, Ann-Charlotte and I had to contribute to a lesson today. It was awful. We had to read what we had put for the translations, not only in our français-anglais class, but in our anglais-français class. It was so awful. I never want to do it again. Or, perhaps for future reference, I should do my homework. Maybe.

Un dimanche pour aller à un festival du jeux de société:

Un métro pour moi tout seul, l’automne arrive et le ciel reste toujours menaçant.

@ bientôt

Well, Saturday, for once, we decided to do something. Initial ideas involved going to Caen, or Nantes, but, as it happened, Fougères won. Anyway, we all arrived at the Gare Routière at 11.30 (give or take, some were tardy), purchased our tickets and waited. Waiting took quite a while, until the bus arrived. More waiting ensued on the bus, but this time, waiting to get there. Fougères is only 36km from Rennes. I don’t know what that is in real measurements, but it’s not 1h10 away. Anyway, we arrived, mid dinner-time, so naturally the castle was closed. After a walk around the outside of the castle and into what appeared to be a public toilet (hole in the ground, duh), we decided that it would be a good idea to have something to eat. This is where Fougères made up for the castle being shut. I’m not a fan of galettes. I’m not afraid to admit that. But the one I had for lunch, the galette paysanne, was actually the best meal that I have eaten abroad. Ever. It was basically galette with chips, bacon and a parsley and garlic sauce. So. Amazing. Anyway, we got let into the castle, with our free audio guides, and the adventure began. This was a proper castle. Finally. A few issues arose: the annoying man on the audio guides; the scary steps up anywhere; the “spectacle” that was actually nothing. Anyway, after that, we attempted to explore the rest of Fougères. It’s a bit nothingy to be honest. It’s pretty, but just so nothingy. Anyway, after what felt like an AGE trying to find it, we finally found the “bus station”. This consisted of a bus shelter, and a slightly bigger bus shelter. We weren’t even sure if it was the bus station. But it was. And we made it home alive, so all is good.

This picture sums up the day.

Brittany Tourism Office/SCHULTE-KELLINGHAUS Martin

Bonjour à tous.

Finalement la date est fixée après le salon nautique de paris donc le

Jeudi 10 17 Décembre

Mama’I

à Rennes à partir de 19 heures.

Ceux qui sont déjà dans la mailing list vont recevoir un mail dans l’après midi.  Pour ceux qui souhaitent se joindre à nous, tout le monde est le bienvenu à condition de m’envoyer un message a sebastien(point)barthez(arobase)gmail(point)com.

Nous sommes 36 sur la liste pour le moment..

Wednesday (Merc’her)

Well, let me see… I cannot remember when I last blogged, but I feel it may have been Tuesday. So, continuons. Wednesday was a lovely day of nothing, with the occasional sniffle and sneeze. I went to town, had some lovely “gnocchi indy” from Mezzo di Pasta (I’m gonna quite miss that place when I’m home…), bought various Christmas presents for peoples (the sister and the wife), and then ventured home to get some work done. That was Wednesday.

Thursday (Yaou)

Thursday, as per, commenced with 3 boring hours of “how to write a commentary on a document”. Seriously. So difficult to pay attention. Anyway, on the way there, I noticed some graffiti on the ground, or “ground graffiti” as I like to call it. Well, graffiti isn’t really the right term to use. Someone had just written “Les droits des enfants, c’est important” on the floor. Various similar messages have been written around the JFK area. It is odd. Mainly because that graffiti is grammatically unsound. It should be “ce sont importants” or just “sont importants”. I may get some white paint and correct it, leaving a mark out of 20 just below.  Cirefe happened, and involved naming the countries of Europe, their inhabitants and what “bloc” we would put them in. But only ones in the EU. It was thrilling.

Thursday finished a little differently this week. I was whisked away into the kitchen (during Merlin, grumble grumble)… They gave me wine, and we established that “Martin” was too difficult for the French to say, so we settled for “Mar-tan”. It got awkward because me and a German girl got speaking in English, which seemed to annoy the rest of them. It’s not my fault that English is the international language of communication, okay? Anyway, 80 minutes, 2 incredibly small glasses of wine and a strong stench of smoke later, I returned to my bedroom. I shall not be doing that again.

Friday (Gwener)

Well, this involved a rare success. I managed to go to my 8h15 lecture. I nearly didn’t, but I convinced myself that I must. The rest of the day didn’t really involve alot. Well, the afternoon/evening did: I had a test in CIREFE, which I’m pretty sure I’ve done terribly on. Oh well. In the soir, we went to see New Moon, after a quick stop for food at Quick. Quick is vile. It is so unbelievably unhealthy, and so unbelievably English. I had a “Long Bacon”. It was so odd. It was also 105% of a 8-12 year old’s daily recommended intake of salt. Yes, you read that right. I was outraged. New Moon, or Twilight 2: Tentation as it is called here, was terrible, as predicted. The audience found various parts hilarious: Jacob taking top off; Jacob taking top off in slow-motion; Edward taking top off; Edward proposing. All in all, terrible, but thoroughly enjoyable. It taught me one thing: Dakota Fanning = Evil.

Toujours des photos, peu de commentaires. Un jour de congé, un jour de pluie, repassons en N&B.

Et une pensée toute particulière à mon père quand j’ai vu ce vélo!

@ bientôt

Un brouhaha sourd, des cliquetis oppressants, et malgré tout un silence pesant. La pièce est sombre, d’un bleu métal envahissant, inodore et impersonnel, contrastant avec la douce torpeur de la salle. Une sorte de « non-lieu » coupé de la rue dont on entend encore la rumeur derrière la porte. La rue n’est déjà plus qu’un souvenir.

Seules, embusquées derrière leurs écrans de combat, des ombres armées jusqu’aux dents de casques et de micros, de claviers et de manettes, veillent. Là, alignés en rang d’oignons une cinquantaine d’hommes, parmi eux quelques très jeunes recrues – 12 ou 13 ans peut-être. Leurs dos sont courbés. On sent la tension.

Les lueurs mouvantes de leurs écrans laissent deviner ce que leur guerre est réellement : combat dans un désert lointain, guerre de gangs, famille à gérer, course contre le temps pour un devoir à rendre, conquête amoureuse.

Leurs visages concentrés trahissent de temps à autre leurs émotions. Une de ces ombres casquées laisse échapper une exclamation de sourd. A l’autre bout de la grande salle, un soupir de lassitude (ou bien de désespoir ?) résonne. Un bâillement sans gêne lui répond. Leurs doigts tricotent sans cesse les touches de leurs claviers, certains à des vitesses étourdissantes, d’autres plus péniblement en pesant lourdement sur les touches. Ils ne sont pas encore habitués.

23 heures, quelqu’un rompt l’atmosphère en poussant la porte teintée de la Cyber Caverne. Toutes les têtes se redressent avec la même expression : comment cet individu a-t-il eu accès à ce lieu underground et intrigant, caché entre la gare de Rennes et l’Esplanade du Champs de Mars ? Comment a-t-il eu connaissance de la porte dérobée du cybercafé ? L’homme qui vient d’entrer se dirige sans hésiter vers un poste d’ordinateur. Son pas est assuré. Sans doute un initié. Tout le monde reprend son jeu.

A la 5, un jeune homme appuie sur la barre d’espace, mettant ainsi en suspend tout un monde vivant de monstres et de défis plus incroyables les uns que les autres. Il s’étire. Le combat a été âpre. Il se lève pour un café bien mérité, depuis 5 heures qu’il est là à jouer, en silence. Au passage, il regarde par-dessus l’épaule d’un homme au crâne légèrement dégarni, assis à la 12.  Ils entament des messes-basses. Tractations ? Pourparlers ? Conseils ? Le jeune homme au café retourne à son ordinateur en souriant, l’air confiant : ce soir, il est un guerrier sans limite.

La nuit est tombée. Il n’y aura pas de survivant ce soir.

Après plus de trois heures d’affrontement, où les étudiants de la 1ère année de BTS ont examiné les 14 livres en lice pour l’école 22ème Goncourt, il avait de vote. Dans le désordre, Yannick Haenel, David Foenkinos et Delphine Vigan est venu voir les gagnants des élections. Les Remy, 20 ans, qui a représenté sa classe dans l’après-midi à des ateliers régionaux pour la proclamation du prix national lundi, organisée par la FNAC et l’éducation. Il est presque un habitué du Goncourt, «j’avais assisté en 2006 quand j’étais un écolier à Pontivy, mais je n’avais pas eu à défendre le livre. Il ya un défi supplémentaire.”

Les élèves ont aimé la délicatesse de Foenkinos “pour sa simplicité et ses touches d’humour et cela fait une bonne sélection où la guerre était très présent. Heures d’ouverture du métro Delphine Vigan nous réjouit, car il est une nouvelle tendance. Elle soulève un problème difficile contexte social dans lequel nous pouvons tous apprendre plus tard dans l’entreprise. Et puis nous avons une réunion avec l’auteur, pièces de théâtre. “Haenel, étudiants ont également l’interrogeait sur son roman. Janvier Karski trace le chemin du messager de la résistance polonaise pendant la Première Guerre mondiale a eu un coup de foudre pour le roman », dit Pauline. Elle a suscité en moi un sentiment de révolte. Cette histoire est vraie et doit être lu par nous tous. C’est une partie de notre histoire. “

Remy aura qu’un seul regret, son favori, le récit de Véronique Ovaldé pas laissé dans le tiercé », mais je vais jouer le jeu, je vais défendre le choix de la classe.” Pour toute expérience est bonne “Il nous a fait de nous parler, Cindy montre. Le premier roman que j’ai pris le temps de le lire après avoir été mieux! Pour Alexis, l’habitude de thrillers et les livres de fantasy, j’ai été l’un à D’autres ouvrages, en appliquant la moindre imagination, mais ça m’a plu. Hafida pour Rémi et Pauline était «une occasion de commencer à parler de vive voix pour les autres, argumenter, écouter. Chacun avait son mot à dire. Marie-France Savean, le professeur est heureux », les élèves ont lu quelques livres, avaient investi. Il est bon pour la culture générale qui est demandée par BTS.« Les étudiants peuvent encore utiliser leur lecture de l’année prochaine , le thème de la 2ème année de BTS générations menu.

Ecrivain public, c’est un métier !
Si pour certains, cela n’évoque pas grand-chose, il faut savoir que ce métier existe depuis la création de l’écriture. Sa vocation, c’est écrire pour les autres. Mais au-delà, chaque écrivain public enrichira son activité de son vécu, de ses compétences et de son style. Enfin, c’est aussi une histoire d’écoute et de feeling, pour pouvoir saisir au plus près votre besoin, et pour lui donner forme comme si vous l’aviez créé vous-même.

Halte aux préjugés : Pourquoi faire appel à un écrivain public si l’on sait écrire ?
Tout simplement parce que l’écriture est une technique et un moyen d’expression. Et comme toute technique, l’écriture nécessite une maîtrise des styles et de la méthodologie pour pouvoir interfolier aux contenus le sens si particulier que l’on souhaite…

Ecrire et créer pour les autres
Le fait d’écrire, c’est retranscrire quelque chose en y apportant une touche singulière, personnelle. Peut-être avez-vous l’idée mais ne savez pas exactement de quelle manière lui donner vie et comment lui insuffler le ton ou l’esprit auquel vous pensez… ? Je vous prête ma plume pour arriver ensemble à atteindre votre objectif de création.

Avis aux professionnels : Rhétorique et communication
Qu’on se le dise ! L’ancêtre du publicitaire et du communiquant était rhéteur dans la Grèce Antique ! En effet, il n’y a qu’un pas entre l’art de la persuasion et le marketing. D’Aristote en passant par Roland Barthes, convaincre subtilement à l’aide d’arguments imparables, rédactionnels ou visuels, a toujours été l’apanage du communiquant.