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Feb. 21st, 2012 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkat1. Read Mark Watches (yes, I know, I'm weak and it's an easy read for my lunch break) and realized something...I never really liked the character of Faith that much. [ETC: Actually like is the wrong word, was never really interested or "distinterested".] (Which may explain why I didn't love S3? You sort of have to love that character to love that season, I think?) Didn't necessarily dislike her. Was pretty much ambivalent. In part it's the actress whose mannerisms irritate me. In part it was the cliche bad-girl with Daddy issues that I'd seen one too many times in one too many tv shows and books. She was fun. Personally? I thought she was more interesting in Angel and when Sarah Michelle Gellar played her in Who Are You? Actually I think Who Are You...may be the best acting performance that Gellar has given in her life. It blew me away. In that episode, for the first time, I felt sympathy for Faith. Anyhow...this realization comes from the realization that I can't remember the episode Bad Girls that well nor is it a favorite. I thought at the time it was a tad cliche and male fantasy to be honest.
2. When I was 16 years old I spent two months one summer with a family in Bretagne, France. I'd intended to spend the time with Natalie Regis, the French foreign exchange student and later pen-pal that had visited my family two summers ago, who resided in Paris. This was back in 1981 and 1984. But that fell through and I was willing to do anything to go to France at that point, so we called the program and they put me with another family - one I didn't know a thing about, except their name and where they lived -- the very southern edge of Bretagne. They, unlike Natalie, were middle class or lower middle class. The whole family including the eldest daughter and her young son lived in their farm house. They fished for a living. And the father had served in Vietnam - French Vietnam - several years before the American occupation.
My experience with Natalie Regis and this family that was so different from her, made me once again realize that making broad generalizations about another culture is idiotic. Many of my American friends saw the French as "stuck up" or "snooty", "elitist". Which in some ways Natalie fit as did my father's close friend at the time Francois, who had a superiority complex that was inspiring, he was very sweet though. But no more so than many Manhattanites or New Yorkers or Londoners that I've met. Rich Urban dwellers tend to be a bit elitist and snooty. Particularly well educated ones, regardless of where they reside. But not always.
The family I spent time with was down-to-earth, religious but no more so than my own, they did go to church more regularly. But it made sense - the Church was outdoors in a beautiful garden, and afterwards we got fresh crepes. I remember riding bikes all over the place. I remember their discoteque - which was their word for nightclubs. At 16 you could drink alcohol and smoke legally - which surprised me. You can't do either in the US. And they were into David Bowie and Mick Jagger, which the US wasn't or the people I knew weren't. It felt like they were behind and ahead of us culturally. The contradiction amused me. But mostly...I saw similarities. The TV/media culture, the magazines (they had more science fiction fan mags than we did and more comic books available), and the casual attitude towards nudity and sex. Americans are more prudish.
Sophie, unlike Natalie, was not fluent in English. So we communicated mostly with body language. And my poor French...not helped by the Gallic Breton accent. I had studied Parisian and Sophie didn't speak Parisian. I can actually tell the difference. People don't know this but there are as many varieties of French as there are English or German or Spainish. Different dialects. And each region is vastly different.
The biggest difference I noticed at that time was the fact that French women could sunbath topless on beaches. We can't in the US. This may have changed since the 1980s.
The French weren't as...modest about breasts and seemed less prudish about nudity and sexuality then the English and Americans. I blame the English influence for the American prudishness about sex. Having spent a lot of time in Britian and Australia and noticing the similarities. I don't think the Spainish and French care.
I remember reading Asterix in French - it was a popular comic at the time or Sophie had a lot of books of it. Also watch Burt Reynolds and John Wayne films in French on their small tv set - which made me laugh. Watching John Wayne and Burt Reynolds speak in French is highly amusing. We did see some French films, not many, they didn't have much of a movie house and most the films were American. As were the tv shows. The American media influence was overwhelming.
Food...in Bretagne was much better than in the US. Richer. Fresher. But we were near the coast and good get fresh seafood. The beaches were almost white. And the water warm. We would lie on them all day long and discuss fashion, celebrities, boys, and films. In French. I think I understood 65% of it.
And one day I had a lengthy discussion with the head of the household, my French father, I can't remember their last name, about the bunkers that I'd found on the beaches - the old 1940s bunkers. And he told me about his time in the French occupation of Vietnam. It was eye-opening.
When you immerse yourself in another culture - you notice things, like how impossible it is to generalize, that in the end people are just people. Their daily routine isn't all that different than yours. The family I stayed with didn't have a washer and drier and washed clothes mainly by hand. They hung them out on clotheslines.
But that, I knew, wasn't true of all families, any more than it is true of all families in the US. They were religious, but Natalie had not been. They were less highly educated, not having the money, Sophie dreamed of traveling some day and couldn't get enough of what I told her of my life...while Natalie was well traveled and spoke English perfectly, Sophie struggled with English as I struggled with French.
I remember a boy who planted kisses on my neck and scared me when he stuck out his tongue. I was so young, so niave. And he could barely speak English any more than I could speak French. It was Bastille Day. Fireworks overhead on the beach. We were dancing to a David Bowie song, I think. Or maybe the Cure. My French gal pals laughed at me. I wore a sundress that I later ruined by sitting in mud.
The memories are vague and cloudy with time, but there. I wrote every day in a journal and if I write about something - I will remember it. Or most of the time.
What I took away from the experience was ...humbling. I realized all the generalizations and assumptions I made were wrong. I'd made them based on what I read, a trip to Paris with my parents as a child, correspondence with Natalie.
And I understood that the only way you can ever hope to understand another culture is to live it. No not visit, not spend a week at hotel or rented room in Paris, lounging in cafes and visiting friends, but really spend time with a family, live there.
See the daily routine. And spend time with a wide range of people.
What you discover when you do this...is how similar we are yet how different. The differences are so subtle, you barely notice them...just bits here and there. The discover of them is like...tasting apple pie for the first time or falling in love...that weird magical discovery. I fell in love with France, much the same way, years later I fell in love with London and Wales. It was so different from the world I knew in Kansas City, and at the same time felt like home. The only other place I've been that had that odd effect was New York City - where I stayed.
3. Loving this book by Nora Roberts, which shipperx recommended. Sweet Revenge.
It's about two jewel thieves. One a guy who has joined Interpol to hunt jewel thieves and one a woman who is currently a jewel thief. It takes place in the 1970s and 1980s, so also oddly nostalgic. It's a perfect mood lifter and escape mechanism.
Tried to read the paper this morning, ended up throwing it out. Too frigging depressing. I may stop picking up the paper for a while. I just don't want to know.
Off to watch Smash, read, and go to bed. Am exhausted. Had almost no sleep last night and worked really hard today. Stressful work week. Yeah, I know, what's new.
2. When I was 16 years old I spent two months one summer with a family in Bretagne, France. I'd intended to spend the time with Natalie Regis, the French foreign exchange student and later pen-pal that had visited my family two summers ago, who resided in Paris. This was back in 1981 and 1984. But that fell through and I was willing to do anything to go to France at that point, so we called the program and they put me with another family - one I didn't know a thing about, except their name and where they lived -- the very southern edge of Bretagne. They, unlike Natalie, were middle class or lower middle class. The whole family including the eldest daughter and her young son lived in their farm house. They fished for a living. And the father had served in Vietnam - French Vietnam - several years before the American occupation.
My experience with Natalie Regis and this family that was so different from her, made me once again realize that making broad generalizations about another culture is idiotic. Many of my American friends saw the French as "stuck up" or "snooty", "elitist". Which in some ways Natalie fit as did my father's close friend at the time Francois, who had a superiority complex that was inspiring, he was very sweet though. But no more so than many Manhattanites or New Yorkers or Londoners that I've met. Rich Urban dwellers tend to be a bit elitist and snooty. Particularly well educated ones, regardless of where they reside. But not always.
The family I spent time with was down-to-earth, religious but no more so than my own, they did go to church more regularly. But it made sense - the Church was outdoors in a beautiful garden, and afterwards we got fresh crepes. I remember riding bikes all over the place. I remember their discoteque - which was their word for nightclubs. At 16 you could drink alcohol and smoke legally - which surprised me. You can't do either in the US. And they were into David Bowie and Mick Jagger, which the US wasn't or the people I knew weren't. It felt like they were behind and ahead of us culturally. The contradiction amused me. But mostly...I saw similarities. The TV/media culture, the magazines (they had more science fiction fan mags than we did and more comic books available), and the casual attitude towards nudity and sex. Americans are more prudish.
Sophie, unlike Natalie, was not fluent in English. So we communicated mostly with body language. And my poor French...not helped by the Gallic Breton accent. I had studied Parisian and Sophie didn't speak Parisian. I can actually tell the difference. People don't know this but there are as many varieties of French as there are English or German or Spainish. Different dialects. And each region is vastly different.
The biggest difference I noticed at that time was the fact that French women could sunbath topless on beaches. We can't in the US. This may have changed since the 1980s.
The French weren't as...modest about breasts and seemed less prudish about nudity and sexuality then the English and Americans. I blame the English influence for the American prudishness about sex. Having spent a lot of time in Britian and Australia and noticing the similarities. I don't think the Spainish and French care.
I remember reading Asterix in French - it was a popular comic at the time or Sophie had a lot of books of it. Also watch Burt Reynolds and John Wayne films in French on their small tv set - which made me laugh. Watching John Wayne and Burt Reynolds speak in French is highly amusing. We did see some French films, not many, they didn't have much of a movie house and most the films were American. As were the tv shows. The American media influence was overwhelming.
Food...in Bretagne was much better than in the US. Richer. Fresher. But we were near the coast and good get fresh seafood. The beaches were almost white. And the water warm. We would lie on them all day long and discuss fashion, celebrities, boys, and films. In French. I think I understood 65% of it.
And one day I had a lengthy discussion with the head of the household, my French father, I can't remember their last name, about the bunkers that I'd found on the beaches - the old 1940s bunkers. And he told me about his time in the French occupation of Vietnam. It was eye-opening.
When you immerse yourself in another culture - you notice things, like how impossible it is to generalize, that in the end people are just people. Their daily routine isn't all that different than yours. The family I stayed with didn't have a washer and drier and washed clothes mainly by hand. They hung them out on clotheslines.
But that, I knew, wasn't true of all families, any more than it is true of all families in the US. They were religious, but Natalie had not been. They were less highly educated, not having the money, Sophie dreamed of traveling some day and couldn't get enough of what I told her of my life...while Natalie was well traveled and spoke English perfectly, Sophie struggled with English as I struggled with French.
I remember a boy who planted kisses on my neck and scared me when he stuck out his tongue. I was so young, so niave. And he could barely speak English any more than I could speak French. It was Bastille Day. Fireworks overhead on the beach. We were dancing to a David Bowie song, I think. Or maybe the Cure. My French gal pals laughed at me. I wore a sundress that I later ruined by sitting in mud.
The memories are vague and cloudy with time, but there. I wrote every day in a journal and if I write about something - I will remember it. Or most of the time.
What I took away from the experience was ...humbling. I realized all the generalizations and assumptions I made were wrong. I'd made them based on what I read, a trip to Paris with my parents as a child, correspondence with Natalie.
And I understood that the only way you can ever hope to understand another culture is to live it. No not visit, not spend a week at hotel or rented room in Paris, lounging in cafes and visiting friends, but really spend time with a family, live there.
See the daily routine. And spend time with a wide range of people.
What you discover when you do this...is how similar we are yet how different. The differences are so subtle, you barely notice them...just bits here and there. The discover of them is like...tasting apple pie for the first time or falling in love...that weird magical discovery. I fell in love with France, much the same way, years later I fell in love with London and Wales. It was so different from the world I knew in Kansas City, and at the same time felt like home. The only other place I've been that had that odd effect was New York City - where I stayed.
3. Loving this book by Nora Roberts, which shipperx recommended. Sweet Revenge.
It's about two jewel thieves. One a guy who has joined Interpol to hunt jewel thieves and one a woman who is currently a jewel thief. It takes place in the 1970s and 1980s, so also oddly nostalgic. It's a perfect mood lifter and escape mechanism.
Tried to read the paper this morning, ended up throwing it out. Too frigging depressing. I may stop picking up the paper for a while. I just don't want to know.
Off to watch Smash, read, and go to bed. Am exhausted. Had almost no sleep last night and worked really hard today. Stressful work week. Yeah, I know, what's new.
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Date: 2012-02-22 03:37 am (UTC)That said, 3 does have some good stand alone episodes.