Our wake up call this morning was the best one I've gotten in a looooong time. Basically, Ahmee woke up, and started fumbling around. Poppy asked what she was up to and she said she was looking for the remote. This immediately had me awake and shortly after I sat right up in bed Ahmee found the remote and turned on the tv to CNN where we saw Obama's face filling up the screen. I have no idea what noises I made out loud, but inside I was dancing and hooting and hollering that Obama won the election. My internal hooting and hollering slowly started dimming as the CNN people started talking about things I already knew about by reading and deductive reasoning (that Obama had to hit the ground running, that he'd been preparing to do so for months, and that he had a tidal wave of things to do and to fix). Basically, I wanted to shout at the tv, "Shut up and let me see his speech damn it!" They replayed Obama's speech five minutes after I thought this.
As we sat there listening to that fantastic speech I looked around and saw that Poppy had watery eyes, and that Ahmee had the same smile on that I did. This was the best news we'd gotten from the U.S. in a long time, and let me tell you this made me soo happy and still makes me happy that he was elected and not McCain. Obama's speech talked about the battle they'd gotten through, thanked those who made it possible, and warned the country that hard times were still ahead-and that his election was not the answer to our problems- that he still needs our help. Down to earth, yet uplifting at the same time. Incredible, awe-inspiring, tear producing, jaw dropping, and motivating are the main things I can say about that speech. I loved it. We're looking at a President who will be noted in our History books ladies and gents, and I think that he's going to take up more than just a footnote or a page. He's going to take up multiple chapters.
After watching the news till about 8 in the morning we all got up, got dressed, packed our things, ate breakfast (toasting our new president of course), and then left to head north on the highway. This time I needed to write summaries for articles. The tunnels that we passed through made my job difficult and made me get a major headache. After we'd passed into France and eaten at a truck stop (the food in France is great even at truck stops) I put my things away for a bit so my pressured brain could have a rest. Coca cola coupled with that break made me able to continue working. I got a test done on the road and a couple article summaries (did three-needed three more, I take forever on my summaries because I add a whole lot to the parts about how the information could effect others). I was happy to be back in France. The language sounded just like English still (not that that means I can speak it or always understand it), the hills were reminding me of home, we were heading back into fall where the trees were actually changing color, and the roads weren't stuffed with insane drivers. When I heard that we were going to be staying the night in Arles, the town that Vincent Van Gogh lived in a large percentage of his life, I got excited. I really really like Vincent Van Gogh. Loved seeing the museum that housed so much of his work when we were in Amsterdam because it displayed his life through his work. In Arles I could find out a bit more about the "climax" of Van Gogh's life. I had no idea that Arles would have a lot more in store.
We found a place to park (parking garage), and went to the information desk where we were shocked to hear English Christmas Songs on the radio. We got a room in the Candal (something like that), and found out about a tour that we could possibly get in English (the lady normally did it in French and if anyone else showed up who wanted it in French then she'd have to do it in French). We thanked the two people who'd helped us, ran and checked out the hotel, ran and grabbed our things and lugged them up the steps of the park (that Vincent Van Gogh painted!!!), I changed my shoes, and then we rushed back to the information center to catch the tour guide just as they were closing up the information center. Our tour guide, Janice, told Poppy and I first about how she came to France to live with the man she married in Arles. She kept her answers short and to the point, but she wasn't rude. I could tell she'd been asked that question countless times when Ahmee asked the same question later and she delivered the exact same answer (in the exact same tone). I also could tell that when she gave her tours she often was putting on a show, the same show she'd been giving for years. She was very happy to have us pull her out of her speech to answer questions, some of which she hadn't heard before. You want to know how I could tell she was putting on a well-rehearsed show? She never looked directly at Ahmee, Poppy, or me. She would stop and talk about something and she'd be facing us and she'd do all the motions, but she never looked directly at us. She looked past us and all around us. If we had been a huge tour group then this would've been fine, no one would've been able to tell that she wasn't really speaking to anyone in particular, that she was simply rehashing something she'd gone over many many many times. The tour was still good though. We got to look at the Roman Theater,
at the Amphitheater (which still gets used today for bullfighting), at the City Hall that was built by the same architect that built Versailles (had a really, really cool ceiling),
at the church of St. Trohpime (which had homeless people hanging out on the steps and all around it-had two young boys walk up and get right in our faces-they came out of the dark and surprised me when the cup was rattled just under my nose), at the square with the cafe Vincent Van Gogh painted, and at the hospital Vincent Van Gogh stayed in after he cut off part of his ear. In the square with Vincent's cafe, which is now named "Cafe Van Gogh" Janice told us that Vincent hardly ever ate at that cafe because it was a cafe where the rich tourists ate at (ritsy hotel was just across the square). Janice also told us something quite comical. The statue that stood in the middle of the square was the statue of the man Pierre Mistral who pushed for the Provencale language (combo of French, Spanish, and Italian) to be used in poetry. Pierre Mistral was incredibly famous during his life, and Vincent wrote in his letters that he knew he was there and he wanted to meet him but he never got to. Vincent during life was never famous and was never recognized as great anywhere (except for in his brothers home), including in Arles, whereas this man was famous in life and was largely popular for his work when he lived in Arles. Now they're both dead, the man who was famous in life has a statue that has no meaning to the people, while the man who was invisible in life has a cafe with his name on it and EVERYONE knows exactly who he is. I agree with Janice, I find that quite funny. When the tour ended at the hospital Vincent stayed in (and became even worse than when he started because he got put into a cell away from everyone), we heard about an incredible museum. Course we'd heard about several different things that we needed to visit, but this museum struck at me. Janice told us that this museum, Reattu, was currently holding an expedition of art where a famous designer (Christian Lacroix) picked out various pieces of art and photographs and put in many rooms his designs. We decided we had to go see this the very next day.
Janice pointed out which direction we wanted to go to find restaurants and then we said our goodbyes. What she didn't tell us was that restaurants wouldn't be opening up for another half hour or so. We ended up walking from restaurant to restaurant looking for a place to sit down and eat. We finally gave up and just went back to the hotel where we had "snack food" for dinner. Ahmee normally doesn't get sweets, this night she grabbed herself some.
After dinner we went up and I wrote three more summaries and then went to sleep.
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