Pelvoux-Vallouise.

A few pictures from the trip...

Did I say hotel? I meant HOSTEL.

Hello all.  Sorry for the extended hiatus but I have been busy beyond measure...I can't even tell you what exactly but it all revolves around constant traveling and school.  I have been gone every weekend this month so far and am gone this upcoming weekend as well!  Anyways, I have some blogging to make up and some adventures to share with you all.

Three weeks ago exactly, this being the first weekend of February I went on a program sponsored trip to the French Alpes.  It consisted of any and everyone from my study abroad group that wanted to pay the 190 euros for an all inclusive ski trip...pretty cheap eh?  This should have been a sign!  None the less, I pennied out the money and went on the trip...before departure I did not know much of anything about where we were going, the resort, or anything...but I went with the flow, I was just excited about going skiing and staying in a "nice hotel"(as the program staff put it).  Friday early evening we all boarded a charter bus headed for the mountains and embarked on our 5 hour journey east.  None of the staff from the study abroad program came along, it was just the tour guides and the students.  Besides the fact that the bus seats were as uncomfortable as could be and my knees were pressed against the seat in front of me the entire trip...we could NOT eat or drink on the bus and there was a constant flow of hot air coming from the floor heaters contrasting with the make shift air vents spewing out cold air from the vents in the roof.  This I did not understand but I kept shifting from constant sweats to cool breezes the entire trip...numerous complaints to the bus driver went unanswered.  Once we got into the mountains it was about 10pm or so and we were winding up through the mountains and on two lane roads looking over deep valleys and cliffs from the confines of the bus.  I was trying to figure out where we could be as the women around me were constantly screaming out in fear of the bus going off the cliff or the bus slipping all the way back down the mountain due to the ice and snow falling.  Arriving in the town it was very evident that this was an extremely secluded and small town...and when we pulled up in front of the hotel around 12am it became evident as soon as we walked in that this was NOT a hotel...but rather a hostel.  By the way this hostel included no towels or amenities in the form of soap or shampoo, none of which we were told to bring...as this was supposedly all inclusive.  Each room had 4 beds and I being one of the last to get up to my room found myself stuck with the top bunk of a rickety bunk bed...awesome!(see previous blogs cover photo)  this bed was entirely too small and sounded like it was going to fall apart with every movement I made in it.  The girl under me was fearing for her life with the image of the bunk bed scene from the Will Ferrel movie "Step Brothers" running through her mind.  

The next day we started early with breakfast that consisted of generic brand corn flakes, more bread than I have ever seen before in my life, a bowl of sugar for the flakes, milk, watered down orange juice, butter and jelly, and a bowl of some sort of chocolate powder in which this french female student(extremely nice by the way) who accompanied us used to dip her buttered bread into after mixing the powder with milk...I'll let you all figure this one out.  After getting my rented ski equipment we headed out to the slopes only to find out that our specific resort consisted of ONE chair lift and a handful of runs(oh and there was a few of these things called T-bars, but fellas these are not very kind to your balls. Def made by a woman.)...not a problem for the rest of the group who had never skied before for the most part...but a huge problem for me as I had completed all, yes ALL of the runs within the first three hours of skiing.  Oh and before I forget the name of the resort is Pelvoux-Vallouise.  None the less I made the best of my time(the powder was amazing...as high as my waist!) and got a lot of runs in while supplementing my time by watching the others on the bunny runs and falling on their asses.  We were done skiing by 5pm and went into the town that night for  a couple hours to look around...we did not need 2 hours, 30 minutes would have been sufficient.  That night there was a small party in the main lobby of the hostel.  the hostel manager and make shift bartender(who handed out condoms to us the first night...very nice) tended to the bar in between taking shots of his own and hitting the dance floor.  I also swear that he was smoking weed the entire weekend but that is neither here nor there.  But his disregard for the bar and suggestion to have kids start setting up their own tabs allowed for us all to take drinks at our leisure without pay...what else would you expect?  This IS college.  I had to retire from the events early however as the dinner we were served earlier was having serious effects on my bowel movements...to put it simply, I have discovered that Raclet cheese does not sit well with me at all...no matter how good it may have tasted the after effect was NOT enjoyable!! Sunday afternoon, after skiing in the morning for a bit and packing up our bags and gathering our sheets together to wash(by the way we had to make our own beds and I swear something was killed in mine), I made sure to leave all of my trash from food that I had eaten the night before, IN the room, all over the floor for the people to see...who honestly is forbidden to eat food in their hostel bedroom?  I disagree emphatically.  

Anyways, the ride back home was as bad as the ride up to the mountains...minus the screams of terror from the peanut gallery.  All in all, I enjoyed the trip a great deal and the hostel really wasn't all that bad...I just like to complain for comedic effect. More to come!

"They were pretty good huh?"

Staying with the theme of basketball yet again, while partaking in some decent open gyms during the week I met a couple locals who know a bit about the Montpellier basketball scene. Where to go at what times to find games, good courts, bad courts, etc. One of them, we will call him J for privacy sake, said that he knows of a good open gym that takes place in Nimes every Monday night. OK, I’m interested I was thinking to myself…why not check it out? Its not like I have too many options here as handball and soccer reign supreme in France. So I went along with him that Monday night as we rode the train, a 25 minute ride from Montpellier, to Nimes around 7pm. After getting off the train it was about a 15 minute walk to get to the gym…a little annoying but I really wanted to play so I stuck with it. We got to them gym around 745pm and I got changed and started stretching before the games began. The gym wasn’t very nice but it was indoors and was in decent shape, except for that it looked as if construction had stopped halfway through as the walls were consisted of drywall and the ceiling had a few spots left unfinished. As some players started warming up and shooting around before the first scrimmage I was trying to judge the skill level around me but was having a difficult time because it didn’t seem as if they were being serious…it seemed as if they were just joking around and throwing up shots. I should have taken this as a sign of what was to come! From the beginning of the first game it was like something out of a Will Ferrel movie with passes being thrown off of the backboard and over the backboard and 5 feet over or behind players outstretched hands. I felt as if I was playing with a very bad middle school team…this was NOT good at all! At this point I needed to get the game over with as soon as possible in order to get myself off of this court at all costs so I began taking the ball out of bounds and not passing to any of my “talented” teammates, but instead just going 1 on 5 against the other team to try and get this hellish game over with. The French did not like this coaching decision one bit…they are apparently all about passing and moving, less dribbling, and overall team ball. They also seem to be into countless turnovers, terrible offenses, and what I like to call “what the fuck?!” passes….excuse my French. As I began to disregard my 4 other teammates and take the opposing team on solo players from the sideline and my own team began yelling at me in French to “Pass the ball Huston! Pass the ball! Run the offense!” At one point thy even paused the game to explain to me how we were going to win by passing the ball to my other teammates…and this is when it gets good. At this point I was getting to the point of not caring what they were saying to me, but I obliged their ardent requests to “pass the ball”. The next three or four plays down the court I gave up the ball and just as I had expected this resulted in the next pass resulting in a turnover credited to my team. And just to make my point of view on this situation questionless, after each turnover I would turn to the people on the sideline who had been so adamant about me giving up the ball and give them a look that can only be described if you see it. But lets just say that it got my point across. I then preceded to sub myself out of the game, do some ball handling drills on the side of the court and then change back into my street clothes before leaving to catch the next train back to Montpellier. As J and I were heading out of the gym on the way to the train station he says to me…”Soo what did you think about the team? They were pretty good huh? We could probably beat a few American teams right?” You do not know how much restraint it took for me to not be honest with him and just destroy his confidence after I had witnessed and partaken in that travesty just moments earlier. But I took the high road and responded with…”Yeah sure man! You guys are pretty good…you could probably beat a few teams from back home! Honestly, have you ever heard of a team called Cal Tech…?”

A Visit To The Dentist

Due to the limited basketball courts in Montpellier, or lack there of, I have been getting some workouts done on this outdoor court located on the campus of Paul Valery University, where I am attending classes. Now these outdoor workouts haven’t been as frequent in the early going due to the less than ideal weather thus far in the south of France. But last Thursday the weather broke and I was able to get out to the court without being rained on. About halfway through, I noticed a French kid starting to shoot on the opposite hoop…thinking nothing of it I just kept on with my workout. Then about 5 minutes later the kid, who actually turned out to be an older looking dude in his mid 20’s asked me to play one on one…of course I obliged, I need to show the French ballers here who’s boss! He was actually a decent player, pretty quick and a semi-decent shot…although with a very old school, behind the head touch to it. After about 11 or 12 games had gone by with me winning 10 and giving him 2 to keep his ego partially intact, I was tired and he was VERY tired! So I told him last game before checking the ball to begin the final match. I then made a move to the basket and rose up for a layup when the next thing I feel is his elbow smashing me in my mouth and pushing my front right tooth back and chipping a few small pieces off as well as I came to discover after the fact. I hit the ground already pissed with my tooth feeling like its going to fall out and just imagining how difficult it is going to be to find a good dentist in this city…I was more mad about the fact that I was going to have to find a dentist in France than I was about my tooth being indented. Of course my initial response was to swear and curse to high heaven…this seemed to scare my French opponent as he kept repeating the phrases, “I am so sorry! I am so sorry! I do not want to fight you! I do not want trouble with you!” My intention was never to fight him or harm him in any way as this was an accident and not done on purpose…but I found his reaction very amusing and began to laugh a bit. I then gave him a pat on the back and reassured him that I was not angry at him what so ever and did not want to fight him. This got him to calm down a bit but he still kept repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” until I eventually packed my stuff and left the court in search of a dentist.
This was all I needed…a smashed in tooth with the very real possibility of the ending result being a root canal for me, and to take place in a foreign country to add to my misery! I now was on my was back to the main office for the study abroad program, here they would be able to help me find a dentist. It took me about 20 minutes to finally get to the office and my attitude was not a good one…my mouth was throbbing, I was tired, worried about this dentist, and NOT in the mood to conversate in French…this was not the time! I walk into the office(where all of the people who work there are French) and explain my situation in full detail to them in English…and like a bad movie they respond to me in French, and to make it worse is that now two of them get in on it and begin both speaking at me in French with questions and directions coming my way from both sides! Now, the fact that I may have understood most of what was being said is not the point here….the point is that when it comes to a situation regarding my health(whether it be life threatening or not) and especially when my mouth is swollen and aching…I do not want anything lost in translation. So to try and make my preference clear I began responding in English to all of their questions while adding in the occasional “What!? What did you say?” to act as if I did not understand what they were saying…and sometimes I didn’t. Ohh, but nooo, the message was not received and the French kept coming! I had had enough and finally just said, “Excuse me…In English please! I do not want to miss anything here.” “Ohh, ok. No problem” is the response I get…now wasn’t that easy enough? All the while, they called every dentist in their manifest and no one was answering the phones. This is just perfect I was thinking to myself, I’m never going to get to a dentist…they probably all went home already, I mean it was 2 o’clock on a Friday…can’t expect them to work too hard! But as luck would have it I was able to get an appointment for that day and made my way to the office…which I had some trouble finding due to the fact that it was located in an apartment building. None the less, I made it and reemerged with a prescription for Ibuprofen(didn’t think you needed one) and a diagnosis that did not include a root canal! I had also learned the family history of this French dentist, who happened to be Vietnamese and had relatives in Texas and the San Francisco…I don’t know why I remember this. All in all the experience for me was one of frustration and angst but was also pretty funny now that I look back on it. And the office workers have been very caring in the days to follow as they have checked up on me and made sure that I was ok…and yes the emails they sent me were in English.