On Sunday afternoon, I took a long walk around Pertuis since there is.nothing.to.do.here. on Sundays because everything's closed (except for trusty old
Banette, my favorite boulangerie...but let's be honest, you can only go to the same bakery so many times in one day). Anyway, I walked through a residential area near one of my schools by way of the cemetery (interesting, centuries-old place) and a football stadium I had never seen before. Since this particular residential zone is on a big hill overlooking the old part of town and the surrounding valley, the view of our very own
pertuis and the mountains was especially spectacular since the sun was setting (I'll take pictures & post them sometime soon). I had climbed the hill through the neighborhoods and turned around near the municipal pool so as to make it back home before dark.
As I was walking past the pool, I noticed in the parking lot two prepubescent boys, a skinny one who would probably reach my shoulders and a chubby one just a few inches taller than his playmate. They were about 50 yards away from me, and the chubby boy shouted out to me, "Excusez-moi, Madame, est-ce que vous avez l'heure?" (
Excuse me, Madame, do you know what time it is?). I shouted the time back to him, and they asked me if I was English. I continued walking and yelled "American" over my shoulder. As I was walking away, I heard them practicing saying, "Hhhamerricaan" in a very strong French-but-I'm trying to-sound-American accent (it's distinct!). It made me think fondly of my students mimicking my accent, and I continued to walk down the hill on my way home.
About three minutes after I passed the pool, I heard someone's approaching feet pounding the pavement behind me. Thinking it was a jogger, I stepped aside to let him pass. Instead, who should wheeze up next to me but my new friend, the chubby boy from the parking lot! Saying hello again, he politely asked me what the date was. I assumed he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box and kindly told him that it was Sunday, November 30, 2008, all day long. He then asked me what the time was,
again. It was at this point that I realized that I wanted to keep walking. Turning back to the path, I told him it was five minutes later than when he last asked, and in response, he quickly shouted, "Do you have boyfriends?", pinched my butt, and immediately started trucking up the hill towards his waiting skinny friend, arms pumping hard and head ducked to his chest.
In high school and college French class, I was never taught the correct vocabulary to use in these types of situations, and thus I'm always left speechless. I just shouted, "Alors!" (which translates to a meek, "Well!") to his slowly retreating back and kept walking, laughing because it was so ridiculous that a 12-year-old boy would pinch
mes fesses! I had made it to the school Pierre Augier--recognized territory--by the time the two baby Frenchmen once again came running up behind me. This time as the chubby boy was honing in, I whirled around and shook my finger at him, saying in my best angry-teacher voice, "C'est dégueulasse! Allez!" ("That's disgusting! Go away!"). He looked scared, and they immediately turned to run up the hill again. I continued the rest of my walk in peace, stopping at the Banette bakery on my way home for a calmer version of Sunday afternoon entertainment.
The "shopping street" lookin' good (and empty...it was 9:00 pm on a Friday night, after all)
Even a shoe boutique gets in on the action
Christmas tree & clock tower in main square by my apartment
Looking mysterious through the branches...
The mayor's office looking like a Vegas-style Greek palace (n.b. there are palm trees at the base of the columns...oh yes)
Mireille, Whitney, Pascale, Robin, Sonny, Julie, and me
We had so much fun/wine that even Pere Noel decided to join us...we ended up with a pet shop's worth of stuffed cats & dogs by the end of the night
Robin ordered a still-mooing hunk of beef topped with a raw egg - delish!
Whitney laughing
My friend Julie and me. 
On Friday, I received a letter from La Poste saying that I can go pick up my titre de séjour (residency card). It's supposedly waiting for me at the municipal police headquarters in Pertuis, which is the last place I would expect be handling residency stuff, but I'll take it! I've heard of assistants in other towns/cities needing to wait in long lines at the Prefecture's office and at the mayor's office, but the police headquarters is a new one.
Rebellious Americans, we ate the cheese before the meal rather than afterward
Me chopping vegetables with the dullest knife in France
The food was so good!
American assistants Heather, Andrew, Whitney, me, and visiting Canadian Doug
