Better than singing in the shower

...is singing in the cheese cave. It is cool, completely sealed off from the world, and echoes. Yesterday, I got to bathe all 310 wheels of cheese with a cloth dipped in salt water. It took nearly three hours. "Sugar Daddy" from Hedwig and the Angry Inch is my current favorite to sing on a loop. Fortunately, I was not found out by Vincent or Florian (the farmers), because the song requires a few abrupt octave changes to accommodate my narrow vocal range. It works well on solo bike rides, too.

Other cheese cave revelations: 1)I don't think I will ever need another allergy shot for mold. 2)Those folks who thought the moon was made of cheese weren't so loopy after all.

Procrastination, old friend

I am at the cheese farm! There's too much to update everyone on, so I'm putting it off until tomorrow. The good news is that they have real, non-dial-up internet here. Please entertain yourself with some long-overdue photos in the meantime. More pics and news coming soon!

Leaving this dirt pile behind

Check out the updated map.

Mrs. White, in the conservatory, with the wrench

Tailed to the library

Am I safe nowhere? I was hidden away in the town library, which is open for exactly six hours a week, using the dial-up internet on its one computer, when in walked Sophie and the two kids. Of course, she didn't actually say anything to me, but she did speak for the entire five minutes she was here! That's more words than I've heard her say cumulatively since I arrived. At least now I know she is not mute or stupid.

Other farm inhabitants

Valentin- four years old, brown eyes, blond hair. Feisty. Intensely dislikes onions and mushrooms--often hallucinates that they are in his dinner. Wears a napkin tied around his neck as a bib, which he loses daily, mid-meal.

Victor- eight months old, mostly bald, toothless, hazel eyes. Wears striped rompers. Smiles and laughs easily. Drops hard plastic toys from his high chair every ninety seconds or so while the rest of the family is eating.

Brice- sixteen years old, farmhand/student. Shaggy, wavy brown hair, large nose. Speaks only to ask if he can retrieve the ketchup from the refrigerator at lunch. Good-for-nothing, according to Etienne and Nans.

Nans- nineteen years old, farmhand. Blond hair buzzed very short, tall, yellow teeth. Mumbles. Often seen smoking a cigarette while driving a tractor. Lives in a tiny cottage next to the farmhouse. Works for Etienne half the week and for another farmer, elsewhere, the other half.

Mystery solved

As of last weekend, Etienne and Sophie are breaking up! While I'm not pleased at their unhappiness, I do feel satisfied to know that they are splitting: it lends explanation to everything that has happened since my arrival. Since this announcement, two things have changed for the better: Etienne puts on music at lunch, and Sophie plays with the kids. (Seriously, one would have to be inhuman not to play with them; they are too adorable to scowl at all the time.)

In case of emergency

(or if you are just bored at work and can make international calls from your desk)

here's my French cell #: (33) 6 67 06 7150

Hallelujah

Quick! Where can one get an American flag pin in frog country? I haven't felt this patriotic since I was a grade-schooler at the fourth of July parade.

A round-up of the lovely folk who live at the cattle farm, part I:

Etienne- Farmer. Mid-forties. Receding hair at the temples. Remaining hair (grey on the sides and black on the top) cut short. Salt-and-pepper soul patch. Smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Spry with a slight build. Teases Laura for eating slowly and farmhand Brice for wanting ketchup with everything. Does all the family's cooking; bakes tarts and sweet breads. Eats his beef rare. Likes kids. Produces only male offspring. Smokes cigarettes indoors at the fireplace.

Sophie- Farmer's wife (or perhaps non-legally-committed long-term partner). Mid-thirties. Skinny. Chin-length, thin, layered, light brown hair. Wears neutral colors and wire-rimmed glasses. Keeps her lips pursed as if she were dragging on a cigarette even when she is not smoking by the fireplace. Speaks with her mouth full to tell her four-year-old to eat. Has a five-word vocabulary consisting of "mange!" ("eat"), "oh, Valentin!" (the kid's name), "arret" ("stop") and "stop" ("stop"). Has a full-time office job in communications.

Quick hello from a nervous American abroad

...nervous because I haven't perfected my Canadian accent yet, and I may end up needing it depending on how things go at home today...

The past week and a half have been filled with rain and bad French television, which I can justify as being educational because I am still learning the language. The farmer's wife is still a bitch. My cottage-mate still says "oh, la vache," but we've managed to have some excellent, slightly one-sided conversations.

Tuesday and Wednesday, my dad and his girlfriend came to visit! We toured the thrilling city of Bourges and stuffed ourselves with French food. Mmm.

On Thursday, it snowed huge, fat snowflakes all morning.

Friday, Laura and I finally did some real farm work: we started digging up some very clumpy, hard soil so that we could later plant a row of trees.

~~~~Oops, I'm getting the boot from the library again! To be continued.....