Working, wandering and yoga.

That's what I've been doing the last month. As I said before, I set up my routine. I joined a yoga studio for my month in Strasbourg. I even got the student discount. They got a kick out of me being a patisserie student. And laughed every time I traded in my whisk key chain for a locker key. The studio has been great. They have classes every day with all different types of yoga and pilates. And actually, I found myself really enjoying pilates. Having never taken it before, this was a great discovery. I think I'll take it up when I get back home. 

I loved the classes, but I also liked having somewhere to go where they kinda knew me. All the instructors and staff were great. They knew my name and they knew that I communicated better in English. So whenever I heard, "put your hand flat on the mat," or "bend your knee," I knew it was my hand out of place and my knee that was locked. It was nice. Because the rest of my days were either spent in silence, or broken French. I got along fine at work, I know most of the terms and instructions in the pastry shop. But having a meaningful conversation is tough. And the guys I worked with weren't really the biggest chatters even with each other, so struggling with me in my limited vocabulary wasn't always what they wanted to do. And I guess me either. Don't get me wrong, they were great guys. But I felt like most of the time I was in my own little world arranging fruit or assembling macarons. 

Most of the conversations I had were with Grandpa. He seemed to have the most patience for me and seemed to enjoy teaching me things about the French language. I think he is proud of how complicated the French language is and how much I seemed to struggle with it. However I appreciated his patience and interest in talking. Although that's where his patience ended. In the kitchen he was a different person. Most of the time the little teenage apprentices got the bulk of his wrath. And usually they deserved it. Man, I forgot what it's like to be around 16 year-old boys. Annoying. But that's another story. Anyway, when the little guys weren't there, Grandpa pointed his anger at me. This is tough for me because I hate being yelled at. Especially for something I disagree with. I think I may be just as stubborn as him. So one day he asked me to butter and flour some molds. He was making cakes in little bread pans. And as with everything else in the pastry kitchen, the quantity was enormous, so I was buttering like 30 or 40 molds. We had a bit of an assembly line going. I'd butter then he'd dip it in the flour bin and scoop in the batter. No problem. Then at some point I had several molds ready to go so I started dipping in the flour (I'm not one to just stand around waiting). Only, I didn't do it exactly as he did. I was corrected immediately. "You're not an observer! Did you see me fill the mold like that? Did you see me tap it on the side more than once? Look!" He grabbed the mold out of my hand and showed me how to do it again. He didn't hide his disgust. But I hid mine and simply continued on using his chosen method. We were nearing the end of the massive tub of dough. Grandpa was over at the oven putting in the second to last tray of molds. There were three left and one pan on the table. So I put then on the pan in the center. In the end I thought we made a pretty good team. But Grandpa made it clear that I was wrong. Wrong about our teamwork and wrong about how I put the molds on the pan. "You're not an observer! Don't you use your head?! Did you see me do it that way?!!" Stunned, I was speechless. Actually, not speechless, just vocabulary-less. I didn't know what he was talking about. Why does it matter what direction I put the molds? And why was he screaming at me? Of course I use my head. I use it every day, every minute. How the hell did he think I was standing in his kitchen in France working for him? For free! I wanted to yell right back, because that's what meaningless anger makes me want to do. But I didn't. I couldn't. I can't. It's not like me to yell. So I very calmly and slowly summoned the words that allowed me to ask him what he was talking about. I told him why I put the molds on the tray and asked what the problem was. Annoyed, he told me that If I put them sideways they'll fall over if the pan is shoved in the oven (which they always are) and if you put them lengthwise they'll stay upright. "Oh, okay. Now I know. Thank you Monsieur." 

I respect this man because he deserves respect. At 85, he has much wisdom. Plus he's been working for 70 years in patisserie. He knows what he's talking about. But I don't like it when anyone screams at me. Especially for something that could easily be explained. How am I supposed to know. Geez. But whatever, maybe he was having a bad day. In the end I got him to chuckle. But I'm pretty sure it was one of those, you are so pathetic that all I can do is laugh at you chuckles. It's hard to say what I said. Whatever. I have those days too. Most of the time work was pleasant. Just a strange type of lonely.

After work and on weekends I always enjoyed my random wanders. One Sunday morning I woke up with no plans and wandered into a flute recital. It was the most amazing flute performance I've ever seen. And I've seen quite a few. Yes, I was a total band geek. Yes, I played the flute. I was even in a flute choir. Think what you must. But this recital was fantastic. And it made for quite a nice unplanned Sunday morning. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Other wanderings...

The bridge I crossed for yoga every day.

 A good luck charm on the front of the cathedral.

My favorite view of the cathedral.

These little things are sold in every patisserie shop. Mine too. I painted coco butter on tens of dozens of them one day.

These are the oldest cloisters north of the Alps. Haha. I love that everyone always has to qualify importance.

This is the Strasbourg train station and also one of my favorite buildings. Modern on the outside...

...old on the inside. Cool, huh?

And this was my last day at the patisserie. I know I have much more to report about my internship. And don't worry, I will. I have to write a little report for school, so I'll post it here too. I think I'm still processing.

Left to right: Daniel, Remy, Jean, Fabrice, Me.

So my stage (internship) is over and Nate is finally here. Despite the French strikers (not)working against us, he arrived safe and sound and on time. It's so good to have him here. 

So now I'm (we're) in travel mode again. And we're gonna go wander around Eastern Europe. I'll check in again when I can.

Bon journée...