like painted kites those days and nights went flying by

Wow, today has just been one of those awful, awful days that blindsides you every once in awhile.

It all started with my lack of sleep, I think, because even though I got seven or eight hours last night, the two-day trek back from Italy is something that my body surely hasn't recovered from yet. Pair general fatigue with my recently re-sprained ankle and I was already pretty ready to drop.

But the really bad part was when ML and I trekked all the way out to class and discovered that this grève nonsense is still going on. I still say that I respect French administration, chercheurs/enseignants, and etudiants, but for the sake of everything holy, this is the fourth week of strikes. When we got there the students had taken it upon themselves to physically blockade the stairs / doors to the auditorium with tables, chairs, etc. I've never encountered so much opposition for trying to go to class before.

So back to Quai Sarrail we marched in the cutting wind, chilly and miserable, both (I suspect) wishing we were walking along the sunny River Arno in Florence again.

This was particularly crushing to me because I was impatient during much of Italy to get back to a life with a routine. Although students might not have the strictest time schedule, everyone sorts out their own daily plan and I especially like to have a reliable routine to my days. It helps me feel productive. But I came back and things are just as nonsensical as before.

All these things combined, I spent the remaining morning hours curled up miserably in bed, rolling back and forth with the ponies tucked against me, feeling completely sorry for myself and generally homesick. I finally gave in to the need for some external comfort and dialed your number from Skype, despite the extreme earliness of the hour (just around 6am at home). On the third try I woke you up successfully, and I got to hear your bewildered, sleepy voice on the other end of the line, slowly making sense of my words. Undeniably comforting, if very selfish.

After that I summoned all my courage and got out of bed, walked to the kitchen (blessedly deserted of roommates, who were similarly napping or out), and slowly put some lunch together. Once I had fed myself and had some tea I curled up again and closed my eyes, convinced my body needed rest. I woke up a couple times but managed a two-hour nap, waking in the late afternoon to bright sunlight pouring onto me.

I'm still upset about the same things (no classes, few chances to practice my French, a feeling of general uselessness) but feeling much less despairing about them. I've made a resolution to go running more, because I need a higher level of exercise than I'm getting here, but the full-body fatigue combined with the ankle makes that seem like a bad idea for today. Maybe I will practice some self-defenses or kendo stance sword work tonight to take it easy.

I have to say that was the worst that I've felt not just since coming to France, but in a long, long time. I hope things here settle the way that they're supposed to, and soon.

I think that's all for now, Lesbia. From across the ocean, I bid you au revoir.

and what if there are no damsels in distress?

I had a friend once who owned the complete discography of Ani DiFranco. I had forgotten about this album until a few minutes ago, and Not A Pretty Girl stuck out at me. I like angry Ani better than almost anything.

Lyon is Raining. Not just raining as in for a few hours, stopping toward the evening and breaking into a lovely, mild night. Raining as in with a capital "R", pouring from the first light in the morning until late at night, pedestrian streets flooding, crosswinds flipping umbrellas inside out on the bridges, water driven absolutely sideways by the gusts. You can barely stand in a doorway without getting soaked to the skin.

It is a particularly bad time for this kind of rain because we have not had classes for more than a week now due to the professor strikes against Sarkozy's education reforms. I finally heard a good explanation -- he is trying to change the requirements for becoming a teacher, shifting the focus away from historical and cultural knowledge to pedagogical logic, as in, how to teach, rather than what to teach. The French are not reacting positively.

You can see how the combination of these two things can get a girl down. But I've tried to have a productive day, braving the rain to explore bookstores and pick up plenty of groceries for the weekend (seriously, where does all my money go?) and suchlike.

We're also planning the Florence trip, which is getting more and more out of control. Hopefully all will, in fact, go as planned.

Off to be anti-social until dinner.