Joyeux Anniversaire

The laptop computer clock went from June 30, 11:59 to July 1, 12:00 and I was sitting quietly in my apartment in Lille with Hervé, very much ready for bed. Hervé and I smiled at the thought of having spent exactly 6 months together and then Hervé sang me his lovely personal rendition of "Joyeux Anniversaire," the first and last birthday song I would hear that day. Though I had just turned 19 and was supposed to be mature or something like that, when Hervé asked if I wanted my presents immediately or the next morning, I didn't have even a moment of doubt and couldn't wait to find out what he had gotten me. I had two tickets for a show at the Theatre du Nord in Lille and another little trinket that made me even happier :-). It was a strange feeling to be so far from home and from my parents and friends on my birthday: though I was very happy as I had been for almost the whole week, I went to sleep not quite believing that it was my birthday unless I woke up to presents and kisses from my mom and dad.

The next morning was great, and I really appreciated all the messages and emails I got because it made me feel like I wasn't so far away after all. I had been dying to go to the Musée d'Art et Industrie, or the "Pool Museum" in Roubaix for a while, so after finally waking up, that's what Herve and I did. The museum, located in an old pool house, was beautifully laid out and organized. In the central hall, there was a two or three foot "pool," or fountain, where the old central pool had been, and around it were rows of sculptures. On the sides, where the old showers had been, there was an eclectic mix of paintings, pottery, textiles, and jewelry. I didn't know almost any of the artists and liked almost all of the art; it was funny to realize the degree to which the name and celebrity of an artist normally influences the formation of my opinions of art. It was nice as well to feel free from that influence and just roam a virtually empty, beautiful museum on a Wednesday afternoon where the "starred sights" were the sights that I liked the best. There was also a nice little terrace café looking over the central garden or courtyard of the museum where Hervé and I stopped to have some cider and relax in the sun. I had intended this stop to rejuvenate me, but after the drink and the sun, I felt like simply falling asleep on the grass; Hervé almost had to drag me back into the museum, but I couldn't have been happier that he did. We saw the two temporary exhibits: one was a collection of work by a sculptor who sculpted very interesting and evocative depressed faces (lots of sculptures of Oedipus, or "Oedipe") and the second exhibit was of a fashion designer named Agatha Ruiz de Prada who designed interesting, childish, and ridiculously unwearable clothes.
We walked through the main halls of the exhibit once more before leaving to have dinner in Lille. The places I had initially wanted to go to were all closed until 7:00, so we went to Bistro Romain, a chain restaurent I had already been to. Though I did not at all expect it, I ended up having my best dinner in France that evening. Hervé and I were running quite late for our 8:00 show, but I was in a relaxed and unrushed mood so I wouldn't eat my tiramisu even a bit faster no matter how he tried to subtly rush me. It was definitely my fault then, that we came in right as the lights were turning off and so were unable to find our seats. We enjoyed the show nevertheless, though I had more trouble understanding this one than the first show I had seen. Hervé and I tried to interpret it or figure it out more fully as we wandered Vieux Lille afterwards, but I don't think I can describe the play in a way that would evoke an accurate image in anyone's mind but my own. And so my birthday passed, a wonderful day in a string of many wonderful days.

On a side note, here's an interesting article about language and the mind that I found on aldaily: http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/boroditsky09/boroditsky09_index.html