Cannes you dig it? ... ohhh man

This past weekend I went to the Cannes Film Festival. I don’t know if anyone could ever possibly comprehend everything that happened to me.


So I’m not even going to try.








Nooooo joking! I will try. But it was seriously the most ridiculously random, spontaneous, and at times terrifying vacation of my life. In some good ways and some bad ways, in some just in between ways. To begin with, there was a train strike in France... and when I found out it was going to affect my train to Cannes, I had to decide whether to leave in the next two hours or wait two days. At about the same time, I found out that my original place to say had fallen through... and obviously, since it’s the freaking Cannes Film Festival, finding an alternative and reasonable (i.e. I ain’t no Brangelina, I can’t pay 300 euro a night for a bed yo) finding new lodging was going to be... difficult. In addition, I had found out a week before that my travel buddy could no longer accompany me, so I would be all by myself. With these thoughts in mind, I decided to be adventurous. I took the first train to Cannes that I could manage, even though I had no where to go. I figured it would work itself out. Yeah spontaneity!!!

It didn’t.

I called and texted everyone that could possibly know someone who’d know someone in the Cannes/Nice area... to no avail. I looked for new friends on my train... but I ended up sitting by a dude who read porn and a cat lady (long hair, nervous look about her, 4 cats in one cage with her)... so no luck there. I decided I’d just lock up my bag in Cannes for the first night and roam the streets... but the locker station was closed when I got in. So basically, I got to Cannes and was scared shitless. I sat outside the train station for like an hour, looking for someone who might be able to help me or be my friend. I kept getting swarmed by scary drunk/high French middle schoolers necking and loitering in the area. It was terrifying. It was cold. I just kept thinking to myself, “And then no one ever saw Lisa... ever again.” I saw Tom Arnold and wanted to ask him for help, but he seemed like he was in a hurry. I hate Tom Arnold.

Luckily, with the help of one of my friends in Angers, I booked a hostel in Nice and managed to catch the last bus leaving the train station. On the bus I met a whole bunch of disillusioned kids from Georgia, who turned out to be doing the same thing as me in Cannes. So they gave me a little run down on what I could expect the next day, which, as they said, was “This badge gets you NOTHING... make fake business cards and prepare to beg, lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want.” They were very inspiring. I also met this 50 year old Irish man named Michael. We talked about politics and his half-blind ex-girlfriend, who had thought “The Last King of Scotland” was a nice happy movie since she couldn’t see anyone dying a brutal death on the screen. Michael was cool and took pity on me and gave me money. But he also kept getting this vacant look in his eyes while we were talking, which creeped me out. So when the bus stopped, I ran away from him.

A lot of my trip was very shaped by the people I met. I made a lot of 30 minute friends... pick people up as I meet them, talk for 30 minutes, then go our separate ways. The next day on my way to Cannes, I hung out with these stoner kids from Vermont. I tried to convince them that I too was a hardcore stoner, and we talked about the pros and cons of hash versus marijuana. I made up some conversation about how hash makes me feel exotic but pot makes me feel closer to nature... they seemed to agree? They had pictures of them getting high at every landmark in Europe, which was impressive, I had to admit.



At Cannes, I went and picked up my “official” badge, then I just roamed away. All I had gotten was the badge, so I had no idea where to go, where anything was, or basically, what was going on at all. I just wandered. I found a big crowd of people in a line, so I decided to wait in it. I didn’t know what it was for. Then some dude came up and was like, “Toute seule?” Which means “You’re by yourself?” And I was like oui, and he handed me a ticket and walked away. And that’s how I got into the Director’s Master Class with Quentin Tarantino, which wasn’t open to the public and you had to have a ticket. He’s a funny man. He never even finished middle school. I ended up finding more disillusioned kids from Georgia and sitting with them... they were very disillusioned with Quentin, and the guy next to me just kept muttering, “Pompous bastard...” throughout the lecture. Personally, I don’t really care if Quentin Tarantino is a pompous bastard, I thought it was cool to see how he put his movies together. One thing he said about Pulp Fiction was pretty interesting... apparently he wrote it while he was living in Amsterdam, the first time he’d ever left America... and that’s why it has so many random references to American pop culture in it, because he was very aware of the eccentricities while he was somewhere else. I don’t know, I thought that was cool since I’m studying abroad and noticing stuff like that too. In other words, I should have been using this time to write my own Pulp Fiction.




So after that lecture, I went back outside and found another line, and again, had no idea what it was for. I ended up being the last person in the line to make it into this movie, “Ocean Flame.” It was the premiere and the director and the cast were there... it was pretty cool. The movie was basically about this Asian gangster guy and this sweet, virginal girl and their destructive, sexually violent relationship. Everyone dies in the end. Sorry if you were going to see it. You can still enjoy the process of getting to that point.

I made another friend during that movie, this French film student named Rosalie. We decided to go watch Dirty Harry on the beach, and Clint Eastwood came! Dirty Harry himself was there! Dirty Harry is a really funny movie. But at the end of it, I was getting tired of movies where people get shot and beat up all the time, after all the Quentin Tarantino stuff and the Asian movie and now this creepy Scorpio guy was running around San Francisco with a sketchmo look on his face murdering people.




The next day, I got to Cannes as early as I could, and immediately tried to find a movie to see. I had dressed up that day, so I looked slightly professional, with my dress and my badge around my neck. For this reason, I was allowed into another premiere screening... I just showed up, late, breathless, and asked if I was too late. The security guard looked at my badge, hesitated, and then just let me in with all the journalists and industry people. Yeahhh! And they were lighter, comedy movies, so that was good. One was about this guy working at a gas station, and I really liked it. Later, I went to the second half of the short film competition. That was probably my favorite event... I really liked all of them. Especially the last one, which was a claymation movie called “Den Derhchaoigha paugaogheia.” Actually it was something Dutch or German that I didn’t understand, but it translated into “The Little Puppet Boy.” It was sweeeeeeeet!

So Cannes was going great. I had actually done most of what I’d dreamed to do, save one thing: make it into a screening at the Grand Palais, with the red carpet. I’d imagined this would be nearly impossible, but the disillusioned kids from Georgia told me it was actually easier than I thought. All you had to do, they said, was get dressed up... girls have to have heels... and make a sign, then stand outside the theater and beg for a ticket. So... I decided what the hell, I’ll try. It was for Synecdoche, New York, this Charlie Kaufmann movie... and I love Charlie Kaufmann, so if it worked out, it’d be pretty awesome.

This ended up being the worst experience of my life.





I made my freaking sign, then I started walking. The Georgia kids were right, there were a ton of people doing this. I had been told to look for random old men dressed up, because they usually had a lot of extra tickets. So I did. I did and I did. I felt like a freaking beggar prostitute or something. I wasn’t as bad as most people, who would get all up in every dressed up person’s face yelling, “TICKET! TICKET!” No. I tried to be polite and semi-classy, I said a lot of “Bonsoirs” and made small talk with other people. I did this for two hours. A lot of the Georgia kids ended up scoring tickets, but I was not having any luck. I held out hope.

And then, a light. This hipster tattooed woman, dressed all in black, comes up to me. “Ticket?” she asks and I was so excited!! “Oui oui!” I responded, and she took my arm and took me to the line for the red carpet. She worked for the production company that made Amelie and Paris, Je T’aime. How it works is, if your company doesn’t use all of its tickets, you get penalized (aka less tickets) next year. So they had to get rid of this ticket, and they chose me! While we were in line, her boss called, frantic, to see if she had found someone for the ticket. I heard her say, “Oui, la fille en rose.” Which is “Yeah, the girl in pink.” Which means I had the lovely distinction of being known as the pink beggar girl by everyone in Cannes. But whatever, I had done it!

We got to the red carpet, I hand them my ticket. Just as we are about to fulfill every dream of my childhood and adult life, the security guard grabs me and says no. Your ticket and badge do not match. You need a blue ticket to get in and this one is yellow. No. Tattooed woman freaks out, because she really needs me to get in. And I’m like “No! No! S’il vous plait! Pourquoi pas! No ! » But it is no use. So they don’t let me in, and even though tattooed lady tries to fight for me for a minute, she really has to find someone else. So I stand at the edge of the red carpet, on the verge of tears, in my heels, and my dress, and take my stupid beggar sign back out. And this is how every celebrity got to see me, but I did not notice any of them. And this is how I got to be in random tabloid pictures as the desperate pathetic sad girl all dressed up in the background. I got another stupid yellow ticket during this process, but they still wouldn’t let me in. The security guards started feeling really bad for me, and trying to help me find a ticket. No avail. I stayed outside for 15 minutes after the movie, after everyone had left.

I felt so ridiculous and pathetic and that was when I decided I really, really hated this dumb stupid part of Cannes, and even though I was going to be there for a few more days, there was no way in hell I was ever putting myself through this demeaning and humiliating process every again. It was kind of ironic, since I’d gotten to do all sorts of other stuff there on pure luck, but this one time I actually sought out an opportunity, I failed miserably. It was a lot more fun just stumbling across things and people like Clint Eastwood spontaneously. So I took off my heels, bought a kebab, and went to go watch “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?” on the beach.

To save money, I’d previously decided I wouldn’t get a room that night because they were showing free movies all night at a theater in Cannes. So I trekked over to this random theater and did that, watching the first movie then sleeping through the last two. When they finished, it was 7 in the morning. I made one more trek along the sea shore and watched all the people packing up and catching their early buses out of Cannes. Then I decided to do the same. I’d seen about 8 movies in two days and the festival was just about wrapped up, so I’d just go to Nice and take it easy for the day.

On the train to Nice, more and more people kept getting on all decked out in racing gear. That was when I remembered it was Grand Prix weekend in Monaco. I decided to be dangerous and illegally stay on the train through Monaco instead of getting off at Nice. When I got off, I saw a group of girls about my age, but all dressed up in official clothing. So I followed them for awhile, which, once again was hard given my bright pink dress, but I was very clandestine. It was fun, they helped me find a cheap coffee shop and I saw a lot of the town. Then they turned down a sketchy ally so I ditched them for the ocean.

I love the ocean. I love the beach. It was just what I needed.

Monaco is also cool because it has free public bathrooms and showers... and maybe it was just for the Grand Prix, but there were free buses everywhere! I got on one and asked where it went, and the guy said “N’importe quel edroit... tu chois!”... which means... wherever you want! That’s enough to make any place great for me.

This is super long, I should wrap it up.

So yeah, I toured Monaco, chatted with some more security officers, listened to the sounds of the Grand Prix, then went back to Nice and wandered some more. It started raining and there was no where to go... so I went to a Church. I felt horrible because I was so tired at this point that I kept nodding off and I think it looked like I needed an exorcism, the way I’d slump over then jerk back awake. I stumbled across a techtonik dance off for middle schoolers too, which was freaking awesome. The guys who won were really good. They had it all... euro vests, mullets, cheeky personalities.... I think they have a very bright future. Almost as bright as techtonik neon clothes!!!




So at the end of the day, I just got on the train and booked it back to Angers. And I survived. I survived, damnit! I made friends, I saw movies, and I didn't die! So it was good.

wooooooooooo

So coming back from Spain was a little rough. My first day back I had an intimidating presentation to give, a whole bunch of packages to pick up from the post office and lug around town, and it was pouring freezing rain. I was no longer in Spain. I was back in France. And suddenly, my entire plan of going to Uganda started to unravel, because I realized I had no money and no vaccinations and not a lot of time to fix everything.

Luckily a lot of good things happened to turn the tide. I went out to dinner with some visiting officials from Notre Dame... they treated us to spectacular French cuisine and it was a really fun night. Some of my friends bought a frisbee, so that helped. Facebook chat happened, and I don’t even care what people think, I think it’s great since I have no skype. And then, the weather became marvelous. So after, France and I were on good terms again.

I’ve spent a lot of the last couple days outside since il faisait beau. Angers has a lot of parks, but I hadn’t explored many of them. One night, I went with some friends to a park between the chateau and the river, and one guy brought his guitar, and it was lovely. The next day, Gloria organized a trip to the Cointreau factory for us... I didn’t know what Cointreau was, but apparently it’s pretty famous. Annnd it’s made in Angers, so we trekked over to watch a film about it and then have free cocktails. When I first tried it, it burned my throat and almost made me cry. It’s this 40% alcohol, so I mean, maybe that was why. But then we made “cointreaupolitans,” which I just think is a really funny word, and it was better. All of the alcohol factories in France love to make movies about themselves. When we visited a winery earlier this year, we watched a movie there too – and both it and the Cointreau movie ended with shots of smiling, happy people enjoying the beverage of choice. The wine one was funny because it just basically showed teenagers being belligerent after trying the wine. The Cointreau one tried to show sexy yuppies enjoying Cointreau. I’ve enjoyed imitating both movies:

We had a picnic later that afternoon, a French-American affair complete with fromage, wine, and hot dogs. There were people playing gypsy music at a neighboring picnic, and I played some frisbee and basketball, complete with franglais trash talking. Good times. We also randomly saw a yak in the park. I don’t know if that’s like a special zoo-like attraction, or if yaks roam wildly in France. But whatever, I saw a yak!

The beginning of May is full of little French holidays... marked mostly by the fact that everything shuts down. I’ve noticed more strikes lately, namely the newspaper strike. Luckily it was only two days long, but I still managed to miss the fact that a cyclone hit Burma. I’ve found that the best way to deal with these holidays where everything shuts down is to stay out really late the night before and sleep through half of the next lazy day.

I’ve been trying to visit some more “local” things...well, actually, I’m also poor, so staying in the area is a good idea. But I visited Nantes, the biggest city near Angers, last Saturday. Like Angers, Nantes has a castle... but unlike Angers, Nantes has a tram. Angers is getting a tram right now... it’s kind of a big deal here, and all of the bus lines have been disrupted so tram construction can begin. In the midst of the tram digging, they keep finding random human skeletons in the ground. Full grown and preserved people. Little babies. It’s creepy as shit. But anyway, the Nantes tram was cool, and there are no dead people by it. Nantes was cool too. There was a random Japanese island in the middle of the city, a giant robotic elephant, and a castle. There are always castles.


But anyway, the next day I went to Brussels for a school trip. I honestly didn’t see much of the city, because we were in the European Union the whole day, but that was pretty cool so it was okay. It was my birthday!! My 21st birthday. Never in my wildest, craziest, minor dreams had I imagined that was how I would spend the big 2-1. At the European Parliament, baby! Gloria bought me a Belgian beer and I drank it once we got back to Angers. I also had a Belgian waffle... in BELGIUM!

One of my favorite memories of the European Union came right at the beginning of our tour. Luckily, our tour guide was British... I mean, I’m all for speaking French and learning, but I know I miss a lot when we go to tours in French. But this one was in English, yay! Anyway, our distinguished and sassy British tour guide told us we could take pictures on the tour, but not in the meetings we attended. So we start walking and he stops to talk to someone in front of some mailboxes. These mailboxes were divided among all the different countries. I guess they were kind of cool. But my friend Scott got really excited and ran up to take pictures of the mailboxes. Our tour guide kind of looked at him but then was like whatever kid, take pictures of the mailboxes and kept talking. But then! Some dude comes out of nowhere and accosts Scott and makes him erase the pictures of the mailboxes. A picture of a mailbox is not just a picture of a mailbox is not just a picture of a mailbox... in the European Union. Security breach!!!! We almost got kicked out of Belgium. Not really. Almost.

How to Complicate Your Trip to Uganda

This post will be self-indulgent, solely for the purpose of me having a way to complain and fill in everyone on why I am sometimes stressed out.

1. Go to France
2. Decide the best way to go to Uganda is directly from France, without returning to the United States before the summer
3. Don’t bring anything you could possibly need in Uganda to France
4. Make sure you are very poor so that buying things for Uganda is as difficult as possible
5. If Notre Dame agrees to give you money, make sure you communicate with them via a questionable fax machine. For instance, if you send Notre Dame something at the end of March, expect an email a month later saying the papers were never received. This ensures your money will come far after you need it.
6. When booking your flight to Uganda, choose the flight out of London! It’s cheaper after all, and you’ll get to see London. You will also ensure you have to take an additional two trains and switch airports, alone, with 9 months worth of suitcases.
7. Make a travel itinerary as follows: Chicago-Paris-Angers-Paris-London-Uganda-London-Paris-Chicago.
8. Check with the airline for a flight on any day except the day you need. If there is one available only one day later, try to have it be indirect. Maybe make an extra stop in Boston (even though I love Boston, but shit, I just want to find a way to get home).
9. Consequently, your return trip from Uganda to Chicago should take at least 3 days, if you’ve followed the advice of this list so far.
10. When it comes to vaccinations, wait until the end of April to make an appointment.
11. Instead of calling the hospital, walk there yourself and get consequently lost. When you arrive at the hospital, they will laugh at you for thinking you can get a yellow fever vaccination anytime within the next month. They will tell you to go to another city.
12. Call numerous hospitals and vaccinations centers in France. Remember! They’re only open for two hours in the morning and three in the afternoon, so skip classes to make the calls! Run to one doctor’s office only to have him tell you he does not have the vaccine. Although on the phone he said he did.
13. Forget all of your vaccination information the morning you have to take a train to a neighboring city to get yellow fever and polio shots.
14. When the nurse asks you if you’ve had only a tetanus shot in the last year, tell her yes. Because you think it was only a tetanus shot. So you can have the tetanus-diptheria-polio combo, of course!
15. Upon returning home, realize your last shot was actually for tetanus AND diptheria. Realize you have made a grave medical error, and you may die at any minute. Although you have an importatnt test tomorrow.
16. Find a nurse who will call poison control for you. Despite the fear that you may now have diptheria, take comfort in the fact that you will live.
17. Show up for another vaccine appointment at the wrong time
18. Later, at the correct time, hear the doctor ask you where the vaccine is. Realize that France is basically like pioneer Alaska and you are supposed to go fetch your own vaccines, like Balto. Run around to 4 pharmacies in town, begging for a typhoid fever and hepatitis vaccine.
19. The doctor will charge you $35 for him to stick the vaccine in your arm, which you probably could have done yourself.


to be continued.....