French Frisbee Lesson

Frisbee is amazing. French frisbee is even better.

For all of you out there who have not tried Ultimate Frisbee, it's time. I have played a lot of sports over the years (soccer, basketball, netball, tennis, swimming, diving, waterpolo, rowing, roller hockey, ice skating, ballet, swing dancing, hand dancing, salsa dancing, gymnastics, trampolining, yoga, rock climbing, ultimate frisbee, and kickball are the ones that come to mind) . . . of these, only Ultimate Frisbee has been consistently fun and happy.

There is no referee, and there is a system for adjudicating disputes. Each team I've played for has welcomed new people who don't know how to play. And at the end of the game, it's most likely that in some countries you'll sing the other team a goofy song to say thank you for the game, play a short children's game, or in others, you'll sit down and talk about everything the other team did that was great. It's like living with Mr. Rogers, but less creepy. And after that, you're more than likely to go out for beer or ice cream.

Here in France, I've joined the Montpellier Lez Héraultimates team. It's a mix of levels, and they do actual practices (a new thing for me, this practicing). I've gone with them to Bordeaux for a tournament, and another to Palavas to the beach. This weekend we're off to an indoor tournament somewhere near to Avignon.

And if you're also in the mood to mix it up, why not attempt to play in French. Here is some vocabulary to keep you on your toes. All the best . . . et en jeu.

L'Ultimate                   Ultimate

les règles                     the rules
le match                      the game
les équipes                  the teams
un équipier                  a teammate
les joueurs/joueuses    the players
le défenseur                 the defender
receveur                      receiver
remplaçant                   substitute
souliers à crampons    cleets/boots

un pied pivot               pivot foot
le revers                      the backhand
le coup droit               the forehand
le renversé                  the hammer
un appel                      a call (people use this to describe a cut)

validation                    check disc
contrôle                       check feet

le terrain                      the field
le sol                            the ground/dirt
les limites                    the boundaries
la zone                         the zone
le but de jeu                the end line
les lines                       the lines
le disque                      the disk
le force                        the force

en jou                          disc in
envoyer le disque        to send the disc
lancer long                  to huck
réceptionner                to receive
intercepter                   to intercept
passe arrière                dump
changement                 switch
comptant                     stalling
attraper le disque         to catch the disc
marquer                       to mark
marquer un point         to score
faute                            foul

More rugby than I've ever watched in my life.

So, as a football/soccer kid, I grew up with an irrational dislike for rugby. That, and the fact that our entire country goes entirely insane over All Blacks matches and regional games alike meant that I never really paid much attention to the game.

Being here in France, in one of the big rugby cities, during the Coupe du Monde . . . I had to represent New Zealand, and represent I did.

For the pool games, I watched with my flatmate Luc, or with friends. There were even New Zealand pancakes to be had.

One particular match I watched out of the back of a car before a frisbee tournament. . .

For the final, there was more on the line. I invited a group of friends to come to a local Irish bar with me to watch the game, and return afterwards for food, games, and festivities.

There were half a dozen or so of us watching the game at the bar, and then 20 or so for the celebrations (9:30am being a little early for most on the weekend).

Luc and I went all face painted up . . . 

The bar had about 4 New Zealand supporters and 300 French. It was a little hard to be heard.

For awhile there the French were pretty excited and thinking they were going to be victorious (while I bit my fingernails).

They even sent around a rooster at celebratory moments. Calls of Allez Les Bleus resounded around the bar.

In then end, the whole thing was pretty civil. The French clapped both teams at the end of the game, and I got sprayed with champagne by Georg and Laura. My voice did not return to normal for three days, and I was briefly worried that I'd permanently damaged it.

While I'm not going to be a rugby follower, I feel more able to appreciate it. Since these games I've even gone to the local stadium and watched Montpellier play live. Who knew.

Go the All Blacks!

Montpellier, ma belle ville.

I arrived here through a series of serendipitous events. People ask me why I chose Montpellier, and really I like to say it chose me. Regardless of how it happened, here I am. I have a French address . . . and have done for over two months now.

Montpellier, situated 10 kilometres from the Mediterranean Sea, is a university town with a history. Established at the end of the 10th century as a trading centre, the city began to flourish. The faculty of Medicine was created in 1180AD. The students originally didn't have classrooms, and met in a square to hear lectures (a square which still exists, and one can go to have a coffee and sit pretending to do homework while pondering the vast history of this interesting town). The university itself was officially established a few decades after. The climate is pretty fabulous, and has a mean temperature of 7.1 °C (44.8 °F) in January to 23.4 °C (74.1 °F) in July. I'll take that.

The heart of Montpellier centres around La Place de la Comédie. Here, facing the grand theatre/opera house, you can find street performers, places to eat and drink, and people to mingle with.

In the center of La Place de la Comédie there is a beautiful fountain that is a reproduction of the sculpture/fountain The Three Graces, which was originally situated there starting in 1790. And a merry-go-round which I almost never see people riding, but adds to the slightly other-worldly feel of this interesting square.

My neighbourhood is the closest I could have gotten to a French version of Eastern Market. It is called Beaux Arts. Within a four block radius I have the market, two tram stops, the post office, a hair dressers, 2 bakeries, about 15 epiceries (tiny grocery stores), a cheese shop, a butchers, a fish shop, and then for restaurants I can find French, Japanese, Thai, Indian, pizza, sandwiches, and numerous others I haven't tried or explored. I also have a place I can go to for dance lessons, or the local gym. And to make it even better, it is cute and old and French.

Just two minutes away is the old city, on the hill from which the name Montpellier comes.  Here you can find numerous winding narrow streets, designed that way to minimise the wind tunnel effects of the strong Mistral winds, and to increase shadows to act as natural air conditioning systems. Oh urban planners of the past, I respect you.

The school of medicine is in the former monastery building.

Next to the school of medicine is Les Jardins des Plantes. A shout out and thank you to Rosemary, as this is one of my favourite places . . . and a great suggestion of hers. The gardens were created in the 16th century to aid with medical research. In the summertime there are evening lectures there, and I went to one really interesting one highlighting plants used in Japanese cuisine. But the thing I like best is how people use the space differently. Studying, strolling, drawing, I even came across one musician strolling up and down one of the paths practicing his clarinet. Obviously the tiny apartments that you find in these French cities are not very conducive to practicing instruments.

Around the town, there is tons and tons of graffiti and street art. Some of the graffiti is an eye sore, but much appears to have been commissioned. Most stores have what looks like a garage door that they can pull down over the front at night, and almost all of these have beautifully designed pictures spray painted onto them. This makes navigation for me somewhat difficult, as from day to night the streetscape changes immensely. There are also quite a number of murals, and a few that use trompe-l'oeil or the effects of deception to make you think something is there which isn't really. Montpellier is also one of the cities graced by mosaics created by the street artist, Invader. So throughout the town you can see little Space Invader characters happily peering out from their lookouts on street corners.

My favourite hang out is the bistro, Chez Felix. Each Wednesday and Sunday nights you can find the band Hippocampus Jass Gang here. They play 30s jazz/swing music, with a variety of instruments (contrebass, guitar, washboard/spoons, banjo, clarinet, trumpet and violin). The second half of the night brings the local swing dancers out of the woodwork, and the ambiance is relaxed and happy. I like to think they give the music a French twist, but many of the songs are American and have me missing the Second String Band from DC . . . a different style of music, but the same happy feeling, and my DC fave. Inspired by this, I have started swing classes. So hopefully before my time here is up, I will be out there on the dance floor myself.

My apartment itself is wonderful. I live with Luc (French), and formerly Jeanette (Norwegian) . . . with a terrace for my hammock and a room of my own, it's all I could want, except for perhaps a stove, gah! However, I have made some pretty fantastic homemade pizzas in a frying pan--who knew that was possible, and, Banoffee Pie doesn't require an oven, so we're sweet.

Come visit! I'd love to show you around.