At 10:30 AM Sunday morning
the whole team piled into a nine-person van to make our 4PM match against team
AMAZON (I mean, Bordeaux Merignac). This team
came down from National 1 at the end of last season and has been dominating National 2 with their scrappy
defense and ferocious offense ever since.
Unfortunately for our record, the road trip was the highlight of the day. The freeways here are fast,
direct, and cost a fortune. The gas was
110 euros, and the tolls totaled 150 euros!
OUCH! Coach Maguy said if you
aren’t pressed for time the national routes here are beautiful *free* back roads
that wind through the countryside and tiny town centers (a great way to see
the French way of life up close).
Bordeaux was unlike any
wine country I’ve ever seen... Lush
vines extended from the freeway in their uniform lines for as far as the eye
could see in every direction. Vineyards
weren’t nestled in a valley, or shelved along steep, rocky cliffs. They just stretched on and on and on forever. Rows of trees and solitary farm houses
spotted the landscape and spurred deep conversations about food, farming, and
the environment.
You will never believe
this, but it turns out that on this three hour car ride, I happened to be
sitting next to a girl on the team who has also been to Madagascar! Oh, we went on and on, sharing with Maguy all
the coolest things about Mada. Since Maguy spent most of her life in Brazil, she could relate to a lot
of the eating habits that characterize that latitude (ie tons of rice, a
million different types of bananas, and avocados for dessert). Mmmmm…
I often forget that Madagascar
is where I first developed a respect for food.
Despite annual family outings to Apple Hill and my mom’s lifelong
gardening and fearless foraging habits, before studying abroad in Madagascar in my mind food primarily existed prepared, packaged, and priced on a shelf, in an aisle, in a huge
air-conditioned building with slick floors and friendly employees. Madagascar is where I finally realized that
even the ingredients for pop tarts are planted, grown, and harvested, before
being shook up in a test tube, squirted out a mechanical arm and zipped up in a
rectangular foil wrapper. Haha!
That reminds me of a great bit from Jerry Seinfeld on pop-tarts:
Pop-Tarts aside, it’s really rare to meet someone else who has
been to Madagascar! It was so nice being reminded of the year I spent learning, eating, and experiencing life there while studying abroad. So many names, faces, moments, and meals flooded back into my memory; devouring banana
and nutella sandwiches around a campfire; meditatively chatting while peeling
apples and oranges; snacking on boiled manioc doused in sweetened condensed
milk; harvesting, de-husking, sorting, washing, and cooking huge pots of white,
red, brown, and black rice; savoring samosas and skewers of beef with lemony
hot sauce; and washing everything down with THB (Three Horses Beer)... It made me want to go back so bad!
To put it lightly, the game we played once we arrived in Bordeaux left something to be desired... Enough said. Bordeaux Merignac provided
post-match pâté and crêpes (YUM!) and on the ride home we chowed down on a
yogurt and nutella cake that our setter baked and my
dad’s famous chocolate chip cookies (which arrived in the mail this
week!). Even though all of us were
stuffed from the snacks, the club paid for a pit-stop. We sat inside a gas station
dining area and supped on delicious (by American standards) microwaveable pasta boxes. Outside the
sun set on distant forests and farms in hues of highlighter yellow, orange,
and pink behind wide blankets of dark purple clouds.
We made it home by
10:30 PM. My head hit the pillow hard,
gears still turning over missed serves and bad plays from earlier that
night. Alas! Sunday nights remind me to
look forward to a sit in the sauna and swimming, and a week of hard work for our next match.
That’s all for now. More later!
