Christen Gerome Oyiba's Travel Writing in Angers Site

I will never forget my daily pleasures in Angers. Before coming in this city, I never knew that pleasures can go along with habits. My student’s life started badly for me. I learned by myself how to live in this city. Despite the advices of Mr Patier, I really felt isolated. Little by little I took the custom of doing the same thing everyday. According to Buddhist a Simple Life means a life with privation, you must forget your own pleasures such as sex, expensive meals like caviar or beefsteak in order to live in osmosis with yourself or find yourself.

In my opinion my simple life began in Angers because of my daily habits such as go to the market everyday for buy a important thing, go to fast food on weekend and so on. I never ran on Fridays evening before. For example if I ran a tuesday, I will run again the tuesday of the next month. Running was my daily sport. First time I have done it, my legs and my mind wanted to run away from me. I usually ran two miles since I am in Angers. I saw it like a torment inflicted by myself. So why I chose to do it every week? I would just say that I saw many TV shows such as “Desperate Housewives” or “Dr house” which infected your mind with health, sanity and so on. My mind transmitted a message to my all body and said : “ You live alone now, Be careful! Be careful you live alone now!” I understood that I needed a daily sport. So the next Friday, more precisely at seven pm, I was sitting on my bed and looked over the window in order to relax myself. Then, something snapped inside of my body, it was like a ignition key in order to start a Lamborghini, a luxury car. Then, I said : “What stop me? What prevents me to do it?. Suddenly, the adrenaline has invaded all my body and I spent all of this energy in my run. Strangely, after one month, I began to like running two miles on Fridays. I believed the reason was my body which became more tough with time but I was wrong. What I always considered like a torment became a unexplained pleasure. It wasn’t because of my body but because of myself. The feeling of pain circulating by every orifices of my body when I was running made me feel alive and ambitious to the idea of surpass my limits. Tomorrow, I went to the market like I do everyday but, strangely I didn’t felt annoyed by the idea of walk to the market crowded of people and wait. I smiled, in order to say : “It isn’t a surprise! There are many peoples and I don’t care!”. Take the tramway for go somewhere, this habit became a pleasure because I was addicted to tramway for short distances. Go to a fast food in weekend because you are hungry became also a pleasure.

Angers brought me what I ever had before a balanced life and you ?

4 years ago, at a summer camp in Aberdeen, Scotland. Why Scotland?  Scotland with his Loch Ness Monster, a monster who lived for a long time in a weird lake. Hard to believe it right? I was quite exited, but some pictures about men wearing a skirt afraid me, just thinking about this idea shuddered me. In the summer camp, my vision changed in every side of my mind. Fashionable clothes contrasted with old buildings of the camp. Do my reasoning was wrong? Nobody were wearing a “kilt” traditional name of a skirt in Scotland. I think we can call that evolution of cultures or just an oblivion of traditions in this camp.

After, I met an italian guy and we became friends. A day, after a competition on the campus about sports. We have talked to each other over good wine and a luscious dish.  Italian people are skin-deep and for me italians appear to be superior to the others because of the Pope in their country. A holy land makes people think that they are closer divinity. Italians are always looking at you like a beggar. At least it is what I ever thought. According to Pico Iyer, “travel is the best way of rescuing the humanity of places and saving them from abstraction and ideology.”

I thought of convictions and assumptions about italians my all life., his manner of speaking and his behavior impressed me like a movie about bourgeoisie. The sweetness of his french reached my ear. His behavior toward me let me believe that there wasn’t any difference between us except the color of our skin. There wasn’t superiority, but just friendship. His smile could make everybody be sure of his self-confidence. He succeeded in changing my mind about italian people and their way to make people take their side. An ideology is a kind of imaginative ideas about a topic. My ideology was self-centered before this trip to Scotland. His face was unfazed during the dinner. He wore the same smile for an hour and I was sure it was for the politeness and the sociability. I was comfortable when I was speaking with him, it was good to talk to somebody who was able to meet your expectations. A lot of jokes about Scotland claiming that Italia remained ten times better. He praised his country like a woman defending women’s rights in 1945 in France. An italian is always proud of his country even if the country collapsed; they can’t bemoaned their country. I never had assumptions about how italian people can praise their country like that. My ideology changed radically, everything that I thought about them was wrong and everything that I never suspected was right. This sentence is really significant, I think about a lot of people in the world who lives everyday with their ideology. I learned that my assumptions and my interpretations wasn’t wrong but next to the reality.

It was a wild forest in Scotland more precisely in Aberdeen. Some strange noise of birds which were singing, lizards running above the fallen leaves and some clucks of the group with which I was. Nature covered every small plot of the forest. The group was composed of seven people and the monitor of the summer camp. We walked for thirty minutes, and we arrived at the well.

A fifty years old well sits chained by nature and the bond of old age in the forest, surrounded by necromass, which is a dead matter organic created when the petrol or gas touches leaves or flowers and degrades them.

It was impossible to see the bottom of the well. You can just feel the darkness emanating of the well. Everything inside was dark but a noise of water drops slipped to my ear, and we were sure that there

was a lake below. I was the last to throw, myself into the wolf’s mouth.

My outfit allowed me to overcome my fear. A yellow helmet, a sweater, a vest in order to float without problem and big boots for the exploration. Inside the well in the water, I looked around me and I saw different drawings in the wall, drawings made by men. The lake was cold, my feet and my legs began to feel the feeling of freshness. The lake was really murky as if I was in the bath of the Death himself. Echos ran through the well.

This lake was normal in appearance but I thought that something lived inside because my feet felt something like a caress. This well had two different parts, one inhabited by the darkness and the other with the light of the sun illuminating walls and water.

My teammates were looking for me because I lost myself in this darkness and didn’t arrive to find the exit. I was lying down on the water, trying to swim fast as possible. Then I heard some shouts of bird. I don’t said they were singing, I said they were screaming. Generally, I think birds didn’t scream except when there are in danger or wounded.  Inside the well, I have the feeling to be in cave because of walls, different holes. Three minutes later, I perceived the other part of the cave in the well. You can easily distinguished the two contrasted parts. One is shiny, the other dark. In the shiny part, the water went down and you can highlight ground above. Different walls surrounded me and became gold because of the sun. At the middle of the water a palm tree was deeply rooted in the ground. There was another passage who led them to the forest.

A disturbing thrilling house, a new country and a new adventure was my explosive cocktail of holidays 2010.

I will never forget the holidays 2010 in United States in Washington D.C. My aunt’s house was beautiful and characteristic of american houses. I mean with an attic, a basement and a hall with a dinning room and so on.  My aunt’s name was Alba and she was smaller than me had a size of 1m65. She was fat and small. She represented the typical american woman, a little bit fat, a daughter, a husband, a beautiful house and a beautiful dog. I am not an expert but I learned this from movies. My cousin’s name Tomika with the appearence of her  mother. I felt like my home in Gabon in her soft and comfortable house. Something intrigued my aunt since my arrival; it was her desire to change houses and,  she would begin to visit houses tommorrow. My cousin and I were very excited and waited for tomorrow.

The morning after a big breakfast, at 9 o’clock. My aunt, my cousin and I visited three houses but we just liked one. A beautiful pink house with a garage at the front for at least two cars. A garden with roses at the back. A beautiful silent area like in Maryland where my aunt lived. You know at the moment when you think that everything is good, everything changes. We thought somebody would make us visit the house but we were wrong. A strange guy with short blond hair and skin like a ghost which stayed in a house for maybe 3 years appeared. He came to us with a beggar approach, an angry face and asked for money in order to “mow the lawn” of the house without even “HELLO”. My aunt refused but he insisted as if it was vital, always with an angry face as a child whom has just has his lollipop stolen. My aunt intimidated and afraid gave him money. I was just fourteen years old and was intimidated too. Without saying “THANK YOU” he disappeared. Alba called his friend and according to him nobody lived in this house for three years. I was puzzled and was dying to know who was this “Lawnmower Man”. We were looking around, “Mister excus….” he disappeared. My mind was like “What’s going on?”.

I was uneasy and my heart became agitated. My aunt decided to begin the visit until his friend arrives. The garage door was inexplicably open as if the house was a big cat who wanted mouses in his hole. Walking in the garage until the first door, I noticed a red button which apparently  allow you to open and close the garage door. “Why It was open in a close house?”. The first door, a hall was empty and just had stairs at the middle. I looked through the window and saw the strange guy looking to me always with an angry face, while he was working. I turned my head and called my aunt but he disappeared again. “Do I become crazy?”. It was 7pm, my aunt and my cousin was looking the kitchen. My body wanted to go out and joined my relatives but my mind was wondering and could not come off the window. Then my cousin pulled my shirt and ejected me from my wondering world. We came to the garden at the back and saw a lot of crowded roses with an insurmountable fence ahead. My aunt was looking for the “strange guy” but she was also becoming crazy. We turned around the house but nothing. Then, Alba’s friend arrived.

Fortunately it was a man who looks like being 35 years old. They talked and Alba expressed her desire of hurry up and leave this place. We went upstairs and were visiting every rooms. I had the bad feeling that something was following me. “It was maybe my imagination”. After switched off the lights we came back to the cars but strangely the garage door was close. “Is it explicable?”. Alba press the button and we went out and let the garage door opened. On a magical and mystical way the light of the room upstair in front of the house switched on. I couldn’t even talk, my body movements did exactly the same actions that my mind. They shuddered. Alba thought that we forgot to switch off this light. It was impossible because I switched off this light myself. Alba’s friend concidered that it was a coincidence but I couldn’t.

To be continued…

Thursday,February 6, I left my room as I do everyday to go to school but something was different. When I arrived at St. Edward’s, the american students wished me happy birthday and I didn’t realize why I was receiving so much attention.

Then I asked Esther if she knew why the american students were wishing me happy birthday. She told me “because we will be going out this evening to celebrate your birthday”. But my birthday was the day after but why would we be celebrating  this evening ? Next day I had to be in Paris to visit my family and old friends. This day felt so long. I am quite sure because I impatiently waited for night fall to celebrate. At 4:15 in the afternoon my last class lessons had begun. Only ten minutes passed and I began to look at the clock”tic tac” it is way slowly.  People could read the tiredness on my face, my eyes swayed a lot. I just wanted to leave the classroom as soon as possible. “Tic Tac, Tic Tac” the annoying noise in my head turned again and again, as if I was in clock world. Tension was released when we started to play a game in groups. The game tested our knowledge which made it a lot more interesting. Strangely the clock has gone twice as fast and all of the sudden. Class was over. My mind was filled with different kinds of scenario for the night.

My head was like : ” what is going to happen this night ? ” “How many shots of vodka or whisky?” “How many people will be here ?”. Too many questions for the night right. I was on my computer when Ismael called and told me that they were  ready. I was shocked and happy because it was 8pm and I wasn’t even ready to go out. We always went out at 10pm or later. After Ismael’s call I hurried to get ready. I took thirty minutes because I didn’t know what I should wear to stand out. Now I was ready to party in my new blue clothes.

My friends were in the pub preparing for everything. It took  five minutes to walk to James Joyce pub. When I arrived at James Joyce, I was surprised to see all of my friends outside James Joyce. When I saw their faces, they had worry looked because the bartender didn’t reserve our table. I feel a little bit sad about this but I didn’t care because James Joyce was too usual for us. So we decided to go elsewhere, we went to another bar and we found a good one, but with bad music. That is to say it was bad for me at least. The bar was called “L’irlandais” and it was bigger than James Joyce. When we entered in the bar, the bartender was like “Who are you?”. I mean he questioned our arrival. When we sat we ordered a lot of  alcohol. It was 9:30pm by the time we drank half the alcohol. Then I decided to make a speech for ending the evening because american students didn’t come. I made a five minute speech. I think I was tipsy but I would make this speech to thank them. ” je voulais vous remercier d’être tous la ca me fait plaisir and so on.” There were not a lot of people but all I needed was my closest friends.

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