Even though the term ‘routine’ is French, I must admit having a problem with anything that tends to be close to this concept. Anything but one: my morning ritual. While my eyes barely opened try to put together the pieces of my Italian coffee machine to be sure this will be happily burning on the stove - giving to my morning coffee an arguably but yet delicious taste of burnt plastic mixed with a touch of coffee.
Personally, this is in this rather foggy state that comes a special element that will surely be considered as old-fashioned by youngsters: the radio. And since I live alone, this very first voice in the morning tends to become a rather important part of my connection to the rest of the world. When living back in France, I was particularly enjoying listening to French radios named France Info and France Inter - first free radios to come up back in the days it became legal (in 1981 to be precise, the year I was born ;). Their morning programs are in fact the most efficient one can think of to see the world come to life at the same time as the light comes through the curtains (I am translating this from French and in my mother language, this sounds rather nice).
But since I left, I am dearly missing these wake up calls and that’s when I came to realize how familiar some voices may be. As even if technologies can allow us to listen to radio programs online - I guess the ability of my brain to go anywhere near a computer in the morning is still too limited for me to actually give it a try - and anyways, being 6 hours behind makes that I would get the mid-day programs - obviously not suitable for my morning-state-brain.
After endless debates, I eventually found a compromise by listening a local classic radio (WQXR). The content being so pre-defined and in fact very elitist, it actually does not leave much room for endless mumbling about stupid things. Especially given the fact that it makes me start the day with a language that is not mine, I’d rather have a limited amount of words to focus on.
And about what is said, last week, the newsreader named Kerry Nolan was actually on holiday and I must admit having felt a bit lost. The funny thing is that I have a rather ambiguous relationship with her voice since, being the newsreader, she does not talk much about pleasant things. On top of my disappointment of not being able to start my monologue with this never questioning acquaintance, the programmer decided to go on with a Mahler series… Oh joy! (For those who don’t know him: Mahler shares in French the same sound as the word unhappiness and is probably one of the most depressing composer of the XIXth century).
I don’t know if I will ever get the chance to bump into her one day -as to be honest I have no idea what she looks like - and if I would dare to actually tell her how her voice sets the tone of each and every day since my move to New York. And when thinking about it, being a newsreader is a bit like a cancer specialist: 10 bad news to announce for one good one, therefore there are not really the type of people one may be happy to see. But Kerry has such a voice that could make me accept even the worst events ever…