Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

If you are anything like me, the title of this blog is now going to be stuck in your head for 2 days, minimum. You're welcome. 

Every year during the holiday season we go to my aunt and uncle's Feed Store for a brouhaha/hoedown/general gettin' jiggy wid it. This year, Dear Seester and I decided we were going to perform a little ditty that some of you may have heard of entitled "Merry Christmas from the Family." It goes a little something like this:

"Mom got drunk and dad got drunk/At our Christmas party/We were drinking champagne punch and homemade eggnog/My little sister brought her new boyfriend/He was a Mexican/We didn't know what to think of him till he sang "Feliz Navidad"/That means Merry Christmas in Español./That's what it means. Sure does."

Unfortunately, the stars didn't align in our favor and we were forced to cancel. 

For our family Christmas we usually do Secret Santa. I always accidentally type Secrete, so I took to calling it Secretion Santa. Great story, Kali. Tell it again. Anyway, this year we changed pace by playing Dirty Santa. This was taken one of three ways by all involved: 1. Clean out your drawers and slap a bow one something you find therein; 2. Bring a gag gift; or 3. Bring a dirty gift. This was probably the best Christmas we'd ever had, partly because my grandma almost ended up getting a gift card to Victoria's Secret(e), and partly because all us kids are (almost) old enough to drink and be merry. 

Christmas Day itself was quiet and chill at my house, just the way we like it. We all got just a handful of good presents thanks to Ye Olde Economic Crisis, but we had a fantastic day regardless. I got a calendar (a staple every Christmas), a darling pair of earrings from Costa Rica, a wide angle and a zoom lens for my beloved camera, and a nail buffer made of silk that makes your fingernails all shiny. 

Of course, Dear Seestur and I made our Annual Christmas Trip to Goodwill to buy ugly sweaters for our Annual Ugly Sweater Partay. The background music in Goodwill was a techno rendition of Pachelbel's Canon with an overlay of the "Twas the Night Before Christmas" story. Bizarre. A woman stopped me right as I was leaving the dressing room and asked if I had just tried on that sweater (pointing).

"Why, yes."

"I have that same sweater!"

".....Oh.......really?" (incredulous)

She proceeded to tell me that she was a second grade schoolteacher (not just a regular teacher, mind you, a schoolteacher) and that her mom and grandmother bought the sweater for her and she just thought it was the cyoootest thing with the crayon buttons and the children with pigtails made of real dangling yarn strands. 

Wow.

Anyway, just wanted to wish you all a happy holiday season. If you're around these parts tomorrow, put on an ugly sweater and come to our party. It's gonna get ugly. 

I Am Home....but Just Barely.

Friday was my last day in Pau. I met some French friends for lunch, then finished my suitcases and had my host grandfather (?) take me to the train station. I pretty much stared at the countryside for five hours, which was very relaxing, until it got dark and I drank too much water and peed fourteen times in two hours. Oh, biology. 

Getting on the train with ally my luggage was hard enough. My host grandpa helped me out with it while I was in Pau, then took a flying leap off the train like some kind of incredible (-y old superhero, Geriatric Man to the rescue!) But it was the getting off the train that nearly robbed me of my life. Not to mention my luggage. I won't even go into the details, I will just tell you that it was grisly and scarring and I vow, from this day forward, to only ever pack one wheeled suitcase chock-full of air and marshmallows.

My good friend Taz was waiting for us in the train station when we arrived, which made all of us happy, which gave us an ounce more energy to haul our bags down three barred escalators, several flights of stairs, then up several more flights of stairs, into the Métro, off of the Métro, back up stairs, down the street, and up more stairs to his apartment building. Without that, however, we'd have had to haul them with us all night. 

And do you know what we did all night?

We walked. We walked all over Paris. It was magnificent. The Christmas lights, the people out running at 5 a.m., the "open late" couscous restaurants, the shadow of the Eiffel Tower against the orange haze of sodium streetlamps. It really was spectacular. We spent the entire night, until 8 a.m. Friday, in the streets of Paris. Then, we took a cab to the airport, said goodbye to Taz, and checked in to our airlines. 

This is when the trouble began. While I was still at my host parents' house, I had packed and weighed all my bags. My tiny suitcase was underweight, but my larger one was tipping the scales at 22 kilos, which is exactly the limit. I was going to attempt to smuggle some cheese through customs in Washington, though, so I needed the suitcase to be lighter. I took out a bunch of stuff--socks, underwear, little bags of toiletries and whatnot--and stuck them in my backpack. At the airport, I went through security and had my backpack x-rayed. When I walked through the sensor, it was fine, but something in my backpack set it off. I took the bag over to a separate table and was asked to rifle through it. I spilled all my underwear out on the table, grabbed some nail polish and stuck it in a separate bag, and then opened another little bag I'd put in there. What falls out of it? A knife. 

It was a gift from a friend of mine for self defense while I'm traveling by myself (very practical, I think.) I had hidden it in my large suitcase for the actual journey so that I wouldn't get stopped in security with a knife. Unfortunately, that's exactly where I found myself. Six armed (and incredibly attractive) French police officers put me in handcuffs and led me to another room, where I spent 45 minutes explaining IN FRENCH that I didn't know the knife was in the backpack, even though I packed it myself. Arduous. 

I finally got into the gate, then onto the plane, where I sat with a French family and slept approximately 15 minutes out of the 8 hours I was en voyage. I got to Washington, where I succeeded in smuggling 3 different types of  unpasteurized cheese into the good ole US of A. I am now watching TV in English, thanking God that I didn't end up a foreign victim of the French prison system and, similarly, thanking God that customs didn't find my cheese. I love cheese. 

This One Goes Out To My HomeGirl Evelyn

There you are, friendo. Your very own shout-out. Happy now? :)

Very recently I went to the beach. You may be thinking, K-dawg, what the hell? Isn't it winter? Why yes, dear readers, it sure is. But that doesn't stop me, you see. Not at all. That and, I bought the tickets in September. When the sun came out almost every day. And I didn't have to wear all the clothes I own, all layered like some kind of ironic and tasteless cake. Funny, Pau. Funny. 

One of my exchange student friends, LilliBelle, and I decided we wanted to meet up while I was in France, so we both took the train to Narbonne, a town near the Mediterranean coast. Shockingly enough, when we got there the sun was out and we could actually take off our winter coats. We recognized each other immediately, which was a good feeling--an even better feeling was the one that came when I realized that she really wanted to see me, and did everything in her power to make this weekend happen--she wrote letters to the Tourism Office, she found the hotel, she even reserved my tickets for me online and I paid for them at the station. I've noticed that a lot of French people treat visits like that--like they're the most important thing in the world. I like that :) 

We took a bus to Gruissan, the beach town, and walked along the absolutely empty beach while the sun was setting. It was absolutely breathtaking. During the summertime the position of the bay shelters it from wind and the tide isn't very strong, so there are literally no waves, but since we went in the winter, there were little ones. 

LilliBelle was shocked at how much my French has improved--I am, too, even though I had a little run-in with my host mum recently when I told her I was going to take a shower (je vais me doucher) and she thought I said "je vais me toucher" (I'm going to go touch myself). Regardless, I'm improving :) 

We saw a fight on our way back to the town! For realsies! The bus driver (who was really cute, I might add) waited three minutes past his pull-away time so that we could catch the last bus back to the town (if not, we would have spent the evening in the coldest, windiest, most deserted beach village I have ever encountered.) The only other man on the bus was having a bitchfest about how late he was going to be (three minutes) and how much of an inconvenience it was (shut up). The bus driver, after several minutes of listening to Incessant Ignorant Man repeating the same phrases over and over, finally slammed on the brakes and sent the guy face-first into the windshield. Not through it (it was thick :P), but down the little bus stairs, and then the yelling began. Cute Bus Driver put his finger in Incessant Ignorant Man's face and said things that were wholly impolite, very true, and really funny. Afterwards, he apologized to us and offered to take us out for a drink. Sweet, cute bus driver man :)

That night we stayed in a hotel that catered to travelers on tight budgets. We were the only young people there, as the rest of the guests were approximately 60 or older and there for a convention. At 3 a.m. we were rudely awakened by a fire alarm, so we put our boots on over our pajamas and went downstairs. We ended up in the middle of a giant room full of grandparents doing the Hand Jive in front of a giant cake topped with sparklers sitting directly beneath the smoke alarm. I wanted some cake, but the alarm stopped and we went back to bed.

The city was really deserted because it's not the season for tourists, but we found some good places to eat and, on Sunday, we found a giant market where we bought jambon de pays (smoke-dried ham, straight off the leg), chèvre de corse (goat cheese in a crust of Provençal herbs, mushrooms, and chili peppers) and fresh baguettes, and we had basically the best lunch I've ever had. Ever. 

On the train on the way back I was sitting in a bank of four seats by myself. I had my ipod in, I was listening to my playlist aptly dubbed "TrainMusique," and I was generally aware of the countryside, the train, my car, and everyone around me. Suddenly, I saw a little black boy who looked uncannily like this one. He popped his head up over the back of the seat and looked at me so quizzically. I smiled a little. He proceeded to move his eyebrows up and down to the beat of the song I was listening to, which he clearly couldn't hear (or could he?!), then disappeared back behind the seat. I never saw him again. I wonder, did I imagine this little black boy? Or perhaps he was real and just very, very sly. Or maybe magic. That must be it. The magic little black boy I saw on the train on my way back from the beach after Thanksgiving. Oh, you.

"That Girl is Taking Yet Another Picture of You"

Let's all just bask in the glow of how long it's been since I last posted. I know, you say, I'm busy, I'm winding down one of the best semesters of my life (second only, I believe, to Harlaxton), I'm taking exams, packing, traveling....I should spend my time enjoying these last 13 days (ack!) and wait for the blog. 

In all this, you would be correct. Except the whole "waiting on the blog" thing. That just won't fly.

The weekend after the last post I made I spent in a mountain chalet with 17 French teenagers. We cooked a pig and watched Walker, Texas Ranger in French. It was a grand time. Photos are both ensuing and incriminating. 

This past Wednesday my BFFF and I redeemed our 10th-is-free Free Kebabs from our fidelity cards at the revered Pacha Kebab eatery. I've never tasted a better kebab (but I've tasted 9 that were equally good). Afterwards we drank a couple demi-pêches, then decided to spend an Epic Night Outdoors by visiting several bars with a gaggle of British students. We played darts, walked down some stairs (at the time it seemed a much more noteworthy action), and veritably belted out the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Represent, dear readers. Word. 

Today I went snowboarding in the Pyrenees mountains for the first time!!! I can honestly say that it was one of the best snowboarding trips I've ever been on. We left the university at the ass-crack of dawn, which allowed for an incredible sunrise-over-the-mountains view as we wound past tiny towns and other ski stations. We finally stopped at Cauterets, one of the most famous (and most popular) ski stations in the French Pyrenees. It was absolutely breathtaking. When I upload photos I'll let you know (I know! It's cruel to string it out like that, but how else am I going to get people to read this blog?!)

Several strange things happened. A Chinese girl got carsick 9 times. I only fell one time and did not fracture my tailbone. At the end of the day, I was completely dry (unlike most ski trips where I alone could create a small reservoir with the water collecting in my ears, pants hems, and cleavage). A French girl thought I was French, developed a crush on me, then discovered I was American and spent the rest of the day taking candid pictures of me. I found the house I want to live in. Unfortunately it's in Lourdes, the fanatically religious town devoted to the "apparitions" of the virgin that appears 150 years ago. Okaaaaayyyyy. 

However, despite the strange happenings (am I not used to it by now?), the weather was perfect. It started sunny while the sun was still behind mountains, gave us ample picture-taking time, then the sun disappeared behind white clouds so it wouldn't blind us. It was only 3˚C  outside, and towards lunchtime it actually started snowing! 

Tonight is the night I was supposed to go to the Gala with Tall Man. Unfortunately, it was my friend who told me about it and not him, so I already knew about it when he told me he wasn't inviting me and, instead, was inviting his two guy friends he hasn't seen in years thanks to them having been studying abroad or doing internships elsewhere. I wasn't too crushed--I would rather go snowboarding than wear a fancy dress :) Although the ticket price included a bottle of champagne, so who knows, perhaps I really am missing out. 

I'm starting to get really excited about coming home. I miss English music and rhubarb crisp, fireplaces and hot cider (it's nowhere!), free nights and weekends (I am a teenage-ish girl, allow me this one vice), my car, the Simpsons, eggnog, my bedroom, the puppies....oh, and my entire family :) My parents are in Costa Rica right now with my sister and I am hella jealous. There are 2 excuses for my saying "hella": 1. It is the only word that can describe my jealousy, and 2. My California friend is rubbing off on me. Regardless, I cannot wait to see them in the airport in Nashvegas when I finally set foot on American soil :) 

A Few Minor Disturbances, Some Really Good Food, and a Great View

I have discovered that I do not like at all the feel of jeans that have been washed and laid out to dry. I only just discovered this because my new host family does not have a dryer. This is in no way a bad thing--in fact, they're saving energy out the wazoo--but I usually use the dryer to shrink my jeans. Now, in the time it takes me to put on my pants and walk towards the door every morning, my pants will have grown two sizes, leaving me looking like a Jenny Craig patient, post-weight loss but pre-congratulatory new wardrobe. 

Today we had a field trip! Oh, elementary school memories :) We went to St. Bertrand-de-Comminges where we saw Roman ruins (interesting, but they look eerily identical to the last Roman ruins I saw?), a cathedral, and had a phantasmagoric lunch. As a group, we literally filled the entire restaurant! They fed us traditional mountain stew (made from real mountains!), lamb, pasta, green beans, and chocolate mousse. It was spectacular. 

Afterwards we visited the grottos at Gargas, which was really cool. It's famous for its prehistoric handprints--it was amazing being able to see the prints left by hands that came centuries before us. Pictures were absolutely forbidden, so of course I snuck a couple! My favorite was the one that was giving the finger :) The cave was really cool inside, all drippy and moist, and it reminded me a lot of the caves we snorkled in in Mexico that one time. You know the one. 

The last stop on our day trip was the Château de Mauvezin, which was probably my favorite part of the day. The grottos were ultra cool, but the château had a tower that was accessible to the public, and we were on top of a hill at the base of the Pyrenees mountains while the sun was setting.....I just can't wait to show you all my pictures :) While we were at the top of the tower we threatened to never come down and we played Hey Cow to pass the time. Basically, you say "hey cow" to a cow (luckily we were in the middle of the country, so there were cows everywhere, and the sound of Christopher Walken encouraging their cowbells filled us with joy). If the cow looks at you, you get a point. After ten minutes and no points, we finally decided, yeah, maybe we could go back down after all. Plus, we were kinda hungry.  

Tonight I'm headed to a French friend's house to interview her for my cultural project about French students who study English. She's not even an English major, but she's the only one who's responded to me, so it'll have to work for now....especially since the rough draft is due Monday! Hope you're all having a great weekend--don't forget to check out my picture website to stay up-to-the-minute on all my adventures :) 

Wednesday Night I Got Arrested.

Ok, not really--Grandma, Grandpa, don't worry :) 

I suppose I should say, Wednesday night I got arrêtéed.

Wednesday night I went out with my best friend to eat kebabs. You know all about the tradition; we just can't let it slide. Afterwards we decided to drink a demi-pêche, then another, and at some point we ended up at the discothèque where we danced the night away. We walked back to our houses together, then split at the crossroads. I started walking towards my house when a bright purple car with 5 guys in it pulled up next to me and stopped. 

They said, "Stop walking." I kept walking--there was no way I was stopping for these guys. There were five of them, in a purple car, wearing street clothes. No. They pulled a little further in front of me and said, "Really, stop, we're the police." I gave them a look like, are you kidding me? and kept walking. The guy in the passenger side said, "No, really, see?" and put a siren on top of the car. 

Ok, ok, I believe you! 

They asked me what I was celebrating (ummmmm, I'm just walking to my house? Disregard the fact that it's 3 a.m.) then asked me how old I am. When I said 20, the passenger grabbed the siren off the roof, the driver pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road, and sped away. So bizarre. I told Tall Man that "j'était arrêtée par le flic." Literally, this means "I was stopped by the police," but "arrêter" also means to arrest. I'm sure he slept poorly, tossing and turning, thinking about his helpless, inept American girlfriend attempting to weasel her way out of French jail :P Instead, I was sleeping like a baby, even more so because I didn't have class until 11 the next day. 

I've been running into some very curious pronunciation problems lately. Like, my host family stares at me--absolutely stares--when I talk about the prices of things. For instance, I told them how expensive it was to live in England, how cheap Ryan Air costs in terms of other airlines. They always just kinda half smile and give a shallow nod. At first I thought, perhaps they think I'm just money-obsessed? ...but me being a student is reason enough to be money-conscious! Then I realized: I had been saying "c'est cher" instead of "ça coute cher." The first one actually means "this is very dear to me." No wonder. 

Another one I have run into, particularly in the month of November, is the question of wetness. It rains a lot. Therefore, I want to say, "My coat is wet. I will leave it on the radiator." The problem with this is, the word for wet is "mouillé." The word my American tongue forms is something like "moe-eh-yuh." 

The word I am saying actually means bone marrow. 

In case you were wondering, I just left my bone marrow on the radiator. 

Have any of you had ridiculous language follies? Please tell me about them :) 

A Long Weekend, and a Loooooong Trip to the Bathroom

This weekend started off innocently enough. 

I decided to go to Tarbes to visit my Tall Man and, since I didn't have class again till Wednesday (thanks to Armistice Day), I could do a little sumthin sumthin extra afterwards. I bought my ticket online, packed my bag, went to class on Friday, took an exam (after spending all night Thursday celebrating Obama's victory by eating Moroccan food with my friends), then headed to the train station. I got there and it was raining, but I really had to pee, so I broke out my new umbrella (it's silver on the inside! My friends call it my Space Age Parapluie), and braved the cold drizzle to go to the bathrooms on the other side of the station. 

I should have known that the bathrooms were outside, thus they were those hole-in-the-ground, hold-yourself-up-by-these-rails-on-the-sides kinda bathrooms. I've braved these before. What I wasn't expecting was the 30 centimes tax! Outrageous. I decided it was a meager fee to pay to relieve myself, because who knew if the train was going to have a bathroom or not? I'd hate to wait all that time to discover that it was ill-equipped. 

I approached the door and realized it was vacant, but that the person in front of me had already paid. I did a little dance :) I then opened the door, closed it behind me, and turned around to see a middle-aged, red-headed Scottish woman, pants around her ankles, saying, "Ohp, sorry, I don't know how to lock the door do you speak English will you stand guard?" 

Wow. Ok. I stood guard for her, then when she was done apologized profusely and asked her to do the same for me. I got inside, hung my bag on the hook on the back of the door (probably the best move I've ever made), then made my way to The Hole. What happened next scared me unimaginably. The lights turned off, the door locked, and the entire bathroom stall was suddenly soaking wet and roaring with the sound of liquid. Apparently, every person has 15 minutes to get their business done in the little bathroom. After that time, the stall will lock automatically and spray-disinfect itself. With disinfectant. Sprayed. Everywhere.

Let me remind you that I was in the bathroom at the time this happened. I was wet and shaken up, but somehow I was able to pee, gather my belongings (dry, thanks to that trusty hook on the wall), and head for the door.

It was locked. 

Apparently, after the bathroom disinfects itself, it will only unlock when a new customer comes and drops their shiny 30 centimes into the little receptacle. I'm sure you can imaging me, moist and feeling dirty (though in fact I was very, very clean), yelling through the crack in the plastic doorway to a Scottish woman I only just met that I needed her to pay again for the bathroom so that I could escape. 

We became fast friends.

After that, the weekend continued rather normally (even for me!) I got to Tarbes and Tall Man and I went to the park to enjoy the great weather. The mountains were visible and bright, and even closer than they are in Pau--of course I took a bunch of pictures. To celebrate a friend's birthday we ate raclette for dinner, which is a Swiss dish (popular in the French Alps, too) that's similar to fondue. Everyone has their own tiny skillet which they fill with cheese, then heat up under a little heatlamp, then pour over baked potatoes and bacon. So good :) All the guys thought I was disgusting, though, because I ate the potato skin. Nutrients, fellas. Nutrients. 

We had a few drinks and the guys decided they were going to teach me how to play poker. It was a disaster. I don't even understand poker in English! We also played Mikado, a game of pick-up-sticks where all the sticks overlap and you have to pick them up without moving any of the others. So hard. We ended the night by going to the biggest discothèque I've ever seen (they told me it was a supermarket by day and I believed them--that's how big it was) where we danced until 5 am. Fun times, I'm telling you :)

On Monday I woke up and decided I wanted to take a train to Toulouse for the day. I met up with my British friend Charlotte at the train station, we drank tea from a flask on the train, and when we got to Toulouse we spent the entire day just roaming around. Absolutely no agenda. Nothing pressing, nothing mattering, just us, alone in a town we don't know at all. It was grand. We bought dinosaur stickers, leopard-print leggings, and temporary tattoos at the 2 euro store, ate goat cheese and honey pizza, people-watched, then came home, exhausted, but having well-spent our holiday. You can see photos of all my adventures (this sounds like a tagline at the end of a TV show) at www.wanderlust3.shutterfly.com. Until next time :)

Let's Get Kebabs, or He Saw Me Take My Pants Off Through the Window

I’m housesitting. I call it this because, though I’m paying out the wazoo to stay here with this family, they are not here, ever, and the last thing they said to me was, “Bye, Kali, take care of our cat.”

I have yet to see the cat.

I filled his bowl once, and now it’s a little lower, and I didn’t eat that cat food, so I suppose he’s around here somewhere.

On Tuesday I had my fantastic Let’s Celebrate Kali’s New Circumstances party. We grocery shopped after school, then all the girls took the bus to my house (which, shockingly enough, takes even longer than biking—go figure.) We cooked magret de canard, cheese soufflé,
and brownies, as well as a salad of greens with Basque vinaigrette and a sliced baguette with warm goat cheese and honey. I was pretty freakin proud of myself and my cuisineering skillz.

We also had three different types of wine, all of which we finished, and then we wasted our night playing with a wig we found in the laundry room. It was fantastic.

Tonight I went on a date with my best friend. Since we're not in any of the same classes and rarely see one another, we make it a point to go out at least once each week to eat, drink, catch up, and talk shit about everyone else :) We always go to the same kebab restaurant--the Algerian men behind the counter know us and give us the VIP treatment by escorting us upstairs to the private party room, giving us discounts, and tonight--for the first time--bringing us cups of hot tea on a cold night and saying, "Pour vous, un cadeau"--for you, a gift. They also gave us "frequent buyer" cards that they double stamp sometimes, so in a couple more weeks we can eat entirely for free :) Mmmm, free kebabs....

So last week our Kebab Night fell on the same day that I had bought my first pair of skinny jeans. I was thrilled, naturally (first of all because they actually fit!!!), and just wanted to rip them outta their bag and put my grubby little hands all over them. We arrived at the restaurant, the owner took us upstairs, and I immediately took them out of the bag to show M. She oohed and ahhed, and I was suddenly overcome--absolutely OVERCOME--with the urge to put them on. M told me she'd keep guard (which really just meant inspecting her nails in the general vicinity of the doorway, listening intently for footsteps which would signify that it was too late for me anyway) and I proceeded to remove my pants.

Let me justify my actions for a second. It was raining, hard (I know, raining in Pau? Never!) I was soaked. My pants, recently unwashed, were at that slightly-too-long stage where they just barely touch the ground, then act as a sponge until my jeans become heavy with water at about knee-level. I was freezing, and the idea of having ready-to-wear new clothes at my disposal was simply too good.

I have to say, nothing is quite as thrilling as changing pants in the lavishly-decorated upstairs room of a corner kebab restaurant in France. I hope that somewhere, someday, I can find someone with whom to compare experiences. Until then, I think I'm just talking to myself.

Regardless, I changed pants, I didn't get caught, and we ate our delicious kebabs with nary a care in the world. Afterwards we biked to le Garage, my favorite bar on the entire earth, and bought each other a couple of demi-pêches. Basically, imagine the cheapest, worst beer in the world. Then, put it in an artfully blown glass, add a few squirts of peach syrup, and you've got a cheap delicious drink that all college students can afford. It's a dream come true!

The Garage is a fun place to hang out because it's owned by an Irish guy, so there's always rugby playing on the TV. Plus, the bartenders (especially the really cute one) speak great English. It's fun to go there and relax after a loooong day of learning, eating, speaking, breathing, dreaming in French, so we chose it as our Recuperation Station. It's a great mid-week pick-me-up, a way to say, "Self, keep on keepin' on! If you make it another 7 days, I'll give you a treat, and it rhymes with 'shebobs and semi-tesh'."

C'est la vie.

I just realized......

...that the photos in the slideshow in the upper right-hand corner are not my photos at all. 

I have no idea who those folks are.

But they look like they're having a fun time :) for that, I'll let them stay. 

You can check out all my photos (consolidated!) here. 

So, this week is the week of French students' vacation. All students, everywhere in France, are on vacation.....except who? That's right. The foreigners. 

It did make for a really easy commute to school this morning since there was no traffic. However, it was raining torrentially (but it was 85˚ on Sunday!!!!), so that made the going a little more treacherous. Once I tried biking with an umbrella in the middle of the night on an empty road (it's safer that way!) but I failed miserably and ran my slow-moving bike into a signpost. I even tried tucking it into the back of my shirt and tying the silver post around my neck with my scarf. No luck. Instead, I use my hood. When I turn my head, the hood doesn't turn, so every time I check for oncoming traffic I get a face full o' hood. I take off the hood. My hair gets wet. My eyebrows retain rain and leak into my eyes. My glasses get moist on the front and foggy on the inside. Water drips down the slope of my nose and slides into my mouth. I get to class and I bring a little puddle with me. Then, about 2 hours later, when my hair begins to dry, I go back out in the rain. It's a vicious cycle of moistness, unjustly cold hands, and the permanent presence of a cold. Oh, Pau.

I got a new host family :) It's the family who wanted to host a student but couldn't because they were too busy in September. I now live really close to my best friend, who's slightly inaccessible thanks to her new French lover, but it's still nice to not live on the other side of the world from the people I like to spend time with. I'm going to meet the mum on Thursday, she's moving me out Friday, and I never have to see these ingrates again :) 

Today after class I went grocery  shopping with some girlfriends so we could buy ingredients for our Hella-Awesome Home-Cooked French meal tonight. We bought magret de canard (duck breast) which I'm gonna grill with fresh-ground pepper and cognac. We're also having a green salad, baguette slices with toasted goat cheese and honey, a cheese soufflé, and belle Hélènes (crèpes with warm pears, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate sauce). It's going to be fantastic :) We've also got two bottles of wine, ten American movies, and a closet full of French board games that we don't even begin to understand the concepts of. I'm so excited :) It's a kind of celebratory meal for my last days living all by my lonesome, as well as a kind of "let's have a vacation of our own" because my first class tomorrow is cancelled so I don't have to wake up until 1 pm :) I'll be sure to include pictures!

In fact I have to leave to pick up my friends at the bus stop. More later, friends :) 

QUEL heure est-il!?!?! And Other Confounding Moments

The very first time I told this story it was in French and I had to summon all sorts of verb tenses; it's going to be much easier and more rewarding in English :) 

So, last night I set my clocks back an hour because it's daylight savings time this weekend (don't forget!) I set my watch and my alarm clock, waiting to set my computer, phone, and ipod in the morning. I woke up.....stole a glance at my alarm clock....and it said it was 4:45 p.m. 

I have never slept so late in my life! I jumped out of bed, threw the window open (noted that the sun seemed rather high), then checked my watch. My watch said it was 11 am. My computer said it was 8 am. My ipod said it was 10 am. I ran downstairs. The oven said it was 17 minutes after midnight. The microwave said it was 18:53. The laundry room said it was half past 3 am. And by that time my alarm clock said it was 5 pm. I had no idea what time it was; was today really today? Had I slept for a year and missed my birthday? Had I gone to sleep at all, or was I still in yesterday? I was so confused! Finally a friend got online and told me it was 9:08, so I had to subsequently re-reset all my clocks. It was pretty hilarious :)

I spent the day pretending I was going to miss something. I laid in the sun to do my homework (in a bikini....in late October.....hell yeah for French weather!), I ate too much Nutella, and I took a nap in the backyard. Life is so good :) I had about a half-hour run-in with a renegade neighborhood cat who thought he could waltz into the house whenever he pleased, then proceeded to run through the house hiding from me, then ran face-first into the glass door in an attempt to escape. I've never laughed so hard in my life :)

Friday night I had a Halloween party!!! It was a costume party, and I had it on campus--weird thought, that we can have parties on campus, in the open (I had mine next to the university cafeteria). It was fun :) we pretty much just played card games, and my new friend Tall Man came from Tarbes to come visit for the weekend. Only 5 people showed up out of the 20 people who said they would be there,which was slightly disappointing, but then we got a hold of some spoons and kicked each other's asses....it's been a long time since I played Spoons, and it's been an even longer time (try 20 years) since I had to explain the aim of the game in French. Fun times :) 

On Saturday I had to walk Tall Man back to the train station so he could catch his train back home. Lucky bastard, he's got the whole next week off school. All French students do. And the British students, too. Come to think of it, all the students I've talked to so far, regardless of what study abroad program they're with, have next week off from class. Who doesn't? The Americans. I hate it! We've got to bring our lunches to school next week because the university cafeteria will be closed since everyone is off campus. How depressing. It's probably going to rain every day. Or, worse, be gorgeous and sunny and me be trapped in a classroom! Injuste, c'est vachement injuste!

After I deposited my friend at the train station and said a Stereotypically Romantic Train Station Goodbye (you know the kind I'm talking about, with the tears and the hankie and the mouthed confessions of undying love....well, not quite, but it was close :P) I met my friend Kendra, and we spent the day roaming around downtown Pau. It seemed like everyone else had the same idea, because there were people everywhere! The day was perfect, cloudless, and you could see the mountains incredibly clearly because the humidity was so low. We roamed for awhile, shopped a little, just meandered until we found ourselves at a cathedral with violin riffs (are they called riffs on violin too? It sounds like such a rock star word!) wafting out of it. We stopped and saw an old man who invited us into the church with his bow. It was a celebration of Protestantism (irony?) and someone had taken the time to make rows and rows of posters illustrating the benefits of a life spent with Christ. It was really interesting, and talking with the old man was even more so--we spent our afternoon engaged in conversation (in French, bien sûr!) about literature, poetry, politics, stained glass, everything except religion. It was really nice :)

Afterwards we found ourselves at le Méliès, my favorite independent theatre. It's in an old hollowed out cathedral outfitted with electric blue spiral staircases, so it's pretty much a standing juxtaposition. We saw that La Belle Personne (Christophe Honoré, director of Love Songs) was playing at 5:15, and the time was 5:14, so we ran inside, bought tickets (discounted to students!) and watched a movie, completely spontaneously. The movie was grand--it's a modern-day reinterpretation of a 17th century play, la Princesse des Clèves. A beautiful girl shows up at her cousin's Parisian high school and completely shakes up the dynamic of the school. Everyone falls fatally  in love with her, and she's either oblivious to her stunning looks or really well-schooled in the art the subtleties of beauty. It was a really good movie. 

Afterwards Kendra and I went to a Moroccan restaurant for lamb stew with potatoes and lemon (so good!) We discussed the movie, our new French love interests, the cultural project we're doing together, everything. It was really nice to get out of the classroom setting and talk about something other than school in a language other than French :) I'm doing really well at holding my own over here, and every day I learn new phrases. Just today I learned "faire la grasse matinée"--to sleep in. Literally, to make the fat morning :) It's spectacular.

In my last blog I was trying to decide whether or not I should change host families. I have since had a revelation. It was Tuesday night, I had class at 9 am Wednesday morning, and my host brother was having earth-shattering sex. Until 3 am. In the room next to mine. I sent an email to the directors right before I finally fell asleep, saying, "This is the last straw. I need to change. Let's talk options tomorrow." Wednesday at school I met with Ryan and Robina, who were in the process of writing a letter to my host mum. Apparently she'd called several times over the past few weeks to say, "I know I haven't been doing the best job of being there for her, I've been really busy, I've got a lot going on, I probably shouldn't have taken a student this semester," etc. etc. They told me of another family with two kids who lives closer to the university (and in the same neighborhood as my best friend :)). They have internet, too, which is always a plus, and as far as I know they still have a room available for a student. If that doesn't work out, they also have some single women on the list who have offered to share their houses. Regardless, I'm happy to be getting out!

My first couple days here at the house on my own have been rough. It's an old house, it makes a lot of noise, there's a cat who can get in and out as he pleases, and I just get scared. Plus, I'm going to be blamed if the house burns down or something while I'm living here! I was hoping, before I came over here, that my host family would want to show me the hidden gems of their region--I've got friends whose host families have taken them to the vineyards at Jurançon, the beaches of Spain, the observatory atop one of the peaks of the Pyrenees. I get to housesit, eat nothing but apples and Nutella, and wait for my next home to be decided for me. It's not too bad, though--I've got free reign of the television :) Speaking of, les Experts, the French version of CSI (my FAVE) comes on tonight. I'm going to wrap up in all my blankets (I forgot to mention the heat doesn't work :|) and watch some good ole' dubbed American shows. Until next time :) 

Two Different Kinds of English

I bought a slang dictionary this week, hoping it would help me stay fresh with my French homies, g skillet [...crickets...] I searched for a couple of words, but mostly I just didn't have it on me when I needed it. Then, when I needed it, I discovered it was actually a British/French slang dictionary. So, my main problem now is that when I look up a French word and see the English equivalent....I still don't know what it means :| for instance, chouchouter=to mollycoddle. What the hell is "to mollycoddle"? 

In case you were wondering, it means to pamper or spoil ;) 

Speaking of slang....there's a Chinese girl in my French classes whose name is Wei. She always gets really confused when people say "ouais," the French equivalent for "yeah." It cracks me up, seeing her head jerk up and her look around the room like, "Yes? You said my name?" Then again, I do the same thing when anyone says "qualité" or "qualifier." Comes with the territory I suppose :) It's better than being Peter (to fart), or Nick (basically, to shag). 

This past weekend was a big bucket o' funsies for me--I took the train to Tarbes, about 30 minutes away, to spend the weekend with some friends I met at the university. They met me at the train station, took me to a gorgeous park, cooked dinner for me, took me to a party and a "family meal" at their school, and generally showed me a spectacular time. Everyone was enthralled by the American; everyone wanted pictures, wanted to speak to me in English, wanted to grill hamburgers in my honor. It was a very empowering weekend :) 

This week my host family is leaving on vacation. I'm a little miffed--they're going to be gone three weeks, and didn't they commit to hosting a student for the entire semester, not 2-months-and-one-week? I'm supposed to get breakfast every morning and at least 2 dinners a week, not to mention conversation time with them, and so far I've gotten....none of that. I told the directors--for whom the vacation was just the straw that broke the camel's back--and they're giving me the option to change families. Do I really want to do that? I do--I would love to have a family that actually gives a damn whether or not I'm at the house, whether or not I've eaten, whether or not I'm happy. But at the same time, do I really want to impose my life and schedule and presence on someone else's family, right in the middle of the semester? Advice, please!

On a happier note, Halloween is fast approaching and I'm having a costume party this weekend! I thought, since my host family will be gone, it's only appropriate that I celebrate :) Don't worry, though, we're having the party at the university--I don't want them thinking I would trash their house while they're gone! Anyway, we're buying lots of candy, everyone's dressing up, we've even got pumpkins to carve! Basically, it's just gonna be card games, candy, and guitar--I'm pretty psyched :) If you're in the Pau area this Friday night, stop by!

Classes are going well. Just last week I did a presentation (oral, 15 minutes in French, GO! It was pretty challenging :P). I did my exposé on the French presence in Tennessee. I know, who knew there actually IS a French presence in Tennessee? Apparently, as of 2000, there are 18 000 Tennesseans who speak French. I don't believe it. Anyway, I also included slides of Nashville, country music must-sees, and, of course, played a little country tune on my guitar. It was pretty entertaining as the Finland guy and the Chinese girl had never really heard country music. Globalization, I'm tellin' ya :) 

Tonight I'm going to English Trivia Night at the Garage, one of my favorite bars. I figure I'll have a pretty significant advantage over the rest of the contestants, especially with my new slang dictionary :) Wish me luck!

Car Wreck, New Schedule, and High School Musical--Life is Weird.

What a tumultuous week. Monday we started classes--up until now we've really just been farting around, taking one class a week, maybe three days worth of it, then going out every night and partying with the natives (makes them sound like indigenous Indians :P), then pretend to wake ourselves up for "class" the next morning. Basically, it was a month-long introduction to living in Pau--which was actually really helpful--and a month-long party with only a glimmer of distant responsibility. Ahh, the life of a foreign student!

Needless to say, that's all over now :) I placed into the most advanced level of French, so there are only 7 people in the whole class. There are 4 Americans, a Brit, a Finnish (there's no way they're called finishes!), a Chinese, and a Russian. Pretty eclectic. We started Monday with language, then Tuesday was Geography and language; Wednesday, language and Art History; Thursday, language and the Science of Linguistics; and Friday, literature. All the classes are conducted in French, and since we were only assigned 18 hours we have to pick up an extra course--a kind of auditing--taught by a French professor. The class I chose, Science of Languages, only has 10 other people in it, so I'm terrified that the prof will call on me during class! Oh well. Add that to my two dance classes and my two other classes and I'm pulling 26 hours of class per week. Intense! But I love it so far. A lot former students warned us that it would be French boot camp, but I say bring it on, Pau--hit me with your best shot. 

On Monday after school I had a bit of a scare--I got hit by a car while I was biking home. Minimal damage, a sore shoulder and a headache, but I was pretty terrified. The worst part is, the driver drove away! And I had to come up with a way to convey the message to my host mum--"quelqu'un m'a frappé avec une voiture" translates to "someone slapped me with a vehicule." She was completely incredulous, naturally, but she told me how to say it correctly, so of course I told everyone :) Why not? I survived, and it makes for a great story. 

I have neglected my journal (slap my wrist!) for almost two weeks now, which is a grave sin in the memory department. I wanted to stay on top of that above everything so that I could recall the golden details of this whole trip, but I suppose I'll have to try to remember everything and attempt to record it from there. 

Thursday was the day of sport on campus--there's no real translation for what it means, but there were a bunch of dance exhibitions and concerts and stuff. I might be mistaken--and I hope I'm not--but I'm under the impression that it happens every Thursday! Our prof gave us the option of either staying in class on Thursday afternoon and not having homework, or going to the sports thingie and having to stop French students to fill out a questionnaire. None of us felt like practicing our French with actual French students, so we stayed in class. Afterwards, les apéros chez Charlotte :) This time it was just girls because all the guys had had dates earlier in the week that bombed and they were all sad. Lame story, I know, but it was also quite entertaining :) Again, there were pancakes--tradition!--but this time we rocked out to High School Musical. Yes, let me repeat that: High School Musical. The girls here are obsessed with it, not because it's intellectually stimulating (God, no!) but because it's an incredible "accurate" look at American teenagers--they watch it to make fun of us. Fine by me, because that's why I watch it, too :) The girls invited me to the theatre to watch the third one when it comes out...and I think I'm going to go :) One of their selling points was the kiss--Charlotte actually said to me, "Maybe they'll hook up this time--they haven't kissed yet!" Oh, you French kids and the things you pay attention to...

Friday, only one class, French literature, at 9 am. Afterwards a friend and I trekked downtown, bought train tickets and youth discount cards (SUCH a great deal--you get at least 50% off all ticket prices!), ate an entire pizza over the course of three hours at a café, sat in a park reading French newspapers, and watched two foreign films at an independent theatre. It was probably one of the best days I've had here. It was so laid back, and there was so much time to do everything we wanted! The films, too, were great--one of them was a Spanish movie called El Otro, in Spanish with French subtitles--shockingly enough, it was quite easy to understand. The other, a Woody Allen film, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, was in English and I loved it--especially reading the subtitles to find out the French equivalents for impossible-to-translate phrases, like "drive me crazy" (driving? like in a car?!)

On Saturday we went "randonning" in the mountains. I just love the word randonning :) We took a bus to Nay first to explore a béret museum at one of only two béret factories in France. I didn't buy a béret, and I regretted it all day!

       

After that we bussed to Gavarnie, a gorgeous mountain town where we ate a fantastic meal (is there any other kind in France?) and then hiked for 5 hours on a 60˚ incline. 

Fun times. I'm viciously sore. USAC has all sorts of fun excursions like that planned for us, which I'm really excited about :) I hope I can post pictures soon! Until then, just keep imagining how much fun I'm having--it'll be spot on :) 

Wine, Cheese, Police Officers, and Other Necessities

Wednesday nights are karaoke nights. It goes without saying that, of course, I will be there. Every Wednesday.

I took the placement test in the morning, finished the oral interview around noon, then hung out in a room with a bunch of other Anglophones swapping stories and surfing the net (conveniently, I have lost all traces of internet at my house. Coincidence? I think not.) I lurked at school to escape the weather ( first, a string of days with weather that I would sell my first born to be allowed out in, followed by a shorter string of days with weather I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Lucky me, out on a bike, in a skirt, during the latter.) Afterwards, I napped until karaoke time. Oui, la vie est trop dure--life is too hard!

I met some friends at the Hoegaarden (hilariously pronounced with a French accent) just south of campus and we enjoyed the karaoke show, then met a couple of gendarmerie (innately Greek-godlike French police officers, with muscles and badges and everything!) We went to a discothèque and danced until 5:30 am (oh, to be young again!) and then, again, biked home in the dark/wet/skirt.

Thursday was rainy, too, but we had a noon potluck to which were invited a bunch of French students, so we hung out in the warm of the Faculté des Lettres and spoke frenglish (or, franglais). Afterwards a French friend of mine, A, invited me to her apartment because her landline phone company offers free international calls on Thursdays. I got to talk to my dad, who was just leaving for work while I was basically finishing my day, which was bizarre and wonderful. I was standing on A's balcony for the conversation, and had the sun been out I would have been able to see clearly the entire panoramic chain of Pyrenees mountains forming the southern border of Pau. Too cool.

Thursday night I had my last cooking class, a bittersweet affair. We started with foie gras (don't tell my friends in PETA, but I secretly love the stuff) and a rosé wine; then had magret de canard (duck, which I accidentally relayed to my French friends as 'connard,' which basically translates as asshole) and green beans with red wine; followed by brie and cherry preserves and a cheese typical of the Béarn region, accompanied by a sweet white dessert wine. We had to pay extra for the course, but I say it was totally worth it--it worked out to 20€ per class, but you could easily spend 20€ on foie gras alone! Not to mention wine... I met a bunch of my British friends at a bar afterwards, then biked home (again in torrential rain: is this a new theme? I like the old one better!)

On Friday we had French culture class at 12:30, and right in the middle of that class The Authorities posted our French level assignments. I had taken the test to the best of my ability on Wednesday, but I hadn't really sat up to study or fret about it--I figured, I will test where I belong and I'll be totally happy with that. After class we went to sneak a peek at the lists...

...and I had been placed in the absolute highest level, Level 11 out of 11 Levels, le niveau le plus avancé. I was thrilled, shocked, proud, and a little bit conscious of everyone else's hatred directed at me (there is only one other USAC student in that level :\). I called my mum to share the news, then biked home for dinner with my host grandparents who are here for the weekend.

I spent my Friday night babysitting for my friend Marina's host parents kids (no, Paul, the kids are not mine!) which was a ton of fun. We basically spent the whole night watching Disney movies dubbed in French and sneaking bonbons without the kids seeing. T, the 5-year-old boy, helped me with my homework (armed with only a highlighter), while M, the 2-year-old girl, just screamed 'NO!' at every proposition. We all fell asleep, collectively, at midnight. Translating all the time really wears a girl out!

When their parents arrived home, the mum told me there was one seat left in the car for the trip to the regional Cheese Festival this Sunday. I am stoked, and I'm tempted to not eat anything till then so I can fill up on the best cheeses in the land. I'll try my hardest to post pictures when I can :) Until then, know that I'm having entirely too much fun on entirely too little cash. Oh, France. Oh, shitty exchange rate.

A Few Minor Differences, but the Spice Girls Say It All

This past week has been chock-full of cultural experiences for me. Of course, if I wasn't in a French Cultural studies class, I would be far less aware of their cultural significance and much more aware of the fun I'm having during them. Regardless, the culture here is incredibly different, and it's actually government-regulated--there are laws that enforce French TV shows, the government produces French films, and 40% of all music that is played on the radio must be French. They're serious about not being overtaken by the dominating American/English culture, which I totally admire. The hardest battle is to be yourself in a world that is trying is hardest to turn you into everyone else!

On Wednesday I met my new conversation partner, A, and her boyfriend, other A. I had sent her an email introducing myself and asking for her help in learning French. She responded with her phone number and "je serai ravie de t'aider pour ton français"--basically, I would absolutely love to. She invited me to a "soirée" that night at the Fac (Faculté des Lettres=School of Humanities). I brought a friend with me, for moral support as well as physical (:P), and we ended up in a giant courtyard full of drunk freshmen. Apparently, other A is an "RA" of sorts and this was their "freshman hazing...." It was really calm comparatively; just a lot of camera flashes in the dark, some free beer, and games like "Spin Around Really Fast 10 Times, Then Run to One Corner of the Courtyard and Take a Shot Without Falling" and "Who Can Eat the Yogurt the Fastest Without Using Their Hands?" We had a fantastic time and ended up meeting a ton of French people, most of whom were really excited to meet Americans. It never fails to surprise me--we're met with either contempt or absolute adoration wherever we go, and contrary to most stereotypes, it's usually the latter!

After the soirée we trekked over to the Hoegaarden for karaoke again--every Wednesday, baby! We had missed the most entertaining part of the evening and the night was pretty much winding down, but we still had a great time! The French are pretty serious about their karaoke, which I love--people who can actually sing come to karaoke to actually sing, instead of just drunk friends getting up and doing invariably godawful renditions of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." The best part about the latter, though is that they're drunk, so they sing badly, and they're French, so they speak English with an impossible-to-ignore accent, so it's still a lot of fun :) Granted, it's fun at their expense, but they don't seem to mind!

On Thursday night (yes, I went out four nights in one week--I'm in France, therefore, I am entitled :) ) a few of my friends met our new French amies for "les apéros," or after-dinner drinks and whatnot. We walked to C's apartment and I absolutely fell in love with it--it's just a one-room thing, tiny by all definitions, but she'd crammed about a dozen people into it! They were sitting on the bed, the floor, the couch, some even had to stand. She's into theatre, so there were fun posters and photos all over the place...including a life-size printout of Chad Michael Murray :) 

Apparently one of C's traditions is that, at every party she has, ever, she makes pancakes! So we got some good ole American pancakes (I told her that we put bananas in ours and one of my American friends contested me, saying that only Jack Johnson does that. No, Jackie Jay, I'm fairly certain you stole that idea from my MOM!) We ate them with Nutella (heaven) and spent the rest of the night imbibing, drawing body parts on the etch-a-sketch, dancing to Spice Girls, lip-synching to Shania Twain, and swapping cuss words. Some things never change :) 

On Friday (another very early morning following another very late night!) we went to the collège (read: junior high) where my friend's host mum works. It was about a half an hour outside of Pau, near Soumoulou, and the drive there was gorgeous--as we got closer, the Pyrenees got clearer and clearer and we could see tiny mountain towns nestled in the crevices between peaks. It was absolutely gorgeous! The school was tiny--it's a private Catholic school, but despite the marriage between church and state, there was very little religious influence in the school itself, just the occasional crucifix in the teacher's lounge. I think school was more designed for a different curriculum, not necessarily a religious one. 

Regardless, it was the Jour Des Langues Étrangères d'Europe, or the European Day of Foreign Languages, so we came into their classes and spoke in slow, measured English about our lives back home, our schools, our favorite music and movies, our families, our cars, our customs, our culture, etc. It was a great experience :) They begged us to teach them how to line dance; they admired our perfect pronunciation of all the English phrases they get wrong (like "this or that, which is which?" It always comes out, "zis or zat, weesh ees weesh?"); and at the end they asked us for our autographs. So cute :) We ate lunch with the professors (quiche, cake, and red wine) and spent gym period with the students out on the lawn speaking "franglais," or Frenglish. There was also a Venezuelan girl who came for the Day of Foreign Languages and taught a salsa dance class in Spanish, which was a ton of fun! I was shocked at how much Spanish I understood, how few boys danced, and how badly the room smelled when all the French girls took off their flats. Some things never change :) 

Craziness

I thought it would be in order to spell out in gritty detail for you some of the ridiculous situations that have befallen  me. If you know me at all, you know that a lot of things happen to me that could only happen to me--"cela n'arrive qu'à moi!" Mostly, this post is for a friend to send to his dad--he gets a real kick out of seeing me deal with what comes my way and thought his dad would, too, so here goes :) I'll try to start from the beginning.

At La Défense in Paris, my three girlfriends and I were approached by an old gentleman with an umbrella. His first phrase to us in French contained the word underwear, and he called himself Rumplestilskin. He led us around the New City for three hours, explaining the history and backdrops for every modern- and fine-art exhibit there in le Musée de Plein Ciel (the open-sky museum). At the end of the day, he tipped his umbrella to us and calmly exited our lives via escalator--we still had no idea if he was a real Parisian, what he did for a living, why he targeted us for his whirlwind and fascinating tour, if he expected payment or anything. Bizarre. 

On my way to the gym one day with a friend we saw a little boy (about 10) and his older friends chasing a rabbit in a field with sticks. As we got closer, they chased the rabbit straight into traffic, and it got hit broadside by a van. I have never seen anything die, much less in traffic with little boys and sticks and tufts of fur everywhere. I kept walking, shocked, and when I came back in half an hour the little boy had pushed the rabbit onto a piece of fluorescent yellow posterboard that had been stapled to a telephone pole. He came up to me, begging "Excusez-moi, s'il vous plaît, avez-vous quelque chose pour mon lapin reallyfastFrench." I thought he was asking for money to, I dunno, bury "his" rabbit, so we told him we watched him chase it into traffic, and he looked slightly deflated. Turns out he really just wanted us to get our hands dirty pushing this dead rabbit onto the posterboard for him. Bizarre. 

In a taxi on the way home from my cooking class downtown one night I got sexually harassed by an old man. There were four of us in the taxi, so I had to sit up front. I live really close to downtown, so it would have made far more sense for him to take me home first, but he dropped the others at the université, then drove around in circles for awhile, racked the cost up to 30euro, and when I told him I didn't have that kind of money, he stopped the taxi, put his hand on my knee and told me I could pay in other ways. He kept begging me for a kiss, but I got out, slammed the door, and walked the rest of the way home. That was the night my key wouldn't unlock the door (apparently, you have to turn and push, but the push has to be one fluid movement, so if you let up at all, you have to start over :\ ) That was the night I slept in the garage. The next day, though, I wrote a letter to the taxi company and he has since been fired. Bizarre. 

The following week I was at karaoke with some friends of mine. One of my friends knocked over a beer and a vodka tonic, spilling it all over my skirt. I wasn't too hung up about it, it would dry, but the old man sitting in front of me thought it was his duty to hold up my skirt and mop my upper thigh with his hand. Bizarre. 

Before leaving for San Sebastián I spent the night in a friend's dorm room so that my commute to campus would be drastically shorter and, thus, I could sleep a little longer. She left in the wee hours of the morning to Skype with her boyfriend and left me there to sleep, but she took the key--normally not a big deal. However, the dorm rooms lock both from the inside and from the outside, and there is no deadbolt--just a keyhole. I was, by all accounts, locked IN a room. I finally got out half an hour later and they hadn't left for Spain without me--had they, it would have been the longest weekend of my life. Bizarre. 

In San Sebastián, on the way back home from an open mic night at an underground bar I played at, I encountered a really drunk old man who berated me for not wearing shoes. I pretended I only spoke French, and started lecturing him about how none of the French wear shoes. He got really flustered, especially after trying to pronounce "chaussures" and invited me back to his apartment, but I just walked briskly, shoeless, in the other direction. Bizarre. 

Shockingly enough, I think that's all. I'll be posting more as they happen to me. Sean, I hope your dad enjoys this dedication :) 

Cultural Differences, Things I've Noticed, and a Marriage Proposal

So I'm sitting at the Faculté des Lettres, surrounded by French speakers, trying to figure out how to work the American keyboard again--all the keys are in different spots, and I've gotten so used to my host family's computer that I can't figure this one out!

Last week we had a really awkward "blind date" with a bunch of French students. USAC set it up, and we showed up, and they showed up, and there were snacks and nervous mingling...but we all walked away with phone numbers and email addresses and new friends :) I met two English majors, Flavie and Charlotte, who invited me and a couple of my friends to their apartment for "les apéros," or drinks, games, music, and friends, tomorrow night. I think it will be really beneficial to hang out with French teenagers, especially those who speak English, so we can learn French and learn exactly what the different slang terms mean. I just read an article for my Cultural Studies class, though, that says that French slang is not a social or class identifier like it is in the US, but more of a language of familiarity: Sarkozy uses slang when he talks in intimate settings, as do petty criminals and my host mum. It's a strange concept, that slang is for everyone, but it also helps to keep foreigners out--the obsession the French have with protecting their culture extends to their language, too, and thus, learning all the French slang that's out there is absolutely impossible! That doesn't mean I've stopped trying, though :) I've even started writing in my diary in French--it helps incredibly.

Last Wednesday we went to karaoke--what a fun time :) It didn't start until 11 (after the football game, of course!) but when it did get started, it was incredible! There were some serious singers there, people who got up time and time again to sing songs in French and in English. It was a great way to meet more French people--that's like our mantra for every day. "Today I will meet French people!"

My friend's host mum gave me a bike to ride, so it's been taking me only 15 minutes to get to school instead of almost 45. That means I can sleep later! Haha :) I still haven't mastered the roundabout on bike--I always get off and push it across the crosswalks--but I'm getting used to riding my bike in traffic. On bigger roads, there's even a bike lane! I've seen some postcards parodying the French denotation of road lanes--there's one for cars, one for bikes, one for handicapped people who wheel themselves, one for handicapped people who are pushed by other people, one for walkers, one for pregnant women, and one for porcupines on leashes. It's pretty clever, but it's a great system: and it's nice knowing that cars are aware of your presence!

A couple days ago I received an email from one of our exchange students that we've kept in touch with. She emailed me train times, prices, and hostels where we can stay in the town that's directly between my school and hers. It was so great hearing from her, and the town we're visiting is right on the beach. I'm so glad that she went to all that effort just to see me again--the French are so intent on keeping friendships alive. I'm finally getting used to giving "bisous," cheek-kisses, so I'll be able to greet her properly :)

I'm about to go eat lunch (though it's only 5 in the morning back home--what can I say, I'm an early bird!) Our cafeteria is called "La Vague" (the wave) because it's got a cascading metal roof that does look just like a giant metallic wave. Lunch every day is only 2E85 and you can get a meat and two veggies, a salad, or a burger (bunless, as is the French norm :P) and fries. There's also a briocherie off to the side where you can buy sandwiches of all kinds, quiches, and even baguettes smothered in Nutella [drool]. I would marry Nutella if it weren't an inanimate object that I would rather consume. Oh, Nutella. <3

I hope that all is well in the states and that no one's bank has collapsed or house has been foreclosed--now is a great time to be out of the country, but in three months, it's going to be a terrible time to come back in! I just hope that the dollar stays relatively steady against the Euro....a student's budget is nothing in the States, and it's 0.68-nothing in Europe. Here's to hoping I'm not too broke to make it back! 

A September weekend at the beach? Really?!

So I went to Spain this weekend :) the trip started off very strangely--I spent the night in the dorms with a friend so that I could be closer to campus and not have to wake up so early or walk so far. I slept on the floor (it was freezing and made of concrete) and she left at 630 in the morning to go to campus and chat on the internet with her boyfriend, She just left me in the room so I could sleep for a little longer since we didn't have to meet at the school until 830. Except, she forgot that the door has to be unlocked with a key, even from the inside, and she didn't leave the key with me!! I gave her about 20 minutes, then 10 minutes until we were supposed to leave I called the program director and told him I was locked in a room and that, if he saw Allison, to tell her to come let me out! Finally she did (she had totally forgotten about me) and I made it to the bus only about 20 minutes late. It's a good thing I called Ryan, though, because otherwise they would have left without me and I would have been stuck in that room all weekend! :P Great way to start off a trip...

Our first stop on the way to San Sebastiàn was Bayonne. It's a cute little town at the delta of two rivers, and we toured the Roman ruins (of course I opted for the tour guided in French--every little bit helps :) ) including an ancient cave that is hidden below a parking garage! It felt like somewhere you could easily get murdered--but no one did, so I suppose that's good :) The day started out overcast but it ended up being a really nice day, so all our pictures of the really interesting cathedral had pretty blue skies in the background. I thought the cathedral was so interesting because the first 3/4 of it were built in the 14th-or-so century, and the rest of it not finished until the end of the 16th. Thus, it's composed of wo completely different styles of architecture and made from two different types of stone, making it two different colors. Pretty cool :)

We had lunch at the tiny Victor Hugo Café and then wandered around the town; it's famous for its chocolate, especially a frothy drink that's just melted chocolate in a cup, so of course we went in search of the chocolateries! We found one, Atelier de Chocolat, which sold 'bouquets' of chocolate. They had all different kinds--hazelnut, coconut, canded orange, even chocolate with pepper in it (another famous product from Bayonne)! Of course I bought some :)

After Bayonne we made our way south to San Sebastiàn in Spain. The day was perfect--blue, cloudless, and warm. Our hotel was right down the street from the beach, so after our much-needed siesta, we dropped our things and headed straight for the ocean. We toured through the Old City, caught sight of the oldest apartments in the city (from the days when the church was first built in the 13th or 14th century), and scouted out tapas restaurants. The whole standin-to-eat, trusting-to-pay, grab-your-own-everything concept was a little foreign to us, but we ended up mastering it and getting some kickass tapas. We found a paella restaurant, too, and I was SO ready for some black rice paella (rice and seafood cooked in rice flavored with squid ink), but I was the only hungry one (and no one was really keen on the squid ink) so instead we looked for some entertainment. We found what we were looking for in the basement of a bar called the Leize Gorria (the 'a' at the end of 'Gorria' is actually an anarchy star, if that tells you anything about the rebellious, underground feel of this pub). They were having an open mic night, so of course I Jumped up on stage, and everyone loved it because my friends had never heard me sing or platy guitar, and the locals had never heard anyone perform an American song in fluent English! We jammed for a couple hours, well past midnight, and headed home.

The next day we left after breakfast at the hotel to go to the Aquarium across the bay. It had a hands-on tank with a giant octopus in it, and a glass tunnel where sharks swam right over you! Plus, everything was in Spanish and the Basque language, which is a strange mélange of X's, T's, and Z's...I can't make any sense of it. We spent the rest of the day lounging on the beach. It was perfect--the water was just cold enough to wake us up, and we swam out to the edge of the swimming area to a platform with diving boards and slides.

We ate a late-for-us-early-for-theSpanish (they usually eat lunch around 2) at a fun little bayside outdoor café, then left San Sebastiàn in midafternoon to head to St. Jean de Luz. It, too, was a beachside town, but it was far smaller, and our very first impression of it was a giant streetside market with cheese, sausage, homemade wine and beer, fish, jams, meats, honey, bread-- basically every organic and delicious thing you could every imagine at this sprawling seaside market. It was great :) We bought ice cream (a staple for beaching) and found a spot on the sand and spent the whoel day people watching. Just around the time we were going to leave, a squadron of fighter jets whipped across the sky with big wakes of red, white, and blue powder, presumably for tomorrow's nation-wide Journée de Patrimoine, which celebrates France's historical legacy. They did acrobatics for a good while, and then it was time to get back on the bus. All in all, a great adventure in Spain. If you'd like to see the pictures I've posted on facebook, follow this link. You can also see all my photos of the city of Pau by following this one. Enjoy!!

à Pau, enfin...

Our Paris trip ended with visits to three separate castles, which were absolutely incredible. The drive to Pau from Azay-le-Rideau, a whopping 9 hours, was a great time to recup...except I was so ecited that I just spent the whole time journaling instead :) When we finally arrived at the dorms at l'Universtié de Pau, all our host parents were waiting for us. My host mum H came to pick me up and then took me to the store with her so we could buy yogurt for a yogurt cake. Mmmmmm, yogurt cake :) I got settled into my new room after she gave me a tour, and she started cooking dinner. We ate outside because the day was gorgeous--probably 72˚--and we had bread and foie gras, avocadoes with balsamic vinegar, Spanish sausages, and a pork loin sautéed with bacon and sundried tomatoes. It was pretty spectacular. 

The next day we started orientation. H drove me to school, dropped me off, and told me I'd have to find my way home--probably a good thing since that'll be my most trusted form of transportation. Orientation started, we met the students who didn't go to Paris with us, we ate in the cafeteria in a big conglomerate of Americanism, and then we toured Pau. We took the bus--one of only a few public bus experiences I've had--into downtown, which is really close to my host family's house. The town is so cute--it's really old, with cobbled streets and boulangeries and patisseries everywhere. There is a château that was built in 1450! And you can see the Pyrenees Mountains from downtown. There are palm trees everywhere, and the weather is really balmy and beautiful. I'm so thrilled to be here :) 

I live with H and her two children (a third lives in the Alps) in a darling Spanish-tiled house (you know how I love Spanish tiles!) near downtown Pau. She's an interior decorator, so they house is gorgeous and charming. The weather is beautiful, the mountains and Spain and the beach are so near--it's Utopia! The language barrier, too, hasn't been too much of a barrier--more of a suggestion of difficulty. I'm having the time of my life :) 

Our elective classes started today. I'm taking French Culture, which sounds like it's going to be a really non-traditional discussion/argument class. I'm pretty thrilled about it. Then, in October we'll have our language placement exams and we'll begin our intensive French classes (past students have called them "French boot camp") and our electives will only take place once a week. The schedule takes a bit of getting used to (as does the bus system :|), but I know I'll learn to love it here.

aujourd'hui, je suis à Paris...

Aujourd'hui je suis à Paris! We arrived at charles de Gaulle airport at 7 a.m.--midnight home time. Even though we were jet-lagged like you wouldn't believe, we decided to stay awake for the whole French day, then go to bed when we would normally go to bed to minimize our vertigo. Aftger checking into our hotel, we went on a short walking tour of the Latin Quarter, Jardin du Luxembourg, Boulevard St. Michel, and La Sorbonne. Though the day started out rainy, it cleared up by the time we started the tour, making for some great pictures :) In the Jardin du Luxembourg, we saw the original Statue of Liberty, which was recast, cut into 54 pieces, and sent to America as a condolence for the oppressive British government. See, the French are nice people! 

Right across the street from us is a pedestrian street, Rue Daguerre, where we ate lunch the first day. I shared some fresh paella with a girl from UNLV, and for dinner we ate at Café Daguerre and shared a bottle of wine. The second day we visited (deep breath) Notre-Dame, its Roman ruins, Ste. Chapelle, Pont Neuf, l'Opéra Garnier, Champs Elysées, Place Vendôme, Place de la Concorde, l'Arce de Triomphe, and La Défense. Phew. At our very first métro stop I ran into my friend Tarik from the last time I was in Paris! Luckily he had nothing but work planned for the day, so he went to all the museums with us and helped us out with our French all day. 

On the third day we visited la Tour Eiffel (though it was rainy, so our view from the top was just grey), Les Inval

ides (Napoleon's tomb), Musée Rodin (at which my camera battery died), and Tour Montparnasse (Tarik's idea--it has the best 360˚ view in Paris!) We also rode on a Bâteau-Mouche, a typical tourist-y thing to do, but by that time (again!) the rain had dried up and the sun came out, and we got to watch the sunset over the Seine behind Notre-Dame. It was pretty incredible. We took the Métro to Montmartre at night to see the city lit up from afar, which was awesome, but all our camera batteries had died! We did, however, get to see the Eiffel Tower light up, which is always great, and at every hour it glitters for 10 minutes! Also, since French is the temporary president of the EU, they've redone the tower to light up in blue lights only and have rigged a circle of yellow stars on it to represent the EU flag. It was absolutely breathtaking. 

Today, we went to la Bastille (well, what's left of it), le Quartier du Marais, Victor Hugo's house, Places des Vosges, the Jewish quarter, the Catacombs (which I've wanted to see for years! They were even more awesome than I expected, and far more heartbreaking), and then we took the Métro into the heart of Paris to explore. Tonight we're going out for a group dinner--one last HURRAH! before we leave for Versailles. After that, I'll be at school! Classes don't start until the 11th, though, which gives me plenty of time to adjust to my new family. I'm having a great time, and I'm really really excited about the rest of the semester! Bon soir, et à bientôt! 

T-minus 5....4....3....

This is a little something I found from my last trip to Paris. I thought I'd post it (disregard the narration to my sister) partly to get myself psyched about BEING IN PARIS TOMORROW and partly to share with all of you the spectacular electricity of the City of Lights! I don't have a video camera like I did last time, too, so this will be the only video I can dredge up from France. No worries, though, the photo slideshows will be more than enough :)

A couple of nights ago I was a flurry of arms and clothes and power cords because I was actually in the mood to pack--you know that doesn't come around often, so of course you drop what you're doing and indulge it! I was so harried, though, that at one point I actually wondered, "Why am I putting all this stuff in a bag? ..........OH! I'm moving to France!" Talk about a brain fart :P I took that as a sign to go to bed and resume packing in the morning--it takes the fun out of it if you don't remember why you're doing it :) 

Today I got everything squared away--packing, last minute purchases, absentee ballot notifications (just because I'm a temporary expatriate doesn't mean I'm not going to exercise my suffrage!), etc. I'm now perched on the edge of my bed, passport in hand, counting. 

T-minus 20 hours until showtime :)

Waiting on the World to Change

It's so strange to think--in 6 days, I'm going to be in Paris! Today I got the itinerary for our Paris trip and it all looks so exciting :) It's wonderful, being able to recognize so many names of places and being able to envision the exteriors, the displays, the road names, the street grid, the lights, the patterns, the smells. I'm thrilled :) 

I got to talk to my sister in Costa Rica on the webcam today! She's having such a great time. This weekend they're going to the beach. She sounds like she's made a ton of amigos already, which, again, reminds me of Harlaxton and of all the fun times, late nights, new friends....I'm just really thrilled about France :)

This time last year I remember having a small meltdown about how unprepared I felt. I realize now, now that I'm feeling the exact same way, it wasn't a feeling of being ill-prepared at all--it was just the feeling of standing on the edge of what I recognize and looking into the fog of what I don't know. The scariest part is the fact that I'll be living in an unfamiliar land, surrounded by an (almost) unfamiliar language, but that's also the most exciting part. It's my impetus for being even more gregarious and outgoing than I already am (I swear, it really is possible :P) The unfamiliarity is what drives me to take every chance, go on every trip, visit every city, learn every idiom, try every side dish, jump on every opportunity that comes my way because, this time next year, I'll be back in Music City, missing France, and I want to miss it well. 

last gasp of the death-grip love of Harlaxton

This weekend I did something I've been meaning to/wanting to/needing to do since the beginning of the summer: I drove to Evansville, Indiana, to meet up with some of my friends from Harlaxton! It's amazing the family-bonding that occurs with 160-something college kids get together for three months inside a castle in the English countryside...hence, we get to missing each other, and road trips happen. It's inevitable.

It was incredible seeing all my friends from Harlaxton :) It's funny, in England, we were all drifters, tied at the same post, grazing in circles, pretty much stationary. Here, I see my friends driving, living in houses, dating people I don't recognize, eating food in restaurants and paying with real dollars. There, we were all cloistered in the same house, taking the shuttle to and from town, spending "fake" money, letting our lives revolve around ourselves and each other. It was magic. 

Case in point, our friendships were immediate and deep. Afterwards, after living in the same quarters for three months, we all had to separate. We got so homesick--or, school sick? It sure felt like home--and went into withdrawals during the next semester. I say all this because I know that this study abroad experience will be strikingly similar--I'll know no one, I'll meet everyone, I'll fall in love with every single experience, I'll come home and dream about it for years afterwards, and I'll miss it with everything I have. C'est la vie :) 

Bonjour from Middle Tennessee!

I've spent my summer preparing for France, but now I'm ready to go and I still have a few weeks until I leave! Oh, well, more time to practice my French. I've started keeping a diary in French which is pretty challenging--think about everything you journal about, all the adjectives and verb tenses, all the idiomatic expressions--then attempt to translate it. It's really helping! Plus I've got some great resources, like About.com's Laura K. Lawless, who created a fourteen-day resource guide on preparing to study abroad in France. It's mostly a geeky combination of translators, verb quizzes, cultural tidbits, listening comprehension exercises, and a "mot du jour" or "word of the day" feature, but it's helped loads! 

A few weeks ago I traveled to the French Consulate in Hotlanta to get my visa. What a dizzying process! First, you have to register with CampusFrance, a website that ensures a uniform application process. In fact, everyone in the entire globe of the USAC French study program hates CampusFrance except--you guessed it--the Consulate! Apparently it makes things loads easier on their end, while making it more complex, more difficult to navigate and more time-consuming for everyone else involved. Thanks, Consulate. Anyway, I had to fill out an application to be approved to apply--in what other program do you have to apply to apply? I was finally cleared to travel to ATL to get my visa, so I called my roommate from freshman year who was living in ATL for the summer and asked to stay with her. Luckily, she said yes, and luckily, her apartment was a whopping 10 minute drive from the Consulate! That was a huge blessing, because it could easily take hours to get from one side of Atlanta to the other. Additionally, my appointment was at 7:45 a.m., so factor traffic into that equation and it makes for a hellishly long and nervewracking morning. I got to the Consulate fifteen minutes before they even opened, sat on an uncomfortable-but-cute sofa till I could take one of the two elevators to the eleventh floor, then waited again. The man behind the counter, clearly from the Côte d'Ivoire or somewhere else exotic and hard to understand, gave me a lot of crap about my application, but I'd thought ahead: I brought a ton of documents that they don't even ask for, like my birth certificate, a résumé, a list of all the places I'd ever lived, my pet's names, and my favorite stuffed animal, just in case they needed them. They didn't, but at least I would have had them if they had :) I felt a tad bit squeamish after I finished the visa process because I had to leave my passport there at the Consulate with them, so when I finally got it back, I was duly relieved! It feels good now being a legitimate student of the Université de Pau et des Pays l'Adours, not to mention having a government-issued visa that proclaims it for the world--or at least the customs officers--to hear!

Agenda for the day: Catch up on sleep! We took Mica to the airport this morning to catch her flight to Costa Rica (or, in French...Costa Rica....) and had to be up at 3 a.m.! I had forgotten that times that early still existed :P I've also got some packing to do, and a few last-minute calls to make. Other than that, I'm rarin to go! If only I could just fly out a few weeks too early :P 

À bientôt!