An American Girl in Avignon

Well, I am finally caught up on blogging. I am actually writing about the day it is when I say “today.” It’s quite a feeling of accomplishment. :)

Today, or should I say yesterday since it is so early (maybe I’m not really caught up after all), was our second day of classes. The morning began with Kristina and I bumming it by sleeping in and then running to the university just in time to slide into empty seats in the back row before Christophe arrived. I was relieved to find out that no one else understood our assigned reading or homework, and that Christophe took time out of class to make sure que tous comprennent. Did I mention how much I like this guy yet?

Two hours of French grammar really is draining, but if I thought that was bad, two hours of French history was sheer torture. The professor talked very fast and very softly in a thick Provencal accent, slurring his words together without stopping for breath. I sat there with my eyes wide open with shock, yet glazed from exhaustion, while shooting occasional panicked glances at my peers. He would write words on the board every now and then before going off on a tangent. The subject matter jumped from angels, to the genealogy of French kings, to the revolution, to WWII, to ancient battle cries, to churches, to bell towers, to songs, and finally, to Joan of Arc. I had no idea how exactly he was tying this all together, and my throbbing head kept drifting in and out of concentration as I struggled to understand where he was headed with this subject. After the longest two hours of my life, I walked like a zombie to the cafeteria. I have a feeling I am not going to like history very much.

The food in the cafeteria was good, like the majority of food in France, and sure beats Jeff dining hall in quality and price. Our lunches were only a little over two euros, and I think I felt the most satisfied after eating here than anywhere else in France. Strange, but true.

During our two hour break, I sat outside the university with some friends while trying to soak up the sun and rest my head (too much thinking for today). While relaxing, a girl walking by heard us speaking English and immediately stopped dead in her tracks to ask where we were from. The girl’s name was Emma and she was from Caterbury, England (the setting of Chaucer’s famous tales) and had been studying at the university since September as an exchange student. She was so nice and friendly that Adam gave her his number after inviting her to the Irish pub that night on la rue de la Republique. I could see that she was glad to talk to some fellow English speakers, as was I, and she told me that she was living all by herself while trying to learn French, I knew that she was struggling with a lot of the same issues as we were. Although enthusiastic to be studying abroad, she, like us, missed her family and friends and was having trouble figuring out the French language and way of life. I was sad when we had to stop talking to her and go to our two hour literature class. Before leaving, we told her that we were all going to London one weekend in April. She gave us advice, and we agreed to get in touch. It was nice to discover someone else who felt the same way as we did. After reflecting on my own situation, it was clear that although one can feel like they are the only person feeling the way they do in the world, sometimes it just takes meeting someone else in the same boat to make you realize that you are not alone. Thinking about how she truly was alone made me realize that even though at times I may feel like only I am having second thoughts about French, I have twenty new friends by my side every step of the way. I admire her courage to come here by herself and study without a single friend to guide her. Learning to speak French 24 hours a day is hard enough with people you love by your side; I can’t imagine trying to do this alone. I am officially adopting her as my new inspiration; she is one brave soul. I hope we see her at school on Thursday.

Literature class was really interesting, and the professor is funny and nice. My only concerns are the two oral presentations we have to give, because my spoken French isn’t very good. Yet I am keeping a positive attitude by remembering that I will improve in due time. Alright, enough about classes…

One of the best things about studying abroad in France is that there is no class on Wednesdays! That means you can go out Tuesday night, which we did. The Irish pub on the main drag is a popular hangout for French college students and foreigners alike. ALL twenty of us met up and enjoyed a bit of fun and relaxation after our exhausting day. Sick of wine, I ordered some champagne, my new favorite drink. Although it was way too expensive at the price of 7.5 €, it was worth every cent. I need to stop having expensive taste before I run out of money.

At the pub, we all danced to American music (they love it here), sipped each other’s drinks, and talked with some students and amongst ourselves. Rachel and Shawna also brought along the cute Swedish boy they are living with. He was so nice and spoke not only French, but English as well. I don’t know how to pronounce or spell his name, but he was a lot of fun; I hope they bring him out more often, but if not, I at least got my picture with him.

Though the best part of the night, hands down, was when Rachel danced on top of the bar. No need to worry, I most definitely documented it. I have three photos as proof. I love France.

Tomorrow, since we don’t have class, we have an excursion to the Palais des Papes, and après ça, il faut que je fasse mes devoirs! Getting caught up feels so good… :)