An American Girl in Avignon

June 4
It WOULD be me. During my writing exam I realized that the dictionary I had purchased from the bookstore on the Rue Carnot was missing four letters of the alphabet in the English half of the “Bible.” Seriously? Dear Mademoiselle Mathis, let me explain why I avoided all words starting with “h,” “i,” “ j,” and “k.” All 26 letters on the French side were present, but if I needed to look up a word in English that started with an h, such as hometown, which I needed to use, I would just have to deal with it. I had lent Katie my other dictionary, with all of the letters of the alphabet, so I patiently waited for her to finish her exam so I could include that oh-so-important word. In addition, the dictionary I was using was a translation for British English to French.
Apparently British English is so different from American English that it is worthy of a spate dictionary. I find it amusing that in French schools they can choose if they want to learn British English or American English, as if they are two completely different languages. If this wasn’t confusing enough, they can also take Australian English! In general, most teachers focus on British English, but teach them all three accents: British, American, and Australian. I wonder if they teach Northern American, Bostonian, Brooklyn, or Southern. You see what I mean when I say that this can get complicated? I apparently speak French with a Southern American accent, according to one of our French friends who has never been to the states. :)
England is pretty darn close to France. It makes sense. But how confusing is it to discover that everything you have learned in English isn’t really “English” English? It is ENGLand, after all. I mean, I knew words like loo, biscuits, telly, and lift, but other than that, aren’t we saying the same thing? Most French people, who speak English, if they can get beyond their French accents, speak with a British one and use their vocabulary. It is adorable.
We also had to include a “le faite surpris” surprise twist in the writing we were doing (about being a student in a foreign country). I really don’t think I did this. I guess my surprise twist could be that I changed as a result of my travels…I don’t know. I still haven’t seen my grade on this exam, but I worked up until the last minute and turned all of the assignments in, so hopefully, it won’t be too frightening or shocking.
After that brain-draining, I had two hours to prep myself for some more before my Oral exam. I didn’t have any clue what to study. The professor had given us all of these random papers with different ways of speaking. That was another thing: it felt like all the French I had learned in high school or college had taught me nothing, because when I got to France, I had no idea what anyone was saying to me… That’s because they were speaking slang (much like Americans. We don’t speak like characters in literature either). They spoke the “language of talking,” or argot. In French, there are three ways of talking, all arranged by class and situation (yes, again, with the class thing. It’s a big deal I Europe. In fact, you can even tell a person’s social class by the first name they choose for their child. I wonder what Gwenth Paltrow’s child “Apple” would fall under? Hmmm? Fruit could be classy, I guess?): soutenu (classy-upper crust language), standard (what you are taught in text-books, the most widely used), and familier (conversation, language of talking, some slang), and argot (extreme slang, used among students, and the lower class). Hmmm.
The test turned out to be one of those tests that was impossible to study for. You couldn’t have prepared for this if you tried. You just had to have come to class and paid close attention to know what was being asked. Well, as I stated before, my brain was fried by this point, so again, I took up until the last minute to take the test, but I figure if you have the time, why not use all that they give you? I mean, this is what your grade is riding on. I was amazed and then concerned by how quickly the other students were finishing and couldn’t help thinking to myself, “Am I missing something here?” or am I simply just over thinking like usual? I couldn’t even think. I just analyzed, but since John and I were the only students left, Madame said she could tell that we were at least trying and even gave us the answers to some of the questions and helped us out a little J. There are some perks to staying after and talking with the professor. She by far had been one my favorites. I look back to the first day of classes when I walked in late with several other students when I couldn’t find the classroom and she had been angry. I got a bad first impression and misjudged her, thinking that she was going to be mean. But she surprised me and was awesome. She was the one willing to help Kristina and I move out of our old host families. Don’t ever go off of first impressions. I have had to learn this the hard way over and over. Maybe eventually it will sink in.
After the test, I just wanted to run out of the classroom screaming and jumping for joy! All there was left to do was two exams the next week and history class tomorrow (for which I had already done the homework the night before with Kyle and Adam ;)
Martine was mysteriously MIA that night. She said that she had to sing and didn’t return until the next morning. Sakinah, Katie, and I all think she had a secret lover she is hiding from us. Hmmm…interesting. Probably not, but we like to think so for some added excitement. I’m really surprised she hasn’t found anyone after her husband. She is nice, pretty, and successful. I don’t get men sometimes. But then again, maybe she does have someone?! Secret affairs don’t stay secret for long. It will only stay a secret if both of you are dead. Chances are someone is going to blab, or someone is going to find out…never fails.
Finalement, our water heater is fixed! No more Titanic-like conditions, holding the nozzle away from you, while dripping the stream of water over yourself for like two seconds before yanking it away! That night, I took the longest shower I had taken in all of France (sorry when you get the water bill Martine, but after a week or so of cold showers or going to strange places to use the douche, I had to bask in the glory of a warm shower a little!)
Since all the homework hype was over (for that week at least), it was party time!! I begged Adam to bring over “Across the Universe,” which he did, God bless him, so I could drool over Jim Strugess one last time while we all enjoyed some of that classy French wine and Spanish sangria I had brought back. Our low-key film fête and attempt to watch the movie turned into a “Let’s go out!”
We went to our usual Red Sky, the kebab place to visit our friends (to whom I am sending a postcard. I miss them!) Dang it, I am going to miss those Kebabs. I really don’t want to know what kebab meat is though. Someone told me it was veal and lamb mixed with some other stuff. “Mixed with some other stuff” is the part that scares me. I don’t really want or need to know. I am a falafel fan too, but at least I know what that is. I think that if they installed some kebabs in the United States they would make a killing! It’s quick, flavorful, and probably, no, not probably, IS horrible for you. Therefore, America would love it! Who wants to open one up with me and be rich? It would make a fortune in Athens! Beats Goodfella’s and Big Momma’s any day. The French know how to make late night out food that still tastes just as good anytime of day. Install some crêpe, Panini, and kebab stands in Athens, and we’re set. Give Goodfella’s a run for their money!
After a week of stress, I didn’t want to go home after all of this, so on our way back to the apartment, we walked by the Hookah Bar called Club Privée (which means private club). Thinking that they would never let us in, we just kept walking, but the owner, who happened to be by the front door, saw that we were clearly interested in coming in, so he invited us. A round of hookah for ten euro. Pourquoi pas? Now I had never done Hookah before, and I hate smoking and the idea of smoking (although I don’t mind when my friends do it, as long as it’s not inside. It’s their decision), but I was open to Hookah. Apple flavor for us, and surprisingly, I really liked it. It wasn’t until afterward that someone told me it was the equivalent of a pack or two of cigarettes. Oops. What doesn’t cause cancer nowadays?