An American Girl in Avignon

Okay, I started thinking last night about the number of things I have had or have done since I arrived in France. Here is the small list I came up with:

Number of:
Crêpes: 5
Glasses of Wine: 5…taking it slow
Glasses of Champagne: 1
Irish Coffees: 1
Croissants: 1 surprisingly
Baguettes: I lost count
Cups of Coffee/Cappuccinos/Lattes: an unhealthy amount
CDs purchased: 2, Daft Punk’s Musique Vol. 1 (1993-2005) and Eiffel’s Abricotine
(a French band I discovered)
International Phone Calls: 2 short ones home
Visits to H&M: 2
Trips to McDonald’s: 5
Supermarket visits: 6
Telephone Minute Purchases: 2
I’ve dropped my camera: 2...one time ruined my screen :(
Stepped in dog poop: 1
Almost gotten killed by a car or moped: countless
Been lost: 2 (once in Avignon, once in Paris)
Missed someone from the US: everyday
Gotten to Bed Before Midnight: 0

And it’s only April 4. Flying home the 13th of June from Paris.

April 3, 2009
Okay, since today was uneventful until this evening, here are a few observations I have made:
Time seems to go slowly here. In Paris, everyone was in a hurry. I know that this is expected in a large city, but everyone was in a “rush, rush, rush –mode” all the time. People would shove past you on subways and ask you to move to one side of the escalator or road, so they could zoom past – all while brushing against your shoulders without saying “pardon,” or “excusez-moi.” Here, in Provence, people aren’t in a hurry at all. They have hour to two hour long dinners and conversations. The region has a very laissez-faire, take it easy, stop and smell the roses, attitude. If you can’t get something done, there’s always tomorrow. I have to say I enjoy this relaxed, anti-stress attitude towards life, but part of me wonders how anyone gets anything done around here.

There was a vote yesterday regarding la grève (strike) de l’université. The strike officially ended Thursday evening, and classes will commence like normal on Monday morning. I am relieved. It is odd walking into a classroom full of piled-up desks and chairs and constantly having to change the location of classes because the assigned room is barricaded. I am glad that things seem to be progressing, and it will be interesting to see what the government decides to do about the situation.

I went to café in-between classes for a frothy iced drink at a little snack shop by the school. As soon as I walked in and opened my mouth, the owners knew I was an American. We just stick out like sore thumbs, with or without Northfaces on. They were really friendly though, and gave me advice regarding life in Avignon. It was nice to be alone and have some time to sit and think. I like this slow, serene Provencal lifestyle after all. My thoughts drifted from all the work I had to do to people back home. This was difficult. I miss people back at OU….someone in particular. The more I think about it, I think I made a huge mistake before I left, but I can’t dwell on the past. I have to strive toward what is ahead with my head held high. Nothing is over until it’s over. Although I may not understand why now, I know that France came at this time for a reason. But, I thought getting away from it all would make things easier, but I am starting to think I was wrong. It’s almost harder being thousands of miles across the sea. I guess this will get better in time.

Thankfully, the peaceful relaxation that stems of getting away to spend some time alone, after being around people for almost ten days straight, was just what I needed to clear my mind and think. As I was walking back to my house, a verse popped in my head: “Worry about nothing; instead pray about everything.” I realized that I hadn’t been doing this as much as I should. I noticed that when I started praying about things, I felt a sudden sensation of peace and calmness overcome me. I know that everything is going to be alright. Whatever happens, happens, and will work out for the best. I can’t do anything but pray and live my life the way I think is best. It’s funny how things always work out the way they are supposed to, even though you may not understand why certain things aren’t going the way you think they should at the time.

Kristina and I skipped dinner with our family tonight, since we were meeting our correspondents. We stopped at a cute café down the street for dinner and dessert: warm crêpes with that sinfully-good Nutella and bananas. The shop owners originated from Seattle and were so friendly. They even commented us on our French, which was exactly what I needed after my frustration with the language barrier.

Kyle and Adam came by to pick us up and use our internet (again) before going to the Red Sky. When we got there, Kyle’s correspondent Gilliam was waiting for him. He was such a sweetheart and was eager to get to know us all and show us a good time. Elisse arrived later, so we went searching inside the bar for our correspondents (they were arriving with their boyfriends). We found them seated in the back of the room and immediately hit it off. They all spoke English really well and were so friendly and easy to talk to. Elisse’s correspondent’s boyfriend even bought us drinks. I ordered an Irish coffee, because I am a café connoisseur, I had always wanted to try one, and it was cold outside the Place Pis. Talking with our correspondents and their boyfriends was so natural that cheesily enough, I had felt like I’d known them for years. We are meeting them next week for tea, crêpes (my new addiction), shopping, and a French movie. After they left, Elisse and I went to the bar next door, where everyone else was seated. After talking with more correspondents, it made me realize how college students in France, although different in some ways, are really the same as those in the United States. Everyone found something in common with their new French friends and it was easy to talk to all of them.

Kristina and I decided to stick around a little longer to talk more with everyone…and be amused by Brad’s antics. Oh, Brad. Probably one of my new favorite people. He never ceases to entertain. In class, he tries to say his name in French, but it comes out as, “Je m’appelle Blad.” He introduces himself to everyone in a thick French accent with a big smile on his face. It never gets old. Kristina even took a video of him talking at the bar last night. I am going to want a copy of that… :)

Although we had wanted to go to the local discotheque, we decided to go back to the house to get some sleep, because it was nearing 2:00. Maybe some other night. I have three months here after all…

Today was the third day of classes, and since I was up until three in the morning the night before finishing my journals, the consequences of procrastination, I was a bit of a mess today. The alarm did not go off, so Kristina and I woke up startled to discover that we had to be in our seats in thirty minutes. I don’t think I have ever gotten ready faster in my life. Rushing to the bathroom to dress and wash my face, I threw on some clothes without showering and tossed my hair back in a messy pony tail before running out the door. I looked like a “disast” (Sakinah’s abbreviated form of “disaster” that has been adopted as the unofficial word of our trip), so no hopes for attracting the attention of any creepy French boys today. Kind of glad about that actually…

Sliding into our seats without a second to spare, I started to feel my fatigue and lack of caffeine as soon as my back hit the chair. It was going to be a long day. Our first class was writing with a petite, gentle woman named Mademoiselle Mathis. She spoke very clearly and even taught us words to be avoided if we were worried about our pronunciation errors, such as the f-word. Unfortunately, the f-word clearly resembles the verb for “to kiss” and another word commonly used in French called le bisou (the term for the French greeting of kissing one another on the cheeks when you meet and when you part. Two kisses in Paris. Three kisses here). We have to be careful, because the mispronunciation of one letter can lead to us saying something we didn’t mean…at least she warned us, and now we all know how to tell someone to f-off in French

The class continued with us making acrostics using the letters of our name with adjectives that describe ourselves. Unfortunately, I used a word that I didn’t know, thinking that it meant I was tactile, but it really meant that I was touchy. Lovely. She understood that I made an error when we shared our adjectives with class, and laughed jokingly at my mistake. We then wrote poems about things we liked and things we didn’t like, and it was surprisingly enjoyable. Well I know one thing I do like: this class; it was such a breath of fresh hair after my mess of a morning.

Since I decided to opt out of the resistance course, I had a four hour break during which I had lunch, met with Katy to talk about my travel journal, and returned to the house to take possibly the longest, hottest, most enjoyable shower of my life.

Lunch today was probably the weirdest thing I have seen. The plat du jour was a Creole dish of rice and peppers with cooked crawdads (which were still in the shell and had their legs!!) mixed with clams. What kind of school serves this kind of stuff? If I didn’t look at the thing staring back at me, I could eat it. I tried to convince myself that it was lobster or plain old shrimp. Since I like seafood, it worked. But I just don’t like the feeling of my food staring back at me on my plate! I want my food to look like food, not the animal it came from; that is just too strange. It’s safe to say that I won’t be eating that again, and now I know why the cafeteria food is so cheap: some of it is inedible.

Our last two hour class of the day was oral production, and I definitely started the course off on the wrong foot. I arrived early, but set my books down and left to go to the bathroom and grab coffee before class. When I returned, everyone was gone! The class had been moved (without my knowledge), so Lance, Brad, Melissa, and I wandered the halls searching for the new location. I texted several people, without getting a response, since they were in class, but finally managed to arrive at the classroom with the others…thirty minutes late. The teacher was not happy at all. We apologized and explained what happened, but she didn’t seem to care. This is going to be an interesting quarter indeed. There was no syllabus for the class, and she didn’t explain what the class was about, or what we were doing. She just rambled about different types of speaking in French without explanation. People asked questions, but she didn’t answer them directly. She ended class with assigning us a partner project and a topic without telling us what we had to do. Kyle and I took “L’Interrogation” (French question words). We thought it would be easy to do a project on the different ways to ask questions in French, yet I still don’t quite know where to begin or what to do. Ahh, if only everything was in English! It’s bad enough not understanding what a professor wants in English, try figuring it out in French. It’s exhausting, but this quarter, I’m up for the challenge.

When Kristina and I returned to our host family, we found Paul at the kitchen table sipping on hot chocolate and listening to the Doors. This surprised me very much. I wouldn’t have taken him for a classic American rock fan, but the more Kristina and I got to talking with him about music interests, we realized that we had more in common than we thought. He likes the Hives, Nirvana, the Eagles, Punk, Alternative, and all sorts of other American music. Sadly, he was not a Daft Punk fan, and explained to me that the reason I couldn’t find a French version of the CD was because there wasn’t one. It turns out that when they first started out, the French producers thought their music was horrible. As a result, the group had to launch their CD in England, and therefore make their music in English for globalization purposes. I like talking to Paul; I learn something new from him every day. He has turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He even offered to go out with us one night on the town and gave us advice to which college hangouts to go to…and which ones to avoid. I am going to like having him around. The fact that he speaks English pretty well is also a huge plus J

The Morveillez have a dinner tradition. When it rains, they make crêpes. In that case, I wish it would rain more often. Dinner, although supposed to be at the usual 8:00 sharp, didn’t start until 9. I went downstairs around 8:10 to see if it was ready, but they told me, “c’est presque prête, seulement dix minutes plus.” (It’s almost ready, only ten more minutes). The French have a flair for either being right on time, or extremely late… in a fashionable je ne sais quoi manner. But dinner was worth the wait. The first course was crêpes salées, crêpes with meat and vegetables. The meal ended with red wine and two crêpes sucres, dessert crepes. I felt kind of awkward when they placed out my peanut butter to mix in the sweet crepes, and commented on the reason that they didn’t keep that and yummy things like Nutella in the house was because they are so bad for you. Their children just smiled, slapped a mound of peanut butter and honey or jelly inside their crepes, and ate up. I felt like I had violates some strict family code. Oops. I don’t think I will be bringing peanut butter inside another French home again. The parents shot darting glances at each other as their children reached for a second helping. It was as if I had brought an illegal substance into the house that would corrupt their children. I honestly felt really bad about this too, but I don’t understand how they could use the excuse that the food is really bad for you, when they have all this other “bad” food in the house. Guess peanut butter and Nutella are considered to be worse than full-fat milk, butter, lard-covered red meat , rich wine, cheese, syrupy miel (honey substance), and an endless array of pastries and desserts. Hmm, and crêpes by themselves weren’t bad enough as is? Oh well; I meant well. I just smiled and ate in silence as the children happily devoured my “evil” gift. I just hope I didn't offended the family in any way, because I didn't know how to respond to their comments. I understood where they were coming from, but I felt really awkward about the whole situation. You live, and you learn.

Kristina and I agreed with best intentions that we would be in bed by 11 tonight, but of course, this didn’t happen. Since dinner was so late, we were both up past midnight finishing our homework and journals. I am making it my personal goal to get to bed before midnight one of these days!

Tomorrow I am going to meet my French correspondent at a bar called the Red Sky at 8:45, and I am a little nervous. She is coming along with her boyfriend and other friend, who is the correspondent of Elisse, and her boyfriend. I hope that she speaks a little English, because I may end up looking like a mute mime.

Today is April Fool’s Day, or le Jour du Poisson d’Avril, which is literally translated as “the fish of April” in French. April Fools in France is vraiment un peu bizarre. For example, the “blagues” or jokes, played on people consist of secretly sticking a fish on someone’s back and then shouting, “le possion d’avril.” Kind of strange, but hey, to each, his own. I do think that it is neat how in France the newspapers and television networks participate in les blagues by posting fake, outlandish headlines and reporting bizarre happenings like UFO sightings, or GASP, a train being late (which never happens here),just for laughs. Monsieur M. told me that the media would not be participating in the jokes this year due to la grève (university strike) and the fragile state of the economy. This was my wake up call to the changing times. It’s a little scary, but I have faith that things will improve.

On a side note, I am slowly but surely starting to bond with my host family. There still is a feeling of awkwardness and distance, but this is getting better with each passing day. For example, before Kristina and I went out last night, Monsieur M. told us to be careful and have some “nice” boys walk us home for safety reasons. He then told us in a soft, serious tone that we probably wouldn’t have to worry about things like “Chicago gangsters” (where my roommate lives) while we were here. It took a lot of self control for me not to burst out in laughter after he said this. I am starting to get a glimpse of his personality, and he really is quiet funny and very kind. He will randomly start talking about things that have nothing to do with anything and then go off on a tangent about French history and customs…and talk and talk and talk and then talk some more – all without stopping for breath. It is really quite amusing. I still am trouble understanding the family’s speech, especially when we are at the dinner table and they start talking amongst themselves. Their conversation resembles the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons “Wha Wha Wha wha wha.” Complete jibberish – and all in a provencal accent! For now, I am just sticking to nodding my head, smiling, and saying simple phrases like “oui.” They probably think I am a complete idiot.

Some other quick notes or random thoughts about France/Avignon: French boys are forward to the point of obnoxiousness, but on a positive note, dress really (and I mean really) well. If you go out at night, you get cat-called around every corner. If I hear, “Vous êtes une joile fille, américaine, n’est-ce pas? » one more time, I am going to bop someone over the head with a baguette. It is so creepy, and as soon as they find out you are an American, they suddenly get really interested. I discovered this was because they think Americans are easy. Sad, but true. I don’t like that at all.

Oh, and the staring here is so weird. You know how in the United States when you catch someone staring at you, you may hold contact for like a second more, but then quickly look away. Well here, they just keep staring! There is no faux pas in openly and blatantly staring at someone. Now, I enjoy my fair share of people watching and crowd scanning, but this is to the point of uncomfort. Must be a European thing… I remember reading in our culture shock book that staring is like an open invitation, or a “come hither” here, and eye contact in public is discouraged. What am I supposed to do? Stare at the ground everywhere I go and get killed by a passing moped?! I don’t think so…it has already almost happened too many times as is.

Random thought: I got really bored the other night and decided to name my journal we are required to write in (in French). I christened him Jean-Pierre. Very French, huh?

Oh, we had an excursion this morning to the Palais de Papes. It was absolutely gorgeous. I had no idea that Avignon was such an important religious center during the Middle Ages and had such a good reputation for theatre. It is unfortunate that I have to leave this place before the grand theatre festival in July; I would have liked to have seen that. We also went to the Point d’Avignon, a bridge overlooking the Rhone, for a few photos. After our excursion and grabbing lunch on the street (baguette sandwiches and steak frites…absolute lifesavers for Americans abroad!), Kyle, Adam, and I stopped at the market before coming back to my place, so they could use the internet, of course, and take naps..lol (We were out late after all). After the internet, I went with them back to their house before our shopping adventure at H&M.

I have to say that even though they live so far away from the school, I was jealous of their “humble abode in China.” Their house was everything I imagined French homes to be. It was a cute stone cottage alongside a charming garden tucked behind the back door with a studio adjacent to the main house (where Kyle lived). The décor was classic French country: a lot of white and blue accents and crystal chandeliers in most of the rooms. It was absolutely gorgeous. Their host mom, Danielle, was amazing. I have to say that I was ready to sneak into Kyle’s studio and live there the rest of the trip after meeting and speaking with her. As Adam accurately described, “I am living with my grandmother.” She does their laundry for them, cooks, puts chocolates on their pillows, packs their lunches, fixes coffee and breakfast cakes for them in the morning, always makes sure they don’t leave the house without a jacket, and makes their beds. They are living like spoiled little grandchildren! Okay, I admit that I am a little jealous. She is so friendly and easy to talk to and understand as well. The funniest part about their living situation are the random reminders posted around their rooms with instructions saying “remember to put the seat down, gentlemen,” “wash your hands,” or “clean your hair out of the shower after you use it.” It is hysterical.

While Kyle and I waited for Adam to finish showering, Danielle, their host mom showed us the strand of dragon fly lights she bought to string across her garden’s trees. While trying to assemble the lights, she casually tossed the instructions aside, explaining that the French never read directions, they just do things. I found out later that she ended up breaking her new purchase. C’est la vie.

My next stop was shopping at H&M. We desperately needed some chic French clothes to go out on the town in, so we all went to faire un peu de shopping ensemble. I think Kyle and Adam are officially my designated shopping buddies. They are the kind of friends that encourage you to buy something, when you know you shouldn’t. They’re bad influences (in a good way), but je serai à la mode!

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… :)

Today (Monday, March 30) was the official commencement of classes at the University of Avignon. While everyone else was huffing and puffing up Jeff Hill, I was busy dodging boxy European cars on a way-too-small sidewalk in some Provencal back alley.

We were asked to arrive at the university at noon for an aperitif with our professors. Yes, I know what you are thinking, they allowed us to drink with our families and professors over fancy finger foods. This is Provence, France after all; these people drink wine like it is water. Kristina and I had some problems finding the university, sad considering that Paul (our host “brother”) had taken us on a small tour of the city the afternoon before and that we live one street over from the school. In our defense, I swear that all the streets and alleys here look identical!

Once finding the school, we were shocked to discover that there were signs for la grève (the strike) covering the gates and walls. Students were protesting in the school’s courtyard, but the French version of a protest is quite different from an American one. The French students around sat outside and listened to music as if to attempt an entertaining sit-in; heck, they even played Chris Brown. There was graffiti everywhere and signs with contrasting opinions like “save the university,” or “let the university die.” It was so bizarre and a little eerie. The “blockade” in front of the university was a parted mound of stacked desks with students sitting on the sides of the wide, direct path to the main door in-between the desks. Given that this strike has been going on for 2 months, and not a single college student in France has had class, (they probably have been visiting McDonald’s for some of that good chocolate mousse, because I always see them when we are in there) I am beginning to question the motivation of actually returning to school for these students. The strike, if I haven’t already mentioned, concerns the national policy that makes a higher education accessible to almost everyone. The issue is that the system may change to make college more expensive, like in the United States, so the students decided not to go to class as a form of protest. The strike is proving to be more problematic than effective, because absolutely nothing is being done to stop it. It’s kind of ridiculous, and I wish it would end soon, because I would like to meet some French college students. Another issue is the professor’s pay and qualifications. I felt horrible when Monsieur M. told us the reason that they kept their house at sub-zero and wanted us to conserve energy (by not taking long showers and always turning off the lights) was because they were trying to save money. I think he has been out of a job since the university went on strike on account that he was in Paris when Kristina and I arrived…and the fact that Paul mentioned something about them moving back to Paris if his dad decided to transfer to a university there. I feel so grateful that even though the family was struggling, they were kind enough to take me and Kristina into their home. I have been very blessed on this trip indeed; I need to be more appreciative. They are always willing to help, offer travel advice, and make sure we are well fed and well taken care of. The more time I spend getting to know them, the more I understand their behavior and customs. They truly are wonderful people. I am also beginning to feel more comfortable here with them and miss home a little less each day.

Our aperitif with the families and the professors was really nice. There were three kinds of wine to choose from: rose, red, and white – all from Provence, bien sûr. Although the food was excellent, aside from the weird thing they called an omlet (which was some jelly-like meatloaf concoction of vegetables and eggs that tasted like glue), I really had no clue what I was eating. The only thing I recognized that I placed in my mouth was fruit and bread; sometimes it’s better just not to know. For example, I think the dinner we ate tonight was liver and onions, but I’m not sure. Marianne, our “mom,” told Kristina and me the word for the dish in French, but of course, I couldn’t understand what she said.
Our first class was upstairs with Christophe. French 343: Grammaire avec M. Corbin. Although I had my doubts and fears, mainly out of intimidation, he turned out to be an excellent, clear, and understanding professor. I think I am going to like this class a lot since I am such a grammar nerd, but I am a little worried about the three plays we have to read. I attempted to read our 50 page assignment at one in the morning (bad idea), and I didn’t understand the context du tout. (Today (Tuesday) in class, it sounds like no one else did either.) We also had a ton of tedious homework in our grammar books. I know this course is going to be a challenge, but in a good way.

After two hours of French grammar, my head was spinning. The class offered next was about the WWII French Resistance. I am currently taking 20 credit hours this spring if one counts ML250B, which I am taking for 4 credits. The Resistance class is very advanced and lasts four hours on Monday and two on Thursday. I think I may decide to audit the course, because if I take it for actual credit, I know I will stress myself out au cause de la pressure. Plus, I would be over the maximum credit limit. Yet, I feel like in order to improve my French skills, I may need a challenging course like that to push myself. I am going to think long and hard about what to do about this class over the next few days. I may sit in on Thursday just to see.

After class, I went school supplies shopping with Kyle, Katie, and Sakinah on the main drag, and yes, we stopped at McDonalds again for more chocolate mousse and coffee (hey, it’s good and cheap, and I’m broke). I couldn’t believe how much our school supplies cost! I also bought toiletries, bottles of water, and a baguette and experienced some major sticker shock. Everything here is so expensive. I am going to have to start lining up another summer job as soon as possible to pay for all of these expenses. It’s not as if I am buying worthless things either. I didn’t buy any souvenirs in Paris aside from a scarf, a jacket (it was so cold), and two postcards. It’s amazing how these little “necessities” add up, and temptations (such as bakeries, clothing stores, souvenir shops, and cafes) are everywhere!

After returning to the house and allowing Kyle some much-needed internet time, I unpacked my stuff and got ready to go downstairs and enjoy some French TV before dinner with Paul and Claire Montine (the two teenagers). Well, the family was watching the Simpsons again, so Kristina and I laughed amongst ourselves at the different voices of the familiar characters speaking in French. We secretly got a kick out of the subtitles every time there was an English word in the scene. The French news and commercials were interesting as well. Being a journalism major, I enjoyed watching the news and listening to the radio in French. The commercials (publicites) here are very different as well; advertisements for things like orange juice are somehow sexualized…oh, those Europeans. I also noted that in between each commercial there was a short pause with an advertisement for the network flashing across the screen. I assume that they want you to be sure what network is bringing your nouvels (news).

Tomorrow is going to be interesting considering it will be filled with 6 hours of French classes…and that I haven’t done my homework and it is almost one in the morning here. Zut, alors; I have to improve my sleeping habits! Even though I am exhausted, I am definitely going out tomorrow night; I need a break. À bientôt.

Okay, so today (Sunday) was my first full day with the host family and after Paris and the stress of traveling, I was feeling quite exhausted. I was very blessed in the housing situation department in numerous areas, such as: location, internet, and roommate. My roomie, Kristina, and I spent the night getting to know each other a little better. Her French is excellent, so I feel kind of incompetent in comparison, but she is so nice and always willing to help. I think we are going to be fast friends.

But I would be lying if I said that today wasn’t hard. After sleeping in and a breakfast of some sweetened/nutty cereal (c’etaient très bons), Kristina and I settled our things into our room and I attempted to catch up on my blogs (notice I am still doing this). After a good and simple lunch and more attempts at conversation, I started feeling a little sad reading everyone’s Facebook statuses which read things like “back in Athens,” or “on my way to OU.” Although I am aware that studying abroad is an excellent opportunity that many students would kill for, a small part of me wished that my status read something similar. A part of my heart (and mind) is still there.

Feeling isolated and mentally exhausted from trying to speak French all day, I somehow mustered up the strength to call my parents for the first time since I left the US. When I first landed, I used a friend’s phone to text them that I was alive and well. I had left before getting to see my drama teacher of a mom’s production of the “Sound Of Music,” and after hearing how well it went, and the sound of my parent’s voices, I wish I could have been there. I honestly didn’t get to spend hardly any time with my parents before I left, because of all the preparation surrounding the play. I regret this very much, but I know that I will see them in June, and there are things like Skype to tide me over in the mean time.
The day ended with me feeling lost in translation, until God showed me light: I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
Feeling exhausted after another French-filled formal dinner, I looked at my phone and saw that I had a missed call from Kyle. After talking (and using all of my mobile minutes before my Orange card ran out) with a panicked and locked-out Kyle (who lives outside the walls in a place we like to refer to as “China”), things could be much worse. Apparently, he is living in an apartment-like guest house adjacent to the main building sans internet or TV, yet he has a fridge and a full bathroom…and microwave…of all things. I like to refer to his isolated abode as “Alcatraz.” Since he doesn’t have a key to the house, he has to call Adam, who has a room inside la maison, for dinner or anything else he made need. Frustrated and wanting to say “forget French” and hop on that plane and go home, I encouraged him to stay; today was rough, but things can only get better. It’s funny how sometimes we can’t take our own advice, until we tell it to someone else.

After I told him this, I realized something. Three months is only a drop in the bucket in the span of our college education… and lives. We have been given this excellent opportunity as freshman and should remember that all of those people back in Athens (as well as future spring quarters) will be there when we get back. This is an once-in-a-lifetime chance to learn from the French way of life while improving our language skills and living in a beautiful medieval city smack dab in the middle of Provence. I know God brought me here at this time for a reason. It may take some time to figure out why, but I know His timing is always perfect.
I felt better after parlez-ing, there’s that frang-lais again, with a fellow struggling student. But, in order to alleviate his internet withdrawal, Kyle has been visiting chez moi et Kristina to use the net…he is actually coming over right now. Haha. More later about my first day of classes…

Today I woke up after another poor night of sleep. My mind seems to be drifting to other people and places. Not to mention I have had some of the oddest dreams since being here. Perhaps it was the dinner last night or the jet lag. Or maybe, my heart is elsewhere. Je ne sais pas.
The breakfast this morning was excellent. Rachel and I (you must have figured out that we don’t sleep by now) rose early to enjoy notre petit dejeuner ensemble. The breakfast at this hotel had many more choices… fruit, yogurt, and even GASP…cereal! The coffee was excellent too. The Donkey fans (aka: caffeine addicts), Rachel, Kelby, and I, had three cups of that good old European coffee. Today was going to be a good/long day indeed.

Katie, Christophe, and our adorable correspondent, Jenny, met us in the lobby that morning after we packed and stored our luggage for a tour of Avignon inside the walls. The historic part of Avignon is walled-in, and thankfully, my host family lives inside the walls, which is close to the university.
Our short walking tour ended up being an entire afternoon of wandering around in the cold, but luckily we took many breaks and stops along the road. Our first stop was at an old church near the Place Pis, a commercial center full of boutiques, patisseries, cafes, et restaurants. The shopping here is excellent, but that’s a dangerous thing. H&M is conveniently located on the way to the main sights along with other various shops full of cute things just waiting to be bought. I am going to be so broke come June.
After that, we went to the top of the Palais des Papes, where we will take a tour on Wednesday. The view of Avignon was breathtaking and one could really get an idea of the size, age, and architecture of the city. I want to return to this overlook over the point of Avignon when the weather is nice and have a picnic with some friends. If someone was looking for a romantic date-place, this was it.

We thankfully were allowed a break after this, so Katy and Christophe made a trip to the Orange store to fix my cell while we students went to find a bite to eat on the commercialized main-drag called la Rue de la Republique. After looking around, we went to the Avignon art museum to view a deceased aristocrat’s collection of paintings. The man had quite a variety of artwork with pieces varying from dishes from the Orient to sketches by Degas and Van Gough.

After this, Rachel and I went to H&M to buy some necessities. Sick of looking like a walking American flag, I was eager to trade in my Northface, although I love it, for a simple, light gray jacket. I also bought a white scarf to go with my ensemble, because I love scarves and everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) in Europe sports scarves. My final purchases were a black umbrella (I sadly lost mine in the store! Pathetic, I know) and socks…because I forgot them.

After shopping we went to the only place where you can get coffee to go in Europe…McDonalds. “To-go” cups do not exist in France, and the word for “to go” is surprisingly not pour aller either, it’s en porter…I learned this the hard way after some man just stared at me when I tried to get my cappuccino to go. Sadly, we have been to Mickey D’s three times since being in Avignon, and we have been here three days. Hey, they have coffee to go… and chocolate mousse! Why is it that even the food at McDonald’s is better here?

Running back in the rain, assuring that we would all look terrible when we met our host families, we made it to the hotel just in time to be greeted by out host moms. I was caught off-guard when Katy called out my name to meet mine. A dark-haired woman with round glasses and a warm smile wisked Kristina and my bags away as we walked to her SAAB in the rain. Meeting the “mom” in the family I would live with for the next three months was an interesting experience indeed. She immediately started correcting my grammar… and there were a lot of awkward silences, because I didn’t know what to say to her. Well, let me take that back. I had many things I wanted to say to her and ask, but I didn’t know how. We pulled into a back alley parking garage near the university and parked the car. The awkward silence continued as Kristina and I shot glances back and forth, having no idea what to say to this woman who was kindly taking us into her home.

I am living in Avignon with the Morvilliez. The parents are both professors at the university, one of history and literature, the other I couldn’t tell you if my life depended on it, because I have no idea what she told me. Je ne comprends pas du tout. It’s frustrating because I struggled to hear every word that this woman was telling me, but my head hurt from all of the French I had been speaking over the past few days. The family has a boy named Paul, who is 18 and in his last year of French “high school.” He greeted me at the door and kindly took my bags upstairs. He reminds me of a taller, skinner version of Harry Potter in some way…I hope that’s not mean to say, but that’s what I think. The girl is 13, and her name is Claire-Montine. She is cute, but very quiet. Part of me thinks that she thinks I am a total idiot, because my French is horrible and I am constantly stumbling over my words and being corrected on grammar mistakes even a 5 year-old French speaker wouldn’t make. I think we are starting to connect a little over our taste in danceable techno music though, so we’ll see…

The house was far different than I expected. Our room has a balcony overlooking a petit jardin filled with various plants. It’s very pretty, and our room is very nice too. The room is blue, and is ironically around the same shade of blue as my room back home, so it made me a little homesick. The décor of the house is mis-matched in a French-nouveau style with an air of thrown-together sophistication. Must be the laissez-faire French attitude coming out in a subtle way. Kristina and I have a room equipped with the internet (thank God) and a bathroom with a shower that gets water all over the floor when we use it. I am thankful we have a shower and sink at all, but sadly, we have to go downstairs to use the toilet. It’s inconvenient, but I am grateful for such a nice room. The first thing I noticed about the house was how cold it was inside. It’s like French people don’t use heat. Kristina and I have to wear our Northfaces downstairs to keep from freezing to death. So, to alleviate the cold, we turn up the heat very high in our room to balance out the shock to our system.

After attempting to unpack and settle in, which felt so nice after those travel days in Paris, we went downstairs to have dinner at 8 sharp. That’s the only rule in this house: dinner is always at 8, and if you aren’t going to make it, just let her know, which is nice. I think I lucked out by getting such a kind host family.

Our mom is a really good cook. Our first night she made us some yummy pasta with bread and salad. For dessert we ate yogurt…plain yogurt…but the taste was improved with a thick, syrupy honey-like substance that I would like to find and buy when I return to the US. It was so good!
The only thing I don’t like is that our mom smokes, and they told us she didn’t. Thankfully, she only does this after dinner and lunch…but unfortunately in the house. The family also has a smelly guinea pig that lives right by the dinner table, so we can inhale the smell of stinky rodent cage while we eat. But if these are the only problems, then I really have nothing to complain about.

Dinner ended awkwardly because we didn’t know what to do with ourselves, but the conversation flowed better than expected. Sleeping was difficult again that night, but I hope this will improve in time. More catch up coming soon…I promise I will get to the actual day it is soon!

So my last day in Paris was short and sweet. Rachel and I, the insomniacs, woke up early to pack and go exploring in our quarter. Not wanting to eat the pitiful breakfast offered by the hostel, we found a Jewish, yes I said Jewish, bakery in town where we bought croissants…and witnessed our first fight in French! I didn’t catch the entire conversation, but I got the jist. Basically, someone owed someone money, and they were not happy about it (and felt the need to let the entire shop know). We split quickly with downcast eyes. We next visited an expensive fruit stand and our favorite café au lait place (again) for sentimental reasons. Returning to the hostel was nice, because we discovered that we had more time than we thought, so we piddled around en ville before going to buy our tickets (entirely in French, if I may add). Not wanting to tote my ridiculous amount of luggage around the metro, Adam, Katie, and I decided to take a taxi to the train station (and it was only 5 euro…which we split three-ways!). Unquestionably the best money I spent in Paris!
At the train station, we learned that all of our tickets were split, except for mine and Adam’s. Must have been my lucky day, because my luggage was big and heavy. We watched Euro-trip, listened to music, and talked the whole way there while enjoying the French countryside.
The weather in Avignon was gorgeous. It is much warmer and sunnier here than in Paris, but there is this killer wind called the Mistral that will nip you if you don’t have a jacket on.
We arrived at our hotel, still jet-lagged, (well, train-lagged) and settled in. Kyle and I went exploring to find a converter and an internet café (I was feeling isolated) without any success, but at least we familiarized ourselves with the city.
The sidewalks here are ridiculously small. It is impossible to walk alongside a friend without getting side-swiped by a passing bike, moped, or car. The town, although beautiful, has a few graffiti-covered rough areas that we were instructed to avoid. There is also the occasional pile of dog poop that one has to dodge while walking on the street. I wish the whole obligatory pick-up--your-pooch’s-poop rule was in effect in France.
We rested before our meeting with Katy and Christophe, where they gave us the 411 on our classes in Avignon. I didn’t feel scared or nervous until this point. I am not that confident in my French abilities yet, but I am trying to think positively in the fact that the reason I am here is to improve…
Our dinner that night was with the entire group of students participating in the program. I believe that they are twenty of us. The five freshmen: me, Sakinah, Kyle, Adam, and Rachel stick together, while the older sophomores and juniors have their own groups. These “clique” walls are quickly breaking down though as we all share the same experiences together, which in my opinion, is a good thing. One can benefit and learn new things by expanding their circle of friends.
The restaurant’s dinner was excellent, but so long! Three hours to be exact. The evening commenced with an appetizer of nuts and excellent red wine. After that there was a salad with some strange hummus-like concoction on top (which was nasty, but we were all starved by this point, so we ate it anyway…the French eat dinner so late!). The choice of entrees was long and complicated, so I decided to be safe and try the fish. To my surprise, my dinner was stringed zucchini with some cheesy-sauce like puree with sword fish mixed inside. It was so weird, but good, nonetheless. The sides were potatoes, one carrot, and a head of broccoli. Odd indeed. Thank goodness the dessert was big! The rich, chocolate slap of yumminess was accompanied by a vanilla crème sauce and whipped crème. Needless to say, I slept very well that night with my full stomach.
Tomorrow, Kristina (my roomie for the quarter) and I meet our host family! I am feeling a little nervous now; I am going to be living with these people for three months after all. More later…

Thursday (Our last full day in Paris)
So, today was sadly our last day in Paris. In order to make the most of it, Rachel and I decided to fulfill our Phantom of the Opera fantasies by visiting the infamous Paris Opera House, the place where the legend originated, the book was based, and the movie was filmed. While the others caught up on sleep, we took the metro to the other side of town in the pouring rain, but man, was bearing the freezing cold worth it!
The Opera House was gorgeous. Halls filled with chandeliers dripping in gold and ceilings painted with artists’ masterpieces were located throughout. Our entrance cost of four euros was a small fee to pay, in my opinion, for our chat with the cute boy behind the desk whom we conveniently made up questions to ask…three times. The first thing we saw was the massive staircase from the movie, and being the nerd that I am, I immediately began humming the tune “Mascarade” under my breath. The theatre itself was chilling and a glance at the massive chandelier reminded me of the haunting music that the musical starts with as the chandelier swings overhead. Sadly, the basement was closed to the public, so no such luck with any phantom or moat sightings, but rumor has it that he and the moat are still there.
While waiting for the sleepy heads, we made our way to the Louvre to do some shopping and grab some coffee. We stepped into a swanky café for a single cup of joe, but were instead bombarded with an overly-friendly French waiter shoving the daily specials in our face. Just looking at the fancy décor, we knew we had stepped into a place way out of our price range. Feeling obligated to order something, we asked for the cheapest thing on the menu: coffee and yogurt. Pitiful yes, but beggars can’t be choosy. Our bill came to around 22 bucks for just that. I learned quickly that when in Paris, you will be broke and starve.
After our embarrassing and awkward time at the café (we were stared at by all the men at the bar), we left to do some browsing. Meandering around the Louvre led us into a couture gown shop where we met the designer to the stars...Zelia. Her business card reads “Créatrice de Robes de Rêve” which in English means “Creator of Dream Dresses.” This description is in no way an exaggeration. Her dresses were some of the most creative gowns I have ever seen. Each dress was thrown together in such a way that makes one think “How did you come up with that?!” She matches up fabrics and colors that one would think would never work, and yet, they do…quite well actually. She even let Rachel and I try on some of her dress capes (which were more expensive than our plane tickets…both ways). She told us how she went from being a poor country bumpkin to being an in-demand designer who parties with people like Bruce Willis. Her story was inspiring, and she told me if I wanted to be an international reporter, I should chase after my dreams and not let anything (including lack of confidence…especially with things like French) get in my way. I needed to hear that.
After that we met up with the others to go to the Louvre (and mange du chocolat sur la quene). Honestly, the only thing I wanted to see at the Louvre was the Mona Lisa; I really wanted to go to the Musée d’Orsay and see paintings by the Impressionist artists like Toulouse Lautrec, Monet, Renoir, Van Gough, and my favorite…Degas. After seeing the infamous Mona Lisa, which was tiny and behind glass, Kyle, Sakinah, and I ditched to go to the Orsay. We got off by the St. Germain and headed to the museum to see the impressionst art and sculptures by Rodin. This museum was so cool, and I wish we could have spent more time there, but it late…and it was closing.
That evening we left to go to Montmartre (yes, the shady area of Paris famous for prostitutes and the Moulin Rouge) to climb the billion stairs to the Sacre Coeur (we didn’t want to pay the fee for the lift because we are broke college students), but the climb was worth the beautiful view of Paris. We then went to Moulin Rouge (just to look) and were shocked by the amount of sex shops around! Up and down the street (I kid you not), there was nothing but restaurants, bars, peep shows, and sex shops. It was a little ridiculous and creepy. Needless to say, we left pretty quickly.
That night we returned to the Scottish pub one last time for some of that bon vin francais and were told the name of a competing rival Irish pub next to the discotheque we were going to that night. The bar owner told us to go up to the “rival” (all out of fun)Irish bar owner, Dave, and give him the finger from the Scottish bar for shots on the house. Well, we did it…and were rewarded for our efforts.
The discotheque near the Bastille was amazing. The DJ played American music, and a constant stream of smoke, neon lights, and flashing strobes added to the atmosphere. The bartenders even banged the covers of the hanging lamps over the bar like drum symbols for entertainment.
Although we wished we could have stayed longer, the metros closed at one, so we had to book it before they closed. Well, we were too late, and ended up getting lost several times on our way back. Remember that it was around 1:30 or 2 in the morning, and we weren’t in the best part of town. After wandering around for what seemed like hours, we found our hotel only to discover that we were locked out. This was bad. Thank God Adam was strong enough to break in, otherwise we would have slept on the street that night with the other bums who lived over the vents next to our hostel.
But the night didn’t end there. Sakinah insisted on brushing Kyle’s hair, so in order to save him some pain, I offered to let her French braid mine. I ended up getting my hair half yanked out of my head and looking like an electrocuted version of Pippy longstocking. Man, I love that girl though; there’s never a lack of entertainment when she is around.
Remembering that we had to get up and buy tickets for the train to Avignon the next morning, we all decided to attempt to go to bed that night (attempt being the key word). Ah, that next day was exhausting indeed.

Here’s some culture shock:
Okay, so one of the first things I noticed about Europe was how the people dress. It’s so chic. Especially the boys here. It’s like endless eye candy with the overload of metros in sweaters and scarves. I feel like everywhere I turn I am looking at the cover of GQ. I’m not going to lie, it’s kinda nice. The “scenery” never gets old…
The way of dress and the way of life over here is so inspiring and fascinating, or as Sakinah would say, “c’est chouette!” That’s just one of our many phrases we have adapted for this trip along with my favorites,”Qu’est-ce que f***?!” “Qu’est-ce que f***” is an example of one of the many words part of a language I like to call frang-lais. It’s a mix of English (the French word is anglais) and French (francais). I apologize if I bust out in some random streams of frang-lais on this blog, because all of this French is getting to my brain très vite (I mean, very quickly). See what I mean.
Another thing I noticed, no one stops for you in the street. Kyle, Sakinah, and I have almost gotten murdered by leather-jacket sporting moped riders. Also, some sidewalks may actually be streets. We learned this the hard way when Kyle was almost pancaked by a bus in the “sidewalk” by our hostel.
Breakfast here is just sad. It’s a piece of crusty bread or a croissant with café au lait and jam and butter. I am starving like 20 minutes later. I miss Cheerios…
There are also masses pigeons everywhere here, and since Sakinah is deathly afraid of the things, it makes walking places always entertaining.
As for bathrooms, the showerheads have to be held with one hand, so you can wash with the other, the toilet paper is pink, and the “flusher” is either on top of the commode or on the wall and has to be pushed in. Europe is truly a foreign country!! Sorry, enough about culture shock, and more about my second day…
So we attempted to buy SIM cards at the French Orange store for our cells today, and of course, mine doesn’t work. Just my luck. Thankfully, I had Rachel with me, whose French is outstanding, to help me figure out what to say to the store owner. But the others got their foreign phones working and started texting away…I can’t wait to get mine. I feel so disconnected without the internet of the phone. Sad, but true.
After some café au lait (I was in dire need of caffeine) at our decided favorite local joint after being there for two days, Rachel and I went to a French department store to buy a hair straighter that would work in the European outlets (her converter fried hers). The department store had everything one could ever think of under one roof. I’d like to go back there on my return trip to Paris in April.
Today, instead of trying to walk to the Eiffel Tower and the Champs-Elysees (because that failed), we decided to buy day passes for the metro and get around that way. It was honestly the best decisions we made in Paris. Going places and doing things suddenly became so much easier! Bonne idée!
We walked on the Champs-Elysees while humming the infamous tune and stopped in Louis Vuitton on the way to l’arc de triomphe (where we drooled over clothes that only 4 years worth of OU tuition could buy). After seeing the infamous arc, we stopped at a French fast food restaurant called Quick, and it was excellent! So cheap, and so good! Honestly, the best fast food I think I have ever had. What is it that the French put in their food to make it soo good? C’est un mystère à moi!
After that I wanted to stop in Virgin records and buy the Daft Punk record in French…they are French after all!! No such luck with the cd, but we stumbled upon a free concert. A free METRO STATION concert!!! Who would have thought that we would be in Paris at the same time and place as them? Life is funny like that. It’s full of surprises.
Since Kyle lost his ticket for the metro, we went to another station to replace it before going to the top of the Eiffel Tower…make that walking. We paid to walk the first two levels because it was cheaper and quicker. I think we made the right choice, but man, those 668 steep steps up were killer! My legs hurt for two days after that, and it was cold and windy, but hey, we can say we walked it now!
The view from above was breathtaking, and Adam had several goals for the summit. Since he wanted to light a cigarette at the top (just because he could), he and Rachel pulled out a pack of Black cloves and lit up on Paris’s most famous monument. We also all had the goal of kissing someone on top of the tower, and since Kyle stayed on the second level with Katie, Adam was the only boy getting pecks from us girls in the city of love. Haha…I know, we are ridiculous.
By the time we reached the bottom, the tour was lit up and was absolutely beautiful. After all that walking, we were starving, so we bought chocolate and banana crepes to ease our hungers pains. Man, were they good too!
Funny story: while Rachel and I were using the bathroom, Sakinah was talking to Adam about how hot some foreign guy she was sitting on a bench next to was, thinking he didn’t speak English. She wanted to crawl under a hole when we asked him to take a photo for us in French, and he replied he spoke English in a perfect American accent. Ooops.
After that embarrassing moment, we all decided to try the Scottish pub by our hotel. Hey, we’re legal. The server asks us if we are 18 before ordering, and we all reply yes. (he didn’t even ID us). I ordered some vin (wine) rosé and enjoyed the pleasures of French wine. But since I don’t drink in the US, it was probably too strong to start out with. I enjoyed the white one much better, but the rosé was still good.
The quaint bar was so cozy, and the bartenders and owners even started talking to us. They gave us advice, and we got macadamia flavored vodka shots on the house. After talking some more with them (and finding out important information such as which discotheque we should go to our last night in Paris), we returned to the hotel to rest up for the day ahead. It was very, very late, but Sakinah was not tired at all…and having a little too much fun. She insisted on brushing Kyle’s hair, but in order to save him from some misery (haha), I offered to let her French braid mine. Let’s just say I had the most interesting French braids I have ever seen. I hope Katie still has that picture.
Oh, I love France! More attempts at catch up tomorrow…I have my first day of classes tomorrow in France. Pray for me. Il faut que je dorme maintenant. À demain !

Sorry this took like a year and a half to update, but I just got internet yesterday…here’s my attempt at some serious catch-up:

Driving to the airport with my grandparents was interesting indeed. I begged to go to Chipotle one last time. Since I knew I would be suffering Chipotle withdraw for 3 months, I had it for lunch three times before I left. One day for each month I would be gone, of course. I swear there is something addictive in that cilantro-covered rice…craving some right now actually…

Miraculously, I had managed to stuff my luggage full of everything I thought I would need, and inevitably, I forgot stuff. Thank God for H&M. My grandparents argued for thirty minutes while trying to find a parking spot, but I was too busy to notice their conversation because I was using my last US cell phone time texting Adam, who was anxiously waiting to hop on that plane behind the security checkpoint. We rolled into a spot, checked in, and said our good byes…I thought my grandma was going to cry. I’m glad she didn’t; I would have been sad during the flight. Surprisingly, I felt sort of numb throughout my entire travel experience. I felt no fear at all. It was strange. As if the fact I was going to be living in France for three months hadn’t really settled in yet. I did feel one emotion though: anxiousness. I was ready to hop on that plane and GO! Finding Adam was a huge relief. I was so happy to be traveling with people I knew. I don’t know if I could have felt as calm as I did about leaving the country without a strong (and very entertaining) support group by my side.
I
got a panic text a few minutes from Sakinah behind the gate saying that her bag was 9 pounds over. Frantically stuffing 10 pounds worth of shoes and scarves to a second checked bag was her quick solution. Don’t ask me how I managed to only have one checked bag weighing only 42 lbs, three pairs of shoes, one purse, one carryon, and one laptop bag. It’s pretty much a modern miracle.

After meeting up with our other friends Melissa and Katie at the gate, we did a miniature version of musical airplane seats. I switched with Sakinah to get the back of the plane to myself while she sat next to Adam for her first flight. Waiting behind the gate, I received several hilarious texts from Kyle saying things like, “My plane is here. Yay.” “At the gate.” “Waiting” “Staring out the window right now” “Boarding now.” “I am so nervous. I am going to die.” He cracks me up. He was flying out of Cleveland and meeting us in Philly…to fly to Paris!
The flight to Philly was short and sweet (side note: the Philly airport is sweet too). After landing, we ran (literally) to find Kyle at the gate and get something to eat. Airplane food just wasn’t going cut it. After my last bit of Chinese I would have until June (ahh, I am going to miss Jeff’s
Wok Bar), we boarded the plane for a 6.5 hour flight across the Atlantic.

At the gate, it was obvious who was American and who was European. The Americans were obnoxiously loud and dressed in head-to-toe sweats and American Eagle (in other words, like us). The Europeans were attractive to the point of intimidation. They almost seemed to be from another time and world (especially the males, but we’ll get to that later) and were dressed to the hilt. I heard bits and pieces of French being mumbled around me as I struggled to eavesdrop on various conversations without much success. The French speak very fast and very soft. They have that sort of sophisticated air about them. They slur their words together perfect, as If to say “that was easy” after finishing a triathlon. And the cherry on top is that they manage to parle comme ça avec a sexy accent. They certainly have the je ne sais quoi.

The flight was uncomfortable, like most long ones, but thankfully, I was seated next to some of my favorite people (Kyle, Sakinah, and Adam) and in front of my other favorite people (Melissa and Katie). I took a sleeping pill from Melissa, and surprise, surprise, I didn’t sleep at all! The same exact thing happened on my flight to China actually. Those things must not be strong enough for me. I struggled to get my neck in a comfortable position, but it was impossible, so I resorted to sitting back, closing my eyes, and cranking up my ipod. I am so glad they had Toy Story for entertainment. You’ve got a friend in me…so good!
More later…