This morning around 4 am, I awoke to a feeling strangely reminiscent of the feeling I had at the train station. Parched pie hole. So I stumbled through the dark, found my water bottle, and finished it off. I passed back out and woke up literally two minutes before my alarm sounded. So I turned on the lamp next to my bed and basked in the wonderful dreamland warmth in which I was enveloped, and then slid out of bed and dressed as quickly as humanly possible.
Then, I applied my prettier face and joined the family for breakfast. Toast with an array of jam choices, butter, and cheeses. (Also, anytime that I mention a meal in these blogs, assume that there is a baguette handy. Fresh baguette is a staple here.) I had fig jam on my toast-AMAZING, loose leaf green tea infusion-ALSO AMAZING, and baguette with fresh goat cheese-RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING. Food here, seriously, is reason alone to move to France.
We hustled out the door after brushing our teeth, dropped off their son at school, and the parents drove me to the university. Side note, while driving, I realized that nothing (stores/restaurants) was open. I inquired as to why, and my host parents explained that everything opens and closes at the same time so to allow small business to compete with big business.
The government sets the hours and they open at either 9 or 10. I found it interesting and advantageous, considering nothing can monopolize that way. End side note. I found my friends from UNT and received my packet of information and student ID card and then checked-in. While doing said action, I realized that my last name had been misspelled. Instead of my actual last name, they spelled out MONTAGNE, mountain in French. She said it would be changed and I just laughed.
We received a warm welcome from the head of the department and went on a campus tour. The campus in Caen is across the street from the castle that used to belong to William the Conquerer. We climbed the steps in the frigid wind and listened to the story of the castle and why the university's mascot is a phoenix. During WWII, the university had been completely destroyed and so, naturally the rebuilding was embodied by the phoenix who rises from her ashes.
After the tour, we were free to go, so a group of us hopped on a tram to downtown. We walked and window-shopped while looking for a place to eat. We came upon a pizza place and ordered. Pizza in France is NOT like American pizza. Bruschetta bread + real tomato sauce + four French cheeses = happy, happy tongue.
While exploring some more, someone brought up taking a shower with a hand-held shower head and all of us agreed, and then were surprised at the same time. I thought it was only my new house because, my host mom gave me a funny, rolled-her-eyes look while she was explaining it to me. It seemed uncommon to her, but perhaps that is normal in Caen?
Another commonality between all of us is that we are all sore. Entire body kind of sore, from the plane, carrying the bags, many factors I'm guessing. I feel like I had a wrestling match with The Hulk and he folded me up like a pretzel.
Other random things that are provoking my culture shock:
1.) There are only white lines on the road, no yellow, and there are MANY more yield signs than stop signs, which yields excessively aggressive drivers and lead feet.
2.) Plugs, light switches, and heaters are totally different. No central heat, just radiators per room, even at the school.
3.) Hosts wait on their guests ALL of the time.
Anyway, day 1 was a complete success, and my host parents are supposed to take me to the open market in town tomorrow where, ironically, a guillotine used to call home and beheaded people. SO, so jet-lagged, time for dreams.
OH, we had ratatouille and rice with natural, unbleached sea salt from Bretagne tonight. C'est très bon!
Bonne nuit
Then, I applied my prettier face and joined the family for breakfast. Toast with an array of jam choices, butter, and cheeses. (Also, anytime that I mention a meal in these blogs, assume that there is a baguette handy. Fresh baguette is a staple here.) I had fig jam on my toast-AMAZING, loose leaf green tea infusion-ALSO AMAZING, and baguette with fresh goat cheese-RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING. Food here, seriously, is reason alone to move to France.
We hustled out the door after brushing our teeth, dropped off their son at school, and the parents drove me to the university. Side note, while driving, I realized that nothing (stores/restaurants) was open. I inquired as to why, and my host parents explained that everything opens and closes at the same time so to allow small business to compete with big business.
The government sets the hours and they open at either 9 or 10. I found it interesting and advantageous, considering nothing can monopolize that way. End side note. I found my friends from UNT and received my packet of information and student ID card and then checked-in. While doing said action, I realized that my last name had been misspelled. Instead of my actual last name, they spelled out MONTAGNE, mountain in French. She said it would be changed and I just laughed.
We received a warm welcome from the head of the department and went on a campus tour. The campus in Caen is across the street from the castle that used to belong to William the Conquerer. We climbed the steps in the frigid wind and listened to the story of the castle and why the university's mascot is a phoenix. During WWII, the university had been completely destroyed and so, naturally the rebuilding was embodied by the phoenix who rises from her ashes.
While exploring some more, someone brought up taking a shower with a hand-held shower head and all of us agreed, and then were surprised at the same time. I thought it was only my new house because, my host mom gave me a funny, rolled-her-eyes look while she was explaining it to me. It seemed uncommon to her, but perhaps that is normal in Caen?
Another commonality between all of us is that we are all sore. Entire body kind of sore, from the plane, carrying the bags, many factors I'm guessing. I feel like I had a wrestling match with The Hulk and he folded me up like a pretzel.
Other random things that are provoking my culture shock:
1.) There are only white lines on the road, no yellow, and there are MANY more yield signs than stop signs, which yields excessively aggressive drivers and lead feet.
2.) Plugs, light switches, and heaters are totally different. No central heat, just radiators per room, even at the school.
3.) Hosts wait on their guests ALL of the time.
Anyway, day 1 was a complete success, and my host parents are supposed to take me to the open market in town tomorrow where, ironically, a guillotine used to call home and beheaded people. SO, so jet-lagged, time for dreams.
OH, we had ratatouille and rice with natural, unbleached sea salt from Bretagne tonight. C'est très bon!
Bonne nuit
Since we're both part Cherokee, can I start calling you Ashley "Little Mountain"? Ou Ashley "petit montagne" si tu préfère.
ReplyDeleteThe food sounds amazing! You and I have a lot of cooking to do when you get back, Missy. The pictures are beautiful, of course! Is it uncomfortable being waited on all the time? I hope it starts to feel like a family and you get some independence in the house. Please post pictures of your room! It looked precious from our Skype chat. The wall paper was très très joli(e)!