Tea with the Mad Hatter

Okay, so this post has nothing to do with tea, except that I am drinking some now. It does, however, have something to do with several connotations of the word mad. Yesterday morning, I awoke feeling a bit homesick, which was not helped by a heartfelt message from my roomie. My host dad and brother were already gone for the day, so I made myself breakfast and wrote a ridiculously sappy and unpleasant message back to her.

Things were beginning to feel more settled, and with class yesterday afternoon and then a chest X-ray today, everything seemed to be slowing down. Of course, while trekking through life, or at least my life, things seem to settle and then something exciting happens. When I say something exciting, I mean that I sprout wings of happiness or the bottom of my comfort and settlement drops out from under me.

First of all, on another observatory note, the Chinese students who are in my class either miss or don't understand obvious cognates in our reading and listening exercises. Panorama, excité, etc. are words for which any native English speaker thanks God, considering we know or can figure out what they mean (some are false cognates though, which makes them disadvantages). Regardless, when the only male in our class asked our 50-60ish year old professor what séduction meant, it was terribly difficult not to laugh.

After class, which drug on for far too long, since it was sunny for the first time since my arrival yesterday, a British girl from my class and I were walking to the tram station to go home. While standing there, a man let us know that the trams had stopped working. Wonderful. We continued walking down to the bus station in centre-ville to get home. While figuring out which bus I would need, a woman walked up to us and told us that the buses weren't working either. Ugh.

She said she needed to wait for her other half to get off of work, so that he could pick her up, and then offered me a ride with them. Agreeing, we went to the same boulangerie where my host dad had taken me last weekend. We had hot chocolate and I bought a box of macarons this time (naughty I know). She explained her story, saying that she is originally English and her husband is French, and that she is taking these classes to learn French well enough to work over here, unlike me, who is here to transfer credit back to a university.

While we had been walking to Paul's (the boulangerie) a young man had heard us speaking English and French and walked up to us, trying to say that he learned English while living here and there, and asked where we were from. I wouldn't have been surprised if he were drunk. My friend told him that we were Americans and that we were from Texas. With her accent, I giggled at the comment, but he kept being persistent. Luckily, we rounded a corner and some other friends from the university were standing there, with their help we finally lost the guy.

While telling me stories at the boulangerie, she told me to tell men who ask where I am from that I am from Poland.
"I don't have a Polish accent."
"I don't have a Texan accent and he believed me."

I asked her why Poland, and she said that majority of people here don't know anything about Poland, so they give up trying to have a conversation. If you say that you're American, they try to talk about music and movies. Filing this important information away, she continued to ask questions about my journey and my other half.

While discussing Paris, I told her that I want to go with a French person, or someone who actually lives in France, (preferably my host family) because I don't want to get lost, for one, but I just need someone who is comfortable with that city to go with me. She said that she would do the same in my place, because the last time she went to Paris, she, her man, and three other men were on an underground car, and she was chattering away about something. All of a sudden, her husband moved her to the other car.

 She began complaining that he wasn't listening to her and trailed off as they saw one of the men, pull a knife on the other one and stab him! She held ferociously tight to her husband, who was wanting to help, because she was afraid he'd end up on the wrong end of the blade too. The third man in the car was apparently very large and broke up the fight. 

Inside the Castle Grounds

When the underground came to a stop, the attacker grabbed the knife and ran out of the car. She asked her man how he knew that would happen, and he said that he was listening to their conversation, and that it was growing unsettling with racial slurs and other foul language, so he figured they needed to move. After that story, I REALLY don't want to go without my host family or my fiancé (who pretty much always acts as my body guard, hehe).  

We finished eating and sipping, and she asked if I liked shopping. Ha! Do I like shopping? What a question. Coincidently she enjoys it too, so we explored the part of centre-ville that is lined with French and German boutiques. Heads up for all of my fashionistas out there, Etam, Pimkie, and Camaieu are all awesome European shops. 

Galeries Lafayette is a French department store that is also quite chic. So we wander around, looking for a bag for me (I stand out like a red scarf carrying a backpack around). We don't shop for very long, before her husband was able to pick us up. They dropped me off and made plans to continue shopping today, because I was not successful in finding a bag, nor was she successful in finding a new jumper (sweater). 

Walking into the house, my host dad told me that someone had started a fight with a tram worker, who was fining people for not having tickets, so the tram workers are now on strike. Figures, when today I had to be at the school at 10:00 for my X-ray. We had dinner, it was amazing as usual. I had a leek for the first time, with carrots, chicken, and rice in a butter and creme sauce. 

Upon rising quite early this morning, I ate breakfast and my host dad drew me a map, so that I could walk to school. (We don't know when the trams will be up and running again, my feet are going to be SO angry with me this weekend.) So I finished getting ready, and left with about an hour and ten minutes to get there. I began the walk in the wrong direction. 

Out of habit, I turned to go to the tram station, and didn't realize that I had incurred a 20 minute detour on myself. When I finally arrived at the correct starting point, it took me a total of 50 minutes to walk there. So a hop, skip, a couple bridges and turn-abouts later, I saw the castle and the point of St. Pierre. Insert sigh of relief!

I cut through the castle on the pedestrian paths and made my way up the hill, to the posterior side of campus. There was a random x-ray truck sitting there in the parking lot (of which we were warned). I stood talking to some of the people from Wisconsin, who came here as a group, as opposed to individually, like us. The door opened, and three of us ran up to get it over with. Oh the prudeness of the US. The doctor asked for our student cards and told us to remove our top clothes. He meant ALL of them.

So standing there, naked from the hips up, holding my camisole in an obvious place, the other two girls got there's done pretty quickly, uncomfortably giggling and cursing. My turn. Yay. I walked up to the little room, and he asked me to stand against the X-ray board and drop my shirt. 

Ugh. So embarrassing, not that I don't think that I have a rockin' body, we are just not used to that in the US. I had to stand there, breathe in, and hold my breath for the shot. Afterward, I just shook my head and laughed at the sights that these doctors have must have gotten all day. 

After that fiasco, I dropped off some paperwork and headed to centre-ville by myself. If you walk around alone, just act like you know where you're going, and you'll figure out where you are going :) 

Walking around, I FINALLY found a bag (exciting!) and walked back to the house. 

Walking up the castle wall steps

By the way, for how hospitable majority of the people that I've met here are, many others generally don't do things like hold doors open for each other or help old ladies pull their grocery bags onto the tram. People look at me really strangely when I do these things out of habit and then I feel awkwardly all the way around.

It is also better to walk around looking angry. People don't smile at each other passing on the street, unless they are acquainted :( Sad day, because I love to smile. So, I perfected my pissed-off face today. Fun, fun.

Not sure what's going on tomorrow, but now that I have come home and figured out what size jeans and shoes I wear in French sizes, I may be naughty and go shopping again ;)