Well life in Ashleyville has been just a little bit crazy, hence the lack of posts, so I'll try to recount everything that's happened lately.
As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down. After an amazing weekend, school resumed with a giant slap in the face. Everything went fairly well Monday and Tuesday, we received homework and were told that we would have our midterms this coming week. Wednesday, psh, Wednesday was a doozy. A day when I am usually permitted to sleep later than the rest of the weekdays, as I don't have class until 13h10. This past Wednesday though, was a make-up day for my Expression Orale teacher, as our program doesn't allow our spring break to align with the rest of the students of France, therefore, she had missed the week before.
Th make-up class was scheduled for 10h30 and we had an oral comprehension recording that we had to hear and analyze, followed by an avalanche of questions. It was very difficult, needless to say that we all failed. The regularly scheduled class that was later in the afternoon was set aside for two of our oral presentations. We had to report on a topic and spark a debate about said topic. There were numerous problems leading up to mine (she told me the day before that I had to change my topic that I had chosen weeks ago, because the other girl who had been rescheduled for that day too, had a topic too similar to mine and since she wasn't in class that day, I was the one who had to change. She also told the both of us after our tests that we had to follow a new rubric . Not to mention, she had me restart my presentation two minutes into it, which was considerably rattling, because I felt redundant.) Many problems, and yes, I realize that I'm whining.
After giving my presentation, she told me that she didn't understand anything I said, that I speak French horribly, and that the fluidity of the exposition was far too choppy. I just stood there trying not to say anything or tear up. She said because she was the professor and a native speaker and didn't understand, that no one else could have possibly understood, so she repeated all of my points verbatim ad asked if that's what I meant. Yes. Obviously, she understood something if she wrote down all of my main points exactly. Ugh. My friend then did her presentation and also received a pretty heavy beating and we all left either mortified or terrified (considering there have only been a few presentations).
A few of us got off at the St. Pierre tram stop and bought some sweet things at a boulangerie. Practically everyone told me that they understood my presentation, and didn't understand why she was so antagonistic about it. After getting home, the stress of the day and the week came crashing down on me and I had a few minutes of ridiculous tears and self-pity. I was promptly called to dinner and I just kept my face in my plate for the duration of the meal. My host mom asked how my presentation went, and I proceeded to recount the story in French, as proof to myself that I can actually speak well and the teacher was just being harsh. They were blown away, said that it happens, and told me to not let it effect my speech confidence. I went to bed under the impression that things would be better in the morning.
They were not better. I woke up with no motivation to get out of bed and seriously thought about hiding in my room all day, but after washing my face and jamming to Seether and Taylor Swift while getting ready, I felt a little better. My friend and I went to the SNCF office to buy Saturday tickets to Rouen, as we had decided to perk ourselves up by doing something fun. I didn't say a word except for 'merci' at the office, as the speech confidence that I'd built up for the last month was completely evaporated the day before. Class was long, as Thursdays are usually my long days, but it was quite a fog, literally and figuratively. Friday, I woke up and was late to class, as usual at 8h20 on Fridays, but redeemed myself in answering practically every grammatical question correctly.
There were only like seven people in class and no one had make-up on, and we were all in comfy clothes, just trying to get through without humiliating ourselves again. After class, my pride was in better shape, as my previous knowledge and the fine-tuning I've learned here has exercised my grammatical understandings significantly. I took my friend, who is the same friend who was going with me to Rouen, to Café 101 and we had tea and toast, while gabbing about the things we missed about Texas, where we want to settle down, and what we wanted to do on our trip Saturday. After a while, we parted and agreed to meet at the train station at 7h00 the next morning, since our train was leaving at 7h17.
That night, my host family took me to a dinner to which we had been invited at an older couple's house in Caen. They are both psychoanalysts and the amazing woman, with the perfectly manicured house and garden who is a child psychiatrist, was also there. The house was beautiful and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace when we arrived. Immediately, I felt relaxed. We had an aperatif of sushi/shrimp rolls that my host parents made, awesome flat breads made by the hostess and champagne. They all were asking me questions about Texas and school and what not. I felt better in explaining myself and appreciated that they were being so patient with me.
We had a Mediterranean dish with fish and silver beets, spinach, amazing cheeses, and fruit cocktail for desert. Keeping in mind that I was getting up at 6h00 the next morning, we left around midnight. I sprung out of bed when my alarm went off the next morning, as I was so excited to travel somewhere else and arrived at the train station at about 6h45. I paced, looking around for my friend and bought a croissant, as I had forgotten to eat breakfast in my hurry out the door. She finally got off the tram 5 minutes before our train was due to leave. We mounted the train and began chatting away. Apparently, the tram drivers switched out and took forever talking, and that's why she was late.
When we arrived, the sun was out! We walked out of the train station with no idea where we were going and did circles looking for the tourism office. In short, we needed a map. We took a short detour at a huge medieval-looking tower close to the train station and took pictures, as it was the first awesome thing we had seen in Rouen. After a while of wandering, we gave up on the tourism office, for that moment at least, and looked for a place to eat breakfast. The French don't do breakfast like Americans or Brits, they have breakfast at home or grab a baguette and coffee on the way to work. It is a very light breakfast too. We found some cute creperies, but guess what, they weren't open yet. It was 9h00.
We found a boulangerie near Le Gros Horloge and ordered apricot croissants and coffee. After having breakfast and finally obtaining a map, we headed toward the cathedral, as she had only been in one of the smaller ones in Caen. We walked around snapping pictures, and she asked if we could even do that, because it felt a little sacrilegious. "Yes, it's fine," I told her and after rounding some ladies who were reciting the Rosary together, she asked what they were chanting, so I explained the Rosary and the saints, and Catholics' relationship to Mary and basically gave her a crash-course in Catholic beliefs, as she is Baptist. We roamed around in awe and after exiting, we resumed our normal speech patterns, as opposed to the whispers that feel obligatory in cathedrals, we headed towards the vieux marché and l'Eglise de Jeanne d'Arc.
Walking along the old streets we were complete tourists, snapping pictures at every building (the architecture is typically Normand and beautiful, plus we don't see much of it in Caen because the stupid Nazis destroyed most of those styled buildings), giggling loudly, and pointing out shops to which we wanted to return after seeing the historical places. The street we were following suddenly opened up into a large area with one of the most awesomely shaped buildings that I've ever seen. The whole open area is the vieux marché and the church and le bucher are in the middle. I'd read on some tourist websites that the church was not that impressive. Ha. I want to know what those people were smoking. The roof is spectacularly shaped, almost looking like a flame (a rather dark connection, I know). The inside was beautiful too, the ceiling, the stained glass, I loved it. We then exited the church and walked around to the other side. A simple cross is erected where she was burnt and there is a little garden area around it.
I took a few photos and sat down on a rock, while my friend was looking at the map and figuring out where we were going next. Attempting to not sound cheesy, I must admit the reflection on Jeanne d'Arc's story and the thought of being in the place were she was tied to a stake, set aflame, and met Dieu in front of a hostile, jeering crowd was the memory that stood out for me the most during the Rouen trip. My friend was anxious to move on and I laughed against her rushing tone. She stopped and laughed too. "We have plenty of time, why am I freaking out?" she asked. So we sat and chilled a bit more, my feet hurt anyway, and then made our way to the art museum.
After circling part of the building a few times, we finally came to the front and were able to go inside. It was a beautiful collection. There were many famous impressionists, such as Monet, and a number of HUGE paintings that were seriously at least two stories high. After finishing, we headed back to that one street, near that one thing, you know, that store we wanted to see? That was or conversation upon entering the outdoors, so after some translation between us, we began wandering, because frankly, we were both famished and not making mush sense. We came across one of the stores and went inside. I began shaking and my head began to hurt, shopping wasn't even a good distraction at this point. I grabbed my friend and said we needed to eat before shopping, we could come back. The thought of food gripped her quickly too, and we stumbled up and down the street looking for a cafe that wasn't too expensive.
We found a cute one with just a few tables inside and out. I ordered the soupe à la maison and some green tea. The soup was amazing! It came with large croutons and an ENTIRE BOWL of shredded cheese. I was quite excited, kinda wanted to kiss the waitress a little bit, but she had the typical Northern scorn of being troubled by having to bring our food ALL the way over to the table. I dumped half the cheese into the soup and began dipping the croutons and slurpping (which was now like trying to eat pizza or pasta elegantly with stringy cheese everywhere). I'm sure I looked just fabulous. Regardless of appearance, I finally stopped shaking as my bowl grew empty and sat back to enjoy my brewed tea. We sat digesting and discussing our next destination.
We found several cute shops that were not chains and had handmade and local clothing in it. I bought some things from the big chains when I first arrived, but I guess I'm a snob now :) I'd prefer to buy the clothes without tags or with handmade tags, they much more personal and I understand the work that goes into a single garment. Anyway, we also hound matching pairs of cute flats that were on clearance for a whole 5 euros.
We went into one store and the lady was very talkative, that's what happens when the stores are the size of you thumb. It gets awkward if there are three people in it and no one is talking. We tried on some clothes and she asked us about Texas and cowboys and horses. I am not exaggerating when I say everyone asks me about these things. It's gotten tot the point where I play to these people's fantasies and go on and on about the stereotypically Texan things.
After shopping, the sky greyed and the crowds began to swell. It even began raining, but still wave after wave of people came out into the streets. We made one last shopping stop in a chocolaterie and bought some amazing chocolates, then headed back toward the first tower we had seen, that was the Joan of Arc dungeon and we hadn't realized it. Some history buff I am. We walked up, taking pictures and entered wth another pair of tourists. The man said they were closing in 8 minutes, so if we ran up the stairs, he would let us in, so we ran. Tried to run. Drug ourselves actually, to the top of this enormous tower. The spiral staircase just went on and on and we arrived at the top feeling like cattle and breathing like race horses. To our disappointment, the door to the rest of it had already been locked. Sad day. Needless to say, when I bring my hubby over here, we have to go see that.
We began tripping and fumbling back down the stairs with cramping, jello-like legs and whiningly took pictures of the outside and some local graffiti, which I am happy to report is not nearly as prevalent as in Caen. We walked back to the gare, which was a few shaky steps to the left of the tower and collapsed into chairs, and waited for our train (which was still an hour out). We had SO much fun, but half-dozed all the way back to Caen. When I got back home, my host family had some guests over, we've hung out several times, so I knew they'd understand if I just ate in my room and crashed, they wouldn't be offended.
Monday morning came, early as usual, and we received information for our midterm test that we had today. I went back home and ran into my host mom, who was making tea. She startled, as I have a habit of sneaking up on people accidentally. "Oh, I forgot you had class this morning, that is just rude! It is just rude to make you be in class that early-IN FRANCE!" she said grinning. Yes, yes it is, story of my life. I've tried to will myself into being a morning person. It doesn't work, but at least the sun is out this week. That helps. Last week though, not so much.
Last week I was horribly frustrated and homesick. I couldn't stop thinking about my man and my dog, and English, and my friends, and all the things that I left behind in the US. Everyone was on spring break in the US too, my brain wanted to be on spring break. Ugh. Our schedule is so moronic. My host mom, noticing that I'd been down and quiet most of the week, always retreating to my cave, so she asked how I was doing. I gave the normal "fine" response, and she smiled and asked if I missed Texas, and I seriously stuck out my bottom lip like a pouty, deranged two year old and said yes in a pathetically comical voice. She said she completely understood, she's lived here 17 years and every once in a while she feels that way, she just wants to speak her native language and be around the things with which she grew up, although she admitted, when in Australia, she feels that way about France too.
I said it wasn't any particular thing, I was just frustrated with a dash of pissed-off-ness. The weather, the teachers, the classes, the damn graffiti, all of it. She just nodded giggling. She also has the severe problem of not waking up on time in the morning, like I do. We concluded that it is due to it just being so cold all of the time. In Texas and Australia, it's hot as soon as the sun is up and you want to throw off your covers and start the day, the rain doesn't help either. I can't complain too much though, spring is on its way and everything is beginning to bloom. This week is supposed to be sunny too, so that's exciting. Seriously, I'm in the best mood today because I've seen the sun's shiny face for more than 2 hours this weekend and the fact that there is a huge bush/tree thing in the front yard that is an aura of pink flowers helps the morale also :)
I had my first midterms this past week and will continue to have them for the next week and a half. I think I've passed all of them; the fact that I am happy about that should tell you how hard these classes are. Friday rolled around and my host mom invited me to a spectacle at the local theatre, so of course, I accepted. The theatre was nothing to sneeze at, but the ceiling was gorgeous. There was dimension to it a cause de several little lights that hung down from variously placed boards. The spectacle had dancers of all sorts, video elements, opera singing, and other cultural blends of singing. The dancers were amazing, there was pointe ballet, hip-hop, break, a fair amount of gymnastics, and a guy that performed on these pogo-stick things strapped to his feet. There was also a guy on crutches, he had one leg and still danced SO, so well. If the video hadn't been so crappy, I would have liked it a lot more and I think she would have too.
Saturday morning we awoke to go to a traveling private collection of Italian drawings and then had some lunch. After eating, we had to buy a birthday present, since my host brother was going to a birthday party later in the afternoon, so we went to Natures et Découvertes. Awesome store! Look it up! We then parted ways and I headed back to the house. We later went to pick up my host brother at his friend's. When we arrived, there were a pack of worried-looking parents standing outside the courtyard door. I wasn't really listening when we walked up until I heard "Ah, bah-oui, il y a beaucoup de sang." Blood? Apparently, there the kids were playing and someone got hurt.
When we walked into the house, the two glass sliding doors that led to their personal courtyard was smashed into pieces. Blood covered everything and there was a trail leading back out the front door. Yes. A kid went through the glass doors. The parents of the house were feverishly cleaning and still shaken, while the other parents of the child who'd been hurt had just taken him to the hospital.
I met a New Yorker friend of my host dad's also, while we were on our way to the grandparents' house for dinner. He kept trying to convince me that the best way to learn the language is to "go out." Yea, that's not my style, I don't really even do that in the US.
"Oh well you're not 21 are you?"
Yes, I am.
"Oh, well take that as a compliment."
I just laughed and he said that he'd been stationed in Corpus Christi when he was in the military.
"Everybody was so nice. I was like, 'What do you want from me?'" he said.
I just smiled and said yes, I was having a hard time adjusting to the lack of the street niceness that is non-existent here, much like New York. He laughed and agreed. Don't get me wrong, everyone I've formally met, like my host family and their friends have been amazingly sweet, but people don't say excuse me on the tram, people rarely help each other with groceries or falls, things like that.
Anyway, now that I've written a book here, these are all of the note-worthy events since my last post.
Enjoy :)
As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down. After an amazing weekend, school resumed with a giant slap in the face. Everything went fairly well Monday and Tuesday, we received homework and were told that we would have our midterms this coming week. Wednesday, psh, Wednesday was a doozy. A day when I am usually permitted to sleep later than the rest of the weekdays, as I don't have class until 13h10. This past Wednesday though, was a make-up day for my Expression Orale teacher, as our program doesn't allow our spring break to align with the rest of the students of France, therefore, she had missed the week before.
Th make-up class was scheduled for 10h30 and we had an oral comprehension recording that we had to hear and analyze, followed by an avalanche of questions. It was very difficult, needless to say that we all failed. The regularly scheduled class that was later in the afternoon was set aside for two of our oral presentations. We had to report on a topic and spark a debate about said topic. There were numerous problems leading up to mine (she told me the day before that I had to change my topic that I had chosen weeks ago, because the other girl who had been rescheduled for that day too, had a topic too similar to mine and since she wasn't in class that day, I was the one who had to change. She also told the both of us after our tests that we had to follow a new rubric . Not to mention, she had me restart my presentation two minutes into it, which was considerably rattling, because I felt redundant.) Many problems, and yes, I realize that I'm whining.
After giving my presentation, she told me that she didn't understand anything I said, that I speak French horribly, and that the fluidity of the exposition was far too choppy. I just stood there trying not to say anything or tear up. She said because she was the professor and a native speaker and didn't understand, that no one else could have possibly understood, so she repeated all of my points verbatim ad asked if that's what I meant. Yes. Obviously, she understood something if she wrote down all of my main points exactly. Ugh. My friend then did her presentation and also received a pretty heavy beating and we all left either mortified or terrified (considering there have only been a few presentations).
A few of us got off at the St. Pierre tram stop and bought some sweet things at a boulangerie. Practically everyone told me that they understood my presentation, and didn't understand why she was so antagonistic about it. After getting home, the stress of the day and the week came crashing down on me and I had a few minutes of ridiculous tears and self-pity. I was promptly called to dinner and I just kept my face in my plate for the duration of the meal. My host mom asked how my presentation went, and I proceeded to recount the story in French, as proof to myself that I can actually speak well and the teacher was just being harsh. They were blown away, said that it happens, and told me to not let it effect my speech confidence. I went to bed under the impression that things would be better in the morning.
They were not better. I woke up with no motivation to get out of bed and seriously thought about hiding in my room all day, but after washing my face and jamming to Seether and Taylor Swift while getting ready, I felt a little better. My friend and I went to the SNCF office to buy Saturday tickets to Rouen, as we had decided to perk ourselves up by doing something fun. I didn't say a word except for 'merci' at the office, as the speech confidence that I'd built up for the last month was completely evaporated the day before. Class was long, as Thursdays are usually my long days, but it was quite a fog, literally and figuratively. Friday, I woke up and was late to class, as usual at 8h20 on Fridays, but redeemed myself in answering practically every grammatical question correctly.
There were only like seven people in class and no one had make-up on, and we were all in comfy clothes, just trying to get through without humiliating ourselves again. After class, my pride was in better shape, as my previous knowledge and the fine-tuning I've learned here has exercised my grammatical understandings significantly. I took my friend, who is the same friend who was going with me to Rouen, to Café 101 and we had tea and toast, while gabbing about the things we missed about Texas, where we want to settle down, and what we wanted to do on our trip Saturday. After a while, we parted and agreed to meet at the train station at 7h00 the next morning, since our train was leaving at 7h17.
That night, my host family took me to a dinner to which we had been invited at an older couple's house in Caen. They are both psychoanalysts and the amazing woman, with the perfectly manicured house and garden who is a child psychiatrist, was also there. The house was beautiful and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace when we arrived. Immediately, I felt relaxed. We had an aperatif of sushi/shrimp rolls that my host parents made, awesome flat breads made by the hostess and champagne. They all were asking me questions about Texas and school and what not. I felt better in explaining myself and appreciated that they were being so patient with me.
We had a Mediterranean dish with fish and silver beets, spinach, amazing cheeses, and fruit cocktail for desert. Keeping in mind that I was getting up at 6h00 the next morning, we left around midnight. I sprung out of bed when my alarm went off the next morning, as I was so excited to travel somewhere else and arrived at the train station at about 6h45. I paced, looking around for my friend and bought a croissant, as I had forgotten to eat breakfast in my hurry out the door. She finally got off the tram 5 minutes before our train was due to leave. We mounted the train and began chatting away. Apparently, the tram drivers switched out and took forever talking, and that's why she was late.
When we arrived, the sun was out! We walked out of the train station with no idea where we were going and did circles looking for the tourism office. In short, we needed a map. We took a short detour at a huge medieval-looking tower close to the train station and took pictures, as it was the first awesome thing we had seen in Rouen. After a while of wandering, we gave up on the tourism office, for that moment at least, and looked for a place to eat breakfast. The French don't do breakfast like Americans or Brits, they have breakfast at home or grab a baguette and coffee on the way to work. It is a very light breakfast too. We found some cute creperies, but guess what, they weren't open yet. It was 9h00.
We found a boulangerie near Le Gros Horloge and ordered apricot croissants and coffee. After having breakfast and finally obtaining a map, we headed toward the cathedral, as she had only been in one of the smaller ones in Caen. We walked around snapping pictures, and she asked if we could even do that, because it felt a little sacrilegious. "Yes, it's fine," I told her and after rounding some ladies who were reciting the Rosary together, she asked what they were chanting, so I explained the Rosary and the saints, and Catholics' relationship to Mary and basically gave her a crash-course in Catholic beliefs, as she is Baptist. We roamed around in awe and after exiting, we resumed our normal speech patterns, as opposed to the whispers that feel obligatory in cathedrals, we headed towards the vieux marché and l'Eglise de Jeanne d'Arc.
Walking along the old streets we were complete tourists, snapping pictures at every building (the architecture is typically Normand and beautiful, plus we don't see much of it in Caen because the stupid Nazis destroyed most of those styled buildings), giggling loudly, and pointing out shops to which we wanted to return after seeing the historical places. The street we were following suddenly opened up into a large area with one of the most awesomely shaped buildings that I've ever seen. The whole open area is the vieux marché and the church and le bucher are in the middle. I'd read on some tourist websites that the church was not that impressive. Ha. I want to know what those people were smoking. The roof is spectacularly shaped, almost looking like a flame (a rather dark connection, I know). The inside was beautiful too, the ceiling, the stained glass, I loved it. We then exited the church and walked around to the other side. A simple cross is erected where she was burnt and there is a little garden area around it.
I took a few photos and sat down on a rock, while my friend was looking at the map and figuring out where we were going next. Attempting to not sound cheesy, I must admit the reflection on Jeanne d'Arc's story and the thought of being in the place were she was tied to a stake, set aflame, and met Dieu in front of a hostile, jeering crowd was the memory that stood out for me the most during the Rouen trip. My friend was anxious to move on and I laughed against her rushing tone. She stopped and laughed too. "We have plenty of time, why am I freaking out?" she asked. So we sat and chilled a bit more, my feet hurt anyway, and then made our way to the art museum.
After circling part of the building a few times, we finally came to the front and were able to go inside. It was a beautiful collection. There were many famous impressionists, such as Monet, and a number of HUGE paintings that were seriously at least two stories high. After finishing, we headed back to that one street, near that one thing, you know, that store we wanted to see? That was or conversation upon entering the outdoors, so after some translation between us, we began wandering, because frankly, we were both famished and not making mush sense. We came across one of the stores and went inside. I began shaking and my head began to hurt, shopping wasn't even a good distraction at this point. I grabbed my friend and said we needed to eat before shopping, we could come back. The thought of food gripped her quickly too, and we stumbled up and down the street looking for a cafe that wasn't too expensive.
We found a cute one with just a few tables inside and out. I ordered the soupe à la maison and some green tea. The soup was amazing! It came with large croutons and an ENTIRE BOWL of shredded cheese. I was quite excited, kinda wanted to kiss the waitress a little bit, but she had the typical Northern scorn of being troubled by having to bring our food ALL the way over to the table. I dumped half the cheese into the soup and began dipping the croutons and slurpping (which was now like trying to eat pizza or pasta elegantly with stringy cheese everywhere). I'm sure I looked just fabulous. Regardless of appearance, I finally stopped shaking as my bowl grew empty and sat back to enjoy my brewed tea. We sat digesting and discussing our next destination.
We found several cute shops that were not chains and had handmade and local clothing in it. I bought some things from the big chains when I first arrived, but I guess I'm a snob now :) I'd prefer to buy the clothes without tags or with handmade tags, they much more personal and I understand the work that goes into a single garment. Anyway, we also hound matching pairs of cute flats that were on clearance for a whole 5 euros.
We went into one store and the lady was very talkative, that's what happens when the stores are the size of you thumb. It gets awkward if there are three people in it and no one is talking. We tried on some clothes and she asked us about Texas and cowboys and horses. I am not exaggerating when I say everyone asks me about these things. It's gotten tot the point where I play to these people's fantasies and go on and on about the stereotypically Texan things.
After shopping, the sky greyed and the crowds began to swell. It even began raining, but still wave after wave of people came out into the streets. We made one last shopping stop in a chocolaterie and bought some amazing chocolates, then headed back toward the first tower we had seen, that was the Joan of Arc dungeon and we hadn't realized it. Some history buff I am. We walked up, taking pictures and entered wth another pair of tourists. The man said they were closing in 8 minutes, so if we ran up the stairs, he would let us in, so we ran. Tried to run. Drug ourselves actually, to the top of this enormous tower. The spiral staircase just went on and on and we arrived at the top feeling like cattle and breathing like race horses. To our disappointment, the door to the rest of it had already been locked. Sad day. Needless to say, when I bring my hubby over here, we have to go see that.
We began tripping and fumbling back down the stairs with cramping, jello-like legs and whiningly took pictures of the outside and some local graffiti, which I am happy to report is not nearly as prevalent as in Caen. We walked back to the gare, which was a few shaky steps to the left of the tower and collapsed into chairs, and waited for our train (which was still an hour out). We had SO much fun, but half-dozed all the way back to Caen. When I got back home, my host family had some guests over, we've hung out several times, so I knew they'd understand if I just ate in my room and crashed, they wouldn't be offended.
Monday morning came, early as usual, and we received information for our midterm test that we had today. I went back home and ran into my host mom, who was making tea. She startled, as I have a habit of sneaking up on people accidentally. "Oh, I forgot you had class this morning, that is just rude! It is just rude to make you be in class that early-IN FRANCE!" she said grinning. Yes, yes it is, story of my life. I've tried to will myself into being a morning person. It doesn't work, but at least the sun is out this week. That helps. Last week though, not so much.
Last week I was horribly frustrated and homesick. I couldn't stop thinking about my man and my dog, and English, and my friends, and all the things that I left behind in the US. Everyone was on spring break in the US too, my brain wanted to be on spring break. Ugh. Our schedule is so moronic. My host mom, noticing that I'd been down and quiet most of the week, always retreating to my cave, so she asked how I was doing. I gave the normal "fine" response, and she smiled and asked if I missed Texas, and I seriously stuck out my bottom lip like a pouty, deranged two year old and said yes in a pathetically comical voice. She said she completely understood, she's lived here 17 years and every once in a while she feels that way, she just wants to speak her native language and be around the things with which she grew up, although she admitted, when in Australia, she feels that way about France too.
I said it wasn't any particular thing, I was just frustrated with a dash of pissed-off-ness. The weather, the teachers, the classes, the damn graffiti, all of it. She just nodded giggling. She also has the severe problem of not waking up on time in the morning, like I do. We concluded that it is due to it just being so cold all of the time. In Texas and Australia, it's hot as soon as the sun is up and you want to throw off your covers and start the day, the rain doesn't help either. I can't complain too much though, spring is on its way and everything is beginning to bloom. This week is supposed to be sunny too, so that's exciting. Seriously, I'm in the best mood today because I've seen the sun's shiny face for more than 2 hours this weekend and the fact that there is a huge bush/tree thing in the front yard that is an aura of pink flowers helps the morale also :)
I had my first midterms this past week and will continue to have them for the next week and a half. I think I've passed all of them; the fact that I am happy about that should tell you how hard these classes are. Friday rolled around and my host mom invited me to a spectacle at the local theatre, so of course, I accepted. The theatre was nothing to sneeze at, but the ceiling was gorgeous. There was dimension to it a cause de several little lights that hung down from variously placed boards. The spectacle had dancers of all sorts, video elements, opera singing, and other cultural blends of singing. The dancers were amazing, there was pointe ballet, hip-hop, break, a fair amount of gymnastics, and a guy that performed on these pogo-stick things strapped to his feet. There was also a guy on crutches, he had one leg and still danced SO, so well. If the video hadn't been so crappy, I would have liked it a lot more and I think she would have too.
Saturday morning we awoke to go to a traveling private collection of Italian drawings and then had some lunch. After eating, we had to buy a birthday present, since my host brother was going to a birthday party later in the afternoon, so we went to Natures et Découvertes. Awesome store! Look it up! We then parted ways and I headed back to the house. We later went to pick up my host brother at his friend's. When we arrived, there were a pack of worried-looking parents standing outside the courtyard door. I wasn't really listening when we walked up until I heard "Ah, bah-oui, il y a beaucoup de sang." Blood? Apparently, there the kids were playing and someone got hurt.
When we walked into the house, the two glass sliding doors that led to their personal courtyard was smashed into pieces. Blood covered everything and there was a trail leading back out the front door. Yes. A kid went through the glass doors. The parents of the house were feverishly cleaning and still shaken, while the other parents of the child who'd been hurt had just taken him to the hospital.
I met a New Yorker friend of my host dad's also, while we were on our way to the grandparents' house for dinner. He kept trying to convince me that the best way to learn the language is to "go out." Yea, that's not my style, I don't really even do that in the US.
"Oh well you're not 21 are you?"
Yes, I am.
"Oh, well take that as a compliment."
I just laughed and he said that he'd been stationed in Corpus Christi when he was in the military.
"Everybody was so nice. I was like, 'What do you want from me?'" he said.
I just smiled and said yes, I was having a hard time adjusting to the lack of the street niceness that is non-existent here, much like New York. He laughed and agreed. Don't get me wrong, everyone I've formally met, like my host family and their friends have been amazingly sweet, but people don't say excuse me on the tram, people rarely help each other with groceries or falls, things like that.
Anyway, now that I've written a book here, these are all of the note-worthy events since my last post.
Enjoy :)
I know most of this from our Skype conversations, but I still love reading them. I miss you so much. I find myself hanging around the boys too much, so there are bad habits you will have to break me of for sure. I'm thankful for Becki and Brooke keeping me sane. Whitney and Mackenzie were in town, so I hung out with them as well. Ever since we house-sat Wyatt and I have been closer. I am so glad you are enjoying yourself. I'm sorry you get homesick, but it is nice to be missed :) Dark, I know. I'll be online today, I hope to hear from you. Je t'aime. Tu me manque, Eskimo.
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