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| Shawn, Me, Carrie & Allison |
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| Emma & I |
16 December, 2010
Farewell Dinner
On the 9th, we had our program Farewell Dinner at a Moroccan restaurant where we ate Couscous and other delicious dishes, and we also passed out our "secret Santa" gifts. I got a mug with chocolate and a spoon to make hot chocolate! My gift-receiver was this very, very, nice girl (one of our business school students) named Lisa - I got her chocolate on a spoon (for hot chocolate) and candied fruit. Everyone had an enormously great time.
The People who Work at this University/The People from whom I've Learned
My teachers here have been quite interesting, and usually very entertaining. Most of them are quite eccentric, each having their own crazy little quirks. It's inevitable. I'll describe them to you, and also how their finals went (though I've yet to take the last one which is today).
Well my morning grammar teacher is just... crazy. She kinda looks like a bird, but that's not the main point. She has really, really, incredibly short bronze (dyed) hair. She wears crazy outfits: one time black and white striped pants (think Beettlejuice), sometimes an orange metallic coat, sometimes a black (blue?) metallic shirt with an Elizabethan neck ruffle under that orange coat. She gets crazy unconvincing happy voice too, and sometimes talks to us like we're babies. All in all she aint bad! The final for grammar is the same for everyone in B1: oral comprehension (not too shabby), written comprehension (not bad either - I usually do well here), and written expression (passable).
My art history teacher is probably approaching his 50s. Blue camo pants. Penguin/winter themed sweaters. No top lip. Bottom lip. Absolutely no top lip. And maybe a lisp... I haven't been 100% on that. I really can't concentrate sometimes because I'm willing him to have a top lip. He seems very interested in what he's teaching, but frankly the class doesn't keep everyone's attention 100% of the time. That final... everyone walked out of laughing because it was so difficult. There's no way any of us could have done superbly. Nothing to do but laugh and move on!
Vocabulary teacher (who's also my culture and society teacher) looks like a prettier version of Rachel Dratch (from SNL... google if you don't know). She's quite nice, very personable, I like her a lot. Vocab final wen't pretty well, I think. There was even a mistake on the test in a sentence that we actually had to copy and while writing my sentence I had this inner battle to correct it or not, mainly because it confused me. Here: 'Il nous a rencontré,' was her sentence (if you speak French you should see the mistake already), and we had to change everything in the paragraph to be feminine, but the problem is that there should be an S on that last verb there because of the 'nous,' which... nevermind, in the end, my sentence read 'Elle nous a rencontrés.' I hope to get full points on that one. I'm taking the Culture and Society final today.
My History of France teacher is cool. His profile wouldn't end with his nose, but his lips. They stick out. Maybe his nose... The best part about this guy: sometimes he sounds just like Giacomo from the movie Thumbelina. He's cool too, and gets really into the stories. One time, for some reason, to explain something... I don't know, he put his leg on the chair and lifted up his pant leg to show us his leg or calf or to make some point, anyway, I did that sexy whistle and erryone laughed. It was perfect. He's cool.
Well my morning grammar teacher is just... crazy. She kinda looks like a bird, but that's not the main point. She has really, really, incredibly short bronze (dyed) hair. She wears crazy outfits: one time black and white striped pants (think Beettlejuice), sometimes an orange metallic coat, sometimes a black (blue?) metallic shirt with an Elizabethan neck ruffle under that orange coat. She gets crazy unconvincing happy voice too, and sometimes talks to us like we're babies. All in all she aint bad! The final for grammar is the same for everyone in B1: oral comprehension (not too shabby), written comprehension (not bad either - I usually do well here), and written expression (passable).
My art history teacher is probably approaching his 50s. Blue camo pants. Penguin/winter themed sweaters. No top lip. Bottom lip. Absolutely no top lip. And maybe a lisp... I haven't been 100% on that. I really can't concentrate sometimes because I'm willing him to have a top lip. He seems very interested in what he's teaching, but frankly the class doesn't keep everyone's attention 100% of the time. That final... everyone walked out of laughing because it was so difficult. There's no way any of us could have done superbly. Nothing to do but laugh and move on!
Vocabulary teacher (who's also my culture and society teacher) looks like a prettier version of Rachel Dratch (from SNL... google if you don't know). She's quite nice, very personable, I like her a lot. Vocab final wen't pretty well, I think. There was even a mistake on the test in a sentence that we actually had to copy and while writing my sentence I had this inner battle to correct it or not, mainly because it confused me. Here: 'Il nous a rencontré,' was her sentence (if you speak French you should see the mistake already), and we had to change everything in the paragraph to be feminine, but the problem is that there should be an S on that last verb there because of the 'nous,' which... nevermind, in the end, my sentence read 'Elle nous a rencontrés.' I hope to get full points on that one. I'm taking the Culture and Society final today.
My History of France teacher is cool. His profile wouldn't end with his nose, but his lips. They stick out. Maybe his nose... The best part about this guy: sometimes he sounds just like Giacomo from the movie Thumbelina. He's cool too, and gets really into the stories. One time, for some reason, to explain something... I don't know, he put his leg on the chair and lifted up his pant leg to show us his leg or calf or to make some point, anyway, I did that sexy whistle and erryone laughed. It was perfect. He's cool.
01 December, 2010
Thanksgiving and Strasbourg
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| That's not even all of us! |
Thanksgiving was the best. The best. At home, Thanksgiving is fun, and we do the usual eating, but because it's just my immediate family in Washington, it's not a big shin-dig. However, this Thanksgiving, in a country that doesn't even celebrate it (why would they?) will stick out in my mind for the rest of time. First of all, there were more than twenty of us, everyone brought a dish (thanks again, Aunt Cathy, for the stuffing recipe!), everything was delicious, and we were all so unified. Also, in all of the pictures my face is red because my skin is so light that one drop of alcohol (wine, of course) turns my head into an apple. |
| Strasbourg |
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| In Colmar! |
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| Allison and I |
La Neige Dans Ma Bouche
Well before I write a post about my wonderful weekend, I'll take this time to post some photos. Just for kicks. No, mainly because it's snowing a lot and I'm cozy inside. Coffee and chocolate? Yes, please! I went to class today (late) and my teacher and most of the class wasn't there so after an hour we left. Who says there are no snow days in France?
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| The view from my room. |
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| The view from upstairs. |
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| A warning? Dead bug on my desk. |
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| Catchik! |
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| I killed it. They're all after me. |
25 November, 2010
Conception, or Another Bout of Negligence
Let me first start off by apologizing for slacking on the updates. I know it's been a while and (if only this sounded humble...) I'd be curious if I were you. In reality, though, the life of a student here in France can best be represented by this video:
I've been busy. Well, let me tell you about this past weekend. On Thursday night some friends and I went to a percussion concert at my university. It was conducted by my host mom's choir leader, which is how I found out about it because she recommended it to me. They played the drums, some xylophones, some more drums, and then did a cool clapping thing and then it was over. During this whole spectacle, my friends and I played the game "Boy or Girl" because one of the band members looked like they could be either a teenage boy or a middle aged woman. Turns out it was a woman. Just so you know.
Friday afternoon was quite nice, and I didn't have anything to do durning the day so I went back to the Musée Hébert and sat in the park listening to music and reading a book. In the evening we went to see a contemporary dance. Which was... interesting. Strange. Confusing. And apparently about conception and birth? Or the conception and birth of a deer? There was a lot of milling around by the dancers, not so much dancing. It started like this: The dancers we in the audience and then got up and walked onto the stage, all the way to the back and started undressing. They stripped down to their underwear, took a blanket, wrapped it around their shoulders, and went to their places on the stage. Then some weird water buffalo or bull sounds started up. Then they started slowly walking around each other, sniffing... using their feet as tails... I don't know. They moved around some more, had dance/weird/stroke victim/mock sex, did some crazy sounds in the microphone... I just... I'm still so confused. In the words of Margaret Cho: it was just so nonconsensual for me. My program manager, Marie, told us that the dancers were from Belgium, and that usually they're pretty avant garde about their art and dance. I guess I liked it, but in another way I feel like it had so much potential... oh well.
Saturday I took a long walk with my friend Carrie. We were on a mission to climb this hill and get to a church that we've seen lit up at night sometimes. We got up there, but the street leading to the church was blocked off so we went around the other side still with no luck. It was a nice walk, anyway. Next, we went to her house for lunch and to prepare for a wine tasting that her host parents were having that evening. We then went into town for pastries and to window shop with our friend Rachel. I then realized that the wine tasting that evening (to which I had been invited) was for Beaujolais. I'll tell you what that is! Beaujolais is wine (and the celebration of it) that's the first of the harvest. It's not good. Kinda gross. In the past years people go absolutely nuts in town, everyone's drunk, there's broken glass and shop windows and not long ago Sarkozy came to Grenoble after the destruction that Beaujolais caused to reprimand and to make an example of the Grenoblois. So I stayed home and kept warm.
Sunday I went to my host mom's concert which was quite nice. Afterwards my host dad asked me how I liked it and I said it was fantastic to which he replied "Really? Hmm..." like it had never occurred to him that the concert was good. They love not supporting each other.
I've been busy. Well, let me tell you about this past weekend. On Thursday night some friends and I went to a percussion concert at my university. It was conducted by my host mom's choir leader, which is how I found out about it because she recommended it to me. They played the drums, some xylophones, some more drums, and then did a cool clapping thing and then it was over. During this whole spectacle, my friends and I played the game "Boy or Girl" because one of the band members looked like they could be either a teenage boy or a middle aged woman. Turns out it was a woman. Just so you know.
Friday afternoon was quite nice, and I didn't have anything to do durning the day so I went back to the Musée Hébert and sat in the park listening to music and reading a book. In the evening we went to see a contemporary dance. Which was... interesting. Strange. Confusing. And apparently about conception and birth? Or the conception and birth of a deer? There was a lot of milling around by the dancers, not so much dancing. It started like this: The dancers we in the audience and then got up and walked onto the stage, all the way to the back and started undressing. They stripped down to their underwear, took a blanket, wrapped it around their shoulders, and went to their places on the stage. Then some weird water buffalo or bull sounds started up. Then they started slowly walking around each other, sniffing... using their feet as tails... I don't know. They moved around some more, had dance/weird/stroke victim/mock sex, did some crazy sounds in the microphone... I just... I'm still so confused. In the words of Margaret Cho: it was just so nonconsensual for me. My program manager, Marie, told us that the dancers were from Belgium, and that usually they're pretty avant garde about their art and dance. I guess I liked it, but in another way I feel like it had so much potential... oh well.
Saturday I took a long walk with my friend Carrie. We were on a mission to climb this hill and get to a church that we've seen lit up at night sometimes. We got up there, but the street leading to the church was blocked off so we went around the other side still with no luck. It was a nice walk, anyway. Next, we went to her house for lunch and to prepare for a wine tasting that her host parents were having that evening. We then went into town for pastries and to window shop with our friend Rachel. I then realized that the wine tasting that evening (to which I had been invited) was for Beaujolais. I'll tell you what that is! Beaujolais is wine (and the celebration of it) that's the first of the harvest. It's not good. Kinda gross. In the past years people go absolutely nuts in town, everyone's drunk, there's broken glass and shop windows and not long ago Sarkozy came to Grenoble after the destruction that Beaujolais caused to reprimand and to make an example of the Grenoblois. So I stayed home and kept warm.
Sunday I went to my host mom's concert which was quite nice. Afterwards my host dad asked me how I liked it and I said it was fantastic to which he replied "Really? Hmm..." like it had never occurred to him that the concert was good. They love not supporting each other.
06 November, 2010
Homelessness Tends to Creep Up on You
Just a little note: Second semester apparently I will not be staying with my current host family as they only signed up to have me for this semester and not the full academic year. I'm 88% certain that the year students were told that they'd have their families for the year, but apparently my family was the exception, much to my surprise. It'll get figured out, but come January I'll have a new family and plenty of new stories. Hopefully less faux pas. Hopefully less spilling of the water across the dining table.
A bulleted list of things to take note of:
A bulleted list of things to take note of:
- The cups here are tiny. They're probably about 1/4th the size of the cups we drink from at home. You're constantly refilling your class. Or at least us Americans are. Apparently they're less thirsty here.
- People don't clean up their dog's poop. It's on the sidewalk... people step in it... something needs to be done.
- So many kinds of cheese. A cheese for everyday of the year. Most of the cheese I've had here is delicious.
- Transportation here is the greatest thing ever. It's so easy. Subways, tram ways, bus systems. The only form of transportation that doesn't seem to work well enough is the automobile. Or rather, the way people drive. Their cars are uncannily fancy! (Nearly) Everyone has a really nice one. Also, there are some people here driving Fords. What is that? (Cars here: Renault, Citroën, Pugeot, BMW, Volkswagen, uh... that's all I can think of. Look 'em up!)
- Kids misbehave here. Mainly teenagers running amuck, but I'm sure most of their antics wouldn't fly in the U.S. Or at least in suburban areas. Maybe it's the city...
- Cell phones here = bricks. Remember those Nokias? Still in action over here! Everyone's phone is large and in charge.
That's it for now, folks!
Hot Blooded!
Title for Stephanie S.
Well I should be put away for negligence, shouldn't I? There's much to fill you in on. First, school is going fine. These weeks have been filled with grèves, or 'strikes,' and manifestations, or 'protests.' Mainly due to the changes being made by the government over France's retirement age, but these protests are about all the changes the French wish to see. For us students, it basically means that the tram isn't running the way it should and it's harder to get around.
Let me start with last weekend. The first night of the weekend, my friend Carrie and I went to the wine bar that I've mentioned before, Le Tord Boyaux, in search of lavender flavored wine. First of all, lavender is not only a flower, but also a cooking spice. Indeed, good ladies and gents! I've never had anything with lavender cooked in it here, as I believe it's mainly used in the south of France, but lavender ice cream back home is delicious. Anyway, somebody from our group said that this lavender wine exists at the bar but indeed it does not. We were flabbergasted. Instead we got some apple cinnamon to keep up with the autumn spirit, but it didn't taste as great as the liquid gold that is lavender wine would have been. After finishing we called it a night.
The next day I hung out with my friends Allison and Rachel, mainly walking to the movie theaters to find a good movie to watch but we found ourselves disinterested, and instead went to Rachel's to watch a movie on her computer. Before that, though, we went to Allison's and played with her dog, Jack, for a bit.
That night I got home and as I was sitting on my bed I realized that my bug friend was hanging out on the wall above my door. I wasn't going to make a fuss myself, so I waited until my host mom popped in to say goodnight. She went into my host brother's room and asked if he wanted to kill it but he declined so she got out some spray from the bathroom and sprayed it on the bug. It did a lazy little dance and then fell on the floor, at which point she stomped on it and cleaned it up with some toilet paper. The spray is now in my closet but hopefully they leave me alone for good.
The day after that, I hung out again with Rachel and her very nice friend from Paris. The day wasn't so nice so we stopped in a café and had coffee and talked. Allison showed up too. The rest of the weekend I watched movies and did homework.
This weekend:
Yesterday my program went on an excursion to Voiron, where they distill Chartreuse. Long ago some monks made this "elixir" of what's supposed to be long life, and that elixir is Chartreuse. It has a nice green color (there's also a yellow kind... more on this later) and how the monks obtain that is a secret. In the cellar of the distillery there were gigantic barrels of both green and yellow and on the big barrels they have written the percentage of alcohol, color, and quantity. It was a huge cellar.
Then we got to taste it. First of all, I wasn't too thrilled about this because 1. the whole cellar smelled of it and I can tell you... It wasn't bad but it wasn't at all enticing. 2. 55% alcohol content... no thank you. So I tried the yellow, while some others had green and we shared to see which was better. I chose right. I can describe the green as having a very strong alcohol taste that was bitter and kind of tasted like flowers or plants, but also had a cinnamon or nutmeg taste. Yellow was the same except it was a little less tart and a little more sugary. I'll never enjoy it, I'm sure.
After the distillery we were headed to the monastery and Chartreuse museum which was opened as a special treat to us, as they aren't usually open this time of year. However, on the way (scenery was absolutely beautiful. Fall is the best time of year for nature views) there was a blockage in a tunnel due to a car accident so our bus was parked on the side of the road for an hour or so. When it was clear we had to turn around and go home. Although this was disappointing, I do like a nice relaxing bus ride. Road trips are the best.
Today I had a picnic with some friends by the river, then some ice cream, and I believe later I'm going out to a café. I'm also writing a second post as a treat and to update you on a bomb that has recently been dropped.
Special thanks to Molly P., and Allison L. for pictures.
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| Fantastic Strike |
Let me start with last weekend. The first night of the weekend, my friend Carrie and I went to the wine bar that I've mentioned before, Le Tord Boyaux, in search of lavender flavored wine. First of all, lavender is not only a flower, but also a cooking spice. Indeed, good ladies and gents! I've never had anything with lavender cooked in it here, as I believe it's mainly used in the south of France, but lavender ice cream back home is delicious. Anyway, somebody from our group said that this lavender wine exists at the bar but indeed it does not. We were flabbergasted. Instead we got some apple cinnamon to keep up with the autumn spirit, but it didn't taste as great as the liquid gold that is lavender wine would have been. After finishing we called it a night.
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| Jack, Rachel, and Nick |
That night I got home and as I was sitting on my bed I realized that my bug friend was hanging out on the wall above my door. I wasn't going to make a fuss myself, so I waited until my host mom popped in to say goodnight. She went into my host brother's room and asked if he wanted to kill it but he declined so she got out some spray from the bathroom and sprayed it on the bug. It did a lazy little dance and then fell on the floor, at which point she stomped on it and cleaned it up with some toilet paper. The spray is now in my closet but hopefully they leave me alone for good.
The day after that, I hung out again with Rachel and her very nice friend from Paris. The day wasn't so nice so we stopped in a café and had coffee and talked. Allison showed up too. The rest of the weekend I watched movies and did homework.
This weekend:
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| La Jaune |
After the distillery we were headed to the monastery and Chartreuse museum which was opened as a special treat to us, as they aren't usually open this time of year. However, on the way (scenery was absolutely beautiful. Fall is the best time of year for nature views) there was a blockage in a tunnel due to a car accident so our bus was parked on the side of the road for an hour or so. When it was clear we had to turn around and go home. Although this was disappointing, I do like a nice relaxing bus ride. Road trips are the best.
Today I had a picnic with some friends by the river, then some ice cream, and I believe later I'm going out to a café. I'm also writing a second post as a treat and to update you on a bomb that has recently been dropped.
Special thanks to Molly P., and Allison L. for pictures.
27 October, 2010
Trenteski
This is my thirtieth post!
I've not much to say for myself besides a good news and a bad news. Good news first? You bet! Well, look at this gem of information right here. So read through that, and be as excited as I am. 2013, here Heather and I come! That's it...
Bad news? Well it starts something like this... you know that bug that's been terrorizing me? Hard to forget, I say! Anyway, one day as I was sitting on the couch reading and my host mom comes into the room with the dog's water dish, prefacing whatever she's about to say or show me with "stay calm, but is this the bug?" There, floating in the dog's dish is the bug. It's terrifying when it's dead too, I assure you. So we rejoiced a bit, laughed that it went for a swim, and she said it's harmless anyways.
Is resurrection harmless? Jesus thought not, but I beg to differ. Last night I walk past my room on my way to the bathroom and see on the floor of my room the bug. The non-cockroach. The "centipede," as it's called here, but our centipedes are much different. Anyway, I turn a blind eye, go to the bathroom and try to think about what to do with it... my host brother was home, maybe he could kill it? Or I could find a paper towel or even a regular towel to cover and kill it with? It really didn't matter, because when I got out of the bathroom it was gone. Well, almost. It was on the wall that's between the doorway and my closet. I turned my back on it for two seconds to take my shoes off and hang my coat up, but as I turned around to face the closet I looked on the side wall and it was gone. I still have no idea where it went. If I was the kind of person to have nightmares, I'd have had plenty by now. Speaking of "nightmare," the French word for it is cauchemar and is germanic, just like ours! The history of it is quite interesting.
I've not much to say for myself besides a good news and a bad news. Good news first? You bet! Well, look at this gem of information right here. So read through that, and be as excited as I am. 2013, here Heather and I come! That's it...
Bad news? Well it starts something like this... you know that bug that's been terrorizing me? Hard to forget, I say! Anyway, one day as I was sitting on the couch reading and my host mom comes into the room with the dog's water dish, prefacing whatever she's about to say or show me with "stay calm, but is this the bug?" There, floating in the dog's dish is the bug. It's terrifying when it's dead too, I assure you. So we rejoiced a bit, laughed that it went for a swim, and she said it's harmless anyways.
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| The beast |
18 October, 2010
Suck!
Suck?
These are in reference to the graffiti we sometimes see on the stone walls or on old buildings, that give us quite a chuckle. They are probably done by a group of French kids thinking they're being scandalous with the English language. Or it's done by some really dangerous gang and it's a code-word for something. We have no way of knowing. Anyway, I just thought you should know. Do what you will with that information.
While I've been here in France I've stayed connected to linguistic thoughts and ideas. For example, recently I've been thinking about pleonastic subjects (in French they use il which means 'he,' but used pleonastically, means 'it.'). In English, we use they as a pleonastic subject. We're not really referencing anyone in particular, but we all adhere to their advice. I certainly wouldn't be referencing anyone when I say "they apparently don't care that they're having sex loud enough for their exchange student (who is trying to sleep in a room below them) to hear." Or would I? I know you have no idea who the they are in this example. A more conventional example would be "they say that kid is scarred for life." Just saying.
So anyway! It's getting colder around these parts, I'll tell you what. Even down south, where I was this weekend with my program. We went to Pont du Gard, Montpellier, and Avignon. Pont du Gard is an old bridge, as you can see, that also served as an aqueduct. We got to walk across it (while trying to wrap our heads around the fact that this huge thing was built so long ago) and some of us had lunch on the other side. It was just the beginning to a beautiful south. Next, we went to Montpellier, where we walked around, saw an old hidden synagogue and it's bath, walked around some more, and felt the chill. Oh! We also saw a protest, even from the top of the town's Arc de Triomphe. Picture to follow. That night six or seven of us stayed in the hotel and split two bottles of wine while playing card games and watching the Simpsons in French. Suspicions confirmed: I like Merlot better than Pinot Noir. If, when I'm of age in the states, somebody buys me a gift bottle of Pinot Noir, I don't know what I'll do. Never drink it, that's for sure. It'd be a decorative bottle. Also, for dinner that night I had a ton of olives. Regrets? None. I love olives.
So the next day we went to Avignon, which was the center of Popedom for a long while before he was moved to Italy. We toured the castle for a while, which was really cool. There wasn't anything substantial in it, but it was enormous and amazing. We walked around town for a bit, and Stephanie N. and I had lunch, where my Plat du Jour was a trout. Future reference - truite means trout. Head, skin, tail and all. Bones. Suffice to say, I ate half and called it good.
We then went to Chateauneuf du Pape for a wine tasting, which was accompanied by olives. There was a white, red, and a red. The third red was the best. The olives were delicious. And we were all tired. After that, we got on the bus and napped all the way back north.
These are in reference to the graffiti we sometimes see on the stone walls or on old buildings, that give us quite a chuckle. They are probably done by a group of French kids thinking they're being scandalous with the English language. Or it's done by some really dangerous gang and it's a code-word for something. We have no way of knowing. Anyway, I just thought you should know. Do what you will with that information.
While I've been here in France I've stayed connected to linguistic thoughts and ideas. For example, recently I've been thinking about pleonastic subjects (in French they use il which means 'he,' but used pleonastically, means 'it.'). In English, we use they as a pleonastic subject. We're not really referencing anyone in particular, but we all adhere to their advice. I certainly wouldn't be referencing anyone when I say "they apparently don't care that they're having sex loud enough for their exchange student (who is trying to sleep in a room below them) to hear." Or would I? I know you have no idea who the they are in this example. A more conventional example would be "they say that kid is scarred for life." Just saying.
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| Pont du Gard |
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| Montpellier |
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| Me and Stephanie |
We then went to Chateauneuf du Pape for a wine tasting, which was accompanied by olives. There was a white, red, and a red. The third red was the best. The olives were delicious. And we were all tired. After that, we got on the bus and napped all the way back north.
14 October, 2010
10 October, 2010
Forgot to Tell You
HEY! So I forgot to say something about the night I got home at 3:40am after the partying. So there I am, minding my own business, walking in my room to take my shoes off and get ready for bed, when I turn around to leave my room to go to the bathroom. And there it is. The bug. The bug that sends shivers down my bottle like Mrs. Butterworth on that Geico commercial. It's there on the wall (just now my keys shifted in my pocket and I jumped because I'm thinking so hard about this bug) like it's decided my room's the best place to be. I eye it as I open the door and... really I don't know how to describe the movement. It like... zigzags or makes circles, or whatever, but really it's just incredibly fast and frankly, I don't know where it went because I got the heck out of there. When I came back it was gone. I'd suspected it went behind the pastel rendition of a bird hanging on my wall. So the next day I told my host mom about it and although she was freaked out, there wasn't much to do. She said we could spray it with something. So...
Then last night my host brother had a friend over and my host mom, while getting dinner ready, told the friend to go down and look with me to see if it's there. So we did... I gingerly lifted the picture to look behind it, and there was nothing. Then the friend (also Nicolas) took the picture off the wall entirely but there was no bug. So we went to the next pastel hanging on the wall (a tiny monkey holding onto a finger with red polish) and still no bug. He asked if it was a spider and waited patiently as I looked up the word for cockroach (cafard) to which he replied "bug." Not quite, kid, not quite. There's a vast difference between a bug and a cockroach. I let it slide. I told him it disappeared, is probably in my bed, and we went upstairs. There, in the kitchen, he told my host mom it was a bug, to which I said "Un cafard," at which point she immediately stopped stirring, looked at me with a petrified face, and frankly I don't remember what she said because of the sheer terror running through both of us.
She made sure it wasn't one of those fancy eight-legged insects, and then asked if it had a lot of legs. To which I replied, yes and it's brown with long antennae. She was relieved, said those are harmless, there's nothing to worry about, and that it's probably under the baseboard.
Yes, harmless. Unless you're me tonight, in the bathroom, minding your business, when a tiny version of the original runs past your foot and under the door. Babies. The thing has had babies. But let's just say it has one less baby because as soon as I opened the door I took a step and swear I stepped on it. It could have been something else, debris from the day, but if it were you, and you felt a tiny bump underfoot, you'd do a crazed karate kick too and run in your room.
Then last night my host brother had a friend over and my host mom, while getting dinner ready, told the friend to go down and look with me to see if it's there. So we did... I gingerly lifted the picture to look behind it, and there was nothing. Then the friend (also Nicolas) took the picture off the wall entirely but there was no bug. So we went to the next pastel hanging on the wall (a tiny monkey holding onto a finger with red polish) and still no bug. He asked if it was a spider and waited patiently as I looked up the word for cockroach (cafard) to which he replied "bug." Not quite, kid, not quite. There's a vast difference between a bug and a cockroach. I let it slide. I told him it disappeared, is probably in my bed, and we went upstairs. There, in the kitchen, he told my host mom it was a bug, to which I said "Un cafard," at which point she immediately stopped stirring, looked at me with a petrified face, and frankly I don't remember what she said because of the sheer terror running through both of us.
She made sure it wasn't one of those fancy eight-legged insects, and then asked if it had a lot of legs. To which I replied, yes and it's brown with long antennae. She was relieved, said those are harmless, there's nothing to worry about, and that it's probably under the baseboard.
Yes, harmless. Unless you're me tonight, in the bathroom, minding your business, when a tiny version of the original runs past your foot and under the door. Babies. The thing has had babies. But let's just say it has one less baby because as soon as I opened the door I took a step and swear I stepped on it. It could have been something else, debris from the day, but if it were you, and you felt a tiny bump underfoot, you'd do a crazed karate kick too and run in your room.
Annecy
Yesterday our API group went to Annecy which was an hour and a half of a bus ride away from Grenoble. They were having the Fête des Alpages, which is when they bring all the animals down from the mountains and parade them around town. There were so many people, it was nearly impossible to pass through the streets. It was fun though, and there were little tents with people selling cool stuff. Annecy is basically the Venice of France because little canals run through the town and connect to Lac d'Annecy which is the clearest lake I've ever seen.
It's a really beautiful city, especially all the old parts. I also went inside a castle that housed some old furnishings, and contemporary art - oddly enough. Would you like to see pictures of the town? Ok!
It's a really beautiful city, especially all the old parts. I also went inside a castle that housed some old furnishings, and contemporary art - oddly enough. Would you like to see pictures of the town? Ok!
Autumn Commencement
It's been a busy weekend, I'll tell you what. I've a feeling this is going to be a long post but I'll include every picture on the planet to keep you satisfied. Everybody loves picture books. So where to start... Thursday. I'll start with Thursday.
So, Thursday morning I walk my fanny on down to the tram station to wait for the B tram that takes me to school. I'm sitting there for maybe two minutes when this announcement comes on saying that the day before there was an incident and that trams A, B, and C aren't running. However, nobody gets up to walk away so I stay sitting. A couple minutes later the same announcement is played. Still, nobody moves. Some girls come and sit next to me, they look at the overhead sign that says that no tram is running, and ask me how long I've been waiting. I tell them, we sit, the announcement comes back on, and by this point everybody decides that the information is probably true and we all leave the station. As I'm walking back up the street to go home, I spot my friends Carrie and Stephanie N. I tell them the news and after a couple minutes of deciding, we start to walk to school. It took us an hour and a half, and we were late so we just skipped the morning class (knowing we wouldn't be the only ones) and hung out in the API office for a while.
At the office, we were told the story of why the trams weren't running that day. Yes, that day. At all. It goes like this: The trams have police that sometimes check peoples' tickets. If you got on the tram without paying, you're fined. So this guy was checked and fined, he called his buddies, and two stops later he and his hired help beat up the six tram officers. So the next day the tram drivers took the day off in protest. The hoodlums were caught.
Also, while waiting for the late afternoon class, my morning teacher comes out of nowhere, and asks where I was that morning. I make a couple feeble mumbles about the tram and being late and she asked if I had my book so she could give me the homework. Ugh! She did it with all smiles too, like "It's ok you weren't in class, nobody was, let me give you this homework though. Later!"
So after class a bunch of us had to walk home, which was actually fun because we just walked on the tram tracks and sang songs and chatted. We were getting ready for a night of fun because we were celebrating Stephanie S's birthday. I ate dinner at home, met Carrie and Shawn at the tram stop, and we walked to Le Tord Boyaux. We danced and sampled from their grand selection of wine. Best wine flavor: peach. Some people had flaming shots. Carrie had two. She felt it later. Side note: Carrie reminds me a lot of Madame Bailey, so it was quite entertaining to see her drunk. That story comes a little later. For now - Le Tord Boyaux pictures!
Enjoy those? Yes, ok, so after that Carlos took me, Shawn, Ashley, Carrie, Allison, and our German friend Lena to this discothèque called Sun 7 (which is a play on words for "Sunset"). But first! A bottle of wine was bought and shared (although I only had a sip or two because it was really cheap and tasted like meat). So we got our grove on there as much as we could... it was super packed and a small place anyway. Three DFMOs took place (dance floor make out) though I shouldn't be spreading around who was a participant. I was not.
So we left around 2am, walked Lena home, and then walked all the way back to La Tronche. I got home at 3:30 and Carrie and Shawn got home at 4 or so. The whole walk was stalled a couple times to let Carrie have a sit down. All in all it was a very good night. Yesterday we went to Annecy but I'll post about that in a separate blog.
So, Thursday morning I walk my fanny on down to the tram station to wait for the B tram that takes me to school. I'm sitting there for maybe two minutes when this announcement comes on saying that the day before there was an incident and that trams A, B, and C aren't running. However, nobody gets up to walk away so I stay sitting. A couple minutes later the same announcement is played. Still, nobody moves. Some girls come and sit next to me, they look at the overhead sign that says that no tram is running, and ask me how long I've been waiting. I tell them, we sit, the announcement comes back on, and by this point everybody decides that the information is probably true and we all leave the station. As I'm walking back up the street to go home, I spot my friends Carrie and Stephanie N. I tell them the news and after a couple minutes of deciding, we start to walk to school. It took us an hour and a half, and we were late so we just skipped the morning class (knowing we wouldn't be the only ones) and hung out in the API office for a while.
At the office, we were told the story of why the trams weren't running that day. Yes, that day. At all. It goes like this: The trams have police that sometimes check peoples' tickets. If you got on the tram without paying, you're fined. So this guy was checked and fined, he called his buddies, and two stops later he and his hired help beat up the six tram officers. So the next day the tram drivers took the day off in protest. The hoodlums were caught.
Also, while waiting for the late afternoon class, my morning teacher comes out of nowhere, and asks where I was that morning. I make a couple feeble mumbles about the tram and being late and she asked if I had my book so she could give me the homework. Ugh! She did it with all smiles too, like "It's ok you weren't in class, nobody was, let me give you this homework though. Later!"
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| Me, Carlos, Shawn |
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| Shawn, Stephanie S, Adrian, Brady, Sutton, Rachel, and I |
Enjoy those? Yes, ok, so after that Carlos took me, Shawn, Ashley, Carrie, Allison, and our German friend Lena to this discothèque called Sun 7 (which is a play on words for "Sunset"). But first! A bottle of wine was bought and shared (although I only had a sip or two because it was really cheap and tasted like meat). So we got our grove on there as much as we could... it was super packed and a small place anyway. Three DFMOs took place (dance floor make out) though I shouldn't be spreading around who was a participant. I was not.
So we left around 2am, walked Lena home, and then walked all the way back to La Tronche. I got home at 3:30 and Carrie and Shawn got home at 4 or so. The whole walk was stalled a couple times to let Carrie have a sit down. All in all it was a very good night. Yesterday we went to Annecy but I'll post about that in a separate blog.
06 October, 2010
Negligence
I've been a tad negligent with my posting, haven't I? And to boot, this isn't even a real entry. I'm attaching some pictures and calling it good for now. Last weekend I went to the Musée Hébert like I said I would, and read Le Petit Prince while sitting in the park. I'll be sure to fill you in on cool stuff later.
This here is a mysterious path I longed to walk down the first time I went to this museum, but decided to stick with my guide/host dad. The second time I obliged myself.
See! This furniture looks nearly the same as my Old Yellow Chair at home!
29 September, 2010
Faux Pas After Faux Pas
Yes, I've made some faux pas. However, before I go into that shpeel, I need to tell you more about my friend the bathroom cockroach. As of this week, there have been two more sightings. I'm starting to think it charming. The first time this week, maybe it was yesterday, or sometime the day before, or heck, maybe the day before that, I open the door and take a step into the toilette and out runs the cockroach! Like, "I'm blowing the mop stand." Fine with me! But just now (ok, a few minutes ago), I step into the bathroom, and by "step into the bathroom," I mean see the cockroach and step on it without realizing that my panic sensors aren't working. I move my foot and the bug kind of makes a zig-zag line at first wanting to get out, but then deciding that living under the mop isn't so bad after all. I swear to god that thing... I don't even know. I'm still not sure it's a cockroach. It has the same rusty brown coloring... It's just smaller and has more (maybe the same amount of) phalanges.
Faux Pas #1: It was probably the first or second week here, and I had an innocent question to ask my host mom. So I go upstairs and to her room where she's sitting on her bed reading some papers. I say hello, while at the same time taking a step into her room - at which point she pitched a fit. Understandably, because (as she explained to me) if she were to be naked or something that wouldn't be a favorable situation. So, in the same case the next time, I'm to stand in the hall and knock on the door or frame of the door and call for her. It wasn't such a big deal, I just think I startled her.
Last weekend we had some family friends visiting with their infant boy child (boy child horror story to follow), but when they actually came I forgot we were expecting them. When I got home from school or doing whatever, I made to take a nap. And as far as I knew nobody was home. But then I started to hear voices and creaking around. So then I started to make noise and creak around. Maybe the thief would silently leave if they suspected someone in the house. Then the thief came downstairs, and they weren't alone! And then they popped their heads in the room and I realized what was happening so we said our little hellos and they went on their way.
Faux Pas #2: Later that day when everyone was home, I was downstairs and invited by my host brother to have tea. I should have gone, but really sometimes I don't understand these cues of etiquette. So I passed and minded my business. Then, one of the family friends, the father, the guest of the weekend, actually comes downstairs, outside my room, and asks if I want tea. Surely I replied yes, and apologized for not coming sooner? Nope. Nobody said anything but next time I'm going upstairs for tea.
Faux Pas #3: Don't put your grubby fingers on the cheese. No-brainer, right? No! I don't even care, that cheese is awfully hard to cut, and I don't come from a country full of experienced cheese cutters and eaters! This happened after dinner one night with the weekend guests and I was struggling, and after I had my fingers all over the cheese my host mom sternly told me what was what so I just passed the cheese and knife to her. Humph.
Let me tell you a little about this visiting family. There was a father, pregnant mother, and young toddler boy. The father was originally from Bangladesh but moved to France as a child. He was quite nice, and taught me how to play MahJong one night with Marie Emmanuelle, Fréd, and his wife. The wife... well the wife I warmed up to. She ended up being nice but there's just something about a pregnant woman I don't like. 1. They're prone to hormonal sass. 2. There's a baby in the belly and therefore the attention isn't on me. Also, I'm not really a child person. What do you say to a child? "Hey how's it going? Man, the economy really sucks right now" isn't a popular way of getting to know a rugrat. We have nothing in common.
All in all, though, they were enjoyable. Yes the child could be obnoxious, but he was also pretty cute. Adults can be cute too. What exactly do I mean? Well, two meals in a row Fréd tied his napkin around his neck like it was no big deal, showing the child that this is how we eat! I mean, the kid had a bib... didn't everyone? Little did I know that he was placating the little one... building up a good rapport. What do I mean? Well at some point I was downstairs and all of a sudden I heard screaming from the kid upstairs. Fréd the surgeon was performing an at-home circumcision. Yes folks, this nonnewborn was getting mutilated within the reach of the ability to create a memory. In the house. In the bathroom. I didn't really know this until afterward and I put the pieces together. Shall we?
Faux Pas #1: It was probably the first or second week here, and I had an innocent question to ask my host mom. So I go upstairs and to her room where she's sitting on her bed reading some papers. I say hello, while at the same time taking a step into her room - at which point she pitched a fit. Understandably, because (as she explained to me) if she were to be naked or something that wouldn't be a favorable situation. So, in the same case the next time, I'm to stand in the hall and knock on the door or frame of the door and call for her. It wasn't such a big deal, I just think I startled her.
Last weekend we had some family friends visiting with their infant boy child (boy child horror story to follow), but when they actually came I forgot we were expecting them. When I got home from school or doing whatever, I made to take a nap. And as far as I knew nobody was home. But then I started to hear voices and creaking around. So then I started to make noise and creak around. Maybe the thief would silently leave if they suspected someone in the house. Then the thief came downstairs, and they weren't alone! And then they popped their heads in the room and I realized what was happening so we said our little hellos and they went on their way.
Faux Pas #2: Later that day when everyone was home, I was downstairs and invited by my host brother to have tea. I should have gone, but really sometimes I don't understand these cues of etiquette. So I passed and minded my business. Then, one of the family friends, the father, the guest of the weekend, actually comes downstairs, outside my room, and asks if I want tea. Surely I replied yes, and apologized for not coming sooner? Nope. Nobody said anything but next time I'm going upstairs for tea.
Faux Pas #3: Don't put your grubby fingers on the cheese. No-brainer, right? No! I don't even care, that cheese is awfully hard to cut, and I don't come from a country full of experienced cheese cutters and eaters! This happened after dinner one night with the weekend guests and I was struggling, and after I had my fingers all over the cheese my host mom sternly told me what was what so I just passed the cheese and knife to her. Humph.
Let me tell you a little about this visiting family. There was a father, pregnant mother, and young toddler boy. The father was originally from Bangladesh but moved to France as a child. He was quite nice, and taught me how to play MahJong one night with Marie Emmanuelle, Fréd, and his wife. The wife... well the wife I warmed up to. She ended up being nice but there's just something about a pregnant woman I don't like. 1. They're prone to hormonal sass. 2. There's a baby in the belly and therefore the attention isn't on me. Also, I'm not really a child person. What do you say to a child? "Hey how's it going? Man, the economy really sucks right now" isn't a popular way of getting to know a rugrat. We have nothing in common.
All in all, though, they were enjoyable. Yes the child could be obnoxious, but he was also pretty cute. Adults can be cute too. What exactly do I mean? Well, two meals in a row Fréd tied his napkin around his neck like it was no big deal, showing the child that this is how we eat! I mean, the kid had a bib... didn't everyone? Little did I know that he was placating the little one... building up a good rapport. What do I mean? Well at some point I was downstairs and all of a sudden I heard screaming from the kid upstairs. Fréd the surgeon was performing an at-home circumcision. Yes folks, this nonnewborn was getting mutilated within the reach of the ability to create a memory. In the house. In the bathroom. I didn't really know this until afterward and I put the pieces together. Shall we?
- Fréd's surgeries deal with things like that, and prostates, and reproductive health.
- The night before, when they were about to change the toddler's diaper the dad was talking to my host dad like "Oh, did you want to check... everything out?" Here I thought maybe the kid had just had his operation.
- Next day. Child screaming upstairs.
- A little after, sitting on the couch watching TV, Marie Emmanuelle now holding the kid in her lap, who has a binky in his mouth and wet eyelashes. Fréd comes and sits down and is petting the child's small hand with his finger. The kid is unresponsive. Marie says something about him not wanting to reconcile.
- BAM. CIRCUMCISION HAPPENED. IN THE HOUSE.
The end.
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| Four Paws |
Actually, Faux Pas #4: Dinner in 10 minutes means 10 minutes. It's not a restaurant. As I was told last night.
24 September, 2010
Czechoslovakia
Czechoslovakia is much more fun to say compared to the Czech Republic. It came up in conversation today as we were sitting in a café talking about travel; some people would like to see Prague, which is the capital of the Czech Republic. Is Yugoslavia still a country? Wikipedia tells me no, but I guess I already knew that. Before my family moved to Lake Stevens we had Yugoslavian neighbors. Apparently they'd leave food out in their backyard which attracted rats. Gotta love 'em.
So anyway, not a whole lot has happened this week that's enormously exciting to write about. Well, Wednesday was fun but I'll get to that. Classes went alright. I'm in level B1.8 now, as I may or may not have mentioned (I'm too lazy to click a few buttons and read a few lines), which is the top of the intermediate level (but also considered advanced) and my teacher is crazy. Well, ok, she's not crazy. At first she gave me the impression that she doesn't like teaching French to foreigners, but by the end of the week I felt ok about her. It's just that she'll say a sentence and leave it hanging, fishing for a word from us, and the class (probably only 14 people total) just stares at her blankly. We can't read your mind lady! And sometimes she'll help us with a sentence when we speak, but she'll do it in a sing-song condescending voice as if to say "come on... you can do it!" It irks me. For some reason she's hard to understand too. I feel pretty good about my comprehension level but when this lady opens her mouth sometimes I just don't know what she's saying.
On Wednesday night, my 26 year-old host brother, Clément, took Shawn and Ashley and I out for drinks. First of all, I already know I like this guy because he's super nice, but I also learned that he's very generous. Why do I know this? Because he bought the drinks the entire night. First, we went to a bar called Barberousse where he, Shawn, and I shared a bottle of some fruit juice/rum drink while we waited for Ashley. While we were there, he also bought us flaming shots, and even after the bartender explicitly explained how to use the straw to drink it, I still didn't do it right (at this point, Ashley called and said she'd be able to meet us in 20 minutes). In any case, each time he'd buy something, Shawn and I would look at each other like "he better stop paying for everything." We left that bar and went to a café in Place Notre Dame where the three of us each had a little glass of Ricard, which is a leading brand of pastis (it was mixed with syrup and water) and I actually quite enjoyed it! Then Ashley called and said she was almost at Victor Hugo, and when we told her she was supposed to be going to Notre Dame, she sighed "Son of a bitch" in her Northern Cities accent, and she told us she'd meet us in five minutes. And she did! And then Clément bought us all another round.
So from there we went to a bar called Le Tord Boyaux. Getting to the bar was interesting... I had started to feel dizzy. Then I bumped into a wall, at which point Shawn started laughing, saying "easy there, fella." But honestly! I didn't bump into it because I was tipsy, it was just because I had turned around to look at them, and I know mothers do, but I don't have eyes in the back of my head thankyouverymuch! This bar was fun... small, but it had good music and it wasn't touristy in the least. My host brother bought a bottle of Piña Colada for the four of us, but before that we each had a shot of I don't know what - apparently it's a Grenoble specialty and it tasted like nutmeg, or cinnamon - but it wasn't too shabby! When he went to pay, for some reason his card wasn't working and he apologized profusely and bashfully asked if we could pay; Shawn and I plunged our hands into our pockets to dig out some money (much to our relief). After a bit we decided to leave. While waiting for the tram, Clément said goodbye to us and started to walk away, but came back. He said to me "One last thing - don't tell my mom I paid for everything."
The next morning I thought I had to wake up early because of the strikes (strikes over here seem to be often... and scheduled) delaying the tram. So I got out of bed, stood in the bathroom, had an internal battle whether or not to go to school (maybe I was still feeling dizzy, I don't know - you tell me). So naturally I went back to bed and woke up in time to take a shower, figure out the trams were still running, and make it to school with time to spare. Did I have a slight headache? Yes. Did it get worse throughout the day? Yes. Did I skip the late afternoon lecture, go home for some asprin, and take a nap? Yes. I woke up feeling fancy fresh, too, thankyouverymuch.
Today some friends and I went about town, eating things, and being loud Americans. Then we went to a museum called Musée de la Résistance which was quite the mood kill but informational all the same. From there we went to the café and discussed Czechoslovakia and a variety of topics. Also, it's been raining off and on today. On that note, the wall of mountain outside my window is sometimes just a wall of cloud. Like now.
So anyway, not a whole lot has happened this week that's enormously exciting to write about. Well, Wednesday was fun but I'll get to that. Classes went alright. I'm in level B1.8 now, as I may or may not have mentioned (I'm too lazy to click a few buttons and read a few lines), which is the top of the intermediate level (but also considered advanced) and my teacher is crazy. Well, ok, she's not crazy. At first she gave me the impression that she doesn't like teaching French to foreigners, but by the end of the week I felt ok about her. It's just that she'll say a sentence and leave it hanging, fishing for a word from us, and the class (probably only 14 people total) just stares at her blankly. We can't read your mind lady! And sometimes she'll help us with a sentence when we speak, but she'll do it in a sing-song condescending voice as if to say "come on... you can do it!" It irks me. For some reason she's hard to understand too. I feel pretty good about my comprehension level but when this lady opens her mouth sometimes I just don't know what she's saying.
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| Courtesy of Barberousse |
| Courtesy of API |
The next morning I thought I had to wake up early because of the strikes (strikes over here seem to be often... and scheduled) delaying the tram. So I got out of bed, stood in the bathroom, had an internal battle whether or not to go to school (maybe I was still feeling dizzy, I don't know - you tell me). So naturally I went back to bed and woke up in time to take a shower, figure out the trams were still running, and make it to school with time to spare. Did I have a slight headache? Yes. Did it get worse throughout the day? Yes. Did I skip the late afternoon lecture, go home for some asprin, and take a nap? Yes. I woke up feeling fancy fresh, too, thankyouverymuch.
Today some friends and I went about town, eating things, and being loud Americans. Then we went to a museum called Musée de la Résistance which was quite the mood kill but informational all the same. From there we went to the café and discussed Czechoslovakia and a variety of topics. Also, it's been raining off and on today. On that note, the wall of mountain outside my window is sometimes just a wall of cloud. Like now.
19 September, 2010
Verklemption pt. 2
Yeah, this is my second post of the day, so what, big whoop, wanna fight about it? So I'm writing this as a follow-up because after I posted about the paintbrushes and such, I'm sitting in my room minding my own business when Marie is calling about something from upstairs. So I go up there and she's like, "Do you want to see how I paint upstairs?" So I'm all "Yeah girl! [haha]" So we go up to the mysterious third floor that I've only been to four times total. Maybe three... Once when she showed me, once when I went back up alone to be Nancy Drew and dust for fingerprints, and once today. Maybe one more time dusting.
So up there she shows me this drawing she's done on tracing paper of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. On the back of it, though, she's dusting a rusty colored powder. And she's using one of my Monoprix paintbrushes! She's saying how useful it is because it covers a lot of area and her other brushes don't work as well for that. I got verklempt, I did! Then she showed me how she uses this metal wand thing to trace her lines and the red dusting makes the lines on a paper beneath the original drawing. I stayed and watched for a while and then left her to it.
Before that though she came into my room and took some pictures for some student thing or something, I don't really know because I was doing a million things at once. In fact, I think I was writing Verklemption pt. 1. This it what it looked like (I know because she sent me the pictures!):
It's good to be in the land of people with Grandpa's (and Dan's... and maybe Dad's?) coloring.
So up there she shows me this drawing she's done on tracing paper of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. On the back of it, though, she's dusting a rusty colored powder. And she's using one of my Monoprix paintbrushes! She's saying how useful it is because it covers a lot of area and her other brushes don't work as well for that. I got verklempt, I did! Then she showed me how she uses this metal wand thing to trace her lines and the red dusting makes the lines on a paper beneath the original drawing. I stayed and watched for a while and then left her to it.
Before that though she came into my room and took some pictures for some student thing or something, I don't really know because I was doing a million things at once. In fact, I think I was writing Verklemption pt. 1. This it what it looked like (I know because she sent me the pictures!):It's good to be in the land of people with Grandpa's (and Dan's... and maybe Dad's?) coloring.
Verklemption
I'm a little verklempt, y'all. Certainly will tell you why! Certainly will! (On that note - Jill best keep our Facebook message going because as of right now it's dead! And I'm verklempt! Darn it!) As a whole, things are still going well, but I'm just going to clue everyone in on minor annoyances.
First, it was my host mother's birthday this week. That's cool, right? Right! It's so cool that I took a mental note that she likes to paint, went to the Monoprix after school, and bought her two packs of paintbrushes. "Aw, that's nice," right? No! Wrong! First of all, the Monoprix is a hard concept to explain... it's like... A clothes store/bakery/convenience store/grocery store/etc. all in one. Still somewhat classy, and far better than something like Walmart. You're just going to have to look it up if you don't already know. So anyway, my thought was just to get the presents as a nice gesture. Silly me, though, didn't notice that the packages say Monoprix on them (which is as good as saying I bought some paintbrushes that say Safeway on them). Not only that, they're made from poney, or to you, pony. And yes, she did point this out to her visiting friend, saying "I've never used pony before." Ugh. Verklempt.
Continuing on the birthday note, we had a little birthday late lunch/dinner for her today. At the table was Marie Emmanuelle, Sylvain, Sylvain's girlfriend Marion, the middle son Clément (who's quite nice - like the rest of the family - and offered to show me cool things in town this week), myself, and Fréd. This meal seemed very Dauphinois (the region of France in which I'm staying) as it was of sausage, sauerkraut, potatoes, ham, and a hotdog sausage thing. That's perfectly fine, if not filling, and afterwards Fréd brought out the dessert. This was a golden brown spongey looking cake with cream and fruit in the middle. The cake itself looked to be glazed with honey. Was it? No. The cake was in fact Rum Baba. Everything about it was delicious besides the cake being saturated in rum. If I'd have known I wouldn't be so verklempt, but honestly, when you expect honey and instead get rum it's quite the unpleasant hoodwink! Needless to say, I payed close attention to how I rationed my cream so that it would cover the rum taste. My mouth still watered like I was going to vom though. Eventually somebody offered to fill my water glass. Also! Funny thing (hardy har har): after Marie Emmanuelle and Marion were served, Fréd asked who should be served next and Marie said "le plus petit," which everyone took as "the smallest one," so naturally Fréd was about to put the piece of cake on my plate, but she started laughing and Sylvain lifted his plate as he is the youngest (which was what was originally meant). At the same time, she said guests are served first and that that wouldn't be me as I'm part of the family! Awww. Good verklempt!
What next? Well I bet you're looking for some picture or something, so I can talk about Rachel's 22nd birthday. Not so bad actually, but it was raining so it wasn't too eventful. We tried to bar hop but ended up going to the London Pub which is definitely an anglophone hot spot. Some of us left and went to the... Irish Pub? I don't remember but my beer was kinda nasty (though I did order the cheapest kind). We'll find a better place sometime! Note: Those people are the ones that came out that night but it's lacking a few from our whole API group.
Classes. Oy, classes. Let me just say, humbly, that in the states I'm usually one of the top in my French class. Well! Number one, I'm a tad rusty still from the summer, and number two, I learned that my level of writing needs drastic improvement. Apparently. Also, I'm getting verklempt because what if I've reached the stasis of language learning and I don't improve so much? Linguists know that the younger you are (meaning before puberty) the easier it is to pick up a language, which is probably why I did so well with French in the first place because I bloomed late. However, what if my brain's reached the point where it doesn't pick things up as easily? Says the kid who'll probably be fluent by the time May rolls around. Verklempt. We're placed into levels here and originally I was in B1.7 but on Monday I start B1.8 because I got moved up. Apparently that's considered advanced at the CUEF, but I believe it's just the top of the intermediate. Advanced to me starts at B2.0 (which would be the next level after B1.8). I get to switch again... next semester, I think? I don't know if there's another switch period any time soon.
On those notes I'm verklempt because WWU has to evaluate my work when I get back and they ask that I'm in advanced classes. So really there's no way to tell if things are going to work out the way they should until I get back so I'm just going to forget about it. Also! Because I'm not in B2.0 I get to keep the same Vocabulary class which is great because number one, I like the teacher, and number two, as far as I've seen (class has only been held once so far) it has a linguistic aspect about it so I feel pretty smart for knowing a bunch of things. Maybe I can use that class for credit for my minor. And! If I took all the classes I thought I'd be taking I'd be over the maximum credits per semester for Western so I: don't have to take this history of film class, and can take Society and Culture instead which is what I wanted. Hopefully it won't matter that I've missed two classes. It's a lecture anyway so I don't think it will be such a big deal.
Last thing: Frédéric took me to a museum after Marie's lunch/dinner that's five minutes from my house and I absolutely loved it. It has really nice gardens to walk around in, and the paintings inside are quite nice. I'm going to go back for a while until it gets too cold. Maybe I'll do my homework there, or just people watch if I can. I've yet to do much of that. Let me just link that museum here. And! I'll go back and take pictures, but! But! This museum used to be a house and there's a showcase of a living room with furniture, and I kid you absolutely not, the chairs and couch had the same material as my yellow chair at home. I inhaled sharply when I saw it, and I swear my neck stretched out as I lingered looking at it as we walked into the next room.
First, it was my host mother's birthday this week. That's cool, right? Right! It's so cool that I took a mental note that she likes to paint, went to the Monoprix after school, and bought her two packs of paintbrushes. "Aw, that's nice," right? No! Wrong! First of all, the Monoprix is a hard concept to explain... it's like... A clothes store/bakery/convenience store/grocery store/etc. all in one. Still somewhat classy, and far better than something like Walmart. You're just going to have to look it up if you don't already know. So anyway, my thought was just to get the presents as a nice gesture. Silly me, though, didn't notice that the packages say Monoprix on them (which is as good as saying I bought some paintbrushes that say Safeway on them). Not only that, they're made from poney, or to you, pony. And yes, she did point this out to her visiting friend, saying "I've never used pony before." Ugh. Verklempt.
Continuing on the birthday note, we had a little birthday late lunch/dinner for her today. At the table was Marie Emmanuelle, Sylvain, Sylvain's girlfriend Marion, the middle son Clément (who's quite nice - like the rest of the family - and offered to show me cool things in town this week), myself, and Fréd. This meal seemed very Dauphinois (the region of France in which I'm staying) as it was of sausage, sauerkraut, potatoes, ham, and a hotdog sausage thing. That's perfectly fine, if not filling, and afterwards Fréd brought out the dessert. This was a golden brown spongey looking cake with cream and fruit in the middle. The cake itself looked to be glazed with honey. Was it? No. The cake was in fact Rum Baba. Everything about it was delicious besides the cake being saturated in rum. If I'd have known I wouldn't be so verklempt, but honestly, when you expect honey and instead get rum it's quite the unpleasant hoodwink! Needless to say, I payed close attention to how I rationed my cream so that it would cover the rum taste. My mouth still watered like I was going to vom though. Eventually somebody offered to fill my water glass. Also! Funny thing (hardy har har): after Marie Emmanuelle and Marion were served, Fréd asked who should be served next and Marie said "le plus petit," which everyone took as "the smallest one," so naturally Fréd was about to put the piece of cake on my plate, but she started laughing and Sylvain lifted his plate as he is the youngest (which was what was originally meant). At the same time, she said guests are served first and that that wouldn't be me as I'm part of the family! Awww. Good verklempt!
 |
| We shouldn't travel in such a big group... |
Classes. Oy, classes. Let me just say, humbly, that in the states I'm usually one of the top in my French class. Well! Number one, I'm a tad rusty still from the summer, and number two, I learned that my level of writing needs drastic improvement. Apparently. Also, I'm getting verklempt because what if I've reached the stasis of language learning and I don't improve so much? Linguists know that the younger you are (meaning before puberty) the easier it is to pick up a language, which is probably why I did so well with French in the first place because I bloomed late. However, what if my brain's reached the point where it doesn't pick things up as easily? Says the kid who'll probably be fluent by the time May rolls around. Verklempt. We're placed into levels here and originally I was in B1.7 but on Monday I start B1.8 because I got moved up. Apparently that's considered advanced at the CUEF, but I believe it's just the top of the intermediate. Advanced to me starts at B2.0 (which would be the next level after B1.8). I get to switch again... next semester, I think? I don't know if there's another switch period any time soon.
On those notes I'm verklempt because WWU has to evaluate my work when I get back and they ask that I'm in advanced classes. So really there's no way to tell if things are going to work out the way they should until I get back so I'm just going to forget about it. Also! Because I'm not in B2.0 I get to keep the same Vocabulary class which is great because number one, I like the teacher, and number two, as far as I've seen (class has only been held once so far) it has a linguistic aspect about it so I feel pretty smart for knowing a bunch of things. Maybe I can use that class for credit for my minor. And! If I took all the classes I thought I'd be taking I'd be over the maximum credits per semester for Western so I: don't have to take this history of film class, and can take Society and Culture instead which is what I wanted. Hopefully it won't matter that I've missed two classes. It's a lecture anyway so I don't think it will be such a big deal.
Last thing: Frédéric took me to a museum after Marie's lunch/dinner that's five minutes from my house and I absolutely loved it. It has really nice gardens to walk around in, and the paintings inside are quite nice. I'm going to go back for a while until it gets too cold. Maybe I'll do my homework there, or just people watch if I can. I've yet to do much of that. Let me just link that museum here. And! I'll go back and take pictures, but! But! This museum used to be a house and there's a showcase of a living room with furniture, and I kid you absolutely not, the chairs and couch had the same material as my yellow chair at home. I inhaled sharply when I saw it, and I swear my neck stretched out as I lingered looking at it as we walked into the next room.
12 September, 2010
Hop to Switzerland
My host parents kindly took me right on over to Switzerland today, which wasn't that long of a drive. We went to this museum to see an Edward Hopper exhibit. Edward Hopper is an American artist who's known for his melancholy, lonely scenes and his influence from impressionism. Don't take my word for it, though, as I probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Maybe this will help? Anyway, I liked most, if not all of what I saw.
The museum itself was beautiful, and it used to be this big house for people I'm too lazy to research. It's probably on the museum's website, which I've already linked. We took some pictures in the garden in the back of the house, which I know you're dying to see.
After our museum outing we were quite hungry indeed, so we went into town and had ourselves a nice meal (not before trying to leave first because they were so slow. Tell a Swiss they're not on time and they'll fix that!) of hash-browns with cheese on top. 1. If I remembered what it was called, I'd certainly put it here. 2. In the last post I talked about Amie yelling "I'm so hungry!" but all I want to yell is "I'm so full!" 'Tis true!
I've eaten a lot here. A lot of cheese, and dairy in fact. I'm full just thinking about everything... it's just so delicious! Dinner is always a delight, and tonight we had Jumbalaya.
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| There's still more to that! |
After our museum outing we were quite hungry indeed, so we went into town and had ourselves a nice meal (not before trying to leave first because they were so slow. Tell a Swiss they're not on time and they'll fix that!) of hash-browns with cheese on top. 1. If I remembered what it was called, I'd certainly put it here. 2. In the last post I talked about Amie yelling "I'm so hungry!" but all I want to yell is "I'm so full!" 'Tis true!
Rusé Comme un Renard
In fact I did go to Switzerland today! That story will go at the end of this post because I know I've got some miscellaneous stuff to say that I just haven't gotten to, and really it's not all that important but still needs to be said.
- France, maybe even Europe, is the only place I get color. Now, we know I'm quite pale, and usually if I'm left out in the sun too long I burn, and I don't tan. Actually... I did get a shade darker in Chelan... But that just ruins the glamour of my skin having refined taste.
- My host family's house is located near a church. Church bell rings in the morning, and often.
- My host dad has two earpieces and therefore I have to say things to him two or three times. Naturally you'd think "Oh, good practice for speaking," to which I'd say that you're wrong because I think that each time I say it I have a thicker and thicker accent.
- On the fifth day in France my true love gave to me... feet that didn't hurt anymore.
- The French, instead of saying "uh" or "um" like we do, instead say something that kind of sounds like "bahn" with a nasal n. I've the habit of saying it now, especially starting my sentences because I process them before I speak them. So at dinner one night my host mom told me other things I could say instead because "bahn" isn't always so proper. Then my host dad chimed in and said that in fact it's very French, and I'm off to a good start, concluding (after more opinion from Marie Emmanuelle) that the only people who don't say it are kings and princes. In the end I've cut back but I still enjoy saying it.
- At dinner two nights ago, my host brother was talking about somebody he met at school and after describing him, my host mother nearly died of laughter. After Fréd explained to me what seemed to be a skunk, Sylvain told me that it wasn't and I surmised that it was a badger. "That guy's a badger." Or maybe it was something like "That guy is as mean as a badger." Either way, don't be a badger. Badger.
- One of the friends I've made here who's an API student has a family that eats very little. A group of us went out for a drink one night and she explained to us that they eat very small portions, and as soon as everyone is served, they remove the food from the table. This is incredibly strange as everyone else's family feeds them extremely well. She ended her explanation lamenting, "I'm so hungry!" Adorable.
- My host parents remind me of characters you'd find in a silent claymation movie. It's mostly their movements and the fact that I don't understand everything they say. It's hard to explain, but enormously adorable all the same. Speaking of claymation (and I should add stop-motion), last night I watched a short film called Pierre and the Wolf (Pierre et le Loup), which all of you should look in to.
No, I'm not going to talk about Switzerland yet. And look at all those bullets you read to get here! Good for you (pat yourself on the back, round of applause, etc., etc.)! I will, I promise, but I'd like to talk a bit about the Musée Dauphinois. It's quite great, and they have all kinds of cool stuff and exhibits, not to mention it's a beautiful place that used to be a convent. The gardens and views of the city is incredible as well. Also. Do you know what happened to me there? Because I'll tell you, I will. I'm just minding my own business, walking down this hall featuring this technology exhibit, when my ears perk up like a dog hearing the word "walk." Do you know why? Because I'll tell you, I will. I feel like they did this as if they knew I were coming, but they were playing on a screen in the wall of this awesome technology exhibit, the music video to one of my favorite songs by my favorite music artist. I fluttered around like a little trapped bird, I did!
Björk: All is Full of Love
There are also some pictures:
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| The Long Ascent |
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| Shawn and I |
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| I don't like to look a tourist. |
Look at this incredibly long entry! In truth, I've decided to talk about Switzerland in the next post. I'm sneaky like that! Look, though! You read all of this! As far as I know...
10 September, 2010
Sights and Sounds
Let me just talk about the toilet for a bit. So, like many homes in France, there's a room separate from the bathroom for a toilet. Fine, that's cool. The only thing problem is that the downstairs toilet (the one I frequent) is actually pretty tall. So tall, in fact, that when I sit on it, my feet aren't flat on the ground, and instead I can only reach the floor with my toes, and I end up swinging my legs a little like a toddler on the potty! I just don't know what to think!
No, I'm not done talking about the toilet because I have quite the horror story. So not long ago... maybe 12 minutes ago, I walked into the bathroom (toilette), turned on the light, and shut the door. As I was unbuckling my belt, and about to pull my pants down, I was in quite the zone of comfort. However, that all came to a screeching halt when something darted across the floor to seek solace underneath the mop that's propped against the wall. And do you know what that something was? Dare I say it was a small cockroach the size of a beadle? I don't know. I don't know if I'd say that, as I didn't get a good look at it, and it scared me so much that I jumped and hit my wrist on this metal contraption that covers the toilet paper on the wall. Suffice to say, I did my business and left. That thing better still be cowering under that mop because I do NOT want to wake up with it on my face.
I've got miscellaneous things to post about, but maybe I'll do that tomorrow as I'm getting tired and would rather tell you a little about the riveting game of Mancala Frédéric and I had this evening after dinner. First, he and Marie Emmanuelle went over the rules but they had two different sets of them so I just sat there for a while as they discussed the correct way to play. So he and I played his way and I was pretty bad at it because number one, the rules were given to me in French and I assure you I don't understand everything, and number two, I'd never played it that way before. He had to help me along the way. And sometimes I'd make a move and he'd give me that look as if to say "are you sure?" Needless to say I wasn't sure so we'd reexamine and make a move. Then we played my way, and if Caitlin's reading this she knows I cheat at that game but I promise we played the right way. It was better my way because I actually knew what was happening and I could watch the gears turn in his head as he strategized. Much unlike me when we played his way. So anyway, altogether we played four games and called it a night. Riveting tale? I think so.
No, I'm not done talking about the toilet because I have quite the horror story. So not long ago... maybe 12 minutes ago, I walked into the bathroom (toilette), turned on the light, and shut the door. As I was unbuckling my belt, and about to pull my pants down, I was in quite the zone of comfort. However, that all came to a screeching halt when something darted across the floor to seek solace underneath the mop that's propped against the wall. And do you know what that something was? Dare I say it was a small cockroach the size of a beadle? I don't know. I don't know if I'd say that, as I didn't get a good look at it, and it scared me so much that I jumped and hit my wrist on this metal contraption that covers the toilet paper on the wall. Suffice to say, I did my business and left. That thing better still be cowering under that mop because I do NOT want to wake up with it on my face.
05 September, 2010
Une Nouvelle Vague
Where do I even start? The plane ride to France was long, which is to be expected. What made it longer, though, was the image of my mother saying goodbye at the airport, bawling. I was considering the option of going home if I felt I needed to, but as we flew over France, and the sun was rising - lighting the country side -I knew immediately that I am supposed to be here.
After meeting many of the students at the airport in Paris, and my program managers, we headed off in shuttles to our hotel. They were four days well spent, making friends and seeing the sights. By the third day we knew how to operate the Metro completely. I don't have any pictures of Paris because apparently I forgot to check the batteries in my camera before leaving home. Needless to say, everything was beautiful, and I saw almost everything I wanted to. Maybe I'll post more about Paris later.
Yesterday we took the TGV from Paris to Grenoble, met up with our families, and moved it. My family is very nice and I feel pretty comfortable here. They have a good sense of humor, which I expected from our emails, but I think the biggest joke of the family is that Marie Emmanuelle loves ice cream. She insists she'll only allow herself ice cream once a week.
Today my host mother and father took me hiking up Charmant Som, one of the three or four outstanding surrounding mountains. At the top there's a cross, and along with that, I've a story:
Frédéric and I get to the top, and stop to have a sit, a sandwich, and a look around. (OH DEAR GOD, HE JUST WALKED IN AND GAVE ME A REPLACEMENT PLUG FOR MY MAC PLUG SO NOW I DON'T HAVE TO USE THE WATT CONVERTER. THIS IS MAGICAL). As we sat there, he pointed out the different mountains, and the little town below called St. Pierre de Chartreuse (where we eventually went and Marie Emmanuelle bought 55€ worth of cheese). As we're sitting there, this guy is making crazy grunting noises behind us. We turn around and see that this man has climbed the cross and thinks he's awesome. His daughter, pretty young, is asking him to help her up so she can sit there too but he refuses. Fréd gets up and turns around to watch, so I do the same. At this point the guy is off (or getting off of) the cross, and my host father tells him that it's a symbol to be treated with respect, and isn't for gymnastics. The man extends his arm to touch Fréd's shoulder (naturally he says "don't touch me") and asks if he's the police. Ignoring him, we begin the descent, which was much easier than going up! Oh! Speaking of going up, on the hill there were a bunch of brown cows with bells around their necks and we were so close we could almost touch them. I should have taken a picture. I do have a picture of our view from the top:
At the bottom, we couldn't find Marie but eventually she came around. We got in the car and drove off where they had a little dispute about where she was supposed to be (she insisted that he said it'd take an hour so she decided to take a little walk). The important thing is that I understood 89% of it, and therefore had to keep a smile from my face. Eventually we reached a town with a church that's known for the contemporary art inside of it. It's called Église Saint-Hugues-de-Chartreuse. The art was really quite beautiful, but of course I'm not religious so I had Marie explain to me what we were looking at. We left the church, had a cup of coffee at a little restaurant (sitting down was interesting... We got stared at by the two people at the table in front of ours. I kid you not, this guy turn around in his chair and stared daggers at me when I sat down. If they can smell America from across the ocean, I wouldn't be surprised). Then we went and bought the cheese in the next town over.
I need to ask them how to get around. Things start up for real tomorrow morning, bright and early.
Next weekend we're going to Geneva, Switzerland to see a museum featuring art from an American artist whom I forget the name of, but I'll get you the information later. No big deal, just going to Switzerland.
After meeting many of the students at the airport in Paris, and my program managers, we headed off in shuttles to our hotel. They were four days well spent, making friends and seeing the sights. By the third day we knew how to operate the Metro completely. I don't have any pictures of Paris because apparently I forgot to check the batteries in my camera before leaving home. Needless to say, everything was beautiful, and I saw almost everything I wanted to. Maybe I'll post more about Paris later.
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| Ma Chambre |
Yesterday we took the TGV from Paris to Grenoble, met up with our families, and moved it. My family is very nice and I feel pretty comfortable here. They have a good sense of humor, which I expected from our emails, but I think the biggest joke of the family is that Marie Emmanuelle loves ice cream. She insists she'll only allow herself ice cream once a week.
Today my host mother and father took me hiking up Charmant Som, one of the three or four outstanding surrounding mountains. At the top there's a cross, and along with that, I've a story:
Frédéric and I get to the top, and stop to have a sit, a sandwich, and a look around. (OH DEAR GOD, HE JUST WALKED IN AND GAVE ME A REPLACEMENT PLUG FOR MY MAC PLUG SO NOW I DON'T HAVE TO USE THE WATT CONVERTER. THIS IS MAGICAL). As we sat there, he pointed out the different mountains, and the little town below called St. Pierre de Chartreuse (where we eventually went and Marie Emmanuelle bought 55€ worth of cheese). As we're sitting there, this guy is making crazy grunting noises behind us. We turn around and see that this man has climbed the cross and thinks he's awesome. His daughter, pretty young, is asking him to help her up so she can sit there too but he refuses. Fréd gets up and turns around to watch, so I do the same. At this point the guy is off (or getting off of) the cross, and my host father tells him that it's a symbol to be treated with respect, and isn't for gymnastics. The man extends his arm to touch Fréd's shoulder (naturally he says "don't touch me") and asks if he's the police. Ignoring him, we begin the descent, which was much easier than going up! Oh! Speaking of going up, on the hill there were a bunch of brown cows with bells around their necks and we were so close we could almost touch them. I should have taken a picture. I do have a picture of our view from the top:
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| This is my life now. |
At the bottom, we couldn't find Marie but eventually she came around. We got in the car and drove off where they had a little dispute about where she was supposed to be (she insisted that he said it'd take an hour so she decided to take a little walk). The important thing is that I understood 89% of it, and therefore had to keep a smile from my face. Eventually we reached a town with a church that's known for the contemporary art inside of it. It's called Église Saint-Hugues-de-Chartreuse. The art was really quite beautiful, but of course I'm not religious so I had Marie explain to me what we were looking at. We left the church, had a cup of coffee at a little restaurant (sitting down was interesting... We got stared at by the two people at the table in front of ours. I kid you not, this guy turn around in his chair and stared daggers at me when I sat down. If they can smell America from across the ocean, I wouldn't be surprised). Then we went and bought the cheese in the next town over.
I need to ask them how to get around. Things start up for real tomorrow morning, bright and early.
Next weekend we're going to Geneva, Switzerland to see a museum featuring art from an American artist whom I forget the name of, but I'll get you the information later. No big deal, just going to Switzerland.
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