A Long Weekend: The Last European Blog

The last weekend was a bit extended, between leaving for a random trip to Nice on Thursday afternoon and having no school Monday. It was great to go out of France, on the last real weekend, with a bang- somewhat literally. I really don't even know how to begin explaining this; I already hate how watered-down it will be. This was one of the most powerful experiences for me, and there is absolutely no way to explain it in cyberspace.

Jon contacted Amelie, his Parisian friend, somtime last week, and when she replied, it was with an invitation to spend the weekend with her and her father at his home in Nice. We instantly accepted, and planned to leave Friday after class. However, the railway station had different plans. Due to all of the holiday traffic (Bastille Day was the 14th), the only open train was at noon on Thursday. I wasn't at the ticket booth with Jon, so he had to make the decision... and he got them. Who could say no to three euro tickets to the sea?

We explained the situation to our teacher and left in time to catch the train, which wouldn't get us into Nice until 7. I've come to love train rides so much, and going through Provence, which is easily the msot vibrant part of France, for three hours was a good way to spend an afternoon- much better than sitting at my window, staring at my tree. The colors are so saturated in the south, between the lush foliage, houses of every shad of orange you could imagine, clouds that turn purple when the sun is behind them and the purple-gray of the sea, my mind couldn't choose a scene to rest on.

Amelie wasn't able to pick us up until 10, so we had time to wander about the train station's neighborhood and eat the best kabab that I've ever had. They're really popular here, since it's so close to the Middle East, but they are not the kebabs you think of in the states. They're much more like "our" gyros, stuffed into a pita with tons of spices and salad. When Amelie scooped us up, we went to here father's boat to grab supplies for the weekend, took a driving tour of Nice, which was glimmering in the light from the huge moon and the salty air, and got ice cream near the harbor.

We were originally staying with her father at his home, but his friend had the weekend free. They decided to take the days to go to Port St. Louis du Rhône, to work on the other, larger sailboat that they have. So, after rearranging some travel plans, we were ready for our Friday in Nice and Saturday in Port St. Louis.

Friday, we made lunch and headed to the park for the entire afternoon. The large garden was next to a church on the top of a hill that overlooked all of Nice before ending in the sea. We sat and watched boats carry travellers to and from Corsica, that was hidden just behind some clouds on the horizon. When we got back to the house, it was time to head with Pierre and Pascal, Amelie's father and step-mother- and we headed right into the worst traffic jam ever. We gave up at 11 that night and stopped for a very Greek dinner. The salad bar at this restaurant was the easiest way for me to try tons of new food and gets a million new flavors that I will miss when I come back home. The weight of the meal and the car's motion put me to sleep. I woke up at 2 a.m. when we pulled into the port.

The boat was docked inland since it was being serviced, and it would be our home for the next two days. We weren't on it much, between shopping with Pascal for supplies and groceries (I absolutely loved getting free samples and seeing what foods a French family bought on a regular basis) and going to the beach (a.k.a. the sea) for the day. That night, we again went to a late dinner at a restaurant sitting between the Rhône River and the southern coast. Storms were going on in both bodies of water, and we were sitting the the strip of calm. The conversation was buzzing and it was amazing to feel at home and comfortable in a different country, with people different from anyone I have known before.

The experience, especially their kisses goodbye and their waves as we boarded the train on Sunday, was my favorite part of this month. We got to be completely immersed in French culture and language, and see just how far we have come and still have to go. I hope that one day, I can give a young student the same experience.

Monday was Bastille Day, the French national holiday. Thus, there were no classes and no stores open... and the morning was full of rain and cold. I was depressed as I studied at my window, but when Jon came and convinced me to go out and sit at a cafe for a bit, in the sun that had finally decided to show, things brightened up (no bad joke intended). We talked about our trip, about what we would miss, and wandered through the strees looking at absolutely everything, as if to make sure we wouldn't miss anything important. I savored my cappuccino to the last and looked at the people sitting around me, full of envy for their ability to go whenever they like.

That night, after getting a bit lost, we found our way to the Stade Mager, where the town was holding their festival. We watched a multicultural dance show and ate sugar crepes before sitting the closest either of us ever have to a large fireworks display. The crowd was only yards away from the field, and it was as if the whole scene was seen through 3D glasses. I really think I could have touched the sizzling, flying bits of color falling in front of the mountains. The crowd's sounds of aaw were heartwarming and probably better than the show itself. I'd never felt like such a part of the town.

Today is our last full day in Chambery. We catch our train to Nimes tomorrow, to watch the Tour de France, then go to Montpellier and head for home Monday. Thus, this will be my last blog abroad. I will definitely wrap things up when I get back home, possible after I recover from a long depression. I'm so thankful to be going right back to a family vacation that will throw me in with the people I miss most, doing something so familiar, and work to keep my mind off of how much I will miss this place.

le jour parfait

Our class was canceled on Monday, so we spent the day studying and catching up on small things. After that, we soaked up the sun and the fact that no class one day meant six hours the next.

We got to school in the morning while there was still a bit of a chill in the air; it was the first time in the past month that I've arrived without sweating (not that it ever stopped me from immediately buying a cappuccino). I entered the classroom of my favorite teacher we've had so far, Karine, six months pregnant and the absolute model of a patient teacher.

The morning was spent focusing on grammar, learning the intricate details of the past tense, which everyone had thought that they understood. We hit our vocabulary hard, took a break and regrouped without losing much steam- I took this as a really good sign, since some people in the group are easily distracted by the amazing view in front of the school.

Three hours. Lunch break. Back for three hours... This time, we focused on speaking and becoming comfortable with different accents. While we normally work in pairs, she through us into awkward quartets that we would have never chosen for ourselves, forcing us to use more of our vocabulary than we would otherwise. I was really proud of myself: Normally, I'm one of the quietest in class and I volunteered to play a game where I had to be interviewed by the entire class. I love public speaking and all, but there's something so completely different about a classroom setting that still gets me all jittery and nervous. My classmates have caught on to the fact that I blush (rougir, in French)about everything, so they're always calling on me to say things. I knew that I was gaining confidence in my ability when I volunteered myself for so much speaking.

I left class on such a high note, walking out in the perfect 25°C weather with a sky so blue and clouds so white you would think they were a family portrait backdrop, that I had to just give myself a moment to stand and realize what I was doing. I took the walk home slowly, taking in all of the daily happening, the gardens being watered, the streets being swept, the grocery stores closing for their lunch breaks. But this day, I took extra care to take in the things I could never see again: a trim black cat dodging down a narrow side street, the pink flowers blooming against grey apartment buildings, a weathered man sitting in front of the bar by our residence that was painting the buildings leading to the church. The man had some of the oldest paintbrushes in his army-green cup that I have every seen. I would never have expected his hand to be so steady. The detail on his paper stunned me; the trees' leaves blew in the wind and the buildings seemed heavy with their age.

I went back to my room and ate my dinner in front of the open window, watching les pies pecking at the ground around the tree that fills my view. Their voices carried up to me and I was glad I hadn't reached for my i-pod; it's so easy to let them pull you out of your world.

I've started my second French book, Le Rue du Havre. It's one that I found for 20 cents in Paris, and the langauge is so fluid that it's easy for me to read out loud. When I was mentally exhausted, I rolled over and let myself drift into a nap, thinking of how happy I was to be missing everyone, and how great it would be to see them again, or even better, to have them here to share it with.

Le Week-end Dernier

So, we were all a little torn on whether or not we wanted to celebrate the fourth of July. That is, everyone but Jennifer. On Monday of last week, she decided that we were having a pot lock- and everyone was required to supply red, white and blue. It took some real creativity, but we all figured out something different to bring. I brought as much of France with me to the dinner as I could: cherries, a baguette and blackberry jam (that looked blue).

Jon definitely won the prize for most original dessert. He spent the afternoon baking three-layered cupcakes like pancakes in a skillet, due to our lack of ovens. They were iced with cream that he tried to whip by hand and got to a thicker, gel-like consistancy, and the layers were strawberry and blueberry. Then, the chef grated dark chocolate on top and made us all look bad for just slicing things and putting them in bowls.

We ate three different flavors of spaghetti with three different sauces (thank God one of the sauces wasn't blue), a tricolor salad and drank beverages of, ok, two colors: white and red.

As the night went on, we got more excited about the idea of a real celebration, and we were missing our fireworks. So, we headed out into Chambery and went to BRC, a small bar/club in the centre ville. It wasn't very lively when we got there, but some girls that had been there before insisted we be patient.

At about one, the dance floor was filling up and we all joined in. Lights and electro dance music were filling the air. Greeks, Italians, French and Americans were mixing together in air heavy with hot breath and body heat, and all of the odors that go along with that combination. Everyone was moving, smiling, jumping and feeling the most alive most of us had felt since arriving in Chambery.

The dancing is so free here. There's no need to be on each other, telling the whole room that you're together, and what you'll be doing later. People were dancing together and with five other people at the same time, spinning and throwing themselves around, not caring what it looked like to anyone else there. It was as if I was dancing in a room, completely alone, and yet surrounded by my closest friends; our inhibitions were gone, and it was not due to any alcohol... We were able to get in, hang out and enjoy the night with only one person having to buy a drink.

Saturday, there was a trip set up for us by ISEP, the exchange program. We took a bus through the countryside and the mountains up to Chamonix, the city at the base of Mont Blanc. The mountain is the highest in France, and stands out with its ice and snow from all of the other tree-covered, rocky peaks and cliffs surrounding it.

Jon and I packed a lunch and set out, trying to escape the American entourage for a day, into the middle of the town. We wandered through the market and bought fresh fruit (I'm going to miss that so much) before returning to a cafe for the afternoon. The cafe was close to the tram station that carried you up to the ice caves of the mountain, and when you looked behind the station, Mont Blanc stood staring back at you. I sat at an outdoor table and spent the afternoon journaling and staring at the largest mountain I have ever seen.

French people were all around us, as were hikers from around the world that had come to climb the mountain for the day. I listened to their conversations and took in as much as I could, partly for language learning, partly for possible things to write about later. There are so many things that I have heard, felt and seen here that I am so afraid to forget but have no way to put into words.

One of them, and certainly not the least of them, was the cappuccino that I sipped while sitting in the sun of the cafe's deck. The espresso was strong; the froth was a perfect foam; the grated, unsweeted chocolate melted from the steam of the drink. With my sunglasses on and my book in my lap, I had never felt more at ease and perfectly content.

Genève

So, we went to Genevia on Saturday. Switzerland is an amazing, beautiful country and the coffee I got when Jon and I stole away from the usual crowd we hang out with was exactly what I needed to fix my mood and get me ready for tourism.

There's really not much to report. We spent the day sampling chocolate and walking down the streets, finding random buildings and listening to French conversation. We would stumble upon an interesting building or just stop on the bridge to admire the huge jet of water from their fountain, or the clear water. Most of the time, we were envying their ability to be neutral and amazing in every way.

We toured the United Nations and I learned so much. The compound is the largest next to the one in the U.S. It was also the home of the League of Nations. I've thought about working with them, through UNICEF or another humanitarian-based organization for a long time. Being there and feeling the hope and possibility within the place, and learning how much the countries have worked together to keep it going makes that want so much stronger.

I know it's not terribly exciting, but outside of eating the best sugar-free chocolate of my life, made with tangerine purée instead of sweeteners, the feeling I had in the UN makes everything else feel so small.

Today is the 21 week mark for me. At this time three Mondays from now, I will be somewhere over the ocean, heading to Toronto.

le messe, more appropriately "the mess"

I've been trying to go to church for the past month and have failed miserably. Paulina was in the same boat as me and we made it our mission to get to Sunday mass. She had found a church just down the block from us, which means it is hidden down a European side street where you could quite possibly never be able to find it again.

The mass was scheduled to start at 10h, but when we got there the doors were locked. I knew no one in France really went to church, but I was thinking "Really, they just STOPPED having a mass here?" We decided to give it a few minutes, and during our wait a woman walked up with her children and went through the same bizarre attempt to enter as we did.

We asked her what her plan of attack was and she gave us directions to the cathedral. Through the park, tous droit, tous droit, tous droit. We had no idea how long of a walk 3 "stay straights" equaled, but we headed off in what we thought was the right direction. After about five to ten minutes, we can across what was clearly a large, stone, Catholic church. Definitely the cathedral, right? What else could it be, since we followed the directions?

The woman had said that mass was slated to start at 11h, so we sat down to wait for the doors, which were also locked, to open and begin letting people in. No one came. 10h50. No one. 10h58. No one. 11h. Un petit vieux couple français. The couple was too cute and too old to have ever learned Engish (the case with most of the people in our town- it's perfect). They explained that the cathedral was having a special internation mass this week, and it must be the only one for the day. Waaaait, this ISN'T the cathedral?

Oh, no, the man explained, it's just around the... and before he had finished his thought, he'd opened the car doors and ushered us inside. We were explaining why we are here and listening to an old French woman yell at her husband for his driving before we really understood where we were headed.

When we arrived at the cathedral, it was clear that there was no way we could ever have continued straight enough to find it. The front is completely covered in scaffolding, the back is hidden by buildings and there are no signs. It is, however, right by the pub we frequent, so finding it again will not be a problem. I can imagine the true soccer supporters stopping by before the final last night.

The inside of the church is beautiful, but completely painted by an impressionist to appear decorated on the ceiling and walls. It was distracting through the mass, as was the fact that the French was spoken at warp speed. I managed to snag over half of what was going on, and I'm anxious to get back and read the gospel and the readings on my own, to see how much I really understood.

I can't wait to see what religious adventure we have next week. That effort should earn me some brownie points with the big guy, right?

closing note: the sign of the cross is so much cooler in French. le père, le fils et l'esprit sant (not sure on the spelling. i'll get back to you.)

our backyard

Yesterday, Leslie's French friend Yan asked us if we wanted to go to the lake. We were thinking he meant Lac du Bourget, the insanely large lake that's right by Chambery. No, he said, there was a much smaller, less crowded beach a bit further out of town. He said that he spent most of his childhood going to the lake, that the water was still and clear and people caught really large fish all the time (you would have loved it, Dad).

When he picks us up, we hop into the back of his tiny French car and he asks if we would like to take the highway or a more scenic route, even though it would take a few extra minutes. Scenic route was decided on instantly, and we were off. The drive took us up the narrow, winding roads of Europe, on cliffs with no guard rails and hairpin curves through fields. The view was incredible; we could see all of Chambery and the surrounding area. We pulled off at one spot and got a panoramique view of the whole city. All I could think of was the scene in Meet Me in St. Louis, when the girls are at the state fair and they're talking about how it's "right in their own back yard."

With the windows down, the French wind was blowing through my hair. I was staring out the window, lost in the lyrics of an American song that was popular three years ago, thinking about how this is one of those moments that you always remember: the sun, the trees, the view of Bourget from above and the perfect little houses nestled in the fields and quiet corners of the countryside.

Yan was right. The lake was perfect, full of families just starting vacations and naked kids running around becoming perfectly sun-kissed. We waded into the sand-bottomed lake; I had forgotten that not all lakes are like Indian Lake and was shocked when I could see my feet digging into the sand as the water covered my shoulders. The cold was perfect after the long, hot day. We spashed around for the daily dose of exercise and then went back to the grass beach to dry.

...and then I capped off the afternoon with doing my subjontif homework until I fell asleep and woke up at midnight.

things you should know

There are some things that no one ever thinks to tell you before you travel abroad. I wanted to take a moment to share some of them with you.
In regards to bathrooms:
1) Practice holding it. Free public restrooms are few and far between. Some don't have toilets, but are little holes in the ground. Others let the sink water go right out onto the floor to "mop" it. They don't have soap. Frequently, they are out of towels.
2) Practice squating. Less than half of the public restrooms have toilet seats. You need some good leg muscle before you get here.
3) Practice going quietly. There is little to no water in the toilet, so you always sound like a kitchen sink. This is even worse when you're squating.

General Remarks:
1) Get over gender/privacy issues. Many bathrooms are for both sexes. Some hostels have old-school pubic showers for the entire girls' floor, while others just don't have doors or curtains.
2) Don't feel the need to shower every day. It's a hastle when you're running between trains and you have to push the water button every 30 seconds.
3) Remember that your B.O. can not possibly be as bad as theirs is most of the time, unless you also choose not to wear any deoderant. I can understand it, though. That stuff is expensive. Buy more than you think you'll need, just in case.
4) Be ready for your gums to toughen up. The bread here is great, but a far cry from the soft Wonder Bread that Americans have gotten used to. They've perfectly mastered the really crunchy outside and soft, soft inside.
5) Carry a dictionary. Some words on menus will NOT mean what you think it does. Who would have thought one of Lyon's biggest specialties is head cheese? (We learned this in advance, not from personal experience.)
6) Buy wine by the bottle or liter. It goes a lot farther than you think, and is WAAAY less expensive.
7) Like most things, laundry is hell-a expensive to do. Bring a little box and do it in the sink. You'll get a few blisters, but you'll be five euros better off. Throw them in the sunny spot of the room and they'll dry just fine.

Oh my gosh, I could go on forever. There's so much that you never think about! I started a mental list last night when I was laying in bed. The position of my room in the building is so funny; I'm below everyone, so their voices all come down to me, and the voices on the street drift up. I feel like Alice at the beginning of the Brady Bunch, when she's in the middle square. I sit and turn my head to different conversations, picking out different languages and trying to find one I can understand. I guess that's what happens when your eyes glaze over from staring at verb charts and you don't have a television or a radio.

32 miles

Friday was a solid day of classes; I left school feeling like I was really making progress. I was also really excited for the activity they had planned for us that evening: an hour ride to a winery, through the French countryside.

We met at the train station a little after three, and all 25 students formed a single-file line of blue cruisers to, ready to weave through the city traffic. The sun was shining, and the temperature was rising; this was to be the hottest day for us yet. The ride began in the city center and we wound out through the streets to the large park at the edge of Chambery. The last stretch of park opened up into the countryside, heading East, and gave us a clear shot of the Italian Alps. We were riding straight at them, past vineyards, cottages, small towns and large, rustic farms. Everyone's heads were in the clouds and their feet were endlessly pedaling, at an increasing incline.

All was going well until about 40 minutes in, when a few of the girls started to get too hot (no, I was not one of them...I held out until the last stretch). We slowed down the pace, but the hills kept getting more difficult and you couldn't stay that slow if you wanted to survive. Everyone was at the point of giving up, and became more frustrated as we passed winery after winery that we were NOT stopping at.

I was doing well until the last beast of a hill. I felt my chest getting tight and decided to just walk up it, knowing the coast down would be amazing. I wanted a chance to cool off before we got to our final destination...

which turned out to be immediately at the bottom of the huge hill. I was flying down and had to slam on the breaks half way to get into the parking lot. We went into the old cottage-looking store, surrounded by its acres of grapes. After watching a video about the history of wine making, we took a little tour through their museum. The entire trip was narrated by an adorable, tiny, dynamic French woman; she kept slowing down her speech and asking if we understood, but her hand gestures were much more confusing than her language.

She then took us into the back room for a wine tasting tutorial. We sampled the vineyard's red, rose and white. Savoie is best known for their white wine, which is about 80 percent of their production. It was definitely my favorite of the three. After she explained what we were supposed to be looking for in the wines, it was fun to sip them and try to pick out the fruits in the rose (which I really do not enjoy) and the florals of the whites. The red tasted a lot sweeter than I was expecting, but that may just be due to the sausage; it's a combination I'd never tried. The cheese served with the rose was awesome, and I really wish I could find some in the states. This is so American, but I really think it would be a killer grilled cheese.

Saturday was the Fete de la Musique, one of France's few national holidays. Our group had a trip to Lyon organized, and I couldn't think of a better time to go to France's second biggest city. We left at 14h, giving us time to recover from the bike ride from Hell that was 32 miles round trip (ok, so it wasn't that bad since the whole ride back was one long coast). We chartered a bus to the city and were dropped off in the center of town, surrounded by stages for concerts.

Leslie and I had looked the night before and found a concert that was a really good mix of bands, with jazz, world and inde all on the lineup. We started heading in the direction, but stopped for the ever popular sandwich dinner and a pitcher of sangria from a Spanish bar. The sangria was refreshing, since temperatures were continuing to rise and we had already had som wine in our systems that we were beginning to sweat out. Each of us was lugging around a liter of water (the most common size of bottle here); they looked a bit odd on our cafe table, but we didn't care.

We continued on, following the map to the park our concert would be held in. When our location lined up with the spot on the map, we were staring at a large rock cliff and could hear music drifting down to us. It took a minute, but we were able to find the winding staircase all the way up to the plateau. We arrived as the band we really wanted to hear was ending; they were followed by a bizarre upright base and flute duo, that would have been muuuch better sans flute. The park was fun and tourist-free, so we decided to wait for the next band before giving up on the location.

It was a really good decision! The next band was the world music group the website talked about; their entire playlist was full of fun, Latin-flavored brass and percussion pieces that got the whole crowed dancing like hippies. It was fun to let go of all of your inhibitions and dance like no one was watching. We left the concert on such a high. The walk back down the cliff, passing bars with live music, stages in town squares and the odd musician on a street corner was full of scenes highlighted by multicolored street lamps and strand lights around patios. The songs provided the perfect background for some personal reflection time.

Turning away from the concert into the green and orange lights of the next cafe, it really hit me how intimately connected I am to Leslie and Jon. We've shared so many life-changing experiences together in such a short time and there is no way to recreate these moments. Each day, I have an opportunity to people watch and absorb a new culture, to learn more of a new language. Each day, I'm surrounded by this amazing scenery that feels like one long prayer. The homesickless and strange isolation one feels enhances the newness and beauty of everything that is around you, making it seem so much more valuable. I've never been so thankful for anything. This weekend, I really started looking forward to how different I will be when I come back. I hope to be more positive, more patient and not forget what I was able to experience here.

crash course

So, I just got done with class for the day... Wednesdays seem so long! The afternoon class this week was about the woman of France. Mdm Thyss taught us about the history of French feminism, which was largely controlled by men (how ironic). It's so interesting to hear how much of a non-issue it is here. Their outlook on the family dynamic and the differences between sexes is so different, and I really enjoy it. There are a lot of familial aspects that I agree with and wish the United States could get more of. The family and the quality time between children and parent is so much higher, and it's so ingrained into their lifestyle that no one ever discusses it.

Last night was the France-Italy soccer game. We met a young French man at the restaurant (cafeteria) yesterday and spent some time helping each other communicate in our non-native language. We all enjoyed it so much that we decided to meet at the Fountain of Elephants and go to a pub to watch the game.

After an entire day of studying, I was more than ready to go. We went to O'Cardinals, the most popular Irish pub in town, and grabbed a table outside. It immediately began pouring, but we were able to scoot our table into the covered area and stay with the large crowd of French supporters. There was too big of a group for us to see the game, so we were just following the cheers and boos, mostly boos, since France lost by two.

It was just a really good night of conversation. We got to practice a lot of French, and Orlando, the French student, was able to try out a lot of English. We also tried a really common French pub drink, flavored beer. The beer is really light here, and so they focus on really changing the flavor instead of getting a really high quality. We opted for the peach, which seemed pretty common. Next time, I think I'll just go for the red beer, which has a splash of grinadine and seemed really popular as well.

I have a ton of studying to do tonight; I borrowed Leslie's notebook so that I can get the material from the advanced class on top of my own. I'm going to get started stealing all of her stuff :)

Venezia

The weekend in Venice was good, and bookended with really interesting train rides. We came to the conclusion that Turino is where all good train rides go to die. Each time we passed through the city, we were thereafter surrounded by screaming babies, nursing mothers, smelly Italian guys that thought they were really smooth, tons of languages we didn't understand, snobby British older couples and customs police... which was a bit scary on the return, because we found a really well priced grocery in Italy and came back with bags of food. I'm still not really sure if that was ok or not, but we made it.

We got to Venice as the sun was setting on Friday and took the waterbus, their only means of transit around the city, to our hostel. The hostel was on Guidecca, a seperate part of Venice than the main island with San Marco's square. It was a long ride on the boat, but with the most beautiful cityscape as our scenery. All of the buildings come right to the water, and the stop for our hostel was right across from the square. Before turning in for the night, we walked the island's length, crossing all of the little bridges and passing the cafes with their locals and the scent of the Adriatic and espresso mixing in the air.

The showers at the hostel were few in number and lacking doors, so we opted to just not. Thank God we both showered right before we left in the morning or we would have been completely miserable by Sunday! We met the next morning for the usual free breakfast of a roll- much spongier and soft than those at the French hostel- and coffee, this time a cappuccino.

When we looked outside, we saw that the skies were dark with rain and a drizzle had already started, but we took the boat over to the square anyway. It was absolutely dead, between the rain and the fact that it was nine in the morning. We got to see all of the square before the shops even opened, and then got a pass for the library and the Correr Musuem that wrap around the plaza. The passes were mostly to get us out of the rain, with the hopes that it would stop before we left (it didn't), but we found a lot of artwork that we were really interested it. Most of the painting were religious, which Jon and I both skim over, but the coins from the times of the dukes and the doge were so ornate and had a really wide range of sizes. The most amazing thing we saw was the foot of a statue. I can't imagine how large the entire person must have been because the nail on his pinky toe was larger than my hand.

After the museums, we became part of the sea of umbrellas again, weaving through shops with all of Venice's specialties: linens and textiles, masks, sterlin silver and blown glass. Between the romantic atmosphere, the fragile nature of all of their products and the expensive prices, we decided Venice is the least child-friendly city in Europe. I found a necklace that I love; it's black ribbon with a large glass pendant with swirls of blue and silver.

We gave up on Italy for a bit and returned to our hostel for some white wine. Our attitudes were drooping and we wanted to find a way to save the weekend; the best way to do that had to start with warming up. I filled out my postcards and sipped my wine while we figured out what to do. As we weighed our options, the skies made the decision for us. The sun came out, the temperature rose and we went back to the square for a much more typical Venice experience- as pigeon-filled as you can imagine. Not just any pigeons, but greasy, gross, people-loving pigeons. We again took refuge in the side streets of shops and small restaurants, lingering outside of each and taking in the smells of oregano and fresh seafood.

The next morning, we took the boat to the next stop, the island of S.S. Giorgio, a basilica designed by a really famous Italian architect that Jon was very excited about. I was excited about the sun and the view as I sat at the water's edge and wrote with no other tourists to get in our way. We had toured the church, prayed and been resting at the edge of the island for an hour before a cruise ship drove by and another tour ship pulled in with at least 100 older tourists that swarmed and clicked and watched Jon sketch. We took our cue and headed back to the discount grocery store before going to the train station for the seven hours back.

It felt strange to be coming home to France. The border was such a welcome sight, and hearing French after the warp speed and animation of Italian.

end of the first week

So, today was professor number three and the fastest speaking so far. I swear she said her name was Mdm Perrier, but none of us are quite sure. Thursdays and Fridays, she works on our oral skills with us for two hours and then we move on to common grammar mistakes in writing and speaking. I think this will be the most productive class time. She's really animated and funny, so if you can't catch what she's saying through her gestures it isn't intimidating to ask.

Jon and I hung out last night, drinking wine and making crepes. It's really amazing how easy it is to make up a recipe for them. It's also really amazing how much I love ratatouille, the other really cliche French food that I've been eating a lot of. I found it in a can at the grocery store and decided that it would be eaten pretty much every other day. I love it! And I love that even their canned food is better than ours.

Today, our class has a field trip to the castle in our town where the dukes of the region used to live, from when Chambery was still a part of Italy (until roughly, oh, 1860 :)). That should be interesting, but it's hard for me to really get involved in the group dynamic. I feel like I'm focusing on really different things than a lot of the people here. They've been getting drunk and going out to clubs, like last night... when we had class the next day. I'm much more interesting in acting like a part of the community and learning about life here than making it a big holiday.

Jon and I are taking a train to Venice in the morning, where we'll stay until Sunday afternoon. I'm excited to see Italy and experience a completely different mindset and lifestyle. I kind of forgot about weekends, and that I would have days without school, so I'm glad we already had something planned to fill the first one- otherwise, it would seem so long! I am looking forward to really relaxing days in the park, where we can just hang out, eat French snacks and practice speaking, and live. The sun's out, the sky's clear and it's really starting to feel comfortable here.

Off to le Chateau du duc de Savoie.

mercredi (wednesday)

As the title implies, it's Wednesday and I got out of classes at 15h. The daily e-mailing takes a bit and I'm surprised how fast my time in the library goes.

So, today was another day of grammer and phonetics, with listening activities, irregular verb boxes (conjugating all of them and memorizing random changes in "patterns") and a dictation that was a page long. I owned the irregular verbs, thanks to Dr. Gilman's class last semester. I think about that class so much; it's really been a saving grace and I'm only on the third day of class. I was one of three people in the class that got their work on the board completely correct- if I could insert an image here of my blowing on my nails and buffing them on my shirt, I would.

The dictee was definitely a total confidence check, though. He read a sentence at a time and we had to write everything down, including punctuation and accents. We all did horribly, but we took a long time to correct them. Then, we had to adapt the dictation subject to our country (the one we did described people in France) and write something similar in length. It was a lot easier than I was expecting; I've noticed that I'm remembering a lot more verbs, which helps your writing sooo much.

We had an hour break at midi for lunch, and Jon and I spent the last little bit of the break sitting in the sun, watching the clouds move over the mountains. Each day I spend here makes me love this part of the country even more. In the culture part of my courses, I'm learning even MORE things that make me love it... I really don't want to leave, and I know now for sure that I will be back here. I can't wait to share all of my pictures and experiences.

At 13h, I went back into class. We had to choose between a scavanger hunt in the city or a culture quiz. I took the culture quiz, which was really a discussion about a lot of facts we need to know about France, the Rhone Alps (our region) and Savoie (our department). We talked a lot about the social attitudes of France, and the two hours went really quickly. It's amazing how much French you can understand when it's all that's being thrown at you. I'm still working on shutting the English part of my mind off when I speak, so I can form what I want to say without putting it in English first.

I'm going to go snag some groceries to make dinner and get some studying done. Hopefully, I'll be able to go to the park or something instead of just sitting in my room. It's been raining every night, but the days are gorgeous. If I can get there before 18h, I should have a bit of time.

Paris: UPDATED!

Day One
After spending the night in Charles de Gaulle, Jon and I were nervous about actually being able to meet up with Leslie near the ticket booths. I caught her coming down the stairs and we were able to head out to the RER (Paris' innercity train) without any problems. When we got to our stop, we headed up to the street and began lugging our bags over the cobblestone and patched concrete to our hostel, about a 15 minute walk... and I really can't believe my bag made it. The wheels are tiny and I'd already broken the pull strap, but the little guy held strong. When we got to the hostel, the bag room was flooded, so instead of even trying to mess, we just left them by the desk and headed back into the city.

First stop: le Tour Eiffel, where else? Rain? Of course! But only right after we got there. Jon and I were already okay with not going up, and Leslie already had. We decided to take a ton of pictures in the green space around and bolt because it was way too crowded with tourists to be enjoyable. We walked across the street and down to the military school, which gives you an awesome shot of the tower and the green behind it.

From there, Jon needed to get to the Arc de Triomph to meet his French friend from high school. We decided to just walk it and were surprised at how easy the streets were to navigate. The Arc is at the center of the Charles de Gaulle Etoile (Paris is set up on a star street system instead of a grid, and the Charles de Gaulle is its biggest etoile). Since the Arc is literally in the CENTER of the star, you have to go in an underground passage to go to the opposite side of the street. Even before the tunnel, you don't realize how big the Arc is. Coming out of the ground at the base of one of the things Paris is most famous for and leaning your head waaay back to see the top was a little humbling. The Arc was made to be a background for places and events on the Champs Elysees during Napolean's time, so it seemed natural to go for a long walk down the street when we left the etoile. We stopped at a sandwich shop and talked to Amelie, Jon's friend, for a bit before finally giving in to our fatigue.

Day Two
We woke up the earliest on our second day and headed down to the hostel's free breakfast, which could not get more French: a mini loaf of French bread and a cup of coffee. It's been two weeks and I'm still not tired of it, although I did begin adding a yogurt once I got to Chambery. We talked about the day over breakfast and decided to take on L'Orangerie first. It's located across the Toullerie Gardens from the Louvre, and was just redone about two years ago. Many of Monet's long panels of waterlilies were inside. Rooms were filled with his works, and the lower levels were dedicated to artists that had been inspired by him. I felt dwarfed by the willows and ripples in the ponds of his paintings; it was fascinating to watch them become more abstract as his age increased and his eyesight began to fade.

We left the museum and took a long walk, with a break for ice cream (coffee flavored, which would become a habite for me) and butter and emmental sandwiches. I still haven't figured out what kind of cheese emmental is, but I know I like it... and we've been eating a lot of it. The gardens were relaxing with their sculpted trees and public fountains surrounded by green chairs, moved to spots that held sunshine in their last use, splintered off in fours for families and twos for young couples. At the end of our walk, we saw the pyramid of the Louvre, and the myriads of tourists that are always surrounding it.

Our pass for the attractions got us into a special entrance, and we spent four hours walking around the various sections, seeing a tiny fraction of what it has to offer. While the Mona Lisa is impressive, it is far more impressive to see the rows of people 30 feet deep that constantly surround her. Right behind her is a mammoth work of a religious scene; it must have taken years to finish and an entire tree to frame it... and yet there was no crowd to admire it. What is it about the Mona Lisa that draws the world to her? The Venus de Milo was even more beautiful, and slightly less crowded. The sculpture has the same air of mystery around her as the Mona Lisa, a very early feminine mystique. My favorite piece that we saw was another headless sculpture of a woman, made in honor of a major naval battle. Her entire body commands this respect and holds this power that is astounding, and the detail in her wings as they're pushed back, seemingly by the winds as the hit a ship's front, are graceful and full of lightness.

The Louvre wore us out and we were ready for a relaxing evening. We took the metro to the North side of Paris, into Montmarte, where we headed all the way up to Sacre Couer. This is by far my favorite part of Paris. The basilica of Sacre Couer is the most beautiful building I have ever seen; the artists that surround it keep it alive and full of youth. We toured the basilica, stood in awe of its architecture, and wandered through the artist's district of Montmarte, where men were constantly calling out to paint our picture. The tourists are in much smaller groups and the street musicians find their quiet corners to rest in, allowing the home of the famous picture of the kissing couple to keeps its innocent romance. We found the stairs, walked down them with our hearts breaking from our lack of kissing, and baught a bottle of wine to drink at the open-air concert. The night was perfect, and exactly what we were hoping for. I fell in love with Paris and was completely, tiringly homesick at the same time.

Day Three
My advice to anyone walking about Paris is to never, for any reason, attempt to follow the Seine. We tried to do so, in an effort to get to Notre Dame's island, and ended up lost in the dead-end parks of the river bank. Eventually, we saw the back of the cathedral and began to walk in its general directions until we saw signs we could follow. When we got to the island, we followed a walking tour that took us around the government buildings, all with signs of Liberte, Egualite and Fraternite, and passed the conciergerie, where Marie Antoinette was held before her beheading.

Our first cathedral of the day was St. Chapelle, a largely underrated tourist attraction. We got there as they were closing for lunch and were the last people allowed inside. This trip was a real adventure before we even got through security. We planned to have a picnic that day (before we knew how cold it was going to be) and each packed pieces for the day. Jon had a cork screw; Leslie, nail scissors (I forget why) and a butter knife; I had the bottle of wine. Those who say the French are rude could not be more wrong, and this was our best story to prove it. All five (ooh, yes, five) guards and the officers around laughed as we explained about our picnic. They let us in and held our supplies, and we began walking to what we thought was the cathedral. In actuality, we were becoming lost for the second time that day, this time in a French lower court. When we found the cathedral, there were only five other people inside. The quiet was perfect for enjoying the countless windows of stained glass that surround the church. Our flier said it depicts 1100 different Bible scenes, and we spent some time trying to pull them out.

We then grabbed paninis and had a very abbreviated picnic on stairs by Pont Neuf, the island's oldes bridge, before walking down the island and into Notre Dame. Being Catholic, the cathedral was more emotional and meaningful than any other part of Paris. Everywhere one looks, they are confronted with a dedication to the religion that was hundreds of years in the making. I spent some time with the candle I lit in front of the Virgin Mary and took in how lucky I was/am to be doing everything I am doing.

We were still in a quiet, tranquil mood when we left and rested for a bit in the park behind the church. From our bench, we huddled against the cold with the first authentic crepes we had and looked at the flying buttresses (is that spelled right, Jon?) of the church. Behind the park was the memorial of the deported from World War II, and we walked through it before heading to the crypts under Notre Dame. The memorial demands complete silence. Quotes are carved into the stone in a thin, red type, and the only sound is the river splashing against the walls. Tiny pebble are illuminated down a gated hallway, one for each person lost in the concentration camps. Not only was the experience moving, but the reverence and respect people showed the place was nearly as awesome as the building itself.

That night, we stopped in the internet/phone place by our hostel. I called home and as I was waiting for Jon and Leslie to conclude their calls, I began talking to the owner. He was asking me about myself and I was telling him that we were here for studies. Then, he asked me where I was from. Before I could answer, he guessed Brazil. I was a bit taken aback, but completely flatteed. I couldn't help laughing at how wrong he was.

Day Four
We started the day early, heading straight out of Paris to Versaille in order to beat the crowd. Our passes again saved the day, getting us in early and saving us on the price of the castle and Marie Antoinette's domain, which was our favorite part of the day. The air was still cold and chilly when we entered the palace, but by the time we got to the hall of mirrors- so surreal!- the sun was glowing in the gardens and reflecting in every pane of glass. The tour of the castle was neat; I'm so happy it was self-guided. However, our time in the gardens was much more enjoyable. We walked through the landscaped paths and sat on benches overlooking the long pond in the center, watching the row boats and families eating in the grass. Our last stop at Versaille was Marie's domain, which we almost missed. I hope that everyone that goes sees this part of it. It's off to the side, away from the noise of the castle, and filled with fields of roses and wild flowers that you could easily picture her wandering through. It's no wonder there are so many stories about her life at that place; what girl wouldn't want THAT fairy tale?

Versaille is a lot for a day, so we took the evening to do something more relaxed. The Pompidou is a younger, more modern area of Paris since the musuem is filled with modern art. At this point, Leslie and I were museumed-out and took the time to sit by the fountain in the back of the Pompidou while Jon explored the inside. When we'd rested a bit, we moved to the sloped side of the museum where a hippie vibe was setting in for the evening. One young man was playing on a drum I had never seen or heard before. A homeless man found his music so moving that he began interprative dancing and kissing the ground at the feet of the musician. The free entertainment filled the time Jon was gone.

That night, we let ourselves have the one sitdown dinner in Paris, at a small restaurant run by young men called the Tea Garden. I got the dish of the day, which was rabbit in a mustard sauce. It was the best meat that I have ever eaten, and tasted nothing like I was expecting it to. The entree (appetizer) I got was fresh cheese with tomato and the three of us shared it. Jon and Leslie got the duck as their plat (main dish), and creme caramel and chocolate mousse as their desserts, which we all shared as well. We returned to the hostel for wine, since buying a whole bottle per person was less than one glass at a restaurant.

The Last Day
Leslie and I went our own way for the day, beginning at Napolean's tomb, which is sooo much place for not very much man. We were only there for about ten minutes, so I don't really have much to say about it. We didn't want to do the entire museum without a solid understanding and desire for the material, so we headed straight to the Rodin museum.

This was an absolutely perfect museum, just small enough to allow you to look at every statue from every angle and really appreciate how well he understood the human body and just large enough to really make you wonder how he was able to do so much in his lifetime. Many statues are in the gardens around the museum house, and we got a yogurt smoothie to sip as we sat by the fountain. The green water with the bronze statues and green shrubs, then the contrast of the bright roses everywhere, was the prettiest garden scene of Paris. We took a long time going through the garden and stopped to sit in front of the famous Thinker.

That afternoon, we walked for about two hours to the catacombs of Montparnasse, another part of the city. We read a lot about the bole-lined passage right before going in and were a little unsure how we felt about it, but there was no going back. The lights are dim and the air is damp, much like the Ohio Caverns... but once you turn a corner about have way through, the walls are completely lined with mosaics made of the bones of France's dead, from ancient communal graves up through the Revolution's beheadings.

Our bags weren't checked before entering, but a man searched each patron at the end, making sure all bones stayed in the catacombs. I had been warned it would happen, but didn't expect him to ever actually find anything. I was surprised to find that he had two skulls and a few bones I couldn't identify sitting on the table next to him.

the best discovery so far

So, before I talk about the second day of class, I have to share my discovery of the day: Our school has a coffee machine with 40 cent coffees. Now, I know I get a bit snobby about these things, but even their INSANT coffee is better than a bunch of our coffees. They are all short (like four ounces), with perfect froth and sugar if you want it. The key word here is really 40 cents, though. If I keep my baguette from lunch for breakfast the next morning, than I can buy two coffees a day, one in the morning and one on break, for what I was spending on breakfast. Jon didn't find the news as exciting as I did, but oh well.

Today, we left at 8h30 and hiked up the mountain (no, really) to our school. We got there at about 8h50 and had 20 minutes to idle because our teacher was having car trouble, and by car trouble I mean she was stuck in the middle of a semi truck driver strike. They just stopped in the middle of the road and held up traffic. It was a bummer to lose the class time, but entertaining to be directly affected by one of France's many strikes.

The teacher, Mm Thyss, was awesome. She's from Nice, a part of southern France, and they speack very auickly there. Even with that, I was able to snag everything she said and keep accurate notes about the departments and pays of France.

Lunch at the cafeteria is an amazing deal and I'm still so full. I finished eating the carrot salad, ratatouille (yes, Chloe, just like the movie) and cheese over an hour ago... and I didn't even eat the bread.

The sun is out and walking between buildings is so much fun because we're situated on the side of a hill that looks straight onto the Rhone Alps. It's breathingtaking and I am so thankful every time I look out of a window. The cross on top of one of the peaks really is like the cherry on top of this whole experience. I wish I could post pictures, but I have no way to get them onto a computer.

Talk again soon!

Playing Catch-Up Day One: Amsterdam and Gent

When Jon and I flew into Paris, we went immediately to the train station in the airport. Neither of us were sure which train to use to go to the other station where our Amsterdam train was, so we took turns asking around in French. Everyone was helpful, and we were excited when they responded in French. A bunch of people had warned us to expect all English responses. The trains hum right along, quiet, fast and efficent- and they lull me right to sleep. I woke up as we were coming into the Netherlands and was speechless when I looked out my window. The rolling hills held small farms, ancient houses and trees that were so free and happy I was sure Bob Ross was somehoz involved.

Navigating in Amsterdam was easy. Language was something that is so eqsy for English-speakers to take for granted, so it was a relief when everyone we needed spoke English. They got us on a tram straight to our hostel's street and we lugged our bags down the cobblestone. After Jon and I settled into our dorm-style rooms, him on the boy floor and me on the girl, we headed out to explore the city.

The canals are gorgeous against the old architecture. Standing on one of the bridges covered in bikes (they are absolutely everywhere) and looking down the canal is so relaxing. The houses are right on the water and most of them have boats docked to their patio. House windows, bridges, boats, even some bikes, are covered in flower boxes. No side street feels like an alley because those, too, are lined with local businesses and open windows with viney plants or annuals in boxes.

To be touristy, we decided to go to the Anne Frank house. It was a short walk from our hostel and an incredibly moving experience. Her father asked that they keep the house unfurnished, as it was when he first returned to it. You walk through all the rooms, and at every step the floor creaks. I can't imagine being stuck there, silent, for days, months...

We left the museum and entered the more tourist-filled part of Amsterdam. The shops were full of the usual, but the store fronts were so much more interesting with the tall, narrow buildings qnd windows. No color was off limits for window frames, either. While we walked, we accidently wandered into the red light district, where the girls are literally in the zindows, knocking. Even in the "sketchy" part of the town, I felt completely safe. It was so funny to see tour guides leading groups of elderly Asian tourists through the streets.

It was on our second day in Amsterdam that Lon and I discovered the true value of the European sandwich. This common street fare comes in many varieties, most including cheese and mayonaisse or butter, and is a bargain at close to three euros. They'll fill you up for the afternoon and provide enough energy to make up for the jet lag (which I escaped, thanks to my sister!) and large amounts of walking. We began eating them for at least one meal a day and, I'll admit, we still pretty much are.

That day we also decided to rent bikes, since it's the main means of transport for them, and explore the other half of the city. We rode out to the lake that feeds the canals, and from one bridge we could see a windmill in the distance. As we continued our tour, we realized that we weren't exactly sure where we were. The trip back to the market we were looking for got us a little turned around, but the bikes made it home without a late fee.

By then, it was time to return to our hostel and grab our things to head to Gent, another place where we completely forgot about possible language complications. We got through the train ride well, even though the conductor NEVER said what stop we were at. Every time the train slowed, we were flying to windows to check our location. After getting off of the train, we tried to locate ourselves and our hostel on the map... and it was all in the Dutch-ish language of Belgium (I should really know what that is). After multiple failed attempts to communicate in French, English and the five Spanish words I know, a student came up to us and got us on the right tram. From the tram stop he gave us, we were able to find the hostel.

I wish I could describe our hostel experiences to you- the food, the diverse groups of lodgers, the frightening showers- but there is not enough blog space and there are no words to convey the experience. I say this now because Gent had easily the most bizarre shower I have ever used.

We didn't have any special plans for our time in Belgium, so we just roamed the streets of the town and discovered its personality more than its hot tourism sites. On our second day, we did go to the amazing cathedral in the middle of town, which was full of statues and vaulted ceiling that are constantly being restored because of their flawed design. Most of our Gent discoveries included restaurants. We ordered a specialty at a restaurant (a sandwich, of course) that the woman could only describe as "meet with sauce- you like," and she was right. We really did... not as much as the ice cream, though. I got a hazulnut flavor on our first visit and Jon tried four different flavors during our stay.

The town is known for its Medieval Neighborhood, housing a castle, shops and a section of canal that has both sides filled with medieval-aged building. One of the interesting tourist facts is that only half of this style of architecture found there is authentic. The town wanted to be known for the style and increase attendance to a fair held there, so they redid many of the buildings to fit the time period. This area is where all ages gather on the weekends to watch different groups perform, drink and hang out with friends. Jon got a local beer and I tried a red wine, and we sat on the water's edge trying to look like locals.

This was also where we spent most of our second day, writing and sketching, and the "looking like locals" must have worked because a man feeding pigeons began talking to us in his native language. All we could do was laugh when it seemed appropriate. As we sat by the water or walked through the cobblestone streets, we noticed brides walking around. Total, four different married couples were out and about with their photographers, posing for pictures and having tourists ask them for pictures. We weren't clear, and still quite aren't, if this was a festive time to do that or if it was a tradition, or just four girls that decided to do it.

After lunch and a canal walk, we headed back to the train station, or so we thought. We got on the tram in the wrong direction and had to switch at the last stop and completely retrace our steps. Over all, it was a good thing because it pushed our train to Paris back two hours and got us on the last inner-Paris train to the airport, where we were to spend the night.

We found to American boys spending a year abroad and played Euchre until about 4h, then took turns sleeping. The guys had a flight at 7h45, so Jon and I left the cold part of the station where the trains are and went to find chairs that were a bit warmer to sleep in. That day, we met up with Leslie in the train station of de Gaulle and began our Paris adventure.

le premier jour

Today was the first day of classes, and I'll say if nothing else, my pronunciation will improve. No English is allowed, which is awesome. We spent a lot of the time talking about ourselves and describing partners in our class, from physical appearance to attitude. The second you pronounced a word wrong, Mr Fillon was on it, not just yelling, but explaining exactly zhy and the connotations each word has.

We have class from 9h to 13h every day, and we'll have multiple professors, but only one a day. Tomorroz, my group gets the culture professor, which I'm really excited about. After class, the restaurant (cafeteria) is open until 14h30, so we walk over and get our discounted dinners. Lunch is their biggest meal of the day, and we get it for less than three euros, which you can't find anywhere else- not even if you cook for yourself.

I'm a little nervous about my classes, and I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time studying with Jon. We're in the same class and not really sure if we're going to be challenged enough, so we're going to make sure we challenge each other.

Tonight, there is a pizza party for all of the ISEF students in our residence, but I think I'm going to use some of the produce that I got and make a meal before hand. I love hox fresh everything is, and how the colors of the foods are so different. That also means that they need to be used much more quickly, so if I don't use up by tomatoes and cucumber tonight, I'm pretty sure they'll be a lost cause.

je suis ici

I'm here!

I finally made it to Chambery, and I'm going to start my blog here. The keyboard here is completely different, so I'm hoping that by the end of it, I won't be so used to it that I'm confused when I come home. Thank you all for being so patient for me to get started. It's been really hard to get access to any means of communication. Please ignore any typing errors. The keys here are all moved around and it's really hard to get the hang of them... q and a are switched, the period is moved. M should be a semicolon. My messages have taken so long to type.

I arrived in Chambery yesterday. Jon and I took a train from a small station in Paris (where small is about 30 lines), and rode through the countryside, into the foggy, rainy Alps. When you're not around high buildings and the fog has lifted, you can see the foothills. I know once the rain stops, we'll see some snowy peaks along the horizon. Once we got to the station, we were packed into a mini minivan with five other stuents and shuttled to our residence. So far, everything has been a pleasant surprise.

We share an apartment with one other student- so far, mine is really timid and doesn't want to speak French. I only want to speak French. Obviously, we haven't talked much. After unpacking, Leslie and I went for a three hour walk around our new neighborhood. I found a boulangerie, where I bought bread for breakfast. It's so much fun to communicate with the store owners in their native language. I can already see my confidence increasing. I like to think that it's because I make lists of words I forget throughout the day and look them up at night. I really think I'm going to be one of the nerdy ones here...girls are already saying that they don't plan on doing the homezork or speaking it outside of class, which is frustrating. I didn't come for a 3,000 euro vacation.

ANYWAY, I like my apartment. The kitchen has a little table and stools, with enough supplies to make any meal you can afford...as long as it can be done on two burners. Ok, so it may take me a bit to figure out which wway to turn the dial for high and low, but it's getting there. I wonder what happened to the labels for that stove...My room is off of the kitchen and it is huge! The bed and sink seem so small against the wall-length desk and tons of open space. It's killing me not to decorate. No worries, parents; I'm being pretty frugal. My roomie's bedroom is the same, but off to the right of the the toilet and shower, which both have better pressure than at home.

We met as a class at noon today and walked down the street to the international market, which was so much fun. There were booths with foods from all over the word, mixed in with information and products from their culture. It was hard not to buy something from every stand. I did buy a coffee with pure cane sugar from a Haitian. He was sitting with his skillet over the fire, actually roasting the fresh beans and grinding them for each pot. I didn't auite catch everything he said, but I know that the beans were his own product from Haiti; the smell was amazing. I ended up getting a Cambodian salad for lunch, with vegetables native to the land and a thin, transparent noodle in really light sauce.

From there, Jon, Leslie and I began walking around the town center, going through clothing shops and stopping for crepes before coming to get library cards and use the free internet. It's always easy to find the center of town; it hosts the huge fountain of elephants. We're only about a ten minute walk from it.

Tonight, the market turns into a free concert; those who have booths will perform pieces from their cultures while everyone gathers on the benches and fountains, eating the remains of the day's fares. Our group is going for a while, but leaving early to go to the pub together. There are a bunch of them around the residence, which makes me happy. There are always old men inside, even at 8 a.m. So, I know I won't be going out much- that saves soo much money, and I'm so NOT a club-scene kind of person. It would be interesting to see what it's like, since there is only one in all of Chambery.

It's time for me to go. Hopefully, I can post again soon. If you're reading this, I miss you like crazy. Love to all, and a bientot!

deux semaines

I have two weeks until I'm supposed to be packed and ready to go...and I'm getting incredibly nervous. Jon and I spent yesterday afternoon picking out train times and deciding where, exactly, we're taking ourselves. It was the first time I realized that I'm completely responsible for myself and that I'm flying over 14 hours to convince myself that I can speak another language.

There are so many things that I'm looking forward to: finding the perfect gift for people back home, getting yelled at for speaking like an American, taking classes in a completely different school system, the food, the music, the trains... The goal is to eliminate English- except for this blog and phone calls- when we get on the plane to Paris. Jon pointed out that this could be slightly confusing when we go to Barcelona and Italy, where there are obviously other national languages. Either way, I'd rather confuse them in French than let my mind fall back on English.

I'm positive that I'm going to forget something. I have everything that I need to get into the country...minus a visa, which is actually pretty key (getting it Friday), and I have all that I need to take a shower. I have some batteries, but not enough. Why are they so expensive? And then there are all of the clothes- and the clothes I CAN'T pack because I'll be hassled by Europeans. I can't forget my addresses for postcard sending or my books, my ipod, books for class, notebooks and pens, pictures, shoes, a dress for the gala and my ONE suitcase that I'm allowed to check! Oooh, this will be interesting. As will the ironing I need to do to get ready for that.