What I learned from my time abroad

1. Picnics are the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
2. Humiliation is a good teaching tool: the times that my cheeks went red are the mistakes that I won't repeat.
3. I like to run. 
4. A meal without cheese is like a pretty girl missing an eye. Un repas sans fromage est une belle à qui il manque un œil.
5.  Accents are endearing.  
6.  Always buy the one euro insurance. 
7. Every "weird" food is worth trying once. 
8. When you don't know how to say something "in so many words," you learn to just say what you mean.
9.  People are fascinating, and everyone has a story.
10. Not everything will go as planned, but everything will work itself out. Tout se rangera.
11. I've got the travel bug.
12. Life is a lot more enjoyable when you're not unnecessarily stressed. 
13. There is beauty in contrast. 
14. The French way of showering (only turning water on to rinse) saves a heck of a lot of water.
15. How to make crème brûlée. 
16. Don't let fearing get in the way of living. 
17. It is, in fact, possible for me to go without Mexican food for five months (but I'm not looking to run a second trial...).
18. I look far more German than French.
19. With but a step into a church, I can find community and family anywhere in the world.
20. I can't wait to get back to Europe.

The good in goodbye

Peur du jour- 13 Mai 2012: Leaving Montpellier

 This was a hard and long goodbye. It felt worse than leaving Grayslake on a hot and humid August morning in 2010 to start my Freshman year of college. I remember weeping over the distance between me and my friends, my family, my boyfriend, my pets, everything that was comfortable, and everything that I had mastered.

It felt worse than driving away from Chapel Hill on that rainy night in December 2011 when I got sentimental about leaving my dorm, my friends, my classes, that beautiful campus, and the home I had managed to build. I was scared about how everything would change without me, about being left behind, about losing my place in everyone's lives after being absent for so long.

It even felt worse than hugging my mom goodbye at O'Hare on a snowy evening this past January. I was heart-broken, scared, and completely clueless of what lie ahead of me.

But in all of these instances, I was leaving something old for something new. I knew when I would return to my loved ones, to my homes. But this goodbye is different. I'm not going anywhere new; I'm going home. I get to see my parents, my siblings, my best friends, my cat, my house, my stomping grounds. I'm going back to where they speak English and where ice cream is cheap and abundant and where smiling like a goon in public is no weirder than hugging your friend hello or excessively saying "sorry" for everything.

But I'm scared that after the hugs and the ice cream, all I'll be able to think about is Montpellier. The town where I realized how God has graced me with family all over the world. The town where I realized that my level of French is strong enough for me to make friends who have never heard me speak English, participate in religious discussions, stand up to rude bouncers, and write ten page research papers. The town where I learned to appreciate moving slower, drinking in everything around me, and enjoying good company, good food, and good wine. The town where I really experienced true joy.

I am leaving this town at the height of my passion for it. It's only now starting to come alive, to become warm and green, to become Montpellier at its best. I feel like I'm cutting off something too soon, like I will never really know how great things could have been because my stay was only four and a half months.

And I don't know when I'm coming back. But there's joy in the unknown. I don't know when I'm coming back. It could be in ten years (I really hope not), it could be after I graduate, or it could be next summer. Who knows? My life is wide open. Opportunities are ripe for the picking. I know that my desire to keep the friends and family I've found in France is strong enough to bring me back to them. I'll leave the when and the how to figure out another day. Until then, I'll hold the feeling of the Montpellier sunshine close to my heart.

Tout est bien qui finit bien

What I love about Montpellier 

1. The rocky mediterranean soil, the twisting branches of olive trees and grape vines, the clusters of poppies and rununculus and edelweiss and wild thyme.
2. The way the marble streets shimmer as they reflect the street lights.
3. The dinging of the tram, the melodic tune of SNCF announcements at the train station, and the clanging of church bells.
4. The feeling of the sun on my back during picnics at Peyrou, promenades through the esplanade, and bike rides to the beach.
5. That anything worth celebrating is accompanied by wine and a good meal.
6. Houses clothed in stucco and topped with red tiles.
7. The bewildered look I receive when I say my name for the first time. 
8. And the way French people just can't quite say my name correctly.
9. The wind rivaling that of my home, the windy city. 
10. The way speaking French makes you pucker your mouth like you're blowing a kiss with every word you say. 
11. The blue lights that illuminate the chateau d'eau and the aqueduct at night and heighten its sense of magic and history.
12. When people ask me for directions and I can actually direct them. In French. 
13.  Walking through la place de la comédie and down la rue de la loge and hearing every sort of jazz band and string quartet and acoustic guitarist. 
14. Standing at the chateau d'eau and looking at pic saint-loup and  la mer mediterranée
15. Kissing someone's cheeks (three times!) every time you say hello and goodbye. 
16. How no meal is complete without a big hunk of crusty bread.
17. Trying something new at the market every Saturday. 
18. The way people yell "courage" at you as you go for a run as if you're heading off to war. 
19. The obsession with MacDo (McDonalds) and sandwhiches américaines and kebabs
20. My God-given family in Montpellier. How I've loved them without hesitation and without abandon and how they've loved me. How they have lifted my spirits and warmed my heart. It's for them that I know I'll be coming back here.

 A très bientôt, Montpellier. Gros bisous.

The gypsy question

Cultural Lesson #12: Gitans (Gypsies)

Anyone who's seen Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame knows that there are Romani people in France. We recount stories of how they barrage us at tourist monuments in Paris, play the accordion in public squares, and dragoon us in the streets asking for "une petite pièce" (just a coin). I have very mixed feelings about les gitans.

First of all, they are completely aggressive. They bombard you, they don't take no for an answer, they are professional beggars.

But, they are people, too. It breaks my heart to see the whole family on the tram in the morning heading out for a day's work. The boys that are my age get off at one stop with their clipboards, ready to bamboozle and swindle. The children that are in their early teens get off at the next stop with their scrub brushes and soap to try to wash car windows. The men get off at the next stop with their cups to beg for coins. The women get off at the next stop with their young children to beg for money at the tram stop.

And what I find the most disturbing is their exploitation of their children. Why are these children dancing in the streets and playing the accordion and washing car windows instead of going in school, running around outside, learning how to read, and playing? They don't even get to be kids.

So my experience with les gitans has been very distressing. It's almost worse than grappling with the question of how to help SDFs (the homeless) because their way of life is so cyclic and enduring. The kids are "working" as gypsies from day one and I can't imagine that they will ever stop.

So I guess my real question: is it even something I should worry myself with? Is it completely arrogant of me to assume that because these people don't live the way I do, that they need my help?

I'd like your thoughts in the comments.

Mon mot préféré

My love of words is such that I have a list of my favorites in both languages.

• In English: erroneous, obfuscate, particularly, obliterate, etc. 
• In French: se débrouiller, oreiller, laïcité, etc. 

I like these words not because of their denotations, but because of how they sound and how they feel in my mouth when I say them. There is one French word, however, that I am in love with. More than feeling nice to say, it's the word I would like to choose to describe my life if I could only choose one:

Epanouissement nm. 1. [of a flower] blooming, opening. - 2. [of an expression] brightening. - 3. [of the body] filling out - 4. [of a personality] flowering.

I am flourishing in France with no shortage of epanouissement.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Peur du jour - 1 Mai 2012: Ignoring the temporal nature of my stay...

Okay. I'm just going to be completely honest. I've experienced a complete drop in work ethic this past week. It probably has to do with the realization that my time in Montpellier is ticking down (it's definitely not May, by the way. Not possible.). Ne vous inquiétez pas, I'm going to study for my exams and get all of my work done and it will all be fine and dandy.

The product of flower-gathering with Colette

I'm just taking a few pit stops along the way.

These are a few of my favorite things.

And I'm pretty sure that's what I wanted to learn how to do this semester, anyways... Life is about smelling the roses, eating good cheese, basking in the sun, laughing with your friends, and appreciating the God-given blessings around you.

This is what picnic-ing with friends should look like.

So, each of the past five days has been jam-packed with life: spending the entire afternoon with friends at a café, re-exploring the streets of Montpellier in good company, picking flowers and learning their names in French, giving piggy-back rides, playing baseball and volleyball and soccer, dancing without inhibition, picnicking in Peyrou.

Love these girls. Especially in the MPL soleil.

I knew I'd be saying this, but I don't want to ever leave France.

Final thoughts about Paris

Paris was just as magical as everyone has always said it would be. In fact, it was more magical.

La tour eiffel from le centre pompidou

I have had a lot of contact with people who talk Paris down:

La Basalisque Sacre-coeur

"The metro is so dirty."  Honestly, the metro was no dirtier than any American system I've seen. To be fair, I may be accustomed to a certain level of filth after living in Montpellier for so long, but honestly, that's life in a city. I also enjoyed never waiting for more than two minutes on a platform (and this wasn't just traveling at rush hour times).
 

L'avenue des champs-elysées

"The Parisians are so rude." I think that this is a big cultural difference. The French (and Europeans in general, I think) are a lot less expressive than Americans. We are loud. We let everyone know how excited we are. Other than a snooty waiter at Angelina's who made fun of my French, my interaction with Parisians was very positive. Admittedly, speaking their native language helps.

A view from the top of la cathédrale Notre-Dame

 "The Mona Lisa is so small." Whoever told me le Louvre was a waste of my time was definitely wrong (I don't remember who you are, but let me take you there! I want you to have a good experience!). Not only was I thrilled to see The Winged Victory of Samothrace and other great works of art, but the building itself was incredibly beautiful. I spent three hours there and maybe got through a fourth of the museum. A revisit is definitely in my future.

La seine

I could definitely never live in Paris, but I could never live in any big city (I need fresh air when I run and green grass when I walk barefoot and trees to climb when I want to escape from the world). Paris is truly an incredible city, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to realize the error in some of my preconceptions. I can't wait to go back!

Déjà-Vu in Eze

Peur du jour: 11 Avril 2012- Climbing from sea to sky a second time around

Starting from Eze-sur-mer

So last time when I was in Nice, my favorite thing I did was a trail called le chemin de Nitsche (Nitsche's Path) from Eze-Village to Eze-sur-mer. Elyse, Lauren, and I hiked for maybe 45 minutes down and an hour back up from the old medieval fortress city perched in the cliffs to the edge of the Mediterranean sea. We got so many great pictures of le paysage (the countryside/landscape) and of us enjoying the sea and the trail. Of course, I lost all of my pictures from this, my favorite day, of travel.

The very beginning of the path, starting from the sea side.

So I was determined to do it again! This time, Marc drove me to Eze-Sur-Mer and I just did the hike up. And it was kind of a trip, because how often do you get to relive your favorite day of vacation? The weather was about the same (it was unseasonably warm in February, and it has been unseasonably cool this week in Nice) and the trail was the same and the beautiful view was the same, but the similarities stopped there. This time I was much more prepared for the hike (I had a water bottle, short sleeved-shirt, and a hair tie), and I was voyaging toute seule (though I kept imagining Elyse's laughter as we talked about how incredible Lauren was for bolting to the top).

Flowers in bloom along the winding path

And maybe I'm just being overly sentimental, but I couldn't stop thinking about how much had changed since the last time I'd walked the trail. How much my French has improved, how much more I feel at home in Montpellier, how much more I feel attached and tethered to France, how many great friendships I've made and strengthened, how much I've grown as a person, how much happier I've become. It's amazing how much can change in two months.

The rocky cliffs that overlook the wonderfully blue sea

And I was just so darn happy to be walking that path again. I think I had a big goofy grin on my face the whole time. Like a big goofy golden retreiver, bounding up the mountain side.

What it looks like from the top!- My view from Eze Village

Monaco, Au pif!

Peur du jour - 10 Avril 2012: Wandering in Monaco

Today, I took a solo-adventure to the principality of Monaco. Monaco is home to the Monte-Carol, the royal family of Monaco, and enough beautiful cars to give you a sore neck (from the head-turning, obviously). I went in the casino, walked through many beautiful gardens, saw the changing of the guards at the Royal Palace, counted dozens of sleek yachts, and even saw the beginning of the Grand Prix race track. Monaco is where you go when you want to show off how rich you are.

Now, since public displays of wealth are for me what public displays of affection are for others, Monaco wasn't exactly  my favorite cup of tea (spearmint, if you were wondering). But I definitely could appreciate the beauty and history behind it. And it was hard to not imagine yourself as a Bond Girl while walking the gardens of the casino. But I found my favorite spot in Monaco by just wandering around while searching for the Exotic Garden. I saw a trail that intrigued me, but I wasn't really sure where it led or if I should even be there.

And all of a sudden, I found myself in a grove of olive trees overlooking the city. In the country rated the most expensive place to live in the world, I was most content sitting in a bed of grass overlooking the sea.

There's something for everyone!

The Royal Palace- My view from the trail

PS) "Au pif" is a french phrase which translates to "by nose" and roughly translates to "off the cuff" especially when referring to cooking (as in, cooking without a recipe). I used it in this sense to describe my process of choosing roads/paths to walk down.

A change in the agenda

Howdy, readers!

So, although I have internet and computer access, I'm going to hold off with the vacay stories until I can upload all of my pictures on to my computer and include them as part of the portrait that I call the blogging of my life. BUT, so that I won't be completely overwhelmed and have no idea where to start, I'm going to draft the blogs this week. So, although, I promise I'll give you more detail than last time, you still are going to have to wait. Soyez patient!

If you're really antsy, check out my French Tastebud Adventures link. Because, man, my tastebuds have been in hog heaven for the past 24 hours. I will also be adding some cultural lessons as I have time.

As we speak, I am sitting on a porch looking at the Cape Ferrat and the Mediterranean Sea. I can hear the waves and the boats on their way to Monaco or Cannes; church bells and port bells (are there such a thing as port bells? Because I can hear them); and the wind rustling through the palm trees and olive trees and lemon trees; and birds singing and gulls calling. And everything smells green: fresh mint, wild asparagus, and wild roquette. I have found myself back in a cornucopia of sensations.

Gosh, I love it here.

You're never fully dressed without a smile

Peur du jour- 26 Mars 2012- Flashin' the pearly whites

Today I had a bizarre encounter with an old Arab man on the bus on the way back from volunteering at the lycée. I was staring out the window, lost in my head and minding my own business when I felt three strong taps on my shoulder. As I turned around I half expected to be someone from UNC or my church group (I had already run into a friend at the TAM office earlier this morning!), but to my surprise, it was a stranger. In my head, I have named him Monsieur Ibrahim and our conversation was as follows:

Ibrahim: You look very upset.
Me: Pardon?
I: You look like someone has made you angry.
Me: No, I'm not angry at all.
I: Well you look very upset.
M: No, I'm not upset, just pensive.  
I: Well, you have an air of being very upset. Your fiancé didn't just leave you, I trust?
M: [stammering stupidly]
I: Oh, you don't have a fiancé?
M: No, I don't have a fiancé.
I: Is that why you're upset? I bet you'll have a fiancé, a pretty girl like you.
M: Thank you, but I'm not upset.
I: Well you should smile! Life is too short to be upset. And I bet you'll find your fiancé.

Bizarre.

While I definitely was not upset on the bus, I was kind of in the midst of worrying about things. Worrying about my lack of summer job/internship, worrying about my life after college, worrying about how my aversion to the pursuit of money may not be entirely practical, worrying about how much life back home has changed, worrying about how I'm going to shape French-Kathleen back with American-Kathleen. Worrying, worrying, worrying.

 And this little interaction was a bit of a splash of cold water.

Life is too short to spend time worrying. Nothing under His control is out of control. And for that, I'll smile.

PS) Talk about a cultural contradiction. This time the goofy American golden retriever was picked out for NOT smiling.

As Usher would say: these are my confessions

Peur du jour- 22 Mars 2012: Confession

So, I'll just be honest. Confession is something that still kind of causes me to get stressed out. I didn't grow up doing it, which means the first time that I went I was a wreck. I probably gave myself a week of reconnaissance work:
1) I scoped out the church ahead of time to make sure I knew where the confessional was
2) Then I did research online about the dialogue to say.
3) Then I went to a week day mass to observe what others did before and after they went to confession.

I was like Nancy Drew, man.

So since confession is something that I had not decided to do regularly until this past year, I still am a little apprehensive when I go. And never in a million years did I ever think that I'd be confessing in French. From not knowing the script to not ever thinking about that kind of vocabulary to imagining how hard it would be to have a conversation in French in a muffled and dark compartment (having French phone conversations is still a somewhat painful experience), the excuses that I could come up with were as abundant as Abraham's descendents.

But last night at La Source, that's what the theme was-- confession. So I swallowed my uncertainties and went for it. Confession in this context was way more casual than anything I'd ever experienced in the US. First of all, there was no confessional. It was just me sitting with the priest (this may have been because it was a special mass and a special group... but I'm not sure). Also, there was no script. No "forgive me father for I have sinned", no statement of how long it had been since my last time. I asked the Priest how I should start, having explained that I was American and had never confessed in French before, and he told me to be honest and sincere and jump right in.

This experience was totally nothing like I was expecting it to be. I'm also so glad I had the courage to just go for it. And if ever you're a little apprehensive about going to confession, take heart; if I can do it in French, you can do it in English!

Happy 10-week-versary!

Today marks the precise halfway point of my time in Europe! It's kind of crazy to think of all that has happened in the first half of my trip. I've definitely grown a lot and learned a lot and experienced new things and met interesting people and seen beyond-incredible sights.

When I first got here, I wasn't 100% comfortable. The beginning of anything is always somewhat strange... It's uncomfortable to feel displaced (I definitely had my fair share of culture shock moments). It was also way too cold (I WOULD pick the year that Europe sets record lows). And of course, there was that language thing. It's not that I didn't want to be here or that I was necessarily unhappy, but I am just someone who is so used to habit and routine. It has taken time for me to feel like I am living here and not just someone who is passing through (though, in essence, that is what I'm doing). But I have taken the effort to connect with Montpellier and with French people which has made a world of difference. If  you ever think about studying abroad, MAKE NATIVE FRIENDS. It takes effort, but it has definitely been worth it. I came here to live France, not visit it.

As I get more and more comfortable and make more and more connections, I can tell that it's going to be hard to leave. I know I'm still going to be excited to go home (I can't stop dreaming about Mexican food), and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have Carolina In My Mind, but with every passing day I see a little more of how these twenty weeks are going to shape me for the rest of my life.


Phew. Deep.

Here's another kitty I saw in Saint-Guilhem to lighten the mood!

Also: Proof that I'm always proud to be a Tar Heel! (It spells CAROLINA :)

PS) I've put the links for my bucket list and the French foods that I've eaten in an easy-to-locate place at the bottom of the right-hand side bar. Feel free to check them out on a regular basis (especially the food one which I update nearly every day)!

Playing the cool foreigner

Peur du jour - 5 Mars 2012: Giving my time

So yesterday I started volunteering on Monday mornings in addition to Thursday mornings at lycée Jules Guesde. I was a little unsure about it because I had formerly spent my Monday mornings exercising and doing work for class. I also have three hours of class in the afternoon, so my Mondays will feel pretty packed now. I also would be working in three different classrooms with three different teachers which means three potentially different experiences from what I've been having. Basically I was letting a lot of little things cloud my mind about wanting to get more involved.

But in my twenty and half years of living, I've learned the most cherished thing that you can give to any person is your time, so I decided to make the commitment and plunge into an extra three hours on Monday mornings. I'm so glad that I did! I worked with two classes that are very similar to the classes I have been helping on Thursday mornings, but I also got the opportunity to work with the "international" class. These are French students whose course work has an international focus (particularly on anglophone studies).

These students are highly motivated (ie. a breath of fresh air) and are speaking at an elevated level of English. I came in on the day that they were starting to discuss The Crucible (they just finished reading and performing Romeo and Juliet). For the first half of the class they had a mini history lesson about America's Puritan founding. I was definitely having flashbacks to my Junior year English class where we read Jonathan Edwards and William Bradford and Anne Bradstreet and, of course, Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter.

Then, the second half of class, I introduced myself and answered any questions they might have about me/my experiences. It was so so SO weird to be on this side of the equation. I remember the few times that French students came to my high school: our classes would always be so excited to speak to them in French and ask them about French school and culture and life and food and EVERYTHING. The French students mostly asked me about my experience as an American college student. I talked about marching band, greek life, SATs/ACTs, my internship in Washington D.C., living in the dorms, majors/minors... It's always so funny when I run into French people who are enthralled with American culture or the English language. One man's home is another person's exotic fantasy.

Also, everyone could understand my accent. A nice change of pace..

Small wonders

1. The big burly African French man who pushes his twin daughters in a stroller every morning and evening all the while singing to them in French

2. The vendors at the market under the aqueduct who are willing to teach me about every French food under the sun and give me tastes of everything.

3. How it can rainy and cloudy in all of France except for the small strip in the South where Montpellier is (a little bit like this).

4. Beret-clad, French elderly couples holding hands.

5. That, with the important exception of milk, nearly everything tastes better in France (case in point: for the first time in my life, I like mushrooms).

6. When tram operators and bus drivers are truly kind and wait longer than they should so that someone can make the tram/bus.

7. The way the town smells like fresh bread and coffee in the morning as the cafés and boulangeries open their doors.

8. Jazz flute and upright bass duets on la Rue de la loge

9. Hearing the person who lives above me play the piano every day when they get home from work.

10. Realizing that there are some things that are impossible to translate.

My week in Provence

Okay, so basically I've been procrastinating with a blog post because I have no idea where to begin. Should I talk about fears? Funny stories? Life changing moments? My many firsts? A blow-by-blow account of the whole trip?

I've decided to share with you some of the biggest lessons I've pulled away from my first solo (as in without the company or planning of any "adults") journey in Europe (or anywhere for that matter).


1. I'm going to get the mushy gushy things out of the way and send a huge shout out to my travel buddies. I think we got each other through a lot of sticky situations, made each other laugh, and just soaked up everything good about France together.

Our first day in Avignon was miserably cold and windy, but that didn't stop us from profiting from the city! Two thumbs up for positivity. (Avignon, France)

Missing your train and having to pay out the ear for a slower, later train is pretty sucky. But here we are with smiles on our faces! (Marseille, France)

Lesson # 1: Things definitely don't go as planned, but you just have to rant about it, laugh about it, and push through.

2.  I feel like all of my senses came alive for the first time on this trip. My nose detected the scent of blackberry in red wine and the hints of jasmine from the perfume capital of the world (Grasse, France). My ears delighted the sound the Mediterranean waves make as they pull back against the rocky beach--like the crackling of fireworks or the popping of a campfire. My tongue swam around in all sorts of wine as I went on my first vineyard tour and lavished in the sweet and savory specialties that I explored. My skin rejoiced in the French sunlight, the smooth pebbles that cover the beach in Nice and Eze-sur-mer, and the salty feeling of sea water as it dries and mixes with your sweat as you hike back from the sea into the mountains. Sight is the only sense with which I can indulge you:

Une papaline (like "pape" the French word for Pope), the candy of Avignon. It is a ball of chocolate with Oregano liquor on the inside. (Avignon, France)

Enjoying a glass of rosé in the town where it was first made in France (Tavel, France)

Orange trees at the International Museum of Perfume (Grasse, France)

The beach on a peaceful, mid-morning walk (Nice, France)

Bouquets of Lavender, a flower associated with Provence, at the largest Fruit and Flower market in France (Nice, France)

Some incredibly fresh fish at the Fruit and Flower Market (Nice, France)

Lesson #2: Appreciate every taste and sense and smell. Think about all of the work and passion that is behind a bottle of wine or perfume, a piece of chocolate, a silken scarf. Appreciate the God-created world around you. 

3.  This trip also just reminded me how important it is to enjoy life. I have a tendency to get caught up in checklists and deadlines, but I am making so many efforts in France to savor the world around me (see lesson #2). One thing I'm realizing is that God doesn't just give us the bare minimum, he provides for us in abundance. I have an abundance of love, laughter, and joy in my life, and I praise God for it every day!

Dancing on le Pont d'Avignon (Avignon, France)

Goofing around at the TGV station (Avignon, France)

Candid shot of some French people shooting us with silly string as we were taking a picture (Carnaval @ Nice, France)

Lesson #3: Live your life. Love your life. 



PS) If you'd like a blow-by-blow account of my trip, try looking at the blogs of my other friends. I thought I would use this space to reflect on the bigger picture of my trip (because, of course, I took copious notes in my journal each day). Maggie and Michelle had pretty detailed accounts (note: Michelle's name has two links associated with it). We didn't do all of the same things, but still shared a lot of experiences!

PPS) Also, one of my friends wrote an article for her university's newspaper about carnaval!

My breath has been taken

I just got back from my wonderful adventures in Provence and the Cote D'azur. Let me just say:

It is a miracle that I came back. 

I've never been anywhere so beautiful and breathtaking in my entire life except for the Sonoran desert (I'm not sure why, but I get weak-kneed over the silhouettes of friendly saguaros waving hello)... but these two places rank number one right now.

I am currently missing half of my pictures because I had to transfer them off of my memory card onto a friend's computer because I used my entire memory card. I've never done that. Ever.

I promise that in the coming days I will share stories and pictures (especially of my gastronomic adventures in which a certain uncle has expressed interest), but honestly, my expression via internet is just never going to do it justice. Hang around me to see the twinkle in my eye when I talk about it (because I'm sure that I'm going to absolutely BORE people to death with "this one time, I was in Provence and..." stories); that might help. But if you ever get the opportunity, don't hesitate to find yourself perched on the edge of the French mountain side overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

You'll never be able to get your breath back.

PS) My French Bucket List is growing, but also becoming more complete!

Les hommes français

Another day without a specific fear about which to talk. I will give you a fun list at the end, though!

This morning when I woke up, j'avais mal à la gorge. Actually, j'ai fait une nuit blanche because of it. I'm hoping that it's just because of the dry and the cold (seriously, didn't I leave the American midwest?). Fortunately, I thought ahead and packed American medication with me so I didn't have to brave la pharmacie and try to figure out the difference between cold medicine and laxatives (this is the worst case scenario I could think of) because EVERYTHING is different. I did wake up early go to to le supermarché which is only open for about three hours in the morning on Sunday (because it's France, and only the Arab épiceries and a few select cafés are open on Sundays). I got some tea, grapefruit juice, tissue packets, and ricola cough drops which were interestingly enough located in the candy aisle. Fortunately for me, cough drops aren't considered to be a type of medicinal product and therefore ARE available for purchase in the super market.

Today will be a lazy homework/packing/recuperating day before my adventures! Tomorrow I leave for Avignon, Nice, and a couple of little villages in the South of France. I'm hoping to escape le froid (it's supposed to be 50 degrees in Nice, I can't wait!), tour a vineyard (I'll take lots of notes, Uncle Tom), visit the parfumeries, socialize in what I've gathered is one of the best hostels in all of France, and celebrate French carnaval! I'm sure I'll have a lot to recount when I get back, but until then:

The Types of Men I've Encountered in France

*Just as a little explanation, I feel like women keep to themselves far more than men do, so overall I've had more encounters with men*

1. The men who yell "courage!" at me when I run: Running is far scarcer in France than in the US, and the French people seem to be a little puzzled/impressed by people who run. I'm not complaining, though, because it makes me feel like I have my own personal cheer leaders...
2. The kindly old man: Whether it was a priest helping me to get involved with the church group or a patron at the library allowing me to use his card to make a copy of a magazine article, I have been the beneficiary of random acts of kidness.
3. The drunken baffoons: I can't say that I've had a ton of encounters with this back in the US, so I can't say if it's better or worse here, but I have felt somewhat uncomfortable walking home at night (early, like between 11:30 and 12:30). It's not just cat calls, it's getting up in my personal space and forcing me to walk through/around them. I've never felt unsafe because there are always a lot of other people around, but it is a little unnerving. 
4. Les Sans Domicile Fixes: They all seem to have dogs and hang out by the tram stations and the carousel in the center square. 
5. The super nice church-goers: Other than my three male professors, these are the only ones that I've had any real contact with. Everyone, male and female, that I've met there has proved to me that we're not so different after all :) 

Bonne semaine!

You've got "une amie" in me

Alright, I've been remiss. Tuesday and Wednesday were uneventful and then Thursday was jam packed:

• 3h00: Wake up in a groggy haze, feeling like death to watch the UNC-d00k game
• 4h30: Feeling good about our performance after halftime
• 5h15: Go to back to bed mildly depressed
• 8h30: Wake up and kick box
• 10h30: Leave the house to head over to Lycée Jules Guesde (that middle s is silent... weird) to volunteer
• 15h15: Class
• 18h30: Leave the house to go to La Source (my worship group)
• 23h30: Get home, collapse in bed

 Fear has not really been an issue in my life this week, so instead I'll give you five reasons why having a French friends is awesome.

1. An opportunity to parler en français!
2. If someone uses a word I don't understand, I can ask for an explanation
3. An opportunity to practice bises (I really hope I am getting less awkward at it...) 
4. They can introduce me to more French people and French things!
5. They really  make me want to get better at French so I can talk more with them!

Also, they are not just amazing because they are French, but because they are truly some of the nicest, warmest, friendliest, most welcoming people I have ever met. I have also realized that I enjoy their company so much because I'm just me. There are no pretenses. I don't know what's "cool" so I don't have to worry about acting that way. I've accepted my goofy American-ness (which is just how I am in general), so there's no pressure to "fit in." I hope I can bring this back with me.

She bangs, she moves

Peur du jour- 4 Fevrier 2012: Self-Bang Trim

Short and sweet: today, despite reservations about messing up and walking around like a goof for a few weeks, I trimmed my bangs.

I am quite pleased!

Before:

 After:

http://www.zigoti.com/2011/06/wear-bangs-growing/

Naw, just kidding:

I should get a job application, or something.