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.

A Country Bumpkin in Paris

Peur du jour- 21 Mai 2012: Making a fool of myself

In this episode of European Travels with Kathleen, we find our main character in the Charles de Gaulle Marriot on the eve of her homecoming.

My dad was too good to me. With a flight out of Paris at noon, I knew I was going to have to already be in Paris the night before. I was seriously considering spending the night at the airport to save some money and to avoid the hassle of dragging five months of belongings through the Paris metro system. But, Dad was generous and put me up in the Marriot where I have a real bed, wifi, and a fitness center (free weights and a balance ball for the first time in months!!!).

Home sweet home

But, it quickly became clear to me that I have no idea how hotels work. I must not stay in nice ones very often. Or maybe this hotel is just special. But you have to use your key card for everything. I completely missed the sign in the elevator saying that you have to insert your key to select your floor and was corrected by a bellboy and two American businessmen after I missed my floor. Then I couldn't figure out why none of the lights or electrical sockets in my room were working. I went down to the front desk (because even the phone was out of order) and told them (in French) that the electricity wasn't working... He chuckled at me and asked "did you use your card?" There's a card holder near the light switch that activates all of the lights and electricity.

I'm that clueless girl that gives everyone a reason to laugh. De rien.

"Amen" is always the same

Peur du jour- 20 Mai 2012: German Mass

About four months ago, I went to my first mass in French. And I was terrified. On my morning walk to mass in the small Bavarian town of Lupburg, I experienced similar anxiety. Only this time, I was going to mass in a language which I don't speak at all (other than ein bier, bitte or danke or tschüss). Luckily, God blessed me with a few German friends in Montpellier who helped me prepare for this very mass.

In comparison with what I came to know in France, German mass much more closely resembles American mass.

• It has the same sense of order concerning the procession for the Eucharist, the kneeling/sitting/standing business, and the communication of hymnal pages (they had a cool light up board in the front of the church so I didn't even have to try to interpret numbers!). This organization does not surprise me at all; I've already waxed poetic about the trains. 

German Church in Lupburg

French Cathedral in Montpellier

• The architectural style is completely different from what I experienced in France. White walls instead of stone; natural light instead of colored.

• Similar demographics. There were lots of children and families (so I definitely didn't feel like an outlier skewing the average age). This is likely because Catholicism is a lot stronger in this region. In Bavaria, I see the stations of the cross along the walking trails. In Montpellier, it seemed like more people were "PACS"ed (a type of civil union) than were married.

But I also noticed some differences:

• Much less singing than in American or French masses.
• Like French mass, worship is more personal (vs. communal) in the manner that no one holds hands during the "Our Father" and the exchange of peace seemed to be confined to those sitting only to your left and to your right. I think this probably goes back to the fact that Americans tend to be much more touchy-feely.
• Mass in general seemed to be a little more formal. There's the manner of dressing which in general tends to be less casual in Europe. Also, I noticed that everyone in mass always had their hands folded in prayer which seems a little stricter than the US and far stricter than France.

So I think that in addition to having caught the travel bug this semester, I've caught the Catholic-comparison bug. It's so incredible to me how the slight variations in the rhythm and customs of a mass can be such a manifestation of regional and national culture. I can't wait to keep exploring, but in the mean time, I'd love to hear about your experiences in masses around the world in the comments!

Awesome thing #342 about Germany: The trains

Day 5 in the motherland. Germany continues to impress me. Remember my big cultural lesson about how great the French train system was? I think I was coming from an uninformed perspective. Any train system looks great next to the relatively nonexistent one in the United States.

1. German trains are actually on time. Inconceivable! Lindsey and I have been taking the train daily for our day trips and never once has a train been late. It's nice to know that you can count on making a connection and that you can accurately plan your day.
2. German trains actually check your tickets. This is nice because a lot of the time on French trains I wondered why I had wasted my money on a ticket they wouldn't even check (the answer: because I am honest).
    
3. German trains give you great stories. Friday night train rides out of Munich have no shortage of activity. Lindsey and I were accused (in German) of being Chelsea fans by a dusty old German man drinking beer from his backpack. Another older German man heard us speaking English and asked if we could explain the one English word he didn't understand: stillbirth (he had seen it in a health warning on his cigars). At one point, the four German men in our car were shouting about the upcoming Champions League Final match this weekend and all Lindsey and I could understand were town names and Amerika and JA!!! Never a dull moment.

I, of course, will be cheering for FC Bayern

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.

Another 10 weird things I've seen in Montpellier

1. A man playing the didgeridoo in Place du Peyrou by the Chateau D'eau past midnight (the park was closed, and we saw him hop the fence...).
2. The gypsies who pretend to be deaf and not understand when you say "non" yet they immediately respond to you when you say "attend" ("wait") because they think you are going to give them money.
3. Occupy Montpellier. Fo real.
4. An older guy on a bike trying to have an extended conversation with me and hit on me while I was running. With head phones in. N'importe quoi...
5. A grumpy drunk American girl in the comédie SHOUTING franglais "I need to partir like right now." Classy.
6. Homeless men making GIGANTOR bubbles in the comédie.
7. Late night tram sighting: drunken teens belting la marseille (the national anthem of France) on the tram around midnight. In four part harmony.
8. The petit train (that gives guided tours around the city for tourists) squeezing down roads for which it is much too large.
9. French people saying "no merci" to the man handing out free Ben & Jerry's. You don't say no to free Ben & Jerry's. Ever.
10. A dog in Temple Bar. Seriously like the cutest little dog ever, but jazz night is no place for a little terrier.

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.

The reason perfume is so popular in France

Cultural Lesson 11: French Hygiene 

So I'd say that a pretty big American perception of French people is a general lack of hygiene. Jokes about hairy armpits and infrequent bathing abound. While this cultural difference is exaggerated, I'd say there is  the teensiest bit of truth behind it.

1. Foul odors are a lot more acceptable in France. You rarely hear anyone complaining about bad smells.
2. There seems to be a gap in between generations. When I encounter body odor, it's usually older people. This may be the remnants of a culture of hygiene that is dying out with younger generations. My host mother washes her hair once a week on Thursdays (but she does not smell in any way), where as most of my friends from university are anal about taking daily showers. 
3. There is an undeniable abundance of smells. I have to be honest and say that my nose has definitely been subjected to some new foul odors in France. And it's mostly body odor. But, cities are always smellier than the 'burbs, so I'm not sure if this is due to the fact that I'm in France or that I'm living in a big city (other than DC) for the first time in my life. 

A fun anecdote!

I generally have my encounters with foul odors in enclosed spaces where it's hard to escape (the tram, the bus, church, etc.) The worst encounter I've ever had with body odor was on the tram during rush hour (of course). I noticed the smell just as I had gotten on the tram for my 10 minute tram ride over to Sainte Bernadette, my church. It quickly became overpowering; we're talking watering-eyes and gag reflexes. What was even worse was that no one else was reacting (see #1). Stoic and stone-faced, the French people around me in the tram carried on with their quotidian tram business. I felt like this stench was my personal purgatory.

So I fled to the next tram car. But, in heading away from the person I believed to be the culprit, I ended up even closer to the source of the odor. Pinned into a corner of the tram, I became feverish.  Attempting to use my coat as a filter, I was breathing through my mouth into my elbow. My head was swimming and I was contemplating barreling through a horde of people to get off at the next stop in order to wait for a new tram despite the fact that I was running late. I managed to make it to my stop and literally breathed a sigh of relief.

Clearly, I'm alive. But what I like to call "the funk" is one thing I will not miss about France.

Les elections françaises

Cultural Lesson #10: French Elections

As a Political Science major and news junkie, I am really quite lucky to be in France to witness the presidential elections which occur once every five years. I have learned a lot about the political atmosphere and the voting process through conversations with my host family and French friends, information from news sources, and lessons from one of my French courses at Accent Français.

The system of voting seems a little archaic in comparison to the American system. The Sunday of the premier tour, the French go to le bureau de vote where they are assigned to vote. They show their identity card and they go into l'isoloir (the voting booth) with many slips of paper with the candidates names written on them. Each voter gets an envelope in which they place their choice of candidate, leaving them to dispose of the other slips in the manner they choose (they throw them away, stuff them in their pockets, etc.). The envelope gets placed in l'urne (a box which holds the votes), the voter signs an electoral list, and that's it! When the voting process is over, the votes are hand-counted. In the case that none of the candidates gets a majority (over 50%) of the votes, there is a deuxième tour two weeks later (today!). The candidates for today are Sarkozy (the incumbent) and Hollande.

The actual voting process is definitely different, but I think there's something to be said about simplicity. At least you don't end up with dead pets voting (shout out to my home state of Illinois) or technical errors in the vote count. Another difference is a type of absentee voting, voter par correspondance, which allows an absentee voter to have someone else physically vote for them. Voter par procuration is what we would consider to be normal absentee voting.

The elections today will very well shape the economic and international role of France. The fate of the economy is definitely the biggest issue here. Supporters of Hollande look at the economic failure of the United States as reasoning to back their candidate, and supporters of Sarkozy look at the economic failure of Greece and Spain as reasoning to back theirs. Another big issue which is tied to this is immigration. Sarkozy maintains that stemming immigration into France would safeguard jobs for French people in a country where the unemployment level is nearly 10% and reduce strain on the welfare programs which are so numerous (well, in comparison to the US) in France. Hollande believes that immigration when it is legal is not a damper to the prosperity of France.

The election results are tallied quite quickly and there is no lame-duck period as we have in the United States. Keep your eyes on the news as France prepares to welcome back Sarkozy or welcome anew Hollande.

Service with a simper

Cultural Lesson # 9: [Lack of] Customer service

Forecast of this blog post: rant with a chance of negativity. Sorry!

We all know the mantra "the customer is always right." Or at least I thought we all did. To put it delicately, customer service has a whole different face in France. It has been one cultural difference that I haven't quite been able to embrace and I frequently find myself thinking "back home, this would never happen." Some examples (from least to greatest level of annoyance):

Exhibit A: The inconsistent peanut butter price
So, like any good study abroad student, I made myself a budget to account for travel, transport, food, and miscellaneous expenses.  For the food, in particular, I relied on prices at the grocery store to make this budget. The great thing about France (and other European countries) is that tax is included in the price of everything. So I can easily calculate exactly what I will spend and always have the right amount of cash ready. Once while going to buy a jar of peanut butter (a cost effective if not French lunch option), I noticed that the price at check out was several euros higher than the listed price. When I made a remark about it, the cashier told me it wasn't her job to check prices and that if I wanted a refund I could take it up with customer service. The desk of which I couldn't even find.

Exhibit B: The uppity banker
So in the beginning of my séjour, I completely forgot the assigned code to my French debit card. After entering my American code three times, the machine ate my card (d'oh!). So the next day I went to the bank with a piece of ID to recuperate it. After waiting in line for ten minutes, I gave the banker a friendly bonjour, explained my situation, and handed over my carte d'identité.  The lady gave me a disgusted look and told me very harshly that my drivers license wasn't a valid form of ID. I was already having a rough day (I'm pretty sure this was a Wednesday in February which means I was cold and I had just suffered through a horrible class), and I just remember being so upset that the lady didn't find it worth her energy to kindly explain to me that I needed a passport. I mean, I AM giving them my money after all.

Exhibit C: The restaurant owners who turn you away
Several times I have been turned away from a restaurant/food stand for no apparent reason. In Paris, we walked by a grillade stand (they serve grilled sausages and kebabs and whatnot) around their closing time. They were starting to pack up, but they had tons of cooked sausages still sitting on the grill. As we tried to order, the lady very rudely told us that they were closed. Also, when trying to sit down outside at a pub around noon, the store owners chased us away and said that it would be "a good fifteen minutes" until we were allowed to sit. We would have been fine with sitting and just waiting to be served, but apparently they were more interested in taking their smoke break than having customers.

Exhibit D: The key saga
This happened back in February. It is such a big story, but I didn't want to write about it until it was over, because I didn't want to jinx anything. So right after February break, I broke my key to the apartment in the lock of the door (just call me super-strength-Kathleen). Luckily, I got the whole key out, but when I showed my host mother she had a very strong reaction (the French don't really hold back with things like that). She told me to buy a new key would cost 130 euro. Holy cats. Whats more, the key had to be made at a special factory in Paris and would take as much as a week to be made (leaving me without a key during this period). So I freaked out and went to the program director because I had no idea what to do. Luckily, we figured out that the one euro insurance I bought at the beginning of the program would cover it (literally, the best one euro I ever spent). Yay!

Long story short, it took me 25 days for the key to get made because there was some problem at the key factory. So I was without a key for nearly a month. Super super super inconvenient because I am definitely the one who comes and goes the most (other than our host mother). I had to make sure someone would be around if I decided to go for a run, or wanted to come home for lunch, etc. My host mother and I literally shouted "HALLELUIAH!" when the key arrived.

Furthermore, working with the insurance company was incredibly frustrating. I filed the claim the day after I broke the key and sent in all of the necessary documentation (receipt for the new key, proof of residence, an attestation of what had happened, and my bank account information), but for one reason or another, there was always something wrong or something that I didn't do quite right (not because I neglected to read directions, but because they didn't TELL me the very particular way that they wanted things). Finally I went to my bankers who are the sweetest guys ever and they called the insurance company and basically told them to stop harassing me and to give me my money. Pascal to the rescue. I am going to miss that guy. I finally got my money just before I left for April break. Ridicule!


Silver lining: I had the best bankers ever (the "uppity banker" was at a different branch). There was a period of time when I was going to the bank at least two times a week for the stupid insurance claim. They were always super patient with me when I had no idea what they were saying (I never learned bank vocab in school... did you?). They helped me write out my letters that I had to send to the insurance company. They joked with me about the Chicago Bulls and loved to throw out the random English phrases they knew. They asked how I was adjusting to French culture and how my classes were going at le fac. And they were always super polite and never made me feel like a stupid American who doesn't know anything and should just not even be in France (which is sometimes how I feel after these customer service interactions). I just closed my account today and was actually kind of sad to say goodbye! Definitely the most pleasant experience I've had concerning service-providers.

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.

15 Weird things I've seen in Montpellier

1. The Gipsy petting zoo (I'm sure this is some sort of scam...)
2. A woman on the bus mashing a stick around in her mouth (was later informed that this woman was probably from Uganda where they chew on a certain type of stick rather than brushing their teeth. Interesting!)
3. A mean speaking in tongues on the bus. Like, he was literally conversing with someone by making slurping noises. For half an hour.
4. Cat man. 
5. A group of French teenagers drunkenly singing I will always love you in Place du Peyrou. At 8 AM on a Saturday morning.
6. Someone walking a ferret. (And all the dogs going CRAZY)
7. A man drinking Heineken on the tram at 7:30 AM on a Tuesday. Get on his level.
8. My bus driver jump off the bus to grab a coffee and a croissant from a café when we were stuck in gridlock traffic.
9. Snow (which is just weird to see in Montpellier).
10. The international section of the grocery store filled with salsa and peanut butter.
11. Two people giving bisous with cigarettes in their mouth. C'est la classe.
12. A skate-boarding dog.
13. A guy on the tram who stood in front of me with his arms spread out like wings, made seagull noises for two minutes, and then thrust his hand at me expecting a coin.
14. A man smoking and jogging at the same time. Counterproductive.
15. Cat rock! My little name for the rocky area down by the river where I've made friends with lots of strays. Seriously, I've named them and everything.

Trains, planes, and automobiles. But especially trains.

French Cultural Lesson # 8: Le Train

The very first thing I did when I got to France was take a train to Montpellier. I remember feeling so French as I took the TGV for the first time and watched the French countryside whiz by. Throughout my stay here, I've really gotten to know the train system.

The Good: 
Unlike chez moi (back in the States), the train is really the mode of travel here. While there tends to be a Paris-centroism to the system, the network of rail is fairly extensive. In fact, I have done a majority of my traveling by train:

• Montpellier
• Avignon
• Nice
• Grasse
• Beaulieu-sur-mer
• Nimes
• Sète
• Cannes
• Antibes
• Monaco
• Menton
• Ventimille, Italy
• Paris
• Versailles

Also, in the French style of offering great discounts to people under 25 (something I'm going to miss a lot when I go back home), there is a discount card you can buy called the douze-vignt-cinq (the 12-25) which is for travelers between those ages. I've used the train so much that the card paid for itself in the first month, and I'd really recommend it to anyone with an extended stay in France who is planning to travel by train!

The bad:

The SNCF (the organization that runs the trains) has a reputation of being a little disorganized. Trains are often behind schedule, sometimes two trains leave from the same platforms at essentially the same time, etc. Suffice it to say, we have had our fair share of train fiascoes. The tardiness of trains is somewhat of a joke among French people. Back in March, a law was passed that requires the SNCF to refund your ticket if you miss a connecting train due to a delay (which seems like an obvious responsibility in my American eyes..).



The ugly:

They don't all look like this, I swear.

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.

Once again embracing the golden retriever

Peur du jour - 30 Avril 2012: Sharing American Culture

So yesterday at the lycée where I volunteer we had our journée americaine (America day). My fellow American students helped to plan and lead a day full of cultural workshops for the English classes here.  We split into about five teams, each one composed of both American and French students. The team captains (the Americans) had to wear different colored bandanas. We were team "Yellow Submarine." Cute, n'est pas?


We had a dance workshop where two Americans thought dances like the Cupid Shuffle, the Soulja Boy, and the Dougie.

Cupid Shuflin'

We had a baseball workshop lead by the Montpellier Baracudas (the baseball team in Montpellier).

Me, stepping up to the plate

We had an quiz on American trivia and music at which the French students did surprisingly well. They knew a lot about American geography, politics, and pop culture!

In the spirit of America, our kids were very competitive

The consul from the American consulate in Marseilles came to share a word about the importance of sharing and understanding different cultures.

The cafeteria even made an American style lunch for all of us! We had chicken wings, "country potatoes", chocolate milk, cookies, and "sundaes" (little ice cream cups). There were still, however, baguettes, French style appetizers, and real silverware and plates. Much nicer than my high school cafeteria.

A very delicious meal

We had an art workshop where we made pieces in the style of Keith Haring, an American artist. We traced the forms of each other and then designed the interior and the exterior in contrasting colors. This was probably the most fun I've had in a long time. The kids were SO creative and it has probably been at least a decade since I've gotten to have arts and crafts time (other than my stress-time coloring books).

We didn't get time to finish, but I still think it's pretty cool!

It was really fun to get to know some of the students I work with better. It also felt pretty good to just be our goofy, kind of loud, enthusiastic American selves. While in Montpellier, I've really tried to make a connection with the natives around me. Even though this day was kind of about us, I still really felt that we connected with French culture. Our students taught us a French dance, we got to see more about French high schools, and we got to just hang out with the students and talk with them. It was a very long and tiring day, but one of my best in Montpellier! (and that rhymed!)

Tongue Tied

Peur du jour- 29 Avril 2012: Accepting correction with humility

The great thing about kids is that they are straight-talkers. If they notice something that is out of accordance with what they know, they don't hesitate to remark about it.

This characteristic of children is what led me to realize a flaw in some of the things I've been saying in French. There is a vowel complexity that can be particularly tricky for Americans which shows itself in the past participial of the verb courir (to run), "couru".

I can't tell you how many times I've used this word with my host mother. I run every day, but never in my nearly four months here has she corrected me. The second I used this word with some children from my church, however, they were all over it.

"Repeat after me. Cou-ru. No. Cou-ru. No. Cou-ru. No not couru, couru!"

I attempted to repeat after them for several minutes. Incredibly frustrating. But now I whisper this word as I walk to myself in the streets (definitely keeps the crazies away). And I'm thankful that they had no shame in shaming me. Because that's how we learn.

We don't need no (French) education

Peur du jour- 24 Avril 2012: Final exam at the French University at la journée americaine

So today I took my first (and only) exam for my history/geography course at Paul Val. Gross.

Let's not even talk about how this exam was at 8:15 (INSANELY early by French standards) the Tuesday after a two week break. Thankfully, I had already planned to be back by last Friday to recuperate, so I did have time to study hard for three days. But, as I am the type of student that usually starts studying a week in advance for regular tests and TWO weeks for finals (yeah, go ahead and tape the "kick me" sign to my back, I'm a nerd), I was still really stressed.

Not to mention that I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be studying. I had asked the professor, but he said that it wouldn't be fair to give me any sort of direction. Really, France? In the end I ended up going through my notes and trying to organize it into outline form so I could catch the big themes and memorize some small details/examples.

So the morning rolled around. I left super early to avoid being late due to any tram delays and breezed past the students enjoying a pre-exam cigarette outside the classroom. The prof passed out some scratch paper and the French equivalent of blue books (at least I didn't have to pay for it like at UNC! Silver lining.) and then began to explain the exam.

Because this class was taught by two professors, they thought it necessary to have two different essay prompts (normal). They had both professors develop a subject (also normal), but did not feel that there would be enough time for each student to answer both questions (okay). So, they divided the class up into two groups by last name (getting wonky) and then proceeded to have one student from the first group draw a subject from a hat (seriously?). As the French student deciding my fate walked to the front of the room, Jason was muttering "this would never happen in America," and I was singing the Price is Right theme (COME ON DOWN!).

I ended up getting the subject for the professor that I've been whining about all semester. On top of that, we recieved the prompt via dictation (here's to hoping I didn't mishear a word!). In a fortunate turn of events, however, it was the prompt I felt more comfortable with. In fact, it was the last section of notes I had read before getting off the tram to walk to campus. Not that I know how I'm going to be graded, but I didn't feel that the exam itself was that hard. I had an hour and a half to answer one essay question--kid's stuff compared to my poli and history exams at UNC.

I only need a 9 (maybe I'll talk about the French grading scale in a cultural lesson) to get credit at UNC. And if not, at least I got some great stories out of this class and a deep appreciation for my home institution.

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!

An energizer bunny in Paris

Peur du jour- 19 Avril 2012: Being a traveling machine

On this day in Paris, I literally did not sit down for more than five minutes until my metro ride back to the hostel at 11 pm at night. I ate all three meals sur le pouce (on the go, literally "on the thumb") while walking from destination to destination. I may have felt like I was going to collapse at the end of the day, but I got to do everything in Paris I had planned to do. Worth it.


We spent about three hours at la tour eiffel waiting in line to go to the top and enjoying the beautiful views!

La Tour Kathleen

 We walked from la tour eiffel to le louvre because it was such a beautiful day! We stayed there until they literally herded us out at closing.

Lauren and I went to the extended hours at le musée d'orsay where we drooled over Monets and Renoirs and Degas and Manets and Sisleys and Gauguins and Seurats and Toulouse-Lautrecs until we were once again herded out at closing. Heaven.

Le Musée d'orsay is housed in an old train station

These magnificent clocks overlook la seine

We ended the night with a walk along the Seine and a viewing of la tour eiffel's light show.

Paris-ing in the Rain

Peur du jour- 18 Avril 2012: Ignoring physical discomfort

If there's anything worse than trying to discover a city in the rain, it's trying to discover a city in the pouring rain.

Unfortunately, a lot of my time in Paris was plagued by cold and wind and rain which left me really missing my rain boots, but really thankful that I remembered to bring an umbrella with me to France. Fortunately, Paris is not like the South of France which shuts down at the first sign of gray. People in the South are so accustomed to the sun that they just shut themselves indoors until those golden rays make their reappearance. Parisians are very much like Chicagoans; life goes on in sun, rain, and snow.

Some things I did in the rain: waited in line (outside) to climb Notre-Dame, wandered around le Quartier Latin down some streets a friend had recommended, took shelter in a wonderful cozy restaurant for lunch, took shelter under the awning of a delicious pastry shop while devouring a chocolately treat, did a quick run through les jardins de luxembourg, saw La Sarbonne, took shelter in Sainte-Chapelle (or the most beautiful church that ever was), grabbed a cup of hot chocolate in a café to thaw out, waited out the storm in a cozy Irish pub and had a really delicious crepe dinner.

Picture attack.

Notre-Dame pre-rain!

I like this one because it looks like he's about to eat la tour eiffel

There's a storm blowin'!

Les jardins de luxembourg- pouring at this point

Sainte-Chapelle (ignore the construction)

One great thing about rain is that all you want to do is sit in a warm restaurant and eat. Wednesday was definitely the day where I had the most food adventures in Paris! Regardez:

 At the end of the day, my freezing toes and sopping jeans were definitely worth it.