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.

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.

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.

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.

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!)

Not quite marching band

Cultural Lesson # 4: Fanfare

 So, I had always learned that the French word for Marching Band was "fanfare." This word pleased me (hello, French syntax!), because it brought to mind images of valiant trumpet-bearing soldiers marching down the Champs Elysées. But, when I first saw a fanfare in France, I realized that, while the two groups have similar spirit, they are not quite the same.

This is from a music and lights festival in the Cartier de Beaux Arts

A fanfare, as I have come to experience and understand it, is a type of street band. A lot of the times they'll wear silly costumes (I think that my pictures were taken on a fire & ice theme night). They have pep-band instruments (trumpets, trombones, sousaphones, clarinets, saxophones, and a drum set). They also play "popular" music. I put popular in quotes because I heard Rock Lobster at least twice (that's for you, Tim!). They also played a lot of 90s grunge music. This may have just been the repertoire of this particular group.

You can see some of the silly clothing people were wearing in this picture

 The pictures I have aren't wonderful for a few reasons. This was back in January when I was still terrified of being mugged at any given moment (thanks to our program leader, for that pep talk). But also because there was a delightful man who was way past inebriated who was swaggering around our group the whole night. It was a bit of a challenge to keep out of his way when he would fall backwards like a tree that's just received the final blow from an axe. There were several men who tried to relocate him to sit down a park bench, but he wouldn't have it. His belligerence was a telling sign of his love for Rock Lobster and fanfares.

We could not figure out why, but there were feathers EVERYWHERE

 

 Ignore the images on the video, this is just to give you a taste of what it sounded like. They had been playing for awhile and it was pretty cold, but you can tell that this group is a casual, just-for-fun thing. Definitely can't stand up to the Pride of the ACC.

Sur la route! (On the road!)

Peur du jour- 31 Mars 2012: Orienteering

This weekend I went to Perpignan with some of my fellow Catholic students from La Source. The weekend was great, but our journey was not without its detours and scenic routes.

We traveled en voiture (by car) from Montpellier to Baixas, France (about 2 hours). All together we had four cars; I traveled with two people with whom I have fostered great friendships, Clément and Judith. Since we left at around 11:30, of course we (the whole group of about 20 people) stopped for a picnic lunch at a rest area (oh, France). It was also there that we practiced for the flashmob (more about that later!).

Clément, Judith, et moi!

After the picnic was where things started to get wonky. Because suddenly, we were no longer traveling in a caravan and I turned into the navigator. Now, normally I feel pretty confident as the navigator (my summer working as a canvasser helped with this), but there's just something different about navigating in a foreign country. Things aren't QUITE the same.

So I made two mistakes:

1) we missed an exit because the number on the paper and the number on the sign didn't match up (silly, Kathleen, expecting things like that to line up). In France, you more follow the town names on the signs than the exit numbers or route numbers. Il n'y avait pas mort d'homme (it wasn't the end of the world), but we did have to drive around for a little bit before we could get back on the same direction

2) I had us get off too early (trying to compensate for my previous blunder). This one was slightly more problematic, because after we got back in the right direction, we were completely turned around. Roundabouts are quite disorienting. We soon found ourselves pulled over on the side of the road with the tank nearly empty. After a quick phone call, we got some directions for the backgrounds and were on our way. But there were a few stressful moments thrown in there.

But sometimes the scenic route is better. Especially with views like this:

My view of the Pyrénées while walking through vineyards at sunrise the next morning

And we decided that you can never go wrong when you're being guided by the Saint Esprit.

Parlatz occitan?

Cutural Lesson #3: Occitan Culture 

So (according to Wikipedia), Occitania is the region in Southern Europe (mainly France, Monoco, some parts of Italy, and some parts of Spain) where Occitan was historically the main language spoken. In fact Languedoc-Roussillon (the region of France to which Montpellier belongs) is a derivative of "langue d'oc" or language occitan.

Now, there is a man who works at Accent Français who is Occitan and who is just about the coolest person you will ever meet. He speaks a plethora of languages (Occitan, French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, bits and pieces of Japanese, etc. etc.), knows the history and culture of all of the towns worth visiting in the South of France, and plays a wooden flute everywhere he goes. He is in charge of cultural excursions at Accent Français, and today he organized a couple of hours of teaching Occitan Dancing for those who were interested.

You all know how much I love dancing, so of course I went! It was a wonderful way to spend a sunny spring afternoon in Montpellier. I wish I had pictures, but I was so busy busting a move that I wasn't able to capture any. We learned something like four to five different circle dances (I wish I'd know them before I went to Avignon!) in the Place du Peyrou where many a tourist gaped at the spectacle we were making.


And, after a quick youtube search, you are in so much luck! This is from a few years ago, but it is the same dance and the same Jean-Paul (our Occitan guide!).

Can't wait to bring it back to Chapel Hill! It'll be a thing, just you wait.

PS) Here is a picture of me and my friend practicing our moves. I think it's safe to say that we mastered the dances!

Photo by Beth Moroney

Stage fright

Peur du jour: 25 Mars 2012- Public Speaking

So today we began daylight savings time in France-land (goodbye five hour difference between me and Carolina basketball, hello one hour less of sleep!). And, like anyone who is over reliant on technology to give her the time, I missed morning mass. (I thought that turning my cell phone off and turning back on around six in the morning would change it to the right time.. it didn't). But I took it as a sign that I wasn't meant to go to morning mass at St. Denis, and instead decided that I would go to evening mass at St. Bernadette which was being organized by La Source.

So I got to the church early to help prepare for the mass however I could. Part of this was organizing la quête (the collection) and the other part of this was doing a reading for mass. I had been asked in a different church to do the reading back in my first few weeks of being in Montpellier, but I was too much of a scaredy-cat to do it. This time was different. Sort of.

I've never really been one to get stage fright. In fact, I love to perform. I love giving speeches in class, performing in plays, and singing and playing my saxophone for an audience. But for whatever reason, I was really nervous to do this. I felt a little better after reading through the passage and seeing that there were no funky words (even in English, there are words and lots of names that I stumble over), but my heart was still hammering as I approached the alter.

And then I realized that I was just going to do my best and that my best would have to be enough. So what if I'm not a native French speaker? So what if my accent isn't perfectly perfect all the time? I'm not willing to let my fears/apprehensions hold me back from contributing.

And I actually think it went pretty well!

Le jazz

Cultural Lesson # 2: Le jazz français


If anyone is looking for some good French music recommendations, I have some! I haven't been able to stop listening to a few artists recently, and they're so good that I have been trying to find excuses to share them with people. 


The first artist is ZAZ who is described as a pop singer with gypsy jazz influences. Le jazz manouche (or gypsy jazz) was born in the 1930s with group of gypsy musicians called Djanjo. Originally, this music was sans percussion and relied heavily on acoustic guitar and also the violin, clarinet, and accordion. A rhythmic guitar replaced the traditional percussion set-up. Most of her music makes use of traditional percussion, but you can still just feel the influence of the jazz manouche.


ZAZ- Ni oui ni non(2010)

The second artist is Le Comptoir des Fous. This group, self described as swing'n'roll is actually from Montpellier! They remind me a lot of the zydeco music to which I've listened, and I just feel like eating a big bowl of gumbo and dancing on Bourbon Street when I'm listening to them. They should blast this in the Tar Heel locker room to get our boys motivated (Go Heels!).

Le comptoir des fous- Pourquoi s'emmerder



Happy swinging!

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!

Being a teacher is hard

Peur du jour- 19 Mars 2012: Pulling teeth (in the figurative sense)

So sometimes volunteering at lycée Jules Guesde is like pulling teeth. I get the feeling that most of the students are either not terribly confident with their English or they don't really care about the subject. This can sometimes be a little frustrating when what the teacher wants me to do is talk with the students one-on-one about a random topic (There's really only so much you can say about malbouffe and the documentary Super Size Me).

So this Monday, I decided to just talk to the kids about themselves. The whole point is to get them talking with a native speaker, and half of them didn't even pay attention to the documentary anyways (not to mention that I watched it over four years ago, so my recollection is pretty foggy). In this effort, I found out some pretty cool things!

One kid I was talking to kept saying "j'suis nul en anglais" ("I'm no good in English") to which I had to keep saying "That's okay, just give it your best shot. I'm here to help you." I eventually asked him if he had any desire to learn English or if he was just trying to get through the class because it was required. He then told me (en français, malheureusement) about how when he was little, he spoke German, English, and French, but then had some sort of mental block/language overload and couldn't speak at all. His doctor told him (or, rather, his parents, because he was only five) that he had to pick one language, because three was too much for him.

Another kid I met was wearing a bulls hat! I got so excited as I explained that I was from Chicago and that I was a student from the university where Jordan played college ball! He didn't seem to be super jazzed about basketball, but did say that he loves Air Jordans. I also found out that he is from Senegal and plays for the football (read: soccer) team in Sète. We talked about how he balances school with being on the football team and the differences he has noticed between Senegal and France. As a side note, he was wearing Beats, which made me miss the athletes back in Tar-Heel-Land

The world is just full of interesting people, and clearly, the only way you're gonna find out more about them is by asking!

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)!

"Bien"

Okay so remember that pop midterm I thought I was taking last week? Today we got the papers back and all mine said was "Bien."

My face

Stinky cheese

Peur du jour- 2 Mars 2012: Roquefort

I'd kind of been sad that I hadn't been having the same cheese adventures as a lot of the other students here seem to be having.  One of my close friends is very into trying new cheeses and has a cheese course at dinner every night, but my family is much more casual than that. However, a couple of nights ago it came up in conversation during dinner that I had never tried Roquefort cheese, so my host mother took it upon herself to get some for me to try.

Note the moissisure (mold)

So I'm not sure if a French person would laugh at me for calling Roquefort a strong cheese. It's a type of blue cheese which is made in Roquefort (about an hour and a half away from Montpellier). Because it's made so close to Montpellier, it seems to be pretty popular. I've even heard talk of visiting the Roquefort caves where you can buy the stinky cheese straight from its stinky den! I was the only one brave enough to try it (Jessie doesn't really like strong cheeses and Daniel said he was going to wait to see my reaction first), but I'm willing to try everything at least once. I'm not sure if I will ever find myself craving this, but it was alright the way my host mother told me to eat it (on bread with lots and lots of butter!).

Mother tongue

Peur du jour- 1 Mars 2012: Teaching Frenchies the Chicago "A"ccent 

I'm assuming you guys can all hear in your mind the way that last word is supposed to sound.

So I have not yet talked about my experience volunteering at lycée Jules Guesde (the s is silent... weird, I know). Every Thursday morning (and soon to be Monday and Thursday mornings), I take the bus over to this lycée professional to help out in the English classes. The teacher I work with is really great and tends to like to give me a lot of responsibility.

Some of the funniest things that have happened are trying to get them to understand my "heavy accent." In France, they learn British English (because England is a lot closer than America), but I've never really thought that the way I spoke was difficult to understand. Of course I have an American accent (and even a little bit of a Chicago accent...), but I always assumed that if I at least spoke slowly and clearly, they would understand.

The first time I introduced myself and talked about where I was from and why I was in France and what I was studying, I had a room full of blank stares. And one girl stood up and said (in English) (very loudly) "I DON'T UNDERSTAND." I was reduced to drawing a crude map of the united states on the board and saying "home" while pointing at Chicago and "school" while pointing in the general direction of UNC. And then all the "oooh"s and "ahhh"s and "that's so far!"s started. Also, I mentioned that UNC has a great basketball team, but I'm pretty sure that some of them misunderstood and think that I play basketball for UNC.

Suffice it to say that I end up speaking a lot of French to them (which is fine by me!). I do help them with the tricky pronunciations, though. One of the business classes I was working with was doing a dialogue where one person worked in a clothing store and the other person was a client. The two boys I was helping were writing a dialogue about a "shirt," and they had to be hastily corrected (please, just think for a minute about what inappropriate word "shirt" can sound like). I'm starting to notice which sounds the French have trouble making, which is very interesting (and helps me understand why my name is so butchered. They call me Karlein. Not my name, but it's okay). I think to them, English must feel like spastic stuttering. I was correcting someone on how to pronounce the word "asked" and realized how many percussive sounds our language has!

My work with the lycéens has been rewarding thus far, but every now and again I realize that I may be influencing the way they pronounce English words for the rest of their lives! And then I get really self conscious about my Midwestern accent...

Talk the talk

Peur du jour- 28 Fevrier 2012: Talking to a French classmate

So let's just pretend it didn't take me 8 weeks to rack up my courage to do this. (Yeah, that's right; I've been here for 8 weeks. I only have 12 weeks left in Europa!) I guess to be fair to myself, it's really 7 weeks because I didn't have class my first week here. And if I really want to be completely accurate, I didn't have class at le fac for the past two weeks, so I guess it's only like 5 weeks. It took me five weeks to do this (welcome to the mind of Kathleen, where everything is rationalized and over-analyzed).

So I know I've already complained about my French class which is basically a two hour dictation. The week before I left for Provence, a student I met at la Source (my worship and fellowship group) informed me that it is some sort of requirement for professors working with ERASMUS students to post their notes online. She figured that there might be something already in place to help me out.

In France when you ask the professor anything they say "well, did you ask another student about it?" before they'll even answer your question, so I knew I had to ask another student about it first. I left for class earlier than normal this morning so I could scope out my prey. I ended up just asking the first student to take a seat near me. After about thirty seconds rehearsing in my head what I was going to say (along with lots of Just do it, Kathleen. Don't be a big baby.), I broke the total silence in the room with my awkward American demeanor.

And I lived! Unfortunately, the girl I talked to said there was no online component. I also asked her what she thought of the professor of which I am so very fond (sarcasm) and she called him nul (which is what the French love to say when they think that something is garbage). She also said that she barely even attends that part of class because it's not interesting. This gives me slight hope that if I am at least there and making an effort, maybe the professor will cut me some slack.

If I can muster up enough courage, I'll probably approach the French professor again tomorrow. This is despite the fact that he already fed Jason and I the line that he uses copy-written images and therefore can't post his copiously detailed power points online for students. Only a tad frustrating, but that's life in France for you (the pastries and bread make up for it, je vous jure!)

You guys are probably tired of hearing about my fears of approaching natives, but this one was a long time coming, so I figured it was legitimate. I promise that next time I'll have gone sky diving or eaten the world's hottest pepper or maybe even a more culturally relevant activity.

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.