Sunday, April 19, 2009
Marché Saint-Marc
One of my favorite things about France (or Europe in general) is the abundance of markets. I feel like one can find anything at these gatherings. There is everything from fresh fruit to used watches to bedding that one can purchase. Each market is pretty similar to the other however the market that I went to this morning was different than any of the others.
The age of the market attendees was the first thing I noticed. I went at ten in the morning. Considering that people (university students) don't even start their night until 12, the market was empty of the young crowd. Instead it was filled with mainly older couples and retirees. Older scarf-wearing women with their rolling grocery sacs and men with their khaki trench coats, hats, and bifocals were making their way through the market.
This market looked like a couple antique stores had been expelled from their premises. There were stalls upon stalls of old china, paintings, clocks, jewelry, and in general treasures from yesteryear. One could look through piles of BD's from the 70's or at records of American artists with French titles. Many times as I was rifling through bins, I found items that still had their prices in Francs. Considering that France stopped using the Franc a decade ago, I got the feeling that many of these items had been on display for a while.
Although there were stalls with a "nouvelle collection," as a whole, the market felt like it was like a Salvation Army. Where someone's old junk becomes another's "treasure." I walked away with purchases that I think probably came from the bottom of some Frenchman's closet. And someday it will become junk that came from the bottom of some American woman's closet.
The age of the market attendees was the first thing I noticed. I went at ten in the morning. Considering that people (university students) don't even start their night until 12, the market was empty of the young crowd. Instead it was filled with mainly older couples and retirees. Older scarf-wearing women with their rolling grocery sacs and men with their khaki trench coats, hats, and bifocals were making their way through the market.
This market looked like a couple antique stores had been expelled from their premises. There were stalls upon stalls of old china, paintings, clocks, jewelry, and in general treasures from yesteryear. One could look through piles of BD's from the 70's or at records of American artists with French titles. Many times as I was rifling through bins, I found items that still had their prices in Francs. Considering that France stopped using the Franc a decade ago, I got the feeling that many of these items had been on display for a while.
Although there were stalls with a "nouvelle collection," as a whole, the market felt like it was like a Salvation Army. Where someone's old junk becomes another's "treasure." I walked away with purchases that I think probably came from the bottom of some Frenchman's closet. And someday it will become junk that came from the bottom of some American woman's closet.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
D'accord Dakar
So our third and final Francophone country that we studied in was Senegal. It is the most Western country of Africa, it's capital Dakar being the farthest west. We went for a week to take classes on Senegalese customs, values and language as well as traveling and seeing as much as we could in 8 days. Needless to say, it was quite a full schedule.
I stayed in a host family with my friend Thahitun that was not far from the Baobab Center, the headquarters of ACI. This is where we had our classes and served as a center point for everything that we did. Our house was about a 15 minute walk from the center.
Coming into this trip after spending a summer in Malawi, I didn't realize the expectations I had unconsciously made. I expected it to be more modern and more western than what my idea of "Africa" was. For the most part I was right but there were some things that threw me for a loop. For instance, there were horses and buggies everywhere. I figure it is a sign that the country is more prosperous because people can afford horses but it was such a weird contrast between the large government buildings and the sickly skinny horse pulling a make-shift buggy. Was not expecting that.
Another thing that struck me was when I walked past a Muslim man praying on the sidewalk next to his stall. I am a religious studies major but I had never, in person, seen any part of Muslim worship. Since Senegal is 95% Muslim, I was exposed to many different aspects of Muslim life. First semester Freshman year was all coming back to me. It was really an interesting experience.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
FIVE weeks?!?!
This semester is almost over, you can sense it in the air.
There is evidence of it everywhere. A sheet tacked up on the wall recording return flight information in the office. People are searching for summer jobs. Arranging rides to Charles de Gaulle, sharing traveling plans, and getting depressed about leaving have become a common part of conversation.
We still have a month, yes. However knowing the way that time flies here we know that worrying about leaving a month ahead of time is not that much of a stretch. It is kind of sad that we have to leave Rouen and France when the weather and everything is so nice. When we came the weather was so dreary and cold. Now, when it is perfect strolling sans manteau weather, we have to leave. I am trying hard not to think about how sad it will be. Just focusing on the here and now and enjoying the time that I have left.
There is evidence of it everywhere. A sheet tacked up on the wall recording return flight information in the office. People are searching for summer jobs. Arranging rides to Charles de Gaulle, sharing traveling plans, and getting depressed about leaving have become a common part of conversation.
We still have a month, yes. However knowing the way that time flies here we know that worrying about leaving a month ahead of time is not that much of a stretch. It is kind of sad that we have to leave Rouen and France when the weather and everything is so nice. When we came the weather was so dreary and cold. Now, when it is perfect strolling sans manteau weather, we have to leave. I am trying hard not to think about how sad it will be. Just focusing on the here and now and enjoying the time that I have left.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Just a new addition to the collection
It is funny how soon you begin to feel that a place is home. On Saturday I strolled with my host brother through town. He is actually a student doing an internship in Rouen, not any actual relation to my host family (it's just easier to say host brother rather than all of that.) He had not been to downtown Rouen yet so we had a nice afternoon walk though the shops and squares of Rouen. I was leading him through streets, giving a mini tour when he asked me how I knew so much about Rouen.
"Well, I have lived here for 2 1/2 months, I should hope I know it."
I got to thinking about how familiar Rouen has become for me. I know the bus/metro system like the back of my hand. I have my favorite haunts... aka shoe stores and cafés. I run into people when I am walking through town. It has quickly become home to me. The cobblestone is now normal. Seeing the spires of the cathedral is a orienting tool, not just a tourist attraction.
I was communicating this same thing to my friend Clara and she said, "it has become a second home. Or actually, a third for me. Home, Canton and Rouen." That got me to thinking. How many places do I think of as home? Many times I have asked myself "where is my hometown?" but this is a different question altogether. After moving several times and traveling a lot, I have racked up quite a bit of places that have been homes to me. There are the normal obvious places, San Diego, Princeton, Pataskala, Bremerton, Canton, and Watertown. But also, there are the places like Mzuzu and Rouen in which I have come to call or think of as home.
Perhaps "home" is the wrong word. However I think that for me, home has been relative. Home is where my family has been. Now, in Rouen, I have been surrounded by people who quickly became a part of my family. Thus, Rouen, like many other places, has joined my collection of homes.
"Well, I have lived here for 2 1/2 months, I should hope I know it."
I got to thinking about how familiar Rouen has become for me. I know the bus/metro system like the back of my hand. I have my favorite haunts... aka shoe stores and cafés. I run into people when I am walking through town. It has quickly become home to me. The cobblestone is now normal. Seeing the spires of the cathedral is a orienting tool, not just a tourist attraction.
I was communicating this same thing to my friend Clara and she said, "it has become a second home. Or actually, a third for me. Home, Canton and Rouen." That got me to thinking. How many places do I think of as home? Many times I have asked myself "where is my hometown?" but this is a different question altogether. After moving several times and traveling a lot, I have racked up quite a bit of places that have been homes to me. There are the normal obvious places, San Diego, Princeton, Pataskala, Bremerton, Canton, and Watertown. But also, there are the places like Mzuzu and Rouen in which I have come to call or think of as home.
Perhaps "home" is the wrong word. However I think that for me, home has been relative. Home is where my family has been. Now, in Rouen, I have been surrounded by people who quickly became a part of my family. Thus, Rouen, like many other places, has joined my collection of homes.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Dangers of French Cuisine...
As my friend Thahitun said the other day, "I managed to avoid the Freshman fifteen but I didn't expect the French fifteen."
On Friday we had a soirée for my director's birthday at his apartment. It was a great time. We had gotten galettes for lunch at our favorite creperie and then went to his apartment for champagne and pastries from a nearby shop that is literally dessert heaven on earth. Full and happy, the mood was very laid back and cheerful. This pleasant atmosphere hit a slight bump when we discovered that there was a scale in the bathroom. After everyone had weighed themselves and done the math, no one wanted another piece of cake.
We have been having such a wonderful time trying and enjoying all the French cooking we have been exposed to that it is apparently obvious in kilograms as well. Although we are still enjoying the cuisine we had a rude awakening. I pulled out my running shoes that have been in the back of the closet for sometime. I used them the very first weekend I was here but they haven't been taken out since.
So now that I have conquered a lot of my food goals (steak tartare, escargot, numerous cheeses, etc.) my next is to get back into a good routine. This has felt like an eternal vacation but I need to stop eating like it, haha.
On Friday we had a soirée for my director's birthday at his apartment. It was a great time. We had gotten galettes for lunch at our favorite creperie and then went to his apartment for champagne and pastries from a nearby shop that is literally dessert heaven on earth. Full and happy, the mood was very laid back and cheerful. This pleasant atmosphere hit a slight bump when we discovered that there was a scale in the bathroom. After everyone had weighed themselves and done the math, no one wanted another piece of cake.
We have been having such a wonderful time trying and enjoying all the French cooking we have been exposed to that it is apparently obvious in kilograms as well. Although we are still enjoying the cuisine we had a rude awakening. I pulled out my running shoes that have been in the back of the closet for sometime. I used them the very first weekend I was here but they haven't been taken out since.
So now that I have conquered a lot of my food goals (steak tartare, escargot, numerous cheeses, etc.) my next is to get back into a good routine. This has felt like an eternal vacation but I need to stop eating like it, haha.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Nothing better than Spring in Paris... except when you have seasonal allergies.
One of the greatest parts of my program is that we get to spend a week in Paris. We stay at a group hostel called FIAP that is in the 14th arrondisement. Although it may not be the most central location, we had a metro nearby and were not a far walk from the Quartier Latin or Boulevard Saint Germain.
The weather during that week was absolutely beautiful. It was 60 degrees almost every day without any clouds. The flowers were blooming and the trees budding which was just lovely. However with the flowers also comes Hay fever and the necessity to carry around toilet paper rolls in one's Frada (fake prada). This just generally meant that I was not enjoying the museums as much as I normally would. I would just look for rooms with benches and camp out there for about ten minutes before moving onto the next. Despite my allergies, our "Paris week" was great.
Our schedule had a lot of wiggle room for exploring. In the morning we frequented museums but in the afternoons, we were set free into Paris to do what we wanted. We needed to complete at least 3 "promenades" that my director, Roy Caldwell, had designated. There were the traditional walks like the Champs Elysees with the Arc de Triomphe or the Boulevard Saint Michel with the Luxembourg gardens or other less traditional like the Canal Saint Martin. I took a couple different promenades because the weather was beautiful and I didn't like being cooped up in museums when the sun was shining.
One of my favorite nights was when the group went to Montmartre for dinner and music. We went to a restaurant about two minutes from Sacre Coeur. I had escargot, which it turns out is totally worth the hype, and a fun dinner with our group. From our dinner we went to Le Lapin Agile which was a famous hangout for artists in the twenties like Picasso. It was a great atmosphere because the performers sang songs that everyone knew (except us obviously) so the audience sang along and interacted. It was a fun night.
It is after nights like the one I had in Montmartre that I have to take a step back and think about how lucky I am. I have gotten to do so many amazing things in the last couple months. This has been a once in a lifetime opportunity and I am just very thankful that I was able to do it. Going home and back to school in Canton is going to be quite a difference.
The weather during that week was absolutely beautiful. It was 60 degrees almost every day without any clouds. The flowers were blooming and the trees budding which was just lovely. However with the flowers also comes Hay fever and the necessity to carry around toilet paper rolls in one's Frada (fake prada). This just generally meant that I was not enjoying the museums as much as I normally would. I would just look for rooms with benches and camp out there for about ten minutes before moving onto the next. Despite my allergies, our "Paris week" was great.
Our schedule had a lot of wiggle room for exploring. In the morning we frequented museums but in the afternoons, we were set free into Paris to do what we wanted. We needed to complete at least 3 "promenades" that my director, Roy Caldwell, had designated. There were the traditional walks like the Champs Elysees with the Arc de Triomphe or the Boulevard Saint Michel with the Luxembourg gardens or other less traditional like the Canal Saint Martin. I took a couple different promenades because the weather was beautiful and I didn't like being cooped up in museums when the sun was shining.
One of my favorite nights was when the group went to Montmartre for dinner and music. We went to a restaurant about two minutes from Sacre Coeur. I had escargot, which it turns out is totally worth the hype, and a fun dinner with our group. From our dinner we went to Le Lapin Agile which was a famous hangout for artists in the twenties like Picasso. It was a great atmosphere because the performers sang songs that everyone knew (except us obviously) so the audience sang along and interacted. It was a fun night.
It is after nights like the one I had in Montmartre that I have to take a step back and think about how lucky I am. I have gotten to do so many amazing things in the last couple months. This has been a once in a lifetime opportunity and I am just very thankful that I was able to do it. Going home and back to school in Canton is going to be quite a difference.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
English, quoi?
There was an American invasion on the bus tonight.
Normally, Rouen has very few native English speakers, let alone Americans, riding on their metro system. After being surrounded by French nearly 24/7, I get so blown away when someone starts speaking English. However what is even stranger about these situations is that I can feel my "American-ness" coming out. All I can think of doing is going up and talking to them. It is this weird urge to take off my French mask and rejoin my fellow Anglophones.
The whopping two times this has happened, I have fought the urge and remained silent. Looking back, I am glad I fought the urge.
When I was in the Vatican Museum, Anel and I were chatting in the cafe and a couple walked up to us. After explaining that they heard us speaking English, they explained that it is so funny that we were running into each other. After chuckling a bit I asked them where they were from. New Orleans. Since Louisiana is not exactly close to New York (Anel lives in the city) and there are many many American tourists, I didn't think it was quite amazing that we ran into each other but I played along just the same. They were really nice but what they didn't know was that for Anel and I, Rome felt like a mini America. I hadn't heard so much English since I left the states two months ago. Although they felt a sense of relief hearing English, for us, hearing English is just bizarre.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
When I was on the train home this morning I got to thinking about how my concept of age has changed. After spending my spring break bouncing around Roman ruins I began thinking about how strange it will be to return home. Buildings will not look as old as they used to. When we were at Mont Saint Michel, a tour guide was showing us the "new" building of the island, built in the early 1800's. How many buildings do we have left in Watertown that were built in the early 1800's?
Here, it is strange to see modern buildings. They stick out like a sore thumb. Sore and ugly. At home, it is the older buildings that stand out. But in these standards our oldest buildings are not even that old. Weird.
Italy was great. I spent two nights in Venice and Florence and three nights in Rome. The first day in Venice was beautiful but the sun didn't come out again til we were in Rome. By far, Rome was my favorite. Although I would have enjoyed a more extensive metro system it was wonderful all the same. Since we didn't have a lot of cash to throw around, we walked pretty much everywhere. And we walked a lot. In fact, I don't think I have ever walked more in my life. I just wish I had brought my running shoes... oh well.
In terms of food, we saved a lot of money by eating lunch and/or dinner in grocery stores. There was a moment in Florence when we looked at our spread of food and just laughed. We had awful, stale, 80 cent bread with salami and pesto, fruit, and nutella spread over the aforementioned bread for dessert. We were on our beds in our hostel, in sweatpants, with only one knife. As we were sitting laughing about our meal, Ethan started singing the theme song to The Jeffersons. Too funny.
When we were not eating our sad little salami sandwiches we were judging the prices of restaurants on the price of their Margherita pizzas. Anything above 6 euro we would laugh and keep walking. The best place that we did eat had a 3.50 euro margherita and looked pretty sketchy from the outside. From all of our restaurant research we have constructed a theory. We call it the "Neon Light Theory." Very creative. If there is a neon light in the window there is a better chance that the prices are lower and the food more authentic. Those restaurants that provide "atmosphere" and "ambiance" are just overpriced and not as delicious. Nicely printed menus? No thanks. Only if it is written on a poster board. Perhaps this just works in touristy cities but I stand by it.
Overall we had a good time. We ate way too much gelatto (if it is possible), walked til we couldn't walk anymore, and even learned some Italian in the process.
Here, it is strange to see modern buildings. They stick out like a sore thumb. Sore and ugly. At home, it is the older buildings that stand out. But in these standards our oldest buildings are not even that old. Weird.
Italy was great. I spent two nights in Venice and Florence and three nights in Rome. The first day in Venice was beautiful but the sun didn't come out again til we were in Rome. By far, Rome was my favorite. Although I would have enjoyed a more extensive metro system it was wonderful all the same. Since we didn't have a lot of cash to throw around, we walked pretty much everywhere. And we walked a lot. In fact, I don't think I have ever walked more in my life. I just wish I had brought my running shoes... oh well.
In terms of food, we saved a lot of money by eating lunch and/or dinner in grocery stores. There was a moment in Florence when we looked at our spread of food and just laughed. We had awful, stale, 80 cent bread with salami and pesto, fruit, and nutella spread over the aforementioned bread for dessert. We were on our beds in our hostel, in sweatpants, with only one knife. As we were sitting laughing about our meal, Ethan started singing the theme song to The Jeffersons. Too funny.
When we were not eating our sad little salami sandwiches we were judging the prices of restaurants on the price of their Margherita pizzas. Anything above 6 euro we would laugh and keep walking. The best place that we did eat had a 3.50 euro margherita and looked pretty sketchy from the outside. From all of our restaurant research we have constructed a theory. We call it the "Neon Light Theory." Very creative. If there is a neon light in the window there is a better chance that the prices are lower and the food more authentic. Those restaurants that provide "atmosphere" and "ambiance" are just overpriced and not as delicious. Nicely printed menus? No thanks. Only if it is written on a poster board. Perhaps this just works in touristy cities but I stand by it.
Overall we had a good time. We ate way too much gelatto (if it is possible), walked til we couldn't walk anymore, and even learned some Italian in the process.
Friday, February 27, 2009
We are the Champions
Last week we went, as a group, and saw a play in Rouen. After the play (which none of us understood, even the anciens), we made our way over to an Italian restaurant called Al Dente. It is amazing. The owners are old friends of our director and it was just a really great dinner. Of course since we are in France the dinner was nearly three hours. Since I am now in love with this pasta dish I tried, I really wanted to go back.
Last night, as a fun farewell dinner before spring break, I went back with four friends for dinner. We couldn't make it two minutes into the dinner before the owner had realized we were American. Ben burst through the doors, at 9 at night mind you, and exclaims a very American "Bonjour!!" to the staff of the restaurant. Although bonsoir would have probably been a better choice, he at least gave everyone a laugh.
The owner is a short Italian man who has lived in France for 24 years. We got to talk and interact with him quite a bit since there were only 8 of us in the restaurant. When we asked if he liked living in Rouen he replied with a simply no. Without any further explanation really he added, "I think I might move to Brazil." Alright.
The highlight of the evening was that he is a musician too. Equipped with a keyboard and drum set he sat down and played us some familiar songs. Now only 6 in the restaurant, we all sang along. After playing songs like "Hey Jude" and "Don't go Changing (to try and please me)," he ended with Queen's "We are the Champions."
Happy, full, and humming Queen we made our way down to the river. We ended our night strolling along the Seine before heading back to our houses because we all still had to finish our reading for today's class. Go figure. Canton is just not going to do it for me when I come home.
Last night, as a fun farewell dinner before spring break, I went back with four friends for dinner. We couldn't make it two minutes into the dinner before the owner had realized we were American. Ben burst through the doors, at 9 at night mind you, and exclaims a very American "Bonjour!!" to the staff of the restaurant. Although bonsoir would have probably been a better choice, he at least gave everyone a laugh.
The owner is a short Italian man who has lived in France for 24 years. We got to talk and interact with him quite a bit since there were only 8 of us in the restaurant. When we asked if he liked living in Rouen he replied with a simply no. Without any further explanation really he added, "I think I might move to Brazil." Alright.
The highlight of the evening was that he is a musician too. Equipped with a keyboard and drum set he sat down and played us some familiar songs. Now only 6 in the restaurant, we all sang along. After playing songs like "Hey Jude" and "Don't go Changing (to try and please me)," he ended with Queen's "We are the Champions."
Happy, full, and humming Queen we made our way down to the river. We ended our night strolling along the Seine before heading back to our houses because we all still had to finish our reading for today's class. Go figure. Canton is just not going to do it for me when I come home.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tu me manques!
I got a little bit of Watertown this weekend. I went to visit my friend, Pauline Wallard, who lives in Lille (Northern France near Belgium border). She was an exchange student in Watertown for a year during my Junior year of High School. We were good friends during here year there and have seen each other a few times since.
It was very strange to feel like I was back at home. We watched Friends, ate Dominoes, and even cracked open her WHS yearbook. We gossiped about old friends and had a really nice time. Every so often I would forget that I was in France.
We managed to accomplish and fit in many things during this weekend. We went to a museum, went ice skating, went bowling, saw a movie, and had lunch at a restaurant in town. Luckily thanks to our "cultural reimbursement program" (we do cultural activities and they reimburse us later in the month), we won't have to pay for much of it.
Although it was a really good weekend, I enjoyed returning home. My host mom had been skiing in the Alps for the past week. This was her week of vacation so she and her two kids decided to go skiing. It was fun to catch up and see her after a week. What was even nicer was to realize, once I got home, that I had missed her. I mean I have been here for over 6 weeks, it makes sense that I would have missed her it just struck me when I realized it.
For spring break I am going to Italy. Starting this friday (!!!) I am going to Venice for two nights, Florence for two nights, and Rome for three. I am going with my two friends Jordan and Ethan. We are going to stay in hostels and travel by train. I am really excited, can't wait!
It was very strange to feel like I was back at home. We watched Friends, ate Dominoes, and even cracked open her WHS yearbook. We gossiped about old friends and had a really nice time. Every so often I would forget that I was in France.
We managed to accomplish and fit in many things during this weekend. We went to a museum, went ice skating, went bowling, saw a movie, and had lunch at a restaurant in town. Luckily thanks to our "cultural reimbursement program" (we do cultural activities and they reimburse us later in the month), we won't have to pay for much of it.
Although it was a really good weekend, I enjoyed returning home. My host mom had been skiing in the Alps for the past week. This was her week of vacation so she and her two kids decided to go skiing. It was fun to catch up and see her after a week. What was even nicer was to realize, once I got home, that I had missed her. I mean I have been here for over 6 weeks, it makes sense that I would have missed her it just struck me when I realized it.
For spring break I am going to Italy. Starting this friday (!!!) I am going to Venice for two nights, Florence for two nights, and Rome for three. I am going with my two friends Jordan and Ethan. We are going to stay in hostels and travel by train. I am really excited, can't wait!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
L'agneau est mignon et c'est notre dîner.
I experienced a miracle. The coast of Normandy was sunny and beautiful for my entire trip. My cheeks were even a little pink on Friday night because of the sunshine. The weather was around 40-45 degrees and with clear skies and no wind. How is that even possible?
I had quite a full weekend. We went to the Abbaye des Hommes and a WWII museum in Caen, the tapestry of the Battle of Hastings and the Notre Dame Cathedral in Bayeux, the Normandy beaches of Arronmanches, the German bunkers (or what remains of them) at Pont du Hoc, the American WWII cemetery, and finally Mont Saint Michel. Needless to say, I am wiped out. Not only was it a lot of traveling and walking but also, it was a load of information. We bounced around in time between the 10th century monastery of MSM to WWII to the 11th century Battle of Hastings. It was a very interesting weekend. Considering that I have a quiz on everything I saw, I filled many pages of my notebook.The food this weekend was particularly good considering that we got to try many of the specialties of the Normandy region. This basically means anything from or near the ocean. One of these dishes that I tried this weekend was l'agneau de pré-salé. It is lamb that is raised in salt marshes making the lamb saltier than normal. C'est trés bien. The really awkward thing is driving into Mont Saint Michel and and seeing the sheep knowing that they will be your dinner later. They look so cute in their rich green fields with the monastery in the background. Oh well, they were delicious.
Friday, February 13, 2009
"Tu aimes le crevette?"
My host mother's granddaughter is the pickiest eater I have ever seen. The child doesn't like anything. Sitting down to dinner every night, there is an atmosphere of tension. Is she going to eat tonight? When will the dietary tug of war begin?
Last night, hier soir if you will, my host mother brings out a package of shrimp. Not only are these shrimp, these are shrimp that look like they have just come out of the ocean. Eyes still attached and antennas still waving (they are huge). I like shrimp but I have to admit I wasn't particularly excited to eat them.
Lea liked them. It was obvious that this was a special treat just for her because no one else ate the shrimp. Just when I think I have things figured out, things take a 180. I told my host mom that I thought that it was funny that Lea like shrimp because it is something most kids (or at least in my family) wouldn't eat. Especially when their little beady eyes are staring you down. My host mom thought this was very strange that children wouldn't eat shrimp. However I think it's weird that Lea doesn't want to eat pizza.
Last night, hier soir if you will, my host mother brings out a package of shrimp. Not only are these shrimp, these are shrimp that look like they have just come out of the ocean. Eyes still attached and antennas still waving (they are huge). I like shrimp but I have to admit I wasn't particularly excited to eat them.
Lea liked them. It was obvious that this was a special treat just for her because no one else ate the shrimp. Just when I think I have things figured out, things take a 180. I told my host mom that I thought that it was funny that Lea like shrimp because it is something most kids (or at least in my family) wouldn't eat. Especially when their little beady eyes are staring you down. My host mom thought this was very strange that children wouldn't eat shrimp. However I think it's weird that Lea doesn't want to eat pizza.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Once you go black, you can't go back
France has ruined me. I came to France as a bright color-wearing, café au lait drinking, English speaking girl but no more. I walked into the school offices today wearing turquoise tights with a black dress. Upon seeing my colored tights (as opposed to my normal black ones) the director cried out, "Laura, what happened to your French color palette?" I have been in Rouen for almost a month now and the one day that I added a bright color it was a shock to people. Now obviously self-concious, I d
In terms of coffee, I have been drinking either espresso or strong black drip coffee. No cream, no sugar. I never thought I would see the day when I was drinking espresso on a regular basis but here we are. When my friend Ashley offered me a drink of her cappucino last week I almost spit it out because it tasted like sugary milk. I am already planning on investing in an espresso machine when I get home.
Today when I was taking the bus into town for some previously mentioned coffee, I was talking with one of my friends. I was talking about the key to the office however what came out was not French nor English. I said, "I need the cley for tomorrow." Clé and key combined to form a new word. I would like to pretend that this isn't normal but this actually happens a lot. My English is slowly being replaced with French. I don't meet my friends at the train station, we meet at the gare. We don't talk about the student and teacher strikes, we talk about le grève et la manifestation. We are starting to have entire conversations in French amongst one another which is beginning so seem more normal as time goes on. I am starting to wonder what my conversations will sound like when I get home.
In terms of coffee, I have been drinking either espresso or strong black drip coffee. No cream, no sugar. I never thought I would see the day when I was drinking espresso on a regular basis but here we are. When my friend Ashley offered me a drink of her cappucino last week I almost spit it out because it tasted like sugary milk. I am already planning on investing in an espresso machine when I get home.
Today when I was taking the bus into town for some previously mentioned coffee, I was talking with one of my friends. I was talking about the key to the office however what came out was not French nor English. I said, "I need the cley for tomorrow." Clé and key combined to form a new word. I would like to pretend that this isn't normal but this actually happens a lot. My English is slowly being replaced with French. I don't meet my friends at the train station, we meet at the gare. We don't talk about the student and teacher strikes, we talk about le grève et la manifestation. We are starting to have entire conversations in French amongst one another which is beginning so seem more normal as time goes on. I am starting to wonder what my conversations will sound like when I get home.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
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