On and on and on

So the strike drags on, with this Friday marking a full week of no school. My students are crazy. I talked to the principal this week, who is super nice, and he said that technically he has the power to shut down the strike whenever he wants. He allows it for several reasons: 1. striking is ingrained in French culture and for lyceens it has become a rite of passage (almost like prom or something, I kid you not), 2. last time a principal shut down a strike it got ugly, and 3. it is teaching the kids to be politically involved, even if it's not very democratic (the law was voted in by a majority). So the strike goes on, and every few days they vote to continue it. Most people have doubts that it will carry into next week, but I wouldn't put it past them. They are, after all, French. I say that lovingly of course. I've come to expect and somewhat marvel at this French penchant for collective action. It is, after all, quite different from the extreme indifference of the the majority of American citizens (esp high school students). Show me an American who can tell me just one recent law that's been passed, and I'll show you a whole nation that keeps tabs religiously (almost like they get updates on their Facebook home pages or something). I don't know if I gave the reason for the strike yet, but it has to do with privatization of some universities so the the universities won't be so, well, sucky (they are way underfunded and overcroweded). That will lead to people not getting in, and that's just not okay with these folks. Welcome to America my friends, the home of wonderful universities that will cost you dearly, and may reject you anyways, but they're dang good if you can get in and pay your way through. Maybe I don't have sympathy because they don't realize just how these things work across the pond. Regardless, plenty of school furniture has now been wrecked, and I've had plenty of time to work on applications and (gasp) watch the Hills and American Dreams. I am getting stupider every day. This needs to stop.

On a low note, a few days ago there was a reality-tv-worthy blowup among several assistants. It's been a longtime in coming, so I was only surprised it took as long as it did to come out. I'll tell you this much, it had nothing to do with me or my flatmate (love her), but we got stuck in the middle anyway. I felt like a couple's therapist when it went down (in French), and I had to console both sides. Unlike a therapist, I'm not neutral (though I won't say that to the parties involved), and I understand why the one person was so upset. I will leave it at that, but just tell you that I had to witness the showdown, and it was the most painfully awkward turtle moment of my life. None of this would have happened if emotional/social intelligence was taught at school. So there you have it. Stressful!

On a high note, I don't work (for one)! And I will soon be receiving quite a few visitors for Christmas! The family is here in a little over 3 weeks, and then Dana. I love y'all. Oh and I'm almost done appyling to schools. Almost...

Back to Paris, highs and lows

So this week I returned to Paris to take the GRE. Of course the strike was still going strong, so I was unable to take the train. Eric, Marie-Francoise's hubby, drove me on Monday afternoon. It was a typically gloomy day in Normandy, and the rain was pouring down. It was actually rather frightening because the rain was pouring and Eric's car didn't defog so we were constantly wiping the windows and praying for the best. It literally took 7 hours to get to Paris because the traffic close to Paris was bumper to bumper. (view from Eric's car while stuck in traffic-- not bad, I'd say)

Tuesday: I explored because I had nothing better to do. It was cold and raining, unfortunately, and I thought I was going to freeze to death (having no winter coat at that point). I managed to take the metro (after quite a long wait because only 1 in 10 cars was running) up to Montmartre and saw Sacre Coeur and the likes. I popped into the Salvador Dali exhibit (think: melting clock and surrealism) while I was there. I hate to admit that my main reason for checking it out was that I really had to go to the bathroom and didn't want to patronize a restaurant just to use the toilette. So instead I paid to go see some Dali and Dali inspired art and used their restroom. It was cool, but creepy, because Dali must have been on crack (not meant as insult, but rather an admission of my inability to grasp the far reaching boundaries of his imagination). After that I literally walked for the next 6 or 7 hours, for lack of a better idea. I tried to explore areas I haven't yet seen, which led me to the famous cemetery Pere Lach(something). Jim Morrison, Moliere, Balzac and some other folks are buried there. Believe it or not, I walked all the way there and didn't manage to find a single famous grave. Yeah, I know. It was SO big, and I had no idea. It took me hours and hours to walk there, that I had no energy (or internal warmth) left to explore it properly. So I left and found the nearest metro to go back to the hostel. (below is a picture of a demonstration in the street for the transport strike)

Wednesday: I got up super early to get to my exam site (which is just outside the center city in the business district). I planned on a few hours because the metro was unpredictable. I waited for the first line for about an hour before a train came by. The next line was worse. Trains would pass and be filled to capacity and no one could get on. Finally people got annoyed and starting pushing onto the trains anyway. I got on the 4th one that came by only because the guy standing behind me pushed me and the people in front of me onto the train. Sardines doesn't even describe. It was hot, and you couldn't breath or move. People were yelling at each other. Someone could have easily been trampled. Frightening. I have never before felt claustrophobic, but I did that morning. It was a 45min trip, and I hated every second of it. Luckily, I made it, with plentiy of time to spare. I took the dang test and did fine, so all the worry and stress of the days leading up to it left. When I entered the building it was raining, when I left the sun was shining brightly and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Pathetic fallacy? God's simple blessing (which was most likely intended for many people that day, Paris needed it)... Anyway, I was pumped it was over and I spent the rest of the day enjoying the city (unlike my disappointing tour the day before). I walked from the Louvre to the Centre Pompedu (below) to the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame and back around again. I bought a crepe with nutella. All was good in the world. I was as content as could be. There was no better way to follow the test. I mean, it's Paris. (to the left is the Seine at night!)

Thursday: I woke up bright and early (5am!) to make my 7am train. The internet wasn't helpful in determining whether my train would actually be running so I had to book it down to the train station. I got there and the man at the window politefully informed me that my train wasn't running, and no other trains would be going to my city or its surroundings either. Lovely. Stupid strike, really annoying. So I called Eric and asked for a ride back (seriously, nicest teachers/people ever). I missed my Thursday classes, but what can you do? While I waited for my ride and I went shopping and found a winter coat (!!) and warm red scarf. I don't usually get that much pleasure from shopping, but I really needed a coat. It has a hood too, which is awesome because it rains all the time. Oh and it has toggles. Beat that. (Qualifier: it made me happy to actually find one for two reasons. The first is that all coast here are expensive and I'm poor. The second was that new French styles are quite bizarre and make everyone look like a bubble or 15th century aristocrat. I found a normal peacoat that was fairly heavy. That was an accomplishment).

Thursday night had its own adventures. It was Thanksgiving, so the other American assistant Kate made us all a mini thanksgiving feast (yeah she's awesome, there was stuffing). It was the first ever thanksgiving for my UK comrades and for the Chilian. We tried to explain why its such a big deal, but I think it's one of those things that you just have to grow up with to really appreciate. We followed it up with a trip to a random English bar in town. The barmaid was super cool, and English, and we chatted with her a bit. Then we got accosted by some dodgey french guys who didn't leave us alone. And the next night, another set of dodgey french guys did the same (pattern anyone?). Let's just say that the first thing one of the guys said to me last night was that his cousin flew an airplane into the twin towers. I yelled at him (in french, holler) for being rude and acting like a child, and that was the end of that. Let's just say he didn't say that again.

Friday: woke up bright and early. When I went to class, much to my delight, the entrance was barricaded. My students have gone on strike. Apparently these lyceens don't like Sarco's plan to privatize some universities. So what do they do? Strike of course. I'm getting really sick of this. At least I didn't have class all day. Oh wait, that means I didn't have class all week. Maybe I am becoming French.... (my students barricading the lycee in the early hours of the morning)

Believe it or not

Before I tell you about this week, I must tell you this. I woke up at 8am to go to class this morning (the first one all week because I was gone), and all of the students were on strike! They barricaded the school so no one could get past the welcome building where I live. So no class today, and no class Monday or Tuesday. Elodie told me at swim practice that they'll vote on Tuesday whether or not to strike for another 15 days! Don't get me wrong, I love the vacation, but seriously?? Go to school! I'll never understand the French. They are a strange breed. More later, I promise!

Strikes and nonsense

Well, it looks as though the SNCF strikes will carry well into next week. As for my trip to Paris to take the GRE, well it's been modified. I will no longer leave Tuesday night and return Thursday morning (which, fyi, meant I didn't miss a single class because I have some sweet planning skills). Instead, Marie-Francoise's boyfriend/husband (not sure?) will be driving me to Paris tomorrow afternoon because he commutes there for work. That means I'll miss all of Monday and Tuesday classes, and if the strike goes all week, I'll miss my Thursday classes too. Oh well. Thankfully I have a ride, so all is well, and the teachers have been really nice about it. Once I explained my situation, they all said it was fine if I missed those days. They all know what it's like to be inconvenienced by transport strikes, so they were really understanding. The upside: I get to spend an extra full day in Paris to explore. Well, actually I should be 'studying' but I don't know if I'll be able to. It's Paris. I will have to look for a coat while I'm there because temperatures are frigid and my light jacket is not cutting it (the rain is killer). On my way home from Church this morning I thought I was going to die of frost bite or get washed away in the impending flood. Seriously, these folks should invest in a town ark, just to be safe.

In other news, I have more random stories than I have time to write about, or that you probably even care to read. In sum, I've visited the Scriptorial and seen the old manuscripts and Chaval's cartoons, I've started teaching capital punishment to a bunch of quakers who think philosophy is too hard in any language, I've spread the love of prom and American football season to some eager frenchies who want to study abroad in the US now, I've seen the Remembrance Day celebrations in the city center, I've applied for my Carte de Sejour (long stay visa) so I can legally stay here, I've found God-fellowship with Irene, I've gotten my computer back but had to pay too much for it, I've paid tribute to General Patton for all of his hard work, I've had another laundry fiasco, and I've been hit on by a bunch of greasy haired 19yr olds at the local tavern. That was certainly a run-on if I've ever written one. Well, when I get back I'll try to elaborate on a few of these.

Overall, I'm no longer on a permanent high just from being in France. I'm starting to have my share of bad/down days. Notably, this weekend I've been quite down if only because this whole GRE/Paris/strike nonsense has been super stressful (well, sort of, not really though because God's been sorting it out all along, as usual). I miss everyone. Phone calls and emails are welcome! (Even when I'm in Paris!)

Funny Story

So I have a few minutes before class, so I thought Id share this incident with you. There's a hallway that cuts through one of the main buildings and takes you straight to the building with the teacher's lounge. The problem with this hallway is that it goes past the "hang out" rooms, where millions of smelly french lyceens loiter. My first few times through that hallway, I was terrified, because the kids just stare at you. But I've since mustered some pluck, and I haven't thought anything of it for some time now. However, this morning when I walked through that hallway I was actually hasseled by some punk student. The hallway was packed and I was trying to squeeze between students as best I could. Then I got to a pack of boys and they wouldn't let me through. I would step to one side, and one of the boys would step that way too and block me (with the others hooting and hollering). Let me pause to remind you that I look like a student to most of these kids. I don't look my age, don't dress like a teacher, and I don't don the typical teacher scowl. So I think they thought I was one of them (I don't think they'd have the gall to do this to a teacher). Anyway, he thought he was being hilarious and starting saying something completely incomprehensable to me (though I garnered he was hitting on me) and he leaned in to give me bisouses (okay the french plural is bisoux if you care). He actually managed to kiss me once before I stiff-armed him and gave him the evil glare. Yes, I am terrific at the glare (though I try to use it selectively). Then I rolled my eyes, said nothing (don't want him to think I'm not French, after all) to the now slightly embarresed and somewhat terrified punk, and walked away. What a tool. As I walked away I heard them laughing with each other, and probably talking about me, but heck if I knew what they said.

I tell you this story because I found it comical, if not a bit bizarre, but I in no way felt threatened or I would have stepped it up a notch. He was just a punk, and punks are obnoxious but harmless. I tell you this because I know now, after the way some events have played out this week, that this would have ended very differently had it been someone other than me. I'll leave it at this: americans can handle punks, and I'm not sure if other folks--the english-- can (another story about that to follow, possibly).

Quick update

I don't have much time, I just wanted to let you know that my computer is still in the hospital, waiting on a hard drive transplant. Oh, and France sucks. You want to know why? Let's just say there's a nationwide strike that starts tomorrow and will continue indefinitely. That means that all trains will be down until Lord only knows when. This sucks mainly because I'm scheduled to take a test in Paris next Wednesday, that I have to take, and that I may not be able to get to. Yeah. Lovely. And this is Sarzo's first chance to show he's a man, so he won't be backing down easily. If only I could drive... And you remember how in Montpellier the strike was fun because I got out of class for 3 months? Yeah, not fun this time. It gets old, fast. Just work. Seriously.

Oh and I had another class with no students. Well, I had two students show, but they couldn't account for the whereabouts of the others. The one girl said, with the most serious expression she could muster, "there's a rule that you cant have class without at least 3 students." Fine, whatever. I totally don't believe you, and I definitly saw you wave at some girl down the hallway to duck out of sight, but I don't care. If you don't want to be here, go home. I don't want to teach you. Grrr. Their teacher got a note, not that it matters much. Really, I sound mad about it, but I really didn't feel like teaching that afternoon, so whatever. I didn't appreciate their not showing up and her lying to me, but whatever. This is France. Things are different here. It's another planet.

By the way, plenty of good things have happened in the past few days, and I'm having an amazing time despite the cheeky students and obnoxious strikes (and minus a few stressful moments) but I dont have time to write about them. Soon, I promise! Later gators. Ha. I'm turning into a 'nutter' (as Rach would say).

Bisous Nation (kissing nation)

Well today is the last day of vacation, and I'm ill-prepared to go back to school. By that I mean, I haven't prepared for any of my classes, at all. BUT, I did find a few folders left here from old assistants, which is like a gold mine. For 4 of my 7 classes I can just pick something out of that each week... But anyway, back to what went down over break.


I have a room now, which is stellar, though my belongings are far from organized (clothes are still in a closet in the living room). I realized today that what I thought was part of the design on my far wall was really more mold, though of a lighter variety. So that will have to get cleaned up. Soon. Before the vicious mold spores attack my lungs. Also, I bought what I thought was cool lampshade for the light bulb that hangs from my celing, but that ended up as a failure too. Apparently, and I had no idea, a pink lantarn will, when the light is on, emit hot pink rays all over one's bedroom. Oops. When I turned the light on my room looked like a brothel. Happily, Irene liked it and traded it with me for the light peach lantarn in her hallway. Now her hallway is hot pink, but to each his own.

My computer officially died as well. I come to you know from Irenes computer, and probably will be relying on her hospitality for the next week or so. If you remember that time when the backlight to my screen went out and you could only see the screen with a flashlight, well that happened on Monday so I took it in. Of course when the dude turned it on the screen was fine, but the hard drive really did need to go. For the bargain price of about 150euros... yeah sucky. But luckily I made recovery disks last week, and he seems to think that's all I need (and I saved everything on a hard drive at home, so I'm not too worried). He claims I'll get it back by the end of this week, but this is France, so I wont get my hopes up.

Friday we met with an ex-spanish student who wanted to chat with Irene in spanish. He was nice, but super bizarre, and so were most of his friends. One of his friends was super nice though, and she and I swapped numbers to hang out later (she also, coincidently, met my flatmate already on a train to Rennes and swapped numbers with her then). The guys were nice enough, but I felt a little uncomfortable talking because when I did they would comment on my "american" accent. That would have been fine, I mean I know I have a strong accent, but they didn't leave it at that. They proceeded to tell me I should keep my accent because its charming, blah blah blah, and then they'd pick out words that were 'cute' when I said them. So yeah, awkward. But later some guy busted out a guitar, and another started singing, and guess who he sang? Johnny Cash my friends, and he was cute too (has a girlfriend though, I think). I was estatic when they played Walk the line and Ring of Fire. It was awesome, and I sang along. Of course no one else knew the songs, because its a rare french person indeed who knows and loves Cash. But there you have it.

Sunday Ann-Helene took us to Chateau de Carrouges, a cute little run down castle further north. Apparently every old family wanted to have their own legend, and this family had one about a fairy or something. Id tell you the story, but its not that great. If you're going to give your family a legend, you ought to make it more exciting than a fairy who randomly disappears. I would, anyway. We also went down to the beach and watched the sunset over the channel. Good times. I'm starting to really like this place.

Now for the title. As some of you may be aware, France has a peculiar custom when they greet one another. If you live in the north, you give the person two kisses, one on each cheek. In the south you get three. Americans, well we dont do that. It's weird, and awkward. In America, if they're a stranger you either shake hands or nod your head, no uncomfortable kissing. But, if you're friends, you get a nice warm hug. In France, strangers get kisses, which is wierd, but friends only get cheek kisses as well. As weird as it sounds, the 'bisoux' are a bit cold for good friends. I prefer a nice big hug. Anyway, the point is, I explained to the friends on Friday that we don't do that in the US and they didnt believe me. I guess for them it would be strange not too. I had to bisous my swim coach yesterday, that was wierd. I just can't get used to it. The worst part is that if you come to a large group of people, everyone has to bisous everyone else, no exceptions. A lot of time is wasted with this bisousing nonsense. Mindy says if people here stopped bisousing already then they'd finally get some work down. What do you think? Bisous = good or bad?

The good news and the bad news

The good news:

Two days ago they moved the computers out of my room, well except for the ones in the closet (which makes putting clothes away impossible). I was ecstatic. When I walked in I noticed the walls had gone French-cheese on me (moldy), so I cleaned that up with some bleach for good measure. Although, now parts of the wallpaper are whitish instead of the beige backgroud for the matronly flowers. Matters. I went to the supermarket that's far away and found some NEW sheets. Yes my friends, the prison-issued sheets of cardboard have been retired. I have real sheets. And my comforter cost me only 7euros; you can't get a coke for under 7euros in Paris! It's a cool red/pink/orange design. The funny part is that I ended up buying 2 fitted sheets on accident. I didn't think they even had fitted sheets here, but they do, and I have 2 of them. Apparently that's what "drape de housse" means. Remember that if you ever decide to buy sheets in France (not that I know the name of regular sheets). At least I managed to find the single bed ones! So I'd say I came out on top in this one. Oh and funny part: the not-that-friendly key keeper lady (who took away my key the first time) told Irene after I left that Rachel and I needed "to clean up" our apartment. Ha! You try keeping things organized when you live out of suitcases for a month. Neat piles are the best I can do. Though to be fair, the kitchen did need some work (though not all my fault...).

The bad news:

Well the first bit is that I'm on vacation with nothing to do. Paris and Caen with Irene got cut, so now I'm chillin in Avranches tout seul. But, I think I'm going to spend this time exploring my little city here. I haven't really done all the things there are to do here, and if I don't do it now I never will. So I guess it's not really bad news.

This is bad news: my computer is on the verge of death. If any of you remember 'the lark' (my Buick skylark circa '92), I'm in a similar situation. I have to treat my computer gently, know how to best run it, and it'll work. But, it could die any day now. The other day my computer froze up and I had to shut it down the bad way. Upon attempts to restart it, it came up with only a blank screen. Five restarts later, it came up to a screen where you select how you want to boot (smart mode, normal, etc). I tried choosing each one, and each time it froze after I selected it. So I left it frozen after an hour of trying, and asked God to please keep my computer alive. I came back to it in about 2 hours and it was alive. It had unfrozen itself, or something ;) , and was at the regular screen. Well how 'bout that. The obvious problem was that it ran super slow and after clicking on a folder or program it took about 2 mins to open, which obviously is a bad sign.

Now because I had so many problems trying to start it up, I was hesitant to shut it down, so I just let it hibernate. When I came back and started it I got this warning: SMART failure, hard disk failure imminent, back up data IMMEDIATELY. Well, shucks, that's great. I'm no computer whiz, but I'm fairly computer savvy, and of all the warnings I've encountered, that one seemed the most daunting. Thankfully, I backed up all my music/photos/files on my external hard drive before I left. I don't have it with me now, but no matter. All my new files are also on my USB key, so if I loose everything it won't be that big a deal. Of course I failed to bring any of my recovery disks or program (XP/office) disks with me... but as I write KC is searching my room for them. All signs point to buying a new hard drive, which isn't that expensive. But, I have yet to see a computer place in this city. I'm sure I need a car to get to one, so that's going to be a problem.

To draw out the slow death of my computer (which could die literally right now or 3 months from now), I've freed up some memory and defragged it. I was operating on less than 3% free memory, if you can believe it, and the only time I defragged it before was once and I only got half way through it because I was sick of waiting. The stupid part is I knew better than to let my computer get bogged down. It's just like I know my car needs an oil change every 3 months, but it's lucky if it gets 2 a year. So this may be too little too late. The service engine light has come on and it's only a matter of waiting. How long will it last? Maybe the whole time I'm here (though really really slow and skype isn't working great which is wonderful). Unlike my car, I can keep this sucker till it dies because I'm not jeopardizing anyone else's safety. The lark had to be retired, but this computer's going on life support. Here's to hoping it doesn't fail on me...

AND I am open to any and all computer advice I can get :) (big thanks already to Travis and Matt)

Return to Montpellier

This past weekend I set out to Montpellier to see my friend Elodie (you may remember her as the nicest French person I met last time I studied abroad). Anyway, my trip was off to a rocky when I went to the train station last Friday. Happily, Sylvie gave me a lift and saved me about an hours walking time, so that was fine. But when I went to buy the actual ticket I found out, much to my dismay, that they only remaining ticket to Montpellier would cost me, well a lot, because the last seat left was in 1st class (which totally isn't worth the extra money they charge). Whatever though, I wanted to see Elodie, so I'll bite it. My fault for not getting a ticket earlier (it is vacation time, after all). But then I asked what time the bus left in the morning to take me to the station (which is about a 1/2 hour away from Avranches by car), and to my surprise he told me that that particular bus line doesn't run on the weekends. Ever. Hmmm. Shoot. I looked up at Sylvie with a look that said "Uhh, what do I do now??" Without waiting a second she told me that she'd drive me there early the next morning. Wow. Her first day of vacation and what is she volunteering to do? Drive the silly assistant to a train station at the crack of dawn. I love her. Needless to say I brought her some reeses the next day (mom's package of US candy: love. Time for arrival: record setting 4 days). Anyway, thus began my trip that would tentatively include 3 days in Monty and then a few in Paris to chill with Irene, and then maybe a trip to Caen, though the most I had planned for all this was a train ticket to Monty and a hostel in Paris for afterwards...matters.

So Saturday I set off for my adventure. When I arrived in Paris from Villedieu, I had to take the Metro to get to the Gare de Lyon for my next train. No problem. The metro doesn't scare me. So I bought my ticket and made my way to the entrance. If you've ever taken the Paris Metro you may recall that you stick your little ticket in and then quickly shuffle through the open doors before they slam shut again. Well, unfortunately, although I made it through the door in time, my little rolly suitcase did not. It was stuck, and those doors shut hard. I grabbed the handle and pulled with all my might. Unfortunately that only managed to pull my handle of my bag but the rest of my suitcase was still stuck in the door-monster. Lovely. Now people are getting antsy wondering why this stupid American girl got her bag stuck. So I took one hand and pushed the door to the side with literally all my might (which isn't much, mind you) and with the other hand I grabbed the side handle and pulled. I flew back with suitcase in hand and the monster-grip doors slammed shut behind me. Goodbye to you too doors. Grrr. So yeah, the Metro ate my suitcase. It was wonderful.

Train station observation: there are funny looking soldiers everywhere. They walk around in camouflage fatigues (yeah, you'll really blend in the gare de Lyon forest...wait....), and they wear silly berets on their bald heads. While they really should look intimidating, with their big guns and all, the effect is rather lost on me. I laugh when I see them. Don't get me wrong, I realize they must serve some very important purpose, and I shouldn't take them lightly blah blah blah. But, come on. I really wanted a picture of some, but I thought that would be going too far...

Enough nonsense, back to the trip. When I arrived I saw Elodie on the platform waiting and it made me soooo happy. I haven't seen her since I left Montpellier two springs ago. She hasn't changed a bit! She's just as peppy and smiley as before, and we had a wonderful weekend. On Saturday I stayed with her family and got to meet her mom and 11 year old sister Margot. Justin, her younger brother, and Lola, the dog, I remembered from last time. Her mom made us this wonderful white-cheese cake with a hint of lemon in it. It was so good. I need to ask for the recipe (not that I could cook it if I tried...). Her brother came with us to the movies, and we watched one of the only French movies playing (though her brother went to see Resident Evil III). The movie we saw was Les Coeurs des Hommes 2 (the hearts of men). Um, it was okay, but all they talked about was sex and their various affairs and the whole bit. I understood the plot, and some of the jokes, but for the most part I was lost. They used a lot of colloquial expressions and innuendos, which they didn't teach us in French class. So there were many moments when the whole theatre was laughing and I was like...oh... that was funny, right, what did they say? Afterwards Elodie was a little mortified that the movie she picked for me to see as a the token "french" film turned out like that. She assured me that French people aren't really like the people in that movie. Sure, Elodie. Whatever you say... haha.

On Sunday I had the good fortune of going with Elodie and Jean (her currant fiance, who you may remember me telling you from last time, she started dating when I met her, and he was the subject of many of our secret notes during our history lectures) to his grandparents house for Sunday lunch. Let me start by saying that Jean is an amazing guy. He's been so great to Elodie, and I'm super happy she found a guy like him (because I have doubts about the French male population in general). He's had a rough life though, and it always seems to correspond with when I'm here. Last time, when I was first getting to know Elodie and she had just started dating him, we found out that his brother committed suicide. Jean took hard, because they were really close. It came out of the blue too because he had never outwardly struggled with depression. And now, just two weeks ago, his father passed away. His father had always been sort of sick since his brother died, and he never really got over it. But a few weeks ago he got a really bad cough and the doctors couldn't figure out what it was. Then they found out it was some sort of tumor, and it killed him before they could do anything for it. So yeah, his family has been through a lot. And yet, when I meet them all, I couldn't imagine them struggling with all that inside because they were so warm and friendly. I can't even imagine. Anyway, they were the nicest people ever, and lunch was wonderful. I had my first asparagus (they thought maybe we don't have it over here. No, we do, I've just never tried it) and cabbage. Both were surprisingly good. So all those people who think I don't eat veggies, it's not true. If someone else cooks them properly, I'll eat them. If you give them to me and say, here, do something with it, well then all bets are off. Of course when I was eating the asperagus I couldn't help hearing Junior Asparagus' voice in my head. Veggietales has made me a strict carnivore, I think. I can't bear to eat Junior, so bring me a hamburger or something :) . Oh and Elodie made me a chocolate cake for my bday. It was a great afternoon.

Sidenote: when chatting with the grandparents I learned that they lived in that very house during WWII. The grandad told me about how he and his father used to press olives to make oil in the horse trough in the middle of the night. They had to be sneaky because all vital supplies had to go to the Nazis. They also told me how grateful they were to the Americans (and they added, the British) for coming to the rescue. They were really heartfelt about it, and they said it to me like I was the representative of all the Americans who came over. I knew that I, of course, had done nothing. But it felt good to know that they were grateful. It made me wonder about what I would have thought if I'd had been around during that time. I wonder if I would have even supported us getting involved. Everyone now thinks that they would have, but it's much easier to say after the fact. I wonder.

On Monday we traveled to Montpellier (because before we were actually closer to Nimes). The sun was shining as I ventured back to my study abroad city. I really do miss it. Well, I mainly miss it for the people. Something about being in France makes me think that I should be seeing Elodie and Bhavana and Christina all the time. France isn't the same this time around. It's not bad, just different, and I miss them all. Oh and I miss the sun, which apparently only shines in the South of France. In the afternoon I had the good fortune of meeting up with Sophie (one of my friends in Madison last semester who actually goes to the Agricultural school in Mtp). Now even though Sophie (and Emilie who unfortunately wasn't in Mtp this weekend) is French, I never spoke French with her in Madison. She was there to practice English, and we always hung out with people who didn't speak French. So even though she and Emilie were there for a whole semester, I never once spoke French with them. So when I'm with Sophie I feel like I should be speaking English, but Elodie was with us, and with her I know I have to speak French. It was weird, because I kept forgetting what language I should be using. But it worked out fine, and Sophie and Elodie chatted it up effortlessly (I swear, their French is impeccable). In the picture Elodie is to the left and Sophie is on the right. For lunch we went to Aux 2 Fondues, which is that lovely fondue place where you drink out of baby bottles. Neither of them had ever gone, and I thought they should go at least once since they live there and all. It was fabulous, though I think they were quite surprised by the bottles (not typically French). I hope they become friends; I think they'd all really get along well. Oh and later that night I introduced Elodie to facebook. She doesn't get it at all, so it's up to Sophie to explain it to her in a way that a frenchie would understand. But hey, now I can write on her wall.

Montpellier was hard to leave. Elodie and I had some amazing conversations about the past year, and our plans for the future. All of our talks were affected by a touch of sadness because we knew that after this year it would get harder and harder to see each other. That's the problem with my travels. By traveling I make friends all over the place and then, well, I have to leave. It kinda sucks. But I'm glad I know her, and we'll stay friends even if I can't come visit that much. Maybe I'll end up fabulously rich and I can go see her all the time...doubtful... but maybe.

And now I'm back in Avranches. Paris was canceled because Irene ran out of money, but it was better not to go before I got paid (which I finally was today, sweetness). I don't know if I'll travel much more this break, even though I have a week left. I kind of want some time to myself, and this is the first day that I have some. Since I got here I haven't had much alone time, so I'm going to take advantage of it now. It's funny because normally I hate being alone; I have to have someone around. But now, I just want some time to think and read and be by myself. Strange. If I get some good alone time in, then it'll make me that much happy when my roomie returns and I start classes again. So yeah, it's me and Avranches this week. Maybe I'll get around to all those books I meant to read.