I remember the first summer I went to camp. I was off to Hummingbird with my clarinet for two weeks. I was so proud to be going away for two whole weeks, not just one like most kids did. I bragged and bragged and everyone would say "wow! two weeks that's such a long time to be away from home!" And now ten months. Geez louiz. What was I thinking? Homesickness hit me pretty hard in the beginning of January and the thought of staying another whole six months before coming home seemed like such a long time. But at the same time I was afraid that there wouldn't been enough time to reach all my goals and take advantage of my opportunities here. Correction: I am afraid. But it is that fear that fights against my urge to procrastinate and pushes me to get off by butt and do something new.
The second weekend of January came around and a group of AFS friends and I planned a day trip to Tours for some major shopping (after Christmas sales!) and catching up. Everyone arrived at the train station more or less around noon and we headed toward the stores. Starving and the giant, yellow McDonald's M glaring down on us, we were tempted to duck in and pig out on America's "delicious" fast food, but instead most of us went to the nearest boulangerie and got sandwiches. We ate and walked and talked with mouths full and stories tumbling out. There are times when I feel like my mouth is going to explode. And no, not from the large amounts of pastries and pasta, but the fact that so many words and thoughts are held in. It's a feeling on my tongue that I get sometimes, like I just want to let loose, run with the wind, and not have to try so fucking hard to form sentences. So, to say the least, it was nice to be with a group of friends who fully understood and spoke the same shuffled French.
As groups of ten girls often do, we quickly split up into cliques and went on our way. After a long after noon of the impossible tasks of trying to keep everyone together and sorting apart the sale clothes from the new season, we dropped down at a cafe and ordered coffee, milkshakes, or whatever drinks were on our mind. Happy just to be sitting and talking at a cafe (with a really cute waiter) we were all smiling. The sun started to set, so we started heading back to the train station, everyone's ride home at a different time. Again we split into groups, the people with later trains home fitting in some last minute shopping and the people with early rides trying to make their way back. Before leaving, my host dad had told me to be careful and pay attention because, wait for it. . . there was a strike! I paid attention when we arrived, but after that, it just kind of left my mind. I had stayed behind shopping (shocker, I know) and when I received a phone call from my friend crying and panicking and impossible to understand, I started to freak. She handed the phone over and I learned that the strike had gotten out of hand and the police had dropped tear gas and my friends had been caught in the middle of all the chaos.
They made their train home safe and sound and when I was called again, told that everything was fine and under control, we headed towards the train station. But then more police arrived and with them more tear gas. The tourists hid their faces and ran and the French shoppers just calmly walked the other direction. The street to the train station being blocked so we went into the Gallery Lafayette and decided to wait it out. I asked what was going on and if it was possible to make it to the train station in time, and "non, non, non" was the response I got. And after waiting and waiting and waiting and wandering other streets, we were exhausted and hungry. So hungry. Despite the candy that we had bought halfway through the day to keep us going! Who says teenagers don't eat well? Pshh.
Eventually, we found our way and we found a closing boulangerie (best sandwich I have ever eaten in my entire life). The evening was on a much calmer and happier level. We spent the night with friends, having fun and well, yeah, having fun. A few hours of sleep later, we rolled out of the warm, cozy bed and jumped on the next train to go eat yet one more, Galette des Rois.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Noël en France
Began with a four hour road trip to Nantes
Squished in a tiny van with five other people and over flowing amounts of luggage. Vacation started on the 17th and with me sick as a dog with an awful sinus infection. It continued to be freezing and after a few days of lying in bed not being able to move with out splitting pain, I asked to go to the doctor. My host mom called right away and the next day we were at the doctor's and I was on antibiotics. When I get sick at home I am usually one of the people who whines and whines, which usually leads to breakfast brought to me in bed with 'Friends' playing on my laptop and my dad asking 'Haven't you seen all of these episodes a million times already?' and me nodding, drowning my perfectly cooked French toast in maple syrup and whipped cream, and continuing to say all the punch lines before the actors. Here it was a bit different. I wanted to show my family how strong and independent I was, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could take care of myself on my own. I drank lots of water, took my Quercitin twice a day, and made myself put on that extra layer despite how poofy it made me look. I bared through the headaches and the sore red nose, but at some point I realized it was okay not to be strong. My host family was happily there for me, making me soup and taking care of me.
And so here we are, back in the car, a day before Christmas, on our way to visit Pierre-Yves' parents, George and Jaqueline. I used my beautifully crafted defense mechanism of sleeping. It has always been easier for me to fall asleep in car than any where else and in this way the, let's say 'loudness' of riding in a car with three little sisters was blocked out. We stayed in Christmas Eve, eating and drinking by the fire and me longing for the freezing cold, but always oh so very beautiful Feralito walk. We all put our shoes next the Christmas tree before going to bed so that the Pere Noel would know where to put everyone's gifts. The house is cute and small and with nine people sleeping in it, way overly cramped. I slept on a futon with Lola in the office and fell asleep listening to the hushed whispers of Malou and Louanne trying to sneak a peek at Santa Clause and the presents.
We woke up the next morning, ate the usual Nutella covered baguette dipped in hot chocolate and impatiently waited the cousins' arrival so that we could all open our presents together. After ten minutes filled with giggling, screaming and laughing there was torn wrapping paper covering the living room floor. We then proceeded to eat a sea food feast. I was adventurous in trying everything (even the food that was still moving on my plate) and went for seconds knowing this was not something that I would be eating again soon. And boy was I wrong. You will never believe what we had for lunch the following days as well. After over dosing on Christmas day I politely declined and instead ate the bread with the delicious home made foie gras.
We found time to go into the center of Nantes before leaving to go shopping and to look at Leonardo de Vinci's machines. It was freezing cold and for one of the first times I found myself wanting to complain and have a hissy fit, but not being able to and having to just suck it up. I couldn't feel my feet because of the cold and we were waiting in a long line to climb the giant fake elephant, which I wasn't too enthusiastic about to say the least, but my sisters had been looking forward to it for years. We finally came home and I ran upstairs, quickly put my feet into the tub and filled it with hot water. I panicked, tears running down my face as I watched my toes turn a dark gray. I screamed Carol's name and she came running and sat with me, rubbing my back until they were nice and pink again. I didn't stop crying, so many blocked emotions pouring out. I was missing my home and my family and wanting to go back for a few days, but at the same time hating myself for not being happier in the moment. All of my feelings came rushing back at once. The stress, the fear, and the loneliness that often falls.
Feeling better, my cheeks and eyes permanently red and puffy, I went downstairs. And for dinner we were making crepes. I don't think it's possible to understand the full extent of which this filled me with happiness. Crepes are what made me fall in love with France. Crepes are what put me in the kitchen so many mornings and afternoons, trying to figure out how to make them perfectly and then testing them out on my friends and parents. And there I was, cramped in a tiny, tiny kitchen with nine people, never ending crepe batter, and an atmosphere filled so thick with happiness, or maybe that was the smell of crepes. Either way, it put the warmest feeling in my stomach and I jumped right in, showing off my skills and not mentioning just exactly how much time I had spent practicing making the perfect crepe.
Squished in a tiny van with five other people and over flowing amounts of luggage. Vacation started on the 17th and with me sick as a dog with an awful sinus infection. It continued to be freezing and after a few days of lying in bed not being able to move with out splitting pain, I asked to go to the doctor. My host mom called right away and the next day we were at the doctor's and I was on antibiotics. When I get sick at home I am usually one of the people who whines and whines, which usually leads to breakfast brought to me in bed with 'Friends' playing on my laptop and my dad asking 'Haven't you seen all of these episodes a million times already?' and me nodding, drowning my perfectly cooked French toast in maple syrup and whipped cream, and continuing to say all the punch lines before the actors. Here it was a bit different. I wanted to show my family how strong and independent I was, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could take care of myself on my own. I drank lots of water, took my Quercitin twice a day, and made myself put on that extra layer despite how poofy it made me look. I bared through the headaches and the sore red nose, but at some point I realized it was okay not to be strong. My host family was happily there for me, making me soup and taking care of me.
And so here we are, back in the car, a day before Christmas, on our way to visit Pierre-Yves' parents, George and Jaqueline. I used my beautifully crafted defense mechanism of sleeping. It has always been easier for me to fall asleep in car than any where else and in this way the, let's say 'loudness' of riding in a car with three little sisters was blocked out. We stayed in Christmas Eve, eating and drinking by the fire and me longing for the freezing cold, but always oh so very beautiful Feralito walk. We all put our shoes next the Christmas tree before going to bed so that the Pere Noel would know where to put everyone's gifts. The house is cute and small and with nine people sleeping in it, way overly cramped. I slept on a futon with Lola in the office and fell asleep listening to the hushed whispers of Malou and Louanne trying to sneak a peek at Santa Clause and the presents.
We woke up the next morning, ate the usual Nutella covered baguette dipped in hot chocolate and impatiently waited the cousins' arrival so that we could all open our presents together. After ten minutes filled with giggling, screaming and laughing there was torn wrapping paper covering the living room floor. We then proceeded to eat a sea food feast. I was adventurous in trying everything (even the food that was still moving on my plate) and went for seconds knowing this was not something that I would be eating again soon. And boy was I wrong. You will never believe what we had for lunch the following days as well. After over dosing on Christmas day I politely declined and instead ate the bread with the delicious home made foie gras.
We found time to go into the center of Nantes before leaving to go shopping and to look at Leonardo de Vinci's machines. It was freezing cold and for one of the first times I found myself wanting to complain and have a hissy fit, but not being able to and having to just suck it up. I couldn't feel my feet because of the cold and we were waiting in a long line to climb the giant fake elephant, which I wasn't too enthusiastic about to say the least, but my sisters had been looking forward to it for years. We finally came home and I ran upstairs, quickly put my feet into the tub and filled it with hot water. I panicked, tears running down my face as I watched my toes turn a dark gray. I screamed Carol's name and she came running and sat with me, rubbing my back until they were nice and pink again. I didn't stop crying, so many blocked emotions pouring out. I was missing my home and my family and wanting to go back for a few days, but at the same time hating myself for not being happier in the moment. All of my feelings came rushing back at once. The stress, the fear, and the loneliness that often falls.
Feeling better, my cheeks and eyes permanently red and puffy, I went downstairs. And for dinner we were making crepes. I don't think it's possible to understand the full extent of which this filled me with happiness. Crepes are what made me fall in love with France. Crepes are what put me in the kitchen so many mornings and afternoons, trying to figure out how to make them perfectly and then testing them out on my friends and parents. And there I was, cramped in a tiny, tiny kitchen with nine people, never ending crepe batter, and an atmosphere filled so thick with happiness, or maybe that was the smell of crepes. Either way, it put the warmest feeling in my stomach and I jumped right in, showing off my skills and not mentioning just exactly how much time I had spent practicing making the perfect crepe.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
time flies!
December. Month #3. Whoa. During the first week of December I went to a play with my theater class called “Le Foret”. I had no idea what to expect and had honestly not even understood that we were going to a play in the first place. I walked in to the theater and was surprisingly handed 3D glasses. The play was beautiful. The entire script was narrated by four voices intertwining and with one man acting out the motions on stage. The stage itself was a few inches of water and with the lighting it reflected beautifully images and moved beautifully. It was very wonderfully. The voices narrated the beginning of earth and life itself and then explained its destruction and the corruption that had taken over. I watched the play intensely looking for any detail that would help me understand the words. The actor himself ended up completely naked on stage and thinking this was just, well, a very French thing, I looked around to see other people’s faces. Totally shocked as well. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one.
A few days later I took the ‘BAC BLANC’. The BAC in France is probably the most important test. It is many, many hours long and with out a good grade one does not pass the year. The practice was four hours long and well, a bit painful. I was given a test on the theater. Which means I analyzed 3 exerts from different plays and wrote a very long dissertation and answered questions. Such a lovely way to start the day. Luckily it was a Friday and after school I was taking to the bus to Tours to visit my bestest AFS friend, Abigale.
Two hours later, stressed that I had missed the stop, I arrived safe and sound. And in total awe. There were lights everywhere and stores, oh so very many stores. The buildings looked beautiful lit up and surrounded by buzzing people. Abby met me in the center, right next to the Hotel de Ville and the giant, giant Christmas tree. Soon we jumped on a bus and rode forty five minutes excitedly blabbering off in our very own language of oh so very elegantly mixed French and English. Her family greeted me with warmth and was very patient, accustomed to having someone that didn’t speak fluent French in the house. The next morning Abby went to school, while I slept in late and ‘did homework’. I jumped back on the bus around 11 to meet her when she got off school. After 45 minutes of utter confusion and adventure I met Abby and another friend and we ate a late breakfast. That afternoon we saw so much. Abby showed me beautiful churches and streets, secret corners and gardens, and little stores. We walked the marché de noel in search of Christmas gifts, tasted vin chaud, and ate way too many chichi and crepes (comme d’habitude).
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