everyday clothes

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.