So my French classes finally started! Hurrah! The other classes have been going strong for a while but I am happy that I finally am beginning to formally learn French. My French teacher's name is Nathalie, which means that I now know three Nat(h)alies in France, including my host mom and the TA for our program. And I have been tremendously blessed to be acquainted with each. I guess that I could go through each to describe my past week. . . .
Nathalie (the French teacher):
I will be spending nine hours a week in her class, plus homework. It will make for an interesting and busy semester . . . hopefully I will learn quickly. There is a class on writing on Mondays, a grammar class and an oral expression class on Wednesdays, and an oral comprehension class on Thursdays. All of these classes are with the same teacher and I like her a lot . . . she speaks entirely in French and I understand almost all of what she is saying amazingly . . . although I am definitely one of the least-French-proficient students in the class. I think that since I actually tried hard and studied for the placement test, I placed into a class with students who are better than I. I'm glad about this (as any cross country runner will tell you, you should train with people better than you so you can improve) and the teacher has been very helpful in enunciating and answering questions and repeating herself and noticing when I look perplexed. She's gifted, as good teachers are, with the all-important ability to engage everyone in the class through humor and through inclusion . . . I'm looking forward to learning from her. For those of you (cough cough Mom!) who want to know my vague weekly schedule, here you are:
Lundi:
9-12 Writing
1:30-3:30 Honors Seminar with Jim
Dinner with Jim and other students in the evening
Mardi:
1:30-3:30 EU Politics, Economy, Law Seminar
4-7 Film class
Mercredi:
11 - 1 Grammar
3 - 5 Oral Expression (discussion)
Jeudi:
9-11 Oral Comprehension (listening)
1:30-3:30 EU Politics, Economy, Law Seminar
4-6 Film class
Vendredi, Samedi, Dimanche: Who knows? Hanging out with other students, movies, homework, mass, exercising, going to the market, updating the blog, school-sponsored field trips, student-sponsored day trips, etc.
I am so happy to have it and to have it settled . . . In America, students know their schedule months in advance, but in France I found out my schedule at 8:30 last Monday morning. Also in France, teachers don't really use the internet to let people know whats going on; there's just a sort of informal by word of mouth thing. And its quite common for a teacher to be gone for a week to do something else and have someone else fill in. And there are no syllabi/syllabuses. So there are definitely some things about the American system that I appreciate a lot. The whole nine hours of French class is something that was not originally a part of the program, but I'm glad to be learning more French than expected. Right now we're only getting about 3 hours of credit in the US, which is frustrating, but since we're getting so many contact hours hopefully that number will increase some. And maybe some of it will even be graded, which would be good for the GPA (provided I actually do my homework instead of just update my blog :-P) . . .
we'll see what UNC people say.
Nathalie (my host mom):
I've already written about her, but had to include her for the blog title to work. So just to recap: she's beautiful, she has two sons who drift in and and out of the house because of school and other things, we live in a beautiful apartment downtown, there is a little Westie named Valentin who is a part of the family, and she's very kind to me and helps me practice my French.
Natalie (my TA):
She is absolutely amazing. She is kind, beautiful, intelligent, great at listening, and resourceful. She does a lot of the busy/administrative work with the program and serves as liason for the two universities. She helps organize, plan, shop for, and cook the weekly dinners. She attends class and plans the field trips (especially logistic-wise) and serves as a resource for helping us with our big paper and any other academic queries that we have. Most importantly, she is a friend and mentor and generally looks after us (sort of like an RA from afar). For example, Friday night (when most students are not provided dinner from their host families), we all had a fun informal potluck and watched Indiana Jones together. She's had an amazing life: she spent years and years as a gymnast which led to a scholarship to UNC where she majored in French and International Studies. Then she taught English for a year in a French village not far from here and then spent several months in Tanzania working with an Aid Agency. Afterwards, she completed a Congressional Hunger Fellowship serving in Louisville, Kentucky and researching the causes of hunger and policy solutions in Washington DC. Last semester, she lived with her boyfriend in England and recently got engaged before working here this semester. After she gets married this summer, she's going to pursue a Masters in Nutrition and Food Policy. We go to mass together and I really enjoy talking with her because she exudes quiet wisdom, faith, joy, and commitment to justice - qualities I hope to cultivate in myself. As aforementioned over and over again in the blog, one of the best things about this program is all of the amazing people that you meet through it . . . Natalie is definitely one of these amazing people with whom I hope to be lasting friends.
So that's it for the three Nat(h)alies. Not terribly much event-wise happened this week - about the most exciting thing is that I saw a couple of movies (Stories of our Fathers, Little Miss Sunshine - for the third time!) and that I enjoyed them both. Plus I finally gave up on waiting to gain access to the gym and began running in the mornings. And it is wonderful! I haven't done that regularly in years (not since IB became a part of my life!) so its good to get back in the habit. I'm no longer running with my pants falling down but the French people do look at me a little funny because almost no one wears shorts (at least not in chilly February). And especially not bright Carolina blue ones. That is one thing I miss about the US: color. People like their fashionable blacks and greys here. When I went to the art museum, I was kind of drooling because I could actually see color! I've tried to be good and blend in with the culture and wear plain colors, but this week I finally went crazy and wore green pants. And stuck out like a sore thumb and probably got some funny looks. But at least I got to embrace color for a little bit!
Love,
Rachel
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Foolishness . . .
So operating on the principle that college is the time in one's life to do foolish but fun things, I actually did join the other students in trying to watch the Duke game. Which would have aired from 3 to 5 our time. Yet again, we managed to air Woody but no visual, but at 3 we found a link that said that we could watch the game at 6 our time. So being the foolish college students that we are, we decided to try and watch it then. Which of course didn't work either. After vaguely drifting in and out of sleep the whole night, I woke up at 10 on my professor's living room floor all alone very bewildered about the location of the other students. With class in four hours. I was delighted because we analyzed "Chocolat", one of my all-time favorite movies that I know like the back of my hand and very frustrated with myself for neglecting to take notes. If you want to know more about one of the best movies ever made, let me know when I get back to the states and we can have a "Chocolat" fest partaking of film, food, and facts (hurrah for alliteration!) together.
That was all a very sleepy fun and foolish Thursday . . . Friday was equally foolish but less fun . . . After getting lots of sleep (the battery level on my alarm clock permits my "reveiller" to show the time but not to sound an alarm) my friend Sarah and I went out shopping on the last day of the winter sales. And I fell in love with an international store and bought a beautiful shirt and skirt. And when we went to my apartment to deposit our purchases and get a drink of water, I discovered that my apartment key had detached from my key chain sometime during our brief excursion. We searched the road, we purged the one store we had visited, even looking under the stairs with a flashlight. Nothing. My family of three was down to one key between all of us and to make another would take 60 Euro and three weeks. For some reason (maybe upset Circadian rhythms, maybe my anger at the darn keychain for not functioning, maybe mental difficulty with the readings this week about anorexia - especially with the connection with the church, maybe my cheapness, maybe my hating-to-disappoint-people), I was unable to take the loss in stride and let things be. I got a stomach ache and couldn't eat although I was terribly hungry and my head started pounding. When I finally got back to the apartment, I was as close as I've been this whole trip to tears (the only other time since landing that my eyes have watered - and I am terribly ashamed to admit this - has been watching Grey's Anatomy when George's father died). Finally I managed to shake myself and remembered the Bible passages that I studied in such depth this summer (Peter faltering while walking on water when he stopped letting go and letting God, Abraham letting go and letting God when he was asked to sacrifice his son) and put things in perspective. And you know what? At that point (when I finally reached some peace of mind) for no reason at all I put my hand in an outside pocket of my purse that I never use because things would just fall out if I did. And of course the key was there. Until I am informed by a message in the sky or on the wall that this was not a miracle and act of God, I will maintain that God took the key off of the keychain and put it in the unused pocket of ridiculousness to teach me in an effectively harmless way that I need to learn to take things in stride. I am aware that this is the toxic God-of-the-Gaps theology, but it is also the only way that I can make sense of that afternoon and not consider it wasted. All of my worrying had worn me out and I crashed pretty early that night.
Saturday we went to Beaune (about twenty minutes away), which in contrast to a weather-wise lovely Friday, was rainy and cold. We visited one of the first hospitals for the poor the (Hotel Dieu) which was lovely - my favorite part was the van der Weyden triptych - and basically tramped around the town in the rain. (I got some lovely photos which I will share with you as soon as my family comes - next week! - bearing the cord that will enable me to take my photos from my camera to my computer). We also visited a beautiful church - one of my favorite things that we found was a sign that said something to the effect of "The Diocese Committee on the Arts has ruled that it is forbidden to put fake flowers at the shrine of the Virgin Mary" - it made me think of my great-grandmother and how our family is very careful to put real rather than fake flowers at her grave every year. The two intellectuals in our party visited the wine museum while the rest of us visited not one but three of the local bakeries to sample their wares (insert guilty smile). We were very good about sharing and we even were virtuous enough to save some chocolate nougat for later consumption. I also finally found the souvenir that I've been searching for over the bast month: a vegetarian cookbook in French! It is a beautiful and practical souvenir that I hope to use for quite a while . . . We had a gourmet lunch in Beaune and that evening I made a simple supper for us of lentils and couscous before going out to try another bar. As my friend Sarah said, only in France would you go outside to get a breath of fresh air rather than to smoke! (Although this is changing next year when smoking in restaurants is officially outlawed - I'm sorry that I'm missing the hoopla!) While some people in our group struck up conversation with actual French people and enjoyed themselves, I continue to be underimpressed about the potential for bars to provide me amusement.
Today was another lazy day due to the low battery of my alarm clock and my assumption that the clock on my cell phone functioned (I had set my alarm correctly for the right time but since the time on my clock was set exactly 12 hours off, it failed to wake me up when I wanted it to) - I woke up too late for church and so I went for a run. Except my pants (which magically expand during exercise) kept on falling down :(. So I had to hold them up with one hand and hold on to my keys (which I am now very diligent about protecting) with my other. I'm sure that all of the French people who saw me were amused. Looking forward to using shorts tomorrow morning (and I will wake up on time now that I know that my clock is right!). This afternoon I went to the Dijon art museum (reputed to be one of the best art museums in France outside of the Louvre) with a couple of the other students. I was really impressed - so much so that I was unable to purchase postcards afterwards because they paled enormously after seeing the real things. Even the sculpture, which I don't like or understand normally, wowed me. Maybe I'll be able to visit and actually purchase things from the giftshop later after I distance myself from my actual viewing of the pieces. So when you come to visit me (and I say "when" and not "if" for a reason), this will definitely be one the places we go together. I even liked it better than the Louvre because it was less touristy. I tried to go to Carrefour (French equivalent of Walmart) afterwards to pick up new batteries for my alarm clock and watch (which also decided to give out on me this weekend) but, because this is France, it was closed for Sunday! And so here I am now. With a couple of short meditations below:
City Planning (among other things):
Much as the French would like to deny it, suburbs do exist and so do evil superstores that kill small businesses like Carrefour. That said, Dijon and the surrounding area is more compact and thus walkable, everything is linked by bus so a car is a nice luxury but not a necessity, and the small businesses aren't dead yet (and they don't have to die either if one or two would just remain open on Sundays). American influence permeates throughout and it continues to take me by surprise - ads on the TV for Sims Deux, oldies on the radio, or Grey's Anatomy that the son in my family somehow managed to tape and store on his computer (I really need to figure out how to do that!). Nevertheless, it is very clear that I am in France. Late and long dinners and little details like a beautiful old wall or some very stereotypical French person remind me of that. Studying and living abroad really opens a person up to the best that the different cultures has to offer so that you can pick and choose the things you like. For example, a love for French public transportation and stinky cheeses will stick with me while so will the American attitudes towards . . .
Smoking: Its tolerable but not enjoyable. The French people know that it is terrible for their health (every box of cigarettes is labeled simply: "Fumer tue" or "Smoking Kills") but they do it anyways. I'm getting used to the smell but sometimes it hits me in the eyes and I am reminded yet again about one of my least favorite things about French culture. I am currently trying to forget everything I've ever heard about secondhand smoke. My host family is pretty considerate in that they don't smoke in my room (whose door I keep shut all the time to provide a somewhat safe haven), but they do smoke like chimneys everywhere else and all of the time. Which brings me to another topic:
Living in someone else's home:
My host family is very kind and considerate and I am terribly lucky. They don't mind if I come in late or sleep in and they help me with my French and teach about the culture to a depth that would otherwise be impossible and provide another level of support if I have a random question (for example, "where can I go to get change?"). When she had a birthday dinner for her friend, she made sure that I was included throughout the whole meal - the song and the candles and the cake and everything. But it is just difficult to live in someone else's home generally. For example, the toilet is right next to the mother's room. If I have to use it in the middle of the night or early in the morning, I risk waking her up. The home is supposed to provide all breakfasts and four dinners per week . . . so is it okay to have a Clementine that my host mom purchased in between meals? Is it okay if my room is messy, or am I being disrespectful if if I forget to make the bed? Is it okay if I use her kitchen tools to cook? Is it okay if I use a touch of her salt for this recipe since I left the salt that I bought at the downstairs apartment my professor is renting? All of the answers so far have been yes . . . I had been very good about asking questions for quite a while to the point of being pestersome and my host mom had been very generous and permissive on all occasions, including letting my internet-deprived friends visit to check email before school accounts were set up. But one day three of my friends brought lunch over and we sat down at the table before researching some travel options. The first opportunity she had, she informed me that this (the sitting down at the table part, I think) was unacceptable and that I had invaded her family space (I wasn't in trouble because she hadn't told me beforehand, but it will not happen again). Now I think that I know my limits in that respect (other people can sleep here since we have such a central downtown location, but nobody else can ever eat in the apartment even if they bring their own food and only one to two people can visit in common rooms for one or two hours at a time) but it is still a difficult thing to balance. She is being hospitable in letting me stay here, but I also am paying. I'm a member of the household, but not really. This is my homebase, but not exactly my home. I am very happy and lucky and blessed in my situation, but it isn't my space in the same way that Raleigh or Chapel Hill is my home because this is also someone else's home.
Love to all,
Rachel
That was all a very sleepy fun and foolish Thursday . . . Friday was equally foolish but less fun . . . After getting lots of sleep (the battery level on my alarm clock permits my "reveiller" to show the time but not to sound an alarm) my friend Sarah and I went out shopping on the last day of the winter sales. And I fell in love with an international store and bought a beautiful shirt and skirt. And when we went to my apartment to deposit our purchases and get a drink of water, I discovered that my apartment key had detached from my key chain sometime during our brief excursion. We searched the road, we purged the one store we had visited, even looking under the stairs with a flashlight. Nothing. My family of three was down to one key between all of us and to make another would take 60 Euro and three weeks. For some reason (maybe upset Circadian rhythms, maybe my anger at the darn keychain for not functioning, maybe mental difficulty with the readings this week about anorexia - especially with the connection with the church, maybe my cheapness, maybe my hating-to-disappoint-people), I was unable to take the loss in stride and let things be. I got a stomach ache and couldn't eat although I was terribly hungry and my head started pounding. When I finally got back to the apartment, I was as close as I've been this whole trip to tears (the only other time since landing that my eyes have watered - and I am terribly ashamed to admit this - has been watching Grey's Anatomy when George's father died). Finally I managed to shake myself and remembered the Bible passages that I studied in such depth this summer (Peter faltering while walking on water when he stopped letting go and letting God, Abraham letting go and letting God when he was asked to sacrifice his son) and put things in perspective. And you know what? At that point (when I finally reached some peace of mind) for no reason at all I put my hand in an outside pocket of my purse that I never use because things would just fall out if I did. And of course the key was there. Until I am informed by a message in the sky or on the wall that this was not a miracle and act of God, I will maintain that God took the key off of the keychain and put it in the unused pocket of ridiculousness to teach me in an effectively harmless way that I need to learn to take things in stride. I am aware that this is the toxic God-of-the-Gaps theology, but it is also the only way that I can make sense of that afternoon and not consider it wasted. All of my worrying had worn me out and I crashed pretty early that night.
Saturday we went to Beaune (about twenty minutes away), which in contrast to a weather-wise lovely Friday, was rainy and cold. We visited one of the first hospitals for the poor the (Hotel Dieu) which was lovely - my favorite part was the van der Weyden triptych - and basically tramped around the town in the rain. (I got some lovely photos which I will share with you as soon as my family comes - next week! - bearing the cord that will enable me to take my photos from my camera to my computer). We also visited a beautiful church - one of my favorite things that we found was a sign that said something to the effect of "The Diocese Committee on the Arts has ruled that it is forbidden to put fake flowers at the shrine of the Virgin Mary" - it made me think of my great-grandmother and how our family is very careful to put real rather than fake flowers at her grave every year. The two intellectuals in our party visited the wine museum while the rest of us visited not one but three of the local bakeries to sample their wares (insert guilty smile). We were very good about sharing and we even were virtuous enough to save some chocolate nougat for later consumption. I also finally found the souvenir that I've been searching for over the bast month: a vegetarian cookbook in French! It is a beautiful and practical souvenir that I hope to use for quite a while . . . We had a gourmet lunch in Beaune and that evening I made a simple supper for us of lentils and couscous before going out to try another bar. As my friend Sarah said, only in France would you go outside to get a breath of fresh air rather than to smoke! (Although this is changing next year when smoking in restaurants is officially outlawed - I'm sorry that I'm missing the hoopla!) While some people in our group struck up conversation with actual French people and enjoyed themselves, I continue to be underimpressed about the potential for bars to provide me amusement.
Today was another lazy day due to the low battery of my alarm clock and my assumption that the clock on my cell phone functioned (I had set my alarm correctly for the right time but since the time on my clock was set exactly 12 hours off, it failed to wake me up when I wanted it to) - I woke up too late for church and so I went for a run. Except my pants (which magically expand during exercise) kept on falling down :(. So I had to hold them up with one hand and hold on to my keys (which I am now very diligent about protecting) with my other. I'm sure that all of the French people who saw me were amused. Looking forward to using shorts tomorrow morning (and I will wake up on time now that I know that my clock is right!). This afternoon I went to the Dijon art museum (reputed to be one of the best art museums in France outside of the Louvre) with a couple of the other students. I was really impressed - so much so that I was unable to purchase postcards afterwards because they paled enormously after seeing the real things. Even the sculpture, which I don't like or understand normally, wowed me. Maybe I'll be able to visit and actually purchase things from the giftshop later after I distance myself from my actual viewing of the pieces. So when you come to visit me (and I say "when" and not "if" for a reason), this will definitely be one the places we go together. I even liked it better than the Louvre because it was less touristy. I tried to go to Carrefour (French equivalent of Walmart) afterwards to pick up new batteries for my alarm clock and watch (which also decided to give out on me this weekend) but, because this is France, it was closed for Sunday! And so here I am now. With a couple of short meditations below:
City Planning (among other things):
Much as the French would like to deny it, suburbs do exist and so do evil superstores that kill small businesses like Carrefour. That said, Dijon and the surrounding area is more compact and thus walkable, everything is linked by bus so a car is a nice luxury but not a necessity, and the small businesses aren't dead yet (and they don't have to die either if one or two would just remain open on Sundays). American influence permeates throughout and it continues to take me by surprise - ads on the TV for Sims Deux, oldies on the radio, or Grey's Anatomy that the son in my family somehow managed to tape and store on his computer (I really need to figure out how to do that!). Nevertheless, it is very clear that I am in France. Late and long dinners and little details like a beautiful old wall or some very stereotypical French person remind me of that. Studying and living abroad really opens a person up to the best that the different cultures has to offer so that you can pick and choose the things you like. For example, a love for French public transportation and stinky cheeses will stick with me while so will the American attitudes towards . . .
Smoking: Its tolerable but not enjoyable. The French people know that it is terrible for their health (every box of cigarettes is labeled simply: "Fumer tue" or "Smoking Kills") but they do it anyways. I'm getting used to the smell but sometimes it hits me in the eyes and I am reminded yet again about one of my least favorite things about French culture. I am currently trying to forget everything I've ever heard about secondhand smoke. My host family is pretty considerate in that they don't smoke in my room (whose door I keep shut all the time to provide a somewhat safe haven), but they do smoke like chimneys everywhere else and all of the time. Which brings me to another topic:
Living in someone else's home:
My host family is very kind and considerate and I am terribly lucky. They don't mind if I come in late or sleep in and they help me with my French and teach about the culture to a depth that would otherwise be impossible and provide another level of support if I have a random question (for example, "where can I go to get change?"). When she had a birthday dinner for her friend, she made sure that I was included throughout the whole meal - the song and the candles and the cake and everything. But it is just difficult to live in someone else's home generally. For example, the toilet is right next to the mother's room. If I have to use it in the middle of the night or early in the morning, I risk waking her up. The home is supposed to provide all breakfasts and four dinners per week . . . so is it okay to have a Clementine that my host mom purchased in between meals? Is it okay if my room is messy, or am I being disrespectful if if I forget to make the bed? Is it okay if I use her kitchen tools to cook? Is it okay if I use a touch of her salt for this recipe since I left the salt that I bought at the downstairs apartment my professor is renting? All of the answers so far have been yes . . . I had been very good about asking questions for quite a while to the point of being pestersome and my host mom had been very generous and permissive on all occasions, including letting my internet-deprived friends visit to check email before school accounts were set up. But one day three of my friends brought lunch over and we sat down at the table before researching some travel options. The first opportunity she had, she informed me that this (the sitting down at the table part, I think) was unacceptable and that I had invaded her family space (I wasn't in trouble because she hadn't told me beforehand, but it will not happen again). Now I think that I know my limits in that respect (other people can sleep here since we have such a central downtown location, but nobody else can ever eat in the apartment even if they bring their own food and only one to two people can visit in common rooms for one or two hours at a time) but it is still a difficult thing to balance. She is being hospitable in letting me stay here, but I also am paying. I'm a member of the household, but not really. This is my homebase, but not exactly my home. I am very happy and lucky and blessed in my situation, but it isn't my space in the same way that Raleigh or Chapel Hill is my home because this is also someone else's home.
Love to all,
Rachel
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Long Post . . .
So I've enjoyed being lazy for the past little bit and apologize for being slow to respond to emails . . . and by the way to everyone who feels the need to remind me constantly, I am aware that pigs flew on Saturday night. We were unable to locate a visual but we were able to at least listen to the game cast . . . and I think to thwart the bad luck I won't do that for tomorrow's game (of course the fact that it is from 3 to 5 in the morning my time and that I have class the next day doesn't have anything to do with it . . .).
The only major event of the past bit was Paris on Sunday, which is a city that I will get to know a lot better after this semester (at least three more weekends planned there . . . looking forward to each very much). We went to Cafe Fiore for breakfast (which had the best hot chocolate that I have ever tasted) and then the museum about medieval history and then to the Louvre, both of which were fun since I had taken art history last year. We took the train there and back in a day and I love trains so that was another exciting part of the day . . . the next time I go to Paris it will be with my family! In about two weeks! So I'm looking forward to showing them Dijon and exploring Paris and most of all just spending time with them. They're going to bring my cord for the camera so I will actually be able to post some real pictures after they arrive hopefully.
Alright, here go some general commentaries:
Alcohol:
Before I came to France, I could count the number of times alcohol had passed my lips on one hand. And I don't even know if those count given that they were all sips of different things with family. In France, wine is a part of the meal. I had so little experience with alcohol before now that even that very controlled consumption is still a bizarre concept to me, so I ask for about half of what everyone else is drinking. I do try everything and enjoy it. I get a little lightheaded with apperitifs because of the empty stomach thing, but as soon as that happens I stop until my head is right again and I try really hard not to talk because I'm afraid that I'm going to say something stupid. Which seems to be a pretty good policy so far. Maybe if I was with people that already knew me ridiculously well, then I would be able to relax and let myself go and not worry about saying stupid things, but until I get to that point with the other UNC students here I think that is what I will do, at dinner at least.
As aforementioned, we went to a couple of bars in Dijon and I don't think that I like them very much. They're so smoky and seating is more comfortable at home and they're loud and I'm too cheap to spend money on alcohol. Jim has also let us use an empty studio apartment that he's been renting to use as our own common space and as one would imagine, the fridge quickly filled with various forms of alcohol. While I'm in France and legal, I've been trying to experience something new to me that has defined the lives of not just college students but even books of the Bible and I think that I've done an okay job dipping my toes in. I guess the RA/blissfully-ignorant-kid in me is still startled to see people drinking straight from the bottle. I'm walking a fine line in that I don't think that occasional large-scale alcohol consumption (meaning more than my one or two drinks at dinner) is bad for other people, but it would be wrong for me to do because I don't like it or want it so it would be a waste of the resources God has provided us. Sort of like red meat (at least for me). We'll see how things go. People thus far have been very gracious to include me in evenings out even though they know that I don't drink much. I kind of wish that I had explored my limits and how my character changes, etc. with friends before I came to France so I don't have to do that with this set of people that I don't know so well. But it will be fine.
The French People:
This will be about as useful as writing about "the Amerian people" but here I go. I guess a more accurate title would be "the French people that Rachel has met".
I have yet to encounter any anti-American sentiment; everyone has been very kind and helpful to me so far. As far as I understand, the French actually really like the Americans. I talked with one of my host mother's friends, Jacqueline, and she said that she was still very grateful to America for involvement in WWII. She was great fun to talk to; she said that while she didn't like Bush because of the war in Iraq ("The French knew the Arabs; they knew that it would be a long war. Bush, he wouldn't have started the war if he knew the Arabs like we did."), she loved Clinton. I reminded her that Clinton had slept with someone who was not his wife and she responded with "all men do that." We started talking about stereotypes of different countries and what she thought of them . . . according to Jacqueline, she still hasn't forgiven the Germans for WWII and she like the British but thinks they think about themselves too much. I can't remember exactly, but I think she said that the Spanish and Italians talk very fast and are also egocentric . . . I do remember that she said that France is a wonderful place to live but even so the French complain all of the time.
At least in Dijon, most of the French people that I've met haven't been able to speak English. Which is great, because it means I am forced to practice more. The French also value their dogs and take them into stores. They are very honest and blunt and do not sugarcoat things. For example, Jacqueline asked me why I didn't wear make-up ("Do you think that you're beautiful enough without it?"). They like bread (which they have to buy every day because after 24 hours it is rock hard) and cheese and make good salads. They walk more than we do because the towns are more pedestrian friendly. They actually take public transportation. Suburbs do exist, but they are still connected to the public transportation network. They do the kiss-thing on the cheek but they don't actually touch lips to the cheek; they just touch cheeks and kiss the air. To my observation (and please remember that this is winter), everyone shaves and wears deodorant (except me)(just kidding). Any other questions?
The only French people that I've met that I didn't like so much were the creepy French guys that we met in one of the bars. To quote Natalie, the teaching assistant for our program who spent a year in France after college, "I didn't date when I was in France because I got the impression that French guys that you meet in bars wanted to meet you, start dating, and sleep with you all in one night. And I don't work that way." So yeah, planning to steer very clear of them. Of course, those were just the ones that I've watched. The ones that I've actually talked to have been very pleasant. My host brother helps me out with my French and with just living around the house all the time. And of course my host mother has been a wonderful resource. I really do feel like this is the most supportive study abroad experience possible. I have my host family, I have Jim, I have Natalie, I have all of Jim's extensive connections, I have the Burch Study Abroad program, I have the UNC Study Abroad Office, I have the other students, I have all of the fabulous people who keep in touch by writing emails or facebook messages or various other forms of communication. Life is great :).
Looking forward to a quiet day tomorrow with just a nice walk - maybe I'll tackle some of those applications that I should have tackled weeks ago? Or work on that homework thing?
One more thing before I sign out: http://www.soaw.org/new/. One of my fellow WRPC friends, Graymon Ward, stepped over the line at a protest against the School of the Americas (a combat training school for Latin American soldiers) and is therefore serving a month long federal prison sentence this spring. He's right in the center of the webpage, holding the first banner and wearing a gray suit. If you choose to watch the video, there are two shots of him (in the same outfit) and his mother while his mother is singing. So please pray for him and for our elected officials to have the courage to work for peace and for all of the troops that have served in past and present. Thank you.
Love,
Rachel
The only major event of the past bit was Paris on Sunday, which is a city that I will get to know a lot better after this semester (at least three more weekends planned there . . . looking forward to each very much). We went to Cafe Fiore for breakfast (which had the best hot chocolate that I have ever tasted) and then the museum about medieval history and then to the Louvre, both of which were fun since I had taken art history last year. We took the train there and back in a day and I love trains so that was another exciting part of the day . . . the next time I go to Paris it will be with my family! In about two weeks! So I'm looking forward to showing them Dijon and exploring Paris and most of all just spending time with them. They're going to bring my cord for the camera so I will actually be able to post some real pictures after they arrive hopefully.
Alright, here go some general commentaries:
Alcohol:
Before I came to France, I could count the number of times alcohol had passed my lips on one hand. And I don't even know if those count given that they were all sips of different things with family. In France, wine is a part of the meal. I had so little experience with alcohol before now that even that very controlled consumption is still a bizarre concept to me, so I ask for about half of what everyone else is drinking. I do try everything and enjoy it. I get a little lightheaded with apperitifs because of the empty stomach thing, but as soon as that happens I stop until my head is right again and I try really hard not to talk because I'm afraid that I'm going to say something stupid. Which seems to be a pretty good policy so far. Maybe if I was with people that already knew me ridiculously well, then I would be able to relax and let myself go and not worry about saying stupid things, but until I get to that point with the other UNC students here I think that is what I will do, at dinner at least.
As aforementioned, we went to a couple of bars in Dijon and I don't think that I like them very much. They're so smoky and seating is more comfortable at home and they're loud and I'm too cheap to spend money on alcohol. Jim has also let us use an empty studio apartment that he's been renting to use as our own common space and as one would imagine, the fridge quickly filled with various forms of alcohol. While I'm in France and legal, I've been trying to experience something new to me that has defined the lives of not just college students but even books of the Bible and I think that I've done an okay job dipping my toes in. I guess the RA/blissfully-ignorant-kid in me is still startled to see people drinking straight from the bottle. I'm walking a fine line in that I don't think that occasional large-scale alcohol consumption (meaning more than my one or two drinks at dinner) is bad for other people, but it would be wrong for me to do because I don't like it or want it so it would be a waste of the resources God has provided us. Sort of like red meat (at least for me). We'll see how things go. People thus far have been very gracious to include me in evenings out even though they know that I don't drink much. I kind of wish that I had explored my limits and how my character changes, etc. with friends before I came to France so I don't have to do that with this set of people that I don't know so well. But it will be fine.
The French People:
This will be about as useful as writing about "the Amerian people" but here I go. I guess a more accurate title would be "the French people that Rachel has met".
I have yet to encounter any anti-American sentiment; everyone has been very kind and helpful to me so far. As far as I understand, the French actually really like the Americans. I talked with one of my host mother's friends, Jacqueline, and she said that she was still very grateful to America for involvement in WWII. She was great fun to talk to; she said that while she didn't like Bush because of the war in Iraq ("The French knew the Arabs; they knew that it would be a long war. Bush, he wouldn't have started the war if he knew the Arabs like we did."), she loved Clinton. I reminded her that Clinton had slept with someone who was not his wife and she responded with "all men do that." We started talking about stereotypes of different countries and what she thought of them . . . according to Jacqueline, she still hasn't forgiven the Germans for WWII and she like the British but thinks they think about themselves too much. I can't remember exactly, but I think she said that the Spanish and Italians talk very fast and are also egocentric . . . I do remember that she said that France is a wonderful place to live but even so the French complain all of the time.
At least in Dijon, most of the French people that I've met haven't been able to speak English. Which is great, because it means I am forced to practice more. The French also value their dogs and take them into stores. They are very honest and blunt and do not sugarcoat things. For example, Jacqueline asked me why I didn't wear make-up ("Do you think that you're beautiful enough without it?"). They like bread (which they have to buy every day because after 24 hours it is rock hard) and cheese and make good salads. They walk more than we do because the towns are more pedestrian friendly. They actually take public transportation. Suburbs do exist, but they are still connected to the public transportation network. They do the kiss-thing on the cheek but they don't actually touch lips to the cheek; they just touch cheeks and kiss the air. To my observation (and please remember that this is winter), everyone shaves and wears deodorant (except me)(just kidding). Any other questions?
The only French people that I've met that I didn't like so much were the creepy French guys that we met in one of the bars. To quote Natalie, the teaching assistant for our program who spent a year in France after college, "I didn't date when I was in France because I got the impression that French guys that you meet in bars wanted to meet you, start dating, and sleep with you all in one night. And I don't work that way." So yeah, planning to steer very clear of them. Of course, those were just the ones that I've watched. The ones that I've actually talked to have been very pleasant. My host brother helps me out with my French and with just living around the house all the time. And of course my host mother has been a wonderful resource. I really do feel like this is the most supportive study abroad experience possible. I have my host family, I have Jim, I have Natalie, I have all of Jim's extensive connections, I have the Burch Study Abroad program, I have the UNC Study Abroad Office, I have the other students, I have all of the fabulous people who keep in touch by writing emails or facebook messages or various other forms of communication. Life is great :).
Looking forward to a quiet day tomorrow with just a nice walk - maybe I'll tackle some of those applications that I should have tackled weeks ago? Or work on that homework thing?
One more thing before I sign out: http://www.soaw.org/new/. One of my fellow WRPC friends, Graymon Ward, stepped over the line at a protest against the School of the Americas (a combat training school for Latin American soldiers) and is therefore serving a month long federal prison sentence this spring. He's right in the center of the webpage, holding the first banner and wearing a gray suit. If you choose to watch the video, there are two shots of him (in the same outfit) and his mother while his mother is singing. So please pray for him and for our elected officials to have the courage to work for peace and for all of the troops that have served in past and present. Thank you.
Love,
Rachel
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