never have i ever….

had a more stressful week.

I don’t even know where to begin with the events of last week and I think if I gave all the gory details, it would be such a downer, no one would want to read it. So I will just say that after a long, hard week in Paris, I have decided NOT to stay for the summer. Yes, this was heartbreaking at first…but now that I am used to the idea, I cannot wait to get back.

In exactly two weeks, I will be back on American soil, ready to take advantage of every single thing I have missed since I’ve been abroad. That’s A LOT of things. Don’t get me wrong. Going abroad has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Although it’s not exactly conducive to saving money, it has been worth every penny…err centime? I’ve had an incredible time and been able to do things I would otherwise never get to do and see. I’ve been able to learn a language and a lifestyle completely different than my own. I’ve had so much time on my hands I’ve been forced to get back into my old hobbies and finding something to do besides sleep. It’s definitely something that I’ll miss but right now, I’m ready. In celebration of my two weeks, and counting, before my return, I have made a list of everything I can’t wait to have again when I get back to the good ole USA.

We’ll start at the bottom and work our way up for the top 15 (I started the list yesterday) things that I just can’t wait to have again in America.

#15- Chipotle. Yes it seems trivial to put a fast food chain in the top 15 things that you have missed the most in your absence, but I’m not above it and it will be in the top 14 and even 10 as well, so get used to it. Honestly, it’s difficult to come to a new place and not have any of the

wrap what you love

comfort food that we rely on at home. There’s nothing like a good burrito smothered in guacamole and sour cream and you just can’t get anything like that here. All I know is, on the way home from the airport on May 23rd, I’m going to be buying myself a little present all wrapped up in foil and devour it shortly thereafter.

#14- The Corner. For those of you who are not familiar with Charlottesville, VA, the corner is simply the term used to refer to all the restaurants and stores, lined up on grounds, which you have to pass everyday on the way to class and therefore become highly addicted to all of them. So I’m thinkin I’ll make it to Charlottesville within the first week back and make it a day of feasting. Itinerary so far… Bodo’s breakfast with a large iced coffee from Starbucks then over to Take it Away for a Chicken Salad lunch with a giant sweet tea and I guess

let the feast begin

I’ll top it off with Arch’s frozen yogurt and some unbaked brownie goo on top. Yeah, that sounds like a solid day. France really needs to get on their game with the whole food thing. Whoever said that Lyon was the food capital of the world clearly hasn’t had the endless possibilities of the corner ripped out of their hands and replaced by a baguette and a block of cheese. It’s just not the same.

#13- American Currency- Considering that the euro is worth 1.43 american dollars, you can imagine why I cringe every time I have to pay more than a couple euros for a drink. I’ve seen canned sodas for three euros, Starbuck’s Frappucinos for 6 (that’s almost $9.00), and “inexpensive” lunches are usually still around 10. It’s always painful doing the calculation in my head and thinking about how many things I could have bought in America with the amount

rollin in the benjamins

of euros I just put towards a sandwich. I can’t imagine that I will ever complain about prices again after realizing how lucky we really are. I’ve had to pay a euro just to use the bathroom or have a cup of water. They charge you for grocery bags at the supermarket and hike up the price if you decide you want to sit and eat your meal instead of taking it on the go. Next time I’m in an American store, using the free bathroom, getting free water, and getting asked paper or plastic, I’m just gonna think about how many euros I’m NOT spending and tip my hat to Uncle Sam.

#12- Ordering Online- How many times have I clicked “check out” on a website, only to be brought to the next page where I see that my purchase price has increased by over $50 due to “international shipping”? Not to mention that there will be another fee due to customs upon arrival of your package. Can’t wait to put in my Virginia address and check the box that “Yes, I will be shipping only within the 50 states.”

#11- Being a normal weight. Alright, I’ll admit that this clashes with #14 and #15 since I basically just made a plan to consume over 10,000 calories but I won’t feel as bad about it with normal sized people around (and even a few hefty ones). I have never seen legs as skinny as the legs I’ve seen in France. They look like they could snap in half if the girl decided to jump too high.

eat a burger

If these women were in the US, their friends would be having interventions with them and telling them to get help, but here, it’s totally acceptable. It honestly makes no sense that they are this thin either since all they eat is cheese, more cheese, and chocolate, but I guess along with the impecable sense for fashion, French girls are born with an insanely fast metabolism. I haven’t seen cankles in months…

#10- Eavesdropping. All I ask is to be able to understand conversations in passing. I’m not trying to overhear deep, dark, secrets or anything, it’s just depressing to walk through crowds all day and never know what’s going on around you. Last weekend, I saw two girls screaming and yelling at each other and just knew it would have been interesting but I can’t exactly step in and say, “Hey can you guys slow it down a little? This is my second language, thanks. ”

#9- Large Beverages. Our cups at dinner every night are smaller than my balled up fist. Not to mention they start out empty and the pitcher is always on the opposite side of the table so I have

the only two sizes necessary

to discreetly manage to get it near me so that I can begin unlimited refills into my little thimble cup, in order to consume a normal amount of water. Coffee cups, too, are tiny little cups for dolls….or I guess for shots of espresso… but not ideal for a big morning cup of java with cream and sugar. It will be nice to open a cabinet and see large glasses, large mugs, and know I can pull up to any drive through and ask for a supersized drink and receive a gallon of liquid in return. Constant dehydration has got to go.

#8-Pregames. Don’t get me wrong, drinking a bottle of wine by the river before going out to bars will always be one of my favorite memories of France but there’s nothing like a good college pregame to get the night started. Tables lined with liquor bottles and mixers, random upbeat music blasting through the apartment buildings, dancing on coffee tables, and taking as many pictures as possible…oh how I miss it. France has their own version of a pregame which they call a “before” and it’s usually just a small group, sharing a bottle of wine and doing mature adult things. Come on France, let me tell you about a little thing called Four Loko.

#7- Guys. I guess I never really got into the whole “we like wearing scarves and carrying longchamps” thing so I’ll be glad to get back to the states and see hats and boots and dirty jeans again. I mean even if guys don’t serve a huge purpose in our lives at home, you still gotta keep em around to drink beer and yell about stuff or you’ll really start to miss them.

#6- The Biltmore. I work there, I eat there, and I love everyone there. I miss the beach bar, the

bonbon and phobon

lodge bar, the onion rings, the burgers, and the rush of it all. Even though being a waitress SUCKS sometimes, it is also totally worth it at the end of the night when you cash out and made bank or no one came in and you just spent the entire night realizing how ridiculous your coworkers are. Can’t wait to come visit this summer (save me the couch, Siobhain) and see everyone!!

#5- Throw down for your hometown. As much as I have loved living in the city these past few months, I will be so excited to see dirt roads and cows again. I doubt anyone in Lyon knows what a bonfire is and if so, it’s probably illegal. Not to mention tubing down the Saône isn’t exactly done here so it will be nice to be back on the James. It wouldn’t be summer without going out on the boat every weekend or cat fishing at night.

#4- My Car. Sometimes referred to as “Black Betty” or “The Tick” (rude), my little hyundai accent is like my house on wheels and I miss itttt. I miss driving in general. Being able to walk everywhere is much too inexpensive and environmentally friendly. It’s also always nice to have a British voice giving you directions every where you go since maps and I don’t get along.. see you soon GPS!

#3-My Friends. I can’t even describe. Even after making new friends abroad, it’s not even close to being the same. I am going to stalk you all down this summer and drive all over the US to see you

so sooon

at internships and vacations because it’s been wayyy too long. If anyone’s still going to be in Charlottesville on the 23rd, let me know!!

#2- Family. (awww) Yeah, yeah, cheesy, but I seriously miss them like crazy. Guys, feel free to rent a bus and bring as many family members as possible to the airport for my pickup. I will also be accepting balloons, flower bouquets, teddy bears, marching bands, banners, etc, don’t feel limited to just those (I’m lookin at you Dad). So excited to see yall.

#1- America. America, how can I tell you how I feel, you have given me many treasures, I love you so. I think I had a temporary lapse of insanity and thought I wanted to move to Europe later in life, but after being away for this long, I’ve learned to appreciate how great the US is, seriously. Even if we are ignorant about other cultures(which we are) and have a higher BMI than most countries(which we definitely do), life is just way better in America. So, live it up.

Love from Lyon (but not for much longer)!!

fate decided by food

After a long day of tanning or… I guess I should say burning, everyone gathers in the living room and is handed a glass for an apératif. Apératifs are a drink that are somewhere between wine and liquor. There are several different kinds so I pass my glass over and choose the same one that I had last time I was here with my host family. As Clément pours it, his father is telling him “tout, tout!” or “pour it all!” So the bottle is emptied into my glass and then everyone starts laughing. Apparently it is tradition here that whoever receives the last of a bottle of alcohol will be married within the year…. Seems unlikely I pointed out.

So we all drink our apératifs and eat little slices of bread with different spreads on them: artichoke, eggplant, and anchovy (that one was a surprise). Juliette is fed and put to bed and we circle around the table, where ma mère has laid out cut up pieces of bread and two big fondue pots. The smell is incredible and I can barely resist waiting. Once wine is poured and everyone has fondue forks, I figure it’s all right to go ahead. So I stab my fork into a big chunk of bread and dip it in. Once again the laughter starts and I discover that I have just made myself the victim of yet another superstition. Apparently whoever is the first to dip their bread into the fondue will be the first to be engaged. So now I’m a little spooked at how my mistakes are lining up to look like a year full of commitments.

I try not to seem too embarrassed and laugh it off. The fondue is an amazing blend of Gruyere

woo i'm getting married!

and white wine. Each person gets an unhealthily hefty serving, but no one complains. Soon we are all trying to get our fondue forks in the pot at the same time and my poor morsel of bread plops into the cheese and sinks to the bottom. I quickly pulled my fork away, hoping to avoid the humiliation associated with being the first person to suck at eating fondue but it was too late, the father in law witnessed it and my bright red cheeks would have given me away in a second anyways. I wait to see what my future holds thanks to this slip up. Strangely, this results in me having to remove my jacket? The mother in law points out that it’s wise to eat fondue wearing a lot of layers so that you do not end up in a compromising situation. So we have strip poker and the French have strip…. fondue eating? Whoda thunk it?

For the rest of the night, I was careful to make sure each morsel was well hooked before going into the pot of delicious cheese and I ended up fully clothed at the end of dinner. Although it’s been a fun experience having 12 people in the house, I am ready for the end of today when everyone clears, leaving just 6 of us to fend for ourselves for the rest of the week. Six is company, twelve is a madhouse.

Love from Switzerland!

avalanches, easter, and ratatouille

Friday night around 7 pm, I met up with my host family’s oldest daughter and her husband to head to the Alps together to meet my family. Since mes parents have already been here for two weeks, I have been living alone in the mean time and was ready to finally see them again. It was my first time being in Anne Sophie’s (the oldest daughter) apartment and I was surprised by all the luggage that greeted me in her foyer. Since I knew we were all going to be piling into

beautiful creek we passed on a walk

one car, I asked if her car was huge and she said yes of course! Soon someone came and knocked on the door and it turned out that her brother and law was going to be along for the ride as well, along with his two bags. I was beginning to doubt the likelihood that any car could fit us all comfortably for a three hour drive but I said nothing obviously since I was getting a free ride to Switzerland, as well as an extended vacation. Eleven month old, Juliette, woke up moments later and her diaper bags, car seat, and bag for the ride were added to the stack. Things were not looking up.

At 7:30 err…. 19:30, all of the bags were piled into the elevator and sent down four flights of stairs while we raced to meet them at the bottom. We unloaded them all and then waited outside for Anne Sophie’s husband to pull up. About five minutes later, a small green sedan pulled up outside. I had to hold back a laugh…and tears at the thought of the five of us and all of this luggage making it to Switzerland without going crazy. Somehow, they managed to get most of it in the trunk and at our feet without taking away from the minimal space that was designated for actual passengers.

I got put in the front seat with Clément (the brother in law), while the couple was in the back with the baby. Anne Sophie and her husband are one of those couples that just make you happy. They have been married for about two years now and are absolutely crazy about each other. It’s not the sickening kind of in love, involving grotesque PDA and mushy exchanges of who loves the other one more, but the kind in which you see a change in her face when he walks in the room and no one else really exists for a moment. It’s the kind of love that makes you hope to God you get that lucky.

So anyways, the adorable couple has their little family time in the back while I am up front with Clément as he tries to navigate to Switzerland. I decide it would be rude to put on my headphones and block out the ride because he wasn’t really involved in any other conversations so we try to talk some and it ends up with a lot of miscommunication and we eventually give up.

adorable setup where we spent all day today tanning

I’ve found it to be much more difficult to talk to French people my age because they tend to speak very quickly and use a lot of slang but I am also always too nervous to ask them to repeat themselves so then the conversation just sort of dies down because I can’t respond since I never actually understood.

Luckily, when we cross the border into Switzerland, we do a little Chinese fire drill and I end up in the back with Anne Sophie and Juliette. Having his brother in the front makes Clément much more at ease and they immediately begin bantering each other while Anne Sophie and I just shake our heads and laugh in the back. Since Anne Sophie spends most of her time trying to help Juliette fall asleep, I finally feel comfortable pulling out the headphones and shutting out the difficulties of a French-speaking world for a while.

Unfortunately, once the altitude starts changing, Juliette’s little ears can’t take the pressure change and she starts screaming. I mean, screaaaaming. Oh boy is that fun. Even with my ipod turned up as high as possible, I can hear her letting everybody know that she is not happy. One hour later, with a pounding headache and a little nausea from staring at my angry birds screen for too long, we pull into the driveway. I could not be more relieved.

My friend Ashleigh took the train up to meet me but beat us to the house by a few hours since we got a late start so she is waiting there when we arrive. This time around, I am put in the room

me and ashleigh enjoying some apératifs!

with 6 beds total: a set of bunk beds and two normal ones with trundle beds underneath. We take the bunks and get to sleep.

Despite my exhaustion from the car ride, I’m unable to sleep in the top bunk with the slanted ceiling about 12 inches from my face. Not to mention that being in a bunk bed in general is just awkward because you know that every time you roll over, you are shaking the bed a little bit and probably waking up the person below you. So I lay there until about four am when I finally doze off, only to be awakened four hours later by Juliette’s crying once again. I have to say I have a lot of respect for Anne Sophie, being able to deal with Juliette’s minimal amounts of sleep. I am a big fan of sleep and don’t really do well with anything getting in the way of it so I can’t imagine being responsible to get up and take care of someone every time they are ready to wake up.

Unfortunately, she wakes up most of the house with her crying so everyone decides to head down for breakfast. I debate about staying in bed and trying to make up for lost sleep but with a door as a curtain, I hear everything going on at breakfast and know there is no way I’ll be able to get back to sleep.

Ashleigh and I head downstairs and toast some bread, slather it in jelly, and drink some very much needed coffee. It seems like everyone’s in a rush to get somewhere and the house quickly clears out, leaving Ashleigh and I wondering what you are supposed to do for fun in the Alps when you can’t ski. We decided to go for a short hike before lunch at one.

We walked through the little town and up onto a mountain across from the Chalet, but didn’t make it far before my fatigue kicked in and I had to turn around. It turned out to be a good thing that we turned around when we did because the way back seemed a lot steeper than the way

what is there not to love?

there and took a good bit longer to walk. We make it back to the Chalet just in time for another car full of people to pull into the driveway. As it turns out, basically all of my host family’s extended family had been invited out for the weekend so the house is packed.

Everyone exchanges “les bises” and introduces themselves. Let’s see…there’s Anne Sophie’s father in law, mother in law, brother in law, two sisters in law, and their friend from work, plus Anne Sophie’s husband, my two host parents, myself, Ashleigh, and of course Juliette, the natural alarm clock.

After their long trip, the new guests are ready to eat so we all go out onto the deck, where my host mom has set up a beautiful spread of meats, cheeses, bread, and wine. Lunch is a traditional dish called Raclette, in which everyone is given boiled potatoes, ham, and pepperoni like slices of meat and then a little tray of cheese which you heat and then pour all over your food. The amount of cheese sitting on the table is absurd, so everyone goes for seconds, thirds,

the beautiful chalet!

and well…however much we wanted really. At some point during the meal, we hear a loud crashing sound and mon pere points across the valley to a mountain on the opposite side where we can see an avalanche beginning. It picks up speed and a lot of snow as it plummets down the side of the mountain, covering rocks in white as it goes. This is my first time seeing an avalanche and I am just glad to be far enough away from it that I don’t have to worry about running. It’s strange to think of snow as a threatening thing, but my family informs me that just a few weeks ago, four German skiers were killed in an avalanche up on the same slopes I was on in March. We get to witness several more avalanches during the meal and it becomes an integral part of our experience here.

After the main course, ma mere brings out a huge bowl of sliced strawberries and bananas as well as four different types of Swiss ice cream. Of course after that, we have espresso and mon pere breaks out the Swiss chocolates, my favorite. The crème brulée flavor is the first to go, right up there with dark chocolate, almond, and orange.

At the end lunch, I can think of nothing but sleep. Even if it does mean crawling into that claustrophobic little space of a bed, I want it, bad. Unfortunately, since the other side of the family just arrived, everyone wants to socialize for a long time out on the porch after lunch.  I am trying so hard to keep my eyes open and listen to the conversation but French comprehension decreases exponentially with fatigue and I am very lost after just a few minutes. Anytime I am addressed, I make them repeat themselves and then hope it doesn’t happen again. My eyes are fixated on the door to inside and I hear myself repeating, “go” in my head every few minutes. Finally I turn to Ashleigh and explain my dilemma, asking if it would be impolite to leave, since we had been talking out there for an hour at this point. She fakes an exit to the

beautiful hike

bathroom and I follow shortly after, explaining that we have so much studying to do.

Finally in my bed, still fully dressed in jeans, a scarf, and a jacket, I pass out. I wake up again when I hear voices and I can see out my window that some of our group is returning from a hike, how long have I been asleep? I fumble around for my ipod and see that it is already six.

I force myself to get out of bed and go downstairs, knowing that we have slept most of the day away. Ma mere informs me that we have about an hour and a half until it’s time to leave for mass. Apparently there is mass on Saturday and Sunday for Easter here or as they call it “Le Paque.” I wait for people to start putting on their “Sunday Best” but it never happens so I finally decide to ask. As it turns out, they wear whatever they want to mass, even on Easter, so I don’t even have to change out of what I just slept in! What a wonderful surprise.

There is no church in Zinal so we pile into two different cars to drive one village over where the Easter service will take place. After parking the cars, we walk through this picturesque little village, with cobblestone streets and wooden cabins. There is a beautiful stream running through the middle of the town with a big watermill, turning as the water flows down from the top of the mountain. We find the church just a short walk from the car and peek in to find that

touristy photos in the alps

we are the first ones to arrive. Apparently the Easter service is not as popular as the Christmas one and we left a little earlier than necessary. Luckily there is a beautiful overlook just outside the church so we stand outside and wait while a crowd slowly gathers in front of the entrance. There is a man building a small fire outside the main entrance and a young boy hands out candles, while we wait.

The priest comes out and begins a blessing while the flame is passed around from one candle to the next and then we all file inside. I have not been as good recently about going to mass here because I usually end up so confused during the sermon but this priest speaks clearly and slowly so that I can follow along with the scriptures, even without a bulletin. I’m a little thrown off my one part of the service when an adorable little girl walks up and dips a little bucket into a large tub of cold mountain water and then hands it to the priest. He, then, takes a ladle and makes his way down the aisles of the church dipping the ladle into the small bucket and flings it at the congregation. I have holy water dripping down my forehead and into my eyes. Everyone starts laughing at this absurd method, even the priest chuckles at people’s stunned reactions as they, too, get water flung at their faces in the midst of his blessings. After this, we exchange the peace, take communion, and head back out into the adorable little village surrounding this church.

Anne Sophie and her husband stay home during the service and prepare dinner so that when we arrive back at the house, the table is set for all 12 of us with scallops, ratatouille, bread, cheese, and wine. Afterwards, ma mere breaks out special “Easter cakes” made with raspberries and cream. Each one has an ornamental chocolate on top that states “Joyeux Paques,” which we all break up and share. The cake is delicious and we each enjoy a hefty slice before we realize it is almost midnight and everyone is ready for bed.

This morning’s wake up does not invoke quite as much aggression from my sleep deprived self, as I was able to sleep through the night last night. Ashleigh and I drink our coffee with bread and honey and then head out onto the deck to read. I am currently trying to make my way through Anna Karenina and The Time Traveler’s Wife….I bet you can guess which one’s an easier read. It looks like it’s about time for lunch so I’m going to go eat some more cheese and Easter chocolates!! Love from Zinal!

funny the way it is

Before leaving my secure little home in Goochland, I was certain that five months away from my home, my family, and everything familiar to me would be way to long. I knew that about three weeks in, I would have a panic attack just thinking about the fact that it would be another four months before I would be back where I belonged. I was right. I felt uncomfortable

skyping just isnt the same

in a host family, nervous about speaking the language, distant from the other students that I had only just met. Night after night I dreamt that I was fishing with my brother or driving side by side with my sister down Rt.6, only to wake up and remember that I was over 4,000 miles away from them. I thought for sure I would break down and splurge on a ticket home, even if it was just for a weekend. I missed the language, the food, the sense of normality offered in remaining somewhere I’d always been comfortable.

Then sometime within the past month, my brain made a switch. I don’t know whether it was that I felt more comfortable with my host family, felt more confident in my french, or just finally realized that this was exactly what I needed, but everything reversed. I would wake up from dreams that I was sitting in my room at home, wishing I could stop by the boulangerie and pick up a baguette or sit by the river and listen to musicians and drink wine, and then I’d be relieved to find that I was still in France! When reality sunk in that my days were numbered, I began to take more pictures and try to wake up earlier so that I didn’t miss a second of it. I found myself worrying that I would never make it back to Lyon once I left…It’s a pretty obscure city and doesn’t make it onto the itinerary of life for many.

This past week, I was sent an email regarding an opportunity to be an au pair in Paris for the summer. The sender said she knew I had been dying to stay in France for longer and thought of me since I have been nannying for families for the past four summers and she knew it would be perfect. Obviously, I jumped at the opportunity and sent in a response as quickly as possible. Three days later, after several emails and two skype interviews, I was offered the position!

I think there are certain things in life that are just so clearly meant to be that you cannot turn them down. In this case, everything just fell into place so perfectly it freaked me out a little bit. The mother of the family wanted me to come to Paris on May 23rd, which was the original day I had planned to leave Lyon. Their current nanny happened to have been in Lyon the week before I received the email and we had met near my house through a common friend. The three adorable children of the

oh hey new backyard

family speak both English and French, but the mother prefers that I speak English with them in order to help them get better even though they grew up in London and have precious little British accents. As it turns out, my visa will also expire just days after the job ends and when I put all of these weird coincidences together I figured God had pretty much laid this one out for me so I’d better follow suit.

Looks like I won’t be back in the states for a while longer than expected but I am very excited for the summer. I can already tell that this family is going to be a perfect fit for me. In June, I will be living in Paris in an apartment very close to theirs and then in July, we will all be moving out to their country home where I will have a studio apartment, attached to the house. Although the idea of moving to Paris alone is a daunting one, I figured when life hands you lemons, you can’t be too scared to take them (especially when you’d been asking for them all along.)

Love from Lyon!

learning a little french cuisine

Anyone in my family will tell you that I do NOT belong in a kitchen, but I decided before I came here that one of my goals would be to rid myself of this reputation and learn a little cooking. Since I have been living with my host family, ma mère

i ❤ lemon meringue

has been making me delicious dinners 4 times a week and I have been making myself “butter noodles” every other night…not exactly learning new things. Luckily, our program director set up 1.5 hour cooking classes for the students in the UVA program so I figured this was my chance.

Today at 2pm, Juliette and I walked for about 20 minutes before we reached the address where we had been told to go for our lesson. A petit woman came out and got us and then led us through a small pottery studio and into a tiny kitchen with

our little work space

three other girls in the program. Everyone was given an apron and a little pamphlet of the recipes that we would be making. I don’t know why I had been expecting everything to be in English but that was certainly not the case. Both the recipes and our teachers instructions were all in French and it created a bit of confusion, in addition to my already unstable condition in a kitchen.

Steph and I quickly admitted that we were total failures at cooking and should not be left alone to complete a task. Our teacher decided to pair us up and gave us the ominous job of…grating lemons. She handed us a small brown bag with two lemons inside, still attached to the branch. We confidently grated them up and then called her over to admire our handiwork. She looked a little confused at our pile of gratings and then asked if we had accidentally grated both lemons…which we had. Apparently one of them was supposed to be a

i really cooked!

garnish at the end for the lemon meringue we were making but we held true to our names as terrible cooks and shredded the garnish into bits.

Next we had to juice the lemons and we went ahead and juiced both, who knows why. So we were reprimanded again because the recipe called for one juiced lemon and we had upped the ante, yet again. After that, we could tell that our teacher was beginning to believe us about our limited skills and she was very wary about giving us jobs. Steph and I cut up a few échalotes and then spent most of our time stirring things and standing back. The items to be made included “Carrés feuilletés aux oignons rouges,” “Suprêmes de poulet, reduction de balsamique,” and best of all “Tarte au citron meringuée.”  In simpler terms: Little round appetizer pastries with onions and rosemary, then chicken with sun-dried tomatoes and balsamic dressing with bacon,  then for dessert lemon meringue!

The whole process took about an hour and fifteen minutes, with only one small fire (and I didn’t even cause it!), and no

carrés feuilletés aux oignons rouges

serious injuries. At the end, we each had a hefty serving of food to take with us back to our houses. Of course, mine barely made it 100 yards outside of the pottery shop because it was soo good. Even though I was a minor contributor in the process of cooking, it felt good to have made something that delicious! Not sure I’m ready to put that much effort into one meal for myself though… I might stick with the butter noodles for a while longer.

Love from Lyon!

the times they are a-changin’

It’s been a while since I have posted and I’ll admit it sometimes seems like an ominous task so I may have been avoiding it a little bit. I am not going to go into a ton of details about my spring break trip (right now), but I will highlight a few parts of it.

Nice: Carnaval

Starting in Nice, we got to wear masks and run through streets of confetti and silly string…what could be better? Our hostel was incredible. It had good, cheap food, little prince decorations, and a friendly group of New Zealanders for their staff. They also offered a shuttle service and gave us a lot of recommendations for what we could do with our weekend. We ended up going to Monaco for a day trip, which was incredible and makes you think you could not possibly live without a yacht as an adult. Our last venture in Nice

Citron Festival

was to a “Citron” festival, where there were massive monuments created solely out of oranges and lemons. It was amusing for about five minutes….then it was just strange and I wanted my ten euros back.

 

After Nice, I travelled alone for eight solid hours, switching between buses, trams, and trains until I finally got to the Swiss Alps. I have to say that Switzerland is by far the most incredible place I have ever been to, visually. As my train was weaving through the snow capped Alps, overlooking clear blue rivers, I was pretty positive I never wanted to leave. My host family’s chateau was absolutely adorable and I could not have asked for better treatment. Even though I have lived with them already for over two and a half months, they still treat me like I am the guest of honor all the time. I had two days of skiing lessons with a German instructor named Claude and can officially say, I am a terrible skier. Although I enjoyed having the opportunity to

view from the balcony

ski in the Alps, I ended up being totally freaked out by the idea of flying down a mountain at high speeds and the lessons involved a lot of me refusing to move until Claude shoved me down the slope… I also got to meet their two adorable grandchildren, who could not have been sweeter. We watched disney movies together in French and I finally understood what was going on(maybe because I already had the words memorized?). The food was incredible, as would be expected… We had cheese fondue with potatoes and then different wines and swiss chocolates every night plus delicious swiss hot chocolate on the slopes. Maybe I was just exhausted and freezing but their hot chocolate was by far the best I have ever had. It might be one of the few things I bring home with me on the plane because I know I will miss it.

 

After the Alps, I had a little bit shorter of a trip home to Lyon and immediately passed out for a solid three hour nap and then woke up to replace skiing clothes with normal outfits for London. Since I was flying, I had to pack less since you have to pay for every piece of baggage but Annie and I managed to stuff all of

london!!

our things into one suitcase and a backpack. We had an amazing time in London thanks to Annie’s friend who was studying there and took us out every night. The morning markets there were incredible, mostly because of the food. We got to have chipotle, pad thai, and delicious home-cooked meals made by Annie’s friend. I really wish Lyon would get on board with the market thing….our markets are mostly fruit and cheese… London’s had all different types of food plus really cool jewelry and clothing. We also got to go shopping in Top Shop and Anthro which don’t exist in Lyon so that was a nice treat. Overall, I was totally in love with London and wished I had more time there.

 

On Monday morning, we flew to Paris, where we met up with three of Annie’s guy friends from UVA, who had flown over for their spring break. It was a great group and we had a great time just wandering around Paris, with no real plan at all. We ended up sitting at Montmartre for a few hours just listening to people play music and put on shows for the crowds. While we were there, a group of men all dressed in black came up to the top of the hill, surrounding another person. It was clearly a group of body guards so we were all very curious to see who they were protecting. A mass of people hurried over and were taking pictures of this person but when we finally saw his face, none of us recognized him sadly. Later that night, we were sitting outside of Moulin Rouge and a bus pulled up in front of us with an ad

Montmartre!

for an upcoming film and that guy’s face was the main part of the ad! We had seen some sort of huge french celebrity but not been informed enough to realize it… Overall, Paris was a great time and much more relaxed than the last time we went there.

 

Since our train was going to be leaving so early on Wednesday morning for Amsterdam, we thought it would be a good idea to stay up until we left… I’m not sure who came up with that idea but it turned out to be insane and I fell asleep about thirty minutes before we were supposed to leave. Luckily it was a long ride so we were able to catch up on some sleep on the way there. At this point, I think my body was super confused about what day/time it was all the time. All the travelling had totally thrown off my sleep schedule because we basically just slept whenever we were on trains or planes and then would stay out late and wake up early, it was a rough time.

We got to Amsterdam a little before noon and made it to our hostel quickly. When we walked in, we were standing in the main entrance when I heard someone call my name and I looked up to see a group of Tridelts sitting at the bar in this hostel. Such a weird coincidence that we were all in Amsterdam and in the same hostel… There was a group of students who were

amsterdam

studying in Florence that took a trip together and were all staying there so we ended up just all going together to the Van Gogh museum, after visiting the infamous coffee shops. Of course while we were there, we walked through the red light district, which was as disturbing as it would seem. We also went to the Anne Frank house while we were there and then spent the rest of our time sleeping or binge eating. There were canals, lined with colorful boats, on every other street which made for a really charming atmosphere but I don’t think I could have spent much more time there. Great place to go for a weekend though.

 

After that we headed back to Paris on another long train ride. As would be expected, my body had decided that it had had enough of this weird sleeping schedule and overall brutality so I woke up that morning extremely sick. I felt awful the whole day and was so sad because this was the day I got to see Laura and I was too sick to want to do anything. After I met up with Laura, her mom, and her cousin at their hotel, we went out to dinner. The company was great but I could barely eat so I ended up calling it a night after dinner and we didn’t get to have the full blown reunion that I had anticipated but I was so glad to be in my bed when I finally made it back to the hostel. It was the boys’ last night so we all said goodbye and then I did my best to sleep through my coughing and quick temperature changes.

The next morning, Annie and I woke up early and left for the train station, both sick as dogs, and barely made it to the train station before our train left. In fact, even though we made it there on time, our train still left without us. We had already experienced this once on our way to Nice and it was a pretty easy fix because we were able to just have the original ticket price put towards the new price but sadly these tickets were non refundable and we had to pay full price for the next train to Lyon. It was a miserable realisation but we were definitely ready to get home at this point so there was no other option. After about a two hour wait in the station, it was time for us to load up and pass out until we reached Lyon.

When I got home, I got immediately into my bed and probably didn’t wake up for 12 more hours. The next morning, I woke up with a high fever and nausea and I knew I was doomed. I had the flu (or something like it) for all of last week and didn’t

early morning view off the balcony!

make it to a single class. So I didn’t go to school for 24 days in a row… weird. Unfortunately it meant that when I showed up to class this week, I ended up with several surprise midterms. I have absolutely no idea how to gage my grade in any of my classes because I have yet to receive back a graded assignment and I actually don’t know if I have even had one yet. Going back to UVA this fall is going to be a bit of a shock work-wise.

In more current news, my host sister left this morning to move to New York for 7 months. I’m sad to see her go! It will be lonely not to have anyone on my side of the flat. Still not sure who I am supposed to call from now on when I am locked out of the apartment… This could be an issue. Alsoo it is finally warm here! It’s unbelievable how much the city has transformed in the past couple of weeks. People are all over the place now, having picnics, running, rollerblading, and playing music in the streets. It has given me a whole new appreciation for the city and I couldn’t be happier here.

 

love me some paddleboating

Today it was in the high 60s and Annie and I walked to the zoo and then rented paddle boats and boated around the big lake there for a while. It was soo nice out and we had a great time just walking along the river and finally getting some sun. I tried to wear shorts yesterday but I’m pretty sure my skin is basically see-through it is so pale because I saw several people staring in disbelief at the whiteness. I think I’m going to wait a while before breaking those out again… But tonight I met up with a group of girls in the UVA program and we all ate dinner on the side of the river, surrounded by groups of french people doing the exact same thing. I am absolutely in lovee with this city now that it’s warm. Also when I came home tonight, there were fireworks going off of the bridge near my house so that was a great way to end the day.

 

Unfortunately I have to work on some actual school work now but I miss everyone! Get on skype moree. Love from Lyon!

takin out the travel guides

Since 11:45 this morning, I can officially say that I am done with all classes for two weeks and will begin a series of trips throughout Europe. Although we didn’t really even start class until the end of January, we have somehow gone to enough class to have earned ourselves a two week “winter break.” No complaints here! I’m more than ready for a break from 7 am wake ups and strange egg sandwiches for lunch. Goodbye Lyon 2, Hello Europaa.

Travel Itinerary:

1. Friday morning at 8 am I am taking a train, with a large group of girls in the Uva program, off to Nice for the weekend! We are going to be celebrating mardi-gras european style at the “Carnaval de Nice” which started last

Carnaval de Nice

weekend and will continue for about two more weeks. The theme this year is “King of the Mediterranean” and masks are a must. The whole group will be staying together in a hostel within walking distance of the parades and festivities. Lots of pictures and stories will ensue!

2. Monday morning I am getting a train from Nice to Geneva to stay with my host family at their house in the Swiss Alps. Although I have minimal skiing

somebody needs to pinch me

experience, I am very excited for this opportunity. I will also finally get to meet their son and his two young kids, who I have already been told are basically pro-skiers. I’m probably just going to try to befriend the first person I see topple over, then I know we’ll be at the same level. Ma mere already gave me a heads up that they like to “spoil” themselves when they are on vacation so they will be making fondue and big dinners for the family. If I survive the Alps, I will definitely be blogging about those meals… and my snowy tumbles.

3. From the Alps, I will be back in Lyon for one night, just long enough to

cheerio!

do a load of laundry and re-pack my suitcase for London! Rumor has it there is a chipotle in the city and you can bet I’ll be there more than once during the weekend. I will also get to see Avery, my big, which will make the weekend even better! But early monday morning, we are moving on.

4. Next on the list is Paris! So nice to see you again… Monday morning we will be landing in the beautiful city of love and meeting up with some of Annie’s good friends from school that are coming over during UVA’s spring break! We will be staying in the same hostel (Bastille) for two nights before continuing on. Hopefully we will get to see new things since we got to hit up a lot of the tourist hotspots last time.

5. Once we’ve gotten our fill of macaroons and hotdog baguettes, we will be catching a train to Amsterdam! We will still be traveling with the guys from

take me there, i wanna go there

UVA and staying in a few different hostels around the city. Considering how many travel guides are piled up on my desk right now, I know there’s one for Amsterdam somewhere in there….We’ll figure out what our plans are eventually.

6. Saturday morning, we are headed back to Paris for our last night of vacation and my favorite night of alllll because LAURA WILL BE THERE!

dynamic duo- together at last

!! Can’t wait to reunite with my favorite Wertland inhabitant and finally get to see someone from home! What better of a place to celebrate the reunion than Paris?? Maybe the best stories will come out of that last, and possibly best night. Can’t wait to see youuu Lars!!

7. Homeward Bound. Sunday morning we will be getting on that same train we were on just a few weeks ago. Headed back to wonderful little Lyon.

home sweet home

There’s nothing like coming back to a place you love! Especially after a few weeks of sleeping on cots and showering with shoes. It should be a wonderful few weeks, hopefully filled with great pictures and stories!

I have no idea when I will have wireless during these next two weeks but I will try to update sporadically throughout break. Who knows why I always push my packing back until the very last second, but here I am, once again, without even a suitcase open, leaving in 14 short hours! I guess I better get on that… Keep us in your prayers during our travels! Until the next time I have time/energy/wifi…Love from Lyon!

chalkdust torture

This morning was a brutal wake up at 6:40 AM….last time I was up that early was for the death trip to the wood museum. I made myself breakfast: some fresh baked bread with raspberry jam and the french equivalent of apple sauce, “pear sauce.” As usual, the delicious breakfast perked me up and I was ready to face the still dark cold morning. I grabbed my ipod to help myself wake up more on the 15 minute walk over to the University.

When I got there, I looked around the main office for the list that was supposed to be posted telling me where my first class would be. It was put up on friday but I decided that it was unnecessary for me to walk alllll the way over to school on my last weekend of freedom, so I convinced myself that I could show up before any classes started on the first day and find out what time my first one was going to take place. All did not go as planned….

Since the list was missing, I knocked on the door of the main office and then saw the sign that said they would not even be opening for another 45 minutes…Not Good. I chased down some authoritative looking figures and pleaded with them to find the list so I knew whether I was supposed to be in class or not. After a lot of back and forth questioning in very quick french, they had established that no one could help me until the main office opened because all of the lists were locked in there and no one had a key. I was sent to the cafeteria to sit for 30 minutes until lists were accessible.

Luckily I ran into a group of 4 other procrastinators, who wound up in the same situation. We all sat in the cafe and waited. It is so interesting how many different types of people I have the opportunity to meet here. Just in that group of the four of us, there were 2 Americans, one Irish women, who moved here without knowing any french, and a Spanish exchange student. At the end of our wait period, we were assigned our levels, according to our test results and it turned out that my first class was set up to begin one minute after I received my assignment.

L'Université Lyon 2

I sprinted with another student in my program to try to find our classroom, which was, of course, up 5 flights of stairs and at the end of the hall. Once we found the class, we took a seat in the back and got to take a second to glance around and get a look at our future classmates. Since this program is divided by level, you essentially have every class with the same group of 15-20 students. For once in my life I was a minority. About 85% of the students were from Asia and the other small percentage were from Brazil and Germany. I was one of two Americans.

We were split up into levels again and then given our schedules for the day. That was it. We were done and I had woken up at 6:40 am just to be handed a sheet of paper and then told “you’re free to leave!” What a joke. Since I hadn’t been awake this early in a long time, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself for the full day ahead of me so I decided to check off a few items on my progressively ominous to-do list.

First I picked up a notebook, assuming that we will one day do work, although there are no indications of that yet… Then I walked over to a pharmacy to grab some Chapstick, which turned out to be the kind that you twist up out of the tube like a lipstick, but I accidentally twisted too quickly and it fell out of the tube and into the gutter before I ever got to use it. It was a sad moment, almost rivaling the next moment when I had to fork out another 4 euros for Chapstick round 2.

Next item on the to-do list was headphones because mine have been disagreeing with me and will only play out of one ear at a time; I can’t handle that. So I walked over to the FNAC, which is similar to a best buy, and picked out the least expensive decent pair that I could find. For some reason when I checked out, the cashier did not give me a bag so I just grabbed my receipt and headed for the exit. Of course I got stopped since it looked like I was making a beeline for the door with stolen goods. I showed the guard my receipt and was released back into the bustle of Bellecour.

It was so awkward carrying around the bulky package with the headphones and they wouldn’t fit into my bag so I decided to go ahead and open it up so I could just wear them around my neck and avoid lugging around the package. I ripped open the plastic casing and shoved it all into the trash and put the phones around my neck, feeling better about the arrangement of my items. After a few blocks I decided I might as well go ahead and try the new headphones so I dug around for my ipod and pulled the long headphone cord out of my pocket, ready to find out whether my euros were well spent or not.

I couldn’t believe what I found at the end of the cord. It was literally a plug the size of an ipod for godzilla. Immediately I flashed back to shoving all of the packaging into the trashcan out side FNAC, turned full circle and started booking it back before I had to make a double purchase for the second time today.

When I got back to the trashcan, I glanced around and then thought, ya know I will probably never see any of these people again. So I reached down into the bottom of it, in the middle of the open shopping area, and fished out my packaging and warranty. Don’t judge me. I walked back into the fnac with the headphones stuffed into the freshly recovered package and got stopped by the same security guard! He made me show receipts again and asked why I was walking in with a ripped open package but I totally butchered my french while trying to explain and he eventually gave up and just let me go.

I headed back to the audio section, hoping that the same cashier would still be there and thankfully he

who'da thunk it?

was. I pulled out my ipod and the tip of the headphones and showed him my mistake, insisting that he let me return it. He started laughing a lot and I became even more flustered saying that I had just been in the store less than an hour ago and he had to let me return it! He grabbed the tip of the headphones and says, in english, “watch this.” Then he pulled off the adapter and revealed a normal size headphone tip that fit perfectly into my ipod. I was mortified to say the least.

I thanked him and tried to leave as quickly as possible so he didn’t see my face reddening. Of course this sparked the guard’s interest, yet again, because he was already pretty convinced that I was a criminal. The cashier had taken the package from me and thrown it away so now I was walking out of the store with just headphones and he was not pleased. He walked me back to the audio section and made the guy verify that my story was true, because honestly would you believe a red-faced, briskly-walking person with unwrapped goods making a beeline for the door? I wouldn’t. Luckily, my cashier friend said my story checked out and I was allowed to leave, probably never to return.

After that debacle it was time to head back to the University to check out the optional classes and see which ones I wanted to take. I went to a modern literature class, which is very similar to the one I took last semester but focuses in more detail on 20th century works. Then I went to a course which is just meant to help us improve the style of our writing in French. Unfortunately, with all of the FNAC problems, I hadn’t had time to get a coffee during my break and I was dreaming after about 20 minutes of the class. Of course, I had the same teacher for both of my afternoon classes, so she already knew my name….annnd called on me while I was asleep. I woke up and stared at the sheet in front of me trying to make some sense of what had been going on before I drifted off. After about 4 minutes of silence, she finally repeated the question and I attempted to answer it as well as possible, considering that I had slept through the story that the question was based on, it was wrong.

Overall, it was an eventful day. In my opinion, it seems like a lot of conflict can be avoided by sleeping until 3pm….but it looks like those days are long gone. I am going to have to start going to bed at 9pm to get my body adjusted to this and in that case, I’ve got a little over an hour until bedtime so I’d better start getting my stuff in order to face another 7am morning tomorrow. Love from Lyon!

a change of pace

With the last week of freedom coming to a close, I thought back on the past seven days and on what major events should be written about in this post. It didn’t take long for me to realize that this week had been more about living in the city and finding my bearings and less about finding every tourist hotspot and checking it off my list. However, that is not to say that I have nothing to blog about this week but rather that I have decided to change things up. Based on this week’s observations, I have composed a list, essentially underlining the big differences between living in America and living in France.

Stuff French People Like:

1. Whispering. I cannot think of how many times I have been in a restaurant or cafe, sitting and

fermez la bouche

talking with my friends when I realize that everyone in the room is looking at us. Apparently the American concept of an “inside voice” is about 10 notches too high for any indoor area in France. I started trying to pull off this “french speak” at dinner and it resulted in a lot “what did you say”s and “why are you whispering?”s. It turns out that Americans do not have superhuman hearing, sorry ’bout it France.

2. Not Smiling or Laughing. I’m pretty sure there is some sort of unwritten rule that you shouldn’t laugh out loud in France until you have consumed a hefty amount of alcohol. It seems like everyone just walks around having grave conversations and if I start laughing in a store or even walking on the sidewalk, it results in glares from random pedestrians. It’s almost like they hear laughing and think “stupid Americans.” This is also the case for people working in customer service. Unlike in America, where employees have a huge grin on their face for every customer, here they seem to hand out “employee of the month” awards to whoever can maintain the most stoic appearance during a transaction. I have to hand it to them, they’ve got it down.

3. Taking Their Sweet Time. If you’ve ever got somewhere important to be, do not stop at any french restaurant and expect to be finished at any respectable hour. Coffee, Lunch, Dinner, each one’s a serious process. The entire idea of taking things “to-go” is extremely American and if I see anyone walking around carrying a snack or drink (which is extremely), it’s a safe bet they’re not French. Every night when dinner begins, I know it’s going to be a 60-90 minute time investment and I need to plan accordingly. Restaurants are even worse because they seem to think you need about 30 minutes just to decide what you want to drink and then they want you to order everything separately and take breaks in between courses. It’s a painfully long process which they don’t seem to notice or mind. What I wouldn’t do for a little fast food around here…

4. The Lack of Ice. I’m not sure whether french science classes just skip over the section about the properties of water, but they do not seem to be aware of it’s ability to freeze and become a

what a beautiful sight

wonderful addition to my drink. Restaurants just plop down a pitcher of lukewarm tap water and empty glasses at every meal. I have checked our freezer in the flat to try to find anything I might be able to pour a little water into and freeze myself up a nice chunk-o-ice. No such luck yet…

5. Smoking. I know this was to be expected, every American knows that French people love them some cigarettes. I live right by a high school and happen to frequently walk by during their break time and the streets outside the school are literally filled with 14-18 year olds, all puffing away. It’s not just the teenagers either. While in America, it seems like a lot of people go through a phase where they try smoking for a while and then give it up after college, here it’s totally normal for people of all ages. Just yesterday, I saw a woman light her cigarette and then turn and light the cigarette of the 70 some year old woman that she was with. The sidewalks are lined with cigarette butts to the extent where I think everyone has given up on trying to clean them up, seeing as the process is a never ending one, fully endorsed by French people of all ages.

6. Silence. I know we already went into the French loving of speaking in low tones but this is different, this is is more their love of just sitting and eating without uttering a word. In America we like to call it an “awkward silence” but here, no one thinks it is uncomfortable at all to just sit down to dinner and eat without any conversation at all for a solid 15 minutes. I’ve always thought it was strange that this was deemed “awkward” by Americans anyways so I am starting to enjoy it as well but it is somewhat difficult not to sit there anticipating who will be the first person to say “sooo……this is awkward.” But since I don’t know how to say that in french, it most definitely won’t be me.

7. Not Using Pooper Scoopers. Anyone who has ever lived in or visited a big city in the US, you’ve

debating printing a few of these and posting them around France

seen the signs. The fines in the US, for not cleaning up after your pet, are actually pretty hefty in some cities. However, French people do not seem to be bothered by sidewalks covered in feces and it results in a lot of careful stepping. Countless times I have been walking with friends and have been shoved suddenly because I was about to ruin a good pair of shoes in a surprise left by a french dog. Watch out for the…!!! Careful not to….!!! It’s getting tiring. Come on France.

8. Strange Noises. You know that noise you learned how to make when you were in elementary school and wanted to get a giggle out of your classmates, so you’d pucker up your mouth and let out a little air then shout EWWW WHO DID THAT? That’s the noise. The French people love it and they all have it down pat, ready to throw into any conversation. We’re sitting there at dinner and then instead of saying something was surprising, someone will just make a hand motion and whip out the noise. It’s like a short expressive over-pronunciation of a “p” but all French people do it and you never know when to expect it. I have practiced it over and over but still don’t think I can pull it off; it’s one of those things that you just can’t use appropriately if you haven’t been doing it your whole life. Still, it’s pretty amusing for an American to see a couple of well dressed French women having a conversation and then all of the sudden add in a little African bush language and act like nothing happened.

9. Green Eggs and Ham. The more time I spend here, the more I doubt Dr. Seuss‘ nationality because French people use ham and eggs as main ingredients on almost every sandwich. One of their favorite sandwiches is just a piece or two of ham on a baguette with a bunch of cold butter. Nasty. Sometimes they don’t even mention eggs as an ingredient on a sandwich because it should just be assumed, of course you are getting them as well. So you order a chicken sandwich, open up the bread to take a look and find a piece of chicken, buried under a half pound of hard boiled eggs. This unwelcome surprise has caught me off guard several times.

10. Not Using Condiments. Sitting at dinner every night, I always find myself glancing around for the salt and pepper, oh yeah, they don’t even put them on the table because no one uses them. It’s not just the dinner shakers that I miss either, sauce in general is a completely unknown concept here. Every

baby come back to me

time I bite into a baguette with lettuce, meat, and of course, egg, I am reminded that sandwiches just can’t compete here because they don’t use anything to increase the enjoyment of the process. No more take it away sauce, no more vinaigrette, no more pesto. France doesn’t know what it’s missing out on, but I do. I am currently accepting care-packages full of take-it-away sauce and salt and pepper, please and thank you.

11. Spitting. At this point, it probably seems like the sidewalks in France are essentially a cesspool of bad habits. This is basically true. As you try to dodge the piles of dog poop and cigarette butts, it is also important to watch out for pools of spit, as disgusting as that sounds, it’s everywhere, probably as a result of the permanent cigarette taste in the mouths of the French. Spitting isn’t going to get rid of it France, buy a pack of gum.

12. American Accents. I’m not saying the French like Americans, they don’t. But when Americans speak french, they absolutely love it. I had always assumed that their hatred of our english speaking just

don't deny it france

carried over into our french speaking as well but as I found out yesterday, this is not the case. I was ordering a coffee at a small cafe/bar and there were two girls and a guy sitting at the bar next to where I ordered. They immediately attacked me with questions, where are you from? what are you doing here? One of the girls just kept repeating everything I was saying and said that she just wanted to ask questions so that I would keep talking because it was so sexy… All three agreed that they loved American accents and wanted me to continue talking so that they could hear but the man who worked at the cafe could see me, red-faced and backing away slowly and told me to go on ahead and not to worry about the drink. I have always wanted an accent, I guess I just never thought about the fact that I have one now and we sound just as exotic to them as they would if they came to the US and started speaking English. I don’t hate it.

13. Storing Milk in Cabinets. French people drink milk labeled “UHT,” which means that it has been pasteurized at an Ultra High Temperature and therefore has an “extended shelf life.” As far as I know, milk does not have a shelf life at all. It comes straight home and goes into the fridge, where it lasts about a week and a half before it picks up a funky smell and gets tossed. Au Contraire… In France, when we run out of milk, ma mère grabs another jug of it out of the pantry….at room temperature. Even though they all swear that it is sanitary, I just haven’t been able to drink it since I saw it’s storage place so it looks like I will have to rely on ice cream and yogurt for dairy intake until I return.

14. Jack Russell Terriers. I don’t know what kind of historical events he is looking into in France,

le chien français

but Wishbone is everywhere here. Every time I turn a corner, I get “that’s the story wishbonee” stuck in my head as I see, yet another, French person taking their little terrier for a stroll. The only other dog breed I have seen here looks like a mix between a fox and a wolf… Since I’m pretty sure Wishbone is half-human, I will only blame the wolf-pups for defacing the sidewalks.

 

That concludes this week’s list and while many of the things on this list may seem negative, I am still having a wonderful time here and don’t want anyone to think otherwise! My French family is absolutely perfect for me (they came back from their weekend trip in the Alps with about sixty euros worth of chocolate to share…) and I am quickly progressing in French comprehension through dinner conversations with them. Classes at Lyon 2 start tomorrow so I have to wake up at 7 am to make it to class, therefore I am going to bed right now to try to fix my super messed up sleeping schedule. Missing everyone at home a lot! Love from Lyon!

oh the places you’ll go…

….and wish you’d never been.

Thursday night, I knew I needed to go out since I would have to have a low key friday night in  preparation for my early morning wake up on Saturday. So I met up with a few of my friends and we went over to Vieux Lyon to go to a bar that my friend’s host brother has been telling us we

lovin us some johnny walsh

would like. It’s called Johnny Walsh so when we had previously passed it, we assumed that it would be all Americans and we never went in. Finally thursday, we decided to check it out. It was so crowded that there was nowhere to sit and we tried to push our way to the back just to find enough room for all of us to stand in a group.

There was a live musician playing his guitar and singing basically the itunes top 10 of 2008 while the crowd sang along and danced. It was an amusing sight to say the least. A few seats opened up after a while and we were able to station ourselves right beside the bar. We ordered a few Stellas, which is one of the few familiar drafts that they serve here. A bud light bottle was like 8 euros, it’s ridiculous.

After a little while we ended up talking to a few guys sitting nearby and we were able to practice normal french conversations without wondering in the back of our minds whether we were talking to members of a street gang. This is one advantage of going to a normal bar I guess…

Eventually I decided I wanted to make my way towards the dancing scene, not to mention a few

me and the DaNcINg QuEeNs

more people had come in and the crowd by the stage had become markedly more attractive. We danced and talked to a few people over there and then realized they were all 100% blackout and as amusing as it was, it wasn’t worth it to repeat botched french over and over until they understood one sentence, so we headed home and went to bed.

There is really not much to say about friday because I woke up at 330 pm and didn’t really do anything eventful. I went to Printemps for a little while, which is sort of like the french version of Nordstroms but there wasn’t much to see so I just got a quick dinner and then went home. I didn’t get to say goodbye to mes parents but they left for the Swiss Alps to go skiing with their friends for the weekend. I came home, wasted more time and then took a melatonin early and went back to bed, the place I spend the majority of my time here….I need to work on that.

When I woke up Saturday morning at 6:30 am, I began to question whether it would be more enjoyable to remain in my warm bed for the rest of the day or wake up and head into the freezing weather to go on this trip, which I really knew nothing about. I eventually chose the latter and pulled myself out from under the cozy comforter once I had run out of snoozed warnings. Breakfast was a clementine and a slice of a warm baguette with jam paired with a shot of espresso to help me brace myself for the walk to the bus.

After stepping out into the dark bitter cold street outside the apartment, I knew I was underdressed. Although I was wearing a scarf, hat, big down jacket, several layers of tops, annnd tights under my jeans, nothing could prepare you for these harsh winds and below freezing temperatures. I thought my nose was about to freeze and fall off during the fifteen minute walk towards the designated meeting place in Bellecour.

After waiting for about twenty minutes in the center of the city, we finally piled into the charter bus, soaking in the warmth. Just a few minutes after being in the bus, Annie pointed out that she had gotten used to the new warmth so quickly that she was already cold. I laughed and then realized I was shivering as well… turns out we had gotten a bus with a broken heater…for a two hour drive. Joy to the world.

Two hours later when we pulled off the road into a small village that looked like the boonies of France and the driver announced that we had arrived at our destination. Not sure whether this was a joke or not, we filed out of the bus and waited for further instruction. The director of the program sent us to a nearby stone house structure, which turned out to be a museum of sorts so we headed into a back room to watch a quick documentary about the museum. It became progressively evident that we had been brought to an embroidery museum….who even knew those existed?

not pleased, huddled over the heater

Not only was I awake at 9am on a Saturday morning but now I was watched a short film about thumbs being pricked if you weren’t careful to use a thimble. Not to mention, each person was sitting closely pushed up against the person beside them to try to generate a little body heat since the museum owners had no concept of indoor heating either. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal in the US for a working environment to be below 32 degrees, but in France, it’s just pleasantly nippy.

We endured embroidery demonstrations, while crowding over the one heater in the upstairs part of the tiny museum and then we were given an hour and a half of free time to “look around.” I dont know about the other people on this trip but I was done looking around the second we walked in and I was nott pleased to discover that we were to spend another 90 minutes in the freezing cold attic room with hand sewn patches and a 20″ heater that wasn’t putting out much effort.

We survived the designated time and were loaded back into the bus to get to our next destination, oh boy. It was about a 40 minute ride but the heat in the bus had been fixed and I’m pretty sure every person in the bus slept through that ride. The next stop did not look much more promising than the first and I debated whether I even wanted to get off the bus or whether I would have a better time sleeping in the cramped grey velour seats…

Since I had completely forgotten to pack a lunch, I walked to the only boulangerie in this ghost town, which doubled as the town convenience store, and bought a baguette and some laughing cow cheese to fix myself a little something to tide me over through my quickly approaching death-by-museum. When our lunch break was over we were taken to another poorly heated stone museum.

Even now, I am not quite sure what the focus of that second museum was but I think it had something to do with the importance of wood? There were a lot of wood shoes and wood samples

is this real life? a wood museum?

but I thought that surely no one would build an entire establishment in honor of wood and its many functions, but now I know that I should never underestimate the potential mundaneness of a French museum.

After we were released from the wood museum, we headed up the hill to the local “fromagerie.” This was more endurable because the building was surprisingly cozy and we got to see a bunch of cheese being made and hey, who doesn’t like cheese? Also it didn’t hurt that they followed up the tour with bread and cheese samples…

The trip had finally come to a conclusion and we climbed back into the charter bus to start the trip

the only highlight of the trip: cheese

back home. My pent up desire, to sleep through all of the day’s presentations, kicked in and I slept the whole two hours and woke up just in time to be dropped off back in Bellecour, twelve hours after I had left there that morning.

Since my host parents were out of town this weekend, I told two of my friends that it would be ok to come over and pre-game in my room after we grabbed dinner.  My host sister clearly had the same thoughts because she had a few friends over already when we got back to my house. Several bottles of wine later, the pregames had combined and we got to meet my french sister’s friends and hang out as a group until we decided to leave for bars.

Annie and I didn’t end up staying long because we realized we were exhausted from our early wake up and all the french speaking; it really is tiring! We headed back to the house and headed directly into the kitchen for late night food. It is almost impossible to find any good snack food here because everything in the kitchen is just raw ingredients to be cooked or it’s fruit… We settled on some cottage cheese with sugar on top, nasty right? It tasted great at the time though and we devoured it and then headed to bed.

This morning when we woke up, ma soeur had cooked us a delicious hang over breakfast of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns. Just what we needed.

Since it was already about 2 pm by the time we finished eating, we decided to do something with our day, so we got dressed and walked over to the Musée de Beaux Arts to finish looking at the exhibits. We walked around, looking at the paintings until it was closing time and we made our way

a painting from the janmot series

towards the exit. Since we headed out a different way than where we came in, we ended up in a new room with a series of 18 paintings that were set up to surround the entire room and tell a story of some sort. The series is called “Le poème de l’âme” or “the poem of the soul” and it was certainly the most memorable group of paintings that we saw today.

After the museum, it was just about time for mass so I decided to go with Annie and visit, yet another, new Cathedral. We got there a few minutes late so we had to sit on the floor in the back but the service was very similar to the modern one the week before and we even saw one of ma soeur’s friends, so we thought this was pretty good progress since we were starting to recognize congregation members.

When I got home after church, ma soeur surprised Annie and I with dinner ready and on the table for all three of us. We sat and ate rice and some sort of fried vegetable with melted cheese on it. After the main course, there was no more of my favorite yogurt left so ma soeur suggested that I

THIS IS NOT YOGURT

try something similar and she set a small yoplait-looking cup in front of each of us. She opened hers and turned it upside down into another bowl, at which point, it plopped out without losing its original shape. She poured sugar on top of it and began to eat, so we mimicked her actions and took a bite, expecting it to taste like natural yogurt or cottage cheese.

My first spoonful, I realized I was literally eating cream cheese covered in sugar. I couldn’t even attempt to gag down more than three bites of it. Annie was having similar struggles across the table as we tried to seem grateful for the dinner and “dessert.” It just wasn’t going to happen so we admitted that it wasn’t our thing and cleared off the table.

Another week of vacation lies ahead of me before classes begin on the 31st so hopefully this week will be full of more encounters with homeless men in the dark and attractive potential husbands. Until then, Love from Lyon!