Butterflies in My Tummy

Geee I'm nervous.

I'm starting university in a country where I can barely speak the language (not barely, but on a scale of one to brilliant, I'm a five).

On Wednesday I enroll. I'm moving in with another family for 3.5 months on Monday, signing myself up for tango classes, getting a train pass, working my way around one of the best public transportation systems in the world and trying not to explode from all the good food I've been eating. I've got to manage to pronounce things correctly (they've got this terrible habit of making normal words sound EXACTLY like swear words. I get laughed at all the time.) and learn as fast as I can so I can do fun things. Like do the tango and go to the French cinema and take advantage of all these seriously awesome discounts they give us studious ones. Nantes takes culture SERIOUSLY and so every thursday-sunday we have these big parties campus wide where you can entertain yourself with theatre, dance, clubbing, making friends and hundreds of other things.

It's days like these I want to hold someone's hand and have a responsibilibuddy to tell me what to do. Is this what it is like, being an adult?

At least there is a Jules Verne museum, so I can go enjoy science fiction and look adorable in the nautical pattern that was originated here. And there is pretty much the only Indian restaurant in all of France in Nantes (the French aren't generally so keen on spicy food). You can even get a crepe with your curry.

And my grandparents live a hour away by train or car, I've got wonderful friends nearby, headache medecine is subsidized for students (when you are learning another language, it is rather necessary, or even just a good nights sleep).

Plus I've got all these fantastique people from this place called Minnesota who send me funny emails and encourage me. So it's not all scary. It's just a little scary right before you go be independent.

Grunkle was telling me about how when he was seven he was put on a train with a ticket around his neck that read where he was supposed to get off. He then was shipped off to boarding school and was largely independent until he left (at which point he was completely independent). At least I'm a decade older and the only ticket around my neck is one I signed up for.