Musique just for you.

Spent yesterday lollygagging around the house, listening to french moody pop music and then went book shopping with my angelic british friend. Ended up scoring a great deal on a doodlebook and then bought some cards to send out into the world. Those of you who have posted addresses may receive a artfully decorated card with a poem on it.

Yours truly.

Found a consignment store also (YEAH DEALS), but I was very well behaved and left my wallet at home. Well behaved as in, it was the only option because I'm a ditz.

I've found my french is now at a nicely operable level. I still make a ton of mistakes and lapse into an Amurican accent, but I try to correct myself and keep myself in what I call "the french mindset."

The French Mindset: Speak primarily with the front of the mouth, raise eyebrows and look confused a lot, saying "Voila" "Bah Ouais" "Donc" and "D'accord."

I also rehearse the extra fancy ways of asking for things in stores, to the effect that store clerks are astonished by the hyper-formality of my exaggerated french accent. What can I say?

A round of applause please. I figured out how to add music videos! These following bands are french, but for the most part sing in English.

I hope it works in your country, if not this song is called "Balulalow" by Revolver.

And this one is called "Leave Me Alone."

And finally....

Pony Pony Run Run, FROM NANTES!

Bohemian Lifestyle

Only eventful event today was me being diagnosed with a cold by my host mom. The cure for this? Wear socks and drink tea?

Promptly put on wooly socks and made myself tea.

And then fell down the stairs, spilling tea all over my socks.

A tragedy, I tell you.

Do your best to read the following paragraph in an Australian tone of voice.

It appears that there is a rite of passage/diaspora during the 20s for Australians. They all leave their country and bless other countries with their presence. During our Spanish travels, my Canadian friend ("Canadians, they are like the cool cousins") and I made the lovely acquaintance of two Aussie ladies.

Australian: We went to a surfing contest in Portugal, and met the hottest Canadian boy there. My stereotype of Canadian boys is that they are all hot.

Canadian: Well, they aren't all hot. I mean, you can't generalize like that about a population, that's like saying all Australian boys are hot.

Australian: But they are all hot.

Why would you leave a country like that? Anyhoo, Barcelona was magnifique. Lots of french people roaming around due to the Vacances de Toussaint.

French Man (HEAVY accent, stuttering): Um, ahem, er, Madame, do you know where..

Me: Monsieur, je parle francais. Est-ce que je pourrais vous aider? (Sir, I speak french, may I help you?)

Unfortunately aside from speaking the same language, I wasn't much help. I too am a tourist. You can't win them all.

We saw the Gaudi cathedral, various other Gaudi museums, so many chocolate stands, and THE BEST FRUIT MARKET EVER.

Ever.

Enjoy the photos, courtesy of my Canadian (eh?) friend.

LEAVE ME COMMENTS!

Barthalona, Land of Lithps

It´s true, they speak spanish with a heavy lisp here.

I am currently writing from Barcelooooooooona, Spain. It is nearly 10 o´clock. AM. I am very tired.

Last night we went out for tapas. Best potatos EVER. Mom and Dad, I´ll be learning how to make potatos bravas when I´m staying here. And then I will come home and make them for you, and you will love me forever. So. Damn. Good.

Yesterday was a six hour marathon around the city, as my Canadianne buddy and I visited just about every free art galery and clothing store in sight. I only bought one thing, a (in spanish) description of various operas with beautiful portraits of the heroines.

Last night we went out to an Irish bar, and met some real Irish people.

One of them was a firefighter called ¨Gordie¨ and it came out in the course of the evening that he had been in a naked calendar under the name ¨Gorgeous Gordon.¨

Ha-Larious.

I also told them the story about my nose and the potato canon my (wonderful) brother failed to glue together properly. Instant badass status, and now they all want to come to Minnesota, land of the potato canons, because it is that cool.

We also learned that in Ireland, you can give vague directions to people´s houses on your letters and IT´LL STILL GET THERE. Example.

Grover the Dog
The White House on the corner with the (probably) blue doorknob
Galway, Ireland.

No postal code, just a letter to a reputedly famous dog. Why is this dog so famous?¿ Because he doesn´t like christmas. You tell him

¨Grover, christmas¨

¨Grrrrrrrr.¨

Today it rains, so we are most likely going to museums and cathedrals. Awesome pictures, here we come!

Reading Week

Adios all a y'all.

I'm off to Barcelona, Spain for reading week/vacances de toussaint.

Goodbye daily baguettes, best butter ever and galettes.

Hello porron, tapas and tortillas!

Please don't judge me for reducing countries to their food. My body is weirdly formed, with the strongest nerve running from my stomach to my brain.

I may or may not have internets while I'm away. If not, farewell till Sunday. If yes, prepare for some updates on this new conquered territory.

Accept this doodle by yours truly as a peace offering.

Bed time!

Faire les antiquaires- go antiquing

Bigot(e)- Catholic

Catho (pronounced Kah-Toe)- Catholic

Vous me dérangez- You piss me off

Cancaner- To Gossip

Un Potin- a gossip/rumor

Plouc- Redneck (YES THIS WORD EXISTS IN FRENCH)

Il Fait Frisquet- It is cold (it sounds like you are saying... It's frisky outside)

Extinction des feux- Lights out, bed time.

Very Dish-Like

I've migrated to chez Grandparents for the second half of the weekend.

Was taught how to peel and eat chestnuts today by the grandparents. They kind of look like brains.

It's so good to be surrounded by witty banter I understand again. They were feeling a little pressured by my noting of their various proclamations.

"I'm caught up in the headlights of a rampaging blog, I've got 'blogblock.'"
-Granny Peppa

Later on we were discussing generational differences.

Grunkle: How can a young woman ever be okay?
Marielle: Quite. I'm feeling fantastic today.

On me complimenting Granny's cooking.

Grunkle: M---- (me) is trying to make you look pompous.
Granny Peppa: Marielle doesn't have to try, I'm already very pompous.

Picking apples out of the tree. Tried to climb the tree and failed, was then brought a ladder by Grunk.

Me: You can help pick apples if you like.
Grunkle: No thank you, I've got to mow the lawn and inspect the garden.
Me: Big boy things.
Grunkle: Exactly.

I hope you look at the post before with the apple video. Best use of a golf club EVER. Also best bonding for Grandchild-Grandparent relationships.

Grunkle: Some people don't empty the tea pot when they are done using it, madam.
Granny: Don't worry, I will forgive you.
(long pause)
Didn't have an answer for that one, did you?

Grunkle: I'm going to sneeze (sneezes)
Granny: Shhhhh. You aren't allowed to make big noises like that.

Grunkle: I wish granny would be happy with the hair the good lord gave her.
Me: Yeah, Granny, you could've been perfect like Grunkle.
Grunkle: Thank you granddaughter. I'll just go rewrite my will now.

French Phrase of The Day: "Sous-Entendus grivois."

Saucy mutterings.

Grandparental Slang: "Dish"

As in "He's a dish."

Means "hottie" or "extraordinarily attractive."

Very dishy.

APPLE DESTRUCTION

Yes Please!

In the course of one's life, it is wise to say yes to random propositions by one's friends to meet up at 7 the next morning to hop on a train to another city for a day of fun.

Especially when they offer this to you at midnight. Who needs sleep anyways?

It's true, my life has seemed a little bit like "Yes Man" the past few months.

Kebabs at 2 am?

Barcelona for reading week?

Red pants?

Foster The People concert?

Homemade colombian food?

Rock and Roll dancing lessons?

The question is never why, but why not?

Of course, one must keep a certain sense of how drastic to be in order to experience life in another country. Learning the how to fend off creepy men (see story below), get past pissy train ticket sellers, make friends and still get an average of 7 hours of sleep is difficult.

But I get my homework done, find time to "study" by watching youtube videos of french rap songs, and bake brownies for my house family. Taking a gap year has taught me (with my semi-anal perfectionist ways) that at the end of the day, it is about passing. You can't do it all perfectly.

Learning this, before going into a hyper competitive environment with grades, tests, boatloads of homework (Yuuuuuck) and freaking out peers, is excellent. I suggest everyone tries it.

Today I went (indeed at 7am) to Angers with my friendsies. We passed a lovely day of mixing up five languages (English, French, Spanish Italian and German), seeing a chateau and hanging out in random parks. Awkward, uncomfortable and rather amusing incident happened with a "draguer" (someone who creeps on you/hits on you) on the train. This man of a certain age boarded the train with a certain eye towards all the ladies in our group. He then proceeded to try and take photos of some of us (was told off very sternly). He still stared and made creepy faces at us.

Friend: I don't like it. I am a very territorial male, I protect members of my herd.

<3

As we got off the tram he gave his number to a friend and started smoking. We realized that a spectacular opportunity had been missed. She should've asked for a light and burnt the paper with it.

But alas, we can't do it all.

Note to my parents: Can you email me the recipes for the two lasagna's that we use to conquer the world?

Funny story I forgot to tell a while ago. So I was sortiring with a group of my english speaking friends and we were overheard by some less-than-sober french guys. They immediately asked us...

Bourré: Where do you come from?
Friend: Oregon.
Bourré: Where is that?
Friend: Above California. (huge explosion of joy at this statement)
Bourré: AH, California, avec les gros seins!

California, forever more known as the state of big boobs.

One true love.

I've fallen in love.

Truly, I've rarely met with more perfection than what I found. Such taste, style, and beauty.

Un vrai coup de foudre. (Real love at first sight).

For those of you hoping for a Prince Charming, you may be slightly disappointed. I've fallen in fanciful longing with a boutique, which sells books of humor, cartoons and heartbreaking drawings, sassy postcards "Port De La Moustache Autorisé" (Authorized to wear a mustache) and random trinkets. I've never had the urge to spend all my money on one store.

http://toutbientot.fr/

If I got married tomorrow, I'd ask only for gifts from this store.

Adult-Like Experiences

Go back two oral exams today. One exam, which everyone flunked, was one more than what I once scored in bowling. 7. Out of 20. The other was considerably better but this is a good exercise in proving to myself how fun school for the sake of school is.

Super duper fun.

For instance, I learned today how to call someone a loser. In french.

Raté!

Raaaaaaté.

Looooooser.

Roasted.

Spent a healthy chunk of this afternoon reading Dorothy Parker stories and book reviews (how I long to have a tongue like that. One breath and where an offending person stood lies a mush of mangled flesh) and eating peanut butter with a knife. I think I do the latter mostly for the thrills. And working on my speed reading (750 words a minute, check me out).

Needless to say, it was a very adult-like experience.

This evening was an excellent exercise in forcing myself out of the house. Went for drinks with people from nine different countries, ended up singing American, Chinese, Russian, Italian, Tibetan and ambiguous origin birthday songs for a friend from China.

More fun stories that you can hear about if you ask me personally :)

French Vocab Word of the Day:

Une Ordure: Piece of trash, someone worthless and stinky. A real jerk. Quite the powerful insult, but not necessarily a swear word.

I've had a certain lyric stuck in my head, from the song "Battez-Vous" by Brigitte. I only know this one line, so I sing it over and over again.

"Mettez vous à genoux."

On your knees.

Sighted: Public make outs reach every age. Saw two old folks macking over their walkers.

Daily Nouvelles

One thing I absolutely adore about Nantes is all the free news. I bask in it.

You walk down the street and newspapers are practically thrown at you. Did you know Senegalese rappers were starting a revolution based in Port-au-Prince?

Now you do.

Did you know Canadian professors in Quebec are angry with French students for coming over for the cheap english classes, thus conning one of the best educational systems in the world?

It's big news.

Did you know Nicolas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni had a baby girl today?

Congratulations. Babies are wonderful things, and french ones are so well behaved. I've never seen such polite, quiet, adult-like gosses before.

Had an alarm for some sort of road work or construction site go off around me. First thought was

"Crap, gotta find a tornado shelter as fast as frickin' possible." Say it in a Minnesoootan accent and you've officially entered my thoughts.

The weird thing is, in France there are no tornados. Or really any extreme weather. When clouds build up a mild electric charge, all the power goes out in France, and then everyone strikes. Control nature, or else we faire greve!

Sighted recently: Lots of hideous norwegian sweaters and cape wearing women. Also the "Menotte Mardi" crew (Handcuff Tuesday) handcuffing themselves to random silly things yesterday.

One of my friends (NOT ME FOR ONCE) got called a "Pipelette." Politely, this means someone who never stops talking. They never shut UP.

Phrase of the day: "Il est bête et méchant."

He is stupid and mean. Say this in a petulant voice and it ends all arguments.

My Kind of Cowboy

Story from this past weekend I forgot.

Context: We (my friends and I) are at a flea market looking at antiques. We start chatting with an old man in french about his cowboy hat, which he bought in arizona with his "American Friend."

Me: Votre chapeau est tres stylé monsieur (your hat is really cool sir)

Cowboy hat guy: Tu sais, j'ai un succes fou avec les filles quand je le porte. (You know, I have crazy good success with the ladies when I wear it.)



It's a beautiful world.

Cobble rhymes with hobble.

Be careful when you run on cobblestones when it is raining and you are soaking because you were too arrogant to bring the raincoat and thought you'd be fine with the badass looking leather coat and you get distracted checking yourself out in a puddle to see if your hair is looking matted (it wasn't).

Sometimes these stories end badly, like when you slip on the stones and fall in the mirror-like puddle, making a glorious fool of yourself and getting dirty all at the same time.

Occasionally these stories continue happily, when you pick yourself up and get offered a towel by a jumper wearing student, who sits you down in a foyer and helps you laugh it off.

There's no moral to this story, just try not to trip next time.

My Socks Too?

Sometimes (just sometimes) in a world where you don't understand the language, you make people laugh until they cry with the silly misunderstandings you make.

Context: I've written out my home address for my host brother's wife so she can write a letter to my parents.

Host Sister (points to the ground): You can leave the paper on the ground.
Me: What? Is there something wrong with my shoes? I'll go take them off. (I take off my shoes).
Host Sister: Non non non, leave it on the ground.
Me: My socks too?

I got the message after that.

I swear I'm getting better, I correct myself all the time and speeeaaaak sloooowly to diminish my whomping accent (I think it's getting worse).

Currently reading a Chair de Poule novel (GOOSEBUMPS! IT STILL EXISTS) in french. I have an easily awakened imagination, and have to be careful when I read and watch scary things. Being a somnambule (sleep walker) and vivid dreamer, I often reenact scenes. For the sanity of my host family, I only read it over breakfast.

Phrase of the day: Calme-toi.

Calm yourself.

Where have all the traditions gone?

asked my host mom if there was any traditions in france for the autumn. "Ummm non." No corn mazes, apple orchards and pumpkin carving? No hideous norwegian sweaters? No communal leaf raking? HOW DO PEOPLE DEAL WITH THIS?

Am in a state of consternation.

I miss my state.

Please leave a comment with whatever fall tradition you enjoy most.

Tardiness

One thing I wish I was is more confident.

One some levels I pride myself on being extraordinarily confident. In finding various programs and opportunities for my gap year, networking and asking around become like a second nature. I had at least twenty ideas of what I was going to do, slowly narrowing it down. Funnily enough I'm still working on the next piece anyways.

But an experience I had yesterday was a bit of a wake up call. I was waiting at a bar where one of my best friends here works, for another friend to meet up with me. She was late. (Side note: this friend is German... my sense of stereotypes was very befuddled, since she is ALWAYS late).

I chatted a little with one of the british bartenders, who was extraordinarily nice. We bonded over gun violence in our respective cities (Minneapolis, Birmingham) and drinking age laws. Other than that, I took a post by the door and said nothing. So I was a little nervous, speaking good enough french and understanding most things, but surrounded by people I don't know and succumbing a little to negative thoughts.

I think I should go home.

It's not worth it.

I'm so boooored.

Everyone is staring at me, do I have something on my nose? (This is a valid fear. I have had things on my face for HOURS without knowing it. Once I ordered train tickets from the station with chocolate smeared across my chin. Was told a full 40 minutes later by some buddies. Sad day.)

Everyone was staring at me, because I was a pretty funny sight. A young student age woman standing stiffly by the door in a packed and jovial bar, speaking to no one.

Was finally rescued by some Colombian guys, who invited me to sit with them while we waited for our respectively late friends. Our friends showed up two minutes later, together. Turns out my friend got lost and asked for directions from their friend.

The rest of the evening wasn't too eventful. I discovered I'm not much of a nightclub person mostly because I prefer dances with a partner. I'll stick with salsa, merengue, bachata, le rock and swing. Not random gyrating movements.

I had to leave the club early with said German friend so she could catch a bus and me so I could get walked home by a friend who was getting off work. I ended up staying at the bar where he worked and chatting with the owners and fellow bartenders.

Moral of the histoire: Be willing to go out on a limb and chat with people you don't know. Dont be the awkward blonde girl sitting on the corner without friends.

Scramble

So one of my favorite weekly sights is a sign in the university resto (not the one I typically go to, the one I go to on Wednesdays when everything is packed) is a handicap sign that says

"Scramble."

Wheelchair picture, then this bizarre word. I'll take a picture when I think of it. I dunno about in France, but in the Estados Unidos "scramble" means to go crazy and run around everywhere.

Why France, why?

Speaking of english, you gotta be careful how loudly you speak on the tram. Overheard two indiscreet British people talking about their weird fetishes with their significant others on the tram.

I didn't need to know that about your girlfriend's feet. Please speak indiscreetly in a less universal language, like Mermish.

Line of the day:

British friend: I can't decide which class to drop.
Friend: Defense against the dark arts.

The word for a blonde person in Colombie is "Mona." In Venezuala it is "Catira." Was chatting with two south american dudes who were very taken with my hair. I've been encouraged to grow my hair out to my waist. They said that I would get all the guys then.

I just may.

Props to a certain student of French for using slang in front of my host siblings. Four days later, they still talk about you. And how not to use semi-naughty words like that.

Je déconne= I'm kidding. Borderline offensive due to the fact that "conn" is naughty.

This is a PG-13 blog. Look it up on the internets if you need bad words.

Slang phrase of the day: Mate la zesgon. "Check out that chick." Slightly derogatory. Mater is slang for "to look" and zesgon is gonzesse but with the syllables versedin.

This weekend, Me and German aupair vs the clubs.

Minnesota Nice

So I've been educating y'all about french slang. But I've had people from 17 countries reading this, so I figured for those of you who are international, a catch up (ketchup) on Minnesooooota slang is in order.

Ya betcha- You bet.

Dontcha know- Don't you know?

Ohyahsure- Oh, yes sure. Typically followed by "ya betcha"

Uff da- Exclamation of dismay. Or frustration.

Pop- Soda. Not that I drink anyways, but if you say soda, you get funny looks.

Comfy- Comfortable

and two words that I've never heard outside the state (or even outside Minneapolis)

Dangles- Tough to describe. Involved sports prowess and maneuvering around someone with great finesse.

Janky- Something that is falling apart.

Update later on actual things that have happened. Am in a bit of a rush to meet up with a french friend to have an exchange!

Narco et Ronchon

Was greeted this morning with FREE TEA. Unexpected and utterly refreshing green tea.

Felt a little off today, maybe because the weather has just gotten nice and chilly-ish all of a sudden. Time to whip out the sweaters!

My friend from Canadia very eloquently ranted about all the things in France that don't work. I giggled, and thought you might too. Check it out!

http://simply-cause.blogspot.com/2011/10/and-heres-rant-about-france-one-and.html



Today in phonetics class we were talking about narcoleptics and I mentioned one of my friends has narcolepsy (I think... anyways). There is this french film called "Narco." Ripped from wikipédia

"Narco is a 2004 French film about Gus (played by Guillaume Canet) a narcoleptic, whose life is made difficult by his inability to keep a job because of his narcolepsy."

It has murder, intrigue, comic books and narcoleptics. AND IT'S IN FRENCH. What more could you ask for?

French phrase of the day: Foudre en larme- to burst into tears. I haven't cried in months, it's bound to happen sometime soon.

French Argot/Slang of the day: Ronchon. It means grumpy, or "grumpy child."

What else did I do today? A gym tonique aerobics class which was supposed to be an "abs ripper." Abs tickler, sure, but I think I'll stick with jogging each week.

Nighty night.

Quick note also...

I hear from my Minnesotan friends who have gone to college that no one outside of the midwest, or possible Minneapolis, knows the meaning of the word janky.

Can it be true?

Amen to that.

Bought my train tickets to go to Paris (THEN TO BARCELONA! la gente esta muy loca!) and my ticket to go see Foster the People... Realized too late that I'd rather go see my penultimate indie-singer-angel-girl-crush Laura Marling. Tickets are not exchangable. Damn you capitalism.

Saw a massie manifestation (manif=protest today) as a bunch of people were faire greve-ing about something or another. Trop bizarre. No idea what they were protesting, but it broke up around lunchtime because the only thing more sacred than the french right to protest is having two hours for lunch. Amen.

Enjoyed my cours de danse enormously, we finally learned some new moves for the rock n roll dance. Am friends with a frenchman who became my friend because due to my lack of proper pronunciation, thought I was from South Africa for the first few times we chatted. Funny I shouldn't have picked up on that sooner. Are you befok?

Some Slang/Argot for "Child"

Môme- If you haven't heard of Edith Piaf, I recommend a trip to youtubeland. Her unearthly voice and heartbreaking songs are embedded in french culture. She got her start (early adolescence) under the stage name "La Môme Piaf." Piaf is a small bird, and a Môme is a baby/child. So her stage name was "The Baby Bird."

Gamin- Child.
Gaminerie- Playfulness, childishness.

Gosse- Child, or young adolescent. A beau gosse is a hot dude.

Mioche- Baby/kid.

Chatted with two lovely AP classes from my ancien ecole. Glad to see all of you are thriving, hope you all take gap years and have crazy adventures. Best investment of a year, and its only been three months.

What Have I Learned In These Three Months?

1) Not smoking is easy. Just tell people (and yourself) you have asthma. They will respect that.

2) Ne me drague pas. All you ever need to know. Don't hit on me. Just say no to creepy offers, and if they don't back off, pull the "I don't speak the language" card. If that doesn't work, learn how to say in fluent whatever-language "back off in no uncertain terms."

3) Eat everything. It's all an experience, and you may never have it again. If it looks weird, take a small portion. I tried apricots, peaches, pea soup, purple carrots and hot chocolate in bowls for the first time here. And mussels, foie gras, weird things I don't know the names of and eel.

4) School for your own benefit is way more fun that school for a diploma or a grade. Successfully chatting with my dancing prof means more to mean than any of my grades here.

5) Slang is awesome. So many naughty words, so little time.

Vachement Perdu

Today I got vachement perdu (really really lost). As in, the 2 km I had to walk turned into upwards of 12, as I made wrong turn after wrong turn.

Short Adverb lesson:

Vachement: Comes from the word "vache" which means cow. French people love using vache in everyday convo... "Oh la vache" (sort of like our "holy cow"). Vachement means literally "cowly" but actually means "REALLY." Like, damn.

Carrement: Also means very. You'll hear "carrement d'ac" in certain age group conversation. Short for Carrement D'Accord, which means "really in agreement."

Vraiment: Translated literally and truly means "very."

I'm feeling rather tired, and while my host brother likes to tease me about going out all the time, I don't think it is completely that. Partially, bah ouais, but not entirely. Learning a language is vachement difficult, and even with proper sleep I find I'm "dans la lune" (on the moon, aka daydreaming) accidentally in class these days. This happened back home too, at about the one month mark. School is tiring. This doesn't change. Still wish I could go back to hippie school and bake me some cookies all day e'ryday.

Fun experience of the day: trying to explain what a baby daddy/momma was to my writing professor. Ah, the things that arrive in the international student's life.

Some vocabulary for you to enjoy! I got most of this from an article about how the second in command police officer in Paris was arrested/charged for drug trafficking and being generally naughty. I shake my finger at you. Anyways, this is regular CSI jargon.

Puant- stinky. Slangy-wise, it means pretentious, or vain. It was puant of him to think he wouldn't get caught.

Indicateur/Indic- Informant. Sort of like our version of "narcs" typically unsavory people who inform the police in exchange for favors or lessening of sentences. "indic" is the shortening of that.

Voyou- GANGSTER. Salut voyou (what's up, badass?)

tonton- What little kids/everybody call their uncles. Also means men of a certain (older) age, typically men you don't mess with. "les tontons flingueurs" is a cult film from 1963 about gangsters. If you speak fluent-enough french, let's watch it together.

Des Papas Poules- "Father hen." Papas who are very occupied with their children, extremely invested etc etc.

So I filched a magazine from the library today (50.5% sure it was free for the taking...). On the back was the advert for dinosaures... Including the Bambisaur.

The bambisaur is the new velociraptor, it's official.

Sad story of today.

Friend (grabs a chunk of my hair and inspects it): My goodness, your hair is a pretty color. How do you get it to be so blonde?
Ex-Friend: The trick is thinking like a blonde.

Shuddap.

Birthday Bashes and Bangs

My apologies for the radio silence, it was my first proper weekend in Nantes and so I spent it properly celebrating my birthday of last week with my fantabulositastic friends I've met here. Hard to believe that I've known these people for less than five weeks.

The wonderful thing about being international is that you are (in most places) a novelty and thus get reached out to far more often than usual.

Five countries represented in this lovely photo. We also had a bunch more people but they bailed earlier.

Yay for friends.

A couple excellent quotes from the evening.

"I don't actually like partying, I just do it because I'm good at it."

"When you watched Harry potter, does it sound different, because it's the same accent as yours?"
(This is a recurring theme. I have friends who are convinced that because my lovely british friend has an accent, she
a) must be a wizard
b) cannot watch Harry Potter because they have the same accent)

Yesterday I went to my host bro's rugby game. Pretty intense, although I understood very little. A lot of punching and ripping clothes. My host family makes fun of my tendency to say "why so much violence?"

Seriously, why all the violence?

After that, had a convo about french humor, aka irony.

"French humor is ironic, par example, you're beautiful."

That's not irony, that's being mean.

Went on a boat ride to the beautiful fishing village on the Island of Nantes. Graffiti, art, statues, whimsy everywhere. I wanna move now.

Eating Thumper

Kicked off this morning with a brunch/coffee date with a charming french lady. We traded english and french, corrected each other and generally had a great time. It's excellent to be able to exchange information, create an equal relationship of teacher and student by turns.

My favorite part of the conversation was the differences between french and american educational systems. Apparently in "Les Grands Ecoles" and most schools you can't ask questions (until after class, and then only privately). You learn everything the professor says by heart and with all of your extra curricular activities, there is very little room for formulating outside opinions. I cannot imagine thriving in a system which doesn't encourage debate and disagreement. I raise my hand and challenge my professors everyday, probably pissing some people off in the process. But if I don't understand something or don't like it, it's my job to say so in a respectful and inquisitive manner.

Back in the states, a friend and I had curriculum material changed because of arguments we made. A system that doesn't incorporate difference and differences of opinion is one that appears to my eyes inflexible.

Later on, we had perhaps the funniest lunch ever witnessed by the Université of Nantes cafeteria. Various quotes which are hopefully somewhat funny.

"why are you eating your applesauce like that? Only with lips?"
"lips are the fingers of the face"

We also discovered par hasard that the mystery meat we were eating was rabbit. My friend protested that it felt like "eating thumper" and that "I think the reason it is round is that it is the little rabbit tails." One thing british friends can always be relied upon is for sassy comebacks.

"Is that a joke or are you just stupid?"

This afternoon we had a test. Write a story in french, using schema narratif, proper grammar, etc. I wrote what turned out to be a horribly depressing story about an inflexible man who cut off ties with his son because he was a fireman (too dangerous) and later suffered a heart attack in a boulangerie. His death and apology was witnessed by said son.

If you've ever met me (one hopes that in reading this blog you have) you'll know that I'm not exactly dloom and goom. Or doom and gloom. Unclear where such angst comes from. I may be running low on the cuddle meter.

Slang word of the day- bofs: moyen, pas top. Not that great, mediocre, sort of with a low-class connotation. People who walk around in track suits and sweatpants are called this (sort of like Chavs). Luckily I was given advice by a wise friend on never to wear sweatpants in public while in France. I've yet to commit that particular faux pas.

If you're looking for a truly haunting song to drift you to sleep, I suggest you look at Laura Marling's "Night After Night."

Night after night, day after day... would you watch my body weaken, and my mind drift away?

Je Suis Scotché

So I just finished breakfast.

Breakfast here is a bizarre affair. To start, they drink things from bowls.

I drink things from bowls too now, although I have a chorus of "I'm so french I'm so french I'm so french I'm so french" that goes through my head. I make hot chocolate every morning.

I'm so french.

They also trained me (mostly) out of eating eggs in the morning. As my Nantais counterpart in Minneapolis said, "It is a horrible habit." Savory things in the morning are weird apparently. No more pizza, chinese food and eggs in the morning for me. Sad day, but I'll survive.

Yesterday, my professor told our entire cinema class where to buy drugs and prostitutes in Paris. I forget the exact corner (fun fact: this is not information I'll be using) but it is somewhere near St. Michael. Thanks prof.

I've been having a lot of fun downloading podcasts of french people (Coluche is starting to be understandable, and thus funny) and practicing my not-orale-flunking-ness that way. I'm at the level of french where if I speak slowly and have had a good breakfast, I only have a slight accent. Unfortunately I try to speak at my normal galloping pace. Breakfast is not a problem.

Fun phrase: "Je suis scotché" means "I am attached" or "I am taken." As in Scotch Tape. Verbification!

Text Like A Frog

So I've had a couple forays into the scary world of texting in french. It's difficult, yes, but with this handy dandy guide you too can make friendsies.

MDR- mort de rire. Dying of laughing. Sort of like our LOL, but way better, because they take it to the extreme aka dying.

Ne tkt- Ne t'enquete. Don't worry.

bjr- Bonjour

bsr- Bonsoir

D100- Descends. Get down/come down.

FDS- Fin de semaine. End of the week.

KDO- Cadeau. Present, gift.

kestufou vs Ksk t'fu- Qu'est-ce que tu fous? What the hell are you going?

RDV- rendez-vous. Please tell me you know what a rendezvous is.

ti2- T'es hideux. You are hideous.

Fun story of the day (for the easily amused): So my tram sometimes is Ligne 1, Jamet. A lovely voice tells us every stop "Terminasion, Jamet." Which is approx. "Last stop, Jamet." Except Jamet sounds exactly like "Jamais" which means "Never." So what the tram lady is telling us is that this train never ends.

I laugh.

Also, flunked an orale comprehension test. This is for two reasons, the first being that the subject was cell phones. I genuinely know almost no vocabulary surrounding cell phone companies (thank you granny for lending me your phone!). So that was rough. The other bit was that I spaced out for half of the test. The answer to my problems is that I'm going to sleep more/better (I started sleepwalking again >:( ) and download french podcasts to listen to. So interesting! The great part about being here for solely my own learning pleasure is that me failing tests is not the end of the world. My grades here don't matter in terms of a later degree. I'm just here to learn french, make friends and grow up.

Welcome to the school of life!

Top Five

Here is the countdown of exciting things that happened to me today.

1) Dance class. Tango again. I don't like tango.

2) Booked my hostels for spain. SO EXCITED!

3) Bought red pants.

4) Watched the french movie "Un Heureux Evenement." In a moment of rare honesty, I shall confide in you that I went because the preview had a bunch of romantically two backed beast-i-ness (thank you shakepeare). Turned out to be a thoughtful meditation on parenthood. If only I'd understood everything. What I do understand is I don't want children in the next 8 years. Gah. It looks simply dreadful, from the perspective of this 19 year old.

5) Hoarded my peanut butter. I am a generous soul, save with my food. Particularly the only jar of skippy peanut butter in western france. Bug off, C'EST LE MIEN!

RED SQUIRRELS!

Spotted this sign today...

Not black squirrels... Or grey squirrels.

So polite.

Last night's dinner was magical. I learned about my Romanian count cousins and my adventuring (and occaisionally drug/arms running) cousins who died suspiciously.. One theory is their arms caught fire and the yacht they were in exploded.

Not to mention the 300 year feud over the key to the front door of the castle.

My fam is pretty sweet, and it is always fun to learn new stories.

Today did the reverse traveling que Friday. Had a lovely picnic with the grandparents, said goodbye to my beloved papa for the next eight-ish months and opened up my new gel pens. I asked for food, socks and gel pens for my b-day... And I got them all!

You may laugh, but I am happy.

French word for today: Croquese-homme: Maneater.

For those of you technologically inclined, I have an ipod problem. I've got an older ipod, similar to a classic. It was previously synched with another computer and now will not synch with my laptop. It doesn't even show up in itunes, although it does appear in my desktop. Ideas on how to clear it and get it to synch?

You know you're a british baby when...

You know you're a british baby when your first word is "cheers!"

And your first phrase is "shut up mummy."

Yay for ginger babies.

Two Weddings and a Birthday

There's a jumble of handwriting on my hand with reminders of what to say in this blog post, but there's a few I feel I'll leave out, like my cousins treating me to birthday drinks, or how many cupcakes I ate. Not that interesting, really.

My cousin got married yesterday to his beautiful bride, and so now I have dozens of new cousins. Was chatting with one of the sons of the bride, and mentioned we are now cousins. As I walked away I heard his friend go

"Hey, you've got an american cousin now! Cool!"

Yes, honey, you do.

Met a lady who had taken a gap year for 18 months round southeast asia and then the oceanic countries. She spent six weeks in the boonies of australia cooking for rodeo guys and washing up. She told me this hilariously scary story about how in the mornings and evenings when it was dark she would go down to the canal/river to get water. Apparently you never go to the same spot twice, because the crocodiles in the canal will remember and be waiting. And then they would eat you.

Good motto for life. Gotta be mixing it up.

I got sung to by 300 people, which was very sweet. The whole evening I had people wishing me happy birthday. The funny thing about british accents is that I keep thinking they are faking it, and waiting for them to revert to their "real" accents.

Best story ever. So in my family runs a ginger-gene. Not a ginger-ish gene, but a flaming orange, knock you socks off ginger. I've got a two year old cousin who has this gift. Following convo.

Uncle: So what color is your shirt?
Cousin: Orange/owange (british lisp kid... yessss)
Uncle: What color is your hair?
Cousin: Ummmm, uhhhh, ginger?

Brainwashed from an early age.

Yesterday I had so many convos about why 19 was a good age to be. The best story was from the receptionist, who told me about how he had gone to Afghanistan for two months on the hippie trail, back before the Russians and Americans and the Taliban. He said it was the most beautiful place ever. I hope it goes back that way one day.

Went for a walk (british pronunciation) this morning and slipped on a boat dock. Huge butt bruise: sitting has never been this fun.

Had a profound (it felt pretty profound) thought last night. Education is similar to religion, in that in some religions you have an intermediary (such as a priest, or professor) who aids you in the attainment of whatever higher power you seek. In others it is a self-directed process, and thus the learning and spiritual power you find is found by yourself.

Elle me dit danse danse danse...