How To Crash A Protest

Pardon the absence. A panoply of activities, adventures and the lack of internet kept me away from the blog, though I assure you it was difficult.

So what have I been up to?

I've been doodling like mad, and have gone through four pens in the last week. Can I have nice pens for Christmas?

Today I crashed a manifestation/demonstration. It's been my goal to join in on one, and finally an opportunity presented itself. On my way to buy a newspaper, I stumbled across a Communist/Ecologist manifestation. It was large enough that I could hop in unnoticed, and so I marched with them for a couple blocks.

Protesting is a really jovial experience, with people bringing their children along (you can tell it's a culturally engrained thing) and everyone singing and shouting songs. I made the mistake (silly me) of not wearing red, and I was enjoying myself so much that I had a really tough time looking angry and indignant.

My favorite part of the experience would have to be when an old lady walked up to the people leading the march and started screaming things at them. What I caught seemed to be along the lines of...

"MY GRANDFATHER WORKED FOR THIS COUNTRY, AND YOU'RE BREAKING THE STREETS OUR FOREFATHERS BLED TO BUILD, YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES, YOU'RE AS BAD AS THOSE AMERICANS."

I'm assuming that was a reference to Occupy Wall Street.

When I was later buying my newspaper I got budged by a granny and her snotty nosed grandson. As I don't know how to say "back of the line budger" I just fumed and made faces at the grandson. Who obligingly returned my maturity.

As the time to leave draws closer, I get more and more panicky. How am I going to deal with the absence of daily lectures about the evils of savory food for breakfast? Where else will I find the same degree of Harry Potter and Lion King jokes? Who else will tell me my American accent is adorable?

Made brownies with my host brother, as part of the process of me preparing him for his visit next year to the U.S. He passed the test, licking the bowl and announcing it was "Cool dude."

I'm so proud of my protegé.

Some photos from my Thanksgiving dinner.

Feeling pretty pleased and surprised at how well cooking an entire thanksgiving dinner all by myself went. Miracle happen, and for that I am thankful.

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...

The Most Exciting Scrabble Ever

Typical monday today. Had to act out the part of a grasshopper in a french skit (I'm a pretty terrible grasshopper... One of my truly saddening faults) and watched french films without sous-titres... Impossible, I tell you. It was pretty funny when we had the descriptions for blind people "she is in a taxi, now she answers her phone." (and so forth, but in french and annoying). And no subtitles.

I also had a test on the passé today, which I think I did alright. My drawings will probably get me extra points. There was a crocodile, a skeleton, a bird and an upside down monster with the words "Il faut pas tomber." It means "One mustn't fall." Tis funnier in French.

Other exciting things... Hmmmm. My friends went to the beach yesterday, and saw a sign that said Fete de Scrabble! "Le plus excitant Scrabble vous jouerez jamais dans votre vie!"

In other words, a scrabble party with the most exciting scrabble you'll ever play in your life.

It's great to be alive in a world with parties like those. Don't go too crazy! It's apparently good for ages 9-99. Sucks to be 100... or 8. But when I was 8, I hated reading. They could barely get me to read books like "Bob's Ball." But then I matured to Where the Wild Things Are and everything Edward Gorey, and then when I was 11, I took on Gone With The Wind. Did I understand most of it? Well the bits about Confederate soldiers and Scarlett's business transactions yes. But the sexytime/endless pining?

Yeah the re-read was a bit of a shock.

And for those of you with 8 year olds who hate reading, maybe they'll get addicted like me. Just make them wait till they have had sex ed to let them read Gone With The Wind. Civil War era novels are not the best way to learn such things.

Some Dictionnaire Terms for You! (If you want to keep up with all the terms, I'll be starting a little side bar column thing with all my favorite terms. check it)

Argotique- from "L'argot" which is slang. So it means slangy.

Le sosie- le doppelganger. My german friend took the mickey out of me and my amurican accent. Doppelganger sounds way better in German, but I'm still gonna throw my twangy pronunciation out there.

Die katzo!- Go dickhead! (this is Italian).

Suka- Salope (this is russian). Salope is something you can look up on your own time. I promised my mom this would be a PG-13 blog...

Caf-Cons- Cafe Concerts.

Faire La Manche- Beg for money

Fun Fact Of The Day:
Japanese say "Brado Pitto."

All Weddings Should Be French Weddings

It's really true. I mean this in the sense that one should dance the night away, have a helicopter show up randomly during cocktail hour, nobody gets too drunk and the music is awesome. We (everyone who doesn't have a french wedding) are sooooo stupid not to have a dance like le rock. Gah. I can't get over it. I keep telling people I don't have the words in french to describe my feelings for french weddings. I don't think I do in english either.

Le rock is super fun, though very dizzying. It's good to have a french guy or two nearby to catch you when you're feeling faint. I'm not exactly a pro, but for my first time, I'm not too bad. Some of the dance moves are positively acrobatic. Look up RocknRoll Danse on youtube to get an idea for it. High schools and weddings everywhere should teach it, because it works for all ages (seriously, some 80-year-olds were getting down at 4 am) and it's super fun. To use the french term, "hypersexy."

Where do I begin with the french wedding? Is it the fact that everyone wears hats and there's a hat tree for when the dancing starts? Or that I was told by a Frenchman "If I don't end up with my tie around my head it's not a good wedding?"

I could go into depth about my drunk not-swiss-but-kind-of-french friend who followed me around speaking english. I tried to speak french to him but he had none of it. He told me he had an American accent so I told him I had an Australian accent. There is the same amount of truth in both those statements.

There was continuous humor in the fact that the majority of the songs were in english... And so I was one of maybe five people who understood just how inappropriate Kid Cudi is. Of course they all sing along though. "All the crazy s%^$ I did tonight...."

The biggest compliment of the evening came when I was chatting with an American also in attendance. He told me he had met another guy who said he'd thought I was french. I'd introduced myself in a very french way and continued to hold my own... Score one for the good guys! My host family laughed at me though, and said "We hope you realize you have an accent."

Of course I do. No need to remind me, I'm not getting too cocky. I get made fun of all day every day. ("I think French people like Americans a lot, but Americans like French people more..." -French friend. I'm having a hard time judging the truth of that. They are pretty into a lot of things State-ish here)

What else can I regale you with? The time when the bride and groom got tossed up and down by their friends, or that everyone got on the dance floor to "Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)". WOOOOOT ABBA!

Or one of the great aunts telling me that I was "La Belle Americaine" and then following that up with saying that "La Belle Americaine" means a really nice Cadillac or American-ish car. Likened to a car... And loving it.

Dinner with les ados was interesting, mostly because we only had wine, ham and potato chips. So we rolled the chips into ham and had some sophisticated exchange of swear words and opinions about religion. Everyone here smokes like a chimney at French weddings. I guess that's the only thing I'd change, because it makes one nearly asthmatic to be around it all the time. Wheeze, wheeze.

I made probably thirty friends during the evening, all of whom remembered my name. Unfortunately, I was very sleepy and forgot 25/30 such that the next morning when everyone was going "SALUT M----" I gave a very sheepish "Bonjour." Gotta work on that.

Truly, I will guard this experience in my memories for the rest of my life. French Weddings have set the new high for me, but luckily I've got a British one this weekend. Comparison in order?

As one of my Colombian friend's mom's told her "Profitez! Profitez! Profitez bien!"

I like to do the following with my adventures.

"Think of it as research for your memoirs."
-ChuckandCindy

Humor Down The Drain

Am going to be busy celebrating a marriage this weekend with my host family and as such there will be no updates till Sunday, or more likely Monday.

HOWEVER, stay tuned for then, because you'll get an in depth look into a french wedding. This incredible event is rarely witnessed by foreigners and as such will be very informative and as much like an educational documentary as I can make it.

Something funny I keep forgetting to post. The biggest show in France is "How I Met Your Mother".... It's how everyone picks up American slang. I've never watched it, but this feverish addiction looks like fun. Perhaps I shall dabble.

Yesterday I also was designated the official American-French translator for all random things in our class. Je pige que dalle (I don't understand a damn thing) sometimes with these American words in french accents. Spent 10 minutes trying to figure out was plehmubeel was.

Playmobile.. Like the toy? Yeah, we used that as an example in my dance class.

Also, thought of a stupid joke...

What does an east coast coach give before the big game?


Prep talks...


Ah, preps. My apologies for how horrible my sense of humor is. I laugh at the silliest things (gold digger ring tones, tripping on cobblestones, and reading my french bible (aka my guide biligue to romantic conversation)).

If you want something a little more adult-like, I can email you my favorites from the dictionary. One of my favorites is

Fais pas ta mijaurée. It means "don't be so pretentious woman." But not really. I think it actually means "stop being so minx-like." Any ideas, french slang speakers?

Far From The Land of Platonic Cuddlers

I'm feeling cuddle-deprived.

Maybe it is a Minnesotan thing or just a weird my-friends-habit but nobody here cuddles. Unless of course you're their kiffe (crush, so to speak, though I'm using it incorrectly as a noun).

Ladies and gentleman (pimp and players), this is not the land of platonic cuddlers (nor is it the Carter for those of you who follow this reference). I've got to rely on my friends from Canadia and Britainnia for the physical non-sexual reassurance that I've been conditioned to need.

It's sad. I've come to the land of Loooove and all I want is to be just friends.

But enough of mooshy topics. I learned today that in addition to dancing "Le Rock" (the official dance for rock and roll.... EXCITING, I KNOW) at marriages, things devolve into fist pumping club tunes. At least they don't have grinding here (I hope). But then again, I'm assuming that everyone is well oiled so by the time 2 am rolls around, coordination is such that fist pumping is necessary.

Went for an hour-long walk round the city. I'm actually turning into my father, who lived in Paris during his gap year and took a buncha walks all the time everywhere. Nantes isn't as big, so I hope to find other things to do/places in Nantes to go. I don't get lost as much now, which is less fun.

Other exciting things-
1) There's a massive apple that grows here. It's triple the size of normal apples. You can make it into apple crumble, and funnily enough you get a Class A non-tradeable drug (jokes jokes... but it is that good).
2) Got a french Itunes account. Their selections are fantastic (who knew Europe had so much music?) and you can get all their DJ's stuff months before most Americans. Silly music laws=bypassed.
3) I understood everything almost everything in the sermon today in Church. French Catholics are pretty similar to American ones. Not quite the same as Lutherans (no doughtnuts and coffee afterwards, plus not everyone gets to go to heaven).
4) Everyone yelled "ROUGE" at me after breakfast. Context: I have lots of trouble saying "ou" in french. Thus when I kept saying the incorrect sound, "ROUGE!!!!" came from all around me. Sad day.

The Paris Experience

I'm not much of a tourist. Big flashy sights and monuments are not usually my cup of tea, although I must say from the top of the Eiffel Tower Paris is quite the sight to behold.

Beforehand we had stopped by a café for some well deserved breakfast. I charmed the waitress with my "good accent" and less good vocabulary while Shrug, my other brother, disappeared to the bathroom. After about ten minutes he came back grinning (a warning sign right there).

Apparently there was a drunk man in the bathroom (it's 11:20 am people) who wanted to have an "American experience." They talked about George Bush and The Hangover.

Other interesting sights include a man wearing very well fitting yoga pants strutting up the Eiffel Tower. He had every right to wear them.

There was also an elderly British lady who was eager to budge in the queue to go down in the elevator. She kept sighing and grumbling under her breath. She just missed getting into our elevator, and as the doors closed there was an imitation sigh. No idea who would be so cheeky....

Shporty also felt the need to imitate a turtle the whole way up, frightening some Japanese tourists. Luckily he has two older siblings to straighten him out.

One final thing to mention is the PDA vs. PDH. I understand all the kissing and holding hands and lovey dovey fondling (even the 80+ crowd indulges). But there is a limit to all this and my wee eleven year old brother seeing soft core porn all over the newsstands is perhaps a little far. Still, in my opinion it's better than all the violence we in the USofA put up with.