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.

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?

Aerobics and Coupons

I was told I can't publish this BUT I FEEL THE NEED TO PROVE HOW AWESOME MY GRANDPARENTS ARE. This may come down soon if they ask me, but hopefully my loving charm will prevail.

Yes, they make me Cuddle Coupons. *Cue angel music*

Today was fun, but then again, I'm so excited that it's hard to have a bad day. I did show my evil hungry side to my trusty canadian ladyfriend. She survived, but had to restrain me from a hunger-induced rage. Feed me on time, I'm no better than a four year old in this respect.

Who's been kicked out of their house for an afternoon for being a grumpy hungry person?

This person.

Not in France mind you. I behave myself pretty well here. I'm starting to lose my social skills this week a little. My ca vas and bonjours are just a little too late. Gotta work on that, I don't want to be the tactless weirdo blonde girl who puts her bread ON HER PLATE.

Sacrilege, I tell you.

Attended a French aerobics class and witnessed what at first appeared to be very graceful dodgeball. Turned out to be the funkiest lookin' circus class ever!

French aerobics is both great and terrible. Not much of a work out but the music was in english. And aerobics is always great for the awkward, "we should've stopped doing this in the 80s"-ness of it. Tomorrow, cookie baking and LE ROCK! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.

The Bourse fell today, inciting a "massacre" amongst the banking community. The Bourse is the french stock market (ten points to those of you who knew what it was). One only hopes people get their ducks in a row soon. To cite an awesome friend, perhaps their ducks are in a row, but asleep.

Nighty night from a sleepy duck.

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.

France Tellycom and The Marseillaise

PLEEEEEASE COMMENT! It's easy now!

When Grunkle gave us the news that France Tellycom and their electriciens couldn't come until a week from Friday to fix our internets, we were a little surprised. Apparently, this was a VERRY big storm that knocked out all power.

So how did Grunkle demonstrate the Frenchie-ness of the bureaucratic mess? By singing the marseillaise. It was great.

This is going to be lightning fast as I only have 10 minutes and 35 seconds to type the last two days of notes. You complain about my typing, I send you a French dungbomb. And the taxes for buying the dungbomb and it's social security and the taxes on its taxes.

First of all, to my French Teachers a HUGE thank you for making me do verb tenses until I wanted to cry. The crying was less fun, but actually being able to speak in a tense other than the present is GREAT. Two things you should know.
-Comme ci comme ca is NOT OLD FASHIONED. People still say it (young, hip, cool people too)
-Same with Choette. Choette is an awesome word, since it means "cool" and "awesome." And when it is choette, it is CHOETTE.

We had a massive storm two nights ago which ate our internets whole sadly. I sleep in the top-most bedroom and as things were getting struck by lightning right next to us, I thought I'd better go downstairs to avoid getting killed. Was greeted by a trembling granny and Grunkle. They soon fell asleep, and started snoring. So I tried to leave, but locked myself in their walk in closet for 5 minutes. And then I went to sleep in my bedroom. Where lightning struck the internet.

We made jam yesterday! Blackberry sauvage (wild) and apricots!

Me: Granny?

GP: Yes My sweet?

Me: Are apricots fibrous?

GP: Yes rather... Why?

Me: I've eaten nine so far today.

GP: NINE?

Me: Or ten. They are so tasty.

They are so so so tasty. I've only eaten four today, all during breakfast.

We speak an odd language in this household. Ganomies (gnomes) and hellycopters abound, ahhhhpricots are eaten left and right (or eaten right and left in the wastebasket.) Granny also has a habit of asking every three minutes, "are you sure?" So now when she gives directions, Grunkenstein and I chorus, "Are you sure?" Poor lady.

yesterday at the taste of happiness I also had an elderly gentleman talk to me about the US. At the end of our rather odd convo in which he recalled all the women he dated in "Le Californie" he said (translated), "I'm glad they still make them cute over there." Thanks :)

Grandparent quote of the day:

Granny: Why don't we have a non-arguing day today?

Grunkle: It's not me that argues all the time, it's you!

In a nutshell, their marriage.

Grandparent/Grandchild quote of the Day:

Grunkle: I'm very misunderstood don't you think?

Me: And you're very loved, so that's two good things going for you!

Enjoy your internet, cause I don't have any!

Blackberries and Manual Transmission.

Today was a small rev in car history and a big roar in mine. I SUCCESSFULLY drove on main roads 7 km there and then another back, up hill and dale, doing hill starts, grocery store parking and awkward beginnings. All that, and only seven times did I kill it. Boom. I drove for over an hour, my first time using gears 2-5, prioritaire a droite (if you're coming from the right and over the age of 50, you don't stop for nuffin).

I also picked 1.1 kgs of blackberries with the grandparents (they had .78 and 1.03 respectively).
As we were ambling back home to make jam...

Me: Look! There's a huge fallen tree.
Granny: Yep, Grunkle pushed it over.

This was a very big tree, so I was confused. The real story is only slightly less impressive, so I'll let you believe this one.

I had leftover pizza and sour grape crumble for a late breakfast. It was thrilling.

Other than that, my day was marked only by drinks with our neighbors from Morocco and an evening of watching the most nerve wracking documentary about all these pastry chefs making giant sugar sculptures that break at the last minute in from of the judges. And then they cry.