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.