Le neige

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have witnessed weather history. Yes, it’s true, I have witnessed one of France’s rare snow-days and lived to tell the tale.
About two weeks ago it started to get colder and colder dropping from the regular 5-6 degrees C to a freezing -15. And then the snow came. It flurried here and there, the wind so raw it burned one’s skin when walking outside and the air so cold it made the eyes water. Overnight, everything was covered in a beautiful white powder that I had so long been waiting for and missed so dearly. To me, an upstate New Yorker used to trick or treating in wintery conditions, January flurries was nothing out of the ordinary. To France however, it made national news.
Schools were shut down (some even for a week), the city bus stopped running and cars didn’t dare venture out on the road. The internet didn’t work and stores closed early. There were many snow fights accompanied by just as many falls and injuries…it was truly a spectacle to see. All anyone could talk about for days was the snow, people asking me bewildered if I had ever seen so much. On the outside, I continuously smiled and nodded explaining that we get quick a bit of snow “where I come from” and “yes, it’s very exciting”. But on the inside I’m still having trouble with how panicked/exuberated the French were by the mere 4 inches of snow. I mean it literally made the news. For a week. It’s all gone now and is back to being rather warm (in my opinion…around 30-40 degrees F a day).
Although it was especially pretty to see beautiful monuments, chateaus and cathedrals covered in snow. I can appreciate the awe, if only for the beauty that the frost lent to the buildings older than my native country.

In other, warmer news, I changed host families on the 4th of January and have settled in quickly and happily. The first few days were a little rough as my drama queen tendencies went berserk and I went on stress overload trying to adjust to new bus times, new eating times and new shower times. But I’m really quite content now and absolutely adore my new family. I have two host sister who are close to my age (Pauline who will be 17 next month and Emilie who is 15) and two host brothers (Arnaud who is my age and currently at university and Sylvain who is 12). We don’t go to the same schools, but Pauline has already introduced me to some of her friends and the two sisters, their friends and I get along well. I get along nicely with Sylvain as well…and will soon dominate him on Wii MarioKart.
My host parents, Odile and Phillipe, are very kind and work together. I’m not sure what they do exactly but it’s very important (they work in a big shiny building and everyone else in it works for them) and they often work late and lots. But just because they work a lot doesn’t mean they lead a hectic life style. On the contrary, Odile is always home to make lunch and dinner (and not little things either…we had steak for lunch today, STEAK) and they don’t seem as stressed as I imagine someone with a similar job in America would. It’s just the French way…relax and think about what matters first; food and family. And whoever said you should never trust a skinny cook has obviously never met Odile. The woman knows what’s she’s doing in the kitchen and is in perfect form.
That’s part of the reason I’m joining a local gym I found here. The other two reasons are that my limbs have finally grown ridiculously restless from lack of use and exercise (the last few months were a nice break from 15 years of ballet, but I’m done relaxing for now) and also that it’s next to the library where they have a shelf of English books. I took that as a sign of fate and decided to join up. The fact that the owner reduced the price for me because I’m American helped too.

I’ve officially reached my half way point and couldn’t be more confused about my feelings. As I start to count backwards the days till I come home I’m filled with both dread and apprehension. I’m excited to see my family and friends, visit sites I haven’t seen in a year, eat some glorious Otown pizza and the like, but there’s lots here I’m going to miss. I’ve passed the toughest part of the exchange and have really grown to adore my new country. Almost everything about it just fits me. I’ve grown as well. I’ve changed a little and begun to become my own person…I don’t know, it’s very difficult to explain. All I know is that I half wish June would never come and half think it can’t come fast enough. Mostly though I’m just trying to focus on the present and savor every second I have left (and every croissant I can get my hands on).

Congratulations on the new president!! I watched on BCC news and couldn’t have been more proud of my country.

That’s all for now from the French frontier. Hope all is well with everyone and we head quickly into the second month of 2009. Gros Bisous!!

First Post of 2009!

+The building said "1776"...obviously I had to take a picture in front of it

+Brugges the "Venice of the North"

+A cheese store in Holland

+My host siblings and I "a la mer" (in Belgium)

+Touching the ground in Holland

It has come to my attention that there are many English phrases that just don’t translate into French very well. I’ll never forget the looks I got after declaring I had “butterflies in my stomach” before going on a rollercoaster in EuropaPark with my host siblings. I’m not quite sure what they thought I meant, but in honor of that experience, here are few phrases/expressions and their French counterparts:

“I have butterflies in my stomach” = “J’ai les gilliewillies” (I have the gillie willies)
“She has eyes in the back of her head” = “Elle a les yeux dans ses oreilles” (She has eyes in her ears)
“Ouch!” = “Aie!” (pronounced aye as in “aye matey , there she blows)
“Shhh!” = “Shoooot”
“Jinx!” = “Chips!” (and sadly, the French never owe another a poke or a coke)

There are more, of course, but I couldn’t possibly name them all. One of my favorite expressions is “C’est pas grave” literally meaning “it’s not grave” but used like “whatever” or “it doesn’t matter”. I also like “Oh, la vache!” which is used in surprise but literally translates as “oh the cow!” One thing I find strange though, is that they call ballet “classique” and not ballet. However, most of the moves are named the same (pas de chat, rombe des jambs…I’ve been speaking French for years apparently). And as a quick side note, “Oh la la!” is used as an expression of distaste or shock, NOT the way we use it in America. It is always accompanied by a raising of the eyebrows, lowering of the voice and an occasional scornful glance.

So Christmas has come and gone. I had an absolutely wonderful Christmas, easily the most memorable and unique yet, and met over 62 new people (we counted in the car). I spent the holiday vacation in Belgium visiting both host parent’s families, touring Belgian cities (including Brugges, the “Venice of the North”), making a quick stop in Holland, and just being French. I tried many new foods, learned many new words (such as kitsch meaning tacky) and had a really fun time being too busy to even miss home all that much. However one thing that was definitely lacking this holiday season was the Christmas songs. Oh sure, there was the typical “Silent Night”s and “We Three King”s and such, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean those obnoxious but irresistible “Jingle Bell Rock”s , “Baby It’s Cold Outside”s and the “I’ll be Home for Christmas’” (which, actually, on second thought it’s probably better that I didn’t hear that). I have a strange adoration of those cheesy but oh so cheerful melodies and let me just say, the French (and Belgians…and Europeans) are missing out.
New Year’s Eve was celebrated at the house of friend’s of my host parents (boy is that a mouthful), and included lots of champagne and an odd French tradition: spit balls. At midnight, we broke out these festive giant straw-like things with millions of tiny colorful paper balls and…spit them at each other. It was a blast and the dinner party lasted six hours with us arriving at 8 and leaving at 2 in the New Year. My favorite part of New Year’s Eve was hands down when I called my family at 2:30 a.m., Jan 1st (my time…8:30 pm, Dec 31st home time) “from the future”.
Other than that, my upcoming month or so isn’t too busy. I have a Rotary thing next weekend as well as the first weekend in Feb, and I’m changing families soon (we don’t have an exact date yet). I miss you all bunches, but have finally started to really “belong” here…meaning, for the first time, I totally understand when Rotary says how hard it’s going to be to leave.

Here’s to an exciting New Year (and some fabulous French champagne…)! Happy 2009 everyone, I hope everyone passed an amusing and safe Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/Boxing Day/Winter Solstice/New Years! The sales begin on Jan 5th here in France, and I plan on spending my Christmas money with an air of frivolity.

Fois Gras and Me

I have a confession to make: I don’t like fois gras. There. I said it. It’s out there and there’s no taking it back. I’m sorry to offend the entire country of France, but I can no longer tolerate your specialty.
But seriously, I don’t, I just…I just can’t like it. I’ve tried it, and tried to like it, but it just doesn’t work. Me and fois gras, we just weren’t made to be together. It’s like Tom and Jerry or Romeo and Juliet (sans the devoted love part); we just can’t live together in peace. I don’t like it, and it doesn’t like me (and I KNOW it doesn’t like me, because why else would it insist on inflicting it’s terribly, pasty, meat and backwoods smoky taste on my tongue every time I try and suffer through it for the sake of France?). But if there’s one thing the French have trouble accepting, it’s the disrespect in the form of dislike of their favorite devil’s-paste. Let’s recap on last night’s Rotary Christmas dinner, shall we?
Alright, so for the most part, it went really well. I held my own conversation wise and overall the evening was quite pleasant, held in a folksy but classy little Bed and Breakfast just outside of Compiegne. During the aperitif, I was making friendly conversation with two Rotarians when I was asked a simple question: What French food did I not find mouth-watering delicious and thoroughly irresistible (as if there was such a food!)? I answered as honestly and humbly as I could that while I can occasionally manage cooked and warm fois gras, when it’s cold it just does not suit my gout. Later, as everyone was settling down at the table and the menu was being shown around and discussed, I saw that –surprise!- our entrée was not one, but two different sorts of the very meat paste that makes my palate tingle in horror. The nice man I talked to at the start looked at me and with a friendly twinkle in his eye said “uh, oh, Kristen…”
I prepared myself to suffer through it silently as the entree arrived. After all, I’d done it before. Just put a little on your fork, place at the back of your tongue where it can do the least amount of damage to the taste buds and swallow, followed by a quick bite of bread. With everyone served, I looked down at my plate with apprehension and eyed my enemy. I picked up my fork, cut off a piece big enough to pass for a solid try and prayed that my taste buds would suddenly numb and save me the horror that I had experienced every other time I’d eaten it. They didn’t. I tried again with a slightly smaller piece. Same. I continued one or two more times each with a smaller piece than the last when a voice startled me out of my agony. “Do you like it?” I was asked. Before I could demurely murmur that it was fine, thank you, someone spoke up for me saying “she doesn’t like fois gras”.
Silence. Deafening silence. Slowly, person by person, it spread down the table that –horror of horrors! – Kristen doesn’t like the heavenly fattened liver of goose that is one of France’s most prized specialties. I swear that you would have thought I had stood up, threw some wine and then slapped the lady across from me with the looks of shock I was greeted with. Thankfully, several people came quickly back to their senses and offered kindly “no worries”, assuring me that I wasn’t obligated to eat it.
As conversation started back up again, my rotary contact looked at me and said “Donnez-moi”…give me. Embarrassed, intimidated and bewildered, I handed her my plate and the remaining food of Satan was divided between whoever wanted it and passed around the entire table as I sat quietly with my cheeks burning and my dirty silverware in my hand. The waiter, alarmed at the passing of my plate, asked if everything was all right to which the response was “Oh, yeah…she’s just American”. I guess that explained everything.
I spent the remainder of the (four hour) meal eating everything on my plate - the plat principal of chicken and potatoes, the plate of cheese (which wreaked havoc on my stomach) and the dessert plate of chocolate (despite my being so full I wasn’t sure if I could stand up) – and comment on how much I liked it and trying to explain that I’m really not a picky eater…I swear!!
Other than that, the dinner passed without a problem as I made conversation here and discussed “le crise” there. It was mostly a success which puts me at 1 and fois gras at 3 (seeing as I silently ate it ALL the three other times it was given to me). I’m catching up pasty liver fat…watch your back.

So, the past two weekends I was in Belgium with my host family with the most recent being for the wedding of my “aunt.” It was really lovely and everyone (especially the bride) looked wonderful. There was lots of food (FOIS GRAS, YOU GOT ME AGAIN!), dancing, wine, love and fun and for the first time, I really felt a break through with the language. I met more new people than I could possibly remember and spent the whole weekend with barely a word of English…a true accomplishment! Other than that, I’ve just been hanging around, babysitting, bike riding (12 km along the Belgian country side with my host grandmother…it was right out of a Forster novel, I swear!), celebrating St. Nicolas Day (who, is apparently NOT the same person as Santa Claus OR Pere Noel…and who goes around to all the children’s houses giving out gifts to the good and having his African helper BEAT THE BAD CHILDREN on Dec 6th) and sending out my Christmas cards. Last week my friend Victoria came to visit on Wednesday and we spent the day Christmas shopping at the marche de noel in my town and just speaking the wonderful language that is our native tongue. It’s been very cold lately…not that that really bothers me (upstate New Yorkers don’t get cold), it’s more the wind that’s so raw it could rip the skin right off your cheeks that gets to me.
I’m officially on break come Saturday and we’ll be off to Belgium again for the holidays (it really does not feel like Christmas to me at all). Then come January I change host families and a whole new period of readjustment and learning begins.

Have a safe and happy holiday! I miss and love you all!
Bisous,
Kristen

100th Day

+Because sometimes it's just too much for royalty to have to HOLD their books...

+The library at the chateau (a.k.a MECCA)

+Victoria and I

+District 1770!

Today my friends, is a big day. Today marks my 100th day in France. That’s right; 100 days ago today I landed in Charles de Gaulle airport slightly hysterical and equal parts excited and scared out of my mind. 100 days ago today I had no idea what was in store for me on this exchange, where I would travel, or who I would meet. 100 days ago today I didn’t know how much I could cry or how satisfying a trip alone to the post office could be. 100 days ago today I spoke just one language on a daily basis, not English, French and whatever mixture of the two my brain can conjure up (including sign language and an occasional word in Spanish or German thrown in). 100 days ago today I dreamed in English. 100 days ago today I would have never even thought about approaching a French grocery store worker and acting out all the uses of cotton balls because I couldn’t remember the word in French or find the aisle that kept them. 100 days ago today I had never met anyone from Belgium, Switzerland, Turkey, South Africa, Australia or Mexico. 100 days ago today I didn’t send letters all around Europe and the US or recognize the joy receiving handwritten notes can bring. 100 days ago today I told the customs man that I was 18 when he asked me where I came from. 100 days ago today I used to metric system (and now…well, alright, I still do, but I’m learning how to convert Liters and Grams and Celsius and all that). 100 days ago today I didn’t fully realize how much being an American means to me, or how much I appreciate the love I receive from my family and friends. 100 days ago today I had no comprehension of how delicious croissants and the like really are. 100 days ago today I NEVER would have imagined myself eating cheese ice cream. 100 days ago today…well, I’m not going to say I was a different person, but 100 days ago today I was different (and I will venture to say I was more than 100 days younger than I am today…if that makes any sense at all). If this were elementary school, we would mark this occasion by gluing 100 noodles or stars or something on a piece of paper, or counting 100 marbles in a jar. As I don’t have the resources to do that, I’ll just send everyone back home 100 kisses.

So, aside from all that 100 dayness, I’ve been a busy little papillion as of late. Two weekends ago I had a Rotary conference where I got to see all of my friends and had an absolute BLAST. I stayed over at my friend Victoria’s house for the weekend, and on Sunday before I left to come “home”, we went to the chateau de Chantilly (in her town). It’s absolutely amazing, because the man who lived there (a cousin of Louis the somethingth) put in his will that he wanted nothing moved around or changed and so all the artwork and everything is in the same place that he left it when he died. The gardens were also built by the same man who did the Versailles gardens (but I didn’t get to see them as it was raining very heavily). It was pretty amazing.

Last Friday night, Astrid made Thanksgiving dinner for me and I had two friends, Claire and Charlotte, over. It was really nice and we had turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberries and pecan pie. I taught everyone how to make “hand turkeys” and told them the story of Thanksgiving the best I could. It was pretty difficult to translate into French, but I tried…it went something along the lines of: “Once Upon a Time the people in England weren’t really happy with the religion, so they sailed across the sea to ~America~ where they made a little village type thing. There, they ran into some Native Americans and there was lots of fighting, but one day, they decided to be nice and help each other out with food and shelter and all that. When the food was all grown up, the pilgrims and the Native Americans ate together and THAT’S Thanksgiving. And then they fought some more.” It’s been a long time since I actually heard the story, and it was not the easiest thing to do translating it, so cut me some slack.

Other than that, I’ve just been here and there, doing Rotary presentations, babysitting and the like. The past two days I was sick, which ended up making me really homesick as I wanted nothing more than my Mom and Nommie (grandma) to dote on me, but I’m over it now and feeling better both health wise and emotion wise.

Yesterday, President Nicolas Sarkozy was in my town to talk about poverty. I didn’t actually see him, but the traffic was ridiculous and I heard police sirens all day. This Friday night I’m babysitting, this weekend I’m going to Belgium, next week Victoria might come visit me (:]!!) and then the weekend after is the wedding in Belgium. Starting December 20th, I’m on break until January 5th and we’ll be spending Christmas in Belgium between Astrid and Christophe’s families as well as making a trip to Holland. Wow, if I look at the big picture, it seems like June is almost here! Come January, I’ll be switching families for the first time, in February I’m going skiing in Austria with Victoria and her host family, in March there’s a big Rotary weekend in Toulouse (the south of France), April brings a new host family, a visit from my parents and the Eurotrip, in May there’s yet another Rotary trip (I think to Park Asterix?) and then BOOM June…Goodness, I can’t believe it. Do you guys realize it's DECEMBER?!

Well, that’s all for now. Hope all is well. Bisous,

Kristen

Brussels and a not 514 euro haircut

+Belgian Waffles!

+Lady Luck

+Grand Cathedral

+New Hair Part Un!

+New Hair Part Deux!

Has anything ever happened to you that at the time was quite distressing, but afterwards was actually quite hilarious? That happened to me recently when I got “Frenchicized”. Last Saturday, I decided to pay a little visit the local “coiffeuse” to see what could be done about my hair. I’ve always wanted to play with it but have been held back by the combination of it needing to fit neatly into a bun (for ballet) and my own fear. But this time, besotted with my own independence, I figured, let’s give it a go and gave the hairdresser free reign. We decided on a color (“chocolat” which is every bit as delicious as the name implies) and the cut I left up to her saying only “quelque chose different mais jolie, s’il vous plait”.
Well, when it was finished I did think it looked nice, right up until I saw what it cost. She announced the price to me and as I’m horrible with numbers, I asked if I could please see it on the calculator. Glancing down, I lost a good four or five years of my life when I saw that it was 514 euros. Yes, you read that correctly, five HUNDRED and fourteen. I knew that the French valued their appearance - God forbid someone leave the house without each curl in place, eyebrows plucked and five inch heals shined - but to pay five hundred and fourteen euros for hair seemed a little excessive! What was I going to do? Did I have enough money for this? Who did I have to take off my Christmas list? Was it even worth it? WHAT WAS I GOING TO TELL MY MOM?!
Since I didn’t have all the cash with me, I gave her my credit card, but the machine didn’t accept it. I was in a panic at this point and trying to keep my cool and not start hyperventilating in a French hair salon. Luckily, she was very nice and told me that she trusted me (and my host family, whose hair she’s done since the children were very young) and I could come back on Tuesday with the money. Long story short (too late), when my host mother asked what I thought about my hair, I said: “Je suis tres content avec le fringe et le colour, mais pas vraiment avec le prix…c’etait 514 euro” to which she replied “QUOI? Non, non, non…c’est pas possible. You must have not heard/seen correctly, I’m sure it’s only 51.40”.
Calmed, but still incredibly anxious, I returned Tuesday morning during a break from school and paid…the plus petit sum of 51.40 euro.
Now: Funny. Then: Not so much.
Other than that near hysteria situation, I’ve been doing quite well. The weekend of Nov 8th and 9th I went to Belgium with my host family and spent Saturday in Brussels. I really, really enjoyed the city; since it’s the home of the European Union, it’s quite international and I heard more languages and saw more cultures in that one day than I think I’ve ever seen in my whole life combined. It was very beautiful and historic and I saw, among other things, the royal palace, the Saint Michael and Saint Gudula Cathedral, the famous “Mannikan Piss” statue, “Lady Luck”, the beautiful downtown and lots and lots of Belgian waffles. I also learned a lot about Belgium that I never knew…it has a rich history and I’m surprised we never learned more about it in school.
This weekend I have a Rotary conference and as my host family is going to be in Belgium, I’m staying with a Rotary friend, Victoria, for the weekend. Then, Monday I’m going to babysit (I also babysat last Tuesday night), Tuesday I have a Rotary “soiree-cinema” and Friday, I think Astrid is going to have a little Thanksgiving for me. Saturday is another Rotary day…I’ll be working at the “banque alimentaire” (food bank) and the following Monday is yet another Rotary conference. December 13th brings another trip to Belgium for the wedding of my “aunt”, but further than that, I don’t think I have too much going on.
It’s weird for me to think I’m going to miss Thanksgiving with my family this year. I’m trying really hard to think of this whole holiday season not as “inferior” to the one I’m used to, rather just different. Easier said than done.
I should also mention that as I’m writing this I should be in school. However I’m not, because the teachers are on strike. Oh, France…
Happy twelve weeks and one day to me! Wow, eight-six whole days…I can’t believe it! And Happy Thanksgiving to all, enjoy your turkey!

Hope everyone is well! Gros Bisous,
Kristen

It's November?!

Is my calendar correct? Is it really November? I can’t believe the last time I updated was a month ago…it feels more like a week.
You know the expression “when it rains, it pours”? That sums up how this past month has been. It’s been one thing to another, just bouncing around France (and Germany!!). Currently, I’m on break from school for two weeks. The French like big breaks at random times during the year (I have another one in Dec-Jan, Feb-March and April-May), and let me tell you, I’m really liking it too! I just returned from a week vacation in the French region of Alsace (on the boarder of Germany…think Strasbourg) and Germany. Among other things, we toured a bunch of cities, saw chapels and churches, vineyards and chateaus, went to a bread museum (only in France…), tasted the regions delicacies, stayed in a bungalow, monastary and four star hotel, and went to EuropaPark (the European equivalent of DisneyLand…well, it would be if Europe Disney didn’t exist). It was a whirlwind of an experience – I saw so many cities and so much history and had so much fun! It’s impossible to write it all down. I’m now into the second week of “Tous Saints”, and will return to school on Thursday. But then we’re off to Belgium on Saturday for another weekend and Astrid has promised to take me to Brussels!
My French is really coming along. I feel I’m at the point where I can understand almost all that’s being said, and can also hold my own in conversation past the standard “Bonjour, je m'appelle Kristen. Je viens de New York...mais l'etat pas la ville. Je suis un correspondant avec Rotary. J'aime lire. Qu'est-ce que tu aimes?" That being said, I still have difficulty expressing exactly what I want to say, because of several barriers: One, I always have to be wary of what I’m saying and how it translates. Some things translate literally much heavier than I intended, so it’s important to be on one’s guard, especially when expressing an opinion. The last thing I want is to offend anyone unintentionally! Two, my accent which is improving, but jeez those “r” sounds are just down right hard to say! And three, well it’s only been two months! I’m still not an expert in the French vocabulary.
Other things I’ve done in the past month include taking as many walks as possible while the sun is still out and relatively warm, babysat a few more times, attending meetings of a religious group I’m part of (the purpose of the group is to get together once a month or so and discuss current events. It’s a Catholic group, and I’m Methodist, but I find it interesting to hear another religion and culture’s ideas and opinions), voted for the first time with an absentee ballot, had my first, had my first Halloween away from home (which didn’t even exist really…the French don’t celebrate it and we had just one trick-or-treater which was one more than the de Moffarts were used to having), and attended a large Rotary dinner where among other things, I ate cheese ice cream. Oh yes. Cheese. Ice cream. CHEESEICECREAM. It was…quite an experience.
I’m doing really well and am loving my time here in Compiegne. I’m so happy to have met so many nice and wonderful people, traveled and experienced so much already and have such a wonderful host family. I had a few days last month where homesickness crawled up silently behind me and covered my eyes with its nasty, slimy hands, but I know both from Rotary’s warnings and talking to other exchangees that it’s perfectly normal.
Well that’s all for now. Hope everyone is well and is having a fall. Thank you everyone for your well wishes, love and support! I miss and love you all too!

Bisous,

Kristen

Mont St Michel

Oh, where to start? So last weekend I went to Mont St. Michel with my Rotary club. Since we had to leave from Paris at six in the morning, I spent the night with another Rotary student named Victoria who lives with a wonderful Swedish family (their daughter, Susanne was in New Jersey last year) and drove with them in the morning. As the bus pulled in Saturday morning, there were a few students already on it (the Lille district came with us) and looking into the windows, I thought for sure I saw Marissa, one of the three girls from my New York district to go to France, on the bus. I shrugged it off while loading my stuff because I have often seen people on the street here who look quite a bit like people from home and so I figured it was just another time like that. It was not. Walking onto the bus I saw the girl again and it WAS Marissa! After a jumpy, excited hug we sat down next to each other and talked with each other and with the many other rotary students on the bus for the five hour bus ride.
We arrived and unpacked all our stuff for the weekend. We stayed in a bungalow with about six students to each. They were really cute, like little, mini, French houses, but unfortunately, they had no bathrooms. There was one large building with toilets, sinks and showers for everyone to use and it was UNISEX (as many bathrooms are here) and I have yet to get over it. There’s just something so odd about coming out of a stall and washing your hands right next to a guy. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced in the US and it’s just very…different.
While on the bus, Marissa and I wondered out loud to each other about Anne, the other girl from our district, and thought about how she was doing. After unpacking, we walked to lunch (lunch was a “pique-nique” provided by the hotel which included: a salami sandwich, a ham sandwich, a piece of bread, some cheese, an orange, a stick of chocolate…AND AN EGG? ) and low and behold – THERE WAS ANNE! It was so fantastic and all three of us shared yet an even JUMP-IER, EXCITED-IER hug. It was so amazing to see both of them, as I thought the next time I’d see them (after the plane) would be the welcome home picnic in August! They are both doing so well and I’m still over the moon that we got to hang out all weekend.
Saturday afternoon we drove to Mont St Michel and proceeded to WALK around it in the windy, cold rain…barefoot in the mud and freezing ocean water for FOUR HOURS. But it was really, really beautiful. There’s a big debate about which is the most visited tourist attraction in France – the Eiffel Tower or Mont St Michel. I’m not sure which is the true winner, but I can say that Mont St Michel is one of the most beautiful, historical structures I’ve ever seen. The pointed abbey sits on top of a little island that makes the most majestic scene, especially come sunset. It’s absolutely incredible.
That night, there was a big Rotary dinner with traditional folk dancers for entertainment. After they were finished, all the countries got up and sang their national anthem. There was Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Brazil, Mexico, Ecuador, Venezuela, Argentina, Slovakia, Russia, Germany, Canada, USA and a few more countries represented with all the students. After that, there was a dance till around 2 in the morning (what is it with Rotary and dances :]?). It was really, really cool to meet everyone from all the different countries and all over the US. All in all, I think there were 6 or 7 districts there, all from the north of France.
Sunday morning, we went back to the abbey and had two hours to tour it. History geek that I am, I wish we had had a week to explore it! It’s such a beautiful structure and I’m in awe of how it was built and the history behind each and every room in it. After we finished, it was time for a quick lunch and then the bus ride home. Although everyone was incredibly tired, we all stayed awake and talked the whole way home. There was a lot of giggling and laughing, which I’m sure was due to our slap-happy exhaustion, but it was a wonderful weekend that I can’t believe was only two days – it feel like it was so much longer, but so much shorter!
So, now I’m “home”, still tired, but happily reflecting on everything. Today is my 42nd day here, and I just can’t believe I’ve been away so long! It’s been a little difficult to switch back to French after two days in mostly all English, but I’m doing really well and am really happy.
Hope all is well with everyone! Bisous!