The Hills Were Alive!

+ Some of the best people you'll ever meet (Laura - Kansas, Frida - Sweden, Nina - California, Alex - Candad) in Monaco

+Neens and I with some killer Italian pizza (but shhh, Otown still makes the best)

+My brother has certainly grown

+Romeo and Juliet in Verona

+ Jumping around in Germany

The past few mornings I have woken up to a sad combination of gray skies and uncharacteristic (at least for me) May rain. I usually like the occasionally misty morning as it’s just the thing for curling up with a good book and warm mug of tea, the ideal comforting “me” day. The constant gray makes time seem to stand still as the morning, midday and evening all seem the same; hours disappearing into hours until finally its dinner time and you’re confused as to why you’re still in pajamas. But living in a part of France infamous for unceasing drizzle has unfortunately begun to match the weather to my mood.
For one, the bright colors of last month’s flowers and trees contrasting with the darkened sky seem the perfect metaphor for my past month. I changed host families for the final time April 4th and from that time to this very hour while I’m sitting typing, I’ve been occupied. My new host family is very nice and is another family of six: Sandrine and Norbert (the parents), Mathilde, the oldest girl (fifteen), the twins Charlotte and Edouard (thirteen) and the youngest girl, Alix (ten). They live in a little town outside of Compiegne called Pierrefonds which is famous for its gorgeous and fairy tale-esque medieval castle. The town is spot-on with every clichéd image one can imagine of a small provincial French town and the looming castle overlooking us all adds to the wonderful romance of the place.
Pierrefonds gets quite a bit of tourism due to the castle (and due to the fact that the BBC films their popular ‘Merlin’ series there) and so the town has strict rules on appearance. All houses and stores must remain in good shape as well as remaining true as possible to their mid-century origins. This means that there are not a lot of new buildings and people live in old houses, shops, bars, etc. My new house for example is the old prision!
Barely a week after changing, I took a week off of school for an early vacation. The occasion? After nearly seven and a half months without seeing my family (skype doesn’t count, Zach) they came to visit and spend a week in a Paris apartment with me. I arrived Saturday morning, fresh off the metro and with nervous giggles waiting to explode in the pit of my stomach. After all, it’d been practically a lifetime since I’d seen them. I’ve changed so much and was nervous about showing off what has been my first home away from home in my life. What would my family say upon seeing me? How would the week go? I was even so stressed, I went the opposite direction on accident trying to find rendezvous point and had to rely on a uncharacteristically kind Parisian to help me find my way.
But the week passed well if not too fast with visits around Paris’ lush historical quarters and museums, a visit to Compiegne including meetings with my host families and even a quick day trip to rainy Bruges in Belgium! Before I knew it, I was waving goodbye to them and hello to my next adventure.
The day I left my family was the day I started Rotary’s annual EuroTour. For twelve days, I, along with 47 other Rotary exchange students, visited Germany, Austria, Italy, Monaco, Switzerland and, of course, a bit of France. The trip was ineffable...I don’t even know where to begin. I suppose I shall try to describe, each city visited in one word or phrase, as best as I can:

Paris, France – been there, done that (I’m a shameless French snob), Reims, France – rainy, Strasbourg, France – ice cream on a bridge, Munich, Germany – has nothing on the Louvre (but pleasantly modern none the less), Oberamergau, Germany – quaint Tulfes, Austria – “Can I have noodles with my schnitzel?” along with many obscure Sound of Music references, Verona, Italy – wonderfully sunny, pizza, Venice, Italy – sad and rainy, I had a feeling that years of overflowing boats of tourists had killed the life in the city, Milan, Italy – ate in a mafia restaurant, many angry citizens (most likely because the majority are very hungry, aspiring models), Avignon, France – sur la point d’Avignon on danse, on danse, Geneve, Switzerland – twilight-zone clean, Dijon, France – did not buy mustard...AGAIN.

I met some of the most amazing people ever born and cried like I’m not even sure what at the end of the trip. This brings me to my second point about my weathered mood metaphor...

The day I left all my friends on the bus and said goodbye, I had the impression I was saying goodbye to France itself and a significant chapter of my life that is nearing an end. There rests only a few weeks (alright a significant few, but few none the less) and while I am surely melancholy, I could not be more appreciative of all that I’ve been through, learned and become these past 8 and a half months. France has given me so many opportunities, opened so many doors and I can truly say I don’t know where I’d be without it.

Before I start getting all sentimental, I’ll highlight some upcoming events. Tomorrow (Wednesday), I plan on spending the afternoon in Paris with my good friend Brit from New Jersey. It’s been ages since I saw her (well...a good month at least) and we have a lot to catch up on. Then this weekend is the communion of the twins and so the house will be filled with family and friends. The weekend after that is a Rotary weekend where we’ll meet the kids leaving on exchange next year and share our ~wisdom~. I believe the day after that, if not the weekend after I’ll be going to Disneyland Paris with my friend Victoria. Then there’s another Rotary rendezvous at Park Asterix and an unofficial weekend in Paris with some friends. From now till my departure seems filled with events, so I’m sure by the time I’m on that plane back home I won’t even now where half of the time went.

Well, I think I’ll stop there. I have a bit of a headache and a cold (not the swine flu, Mom, but thanks for your concern) and am trying to battle it the best I can on a busy schedule. I hope everyone is well and as always send you all my love and best wishes!!

Bisous!! Kristen

The End of the Worst Month of the Year

Well, here I am a whole month and a half from my last entry not knowing where the time went. It’s March 29th, people. MARCH 29TH. Do you all read this date with the same sense of shock and awe as me? Do you all look at this date and say “Lord, was it really over 7 MONTHS AGO that you landed in this strikingly strange yet similar country? Was it really a whole 214 days ago that you didn’t know how to properly use ‘oh la la’ or purse your lips in French disgust?”, because that’s what I’m thinking.
In addition, I HATE March. It's such a blah month. Blah, ugh, ehh. But I loved this March and am sorry to see it go. This year, when I look in my planner and this incredibly advanced date pops maliciously out at me, instead of a sigh of relief, I feel confused as to how quicklky it passed. Now, when I look at this date I say to myself “Gee-wiz, a bunch has happen” and my mind quickly recaps through:

+Winter Break and a few more trips to Paris.

+ The Rotary one week bus trip through the south of France and Spain. When thinking of this, images of silliness, sun, forgetting to buy mustard in Dijon, bull fighters in very tight pants, rain, Barcelona, speaking Spanish, sangria, Picasso and Dali, 40 other exchange students , BAGELSSSSSS, some slightly shady hostels, and sleeping on the bus dance through my head while a slightly nostalgic and yet mischievous smile spreads across my lips.

+A very French speaking visit with Stephane (last year’s exchange student from France to Oneonta) in Paris.

+A few soirees here and there.

+Several visits to a local kindergarten class to teach English as well as a 5 year old slightly accented chorus of “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes”.

+Some babysitting and slight panic as the 4 year old boy is now prone to nightmares which I try desperately to sooth, occasionally to no avail.

+Another French strike. You guys, it’s not cute anymore. You work 35 HOURS a week with 5 WEEKS of vacation each year. I’m afraid they’d die of shock if coming to work in America for a year; they’re itch to strike so strong that they face scratching off their own skin if they don’t get out of there as quickly as possible.

+Flowers. In early March. I didn’t know such a thing existed.

+Another Rotary trip, this time 6 days to sunny Toulouse. All 350 exchangers to France from 28 separate countries crowded into one room for dinner: the chaos of so many languages and so much adrenaline as a hearty cheer of “YES WE CAN” from all the Americans tried to drown out Mexico’s loud “Viva Mexico” and Brazil’s even louder “-insert something Portuguese here-“. Poor Russia, with only three lowly voices trying to overcome the rest of us.

+My 6th month mark in France.

+My 7th month mark in France.

+A whole lotta lovin’, and a whole lotta livin’.

So, as you can see in addition to my internet not working, I’ve also been incredibly busy. It’s not entirely my fault I didn’t update…

Anyway, my last few months here are equally as occupied. This Tuesday I’m heading up to Lille for a Jason Mraz concert (!!) and next weekend I change my host families for the final time. April brings a weeklong visit from my family (:]!!!) and directly after that the Rotary Europe Bus trip where we’ll visit Germany, Austria, Italy, Monaco and the south of France. Then it’s May where I hope to visit Meredith in Italy for a week, maybe go to London with a friend and have a few Rotary things here and there. And then it’s June and my exchange is at its end. This thought is greeted with both melancholy and excitement. Oh dear.

So, that’s all for now. Sorry for such a pitiful update - I’m tired, I’m busy, I’m French. Blah, blah. I also don’t have that much English left; boy was it a shock to speak with other English exchangers and realize how poor my vocabulary, grammar and basic understanding of my native tongue has gotten. I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the warm weather I hear you’re having. I’ll let you all know when I’m in and settled at the new host house and as always appreciate all your love and support during this unbelievable journey.

Gros Bisous,

Kristen

*EDIT: I added some pictures as I'm at my new house WHERE THE INTERNET WORKS!! I plan on updating...sometime.

Pancakes and Paris

+PERFECT pancakes

+Plantu

+Pauline, Sarko et moi

+Emilie, Ms. Monroe et moi

+Victoria and I at Rotary

Well, well, it seems I haven’t been fulfilling my blogging duty as of late. Not much has happened, yet so much has, what to say? I’m so thoroughly content over here on the French front; I’ve never felt so young, free and…multicultural?
I’ve been with my host family for a good six weeks now and we get along wonderfully. Two Saturday’s ago (Jan 31st), I went to Paris with my oldest host sister and her friends and we went shopping while there was still the soldes (the French have HUGE SALES a month after Christmas…it’s a beautiful thing). Paris is…how to describe Paris? I mean, obviously, it’s a world renowned city, but how do I describe MY feelings for Paris? I was first there on a class trip two springs ago and the feeling I had from my first moment off the plane always returns to me when I visit that magical city. I have such a feeling of belonging, of being, of...every other clichéd saying you can think of. No but seriously, they best way I can describe it is that every time I’m there, I get this giant bubble in my solar plexus that is constantly threatening to burst with glitter and hearts and rainbows.
Anyway, back to shopping. Sadly, there wasn’t much left as the soldes had been going on for a good month and hungry, post-holiday crazed Parisians had already had their way with many of the clothing racks, but I did manage to find two pairs of shoes and a beautiful Longchamp bag in robin egg blue.
That night, the rest of my host family met us and we went to a wax museum in Paris. It was really cool and very Scooby Doo creepy. We saw lots of famous French actors, singers, models, etc and some American’s as well. I kept expecting the figures to move, and once or twice, they did! The museum hires people to pose next to the statues and move every now and then…it certainly drew some colorful vocabulary from my mouth (in TWO languages, I might add).
The Friday after (Feb 6th) found me in Paris once again, but this time with my class. We visited the French newspaper “Le Monde” and met their famous (and controversial) political cartoonist Plantu. He was very funny and down to earth and I was amazed with some of the things he’s gotten away with printing! Alongside his autograph, he drew me his famous mouse. I didn’t want to let him know I was an American (I don’t like to shove it in people’s faces), but as I went up to ask for his autograph, or rather, hand him my paper and pen so he wouldn’t hear my accent, my friend Blandine shouted (specifically against my wishes) “SHE’S AMERICANNNNNNN!” and so he added an American flag to the mouse’s hands and told me how much he admired my country. I was flattered, as I always am when my nationality is complimented, but couldn’t help but think “but why would you ever want to leave THIS country?”
Because seriously guys, I LOVE France. It’s my 169th day here and I’m already mourning the year that isn’t even over. I love everything about France. Its strikes that made me miss school two weeks ago, its capital city (see proclamation of love above), its cheese (oh camemberttttttttt), its wine, its people, its shops, its towns, its honesty, its history, even its RAIN. I clearly remember having a terrible cold two months ago but being perfectly okay with it, because it was a FRENCH cold; clearly superior. I love the language and I love being able to speak it. I just am so….happy.
I’ll stop myself before you think me too intoxicated from the vineyard fumes. What else to say? OH YES! A few weeks ago, I received a spectacular gift from one of my best friends in the whole world, Miss Lauren Perry. She saw it fit to send me a care package from home with all the American essentials: Lucky Charms, Oreos, Swedish Fish, Reese’s, Kisses, Snickers, cookies, Pancake Mix, Maple Syrup and lord knows what else. I made pancakes (“fat crepes” was how I explained it) for my host family and they loved them! They also ADORED the Oreos…I swear, they were gone in like 3 days. THANK YOU LAUREN(TARDBORIN)! :]

Before I sign off, I’ll just mention that this past weekend was a Rotary meeting with all the kids from District 1770 (my district) and the Paris District 1660. I spent the weekend with my friend Victoria which included a lot of laughs, macaroons and an 80’s dance party and seeing everyone at the meeting was a blast! I hope I never forget every moment from this year.
Also, the internet at my host house doesn’t work too well, so I’m pretty rarely on. If I haven’t answered anyone’s emails or comments, please know it’s not personal!

Hope all is well! BISOUS!

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