To cap it all off

I was searching for the perfect subject for my last post of my year in France. And then, “pow,” it hit me.

It was yesterday, my last day in Dijon. I was on my last run through the parc de la Colombiere, and just musing over the concept of time (and asking myself how the heck I made it through the year…) when a man passed me on a bike. Of course, he would have been just an ordinary man if it wasn’t for the cap he was proudly sporting. That’s right…a Boston Red Sox hat. I was floored. I mean, sometimes I see New York Yankees hats because French people think they are “in” (rappers wear them…) but NO ONE wears Red Sox hats. It was a sign. Boston was calling.

I am currently sitting in the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport with exactly 2 hours left before my plane takes off, before I leave France, before I once again pick up where my life in the states left off. I know that there will be adjustment period, and of course feelings of sadness from the lack of French in my life. But I’m ready. I’m ready to settle back down, ready to end this rather crazy and life changing journey. I thank all of you for your support, and for reading my blog this year. I had such a fun time writing it…it was a great way for me to vent my anger, share my experiences, and express my happiness. Can’t wait to see all of you back in the good ole US of A,

Love and “gros bisous”
Kate

The Happy Post

So I talked to my mother on Skype today, and she thought I have recently been too much of a downer when I write. So to change it up, I'm going to write a happy story.

Once there was a fish named Toby* who was very handsome. He was red with a swishy tail. He had a lot of friends, and he knew how to juggle.

One day, he saw his friend Bob the hermit crab crying in the corner. "Why are you crying Bob?" Toby asked. "Because I just baked a bunch of seaweed cookies and they all burned," Bob replied. "Well there's no use crying over burnt cookies! Let's bake some more!" Toby exclaimed! And for the rest of the day Toby and Bob had a great time baking. They enjoyed it so much when they got older they opened a restaurant and hosted a TV show on Not-So-Crabby Crabcakes Network. Both were huge hits. Bob and Toby ended up successful and rich, but best of all they had each other as best friends.

THE END

*I have in fact dedicated this story to the real Toby, who recently died of old age. RIP.

I hope that cured the "downer" vibe on the blog! Now I'm going to cry some more about my homesickness and study for my two tests tomorrow.

The disease

I know why it is called homesickness. It’s because like a cold or the flu, the only time you forget that you’re sick is in your sleep. Otherwise, you are tormented. Whatever you do, it runs you down. It exhausts you. It presses on your chest, you can feel it in all your bones. Your stomach is constantly tight. Yet thankfully there is a cure. My medicine is going home. I am done with my French life. I’m fed up with Josette, I miss my sisters, I miss Kimballs, I miss playing golf and riding my bike, I miss the family I babysit for, I miss TJMaxx, I miss signs in English, I miss cooking. I was listening to Tom Petty while writing a paper, and I started whimpering - in a month I will be with Greg at a Tom Petty concert. It’s difficult because I see the end. I have two papers to write and an exam, and then I’m done. It’s just like the end of the year at Holy Cross. The weather is gorgeous, you just want study period to end, pack up and go home. There is one thing that separates you and your family. Time.

Life as a Dandelion Fluff

Today after my run in the countryside I was walking along the lane, where there were many dandelion fluffs. I picked one and started to blow, watching the hundreds of little seeds with their white umbrella hats floating through the air. I started to imagine what life would be like to be a dandeline fluff. To have one voyage in life, one solo flight in which your whole existence is leading up to. You are vulnerable to the girl that comes to blow you away, or the breeze that sweeps you up, forcing you to leave the one home you know. You could be brought miles away, or simply few centimeters. People are like dandelion fluffs – we too are vulnerable to fate, to life, to death. I am waiting for my flight back home, but when that will happen I am at the moment unaware. Yet I wish that I too had a white umbrella hat!

Josette

I leave chez Josette in two weeks. So in looking back, I will honestly say that this year has been difficult with her. From the beginning I wanted things to work. I wanted to please her, I wanted her to open up to me, I wanted to truly become part of the family. You would think after 9 months that would happen. But no. Even this past month has been difficult – if I come home late at night and go up the stairs, the light sleeper will wake up and yell at me the next morning (remember, her house is old and the stairs creak!) I once threw out half an apple, and when I came downstairs later, it was on the counter. She proceeded to tell me that I do not think and I waste food. She’s told me I’m dim, I’ve been raised poorly, I’ve gained weight, I have a bad temper. She’s yelled at me for snacking, for leaving my shoes in the hallway, for not keeping my room clean, for leaving the lights on. Perhaps I wanted to prove to myself from the beginning that I could do it – that I could succeed living with a woman who was so foul, so hard to manage, so cold. There have been times when it’s been better, when I’ve felt more at ease. And yet when I look back, things could have been different if I changed houses. I could have found a family who didn’t interrupt me when I spoke, cared about what I was saying, and encouraged me with my French instead of commenting that I’ve gotten worse (?!?!?). I could have wanted to come home and chat, I could have gone on trips with them. I don’t regret my decision, but I do wish that I didn’t have to try so hard with my living situation.

chez Josette = Josette's house

Faces

I walk around Dijon and I see faces of people in the States. I see the holy cross students, I see my best friend, I see my family. I don’t know if it’s because I miss them and so I’m searching for them around every corner, the images of my loved ones are pushing out of my eyeballs or because life is beginning to blend with my life in the sates. Either way, I cant wait to see the real people!

Language

I re-read my blog, and realized that at the beginning of my sejour here in France, I would comment often on language. I haven’t done that in awhile, and I think it’s because I have gotten used to speaking and hearing French. However, being with Leslie’s family again makes me think of language. When I’m in Dijon, I don’t speak to Josette a lot during the day, and even if I am with her, it is usually her that speaks. All of my classes are in French, but while in America you are encouraged to participate, it’s not a part of the education syspetem here in France. Thus, my listening comprehension has greatly improved, but my speaking skills are not being tested every moment at every day. It used to give me headaches, to constantly be speaking and listening in French. Sometimes it is still draining, but not the way it used to be. I am (usually) keeping up with the conversations. I am forced to talk very quickly. Sometimes I am still bashful when I speak because I don’t know how exactly one says something. I can always invent words though :0) Overall, speaking French morning to night helps so much, although at the end I do yearn for English!

sejour = stay

The life of a gypsy

This weekend was the second time I stayed at my friend Leslie’s house. She is an amazing girl who started out as my tutor but has evolved into my best French friend. I’ve never met someone with a heart like hers, and coming to stay with her in the French countryside has opened my eyes to what her family life is like. In fact, she is a true gypsy. She lives in a caravan with her parents and sister, and with her aunts and uncles and cousins close by. They think differently than normal French people – for example they are much more relaxed. You can snack, you can show affection, you can shout, you can relax. In traditional gypsy families, the women are not allowed to go to school or work. They are supposed to stay at home and clean and cook for the men. However, Leslie is one of the few that is standing up for herself and truly making strides to change that. She is going to be an English professor, she goes to college, and she even spent the year in the states (against her father’s wishes!). Gypsies are extremely family oriented, and there are always people over. Sometimes it gets overwhelming for me, because there are so many people, all talking loudly, speaking in gypsy tongue (they have their own dialect!) and thus it took me a little bit to get used to! Going from Josette’s house to here is a world of difference. I am so lucky to be able to be here, sharing time with a family that has taken me in like one of their own. Yet at the same time, it does make me miss my family 100 times more!

Happy May Day!

France is lovely...especially when it's warm out, the sun is shining, and there are green leaves on the trees! They've started up all the fountains in Dijon, a sure sign that warm weather is upon us, and Josette has been in a better mood than usual (another sign that something is up :0) Right now I have papers to write and a psychology exam to study for, but after May 20th I will have literally nothing to do. And thus I will be happily soaking up the sun in Place Wilson, reading in my favorite park behind the Palais des Ducs, and well, enjoying my last few weeks in Dijon. I leave June 10th - soon enough to start fretting about leaving my french life behind, but far away enough to enjoy the month of May in Dijon with friends and good weather!

A bus ride to London

Tonight (or tomorrow if you're being precise) at 4 am, I leave for the Eurolines bus station in Dijon. I know I'm crazy, but taking a 13 hour bus ride to London is the cheapest way to go! Plus, there is so much to talk about afterwards...the funny people, the smells (ick?!), the positions in which the body conforms to after hours and hours in an uncomfortable seat... I will arrive tomorrow at Victoria Station (is it just me or does everything in London sound proper and stylish?) where a friend from Acton will be waiting for me with open arms. My one goal in London is to go to Harrods (case in point) and then after we'll be heading to the Cotswalds, the area where my friend's grandparents live. I can't wait to spend some quality time in an American speaking country, and perhaps eat some wankers and black pudding!

P.S. I Love You

Letters have become so very important in my stay here in France, perhaps even more so than the emails or the Skype conversations. When I receive a letter, it’s truly like welcoming that person into the room – I am overcome by warmth that only loved ones can bring, and my sometimes lonely French life is given a large dose of American love in one full swoop. I’ll see the letter propped up on the blackboard in the kitchen, and my heart soars knowing that someone spent the time to sit down and send some snail-mail. I have received holiday cards, letters, even care packages full of American candy and English magazines (thanks Lo!) Although the candy has disappeared, the letters will forever stay in my possession – for example the one from my grandpa. He is a terrific writer, and the way he expressed his pride in his granddaughter living in France was enough to bring her to tears. (I also noted where my father’s funky penmanship comes from) I received one from a good friend, Catherine Scott, who just recently transferred schools and is now settling at Boston College. Hearing from her was wonderful, for after years of living lives that never seemed to cross we were able to span the Atlantic Ocean to rekindle a deep-rooted friendship. And, just yesterday, I received one from an Acton neighbor Molly Dane, who is volunteering in Belize for two years. Hearing from her was simply a breath of fresh air because we are living out similar stories – Molly and I both flew to different countries (where the native tongue is NOT English) to discover more of who we are and to explore our independence. Obviously not always a walk in the park, I'm sure my French experiences can parallel hers in Belize. I find her words to be a great comfort.

I wrote my fist letter, to my grandparents, back in September - and from then, I never stopped. I’ve had to buy packets of pre-stamped envelopes to the states because I write so many. I have found a way to communicate my thoughts, just like in my blog, by expressing feelings with words. I know that I’ll continue writing letters no matter where I am living, because I have realized how special and meaningful it is.

The simple things

I love my coffee in the morning, with a hint of milk, in the mug from Rome. I love the colors and the sounds at the outdoor markets in France. I love gabbing on the phone with my friend Leslie in French, allowing me to work on my “argot.” I love the way that my silk scarf feels around my neck, but not the way my feet feel after being in high heels all day. I love the woman at the train station who told me I had a great accent. I love that call I receive from my dad from time to time, knowing that he is “en route,” coming home from work and is just dropping me a line. I love going on a run in the morning and passing the boulangerie, making sure to inhale deeply as the smells of fresh, warm croissants waft up from the “sous-sol.” I love seeing French children all bundled up in their adorable hats and scarves. I love the smell of the bookstore, as I sift through foreign books with enticing titles and thick covers. I love the man at the café who smokes his pipe and reads his book, completely content with who he is. I love the woman who I have grown to be, and know that I won’t be able to readily forget these beloved simple aspects of French life.

Argot = Slang
En route = On the road
Sous-sol = Basement

Provence!

This past weekend I went on an organized trip to Provence, France - and it truly stole my heart. With its colorful rooftops, warm climate, subtle scent of lavendar, palm tress, olive tress, and cherry blossom trees (and not to mention the mediterranean!) I was in heaven. Such a difference from stoic and often cold Dijon.

In 3 days we actually visited 11 cities! In Orange we saw the impressive roman amphitheatre, in Arles we walked along the colorful and flavorful market, in Nimes drank wine next to its pantheon, in Baux de Provence we wandered its tranquil streets, sunbathed along the Mediterranean in St. Marie, in Avignon visited the Palais des Papes (the Palace of the Popes) and sipped tea while basking in the sun at an outdoor cafe, sampled mouth-watering "creme glace" in Lyon, and took model shots next to the famous aqueduct, le Pont du Gard. Overall, a physically tiring but mentally stimulating long weekend!

I will no doubt be back to Provence one day...

My feminine side

From about the age I could walk, I chose to wear high heels. I was a huge fan of rings (‘wings’ I would call them because I couldn’t pronounce my ‘r’s’) necklaces, big bows for my long blond hair (that has changed!), and ‘bwack shoes.' Strangely, this all changed when I got to second grade. I was no longer into skirts and dresses, I wanted to wear t-shirts and sneakers. I chose sports over beautifying myself in front of the mirror. High school and College didn’t help matters, as sports and low-key environments kept me in sweats and ponytails. Who would’ve thought that by coming to France I would once again reunite with that girl inside who loved her ‘stick-on eawings.’

Just last night I attended my first Fete de Lingerie. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I found, upon arrival, a group of French girls, glasses of wine, and of course, lingerie. The woman who brought the pieces passed around catalogs, explained in depth about under-garments(things that before I never thought twice about), we tried on les soutien-gorges, and oohed and awed over the lacy “strings” and “boustiers.” After making my purchase, I realized that I have come such a long way from that tomboy on the soccer field. Of course I am still a “one with the mountain” type of girl, yet I have renewed my love for getting prettied up. I walked into Sephora for the first time the other day, asking “Does that foundation come with SPF?” and “What would be the best eye liner to go with my eye color?” High heels have once again found their way into my closet, as well as dresses and the occasional fashionable accessory. I’m so happy that I have rediscovered how fun it is to express my feminine side, even though I had to come to France, the capital of eau de toilet and lingerie, to find it :0)

un soutien-gorges - a bra
un string - a thong
un boustiere - a corset

Easter, Dijon Style

Happy Easter everyone, or should I say Joyeux Paques!

This Easter I could not spend it with my family, but I did get to see how French people celebrate! I knew it was going to be different earlier this week as I opened the refrigerator and saw veal feet. Then I found out that the Easter bunny is actually NOT coming to bring me chocolate, as the tradition here is a bell that flies in from Rome. There were also no Cadbury eggs in the stores, mint jelly for the lamb, nor PAAS decorations. I did see a lot of big cookies in the shape of fish though.

Nevertheless, this morning I woke up early in high spirits. Easter! Then I looked out the window and…it was snowing. Blast! Not the best weather. I headed out all the same to Stephanie’s house where Sasha, Adam, Steph and I made some French Toast, had an Easter egg hunt, and thanks to Steph’s parents, ate a lot of AMERICAN CANDY!! Jelly beans, Cadbury cream eggs, even peeps! Oh it was delightful (minus the fact I didn’t win the Easter egg hunt!) After watching a little bit of “the Devil Wears Prada” with the HCers, I scurried back to eat Easter lunch (the big meal) with Josette and her son Jean Baptiste. He works on a vineyard and is currently filming a 3 Musketeer television series where he is one of the Musketeers (yup…) The meal was great, very yummy, but like always, it was lacking in dessert. Leave it to the American to come to the rescue! I whipped out the candy, and even Josette tried some jelly beans (but not without saying how they tasted artificial and chemically…little does she know that’s part of the reason Americans like them!!) but the party didn't truly start until I demonstrated how a peep can blow up in the microwave. Needless to say, Josette refused to eat the purple blob that had been formerly a marshmallow chick.

So, overall, quite a different Easter than usual, but better than I expected, all things considered. I didn’t end up seeing the veal feet on the table (unless they were hidden in that paté thing we ate…), didn’t have to eat the fish cookie, and I even got some American-ness! – CVS candy, the Easter egg hunt with my friends, maple syrup, the English movie. It is great to still be able to have that connection to home :0)

I wish everyone a happy day, full of laughter, love, and marshmallow peeps!

Kiss me, I'm Irish

Top o' the mornin to ya! I haven't seen any rainbows, nor gold, nor stumbling holy crossers today (a sure sign of what holiday it is!) but it's feeling like St. Patrick's Day all the same!! French people don't really understand the core values that come with St. Patty's Day - they've never eaten corned beef and cabbage, never made Irish Soda Bread, never seen a St. Patty's Day Parade in Southie, and they've never drank guiness til they thought they were actually in Ireland. Well, I'm proud (or not proud?) to say I've done them all, as I'm sporting my green shirt today to prove it! Remember, kiss me, I'm Irish :0)

Aquafresh

I really am not a fan of Aquafresh toothpaste. Why? Because of the configuration of the cap. Due to this stupid invention, toothpaste crust builds up like no other, even after one use. This crust prevents one from squeezing out the toothpaste, thus in order to avoid the thinnest steam possible mixed with crusty old toothpaste, one must insert something inside like a finger or a tweezer, and in the process getting toothpaste everywhere. It's stupid. I miss Crest!

Break #2

I can’t believe it, but tomorrow I’m off and traveling again! Yes, I’m skipping a week of school, but since we don’t really do anything in class anyway, it’s alright. I am meeting my aunts in Paris for the weekend, and then a good friend from Holy Cross is coming to visit for his spring break where we will head to Normandy! I can’t wait to see more of France, and while seeing other countries is amazing too, I actually find it comforting to be able to speak the language and know what signs are telling me. Sometimes in Prague or Austria there would be a sign with exclamation points, so obviously it was important, but for all I know it could have been saying, “Have a nice day!” instead of “Route is barred because of falling rocks! DO NOT ENTER!” I’m really excited to show off France to Greg and my aunts (and dazzle them with my french too :0)

Breakthrough

So last night was a miracle. Josette and I were talking last night over dinner, after my week-long vacation. She must have missed me, because while we were talking about next year and whether or not she’ll host another Holy Cross student (by the way, she will) she added, “I hope they’ll be as nice as you.” I was touched. I mean, that’s basically the nicest thing she’s said to me in the 5 months that I’ve known her. If you haven’t already gotten the memo, she’s not exactly the warm cuddly type. I remember being so upset when I found out that she would be my host mother – this is the woman that Holy Cross students had stories about, who was “crazy.” And while I’ve learned that yes, she’s crazy, it’s a fun sort of crazy. She’s opened up to me, and I to her. It’s taken her a long time to accept me, and I’ve gotten used to her remarks and bluntness. She loves the fact that I’m independent and stick up for myself, and honestly, I like how she’s self-sufficient and doesn’t really give a damn. It’s almost refreshing. However, I am glad that she’s not my mother :0)

The best wake up call

Last night I woke to the sound of my phone. Half asleep I looked at the time, realizing that it was only 4:30AM. Strange I thought, and then casting a glance at my portable, saw that it was my Dad calling. Panic hit, knowing that he wouldn’t be calling me at this hour unless something happened. So I picked up quickly (still half asleep mind you) and said, “Hello?” The response I got was “The garage door won’t open.” I started to laugh. He had mistaken me for my mother. I asked “Do you know what time it is?” He responded, still unaware that he called his daughter across the ocean “Um, I think it’s 10:30.” “Well, in France it’s 4:30am” I told him. He finally understood who he called by mistake, and although apologized profusely and told me to go back to sleep, I will never forget the wake up call that allowed me to for a few minutes hear my dad’s voice over in America.

5 minute friends

Traveling at my age, in countries where you don’t know the language, on a limited budget, is to say the least, interesting. You have such random encounters, such strange experiences, and you meet people that you know you’ll never see again. For example, when Meg and I were in Vienna, we went to a pub and met these Macedonian guys. They were very nice and we just made conversation over some drinks. After hanging out with them for a second night in a row (that to say the least was strange in itself…how we randomly bumped into them again) we basically were just like, “Ok! See you never! Thanks for the laughs and have a nice life!” In Salzburg Meg and I roomed with two Americans from New Jersey who go to Quinnipiac, and then we also met two lovely girls staying in the same hostel who are teaching English in France (Bretagne area), one from Wales and one from Boston! Laura from Boston might even come visit me in Dijon! On the way back from Munich I met a guy named Austin from Hamilton College, and we basically spent the night talking. It is so strange – how paths collide, who you meet, all based on the smallest circumstances. You meet for just a minute in life and yet you won’t forget it.

Break #1

Here is an entry I wrote 2 days ago, when I was in Munich Germany:

Ugh. I don’t want to look at any more buildings or churches. I can’t take any more pictures. I can't walk anymore. I am spent. Thus, I am sitting next to a big church in the famous Marienplatz, eating a sandwich (that looked like turkey but tastes suspiciously like bologna) and people watching. People watching is great – you learn a lot from the culture of the city just by observing the people. For example, you get to know how the youth dresses, how families interact, if people bump into each other what they say, etc.

Oh, and the reason why I sound so pessimistic? That’s because this is the last leg of my week-long trip after 500 pictures (yes, that’s right) and many miles of walking. I started in Prague, headed to Vienna, then to Salzburg, and for a few hours I’m visiting Munich before taking a bus back to France. The whole trip has been an adventure, and honestly, I am always surprised at the end of a trip to find myself in one piece alive and breathing :0) In Prague I stayed with a friend who lives there (and thus fluent in Czech and knows the area very well). Katrina was a great host – she showed me around, introduced me to her friends and to yummy Czech beer. My kind of exploring a city is leaving the map behind and just discovering things by chance. That’s what happened when I came across the gorgeous castle on the hill and caught the changing of the guards! Prague has a whimsical feeling about it – perhaps due to its grand palace, the cobble-stoned roads, the buildings which are painted in pinks and greens and blues and yellows, or that it is so tourist friendly. I could have stayed much longer in this little, but dynamic city.

Vienna was next and it was lovely – so clean and the buildings were so majestic and large. I had met up with my friend Meghan there (who is studying in Spain) and it was great to do some sightseeing with a friend from Holy Cross. My favorite part was going to the Schobroun, the HUGE palace where the Hapsburgs ruled. I will never forget how windy it was nor how beautiful the clouds looked. We also saw the room where Mozart gave his first concert (at age 6 or something), where Franz Joseph I did his work, where Empress Sisi did her hair, not to mention the expanse of gardens behind the palace. This was also the place that Marie Antoinette grew up in before she moved to France. I was in awe.

Salzburg – the hills were definitely alive with the sound of music! Meg and I splurged on the Sound of Music Tour, but honestly it was so worth it. It took us (on a very comfy bus which was a blessing for our worn-out legs) to all the sites where the movie was filmed. I saw the gazebo, the house on the lake, the church where Maria and the Captain were married, the yellow house, the trees where the kids swung on, and lastly the abbey where the kids when to find Maria. In Salzburg (which was so tiny and tranquil after Vienna) I got a true Austrian feel – I saw people dressed in the traditional Austrian garb, heard the bells from the churches, learned about (and tasted!) schnitzel, drank beer at a bier garten with other Austrians, and breathed in the lovely mountain air (the views were absolutely breathtaking – I had never seen mountains like that before!). I spontaneously bought a CD from a guy off the street (guitar music – SO good…already listened to it about a million times), watched a life-size chess match, saw a manifestation (the Serbs were not happy that Kosovo became independent…but they were protesting in Austria?) and ate the most amazing apple strudel. We were also lucky in terms of the weather – instead of a foot and a half of snow that is normal for Salzburg for the end of February, we had temperatures that would be found in late April. It was simply gorgeous, and my pictures do not do the views justice.

Now I’m in Munich, the home of the infamous Oktoberfest, from where I’m picking up a very “hip” vibe. It seems like these Germans are all pretty chill about life (unlike the French…), who really enjoy their beer (and thus drink A LOT and at any time of the day), who rock climb anywhere (well, I saw some groups along the river walls and bridges), and who eat a lot of sausages and pretzels. Hey – this is the extent of things you can pick up from only being in a city for 4 hours :0)

Overall, an amazing week, with so many memories that I won’t (and can’t) readily forget.

A Piece of Holy Cross in Dijon

Last night, 5 professors from Holy Cross came to Dijon, to check up on the students and to get feedback on how the study abroad program in France was running. We met up with them for dinner, and we had a typical French meal (meaning that it lasted about 4 hours...). We met the new study abroad coordinator, I met up with my old French professor, and overall, it was just so nice to be able to speak to people from Holy Cross, knowing that they were on campus a short few hours before. I do miss Holy Cross, and it's simply because when I'm there, I am so comfortable. It's such a small school that it's like a little family. Here in France, there is a tangible formal distance held between the students and the professors...but at Holy Cross, that barrier doesn't exist. Even with the professors who came to meet us, some with whom I have never met before, well we ended up talking the night away like we were the best of friends. They wanted to hear our stories, hear what was working and what wasn't working, and above all, wanted to get a general feel of how we felt about France. We all answered frankly, but honestly, I had really nothing bad to say. This year is a whirlwind of new opportunities, scary moments, exciting times, times when you feel confident, times when you feel like you've hit rock bottom. We told it all, and the adults were happy to listen. The best part of the night was when they brought out the present - a copy of the Crusader (the Holy Cross student-run paper). Reading it made me realize that nothing has changed back at home, that it'll be the same when we go back. We, on the other hand, will be the ones who have changed.

Skiing with the French

So this past Saturday, the Holy Crossers took a day trip to Les Jura to faire du ski! All in all, it was a blast. The mountain range is located in France, but half of it is also in Switzerland. I got a kick out of going to the top, and there being a sign that pointed right for Switzerland, and left for France :0) Sadly, we weren't allowed to go on the Swiss side (but I did hear some german!)

So skiing in Europe is not the same as skiing in the States. First of all, there is a lot more drinking that goes on during the day. The bars are bondee, plein du personnes qui veulent un biere ou un vin chaud. Some of the ensembles that people were wearing was straight out of the 80's, and since some of the students had to borrow pants/jackets/gloves from their host mothers, well, we too looked simply fabulous. Les Jura is a tiny mountain, so people were just taking their time down the mountain...and the ski lifts were awfully slow. Also, not surprisingly, at the end of a run, the french would whip out their cigarettes and light up :0)

But despite the differences, we had such a great time. The weather was beautiful, the snow was light and fluffly, and although it was chilly, we learned that the alcoholic drinks actually work to keep you warm :0) The Alps will be next!

faire du ski! - to go skiing
bondee - full
plein du personnes qui veulent un biere ou un vin chaud - packed with people wanting a beer or hot wine

Hiking with the French

If you weren’t aware, there is hardly anything open on Sundays in France. This day is dedicated to family, and so a good “balade” is usually in order. There are some very beautiful hiking trails on the outskirts of Dijon, and when I went this past Sunday, I really got a taste of this weekend mentality. I saw families of all sizes and ages…a young couple with 2 boys, a group of old couples out for a stroll, teenagers with their parents, and the list goes on. I love the fact that the French still have the idea of family togetherness, and Sundays here have such a comfortable feel. Of course, it would be nice to actually have my family HERE, but I’m dealing with it by going out and mooching off the joy of other families :0) The fresh air was so lovely on Sunday, although brisk. I also saw two horses (well, being ridden by people) and that was awesome. I am absolutely in love with nature, and while I like living in Dijon, it still is a city with a lot of stone. I would rather live in a farmhouse surrounded by trees, and on the weekend after a long week at school and listening to cars, I can escape, like these families, and recharge my batteries.

balader = to hike

Swimming with the French

So this past weekend I went swimming, for the second time, in a community pool. I love swimming (well, once and awhile…I couldn’t imagine doing it for a professional sport though. I am done going back and forth after about an hour :0) Anyways, doing things like this really lets me see into the French way of life. Some things that I have noticed:
- French women are not afraid of wearing lipstick in the pool
- Men are not aware of the concept of swimming trunks. However, they do know about Speedos.
- On average, French people are much skinnier than Americans
- Pools, like everything else in france, run on extremely odd schedules. Usually it has to do with meal times. For example, things will usually close around noon and open up again at around 2 – and this might seem like a good idea until you are the person that needs to go to a store to get something done and it’s not open. That is one of the reasons why it takes so long to get anything done here.
- French kids are absolutely adorable. I have not found one that contradicts this conclusion.

The first time I went it was actually a bit of a nightmare because not only do the French not really understand how lanes work, it was as though all of Dijon was in the pool. So, the workout wasn't exactly about the strokes, it was about avoiding people!!

Where I Am vs. Where Am I

Is it weird that sometimes I still stop and find it strange that I’m in France? How did I get here? How did my life lead me to this place? To this country, this city, this French home? I am 21 years old, no longer in high school, coming home from field hockey practice, about to eat spaghetti with my mom and Caroline. I am no longer on a sports team, no longer in a town where I know half the population, no longer a little girl. I am on my own in a country that speaks a language that is not my native tongue. Yes, I am still in college, but it won’t be the same when I return, I know that. Every minute here in France has an influence on me – everyone that I meet changes my perceptions – every step I take opens up new paths for me in the future.

Sometimes it feels as though time passes so slowly. And then other times, it seems like there’s no way of slowing down its rapid pace. Sometimes I miss my family so much it hurts. And then other days I go for days without thinking about it.

What I do always think about is how I will live my life now. What do I want? Do I want to live in Europe again after this year? Do I want to become a French professor or take the psychology route? Only time will tell, and yet, I’m not very patient – thus it’s a good thing I guess that I stop and realize what situation I’m in. I need to remember that this year, and years to come, are not dictated by anyone else but me. I am planning my trips around Europe. I get to decide what job to take, where to live, who to marry, etc. Ah, quarter life crises. :0)

I wish everyone a thoughtful night like mine tonight,
Love, Katelyn

Friday night out

So second semester began Monday! I was very much looking forward to starting with new classes. I’ve decided against taking Italian again, b/c, well, it was just too difficult to keep Italian in my head as the French was taking over. :0) But I’m continuing with my French culture class because the professor is bonkers – all she does (besides canceling class half the time) is tell us stories of her life – and I’m continuing with French translation which I adore. Social psych begins on thursday, along with an education course (the difference between girls and boys in the classroom...mom, you would like this one!)

Last Friday I went to see Charlie Wilson’s War (La Guerre Selon Charlie Wilson) with Amadou. It was great, except that it was difficult to understand a bit what was going on, but it would have been difficult to understand if it was English too. I knew nothing of Afghanistan’s past, or its relationship with Russia. However, Amadou enlightened me a bit. After we went to Flannerys (a good Irish pub in town), and what did we talk about, but politics. He told me who he thought would win the election in November, and I did the same. It’s really awesome to hear from non-Americans what they think about us, and how the actions of our country effect more than just the American citizens. For example, when the election for the new French president was going on, no Americans were paying attention. I know hardly any other presidents around the world…but everyone is watching the American race – and everyone has an opinion too :0) America is one powerful country…and that’s what I’m learning more and more every day…as I’ve said before, I have learned more about the United States from not living there!

Africa in France

I have made such a nice friend. His name is Amadou and he is from Guinea, Africa. He too is here for the year studying, and I am going to help him with his English. Today I took him for a walk around Lake Kir (there are some pictures on my flickr account) because hadn’t been there yet. We only speak in French, because his English classes don’t start until this upcoming semester (he is fluent in French and his dialect Poular) and I’m proud to say that we talk like any two friends would talk – I can’t believe I’m at that level! He’s a great talker and listener…we’ll talk about his country and what his home life is like in Guinea, I’ll talk to him about Massachusetts and about the Cape, we’ll discuss what’s going on in Kenya with the political problems, and how we both find French people rather cold. Today we got even more deep in conversation by talking religion (he’s Muslim) and how strange life is. I was telling him that it is sometimes hard for me, because even though it’s my dream to be in France, it’s not always easy. I also told him that I can’t live without challenging myself. His response was, “There are always problems…the rich have problems as well as the poor, the ‘happy’ have problems, as well as the depressed, but the way to look at it is that all problems have solutions. I live my life that way…finding solutions.” It was really great to talk to him after being home alone for a few days without classes. I have had too much time to think, too much time to wonder what I’m doing with my life, too much time to miss my family and friends back in the states. But he reassured me to look at things that upset me in a different light. Also, I asked him what he thought about challenging oneself. He told me that the way to happiness is overcoming these challenges and obstacles, and that’s why people need them in their lives. I reflected on this and realized that perhaps I run because it’s a challenge, and yet when I finish I’m happy because I have succeeded. Perhaps I’m going abroad because it’s really difficult, yet I know that I’ll be getting so much more out of it than what I put in. Also talking to Amadou made me realize how easy it is for me, an American, to get a passport, to travel, to work wherever, to be safe, to have food…yet happiness comes not from that, but from learning HOW to live. Amadou told me that even poor people in the streets of Africa are singing and laughing – what strength!

Study Period

The time has arrived to take final exams. Remember how I told you how all of my classes were conducted in French? Well, so are the tests. Woo! I took my psychology and Italian exams on Tuesday, and then my theme/version (French to English and then English to French translation) exams on Thursday. I have one left for next week. To say the least, I’m pretty proud of myself. I was able to do them! The grading system is different here - the grades are actually out of 20. To pass, you need to get a 10 or above. It’s a strange system (to this American girl here) but the Holy Cross students just need to pass…which translates into I don’t have to worry. Our GPA’s are actually frozen this year, therefore the grade here doesn't matter. Next semester I’ll be taking Social Psychology, an education class, and I’ll continue with my translation classes, methodology (learning how to write well in French), the French culture course, and my tutoring course.

Because I don't have classes this week because it's study period, the Holy Crossers had a dinner party last night! We made crepes (I'm a pro at flipping them :0) and filled them with nutella, bananas, hunny, peanut butter (which is very hard to find in France and if you do it's VERY expensive...so this was a treat!) and melted chocolate. These were sucré, but you also have the option of the salé ones, which can be filled with cheese, ham, veggies, etc. To top off the night, we watched the Parent Trap. With wine in our glasses and the movie in front of us, I couldn't be happier to be among Americans for the night.

sucré - sweet crepes

Mot du Jour: Pétanque

I often pass a group of men playing pétanque on my run to the park. Pétanque is a game that my family knows as bocce, a game that constantly brings back memories of playing in the Leone’s backyard or on the cape with my family. Here, as I pass the adorable old men playing, I get some “Allez Allez Allez!”s as I run past. I just smile and wave, happy to be brought back for a few moments to my childhood.

Allez – Let’s go! Keep it up!

TV time with Josie

I’m sitting with Josette in front of the television, and we’re watching Cold Case...honestly, the French love their police shows…and it’s funny that they’re usually American shows dubbed into french. This is just one example of how prevalent American culture is in France, and other countries! So Josie and I have our time in front of the TV most nights; we'll watch the news together while drinking our tea, and after awhile she brings out the chocolates for us to share. While on the outside she isn’t the mother figure that I hoped to find, her caring side has been shining through. 18 boulevard Carnot is finally beginning to feel like home. I arrived in Dijon on Saturday night after staying the day in Paris, and it felt SO good. After a tiring, overwhelming day in a big city, Dijon seems so tiny and so, well, comfortable.

Right now she’s looking at my fingers and asking me how I came to type so fast! She’s 66 and thinking of getting a laptop, which I tell her, is a great thing. We are also getting internet soon, if we can figure out how to make the WIFI accessible to the third floor (b/c her house is so big!) A+ !

Katelyn

A+ = Short for à plus, meaning talk to you soon

Back in Mustard Country

Alors, je suis arrivée en France!! I’m having a little trouble with the time changes (aka not being able to fall asleep until 5 in the morning) but all is well. I had such a great time over break in the States, and seeing family was just what I needed to recharge my batteries.
I already feel like this semester has a different feel to it, and I think it’s because although it’s only January, I can see the end of the year. I look at this year abroad in two parts…the part BEFORE the Christmas break in the U.S. and the part AFTER the break. I am now into the after part, which is exciting. Also, I have some nice trips planned for this semester (Switzerland, Berlin, Prague, Barcelona, Salzbourg, Vienna, and Sweden) and I’ll be seeing more of France (Provence, Normandy, Grenoble, Strasbourg) which break it up. Also, what is exciting is that I’m getting along so much better with Josette. However, after living with her for four months, I still don’t understand her completely. She has had an interesting life, bien sûr, but because it’s been hard for her, I think she’s shut down a bit emotionally. Yet she still has her heart in the right place, and always wants to help people. She gives me plein de conseilles because “she is 66 and knows the ways of the world.” She is also quite obstiné and very blunt. I have learned what sets her off (ie. When I don’t pick up, when I have too much laundry, when I don’t wear enough outside…) and have learned to avoid those things completely. Mais après tous, even though she’s a little loopy, I can totally see myself keeping in touch with her after I leave!

Miss you all,
Kate

PS. I found a station on Josie’s TV with some American TV shows, IN ENGLISH! Of course it took me until 2nd semester to do so…
PPS. I haven’t forgotten my French!

Alors, je suis arrivée en France!! - So I have arrived in France!
Bien sûr - Evidently/of course
Plein de conseilles - Lots of advice
Obstiné - Opinionated
Mais après tous - But when all is said and done