Caramel Tea and Oscar Wilde.

I wrote a friend an email today, and realized just how full of complaints I have been lately. I am homesick, they have no Mexican food here (please: if you love me, you will send me salsa. Or even better, a burrito, packed in dry ice.), no one sends me letters.*

And then I realized...I am in Provence, studying nothing remotely related to science, surrounded by cafés and cobblestones and living in a town with more than one papeterie. 

I have nothing to complain about. 

So I decided to have a Lovely Day. I slept in, made pesto for lunch, went to the library with Arielle, and got fries from a sidewalk stand. 

There is a bookstore in Aix, Book in Bar, that has become a little haven for all us English speakers. So today, in pursuit of my Lovely Day, I went to Book in Bar, ordered a pot of Caramel Tea (delicious), and did all my homework before 3pm. I have pretty significant ADD, so even doing my homework is a triumph, but completing it during daylight hours? Unheard of. 

I walked out around five with a book of Oscar Wilde quotations and a bit of a stomachache. Four cups of tea will do that to you. 

*This is a genuine complaint. I share a mailbox with A. Adams, who has gotten three packages and six letters in the past three weeks. Every time I look in the mailbox, my heart does a little flutter to see that it's full, and then a horrible plummet when I realize it's, yet again, for Ashlee. 

Back soon...

I promise. At which point I will have updates on Paris, Matt's visit, and the tragic goodbye when I got all weepy and runny nosed in the Marseilles airport. And the bus. And my Société Française class. 

Homesickness has been quietly settling in lately, but it hit me like a wall of bricks when Matt left.

Also, they don't have real tortilla chips and salsa. How am I supposed to fill the void created by my absent boyfriend without the most delicious of all food pairings?!

This is what Matt has done since he arrived:

Jet lag, you know. Tomorrow night we leave for Paris!

Happy St. Patty's Day!

On my way home tonight, I heard a car horn that played "Dixie," and I got a bit wistful for NC. If you live there, enjoy the barbecue and delicious Mexican food while you've got it!

Bizarre

I got followed today. This person just started talking to me on the street, because (coincidentally?) we had been going the same way for a bit. He told me I walked fast, and had an athlete's legs, and I was mildly creeped out but just answered his questions since he seemed like he was just trying to be friendly. He asked where I was from, and said he thought I looked German or Norwegian (what?!) but not American. I just sort of nodded, and walked kinda fast, and then veered off at the American Center instead of going home. He followed me into the courtyard.

"Do you want to grab a coffee?"

"No, thanks. I have to study."

And I booked it inside. Claire, the 20-something adorable secretary, was frowning when I walked in. 

"Who was that?"

"I don't know. He just started talking to me on the street. He wanted me to get coffee, and I said I had to study."

"Good. Stay here for awhile, okay?"

So I hung out for about twenty minutes, until Claire was sure he had gone. It wasn't the scariest experience of my life, but I kind of wonder if he would have followed me all the way home. 

Nothing can bother me today, though, because in two days I get to see this one:

And another six days after that until we get to see this one:

I am so excited! 

Triumph!

Good things today:

1. I am so happy with my volunteer position! These kids are the best, so funny and sweet, and the teachers are so cheerful and have the greatest rapport with their students. Today, we talked about boys and journal keeping at recess and drew oompa-loompas in class. I think I might request more hours with a class of little kids too, because this has been one of my favorite parts of the program. Mandatory coloring and girltalk? I'm so there. 

It's so great watching these kids make discoveries...today I was working with Salomé, whom I adore, and she was having trouble making change in one project that practices money skills. We started counting on fingers aloud, and I explained that it was just subtraction. At first she had to hold her hands up and work her way through it--10, cashier takes 1, 2, 3, 4, I get back 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...but within ten minutes, she was doing it all in her head and beaming from ear to ear...I was so proud! There is also Pierre-Nicolas, who every week writes me a list of all the words he knows in both French and English--all of which he's learned from playing video games. It's pretty impressive, and he knows a lot of words in English that I don't know in French. I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, this class is amazing.

2. Only one more exam!

3. New language partner! Last one is never available, because he's a lawyer and is a real grown up, so Claire (the lovely, incredibly cool secretary at the AUCP) gave me another. Her name is Anne Sophie, and she is adorable and sweet and down to earth, and promises not to hit on me.

and possibly best of all...

4. Today when I went to my travail bénévole at College St. Joseph, there was a group of teenage girls sitting on the steps, looking way more together than I have ever been in my life. The class was still outside, and on my way back out to find them, the girls on the steps stopped me:

"Hi, we LOVE your sunglasses!"

"Oh hi! Thanks so much!"

"You're English!?" (French people can usually tell the difference between Brits and Americans when they speak French...and apparently I have a British accent?)

"Oh no, actually, I'm American. I'm studying here for the semester."

"You are AMERICAN? Mais non! You look like a French girl! We thought you were French because you are dressed like an Aixoise!"

And then I got all dorky and "Omigosh, thanks so much! That is so flattering!" and lost whatever cool points my giant sunglasses (which one of my students says make me look like a fly. Thanks, Pierre-Nicolas!) earned me. 

But still...FRENCH TEENAGERS thought I was fashionable. Sweet. 

Want mail?

I have a small addiction to office supplies, craft materials, and pretty papers. I discovered Michel, a papeterie here in Aix, on Valentine's Day, and now it is a running joke with my friends about how often I go there. I find it very calming and cheery, because they have paper and envelopes and notebooks in every color, jars stuffed with the best pens ever, and as I recently found out, a whole second floor I did not know was there that is dedicated to things like colorful ribbons and heart-shaped felt stickers.

I could go on about this for ages, but I really ought to study for my exam tomorrow, so I will get to the point: I have an overload of letter writing supplies and not enough people to write letters to! So send me an email (click on About Me, to the right) with your address, and I will write you a letter or postcard...because really, who doesn't like to get mail?

(this includes you,  miel et cannelle readers!)

Today in pictures.

Today I woke up to this:

Had this for lunch:


Checked out my local library with Arielle,
And am now having a hard time following my own advice.

PS: Mini blackboards and chalk are cheaper than post-its! What?!

Starry-Eyed Again

This is how I feel about Aix right now:



(via first milk)

It's inconvenient, really, because it's just starting to get warm and I'm just falling in love with the city again, and it's midterms week! Bother.

Also, Julie Andrews? Still as awesome as she was when I was five.

Malentendus?

In my Written & Oral Expression class, we rotate through the roster giving mini-presentations in class. As part of this, we choose a section of vocabulary from our thesaurus and present a few words from our composition to the class. 

A couple weeks ago, I made the mistake of using "ça me fait venir" in a composition, which, as you can see in the above photo IS IN OUR THESAURUS. (For those of you who don't speak French, let me refer you to translate.google.com, for a general idea of what I said.)

My very dignified, very French professor, Jean-Michel, came up to me as I was writing this on the board. "Leela," (this was all in French) "Leela, are you sure that is what you want to say?"

I start giggling immediately, because I had wondered about the literal translation...but I showed him where it was in the book. "No no no. That is not what that means. I do not think this is what you want to say."

And then...the worst part.  I tend not to think before I speak, and I tend to have a bit of a verbal diarrhea problem...which is why my immediate response to my very proper, old-fashioned, Aixois prof was...

"I don't know, they were REALLY good eggs!"

(I turned bright red after I said it, practically ran to my seat, and then alternated between being mortified and laughing hysterically for the rest of the class.)

It was Legen-wait for it-DARY.

Last night I made French friends! 

We ran into some other people's language partners at Le Pet't Bistro Saturday night, and it might have been my favorite evening yet. 

Two of the guys we were hanging out with are obsessed with the TV show How I Met Your Mother (which, PS, me too...it is way underrated), and when they found out I go to college in Minnesota, they got SO EXCITED because one of the characters is from there. 

When I told them mon copain is Minnesotan, they had a slew of questions, including:

Is he really tall? (Yes)

Does he wear purple and yellow all zee time? (No)

Do lots of people in Minnesota wear purple? (Only because of the Vikings)

Does he like to feesh a lot? (Yes)

Does he feesh for zee walleyes?! (Yes, among other things.)

Does he play zee feeshing video games? (Not that I know of)

And then I got told I look like this girl, which is completely false but she's a knockout so I'll take it. 

I was walked most of the way home by an entourage of six French engineering students, who were not even slightly sketchy, and we talked about Alain Robert, the French Spiderman.

All in all, a successful evening. 

(AND I even got invited to a costume party, which I can't go to since I'll be in Paris. Bummer.)

Ah, Roast Lamb Sundays...

I have decided that rather than studying for midterms next week, my priority today is planning Matt and I's trip to Paris. 

My host mom tells me we must do a boat tour of the Seine, so I headed on over to the Bateaux Mouches website, where this description made me laugh:

Every Saturday, Sunday and on public holidays,
the Bateaux-Mouches® propose a convivial

and relaxed lunch with accordion music.

It is like a pleasant melody which reminds you

of Sunday family lunches over roast lamb,
children’s laughter and heated discussions…

I mean, my Sunday lunches typically consist of turkey sandwiches and stale gummi bears, but I guess that's kinda the same...

I've always been bad at following directions...

 (image via Le Love)

I am sick, and the doctor told me to stay in bed for two days. 

In my family, you don't stay in bed for two days unless you are near death. 

Here are some things I busied myself with:

Marveling at this dress made out of phone book pages.

Wishing I knew where I could buy supplies to make such wonderful things as this.

Watching The Office and other TV shows online.

Napping. Lots.

Remembering how much I used to love poetry in general, and this poem in particular.

Wishing I had someone to bring me chicken noodle soup.

But finally, around two-thirty today, I got so bored that even going to class seemed a better option than staying in bed any longer, so I packed my purse full of the five different medicines I've been prescribed and trotted off to the AUCP. I'm only good at being sick when I'm faking.

As long as my down comforter is there...

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

As for me? Narnia.

Or, if it has to be real, my cozy little corner in Nourse 101, with all five of my pillows and the window open. 

tuesday blues

I'm homesick. I miss pancakes with butter and fake syrup, and American television, and snow, and most of all, speaking English. There are a hundred little interactions every day, and they all have to be done in French. 

I miss people smiling at you on the street and chatting in the checkout line. 

I miss it being socially acceptable to stop someone and pet their dog.

I miss grilled cheese sandwiches made with Kraft singles. 

I miss having profs with office hours, even if I never really go.

I miss seeing bright colors everywhere, instead of just black and grey. 

I miss Minnesota in the wintertime, and the way Carleton looks at midnight when it's snowing. 

I miss wearing hoodies all the time, and eating two eggs sunny side up every day for breakfast. 

I miss the people and places I love. 

But mostly, I just want to chat and laugh and tease and crack jokes and be snarky and bitch and argue and rant in English, whenever I want, with the words I love. 

Pretending to Study

Editor's Note: This post takes a quick turn for the schmaltzy. Be forewarned. 

I am sitting on my bed with my friend/neighbor/classmate Allison, and not doing a thing. We had such good intentions, coming here to study, but really all I've done is repeatedly check my email and watch silly videos. 

It is good to be back. I missed my huge bed and my huge sweatpants. Advice: Never travel without sweatpants. I did, and it was a mistake. A huge one.

Matt gets here in sixteen days! Not that I'm counting. I never wanted to be one of those silly girls who talks about her boyfriend all the time, but he is pretty deserving of all the hype. 

He is the kind of guy who will walk in the snow to get you (me) chicken soup when you're (I'm) sick, and stay up until 4am with you (me) when you haven't started studying for an exam until midnight the night before (Just kidding, parents! That never happens.), and climb halfway up a mountain for you when you drop your ski pole like an idiot and don't think to stop until you've almost hit the bottom. Also, he fully encourages and often finances the regular consumption of large amounts of pizza and McFlurries, and thinks I'm cute even with pizza sauce on my nose and sticky ice cream fingers. 

The best part though, is that I can always be my crazy and neurotic self, without all the trouble of pretending I am a perfectly normal human being. And I only have to wait sixteen more days!

Adventures

I'm back! I had such a fun vacation! I frolicked and picked oranges in Menton with Emily, a close friend from high school; went to Carnavale in Nice, admired yachts in Monaco, marveled at the David and haggled over the price of handbags in Florence, had delicious creamy cappuchino flavored gelato in Siena and pretended to hold up the tower in Pisa. It was wonderful. 

I made two friends at my hostel, which made the trip a lot less lonely. On our last night in Florence, after Kellie the Australian had left for Cinque Terre, my new friend Janine (24, Canada) and I went out to dinner (for the first time, since there was free pasta at the hostel). We had an honest-to-goodness four course meal! Here's how it went, because I am obsessed with food:

7:30ish: Arrive at Trattoria Anita. Spend 20 minutes pondering the menu. 

7:50ish: Order Bruschetta and the house red. Receive complimentary glasses of yummy Prosecco.

8:00ish: Chow down on bruschetta. Dip bread into oil and vinegar mixture, because we are not real Italians. We do not care, because it is delish.

8:05ish: Order first course. Ravioli Rosé for Janine and Tortellini with Truffle Cream Sauce and House-made Sausage for me. But we promise to share.

8:30ish: Receive pasta dishes. Every third word out of our mouths is "mmm." Neither of us will ever be satisfied with pasta in North America again. 

8:55ish: Waiter comes by to retrieve our empty plates. Notes what a good job we have done sopping up all the sauce. We order more bread, he protests: "But you will get fat!" We laugh, and get it anyway. 

9:00ish: Order main course. Both go for roast chicken, with a side of Asparagus with Parmesan. 

9:05ish: Waiter was right. We cannot finish this bread. Drink more wine instead. Talk about boys and how they make us crazy. 

9:25ish: Chicken arrives. We try really hard to finish, but need to save room for dessert. I have never had such delicious asparagus. 

9:40ish: Cannot eat any more chicken. Begin pondering dessert. Tiramisu for Janine and Crème Brûlée for me. 

9:45ish: Waiter brings us Limoncello on the house. They are trying to get us drunk.

9:55ish: Dessert arrives. Only swear words accurately capture how delicious it is.

10:25ish: We leave Trattoria Anita, stuffed and happy, and laugh as we walk back to the hostel. 

The best part? Only 55 euros for the two of us. Sweet.