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?!

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.)

I am just not highbrow enough for this sort of thing...

I had my wine tasting class today. It was quite entertaining, and the prof is a lovely aging man who wears cozy knit sweaters and knows lots about wine. 

I think he makes it up as he goes along. 

For this one red we were tasting, he made us close our eyes while we sniffed and imagine a setting. 

"This wine smells of walking through the forest in autumn, the smell of leaves and rotting wood, and mushrooms, maybe truffles...ah yes, and there is a wild boar nearby!"

Um, what? 

deathly ill

Theatre class suits me, being incredibly melodramatic and all. I was feeling gross and sick from the moment I woke up today, so halfway through I turned to my friend Allison. 

"Je suis en train de mourir."

And after class, I went home. I drugged myself up, Catherine brought me tea, and I read a bit and then slept for six hours. She tells me I have a fever, but at home nothing under 101 really qualifies as sick, so I am dubious. 

Now, I am up late doing homework for tomorrow, and I am determined to be well because it is an action and excitement filled day--class, volunteering at the school, wine tasting class, and yoga. I cannot afford to be sick, so I am on a continuous cycle of alternating pain relievers until I'm all better. 

I am actually really enjoying doing this homework, which I don't think has happened since Ms. Hamilton's English class junior year of high school. This is what it's like to enjoy learning! I had forgotten. After the  hell that was high school, I think I built Carleton up so much in my mind that it was bound to fall short...and I haven't taken many classes that excited me to the point where I enjoyed doing the reading. 

The class I'm doing work for right now, Littérature du Voyage, is taught by a young prof named Sylvie. I've only been to one class so far, but we looked at old maps, talked about pirates, buccaneers, and filibusters (the piratey kind, not the senatorial kind), and learned the etymological origins of the word barbecue.*

Needless to say, I am smitten. 

In theatre, we are working on three short scenes, all farcical and dating pretty far back. My friend Moze and I had discussed wanting to do something contemporary, so we spoke with the prof and he recommended a few pieces for us to look at, and if we find something we like we can work on it independently and present it with the others at the end of the term. I am mad excited, and fully intend to pick something horribly sad to exploit the fragile emotions of my peers. 

Sorry for the lack of pretty pictures. Maybe tomorrow. 

*The buccaneers would roast a goat on a spit "de la barbe a la queue"--from the beard to the tail--and then eat it. Yum, except I have a soft spot for goats after Camp Celo and could never ever eat one. 

Decisions, Decisions.

friends in the luberon...

I made the mistake of going to the theatre class today, just for kicks...I say mistake only because now I know what I'll be missing if I take archeology instead. The professor is this skinny bald bespectacled man, which would endear me to him even if he weren't amazing because my director in high school (who probably had a bigger influence on me than anyone else save my parents) was a skinny bald bespectacled man, and also more creatively insightful and brilliant than anyone else I've known. 

The class covers a bit of historical business, and then for the second half of the period we rehearse scenes in French. It was SO FUN, and time flew in a way I know it just isn't going to in archeology class. I love that material, but being as ADD as I am I cannot sit still and listen to a lecture/watch a slideshow for 3 hours with only a ten minute break...at least not without checking the clock every so (re: much too) often. But if I want to do an independent study in archeology next year, this class would help significantly. 

I'm so torn, and it doesn't seem like that big of a deal except that it's the story of my life right now: passion vs. practicality. I'm doing geo more out of a desire not to make minimum wage than out of love, and honestly? I'd be a lot happier as an English major. If anyone has any advice/life lessons or just wants to tell me what to do, I welcome your emails. 

my darling friend arielle keeps me laughing. 

she is also stunningly beautiful and has the personality to back it up.

Everyone has started getting packages from home with letters and Valentine's goodies and love, so I want to make sure all my darling friends and family know how to reach me the old fashioned way, just in case! Email just doesn't replace the tangibility of a handwritten note. My address is:

c/o AUCP

19, cours des Arts-et-Métiers

13100 Aix-en-Provence, FRANCE

 I have four sheets left of the lovely stationery I got for Christmas and I'm hankering to write some letters, so drop me a note if you want a personalized update with my illegible handwriting all over it. Love you all!

How Lila Got Her (Academic) Groove Back

Here's the thing: Carleton has totally slaughtered my self-confidence in school. Thanks, $48,000 a year college education!

Seriously though, majoring in an area that is not at all my strong suit means that I spend a lot of time being totally clueless and/or wrong, which in turn means that I dread going to any and all science courses for fear of total humiliation in front of my gifted fellow students.*

I've noticed more and more the past couple years that I don't like to talk in class, that I second guess myself (even when I know the answer), and that all my science-related neuroses have started carrying over to other courses as well. I know it's good to be wrong and learn humility and all, but honestly, even when I did talk in class (re: high school and all the English classes I took freshman year) I was on the lower end of the self-esteem spectrum, so I'm not worried about getting too cocky.**

(Side note: These are all pictures I took today after school. It's so beautiful here!)

That being said, I felt so good about classes today! I had Archeology, Oral and Written Expression, and Societé Française, which is a sociology/poli sci-ish class. I could go into detail about questions asked and yadda yadda, but basically: I knew answers! I know this sounds silly, but seriously, all my academic confidence has just been shredded to pieces at Carleton, and it feels really, really good to know the answers again.

Basically, today sort of reassured me. Part of the reason this was so significant to me was because I'm the student here with the least amount of experience speaking French. The base requirement is supposed to be two years, and I've had about 1 1/3, whereas a lot of other students have studied French for six or eight. So being in a class about French vocab and grammar and knowing the answers when other people don't? It definitely assuaged my fears about the coming semester.

 

I know parts will be really rough--I'm expecting it to be--but I already feel so much better in this program knowing I can hold my own in class, and honestly, you have to be right a few times before you have the courage to be wrong, so I'm hoping this will translate over to Carleton as well. 

*My gifted fellow students are part of the reason I am a geo major. They are wonderful and brilliant and so fun (even the super brilliant ones are fun underneath all their knowledge! it's true.), and I would rather be freaking out in the geo lab at 3am with twenty other people than alone in my room having a panic attack with no one to catch me if I pass out, because I seriously can't afford another concussion. These are the kinds of things I considered when choosing a major.  

**I am proud to say I no longer obsess over whether or not the reason that girl across the room has a funny look on her face is because I have cereal stuck to my shirt or my jeans are slightly too short or she noticed my frizzy hair and now doesn't want to talk to me. I'm getting more normal by the minute!

lazybones

It is just starting to hit me how difficult it is to speak only in French. I tried to argue a point during class today, and there is so much to say that I just don't have the vocabulary for. It is frustrating and exhausting and now I'm beat, so instead of writing about my day here are some pictures of it. 

everyone wears slippers in the house! 

luckily i have some too.

this is the coffee i drank this morning. it was delicious. 

also, that is how it looks straight out of the mysterious coffee appliance--no milk or anything!

this is my desk, and le chien. 

"Le fidelité n'existe pas en France"

This is a not-so-good photo of my school. 

You can tell the people exiting are American because 

they are wearing colors instead of just black or gray. 

"How many of you have boyfriends or girlfriends back in the States?"

About five or six of us raised our hands. 

"Allow me to be frank. Fidelity doesn't exist in France."

This was the beginning of a long and mildly disturbing lecture on dating and affairs of the heart in France. We learned the following:

1. French men love to be rejected. Therefore, if they hit on you and you reject them, they will find this encouraging and redouble their efforts, thinking that your rejection means you secretly want to sleep with him.

2. Eye contact is important. Three seconds of eye contact with a guy is fine, on the fourth, he will think you want to sleep with him and will come introduce himself in order to pursue this. I'm not kidding, this is what she told us. 

3. Don't give a boy your phone number, because he will think you want to sleep with him. 

4. Don't invite a boy over for dinner, because he will think you want to sleep with him. 

I guess I won't really be having any male friends. 

Essentially, Lilli told us to give up all hope of maintaining relationships back home, and to live it up while we're in Europe. We were basically encouraged to cheat on significant others and sleep around, because "seduction and pleasure are a major part of life in France." I know she wants us to assimilate, but I'm not sure that is the best way to do it. The only reason I'm not totally weirded out is because I still think it's hilarious that we got all this advice from a tiny fifty-something American woman and she was SO SERIOUS. 

PS: I'm going to cut down the posts to once a week or so. While there is so much exciting stuff happening, I don't think it's good for my French if I'm babbling on in English every day, although I really want to because it's definitely easier. 

PPS: Don't worry Matt. I will not be taking any of the aforementioned advice. 

PPPS: Sorry Mom, if this was a little too racy for you. 

PPPPS: omigosh, OBAMA! 

the first day!

(This is my room! You're welcome, Mom.)

Today was the first day at the American Center--aside from the extremely long and exhausting test we had to take, everything was a lot of fun. It was the first time all the American students got to meet, which was SO nice. After only seeing my host family, it was nice to be able to speak without worrying whether or not my grammar was correct.  

I went out to lunch with two other kids from my program and a French student named Quentin who is also 20. He loves BMX and American movies, although when we asked him which movies the only one he mentioned was P.S. I Love You. Questionable? Perhaps.

This afternoon, when we were returning from our delicious Italian lunch, we saw a guy in a black striped shirt sprint down the cobblestone street with three baguettes under his arm. Also, there are kids making out on every corner...I suppose there's always something to a cliché.

Right now Capucine and I are watching E! and eating crêpes with Nutella. Gossip shows are automatically classier in French. Also, it's educational. Seriously. (Next up on E!: L'Incroyable Famille Kardashian!)