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.