Bliss

(my mommy took this lovely photo at the market in Lyon)

I am so happy today. 

Perhaps it is because I have loads of work to avoid, perhaps it is because I started the day with a giant bowl of lemon tea with lavender honey, perhaps it is because it is the perfect temperature outside and I am wearing my new sandals with the big green fabric flowers on them. 

Perhaps there is something in the water.

Nonetheless, I have made quite a day of it. I bought chocolate chip cookies at the corner bakery and handed them out to friends and staff at the American Center. I bought cheery yellow flowers to go on my bureau. I bought three tiny macarons from a woman named Caroline who told me I spoke lovely French, and a hunk of strong cheese wrapped in paper from a pretty girl with tangled blond hair at the market. I have a sack of olives in a spicy pepper oil waiting to be snacked on in the fridge. I have walked (and occasionally skipped) around town today smiling at strangers, which is like shouting to the world that I'm an American. I could not be happier.

Last night I went out with friends to a smoky hookah bar on a side street where you take your shoes off and lounge around on giant floor pillows. We drank caramel vanilla tea and had chocolate fondue, and I had real conversations with some of the kids in my program for the first time, which made me a bit sad to be leaving so soon. Afterward a few of us went to Pizza Capri for melty mozzarella pizza with spicy oil on top, and ate them sitting on a bench along the Cours Mirabeau. 

Spring has sprung and I don't know whether this explosion of glee is because the air smells like jasmine or because I'm excited to see everyone I love again. Either way, it should be a lovely final two weeks.

I'm alive, I swear.

(Tulip fields in Holland!)

Hello darling family and friends, 

I'm back! I had a wonderful two weeks of vacation, and arrived back at home late Saturday night to discover the internet was broken and I had no way of telling anyone of my lovely vacation. Right now I am sitting in Quick, which is a sketchy French burger chain, taking advantage of their free wifi and trying to avoid the eyes of the creepy guys sitting one table over. 

I only have about two weeks left here in France, which is pretty weird but really nice. For awhile, especially right after Matt left, I was so homesick and my time here seemed interminable. Having only two weeks left is really nice, since I can really enjoy the town and the last few days of living in France and then go home to my family. It helps that I came back to sun and flowers and greenery, and so I've been throwing caution and cultural assimilation to the wind and strolling around town smiling at strangers all week. 

As for my vacation, I could not have asked for a better two weeks, and it was really nice to get out of Aix. The first week I spent with my mom, and we went to Lyon, Amsterdam, and Brussels, ate delicious food, shopped, and had a lovely time. The second week I spent in Sorrento with friends, and made day trips to Positano, Pompei, and Capri. It was an amazing and lovely and pasta-filled week, and I will post more eventually, promise. 

Tonight I am having friends over for dinner, since my host mom is gone, and tomorrow I'm going to a BALL!

Seriously. 

I am trying to save money, since I have a non-paying internship this summer and will be poor for awhile (Greenpeace, though! I'm so excited!). I just transferred some of my savings over to checking because I had exactly $5.03 in my account (pretty sad), and the tickets are 22 euros, so I hesitated at first...but then I realized that it would be really really dumb to waste my second to last weekend in France sitting in bed watching The Office (sooo good though) and that perhaps going to a ball in France is well worth the extra babysitting hours. 

Anyway, I must dash home to meet my friends, but I would LOVE to hear from you all. My inbox is full of requests from deposed Nigerian kings and updates on the NHL (yay Hurricanes!), but sadly empty of updates from the US. Pretty please?

An Evening Well-Spent?

My mom is coming to visit tomorrow, so I busied myself this afternoon with various chores & whatnot. I folded and put away my laundry, washed my sheets, organized my dresser so as to appear I do not live with makeup constantly scattered across my room. 

This evening I sent résumés and cover letters to various organizations in search of a summer internship (know anyone?). I took a measly hour to have tomato and feta salad and a glass of rosé with my host mom. 

I dabbled in homework, sent some emails, finally buckled down around midnight and got some work done. The cat played with a lilac petal on the floor, dashed around the bed a bit, purred. 

Then I smelled something horrible, and searched the room for a bit until I found that he had pooped in the freshly-cleaned sheets of my bed. I ran to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper, and as I reached for the doorknob I heard retching sounds from across the room, and turned just in time to watch Vanille the Calico vomit all over the freshly cleaned floor. 

Catherine was still up in the living room, heard me laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, and came to survey the scene. That is how we ended up giggling in my room at four AM, unsuccessfully trying to find another set of sheets to fit my bed, while Capucine yelled at us from the next room to shut up.

And I still haven't finished my homework. 

The (sometimes risqué) wisdom of French women

Tonight at dinner I learned the following things from my French mom:

1. I need to buy more sexy underwear. I guess she does my laundry, so she's allowed to have an opinion on it, but I worked at Victoria's Secret & had a killer discount for awhile, so I'm hardly wearing Bridget Jones-style control top underthings all the time. (NB: When you work at VS, you are not allowed to say "underwear." True story.) Nonetheless, apparently that je ne sais quoi starts at the very bottom, with satin and lace.

2. I should wear my hair down all the time. Instead of thinking "I look like I just dug my way out of prison with a spork" when I look in the mirror, I should think "I look like Brigitte Bardot in 'And God Created Woman,' and am equally sexy if not more." Also, should not part hair. Instead, let it flop casually over to one side.

3. I should wear a tiny bit of makeup every day. 

4. Live it up while you're young. You will never be this pretty or um, perky, again. 

5. Talk often about the person you love, it gives you a glow and makes your eyes light up. 

6. Seriously, real men just don't do telephones. Give it up. 

7. Also, boys who buy you flowers in a country whose language they don't speak, or for that matter, who fly halfway around the world to see you, should be kept around. These are the good ones. (Needless to say, she really liked Matt.)

8. You will remember three hour dinners and cafés and conversation in twenty years. You will not remember your grades, or the homework you didn't do. Just let it go once in awhile. 

Tonight was lovely, and just what I needed. 

Paris!

It was lovely. Our favorite part was lounging around in the gardens of Versailles. Also good was eating an entire box of 18 Ladurée macarons. Worth it. I am sleepy, so this will have to suffice for today. I *promise* to write more later. 

 

In other news, my mom is coming to visit for spring break! I cannot wait. 

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.

I'm off!

I leave tomorrow morning for Menton, and from there to Florence. I'm terrified, since I'll be all by my lonesome...we'll see how it goes. Yikes. Also, I'm not bringing my computer (I have an addiction, and it needs to be stopped.) so I'll be neglecting this until I get back next weekend!

Love times a million, 

Lila

An Open Letter

Dear Indiana Pizza, 

I was only in Indiana for a brief period of time, but I think you're a little off the mark. Just for comparison's sake, here is a photo of Indiana:

As you can see, there do not seem do be any cacti, deserts, cowboys, or indeed, indians. 

Nice try though. 

Love, 

Lila

Yoga and My Awesome Boyfriend.

This is why Matt is the best:

A Valentine's package!

I don't know if you can see the background, but that is chocolate, some sweet homemade coupons, a teddy bear, and a big ol' bottle of Aunt Jemima's, my friends. 

This part is key. Most fellas would be foolish enough to think that I would prefer some real Vermont maple syrup, straight from the tree, but not Matt! He understands that I am just an Aunt Jemima kind of girl, and I think maple syrup is kind of ick. And he does not even judge me for it, even though it's a little lowbrow. 

 This kind of mutual understanding is the key to having a successful relationship, seriously.

The Mystery Strawberry.

I found this in the street today. First person to figure out what it is gets a postcard from Florence! My best guess so far is a placecard holder, but why it would be lying in the street is beyond me. 

I had my yoga class this morning. The instructor is a tiny blond woman, and at first I wasn't sure how I felt about her because she kept addressing me in English, and I'm all "Dude, I understood it the first time, stop calling me out on being American!" But THEN I totally owned and did the headstand pose that she said first-timers rarely accomplish, and she announced how awesome I was and everyone applauded. BAM. I win, yoga. 

Mom, thanks for signing me up for gymnastics when I was five. I never did get the split, but my sweet headstand skills turned out to be quite useful. 

postscript

Hannah Montana exists in France too. Oh dear God.

How to know you're assimilating

Today a small child was wailing in H & M. 

My normal reaction is "Oh, poor dear, you are so charming even with your face scrunched up! Come live with me and I will cuddle you and pinch your cheeks and buy you tiny child-sized things."

Today it was "WHY IS THAT MOTHER NOT YELLING AT HER CHILD WHO IS HORRIBLY MISBEHAVING?!"

In France, disciplining your child in public shows you are doing your job as a parent. In the US, you are publicly humiliating him/her and permanently destroying a fragile ego. I exaggerate, but only a smidge.

a lovely night.

Today was marvellous!

Victoire, Catherine's eighteen year old daughter, is visiting for the weekend. She is amazing! So effervescent and friendly, and great fun to be around. Having here here definitely diffuses some of the tension between Catherine and Capucine too, so that's nice.

Today some old family friends came to visit, and it was just the loveliest day! Gerard--or tonton, as Capucine & Victoire call him--made some delicious pizza, so we snacked on that before a lunch of some yummy Provencal dish with lots of meat in it. For dessert--chocolate chip cookies!

Then we spent the afternoon wandering around town, having great fun. One of the things I love about Aix is that despite its size, I almost always run into people I know on the street! Today I saw a couple friends from my program while we were out, which was nice. Catherine saw me admiring a pair of earrings in a shop, so she bought them for me! What a lovely and generous family I'm living with. 

Tonight, we had the rest of Gerard's pizza and a salad, and for dessert Capucine and I microwaved cookie dough in little ramekins, and everyone oohed and ahhed about how delicious it was. After dinner, we listened to old music on the record player (no, really, this is my life) and danced! Turns out my waltzing and polka-ing skills come in handy!

Tonton & Tata (which is what everyone calls Gerard & Mariette--it means uncle and auntie) have been married 44 years, and they are the sweetest couple! They were showing off their swing dance moves to Bill Haley and the Comets, and later dancing cheek to cheek to some Frank Sinatra. Below is the four seconds worth of video I got before my memory card filled up!

What a lovely Valentine's Day!

Happy Saint Valentin!

I hope you are all surrounded by people you love this weekend. I am making chocolate chip cookies with this recipe. I actually made the dough last night, and it is sitting in the fridge the requisite 36 hours. I confess, I had a little bit for breakfast this morning. 

France doesn't seem to care much about this holiday, except that some restaurants are offering free glasses of champagne tomorrow night. Personally, I have mixed emotions. My slightly cynical side thinks it is silly to have a holiday just people feel obligated to buy cards and chocolates, when you should really being showing you love and appreciate those around you all the time (something I need to do more of)...on the other hand, I really want to break out the doilies and construction paper. 

This is the garland I made! I have discovered the macro setting, can you tell?

My favorite Valentine's Day was with Matt freshman year, when we ate pizza in my room and I forced him to watch select scenes from The Notebook against his will. I remember having all these conversations with my mom when we were first dating, like "Why doesn't he like girly movies?" and "Why doesn't he want to stay on the phone for six hours at a time?" and "I just don't understand why he would rather play video games or watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 than sing showtunes or read poetry or something!" and she had to gently explain to me that perhaps he is just a boy and that is why.

And I quite like him, so I have agreed not to play ABBA music in the car, but when we go on long drives I like to sing showtunes to pass the time, and he is just fine with that. 

Just think of all the coloring I can do!

Today I discovered Michel, the papeterie, and I bought myself this for Valentine's Day. These are my favorite pens/markers EVER, and I didn't think they sold them here. There are twenty different colors! I am so excited. Thanks for the Valentine's money, Daddy!

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. 

ah mon dieu! or, the words of capucine.

Scenario: We are standing at the ATM. Nearby, some middle school-aged kids are making a racket and generally being irritating. Capucine, ever the cool aixoise, is perfectly coiffed and made up, wearing all black and grey and a giant pair of aviators. 

Capucine (muttering): Ohh la la la la*....ah mon dieu. Oh mai gohd. (Sometimes Capu uses English phrases when she is irritated and/or being facetious or funny, but she pronounces each word distinctly and she has an extremely heavy French accent. )

Catherine: Qu'est-ce que c'est, ma chérie? (What is it, sweetie?)

Capucine: Les jeunes aujourd'hui...ils sont insupportable! (Young people today....they are unbearable!)

(She is fifteen going on twenty five.)

*This is pronounced "oh loh loh" rather than "oo lah lah"

Une Salade

Tonight I ate a salad that contained the following ingredients:

lettuce

tomatoes

bacon (sort of. it's not quite american bacon, but yummy nonetheless.)

potato slices

melted raclette 

a single poached egg

balsamic vinaigrette (homemade obviously) (i was just thisclose to using obvs as an abbreviation for obviously. unacceptable!)

it was delish. (this is an acceptable abbreviation, i swear)

Tomorrow (at 8am! jeez louise. i am now used to waking late and taking two hour lunches. i can never go back to the states...) I meet with the director of the school I'll be volunteering at. I'm going to be working with mentally disabled kids aged 7+, which should be a lot of fun. 

To get into the Saint Valentin spirit I made a garland of tiny hearts for my room with white paper and pale blue thread and scotch tape, and it makes me happy. I love my room here, even the giant horse poster on the wall. 

I need to make train reservations for my winter vacation, which starts february 21 (and for when Matthew Dearest visits in March and we go to Paris, hurrah!). I'm going to visit Emily in Menton for the lemon festival, and then I'm going to Florence. I'm really excited but kind of terrified because I've never really traveled alone, especially to a country where I don't speak the language. Also, I'm totally embarrassed to admit this since I'm twenty years old, but my mom usually does this sort of thing (booking travel and sleeping arrangements) for me and I'm not entirely sure I can do it alone without any major missteps. 

It sort of just hit me that I have to be a real grown up in just over a year, with a job and rent and massive amounts of debt and everything. I am so not ready for such things. 

More Unrelated Amusements

A Friendly Visit

Emily is here! For those who don't know, we have been friends since we were fifteen, and she is the Diana Barry-style "kindred spirit" to my Anne Shirley, except she is considerably fiestier and I have never gotten her drunk on currant wine. She's been in Menton, near the Italian border, since mid-September and this weekend she came to visit!

It's been so fun having her here--Friday we had dinner with my host family, and somehow an hour turned into five. Catherine looooves her, and wants her to come when we go to St. Tropez in the spring. Hurrah!

On the other hand, we had dinner last night with some of my friends from the program, and it was a little rough. It's always a bit of a harrowing experience trying to mix friend groups, but last night was really...not fun. No one asked her any questions, and it drove me nuts. Also, since Emily is doing a direct enrollment program, she's used to being around people from around the world, and after five months she's very aware of cultural norms here in France...needless to say, all my friends came off as being painfully American.

I was warned before I came that there would be ups and downs, and I think I'm in the midst of a downturn. As much fun as I have with my friends here, it's really hard to really get to know anyone when you're always in a large group. There's no chance for one-on-one, and you end up having all these relationships which are lots of fun but don't necessarily dip below the surface. I miss being around people who really know me. 

Unrelated Amusements

This is just like the time i got my wisdom teeth out, except i was seventeen and therefore less cute/amusing.

via for me, for you

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!

love love love

graffiti like this makes me happy. 

Pain et Vin

This is a photo of France in the wintertime. Owned, Minnesota. 

I'm a little burnt out, so I'm gonna do this list-style. 

1. Yesterday we went to the Luberon. It was beautiful, even though it was winter and a bit chilly. We met a little French girl named Laurie and her puppy (a mini Jake!) in a café, and they were the cutest things I have seen in a long while. 

The town of Gordes, home of small child and adorable puppy. 

2. I got assigned a language partner, and he was pretty nice, but there were little things that sketched me out and made me not want to be alone with him:

a. Um, hi, we met five minutes ago, I don't care how cold you think I am in this fifty degree weather, get your damn hands off my collarbone. No, I do not need you to adjust my scarf.

b. I look like one of the girls in the movie Charlie's Angels, but you don't know which one? Let's see, we can rule out the gorgeous blonde and the Asian. Drew Barrymore? You think she's incredibly beautiful? Thanks...I am uncomfortable being complimented on my physical appearance by strange men, and I have a pretty swell boyfriend. 

c. No, I really don't want to wait for you to smoke outside the restaurant when all my friends are inside. Seriously, I'm not cold. Don't put your coat on me! Yes, I understand you think this is freezing, but I do not. You are being quite gentlemanly, but this isn't a date so cut it out. Did I mention my big strong boyfriend who's at least six inches taller than you?

d. You play rugby? Sweet! I used to play rugby. This means I know how sketch most rugby guys are. Yes, I probably could tackle you; no, I don't want to try in the middle of this crowded room. 

e. We met an hour ago, and you already want to bring me home to meet your mother in Marseille? Um...what? She makes good couscous, you say. I could stay with you? How convenient! You know who else lets me stay with her? The mother of my boyfriend. I bet she makes pretty good couscous too. He's of Norwegian descent...the Vikings were a proud and jealous people. Violent, too. Seriously though, please don't try to feed me your dessert. 

f. I'm a big girl. I don't need to be walked home. No, seriously, it's okay. I'd really feel better on my own. 

At first I wondered if I was just being paranoid or misinterpreting cultural differences, but I think there's something to be said for intuition. After meeting the language partners of some of my friends, I feel better about my decision to switch--they are totally chill and not sketch and don't do the creepy "you are all such beautiful girls" routine every five minutes. Only problem is, tonight he called my house. Thankfully, my host mom did a very convincing routine pretending I was on skype and yadda yadda she can't go out for coffee tonight, but I think if it happens again I need to just do what I dread and tell him I won't be able to meet up...ever. Avoidance is my chosen method for dealing with most unpleasant situations, but perhaps it's time to grow up and learn to be direct. 

Provence is known for its lavender. It's harvested in August, but there's enough to last the rest of the year. 

3. In my French Cultural Patterns class, we discussed a study an anthropologist did a while back about physicality of couples in different cultures. He observed romantically involved couples at restaurants and counted each time they touched each other (a kiss, a hug, holding hands, etc) within an hour long period. Here are the results:

London: 0

Jacksonville: 8

San Juan: 20

Paris: 110

Impressive, no? I thought this was really interesting. And given the couples I've seen around here, I believe it. Once I was just walking down the Cours Mirabeau, and I saw a couple come out of a restaurant, share a passionate, several minute goodbye kiss...and then walk off together. It's like all those pictures of train station kisses in WWII (side note: Life magazine photo archive on Google? Awesome.), the "I don't know if I will ever see you again alive so let's make it count" kind, except with more groping and no wars. 

I have homework to do, so I'm gonna call it quits for today. I miss and love you all!

Things I promise to discuss at a later date

1. Our day trip to the Luberon ('twas beautiful)

2. This evening's nightclub excursion (am not cut out for such things, would prefer to spend Saturday evening in bed doing crossword)

3. French vs. American style (Lilli told us to dress to fit in, but the blisters on my feet suggest that three inch heels were a bad choice, no matter how much I blended [and i didn't, because i was pretty much hobbling within the first hour])

4. My language partner, and why I'm getting a new one

5. Some other stuff maybe. 

What I Ate

Breakfast. At home.

1 perfect soft-boiled egg

1 cup of coffee in my favorite pink cup

Lunch. At school. 

1 salad, consisting of mesclun, fresh avocado, and a few chunks of creamy goat cheese

1 hunk of bread from the corner bakery (with some Nutella on the side for dessert)

1 glass of white wine

Apéritif. At local café/bar.

Several sips of mulled wine with cinnamon and citrus fruits

Some olives

Dinner. At a wonderful mystery restaurant with a ceiling painted like the night sky. 

1 glass of champagne

1 order of tagliatelle with bleu cheese, sage, and walnuts

1 serving of crème brûlée

Forgive the blurs, it was so pretty I couldn't keep still.