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?!

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. 

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. 

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.