Coincidences

So I went to the grocery store - which, by the way, is called Ed - to get some stuff: cheese, candy, frozen things, etc. I am standing there looking at things that I don't quite understand, and I see this girl out of the corner of my eye. I look at her for a second, appreciating her haircut and funky attire, and then turn away. And then turn back. Because it was Erin. Ha! Apparently her train of thought was, "That's a funny shirt. Hey, Bobbie is attached to that shirt!" So we groceried for a little while and then parted ways. I went to Monoprix and got some more stuff, and then came back to the tram station to go back home. And there was Erin, with her class of annoying French guys. Stalker! Anyway we rode the tram and giggled. Now I am home, eating cheese and baguette and killing time before I go to pick up Chris at the Gare Montparnasse.

Moments of stability

Much as this voyage so for has only been confusing and rocking my foundations, there are nice moments sometimes. For example...

I am lying in my bed, under my brand new bright orange poufy comforter, watching Supernatural. I just gave Vaune the grocery list for the corn chowder I am making tonight - the arrangement is that she buys the groceries and I do the cooking. I like it. Let's hope I don't screw it up. I have a great excuse to be lying around doing nothing - I am waiting for our brand new fridge to arrive. I am also waiting to hear from Chris because he is supposedly visiting today. It's a gorgeous day and I am going to go buy a large soup pot later. And cook dinner for friends. Things are not perfect, but I am in a good mood.

Ra ra ra

Not much to say.

We had our grammar class yesterday. It's at Reid Hall, which is where Tulane has it's JYA office. It's painfully easy. Vaune and I both tested out of it, but we decided to take it anyway. Embarrassing moments:

-learning in front of the whole class that we were the only ones in the Tulane group (or anyone else, for that matter) who had tested out if it
-me being called an "étoile" (star) in front of the whole class by the eccentric teacher because I know that an affirmative imperative is one of two times when the pronoun comes after the verb. awkward.

We Métro'd to Clignancourt, where our translation course was not yet meeting. We figured it wouldn't, but we wanted to make sure we could get there in time. Unfortunately like seven other Tulane kids also want to take that section of that course. I am concerned that they will not let us all in, as space is limited.

I bought a comforter last night. It is wonderful.

We had another Swedish class today, and learned many new things.

Hur mår du? (How are you?)
Jag mår bra. (I am well.)
Jag mår inte bra. (I am not well.)
Hur stavar det? (How do you spell that?)
Vad talar du för språk? (What languages do you speak?)
Jag talar engelska, franska, och lite italienska. (I speak English, French, and a little Italian.)

We also learned to count to ten:

ett
två
tre
fyr
fem
sex
åtta
nio
tio

Things are pretty good. Things I am looking forward to:

-our fridge being delivered tomorrow
-starting to cook actual meals (beginning with corn chowder) once our fridge becomes cold
-Chris coming in to visit tomorrow!
-not having classes on Fridays or Mondays
-visiting Angers on the 26th
-Carolyn coming to visit on the 30th!

Hej! Jag heter Bobbie. Vad heter du?

Today was exhausting but amazing.

Woke up at 6 again, this time in order to shower, get dressed and blog before meeting Vaune downstairs at 8 AM. We took the RER B to Chatelet–Les Halles, took the RER A to Auber, and took the Métro 3 to Malesherbes. This is Malesherbes, the building that owns our souls:



We were very early and stopped by our supposed Swedish classroom and saw no one. We went back out into a main hall and sat down, where we saw Alan the Irishman again. According to Beaufort’s warnings, we were basically afraid that we had all the wrong information, that they had changed classroom numbers on us, that classes weren’t starting til next week, that the teacher wouldn’t let us into the course – pick a combination of any or all of the above. However, at about 9:10, a woman herded us up and took us up to a bigger classroom, because there were too many of us to fit into the language lab. And thus our Swedish class began! Vaune and I sat in the front, eagerly awaiting instruction. Our professor is Cecilia Carlander, and she is young, laid-back, patient and nice. I am not worried at all about having problems with her; I think it is going to be a great class. We learned how to say, “My name is… (Jag heter…),” “What is your name? (Vad heter du?),” “I come from… (Jag kommer från…),” and “Where do you come from? (Var kommer du ifrån?).” It was really great. The class meets from 9 AM – 11:30 AM on Tuesdays and from 1:30 PM to 4 PM on Thursdays.

After that we went on a mission to find our textbook, Svenska Utifrån. We took various Métros and finally arrived in Marais: the gay and Jewish district. It also happens to house various cultural centers, including the Swedish one. We got the book with no problems.



Then we got lunch and went back to Malesherbes, where we waited three hours til our next class, Grammar and History of Language. At 3, we went to the Grand Amphithéâtre, but no one was there, so we went up to the French department secretary, who told us that all the French department classes start next week. Good to know. So we wasted three hours, but at least we didn’t have to go to class. Instead, we took the Métro to the Italie 2 mall and bought a fridge! It’s being delivered on Friday. We bought some food for dinner and came home. Now I am heating a frozen lasagna and circling want ads for babysitters. À demain!

Settling in, running around

Sunday we had a meeting with Beaufort. We slogged through miles of incomprehensible bureaucracy, but I think we actually got a lot accomplished. Vaune and I made a list of things we had to do Monday:

-move in to La Fondation des Etats-Unis
-get new ID photos
-buy a fridge
-buy a Metro pass
-open a bank account
-buy a youth SNCF (French railroad) card
-buy a comforter
-go all the way across Paris to the languages department of the Sorbonne to find out when classes are
-possibly attend classes
-probably a hundred other things

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast (it was now 5) so we went to Quick, because their ads amuse us. We got the Anelka burger, as pictured in below ad, and it actually had that writing on it. We used our new Sorbonne ID cards to get a student discount, and it was actually a great discount and not a bad burger, with potato wedges and cheese/tomato/basil sauce instead of ketchup. Not too shabby. Then we headed back to CISP Kellermann, and I found a way to watch Heroes for free! Yay!



Monday was a crazy day. I got up at six and went down to eat breakfast and check my email. We had to be out by nine, so as soon as I was done packing my stuff up, Vaune and I hauled our bags to the Porte d’Italie tram stop and got on the tram.

Vaune at the tram stop


We took it three stops to Cité Universitaire and went inside. The woman told us we couldn’t check in until 1:30, but we could leave our bags there. So we did, and then tried to navigate across Paris to Malesherbes, the Sorbonne’s languages building. This was not simple. We ended up in some weird sketchy RER station, but we left.

Sketchy RER station


Vaune on the Metro


Me on the Métro


Eventually we got to Malesherbes and spent quite a long time trying to make sense of the schedules that were posted outside the departments. We are both already enrolled in a grammar course at Reid Hall, and are taking Translation classes from the English department, so we had to pick two more classes. I was going to take Italian and a Linguistics class, and Vaune was going to take Dutch and a history class. Well… only one of those things happened – my linguistics class. The schedules were very confusing, and we were trying to avoid taking classes on Mondays and Fridays (because we’re in Europe – we want to freakin’ travel), but I did end up finding a Grammar and History of Language class that should fulfill my History of Language linguistics requirement. As for Italian… the Italian secretary is apparently crazy and thinks that Italians are trying to infiltrate it to get good grades. So Vaune and I are both taking… Swedish! That’s right folks, in about 45 minutes we are trekking back to Malesherbes to see if our Swedish class actually meets today.

While inspecting schedules, we encountered another confused English-speaking exchange student – Alan, a Dubliner. He asked us out for drinks last night. We declined, but will probably meet up with him on Thursday. This was the text message he sent me: “Wud b delyted 2 go out thursday nyt so :-). Myt c u b4 then round malasherbes but if not I’ll b in touch 2 find out wot the craic is. Enjoy settling in :-)!”

Though most of that message is relatively unintelligible, the word “craic” seemed even more out of place than the rest, so I looked it up on Wikipedia. It means, "fun, enjoyment, abandonment, or lighthearted mischief; often in the context of drinking or music.” I feel so Irish! He actually said, “Hey, you’re from Boston, you’re practically Irish yourself.” I am glad that even someone from Dublin knows that about Boston. It makes me proud.

After that, we got applications for a yearlong Metro pass and also got monthly ones to last us until our year ones are processed. Then we Metro’d to Gare St-Lazare where we bought “la Carte 12-25” which is a card for youth which guarantees you 25% off train travel within France, and can get you up to 60% off. We’re very excited – especially cause we’re going back to Angers for Halloween. Then we got sandwiches and headed back to the Cité, where we checked into our rooms.

They are kind of disappointing, but hey, they are our own. The showers are the really bad part – they smell like goat cheese, you have to push a button every 60 seconds to keep the shower running, and the water never gets warm. That ought to be interesting in the winter.

My room


My view (not bad)


After that there was a lot of lounging around and unpacking. I hung clothes all over my room because the dryer at the CISP Kellermann had not dried any of them properly.

Clothes hanging everywhere


At 4:30, we met w/ Madame Beaufort, which was uneventful, although I found a magazine with a ton of ads looking for a native English speaking babysitter, so I am going to look into that.

Then the Vaunester and I went to Monoprix and bought basic necessities and came home and ate French frozen meals! After tomorrow I will have my pots and pans and we will be able to cook. The kitchen is not that bad.

Then it was bedtime for these two tired girls. Now it’s 7:30 AM and in half an hour I am meeting Vaune downstairs and we are dashing back to Malesherbes to see if our Swedish class actually meets this morning.

Au revoir, Angers.

I am so glad to be out of Angers, CIDEF, and my host family. Actually, just CIDEF and my host family. The actual city of Angers (and most of the people in it) is rather nice.

Friday night was the “Soirée International,” which I had pictured as somewhat similar to Ste-Anne’s theme nights, specifically Soirée Anglaise, which is everybody’s goodbye night. This was not true, due to the fact that a) most of these people will be back in classes next week and seeing each other, b) we don’t all live together and its not total immersion so people don’t bond as much, and c) unlike at Ste-Anne, there is actually stuff to do in Angers, so we don’t have to rely on our program for social events.

So we stopped by for half an hour but it was just the chorus singing and we left in time to be at the Falstaff (our favorite bar) by nine, which Kat (the bartender/owner) had asked us to do. We got a booth and sat down, and a few minutes later Kat turned off the lights and the music and brought out a brownie/cake thing with candles in it and the whole bar sang Happy Birthday to me – Kat wanted to celebrate my birthday because when it actually was my birthday, she didn’t know.





The brownie/cake



It was also sort of a goodbye party. Scott did his part and bought a “meter of beer” (yes, they exist) for himself, me, Vaune and Chris as a goodbye gift to Vaune and myself. It was pretty funny.



We also got delicious fries from the kebab place next door.


Vaune and I were both tired so we left around 11 and walked home. We found we can pretty much walk home together, and then I have to go a little ways by myself to get to my house. Good thing to learn – on our last night in Angers. I called Alexis and we got to talk for a while which was nice, because we haven’t been able to in a few days.

Saturday morning I went downstairs to take my shower and Madame was like, “Make sure you open your shutters. You can’t clean a room in the dark.” This woman is obsessed with me opening the shutters because she assumes that when the shutters are closed that I must have every light in the room on, burning her energy bill into oblivion. Which is not true. So I took my shower and went upstairs and got dressed and came down for breakfast. She was walking in the door - she had gone outside to check and make sure I had opened my shutters. So I get down there and she’s like, “I TOLD YOU TO OPEN YOUR SHUTTERS. STOP WASTING LIGHT.” I tried to explain to her that I did not exactly feel comfortable toweling off and changing into my clothes with the shutters wide open for everyone to see, but this apparently was wildly unreasonable and she just kind of huffed around for a bit, and then brought it up again. She was like, “You must not use the lights in daylight!!” Yes, Madame, but I am not giving a free show to your neighbors. I don’t know why she couldn’t grasp this. And I can’t believe she went out and checked.

When I told her I was leaving at 1:19, she asked me if I was having lunch. I told her I would get lunch at the train station. She was like, “Well normally, Bobbie, people eat lunch at noon.” I told her it was okay and I would get something there, but this, too, was unacceptable. So she told me I had to eat lunch with them. And the grandchildren were over for lunch. The boy is little and cute, but the girl is older and loud, rude and obnoxious beyond belief. So that was already making me unhappy. Then lunch was peas and meat. Guh. Madame was screaming at her grandchildren, who acted as if she didn’t exist, and then she would just sigh loudly. I’ve noticed she’s just incredibly rude to everyone – her husband, her daughter, her grandchildren, me… Anyway so then it was time for dessert and she took my plate, which still had a couple peas and all the pea juice on it and she was like, “In France we clean our plates.” I wanted to smack her. I wanted to say, “Oh yeah? Well in the US we don’t wipe up pea juice with stale bread.” Instead I just said I don’t like wet bread, which is true, but she just sighed in agony at my primitive rudeness.

All through the meal Vaune had been texting me, because her family totally ditched her and she didn’t have a ride to the train station. She was going to take a cab, or meet me at my house and take the bus with me. She couldn’t decide. I was telling M et Mme and Madame was like, “Well some host families are really rude.” YES THEY ARE.

The pièce de résistance, however, was at the end of the meal. Madame was like, “Sometimes, I just say what I am thinking. It’s a good thing. Any tension between us, it’s forgotten.” Sorry, woman. I have already filled out my host family evaluation. Too late.

Finally, I got on the bus and managed to maneuver to the train station with my luggage. Chris and Debbie had come to wish us farewell, which was really sweet. I’m really going to miss Chris. The train only stops in Angers for two minutes, so that is all the time we had to get ten people and their luggage onto the train. But we did it, assembly line style, and settled in for our ride. Two hours later, we were in Paris.

Madame B talked at us for half an hour in the train station, which was a bad move as no one could hear anything she said. Finally she gave us cab money and we went and waited in the taxi line, which took another half hour, especially because cab drivers did not want to take me with my big suitcase. This one guy was like, “It won’t fit.” I was like, “Just look, it will fit right there.” He said, “It’s too tall.” It obviously would have fit and I tried to show him and he just cut me off and was like, “I know my car!” I thought, “Okay, if you don’t want my extra two euros for an extra bag, so be it.” I waited until a nice guy came along and he took me. Good thing, too, as he drove faster than all the other cab drivers and I got to the CISP Kellermann first and had the lowest cab fare (yes, we are staying at the damn hostel again, for two nights until we move into the Fondation on Monday – the same day that classes start… classes that we haven’t registered for yet).

I went upstairs and dropped off my bags and waited for Vaune to arrive. Once she did, we sprinted out of there and two the closest Metro stop. After changing trains about five times, we finally arrived at Place de Clichy, on the other side of Paris, at about 6:30 – only a half hour behind schedule. Erin came and got us and took us to her tiny one room apartment, complete with bed, bathroom, stove, washer, and fridge. Impressive, for a room smaller than most singles.

She and her friends Matt and Veronique had made pasta for us! It was delicious. We had spaghetti with tomato pesto sauce, and cheese and olives and tomato, and dessert. And wine. Erin said, “I made this kind of weird meal… because you look vaguely Italian so I thought you would like it.” This is true. She did good.

After that we went home, internetted, and then crashed in our tiny rooms. This morning I think breakfast made me sick. Also a man yelled at me for the way I ladled my pudding. Madame Gilot has shifted shapes and come to Paris. He finished by saying, “Is that how you do it at your house?” in a snide voice, as if I live with pigs. I told him, “At my house, we fat Americans don’t eat chocolate pudding for breakfast..”

Now Vaune and I are doing our laundry and dreading our meeting with Madame Beaufort this afternoon. Classes start tomorrow, as well as moving. Interesting.

Locked out

Let's try to catch up.

So since Vaune and I had been having some host family dining issues, we chose to go out for a deluxe evening meal on Thursday night. We put on our Thursday best and sashayed all the way to… McDonald’s. And it was joyous. We had been dreaming about it all day, ever since Vaune had suggested it during class and we looked up the closest “McDo” online.

I would say that the most notable feature of the McDonald’s is that a quarter pounder with cheese is, in fact, called a Royale with cheese. All you Pulp Fiction fans, rejoice. Vaune and I both ordered the “Royal Bacon,” which was a burger, toppings, and a giant, round slice of bacon-like meat. Another notable fact is that Vaune is a vegetarian, and yet consumed her Royal Bacon with the utmost enthusiasm. As did I.

Our delicious meal


Vaune says a joyous goodbye to vegetarianism, joyfully.


Me, imitating Vaune, and also enjoying McDo.


Me, demonstrating my distress at the existence of a "Croque McDo," which is the McDonald's version of a Croque Monsieur, which is kind of like a grilled cheese sandwich with ham in it.


Mmm.


Aftermath.


After we decimated – nay, annihilated – our meal, I said to Vaune, “Now that we have eaten food that will undoubtedly make you sick, let’s go drink!” And so we headed to the Falstaff.

We met up with Chris I and Chris II, as well as our new French friend Antoine. Katie and Kristine showed up later. Around 10 PM I decided I was tired and started to head back to my house, only to discover about halfway there that I did not have my housekey. I texted Vaune and then continued home to commit attempted breaking-and-entering. It failed, and I walked back to the Falstaff, where Chris grabbed me and we ran to catch the 11:23 bus. At 11:22 we resigned ourselves that we were not going to make it to the Ralliement bus stop in time, and so went to… McDonald’s. Chris got a McChicken and I got a McFlurry. We walked back to Ralliement, forty minutes before the next bus would be there, so we sat down in the doorway of a boulangerie because it blocked the wind. One woman asked us for a light, and we happily obliged with our new Falstaff lighters, given to us by the bartender/proprietor/our friend Kat. Another boy came and talked to us and got very excited about basketball and the Celtics and almost made us miss our bus.

At 12:47 we boarded the bus and eventually arrived at Chris’s house. We quietly snuck in, trying not to wake his host family, because there are “no visits without prior permission” and I am sure that includes strange girls sleeping in your bed, regardless of incompatible sexual orientations for both parties. We got ready for bed and then Chris told me true ghost stories about his childhood home. I thought I was going to pee myself. We went to sleep in Chris’s giant comfortable bed, although I didn’t sleep very well. We woke up at 6, and he snuck me back out. I took the 6:30 bus to Ralliement, and then walked a half an hour back to my house. Monsieur wasn’t awake yet when I got there, so I sat outside and read Infidel until I heard him come outside to get the mail. This was part of my ingenious plan, because it meant that I would not have to knock because the door would already be open and I would not have to admit that I had forgotten to put my key in purse. I walk in, smelling of smoke, wearing day old clothes, and looking like a zombie, and Monsieur just says, “Bonjour!” and smiles. Grace à Dieu Madame wasn’t up… she would have made fun of me and lorded it over me for the next day. I went upstairs, grabbed my towel, took a shower, ate breakfast, and jetted to school.