france
(54 entries)
Posts about France.
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Interview time III: Revenge of the Interview
These questions are from Bob:
- Do you know how this thing works? (it animates, be patient!)
Um, I've actually seen it somewhere else this week, with an explanation and everything. However, all of my surfing tends to blend together after a while, so that I can't remember where I found things. It has something to do with the way they're staggered - that they are separated vertically such that a little rearranging creates a whole new person out of the body parts of others. Yesh.
- You seem easily annoyable. What annoys you the most?
Oh no! Is that my reputation? I'm not sure I want to be that person! But it's true - there are a lot of things that annoy me. I think the most annoying thing is when people don't live up to their potential.
- What's a hidden talent you wish you had?
I s'pose it would be nice to be able to sing. Or breakdance!
- What's the single biggest difference between The French and us Amerikuns?
Hmmmmm. I don't like to pick just one! I think one of my favorites is the pace of life, which is sort of married to the work-life balance. A 35-hour work week! Leisurely meals! The month of August off work!
- Favorite cereal? (mine's Fruity Pebbles.)
There's a little something in France called Kellogg's Extra. For someone who doesn't like dark chocolate, I have to admit that it is perfectly acceptable to combine the substance with cereal and little chunks of hazelnut. It's almost like a granola in texture and best eaten as a snack, with your fingers or a HUGE spoon. I'm not sure I've ever actually tried to pour milk over it and actually eat it as a cereal. Anyway, it's the best thing ever invented.
This is a meme, so if you're interested in being interviewed by me, here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions here. They will be different questions than the ones above.
3. You will update YOUR blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
srah - Saturday, 23 April 2005 - 11:37 PM
Tags: cereal, france, interviews, kellogg's extra, memes
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'Dave, please prepare for landing.'
I got to France on the anniversary of the D-Day invasion and am leaving on the day of the liberation of Paris. I'll be a bit sad to miss all of the television specials, actually.
Got up in the morning, had breakfast, took a taxi to the RER, took the RER to Charles de Gaulle, stood in lines, went through security, stood in lines, got to the gate, stood in lines, sat around forever. No telephones and only one place to get food - where a bottle of iced tea cost 3,15€. Not bloody likely!*
Got on the plane and was seated across the aisle from a WWII veteran who was 81 years old and who had been decorated with the French Legion of Honor medal this summer because he was involved in the D-Day invasion. I know this because I heard it about 71 different times because his wife wouldn't shut up about it.
He was very charming, if your definition of charming is:
charm·ing: (adj.) 1. One who is quite possibly senile and turns his airplane radio up to impossible volumes and does not remove his headphones when people speak to him so he ends up yelling at everyone who talks to him and - worst of all - is listening to some patriotic airplane radio channel and feels a great need to sing along (loudly) but doesn't really know the words so that all we hear is a sort of "mahmahnahla AMEEEEEEEERICA nah la la la la la la la AMERRRRRRICA" at completely unpredictable intervals in such a way that it kind of scares other passengers and makes them think he might be insane.
I don't know about you, but that's not my definition of the word.
So, that was that. We had to pick up our checked luggage in Washington, DC, walk through immigration with it (although our checked luggage was completely irrelevant as they didn't search anything and we just had to fill out forms) then recheck it. It was ridiculous. Then we went on from Washington to Detroit, where I was seated across the aisle from the Paranoid Wolverine, so nicknamed because she's a U-M student and because every time the plane did anything, she started panicking, à la "Are we turning? Haven't we been turning for a long time? We've been turning for a while now. Do you think we're supposed to turn this much?" So... that was fun. We also only had one flight attendant on the flight, which was funny because he was referred to by name instead of as the flight crew.
Due to weather conditions in Chicago, there were a whole bunch of grounded planes in Detroit and we couldn't get a gate. So we walked down the steps of our dinky little plane and up some back emergency exit stairs into the airport. Got to baggage claim, and was collected by Loved Ones Bearing Bubble Tea. Yay. Bubble tea and no more internship!
Isidore reconnected easily to the family Internet connection, dinner was had, Robin visited, some souvenir-presents were unpacked and given and Sarah slept. The end.
–––––
* Except apparently it was bloody likely, because I paid it and drank it.
srah - Wednesday, 25 August 2004 - 10:16 PM
Tags: americans, france, paris, the abbey, travel
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I love Paris in the summer when it drizzles and is about 50°F and I don't have my raincoat on...
Becky and I set the alarm to go off at 9:30, but I woke up at 9 and the sun was out and I was covered in too many blankets and my clothes desperately needed to be folded. Who knows? I'd only had 5 hours of sleep, so it almost makes sense that I fell out of bed and started folding all of my new clothes.
Becky and I showered and dressed and left the hotel by 10am. First destination: Um, it's a secret. Uh, I mean... nowhere. We didn't go anywhere at all. Well, okay... Starbucks. Okay? Fine! We went to Starbucks! And I had a chai tea latte and it was heaven, okay? It's the freakin' 4th of July, okay? I have to celebrate my nation in some way! Cut me some slack!
*buries face in hands*
Well, at least it wasn't McDonalds.
Becky and I then went our separate ways. She went to the Musée d'Orsay and I went to the Louvre. Because it was the first Sunday of the month, the museums were free. This was nice in terms of my empty pockets, but kind of a drag because everyone and their mother and her kitchen sink were there. I decided that I wanted to do more than the Louvre and since it was free, I wouldn't feel bad about rushing through it.
So I set out to see one thing I hadn't seen on previous trips. I picked the French crown jewels and walked around the wings to find them. I got to the room where they were supposed to be and found a sign saying that they had been moved to another room. I went to that room and it was under construction. No dice. So I went and saw the Mona Lisa instead. Meh. At least I got to see Jesus and The Commemorative Crucifixion Tea-Towel Vendor on the way.
Sometimes when I'm in a very touristy place, I like to wonder where my face is going to go to. There are always strangers in your photos when you're taking these pictures and people come from all over the world to take them. I also ended up walking back and forth in front of Nike of Samothrace about eleven times, so I'm sure I'll be all over the world in a few days.
After the Louvre, I set out in search of a bookstore, armed with a few tips my roommate Caroline had given me. I found Shakespeare & Co. and wasn't terribly impressed, but I had to meet my friend Andrés so I didn't look for any others.
I took the Metro to the Parc de la Villette, where Andrés and his friends were having a picnic. Andrés (aka Don Shakiro), as you may remember, is the former Spanish assistant at the Lycée Valéry Larbaud, with whom I may or may not have had a torrid secret affair.
Anyway, he ended up running late, then it started raining, then his friends were running late, then it stopped raining... by the time we actually sat down for the picnic, it was actually nice out. Unfortunately, I had to leave early so that I could catch my train. They convinced me to stay a bit longer, then I ended up losing track of time.
When I realized what time it was, I said my goodbyes quickly and raced for the Metro, calling Becky and Eirlys, who were already sitting on the train. Meanwhile, I still hadn't collected my bag from the hotel! In the end, it turned out that the train they were on was not the one that we'd all agreed on, but another train to Blois that left around 5:30.
So Anca got to the station at the right time, right about the time I was approaching the hotel. She very kindly waited for me, so the four of us got to Blois an hour apart. Becky and Eirlys had waited for us with Jackie, who came to pick us up, and we all went back to P--------.
By the time I got back to the abbey, I was so worn out from two non-stop days of walking and taking trains and Metros and not sleeping, that I couldn't bring myself to attend the 4th of July barbecue (with marshmallow-roasting!) that was going on across the grounds, or even to climb the two flights to the kitchen for dinner! I scrounged around my room and snacked and climbed into bed and finished The Da Vinci Code before falling asleep.
srah - Sunday, 4 July 2004 - 4:35 PM
Tags: andres, art, beckyb, fourth of july, france, holidays
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'Ze fast and ze furious!'
Now that I'm sober, I can tell you about last night's meal in more detail, without the danger that reviewing it bloggily would cause me to review it vomitally.
Becky and I went to the nice restaurant in town, sort of on a whim, after discussing how much we both like food. Becky told me that although she'd never been there, she'd heard that they don't like Americans, so we had to be on our best behavior and I had to do all of the talking because we'd have to speak French. We went in and asked for a table for two.
"Do you have a reservation?" We admitted that we didn't and they said that they only had one table left, so we were going to have to take that one. Um... fine with us! So we sat in the middle of the room and tried to behave ourselves, realizing that by not making a reservation, we had made our first gaffe.
Things actually got better from there. We ordered our kir royales with crème de pêche as apéritifs and by doing so, I managed to get a bit squiffy before we even opened the bottle of rosé. Once we'd ordered, the wait staff seemed to warm up to us and our waiter teased us about our bad habits (slow eating for me, smoking for Becky) all through the evening and spoke English, Spanish, German and Japanese to us as well as French.
Anyway, Becky and I each ordered from the menu. We had the salade de chèvre chaud, then she had some kind of porc dish and I had coq au vin for the main course. As we finished up our main courses, we realized there were still two courses to go, but luckily we (erm... I) had taken so long eating that they actually asked us if we wanted the cheese course or if we wanted to skip straight to dessert. I had crêpes with a Grand Marnier sauce and Becky had the clafoutis aux cerises. We adjourned to the bar for our coffee and tea, as we had outlasted everyone in our dining room and they were getting ready to close for the night.
We managed to roll/wobble ourselves to the computer lab to send drunken/potentially-sick emails to our friends, then wobbled up to bed.
srah - Friday, 25 June 2004 - 4:05 AM
Tags: food, france
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Picka Frenchatoni
Last time I came to France, I played Spot the American. I'm now, on the plane, involved in a simplified version of the game called French or American?
I suck!
This should not be harder than Spot the American, but so far none of my guesses have proven to be correct.
David Sedaris, in his infinite wisdom, points out that you should be able to tell by the shoes. Hate to disappoint, David, but this planefull seems to have had a mutual footwear-swapping orgy, or else I'm just hopelessly out of touch with modern French and American fashion trends.
Um... don't answer that.
srah - Sunday, 6 June 2004 - 7:47 PM
Tags: david sedaris, fashion, france
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L'ennui du globe-trotter
I am currently applying for two different internships in France (and another in Brussels, although I haven't heard back from them at all in the week since I sent my resumé). I almost started crying just now, listening to Jean-Jacques Goldman and thinking about my possible arrival in Paris this May or so.
Why do I ache for France when I'm home and long for home when I'm in France? When I'm in France, I tell myself I could never spend my whole life there, but when I'm in the US, I realize I could never spend my whole life here, either. I am never satisfied.
srah - Monday, 15 March 2004 - 9:28 PM
Tags: france
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What a girl misses
Katie has been posting what she misses and doesn't miss from France. My unexhaustive lists (in no particular order):
Things I miss about France
- speaking French
- family and friends
- public transportation
- the French
- baguettes
- cheese
- other foods
- being hit on by strange men even when I feel skanky and unshowered
- menthes à l'eau
- Nestea pêche
- French radio
- walking
- packaging printed in multiple languages
- text-messaging
- mountains
- being foreign
- the salad dressing
- the pace of life
- perfume
- musical cell phone rings
- socialism
- subtitled movies
Things I don't miss about France
- the frustration of being ignored or misunderstood because I am foreign
- bureaucracy
- being hit on by strange men when I am feeling skanky and unshowered
- French radio
- no chai
- traversins
- strikes
- most other Americans in France
- representing the USA
- refusal to take professional responsibility for anything
- lack of selection at the grocery store
- socialism
- movies dubbed into French
srah - Saturday, 11 October 2003 - 9:22 AM
Tags: france
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She certainly can can-can
Robin has somehow found herself pet-sitting a total of five dogs and nine cats this week and I often get dragged along. I'm afraid of two of the dogs in one of the houses, so she relegates me to the basement with the other one and Max and I watch the International Channel.
Last night the coverage was subtitled French news. I was aware that there had been a heat wave in France and that people had been suffering and even dying, but I hadn't realized how serious it was. According to what I was watching, the estimations are that more than 10,000 people have been killed by the heat. Tours is reporting their death rate at 180% of the normal.
I feel so dumb and ignorant for not having realized how serious the situation was until now. I feel detached. It was so nice to see French news last night and catch up on everything that's important over there but doesn't make it over here. I don't want to lose touch like that.
Here's a bit of song and dance (from a U-M alum!) that I've been listening to all week, about being caught between France and the US (translation in the extension):
Certains vont à Cannes pour finir leur vie
D'autres se rangent en Californie
Mais quand viendra l'heure de me retirer
Je serais sans doute bien embêté
A moins peut-être que j'aille passer gaiement
Ma retraite sur un voilier tout blanc
Et couleur des jours pacifiques
Au milieu du ciel atlantique
Côté banjo there's always San Francisco Bay
Côté violon toujours Paris au mois de mai
Côté raison, je me sens quelquefois d'ailleurs
Mais d'ici côté cœur...
- Joe Dassin, Côté banjo, côté violon
srah - Friday, 22 August 2003 - 2:16 PM
Tags: france, music
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A letter to France
Depuis que je suis loin de toi
Je suis comme loin de moi
Et je pense à toi tout bas
Tu es à six heures de moi
Je suis à des années de toi
C'est ça être là-bas.
- Michel Polnareff, Lettre à France
srah - Friday, 8 August 2003 - 1:15 PM
Tags: france, french, music, quote
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Pay no attention to that girl behind the weblog
Upon further reflection, maybe I'm just hitting my normal post-France mal du pays a bit late and being overdramatic.
srah - Thursday, 10 July 2003 - 4:07 PM
Tags: assistantship, france
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I love hPaaahriss
Becky called me to the TV because Audrey Tautou was on The View, hawking Dirty Pretty Things. I would be frightened out of my mind to go on a French talk show, surrounded by people whipping questions at me, but she did quite well. I suppose they prepared her before the show, with the questions that were going to be asked.
I love the way French people pronounce Paris when they are speaking English. The P isn't as explosive as ours - it's closer to our B. Then there's a soft ahhh instead of our ayyyyy, and a short ee instead of ih, followed by a slightly longer s, so it all comes out as hPaaahriss. Just lovely.
srah - Wednesday, 9 July 2003 - 12:05 PM
Tags: france, french
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Si j'avais une baguette magique, j'aurais une baguette de pain
Yeah. Si + imparfait... conditionnel. I like the "si" rules. They make sense to me.
Why can't you get a decent baguette in the United States? Is there something in the baguette-making process that is not up to American hygiene standards? Are the ingredients different? Are there ingredients in a baguette that are too expensive over here to make it economically feasible? Do they think it's not worth the bother to make bread that won't last more than one day?
American baguettes, sometimes also known as "French bread", are not baguettes. They are a loaf of Wonder bread that somehow got stretched out. They're not bad when making garlic bread, but are useless for anything else. I can't get a real baguette here (even in the hippie/yuppie/soccermom paradise that is Ann Arbor), and I demand to know why.
srah - Thursday, 26 June 2003 - 9:12 AM
Tags: ann arbor, food, france, french, united states
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Le tabagisme
Seven years ago, when I went to France for the first time, I remember being concerned about the French people's smoking habits. Since my grandpa quit, I didn't know anyone who smoked and I found it a disgusting, repulsive thing to do. I was filled with disdain for smokers and swore I would never be friends with anyone who did such a thing. I remember being scared that I would be peer-pressured to try it (having never been peer pressured into anything by my very geeky and well-behaved American friends) or that people would (gasp!) smoke around me.
And smoke they did. Americans smoke, but nothing like the French. I remember huddling under a bus shelter in the rain with about 20 other high-school-aged kids while everyone lit up. I was offered a cigarette, but no one pressured me when I refused. And I didn't cough too much, and I wasn't rude to them, and I survived.
And now, after repeated visits and stays in France, it just seems so normal to me that I didn't even understand why people objected to my pictures of dinner with the S2OLs. "They're smoking at the table? Didn't that bother you?" It didn't, surprisingly enough. I suppose that I should be proud of my adaptability.
srah - Friday, 6 June 2003 - 2:00 PM
Tags: france, stories
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Subtitles ahoy!
Sophie and I are hoping that the Nice People will get frustrated with their shortcomings in French (the presenters are already making fun of them for misgendering things and saying someone has nice horses instead of hair) and revert to English, a language they have probably all been studying for longer and know better. Not because we are great fans of English or Watching Subtitled TV or anything, but just because all that extra subtitling work would somehow teach TF1 a lesson. Live broadcasts will be interesting, if they find several languages to communicate in. Translators, start your typing!
I wonder if TF1 gave any thought to this in advance. The Belgian speaks five languages, the English girl is half Portuguese, and Swedes can always speak a million languages. Are we sure that French will always come out on top?
srah - Sunday, 27 April 2003 - 12:57 PM
Tags: assistantship, france, language, nice people, tv
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I hate Paris in the springtime
"Don't worry," said the conductor. "Forty minutes is plenty of time to cross Paris and exchange your ticket. Take the RER line D and you'll be there in 15 minutes."
Very true, except when it takes 15 minutes to get from your train to the RER and you have to wait 10 minutes for the next RER train. Then it takes more like... 40 minutes to cross Paris.
Luckily I had been forced to pay an arm and a leg for a Full Tarif ticket which ended up being exchangeable for a ticket 5€ cheaper for a train an hour later. All is well in srah-land and as of five minutes before departure, there are no tuna-reeking gosses near me.
srah - Sunday, 27 April 2003 - 12:51 PM
Tags: france, paris, travel
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More complaints about transportation
It amuses me, in a frustratedly amusèd way, that I can make the trip from Grenoble to Brussels in about the same amount of time it takes to get from Grenoble to Vichy. It all has something to do with the relief of the Massif Central, says the SNCF. Excuses, excuses... all I know is I'm lucky to be in Vichy rather than Aurillac, which is six hours from Paris...
srah - Sunday, 27 April 2003 - 10:27 AM
Tags: france, travel
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Shortbread depresses me
When I lived in Grenoble, I never stopped being amused by France and the French and Europe in general. I think the difference is that I have accepted and adapted to a lot more this time, rather than being amused and staying on the surface.
I lived with things and was amused by them in Grenoble, but went back to my "normal" life in the USA afterwards. Now it feels like this is the normal life and I will actually have to readjust to my own country. My concern is that I will find it boring and bland and will reject it. I have in front of me a box labelled:
sables ronds pur beurre specialité ecossaise/ zandkoekjes met boter schotse specialiteit/ original schottisches buttergebäck/ biscotti rotondi scozzesi di pasta frollo al burro/ rodajas de torta seca de mantequilla original de Escocia.
I know it sounds stupid, but I could probably have a nervous breakdown based on the fact that these cookies would only be labelled as "pure butter shortbread rounds" in the US. I am mentally delicate at the moment. Be kind.
srah - Tuesday, 22 April 2003 - 4:23 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, language
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Foutez-moi la paix!
It's a shame that young people today living in apartments can't have a little party without the cranky neighbors getting upset and writing angry diatribes about the little fuckers in their blogs. Go to sleep, dammit, and stop leaving the door to my apartment building wide open in the middle of the night. This is what happens when you let young people rent apartments. Damned rabble. Go home.
srah - Friday, 11 April 2003 - 5:23 PM
Tags: apartment, assistantship
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A la pharmacie
I don't know what it's like at a pharmacy/chemist's in England or Sweden or Jamaica or Australia or wherever else you're reading from, but American pharmacies tend to be quite discreet. If you have diarrhea, you skulk over to the diarrhea section, snatch something off the shelf, based on your own specific symptoms and needs, edge over to the cashier, pay, and run away. With prescription medicines, you hand your paper to the man behind the counter, he gives you an unidentifiable bottle, you pay for your Viagra, and leave.
In France, however (and in Chile as well), to get the simplest of items, you have to walk into the store, stand in line behind the whole world, and then loudly announce "I HAVE DIARRHEA. QUITE BAD DIARRHEA, ACTUALLY. WHAT WOULD YOU SUGGEST FOR IT, MY GOOD MAN?"
Thankfully, diarrhea is one of the few symptoms I don't have. Oh Jesus, what kind of search requests is this going to get me?
I went to the pharmacy on Thursday and told the man I had a cold, in particular a sore throat. He gave me something, I paid and left, then discovered he had given me sore throat lozenges with nothing for the rest of the cold.
I returned today, because my main symptom is now a cough. "I have a cold," I announced to the woman. I managed to avoid the man who had sold me the lozenges, lest he think I am a stalker or a cold medicine junkie. "I have a cold," I informed her, "Especially a cough."
She looked me over. "How old are you?" she asked.
"I am twenty-two years old," I answered. I probably could get by just find on children's medicine, because medicine strength probably should be based on size rather than age. But I figured I ought to be honest.
She suggested a few brands, but I didn't know anything about any of them so I went with the first one. She packed it up and wandered off without saying thank you or goodbye. I think they hate me there. They are probably selling me children's strength rat poison.
Now I am at home, sampling my drug cocktail... of DEATH! I felt it had to be described that way, since Cleo isn't blogging in her blog anymore. The medicine is for colds, flu-like states, and allergic rhinusitis. Is that what we say? God only knows.
The lovely garbage comes in granules that have to be dissolved in "une quantité suffisante d'eau chaude ou froide". That's clear. It is to be taken orally (that's nice of them to clear up, because I was planning on shooting it directly into my veins...) and is reserved for those over age 15. Dear god, the pharmacist thought I was fifteen! No wonder none of my students respect me.
I am now choking down this delicious mixture of lukewarm, grainy, mediciney/citrusy water. It will probably cure me, if only because my body will realize it will be tortured with another dose if it doesn't straighten up and fly right.
Either that or the rat poison will kill me.
srah - Saturday, 5 April 2003 - 6:20 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, health, medicine
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It is at times like this that I wish my camera was digital
Or is it were digital?
I started my 10:00 class with a whopping four students and was explaining the rules of the game we were going to play, when I was interrupted by an invasion. Hundreds of students from neighboring high schools descended on Valéry Larbaud to encourage them to join in their "strike for peace".
My students watched out the window and we talked about how, de toutes les façons, ça sert à rien to go on a strike for peace in France, which is not even at war. George Bush is not going to suddenly change positions after being passed a notice that high school students in Vichy are on strike. George Bush, I am sure, does not even know that Vichy is a city. I certainly hope he has heard of Vichy France, but I would not bet anything on it.
Anyway, while the foreign bodies were pouring into the lycée, the Intruder alarm started going off. This was the same alarm that was going off last time we lost the Internet, so I have to admit that that was one of my first concerns. My very first, however, was What the heck do I do? There was an alarm going off, so I assumed that meant I had to let the students leave. Did I have to control them and take them outside?
It turned out the Intruder alarm just makes everything explode into chaos, so some teachers let students go and others kept them prisoner. I tried to keep near to mine, but they split up and by the time the alarm stopped and the mob left, I was down to two. The others, I assume, joined the foule because this was a legal, pre-announced grève and they had the right to join it (and therefore get out of class), even if they realized that it was pointless.
TWO!
If it had been one, it would have been illegal for me to continue class (you can't have one student and one teacher alone in a classroom), but instead I had to try to play superfun games with only two participants.
I hope my afternoon classes go on strike...
srah - Thursday, 27 March 2003 - 5:28 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, politics, strike, united states, war
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Olé!
I like milk in my tea.
In England, this seems to be the norm and I didn't even have to ask for the milk. I love you, England.
In France, thé au lait is a bit more unusual, but still understood. Sometimes one has to put up with waiters' jokes about "Spanish tea" (thé olé!).
In the United States, tea with milk is rather strange. Waiters are always forgetting the milk and my friends look aghast. Milk?! In tea?! Is that any good?
In Chile, té con leche is an order made by mutants and can result in anything from a tea and a glass of milk to a teabag steeping in hot milk (which is really not too bad!). I find it rather odd because it seems to be even more of a tea-drinking country than the US or France.
How do you feel about milky tea?
srah - Sunday, 16 March 2003 - 4:02 AM
Tags: chile, food, france, travel, united states
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Admirateur obsessionnel
Um, yup.
I was being dragued. Much as I gave Dave the benefit of the doubt, it is quite evident that I was being dragued.
I met him at the mailbox on Saturday. He introduced himself as my new neighbor and we made small talk as best you can when one of you doesn't understand half of what the other is saying. Then today I had the window open in my ground-floor apartment so when he came to get his mail, he started talking to me through it. I was a bit annoyed because I couldn't have privacy and not die from the heat from my unadjustable radiator at the same time.
Later this evening, he rang the doorbell and I answered it. He said he wanted to get to know his new neighbor (or something like that - it sounded like lqjoqiejoinindsomivoisin to me). I said I was just about to make dinner, so I would come over to his apartment when I was done and say hi. I chopped my vegetables and I was just about to start cooking when the doorbell rang again and I had to explain to him that no, I wasn't done with dinner. At this point, I thought he was trying to pick me up or he was just extremely lonely and wanting to meet his neighbors. I am naïve like that.
After dinner, I went over and he had some friends there. Well, I thought, This isn't so bad. He already has friends, but I guess he did just want to meet the neighbors rather than trying to pick me up. After a while, the friends left. We looked at his action-movie collection, then sat down in the kitchen and he started asking me questions.
"Would you ever date a black man?" was the first question. I suppose you can see where this was going, but I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt and wondering if this was some kind of deep anthropological question he wanted to know about Americans.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" was one of the next questions. I answered that I did.
"Do you have anyone on the side yet, for while you're in France?" was the next, at which point all benefit of the doubt flew out the window. I continued to try to be polite, which was insane, but I really didn't know what to do in the situation. He told me that he liked me, but if I just wanted to be friends, that would be fine, but he would always hold out the hope that we would some day be together.
Oh good, friends. That's better. I will try to have a conversation then. So how is Mayotte?
The answer to that question, apparently, is that I am so beautiful (long up/down checking-out gaze). And that he's dreamed of going out with an American for his whole life, and now he's living next door to an American and she's so beautiful, so it's like a gift from God. And that he thinks he's falling in love with me. And that if some day my lips were to touch his lips... blah blah blah something I didn't understand and didn't want to.
Finally I escaped, feeling rather icky and violated, even though he had only touched my hand. I am creeped out and not looking forward to being home in the evenings or to having to walk past his apartment to get to mine. Even though I'm only here for about a month, I don't want to have to put up with a stalker. If it continues beyond tonight, I'm talking to our landlady.
srah - Monday, 10 March 2003 - 5:18 PM
Tags: assistantship, france, stalking neighbor
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Hooray for socialism!
Although one might grumble occasionally about receiving 750€ after taxes on one's 950€ monthly salary, one learns to accept it. One might apply for aide au logement on a whim to see if one is eligible for anything worthwhile. It is thus quite exciting when one discovers that not only will one receive monthly payments of an amount sufficient to refund all but 9€ of one's rent, but that one will also be reimbursed for all of the months before one got around to applying. One is rich! One may not have to prostitute oneself to pay for grad school after all!
srah - Tuesday, 11 February 2003 - 4:38 AM
Tags: assistantship, housing, taxes
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French or Foe?
The French have a stereotype of being rude, but I bet the basis for this is the previously mentioned lack of professional responsibility. The French don't admit that they're at fault or that they're wrong, which comes off, as an American, as arrogance. Really what the French person wants you to do is have a debate with him or agree to disagree, but an American will look for him to eventually shoulder the blame. Nuh-uh. Keep looking.
Polly Platt, how we miss thee.
srah - Monday, 10 February 2003 - 6:15 AM
Tags: france
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C'est pas ma faute
The assistants often talk about how the French never take responsibility for anything. We suspect that their mazes of paperwork and bureaucracy are created for exactly this purpose - so that there's always someone else to blame. They are never wrong themselves - it is either a subject to be discussed rather than a right/wrong situation, or it's someone else's fault altogether.
Tonight we came to the conclusion that Americans are just as bad, but it's a different kind of irresponsibility. While the French refuse to take responsibility for anything professionally, Americans take no personal responsibility. Thus we are the country whose citizens sue McDonald's for making them fat or sue the U-M because their drunk daughter fell out of her dorm window.
Just as bad... just different. More on this later, I should think.
srah - Sunday, 9 February 2003 - 4:21 PM
Tags: assistantship, cultural differences, france, united states
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Plus, sometimes I don't have to work at all
There is a strike today, of teachers and surveillants. Some people are striking, others aren't. I love strike days. It's fun to come to work when hardly anyone is here, and find out if any of the students have come to school for me to teach. It's different and adventury. And thankfully it's my half day, so I'm not concerned about the fact that the cafeteria is en grève as well.
srah - Tuesday, 28 January 2003 - 3:01 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, teaching
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Coolness on the decline, if there was any to start with
I am such a nerd that I can't tell people in real-life, so I will have to record it here.
Now that I've recorded all of the départements I've visited, I am trying to memorize all 96 of the French départements by number. I am up to 15: Ain, Aisne, Allier, Alpes de Haute-Provence, Haute-Alpes, Alpes-Maritime, Ardèche, Ardennes, Ariège, Aube, Aude, Aveyron, Bouches-du-Rhône, Calvados, Cantal.
Boo-yeah!
srah - Thursday, 16 January 2003 - 10:54 AM
Tags: france, geography
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Geography freak
All of a sudden today, I became obsessed with finding out how many of the départements of France I have been to. I have written down all of the places I remember visiting during my five trips to the country and counted things up.
Not counting the départements I crossed on the way to somewhere else, I believe I have been to 29 of the 96 in France Metropolitaine (i.e. The Hexagon, not including Martinique, Guyana, and the other Départements d'Outre-Mer). Of the 22 regions, I calculate that I have been to 16. Not too bad! I bet there are a lot of French people who could not beat me.
srah - Saturday, 11 January 2003 - 10:13 AM
Tags: france, geography
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La femme du Puy de Dôme
We lolled around in bed all morning, when we had intended to be on the road by 9 at the latest. We were up dancing until 4am, so I suppose it's understandable. There was also the fact that il a fait un temps pourri, so we were very comfortable in the warmth and dryness of Claude's apartment. Finally we got our rears in gear and headed off for the village of Tournemire.
Tournemire is labelled as one of the most beautiful villages in France and it is easy to see why, with the stone houses and their slate roofs - all very old-fashioned and homey. There is also the chateau d'Anjony, one of Andrés' favorites, and an excellent view of the valley. We scrambled up and down the mountains and in and out of caves, and listened to the gobbling of far-off turkeys.
After Anjony, we went to Salers, home of yet another Auvergnat cheese. The town is preserved as part of the patrimoine de la France, so all of the electrical wires are buried, giving it a more ancient feel (if they're burying electrical wires, I wondered, why don't they bury the cars as well and go for a really ancient feel). We stopped in a restaurant and tore ravenously at sandwiches and tea and coffee, as we were all starving and freezing and wet by the time we got there.
There were many more lovely views and the town of Salers was beautiful and picturesque, so our little American cameras went click-click-click, much to the dismay of Stefan, who does not understand the attitude of the New World in reaction to the Old World. We don't have anything like this in the US and we are far enough away that we might never see it again, so we feel the need to record it. We can't all live next to the French/German border and wander around France whenever we like.
After Salers, we split off from Claude and headed home, playing Twenty Questions and searching for a gas station open on a Sunday evening. The poor Orange Van, already weak when climbing hills and burdened with six passengers, was getting low, and Stefan was getting desperate, but every station we passed was closed. Finally, as we neared Clermont-Ferrand and the needle had been in the red for a good moment, a gas station was spotted and the Orange Van was able to get her well-needed drink before finishing off the journey.
srah - Monday, 16 December 2002 - 3:51 AM
Tags: france, travel
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Coming soon...
The story of my weekend trip in Aurillac - full of adventure, stripteases, donkeys, gay bars, and me falling in love... with mashed potatoes. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the next time I get online for all of that, but I thought I would tease you.
Also coming soon: two more rolls-worth of selected pictures for your viewing pleasure, including the trips to Thiers, the Puy de Dôme, and Angers.
srah - Sunday, 15 December 2002 - 4:28 PM
Tags: france
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Conversations in cyberland
Cybercafé manager: Would you like something to drink?
Me: No thank you.
CM: Why do you always refuse?
Me: I have had bad experiences with keyboards and beverages.
CM: I promise you you won't have any problems this time.
Me: Okay. I'll have tea with milk, please.
CM comes out with a tray of tea, milk, sugar, and little candies. Later he walks by and I have been typing and have not yet touched my drink. "Sarah," he admonishes, "Why aren't you drinking your tea?" Then I have to pay attention to drinking so that I don't get admonished again. Don't tell, but I managed to spill a bit on the keyboard, luckily away from the keys. So much for promises.
srah - Sunday, 15 December 2002 - 3:54 PM
Tags: france
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Le toucher
I need a hug.
I think one of the worst things about being lonely here is that I realize I haven't been touched in three months. Strangers will invade my personal space to kiss me on the cheek, sometimes briefly touching my shoulder in the process, but I don't have anyone I'm close to in the way I am close to my family and friends in the US. There is no one I feel comfortable hugging, there is no one to caress my hair and no one's hair to be caressed, and perhaps most importantly, there is no one whose earlobes I can fondle.
It is difficult for an American (or this American, anyway, I suppose I shouldn't generalize) to go three months without hugging someone. After a while, they start doing things like leaping towards French friends in Angers and trying to force them into goodbye hugs. The French don't do hugs, and when they are forced, it is weird and unnatural.
Anyway, that's my problem du jour. Fifteen more days till the arrivée du Pato, then let the hugging commence!
srah - Monday, 9 December 2002 - 10:39 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, touching, united states
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Benoît-Sébastien-François, meet Hélène-Lætitia-Gaëlle
The French like their hyphenated names. Marie-Pierre is a girl's name, whereas Pierre-Marie and Jean-Marie are boys. I think a good hyphenated name for my offspring would be Jérôme-Loïc. The American system already can't handle all those accents, but they do all kinds of funny things to hyphenated first names as well. I like to cause as much confusion as possible.
Speaking of names, I think Nadège is a cool one. I've heard it, but I've never actually met anyone with that name. I wonder if young girls named Nadège are often called Petit 'Dège or if I am terribly clever for having thought of it. I vote for the second one, but I bet it's the first and that if I said it to anyone named Nadège, that they would give the exasperated sigh of someone who's heard that joke all their life.
srah - Tuesday, 3 December 2002 - 3:10 PM
Tags: france
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The Anti-Social
The only response so far to my request for inspiration comes from Jez, who very sensitively would like to know why I don't have any friends.
Okay, okay, that's not exactly what he suggested. I am to write on the inaccessibility of the French.
Part of the problem here, I will admit, is the inaccessibility of the srah. Srah, being someone rather uninterested in sports or music, does not have many ways to reach out to the French. She can't think of any clubs she'd like to join, as her interests lie in more solitary pursuits such as reading and the Internet. She is also not one to strike up conversations with strangers in the street and prefers sitting in a bar or café and chatting with friends until midnight to going to a boîte at midnight (also known as "bedtime" in srah-land) and getting her groove on.
There is also the fact that she is not alone. She is lucky enough to have two other Americans and the other non-French assistants who are going through many of the same things and so therefore have things in common to discuss. None of them know any French people either, so they all hang together.
This safety net of other assistants, however, is nearly as detrimental as it is helpful. Srah is not forced to meet French people because she already has friends. The other assistants are doing the same thing and are patient with her sometimes incomprehensible French because they have the same problems. With friends like that, who needs the French, who sometimes laugh or don't want to wait for a sentence to slowly form itself is srah's bouche?
Hanging around with other foreigners, even when the common language is French, is comfortable and easy. But what everyone should be doing, especially in a foreign culture, is looking for challenges and not taking the easy way out.
Vichy is a particular case. There is a small university campus in town and I am told that students study there, but they are nowhere to be seen, especially on the weekends when srah and friends do not work and can go French-hunting. They go home for the weekend and we are left with les vieux.
My second-year BTS students invited me out with them once, but I wasn't particularly glowing and charming, so I don't suppose I'll be asked again. It was one of those situations where the conversation moves too fast for me to participate, so I just listen and watch along, as though I were watching a tennis match. As a result, I only spoke when I was spoken to and was not a particularly thrilling companion.
Well, that's about all I can say on that subject. I have come to no conclusion except that EVERYTHING seems to be against me meeting the French and that I should probably spend more time hanging around the school, so that I can have conversations of a professional nature with other teachers, without the pressure of socialization.
srah - Sunday, 1 December 2002 - 12:53 PM
Tags: assistantship, france
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Girl in the bubble
I went out to faire la fête with my 2nd year BTS Optics students tonight. First we went to Sylvie's apartment to make crêpes and play with her cat. Sylvie is from Vizille, one of the suburbs of Grenoble, and offered me a ride there when I need one. Her cat is an enormous, long-haired show cat named Riki-Tiki-Tavi. Marion spent all evening pointing out reasons why Riki-Tiki-Tavi is con. After crêpes, most of the class showed up and we went to Les Fous du Roy, a local night club.
It was pretty quiet when we got there, but after a while, they played music from The Full Monty and these three guys got up on the bar and stripped. Three nasty scary guys. We thought they whould stop when they took their shirts off. We thought they would stop when they took their pants off. We thought they would at least stay turned around when they pulled their underwear down. It felt like that song would never end.
Our group started dancing, but I didn't know any of the music and it takes an effort to make me dance in public even if I do know it. Finally Patrick pulled me out onto the floor to dance to the frighteningly Axé Bahia-like song that is all the rage in France at the moment. I stayed out there for a good part of the night, despite the nasty 30-year-old men from the country who had apparently come into town for a little vichyssoise action. They would dance with you whether you wanted to or not, and when our group was dancing in a circle, they would invade it. Then the rather drunk Patrick would stand in front of them and try to back them out of the circle. One of them came up to Marion when we were sitting down and started talking to her and trying to get her to come out and dance with him. I told her I was glad he'd picked her instead of me because I wouldn't have known what to say or how to refuse him - I would have just started yelling "I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH. GO AWAY, SCARY FRENCH MAN." Another member of our group was dancing with one of them, who got too close. She pushed him away and another one arrived. Finally she just yelled that she'd had enough of them and left the floor altogether.
All of this was very offensive to my American personal-space bubble. It may be because my public-dancing experience is limited to high school dances and Albion frat parties, where everyone knew each other, but touching strangers is a no-no in my book. I think, from the other students' reactions, this degree of closeness wasn't completely normal in a French discothèque either, but French men are much more aggressive to start with and the French have smaller space-bubbles than I do.
srah - Wednesday, 23 October 2002 - 9:00 PM
Tags: assistantship, cultural differences, france
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How I learned to stop worrying and love the Euro
Last weekend at the laundromat, I met a couple of Americans who were hiking through France. We talked as our laundry spun and got onto the subject of the Euro. The woman said she was against it because the countries were losing a little bit of their culture by losing their individual currencies.
It was at this point, talking to her, that I realized: I don't care. I am all about sticking my nose in other countries' business and having an opinion about what they should or shouldn't do. But I was delighted to realize that I don't have to have an opinion about the Euro. I'm not a citizen of a member country, so I can just smile and say that from an American standpoint, I'm all for it because it makes "If this is Tuesday, this must be Barcelona" travelling easier. I can let the countries worry about preserving their own culture. This is a great relief to me.
And while we're being apathetic, I have no opinion on the Nice Treaty either, except that the more countries there are in the EU, the more Euro-designs I can collect. So there.
srah - Tuesday, 22 October 2002 - 5:02 PM
Tags: france
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Marque!... euh, non
Two negative points for me in the ongoing game of Spot the American. Is it just me, or is it harder than it was two years ago? Damned Americanization.
srah - Thursday, 17 October 2002 - 1:24 PM
Tags: france
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What say the voices in the sky?
I heard the announcement for the train to Paris as I was waiting for my train to Lyon, in Vichy. The announcement was in French, then repeated in English and in German. What a cosmopolitan little station! I was everso proud.
Speaking of train announcements, why does it seem to be the same voice in every station in France? I can't imagine it's a recording, because there are so many variations on what she has to say - train numbers, which one's late and by how much, etc. I've decided to imagine that the woman sits in SNCF headquarters in Paris and receives messages from the individual stations. Then she presses the "Vichy" button and says whatever the gare de Vichy told her to say. The problem with this theory is that she would never have time to eat or sleep.
srah - Thursday, 17 October 2002 - 10:50 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, travel
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Suite de la chasse aux Euros étrangers
I have: Belgium (2€, 10c), Luxembourg (2€), Italy (50c, 10c), Spain (20c), and Germany (20c).
These links will show you the country-specific face of the coin and tell you about the person/object pictured. Neato. All that recorded, now I can go spend them and other people can have the joy of finding foreign coins.
srah - Wednesday, 16 October 2002 - 6:51 AM
Tags: france
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Collecting Euro coins may be hazardous to your budget
I want to keep all of the foreign Euro coins I find, but they aren't that rare and once you start collecting 2€ coins, it starts getting expensive. So instead I will look them up on this very cool site to identify them and then let them back into the wild. More on the chasse aux Euros after I've looked over my collection.
srah - Wednesday, 16 October 2002 - 6:43 AM
Tags: france
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Limaces make me grimace
It rained last night and - whereas in the US, we have earthworms all over the pavement - here, the slugs and snails are out en force. It is so uncomfortable having to mince your way to school through the slugs, in the fear that you will step on one and it will explode all over you, or whatever these enormously obese slugs do when you squish them. Ew.
srah - Wednesday, 16 October 2002 - 6:32 AM
Tags: france
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Hic! (13.10.02)
"Although alcohol consumption has dropped by 20% since the war, the French drink more than any national group in the world, except the people of Luxembourg."
So says my guidebook. For the sake of the 441,300 people of Luxembourg, I hope that means per capita...
srah - Monday, 14 October 2002 - 10:47 AM
Tags: alcohol, discovered, france
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Les fêtes
One of the students asked me today if I was going to celebrate Halloween with the other American assistants. I think they have an overblown image of the importance of Halloween here. When I was in Grenoble, Halloween came and went and I thought 'I suppose I should have made an effort'. For me, Halloween can be passed over if you're not in the homeland. Halloween is really all about costumes and trick-or-treating, both of which are hard to incorporate into an adopted culture.
What will be difficult for me is missing out on Thanksgiving. Even in Grenoble, we had a makeshift Thanksgiving à la française. I don't know about any grande echelle Thanksgiving plans for assistants, so I guess I'll have to buy some smoked turkey slices and try to find some yams to put Chamallows on. Yum.
srah - Tuesday, 8 October 2002 - 3:36 AM
Tags: assistantship, food, france, holidays, thanksgiving, united states
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A pause would be refreshing
Nothing hits the spot after a 25km walk on Sunday afternoon like a week-long bus strike beginning Monday morning. Ah, la France! Of course, I didn't know there was a bus strike until I had run to school, loaded down with photo albums, thinking I had missed the bus. Blargh. My feet will never recover.
srah - Monday, 7 October 2002 - 3:40 AM
Tags: france, sports
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On the Town
Last night I went out with the other Srah and her fellow Boston University program participants. First, we went to see L'Auberge espagnole, which I recommend highly to anyone who anyone who has studied, is studying, or will study abroad. It's a very accurate portrayal of the situation. It takes place in Barcelona, with students from all over Europe studying there as part of the Erasmus program (a European university exchange program).
After the movie, we went to Les Trois Canards, a very crowded bar downtown. I got rather tipsy (to the point where if I turned my head, it took a while for my vision to catch up) from one kir, then we wandered around for a while, looking for Club Vertigo. We finally gave up and went home to sleep (yay).
srah - Saturday, 21 September 2002 - 6:27 AM
Tags: alcohol, assistantship, france, grenoble, l'auberge espagnole, movies
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An American (soon to be) in Europe
My two-word reaction to this article: ho hum. My three-word reaction: back to normal.
When I am in France, I will not expect to be treated specially because I'm an American. I didn't expect it in 2000-01 and I won't expect it this year. Just because your country exports low-quality hamburgers and an annoying squeaky cartoon mouse, that doesn't mean that you deserve special treatment. Just because your country was attacked over a year ago, that doesn't mean that you deserve special treatment.
More likely than being treated specially, I will be expecting some abuse for my citizenship. Americans will not be very popular, especially if Señor Arbusto goes to war with Iraq against everyone else's judgment. It's hard to represent your country, especially if you don't agree with and don't want to defend the things that it does. You have to develop a thicker skin than the people in this article.
srah - Thursday, 12 September 2002 - 12:12 AM
Tags: assistantship, france, george w bush, september 11, travel, united states, war
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Les Français, sont-ils peu sensibles?
Bob works for Carr Futures, who had an office in the World Trade Center in New York. Now family members of victims are upset with the French-owned company because they won't be getting health insurance. The article says:
In most states, the law only requires that companies whose workers are killed on the job pay life insurance and state-mandated worker's compensation.
A Carr spokesperson said what the company may be lacking in health insurance, it is making up for in life-insurance and accidental-death benefits that will range from $125,000 to $800,000 per employee. Cantor, by comparison, is maxing out at $100,000.
Blah blah racism. Blah blah we hate the French. Blah blah. I don't think people should get special benefits for having a family member die on September 11. I think it should be the same as anyone else who died on the job. The loss of a loved one is difficult, whether it happened on September 10 or September 11 and I don't think they should get special treatment. Am I totally off-base here?
srah - Friday, 30 August 2002 - 10:55 AM
Tags: france, september 11, united states
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'Jour horrible pour la France'
I got an email from Sophie saying that this was a horrible day for France, but no more explanation. I went down to see Antoine as soon as I read her email. Antoine had just gone online and found out the news for himself when I came in and asked, "What's happening in France?"
Jean-Marie LePen, leader of the extreme-right party Le Front National, has been promoted to the second round of the presidential elections in France. All along it was believed that the two candidates in the second round would be the current president, Jacques Chirac, and the current prime minister, Lionel Jospin. I had read an article on the upcoming elections that said that LePen was running again. But it listed him among the other "also-rans" and focused on Chirac and Jospin. Somehow this nasty racist candidate, with a history of anti-immigration, anti-European and anti-Semitic policies, gained the support of the French and he is running against Chirac for the presidency.
Antoine's reaction: "I'm not French".
Votez Chirac.
srah - Sunday, 21 April 2002 - 8:35 PM
Tags: france
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Graduation countdown: 45 days
45 days.
When my freshman seminar took a trip to France, we visited Paris and Grenoble, where Albion students were studying, and Noisy-le-roi, Albion's sister city.
When we were in Grenoble, we took the télépheriques to the top of the Bastille and ate dinner in the restaurant there. I was peacefully eating my salad when a little friend said hello to me. "Bonjour," said the slug, "Je suis dans ta salade!" Well, that started me gagging. Remember, I thought to myself, you are in a foreign country and you are a representative of the United States. Let's try to understand this culturally. The French like their food fresher than Americans. A slug wouldn't stand a chance in American lettuce. Mmmm, fresh salad. So don't freak out. DON'T FREAK OUT! The really stupid part is, I didn't freak out at all. I just covered him with a piece of lettuce and kept eating. Then when he crawled out from under that piece, I put another one on top of him, all the while trying not to gag or bring any attention to myself or my salad.
Worst. Salad. Ever.
srah - Wednesday, 20 March 2002 - 1:00 PM
Tags: food, france, graduation countdown
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Olympic Recap
It's been a while since my last Olympic Update, and I'm sure you've all been missing the latest results on the one and a half countries I follow. (There are too many French athletes to follow them all, so we just count the medals).
Final French medal count: 4 gold, 5 silver, 2 bronze (tied with Switzerland for 8th)
Final Chilean medal count: 0 gold, 0 silver, 0 bronze (tied with a hillion jillion other medalless countries for 26th, I believe)
Chilean Alpine Skiing results
Men's Downhill: Maui Gayme - +8.50 (48/55), Mikael Gayme - +9.24 (50/55)
Men's Super-G: Duncan Grob - +8.77 (33/58)
Men's Giant Slalom: Maui Gayme - +7.78 (62/78) (first run), +14.06 (49/78) (second run)
Chilean Biathlon results
Women's 15k individual: Claudia Barrenechea - +15:00.9 (67/72)
Men's 20k individual: Carlos Varas - +19:28.9 (86/87)
Men's 10k sprint: Carlos Varas - +7:56.8 (86/87)
Women's 7.5k sprint: Claudia Barrenechea - +9:33.7 (74/74)
Congratulations to the athletes and happy return to your regularly scheduled programming to NBC viewers.
srah - Monday, 25 February 2002 - 1:46 PM
Tags: chile, france, sports
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I went to get my picture taken
I went to get my picture taken for my assistantship application. Those crazy Frenchies, needing photos on their applications. I was an hour early because I got out of my CS lab early. I said, "I have a 12:00 appointment, but I'm early. Could you fit me in anytime soon?" Considering there was no one else there, it was pretty likely. The woman took me into the photo-room, sat me down, and took my picture. I'm not sure she would have waited for me to take off my coat if I hadn't been standing up out of camera range when I did it. It was like "Justsitoverthere*click*okayyou'redone". As a result, I have this bizarre goofy-evil look on my face. I am not anyone I would want teaching English to my country's children.
In France, a passport-style ID photo costs about $2. You can sit in a booth, like in Amélie, look at yourself in the mirror, adjust the height of your seat, and the nice machine takes your picture. Then it asks if you like the picture. Here, it's $15, they sit you down, take the picture, and give it to you. Bah, America. Bah.
srah - Monday, 14 January 2002 - 1:33 PM
Tags: assistantship, france
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Any Europeans out there?
Any Europeans out there? How's that Euro working out for you, huh?
I can't wait to go back to France and have to learn a new currency. Ha ha.
srah - Wednesday, 2 January 2002 - 4:46 PM
Tags: france
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J'ai trop envie de parler français
J'ai trop envie de parler français ce soir, parce que je viens de chercher sur Internet des sons de "Tout le monde en parle". Je les ai trouvés, mais je ne peux pas les piquer parce qu'ils sont en Flash et je ne sais pas les séparer des images. Bah. Comme je suis déçue - je voulais vraiment que mon ordi me dise "Magneto, Serge" chaque fois que je l'allume.
Donc alors, j'ai envie de parler français, mais il n'y a personne ici. En fait, j'ai envie d'être en France et de regarder "Tout le monde en parle". Thierry Ardisson me manque. Je devrais enfin écrire à Sophie - peut-être qu'elle m'enverrait une cassette pour Noël.
Je me sens frustrée ce soir. C'est toujours le lundi soir que j'ai envie de parler français. Je sèche la table française et puis... C'est dur d'être moi. J'ai envie de parler français... mais pas aux États-Unis. C'est inutile aux É-U et si je trouve quelqu'un avec qui je puisse parler, c'est une langue exclusive. Je veux être dans un pays où le français est la langue dominante...
[Please excuse the français... I'm venting my linguistic frustrations.]
srah - Tuesday, 27 November 2001 - 1:10 AM
Tags: france, french
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I think one thing I miss
I think one thing I miss from last year is the anonymity of living in a city and travelling around. Albion can be a bit claustrophobic.
srah - Friday, 9 November 2001 - 10:24 AM
Tags: france
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