I've found it's terribly difficult to have to think back to what I did exactly when and how best to explain it. I guess that's my punishment for taking three weeks to start this friggin' thing that I've been talking about doing since like before I left...awesome.
OK. After a lazy Sunday of homework and sporadic rain storms, I started my first "real" week of classes. There had been some uncertainty about whether the Cinema course would happen or not--it needed at least 5 people, and only 4 were there the first week--but yay for Amanda F, because she decided to enroll, so now I get to watch the most famous French movies and have a glorious time.
Mmm yeah. So, pretty much the same as the week before, but now I'll describe some of my classes more.
French Cultural Patterns, Monday morning at 10h45 with Jean-Michel Cosse. Jean-Michel is an awesome professor, he's really intelligent and above all really understands how much we can understand. He's obviously taught American students a lot. We have another section on Friday mornings with Elodie Buhrle, but it's sooo hard because it's the end of the week, and also I just blatantly disagree with a lot of the things she says in terms of the similarities and differences (okay, really just differences) between Americans and American culture and Frenchies and French culture. But then I'm too tired to say anything about it. Also, I can't really understand most of what she says, as she speaks super fast and uses a ton of words I don't know--super frustrating.
French Oral and Written Expression, Monday afternoon at 14h, also with Jean-Michel. This is probably the most directly useful class. Jean-Michel basically just straightens out the misconceptions of how to and how not to speak French. So many things that I used to say in French that made sense in terms of translation into English just do NOT fly in French. E.g. the adjective "plein/e," meaning "full," should not be said at the end of a meal, when you want to announce that you're too full to each more, as your host mother will probably be sent into a tizzy at the fact that after only 3 weeks in France, you are already pregnant. Instead, tell her, "j'ai deja mange assez, merci." Much better.
French Cinema, Tuesday morning at 9h (oof) with Jean-Dominique Brignoli. Jean-Do is super chouette and seems to know a lot about film. Also, I found out last week that France had the very first movie EVER. What!? How did I not realize this?? Then, a movie was actually a "vue."
Major Scenes in French Theatre, Tuesday afternoon at 15h with Jean-Claude Azoulay (yes, all my professors are Jean-Something. Oh, France). Jean-Claude is a professional actor--he has a show this weekend in Marseille that I'm really going to try to go to--and speaks perfect English--real like English English, not American English. Pretty sweet--and is hilarious and a wonderful teacher. In the 3 hour class (same as Cinema), we spend the first ~1.5 hours discussing plays (last week and this week is Moliere's Le bourgeois gentilhomme), then the remainder playing around like true Theatrettes. It's perfect.
Last is Architecture and Urbanism in Provence, Friday afternoon at 14h, also with Jean-Do. This class, which is pretty much just Art History of Provence, is really fascinating, especially because the focus is on Aix and Marseille, so I can literally leave class and see exactly what he was just talking about--and in fact, this week we're going to spend the last 1/2 hour actually in Aix, EXPERIENCING the Architecture and Urbanism in Provence. Good lord, I love France.
So yes. Those are my classes. They kind of rock.
On Tuesday, I chose my "club" for the semester--I'm going to take classes in "Rock" dance from a group called RockCaliente at Berny's Cafe in eastern Aix. The class last week was SO much fun. I know it sounds kind of conceited, but I figured that whatever beginning level dance class I take would be no problem for me, but I'd struggle with the language a lot. I found out that not only would I have some issues with the language, but that this "rock" dance is not something I'm used to at all and I was already pushed a litte--a very pleasant surprise. Some of the guys there were a bit "louche" (French for creepy. One of my fave words, duh), but in a way that wasn't so bad. And also, even the louches could dance. Now that was a surprise.
After my super chouette dance class, I went out on the town with Emily--starting at Brigand, as usual, then to O'Shannon, also as is our wont, then to IPN, which had Ladies' Night. This meant that if we paid 3 euros to get in, we could have as many champagne-currant syrup drinks as we wanted. Not a bad deal, even for just one. It was quite delicious, too!
After that long, louche-y night, I spend Wednesday catching up on sleep and doing homeworkses chez moi, then I headed to my very first course in Wine Tasting. Note for all:
WINE TASTING IS HARD.
I thought I could be good at it, mostly because I like to think I have a pretty good nose in general, but no. Absolutely false. I would smell the wine, and it would make me think of something, but I could never place the smell. And as for the tasting part? Fail. Total fail.
After another awesome rendez-vous with my language partner, Claire--she is so cool. She works at the Pavillon Noir, which is the "centre choreographique national," aka AWESOME, and she's said that she can get me tickets to the events there. That like makes my life. I wanted to see the Ballet Preljocaj (the dance company) so bad, but I figured I wouldn't be able to afford it. And now, free tickets?!?! So unreal. Also, this is an epic hyphen happening right now--I think I had a quiet night chez moi with my host family. That's also how my nights went for the rest of the week.
So, it's really late now, I'm really exhausted, and I still have a bit of homework to do for tomorrow, so I'm going to cut this off now. Tomorrow or something, I'll write about my trip to the Luberon yesterday (oh man, I am GOOD at this catching up thing), which was pretty damn cool.
Gros bisous!
dimanche 27 septembre 2009
HILARITY...err...HILARITE'
I can't believe I forgot to mention the best text ever (yes, I still text WAY too much here. Surprise, surprise) that I got from Martin. So he texts me in English and I text him in French, not really sure why. Often this leads to texts from him that make sense but with awkward/awesome connotations.
This was Friday 18 Sept, when it was raining like woah.
Martin: "ok for happy?brigand"
Moi: "Je vraiment veux aller. Quand il pleut un peu moins, j'irai!" (translation: I really want to go. When it's raining a little less, I will go!"
Martin: "Call me when you want to 'start me up'"
Er.....
This was Friday 18 Sept, when it was raining like woah.
Martin: "ok for happy?brigand"
Moi: "Je vraiment veux aller. Quand il pleut un peu moins, j'irai!" (translation: I really want to go. When it's raining a little less, I will go!"
Martin: "Call me when you want to 'start me up'"
Er.....
samedi 26 septembre 2009
des cours? vraiment? nah...
D'accord. I just got back from a "sortie" sponsored by the AUCP around the Luberon, which are these gorgeous mountains to the North of Aix that Peter Mayle wrote about in A Year in Provence. We visited the villages of Lourmarin, Bonnieux and Roussillon. I was super excited about the last one, like a true Shakespeare nerd would be, because it's the village where All's Well That End's Well takes place. Eee. Sorry.
Anyway, I'll get to that eventually...I hope...now I'm onto the beginning of my second week in Aix. Okay. Let me attempt to recall...
Monday I started classes. The whole week was an Add/Drop period, so we were advised to go to the first class of all that interested us. We each can take 5 classes, 1 being the required "French Cultural Patterns, 1 being either English-French Translation or French Oral and Written Expression (which I'm in), and the other 3 what we want from the selection.
SIDE NOTE: I JUST WENT TO THE MUSEE GRANET WITH MY HOST SISTER ALIX AND IT WAS SO AWESOME. WE HAD FREE TICKETS (AHH) TO THE EXHIBIT THAT'S CLOSING TOMORROW WHICH IS PICASSO AND CEZANNE AND HOW THEY INFLUENCED EACH OTHER. It was basically Dove-O'Keeffe but bigger and, while my loyalty to the Clark will never be broken, it was better.
ANYWAY. BACK TO WEEK 2.
So I had 4 classes that interested me--Major Scenes in French Theatre, French Cinema, The European Community, and Architecture and Urbanism in Provence. All the classes seemed really cool, but at the end I decided on Theatre (duh), Cinema and Architecture. Sweet.
Other than classes? I spend beaucoup de temps avec Emily and Liz, mes favorites, drinking smoothies and being awesome. Wednesday night, we (just Liz and me at this point? I think?) went to the Brigand (free drinks for girls--what!??) where I met up with Dave Gorleku--yayy Williams abroad. It's so nice to have a little bit of Williams here--and some of his friends from the Wellesley program. After we went to the O'Shannon, where we--really I--made friends with the barman, GABRIEL. Not kidding. He's named after, and resembles, and might as well just BE an angel. Sigh. Most beautiful sight seen thus far in France. Tour Eiffel? Pshaw. Gabriel is where it's at. Vraiment.
Then Martin, Clement, etc. met us at O'Shannon and accompanied us to Scat Club, where we (Martin, Liz and I, pas les autres, parce qu'ils sont lame-os) totally started a dance party. OH and there was the creeper who had been majorly creeping on Liz at O'Shannon's and then appeared at Scat Club too...NOT OKAY.
But yeah pretty sure it was at this point I started kind of falling for Martin--he's way gangly and awkward but he loves to dance, and though he may not be technically very good at it, he's SO eager and adorable about it that I find myself not even caring. So yeah. We stayed there I guess for a wicked long time, because all of a sudden it was like 2:30am and Liz and I had class the next day (she had a 10am, no clue how she managed that), so we said our goodbyes, and I told Martin that we would plan to sortir Friday night.
Thursday around noon, I was walking to the marche (open air market. Incroyable.) that happens Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday every week in Aix, and I saw Gabriel just like randomly on the street (RUE DES CORDELIERS. EPIC STREET. NOT REALLY, I JUST ALWAYS SEEM TO BE THERE.). He approached me and kissed me on the cheeks, and I practically died.
Thursday evening, I went to a salsa class at a place called the Expresso Cafe, which is super far away from like everything. The class itself was really majorly beginning level, and the instructor was kind of annoying. The group itself (not even sure what group it was...) also seemed really disorganized, and I was pretty turned off by the whole thing. I decided like half way through the class that I would search for something else for my "club" for AUCP.
On my way back chez moi, I decided to walk through centre-ville rather than taking the more direct, quicker route, because I had a really good feeling about it. As I passed the Brigand, who should be standing right outside but Martin and Florian. Martin was on the phone, but Florian kissed my cheeks (FAIT LES BISOUS. IT MAKES MORE SENSE IN FRENCH, SO I'M GOING TO SAY IT IN FRENCH FROM NOW ON.) and we chatted a little before I said that I had to go. I then passed by O'Shannon, but Gabriel wasn't there. I was a little distraught. THEN I decided to take a kind of random route, and then I turned a corner and WHO SHOULD BE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME BUT GABRIEL AGAIN. I SWEAR IT'S LE DESTIN. So yeah. I suppose I discovered my 7th sense (Now, Sara, we're just missing 6th, yeah? Or do we believe Haley Joel and Bruce?): knowing the route to take through Aix to see my boys. Sweet. As soon as I got home, I got a text from Martin that said "rendez vous au brigand!" It was perfect. I didn't go, as I had work for the next day, but I wanted to so bad. So I told him he had to text me the next night, Friday.
Friday there was a horrid, epic thunderstorm that almost prevented me from going out to meet Martin, but finally the rain slowed down and I met him (after like lots of confusion of where he was, because he told me he was at O'Shannon then I got there and no sign of him because he's totally clueless) at O'Neals (the French LOVE IRISH PUBS. IT'S AMAZING), which is just South of Cours Mirabeau. Liz met us there (oh, and Clement, Florian, Mark, Nicolas and Nicolas' girlfriend, Pauline were there too). We ended up dancing there for a while before going back to the Brigand, then going to Cours Sextius. Sextius is a big street semi-close to chez moi that has a bunch of bars and restaurants and stuff. Liz and I wanted to go to IPN, a dance club, mostly because the bathrooms there are FAR nicer than those at Brigand, but it turns out that it's only free for girls. So Martin, who didn't have any money, disappeared, and because of the fact that IPN is like underground (vraiment), there's no service there, so I didn't get his text that he wasn't coming in until much later. Suck.
Saturday a bunch of us from AUCP went out to dinner at a Senegalais restaurant. After I went out with a bunch of the girls, but I was feeling pretty out of it (okay, I'll admit it. Martin hadn't texted me back. I was not happy.). Turns out he wasn't even in Aix, but then Liz and I ended up finding Florian, etc anyway (and Miquel (sp?)--MAJOR CREEPER. TRIED TO KISS ME LIKE THE SECOND WE GOT ON THE DANCE FLOOR AT IPN. I HAD LITERALLY KNOWN HIM FOR 5 MINUTES. I DO NOT THINK SO.) and having a pretty good time. IPN was playing some pretty epic tunes--(including Lady Gaga and 50 Cent)--and was packed.
So yeah. Thus ended my 2nd week in Aix.
Anyway, I'll get to that eventually...I hope...now I'm onto the beginning of my second week in Aix. Okay. Let me attempt to recall...
Monday I started classes. The whole week was an Add/Drop period, so we were advised to go to the first class of all that interested us. We each can take 5 classes, 1 being the required "French Cultural Patterns, 1 being either English-French Translation or French Oral and Written Expression (which I'm in), and the other 3 what we want from the selection.
SIDE NOTE: I JUST WENT TO THE MUSEE GRANET WITH MY HOST SISTER ALIX AND IT WAS SO AWESOME. WE HAD FREE TICKETS (AHH) TO THE EXHIBIT THAT'S CLOSING TOMORROW WHICH IS PICASSO AND CEZANNE AND HOW THEY INFLUENCED EACH OTHER. It was basically Dove-O'Keeffe but bigger and, while my loyalty to the Clark will never be broken, it was better.
ANYWAY. BACK TO WEEK 2.
So I had 4 classes that interested me--Major Scenes in French Theatre, French Cinema, The European Community, and Architecture and Urbanism in Provence. All the classes seemed really cool, but at the end I decided on Theatre (duh), Cinema and Architecture. Sweet.
Other than classes? I spend beaucoup de temps avec Emily and Liz, mes favorites, drinking smoothies and being awesome. Wednesday night, we (just Liz and me at this point? I think?) went to the Brigand (free drinks for girls--what!??) where I met up with Dave Gorleku--yayy Williams abroad. It's so nice to have a little bit of Williams here--and some of his friends from the Wellesley program. After we went to the O'Shannon, where we--really I--made friends with the barman, GABRIEL. Not kidding. He's named after, and resembles, and might as well just BE an angel. Sigh. Most beautiful sight seen thus far in France. Tour Eiffel? Pshaw. Gabriel is where it's at. Vraiment.
Then Martin, Clement, etc. met us at O'Shannon and accompanied us to Scat Club, where we (Martin, Liz and I, pas les autres, parce qu'ils sont lame-os) totally started a dance party. OH and there was the creeper who had been majorly creeping on Liz at O'Shannon's and then appeared at Scat Club too...NOT OKAY.
But yeah pretty sure it was at this point I started kind of falling for Martin--he's way gangly and awkward but he loves to dance, and though he may not be technically very good at it, he's SO eager and adorable about it that I find myself not even caring. So yeah. We stayed there I guess for a wicked long time, because all of a sudden it was like 2:30am and Liz and I had class the next day (she had a 10am, no clue how she managed that), so we said our goodbyes, and I told Martin that we would plan to sortir Friday night.
Thursday around noon, I was walking to the marche (open air market. Incroyable.) that happens Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday every week in Aix, and I saw Gabriel just like randomly on the street (RUE DES CORDELIERS. EPIC STREET. NOT REALLY, I JUST ALWAYS SEEM TO BE THERE.). He approached me and kissed me on the cheeks, and I practically died.
Thursday evening, I went to a salsa class at a place called the Expresso Cafe, which is super far away from like everything. The class itself was really majorly beginning level, and the instructor was kind of annoying. The group itself (not even sure what group it was...) also seemed really disorganized, and I was pretty turned off by the whole thing. I decided like half way through the class that I would search for something else for my "club" for AUCP.
On my way back chez moi, I decided to walk through centre-ville rather than taking the more direct, quicker route, because I had a really good feeling about it. As I passed the Brigand, who should be standing right outside but Martin and Florian. Martin was on the phone, but Florian kissed my cheeks (FAIT LES BISOUS. IT MAKES MORE SENSE IN FRENCH, SO I'M GOING TO SAY IT IN FRENCH FROM NOW ON.) and we chatted a little before I said that I had to go. I then passed by O'Shannon, but Gabriel wasn't there. I was a little distraught. THEN I decided to take a kind of random route, and then I turned a corner and WHO SHOULD BE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME BUT GABRIEL AGAIN. I SWEAR IT'S LE DESTIN. So yeah. I suppose I discovered my 7th sense (Now, Sara, we're just missing 6th, yeah? Or do we believe Haley Joel and Bruce?): knowing the route to take through Aix to see my boys. Sweet. As soon as I got home, I got a text from Martin that said "rendez vous au brigand!" It was perfect. I didn't go, as I had work for the next day, but I wanted to so bad. So I told him he had to text me the next night, Friday.
Friday there was a horrid, epic thunderstorm that almost prevented me from going out to meet Martin, but finally the rain slowed down and I met him (after like lots of confusion of where he was, because he told me he was at O'Shannon then I got there and no sign of him because he's totally clueless) at O'Neals (the French LOVE IRISH PUBS. IT'S AMAZING), which is just South of Cours Mirabeau. Liz met us there (oh, and Clement, Florian, Mark, Nicolas and Nicolas' girlfriend, Pauline were there too). We ended up dancing there for a while before going back to the Brigand, then going to Cours Sextius. Sextius is a big street semi-close to chez moi that has a bunch of bars and restaurants and stuff. Liz and I wanted to go to IPN, a dance club, mostly because the bathrooms there are FAR nicer than those at Brigand, but it turns out that it's only free for girls. So Martin, who didn't have any money, disappeared, and because of the fact that IPN is like underground (vraiment), there's no service there, so I didn't get his text that he wasn't coming in until much later. Suck.
Saturday a bunch of us from AUCP went out to dinner at a Senegalais restaurant. After I went out with a bunch of the girls, but I was feeling pretty out of it (okay, I'll admit it. Martin hadn't texted me back. I was not happy.). Turns out he wasn't even in Aix, but then Liz and I ended up finding Florian, etc anyway (and Miquel (sp?)--MAJOR CREEPER. TRIED TO KISS ME LIKE THE SECOND WE GOT ON THE DANCE FLOOR AT IPN. I HAD LITERALLY KNOWN HIM FOR 5 MINUTES. I DO NOT THINK SO.) and having a pretty good time. IPN was playing some pretty epic tunes--(including Lady Gaga and 50 Cent)--and was packed.
So yeah. Thus ended my 2nd week in Aix.
vendredi 25 septembre 2009
side note
Right now I'm sitting in the dining room of my house in Aix with my host sisters dancing crazily around me to the song "Sexy Bitch" by Akon. I love this place. Seriously. Can this get any better?
observez et imitez
So. Sunday in Aix. A gorgeous day, of course, because literally every day of my first week here was absurdly perfect. Went to a fete with my host family (sometimes I might accidentally say "famille d'accueil," just to warn you) at the house of their friends who turned out to be Australian. So, on my first full day in France, I spoke a lot of English. It was weird. I tried speaking with the French people more, but it was just so good to hear some English.
The next morning was my first day at the American Center (that's what AUCP is called in Aix, as it's also for Frenchies to learn English). I met the other students, promptly forgot most of their names and had quite a whirlwind of a day. We had lunch in groups with some French students in Aix. My group was with two guys, Paul and Christophe, and they took us to a restaurant called like "the Bulldogue" or something, which turned out to be a British restaurant. So weird. We all got burgers. Delicious, but not quite how I was expecting my first lunch out in Aix to be.
The rest of the week went pretty smoothly--each morning I walked to the Center with Liz (Huessy, from Vermont), who lives near me in Aix, and whose grandfather (THIS IS SO WEIRD) was friends with my grandmother at Putney School in the 1930s and remained friends for the rest of his life. Like, wtf. Anyway. Each day was pretty long, as we had "French Cultural Patterns" in the morning starting at 9, then Intensive French class in the afternoons that finished at 5:30. Exhausting. It was also SUPER chaud every day, so that was fun.
Thursday night I went to the official going away party for the Australians, as they were returning after 8 months in Aix to Australia the following Tuesday. That was really fun, and I had my first wine!! It was a rose, therefore mild, and quite delicious.
That Friday, we met our language partners. Mine is named Claire, and she's really cool. Unfortunately, that night she was taking a train to Paris, so she couldn't spend the evening with me, like the rest of the partners did. I ended up tagging along with some of the other girls and their partners to a new bar in Aix called "The Wohoo." Not kidding. Kind of wish I were. So it's this "international" bar with all the signs in English and some in French and kareoke in the basement and all in all pretty strange. It was fun for my first night out in Aix, and it was nice to get to know some French people as well as the other American students.
That Saturday, I kind of bummed around chez moi during the day, then went out to dinner with Liz, Emily and Grace. Emily (from Kansas City, KANSAS) and Grace (from Illinois? Right?) both go to Grinnell, and Liz goes to Oberlin. We had a lovely dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant en centre-ville, then we went to the pub O'Shannon, which just happened to be right next door to our restaurant. We were all just planning on having one drink--I had a Guinness, I felt so Irish...in France...er...--then heading home, but then we were approached by Martin and Clement, two French boys who were fascinated by us. They (well, mostly Martin, who was drunk) ended up taking us (though we dwindled to just Emily and me at one point, then just Liz and me at another) on a tour of "the best bars in Aix," as they said, with their friends: Florian--a "Franco-Espagnol musician. Not kidding. Kill me, please--Mark, Martin's sister Margot and maybe someone else, I don't know. Martin kept insisting that we all had to come to his housewarming party in Marseille on "the TWO October! Two October! You hav to come!" We'll see. We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways at the end of the night. But trust me, that's not the last you'll see of Martin, just wait.
ADDED: I can't believe I forgot to mention this, but Martin actually looks like Roger Federer without the weird nose or the tennis skillz. As far as I know. And Clement is short, but beautiful. Pictures soon, I promise. At least of Clement, I don't actually have any of Martin...damn.
Oh yeah, and we finished ended the night at the Wohoo. Again. Good lord.
Ensuite, ma deuxieme semaine.
The next morning was my first day at the American Center (that's what AUCP is called in Aix, as it's also for Frenchies to learn English). I met the other students, promptly forgot most of their names and had quite a whirlwind of a day. We had lunch in groups with some French students in Aix. My group was with two guys, Paul and Christophe, and they took us to a restaurant called like "the Bulldogue" or something, which turned out to be a British restaurant. So weird. We all got burgers. Delicious, but not quite how I was expecting my first lunch out in Aix to be.
The rest of the week went pretty smoothly--each morning I walked to the Center with Liz (Huessy, from Vermont), who lives near me in Aix, and whose grandfather (THIS IS SO WEIRD) was friends with my grandmother at Putney School in the 1930s and remained friends for the rest of his life. Like, wtf. Anyway. Each day was pretty long, as we had "French Cultural Patterns" in the morning starting at 9, then Intensive French class in the afternoons that finished at 5:30. Exhausting. It was also SUPER chaud every day, so that was fun.
Thursday night I went to the official going away party for the Australians, as they were returning after 8 months in Aix to Australia the following Tuesday. That was really fun, and I had my first wine!! It was a rose, therefore mild, and quite delicious.
That Friday, we met our language partners. Mine is named Claire, and she's really cool. Unfortunately, that night she was taking a train to Paris, so she couldn't spend the evening with me, like the rest of the partners did. I ended up tagging along with some of the other girls and their partners to a new bar in Aix called "The Wohoo." Not kidding. Kind of wish I were. So it's this "international" bar with all the signs in English and some in French and kareoke in the basement and all in all pretty strange. It was fun for my first night out in Aix, and it was nice to get to know some French people as well as the other American students.
That Saturday, I kind of bummed around chez moi during the day, then went out to dinner with Liz, Emily and Grace. Emily (from Kansas City, KANSAS) and Grace (from Illinois? Right?) both go to Grinnell, and Liz goes to Oberlin. We had a lovely dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant en centre-ville, then we went to the pub O'Shannon, which just happened to be right next door to our restaurant. We were all just planning on having one drink--I had a Guinness, I felt so Irish...in France...er...--then heading home, but then we were approached by Martin and Clement, two French boys who were fascinated by us. They (well, mostly Martin, who was drunk) ended up taking us (though we dwindled to just Emily and me at one point, then just Liz and me at another) on a tour of "the best bars in Aix," as they said, with their friends: Florian--a "Franco-Espagnol musician. Not kidding. Kill me, please--Mark, Martin's sister Margot and maybe someone else, I don't know. Martin kept insisting that we all had to come to his housewarming party in Marseille on "the TWO October! Two October! You hav to come!" We'll see. We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways at the end of the night. But trust me, that's not the last you'll see of Martin, just wait.
ADDED: I can't believe I forgot to mention this, but Martin actually looks like Roger Federer without the weird nose or the tennis skillz. As far as I know. And Clement is short, but beautiful. Pictures soon, I promise. At least of Clement, I don't actually have any of Martin...damn.
Oh yeah, and we finished ended the night at the Wohoo. Again. Good lord.
Ensuite, ma deuxieme semaine.
apres longtemps...
Well, after almost exactly three weeks in Aix-en-Provence, I finally got around to starting a blog. I realized this week how I've been pretty out of touch with my family, and only really contact my friends through the wonder that is Facebook, and that's all without really giving much information about my life here. So, here it goes.
I guess I'll have to take it back to the beginning (it's a very good place to start), with my flight from Newark to Bruxelles to Marseille. After a slight fright on the way to Newark that I was cutting it too close which turned out to be completely unfounded and I ended up having about a 1/2 hour at the gate, I was on my way to France. I typed out this whole saga in an email to my family, and since I'm lazy and tired and it's Friday, I'm just going to copy it and modify it slightly. Apologies. Not reaally.
So I got on the plane in Newark, with a water bottle and a butterfinger bought at a little kiosk in the airport. I found my seat, 25H, which turned out to be an aisle seat. It also happened to be right behind the middle of the plane, where there were bathrooms, so I didn't have any under-the-seat storage, which was a little unnerving. I took out my notebook, my French dictionary, and other things I knew I'd want and just kept them tucked in next to me on the seat. I also for a bit thought I didn't have a personal TV, which was okay, but then I discovered a magical contraption that stored the TV under my seat during takeoff and landing. Cool.
When dinner service came around, I really couldn't understand what the steward was saying when he described the meals, as he had a really heavy Indian accent. There was a beautiful Indian woman, probably early 30s, sitting next to me, so I just waited until she ordered and ordered the same. I wish I had just gone for the Shrimp Curry, because I think I ordered one of the "Western" things. But it's okay, it was fish with gravy and potatoes, along with cucumber something and bread and a brownie for dessert.
The plane had excellent film and TV selections, so I watched the Hangover (starring Bradley Cooper!) and How I Met Your Mother (which my brother and I had literally JUST been talking about in the car). Also, they literally had the entire first season of 24. Awesome. I tried to sleep, but planes are just sooo uncomfortable so that was pretty much a fail.
We got off the plane in Brussels at around 7:45. My plane had docked in Terminal B, and I had to go to Terminal A, so I had to go through Border Control. Let me tell you, this line was absurd. There were probably hundreds of people waiting in front of me. It made me really wish I had made more efforts to get my Irish citizenship, because the EU citizens just breezed by us. Unfair. So to give you a time frame, my flight for Marseille was scheduled to leave at 9:35. I finally got through border control at around 8:50, and by this time I was starting to freak out. Then, I found out that I had to go through a security checkpoint again. This line was even worse. There were more lanes here than at border control, but there were so many people.
My ticket said that the gate would close 15 minutes before departure, so I was starting to get really anxious. When it was my turn, it was already 9:20. Not good. I said to the lady behind the conveyor belt thing, "excuse me, my flight leaves in 15 minutes and--" and she cut me off and said, "well, that's not my fault." I was like AHHHHH
So I zoomed through security. On the other end, I literally put on my shoes and just grabbed everything else, not bothering to put them back on or back in my bag. I followed signs to "GATES A/T" (my gate, I thought, was A58), then could not, for the life of me, find any gate higher than 40. So at this point, I'm really, really freaking out. I ask a woman in a shop where the higher gates were, and she directed me upstairs. I felt pretty stupid at that point. So I found gate 58, and IT WAS THE WRONG GATE. I must have read the wrong number on the TV screen thing. So I dash back to the Departures screen and see that it says A49, and that it's at "Final Call." I just start running. The usually-magical moving walkways going that direction just were not on, typically, so I had to run. I got to the gate, and I saw that a man had just boarded before me, THANK GOD. There was a couple standing in front of the desk and they said, "Marseille?" and the attendant person at the desk said, "Marseille?" and I said, "OUI!" I was panting, I was sweating, it was a hot mess.
So, I made it. AND I had a window seat! It was perfect. But then I fell asleep for most of the flight, just with my head like leaning against the window. Pretty uncomfortable. I woke up just when we started our descent, and looking down I saw the Mediterranean and what I assumed was Marseille.
I deplaned, my luggage came out almost instantly (what?), I didn't have to go through any sort of customs or anything (what!?!?), and my host family was waiting for me right outside the baggage claim. Axel and Babette (my host parents) and Alix (one of my 3 host sisters, age 15) were inside, with Morgane (age 18) and Auriane (age 13) waiting in the car.
We drove from the airport to Sausset, where Babette's parents live, had lunch, found a porcupine in the garden (seriously) then finally got to Aix.
The first moment I saw the "centre-ville" of Aix, I swear, I was sent a sign from God. Lady Gaga's "Eh, Eh" came on the radio. I swear, it was fate. I knew then that I would love the city. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but whatever. Babette drove me around a little, showing me where the sites are--most importantly, the American Center and Cours Mirabeau--then we got to their house. It's gorgeous, of course. I was shown my room, and pretty much the second I sat on my bed, I was completely out for ~18 hours, with a slight break in the middle (not kidding) when I wrote in my journal. It worked out nicely, because when I woke up I was in the French time zone. Word.
OKAY THIS IS A REALLY LONG POST. So I'll break it up a little. Next post will be my first week in Aix. Oh boy. Get ready.
I guess I'll have to take it back to the beginning (it's a very good place to start), with my flight from Newark to Bruxelles to Marseille. After a slight fright on the way to Newark that I was cutting it too close which turned out to be completely unfounded and I ended up having about a 1/2 hour at the gate, I was on my way to France. I typed out this whole saga in an email to my family, and since I'm lazy and tired and it's Friday, I'm just going to copy it and modify it slightly. Apologies. Not reaally.
So I got on the plane in Newark, with a water bottle and a butterfinger bought at a little kiosk in the airport. I found my seat, 25H, which turned out to be an aisle seat. It also happened to be right behind the middle of the plane, where there were bathrooms, so I didn't have any under-the-seat storage, which was a little unnerving. I took out my notebook, my French dictionary, and other things I knew I'd want and just kept them tucked in next to me on the seat. I also for a bit thought I didn't have a personal TV, which was okay, but then I discovered a magical contraption that stored the TV under my seat during takeoff and landing. Cool.
When dinner service came around, I really couldn't understand what the steward was saying when he described the meals, as he had a really heavy Indian accent. There was a beautiful Indian woman, probably early 30s, sitting next to me, so I just waited until she ordered and ordered the same. I wish I had just gone for the Shrimp Curry, because I think I ordered one of the "Western" things. But it's okay, it was fish with gravy and potatoes, along with cucumber something and bread and a brownie for dessert.
The plane had excellent film and TV selections, so I watched the Hangover (starring Bradley Cooper!) and How I Met Your Mother (which my brother and I had literally JUST been talking about in the car). Also, they literally had the entire first season of 24. Awesome. I tried to sleep, but planes are just sooo uncomfortable so that was pretty much a fail.
We got off the plane in Brussels at around 7:45. My plane had docked in Terminal B, and I had to go to Terminal A, so I had to go through Border Control. Let me tell you, this line was absurd. There were probably hundreds of people waiting in front of me. It made me really wish I had made more efforts to get my Irish citizenship, because the EU citizens just breezed by us. Unfair. So to give you a time frame, my flight for Marseille was scheduled to leave at 9:35. I finally got through border control at around 8:50, and by this time I was starting to freak out. Then, I found out that I had to go through a security checkpoint again. This line was even worse. There were more lanes here than at border control, but there were so many people.
My ticket said that the gate would close 15 minutes before departure, so I was starting to get really anxious. When it was my turn, it was already 9:20. Not good. I said to the lady behind the conveyor belt thing, "excuse me, my flight leaves in 15 minutes and--" and she cut me off and said, "well, that's not my fault." I was like AHHHHH
So I zoomed through security. On the other end, I literally put on my shoes and just grabbed everything else, not bothering to put them back on or back in my bag. I followed signs to "GATES A/T" (my gate, I thought, was A58), then could not, for the life of me, find any gate higher than 40. So at this point, I'm really, really freaking out. I ask a woman in a shop where the higher gates were, and she directed me upstairs. I felt pretty stupid at that point. So I found gate 58, and IT WAS THE WRONG GATE. I must have read the wrong number on the TV screen thing. So I dash back to the Departures screen and see that it says A49, and that it's at "Final Call." I just start running. The usually-magical moving walkways going that direction just were not on, typically, so I had to run. I got to the gate, and I saw that a man had just boarded before me, THANK GOD. There was a couple standing in front of the desk and they said, "Marseille?" and the attendant person at the desk said, "Marseille?" and I said, "OUI!" I was panting, I was sweating, it was a hot mess.
So, I made it. AND I had a window seat! It was perfect. But then I fell asleep for most of the flight, just with my head like leaning against the window. Pretty uncomfortable. I woke up just when we started our descent, and looking down I saw the Mediterranean and what I assumed was Marseille.
I deplaned, my luggage came out almost instantly (what?), I didn't have to go through any sort of customs or anything (what!?!?), and my host family was waiting for me right outside the baggage claim. Axel and Babette (my host parents) and Alix (one of my 3 host sisters, age 15) were inside, with Morgane (age 18) and Auriane (age 13) waiting in the car.
We drove from the airport to Sausset, where Babette's parents live, had lunch, found a porcupine in the garden (seriously) then finally got to Aix.
The first moment I saw the "centre-ville" of Aix, I swear, I was sent a sign from God. Lady Gaga's "Eh, Eh" came on the radio. I swear, it was fate. I knew then that I would love the city. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but whatever. Babette drove me around a little, showing me where the sites are--most importantly, the American Center and Cours Mirabeau--then we got to their house. It's gorgeous, of course. I was shown my room, and pretty much the second I sat on my bed, I was completely out for ~18 hours, with a slight break in the middle (not kidding) when I wrote in my journal. It worked out nicely, because when I woke up I was in the French time zone. Word.
OKAY THIS IS A REALLY LONG POST. So I'll break it up a little. Next post will be my first week in Aix. Oh boy. Get ready.
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