halllooo
quickest ever. on Kassie's computer (mine died. mon dieu) and have a date for a petite pique-nique at the lake for Louisa's last day. Very sad.
Necessary highlights until next computer access:

Yesterday:
Went to a movie (Le premier jour du reste de ta vie) it was good, sad, but more importantly I knew what was going on. I followed, dare I say understood??, it.
Before that, was walking down the street and some guy who was playing his guitar on the corner. He started talking to me and so we talked about guitars. He said "oh, you play? play something" So I did. And earned 2 whole euro!! Yeah, moneyyyy. Although I gave it to the guy. Chances are he needs it more than me. So that's good for in a pinch. Although there seem to be some serious turf wars. Don't know if I want to get pulled into the twisted violen underworld of Dijon street musicians.

Alright, so we're taking our wine and our cheese and our baguette (whole wheat. how I've missed thee) and our fruit to the lake. It's very pretty out today. Delight.

C'est tout.
Must catch the bus.

Paris - 17 hours of ubereuroprydzzz. then bed.

Joyeux Patrimoine!

Not entirely sure what the means either. But it’s patriotic and it means lots of things are freee.
Today Louisa and I walked all over Dijon finding said things and in the process learned more about our great city in the form of finding the Musee de Bourgogne. After that museum, we went to another museum (that usually costs) and looked at lots of impressive paintings in a special exhibit of Charles Meynier.
I have to admit, when I go to museums, I am very easily distracted. This museum happens to be surrounded by apartments (the highest floors of almost every old building) and so it was probably a fifty fifty ratio of looking at priceless art and looking at the windows of the flats next door wondering what it would be like to be able to wake up every morning and look into an art museum. Priceless, indeed.
Although Dijon fascinates me to no end,
Paris just sort of trumps life.
Went yesterday with Kassie, Liz, and Louisa. We left at 6 in the morning because there is a day trip pass for 15 euro. Can’t beat it. The train leaves Paris at 7 for the 3 hour ride back.
I slept at Kassies in centre ville because the buses didn’t run early enough to get me there. Luckily we are both morning people and heavily solar powered so we were not bad about getting up at 5 for a predictable BEAUTIFUL day in Paris (although the sun didn’t rise for another 12 HOURS! So we really took a gamble on that one.) We met Liz on the corner to walk to the train but Louisa walked from her house through some Sketchtasmeville so we were very glad to see her bright shiny unscathed face.
We got to Paris and the sun was up and the haze even had the good humor to lift. We eeny-meeny-miney-moed a metro stop and decided on the Louvre. We got there and it was still intensely cold in our bodies but a little sun majestically shining through an internationally recognized glass pyramid can really warm a soul.
We didn’t go in because, frankly, it was way too overwhelming. But we figured we could find a little something else to keep us occupied for the next 12 hours.
Our rule became “if you can see it, why the hell not.”

This led to the following sites whose order of attendance through superubertourism is marked by numbers –
From the Louvre (1)
one can see the Champs de l’Eysee (2).
That leads to the grand Obelisque (3 -Egypt who? Looks better in Paris anyway).
At the end of this comes the Arc de Triomphe (4) with some real big, real Europride flags.
We decided since we just happened to be able to see the Eiffel Tower, we’d probably head but first we got a little lost so stopped at a large impressive market (5) which barely dead animals for sale for consumption. Time to move on. Next stop: the Tokyo palace (6) to pose seductively next to indecent statues. From there we could finally see that big river (7) the runs through town so we crossed it. And, hey how about that, there was that big tower that they forget to take down after the World’s Fair roughly 100 years ago (maybe we can email the mayor?). Bored. Over it. Kept walking towards the big impressive building but really found the “French Federation of Adapted Sports” (8) a little more fun. The creation of an American chapter would decrease American obesity by 36% within 5 years. I’ll call Barack. We hung a left and walked to Les Invalides (9) which is an enormous gold gilded building commissioned by Napoleon when he came back from Russia, got jealous, and said “I want one.” Next stop was Notre Dame, which was not close at all so we just happened to take a gander through la Musee D’Orsay (10). By this time, we had put in some serious miles so we referenced our two guide books. (Annie, I lovelove your book but have to noticed the scale on the maps is in meters? L’Ile de la Cite was either 9 or .9km. We seriously debated that last decimal point. Determined the latter. Thank. Goodness.) Notre Dame was on the island about ½ a mile away so we kept trekking by foot. All sites between there and Notre Dame were generally unrecognizable to me. They shall not be repeated lest I make any past French teaches cringe and promptly retire.
Yeah, made it to Notre Dame (11). Not positively sure why but it’s probably the amazing bells, or the stunning windows, or the statue of my girl Jeanne d’Arc in the corner.
The three appeased me and then we moved on (move=shuffle barely. And found a metro) to some epic shopping area (12 number of people only equaled by number of sex shops). No one bought anything and it was a maddening mass of humanity so we called it quits after a while and headed back to the metro to find our way back.
Upon safe reentry to Gare to Lyon, we reflected in our guide books on the course of the day.
HOLY INEFFICIENCY, BATMAN!! Anyway reading this who knows Paris, is probably just finishing convulsing in laughter at our day. If our course resembled a letter, it would probably be a Chinese character. Probably one of the more intricate, archaic ones.

The trip back was shrouded in exhaustion and helpless peals of laughter until we started dying around ETA Dijon 20 minutes. Being Sunday night, there was no ambiguity on the faces of those who passed as to the fact they believed us to be completely trashed out of our minds.

“Grime and grit and pretty city lights”
Liza Minnelli sure had it right.

then
Bed. Bed. Bed. Bed. Bed.

churches and thigh highs

Beautiful day number 4! I put my sun glasses away last night because I thought it was absolutely impossible that this could happen. Maybe it’s because the Pope is around. Thank God for organized religion.

On Sunday, we traversed to Louisa’s turf. Two buses and some confusion later, Kassie and I arrived near the lake where Louisa met us.

So this is where the nature has been hiding itself. Although it’s amusingly easy to tell that this is the only water in Dijon. The abundance of “beach! Camping!” signs and “nautical club” on this lake (cough pond cough) are slightly crammed. And lest we forget we are in France, they were selling crepes on the beach.

We also had our first game of Frisbee, oh how I’ve missed thee. Lots of running, throwing, and semi catching ensued. We also saw so many runners. For anyone who runs, you know that sense of guilt that can surface when you see one/a million people running when you haven’t in a while? That’s the worst. My writhing from guilt became a full-fledged dance when I walked past a sign reading (demanding?) “courir” (run). The running gods punished me by giving me the hiccups but Louisa taught me how to say “I have the hiccups” in German (strictly phonetically speaking “Ich haabe einen schloooookawf) so everybody wins

We scrambled up and up and up the mountain cleverly labeled a “hill” (see photos) to Louisa’s house and it was completely worth it. She lives in a semi crazy house with a semi crazy woman but we sat on a patio to end all patios (more photos!). It was a little tragic to go back to centre ville because it was Sunday so life had shut down. Although, we have found that one creperie that is open on Sunday. YES. Never again shall I be such a cranky pants towards an impending end of week!

Yesterday, Monday, classes. Language classes. Eh, over it.

Afternoon real kid class. If I could only find the words to explain. If you ever thought I was exaggerating about my professors clothes…I would have sold my soul to the devil for a camera phone in those 64 minutes.

From the waist up: Socially acceptable.

From the waist down: bright red shorts. Thigh high black boots.

There was a lot of silence between the three of us when we left class. There were complete minutes and blocks walked between departure from class and channeling out emotions into words.

After that, ran to the post office to track down a rogue package that has not yet arrived. Have to call an official number. [Update: called the number this morning. Got some random old woman. Shockingly, she knows neither my mother nor the location of my package.]

Returned quickly because Kirsty (Scottish girl also here for the year) arrived and was sitting on the stoop. I was so stressed to go let her in because I have this concept that to get to France, one absolutely must travel for no fewer than 24 hours and then will be dirty and tired and unable to form real words. She had left that morning.

Wednesday –

This morning I had to go to find someone to give me some civil responsibility insurance in case I am very irresponsible sometime in the next 8 months and destroy her gold woven basket or brick collection.

As always, in between classes I wandered in centre ville. We three dispersed so I made my own fun. In Dijon, this equals walking for extensive periods of time but I’m all into that. Found about 8 more churches, two of which are literally right night to each other. They have so many churches around here that they’ve started changing them into theatres. I’m no expert, but Leviticus sure says a lot of things. Is there anything in there about making houses of God into temples of sin and intrigue? Maybe if the Bible were a musical…I could get behind that.

Other than that, think that I’m becoming a cathedral snob. Enormous ornately stained glass windows with impeccable arches, an organ the size of my house and an 11^th century vault?? The guy down the corner has an 8^th century. Just saying…You could do better.

In other news, last night we ate a meat product which I was unable to identify. Never been as thankful for an inadequate vocabulary just in case she did slip the name into conversation somewhere. I have some guesses but we’re just going to let this one slide. Also have some old bananas which are just waiting to be made into banana bread. Mireille doesn’t really understand this concept and it took some intense google imaging until Kirsty got behind it. She’s a trooper I can already tell.

Tomorrow is another day. Stay tuned.

Byeeeeexoxo

Bread product and alcohol. Universal.

Hellllo

Happy Birthday, elder sister!!! You will be receiving tokens of my affection probs around the start of next week. Got a little behind. But we respect that. Xoxo

Yesterday. A Beaune Jour.

3 points for excessive word play. The city is Beaune so –

1) A good day in Beaune

2) A good (bon) day (jour)

3) And sounds like “bonjour”

I am so crafty. Me and half the names of the shops in the city. Although it was suitable since about 80% of the people seen there were tourists.

Beaune is this mecca of wine in Bourgogne (the region around Dijon) so everything talks about to at least mentions wine. Liz, Alex, and Kassie went for some of the 453784 choices of places to taste wine in the town (20,000 people) but Louisa and I explored since we’re not huge into that. Although Alex returned with such a glowing smile on his precious little scruffy Anglo face (and a purchase of the least inexpensive option) that I may before I leave…

Louisa and I found lots of interesting things to look at though. Not an afternoon to be wasted although the weather (as always, but not today!!!) was rainy and mildly eghhh. We found this amazing church where there was a wedding going on and watched as some poor friend struggled to get the cans tied to the bumper of their car. We found another church that was physically less impressive but they bells were ringing. Seriously – they were ringing. They actually moved!!

This was possibly the most exciting event of the day for me. Church bells never really ring anymore it seems (in my extensive knowledge). They have some little machine that bangs them from the inside and the bells themselves don’t swing. We could see the bells swinging. Amazing. Awesome.

One of the best things about old towns like this, and lots of France in general, is that it’s so easy to visualize how it was 100 years ago or even 500 years ago. The skylines are amazing (took a lot of pictures). When looking down an alley, it’s not like looking down a street and it goes forever with nothing interesting, it always stops or turns and at the end it seems the there is, inevitably, an amazing church spire. This is at least the case in all the centre villes (centers of town) because they were the original town and then they exploded outwards.

Meanwhile…

As they exploded outwards. They built things like Carrefour. The enormous supermarkets where Kassie, Louisa, and I ventured to find the ingredients for American pancakes. That was a challenge in itself since if it’s thicker than a crepe they don’t want it! (the unofficial tagline of the country). Also, Carrefour is so damn large that some of the employees wear roller blades. Thought that we were going to pass out from laughing internally. Tried to subtly take a picture. The first time I missed completely and the second time I forgot to turn off the flash. Curses!! Luckily my camera has a superman zoom lens so they were unable to locate the stupid American from 50 paces.

We found things and then promptly returned to my abode to make a huge mess which was all craftily erased by Mireille’s return. We hung out for a long time. Had a little sing a long. Good times.

Today we’re going to the lake near to where Louisa is staying. It’s a little cold but we’re pretty desperate for nature. And it’s finally sunny!! Get our of your pjs, Jean-Pierre, we’re going to the lake!!

Pictures and highlights to follow.

Bonne journeeeeeee

if I had the word would I use it?

10:

Number of days it took for me to finally drop a reference to the cliché “lost in translation.”

Mireille is going out on Friday night for a dinner and a chat with friends so I get the apartment to myself. She said I could do what I wanted so I’m going to have Kassie (Clarkie) and Louisa (our lovely German) over for a thoroughly American meal. (read: pancakes probably with peanut butter– applicable at any hour of the day). And wine, just because.

This country doesn’t know of the thing called “bisquick,” a petite tragedie, and does not lend itself well to description.

Later in this same profound conversation, when she said I could do what I wanted I laughed. My mom tends to say the same thing but follows it up by adding “don’t have a rager.” Have you ever tried to explain “rager” to an older French woman without an American college experience?

Later, during the same eventful dinner, she gave me a new baguette to dig into. This one was real long. I told her that sometimes at home when a baguette goes too hard my mother and/or I will pick it up and promptly begin to hit things in order to confirm it’s general state. Or we’ll feign baseball with any other poor small compact object in our kitchen that dared stray past its day of acceptable use.

I just don’t think she gets our people.

And by our people I mean the residents of chez moi, Maine.

Other highlights:

We started a new non-language course yesterday. The prof came to class wearing her [ must have been 13 year old daughter’s] shirt that said “parfaite ou Presque” (perfect or almost”) in sparkly script. Lady, there aren’t enough interesting things in any language that you can say in this world to make me not distracted by that shirt.

Monsieur Sparkly trousers set a pretty solid precedent but I’m feeling good about this.

A bientot.

faire du writing

It’s a good thing I didn’t have access to a computer yesterday between the hours of 11am and roughly 4.

I would have written something similar to the following;

GET ME THE EFF EFF EFF EFF OUT OF HERE. THIS IS NOT FUN!

If words could describe it, of course.

First wall. Ok. Over it.

Kassie and I were talking about it though because we’re having some of the same issues and it’s not that we’ve been getting worse (as it seems inside our heads) but that our standards are going up. We need to be able to do and say and understand more and right now we can’t. And since I’m known for my patience this should be great………….

I’m stepping my game up now. I borrowed a bunch of Mireille’s dictionaries and conjugation books etc etc. I also sat around in an enormous book store on the main street yesterday. Good times, good practice, cheap books. It seems rare over here that anyone publishes anything in a quality higher than those inexpensive classic type books. Excellent feature, France.

After classes yesterday, we had some fancy pants reception with the CIEF kids and the president of the university. Big stuff. She seemed nice but since I will never see her again in my life she could have been a huge jerk and I wouldn’t have really thought twice about it.

There was good food and good wine.

Today Kassie and I finally get to meet with the woman who sent us the email last week asking us if we were here. She’s giving us 15 minutes of her time to figure out the next 9 months. That would bother me more if I didn’t have 5 euros to my name and an ATM card that doesn’t work. (Mom, I’ll call). Thank goodness for credit cards and cheap bastardlyness.

On a completely different note, I think I had a dream about running last night. I haven’t run a lot here because I walk about 3 miles a day and because I don’t have that much time until after school. I also don’t dare to leave at 6:30am without telling Mireille. She would probably get very confused.

Also, have a slight mental block due to the “faire du jogging” title. Yes, now I’m going to go do some jogging. Nothing gets an athlete fired up quite like that blow to the ego. Did Paul Pierce’s host mother say “oh, Paul, are going to the Garden tonight to do some baskets?” (and we are such comparable athletes...)

There has got to be some seriously rearrangement to athletic vocabulary in this country.

Morning. Have to run (should I say jog?)

A bientot

Sunday - the guaranteed weekly cultural experience.

Lots of events. Not really that normal but these people get seriously excited about “la rentrée” or “going back to school time.” Friday night (took some pictures) there was an enormous concert in one of the who knows how many town squares with lots of fun, more people, and even more young children carrying open containers.

The main guy was Yves Jamait – no idea who he was but the girls behind us and plenty of others were very enthusiastic and knew all the words. It was very fun, catchy, and contemporary and the 4397854 confirmation that the accordion has firmly and permanently implanted itself in this culture.

Another highlight – Mireille has a small garden plot about a mile away from the apartment so we went there to pick stuff. My weight in tomatoes and lots of beans but delightful all the same. We ran into this crazy old man who has a plot next to hers (“the biggest!” he declared proudly. Declared other things – more later) and made me eat lots of cherry tomatoes without pesticides or other garden steroids (“comme les bijoux” – like jewels. Cute.). Apparently he also said some other things to me (“[I’m not going to tell her that]” – Mireille). But my hands smelled like dirt and tomatoes. Good times. Childhood memories.

More interaction with the locals the next day when Kassie, Louisa, and I discovered a big market in la place Wilson. As in our President Wilson – a bit of a mystery. We have a little research to do as to why Wilson got a large circle of ground and a fountain dedicated to him in the middle of Dijon, France. Curse Ms. Peters for retiring. My wealth of information.

Talked to a lot of people while I was there ( so much better than class!!!) and got asked a lot if I was voting for Obama or McCain. If only I could express well that I think Palin would do so much to help me and my 6 young children. No?

Did a lot of random adventuring which I don’t think Louisa is into so much (Germans are just so darn goal oriented). It was wet and cold so we went into Monoprix (Target of France maybe?) with Alex (English boy who lives with Liz) and Liz for more wandering. Louisa was long gone at this point. She was a little over it. Decided that we have a hot date to kill a 3 euro bottle of wine (let me do a little layman conversion. $5??). We’re going to do it sometime at Liz and Alex’s when their host is out. We’re convinced she’s a high class prostitute but seriously, people, the hours? The outfits?

Now it’s Sunday. France = closed. Kassie and I are going to get on the bus and ride the line until it ceases to be. Supposed to be some big commercial place. In the great American tradition they don’t have time to close. Good. Done.

Now if Kassie would just get out of bed.

Tomorrow there is a cocktail party at 4 in the afternoon for the international kids. Hmmmm. Should be notable.

A tourister in foodville. with photos.

Yesterday : A sort of eghhhhhh day.

Woke up. Rain = winter in Dijon. Barely fall? Get used to it.

Walked to school. Was asked to respond to the only homework question that I got wrong. Good thing I didn’t buy a lottery ticket.

I think I have just learned to leave in fear of academic French classes.

There is a huge mental difference between an academic French class and a class that is taught in French. We had our Approaches to French Society again. Other than it being 6 people (there’s no obligation to be there so no one goes, clearly), it was much better than the language classes. It was too bad that so few people went because the professor is really nice and, although he knows we’re not French speakers, he doesn’t speak to us as such. It’s as if as soon as someone doesn’t know, there’s so much less stress. I participated in that class alone 34873% more than all the other language classes together. Enough smart thinking. He also wears tight gold glittery pants. It was dress down thursday.

After class, Kassie, Louisa, and I traversed (slash – caught the bus) to centre ville for the second time that day. J'aime le public transport! Kassie and I try to speak French as much as possible and Louisa is a lovely nerdette to add to our little group. We’re still in mourning that she is only staying the month.

Special Section: Food highlights of the day –

Morning- yogurt here is more of less equal to very milky cheese. Yet when added over cereal (which she had to buy special for me) can be found to be quite delightful.

Convinced Mireille to try her first ever peanut butter (imported special by me. Would have left my winter coat at the gate but was in no way leaving my peanut butter) and jelly. “le buerre de cacahuetes avec la confiture?” “oui, Mireille [it’s a national treasure].” Not so over the moon for the peanut butter itself – “[it’s better with jelly]” with that sort of look on her face.

Lunch – a sandwich the length of my forearm. Excessive cheese. Randomly picked up on the street. As is done. Although the real excitement lies in the selection. The American. French fries with some deep friend semi animal product. Between a baguette. Need it. Love it. Will consume it.

A long sought after apple. Literally. Had to take a special walk for it.

Post school – something by any other name is still essentially an enormous piece of shortbread with strawberries in it. Still working on that one.

Haven’t had dinner yet. It’s 8:30. so food post school is an act of necessity.

May be going out on the town tonight for the first time. Liz, the third girl from Clark, is determined to give those Colby frosh who are missing their first semester, the real college experience. Hm, yeah, I’ll think about it.

[Meanwhile! - Amanda, guess who is in my effing class!!! Your certain former roommate Cindy!!! Hahaha. Love it.
She walked in and I knew I recognized her but there was a little bit of a displacement issue with my brain. As soon as she said “Cindy…” Can’t plan stuff like that.]

[18 hours later]

Made semi good decisions and went out on the town as it is. It was thursday and the real french kids aren't really back yet so we went to one little bar called "Freestyle". A lot of interesting punctuated by a little cheering in the corner by this random group of kids. Happy 15th birthday from us, monsieur. No, really.

yeah, weekend.

xox

legit

writing twice in one day you ask?
yes, but there are notable things I reply.

Exciting things:
-today kassie and Julie (another student at her house. from Colby. shocking.) went to school an hour early because classes started at 10 not 9 but Kassie found it all the way to my house from school. How exciting. And I discovered a trundle bed under mine. slumber party, asap.
-after classes, we went to la centre ville. We = Kassie, me, and then two other people: Louisa and Christian. Both German. Both delightful. Went intentionally with Louisa. Found Christian at the post office. He's in my class so I knew him vaguely. We asked him along. Good choice, kids.
- We walked around town and when it started pouring we found a little cafe on the square and I took a few shots of expresso (adrenaline rush = fini) for the afternoon class which was two hours. I know everyone who has ever gone to high school is laughing in my face - but two hours of France's approaches to society while heavily jet lagged?
- Class wasn't so bad! Still long as eff but I managed to pay attention pretty well for almost all of each section (they split it in hour slots) and even raised my hand. Talking. In the Big kid class. Even though it's unmercifully long, it's better than our academic French class, my personal opinion.
- Hung out and talked with Liz a little more (she's the third Clarkie - real good at French. got accepted at the Sorbonne and Clark couldn't find a way for it to work out academically for her. WOW, CLARK, REALLY?). Fun times. planning dates and fun.

Not stellar
-Our stipend checks (=money for food!) just arrived today. That's fine but the woman who is supposed to give them to us is a French woman who works at the University here. Yesterday we got an email from her. Let me paraphrase it . [email was in English] "Hi Girls, Are you here yet??" actually, no. that's all you need to know. UM YES WE ARRIVED. remember that time YOUR school started two days ago? wow. ok. give me my monies.
I'm sure she's a very nice person.

but overall, she was heavily outweighed. . c'est tout. byeee

my brain = sdfghdsvjbshj,gdfg

Empty brain. no space, no words. Maybe this is some part of the great psychological and mental transition from one culture or language to another. Yes, we’ll choose that option.

Yesterday was the first real day of classes. We went up to the office to see where the test had placed us for levels. I was in 3B (each has an A and B it seems), whatever that means. I think it goes up to 4 and then there are the kids who speak wicked good at the top. Anyway, Kassie and I are in a different level right now but, honestly, we were talking and they don’t seem to mean a lot right now. There’s a clear difference between some letters and some numbers it seems but beyond that…there are people in my group that seem to be both noticeably higher and lower than me. I guess we get tested again at the end of the month and that will be our real level.

Classes – not that crazy about them yet. Although first days tend to be awkward, chaotic city as a general rule. We learned people’s name and where they’re from. Almost every single American (a lot of us) is from New England (“pres de Boston” – close to Boston and Connecticut). The others are mostly from Asia with a very few Europeans thrown in.

On a side note – Colby is an army. They are big and they are young and they a lot of them have indicated they don’t want to be here. 20 of the 25 are first years and so that’s understandable since first semester freshman year is a fairly crucial to your developmental college childhood. They are here for a semester and have a prof here from Colby who holds their hand the entire time I guess.

Sorry, Kassie and I are clearly just a little bitter since we clearly don’t have that network of friends/people who met when they showed up in Boston and grown ups who go do everything for us. We are the grown up. The Colby kids found that absolutely astonishing. (Ok Amanda, that’s the end of my Colby semi-rant. Love you, miss you. Really just stems from confusion.)

The first two classes were two hours each and completely academically oriented which is good since a lot of rules tend to be forgotten but also frustrating since Kassie and I would much rather be walking around on the street. But these things must be done. In the afternoon we had a one hour class (thought it was two!! Best surprise ever!!) about social approaches to French culture which would have been great but, man, third day jet lag is an effin’ killer. I’ll pay better attention in class next time, mom, I promise!

That was all for academia. Ate in the cafeteria for the first time. Wow. The food was impeccable. Have to sneak in a camera. Seriously, y’all. We’re talking some serious chocolate aesthetic flair. (and we Counterpoints – Clark’s only all female a cappella - know our flair…)

Day was over. Kassie and I resolved to do something and then just went home and sat down and couldn’t move.

Maybe tomorrow.

I had to write a semi, short autobiography for my first homework.

Finally talked to my dad. Skype to landline (2 cents a minute!). Even he, as the last great technology hold outs (no, seriously. No cell phone, no email. I bookmarked Dodgers.com and he’s good to go) was truly amazed at the simplicity, clarity, and cheapness of Skype.

So technically I am away, but the fact that I can talk to my sister almost whenever I sign on email seems to be cheating. Not that she isn’t/you aren’t the light of my life elder sister. You are.

Oh, and Mireille dug out her guitar so I can play it. Niiiiiiiice. Classical. Nylon strings ‘cause I’m delicate like a flower obviously. Going to lose my calluses.

Here it’s 9am. Have language class at 10-12 on Wednesdays then 3:30 to 5:30 of the more intensive real kid classes.

Today’s task –

Make friends with the small children. Frisbee? Any 10 year old will do.

A bientot (later)

beaucoup d'heures a Dijon

A Haiku

Wow – a lot of stuff.

Sometimes I know what it’s called.

Eternal French class.

Hi all,

Miss you all, hope life is delightful. Happy first day of spring, you temporary Aussies.

I am arrived, as they would say en francais. After many planes, many cities, many buses, and a bag of chocolate covered expresso beans, Dijon found me.

Fairly non descript, family friendly travel except for one woman next to me on the plane, sort of French by way of Greece by way of France by way of Belgium. We chatted about mistakes not to make (preservatives in English = preservatives. Preservatives in French = condoms. What we’ve learned from this is tacking a French accent onto an English word works only 75% of the time. Thanks, Kirk).

Kassie and I got off to a fairly solid start after we semi hurled ourselves and 120 pounds of things a piece down the train station stairs. Mireille (my host) saw me coming a mile away, however, and ran to the rescue. She hosts a lot so she can detect a weary traveler from the 50 meters.

We wheeled out and literally filled her car with my stuff (vos voitures francaises, elles sont vraiment plus petites, oui? - Eh, OUI) and headed off but stopped before we got home to check out the last of the weekend long Dijon/Bourgogne festival. There were lots of dancers in huge wooden shoed and we drank wine that tasted like apple juice against all the wisdom that Orbitz had to offer. Cheers. Don’t drink alcohol when you’re jetlagged, kids.

The city (la centre ville) is beautiful and so old. It’s made of those intricately designed and boarded buildings that outwardly show the peril of walking by it.

Did minimal tourism (=taking pictures) but I’ll get some since Kassie and I walked for about 3 hours today and I bought a bus pass.

When we got home, I did lots of decorating to combat the “I can’t carry on an intelligible conversation” blues, which surprised Mireille who doesn’t understand these crazy Americans who actually have things. Although, admittedly, I stopped when it got to the clothes part. Pending. I took some pictures so if anyone is interested in seeing them, along with others – can’t remember now – click to see my profile and then go to my webpage, some photo sharing site.

She cooked a very French style dinner with courses including bread and cheese of course (I asked her if there’s American cheese here, a & a, she had no idea what the hell I was talking about) as well as meat and potato wonderful things.

Emailed my mother (Sorry, Annie.)

More decorating, passed out.

Morning – test day in 47386584 ways.

Threw on my Frenchest clothes. She actually eats breakfast sitting down and expects the same of me – man, that’s the worst. She was very nice to drive me to the Maison de l’Universite since she works at the UB and didn’t want me to get lost. We had to take the placement exam this morning in an enormous lecture room with listening sections about people living in their parents’ basement. Whatever happened to good old fashioned “a l’aeroport”? Since the CIEF is an international school to teach French, it was surprising that there were so few people. There were lots of Asians, 3 Clarkies, and, Amanda, are you sure there are any people left at Colby?

After, being pre-bus card, Kassie and I walked around (literally circled as we learned later) Dijon for about 3 hours until we finally discovered la centre ville. We did some eating, more walking, and bought necessities. I had to speak a lot to normal people who didn’t always speak to me like I was a child (I don’t knock it.) so I actually had to speak and comprehend as though I wasn’t one. Crazy stuff!

French tip of the day – your key simple sentence! – Je cherche ­_______. (ch = sh) Means I’m looking for. It’s made about 89% of my speaking thus far.

There’s clearly more but Mireille will be home soon and doesn’t speak English so the franglais upon which Kassie and I so aggressively depend, just won’t cut it. Although my French is already better, I swear. Off to eavesdrop on general conversations. Hooray, first floor (aka second floor) balconys.

love you, like you, miss you.