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,
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)
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.
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