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
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
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)
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