I can feel spring a-comin'

The sun is finally starting to come out in Rennes! It is incredible how much my mood changes when the weather is nice. France is SO charming in the sunshine. I can't even believe it. Everyone is outside, sitting in front of cafés, walking their dogs, taking their kids to the carousels, playing accordions, etc. Seriously, everything is beautiful. On Tuesday, I spent the whole afternoon in a park, Thabor (if you ever go to Rennes for some reason, you really must go there), drawing and sitting in the sun and listening to the birds. It was so great. Sitting around on the grass like that reminded me a lot of springtime at Guilford, which I have been missing. When I was wandering around the park, I had the realization that I am going to hate leaving here. But I don't have to think about that yet.

The past week has been full of sunshine and hanging out with good girlfriends. I've met some really awesome girls on this program, which is nice, especially since French girls are impossible to try to be friends with. And we are all about doing silly things together. I forget sometimes that we are all doing this program because we are interested in the French language, and that results in our outings often being as French as possible. For example, if we are going to watch a movie together, we will always opt to watch it in French (we definitely watched a Disney movie in French on Saturday night...it was awesome). It's really nice to feel like you're accomplishing something and having a great time also. I definitely learn more French outside of the classroom than in. Which is one of the reasons I am pretty apathetic about classes here (I study, don't worry, professors who are reading this :-) )
I haven't actually received any grades yet, so I don't have reason to worry...yet. I had two tests in the past few days, so we will see how that went.

We have a new addition to the family at my house. With one more foster girl, I think we are now at maximum capacity. Her name is Rose-Marie, but she goes by Rose. I think she is 14 or 15. The girls who live at my house are the only teenagers I interact with, and half of them smoke. I just can't get over it. They just seem so young to me. There isn't an age for buying tobacco here...or if there is, it's very very young. So every time one of them pulls out their cigarettes, I'm like "whaaaat..? Oh, right." It makes me sad, kind of.

This weekend, I am going on an excursion with the other Americans to Carnac and Vannes. I am excited!!! It will be nice to go somewhere new. I hope the weather is as nice as it's been here. If not, I have picked up the ability to have a good time despite the weather, which has so far been awful every time I've been somewhere exciting. Croisez vos doigts! (cross your fingers!)

La Vie Enchantée

So I know my last entry was mostly about knitting, but that's what I do with my life these days, so bear with me.

Last night I went to a "soirée de tricot" or, a knitting party, at a cooperative that I found called La Vie Enchantée.

Let me back up a little. My friend Haley and I have been talking about how we feel sort of lost in France because there aren't places where you can really just sit and have a coffee and read or use your laptop or, you know, knit. We are both used to having our cavernous revolutionary coffee shops that we go to on a daily basis and sit for hours doing whatever. I have realized that when you are a college student, it is places like this that really become your living room. Except better because there is coffee and interesting people and open mic nights and so on and so forth.

Now. When she and I walked into La Vie Enchantée, we knew that we had found a home. First of all, it's a co-op. One of the things I miss greatly about my school in the states is the co-op where I volunteer. Walking in, we were surrounded by familiar things that one often finds in "revolutionary spaces"...flyers, event calenders, collaged table tops, a menu of local foods, people huddling around knitting and talking. But really the best thing about my evening at La Vie Enchantée was the people there. The thing about French people is that they are extremely unapproachable...they are certainly not the most welcoming people in the world. It is therefore nearly impossible to make friends with them. This has been one of my great frustrations since I've been living in France. However, the people who were hanging out at this place were not going to let us sit in a corner unnoticed. The woman who was organizing the event (and who also spent part of the evening reading feminist poetry...yes) was very curious about what I was knitting and the kind of needles I was using and wanted everyone in the room to see. Talking to her, I discovered that she is a storyteller, that is what she does, and she lives on a commune a little ways outside of Rennes. She told me about this festival that they're having called La Festival de la Lenteur (Festival of slowness) with workshops and things about living slowly. Also this man came up to us and told us that he is a sculptor and painter and he told me that there are life drawing sessions at les Beaux-Arts on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, and I am SO excited to go to one.

Anyway, the point is, Haley and I are meeting up after we are done with classes this afternoon so that we can make our way to our newfound home. Happiness.

Establishing my usual haunts

I should be doing my homework right now, but that's not really on the top of my list of things I want to be doing at the moment. So I blog instead.

It has been a little strange, getting back into the routine of going to class every day. Classes aren't really my favorite thing. I am learning some interesting stuff in some of them, but not most of them. I can say that I am absorbing a lot of French in all of them, but that's about it. Yesterday in my press class, we were talking about weekly publications, and I learned that the most read weekly publication in France is a satirical newspaper called Le Canard Enchaîné. It's extraordinarily difficult to read, even for the French, because it employs quite a lot of plays on words, literary references, cultural references, etc. But people from all walks of life read it. And the best part is, it's basically an anarchist newspaper. There are no ads, it is completely self-supported, fairly anti-capitalism/anti-authority, it is constantly exposing government scandals, it never buys information from anyone, and it sells the most copies of any weekly publication in France. I find that very amusing. As my professor told us, there is a little anarchy in every Frenchman/woman.

I feel like my daily routine is starting to become French. The past few days have gone something like this: I get up and go to class, eat lunch, maybe have another class, and for the rest of the afternoon I sit in cafés and talk with friends for hours. The best is when my French friends come along because I am forced to speak only French. Yesterday I spent the afternoon trying to explain southern culture to one of my friends who is going to be living in the south of the U.S. next year. That was pretty amusing. There is not a word for grits in French. Tragedy.

Today I went to the yarn store with a couple of my friends who are curious about the art of knitting (I am spreading the knitting love all over France), and the woman who was helping me asked me where I was from, and when I said the United States, she said, "well, you speak French very well." and for the rest of the time I was there she referred to me as "mademoiselle qui parle très bien le français," or, "young lady who speaks very good French." It was very cute. It's so funny that the French say things like that. In the U.S. we would never say to someone who sounded foreign "you speak very good English." Which reminds me, I forgot to say that when I was in Paris, I was told by three Indian guys with British accents that I spoke "quite good English." Thanks. It's just my native language, that's all.

Adventure

Well, I have some stories.

This week is our "winter break," so I have been doing a few things. We ended up not going to Belgium; I found out too late how to get cheaper tickets. Next time, I suppose. Instead, we had some other adventures. On Sunday, we took a train to Saint-Malo so that we could see one of our favorite musicians play a free show in an old church. Since it was a Sunday, the buses weren't really running, so we just walked everywhere we needed to go (isn't it funny how I would probably never do this in the U.S.?) Fortunately it was a nice day (for once), and Saint-Malo is very beautiful (on the coast, medieval buildings and cobblestone streets). We walked to the quarter where the show was going to be and decided to find the church so that we would know later where to go (the show was supposedly at 8). Well, when we got to the church, we heard his voice (the singer, called The Tallest Man on Earth. Look him up, he is just incredible) coming from inside. There were two guys standing outside, and they said "you can go in, it's free." We were confused, but we went into the church, and there he was, in a room full of people, playing a song. It was, of course, the last song. We had missed the show; the time had been wrong on the website. We were standing in disbelief (horror, really) at what we had missed, and we saw him walk outside to smoke a cigarette. We decided we might as well go talk to him, even though we didn't get to hear him play. So we did, and we told him that we had come all the way from Rennes for no other reason than to see the show, and that we'd missed it, etc. He said he was sorry, that really sucks, etc. We talked to him for a little while more, and then he was like "well, I mean, I'm beat, but....can I like, play you a song or something? Would that help?"
What do you think our answer was?
So we followed him back into the church into a secret door up a tiny winding staircase into a tiny room in a tower of the church. There was a bed, piles of clothes, plates of sugared gummy candy (French hospitality) and exactly three chairs. So long story short(er), he played my favorite song, and it was incredible. What a great guy. I think also he was relieved to find some people who speak English (he's from Sweden, but his songs are in English). We even translated for him a few times. Afterward, we spent the rest of the day (and the next several days) not believing that that could have possibly happened. Oh, but it did. And the whole trip was absolutely 100% worth it.

The next day, we left for Paris. I spent the past few days in Paris, seeing a few things, going to museums, but mostly just hanging out and enjoying the city. I have yet to see Paris in nice weather, unfortunately. I think the sun came out for about 10 minutes the whole time we were there. Oh well. Someday. Fortunately, Paris is still beautiful, even in the grossest weather. There was a moment when we were in the Louvre, the sun came out, and we decided to go up on the roof. Well, literally two seconds after we got up there, it started pouring. Like, a monsoon on top of the Louvre. CHAOS. But speaking of museums, I discovered that I can get into most of the museums in Paris for free because I am technically a student resident of the European Union. Sweet deal, right? The Louvre, I found, is very enormous (people are not kidding when they say how huge it is...it is seriously the size of a small city), very crowded, and full of old stuff. It great, don't get me wrong, but I think I've had my fill for a while. The ancient Egyptian art was especially great. Honestly, I preferred Musee d'Orsay, which was fantastic and in which I did not spend nearly enough time. Why do people take pictures of paintings? It's so weird, everyone is always crowded around the Mona Lisa or something, taking pictures of it. I don't get it.

One of the fun things about Paris was meeting random people. Two of our friends from our program were staying in Paris also, so we hung out with them for a couple of days. They were staying at a really cool hostel in a room with four other people. So we met people from all over, which was awesome. That is the great thing about youth hostels; they are so full of random people from everywhere who just want to see things. Scottie and I met a woman from Spain at our hostel, and we were talking with her about languages. She speaks Spanish, Catalan, English, and French. Her husband is French, so they speak French together. He also speaks Arabic. So their kids speak Spanish, Catalan, English, French, and Arabic. And that is pretty typical. She told me that English is their favorite language to speak. I wish I had a favorite language. Jeez. She turned to us and was like "so how many languages do you speak?" and was astonished to find that I only speak two. Shame, shame, shame America.
Possibly my favorite moment in Paris was right at the end of my visit. When I was on my way to the train station, there was an entire orchestra playing a song in the metro. I mean, there are a lot of metro musicians; I saw some pretty great ones. Accordion players, cellists, acoustic guitar guys, etc. But a whole ensemble of stringed instruments...that I had not seen. And the metro has really good acoustics, if you were wondering.

Interestingly enough, it feels good to be back home in Rennes. It is less stressful, less expensive, and the metro doesn't smell like urine. Can I insert that I am so proud of Scottie and myself for not getting lost once. We are well on our way to being expert travellers. Also I can't wait to sleep in my bed tonight. We crashed on the floor of a semi-distant acquaintance of Scottie's who is studying in Paris. We are friends now. Hehe. But, you know, I haven't brushed my hair in like five days, and my feet are feeling the miles and miles I must have trekked since Sunday. Paris is truly lovely, but I am thankful for my little medieval city in La Bretagne.

It's hard to live in Europe when you don't have any money

Well, the title says it all. Turns out Europe is expensive. Surprise!
My February break is next week, and I still don't have solid plans. I think that Scottie and I are going to go to Belgium. It's really not very far from here at all. The thing is, train tickets are just so expensive. So are hostels. So is food, including all of the chocolate I'm going to want to eat. Man. I also have to consider that my spring break is going to require some serious cash as well, so I've got to reserve a lot for that. Oh goodness. I'm bad at this whole traveling thing.

Yesterday, I met my host mom's sister and mother, who is like 90. She was very cute, and kept calling me "une petite" even though the rest of the family assured her that I am not "une petite" because I am 20 years old. But I suppose I am compared to her. My host mom's sister was very impressed that I could understand what she was saying. She said, "you can understand even when I talk fast?" and I nodded, so after that I think she decided it was a good idea to speak as fast as possible to test my comprehension skills. The whole family came over for lunch (I guess because it was Valentine's Day? Who knows? Also Sunday lunches are always big family meals). It was really nice. It felt kind of like Thanksgiving except smaller and with champagne. I even made an apple pie. When Jennifer saw it, she said "Ohhh it's a real American apple pie, like in the movies!" because I had made a lattice with the crust.

Apologies for the lack of photos recently. I have been negligent about taking them. It's not that the novelty has worn off, it's just that I don't feel like a tourist here anymore. I am actually starting to feel at home. In the morning, when I am walking to the bus stop, I think to myself, "oh yeah....this IS my city..."
And I like living in France. It has even been relatively sunny lately, which is a miracle.

le gastro

That title goes out to my mom because she thought it would be funny. Le gastro, if you don't know, is the horrible thing that y'all in the U.S. call the stomach flu. Well guess who was lucky enough to get the French stomach flu....

So that would explain why I have had nothing to say on my blog for the past several days; before yesterday I had seen nothing but the four walls of my bedroom for like 3 days. Hoo-rah.

But! I have since then mostly recovered and have ventured to the outside world, which I found to be very very cold and, this morning, snowy. I walked outside my house into a blizzardy version of Rennes that I don't think is seen very often. Of course, seeing as it rarely snows here, no one knows what to do about it. No snow plows, no salting people, nothing. So everyone is just sliding around, and the buses may or may not come, depending.

Today I had a block of free time during which I wasn't sure if I wanted to go home, so I did some wandering and ran a few errands. It was really nice to walk around the city by myself and realize that I actually knew where I was going. Also, I went to the yarn store, and no one knew that I was American. At least, if they did, they didn't let on that they did. The thing is, usually when people here realize that you're American, they will start attempting to speak English to you (not something that always goes well). And no one did that today. Nope.

Freezing Waves and Ancient Stones

Yesterday we went to St. Malo and Mont St. Michel, and it feels strange to be back in the real world. It feels even stranger that the real world is a city in France.

The trip was really incredible. We began at St. Malo, which is about an hour from here. It's a charming, ancient, seaside town that actually reminded me a lot of home. A few of my friends and I headed immediately for the beach, as we all had longings for closeness with the ocean. It was a gray, freezing day, but we managed to ignore the unforgiving winds and frolic along the rocky coastline with abandon. We found (and by found I mean it was too large to ignore) a huge, ancient-looking building on a little island connected to the shore by some rocks. What was it? Who knows. We decided against exploring it for fear of getting stuck out there by the tide. It's so funny to think that it was probably like, a thousand years old, but it's really no big deal.

After wandering the streets of St. Malo for a bit and realizing we were hungry, we passed by an open restaurant-type place, and as we were staring at the menu, Brice informed us that here he once ate the best beignet he's ever had. Sold! I ordered a nutella-filled beignet that was literally the size of my face. My friend Tina, who got the same thing, looked at me after the first bite and said, "this was a good life decision." Couldn't agree with her more.

After St. Malo, we headed to Mont St. Michel. We drove through Cancale, which is a lovely town, and the road we were on was right next to the coastline. It was such a beautiful drive. On the right was the ocean, and on the left were green fields and charming old houses. We got to Mont St. Michel, which suddenly appeared on the horizon as this huge, looming, castle-looking thing on an island in the middle of nowhere. It's actually a monastery, not a castle. We climbed all the way to the top, a feat that was easy for me, but that I realized would never go over well at a tourist attraction in the U.S. They would probably add an escalator or something.

The view was incredible! At the top we were given head-set things that talked to us about the history of the place and whatnot. It was sort of interesting, but I gave up halfway listening through because what I was seeing with my eyes was keeping my attention much better than the British man inside my headset. I feel like what they should really give you is a headset that plays monastic chants or something while you're wandering around the abbey.

Pictures will really describe better than words. So look at them. Daniel told me that Mont St. Michel is the second most visited site in France, after the Eiffel Tower. Crazy, right? Well, now I understand why. I'd love to go back when it's warmer, though there will probably be more people.

Now that I'm back in the real world, I've got to do my homework and whatnot. The unfortunate catch of being in France...schoolwork. Oh well.