A French/American Birthday

Tuesday night was Haley's 21st birthday, and Karinne and I were determined to give her a true American celebration equal to the 21st she would have had at home with her friends.

Everyone in the Abroadco program came over for a dinner of breaded chicken, fried potatoes, salad with market-fresh red pepper and carrot, and a brie cheese plate with baguette and apple. The dinner was delicious, the apartment was packed, everyone got along, and Haley had a great time. All in all, I would call it a French (wine, cheese, tart)/American (chicken, lots of drinks for Haley [obviously, with a legal drinking age of 16, 21 isn't quite as big of a deal in France as it is in America], fried potatoes) birthday success!

After dinner, Karinne, Haley, and I headed out to the bars in hopes of finding more fun to celebrate the occasion! We were in luck (champagne cocktails on the house at O'Shannons), but Tuesday night in Aix isn't quite the packed "thirsty Thursday" of college. After a quick survey of the empty dance floor at the club, we headed back to my apartment and discovered a new adventure on the walk home-- a 24 hour snack shop that sells "hotdogs americains". Karinne ordered one, and who knew a sliced hot dog on a baguette with onions, lettuce, and tomato could be so deliciously American and French.

Haley’s 21st in pictures.

The beautiful birthday girl with her beautiful strawberry birthday tart.

Sherrie and Kristin admiring Maggie's candle lighting skills.

Me and the birthday girl with her wonderfully fragrant flowers that her mom had delivered to the school for her birthday.

Haley with her birthday drinks-- a.k.a. a bottle of Heineken, Champagne, and Peach bubbly stuff. You can see the cheese plate to the left.

Annie and I preparing the meal.

Me, Haley, and Karinne just goofing around.

Roomies.

Birthday kiss for the birthday girl!

Do you think they can see us wandering aimlessly down here?

The sun was smiling warmly Tuesday morning as Annie and I purposefully marched down the Cours Mirabeau-- narrowly avoiding a woman struggling with bags full of fresh market produce and a troop of schoolchildren following their teacher in pairs and chatting animatedly.

Annie and I had a goal-- Le Parc de la Torse-- known for its meandering river and rustic jogging paths just outside the main city centre of Aix.

After navigating the crowded street, we followed our map down a quiet road without the noise and bustle of the city centre. We could faintly hear the sounds of a stream gurgling over stones, and knew our destination was close.

Through gates on the right of the road, we saw a path that looked every bit of the word "rustic".

"I think its in here, lets go!" I said to Annie.

Annie nodded her head in agreement, and we veered right.

We quickly discovered that the path dead ended, but we could see the stream on the other side of an ivy-covered fence.

"Let's go back out, go a little further down, and I'm sure we'll run into it." I said.

As we turned around, we let out a simultaneous "Uh-Oh!". The gate we hadn't paid much attention to on our way in was now firmly closed. And locked. The suspected park was actually a private place of business, and we were stuck.

We wandered around for ten minutes, hoping for gaps in the fence or a scale-able wall. We could see a person in the topmost floor of the building faintly through the window.

"Do you think they can see us wandering aimlessly down here, and are laughing at the 'stupide americains!'?" I asked Annie.

"Probably. They're definitely laughing. Do you think we should go knock and ask them for help?"

The offer was tempting, but my pride and desire to not be a 'stupide americain!' exceeded my willingness to accept help or have a conversation about our mistake in French.

After a more thorough search, we discovered a concrete wall that blocked the building from the street. A mound of dirt and leaves made the climb up possible, but looking at the jump down was daunting.

I waited for a gap in the street traffic, quickly hoisted myself up the wall, then lowered myself down the wall, brushing the dirt off my hands as I hastily landed on my feet (barely!). Annie did the same. We looked at each other, then looked around the street, hoping no one had witnessed our escape from private property.

If the French have a James Bond who is slightly clumsy and happens to get himself awkwardly trapped in deceivingly park-like gardens-- that is me and Annie.

When we finally made it to the park, we took a quick glimpse (the path was rustic and the stream was meandering) then walked the 1.5 miles home for Annie's 10:00 class.

Although it was not truly dangerous, nor very exciting, I'm glad Annie and I had a mini-adventure. It reminds me that I have no idea what I'm doing here, and probably won't, for a long time.

Niveau III

Thirty more minutes.

I thought of what Annie and I were going to make for dinner (leftover chicken or potato soup?). I thought about how the French don't seem to heat spaces like Americans-- probably because they are always sitting outside at cafes sipping expresso-- immune to the bitter cold, the negative effects of smoking, and the ills of eating copious amounts of butter, bread, and cheese. I thought about how much I like Nutella, and smiled because the French think it is such a treat, they package it in giant glass containers, not petty plastic. I thought about my French Revolution class from last semester, and wondered if the French would teach their revolution the way I learned it in America.

All this thinking led me to one conclusion--- possibly, the "French History through Literature" class that seemed fascinating in the course description is a tad too difficult for my niveau III French. I think I'll be switching to the more animated Theatre class, which will prevent my head from spinning with French phrases I don't quite understand to inevitably be replaced by mindless day dreaming.

I really do like most of my classes, and find that I understand about 90% of what the teacher is saying. Everything is taught in French, and all conversations within the classroom must be in French as to provide a common language for the multiple nationalities (Japanese, Sweedish, Chinese, Taiwanese, Korean, American, British) in the classroom.

Below is a picture of the organization of my schedule in sticky notes. I'm in 20 hours of class a week-- really. Tuesday is the worst with six straight hours from 12:00 to 6:00. It was a struggle, but multiple breaks make it easier to handle. Plus, the joy of knowing I have nowhere to be but my bed, a cafe, or in a park reading a book on Fridays.

Annie and I made "poulet au citron" with sauteeded fresh red bell peppers, zuchinni, and carrots for dinner on Monday. Very good, and another French recipe accomplished.

The Sun Shines Brighter in Marseille

On Sunday morning, Annie and I woke up to the sun shining into our apartment and all traces of Saturday's rain storm gone. I think it was a sign.

The day trip to Marseille was sunny.

We visited the Old Port, La Bonne Mere Cathedral at the top of a spiraling hill that the native Marseilles claim is tilted at 100 degrees, and the Old City with its winding streets and artsy neighborhoods.

My favorite part of the trip was a short respite from all the sights as we stopped to appreciate the famous Provencial sunshine in the Old Port. We were at the edge of the harbor featuring an old, eroding Fort. The area was surrounded by benches filled with sunning locals, and as we walked a ways out, we stumbled upon some large rocks dotted with pairs dipping their toes in the Mediterranean. Of course, we did as the French did and climbed upon the rocks.

I sprawled on a large, white rock away from the group and turned myself towards the sun. I admired the boats entering and leaving the harbor as the sun and the simple fact that I was finally in Europe, doing the things I have always dreamed of doing, warmed me through. It was every bit of the word relaxing.

As I was looking into the Old Harbor from my perch, it was the first time I truly felt like I was in Europe-- a place strange and old and so different from Oklahoma. Aix's picturesque old City Centre didn't inspire in me that feeling of Europe, and neither did walking around the old churches of Marseille. It was looking at thousands of boats surrounded by glittering water, with a landscape of red-roofed homes sitting on rolling hills in the background.

It was quite a view.

Annie on her rock of choice.

Me and Karinne.

Allison admiring the man braving the 40 degree weather and colder water.

J'aime Aix

I just set up the internet at my place (finally) so I'll give a quick run-down of my wonderful first week in Aix.

Tuesday= Arrived and got settled.

Wednesday= Took the placement exam at IEFEE. I couldn't get all the way through the test-- which basically means I'm not fluent-- but I already knew that.

The courtyard of my school.

The Windows from which I will gaze when day dreaming in class.

After lunch, we returned to the institute for the dreaded oral exam. It went a little something like this:

Professor: "Something something something I didn't understand in French"
Me: "Repetez lentement s'il vous plait." (Repeat slowly please)
Professor: "Something something something I sort of understood in French" (but her face softened and her speech slowed in such a way that she looked like she was speaking to the mentally impaired)
Me: "Uh....... J'aime Aix." (I like Aix)
Professor: Blank stare.
Me: Shoulder shrug.

Wednesday night my roommate Annie finally arrived! She is quiet, but has done some really amazing things. Last semester she taught English and Biology in Uganda, Africa. She lived in a cement hunt and had no running water. The only food available for consumption was eggplant, nutella, bananas, and tomatoes. On her vacation in the fall she went to Kenya and climbed Mount Kilamanjaro. She came to Aix with no background in French, and she has already picked up some necessary phrases. She is planning on attending Princeton in the fall. She makes me wish I had considered a gap year to explore the world-- as there are some amazing programs out there.

After cooking a pesto dinner with warm nutella apples for desert with Allison, Haley, Karinne, and Annie, we went out to meet some French people out and about. We stumbled upon a seemingly charming Frenchman ("Your eyes, they are so beautiful!") with "vodka a la poche" (vodka in his pocket). After determing his level of drunkness as "wasted" we declined his offer for his vodka and his insistence that I say "I am crazy for your ass" in French (we asked someone later what he was trying to get us to say). Apparently, he was not a not-so-charming Frenchman.

We finally found a cute little bar named "Le Petit Bistro" and had a quick drink before heading home.

Thursday: Shopping in Aix. I bought a cookbook to aid my French and my French cooking. That night, we made the first recipe-- macaroni au fromage et jambon (macaroni and cheese with ham). C'etait parfait!

The dish before it went in the oven.

Allison and Haley waiting for dinner to be served.

Friday: Tour of Aix with Pam.

That evening, we had a group Abroadco dinner at a picturesque restaurant on a side-street in Aix. We were served three courses. I had a delicious vegetable tart, cod in a lemon butter sauce, and a chocolate gateau for desert. I guess what they say about the French lingering over meals is true-- dinner took us about 2.5 hours.

Friday night we really went out in Aix.

First stop: O'Shannons-- an Irish pub where we met two French boys, one from Madagascar.

Second stop: Le Petit Bistro where I met a French boy who was really helpful with my pronunciation.

Third stop: IPN, a dance club. It was this cool, underground bar with a dance floor that was absolutely packed by the time I left at 2:30 a.m. I carried my shoe in my hands as I hobbled home. The dancing was the highlight of my night.

Saturday: Free day. Annie and I slept in, got a bus pass, ate warm, delicious crepes, and made dinner again.

Sunday: Tour of Marseille, more details and pictures to come.

If you can't tell, I'm loving it already.

New in Aix

I’m here in Aix. It only took a delayed flight out of Oklahoma, a running sprint through O’Hare, broken sleep on a nine hour flight to rainy Munich, a short zip over the Alps to Marseille, and a bus ride to Aix. Traveling wasn’t terrible (I’m still waiting for my bags to arrive!) but I’m glad I can finally begin my adventure here.

The old city centre in Aix is everything I was expecting. It has winding, cobblestone streets, older buildings with shuttered windows, and cafes on every corner. Pam (my program director here) took me and Haley (a girl in my program) on a brief tour yesterday. We visiting the school I will be attending, the Cours Mirabeau, and had delicious Nutella crepes at an underground only reached by hidden stairs.

After the tour and a quick drink at a café, Pam departed to organize more student arrivals, so I took Haley on a quick tour of my apartment. We visited the Casino (a.k.a. the grocery store right by my house) so I could pick up some basic necessities for my night without a suitcase. Then, we went to watch the Inauguration at Haley’s hotel. The French are very, very excited about Obama—one of the FrenI’m here in Aix. It only took a delayed flight out of Oklahoma, a running sprint through O’Hare, broken sleep on a nine hour flight to rainy Munich, a short zip over the Alps to Marseille, and a bus ride to Aix. Traveling wasn’t terrible (I’m still waiting for my bags to arrive!) but I’m glad I can finally begin my adventure here.

The old city centre in Aix is everything I was expecting. It has winding, cobblestone streets, older buildings with shuttered windows, and cafes on every corner. Pam (my program director here) took me and Haley (a girl in my program) on a brief tour yesterday. We visiting the school I will be attending, the Cours Mirabeau, and had delicious Nutella crepes at an underground only reached by hidden stairs.

After the tour and a quick drink at a café, Pam departed to organize more student arrivals, so I took Haley on a quick tour of my apartment. We visited the Casino (a.k.a. the grocery store right by my house) so I could pick up some basic necessities for my night without a suitcase. Then, we went to watch the Inauguration at Haley’s hotel. The French are very, very excited about Obama—one of the French news correspondents in Washington D.C. started to cry after the speech (making her French more difficult to understand—of course!). Haley and I hung out until I could no longer keep my head up voluntarily and my eyes sagged with exhaustion—about 7:30.

Two Tylenol PM’s later, I was fast asleep.

I’m looking forward to taking the placement exam tomorrow and meeting my roommate, Annie.
ch news correspondents in Washington D.C. started to cry after the speech (making her French more difficult to understand—of course!). Haley and I hung out until I could no longer keep my head up voluntarily and my eyes sagged with exhaustion—about 7:30.

Two Tylenol PM’s later, I was fast asleep.

I’m looking forward to taking the placement exam tomorrow and meeting my roommate, Annie.

Expectations

The Abroadco handbook told me that I should go into my study abroad experience with "little to no expectation". Apparently, whatever I am expecting is so different from actuality that my daydreams about drinking French wine and my fantasies about admiring the famous Aix fountains are fruitless.

Well, I would like to make a toast (with my soon to be French wine) to screwing the handbook.

I have made a list of realistic expectations. I hope/pray/know that they will all come to fruition.


1. To be adventurous.

2. To never buy more food at the market than is needed for my next meal.

3. To travel ANYWHERE I would like.

4. To make friends.

5. To be comfortable and confident having a conversation in French.


It is the night before leaving-- and I'm not nervous. My bags are packed. I've said my goodbyes. I'm ready to go.

Oh! I hope this is everything I am expecting!