Note of Accomplishment and Error

I have now jogged at Le Parc de La Torse two times without getting trapped in private property and scaling concrete walls.

Annie and I made potato soup on Wednesday night from my French recipe book that was truly delicious. We are thinking of going pro. We're also considering calling the author to tell him an addition of bacon to the soup adds a saltiness that is definitely necessary.

Side note to this accomplishment: When we were at the store buying the ingredients, we could not find 1 liter of chicken stock amongst the many soup choices. After wandering for 15 minutes, Annie and I finally worked up the courage to approach an innocent shopper with our accented French. I asked her, brokenly, if she knew where we could find such an ingredient on the shelves.

"Don't worry you two, I speak English like you. I think you find it right over there." she said as she pointed to some bouillon cubes.

It was an anti-climatic ending to our search, and reinforced my suspicion that the French always seem to know immediately, possibly before I open my mouth, that I am not French.

The French are master crepe makers-- I am not. Last night for dinner, I made eggs, bacon, and crepes. The crepes stuck mercilessly to the pan every time. When I added oil to the pan to prevent sticking, the crepe just absorbed all the oil, making it inedible. I think I'll buy my crepes from the vendors on the street from now on.

I was able to book a bus ticket to Barcelona for next weekend. Karinne, Haley, and I are going, and I couldn't be more thrilled to start my traveling adventures (as I worked three jobs last semester to finance such luxury).

Karinne and I arrived early to class on Thursday, so I began to have a casual conversation with my professor. The class had written a composition about fashion on Tuesday, and she compliment my work.

I was basking in my French language glory, and therefore missed the meaning of her next comment. I thought she said something about changing classrooms and going up the stairs to a new one, as the radiator was broken.

Her eyes widened as she looked at me, expecting a response. After a short pause of indecision, I nodded my head and said "oui, oui" with a smile, which is my usual response when I'm trying to pretend as if I understood, but I actually have no idea.

Karinne then looked at me and said, "Katie, you are going to move up a level? You are going to leave me?"

I immediately told Karinne that was not the case. I thought that my professor meant moving up the stairs to a new classroom, not moving up levels.

I love that this anectdote illustrates perfectly that I do not need to move up levels. Not even a little bit. I approached my professor after class, and told her I was "tres content" in my current level.