School?

Four months later, and I still don't understand the university system in France. I've got the basics down the "fac"s (normal universities, practically free, universal admittance) and the "grands-ecoles" (elite, specialized schools, Science-Po is also included in this, kind of).
But I still don't quite understand how the greve/blockage was able to last nearly the entire semester. It wasn't all universities, in Nancy it was just the fac de lettres (humanities campus). None the less, it lasted the entire semester, finally neccistating an administrative closure of the school. That was supposed to last all the way until september, with the students losing their semester, but suddenly the fac re-opened this week. The semester is now extended until the end of June so that the students don't lose their semester.
I don't quite understand how a minority of students could completely shut down the university like this, but the authorities could never send in police force against the students, because it would then become an increased problem of students against "the man".
The real problem lays in the nature of the university. While sky-rocketing university prices in the states are completely ridiculous, I think free university in France causes an equally large problem. Without threat of financial pain, there's little incentive to succeed in university. I learned today that 40% of university students (that is the public universities, not the grands-ecoles) fail and have to repeat their first year. There are numerous students who fail but stay in school because its a (relatively) easy lifestyle. My host sister is a perfect example of this. She was 15 days away from quitting a degree when she quit the program and started another. She's now finished, but has decided that she wants to stay in school for another year, just because she doesn't want to get a job. (well, that's the way my host mom tells it anyway). All in all, the French academic system is one that allows top students to succeed, but leaves less motivated/talented students treading water. This is one of the main reasons that students put up with semester long greves. In the states where university can cost up to 30,000-50,000 a year, students feel the push to get through their studies quickly and put some effort into it.

Did you know I used to figure skate?

One of the more disconcerting aspects of getting older is turning around and looking back on things you’ve done. So many things that once seemed of the utmost importance, things your life centered around, are suddenly vague memories. Even stranger? Sometimes when I remember the things that once defined me; I almost can’t believe that I used to be that person. It all just seems so distant from where I am now. I was looking through SYA pictures the other day, and the Italian used to completely define me. Roman history is probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a religion. Now when I try to speak Italian, it all comes out in French, and I barely remember being that person.

Allemagne

When I was thirteen, my mother planned a vacation to Germany to visit my Aunt Ruth, but I refused to go because I thought I hated Germany after getting in a big fight with a German boy when our family friends visited us in the States. Now, 8ish years later, I finally made my first trip to Germany, and my Aunt Ruth took me to all the same sites that the rest of my family has already seen and visited. And of course I fell in love with it. Not just because it was so much fun to see my Aunt (who’s not technically my Aunt, but a really old family friend to lived with my grandparents when she studied in the states in highschool – yay exchange students!), but also because Germany is AMAZING. It’s kind of funny, because it makes me wonder how different my life might have been if I had just gone on that one family vacation back in middle school – what if I had chosen to study German, and had never gone to Italy or all the subsequent decisions that all stemmed from that year? It’s kind of a head trip.

The funniest thing about Germany was the food. (Really, food seems to be the only thing American’s abroad ever talk about!) As I was leaving for the weekend, my French host family made a comment about I was going to eat such “strong” German food – you know, the ideas of sauerkraut and mustard and sausages and all that. The first thing we did when I got off the train in Mainz was go out to eat…. At an Italian place. Except for some amazing Reisling wine and some white asparagus, I hardly ate any traditionally German food in Germany. Luckily, the Germans have embraced (what I consider) “normal food” – they even had salsa at the grocery store! It’s funny, because there is a lot of “German” food in Lorraine and Alsace because we have such a long history with Germany – here we put mustard on our white asparagus, and serve sauerkraut with our meat.

Oh yeah, the French /German history. Lorraine and Alsace have both been part of Germany; I think they’ve changed hands something like five times in the last 200 years. And Mainz, where my Aunt lives, has also been occupied by France at various points in history. There’s even this statue we saw by the Rhine, that’s up on a hill shaking her fist in defiance in the direction of France. (Apparently, this was the German version of the Statue of Liberty, but it is of course considered very politically incorrect now. But still cool to see).

With such a long history of animosity, I have been really surprised to discover how strong relations are between the two countries are currently. Nancy has the Franco-Allemande campus of one of France’s prestigious universities – ie all the classes at this school are taught in French and German, and all students are fluent in both languages, as well as half of the students are from Germany, and the French students are required to study abroad in Germany in their 3rd year. We don’t even have that good of a rapport with Canada, and we’ve never been to war against them! (wait, have we?). My Aunt (who knows EVERYTHING), explained that this was a conscious effort after by the powers that be after WWII, and that the Marshall plan was also integral in all of this because it forced all of the states to cooperate if they wanted aide. Plus, it helped that they had communism to all unite against.

Aunt Ruth and I in Heidelberg

The Sun Also Rises

I know... the title's corny. But its kind of my favorite book, and really, what better sums up a spring break that included watching bullfights in the south, and drinking in Paris?

Let me back up a bit.
I spent the last two weeks backpacking around Northern Italy, Southern France, Paris, and Geneva(Switzerland). I traveled alone, which wasn't as scary or pathetic as it seems (I always feel the need to explain my decision to travel alone, but it was actually a lot of fun - I recommend you try it at some point in your life). I adore backpacker culture, but I always feel like a bit of a fraud when I show up in a hostel with my backpack; I've never done a really long term trip, and I always meet people doing their grand tour of 6 months to a year. Anyway.

Cinque Terre in Northern Italy was the first stop on my trip. It was absolutely amazing, and all I could think about the entire time was "how have I never been here before" (you know... that whole thing where I lived in Italy for a year). It had everything I could ever want in life; hiking trails, good food, chill people, ocean to swim in, and Italian to be bad at (once again... that thing where I lived in Italy for a year - too bad when I try to speak Italian it all comes out in French now.)
(this is me watching the sunset in Cinque Terre with a couple of Aussies)


I then headed back up the coast to Nice and Monaco. The coastline is beautiful, but Nice is kind of dirty, and I'm just way to poor to ever spend more than an afternoon in Monaco. Monaco is technically a sovereign state, despite being only about 1 square mile large (the second smallest principality in the world after Vatican City). The roads are so sharp and twisty: I can't imagine how that racing grand prix takes place there. I did play /waste 5 euro on my first ever slot machine in the Monte Carlo casino in Monaco, which I'm sure my father's-las vegas-loving-side of the family would be proud of.
(This is Monaco being super glamorous)


Next I headed west to Provence, to Arles and Avignon. Avignon is a beautiful little city, with a Palais des Papes which kicks Viterbo's Palazzo Papale's ass. (Both cities were temporary residence's of the Pope during unrest in Rome back in the day). The real highlight of Provence was Arles. It has a bunch of Roman ruins and Van Gogh painted over 200 canvases there, which would be enough to merit a visit anyway. But when I arrived, I discovered that it was the beginning of the Feria de Paques (Easter Festival), and the whole town was alive with the bullfighting spirit. I went to several events, most of which involved teenage boys proving their manliness by running around with bulls, but the real event was definitely the Corrida. The Corrida consisted of 2 bullfighters who each killed 3 bulls over the course of the evening. Its a really powerful thing to watch, and I was completely captivated by the elegance of it. Its hard to justify it against the cruelty of the fate of the bulls, but the entire spectacle is equally mesmerizing as it is horrible to watch. I kind of loved it. (Even though the Frenchies next to me were worried I was going to throw up at one point).
(this is some bad ass bullfighting in Arles)


In Paris I met up with my program and ran wild with my American friends. It felt a bit bratty to be running around speaking English with such a large group, even as we sneered at other tourists for being "SO American". Oh well, I guess that's why I live in Nancy, not Paris.
(I don't think this one needs an explanation)


I spent the last part of break in Geneva Switzerland. Geneva is pretty much my ideal city. Its home to over 200 international organizations and NGOS, and I got to tour the United Nations and the red cross museum. The city is really friendly and small, and right on lake Geneva. I spent a good deal of time just sitting by the water and biking along the shore. I don't know if my love for lakes is nature (their effing pretty!) or nurture (I'm a summer camp kid - most of the best times of my life have taken place by the water) but I love lakes. Not to mention all of the amazing food and CHOCOLATE everywhere. And there was even a Starbucks as a guilty pleasure American indulgence (god I miss double tall cappuccinos).
(this is why I love Geneva)


Now its back to real life in Nancy! It feels good to be home and see my host family. I like being back in my own bed and remembering how much more French I still have to learn while trying to follow along at dinner.
I still have classes until the beginning of June, and then I'm moving to Strasbourg for the summer to do an internship. woohoo!

Verdun in Pictures

I'm not sure why, but I've been really bad at facebooking all my photos. But I have been. And I have some sweet pictures from this weekend that need internet recognition. So...
This weekend the LC kids from Nancy and Strasbourg went to Verdun. It was one of the biggest battle sites of WWI, and thus incredibly depressing. (The battle had an incredibly high death toll [nearly a quarter of a million deaths] before the French eventually lost to the Germans).

This is the inside of the fortress. Could you imagine living here for all those months?


This is a memorial inside the fortress:


This is Evan looking incredibly French. and angry. and French.


This is us adventuring:


This is the view overlooking the town of Verdun, as seen from the (ironically situated?) World Center of Peace, which we randomly found. Obviously, good things come from hiking any and all hills one can find.

Expats and Identity

On Being An American:
There's a quote by Bob Shacochis that sums up pretty much everything I want to say here. (Really, I'm not very eloquent). It's called "Become an Expat" - and I'm extracting the most relevant parts - but if you want to hear a snobbish rant on why living abroad in Western Europe isn't hardcore enough, feel free to google the entire quote for yourself.


"Sink into an otherness that reflects a reverse image of yourself, wherein lies your identity, or lack of one. Teach English in Japan, aquaculture in the South Pacific, accounting in Brazil. Join the Peace Corps, work in the oil fields of Saudi Arabia, set up a fishing camp on the beach of Uruguay, become a foreign correspondent, study architecture in Istanbul, sell cigarettes in China.
...
You’ll learn to engage the world, not fear it, or at least not to be paralyzed by your fear of it. You’ll find out, to your surprise, how American you are — 100-percent, and you can never be anything but — and that is worth knowing. You’ll discover that going native is self-deluding, a type of perversion. Whatever gender or race you are, you’ll find out how much you are eternally hated and conditionally loved and thoroughly envied, based on the evidence of your passport."

I never feel more American than when I am abroad, and I never really knew being American actually meant until I left. It's kind of like when I moved to Oregon, and I realized how ridiculously New England I am. I'll get around to recording observations / actually writing something interesting one of these days.



On Expatriating:

When I was in Italy, we were all very caught up in the idea of our ex-patriot identity, and our all around badass-ness. This might be because we were reading too much Hemingway (but really, can you ever read too much Hemingway?) - or, more likely, it probably had something to do with the fact that we were cocky 16 year olds.

I've noticed though, that none of the Americans that I know here in France seem to think of themselves as ex-pats, or at least none of them are so pretentious as to talk about it. More fundamentally however, I think its because most of them seem to think of studying abroad as a "trip", a "short" term adventure that they'll come back from with stories of drinking and fumbling around with the language, rather than a real living and immersion experience. I think the word "trip" embodies a fundamental underlying attitude attitude, one that SYA trained me to avoid at all costs. That being said, in reality I'm just as much of a non-permanent American as everyone else I know here, but I'm working on it.



Up next... French Identity.

Greve-ing

Greve is the French word for "strike". And striking (or "greving" in Franglais) is certainly something that the French know how to do well.

AND I AM SICK OF IT!

My first or second week here, there was a huge greve in town, with something like 30,000 people out on the streets of our fairly small city - and proportionate turnout throughout the rest of France. Me, in my naivete thought it was so exceptional and exciting.

It's not exceptional. And its not exciting.
In fact, the French greve all the time, and over pretty much anything. There's another big greve this Thursday. But don't go thinking that the French actually went two months in between greves. No.

The university has been intermittently greving pretty much all semester. This means that sometimes you will show up to class to find that the teacher isn't coming in that day, because they are "on strike". There doesn't seem to be any sort of consistent pattern or reasoning to who strikes or when, and professors can pretty much strike whenever they want to. And if/when there is a formal greve organized by a union - members or that union are not required to strike. They are perfectly capable to going to work that day without being considered to have "crossed the picket line". I don't know how this is supposed to accomplish anything - but that doesn't seem to bother the French.

There are students who greve too. Especially at the university. Two weeks ago they took to the streets and marched in the middle of the afternoon - trouble was everyone else was at work/school, so I don't know exactly who they were demonstrating FOR. Last week they took the chairs out of the classrooms and stacked them all over campus, and in the middle of a rotary down the street. And today? ALL THE DOORS to the academic buildings were locked. NO ONE had classes.
Well, no one except for us lucky DeFLE students (French as a second language). Apparently the DeFLE is under a different statute - so (un)fortunately the teachers aren't allowed to strike. Today was interesting though, because one of my DeFLE classes takes place in the university proper (which was locked) - so we had to hold class in the DeFLE teacher's lounge.
Interestingly, the other university in Nancy (Science Po), is like the DeFLE, in that it is not allowed to strike either. This is because it is technically considered a grand-ecole (elite but accessible university system established by Napoleon in an attempt to abolish aristocratic privilege after the revolution) - and therefore under a different statute/set of laws as well. Cohesive, right?

As a side note, the French still love Napoleon. Jokes about a “small man complex” aside, he is revered for the systems he imposed after the revolution, and helping to re-unite the French public. They still can’t understand why those damn English wanted to go and stop him.

Oh France.



EDIT: I just re-read this post and it sounds really pissed off. It's not supposed to be. More like, "humorously annoyed while giving a fairly accurate picture of French universities?" - but I'm not sure I'm that eloquent

- also I feel the need to brag that I'm finally (kind of) getting my life together, and will hopefully write a bragging post soon if/when things are finalized.

Random gratuitous ramblings

Despite how my tricky back-dating skillZ make it appear, this is actually a new blog, with all previous entries being copied from the emails I've sent my friends and family since I arrived here in France. That being said, I feel the narcissistic desire to have somewhere to post the things I don't consider (interesting//) important enough to send home.

Learning a new language is frustrating. Especially French. I constantly feel like I'm hitting my head against a wall. I recently a remembered a speech that the director of SYA (the program with which I studied in Italy during my junior year of high school) about how the 4 extra years that studying abroad in high school gives you are so important in terms of language learning skills and your attitude towards the experience. I have to say I kind of agree. I love France but nothing will ever match the naive arrogance that comes with ex-patriating at 17.

I finally an affirmation about my French progress this weekend. My host parents mentioned at dinner last night about how much progress I've made since I've been here. (YES!) It was really reassuring, because its difficult to notice any changes on a day to day basis.

The stress of it all has even pushed me to start doing some strange things. Well, not strange by normal American standards, but certainly strange for me.
I've started running.
And journaling on a regular basis. Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely HATE both of these things. I have tried to pick them up over the years, but they never stuck. Especially the running thing. But I've begun doing both here. I think its due to a lack of any other outlets. Without my friends to listen (or ignore) as I over-analyze every silly detail of my life in easy English, I find myself scribbling in any notebooks that are laying around, just to be able to express myself in a language that I have a comprehensive grasp on. And the running thing. I don't have any other outlet for activity (for very complicated logistical reasons including not having my student ID card yet), so I started running as my only option to get my endorphin fix (something that anyone struggling with a language definitely needs!). It's oddly satisfying, slightly addicting, and extremely painful.

That being said. I love butchering the French language. Well, I'm sure I would love speaking it properly even more, but I'm working on that. Sometimes when I'm listening to French people chatting at the speed of light, I'm overcome with a jealous desire to be able to do what they are doing. And then of course, I look around and realize that's exactly what I'm in the process of learning. Talk about an affirmation. And while there is nothing quite as exhausting as carrying on conversation for several hours in French, there's nothing quite as elating either.

A few of my favorite things

So let’s talk food. I don’t know how I haven’t managed to bring this up yet, because food is very central to life in France, and is also pretty much all that us American’s talk about. Let’s just say, the food in France is awesome. Except for breakfast, which is very light and definitely not substantive enough by my American standards, all meals are multiple courses. This was a very hard adjustment for me to make at first, because I never knew how many courses we were going to eat, and I was always full before the end of the meal. Now that I’m used to it though, I don’t feel like I’ve had a proper meal, if I don’t at least have a yogurt or an orange for dessert. This is a big change for a girl who pretty much lives off of Luna bars and cappuccinos back in the states. I actually bought some granola bars the other day, and was surprised to find that my love affair with granola bars has ended. After all the fresh, good food here, I just couldn’t handle how processed and chemically the granola bars tasted. I guess I'll just have to live off chocolate croissants instead. What a shame.
I also feel like it is worth mentioning that I am not allowed to leave the house in the morning without drinking a coffee first. (Which, by the way, are drank out of bowls, not mugs.) I actually tried to do this once (I know, I don't know what I was thinking either), and got stared at like I was even more foreign than I already am. Woe is me, I'm just going to have to drink my coffee each morning.

On another note. Last night I went to a Gala put on by my host sister’s school. It was a very upscale event in the Hotel de Ville; the nicest location in town. My host sister is in a very elite academic program, and this Gala is a very big annual event; kind of their version of prom, except that parents and families are invited as well. The coolest part about the event (well, in my opinion anyway), was the dancing. Dancing at any event that I have ever been to, especially high school ones, is always a bunch of kids awkwardly shaking it on the dance floor. Not here. Nobody dances inappropriately, everyone does what they call “danse rock”. “Danse rock” is basically a mix of all popular types of ballroom, lots of moves borrowed from swing and salsa, but also very much its own dance.
A professor I was introduced to asked me if I was going to dance with everyone. When I tried to explain that I had NO idea how to dance like that, he reassured me that I’d still get a chance to dance, because there was going to be a waltz later. The implication of this being that obviously, everyone knows how to waltz. Wait... what?! Waltz? I have no idea how to waltz, neither does any other American that I know. But apparently, I was very much in the minority last night with my lack of dancing skills.
After the Gala, we went out to a normal discotheque (still in our formal dresses!) and danced like normal drunk kids. It was nice to be so uninhibited by the language for once.

And I just like shaking my booty.

Warning: this post is really boring if you don't ski/ride

Bonjour!

It seems like right after I arrived in France, (ok, 3 weeks), I got hit with a vacation! Not that I’m complaining of course. Work and school schedules are much more regulated and socialized by the state, and from what I understand, France is divided into 5 different sections to rotate winter vacation, so that the entire country doesn’t go on vacation at once and shut down (like it does in August). It’s not like in the states where parents tend to try to take their vacation time around their children’s school breaks which tend to be pretty uniform within a state/region. Everyone in my “area” was on vacation last week. Winter vacation in France is pretty synonymous with skiing, so of course I tagged along with my host family when they headed to the Alps!
France is pretty ski crazy. The first weekend of vacation when we were packing up to leave, I briefly turned on the news and saw a clip of the Paris airport – which was filled with families in snowsuits headed to the Alps. All the commercials right now center on skiing, and of course, the Ski World Championships are being held in France at the moment. Despite this ethos, my host mom told me that “only” 10% of the French population actually goes on ski vacations every winter. While that seems like a small percentage, I think its actually much higher than it is in the States. I’m pretty biased towards (and spoiled in my access to) winter sports, due to growing up in Maine, but I don’t skiing is as prevalent throughout the states. And even amongst the ski bums I do know, I don’t know that many who take week long vacations every year. In that regard, I think 10% of the population spending a week at the mountain every winter pretty impressive.
So lets talk skiing! We spent the week at Karellis, which is this really sweet little resort run not-for-profit. The mountain stays open till 5 everyday, which is a very good thing, because perfect snow and epic conditions do not stop the French from taking ridiculously long lunch breaks. I averaged about an hour for lunch, and that was significantly less time than my host
family. This is crazy to me, as my friends at home get annoyed if I take 20 minutes for lunch! I was reminded however, that unlike my American friends who drive two hours to the mountain every weekend and therefore want to make sure they rage hard to get their day’s worth, the French are here for the week, and this is their vacation. My host mom even remarked to me that she thought I was skiing too much!
The mountain itself is definitely a skier’s mountain. It has lots of narrow flat windy trails that help you get around the different peaks, which are not fun on a snowboard. At first I was really surprised by how few snowboarders there are here, until my French ski instructor reminded me that snowboarding is an American invention, and the novelty of it has yet to really take hold here (at least, its certainly not as prevalent here as it is in the states).
So, if you can’t beat them, join them! I ended up spending the majority of the week on skis, which I hadn’t been on in over 14 years. It was pretty epic, and by the end of my first lesson, I was skiing red trails (the equivalent of a hard blue/easy black at home), and by midweek I was skiing off trail and doing moguls! I don’t remember learning to ski as a kid, because I quit by the time I was 7, but I can compare relearning to ski with learning to snowboard, and it seems like lessons here have a much stronger emphasis on learning to play around on the mountain and be adventurous. Skiing through trees for the first time in my life was exhilarating!
Ok, biggest differences between the French Alps and New England Mountains: At home, trails are rated green circle, blue square, black diamond, double black diamond. Here, trails are green, blue, red, black. There’s also WAY more off trail terrain here, probably due to the fact that there is so much above tree line skiing here, and there is practically none on the East coast. My only real issue with skiing in France? The lift lines. Or, the lack there of. Granted, there is much less of a crowd here, and perhaps the lack of the order can be attributed to a lack of a need for one, but still. At home, there are roped off lines for the lift, and usually an attendant directing everyone when they can go. Here there is a mass of people, and the only way to get to the front of it is to purposely cut off other people who look (to me anyway) like they are in line. I was really shocked the first morning when I saw my host dad squeeze right into the middle of the “line”, but I quickly realized that I would never get anywhere if I didn’t do the same. None the less, I don’t like being aggressive in lift lines, and it’s not something that I ever got used to.
Oh and you have to wear sunscreen on the mountain here. I’m not sure if it’s the altitude or just that its warmer, but without sunscreen you will get burned! Even with it, I ended up with a pretty hilarious goggle tan. The ski instructor’s tans are crazy; they almost look a different ethnicity when they take off their goggles!
All in all it was a pretty great week, and with no other American's around to cheat and speak English with, it was pretty good for my French as well. Let's hope that lasts!

This is the view from the top of my favorite chairlift:



And this is Domatille sitting on the Thule rack to help close it. We had a lot of stuff.

Les aventures

Hey Everyone!

So I have officially been in classes for a week now. Well, kind of. The program from my university is a bit bizarre, because we are enrolled in the Department ofFrench as a Foreign Language(DeFLE) in the "Nancy 2 University", but we are not REALLY a part of that program, and we have a lot of other classes we are required to take as well. DeFLE has 9 levels, and I placed into group 8, which is the second highest. yes! That basically means that by the end of the semester, assuming I pass a big exam, I'll theoretically be qualified to enroll in "real" French university classes. In the meantime, however, I am also supposed to be auditing classes at "the fac" (aka real university classes).
This is where the "kind of going to school" part comes in; because the classes that we're auditing started a good 3 weeks ago, so we're kind of starting in the middle of everything. And oh yeah, everyone's still striking.
I mentioned in my last email how I was so taken aback by the big strike that happened all across France two weeks ago. From what I understand, most of France has gone back to normal", except the universities (well, to be fair, apparently striking is pretty normal here). A lot of teachers are still striking. But, this being France, not everyone is required to strike. Professors basically can just say that they are on strike when they want. And they do not have to warn anyone ahead of time, so often you will go to a class and wait around for 15 or so minutes before finally deciding that a teacher isn't going to show up. This is not fun at 8 in the morning.

Ok, enough with school. On to more interesting things! Last Sunday, I rode a bike for the first time in nearly 2 years! This was completely NOT by choice, but was a nice little contingency that my host dad threw at me, as he insisted upon riding bikes to the pool go to swimming. Technically, I'm not even supposed to be riding a bike in France. True story! Our school "strongly discourages" it because its so dangerous to ride on the same roads as French drivers (who are crazy by the way). There's even a waiver we're supposed to sign to ride bikes, but of course I hadn't signed it as I had no intention of going near one, that is until Jean-Marie (host dad) threw Nicole's (host-mom's) bike at me on Sunday morning. Except for the part where no-one in France wears helmets (what!?), it was actually pretty fun. The bike was nothing like the one's I've grown up on (ie my mother's super hardcore bikes), but is totally a city bike; it even had a little basket in front for my swim bag! I felt like Amelie riding around, and I couldn't stop grinning from the novelty of it.
And then we finally got to the pool! I figured out the secret of where the French go on Sundays! They go to the pool! (EVERYTHING in France is closed on Sundays). That was quite an experience in itself, because the whole thing was much more organized than any American pool I've ever been to. First of all, the entrance to the locker room has turnstiles (like a subway), that one must use a pass to get through. Then inside the (COED) locker room, there is one place to take off your shoes, and another to go change your clothes. There are specific little hangers you have to use for your clothes, and they go in ockers, WHICH ACTUALLY HAVE LOCKS. And the keys for the locks are on waterproof key chains which everyone wears around their wrists in the water. And EVERYONE is required to wear a swim cap, including balding old men. Not to mention all the men wear speedos, something that not even the guys on my swim team in high school did.

Il commence

As some of you may have heard, last Thursday the entire country went on strike. My host dad had briefly warned me about this the night before, but I just assumed it would be like strikes were in Italy; that is to say, disorganized, short, no protests, and no one ever knew exactly why (or when) they were striking. But of course, France is not Italy. I was wandering back towards town when I noticed a huge crowd gathering around Place Stanislas, which is the big square in the middle of town. I later heard that there were over 30,000 people protesting in Nancy, and over 300,000 in Paris. Everyone was decked out in matching colors for their unions, and holding picket signs, and milling around everywhere. And it was PEACEFUL, it almost seemed like I was at a festival or something. I was completely enthralled. I can't imagine something like this ever happening on a national level in the States, and the ethos of a country who organizes like this is totally impressive to me.
Of course, there are two sides to every story. Neither of my host parents protested, and they both rolled their eyes about it, saying that the French protest too much. One of the main points of contention was Sarkozy, and his handling of the economic crisis, which isn't really his fault (Thanks Wallstreet). In reference to this, my host dad asked why the French didn't protest the huge storm that ravaged the South last week, it would have been about as effective. ha.



Friday and Saturday all of the LC students in France converged on Strasbourg. Strasbourg is a really interesting city because it is the home of the European Parliment. It's also cool because it is the "capital" of the Alsace region (Nancy is in Lorraine... like quiche Lorraine). Alsace has been a highly contested region over the years, changing nationality several times in the wars between French and Germany. It just became French again in 1945 after WWII, so it still has a lot of German influence, and the people tend to speak their own alsacian slang language which is a mix of German and French. No one has been able to tell me properly about how the logistics of land changing territory like that works, are people issued new passports and automatically told to speak a new language? But I suppose that's because no one else is interested in such geeky subjects. I did find out that as part of an effort to reduce "culture shock" when Alsace became french again, they got a bunch of tax breaks, and that there is no official separation of Church and State in Alsace (!). The popular highlight of the trip was definitely our visit to the museum of "the water of life" aka a liquor museum. Many were pleased to find out that real Absinthe has been legalized again, Hemingway would be so proud. The best part about the trip however was probably getting to see the students in Strasbourg, as several of my good friends are studying here, and it was definitely a refreshing bit of home to see them.
This picture is of Strasbourg, and you can see its famous cathedral peaking out above the buildings.

Bienvenue!

Hey Everyone!
I have been having trouble with the internet at my host family's house, so I'm writing this from the classy-est of all places: McDonalds. Yay for free wifi and American commercialism!

This picture is of Place Stanislas at night. Place Stanislas is the middle of Nancy, and its basically where anything important in Nancy happens. Stanislas was a Polish king who then came to Nancy and ruled as the Duke of Lorraine, which was an independent state until his death, upon which Lorraine passed into the possession of Louis XV, through is marriage to Stanislas' daughter.



First of all, Nancy is a really chill city. We're in the Northeast of France, so there's still quite a bit of German influence, but not as much as in Strasbourg where the other LC program is. Its a decent sized city, with more than 40,000 university students alone. We're still stuck in orientation, I'm still not quite sure when we start real classes, but I'm assuming its soon, because our first vacation is already only 3 weeks away.
My host family is pretty awesome. They've been hosting for 12 (TWELVE!) years, so they know the deal pretty well. They're all really welcoming and nice, but don't care if I miss dinner or come home at 3 in the morning (family members, pretend you didn't just read that).
Most of the other American students in my program have been studying French for at least twice as long as me, which is fairly intimidating, but I'm managing to get by. As long as people speak reallllyyyy slowlyyyy I can understand most of whats going on. Speaking is another issue however.
My first full day here, last Friday, I was supposed to be at orientation across town at 10am. My host family had arranged for a family friend to pick me up and take me because they all had to be at school and work before then, but I managed to miss two alarms and didn’t wake up till 11am. I was in quite a panic as I had a map, but had no idea where either my house or the university were. Thanks to my bad French, I had misunderstood my host mother (Nicole)’s explanation about the phone the night before, and thought I couldn’t use it to call anywhere within France, and of course my American cell phone doesn’t work here, and I hadn’t bought a French on yet. Luckily, Ron (our program director) finally called the house phone, explained to me how to use my map, and gave me instructions to meet up with the group. Success!

Obviously, one of my first priorities soon became getting a phone. I already have a European phone, so originally all I wanted to buy was a new SIM card, which would have cost me 30euro. But a new phone AND a SIM card only cost 29euro. Nicole later told me that this is a very French type of logic. Another ridiculous piece of French logic: I went shopping with my host mom at a huge store (kind of wallmart-esque?) and when we were checking out, I was surprised to see how closely she was reading her receipt. Turns out, the cashier overcharged her nearly 50euro. And Nicole wasn’t even offended! She didn’t even say a word to the cashier, just walked over to the help desk, and made them check everything again, and they calmly gave her back the money they owed her without making any sort of fuss about it. Apparently these things happen a lot at big chains in France. No biggie.

Sunday's are a big food day. I ADORE the European habit of a huge lunch on Sundays that takes several hours. When I was too full to eat the tart that Nicole had made for desert, I was told that, of course, I can just have it for breakfast the next day! Dessert for breakfast? I think I’m going to love this country.