The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

In the spirit of an exercise we'd do at Mitchell RA meetings last year, I present the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly of this week...

Good - In wanting us to make the most out of our experience here, IES offered us free tickets to a play at the best theater in town, which I went to on Tuesday. You'd think that these free events would only be "cultural," but they don't stop there! Last night I went to a student night at a club. For free. I guess that's what living like a French student is all about...

Bad - One month to go, which means it's time to start studying for final exams AND the standardized French test I have to take as a requirement for my major at Alma. That means no more fun travel weekends, but rather hit-the-books weekends. Though I'm still planning on exploring Nantes a bit as well - after all, the Christmas market will start soon!

Ugly - Yesterday evening I realized that I'd lost my transport pass. This is an ID card that gets me student discounts on bus and tram fares each month, and I use it every day because I live 30 minutes out of town. One of those city responsibilities that I'm still not used to, apparently.

AND my Linguistics class at the university was canceled yesterday morning. Or rather, the professor didn't show up and so everyone got up and left after 15 minutes. It was extra frustrating because I only have that class one day a week and I'm still not sure what I've learned. I really miss the organization and quality of classes at Alma - but I suppose that's why my education isn't free.

An Epic Weekend in Normandy: Part 1

This past weekend, Heidi and I voyaged to the northern city of Bayeux with two goals in mind:

1. See the Bayeux Tapestry, an embroidery which commemorates William the Conqueror's victory at the Battle of Hastings - over 900 years ago!

2. Visit some of the D-Day Beaches, museums, and the American Cemetery

With help from my Lonely Planet France guide, it didn't seem too difficult to plan. We booked the first train leaving Saturday morning and the last returning Sunday night. I called the youth hostel during the week to make a reservation. I checked what times the museums were open, and that there were buses heading right to the beaches. Everything seemed to be set.

But what an adventure it turned out to be. (Prepare yourself for several installments... I wasn't sure what could be left out without taking away the rollercoaster effect!)

Part 1: Initial Difficulties

Our very first train was 10 minutes late. If it had been our only train that day, this wouldn't have posed a problem. But since we had two changes to make, this small delay meant that we would only have a minute to get to our next train. And if we missed that, it would mean a mess of re-scheduling, waiting, and losing time.

But luck was on our side. When we jumped out of our train, we quickly realized that our next train was just on the other side of the platform. We literally stepped on just before the doors closed and we took off.

A few hours later we arrived in Bayeux. The town looked grey and sleepy, with only the cathedral's steeple piercing the the overcast sky. But as we followed the road into town, we were greeted by several cheerful looking houses, then a series of American and European flags dancing over hotel entrances, and finally an over-friendly French man ( which is not an oxymoron!) who made sure we knew exactly where we were going - he gave us directions to the hostel three times, and even followed us for a block or two, as though expecting we'd go in the wrong direction!

We couldn't wait to get to the hostel so that we could put down our overloaded backpacks and freshen up after the early start. But as we were walking up to the hostel, a younger man crossing from the other side of the street looked over at us and said "On est complet." In other words, "We're full."

To say the least, I was a little flabbergasted. I immediately retorted by telling him that I had made a reservation this week and that he must be mistaken, but he just kept shaking his head as we followed him inside. Already my mind was racing to alternatives, but in fact there were few. This was the only hostel in town, with rooms at 20 euro; all the other hotel rooms in Bayeux started around 45 euro. Thus, we didn't really have a choice.

Once inside, it seemed as though a tiny part of the wall opened up and we were looking into the messiest office I've ever seen and two wide-eyed wrinkled faces. I again insisted that I had made a reservation, but the woman laughed at the word as though I had told her my father was Nicolas Sarkozy. After some negotiating on their part, the younger man took us up to a room which in fact turned out to be occupied. When it was clear that the hostel was indeed complet (as far as we could tell, anyway), we were ushered back into the messy office for their attempts to ameliorate the situation. Apparently the hostel had other houses at the edge of town where school groups go to stay, and they insisted that there would certainly be rooms there. They also insisted that it would not be far to walk, and that someone would be there to greet us.

This was feeling more and more like some cruel joke. We walked for about half an hour with nothing to please our empty stomachs but a dwindling supply of cookies. And then the place was deserted, and all the doors were locked.

We actually found out the next morning that there's something of a legal war going on between the people that run these "Sablons" and the woman and the hostel in town (followed by her lawyer, the other person present when we arrived, at all times). We called a number posted on the door and were assured that someone would arrive soon - then right after I hung up, a car pulled up and out stepped this same woman and her lawyer, who eventually got us keys, showed us a room, and drove us back into town. It was the least they could do. But we were happy to have that affair over with for the moment.

After finding the hostel, the next item on the agenda was to locate the tourism office, in order to find out the times for buses heading to the D-Day beaches the next day. Not wanting to waste any more time, I went up to the desk and asked about the buses, only to find out that there weren't even any buses running on Sunday (contrary to what my travel book had listed). And while there were private tours leaving in the morning, it was unlikely that there would be spots left on any of them.

I was crushed. If we had come all this way and we couldn't even get to the beaches, what then? With a list of tour companies in hand, I started calling them one by one. And miraculously, the LAST company I called had spots after all! I think I was a little too overjoyed on the phone, because right after I was given an affirmative response, all these words came out at once to express my relief, explaining that we were two American students only there for the weekend and all the other companies had been booked. The man from the phone even remembered me when I paid for the tour the next day - Ah, the American girl! - but he did tell me that my French was very impressive. If only my grammar teacher had been there to hear him!

We found our way there , we found a place to sleep, and we found a way to the beaches. It was finally time to see the first site on our list - the Bayeux Tapestry!

La Plongée.

And now, we come to the point in the journey called "The Plunge."

A little while ago, my friend Thea posted this graph on her blog (see "Exit to Right" on my blog list below). Fondly called "the W," it shows how mood swings generally go during a study abroad experience.

From my last entry, it was probably clear that the dust has settled - yes, I'm studying in France, but at the moment it feels like the emphasis is more on the verb than the location. And in fact I'm finding the most difficulties not with the cultural differences or missing home, but with French itself.

And above all, it's my grammar class. While our professor is harsh, from the beginning of the semester it seemed that I'd come out of the class at the end of the semester having greatly improved, thanks to an exponential learning curve (Alma Model UNers know this concept quite well). So why do I feel like my French is getting worse, that I'm making more errors, and then in turn constantly dealing with a timidness to speak complicated sentences?

We had our first of two midterms today, and I have no idea how well I did. I'm definitely not used to this feeling, especially after studying much longer than I have for exams in the past.
And of course, all this doubt (at least for me) leads to thoughts toward the future involving internships, grad schools, careers, success... ugh.

But then I talk to my fellow students and hear my own thoughts and worries in their words. We're all in the plunge. So what can one do but kick off from the bottom to spring back up to the surface?

And so, I'm plugging away, searching for that glimmer of improvement on the horizon.

Adjustement Amnesia

There are moments when I forget I'm in France.

Not literally, of course, as I'm surrounded by people speaking French, shop signs in French, tram stops announced in French, and all the little cultural differences, such as the abundance of fresh bread everywhere I go.

But when friends back home ask me if I'm having "the time of my life" every day, it's not an easy question to answer. The France in which I've been studying for over a month now is more than the Eiffel Tower, Impressionist landscapes, or Mediterranean beaches. In other words, it's not simply a vacation. I'm taking classes about French language, poetry, translation, European history, and linguistics - but you could also say that this entire experience is a "class" in itself. Living in Nantes has blessed me with a near-perfect balance: a big city which still preserves the true French way of life.

And day-to-day, nothing is perfect. Even just lately I've been dealing with certain frustrations that are probably universal to a study abroad experience such as:

- Realizing I'm not at all at the top of my league, and that I have a long way to go.

- Missing out on being a part of certain groups of friends at the institute simply because they never speak French. Even when one tries to be diplomatic about it.

- Kicking myself when I want to speak English, especially when I'm tired, frustrated, hungry, or a dreadful combination of the three. But I'm thankful for friends who are just as determined to speak French as I want to be, who keep me on track.

- Occasional awkwardness with my host family when I'm not sure what to talk about, whether or not I should say something at dinner, how I should go about eating something, whether I should open or close the door to my room, etc.

- A love-hate relationship with being corrected - I know that each correction helps me improve my speaking skills, but each one is also a reminder of how often I seem to make thoughtless mistakes and how far I am from being fluent.

Adjustment is a strange thing. In some ways, habituation is almost an unconscious process - such as "forgetting" that I'm studying in one of the most beautiful countries in the world because I've grown used to waking up in it each day. On the other hand, it's quite uncomfortable - there's this constant inkling of self-consciousness, feeling out of place, and the pressure to improve as much as I can while I'm here.

But I'm definitely still enjoying myself. Like Nantes, it's been a good balance of cultural enjoyment and hard work. And I have no doubt that it's going to pay off.

Dining with the French

Long before I took off for France this semester, I had thought that I was fully prepared for what I had heard about French dinners. Fabulous food, several courses, and most importantly, lots of cheese and wine. No big deal, right? Of course there are the subtle table manners expected as well, but I've never too many problems in that department.

And don't get me wrong, the food is fantastic. Always freshly cooked, natural, and full of flavor. But as the "guest" in my host family's house, there are still a few things I'm trying to figure out at dinner time, even though I've been with them for more than 3 weeks.

Our first week at IES was jam-packed with orientations of all sorts, with one in particular about table manners. For example, in France one is expected to keep both hands ON the table throughout the whole meal. When asked if you like something, never say no, but rather that you don't like it a lot, or simply eat the unpleasing dish more slowly to give a hostess a subtle clue. Never sit down before the hostess does, and never serve yourself before offered to do so. And one eats nearly everything - apples and pizza included - with a fork and knife.

However, at my house, the rules are a little more ambiguous.
I'd expected that eating would be a slow process, both to savor the cuisine and enjoy one another's conversation. In reality, I still can't figure out how my family manages to eat so fast while carrying on conversation.

Meanwhile, I'm struggling with using both a knife and fork at all times, answering questions in French without loosing my mouthful of food, and still attempting to finish eating at the same time my family does. And of course, being the guest, I'm always offered second helpings. If I refuse, my host mother asks me if I like the dish. And in fact, I always do, but it's simply a matter of not wanting to eat too much, especially when I know that cheese and perhaps a dessert are still to follow. I've tried to alleviate this problem by taking less food at the beginning of a meal, but then I'm asked if I'm not very hungry, and usually my host mom serves me extra after everyone else has been served. So I'm doomed from the start!

Of course I greatly appreciate all the courteousness, but it makes things even harder when I'm struggling to be courteous myself and follow all the rules we learned. In fact, striving to be extra-polite has been a blessing in some ways - by not refusing anything I'm offered, I've discovered that I like avocados, salted butter (a Brittany specialty), pickles (though they're different here - tiny and sweet), and many different kinds of cheese.

Another thing - we don't eat dinner until 8:30pm. What a change from Alma dinner promptly at 5:00 when SAGA opens! But in fact, when speaking with my family and the French student assistants at IES, this is completely normal for them.

This all goes to show that I'm not in fact learning a language, but a different way of life. It's all too easy to resist and complain about it, but I'm finding ways to appreciate the differences. After all, this semester is one grand learning process, one bite at a time.

Le Bon et le Mauvais

It's a rainy day, the first of many in Nantes. I've heard the climate here is similar to Seattle, but today I'm also reminded of post-Indian summer rain in Michigan. But the fall colors here aren't as vibrant to combat the grey skies like our trees do.

I had some time back at the house between my morning class (History of the EU) and afternoon class (French Lang./Comp.) at the institute. As the bus there and back facilitates ample time to reflect on the passing days, upon returning I felt the need to list some of the positives and negatives of my experience these first two weeks. Somehow, lists always manage to put things in perspective, especially when balancing the loves with the annoyances.

What I'm Loving About France

1. Everyone on the streets, from little schoolboys and girls to charming elderly couples, dresses smartly and elegantly.

2. Bread is plentiful, natural, and usually fresh, and one can eat it whenever one wishes. At breakfast, I eat toasted slices with jam. For lunch, often a baguette sandwich. And for dinner, my favorite course consists of baguette slices with a scrumptious selection of cheeses!

3. Public transportation - for Nantes, buses and tramways - is cheap, efficient, and easy to use.

4. When one orders a coffee, this means espresso. The flavor is so much stronger, and it doesn't take an hour and 5 sugar packets to finish. It's an energy shot that tastes fantastic!

5. My growing confidence with speaking French, with both friends at IES and strangers (storekeepers, bus drivers, etc.). It's become exponentially easier to understand as well.

The Downsides

1. Rarely do I see someone dressed in bright colors or patterns with an original style. Here, clothes come in variations of white, grey, brown, and black, and the styles repeat themselves: skinny jeans, preppy polo/sweater combs, expensive shoes.

2. The bread surplus replaces the normally sufficient amount of veggies and meat in my diet - both are more expensive here, and thus eaten less often.

3. Waiting at a bus stop is not the most exciting thing in the world, and public transportation gets inconvenient and limiting when one wants to stay out late. Especially because it takes around 20-30 minutes for me to go from my house to the center of town.

4. I miss the convenience of having a coffee maker in my dorm room.

5. It's really hard to resist speaking in English, especially with 90 other delightful American students to get to know. It takes so much more time to form questions, responses, and anecdotes in French, but I know it's the best way to practice with each other. Hopefully this improves.

I feel like I'd thought of more points earlier, but I suppose those can wait until I'm reminded of them once more (probably in sharing/complaining about similar experiences with IES students - it's always a good conversation topic!).

Learning to ride a bike (again)

Es ist Sonntag - the day of rest - but I'm feeling restless stuck inside on this gloomy, rainy day. As I may have mentioned before, Theresa is leaving on Thursday for a year in India, so naturally she has lots of last-minute preparations to do. To be honest I'm a little frustrated, because I'm left with little to do until my class starts on Tuesday. I've spent most of today studying in attempts to improve my feeble vocabulary.

Of course, these past few days I've spent lots of time listening to German, especially at meals, but I'm still quite intimidated to speak German other than simple phrases. I know that continually trying to speak is the only way I'll improve, yet when I try I feel like I've regressed so much! How do you tackle something when you know that you will inevitably make so many embarrassing mistakes? And yet this is the only way to get better... practice, practice, practice. Not as easy as riding a bike!

Ironically, I've just found out that I don't even know how to do that accurately.

Yes, it sounds ridiculous. Riding a bike is one of those things that practically everyone knows how to do, like using a telephone or making macaroni and cheese. But yesterday I discovered that I've been doing it all wrong, apparently. Quite often when using someone else's bikes, it seemed to me that seat was too high - I assumed that this was because I'm 5'3. I guess I've grown accustomed to riding one low enough that my feet touch the ground when I'm sitting on the bike, and pushing off from that position to start. Is this too low? I'd never given it thought before.

So when Theresa and I went to ride into town yesterday, I was suddenly confronted with this embarrassing obstacle - all five or so of their family bikes (old and new) had high seats, which for them seems to be the norm. I explained this to Theresa, but after a few tries in her driveway I managed alright, and so we were on our way.

When riding, the ease of balance made me forget the precariousness of my new height until we had to stop at a crosswalk - no longer could I simply touch a foot to the ground automatically, but instead jolt the breaks while clumsily falling forward off the seat (and simultaneously trying to figure out the proper way to do it).

Basically, I'm feeling pretty inadequate at the moment. Learning German now seems much more daunting than I thought it would be, like learning to speak - or ride a bike - all over again.

I'm really hoping that my first class at the Institute gives me some confidence, and helps me get rid of these training wheels.

Isn't getting there supposed to be half the fun?

Ich bin da! I'm here! After just finishing a wonderful dinner with Theresa and her family surrounded by the lush foliage of their back porch, it's hard to return to the stress of 24 hours ago!

Here's a recap: My flight to Newark was delayed 3 hours due to "heavy air traffic" (in other words, certain air traffic controllers weren't being very effective!). Thus instead of leaving at 3:35, we were scheduled to take off around 6:15. Nearly everyone around me at the gate began loudly complaining, calling family or colleagues, and in some cases even making a scene at the front desk and leaving in slim hopes of finding another flight. Meanwhile, I checked my flight statuses online and realized this inconvenient adjustment gave me less than 30 minutes between when our flight would land and my flight to Frankfurt would take off.

Mind you, this exact same situation happened to Noelle and I last year with our Newark connecting flight to India. But I don't think we had such a stressful time crunch!

Along with a young man traveling to Delhi in a similar situation, we went up to the front desk to see if there was anything that could be done, but alas, the airline personnel were all cold-hearted and worn out from all the complaints. But then this well-suited older man who was standing at the gate gave us advice about Newark and making a (relatively) quick transfer from one side of the airport to the other for our international flights. Apparently he used to work for the airlines and he still traveled quite frequently - I didn't get all the details about him because I was too distracted with the looming possibility of missing my flight.

Everything felt so disorderly in those moments of anxiousness during the longest 1 1/2 hour flight I've ever experienced, and the panic of running through the airport with my backpack askew, dodging wandering toddlers and wheelchairs. Yet somehow everything managed to fall into place. The guy going to Delhi and I were in the same row, so together we spoke to the stewardess who gave us the privilege of getting off first (we had explained ourselves to so many different people that it seemed the majority of the plane was aware of the situation anyway). Knowing about the shuttle saved us two trips through security and a trip through the entire airport.

Of course, my gate was at the furthest end of the furthest branch of the terminal, so running was the only option. The whole time I'm praying for a delay as my backpack's swinging in all directions and digging into my shoulders. As I came up to the gate I was immediately relieved to see lots of people (some definitely looked European) - my flight had indeed been delayed until 8:45. But they started boarding a few minutes after I had sprinted to the finish, and I hopped in line as soon as possible to settle into my seat!

The rest of my trip went quite smoothly - I sat next to a German boy about my age named Alex who was returning home after 9 months in the states, and we had an engaging bilingual conversation (though admittedly I'm still tripping over my German, while he had barely any trace of a German accent). I actually slept on the flight because for once, there wasn't a baby to wake me up. And thankfully, the Frankfurt airport and train station were so organized and well-labeled that I had no problem getting my rail pass validated and hopping on a train to Freiburg.

Theresa's house is beautiful: back from the street, tucked away under the arms of grapevines and other lush foliage. Three stories are connected by a winding oak staircase to create the feeling of individual apartments - my room is on the top floor next to Theresa's. Then of course there's all the European amenities which I find charming - unattached showerhead, square light switches, multiple trash cans for proper recycling - though I'm sure I'll grow used to them in the coming months.

Theresa leaves for India on Thursday, so we'll spend our next few days together exploring Freiburg on bicycles - the preferred mode of transportation around here, it seems. I'll even get to ride a bike to class every day - it's one of the many things I'm looking forward to in this enchanting city.