an english holiday

I had a wonderful holiday in England, but with a bit of a rough start. On the eve of my departure, I slept en ville at James’s apartment because his place is close to the train station and I was scheduled to leave Bordeaux at 06h27. We made a family-style dinner of pâtes bolognaise with Valeria, Esther and Mathilde and afterwards James and I met our friend Benjamin in the English bar across the street, the Frog et Rosbif before finishing the night off back at the apartment with Christmas carols and sleepy banter.

The following morning, James walked me to the tram, which I took to the gare, and my train left on time without incident. I arrived in Biarritz, from where I was to fly to London Luton via Ryanair. (The train ride to Biarritz often pays for itself in Ryanair savings—my flight only cost me 13,50 euros.) I took a cab from the Biarritz train station to the airport—another 7 euros. After checking in and settling into an uncomfortable seat next to the gate, minutes before takeoff we were told that our flight had been cancelled due to fog. The passengers for my flight were to be bussed to Pau, where our flight had been redirected. Unbelievable! I had just taken the train through Pau on my way to Biarritz, and the trip is considerably longer by bus. It took us about two hours, in addition to a forty minute wait for the bus, before we made it to the Pau airport. Of course it wasn’t foggy in Pau, and by that time it probably was also sunny in Biarritz.

I called Joëlle, my hostess, to warm her of my tardiness and took a place in line to board. I regretted stowing my coat and scarf in my luggage as I watched the other passengers step out onto the tarmac and board the plane by a rolling staircase. (I’ve secretly always wanted to do this.) When it was my turn to go outside, I was equally pleased and disappointed to find the air temperate, warm even! Where was the winter I knew? Next to the airport, palm trees were growing. Palm trees! At Christmas! Between my redirected flight and the lack of proper Christmas weather (i.e., snow), I was having trouble getting in the spirit.

We arrived in London about two hours late and I had no chance of making my originally scheduled train from Paddington Station to Chippenham. I wasn’t even sure how to get from Luton, a northern suburb of London, to Paddington. Fortunately I met Chris, a 24-year-old from Bristol, who was headed my way and also wasn’t sure of the route. Together we were able to decode the complicated London Underground, changing at Luton Parkway Station and King’s Cross.

At Paddington I tried to convince a customer service agent that it was not my fault I had missed my first train, but even though she was sympathetic, she couldn’t give me a new ticket for free. Instead I had to buy a new ticket for £57,50, and the kind customer service woman told me that I should be able to get a refund on one of the tickets later on.

Jacque, a Californian from DEFLE, and Joëlle met me at the station at Chippenham and we drove to Hullavington House, Joëlle’s home. I met her parents, Bob and Magali (who is française) and her sister Ellie. The girls played cards—a Danish game whose name escapes me but which resembles a sort of “group” solitaire, oxymoronic though it may be. Then we ate dinner, chili con carne, before calling it a night.

On Christmas Eve, Joëlle, Jacque and I drove into Castle Combe, a nearby town used frequently for filming because of its old world charm. “Throw some dirt on the ground, and it looks pretty much as it did 400 years ago,” Joëlle told us, and she was right. The town had a familiar air to it—that of a fairy tale. The originally Dr. Dolittle may be among the most famous films shot there, but Stardust is probably the most recent.

Next we drove to Lacock [LAE-cock], also home to a famous film ser—Harry Potter! The cloisters there are the setting for many scenes passed between classes at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, because of the holiday, the cloisters were closed and we (and by “we” I mean “I”) looked longingly through the locked gates and a pasture of grazing sheep at a large stone building, behind which one finds the cloisters. Bad luck.

Next was a reenactment of the nativity scene in the village of Hullavington, where the Virgin Mary rode through the streets on a donkey and finished at the conveniently named Star Inn, the local pub. After the play we shared hot mulled wine and steaming mince pies.

We ate dinner at home but not before Bob treated us to an aperitif: a pint at his favorite pub. English pubs are not like bars. Cozy and not unlike a large living room, they exude a homey sort of warmth and serve as a gathering place for people of all ages. A Christmas tree stood in one corner, adorned with ornaments made by the local children.

After dinner, we changed our clothes and drove into Chippenham. Jacque and I were both surprised to learn that in England, Christmas Eve is not the quiet family affair as we have come to know it but instead a night on the town, catching up with old friends. We met several of Joëlle’s former classmates and shared a couple of drinks before returning home and going to sleep.

On Christmas morning we rose at nine to make American pancakes.

Time out! No, we did not open our presents first thing. Elle and Joëlle’s stockings were waiting outside their bedroom doors and they opened those tiny gifts, but we had a leisurely breakfast in our pajamas and didn’t even start getting dressed until at least 10h30.

Clean and fed (and only slightly impatient—I was reminded of David Sedaris’s criticism that some European cultures care more about food and family than “things of real value”), we sat before a lit fire in the living room and took turns opening packages. I had black gloves from Jacque, a daily calendar with photos of Britain and an amusing novel about fitting into French culture from the Greens, and a necklace and eye shadow powder form Joëlle and Ellie. The Green family’s guests that day, Alan and Michelle, even brought me a box of pink champagne truffles for my birthday. (When I said that I was unfamiliar with the mark, Hotel Chocolat, Joëlle told me that it’s very expensive.)

We passed the afternoon playing Pub Quiz, a sort of simple DVD version of Trivial Pursuit, men verses women. Magali was busy in the kitchen and so we were four young women against two well-seasoned, male pub-goers, but we won anyway by a rather impressive margin. Alan and Michelle left and we sat down to Christmas lunch in the dining room.

Lunch started with crackers. Not the kind that you eat—the kind that you pull apart with the help of your neighbor to reveal jokes, a tiny gift, and a tissue paper crown, just like Bridget Jones’s! We donned our crowns, marveled at the tiny surprises (mine was a set of magic poker cards) and told our jokes.

The meal was astounding. Our plates were heaped so high with food that Magali repeated again and again that we weren’t obligated to finish it all, but we did anyway. There were steamed peas and carrots, roast chicken, crispy roasted potatoes and parsnips, pigs in blankets (sausages wrapped in bacon) and Yorkshire pudding (bowl-shaped pastries filled with a brothy sauce). The wine flowed abundantly and we were all rather flushed by the end of the meal. Joëlle, Jacqueline and I took the two dogs, Paddy and Bessie, for a walk through the town, still wearing our paper crowns and laughing animatedly in the street. (There is only one street in Hullavington. It is aptly called “The Street.”)

When we came home, rosy-cheeked, there was figgy pudding in white, creamy and potent brandy sauce, and by the time we had finished we were glued to the couch by the weight of our stomachs for the rest of the night, watching reruns of Blackadder with Rowan Atkinson and a Christmas special of the British sitcom The Royle Family. There was a brand new episode of Wallace and Gromit on, “A Matter of Loaf and Death,” and soon afterward we all made our way upstairs to our respective beds and promptly passed out.

I woke up the next morning, my 21st birthday, to breakfast with the girls. Joëlle denied me any presents until dinnertime. We went into Chippenham where Joëlle showed us a couple of her preferred shops and we profited from Boxing Day sales. In the afternoon we napped and then Joëlle helped Magalie with dinner while Bob drove Jacque and I into Marlesbury, one of the oldest towns in England whose roads date to the Romans in the first century A.D. It was bitter cold and we were glad to return hope to an appetizer of cake, topped by sixteen lit candles. Everyone sang, I made a wish, and then three of Joëlle’s friends, Flossie, Joey and her boyfriend, Brad, came over for an Indian feast. There were four dishes, including a spicy chicken korma and a daal, and samosas and pupadam aplenty. I had my first legal sip of alcohol—a bit of bubbly—and we finished the night with another game of Pub Quiz.

Joëlle and Ellie gave me a really cute, hardbound journal and a black satin clutch, and Jacque gave me a beautiful gold necklace. Mama sent a small gift from the States: dainty little gold, dangly earrings with “the color” beads and another really cute journal.

Jacqueline was already gone when I woke up on the 27th. Joëlle and I passed a quiet morning at home until the early afternoon, when she left to pick up her boyfriend, Dave, from the train station. With Dave we took the dogs for a walk in the countryside, donning Wellingtons à l’anglaise. In the evening, the whole family plus Dave and me walked to a neighbor’s home for a potluck and games. Jamie Cullum grew up in the house, which is a converted barn and really charming. We ate chili and potatoes and vegetable curry and played the same card game from the first night, along with the UK edition of Cranium (I had a definite disadvantage in the trivia department) and Sing Star, a PlayStation 3 karaoke competition game. It was so much fun. Dave beat Ellie at the Kaiser Chief’s “Ruby,” and Joëlle and I were closely tied in Abba’s “S.O.S.”

We left after midnight and I said goodbye to everyone before packing my things and going to sleep. I had to wake up early the next morning to catch a bus to London, and my trip to Bordeaux was timely and without incident.

Observations: England is everything I’ve built it up to be. I lot of Wiltshire towns probably have real Hogwarts students living in them, I told myself while cursing my Mugglehood repeatedly.

No, but seriously, the English countryside is charming even in its gray dampness. There is something inherently festive about the stone cottages and gray-green fields. Everyone I met, including bus drivers and Londoners, was welcoming and only too excited to learn that it was my first time in England and wished me a wonderful stay,

let's talk about...

... how I just finished my first semester in France.

It's official. Exams are over and I'm on vacation! Too bad I still have TONS to do before I leave for England on Tuesday.

bon appétit, all the fries you can eat

Tonight I had dinner at L'Entrecôte, the most famous restaurant in Bordeaux, with Joëlle, Jacqueline Rose, Valeria, Esther, and Mathilde (a new friend).

We waited in line outside even though we showed up promptly at 19h15, when it opens. We made it into the first seating but were still waiting on Mathilde. As we were directed to the fourth, fifth, five-hundredth floor (I think the restaurant actually has five levels, one of which is subterranean), a hostess asked us how many of us there were.

"Six," we told her, "But we're waiting for a friend."

The hostess then asked us quite seriously how soon we expected her. We explained that she was already late and would probably be arriving momentarily. She squinted her eyes suspiciously and told us that we could go ahead and be seated on the top floor, but that if Mathilde didn't arrive in a few, or maybe five minutes, we would have to come down and stand in line all over again. I've seen table-turning techniques in the States, oh yes, but I've never seen the equivalent!

There's only one menu at 17 euros per person, so you don't even have to bother ordering.

Green salad with vinaigrette and walnuts: Nothing special, but it whets the appetite.
French fries: À volonté (means free refills) and quite delicious.
Steak: Perfectly rosy, sliced thin, with a delicious herb sauce that makes up for the lack of ketchup or mayonnaise for the fries. (We were, however, offered mustard.)



Desserts costs extra but was well worth it for their size and chocolate content. I had profiteroles, but all of our desserts were pretty much indistinguishable due to the liberal application of whipped cream.

We also shared a bottle of the house wine.



Afterward, the other Americans headed home to sleep and study for tomorrow afternoon's grammar exam. Joëlle and Mathilde and I walked to the Houses of Parliament, my favorite bar, to have a beer before splitting ways for the night.

staying alive, staying alive

I'm sorry for not having updated in a really long time. I've not been in much of a mood to tell stories.

This weekend was really eventful. Friday night I went into town with some girls from California and ended up staying so late that I slept at Mariah's apartment because her roommate was out of town. Saturday there was a Christmas party at Monika and Arabella's apartment and I stayed and danced until 4:00 a.m., when I left with Joëlle and Valeria to sleep at James's apartment.* Then, this afternoon James had a Christmas party and he and Joëlle had made mulled wine (warm wine with spices, vin chaud in French). I've only just got home and I don't feel rested at all. I have one exam tomorrow for my writing style class and then I'm finished for the day with only laundry and hanging out with Stephanie on my to-do list.

*James is from Huntington Beach, the only city in California that I have actually visited. He somehow scored the most incredible apartment with an amazing location near the river. His wealthy Asian boyfriend helps him out a lot financially, so he has a real kitchen and a bathtub. He had space to sleep five people, and because the apartment is conveniently placed near the tram, it's a popular place to crash for the night. In addition to his amazing apartment, he's absolutely delightfully, wickedly fun. Fortunately for all of us, James is staying for the whole year.

over the river and through the woods, to raymond and amandine's we go

Many of you have been asking about our Thanksgiving dinner. Sorry it's taken me so long. I've fallen a bit behind, so I'm just going to publish what I had started to write and let the pictures tell the rest of the story. Remember that there are always more pictures in my Picasa account than I post here. You can link to it at the left of the page.

I started cooking at about noon on Thursday. I made two pumpkin pies in my dorm room, and Colin came over to help. More specifically, to give me moral support (whose importance is not to be underestimated). I also did all of the prep work for the stuffing, leaving it only to be baked. I showered and took a tiny pause, and Ethan showed up at about 16h15. With Colin and Ethan's help I carried the pies and some ingredients to Raymond and Amandine's apartment. We split up into two groups and Colin, Raymond and Amandine went to Auchan (a large supermarket) and Ethan and I went to Monoprix (another large supermarket) to get the remaining ingredients. Ethan and I spent the gross majority of our shopping time looking for dried cranberries, which I intended to substitute for frozen or fresh ones. I asked a couple of employees for help finding canneberges, the French word for "cranberries," but no one knew what I was talking about! When I finally just asked where to find the dried fruits, I found them: labeled "Dried Cranberries," no less!

We also substituted three chickens for a turkey, which worked rather well considering we had two very tiny ovens instead of one large one.

Overall, the meal was wonderful. Nothing too fancy, but we had chicken, roasted vegetables, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie and spiced apple cider to finish. It was a hit with the non-Americans, too. We were four French, one Irish, one Japanese, one Colombian, and five Americans.

in the end it's all the same

I know you're all waiting for my post about Thanksgiving. I promise it's coming soon. In the meantime, there's something that's been on my mind lately.

First of all, I'm having a really tough time with life right now. I'm an emotional roller coaster, and the people around me are starting to get motion sick.

Some of you from back home have been asking me if I've been having fun. No offense, but it's not a very interesting question. Of course I'm having fun, but only as much fun as I would be having at my parents' house or in Chicago or even in Akron.

Because the more trouble I have coping with this homesickness, I am forced to remind myself that this is not a vacation and it's not supposed to feel like one. This is life, and it's hard and sad and funny and full of blissful moments and, well, not so blissful ones.

Life in France really isn't that different than life in the USA (except that it's called la vie here). And I suppose that's the big cultural lesson of the year.

Send me letters, make a Skype account, and stay in touch. You can even ask me if I'm having fun if you want, and I'll probably say yes because it's true - I'm having fun and getting by just like before. I just speak more French now.

your chance to give your two cents

I'm in the process of redesigning my blog using WordPress. Sorry, Google. Blogger is great and I love that it works cooperatively with my Gmail account, but WordPress is prettier. I'm also looking to buy a domain name. For example, Colin bought colinmorris[dot]net. The problem is, with a name as common as mine, I'm going to have trouble buying elizabethbrown[dot] just about anything, because they're all taken. So comment on this post with your suggestions. Keep in mind that I plan to use the same domain name even after my return from France, so the name probably should not only pertain to Bordeaux. I can create a subdomain for this France blog, so it could be, for example, bordeaux[dot]elizabethbrown[dot]com.

Please send suggestions. I'm dry for ideas.

i'm ready for monday

Today, Michela gave me the best gift, by way of an e-mail.

She told me that she had recently babysat Colum, a friend of Kai and Amélie's (the children for whom I've been nanny for the past two summers). Kai and Amélie came to play, and they made me two surprises.

The first surprise, Michela said, is in the mail. The second is this video (if you listen well, Amélie kills the secret of the second surprise, though I'll be no less excited to receive it):



I watched the video immediately and sobbed the happiest tears. I grabbed my laptop and hurried to Colin's door, where, upon seeing my tears, he asked me worriedly what was the matter until I made him watch it with me. I cried again.

Thanks, Michela. It made not only my day, as you suggested with your subject line "Happy Saturday!", but my whole week.

i'll wear the turkey on my head if it goes poorly

I'm stressing because tomorrow is Thanksgiving and my idea to do a meal with close friends turned into a feast for twelve people. I'm totally unprepared and don't know who's going to be helping me cook tomorrow. I don't even have grocery lists together yet. Today I bought the ingredients to make pumpkin pie but couldn't find pumpkin puree. This means that I have to blend up a fresh pumpkin. Fortunately, one of Flo's neighbors has a blender that I can probably use, and then I'll have to whip them up and bake them in his toaster oven. Unless they live in a real house, French people seem to go without real ovens. This doesn't seem to majorly inconvenience them but it's making me CRAZY.

I was supposed to go into town tonight to Monika and Arabella's for a smoothie night but now there's absolutely no chance I'm going to make it. I just have too much to do. Fortunately, Florient is planning to help me with the pie, and hopefully Colin will, too. I know that I can't expect people to just jump in a help cook a meal that, culturally, they know nothing about, but I'm in way over my head and really need help!

girls just wanna have fun

Last night I went out to dinner with some friends from DEFLE. We were Arabella from Germany, Joëlle from England, Monika from Norway, Oksana from Latvia, Marieve from Canada, and me. A very nice mix of countries.

We went to this little restaurant on Rue Porte de Dijeaux. Mostly the ambiance was really nice and there was a big fireplace in the middle of the restaurant where the chef was cooking the meat. A lot of the other food prep was taking place at a table at the back of the restaurant, which I thought was really cool because I like to see how that sort of thing is done.

Oksana is sitting on the left and Marieve, on the right:


Almost all of us ordered the menu and I had mussels with curry, salmon pavé with vegetables and rice, and then lemon sorbet swimming in vodka for desser (we actually all ordered the same dessert except for Marieve and Oxanna, who split a coeur fondant au chocolat.

My mussels looked like this:


Then we walked back to the apartment that Monika and Arabella share.



Monika has some friends visiting from Norway and they were already at the apartment hanging out with some other French girls. We all had some wine and talked by candlelight until midnight, when it was time to sing to one of Monika's friends who was turning twenty.





We put on our shoes and headed to a bar. Near the Triangle d'or, the first bar we went to was extremely posh. All of the drinks cost about ten euros, and every single person there looked exactly the same. Arabelle, Joëlle, Marieve and I weren't pleased with the scene and we left the other girls behind and went to a latin bar called the Calle Ocho. We didn't even have time to dance or drink before they started closing, though, so we said goodbye to Arabella and starting walking toward the night bus at Victoire.

I finally got home at about 3h30 this morning. We spoke nothing but French all night, and it was perfect.

an observation

I could rewrite "Why French Women Don't Get Fat" in a couple of sentences:
"Most French women don't get fat because they don't eat. Exceptions are made only for espresso and cigarettes, which are a major food group. The ones who do eat actual food do, in fact, get fat."

My version wouldn't make as much money as the original.

take it back, i don't want it

I have officially gained five kilos since my arrival. This means that, without evening trying, I've put on the ten pounds that Colin lost effortlessly.

I'm going for a run tout de suite.

can you say '80s baby?

The weather here has been total crap lately, and I'm getting bored.

I had my hair cut recently (bangs being the only noticeable change) and highlighted, too. It's lighter than I expected, but I really love it. Check it out.



If you're thinking, "That looks about the same," you're wrong. The lighting's awful because it's nighttime and I currently only have one working lamp in my bedroom.

Also, look what came in the mail for me today.



Just like Ethan's except that they don't bear the Ray Ban logo, and they only cost $12 USD. Glass lenses and all.

My Californian friends Erin and Lindsay and I got a bit distracted during a lull in our classes. This was the result.



Clever, non? Discreetly hidden between fingers, this mustache can be pulled out at a moment's notice, perfect for a pensive "Hmmm" look that will make everyone around you pee their pants.

When it's cold and rainy all the time, we take laughter where we can get it.

even the girls were buying me drinks

Colin's concert was a huge success. We gathered a large group of people in the village (grouping of dorm buildings) and made our way downtown on the tram. Everyone had already had something to drink, and we were a joyous group to say the least. We arrived at Place de la Victoire and everyone scattered. No one knew where to find the bar except me, so we spent a good ten minutes collecting ourselves and headed off. I was really worried we were going to be late, but as we arrived Colin and the two proprietors, Corrine and Remi, were standing outside the bar. Colin told me later that he had been in the process of musing aloud to them where his friends could be when we barreled around the corner in a mob. The bar was instantly filled and everyone bought drinks. Colin started his set and was an instant hit. I never hesitate to give a critique when I think it's due, but he played well and sang really strongly. His cover of Rihanna's "Umbrella" in particular got everyone singing along, and the night ended up being a swinging good time.

Some people, like these three French friends of ours, Olivier, Vincent and Florient, might have had a bit too much fun. Florient still claims not to remember parts of the evening.





I did a head count near the beginning of the night and counted thirty-four, but that was before a lot of people showed up so I'm sure we had at least forty. Evidently Corinne was very pleased and proposed to Colin that he play again in December, though she didn't give him an exact date. There were only two people there who only Colin had invited, so to say the least I was really proud to have gotten so many people to show up. Next time Colin gets to set the door price and keeps 100%, or he can work for food like he did Thursday. Either way, everyone is eagerly anticipating the next show.

an impromptu day trip (or the start of something good)

Sunday morning I went to the market as usual, but by myself. The weather was awful enough to keep Stephanie and Colin in, and as soon as I entered that steady drizzle I wished I'd done the same. I met Gudrun, an Icelandic friend from my classes, at ten. She and I were both horribly underdressed for the bitter wind and rain. We stopped by the stand of Julien, a French friend I met at Monika's apartment last weekend (Monika is Norwegian and shares classes with Gudrun and I). Julien's family sells wine at the Sunday market. Normally it's his parents at the stand, but they're out of town currently and so he manned the booth himself. Unable to stand the cold, Gudrun and I took a cup of coffee in a nearby brasserie but returned to the market in the same low spirits as when we first arrived. Julien told us that he had to return the unsold wine to his parents' house near Saint-Emilion in the early afternoon; would we like to join him? We were both interested in getting out of the city for the day, but we had time to kill before he'd be ready. 

Gudrun's feet were soaking wet and my boots, my favorite, loyal boots of two years were leaking. Water. A significant amount. (After having analyzed the problem, I'm sure that if it's reparable, I'll pay as much to repair them as to replace them. Alors, I'm in the market.) In our soggy state we were a two-woman mission to find soup. Gudrun took me to Karl, a cafe in the Place du Parlement where Alex, a Romanian from our classes, works. The atmosphere was perfect -- really casual and cozy. We ordered two bowls of soup (pumpkin for me and tomato basil for Gudrun), each of which was accompanied by slices of baguette, an olive loaf, tiny bowls of crème fraiche, dry prosciutto, croutons, and a couple of other things I can't remember. It was perfect. Then we walked to Gudrun's apartment, where she changed her clothes, lent me a coat and a pair of wool socks, and we each had a cup of tea. Then we skipped off to Virgin to meet Julien.

It was about a 45-minute drive to his parents' house, which is surrounded by vineyards. I took a few pictures of the outside, but the inside was even more stunning and Gudrun snapped away in the cave. 

Julien's parents own a chateau about 50 kilometers from their house, whose wine Julien was selling at the market. His father is a former architect and his mother paints as a hobby, so the inside of the house was very carefully decorated and full of interesting antiques and old books. We drank a bit of cidre and had a little snack after out tour and then headed back to the car for a driving tour of the area. Julien took us into Saint-Emilion and parked so we could get out and take a few pictures. We stopped into the tourism office to pick up free maps and bought the macarons (almond cookies) that Saint-Emilion is famous for. The whole time I was trying to remember the name of the chateau whose wine Vintner Select, my father's company, imports.

We drove back to the city in the early evening, but not before stopping again so Julien could show us his favorite picnic spot, which has a breathtaking panoramic view of the countryside. We picked fresh figs off of a tree and ate them straightaway.

I'm going to make a grand effort to write all the captions for the photos in my Picasa account (link at the left of this blog). Check back soon to look at my pictures and hopefully I'll have that finished so you know what you're looking at. 

joyeux halloween?

Yup. Today's the big day. Candy for everyone and costumes, too! Oh. Wait, I'm in France and tout le monde s'en fou (no one cares). Today is officially the first Halloween in my entire life that I have failed to dress up. I love dress-ups so much that I often have multiple costumes. I've been a clown, a Singaporean princess, a Native American princess, Glinda the Good Witch of the North, a sheep, a baby doll, Santa Lucia, a chef, a belly dancer, a witch, Galadriel of J.R.R. Tolkien's imaginings, a pirate, a bulimic Russian ballerina, a character from an Oscar Wilde-era masked ball, the color white, a pink fairy with black lipstick (oh, adolescence), Hermione Granger, Christopher Robin... I'm missing about ten, I think, considering that every year I usually find at least two occasions to dress up as something different. What else, Mama? Do you remember any others, Papa?

Guess what I'm wearing today? Normal stuff. (Black, at least.)

Tonight Colin, Stephanie and I are celebrating the holiday with dinner at our favorite Vietnamese/Chinese restaurant, Tu-Do. Then we'll head into town where Colin is going to drop by a blogger[nerd]'s convention and Stephanie and I may take a stab at the giant Ferris wheel that's temporarily installed at the park by Quinconces.

... It's that time of night when I usually start getting dressed for trick-or-treating at home. I wonder if it would be frowned upon for me to paint my face with eyeliner and lipstick. I could make a really cute kitty.

In order to not totally miss out on the festivities, I hung this in my window:


















It's my chest x-ray from my medical visit this morning at the immigration office. They were mainly concerned with my lungs and reproductivity. (I should say, my lack of reproductivity. Honestly, does it look like there's room for any American babies in France? Algerian babies? Russian babies? Ukrainian babies? Non-French babies? Nuh-uh!) They let me keep the x-ray afterwards, and I thought it was very nice of them to be so respectful of my secular, American, spooky holiday. (This is an apt time to point out that the school vacation I'm on right now, Toussaint, is what I knew growing up Catholic as "All Saints Day.")

I didn't even buy candy. I didn't carve a pumpkin. I won't be marshing any mellows over a bonfire at the Triangle. France is great and all, but these are things that I sorely miss.

Toussaint

Barcelona (or Barcelonne to the French). Our trip was superb.

Our train left early Sunday morning, and we were coincidentally seated next to a DEFLE classmate of Stephanie's, who was also on her way to Spain with her sister and a friend. We stopped twice, once in Narbonne (still in France) and in Port Bou (in Spain). Port Bou looked like this:
We finally made it to Barcelona late Sunday night after about 10.5 hours of travel. We checked into the Alberguinn Youth Hostel, which was so clean and decorated like an Andy Warhol painting. (I later realized the the name "Alberguinn" is a clever play on words. Alberg means "inn" in Spanish. The "u" is necessary to preserve pronunciation.)

Monday morning we ate a free breakfast of toast and cereal at our hostel and made friends with Igor, the Brazilian who had been sitting opposite me on the train for the final leg of our journey. We had all assumed he was Spanish and hadn't conversed at all. He joined us for the day. We started out at La Rambla, the famous "Main Street" of Barcelona, where we saw street performers and birds for sale. We walked toward the water and ended up at the water, where we were able to take in the stunning spanish architecture and the harbor. The color palette of Barcelona is so warm, so different from Bordeaux! We went to the beach afterwards (it was about 75 degrees Fahrenheit, I think, and we were all a bit overdressed). There were so many topless women and bottomless men that I didn't feel scandalous taking off my shirt, pushing up my jeans, and wading in the water in my bra. Here is the area near the water and the beach:


We met a couple of American girls form our hostel for a lunch of paella and sangria near the cathedral before making our way to Parc Güell (designed by Gaudi). We were there as the sun set, with a breathtaking view of the entire city and the ocean. I never realized that Barcelona was such a huge city. The park is composed of gravel trails that cut through pine and palm trees. At the highest point, a lookout made of rock is topped by three stone crosses. As one descends to the lower parts of the park, really stunning mosaic tile takes center stage. We spent a long while in a couryard surrounded by one long mosaic bench. A grand staircase takes one down to the main entrance, where two gingerbread-esque buildings also have mosaic detailing. Here are some pictures from the park:



Ethan's here for a haircut. I'll finish this update later.

safe and sound

We made it safely to Barcelona (NOTE: must be pronounced "Barthelona"). Iĺl update you all with stories of our travels as soon as I have more time and as soon as I figure out this Spanish keyboard. All of this relearning to type is really problematic for me.

tell it to me again

it's sort of like that one stain
annoying
but i kind of like the shape

i try to stay well but can't

There's a pressure in my chest. I'm feeling both sad/homesick and sick/congested. A whole new illness this time: sore throat, cough, stuffed-up nose and a bit of loneliness to boot.

Saw Tropic Thunder tonight in VO (version originale). It was very amazing. I highly recommend it.

Also slept until 14h00 this afternoon. Had woken up at 8h30 feeling sick, again at noon and still felt tired, and finally rose in the early afternoon.

This weekend really blows.

only 10 days 'til I make a wild adventure in Barcelona

It’s one of those really delicious October days. An agreeably light rain this morning brought in rolling clouds, their color varying from deep gray to blinding white. The sun had been peeking through for the past hour at least, maybe longer, but I napped for over two hours and only woke up about an hour ago.

Last night Florient and I ran again, I’m not sure how far. We were gone about an hour, and fifteen minutes of that was walking and ten minutes was stretching. It was probably about four miles.

Today I got my library card at DEFLE and checked out two grammar workbooks. Before my nap I did a couple dozen exercises, corrected them, and then looked up the words I didn’t know. I think this is going to be a successful study regime.

Right now I’m sitting at Surtaki, one of the restaurants universitaires, trying to profit from free Internet and utterly failing. No one else seems to have a problem with it. It’s free for me to access the Internet here and doesn’t subtract from the hours I pay for in my dorm. I only have ten hours remaining there for the rest of October—yikes! I need to lay off the Daily Show. Anyway, usually there are about ten bazillion people with computers here who could help me connect, but today the only person is an Asian student having a very intense video conference on his laptop in a language I don’t understand. I’m not even going to try to get him to help me; I’ll just have to post this later.

I’m waiting for Ethan. He’s supposed to meet me here to give me my absentee ballot (which finally arrived at his host family’s house this week) in exchange for a borrowed copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Ethan’s desperate for books, and I managed to track down the British edition of the book from Amandine. She obviously speaks English at a very advanced level if she can understand Harry Potter (she’s currently reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), though I’ve never spoken with her in English.

On a side note, I’m afraid I’m a boring blogger. My classes seem a dull subject, and the really quotidian things never come to mind. It’s also probably really annoying to be reading about my friends all the time. The problem is that lately I have had an utter lack of adventure, something I hope to change soon, and especially on our trip to Barcelona. If there’s something you want to ask me, or something you want to hear about, send me a word by commenting on this post. As I said in an earlier post, I did change the setting so that everyone can comment, whether or not one has a Google account.

To turn the tables, what’s new with all of you? I’m bored lately and a bit homesick, and I would love a note or a comment on what’s happening on that side of the pond.

"si us plau" means "please" in catalan, which is almost like "s'il vous plaît"

I've caught the stomach bug that Colin had, which is pretty miserable.

On the upside, Stephanie, Colin and I bought our tickets to go to Barcelona from 26 October to 29 October. The train ride is about 10 and 1/2 hours, so we arrive early Sunday evening and leave late Wednesday morning. We got an amazing deal on the tickets, only 63 euro aller-retour (round-trip). Usually it costs about 200 euro. We're hoping to couchsurf while we're there (reference: http://www.couchsurfing.com), but at worst we'll stay three nights in the Alberguinn youth hostel. It's brand new, clean, and close to everything, so we went ahead and reserved three beds for a refundable percentage of the price. Food not included, the trip won't cost any of us more than 140 euro.

I'm so excited to see Barcelona. It might have something to do with my having recently seen Woody Allen's new film, which I found really superb. I think my fascination is something more, though. I'm really enchanted by the idea of this city. Hopefully we'll have warm weather and can really make the most of our two full days. Temperatures are predicted in the 60s Fahrenheit.

Here's a picture of the fabulous Park Güell. It's the mental picture that's getting me through my stomach turmoil.

just kidding; it was my fault

Okay, NOW everyone can comment on my blog posts as an anonymous user. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I needed to change a setting on my end.

Comment! I miss hearing from you all.

It looks like I may be spending a few days in Barcelona soon. Jealous?

it's more fun when everyone's feeling their best

This is the first Sunday morning that hasn’t been absolutely gorgeous. It’s overcast and gray, though still warm enough. My window is cracked and I can hear the deep whooshing sound of traffic and the tram, though I’m far from both.

Colin, Stephanie and I decided mutually not to go to the market this morning. Colin’s stomach illness reached a new level of discomfort last night while we were eating dinner at our Irish friend Raymond’s apartment, which he shares with his French girlfriend Amandine in the city center. We brought Florient along and he was having a great time with Yuko, who is a Japanese student DEFLE with Colin, Raymond and I. Florient once spent a week in Japan and is now rather obsessed with anything and everything Japanese. Also joining us for dinner (a delicious lasagne made by Raymond and Amandine) was Ryan, an American student from Marquette in Milwaukee, who, it turns out, lives one floor above Colin and I in the same building.

Colin couldn’t eat much and, apologizing to Amandine, explained that his stomach was in a somewhat “fragile” state. Raymond jumped in, saying that he had something that would “cement” Colin’s stomach. It was a powder that Raymond mixed with water, to Amandine’s assertion that it takes disgusting and Colin should be prepared for that. Raymond and Amandine had bought the medication for their trip to Morocco, when I guess they needed to “cement” their stomachs against the local cuisine. Colin drank it and immediately took a turn for the worse. I left with him, leaving Florient and Ryan to come back together later on. It was only 22h20 or so.

Later, I realized that Florient’s wallet, too large for his pack pocket, was still in my purse. I called him and offered to turn back, but he insisted that he would pick it up this morning, not to worry.

When we arrived in our hallway, we saw Stephanie locking up her room and leaving with Vincent. She was headed to sleep at his place where he could care for her because she had a fever of 102 Fahrenheit. She was achy, too – it seems like the flu (la gripe, in French). I’ve already had a touch of Colin’s stomach illness. We’re hoping the three of us haven’t contaminated one another.

So, that’s why I’m at home in bed and not at the market. I couldn’t have done lunch at the market anyway because I’m lunching with Ethan and his host family at 13h00.

my stomach is queasy; i, par contre, am doing fine

Colin and I have had weird stomach maladies for the past two days. I'm feeling pretty gross, but I got a full ten hours of sleep last night, which is, as my Californian friend Erin says, "baller." ("Baller" is a good thing.)

My first and least favorite class was cancelled this morning, so I slept in and now Colin and I are looking into AmeriCorps for their loan forgiveness perks. A year or two of service could really help reduce our student debt.

Today Colin has another appointment in the long process of our Carte de sejour (a green card equivalent) applications. I'm going grocery shopping for fruit, and tomorrow I'm eating lunch with Ethan and his host family before going for another grueling run with Florient in the evening.

This week went quickly, but the weekend's filling up fast.

crocodiles are stuck where my wisdom teeth used to be

I've been absolutely horrible about updating. Forgive me, please.

Last night Colin, Stephanie and I cooked a very unrefined American meal for Vincent (who is now Stephanie's boyfriend), Christophe, Florient and his girlfriend, Elina (who is Russian). We made taco dip as an appetizer. Colin and I had a really tough time finding the necessary ingredients! We had to substitute mashed kidney beans for refried beans and I couldn't find green onion, but it was pretty good anyway. At least, everyone seemed to think so (besides Stephanie and I - chalk it up to cook's modesty).

For the plat, we made homemade baked macaroni and cheese, which turned out superbly. We used Emmental and Cheddar cheeses. We also took our first stab at meatloaf, which I thought was fine. Our loaf pan wouldn't fit in the toaster oven we were using, so it wasn't shaped as it usually is, but we had lots of ketchup for it and people seemed to enjoy it.

It was really a feat because we had to cook everything in my bedroom. We set up Florient's toaster oven and our electric burners on my desk and cleared all my papers to make a prep area. We only had one tiny paring knife and no cutting board, so we used the underside of the baking pan. We also had no refrigerator, but we gave the leftovers away so it wasn't too grave. The Stella Artois we bought was a bit warm, though, so it was a true unmannerly American meal, burping and all.

For desert we had originally planned to make Jell-O salad, but we couldn't find Jell-O so we decided on "worms and dirt." For all the Haribo gummy stuff you can find here (i.e., gummy fried eggs), we couldn't find worms, nor Oreo cookies, so we bought plain chocolate cookies, gummy crocodiles, and chocolate pudding to make "les crocodiles dans la boue," or "crocodiles in mud." Surprisingly, everyone LOVED it, especially Elina. It made me kind of sick. I wasn't a huge fan.

Overall, the night turned out really well. We ate at a picnic table outside our building (temperatures were still in the 60s Fahrenheit) and lit candles. We took my laptop out and set it on a scarf on the ground and listened to the Cranberries and Ben Folds.

I totally had a stomach ache afterward and remembered why we never eat that way chez Brown. Still, it was fun.

More later. A teaser: There's a chance I be in IRELAND for the week-long Toussant vacation at the end of October.

Also, excuse the lack of pictures. My camera batteries are all dead and we can't get our charger to work.

Oh, Internet! How do I love thee?

I’m drafting this post even though I know I may not be able to update my blog for awhile. We haven’t had Internet in our dorms for several days, and the campus-wide Internet just went down about half an hour ago. I promise I’ll be back in touch as soon as things are running again.

I’ve also been very busy with new friends. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Christophe and Vincent, fraternal twins (or “false twins,” as they would say) and Florient, all of whom live in the building that faces mine. Florient and I ran five miles on Saturday and five more on Sunday. This is something that I definitely hope to make a habit as I have been eating all sorts of wonderful things in generous quantities.

Saturday, after our run, Florient and I placed bets on the distance we’d gone. Five kilometers, he insisted. We’d been gone for an hour and fifteen minutes! Granted, we had stopped to stretch and had walked for a few minutes to lower our heart rates, but I knew that we had gone further. Finally, we agreed on the following terms: If we had run fewer than six kilometers, I would have to cook Florient an American meal. If we had run more than six kilometers, he would have to cook me a French meal. For those of you who know your conversions, five miles is about eight kilometers. Tomorrow night we’re eating French food at Florient’s apartment. He’ll still get his American meal from me, though, because Vincent suggested that I make a traditional Thanksgiving meal in November. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. We only have burners, a toaster oven, and a microwave, so modifications may have to be made.

Stephanie, Colin and I also recently met Anika, a German girl who speaks English with a perfect Australian accent, and Gregory, who is from Cameroon and wants to practice his English with us.

With our new copains et copines (pals), Colin, Stephanie and I have been eating, dancing, bar-hopping, and speaking loads of French. I feel myself improving every day.

I miss you all dearly. More posts soon.

cqn qnyone even understand ,e§

We still have no Internet and French keyboards aren't a snap to get adjusted to. I'll post as soon as my fingers limber up, or when the WiFi is up, whichever comes first.

a drumroll for the rain, s'il vous plaît

I'd like to dedicate a post to Bordeaux's climate. For the most part, it's on the mark with what I expected from it. Temperate, sandy soil, windy--the sorts of things one expected from the Atlantic coast.

But Bordeaux's weather is a tricky, two-faced little monster. It rains an average of five or six times per day, I'd say. And it rarely rains unless it's [drumroll] sunny. That's ride. The old two-for-one sun and rain routine. At least it's not too cold.

Ah, that's right. It IS freaking cold sometimes. Mornings and evenings are brutal. I came a bit under-prepared for this chilliness with only an ultra-thin North Face fleece and a faux leather bomber jacket. Today I bought a really great wintery-yet-not-too heavy coat from H&M. Because I found it in the kids' department, it was trés cheap, too.

Colin is out of town this weekend visiting a French woman who was once an exchange student in Akron and lived with his family. Stephanie and I were invited out by three new friends of ours (Vince, his fraternal twin, and another kid whose name we're not sure was ever given to us), but Stephanie thinks [insert French name here] got my phone number wrong and we have yet to hear from them. I guess it's not too late yet because last night we met them as they were on their way out around 23:00. It could end up being a sleepy night in.

Ethan called me today to tell me that he and Monique (his host mother) will pick me up from my dorm at noon tomorrow to go dine at their house. I'm very excited to meet their family, but also disappointed that I may not make it to the market on the quay. It starts early, so if tonight ends up being one without plans, it's straight to bed for me.

Classes start Monday and I finally have my schedule set nearly in stone. Let's call it wet concrete. I have an 8:30 class Monday through Thursday, but I have most afternoons completely free. Somehow I ended up with a night class on Tuesdays. It focuses on literature written in the French language but not originating in France, so we're studying a lot of authors from the Maghreb (French-colonized north Africa), etc. The professor of that class, and of many of my other classes, is Mme. Abdelkader. She's this drop-dead gorgeous woman of Arab decent who gave me my interview during placement testing. I really liked her immediately, and she also highly complimented my speaking abilities. Not only that, but as I was leaving her office, I noticed several boxes of my favorite perfume, Lolita Lempicka, sitting on a shelf. Did I mention that in a previous post? Obviously we're a match made in heaven.

this post is short but read it anyway

I tested into the highest level courses at DEFLE. Ironically, these courses are called the "third degree." No kidding. It looks like I'll be in class more than those in lower levels, but hopefully not too much more.

Today's a busy day. I have a lot of professors to meet with for registration, and about a million other things on my mind.

la vie ne vaut à peine d'être vécu

I just created an account with Picasa, Googles image hosting service. Now you can view all my photos as a slideshow at the left of this blog. Or you can link to the album - just click below the slideshow. Check back as I'll be frequently uploading new photos.

I've discovered that it rains a lot of Bordeaux. Invariably, one dresses for a chilly drizzle in the morning, but then one is also invariably met by a shining sun and high temperatures in the afternoon. Once one has sucessfully adapted to afternoon weather (sunny and gorgeous), it cools down - A LOT - for the evening. Life is tough.

infos indisponibles pour le moment

I had to buy a new SIM card from Stephanie today. Fortunately, she had bought one without buying a phone because our friend Florian promised her his old cell. The card cost me 20 euro, but it changed my number. My new number (for those of you in the States) is +011 33.6.80.14.10.13. I'll try to learn to set up a proper voicemail tomorrow

Benji was nice enough to give me the SIM card from his phone before I left the U.S.A., but I bought a recharge on Orange without realizing that the card was from SFR. For those of you who are unfamiliar with French phone providers, this would be like buying Verizon minutes for an AT&T phone. I used the SFR minutes until they ran out (there were still quite a few left).

Tonight we waited too late for dinner again and were already desperately hungry by the time we started looking for a restaurant. (Our dorms have kitchens with burners but no oven or refrigerator. The investment in pots, pans and the like is hardly worth it when one can eat out so cheaply here. I do plan to buy a pot to make pasta and oatmeal from time to time, but other than that, I eat out every meal. Bonjour love handles.) After a long search, we settled on a wonderful Chinese/Vietnamese place we loved a few nights ago. Tonight I had a wonderful Asian salad, sautéed duck with pineapples, and banana cake with coconut milk to finish. I’m more than satisfied and ready for a good night’s sleep. In the morning I’ll meet Ethan on his long lunch hour, and then Stephanie, Colin and I are going to meet some French friend of Colin’s. Also on my list for tomorrow are: (1) buying a hair dryer (today I learned that in French it’s a seche cheveux); (2) buying a new TBC pass (TBC stands for Tram et bus de la CUB); (3) buying a backpack and (4) organizing the bottom right cabinet of my desk. Honestly, it’s a mess.

leave a note on my door to tell me that you're coming

For all those of you (Mama) who think you can't comment on posts without a Google account, it ain't true.

Just choose to leave the comment as "anonymous" and then sign your name at the bottom of the post. It's hard for me to send personal notes to all of you, but if you comment I'll try to reply.

Gros bisous. (Fat kisses.)

Here's me and Colin at a café yesterday. (Thanks, Jonah. Sorry about your wallet.)

suivez-moi, les animaux domestiques!

We had placement testing all morning to determine which class level we’ll attend throughout the first semester. I’ve seen my fair share of crowds, but I can safely say that I have never felt as much like a herded animal as I did this morning. There were hundreds of foreign students, the gross majority of them coming from the United States or Asia. There also seemed to be many students from Arab-speaking countries and lots who spoke some dialect of Russian. The French professors led us in groups of about one hundred to huge amphitheatres, where we were given our tests (in French, épreuves, or “trials”). I was glad to see that most were more lost than I. First we had to read an essay (it was about pets) and then answer a series of questions about the essay without repeating any of the text from the essay itself or the question word-for-word. The second trial was a listening exercise where the professor read a sentence and we had to choose the sentence we heard out of the group of three. There were other similar dictation exercises that followed. Next we had a writing exercise, which involved writing speech bubbles for pictures and then writing a one-hundred-word essay using about 12 expressions. Finally we were sent off to our interviews, where we were given a sort of oral exam. The professor who tested me was very beautiful with Middle Eastern features. She was also incredibly easy to talk to and asked me about my interests, my education, what I planned to do after this year abroad, etc. Then she gave me a short essay to read to her. I think I did quite well. She told me that I spoke at a very high level and that I shouldn’t have any problem testing high as well. She told me that I would profit from my studies here, but that a student at my level really should try to benefit as much as possible out of the classroom. It is by living, she said, that a student learns most. I thought that was very wonderful and welcome advice.

After the placement tests I went into the city by myself for the first time. I bought a few school supplies and then walked around, trying to orient myself. I didn’t get lost, which is a plus, and a I bought a book of that funny penmanship grid paper they use here. I absolutely can’t wait to use it.

I’ll have the results of my tests on Wednesday morning when I meet with an advisor. In the meantime, here are a few pictures of my modest dorm room. Excuse the underwear; I hung a clothesline.




I have my own sink, at least.

are you trop tired?

This photo update is overdue. I spent the past two days exploring the city with Stephanie, Colin, and Jonah (an American doing post-doc work at another university campus). To situate those of you who don't know Bordeaux, I'm living in Pessac, which is a sort of a suburb of Bordeaux. There is, however, a tram stop at the center of campus that takes me straight into Bordeaux in a matter of minutes.

At an exposition today, these 1600 plastic panda bears in front of the cathedral represented the remaining number of pandas in the world.

We stopped for canelés (a sweet muffin-like treat native to Bordeaux) at this open-air market, which takes place ever Sunday morning along the river (behind me in this shot).

Even the plainest streets are postcard-worthy.

We stumbled across this garden in the center of the city.

It's unbelievably picturesque here, and the weather is quite temperate, too (though it gets very cold at nighttime). Hopefully I'll be able to upload more pictures soon. I chose not to pay for unlimited Internet access this month and instead only paid for 50 hours. I have a feeling I'll upgrade for October.

Tomorrow morning I must take a placement test which will determine all of my courses for the first semester. There are four levels of courses, and I expect to test into at least the third. I feel as well-prepared as I could be. Last night I was roaming the city with some new French friends and was speaking so fluidly with them. We'll see. In the meantime, I need to get a good night's sleep.