la fin du semestre

Wow, have these past few weeks been busy! I keep thinking I’m going to find time to update my blog, and then I never do…maybe that should be one of my New Year’s resolutions?? Anyway, having survived two weeks of final exams and papers, I am writing this entry as I anxiously await my family’s arrival in Nice.  I could be waiting awhile.  Apparently a light dusting of snow is enough to shut down the entire Amsterdam airport and any outgoing flights.  I’m crossing my fingers that they make it here in the next few days but you never know…In the meantime, here’s what I’ve been up to these past few busy weeks…

A few weeks ago, I went shopping in town with Michèle.  I still hadn’t done any Christmas shopping, and when I told her this at dinner one night, she insisted that she take me shopping in the “real” Montpellier.  Apparently I’m hopeless at finding all the cute, off-the-beaten-path boutiques, so Michèle graciously took me under her wing one Saturday afternoon.  I couldn’t have asked for a better tour guide of all the best little shops in Montpellier, as my host mom used to be a boutique owner herself for several years.  She showed me the street where her shop was, and we even went inside to talk to the current owner.  Michèle seemed to know everyone as we walked around-Montpellier isn’t that small of a town, but she was in the business for eight years.  I felt like I was getting an inside perspective, as we went from store to store, chatting with the store owners, many of which designed or even made everything they offered for sale. 

So I finally did it.  I cracked and bought a gym membership.  I told myself the temps in southern France would be warm enough, so that I could just run outside, even in the coldest winter months.  I promised myself I would stay disciplined enough to go on regular runs, in order to avoid the ridiculously high-priced French gyms.  My plan worked fine up until about a month ago, when I just got sick of running in the city and getting weird looks from all the locals.  I started to miss a good work out on the elliptical.  Pathetic, I know.  After some extensive research, which basically consisted of me interrogating every French person I know (aka my host mom and my language partner, Estelle) about the cheapest gyms in the area.  This wasn’t as easy as it sounds, as the French don’t really have the American habit of going to “work out” somewhere, so it was hard for them to give me good advice on this issue.  I ended up finding a place about a ten-minute walk from my apartment that offers a “student discount” but will still cost an arm and leg for the remaining five months I’ll be here.  Included in the price are all the classes offered at “le new planet forme.”  I plan on taking advantage of all these classes I had no choice but to pay for, but it should be interesting.  Yoga is challenging enough for me, let alone yoga classes taught in French…

This semester ended so abruptly, it’s hard to believe it’s really over.  The feeling can only be described as bittersweet; on the one hand classes are over and I’m about to spend two weeks with my family in Nice (assuming they ever make it out of Amsterdam), and on the other, I’m sad to see friends leave.  When I started the program here, I didn’t know one person, and now I have to say goodbye to some great people I’ve gotten to know and grown close to over the past few months.  We have gone through so much together, and this experience is one we will always share. 

  

'Tis the Season

Is it already that time of year again?? Christmas is weeks away and I can hardly believe it.  Finals loom ahead once again, so that can only mean one thing.  My first semester studying abroad in Montpellier is already coming to a close.  Where does the time go?? Honestly, saying the last three months have gone by quickly would be the understatement of the year.  I can't say that every aspect of living abroad has been easy (read: STRIKES), but my experience as a whole has far beyond exceeded any expectations I had.  I know I've probably said it already, but it's still hard to believe I'm actually here.  Even after all this time, I still have to step back and remind myself that I really am living and studying abroad in the south of France.  My year in France is no longer some distant future; it is the here and now.  This rather frequent reality check is important for me, because it's easy to take everything for granted, without fully appreciating all this experience has to offer.  I make this effort to really savor every moment here, because I know that once I return to the U.S., while I will of course miss all the traveling I got to do, I will also miss sitting at dinner with my host family, without a doubt debating on some food-related topic.  Small moments, the ones that seem so insignificant at the time, also always seem to be the ones that stick with us. 

Yesterday, when I probably should have been frantically reviewing for my upcoming lit final on the works of 18th century French philosophers, I helped Michèle decorate the apartment for Christmas instead.  We put up the tree together, hanging the ornaments and stringing the lights.  While there was nowhere near enough room on the small tree to hang all of the ornaments she had, we laughed as she pointed out ones that were absolutely "obligatoire" or necessary that we put up, because they are childhood favorites of her daughters.  Even though her daughters are all grown up and living in Paris, when they come home for Christmas, they absolutely insist on having the "apple" ornament and the "nutcracker" ornament hanging front and center on the tree.  I couldn't help but smile, because it is the same way with me and my sister-there is a certain way the tree has to be decorated with certain, "special" ornaments that hold meaning even if they aren't exactly the prettiest.  Sharing such a cherished tradition with my host mom and knowing that some things just don't change, regardless of other cultural differences, was the perfect way to spend a Sunday and get into the Christmas spirit.

The finished product! We might have gone a little overboard...

Barcelona one minute, Paris the next...

Time. Is. Flying.  November 23rd already and less than a month left of the semester?? How did that happen?! Between classes (which have finally resumed after about a month long hiatus due to the strikes) and traveling from one city to the next, my time abroad is passing more quickly than I ever would have expected.  As a result, I've been slacking on the blog updates-it turns out maintaining a blog is a lot harder than it sounds! Anyway, a lot has happened since my last entry...

I took my first solo trip to Barcelona over the first few days of November (while we may not have Thanksgiving break here, the French make sure they have plenty of time off in the form of several breaks scattered throughout the year-perfect for traveling!)  Now that I know what it's like to have to book and plan a vacation from start to finish, I appreciate my parents so much more. Until I was faced with the work of having to figure out how I was going to get to my destination, where I would stay, what I would do there, etc., etc., I had no idea how stressful it all is! I always wondered why my parents would get so stressed out when we would travel because, for me, it was a vacation already planned out-all I had to do was hop on the plane and I was set.  I still love traveling, but taking trips like I do now is less of a "vacation", and a bit more like a part-time job.  Booking trips alone takes time and effort, not to mention the amount of time set aside to actually go on the trip.  This is coming out as more of a whiny complaint, but what I'm really try to say is that I'm learning a lot about what it actually means to travel.  So back to Barcelona! I was so proud that I managed to purchase my train ticket AND figure out a place to stay. First step: plan and book the trip-done! Lucky for me, I was able to stay with some family friends, so that was actually pretty easy.  I wish I could say the same about the train...I arrived at the station bright and early on Friday morning with my enormous suitcase in tow (Michèle's little suitcase is about the size of my backpack and I figured I would need a little more space for 5 days) and tickets in hand.  Shortly after arriving, I realized my train wasn't listed on the departure board, so I asked someone working there about it.  He simply told me, "Il y a aucune circulation à Barcelone aujourd'hui."  I stood there in disbelief.  "What do you mean there aren't any trains going to Barcelona today?? I bought a ticket and it says my train leaves today at 7:30!" He just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  Most people that know me would probably agree that if there is one thing I struggle with, it's a change of plans.  My list for the day was set and train cancellations were not on it! I think he saw the panic creeping into my face, because he directed me to where I could be "reimbursed" for my aller-retour.  Luckily, this situation wasn't like the boot fiasco, and I was able to get my money back for the ticket.  Still, I was now ticket-less, stuck in Montpellier thanks to the strikes.  After asking another extremely helpful train station employee if they had any advice on how to get to Barcelona TODAY, I was directed to the bus office a few blocks away.  I trudged over to the office with my bags only to realize that it was still about 7 am and the office wouldn't be open until 10 am, naturally.  So, I headed back to my apartment, completely at a loss for what to do.  I had texted Montse, the family friend I would be staying with, explaining what happened.  I never actually considered the possibility that I might have to figure out an alternative plan in the event that my train would be cancelled due to the strikes. 

To make a long story a bit shorter, I ended up taking a different train to Perpignan, a French town near the Spanish border, where I was picked up by Montse and her boyfriend Xevi, who drove two and a half hours out of their way to come and get me.  Had I not been staying with such kind, generous people, I probably wouldn't have been able to go to Barcelona that weekend.  The rest of the trip was absolutely perfect- from the sunny, warm weather to the gorgeous architecture to the delicious food.  My favorite parts of the trip were spent just walking around the city and learning about the history and culture of Catalonia.  Since words can't even describe how beautiful everything was, I'll just include a few photos of what I saw...

Palau de la Música

Montserrat!

View from the Montserrat Mountains

One of the many incredible views from Park Güell.  Gaudi lived in the house that appears in the foreground for 20 years!

More Park Güell

TAPAS! What we had for dinner on my first night in Barcelona :)

Gaudi's masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia

More Gaudi! On the roof of La Pedrera.  The picture doesn't do it justice, but this building is incredible!

It seemed like I had just finished unpacking after getting back from Barcelona, when I started to pack to leave again-this time to Paris! Paris was an entirely different trip than Barcelona-for one, I wasn't traveling alone! Maria and I booked our tickets for the same train, although we didn't sit next to each other (probably for the best, as I had an entire commentaire composé to write for my French lit class).  Unlike my previous train debacle, we had a smooth, drama-free trip there and back.  All I have to do is take the TGV three hours and I'm in Paris! What could be better?

Homework on the train! My first "Commentaire Composé" on Balzac's "La Maison du Chat-qui-Pelote"...

Weather-wise, we braced ourselves for the worst, but it only ended up raining one day of the three full days we spent there.  Not only that, the SUN actually came out on Saturday.  Paula, my friend whose apartment we stayed at, was so shocked to see the sun, so it must be a rare occurrence :) After deciding the metro was too complicated (and smelly) to deal with, we decided to tackle the city on foot.  Despite a few poor shoe choices on my part, we didn't have many issues getting everywhere we wanted to go.  I have to admit, I was a little concerned when we first set out on Friday morning armed with a few maps and a very vague idea of what we wanted to do/see.  Yes, I've been to Paris before, but no, my sense of direction is not the best.  Thanks to Maria and her navigation skills, we found our way around for the most part...

Maria consulting our "Street-wise" map of Paris, which we literally could not have survived without.

Over the course of the weekend, we managed to see most of the major tourist attractions, as well as just walk around and explore the different "quartiers" of the city. 

Notre Dame!

Champs Elysées... Maria's favorite ;)

L'Arc de Triomphe!

Paula and me in her adorable Parisian apartment :)

Eiffel Tower!

We climbed to the top of Notre Dame for the AMAZING view.  Too bad the Eiffel Tower is covered by the fog :(

Et voila! With two amazing (yet a bit stressful at times) trips under my belt, I am ready to take it easy in Montpellier until my family comes for Christmas in Nice! Wait, it's almost Christmas?! Did I mention that time is flying? Alright that's all for now, and I promise to write more often from now on...

Typical Weekend

This past weekend consisted of a day trip to Carcassonne and flea market shopping on Sunday with my host family.  In other words, it was just another average weekend in France, yet when I compare it to what I would be doing on any given weekend if I were back home, I am filled with a renewed sense of appreciation for my time spent here. 

Saturday, we went on our second (free) group outing, this time to the medieval walled city of Carcassonne.  Despite having to get up when it was still dark out in order to catch the bus for the nearly two hour ride there, the day trip was a Saturday well spent.  I will admit that between Aigues-Mortes (another city we visited the first weekend here) and Carcassonne, I've had my fill of medieval walled cities...for now at least.  That being said, I did enjoy touring the city and learning a little about its history in the process.

Right outside the largest entrance to the city

In taking the usual guided tour of the city, we learned that it is one of the most well-preserved walled cities from the Middle Ages.  According to our guide, the place now gets more than three MILLION visitors a year.  I wonder if the recent Harry Potter craze has any influence on this number? In describing the trip, our program director told us it was the "closest we would ever get to Hogwarts."

Exploring our Harry Potter-esque surroundings...

Although cathedrals in Europe are about as numerous as fast food joints in the U.S., visiting these churches and marveling at the unique architecture and stain glass windows that date back to the 12th century never gets old.  These pictures don't do justice to 'la basilique Saint-Nazaire' situated in the city, but here are a few I snapped:

To finish off our visit, we toured the "Museum of Torture", a museum dedicated to all the methods of torture used at the time of the Inquisition.  After we finished learning about all the rather disturbing torture practices, we had time to take one last look around before saying goodbye to Carcassonne.

Sunday, I woke up to find my host family on their way out the door.  I asked Michèle where they were going and she replied, "marché aux puces." It took a second for this to register; understanding French fully awake is already difficult, let alone trying to comprehend the language first thing in the morning.  Never one to miss a chance to shop, I sprang into action, racing back to my room to get ready as I announced that I wanted to come too.  While I didn't end up buying anything, I had the unique opportunity to tag along with a French family as they practiced the fine art of Sunday flea marketing.  The action started even before we arrived at the flea market.  Once we drove to the area where the flea market is held each Sunday (a "difficult" neighborhood in the north part of Montpellier, according to Michèle), there was the issue of finding a place to park.  The following 20 minutes consisted of three stressed out French people shouting and arguing over where we could find a place to park, while I sat in silence, not wanting to add to the drama.  Although I have heard Italians are worse, French drivers have little to no regard for traffic laws (they serve as mere 'suggestions' rather than 'rules to be obeyed'), driving wherever they please.  On the road here, much the same as with pedestrian traffic, it's every man for himself and the rules are there are no rules.  In the end, we did find a tiny spot to park our tiny car, though whether it actually was a legitimate place to park is debatable.  Once we finally made it to the market in one piece, we started out on our mission to find whatever treasures we could for the lowest price possible.  Watching the French haggle over a one or two euro difference in the price of a given item was almost as entertaining as the parking debacle.  In the end, we walked away with a bread basket, a set of dishes, a giant poster, and a set of Chinese lanterns.  I walked away empty handed, but with an experience I am sure I will never forget.  I know that it's weekends like these, as ordinary as they seem to me now, that are going to be the times I will miss once I'm back home.

Boot Fiasco

There is something about being somewhere new that makes me want to shop (even more than usual).  I'm not sure if it's the thrill of buying clothes that I know I can't get at home (same styles, different brands) or if the money that I worked so hard to earn and save up last summer is just burning a hole in my pocket.  Either way, I have done my fair share of shopping here, but not without consequences...

I recently went on a specific shopping mission to find a great pair of leather boots (a birthday gift to myself).  It seems as though EVERY woman here wears boots (heels, flats, tall boots, short boots, etc.), even when it's 75 degrees and sunny. I decided I would treat myself to a gorgeous pair of leather riding boots, so off I went on my boot hunting mission.  It didn't take me long to find a great pair of black "cavaliers," or riding boots at a shop called "Heyraud."  For those that aren't familiar with shopping in Europe, it is an entirely different experience than shopping in the States.  From what I've noticed, the sales people hover even more than even the pushiest American salesclerk, especially in shoe stores.  I am someone that takes forever to make even the smallest decisions, so when the salesperson hangs around watching me try a pair of boots on, asking me if I like them, etc., etc. it makes me feel incredibly pressured and nervous.  This is exactly what happened at Heyraud.  I tried on a black pair and the woman helping me planted herself by my side, commenting on how great the boots were, how good they looked on me, blah, blah, blah.  I tried to ignore her and focus on the fit and look of the boots by pacing around the store and scrutinizing myself from every angle in the mirror.  Then I noticed that the particular pair I was trying on also came in a brown color.  I asked the saleslady if I could try that color as well.  She of course obliged happily, as most people here wouldn't dare try on an article of clothing unless there was a good chance they intended to buy it (or at least that is the vibe I get from my personal experiences).  With one brown boot on one foot and one black on the other, I stood there for what seemed like a good 20 minutes, debating which color I should get, as the saleslady looked on, interjecting her own commentary.  I finally decided on the black (they would go with everything!) and informed the woman helping me.  It was at this point that I made a critical mistake-I didn't ask about the store's return policy.  While I have lived in and traveled rather extensively throughout Europe, where the shopping policies are much the same, I've grown so accustomed to the American way of shopping and consumerism that inquiring about the return policy at this particular store was the furthest thing from my mind as I swiped my Visa at the counter.  Besides, why would I ever want to return such a fabulous pair of boots?!

Turns out I would, in fact, want to.  Staying true to my American shopping habits, I still hadn't worn the boots a week later.  Why? At home, I had grown so accustomed to buying all kinds of stuff, with the comforting knowledge that I could always take it back at a later time if I changed my mind.  Because I know I might want to return something after I buy it, I typically wait a few days before wearing said article, unless I am absolutely positive I love it.  While it would probably make more sense to make sure I like something BEFORE buying it, I continue to take full advantage of the generous return policies so many American stores offer their customers.  So getting back to my story... I decided that I wanted to try and find a different pair of boots.  I was having second thoughts about the ones I bought, and I had seen something on my receipt about returning an item within 30 days.  Thinking I was in the clear, I happily set off in search of a different pair of boots, with the intention of returning the original pair later on.  It wasn't long before I stumbled across a gorgeous pair of tall, brown leather riding boots at a different store called "Andre."  In spite of a similar, pressure-filled experience with the saleslady there, I decided to buy them.   I strolled out into the sunshine, shopping bag in hand, feeling great! All I had to do now was go back to Heyraud and do a quick return! Or not.

After carefully placing my unworn Heyraud boots back in their box and making sure I had my receipt ready, I was on my way, blissfully unaware of the horrible experience that awaited me.  When I got to the store, I quickly found a salesgirl that had been there the day I bought my boots.  Although she wasn't the one who had helped me, I was sure she recognized me, and figured this would help.  Smiling, I proceeded to explain my predicament as best I could with my limited vocabulary.  I made sure to show her my receipt and stress that I hadn't worn the boots.  At first she asked me if I wanted to do an exchange.  I politely declined and specified: "je voudrais être remboursé," which directly translated means "I would like to be reimbursed/refunded."  At the utterance of these words, her expression instantly darkened and she became very short with me.  Her response was something along the lines of "absolutely not" and "that is never done here."  To say she was unpleasant would be putting it very lightly.  After she finished yelling "jamais!" (never) repeatedly to me, I nodded and stumbled out of the store.  I barely made it back to my apartment before bursting into tears.  Maybe I was overreacting, but think the woman at the store could have kindly explained the store policy without being so nasty to someone who is clearly a foreigner with no idea how the system works here.  To be fair, I should have read my receipt more carefully before trying to return the boots.  The "30 days" I had seen on the bottom of the receipt was in reference to the time limit allowed to exchange NOT return an unused item.

After recovering from the initial shock of having spent a small fortune on two pairs of leather boots (both of which I had to keep), I started to calm down and see the beauty of the situation...I now have two pairs of leather boots!  Since the incident with the shop lady, I have retold the story several times, to each person in my extended host family.  Each time I tell the story, or try to tell it with the limited French that I have, they chuckle and shake their heads.  What a silly American, thinking she can return a pair of boots and get her money back!  The concept is absolutely unheard of here, and after learning my lesson the hard (and expensive) way, I now know that I better be 110% sure about buying something...or at least read the fine print. 

Black "Heyraud" boot

Brown "Andre" boot

Turning the Big 2-1 in France

Telling people you are about to turn 21 here definitely doesn't carry the same weight as it does in the US.  For people here, 18 is the big birthday and 21 is just another year older.  I was determined to not let this fact get in the way of celebrating my big day.  I ended up having one of the most memorable birthdays ever, even if it was a far cry from the way most 21st birthdays are celebrated back at home.

Blowing out the candles!

I was so excited and impatient for Wednesday to come, mostly because Michèle had promised she would bake a big chocolate cake for me!  Although I was ecstatic to have a "dessert" that wasn't fruit or cheese, I remained slightly skeptical because there is rarely a speck of chocolate to be found in the house.  Very few processed foods make their way into the kitchen, which is good and bad at the same time.  Good because it forces me to eat healthy, and bad because it's kind of like quitting cold turkey, for someone who is used to eating ice cream or chocolate at least once a day.  Anyway, I was promised a chocolate cake AND steak for dinner!  Red meat is another rare occurrence here, but Alain's son, who is a butcher, and his girlfriend were coming to join us, bringing steak and chicken for Michèle.  After a great day at the radio station (with a little birthday shout out that was aired on the French radio I might add) and my phonetics class in the afternoon with a professor I absolutely adore, it was finally time for my big birthday dinner with my host family and company!  True to her word, Michèle had baked a beautiful chocolate cake, complete with 21 birthday candles.  Awww.  In addition to the cake, Alain's girlfriend Christine, baker extraordinaire, had made a crumble.  I wouldn't have minded skipping the meal, and just eating dessert!  Eat the meal we did, though, and what a meal it was!  We started eating around 8:30 pm and didn't finish until about 10:30...I've never been so full in my life.  Pacing yourself is important for any French dinner, and especially special events like birthdays, as the courses seem to just keep coming.  In honor of my 21st, we had red and rosé wine that we sipped along with the meal.  The day couldn't have been more perfect, celebrated in true French fashion.

Later in the week, on Friday, I went out to an Italian restaurant with some friends.  The food was AMAZING and definitely took care of my recent craving for some pizza.  After dinner we danced the night away!  I will never forget my 21st birthday that I spent in Montpellier, France with my amazing host family and friends.

Maria and Justine at our restaurant!

Girls Night Out :)

YUMM

Strikes and Squid

So many aspects of my life are different now, that it makes me appreciate what I took for granted before.  These changes are evident in even the most basic parts of my everyday life, such as my diet and daily transportation.

Before I came to Montpellier, I would have considered myself a fairly picky eater.  This is no longer the case, as I don't really have a choice anymore.  So far, I have eaten more squid than I would have ever thought possible.  My latest encounter with this new food that I have yet to fully embrace was on Friday.  My host family had company over, and we had an "apéritif dinnatoire."  This type of meal is very popular here and just consisted of lots of small little appetizers and a selection of wine.  I was starving and excited to dig into what looked like little pastries, until I realized upon closer inspection that they were actually small round crackers with a variety of fish based spreads.  My host mom encouraged me to try the pink spread, which turned out to be fish eggs.  Alain later insisted I try the black spread, which was a mixture of olives and fish.  This "tapenade" is a regional specialty and very popular here.  Also on the menu was baby squid, served cold with little toothpicks.  After hearing Michèle and Alain rave about them, I popped one in my mouth, trying not to think about what I was eating.  The taste wasn't bad, but the texture definitely wasn't my favorite.  While these foods aren't exactly what I'm used to eating, maybe that isn't so bad.  The reason I chose to live in a host family was because I wanted to experience the culture as well as improve my French skills.  Since a huge part of the culture is French cuisine, I am learning to eat what a typical family living in the south of France eats.  While the squid and seafood is going to take some getting used to, I am surprised by how much I actually do like.

Just when I was starting to miss some of the foods I eat at home, dinner on Saturday night presented a welcome change of pace.  After a long day trip to Anduze, I returned home, exhausted and starving, to find Alain barbequing ribs!!! I couldn't believe it.  We had ribs and potatoes and carrots cooked in olive oil.  I was so excited to eat food that I actually recognized that I probably ate a little too much...

In addition to my new diet, I also have a whole new mode of transportation-the tram!  Public transportation in Europe, or at least France, puts the limited options in Minnesota to shame.  Between the trains, trams, and buses here, there is no need to even own a car.  To be fair, everything is a lot closer together and more easily accessible on foot here than would be possible in the States.  Between my tram pass and being able to walk just about everywhere, I can get to wherever I need to go!  After I got over the initial shock of having to shell out 230 euros (the price AFTER the student discout) for my tram pass, I have grown to love the convenience.  On average, I only have to wait about 2 minutes at the tram stop and then off I go!  The catch?  Strikes.

While I knew strikes were common in France, I had yet to experience the impact of these "grèves" until I actually got here.  I have only been here for a little more than three weeks, and there has already been two strikes.  Right now, there are probably more strikes than usual because of the retirement age issue, but that's another story.  Last Thursday, I got my first taste of the effects that these strikes have on the functioning of every day life, when I naively assumed that I would still be able to use the trams more or less as I usually did.  I faced my first obstacle when I tried to take the tram from my stop (Place de la Comédie) to my internship at the radio station near school (stop St. Eloi).  I was waiting for about two minutes before a police officer came up to me and explained that the trams were not coming to this stop today.  I guess I should have put two and two together when I saw a bunch of vehicles parked across the tram tracks.  The officer told me I could take the tram if I walked to the next stop (Corum).  I took off and got to the next stop after about a 10 minute walk.  After waiting another 20 or so minutes, I boarded a packed tram to my destination.  There really aren't words to describe how crowded the trams can get, except to say that you can't move an inch inside.  While I was able to make it to my internship on time in the morning, coming back home after my late afternoon class was not so easy.  Heading back from campus, I took one look at the crowded tram stop and decided I had had enough of battling large, angry crowds for the day.  I ended up walking home from school, which turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant and peaceful 45 minute walk.  I am beginning to realize more and more that if you're going to live in a different country, you have to learn to adopt the same mentality as the people there.  In France, this attitude is very "go with the flow" and laid back, essentially the opposite of my type A, list-making, planning self.  Learning to just relax and not freak out about every little problem (like workers going on strike every other day) here is becoming one of my biggest challenges yet.

Carb Overload

I think I have eaten enough bread these past few weeks to last me a lifetime.  When I think about how much bread I regularly eat at home, it is no more than a small fraction of how much I consume here.  In my host family, it seems I am offered bread at each meal.  In Montpellier, or in any French town for that matter, the abundance of patisseries and boulangeries is almost as noticeable as the alarmingly large number of pharmacies on every corner.  It's safe to say that bread is a French staple and makes up a large portion of the diet here.  And why shouldn't it? French bread is delicious and unparalleled by any variety I've tasted in the U.S.  Between all the sandwich shops and bakeries offering their tempting fare every few steps, I seriously wondered how everyone here seems to be so thin.  I got my answer soon enough a few days later at dinner with my host mother, Michèle.  We were talking about eating habits and the differences between France and America.  She was describing what she usually eats for breakfast and I asked her if she often ate croissants.  She laughed and said if she ate croissants every day she would be 300 pounds.  I found this hilarious because my host mother is anything but big.  I should have known that assuming the French eat croissants on a daily basis is as much a stereotype as thinking that everyone in Paris walks around all day wearing berets and carrying baguettes (okay the baguette part is somewhat true).  On a similar note, some French students were shocked when I asked them if they often ate sandwiches for lunch.  I had to ask since there seem to be sandwich shops everywhere you look here.  They replied that they rarely ate sandwiches for lunch, only if they were really pressed for time.  As beloved as bread is here, most of the locals aren't constantly eating the buttery pastries and confections that they are famous for.  It wouldn't surprise me if all of the fattening fare being offered by so many local establishments is more targeted toward tourists than the people that actually live here.

As much as the French seem to limit what and how much they eat, they love to talk about food.  Most of the dinner conversations I've been a part of since my arrival have centered around the topic of "la nourriture."  While this obviously isn't true for everyone, it certainly seems to be the case for my host family.  Before I came here, I didn't know it was possibly to debate for hours what the best patisserie was in Paris or where the best macarons could be found in Montpellier.  Food is an inherent part of French culture and a passionate subject here.  Even the way they eat food here is much different than at home.  Mealtimes are sacred and often take around two hours.  As an American, used to rushing from one thing to the next, I have to make a conscious effort to slow down and just enjoy the experience.  Normally, I tend to eat smaller amounts more frequently during the day, undoubtably a product of the typical, fast paced American lifestyle that lends itself so easily to eating on the go. This habit is one that is proving to be very difficult to break now that I live in a place where its only acceptable to eat at designated mealtimes.  Michèle and her brother, Alain, both adhere to this strict French regimen.  Breakfast is eaten at around eight or nine in the morning.  Lunch is at about one in the afternoon and dinner isn't eaten until eight at night.  Meals are generous and well balanced to ensure that hunger doesn't strike in between.  Supposedly.  I'm still unconvinced.  Alain informed me that if I do get hungry in that seven or eight hour stretch between lunch and dinner, it's acceptable to eat an apple.  A whole apple!  Most evenings, I'm still ravenous by five, about the time I would be eating dinner in the States.  While I knew I would have to change some of my eating habits when I moved here, it's still harder than I thought it would be and will definitely take some getting used to...

Still in Shock

Sometimes I'll catch myself still doubting that I'm actually here. I've wanted to study abroad in France for longer than I can remember so now that I'm actually here, it's hard to believe.  Thus far, the whole experience has been surreal.  Already, I've seen so much, and the whole year still stretches ahead of me, full of possibilities.  I hope that I make the most of my time here, taking every opportunity that I can to explore, learn, grow, and most importantly, improve my French skills.  As I sit here reflecting on my goals, I wonder when it will actually sink in, that I really am here, living in France for a year just like I always dreamed?  As participants in this study abroad program, we are constantly reminded that as soon as this "honeymoon" phase is over, we will hit a low point.  While I can't say that I'm looking forward to this "depression" or period of missing home, I almost want to just get it over with, so I can really settle in here and fall into an everyday pattern, just like I do at home.

As of right now, I feel like I'm living in some kind of fantasy land, but I have a feeling reality will hit right around the time classes start on Monday.  I guess some things never change, no matter what country I happen to live in.  That being said, I am pretty excited to experience classes here, in an entirely different educational system.  The differences in attending school here and back home are noticeable already.  Even something as simple as registering for classes is an entirely different process for the French.  I can't speak for all French universities, but at Paul Valéry, there is no online registration for classes.  There aren't even course catalogs.  Information about classes has to be gathered from the different departments, which can be difficult since class descriptions and timetables are often unavailable even less than a week before classes start.  I still don't know where my media class is being held...  Anyway, once classes are selected, students just show up to the classes they want to take; there is no official registration.  I'm sure I've only just skimmed the surface on the number of differences there are between the educational systems here and in the U.S., but it will be interesting to see how many more reveal themselves as the year progresses.

In the meantime, I'm going to savor what's left of the summer and enjoy the gorgeous weather, my lovely French apartment, and delicious food.

À bientôt!

Adjusting to Life in Montpellier

No matter how many hours I sleep each night here, I am still exhausted by the end of the day.  While much of this exhaustion probably has to do with jet lag and trying to get settled in, I realized that simply being surrounded by a language other than your own is exhausting in itself.  Even trying to understand what people are saying takes constant effort and concentration, not to mention speaking.  I think these first few weeks are going to be much of the same, as I will find myself immersed in the language from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed.  

It's been a whole week since I last wrote, but I feel like it's been much longer since so much has happened.  Everything has been a whirlwind since I arrived in town with my rather ridiculous amount of luggage.  It turns out that the narrow, cobblestone streets and packed trams in France are not ideal for lugging around two enormous suitcases, a backpack, and a purse.  Now that I'm finally somewhat settled into my new home, my large, bulky, "American" luggage looks almost comical in their new, refined, French surroundings.  At home, it's hard to notice, but even after being in France for just a few days, the whole "bigger is better" concept seems ridiculous.  Even the fruit is smaller here.  

While being in France helps put American excess in perspective, there are definitely frustrations with living here.  Everything seems so much slower and less efficient.  There is no such thing as stopping somewhere for a quick bite to eat, unless you are getting your food to go, and forget about quickly running into a store for a few items.  After spending the day at the University yesterday, I returned back to La Place de la Comédie, the center of town, to grab a few items from the Monoprix, the rough equivalent of a Target.  Since we had just finished a tour and placement testing at Paul Valéry, I was already pretty tired and just wanted to buy my stuff and go.  While I am familiar with how stores operate in Europe, I had forgotten just how frustrating it can be.  There always seems to be the longest line imaginable because there is only one or two people to ring up everyone's purchases.  Whether it's adjusting from the 30 check out lines at Target to the one, long line at the Monoprix, or going from a quick meal at Panera to a two hour lunch at a café, these differences are all part of the experience.  Appreciating these differences is part of embracing the culture and slower pace of life here.    

The Day Before the Big Day

It's hard to believe but I'm finally about to embark on my year long stay in France.  After all the planning and preparations, I am about to leave life in Minnesota behind and immerse myself in a new culture for an entire school year.  While there are so many unknowns at this point, I am confident that this year abroad is the right choice for me and something I was meant to do.

I expected to feel more nervous at this point, a mere 24 hours or so before departure, but when I woke up this morning I felt mostly excited and maybe a little stressed about what still needs to be done before I go.  At the moment my main concern is trying to pack everything I will need for a year...a process that isn't going very well if the two, large, empty suitcases in front of me are any indication of my progress.

The thought of leaving my friends and family for a whole year is scary, especially since "going away to college" means a 20 minute drive for me.  For this experience, I will truly be on my own for the first time in my life, in a foreign country, no less.  Hopefully the fact that I used to live in Switzerland will make the whole culture shock thing less of a shock and I'll have a bit of an advantage adjusting to a new lifestyle.

Alright, time to stop procrastinating and get packing.  More later!