I had a great walk to school yesterday. I think something about realizing that I like that and recognizing one of my interests made it better. I love how it wakes me up and how Paris looks in the morning. It is a beautiful and calm sight. I think if I lived here, I would definitely make sure I liked within a 30 minute walk or so. Walking to work would be a nice career goal.
In class, I felt so accomplished as I followed approximately 90% of what my professor was saying as I drifted on to other thoughts. As in, I didn't have to concentrate my brains out to understand what he was saying. I could actually semi tune him out and think about the extended weekend ahead and still be productive. Well, sort of. I had to ask once for him to repeat a page number because I wasn't listening well enough. But still, at least I knew how to ask what page number.
He even started making fun of the Venezuelans soccer team. And it was nice to be able to understand the jokes and laugh along. (Did I mention I really don't know sports well, so for me to understand a sports joke in a foreign language is a big step here) And on top of it all, he was wearing a t-shirt (a rarity for French professors). And not just any t-shirt, a velvet underground one.
Yeah, I know.
Another plus, he made fun of the whiny way the teacher's pet Arab girl speaks French.
I thought I was going to wet my pants laughing.
For once I stayed awake for most of class despite being up until 3 am the night before. Okay, I will admit I got coffee. And not just any coffee.
Starbucks.
I know, I know. It is an unforgivable sin to go chain when you're on vacation. Especially on coffee in Europe.
But I did it anyway.
I was a little homesick, plus I have tried a lot of coffee and expresso shots since I have been here. I deserved it.
Not to mention, I like my coffee like my alcohol.
And many things in life actually.
With sugar.
Take a shot of expresso or vodka are just as painful. But combine them in a blended sugary substance and I will drink as much as needed.
Maybe that is what helped my French out. The extra boost of the joy of walking plus the sugar and caffeine of my morning walk. Plus the Asians did really bad yesterday in French. It is really hard for them since their language is nothing like the Romance languages. Sure, English is a bastard child of them all, but still relative in a lot of ways. But Chinese? Japanese? And all their little dialects and what not? I can't imagine. As bad as it sounds though, it is nice not to be shown up by something in the classroom by an Asian.
As I walked back home I thought aimlessly as I walked along listening to my music. Except I caught myself mid-thought, thinking in French. And later even translating the songs I was hearing into French.
It was crazy weird.
I think I'm going to buy a couple small French novels (maybe like kids or teens to keep it simple) before I leave. I remember growing up how much I loved to read (and of course still do) and how much it helped me in the long run with English. And the same would probably be true with French. And after I bought my $30 collins translator (it is like the only one that works offline, so worth the money, plus it conjugates verbs in any tense), I figured it wouldn't be so bad.
And as much as I like music, I think I will look into getting some French music. The hot Italian suggested a couple artists, all the while his hand on my arm. These Italians are ferocious flirts. No, that isn't aggressive, but Sergio just loves talking to the Venezuelan girls and I. And he's a toucher when he talks. And the Italian boys at the restaurant talk to all the pretty girls that walk by with the most adorable smile in the world.
I should have taken Italian.
Their food is better, they aren't inclined to blondes, and I have so much fun interacting with them.
Of course my roommate and I put off packing for our trip to Nice today. We anticipated leaving at 9 for the train station, but left at 9:15. Frustrated with selectively packing into my small duffel, I just started throwing things in my giant bag. And unfortunately I didn't get my homework finished, so that meant more than I had to bring along. Boo. At least I won't be going back to Paris with it.
Hauling that bag up and down metro states to get to the Austerlitz train station was more than a workout than I had anticipated. I guess it made up for my not running.
When we got to the station to print out our tickets, we couldn't print them since we don't have a chip on our credit cards. The French have cards with a chip in them that forces you to identify a pin number each time and apparently has security information or something. I don't know. It isn't a huge deal, but sometimes you run into the issue of not being able to use your card. So we wandered around until we finally found a manned station to help us.
Our train was set to leave at 10:25. It left at 10:45. The French really aren't much for punctuality. We all had to wait in line to have one of only two people check tickets for verification. We climbed on board and moved narrowly through the very small hallways to our room - which consisted of 3 bunk beds on each side and enough room for the ladder that extended through the middle. No food or entertainment car, all beds on the SNCF night train to Nice. A cute boy helped us put down the window outside our room as we watched the train take off.
And then he went to watch with his girlfriend.
Boo.
As I left I thought about how normal of a day I had as a Parisian. I walked a lot, window shopped, indulged in coffee, and noticed the everyday lives of others. The silent fight of a couple on the street who clearly were in disagreement about something with getting on or off the metro. Stupid, but relatively normal. Another couple was happily looking over ultrasound pictures of what clearly seemed to be their first child. Friends debating amongst each other at a cafe. Women making appointments at nail salons and such.
I know it all seems stupid, but it is kind of becoming my home in a way and when I stop focusing on myself and take my English music out of my ears for a while to listening to the quiet yet beautiful flow of French conversation around me, I learn a lot. And I understand more. And I guess that's what these experiences are about.
Understanding more.
I would never be friends with any of the Americans (or one Canadian) that are on this program with me. We are all so very different. And as much as I like different kinds of people. In the states, I would never so much as talk to these people. But here, we are all we have. And so we force ourselves to understand, ask questions, give answers. And learn a lot.
I guess going on vacation somewhere makes you realize where home is. And I realize Paris is more of home than I thought. Sure, I miss Orlando like crazy. And Memphis a little bit, too. But for now, Paris is home. And I miss it already.
As I settled into the middle bed, I decided to move everything to the otherside of the bed so I could lay against the window and listen to the white noise of the train and watch France go by. It was a wonderful sleep. Rocked by the train with a lullabying of creaks and small bits of wind escaping in through the side of the window. Once we woke up, there were only a few stops until Nice. We walked out and watched water appear for the first time.
That is always excited when you are going to the beach for vacation.
To see the water.
Oh the thrill.
I went to use the restroom and about halfway through I realized the weird sound the toilet was making was its version of flushing because my foot was resting on the pedal. Yeah, the flush button is on the floor...Don't step on it. The same with the faucet. If you want water, give a stomp on the other button.
Once out of the train and on the street, we followed the directions given by our hostel to the tram. The NCA is a very modern and clean train that runs a fairly straight route from the beach to the suburbs. We are near the end of the line, hey we can't all afford to stay right on the beach. But as the train moved further north, the recorded announcer played a small sound related to the stop and then announced the stop ahead. For example, the one for the school was the sound of being in gardens followed by "University Valrosta."
We were instructed to wait near the grocery store next to the stop for a van. It arrived and uphill we went. There was a long line to check in so a girl came out, gave us a quick overview of the property, and sent us down to breakfast before it was over and told us to check in later. We put our bags in luggage storage and headed to breakfast, which is basically a bar of assorted cereals, juices, toast, and coffee. But still really refreshing. The dining hall is really nice and split amongst two floors. Each with a row of computers for internet access. Wifi is also free. The grounds are nice and covered with with trees in what little space there isn't building. The kitchen is even in somewhat of an attached greenhouse. It is near the top of a huge hill, so the view is awesome. St. Exupery Villa Gardens is one of the best hostels in France. And considering the perks, I'm not surprised.
After breakfast we took off to the beach, noticing a lot of Italian architecture along the way. Apparently Nice used to be own by Italy. Who knew?
The beach was rocky. As in, no sand. As in, it was all smooth stones, like in some picturesque background of your computer with a river flowing of them. But oddly enough, we both fell asleep and had awesome naps. The Mediterranean was cold, but still fun. Although the surf leaves much to be desired compared to Florida.
We spent the rest of the afternoon back at the hostel just resting. Well she rested, I did homework. We ate dinner here planning a great weekend ahead.
Well I think I have put off writing my final paper long enough.
Much love!
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