Au Revoir Tours...

Just a quick update today, as there really isn't that much news. But I did find out where I will be living for my next nine months in Paris!! Drumroll please....

I will be living in the 15th arrondissement , in the southwest part of Paris. My host family consists of a woman (divorced, I'm assuming), her 23-year old son (who lives with his dad), her 20-year old daughter and another 13-year old daughter. The 15th isn't the most centrally located arrondissement in Paris, and it's heavily residential. But I'm still really excited to be living in Paris itself (not a suburb) and to have a family with kids. Also, the 15th is one of the arrondissements containing the Montparnasse district, where lots of important artsy people hung out back in the day and the Cimitiere Montparnasse, where they all hang out now. Needless to say, I am very excited.

Although I've only been here for two weeks, I will always have very fond memories of Tours. I feel like there are so many things that I haven't done here, and I'm definitely planning a return visit sometime in the future. So, in honor of Tours, I present the following list of things I will miss about the city:

-the twice-weekly Marche aux Fleurs, where vendors line the center of town with hundreds upon hundreds of flowers
-going out for drinks (coffee or otherwise) on the Place Plumereau
-being ridiculously close to about 1,500 different chateaux, all of them beautiful
-the food...oh my gosh the food
-spending an afternoon with wine and baguettes on the banks of the Loire
-Everything about last night (aka, people in robes and masks taking random bystanders away and reading erotic poetry to them, a guy leading a goat around on a leash, a man walking around inside a box, said box befriending the aforementioned goat, later seeing a man chasing what may have been the same goat in a completely different part of town)
-La Guinguette
-tour guides with epic mustaches at the Musee des Beaux-Arts
-Romeo (the family dog) and his Cone of Shame
-My host family, who have been so incredibly wonderful and helpful. They gave me the perfect welcome to France.

I feel like I've been here for two months instead of two weeks, but in a good way. I feel like I've had time to make a lot of great memories in Tours, and it makes me think that I'll make countless more in Paris.

A bientot,

Alanna

It's Normal...Too Normal

I always expected to get sick when I came to France. Not with a headache, or a cold. Not even with the dreaded swine flu (Grippe A, en francais). No, the sickness that would strike me down would be that most horrible and merciless of all foreign diseases: culture shock. I was warned time and time again, by pamphlets at the study abroad office, by fellow students who had braved overseas study and, most notably, by a faintly terrifying article sent to me by my own program.

Contained in this article is a description of the second stage of culture shock. This unnamed period follows the short-lived honeymoon phase, and brings with it such symptoms as “excessive washing of the hands.” (Good for preventing Grippe A). “The second stage of culture shock is in a sense the crisis in the disease,” the article warns, “If you come out of it, you stay; if not, you leave before you reach the stage of a nervous breakdown.”

Needless to say, I was rather concerned by this. But, despite all trepidation, settling into French life has not been difficult so far. Actually, the strangest thing about life here is how not strange everything is. There are, as far as I can tell, three main reasons for this disturbing normalcy:

a) I’ve only been here for 12 days at this point. Duh. I haven’t even been out of the States for two weeks. And it’s not as if I would be going to class or working if I were back at Northwestern. So I still feel like I’m on a slightly extended vacation in some country where they just happen to speak a strange-sounding language and eat lots of cheese.

b) Tours is a very insular environment. Lest you think me hyper-critical, let me assure you that I am really enjoying my time here. I love, love, love my host family; the town is beautiful and charming; the food is delicious; the people (both on the Sweet Briar program and in the city itself) are incredibly nice. But so far I’ve managed to avoid any major—or even moderate—inconveniences. Classes are made up exclusively of Sweet Briar students and my section rarely gets homework. Plus, I speak mostly in English when I’m with friends outside of the program center. So far, I would estimate that I’ve had 10 actual encounters in which I had to speak French to people outside of my host family. And at least two of these encounters have gone as follows:

Alanna: Un sandwich, s’il vous plait.

Sandwich Lady: €3.85, s’il vous plait. [Takes my money and hands me the sandwich].

Alanna: Merci. [Walks off triumphantly, hard-won lunch in hand]

Yes, my life is a seventh-grade French textbook.

Again, I don’t mean to be critical of the program. I think spending two weeks in Tours is actually a really good idea. It gives us a chance to practice our French and get used to studying again, while softening the blow of culture shock.

c) The last reason for this normalcy is, I think, the fact that I am living with a French family. The past two times I visited European countries, I was living it up tourist-style. Most of you know exactly what I’m talking about (I can say this with reasonable certainty because I have a good idea as to who is reading my blog, all five of you). Most days are itinerated. You’re living in ho(s)tels, eating at restaurants, taking thousands of photos a day. It’s really obvious that you are on a Vacation, having lots of Adventures and visiting Important Cultural Destinations.

Living in a family changes that rhythm significantly. I get up every morning, make myself some toast, go to class, eat dinner at the same table, with the same napkin, every night (the green napkin because, in the words of my host family “Tu es irlandaise”) and fall asleep in the same bed. I’ve had days where I’ve visited chateaux or museums. But I’ve also had days like yesterday, where I spent all afternoon reading Gone With the Wind on the swing in my host family’s garden. (Eunice, if you are one of the above-mentioned five readers, it is a really good book). I guess there is the danger of getting too lazy, but it does make for a more relaxing and authentic transition into a new country.

In short: Living in France is not as strange as I thought it would be. I guess this is a good thing. But it seems almost too easy. How am I supposed to “find myself” and start my “journey of self-discovery” if nothing seems that different?

Still, I am sure that this normalcy will change as soon as I get to Paris, start classes and have to interact with French government officials. There will eventually come a day, standing over a Parisian sink, hands bloody from over-washing, when I will look back on this entry and shed a tear for these simple days. But that’s for another day. For now, I’m just enjoying my last—normal—days in Tours.

A bientot,

Alanna

Au Revoir Etats-Unis...

Bonjour Tours!!

Yes, I am finally in France, in the town of Tours, which is about 2 1/2 hours south of Paris, in the heart of chateau country.

The flight from Washington, D.C. was relatively short and uneventful, but I didn't manage to get any sleep. So by the time we arrived at Charles de Gaulle, at 6:10 Paris time, I was a zombie. Zombies, I learned, do not deal well with a combined 99 pounds of luggage. I had two checked bags that I had to get off the baggage carousel, and the luggage claim was packed. There was no room to maneuver around the carousel itself because there were about 15 French boys who had apparently just returned from the wilds of Africa. I am not exaggerating. They were dressed exactly like Boy Scouts on safari, Panama hats, boots, neckerchiefs, khaki shorts. And they were not technically boys. They had to be at least 17 or 18 years old. So I was not cutting them any slack. Because of said group, I almost mauled two members of some poor French family while trying to get my monolithic suitcase. Finally, a very nice French man helped me lift my suitcases onto the luggage trolley and I managed to get through passport control and to the buses with only a few collisions.

After that, it was on the bus to Tours. My host mom picked up me and my housemate from l'Institut de Touraine (the school where everyone on my program is taking French classes). I am living in a house close to the center of Tours with a French couple, their kids and their adorable dog. They have four children, one son (who doesn't live at home anymore) and three daughters. They are all friendly and wonderful and have made me feel very much at home. Also, my host mother is a really great cook. I have to say...French food does not disappoint. We eat lunch and dinner in the garden every day, and there are never fewer than three courses, usually four. There is a salad of some sort, the main course, a bread and cheese course and a dessert. And of course, there's wine and fresh fruit (bought locally at the market in Tours). Bottom line: I am going to gain at least 43 pounds in my first two weeks alone.

We had the first afternoon free, so I slept off some of my jet lag. The next day was taken up with meetings, and that night a big group of people from my program went out to the Place Plumereau, which is the old section of Tours. It's a beautiful old square about five minutes away from the Loire River, with lots of old buildings, cafes and restaurants where a lot of students congregate.

This weekend, we visited two chateaux: Amboise (on Saturday with the group) where Leonardo da Vinci died and was buried, and Villandry. My host parents drove my housemate and I to Villandry yesterday while they walked their dog in the countryside nearby. The chateau is impressive (of course), but the gardens are really spectacular.



Today was the start of classes. We have French language classes for several hours every morning to get us ready for Paris. My host parents tell me that I understand French very well, but they are almost definitely lying. At first, I was really excited because I could understand almost everyone that they said to me at "normal speed." Then they started talking to one another, and I realized that they were not speaking to me at normal speed, but quarter speed. Still, I've managed to carry on a few basic interactions with salespeople and waiters without too many errors. On the train to Amboise we met a French guy who was asking us where we were from. I used the French word for "suburbs" to describe my town. Unfortunately, I discovered in class this morning that the word I used has a very different connotation in French, so I told him that I live "in a little ghetto just north of Chicago." Oh well...

People (by which I mean my parents) asked me a lot of questions about French life before I left for Tours. And of course, I had no idea what French life was like. Now I have a slightly better (though not extensive) understanding of some French customs. So here, for your cultural education, are some observations, entitled:

French People; They're Just Like Us!!

They like Jane Austen! (my host sister, in whose room I am staying) has all of Jane Austen's books, plus most of the movies based on them.

They barbecue! (This one is for my dad. Yes, my host dad barbecued pork and lamb yesterday).

They watch American movies! (My host family got very excited when they saw me reading Gone With the Wind yesterday, apparently it's a favorite here. Also, Pretty Women was playing on TV last night).

They watch Who Wants to be a Millionaire? (Only, with a French host, obviously. The contestants, though, win a million euros, which is a lot more than a million dollars. So take my advice and sign up for French game shows instead).

They do have refrigeration! (also for my dad, my host family has two).

Except They're Not...

They don't typically wear diamond engagement rings (one of my host sisters is engaged, and both she and my host mother have sapphire engagement rings).

Their news is different! (They have no commercials during the news, which I prefer to American TV).

They really do like vacation! (Don't get me wrong, they work hard. But most stores really are closed on Sundays. And they do get a lot of vacation time).

They protest a lot! (My host sister, who studies at the same university as I will in Paris, said that the school had four months of strikes last year).


Well, I'm off to a meeting in a few minutes, so this massive post will have to do for the moment. Hopefully I'll update soon, but I won't have regular Internet access until I get to Paris.

A bientot,

Alanna