It's Only the Beginning: Edition française

As I was going through security and leaving Cincinnati, I couldn’t decide which part of me felt the strongest: the part that desperately wanted to turn around and run right back to my friends and family in Cincinnati, the part that wished so badly that I were boarding a plane back to Australia, or the part of me that was ready and excited for a new, French/European chapter of adventures. When I looked back at my parents and Uncle Mark for one last wave goodbye, I didn’t see the teary faces I left six months ago like I’d expected, but rather frantic hand gestures and worried faces. Then security asked me to remove my laptop from the bag I’d left it in and wait for my things to come through the x-ray machine a second time. Whoops.

Clearly, I was off to a great start. The rest of traveling, however, went as smoothly as I could hope, including my transfer through London from Heathrow to Gatwick by car. It was my first time ever in London, and it felt oddly familiar and comfortable to drive on the left side of the road again. I thoroughly enjoyed the scenery for about five minutes before I passed out where I stayed asleep in the backseat of the car until we arrived at Gatwick. Whoops again.

For the remainder of the voyage, I struggled to stay awake (though I was awake long enough to grab snacks from Gatwick: a bag of Sweet Chili chips, and a chocolate Twirl, two of my Australian favorites!). Luckily, I managed to wake back up as we were descending into Marseille and saw the most amazing sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. The light hit the buildings of Marseille and reflected off the water, turning it all different shades of orange, yellow, and red, that eventually faded to a blue-ish then black on either side the further from the sun the water and sky were. To say it was breathtaking is an understatement. As we circled around for landing, I faced the already dark side of Marseille, the buildings alive with light, and I had my first oh-my-God-I’m-(going-to-be-)living-in-France feeling.

Waiting for the bus to Aix-en-Provence, I was greeted by a friendly Mexican guy who is also in Aix to study for the semester. His opening line to me: Are you American? I've been getting a lot of that lately, surprisingly enough. Guess I don't blend in just yet. Still, he helped me lug my bags under the bus for the trip and we talked for the whole ride, and he was more than helpful when we got off the bus and tried to find taxis to take us to our separate housing places. Unfortunately, there were no taxis to be found. Instead, we began trucking through the streets of Aix (pronounced ex), me dragging my two big suitcases (yes, I managed to lighten my load this time around YAY!) and two carry-on bags, he his two big suitcases and a carry-on when we ran into a few older Lebanese gentlemen who I mistook for taxi drivers at first. Standing next to their car, I guess they asked where we were going or something, but I was too tired to understand their rapid, accented French. My new traveling companion spoke to them and before I knew it we were moving again, and the Lebanese men had relieved me of two of my suitcases.

After being alerted to Marseille’s pick-pocket problem and having Dad’s warnings about trusting people drilled into my head over the last week, I more or less panicked and prayed that these three men weren’t part of an elaborate burglary team that was about to rob me of 80% of my earthly possessions within a 2000 mile radius. Luckily, they asked directions the whole way and led me right to the lobby of Hotel Adagio, my temporary home until I found an apartment, then refused payment but accepted my utterly grateful words of thanks. Who says you can’t trust random, foreign strangers in the dead of the night in a new country that doesn’t speak your language? … what could have been a disastrous night turned out very well for me in the end. (Dad, please don’t be mad at me…)

After crashing on the couch at 9pm, my three new roommates having already passed out before I arrived, I woke the next morning for my first orientation at "Le Croquemitoufle" (pronounced croke-mee-toofle – say it, it’s fun!). There, I met the other 28 girls in my program (there are four other girls and one boy who attend a different school, but are still with the program) who have come through either Indiana University, University of Wisconsin, or University of Michigan. I’m the only one of this group not from one of those three universities, which felt weird at first, but it already doesn’t matter, I’m glad to say. Our orientation that morning consisted of being given a schedule for our first two weeks in Aix, then a two hour lecture on how relationships between boys and girls are different in France than in the states. What I took away from those few hours is that if you look a guy in the eye, smile, say hello, or give any indication that you acknowledge his existence, then there’s a pretty good chance he’ll try to hit on you and possibly follow you, because boys are way more aggressive in France. If this happens, you’re to go into a populated, nearby shop and tell a worker you’re being followed. Seriously.

While I’ve already discovered that this isn’t exactly true and that it’s just important to know what signals you’re sending in a different country, it gave us gaggle of girls something to talk about on the way to the phone shop where we were set up with French phones, right next to the open air market that takes place in the town square of sorts and along many of the side streets in town. We were given some time for lunch – I had chicken breast with cheese on a fresh baguette - OMG YUM – and to explore the city. Every view down the streets is so picturesque it could be on a postcard, and the buildings are so old, any one of them could be a part of the Hogwarts castle, or something.

When we regouped, we were given a small tour of the city, including the Hôtel de Ville and the cathedral fairly close to it. Turns out Aix was originally settled by the Greeks and Romans way back in the day, and you can still see remnants of the ancient columns that have since been remodeled as a form of resistance against the empires. I definitely need to look into the history of the area more! I’ll let you know what I find out.

When we finished the tours, we began our apartment hunts with one of our advisers. I immediately fell in love with the first apartment we saw, a two room, yellow apartment with a red couch and small kitchenette. I’m currently living here as of Saturday with my new roommate, Carly from San Fransisco/University of Michigan, and I’m so happy about our place! Pictures to come, because I'm having major internet issues that will hopefully be sorted out soon.

That night, I went out with the girls I roomed with in the hotel. We hit two Irish pubs that played all American music, including “Sweet Home Alabama" and Bruce Springstein’s “Born in the USA." In France. Go figure. We didn’t stay out too late, knowing we had to be up early the following morning for more orientation business, which was fine by me since I was still as exhausted as ever from traveling.

We met that next morning at the program office, which was followed by a tour of the campus, led by the year-long students who are preparing for their first semester exams right now. The campus is very urban with little greenery and the buildings definitely have some wear and tear on them, but my biggest concern over the look of the campus is how maze-like the buildings are. I thought Wollongong was hard to navigate, but this may be on a whole other level. Luckily, most of my classes are in one building, so maybe if I can master it, then I’ll manage to actually make it to a class instead of wandering around, aimlessly lost while my class goes on without me!

That afternoon we were led through the even more complicated process of scheduling/choosing classes. Here, I’ll choose about 19-20 hours worth of classes that I want to take, then by week two or three, I’ll stop attending the ones that don’t seem as interesting so that I have the normal amount of hours. The jargon used on the online descriptions and on the university’s website is way more specialized than anything I’ve seen in a French class, and it was so frustrating trying to get my classes figured out, especially knowing that I have to meet certain requirements in order to graduate on time. In all fairness, the advisers prepared us for this, and I definitely wasn’t the only one struggling, but between the lack of sleep and general exhaustion of being constantly on my toes trying to translate, I was not a happy camper. But that changed once I got outside into the 50 degree Celsius, January weather and saw the unbelievably blue skies, reminding me of how lucky I am to be where I am and doing what I’m doing. It's the same kind of blue as in Australia, and I swear up and down that it's just not this blue in the states.

That night, I was again reminded of how lucky I am to be here when we went out to the disco-techs, the French dance clubs which actually have nothing to do with disco. Instead, they play American music with a slightly techno feel to it, much like in Australia, and I heard all my Australian favorites, including “Sexy and I Know It” followed almost immediately by “Party Rock.” This was all at the bar for international students called WoHoo (pronounced like woo-hoo). This is where we began to see that boys actually are more aggressive, trying to dance with you and not exactly getting angry when you eventually push them away, but you can tell they’re not happy about being turned down. Turned down for what, I don’t know exactly, but I can tell already that all the girls have each other’s backs, which is always comforting and reassuring. We finished the night at another dance club called Skat, with a jazzier kind of theme, but that played the same kind of techno/dance music that we’d heard at the first club.

The following morning, we had our individual bank appointments, followed by a free afternoon to explore. The open air markets were back, and I will definitely be returning this coming weekend to pick up a few souvenirs and items for our apartment. Speaking of, Carly and I were able to move into our apartment Saturday evening, and I have to say, I’m in love. It’s going to be a completely different lifestyle compared to last semester’s I-House with over 200 people and something constantly happening, but being part of a program with my own living space will provide a totally different environment for a different kind of fun.

Some of the girls came over after we had dinner out, and we sat around talking while Carly and I continued unpacking and arranging the place. Afterward, everyone began to disperse, but I chose to stay in for the night and have some alone time, which more or less consisted of me bouncing around the apartment by myself, dancing and singing along with my iTunes. I’d forgotten what it was like being alone after days of being on top of other people, either on the plane, in a hotel room with three others, or at a packed dance club, and I was most certainly grateful for it!

Sunday proved to be quiet as well, as Carly and I continued arranging the apartment, but when we went to the store, we found that most everything was shut down as it is every Sunday. We weren’t expecting that. Instead, we went to the optional meeting with our advisers for a coffee on the Cours Mirabeau (core meer-ah-bo), the main street that runs through town, and I’m so glad we did. Halfway through coffee, we hear flutes and drums and marching-parade type music, and turn to see a parade for the Epiphany going down the main street. We all ran outside and saw people dressed like they’d stepped out of a nativity scene, with plenty of wisemen, a pack of sheep complete with a herder, a small flute and drum brigade, and (yes) camels. It was so bizarre, but such a cool and surprising sight to see! We watched until the end of the parade passed and returned to our coffee.

We had a mostly uneventful Sunday afternoon, but decided to get dinner from one of the many food shops nearby, and I can’t tell you how excited I was when we stumbled upon a kebab shop! Also called chawarma here, I’ve since found many other similar shops. At this one, about a block from my door, they also put fries inside the pita/tortilla-like shell, which I was afraid of at first, but am in love with now. It’s going to be such a good food experience here! The pizza, the bread, the kebabs, the cheese, everything I’ve eaten so far I’ve had to wonder if it’s possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. It’s probably a good thing that I’m walking miles and miles a day, because I’d be sure to double my bodyweight over the next few months if I weren’t.

Over the past few days, I’ve been coming down with a cold, not unlike the one I had in Australia for the first few weeks I was there. I’ve picked up cold meds and am hoping to knock this thing out with a few good nights of sleep, but I have been and will be up early for our “Cours Intensif,” or orientation course, all week. We’re mostly doing grammar review and things like that, but we’ve also got a book to read and discuss over the week. Not so bad, and I get one credit hour for it, so no complaints there. I’m still sorting through courses to take, since there seem to be about a dozen that I’d love to take, mostly linguistics and writing courses that will be taught in French, but would be more or less classified under my English major concentration, so I figure that’s a win-win.

I’ve had a few moments where everything seems so surreal and unbelievably happy to be in France, but I keep finding myself comparing my beginning experiences here to those in Australia. I'm making a conscious effort to stop, but it’s hard when Australia has since been the highlight of my undergraduate career. There’s definitely so much promise for France - classes, location, and all the people I've met and really like - so I’m really looking forward to getting into the swing of things here, as well as to start traveling. There’s talk of train trips along the Mediterranean coast to Spain, to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day, visiting Amsterdam, and I’m hoping to see friends from Cincinnati who are venturing in Europe, as well as some fellow I-Housians while I’m here in my new French home, so all good things to come! Hopefully I’ll be well recovered from this stupid cold by my next post with more news of good weather, plenty of pictures, and more experiences to relay. Until then, hope all is well wherever you may be!

Here and there,
Kiley