Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Ah, so this is culture shock...

Well, this has been an interesting second week. I’m going to take the liberty to be whiny about the past few days, and then I’m dropping it and moving on. Still, I want to share the complete experience of studying abroad, so I feel like I need to share the lows of culture shock as well. I didn't ever feel this last semester, but I've finally identified this inescapable tiredness, slight resentment, and the mood swings I've been having as culture shock. So, warning: this isn’t such an uppity post. I blame the culture shock, but I know that will pass. (It does get happy at the end, so feel to skip to the last few paragraphs.) Sorry, and here goes.

So Monday, Carly woke me up to tell me we didn’t have power. I went to the front lobby/entrance to flip the breaker, but it didn’t do anything. Oh well, no worries. I left a message for our landlord in broken French, since the machine caught me off guard, but I hoped I got my point across well enough. In my syntax class, I started to become slightly overwhelmed over the pace, but I eventually got back on track at the end and felt okay with the class. I really wanted to stay after and talk with some of the students, since my goal of the week was to be more outgoing. I’ve been super jealous of the French friends some of the other girls have met at school and at bars, and I wanted to make these friends too.

Unfortunately, I had to run upstairs to my next class, since it starts at the same time the other class ends. I had hoped to inhale some of my pizza between classes and even use the restroom, but as soon as I sat down, the professor closed the door and began his lecture. The prof talked for thirty second before abruptly stopping a conversation in the back of the room and told them not to talk while he was talking. He stared daggers at them that made me uncomfortable, even though he wasn’t looking at me. Maybe a minute later, a girl walked into class late. She was given a similar look, and the prof asked her rather brusquely what she was doing walking into class late, and she half-smiled back, unable to tell if he were joking or not.

He wasn’t. He proceeded to stand up and shut the door behind her, straight up yelling about how it’s just not that hard to get to class on time! Leave your house on time! It’s rude and disrespectful to be late! It’s just not that hard to be on time! And things of that ilk. I exchanged looks with Chelsea, because we were pretty afraid at this point. The prof got back into his lecture for about half a sentence before all hell broke loose and he began absolutely SCREAMING at some people in the back of the lecture room for talking. If I thought I’d been afraid either time before, it was nothing compared to how absolutely terrified I was during this four minute tirade. Oh. My. God. I’ve never been yelled at by my parents like that, let alone a teacher. I can only imagine a drill sergeant screaming at someone the way this professor was going. By the end of the shouting, I was slumped down in my seat, all but shaking.

At about two, an hour into lecture, there was a knock at the door, and two girls steped in asking if they were in the right place for the novel course. I braced myself for the rant this time, but the prof simply replied yes they were in the right room, but class begins at one now, since the schedule was changed, and go ahead take a seat. Then he went back to lecturing. I spent half the lecture trying to understand what made him so absolutely furious, and the other half trying to understand the lecture over the book I’d struggled with (turns out it’s quite funny, when you understand all the words and the social commentary…I think I’ll have to go back over that one).

Chelsea and I went to the shops to pick up the rest of our reading materials, and I talked to Carly about the electricity that still wasn’t working. I called the power company on the walk back, and I fumbled through the automated machine before talking to a live person who must have thought I was the biggest idiot in the world; between the background noise from the street and the fact that it’s so much more difficult to understand French over the phone, I had to ask the person to repeat themselves several times before they transferred me to someone that spoke English. From there, I was given an emergency number that I gave to Carly. When the emergence number told us to flip the breaker and then hung up, we called the landlord back and she sent her husband to help us.

I arrived home from shopping the same time he arrived, and he started by flipping the breaker again, asked if we’d blown a fuse plugging something in, then poked around the fuse box in our apartment before calling the power company himself. On the phone, I heard him talking to what seemed like multiple people, because he kept repeating the part about how we were “a few foreign girls who didn’t understand.” I understood that part, thank you very much. From his side of the conversation, I was able to figure out that we needed to set up our own account, even though we were told when we moved in that we would pay the landlord for the entire stay’s electricity.

After he got off the phone, he told us we would need to set up an account with the electric company, and I asked him if that was something we were supposed to have done when we moved in, but in a passive aggressive way that let him know I’d understood him on the phone. He said that yes, we should have, and sorry that we may have either misunderstood or if his wife hadn’t mentioned it. Yeah, that’s right, be sheepish about talking about me in front of my face. Since he had to leave, he left the number for the power company for us to call and set up everything, and that all we needed was our bank account information. I asked if I’d speak to a machine or real person, and he assured me it would be a real person, and wished us good luck before leaving.

He was wrong. The number he gave us was the same as the one I’d called first and spent ten minutes on hold for. Having learned the first time, I just stayed quiet until the voice told me it didn’t understand me and put me through to a real person. I was even worse at speaking French this time around, and they asked almost immediately, and in not such a friendly way, if I wanted someone who spoke English. I responded, “YES.” Then the French woman speaking English to me was rude. A few times, I slipped and answered “oui” out of habit, and she told me to just speak English. I had my bank account number ready for her, but first she needed the number off the breaker, and then the numbers/reading off the box, and then not only my account number but the bank information including some code that I couldn’t even figure out how to find, even though she was speaking English. But the bank business she said could be sorted later, after they set the power back up on Wednesday morning. Mind you, this was on Monday night. To have someone come out on Tuesday, if I called them back on Tuesday morning at exactly 8am when they opened to see if maybe they could fit us in at the end of the day would have cost one hundred Euros. We decided Wednesday morning was fine. I hung up, dropped my phone on the table, and curled up in a ball on the floor, half giggling because I knew I was being ridiculous but not really.

I explained to Carly and Roz, who had stopped by, what happened in the phone call. Roz wished us luck and was really great and sympathetic, and Carly and I went out for dinner, since it had been dark for hours already, and there was no way we could find food in our pantries with the two candles we had, let alone cook anything. We chose the big greasy burger shop around the corner with fries like Penn Station. It was delicious and exactly what I needed. We spent the rest of the night in darkness trying to think of good games to play in the dark, other than flashlight tag, since we didn’t have a flashlight. Roz came back over, since she so graciously offered to charge our devices to last through the next day, and then we went to bed.

Tuesday, I woke up late and grabbed a sandwich on my way to class at the anthropology building, where I felt absolutely and completely lost in class. Still discouraged from the fiasco with the power company and the landlord’s insistence that we foreign girls didn’t understand, I felt like I was losing my resolve to understand and lost focus during class. Instead, I organized my planner and came up with a to-do list for the day, and ended up flipping my planner open to last August, where I’d kept track of all the activities and things I was doing in Australia. An overwhelmingly strong urge to drop everything and spend my entire savings on a ticket to Australia hit me right then. I miss Australia (Happy Australia Day, by the way), I-House, and every last person I met last semester with all my heart, and I still can't believe what a good time I had. I started comparing my first few weeks here to my first few weeks in Australia, and the downward emotional spiral I’ve been riding just increased in pace, I grew even more homesick for Australia, and I got more mad at myself for feeling so down.

That night, I was able to meet up with Dale, one of the guys I met in Australia. He offered to let me charge my things at his hotel, so I went back with him and met his girlfriend, Lex. They’ve been traveling for the past two months and told me all about their amazing experiences through the US, Iceland, and Europe, and I started to feel excited about traveling, taking as mental notes as possible. It was so nice to hear the familiar Australian accent (I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it and the slang, or how awfully inaccurate the one I hear in my head is!) and a familiar face from last semester. Then he told me how lucky I am to be in such a beautiful place with so many opportunities to travel and experience the culture.

I was still feeling sad and mopey this morning when I got on Facebook and saw my sister's status about missing me, and I can't begin to tell her how much I miss her back. Words wouldn't do it justice, and part of me can't believe that I would think about spending time in another country when she's still growing up in Cincinnati. This brought on an overwhelmingly strong urge to go buy a plane ticket home to the states and never leave my sister's, parents', or friends' sides ever, ever again. But that whole scenario is even less realistic than catching a plane to Australia for a few weeks.

It wasn’t until after I'd really woken up this morning (after buzzing in the electricity man, going back to sleep, sleeping through my alarm, and then actually waking up), that I realized how right he is. I’ve had friends from the states and Australia tell me how lucky I am to have this opportunity to spend two semesters abroad, and I know they’re right. These past few days, I’ve definitely let the culture shock and homesickness get the better of me, but that is stopping right now.

As I’ve been writing this post, I’ve realized that I’m just glossing over the good things that have happened the past few days: I got to see a friend that lives halfway around the world that I might not get to see for some time; I talked to Kaitlin, a girl from the program in my anthro class, about swimming and hiking Monte St. Victoire sometime soon, and I plan to look into soccer, too; I’ve kept in contact with friends and family from home, despite my lack of a consistent internet connection, and that’s just going to get even easier when internet gets installed this weekend; I’m still working on my trip to Italy for spring break, and I’ve been getting good travel advice from Italian Ross in Australia, and now I have Dale’s input too; I’m talking to friends and family from home about visiting me here; and, maybe the biggest thing, I’m living in southern France for a few months with so much culture and so many experiences and opportunities right at my fingertips.

Just now, I booked a place on the program’s bus to Monaco for a day trip this Saturday, and there was one spot left to go see Swan Lake tomorrow night, so we’ll see if I scored that ticket too. I should be receiving information about an exchange family where I help kids with their English/English homework for an hour or so, then have dinner with the family (come at me ratatouille and bouillabaisse!). I’ve gotten in contact with my family here, so hopefully I’ll get to Paris and Toulouse soon. I’m looking into a train to Paris to visit Ole and Leelou, who I met at I-House, for a few days, then I’ll have the chance to host Ole here for a weekend in February.

All really, really good things. So. Now that I’ve sat inside for a day to catch up on email and soak up more than enough electricity for the two days that I missed, it’s out with this awful attitude I’ve been sporting, and upward and onward. Time flew by in Australia, and I’d be crazy to think it’s going to slow down any here, and I really don’t want to be kicking myself in a few months for squandering weeks that I could have spent exploring this wonderful country that I’m lucky enough to call home for the time being. I’ll remind myself of Charlotte’s words from I-House’s first Soapbox of the session, almost six months ago: Life isn’t that hard. It’s really not, and it’s time for me to stop acting like it is. Cheers, and I hope you’re all doing well - I promise I’m going to be doing better (starting now!), and that there will be pictures once we get internet this coming weekend!

Here and there,
Kiley

Sunday, January 22, 2012

My Last First Week

That’s right, start the applause. This is my last first week of undergraduate classes! (Unless you count the summer course or two I’ll have to take, which I don’t, because this is my last real semester.) So I present to you, without further ado, Kiley’s last first week of school :)

This thought donned on me as I walked to campus for my first class on Monday morning at 10am. Usually, for as long as I can remember at least, I’ve been the kind of kid that anxiously awaits the first day of school, so excited and nervous about the start of classes that I don’t really sleep the night before. Instead, I walked to class after a full night’s sleep, only just realizing that it was the first day of school. I wish my iPod would have turned out something particularly suited for the occasion, but alas it churned out techno, so I was at least pumped by the time I got to school.

I started my day with French syntax, which I luckily understood. Most of what we did was review from the intro linguistics course I had last year, but some of the differences in French sounds escape my ears. Hopefully I’ll become more attuned to the difference in sounds, but until then, I’ll content myself with practicing my phonetic transcription. Since French classes only meet once a week for the equivalent number of credit hours, I sat in linguistics for three hours before my hour break between classes. I met some of the girls at the café for a sandwich and coffee where we talked about our classes, and everyone seems to be faring well so far.

I walked into my second class about the modern form of the novel with Chelsea, and the professor was right in the middle of the lecture; he explained that he decided to move the start time of the class up an hour. I would have been irritated, except he was so enthusiastic and entertaining in lecture that I was just completely absorbed. I didn’t completely understand everything that he said, and I missed a number of jokes, but overall my comprehension was decent in that course as well. After class, since our program directors suggested introducing ourselves to our professors, so they might be able to help us with the language barrier, we went up to the professor and introduced ourselves. His response to the fact that we’re American? “Oh, well that’s not your fault.” Based on his jokes during lecture, I assume he was joking, but I’m not sure he was entirely. Interessant, non? Should be a good class, and I can’t imagine there’s any real prejudice, but it was interesting enough. Anyway.

After class, I went with Chelsea around to several different bookstores to try and find the books on the list, but it looks like we’ll be sharing for this first book, Pierrot mon ami, since we could only find one copy. The rest of the night was fairly quiet and I did some more work on my grad school applications before turning in.

Tuesday morning, I was more than ready to wake up and get out, because it was the first chance I’ve had since I’ve been here to go to the open market in town. I went to three different stands and got fresh green and red peppers, tomatoes, heads of lettuce, an avocado, clementines, pears, potatoes, and more that I can’t even remember, all for about 20 euro. When I came home, (I laid out my spoils and tried to take a picture with my webcam, but it didn’t save!) I put together a salad and made a sandwich with the fresh baguette I picked up for less than a euro on the way home. I haven’t had vegetables in so long, let alone fresh delicious ones that I cut up and put together myself!

Unfortunately I spent so long preparing my meal that I had to scarf it down in order to catch the bus to the other campus for my anthropology of the Maghreb (northern African and western part of the Middle East area-ish)course. Since majors are more strictly followed, without the general education course that we have in the states, the courses are held at separate buildings, so essentially different campuses. The Fac, where the literature and linguistic courses are held, is an older building with some cool graffiti everywhere, but it’s not really breathtaking or particularly special. This other place, however (I have yet to find/remember the name), is gorgeous. I went with one of the other girls, luckily, or else I probably would have gotten way lost. After waiting for fort minutes, the prof finally turned up; he thought class started half an hour later than it did, which still made him ten minutes late, but that seems about par for the course here. No one is really very concerned about time or in a rush. Still deciding if that’s a really awesome thing, or if I’m not such a fan.

After class on Tuesday, I came home to my still freshly stocked kitchen and caught up on more grad school app stuff. Carly and I made a run to Monoprix, the Kroger/Woolie’s-esque grocery store, for a few more apartment and food items. Once home, Carly and I made our first complete dinner in the apartment. The night’s menu: a salad with peppers and tomato, diced and fried potatoes, and crêpes with chicken, peppers, onion, tomato, and plenty of cheese. It was SO good!! After a mild food coma, I went out with Roz, Chelsea, and Carly. Tuesday seems to be a big going out night, since it’s apparently Ladies’ Night at most of the bars in town. Some of the girls had class, so we didn’t stay out late, and I was definitely thankful for that since the lectures have certainly been wearing me out.

Wednesday was a day of no classes, so I woke up with every intention of being super productive, except then I kind of failed at that a little bit. I was glued to my computer all morning, catching up on emails and giving my mom a list of things to do for my grad school apps since, surprise, there’s no online submission for any of my materials. Thanks, Mom, in advance for all the mailing and filing that’s going to be happening over the next week with all my applications. Seriously, it’s so appreciated! I also tried my hand at making an omelette, and while it wasn’t the prettiest thing I’ve made, it actually tasted ok. It’s so good being able to cook after about six months of not really having the opportunity to!


That afternoon, Roz and I met up to take care of more bank stuff and made our second stop at the gelato stand on Cours Mirabeau. I could get used to weekly/daily/hourly trips there. We strolled around the town eating our ice cream and talking about our courses before hitting up Book and Bar to do homework for a few hours. Luckily, I seem to only be taking one reading intensive course, and it’s going to be plenty to keep me busy during the week. I stayed basically until close that night and finally gave in and bought a French dictionary. Why I didn’t just bring mine from home is beyond me, but thank you Robert & Collins, you are a lifesaver.

The rest of the night was calm, even though our next-door neighbors, two German girls and a French girl, invited us over for a party they were having. I was still so exhausted that I ended up passing out early so I could wake up for my four hour class that started at 9am Thursday morning. Wow, was that painful. I was really looking forward to the class, Theater of the 1950s, and the texts we’ll be reading sound really interesting since they cover theater of the absurd, a bit of surrealism, and other movements that I know I like, but this woman straight read notes at us for four hours. The ten minute break in the middle went by so quickly, and when she tried to write names on the board, she realized there wasn’t chalk there (all the other professors have brought their own chalk and markers) and instead sat back down and continued reading, the search for a writing utensil apparently over. I may or may not follow through with that course, but there are a few other interesting theater courses that I might be able to try instead, so here’s to hoping!

On the way home from uni that afternoon, I stopped at the office to check my mail and received my second first letter from BRoy! I was so excited to receive mail, especially from my roomie, so I went straight home and wrote her back before my night class. Expect your response shortly, B.


That night, we had my favorite class so far, Oral Expression. The class is only offered to students in our program, and there’s no outside class work. The focus is on getting us to get used to talking. Held in a little theater, the prof told us we’ll be doing a lot of improve-type work and to get used to thinking on our feet. I’m terrified of speaking in front of big groups like this, so it’ll be really good for me, plus it’s another chance to get to speak more French. All good things!

I crashed fairly early again Thursday night, and woke back up for my second 9am class, Methodology of the University. From what I could gather from the first class, this course is basically meant to show us what the French university is like, down to what kind of paper we should have when turning in assignments and how to head our papers. It’s gotten a lot of groans from everyone so far and while it’s definitely not my favorite course so far, I’m hoping it’ll be useful in helping me avoid some teacher-student faux-pas in my other courses!

After class, I met with one of our advisers at the program to set up internet with Carly. Unfortunately, it could take up to four weeks to install! Believe me, once it does, I’ll be eating up Skype and posting more and more pictures to this blog. Right now, it could take anywhere from 30 seconds to 5 minutes to load a webpage, and at least 5 minutes per blog photo. But I’m being patient and will be all that more appreciative of Wifi (pronounced wee-fee in French, how cute!) once it’s installed here.

Roz came over after the meeting and we tried our collective hand at making an omelette for lunch. This one may have been even worse looking than the first, but it tasted pretty delicious if I do say so myself! Full of omelette, we marched over to the Office of Tourism to get information to plan our spring break to ITALY! We were distracted momentarily by all the advertisements for the shows playing in and around Aix. There are so many musicals coming up that I want to see, it’s unbelievable, but we decided to save that planning for another day. We walked up to the desk and asked for travel information, though the way I tried to pose the question may not have been so coherent. She stared back at us like we had four heads. We tried again, and she told us that they didn’t sell bus tickets, and circled where we needed to go on the map for that pass. After struggling through a few more questions, we found out that they don’t actually help with any international traveling at the office, nor do they sell bus tickets. I asked in the politest way I knew how what it was that they actually do there (except I felt more like one of the Bobs from Office Space asking the Jump to Conclusions guy, “So, what is it exactly, that you do here??”). Then she pulled out two maps marking all Cezanne’s houses and other Cézanne-historical places that you can see on a walking tour. The shows that we saw advertised all over in the entry way? Nope, they don’t actually book those either. Mission: unaccomplished.

So, we decided to resort to the internet to do our own booking and research. While Roz ran up in her building to get her computer, I looked at the maps, trying to figure out if people actually visited all 34 places on the Cézanne walking tour which, by the way, are in no particular order whatsoever: not numerically, not by year that Cézanne visited, not in order of importance to Cézanne, as far as I can tell. I was also having the worst time reading the captions and was feeling particularly awful about my French since the woman clearly couldn’t understand me, and now I couldn’t even read the map. Then I realized it was in Italian. Whoops.

Once back to my place, Roz and I set to work on planning our week-long Italian excursion and have so far booked a flight to Sicily, where we’ll stay a few days until our overnight ferry to Naples! Beyond that, we have some ideas and are super excited, but no concrete plans as of yet. More on that as it develops. Can’t wait till the end of February.

We parted for dinner and met back up to go out for Friday night. We hit O’Shannon’s first where we met Carly and some of the other girls. The three of us sat outside on the patio where two French guys asked to sit with us. Though slightly intimidated because of all the warnings we’ve been given, I was pleasantly surprised by how friendly these guys were. We sat talking with them for a few hours, talking about the states and some of our travels. After an hour or so, we girls decided we wanted to dance and told the boys we were leaving for one of the clubs, but we were stopped. Apparently, the boys always make the first move to leave, so we rewound a few steps. Then the boys told us they had decided to move on, but would show us their French dance moves at Le Skat (the club we said we were going to) later if we were going there too, and they left.

We didn’t see them later on, but met up with another group of French guys that some of the girls have gotten to know and danced for hours at Le Skat, where they play live music along with some music from a DJ. I lost it when they played Party Rock, and because they played my song, it turned out to be a pretty perfect night.

I woke up late Saturday and braved my first load of laundry in France. I packed up my little suitcase and went down the block to the laverie where I was thoroughly confused by the signs and instructions. After pressing the wall of buttons like some kind of monkey, I read the part that said to put your laundry in a numbered machine first and then deal with the money and buttons. So I did. Except I forgot our laundry soap, so I quickly paid for a cup of detergent and dumped it into the first slot I could find. I realized when I went back to dry my clothes a half hour later that I’d put the powder into the part for pre-washing. My clothes smell fine, so they definitely got washed, I just don’t know what I did. I ended up being 10 cents short to pay for a dryer, so I tossed my clothes into my bags and hung everything up on our drying rack here at the apartment. It’s been over 24 hours and most everything is still damp. Guess who’s going to start a change jar for laundry?

That afternoon, Carly, Roz, Chelsea, and I went to the kebab place for lunch since Roz and Chelsea had never had one. Just as delicious as always! We went to see The Artist afterward, my first French movie theater experience since I’ve been here! And what an amazing movie! I mean, wow. Filmed like a silent movie and set in the 1920s-30s, it’s so different from anything I’ve ever seen, and the orchestral music throughout was phenomenal. I also saw it’s one of Quenton Tarantino’s top 11 picks for 2011. Basically, go see it, like, right now.

We hung at my apartment and had a cup of tea before Roz and I went to a mixer-dinner organized by the yearlong students to help us meet everyone in the program. Called “Bienvenewbies” (bienvenu=welcome in French, plus newbies, get it? Hehe), we were served wine and tapas from this place just around the corner from my apartment called “Goût du Monde”. It’s owned by a guy and his wife who spent a year traveling the world, went to fifteen different countries, and decorated the restaurant and themed the food they serve accordingly. It was SUCH a cool place! And what a cute and fun business idea. I’d love to go back and talk to them, see where they went, and maybe get pointers for travel. Oh, and eat their delicious, worldly food, too.

Today, I woke up intending to get started on my 100+ pages of reading, but instead decided to catch up on my blog and make a Pinterest account. Probably about the worst time-wasting idea ever. But now I’m out of excuses to keep me from reading, so without further ado, here I go for my homework. Things coming up: I want to email my grandpa’s sister who lives in Toulouse, as well as some other extended family in Paris to try and plan a few weekend visits to see them (aha! Another procrastination tool…), more planning for Italy, and upcoming visits from friends made in Australia! Also on the to-do list this week is look into a soccer team. I miss the sport heaps, and with all this bread and cheese, I know I could use an excuse to exercise! I'm also looking into some English-French exchange/tutoring programs, including one where you tutor a family's kids one night a week, and then have dinner with them. With allthe home-stay people talking about their hosts' amazing French food, I've been so jealous and I'm super keen to try ratatouille, bouillabaisse, and pâté! More to come next time, and until then, I hope it’s been a good week for you guys, too.

Here and there,
Kiley

Monday, January 16, 2012

Au revoir cours intensif, and bonjour Marseille!

Providing that we get the internet fixed up in our apartment soon, I think I may actually succeed at posting frequently! Here’s what’s been going on the last few days in the land of delicious cheese, bread, and wine. As promised, here are a few of the apartment photos that I've been able to load...



...and back into the past few days!

What a fun end of the week! The cours intensif was really helpful as a review, especially because it forced me to speak French. Considering I’m in France, I find I haven’t been speaking a whole lot of French. I divert to English whenever I’m with Americans from our program, and usually when I try and speak French in a shop or restaurant, the workers can tell I’m American and typically switch over to English. This is usually frustrating, until I find someone that will actually speak French with me but speaks too quickly and I have to ask them to repeat themselves. But I’m getting the hang of it and understanding more and more, so hopefully I’ll just keep getting better!

On Thursday after class, I went around Aix with a few of the girls from the program as we worked to complete our scavenger hunt that the program directors gave us. It took us all over the place, from fountains and museums, to different types of shops, to landmarks and eateries. It was a great way to force us out of our comfort zone and get to know the city. It also took me to the antique-type store where I found a yellow and white tea set that I eventually gave in and bought. It’s so cute, it matches the apartment, and it was pretty inexpensive too! Win, win, and win. After doing our homework at “Book in Bar,” the bookstore that sells books in English as well as incredible tea and coffee, we decided to part for dinner and then meet back up for drinks.




Carly and I went back to the kebab shop, and we talked to the guys behind the counter who could also tell that we're American. One of the guys is studying French as well and may even be taking some of the same courses I am! I know I’ll be going back there for food frequently, and it’d be great to know someone in class from outside the program.


After dinner, I met the girls at the Rotonde – the great big round-about that begins the Cours Mirabeau, complete with gigantic fountain - pictures to come once it warms up and the water is turned on – and we went to O’Sullivan’s, the Irish bar I went to my first night out last week. We sat talking and listening to the very American music for a few hours before calling it a night since we still had one more day of 9am cours intensif. Luckily, this is the bar that’s just around the corner from my apartment, so I was home and in bed in no time.

I woke up the next morning for our last session of class, which I was ready to be finished with by the end of the week. Immediately after class, I came straight home even though we had a group meeting an hour after. Why? Because I was sixty pages away from finishing the Hunger Games series, and I wanted to squeeze in a few chapters before our meeting. Did I mention I only started reading the first of the three books on the plane on the way here? Because it’s that good that I’ve read all three nearly-300-page books in a week. It’s been a while since a book has roped me in like that, but good grief, I was hooked. Hooked to the point that during my exam that morning, all I could do was reel about who had died and what would happen next, because I made the mistake of reading a chapter before class.

With thirty pages to go, I stuck my Nook (best idea ever, by the way, thanks parents and Abby!) in my bag and met the group to talk to the program’s psychologist. She began her presentation by telling us about culture shock and whatnot, then moved on to the rules and etiquette of dating in French culture. While some aspects seem much less complicated (if a boy likes you, he’ll actually call and pursue you, as opposed to abiding by the very American “three day rule” business, so less headgames), but some of the rules seem a bit strange and even a bit off-putting (girls should play hard to get, because “no” to a French guy means “I want you to try harder,” so you have to be rude and convince them you’re really not interested). This was followed by another long lecture about being careful about making eye contact and sending the wrong signals. Guess it’s pretty important if they keep bringing it up, but I haven't had any issues so far, so I hope they're just making us extra cautious. Either way, it's good to know that there's someone on hand to talk to should the cultural adjustments/courses/anything get overwhelming.

After the psychologist, we all went to the bureau (office) to go over the scavenger hunt. Since I ended up at the back of the room, I may or may not have ducked back into and finished my book while we reviewed and talked about the hunt. (It was a really, really good series. Ending was just a little abrupt and I could have used a little more resolution, but overall SO good. Go buy it and read it now. Then see the movie. Seriously…) Afterward, the students that are here for the year came to join us for the gallette du roi (king cake), a round, ring cake made for the Epiphany with little trinkets baked into them, only made in January. If you find the little token – I’ve seen little ceramic/painted figurines of people and a cow – in your cake, then you become the king or queen for the day, and everyone has to do what you say. My piece of chocolate chip cake had no prize, but it was still delicious, just like every other baked good I’ve had since I’ve been here.

Friday night, a big group of us girls went out to celebrate a birthday. We went to a few of the girls’ apartment where most of the girls from the program ended up for at least part of the night. People brought cheese, wine, and bread. Shocking in France, right? We only stayed for a little while, but I had such a good time! Next, we went to WoHoo to dance out the birthday where we were given a bottle of free birthday wine. We danced downstairs for hours to so many of my favorite songs. Plus, I got a photo of the Australian flag and even found the five dollar Australian note on the wall! Mixing the old and the new, and I couldn’t be happier.

We woke up early on Saturday morning to catch the bus for our tour of Marseille, less than an hour south of where I am. I’ve heard a number of times that Marseille is rough and rundown, and while we saw some places that I wouldn't want to be caught in at night, I thought it was a great city. There was a fair amount of graffiti, but there seems to be a lot in Aix too, and it seems really well done, so I'm not complaining anyway! Next to the old buildings is the harbor. At the docks, the water looks beautiful against the blue sky with all the boats bobbing around. We arrived in the morning, so the fishermen were bringing in the fish (and more!) that they'd caught.



The city, built on hills and rich in Greek and Roman history, has brilliant architecture, down to the doors and their frames. From the beautiful, ornate churches at the top of the hills, you can look over the dock and the Mediterranean Sea with the mountains bordering the other side. For lunch, we ate at a Greek restaurant close to the docks where I had lamb ribs with a salad and fries, served on a plate that was as pretty to look at as the food was delicious.


Walking around the city, we saw Greek and Roman ruins and artifacts, a number of museum exhibits, and a church and basilica. The most incredible sight of the day would have to be watching the sun set over the Mediterranean and the mountains from the highest point in the city, from outside the Basilica. An amazing end to the trip, to say the least.



Once back in Aix, a few of the girls and I went to Monoprix, the grocery store by my apartment, where we bought tea (for my tea set!!), chocolate, a few baguettes, three kinds of cheeses, and cookies. On the way to my place, we picked up a pizza. At home, we feasted, gorging ourselves while watching Eurotrip, which just seemed appropriate. We followed this up with Get Him to the Greek. I haven’t laughed so hard in a while. A great way to end a fantastic day!

I woke up late Sunday morning, sleeping in for the first time since last Sunday, and made breakfast: eggs with leftover bread and goat cheese. Then, because we still haven’t gotten internet installed here at the apartment, Carly and I sought out an internet café where I posted up for hours, catching up on emails, Facebook, and grad applications. For lunch, because we felt obligated to order something in return for their speedy internet (I’ll never take it for granted again, I swear), I ordered a salad with smoked salmon and more goat cheese and a sweet but tangy kind of vinaigrette dressing. If I ever stop marveling over this food, I’ll be surprised.

Today began my second semester of foreign classes and adjustments. I'll give a run down of my classes at the end of the week, but here's the gist of it: "French Syntax and Morphology," “Modern Form of the Novel” on Monday, then “Ethnology of Africa” on Tuesday, a free day on Wednesday, “Theater of the 50s” and “Oral Expression” for Thursday, and “Methodology of the University” on Friday. Should be an exciting week ahead of me! Hope this post finds you all well and ready for the start of your semesters or rest of the summer, wherever you are.

Here and there,
Kiley

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

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

Sunday, January 8, 2012

No Place Like Home

Well, I had every intention of writing a post about being home and I even started it, but turns out I was too busy rushing around trying to see everyone that I could that I didn’t have quite enough time to finish it. So before I get into the first few days of France, I’ll do a crash course on my five weeks in the states.

When I first got to the airport in Cincinnati, I was rushed at the gate by Abby, my younger sister, and Allie, my cousin. To hear Abby tell it, she only lost the race to me because she didn’t want to sprint down the arrivals gate with a security guard standing right there, but Allie claims it wouldn’t have mattered if Abby hesitated or not. Me, I’m not taking sides on that one, I just know that it was the best feeling in the world to be crushed by their collective hug. My parents waited patiently and, well, I cried again. We all went home together (first moment of reverse culture shock: freaking out to be driving on the right side of the road again!) where we found my Aunt Karen, Uncle Mark, and cousin Melissa waiting to say hello, and I distributed Australia presents almost immediately. Then the cousins all settled down to watch Just Friends, which over those few weeks, became my new obsession.


Over the next week, I spent a significant amount of time with my family, and then set off for Fort Wayne for a slew of academic meetings and caught up with a bunch of the good friends I was lucky enough to meet over the past few years. Thanks, BRoy and Kari for putting me up for the few nights I was there and making me feel right at home with you guys all over again, as well as KMac for completing the roomies reunion! To Amy Jo, Doris, Layli, Aaron, and all my Writing Center friends who I saw however briefly, you made me feel like a super star or something coming back to the WC and I was so glad to see you all!! Matthew, Allyssa, and Vinnie, it was so fun to get to see you guys and hang out for an extended period of time and catch up. And of course to my advisers, Dr. Cain, Dr. Corbin, Dr. Virtue, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the help you provided me while I was in Fort Wayne, not just with study abroad, but with looking ahead to grad school and being the strongest support system I could hope for while being away from the university. Melissa and Dr. Visalli, I’ll be sure to catch up with you as soon as I make my way back to Fort Wayne, and I so appreciate the occasional messages I’ve received from you since I’ve been away.


After a few days in Fort Wayne, I drove just a bit farther south to Muncie to visit Jackie and try to repay the favor for visiting me all the way in Australia. What fun! Jackie and I celebrated being in Muncie just like we did being in Australia, and I got to see a Ball State basketball game win big against Butler (the same day as that fateful Xavier and UC game…why Cincinnati? Just, why??) as well as the Heorot, which I’ve been wanting to see ever since taking Old English. What a beer selection they had! And delicious too. I was also introduced to some of the best late night food: buffalo chicken bites. Imagine a chicken nugget covered in buffalo sauce with, wait for it, ranch dressing in the middle. So good! Thanks, Jackie, for showing me an incredible time in Muncie, Indiana. It was the best!

After the weekend in Fort Wayne, I prepared for my visit to Chicago with the French Consulate so I could continue the visa application process. Abby and I took off from Cincinnati that Thursday after her exams to stay with our cousin, Tiffany, and her husband (my cousin-in-law? Is that a real thing?) Joe, who so kindly put us up and took us to come delicious restaurants. The trip was mostly so I could go to the Consulate, but also for shopping, and I happened to stumble across an off for Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I ended up walking in and getting all kinds of information on the program and might actually be thinking about taking a year or so after my undergrad to do a bit more traveling and figure out what exactly I want to do for my master’s. Lots to think about with that though!

I spent the rest of my time in Cincinnati hanging out with my parents and sister for the most part, but I saw a whole lot of the rest of my family, too, despite our being fairly well spread around the country now. I just began to write out a list of you all, got to the tenth name, realized I wasn’t a third of the way through, and have instead to just tell you all I love you equally together! Suffice it to say that my mom and her nine siblings, as well as eleven of my twelve cousins plus some spouses and family friends managed to get together over the holidays, including Veronica (the collective name my girl cousins and I have come up with that identifies us as one person.)


I also spent some decent time with my dad’s side of the family, which is a fraction of the size, but claims an equal piece of my heart. For Christmas for my grandma, I put together a photo album of my Australian adventures, because she’s been so, so significant in helping me out and making these once in a lifetime opportunities possible, just as my parents have. I actually got to sit down with her for a time and look through the pictures while telling her some of my stories. She returned the favor as we sat in her kitchen talking about her side of the family and sharing stories of her past and about some of my extended family on that side, which I always love to hear about.

I don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to spend so much time, quality- and quantity-wise, nor see that many family members in years, both sides included. Though I somewhat neglected preparation for France, as well as some grad school application things that I’m still working through, I wouldn’t have traded the family time for anything. It made leaving this time around that much harder, too.

Aside from family, I had the chance to catch up with plenty of local friends, though I still missed quite a few and didn’t get nearly enough time with others, unfortunately. Over the break, I got to have drinks and dinner with Jenn, drinks and an overnight with Jill, a mini high school reunion with Jenn, David, and Will (who I hadn’t seen in six months or a year, respectively, and it was so, so good to see!) and Kreimer, go to dinner and hang at my place with movies with Jackie and Avni, spend a few much needed nights catching up with Shata, and have multiple sleepovers and lunches out with Allie. I failed a bit on the picture end of things while I was at home, but I have every intention of righting that as soon as I get home again and get to see everyone.

And on top of all the face-to-face time I got with everyone at home, I think I managed to stay in decent digital contact with the friends I made in Australia! Between Whatsapp, Facebook, and Skype, I managed to talk to quite a few people, so guys, keep the messages coming, and I’ll be sure to keep in touch with you, too. Hopefully, while I’m here in France, I’ll get to see some of the Europeans I was able to make friends with, so here’s to continuing to stay in touch!

Basically, it was so good to be home. As soon as I got back to my yellow bedroom, my overexcited dog, Sebastian (my car!), around all my friends and family, it felt like I'd never left in so many ways. I felt so welcome by everyone, and I was genuinely excited to see each and every one of my family members and friends. I don't know if I'm growing up or if the time apart changed things just enough, but I felt even closer with my family that I don't get to see too often. I didn't realize how much I love my city and how big of a deal it was to finally be in my hometown (random memory: the first Sunday I came back to Cincinnati, Allie took me to a Bengals game where, obviously, they played the Star Spangled Banner. It was the first time I'd heard the national anthem in at least five months, and the music literally brought proud tears to my eyes and made me realize how much I love my country.). Then, I felt at home in Fort Wayne, though I was crashing with friends both nights. I can't believe, either, how quickly Australia felt immediately and completely like home, and I miss it as much from France as I do any of my other homes. What a funny idea, the concept of "home".

I’ve realized this alone is a decent sized post, and I’m going to try my best to scrunch down my posts in terms of length and instead write more, shorter posts that way I don’t have to sit down and catch up on weeks’ worth of events – I know how many times am I going to hope and promise that? But, it’s a new year, so maybe I’ll have some luck! So, I’ll cut it here with the home stuff and instead start a new post right now about what’s happened in France these last few days, and hopefully post that tomorrow. Preview for that post: flying (and driving through London on the left side of the road which felt so right that it felt weird), bread, meeting lots of new people, more bread, headaches and exhaustion from having to constantly translate, heaps of more bread, and moving into my new (yellow!) apartment with my new roommate! Should be a good semester, even though I can already tell it’ll be way different than anything I was used to in the states and anything I experienced last semester in Australia, but here’s to new challenges and new friends! Hope you all are well back at home…and by home I mean Cincinnati, Fort Wayne, and Wollongong.

Here and there,
Kiley