Birthday à la French

So my birthday was March 12. I told myself, "I don't normally have a birthday party, I don't want to make a big deal about it. It's cool if I don't do anything." But when my friends found out when my birthday was, they decided THEY were going to do something. Thursday, at lunch, my friends brought me a home made lemon meringue pie (baked by Thibaut, who is an expert in the kitchen) and candles! With the entire class around me, I blew out all my 19 candles, to the cheers of my friends. It was really a super birthday, and a memory I'll keep for the rest of my life.

I TOLD you I'd get the Paris photos up sometime or other.

So here we are with some images of Paris to sum up my trip in January. Starting with the Victoire de Samanthrax, aka the most beautiful statue I've ever seen. It's seriously breathtaking.

Stereotypical picture of the Eiffel Tower. No, I didn't go to the top because there were too many people. I went to the Musée d'Orsay instead.
Versailles, and Marie Antoinette. Lovely.
And, together with Versailles in all it's splendidness, we have... Jeff Koons, and his enormous plastic lobster and other works of art. I could be persuaded to appreciate it, if it weren't for the fact that I was there to see VERSAILLES, and history, not vaccuum cleaners put into plastic boxes to make a statement.
Finally, a rather blurry photo (I was in a hurry) of Paris in the snow! It doesn't snow much in Paris because of the pollution... But it did for me!

Ski, suckas!

Hey, everyone! I know I said I'd get my photos up of Paris and all that coolness, but at the moment I've decided to ditch school for a week and a half to go skiing in, where else? the Alps! So, unfortunately, I haven't had the time to work out the cable problems I've been having with my camera which means you'll all just have to wait for my photos of Paris, which will be accompanied by my photos of Tignes, "le plus bel espace du ski du monde."

Skiing in the Alps is pretty amazing. The ski resort is enormous. It's impossible to see it all in one or two days (so it's a good thing I've got eight or nine). And it's been snowing off and on for the past few days, so there's powder everywhere, which is nice, but a little tough to ski in. But over all, it's a skiers dream.

Holiday Update!

So the holidays have come and almost gone (I go back to school Monday, boohoo...) but not without their fair share of exciting holiday activity. Noël (that's Christmas for all you who don't speak French) marked my first journey outside of the south-west pocket of France. I spent eight hours in the car as me, my host family headed to Normandie. I thought it was cold in Orthez, but I was horribly mistaken. The farther north you go the colder it gets in France.

So anyway, Noël, French style, is a lot like New Year's Eve. Everyone stays up past midnight to great Christmas. And they eat oysters. Lots of raw oysters. Christmas tradition: seafood. But mainly oysters.

After Normandie, I bebopped over to Bretagne to visit the other side of the family. I got to check out Nantes, and saw a very large mechanical elephant. There are some things in life I'll never understand.

Over four days, each meal was like a holiday feast. I guess it's just the French way of storing up fat for the cold French winter.

So then I returned to Orthez, and two days later took the train up to Paris to visit the daughter of my host mother for a few days (and of course, to see Paris!). I traveled with the niece of my host mother, who is super sweet, and in the last three days, we've visited the Luxembourg, Versailles, and of course done some Paris shopping. This evening I decided to go check out Notre Dame, and unfortunately got completely lost in the Latin Quartier of Paris. When I finally did get to Notre Dame, however, it was just in time for mass, which was nifty. And, above all, very beautiful. Unfortunately, after the mass, I decided to head back to the apartment and got lost again. But now I'm pretty sure I've seen most of Paris, and I've also burned off all my holiday fat.

Tomorrow I'm going to go check out the Eiffel Tower and hopefully hit up an art museum or two. Who knows?

I'll have all sorts of pictures coming soon, though, thanks to the camera my dad sent me for Christmas.

Joyeux Noël et Bonne Année à tous!

French Stereotypes Episode 2

So, back by popular demand (or just the demand of my father) is the wonderful section that dives into the facts and myths behind French stereotypes!

French people drive really small cars: Not exactly true. I've seen two smart cars and one tiny Italian car in the 3+ months I've been here. In general, they drive normal sized cars, though I do see the occassional SUV. I have yet to see a Hummer, however. My other seemed to be under the impression that the French don't use large tractor-trailor things for shipping. They do, just like in the US.

French people don't say the letter H: although technically they don't pronounce their H's in words, I have noticed that French people tend to say H's at the end of words that don't need them, like "lundi" becomes "lundihh." And in English, it's true that they don't say H's when they should, but they also tend to insert H's where they don't belong, like "I have eight hats" becomes "Hi 'ave height 'ats."

NEW! Some stereotypes to replace the ones I've broken:

French people are super obsessed with having neat school papers: I'm serious. Their papers have like a thousand lines on them, to make sure everything is nicely lined up, they use rulers to underline everything, write in different colors. It's all far too organized for me.

French people don't go barefoot: my host mom always gets really shocked when I don't wear shoes inside. I guess it's a cultural thing, since I love having naked feet.

Exploding Churros!

So last night was my final night in my first host home. I'll be moving in with a new family today, and to end things with a bang (which turned out to be unintentionally literal) my host sister and I decided to make churros. This is the second time we've cooked together, the first time being our adventures into the world of fudge, and that didn't go so well, so you'd think we would have taken a hint.

But anyway, at the beginning it wasn't too hard. Sometimes we were a little confused by the directions of the recipe, especially since it was all in Spanish, but we managed to make the dough, and fry a few churros before disaster struck. We were just finishing off our second and final batch, and Mathilde and I were leaning over the pot of boiling oil to examine a rather bizarre looking churro when BAM! there was a very loud noise, we were covered in hot oil, and Mathilde's mother came running into the kitchen to scold us.

Besides having rather painful burns on our face and necks, we were relatively unhurt. But my host mom wasn't too happy. She scolded us while mopping the floor, and then went to bed. Mathilde and I ended up staying up until midnight cleaning oil of walls and cupboards and pots and pans, and we found a churro that had flown from the kitchen all the way into the hallway. Overall, despite the fact that I now have a funny white burn under my lip, it was a lot of fun.

And we're planning to get back together in a few weeks to make Christmas cakes. This time, the recipe's in German. Oh, and fudge. Christmas fudge.

Turkey Day with the Froggies

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Naturally, living in France, I don't get Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday off, but I did get to give a presentation in English today on the topic. Unfortunately, the prof decided to set it up more like a question-and-answer session and kept talking about weird stuff. He's nice, the prof, but he's not very interesting, even for the French. So anyway, I brought a whole bunch of markers with me to school today, and as a little celebration, my friends and I all drew turkeys on our hands. Yay!

I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving! I know I did.

An English Speaker's Guide to Harry Potter in French

You know what's good for making friends around the world? Discussing Harry Potter. I mean, not only is he universally popular, but he's MAGICAL. However, discussing the characters and plot with someone who has read a translation can be slightly difficult, seeing as several of the names are changed. Which is why, if you should ever find yourself in France and wishing to discuss Harry Potter, I've compiled this simple guide to the French language translation of Harry Potter.

Harry Potter: is still Harry. Nothing changed here. Hermione and Ron get to keep their names to, along with all the Weasleys and Dumbledore and the Dursleys, too. The French however, like most of the world before the films came out, can't pronnounce Hermione's name worth beans.

Hogwarts: is officially named Poudlard. Worst. Name. Ever.

Lord Voldemort: gets to keep his name, too. Lucky.

Severus Snape: becomes Severus Rogue. Fail.

Draco Malfoy: becomes Drago Malefoy. Not really sure why.

Gryffindor: is spelled Gryffondor. Kind of like poor Drago, was this really necessary?

Hufflepuff: is even cooler in French. It gets changed to Poufsouffle. You gotta admit that's awesome.

Ravenclaw: becomes Serdaigle, which translates to "Claw of Eagle." As a side note, the French don't have a concept of raven, and it's really hard to explain. "Um, it's like a big crow? But not a crow? It's really smart, and it's a big black bird?" "You mean a crow?" "No, I said it's not a crow. You know Edgar Allen Poe? You know his poem? With the bird, who always says the same word?" Sadly enough, the French aren't well versed in Poe. They know the name, but can't get the concept of raven...

Slytherin: becomes Serpentard. I take it back. Poudlard isn't all that bad as names go. Serpentard... Oh, Serpentard...

Flourish and Blott's: is Fleury et Bott. I mean, really, are this changes necessary? Sort of like changing the name of Mundungus Fletcher to Mondingus Fletcher. Really? Really?

Snitch: Vif d'Or.

Hagrid: Hagrid, thank God.

Mirror of Erised: Miroir de Rised. Less cool in French, but not terrible.

I haven't read through all the books yet, but I'm pretty sure the Cruciatus Curse changes names, too. Anyway, this little list should be enough to help get you through a simple conversation covering the world of J.K. Rowling, whether you should choose to discuss it in French or English. Oh, and Neville Longbottom? Yeah, he's Neville Londubat now, biznatch.

The Corrida

Yesterday was November 11, and as such, all schools in France had the day off in remembrance of the end of the Grand Guerre Mondiale de Quatorze, or the end of World War I. I had been invited by a member of my Rotary Host Club to go see the Corrida, or bull fighting. Now, I know you're thinking, "Bull fights? Isn't this girl in France? When did she get transferred to Spain?" Don't freak out, I'm still in France, but being as I'm living in the very south of France, near the Spanish border, I get to experience some of the traditions that have carried over from Spanish culture, the most notable one being the corrida.

First, I got picked up by my host, and then we drove for an hour to St. Sever (I didn't realize until I wrote it while thinking in English that it's really not a very pleasant name, especially when the subject of discussion is something violent like, well, bull fighting). After a look at an exposition of corrida-inspired art, we had lunch (because nothing in France is complete unless there's a meal involved). After lunch, Fix, the husband of the woman who brought me, took me to talk with some of the other people around my age. I got into a conversation with a guy who actually is a bull fighter (though he wasn't participating in this particular corrida) and he explained a lot of the idea behind the corrida.

Basically, the bull is a special beast, because unlike most animals, when attacked, he doesn't flee, but fights and continues to fight. It's for this that the bull is considered a good adversary and the bull fighters want to engage in competition with him.

After this, I actually went to go see the corrida. It was four fighters, and four bulls killed, one by one. First the bull enters the ring, charges around a bit, then the fighter faces him one on one and spins around and dodges him for a while. Then they stab him with a few spikes. This is usually done my someone else, though one of the fighters did it himself. After, the bull is more angry, and the fighter continues to dodge his charges. Then, the bull fighter gets his sword, and attempts to kill the bull as swiftly as possible, though this doesn't always work out well.

It was nice to have Fix there to explain the traditions to me. For instance, if the crowd considers the fight to have been good, they wave handkerchiefs demanding that the ears of the bull be cut of and given to the fighter. One ear is nice. Two ears is excellent. On very rare occasions, they give the fighter both ears and the tail. And if the bull was excellent, his corpse is pulled around the arena and applauded.

Honestly, I'm not sure how I felt about all of this. It was very interesting, and at times quite beautiful, but in the end the bull always dies (apparently really strong bulls are allowed to live, but this is a SUPER RARE occurrence). I think it really helped to get the little introduction to the practice beforehand, otherwise I would have been completely lost as to what was going on.

Multimedia Blogging!

So, my camera was broken when I visited the Dune Pyla, the LARGEST DUNE IN EUROPE, but other people not only had working cameras, but my friend Rémi actually videotaped the descent of the dune, which can be found at http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=wWxpmZ9m_L8&eurl=http://www.new.facebook.com/inbox/readmessage.php?t=51604719096&mbox_pos=0

Check it out, and please try to ignore my very bad accent...

Stage à Voile

So the week long boating trip with my school has ended (sadly) but I've definitely learned a lot, like some slang French words for stomach, and how to sail a catamaran.

Monday morning, after school photos, the bus left, loaded up with all the Premiere class students (that's Juniors, in America). After a drive of about two hours, we reached Biscarosse, a lake town with a sailing school! I paired up with a friend, Francois, and we both decided to learn to sail catamaran, which was definitely a unique experience.

At first the week seemed really daunting. I mean, I was away from my host home, surrounded by dozens of kids who all spoke another language. Things got better, however, and I think the experience helped me to understand what people are saying, and follow conversations.

And did I mention I learned to sail? Oh yeah, I can set up the boat, steer, turn, adjust the sails for the direction of the wind, and even hang out over the water suspended by a wire attached to the mast, to maintain the equilibrium as the boat goes speeding across the water. I'm pretty pleased with myself.

And, on the bus ride back, I sat with Rafaele, who helped me learn some new vocabulary by teaching me the words of the bus, and then of course quizzing me on them later. Now I know all sorts of useful French words for net, ashtray, handle, and window. Hooray!

CHapter 6: In Which Some Stuff Happens

So, school is moving forward, and as time moves on, I've started to lose track of how long I've been here (two and a half weeks, but it feels much longer). I've been put into three different sixth grade French classes, because it's at an easier level and hopefully it will help me become fluent more quickly. If I want, I could drop these classes, but I think they're helping me right now. I'm still spending the bulk of my class time in what corresponds to the Junior year in the US anyway.

I have experienced a bit of a fright, however. One of the sixieme teachers is absolutely terrifying. We'll just leave it at that in case, by some horrific freak occurrence, she finds my blog. Part of me says I can drop the class if it's so terrible, but the kids! They are absolutely the sweetest kids I've ever met. I first met them when I asked which class they were, to make sure I was in the right place, and within seconds they were all crowded around me asking me where I was from, how old I was, how long I'd been here, how long I was staying, who was I staying with, did I have any pets back home, what were their names? They are all so sweet and friendly. It seems the grouchier their teacher is, the more friendly they become, and everyone who knows me should know how much I love children. They're so creative and intelligent and open! I feel I can't abandon them just like that.

Also, my host family basically owns a forest! I didn't know until today, when I decided to go for a little walk, and it turned into a full-out romp through the woods! The land is basically endless! Well, no, not endless, because I did reach the end, but nevertheless it's expansive, and I'm really looking forward to more exploring, provided I can avoid the snakes, because I guess the snakes here are pretty nasty.

Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow morning for a boating week with the school. I still haven't decided whether I want to learn windsurfing, katmaran, or regular sailing. Tough decisions. I'll be sure to update on how it all goes as soon as I get back!

Hi, I'm Vicki, and I attend a Catholic school

That's right, I'm attending a Catholic school. I haven't noticed anything specifically Catholic about it yet, though, except for the chapel, and a priest. I assume he teaches religion classes, but I haven't had him yet. As for the other classes, it's really hard to keep up with what's going on, but the teachers are nice and understanding. I've only had two half days of school so far. On Wednesdays, school always gets out early, but don't be jealous my American pals back home, because school goes until six in the evening every other day.

I have two classes in English: English itself, and a geography history thing. I wish my old high school taught classes in other languages. It'd make studying French so much easier. Anyway, I'm not too worried about those classes, since last I checked I was fluent in English, but my other classes are going to be a lot more challenging. Everything's a bit overwhelming. Even the binder paper is different (it's thicker and has about a thousand more lines).

But sitting in a classroom listening to a teacher talk about "science de la vie" isn't nearly as hard as making friends. For the last two days I've just tagged along with my host sister Mathilde, but being around a group of French girls is difficult. They all talk fast, and at the same time, and sometimes break off into giggles. It's very hard for me to even understand what they're saying. But I did somewhat confidently answer some questions a boy posed to me today after school, and I felt good about that. My French may not be great, but at least I'm learning to communicate. And that's the entire reason I came, right?

Pre-Trip Fears

Tuesday morning, at 5:55 am, I'm flying out of Santa Barbara for a year in France. I'll be staying with a host family and attending a lycee, or high school. I'll be immersed in French and hopefully become fluent.

To be honest, I'm really freaked out at this point.

I need to finish packing, and at this point it's mostly just gadgets, gifts for my hosts, and paperwork. Still, it's been years since I've gone out of the country, I've never been to Europe, and I've never traveled on my own. I keep having these weird nightmares where I land in this tiny little airport much like the one in San Luis Obispo, and they won't let me through Customs. Or, I arrive, and it turns out I'm fluent in French, because the French language goes no further than the simple phrases I learned in school, like, "Je voudrais un croque-monsieur." "J'ai soif." "J'aime la musique." "Est-ce que tu vas au piscine?"

Worse yet, though, is the fear that I'll arrive and my host family will realize that I'm not at all what they expected.

Then again, these are all my irrational fears. I should also add that I'm afraid of ghosts living in the basement of my mother's piano studio, and zombies in the backyard (they'll attack you in the jacuzzi if you're not careful).

Beyond all these fears, I also have about a thousand cheerful hopes for how my year abroad will go. I will become fluent in French. I will live in the French countryside. I will get to travel all over France and Europe, absorbing the ins and outs of a culture that most American tourists just skim over on a ten day trip.

Of course, the nagging doubts are always louder, and sometimes I feel as if I am just about to plunge into a lake of ice water, and it's to late to turn around and stay dry. But what else is there to do but plunge, right?