An Update from DE

Ahh.. it's good to be home. No, seriously. I can hang out all day in my PJs, and nobody can say anything about it. Well, that is until I try to head to my Russian class in my PJs and crazy morning hair. You know the Germans, they like Ordnung, and crazy hair and PJs in the streets is... not ordentlich. In all seriousness, though, there's no place like home. (Or like Oz, apparently.) Things are going pretty good here, and life is back to normal. Russian classes this week again, math classes start (and I thought Math 30 in high school would be the last math class I ever took.. HA), and the rest of 'em start on the 31st.

So, when I got home, I had H. bring Maxie to the airport to meet me. My, was that cute. I seriously thought his butt was going to fall off from wagging his tail so hard. Then, when I came downstairs this morning, his butt almost fell off again. This is why people love dogs. You can abandon them for two weeks to go live it up in France, and they will still love you. They'll even still love you if you go away to Canada for two months. Or make them have injections to stay healthy. The unconditional thing is awesome. What isn't awesome is the chewing of shoelaces or underwear. (Why underwear?) That's okay, though. Underwear is cheap, anyway.

Ring-a-ding-ding.. It's a beautiful day.

22 August 17:29

Well, as I sit in the airport in Paris waiting to board the plane home, I have to admit that I’m kind of relieved to be heading home. The idea of home is a tricky thing, I think, for someone who has moved around as much as I have in the past five years. Really, by now, home could be anywhere for me. Home is essentially just that familiar place that you get to go back to after a journey. And it always feels nice, whether you’re gone somewhere for eight hours or eight months. And then there’s that whole other kind of home, like where you grew up. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone from there for eight years; it’s still home. But you’ll get more on that later around November and December when I head back to Canada for a couple of months.

For now, I’m happy to say I’m officially very tanned, and I can do everything at the airport or train station in French without having to resort to the “Parlez-vous anglais?” that makes every Frenchman/woman want to tear their eyes out and punch you in the face. So, that’s definitely an improvement. Maybe when H. and I go to Straßbourg in the upcoming weeks, I won’t have to just play the German-tourist-on-the-other-side-of-the-border game. That would be impressive.

Unfortunately, I have gained no philosophically moving experience from my trip other than that the French really are pigs, but they are also no different than the average North American. I take that back. They’re actually classier. And despite everything, I’m still feeling good about tackling research in French in the future. You know how I know? I hate everything French right now. At the train station in Toulon, I practically ran into the book store (well, as fast as you can run dragging a 20 kilo duffel bag), and snatched up a couple of German magazines lest I had to read my French novel on the four-and-a-half-hour journey to Paris. Luckily, I know it’s just a phase. And so I know that if I give myself time, I could be running into the airport in London or Birmingham on my way to start grad school, snatching up every French-language magazine I can get my hands on. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? I’d be laughing if the exact thing didn’t happen with German and the days I wanted to throw myself off of the Fernsehturm in Stuttgart out of sheer frustration.

Oh, the joys of suicidal feelings as the result of language learning...

Je n'en peux plus!!!!

20 August 17:57

Well, my friends, my journey through the tribulations of language lessons and French families is almost over. This time tomorrow, I’ll be returning from the beach, finishing off last minute homework, and getting ready to head back to the motherland. As I was shopping for some last-minute souvenirs today, I was a little taken aback by the fact I felt a little sad to be leaving. It would be quite the adjustment, but I could probably stay here (with a less-crazy family, mind). I did it in Allemagne, so why not again? I am excited to be heading back to normal life, though, with school and my Maxie. It’s a little discombobulating, trying to do language classes, and then run and do your university coursework during your twenty-minute breaks during the day. Life would be A LOT easier if I’d had the internet here. For example, I wouldn’t be wishing, like I am today, that I had the internet so I could finish my homework because the prof wasn’t clear on where to get things online. So now I’ll have to hand that stuff in when I get home on Saturday. I was kind of hoping NOT to have to do schoolwork when I got home. Oh well. I don’t know how soldiers who are deployed with limited internet access manage with their coursework. I could never do it.

Other than that, today was pretty boring. I had about five hours worth of grammar. Gross. My brain was just toasted. After that and a lecture on the school system in France, I sat at my computer, attempting to do my homework, thinking, “No, no... I don’t want to. I just can’t. Noooo.” It wasn’t fun. Trust me. And I’m still just as pooped now, knowing I have to write a presentation for tomorrow. It’s not that I don’t like oral presentations, but I like to talk, and not read off of a page. How can that sort of presentation be mentally stimulating? It’s not. But that’s what they want, so.... That’s what they’re gonna get, I guess.

And tomorrow will be the beach. I’m going to soak up all the sun I can before I head back to rainy Germany. Although I heard it’s quite warm there right now. 30 degrees or so. But, as it’s Germany, it still storms at night. Ahhh, home. You know, as I read through this post, I feel kind of blah. You’ve probably noticed it. I guess it’s a good thing I am heading back soon, then. Because at least in Deutschland, the rain will give me an excuse to be so blah (as if scratch-your-eyes-out grammar was never a good enough excuse...)

The Language Game

19 August 17:48

My brilliant, almost-philosophical Russian teacher, A., once told me that it is only when you have a proper grasp of a language do you stop wondering how to say something in that language, and inadvertently throw in words from other languages into the one you’re trying to study. If you’ve ever learned a second language, or even better, a third, fourth, or fifth, you will know exactly what I’m talking about. Your brain becomes mush, and you start to question how well you actually know your native languages and others you speak at a near-native level; because no matter how many languages you speak, they all turn to mush with an intensive language course.

Lucky for us language-lovers, this mish-mash doesn’t come with the languages you only sort of know. For instance, I’m not sitting in French class, inserting Russian or Spanish phrases into my sentences. Neither is anyone else. But in my language school at the moment, there are two distinct groups: German speakers who know English well (or me, the English speaker with good German), and English speakers who don’t know what’s going on with the foreign-language scene. This German-English thing that we’ve got going on is laughable. I swear. We’ve all got this complete menage of languages going on that sounds a bit like: Aujourd’hui, I went à la plage zu Fuß. In case you’re wondering what the heck that means, I said: Today, I walked to the beach. Ridiculous, no?

And then there’s the grammar that makes your eyes bleed. Here’s the thing. “They” tell you that once you know two or three languages, it’s easier to pick up others. This is true. Why else do Europeans speak eight languages without breaking a sweat? But what “they” fail to tell you is that it’s only easy if you stick to the language you’re learning. In other words, when you learn French, focus on the French. The grammar itself is not hard. Seriously. But it’s a nightmare when you try to decide what the English and German equivalents are. And then you kick yourself, because the Danish dude sitting next to you, who took English and German in school and can’t string a sentence together, tells you and the native German speaker how to speak your own respective native tongues. Nice. They weren’t kidding when they said non-native speakers know your language better than you do.

But I bet you’re wondering about those pesky English speakers. Well, in this group, they’re all from Ireland or England. So technically, they’re European. You’d think they wouldn’t have that North American stereotype of being ridiculously ignorant of and rubbish at languages. This is not true. As the pound distinguishes them from the rest of Europe with the Euro, their English speaking-ness distinguishes them from the rest of Europe with the language talents. H. can probably pick up a language faster than most of these guys. I think it’s an English-speakers’ thing. After all, you can get by almost everywhere in the world with just English. Besides, those pesky British used to have that “we’ll take over the world and subordinate you into our way of thinking along the way” thing going on for centuries. Old habits die hard, I guess, and in their former colonies, too.

On the plus side, I now have left-foot blisters on the big toe, ball, and heel. I’m not sure why it’s the left foot, but it kind of makes me hobble. Who knows? Maybe when I go home, H. will dig the gimp thing. But probably not. As much as I’m enjoying my language mish-mashing and beach-loving, I’m definitely excited to go home. For one, I’ll actually be able to do my homework when my prof tells me to watch a video online. Two, I’ll be finally sleeping in a bed that’s long enough for me. By this, I mean I won’t be sleeping in a single child’s bed anymore. That will be nice. I am not looking forward to the rain, though. I like the sun better. Definitely.

Heat Wave

Hello, all!

My, it's freaking hot here! As if the Med could get any warmer, they're experiencing a heat wave right now. They? Ha. WE'RE experiencing a heat wave right now. Every day, it's between 38 and 40 degrees. As if that wasn't fun enough, add in some humidity for good measure! On the plus side, it's excellent weather for the beach. The hour's walk to the beach with blisters on one's feet is a bit of a deterrent, though. I'm not complaining, however. It's.. *gasp* raining in Germany, so I've got to enjoy the sunshine while I've got it! Today will be another trip to the beach, I think. Last night at dinner, my host family was commenting on how I was already as tanned as they are, and I've only been here a week. I've got good summer genes, I suppose. I'm going to go back home, and everyone is going to think I'm a foreigner! Oh well...

I'll post pictures when I get home. The internet at the school is garbage, and won't up- or download anything, leaving us all with picture-less blog posts. So, if anything exciting happens, like I have new foot blisters to report, I'll be back!

Bisous!

Tequila in my Wine Glass

16 August 20:55

So, we just finished our Sunday dinner. I’m beat. Even though it’s not even nine yet, I think I’m going to have to turn in right away. How I’m going to make it through my evening math classes in two weeks is still beyond me. Not only am I in the habit of going to sleep at around nine, but I eat dinner at eight thirty. I’m going to have to bring salads with cheese to class, me thinks, and then sleep out the rest of class. Maybe H. will come pick me up so I can sleep in the car, too.

Speaking of dinner, I drink wine with my dinner here. I guess that beats the way I drink it at home -- as an afternoon pick-me-up of sorts. Normally, I drink red. Sometimes, I drink rose. So when the first bottle was rose, I didn’t complain. I also didn’t complain when the next was white, because I don’t want to be rude. Maybe it’s because my mom can’t drink white wine, so I grew up prejudiced against it. (Can one even be prejudiced against wine? Oooh, I don’t like your.. uhh grapes.) At any rate, this one tasted like crap. It wasn’t until I was finishing the bottle tonight (no, I’m not an alcoholic.. it’s been like four days), that I realized why it tastes so off with my dinner.

I think the people at the winery were playing a joke, and actually put tequila in the bottle. I’m serious. Now, don’t get me wrong. I like tequila as much as the next person. Probably more, actually. But I take my tequila in a shot glass with a lemon and salt on my hand. I do not take it in a wine glass with dinner. I think the “wine” gets me about as drunk as tequila, too. Crap.

On the plus side, though, I did discover that “tequila” tastes good with strawberry yogurt. I’m going to have to give that a shot on my next drinking binge, whenever that will be. It’s been forever, now. Do people as old as me even have drinking binges for fun anymore? Or does someone have to die/get divorced first before one has the excuse to drink themselves silly?

On a happier note (as if life gets any happier without tequila), I saw my first ever movie in French. Harry Potter. Ha. Okay, so not really French, but French-dubbed. I like to think I understood the slow parts, and not when they spoke rapid-fire. Next up on the to-do list? Understand my first ever movie in French.

Alarm! Alarm!

16 August 7:56

Good Morning. I’m going to kill you now. Yes, I heard AP leave to presumably take her daughter to work. And yes, it was probably my fault that I only locked my door half-way after going to the washroom tonight, because it meant YOU could open my door to peek in on me while I’m sleeping. And guess what? YOU SET OFF THE FREAKING ALARM. Seriously, dude. You live in a house with an alarm. Didn’t you know you’d set it off by spying on me? And even worse, when the alarm starts going off, you run back into your room to hide?! Dude, what gives? Do you know how loud that alarm is? And do you know how difficult it is to fumble with your keys and cover your ears at the same time while you go downstairs to unlock the front door and turn the damn thing off?

Seriously, I’m sick of you rummaging through my room, stealing my crap, and spoiling the last day I get to sleep in for at least a couple of weeks. I do not appreciate my privacy being spoiled, my things, no matter how small, being taken, or my sleep being sacrificed at the hands of a -- what are you? Twelve? -- year-old girl who still wears a bib when she eats because she can’t manage to keep her clothes clean. The way I feel about you is the way I feel about S. (See if you can figure out that initial). At first, I felt sorry for you because you just must be a result of poor surroundings or a poor upbringing. And then, I decided it doesn’t matter, because you’re a terrible, brat-piece-of-crap anyway, and I don’t blame the entire world for ignoring you and being mean to you.

I have no idea how to do another week of this. Luckily, this is my last day here without school. You’d think I’d be enjoying it, relaxing, studying my French, and what-not. I can’t really, though, because most things are closed today, so I’m stuck at the house, bored as heck; I’m definitely not brave enough to attempt to brave the bus system again to come home, and the blisters on the bottoms of my feet, however healed, will not hesitate to... re-blister on a seven kilometre walk home. What to do... what to do? I know what I SHOULD be doing. I should be making a study sheet for my African American History final that I do when I get home. But seriously, boring, boring, boring. I guess I have to do it, anyway, though... Ah, the procrastination and apathy that marks the last week of the semester!

Stalker

15 August 7:59

Well, so much for sleeping in today! I don’t know what it is; whenever I tell myself to sleep in, I maybe sleep an extra thirty minutes longer than I normally do. Is this how my body repays me? By telling me, “Ha, ha. You thought you were going to sleep in! Ha, ha. Sucker!!” It keeps me on a regular sleep schedule I suppose, though.

Maybe my body needs to some sleep to recover from all the trauma it’s been facing lately, though. I admit it. I’m a mosquito-bite scratcher. And I admit, it doesn’t help in the long run. This summer, though, I not only have been getting the mosquito bites themselves, but huge bruise-like welts around the bite. Help? The buggers also think this year, apparently, that it would be funny to bite me in weird places like my fingers and my earlobe. I would seriously rather have one billion mosquito bites than four on the fingers and one on the earlobe, like I do now. I look like a deformed freak. Seriously.

In better news, I think I’ll go to the beach today, because the busses are supposed to run more often than on Sundays. I mean, if they’re supposed to run every thirty minutes, even if they’re half an hour late, they’re still running ever thirty. Right? (I hope) And if I have to walk home again? Well, I hope my toes enjoy not only blisters, but busted blisters. Man, I’m in good shape, eh? Between my counted three hundred, or so, mosquito bites in one week from our honeymoon in Mexico or the strange bites I’ve had this week, I’ve decided I’m just not cut out for the tropics, as much as I like the beach. Shoot.

Other than that, not much is going on. I had an oral presentation yesterday, so that was thoroughly non-fun. I also had a lecture on French politics, which was slightly more interesting. The French never can make up their minds. Can they? I think that’s one of the most interesting things about French history; if something stayed the same for ten years or more, it’s probably because there was a monarch, and he liked to terrorize the people for fun.

And in other sad news, what’s with the youngest daughter here? Seriously, the coming into my room all the time bugs me. But that’s not why I lock my door at night. I do it because the windows are open when I sleep, and if they’re open and the door’s unlocked, the door opens, too. So, as I’m putting in earrings to try to mask gorilla earlobe, I see the door handle trying to turn. I hear a body pressing against the door, trying to push it open. Seriously, dude, if I had been sleeping and you came in to check on me or say ‘hello’, there’s a good chance I would’ve strangled you. I don’t appreciate being woken up by my dog, husband, or mom. But I love them, so I don’t strangle them. I don’t love you. Can you guess what the result will be, then? Because I’ve hunted down other people I don’t love and strangled them for waking me up. Please go away.

I have blisters on the bottoms of my feet and toes

12 August 19:12

Well, I’m just waiting for some dinner right now. Some day... I went to the front desk today to let them know I’m not okay with paying to “learn” things I learned in grade eight. They obliged by saying I could move up a level next week. Sweet, I’m cool with that.

So, since yesterday, not a heck of a lot is new here. I went to the beach today and enjoyed the sun. I’m slowly adopting a Swiss accent when I speak German from speaking to all the Swiss people. That can’t be good. I’m going to go home and be shunned. That’s never good.

And I have blisters on the bottom of my feet from trekking to and from the beach, which happens to be about four or five kilometres each way. Something tells me I won’t be walking anywhere other than my daily hobble to school for awhile...

So, there’s my check-in for today!

Fascination

11 August 17:38

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bookworm. Still, I thought I’d have more than plenty of work to keep me busy throughout my trip. So, I thought bringing two books from home would be more than enough. Ha ha ha. Trying my best to read slow and conserve, I finished one book yesterday, and have about one-hundred pages left to go in the other one. I needed a bookstore! Also, I know the whole point of this trip is to immerse myself in the language. I also know that it’s only Tuesday, and I’m already starting to forget things. Sometimes, escape literature solves all problems.

So, when I had the internet at school today, I looked for some addresses of bookstores in Hyères. I didn’t have a lot of luck. But anyway, I went to the post office to mail some post cards, and then planned on checking out some stores. I was a little upset to find out the first store was for little kids. My French isn’t that good, but it’s better than that! The next one was a natural healing/witchcraft kind of place. Strike two. From across the street, though, I could see the bookstore next to it looked small, but semi-normal. Halleluajah! Even better, when I got up close, there were two signs on the door: “We have English books,” and “Wir haben deutsche Bücher.” Oh my gosh, an oasis! I ran in there like a fat person runs into the queue at McDonald’s. Okay, bad example. Fat people probably don’t run to McDonald’s.

Anyway, they didn’t have any books in English or German. Stupid French liars. They did have the Twilight series, though. I mean, let’s face it. I’m a little bit sick of Bella and Edward. I’ve read the series about ten times. But, something worked for me when I was learning German. Back when my German was crap like my French is now, I started reading Harry Potter in German. I knew the story well, and I knew the way JK Rowling wrote. Even though I didn’t understand half of what I was reading at the time, I got the picture. I read through the whole series. And I began to catch on. It was a slow process, but it helped, and I didn’t have to use a dictionary all too often.

So I figure, hey, what the heck? I seriously doubt I’m going to find anything in English or German here, so why not some escape lit in French? “Si j’avais eu l’allure d’une fille de Phoenix, j’aurais sans doute pu en tirer avantage.” Oh Bella, you need some more self-confidence if you wanna snag that hottie vampire! Come on, what could be more escapist than that?

As a side note, I wish my host mother would stop coming into my room in the mornings and closing the wood shutters. I get that you wanna keep things cool, but it makes the room smell like butt. Then, I’ve got to keep the windows open just so I can breathe fresh air, which is more than counterproductive. Oh the French.. they really need to pick up on some German efficiency, I tell you!

But I am le Tired....

9 August 19:23

It’s me, again. Goodness, you must think I’ve got nothing better to do with my time. Apparently this is a common thread, as I waited over three hours for a bus that never showed up today. This German efficiency of the busses not only coming, but coming very pünktlich has obviously spoiled me. I mean, I must be crazy to expect that when a bus says it’s scheduled to come, it would come. Right? WRONG! (and now I’m having flashbacks from the “End of the World” skit.. ‘But I am le tired...’) Speaking of which, I am le tired, but it’s too late to take a nap, and then fire zee mizziles.

Anyway, today should have been a very good day. All things considered, I woke up in a pretty good mood, had breakfast, and went to le marché (market, see?). I even saw some very nice things, namely oil paintings that were a decent price, but held back to see what’s in store for later this week and next, first. After the market, I was told I’d be spending the day at the beach. I mean, it didn’t take much twisting of my arm. I happen to like the beach. Then, I got the bus schedule so I could take it back to the house. Ahhh, here’s where things start to get interesting with the busses that either, a) don’t stop, or b) don’t show up. Seriously. Crap. So, there went the whole nice relaxing feeling of lying on the beach, turning over, and then getting a text message from H. that made my day. Then, I called AP, and she said she’d check it out and get back to me. Oh, she did, three hours later. I actually put on my sunglasses and cried a little. She took a long route, so I couldn’t just walk back, as I didn’t know the way (in the hour and a half it would’ve taken). Helpless me. Seriously. I was so sure my spirit was actually broken, and that’s never a good thing when you haven’t even started the language classes yet, which are sure to break your spirit.

I mean it. I can count the times I’ve felt extraordinarily helpless on one hand. And guess what? Every single one of them had to do with either a German class with an exceptionally ridiculous grammar rule, or being in one of the situations I was in today, only in Germany. Well, I guess I get to count one French experience, now. That about fills up that hand. On to the next hand for tomorrow... Crap. And I’m also realizing how pathetic it is that people tell me I’m “good” at languages, and those same languages are the only things that really get me down in the dumps. What’s wrong with this picture? Anyone?

Anyway, AP also mentioned I should leave the house next weekend... Probably because she doesn’t want to have to pick me up again. She suggested I go to St. Tropez. If I ever get the internet, I’ll have to see how much a hotel room will set me back. To be completely honest, I kind of like the idea of not having a host family for a little bit. You know, have a ‘real’ vacation. Because as nice as it is to have a host family where you can soak up the ‘culture’ of a real-life, authentic family, it’s sometimes nice to just not care, plead ignorance, and stop trying. Hmmm... St. Tropez is sounding more inviting by the minute! I could actually be one of those ignorant North American foreigners that I try so hard not to be. Besides, by then I should be sufficiently brown enough to not get sunburned. I was quite liberal today with the sunscreen, and only my shoulders are a little sore, but not red.

I mean it. I was the whitest person on the beach. Poor H. would have stood out like a sore thumb. Apparently these people all have the secret: sun may be bad for your skin, but it’s good for the soul. (How lame am I?)

So, hopefully school doesn’t completely crush me tomorrow. Please, please, please.

More Musings on Life as an Expatriate

9 August 9:48

Last night, I couldn’t help but be frustrated by being here. I know, Sprachurlaub in France, the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m not discounting that. What I have noticed, though, is that as an expatriate, my fuse is a lot shorter than it used to be. Don’t get me wrong; I get along just great in Germany. I don’t have any problems with communication anymore, and I’m (slowly) getting to not only understand the cultural customs, but act accordingly. My thing is this -- I only speak regular English with H., my family and a couple of TT’ers. Pretty much everyone else I talk to is a non-native speaker, so I end up speaking more slowly and simply.

That, and I had a revelation last night. Really, I didn’t realize how much energy it takes to live in Germany; because I speak German and can get around without any trouble, it feels like home to me. But as much as I catch myself thinking or dreaming in German, it’s not my native language. English is. And as I lay in bed last night, having flashbacks to a time when my German was about as good as my French and I was settling into Germany, I realized not only how much time and effort it took to get my German to where it is today, but how much EASIER life was when language learning was just a hobby, and I could do everything quickly and efficiently in English, because I lived in an English-speaking country.

Thinking of that, I realized that when I go back to Canada for a visit in November, I’m not going to know what to do with myself. What do you mean I’ll be able to get what I want in English, not having to spell things out for people? Or speak in a different language? Don’t get me wrong; I’ve got it easy now that my German is good. But it’s trips like these to France, where I only understand about half of what comes at me, when I realize how hard things must be for H. He speaks less German than I do French, and lives in Germany. It’s no wonder he gets frustrated. Heck, I’m not even that bad off here, and I’m frustrated.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, that although I don’t have a problem living in Germany, it takes more daily effort than it would to do the same things in, say, Canada or any other English-speaking nation. So, now that you put me in a THIRD country, it’s like my brain has to go into overdrive, because it’s used to working harder in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I wouldn’t change my life for the world. But part of me wonders when it was that I decided I liked learning languages so much that I would dump a good portion of my life into it. Extra Russian lessons, French language vacations, Latin and Spanish lessons in college... seriously? Am I a masochist? Oh, wait, I remember why I decided I like languages. My grade six teacher wrote a poem about our “graduating class” in elementary school. She wrote a bit about each of us, and my part went something like, “Holly took to French très beaucoup. An interpreter in the UN her might woo.” Or something. So maybe I don’t want to be an interpreter and understand that I couldn’t get a job in the UN if I tried. But I am planning on doing post-graduate research in history. In French and German. That’s gotta count for something, right?

J'arrive à Hyères!

Hi everyone! Well, I'm in France now! And because I don't have the internet at home, I've been writing, and then I'll post here...

So, here it is.

8 August 2009, 18:43

First impressions? I promised myself that nothing could be worse than in Cologne. I guess it’s sort of like some personal protection mechanism to convince myself that the words “host family” are not synonymous with “devil family.” I mean, how could it get worse than A. and friends? Locked in the basement on Sundays with no access to food? Cooool. Really. How can it get worse than that?

Well, I’m really trying to decide what I think of this whole situation. The school I chose to go to has good reviews from students. It also has good reviews on the internet as a whole. So, I thought, how bad can it be? It’s touted to have one of the best home stay programs in France. Wow. Am I glad I didn’t choose a different school! This is weird, to say the least. First of all, my host mother was an hour and a half late picking me up. I kept trying to tell myself that the resemblance of this trip to Cologne was just a coincidence. So she called me. “Je suis grande et blonde. Find me.” Sweet. So, I find her. She rambles on about how there were a lot of cars, or something. Everything seemed to be looking up, until we got to the house and the woman needed her daughter to let us in. Okayyy.... So, A. (not Cologne A... oh goodness.. the similarities are starting to be frightening. We’ll call her AP, and AS was the witch from Cologne). So AP tells me only to have one shower per day, or there will be no more water. Fair enough. This woman is obviously not here to make friends, but get some easy money.

She showed me my room, and closed the door. At least AS offered me some tea... Anyway, I texted H. to let him know I was safe and started unpacking. Then some other girl comes in, speaking garbled, quiet French. Hey, I’m learning here. Speak clearly, like you’re talking to a retarded person. Otherwise, I won’t understand. Anyway, she starts rifling through my shit, playing with my phone, opening drawers, and going through my purse. Ummm... how do you say “get your dirty mitts of my stuff” in French? And then she just stared at me for about 15 minutes. I tried not to say anything so maybe she would think I was slow, and leave. It took forever, besides the fact she was trying to figure out how to open/turn on my computer. Errr... have you even ever seen a computer before? I get that you live on the beach and all, and that I’m more reliant on my computer than I probably should be, but come on. It’s a MacBook, not rocket science. Pressing the caps lock key will not turn on the computer, nor will the escape button.

So, there’s no internet. It looks like I’ll be uploading these posts and downloading my homework to do offline in the evenings as I go during school time. That’s kind of what I was expecting, but it still would’ve been nice to have the internet. A girl can dream, right? Too bad the pay-as-you-go site won’t... let me pay. Silly Frenchies. All of a sudden, that German “efficiency,” which really isn’t efficient, is looking reeeal good. And it’s only the first couple of hours. Crap.

Anyway, this should be quite the interesting saga. I’m hoping things will be better on Monday when I actually get to classes. Maybe that won’t be so creepy. I’ve just got terrible visions of coming back here, and that weird girl that was in my room will be prancing around in my clothes, or something. This might actually be the place where it’s safer to keep my passport on my person than leaving it locked up. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to be here. I think. But I’ve kind of got a chip on my shoulder, and am more than a little paranoid when things look this bleak from the get-go.

I’ll stop complaining if I get fed tomorrow. Thank goodness for past experiences...

Just a thought...

If my dog wants his... errr.. morning wood to go away, he should probably stop licking/pleasuring himself. He should know that's really counterproductive.

AND GOOD MORNING TO YOU....!!

Today is shaping up to be a busy day! I leave for France tomorrow, and today will be a busy day filled with Russian lessons, shopping, and doing some last-minute running around. And packing. Oh, and a little bit of homework I neglected to do yesterday because I felt like I got hit by a bus. Fun, eh?

So ist das Leben...

Weird Food Tastes in Dogs

I love my Maxie to bits. But he's such a weirdo. He not only likes typical human food like steak and chicken, but also lettuce, peas, carrots, apples and oranges. If I'm eating a salad, he goes crazy. Even crazier than for meat. Yes, I know I got a weird one, but I love him anyway. In the spirit of dogs eating people food, I decided to upload a video of Maxie eating peanut butter. I admit it, the first time I gave it to him, it was to shut him up because he was being yappy. Unfortunately, like everything else he can stick in his mouth, he loves it. I was making PBJ the other day, and there he was, begging. So I decided to record his fun with the peanut butter.... Enjoy!!!

Oh, and by the way, the crazy music in the background that sounds like it belongs on a porn video is the theme from Numb3rs. I promise I didn't add questionable-sounding music to the video just to creep you out.. :-)

Crunch Time!

Well, friends, it's Wednesday afternoon, and I leave on Saturday!! Yahoo!

And even though it's only Wednesday, I've been busier than ever this week! Since I'm leaving on samedi, I wanted to finish all my schoolwork this week. I've got a little bit of homework left, but not much. Oh, and a paper to write. Lucky for me, I finished my last final this morning! I also registered for my classes next semester... so much for that $6000 scholarship -- it's over halfway gone! I can't believe the price of tuition. Over $650 per class? That scholarship, as happy as I am to have it, doesn't even get me through tuition for two semesters. Ridiculous, oder?

Anyhoo, next semester should be interesting. Chemistry and math requirements, an intro to Latin, and a couple of history classes. Too bad I've got math and chem, though.. it's really going to be like being back in high school with ridiculous graduation requirements, eh? Yuck.

So, hopefully I can work on my paper tomorrow, and Friday, other than Russian, I'm going shopping with H.! His boss gave him the day off so we can hang out for the day before I head out for a couple weeks! I'm really looking forward to having a day just with him!

And, now you see why I haven't posted in awhile.. there's nothing interested to say! :-) Hopefully (and I know it), there will be more fun news once I'm in France!

À bientôt!