Sunday, January 24, 2010
tonight's unexpected revelation
i've got my memories
they're always inside of me
but I can't go back
back to how it was
i believe it now
i've seen too much
but I can't go back
back to how it was
created for a place I've never known
this is Home
now I'm finally where I belong
where I belong
yeah, this is home
i've been searching for a place of my own
now I've found it,
yeah this is home
yeah, this is home
belief over misery
i've seen the enemy
and I won't go back
back to how it was
and I've got my heart set on what happens next
i've got my eyes wide and it's not over yet
we are miracles
and we're not alone
and now after all my searching
after all my questions
i'm gonna call it home
i've got a brand new mindset
i can finally see the sunset
i'm gonna call it home
now I know, yeah this is home
i've come too far
no, I won't go back
this is home
the first week of adventures. :)
Maybe I shouldn't let so many days go by without an update! Then there won't be so much to pack into one entry. The past few days have been full of ups and downs, and I'm not sure where to start. I met up with Kendra on Wednesday to talk over experiences and look for phones together. I didn't have as much trouble communicating with the saleslady at the phone store as I thought I would! It was quite encouraging. I also did some asking at the bus terminal about bus passes, since it looks like I'm going to need to make good use of them, but the monthly pass is only good from the 1st to the end of each month. It wouldn't do me any good to buy one now, so I just got a booklet of 10 tickets instead. 'Tis a good 30 minute walk from my house to the university, and it's still cold and misty on most days, so I'm hoping to take advantage of the bus. When spring comes in the next month or so, I'm sure it will be more comfortable to walk. There is a lot of construction downtown because of the new trolley system they're installing, so the sidewalks take a lot of detours, but that just makes it interesting. ;)
Anyway, I called that a productive day and went home to cook dinner for myself. I found a recipe for Stracciatella, an italian chicken soup, that looked really simple, and I had all the ingredients on hand. So, I set about thawing chicken...in an unheated room. Yeah, that was going to take a while, so I thought maybe, just maybe, I could heat it in water and make some light broth at the same time for the soup. Obstacle #1 cleared! On to chopping the onion and garlic.....without a cutting board or a knife. Oh boy. Well, I did find a cheese grater. I mean, why not? Use what you've got, I always say. So I set about grating garlic and, err, shredding/mashing the onion with a cheese grater. I finally just finished off the onion by hacking at it with a slightly serrated butter knife. (Hey, it worked.) You can't tell what the onion looks like once you cook it anyway. :P Obstacle #2 cleared! Into the warm butter went the onions and garlic, and then I sliced up a few mushrooms and tore up some fresh spinach to toss in. The chicken was mostly cooked by that time, so I chunked it and threw it into the onion/garlic skillet with some herbs, salt, pepper, and the spinach/mushroom mix. It was starting to smell really good, and it was actually looking pretty too, so I was having second thoughts about the soup. Why not throw some parmesan garlic tomato sauce in with the chicken and make some pasta in the chicken broth? Check, and check...but how to drain the pasta? *sigh* No strainer. Well, in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I found that a bowl and a paper towel can do the trick for a bit of pasta. (Just don't touch the wet paper towel, because it's hot. :P ) Obstacle #3 cleared! I threw some of that good French butter into the pasta, covered it with my chicken concoction, and toasted some French bread. I even cut up a little cheese to put on the side, and voila - I could call my experiment a success. :) Thank heavens for the ingenuity my mother taught me to use in the kitchen!
Thursday was orientation day for international students, so I woke up early and took the bus to school. It's always amazingly awkward trying to break the ice between international students who are all trying to speak a foreign language, because everyone is at a different level. I, for one, just feel like I'm the worst of the lot, so I hate starting conversations because I feel embarrassed and intimidated. It's always harder with the European students who have had more practice speaking in more than one language. Anyway, despite that, I visited a bit with a few of the students, and then listened as I was inundated with a flood of information from the university officials. ID cards, campus history, colleges & department details, classes, French government paperwork, class registration, internet protocol, meetings scheduled with departments, exchange program activities and planned excursions -- all of that information in one sitting. It was enough to make my already aching head swim. At least I know that there are activities planned for us, in case the French students totally ignore us. They're planning trips to Paris, Lille, the beach, and some other really fun-sounding places. :) After that info spill session, they took us on a brief tour of the campus and down some city streets until we ended up back at one of the university restaurants (just another cafeteria). I was able to spend some time talking to a new friend, Dorota, who is from Poland, as we were walking around in the cold, though. She had noticed that my last name looked Polish, so we talked about family backgrounds a bit. She doesn't speak French, though, and she was really glad to find someone who could speak English with her and help her figure out what was going on. The cafeteria food was...cafeteria food, but the linguine and fish weren't terrible. We had to rush back to the university for an obligatory meeting with the "Living Languages" department, though. It was then that I discovered just how far in over my head I truly was. Their system of dividing levels of classes in that department is one of the most confusing, frustrating things I have ever encountered. I'm sure it makes sense to them, but for an exchange student, working your way through the charts on the wall of schedules is like taking a trip to you-know-where and back. (You can see pictures of me and Kendra trying to figure it out on facebook. :P it's amusing, I'm sure.) If our UCA system is anywhere near this complicated for foreign students, I pray God's tender mercies on their souls.
I did find a bit of respite in the meeting with a British professor, a certain Mr. Terence Atkinson (spoken with true British flair). He is offering an Anglophone Literature class at an advanced level that I am interested in taking to keep my courseload from being too difficult. I also think it would be interesting to take a literature class from a British perspective in a French school, but that's just me. I know everyone is going to ask me why I would want to take a class like that while I'm in France...but to that I will simply respond with the advice I received from Mr. Atkinson himself: "Be ambitious, but be reasonable. You are not here to make your life misery." With that in mind, I am going to find classes that are interesting, some that are challenging, and all that provide opportunities that I don't have in the U.S. -- but nothing that is going to make me want to kill myself. That's not my goal in giving myself an education, and never will be. That said, I am also interested in some of the classes offered by the theology department, namely Paul and his Epistles, Ethics in Business and Politics, Islam, and Exegesis. In the language department, the translation classes (from English to French and vice versa), as well as the class in teaching English as a second language in French schools, have caught my eye. Both types of classes would be interesting from a French perspective. There's also a class in French language, art, and history that sounds amazing, and it's open to international students. They spend a limited amount of time in the classroom and go on field trips to local places of interest, even the lesser-known places that are full of culture. I would *love* to get into that class, but there is limited space and entry is competitive, it seems. I won't find out about the French literature or history classes until Tuesday, because the department head is still on vacation and there are no schedules posted yet. Even with all of these options and all of this uncertainty, I do know for sure that I will be taking one class, though: the French class they place all exchange students in according to their level. I already had my first homework assignment: to turn in a written essay test to determine my placement. :P We'll see how that turns out this week.
Kendra and I spent Friday in more meetings and at the language class schedule board, wracking our brains to find a way to make sense of it all. Finally, I started to crack the code, and I was able to write down the days and times of the classes that might work. The odd thing is, some of their classes have already started, some will start this week, and other not until later on. It's unlike anything I've ever seen! I feel like I've been thrown into a blender, and one that was already on, at that. Oh well, it's all part of the adventure. We don't have to officially register for classes until March, so we can waltz in and out of whatever classes we want until then to find the ones that fit the best. This week will be quite full of experimentation. Let's hope I can take good notes and remember which classes I like.
Friday night, I went back to Kendra's house with her for a nap and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before heading out with some new friends for a chat at a local bar called K'lypso. You'll find a few pictures of that outing on Facebook. :) It was quite enjoyable, and I'm getting much better at communicating in French. Also, Perrier with a lime wedge is quite tasty. (it's like the French version of club soda) Unfortunately, I couldn't find a bus home that night, even though it was only 10:30. Evidently, most lines stop after 8:30. So I had to walk the half-hour back to my house in the dark and drizzle. Again, I don't mind -- it's all part of the adventure. I wouldn't be happy if I didn't have challenges to surmount. (then again, it might not be a good thing, since the challenges have to keep getting stickier to keep me satisified) ;) Anyway, I made it safe and sound, although I'd rather not have to do that very often. I don't have a knife, or mace, or bricks to carry around with me. (and bricks are heavy) And the French frown upon guns. :P Ah well, I think I found a bus line that can get me home later at night. Hopefully it can, anyway, because I want to be able to experience things with my new friends, and most of that activity is going to happen after school hours.
So...what new things have I discovered this week? I'll make a list for you to keep it short and sweet:
- everyone wears scarves. everyone. even the guys.
- nearly all of the girls wear tights and boots.
- the library is the only warm place on campus, or in any French building. this explains the tights, boots, and scarves.
- the library is also my favorite place on campus, because it has study tables (with individual lamps!) that face huge windows overlooking the old buildings on campus. and it smells good. overall, it's 10x more comfortable than UCA's library.
- they don't have peanut butter here. sad day.
- I haven't found Goldfish either. I guess the French don't like tiny cheese-flavored baked fish snacks.
- the museum de beaux-arts here is currently in the middle of a Rodin exhibition
- the international choir no longer exists, but I might have a chance at getting into another choir (we'll see)
- I like 'pain du raisin' and 'pain chocolat'. I actually might like the raisin pastries a bit more, but I'll have to keep tasting to know for sure. ;)
- it's almost as gray and damp here as it is in England. let's hope I don't start developing symptoms of SAD. :P
- maybe one of these days I'll do something right in this house, but those days have not occurred this week. I'm constantly paranoid that I've left a door open, or a heater on, or shut off one of the water faucets too tightly. Jacqueline notices everything, and she usually finds the door open about 10 seconds after I've walked through it, intending to come right back. :P
- french microwaves don't shut off when you open the door, which led to another one of Jacqueline's admonishments. this I understand, though. I don't want to cook my hand.
- a mental health day is good every once in a while. Saturday was good for catching up on sleep and having breakfast in bed, and I still managed to be rather productive.
- French mass in a 1000 year old abbey = wow
- (for more mature audiences) you can buy condoms from vending machines mounted on the city sidewalks. 2 euros each. evidently for those who just can't wait to walk inside the store that's 2 feet away. (and I thought the French *wanted* babies?)
- they look at you funny and express genuine concern for you if you eat a late lunch. meal times are apparently sacred and well-protected here.
- i miss singing in my choir.
I think that is all. I'm going to make a habit of doing one distinctly French thing every day, whether it be singing in an empty cathedral or trying a new pastry or taking a picnic lunch to a park I've never seen before. I'm sure the list will grow. :)
And this entry has definitely grown. I'll try to make them shorter in the future! Until I write again...
<3 à bientot!
Anyway, I called that a productive day and went home to cook dinner for myself. I found a recipe for Stracciatella, an italian chicken soup, that looked really simple, and I had all the ingredients on hand. So, I set about thawing chicken...in an unheated room. Yeah, that was going to take a while, so I thought maybe, just maybe, I could heat it in water and make some light broth at the same time for the soup. Obstacle #1 cleared! On to chopping the onion and garlic.....without a cutting board or a knife. Oh boy. Well, I did find a cheese grater. I mean, why not? Use what you've got, I always say. So I set about grating garlic and, err, shredding/mashing the onion with a cheese grater. I finally just finished off the onion by hacking at it with a slightly serrated butter knife. (Hey, it worked.) You can't tell what the onion looks like once you cook it anyway. :P Obstacle #2 cleared! Into the warm butter went the onions and garlic, and then I sliced up a few mushrooms and tore up some fresh spinach to toss in. The chicken was mostly cooked by that time, so I chunked it and threw it into the onion/garlic skillet with some herbs, salt, pepper, and the spinach/mushroom mix. It was starting to smell really good, and it was actually looking pretty too, so I was having second thoughts about the soup. Why not throw some parmesan garlic tomato sauce in with the chicken and make some pasta in the chicken broth? Check, and check...but how to drain the pasta? *sigh* No strainer. Well, in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I found that a bowl and a paper towel can do the trick for a bit of pasta. (Just don't touch the wet paper towel, because it's hot. :P ) Obstacle #3 cleared! I threw some of that good French butter into the pasta, covered it with my chicken concoction, and toasted some French bread. I even cut up a little cheese to put on the side, and voila - I could call my experiment a success. :) Thank heavens for the ingenuity my mother taught me to use in the kitchen!
Thursday was orientation day for international students, so I woke up early and took the bus to school. It's always amazingly awkward trying to break the ice between international students who are all trying to speak a foreign language, because everyone is at a different level. I, for one, just feel like I'm the worst of the lot, so I hate starting conversations because I feel embarrassed and intimidated. It's always harder with the European students who have had more practice speaking in more than one language. Anyway, despite that, I visited a bit with a few of the students, and then listened as I was inundated with a flood of information from the university officials. ID cards, campus history, colleges & department details, classes, French government paperwork, class registration, internet protocol, meetings scheduled with departments, exchange program activities and planned excursions -- all of that information in one sitting. It was enough to make my already aching head swim. At least I know that there are activities planned for us, in case the French students totally ignore us. They're planning trips to Paris, Lille, the beach, and some other really fun-sounding places. :) After that info spill session, they took us on a brief tour of the campus and down some city streets until we ended up back at one of the university restaurants (just another cafeteria). I was able to spend some time talking to a new friend, Dorota, who is from Poland, as we were walking around in the cold, though. She had noticed that my last name looked Polish, so we talked about family backgrounds a bit. She doesn't speak French, though, and she was really glad to find someone who could speak English with her and help her figure out what was going on. The cafeteria food was...cafeteria food, but the linguine and fish weren't terrible. We had to rush back to the university for an obligatory meeting with the "Living Languages" department, though. It was then that I discovered just how far in over my head I truly was. Their system of dividing levels of classes in that department is one of the most confusing, frustrating things I have ever encountered. I'm sure it makes sense to them, but for an exchange student, working your way through the charts on the wall of schedules is like taking a trip to you-know-where and back. (You can see pictures of me and Kendra trying to figure it out on facebook. :P it's amusing, I'm sure.) If our UCA system is anywhere near this complicated for foreign students, I pray God's tender mercies on their souls.
I did find a bit of respite in the meeting with a British professor, a certain Mr. Terence Atkinson (spoken with true British flair). He is offering an Anglophone Literature class at an advanced level that I am interested in taking to keep my courseload from being too difficult. I also think it would be interesting to take a literature class from a British perspective in a French school, but that's just me. I know everyone is going to ask me why I would want to take a class like that while I'm in France...but to that I will simply respond with the advice I received from Mr. Atkinson himself: "Be ambitious, but be reasonable. You are not here to make your life misery." With that in mind, I am going to find classes that are interesting, some that are challenging, and all that provide opportunities that I don't have in the U.S. -- but nothing that is going to make me want to kill myself. That's not my goal in giving myself an education, and never will be. That said, I am also interested in some of the classes offered by the theology department, namely Paul and his Epistles, Ethics in Business and Politics, Islam, and Exegesis. In the language department, the translation classes (from English to French and vice versa), as well as the class in teaching English as a second language in French schools, have caught my eye. Both types of classes would be interesting from a French perspective. There's also a class in French language, art, and history that sounds amazing, and it's open to international students. They spend a limited amount of time in the classroom and go on field trips to local places of interest, even the lesser-known places that are full of culture. I would *love* to get into that class, but there is limited space and entry is competitive, it seems. I won't find out about the French literature or history classes until Tuesday, because the department head is still on vacation and there are no schedules posted yet. Even with all of these options and all of this uncertainty, I do know for sure that I will be taking one class, though: the French class they place all exchange students in according to their level. I already had my first homework assignment: to turn in a written essay test to determine my placement. :P We'll see how that turns out this week.
Kendra and I spent Friday in more meetings and at the language class schedule board, wracking our brains to find a way to make sense of it all. Finally, I started to crack the code, and I was able to write down the days and times of the classes that might work. The odd thing is, some of their classes have already started, some will start this week, and other not until later on. It's unlike anything I've ever seen! I feel like I've been thrown into a blender, and one that was already on, at that. Oh well, it's all part of the adventure. We don't have to officially register for classes until March, so we can waltz in and out of whatever classes we want until then to find the ones that fit the best. This week will be quite full of experimentation. Let's hope I can take good notes and remember which classes I like.
Friday night, I went back to Kendra's house with her for a nap and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before heading out with some new friends for a chat at a local bar called K'lypso. You'll find a few pictures of that outing on Facebook. :) It was quite enjoyable, and I'm getting much better at communicating in French. Also, Perrier with a lime wedge is quite tasty. (it's like the French version of club soda) Unfortunately, I couldn't find a bus home that night, even though it was only 10:30. Evidently, most lines stop after 8:30. So I had to walk the half-hour back to my house in the dark and drizzle. Again, I don't mind -- it's all part of the adventure. I wouldn't be happy if I didn't have challenges to surmount. (then again, it might not be a good thing, since the challenges have to keep getting stickier to keep me satisified) ;) Anyway, I made it safe and sound, although I'd rather not have to do that very often. I don't have a knife, or mace, or bricks to carry around with me. (and bricks are heavy) And the French frown upon guns. :P Ah well, I think I found a bus line that can get me home later at night. Hopefully it can, anyway, because I want to be able to experience things with my new friends, and most of that activity is going to happen after school hours.
So...what new things have I discovered this week? I'll make a list for you to keep it short and sweet:
- everyone wears scarves. everyone. even the guys.
- nearly all of the girls wear tights and boots.
- the library is the only warm place on campus, or in any French building. this explains the tights, boots, and scarves.
- the library is also my favorite place on campus, because it has study tables (with individual lamps!) that face huge windows overlooking the old buildings on campus. and it smells good. overall, it's 10x more comfortable than UCA's library.
- they don't have peanut butter here. sad day.
- I haven't found Goldfish either. I guess the French don't like tiny cheese-flavored baked fish snacks.
- the museum de beaux-arts here is currently in the middle of a Rodin exhibition
- the international choir no longer exists, but I might have a chance at getting into another choir (we'll see)
- I like 'pain du raisin' and 'pain chocolat'. I actually might like the raisin pastries a bit more, but I'll have to keep tasting to know for sure. ;)
- it's almost as gray and damp here as it is in England. let's hope I don't start developing symptoms of SAD. :P
- maybe one of these days I'll do something right in this house, but those days have not occurred this week. I'm constantly paranoid that I've left a door open, or a heater on, or shut off one of the water faucets too tightly. Jacqueline notices everything, and she usually finds the door open about 10 seconds after I've walked through it, intending to come right back. :P
- french microwaves don't shut off when you open the door, which led to another one of Jacqueline's admonishments. this I understand, though. I don't want to cook my hand.
- a mental health day is good every once in a while. Saturday was good for catching up on sleep and having breakfast in bed, and I still managed to be rather productive.
- French mass in a 1000 year old abbey = wow
- (for more mature audiences) you can buy condoms from vending machines mounted on the city sidewalks. 2 euros each. evidently for those who just can't wait to walk inside the store that's 2 feet away. (and I thought the French *wanted* babies?)
- they look at you funny and express genuine concern for you if you eat a late lunch. meal times are apparently sacred and well-protected here.
- i miss singing in my choir.
I think that is all. I'm going to make a habit of doing one distinctly French thing every day, whether it be singing in an empty cathedral or trying a new pastry or taking a picnic lunch to a park I've never seen before. I'm sure the list will grow. :)
And this entry has definitely grown. I'll try to make them shorter in the future! Until I write again...
<3 à bientot!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Je suis arrivée!
:) Well, here I am! You have before you my first official blog post from France. Thank you, everyone, for your encouraging notes, letters, and prayers! I feel so loved, and I hope you know that you are loved as well.
My little desk is situated next to the window in my room, which takes up most of the wall, so I can sit here as long as I want, watching tiny European cars whizzing down the street and French people ambling purposefully down the sidewalk - some singing, some with little ones in tow. It’s a charming downtown neighborhood (as much as anything can be charming when the sky is so gray), and it’s still difficult for me to believe that I’m actually living in it after having dreamed, imagined, and planned for so long.
I'm not suffering from culture shock as much as I thought I would. I suppose the time I spent in Québec last summer helped me learn how to acclimate quickly. There are still many odd culture quirks that I notice, and I'm sure I will continue to notice, but I don't feel as though I'm drowning this time. Believe me, it’s not a feeling I miss. I was rather exhausted by the end of my travels, though, since I was only able to sleep for a total of about 3 hours on the plane. Both flights went smoothly, with no major turbulence or problems at the airports. My luggage was even waiting for me as soon as I walked into the terminal. I must say, though, that I was a bit like a kid in a candy store on that plane. I've never been in a plane so big that I couldn’t see the front from my seat. They even had TV screens on the wall that showed a map and a tiny plane icon that moved across the globe to show where we were, and how fast we were going, and how far we still had to go, and how cold it was outside the plane. Kendra and I were so excited about the plane food, which was so-so, but we were quite enthralled with the rolls that came in sealed plastic. :P I felt really odd being one of the few passengers who wasn't asleep, because whenever I walked back to the lavatory, everyone was sprawled out on the seats like they knew what they were doing. I also had to go to the bathroom after the captain had turned the seatbelt light on again (I think he was a little trigger-happy), so the 'return to your seat' sign was lit up in the lavatory, and it started making that annoyingly nice "ding" to let me know as much. Unfortunately, it's kind of hard to return to your seat when you're still using the toilet. I was sure that at any moment the flight attendant was going to knock on the door and kick me out or something. :P Anyway, the movies weren’t anything special, so I just wrote in my journal, looked at the stars, and watched the sunrise when we got closer to Paris. Seeing the breaking of the dawn from the plane was one of the most breath-takingly beautiful things I've ever seen. The colors were so rich! When the sky started to show signs of light, I was listening to Chris Rice on my iPod. ( I find it funny how many moments in my life have an analogous Chris Rice song.) Anyway, his song "Sleepyhead Sun" came on. Look it up -- you'll see why it was really special to me. My personal opinion is that Abba was just giving me a token of his affection. :) He knew I’d been struggling with the fact that I was feeling as though I had lost lot of the awe and wonder in life.
We did eventually arrive in Paris, although it took forever for the plane to park and for us to get off the plane and be bussed to the terminal. They didn't make a fuss over the passport screening at all, so Kendra and were quickly off to find an ATM and the train station (which was conveniently placed at the opposite end of the airport). :P I finally found a place to buy a calling card so I could notify my hostess that I had arrived and which train I would be taking. Unfortunately, she didn't answer either of her phone numbers. Kendra's hostess did, though, so we waited until the marquis displayed the platform for our train (they aren’t displayed until 20 minutes before departure) and discovered that it was below us, and the only way down was an escalator. Now, you probably haven’t seen my suitcases, but you can probably imagine that the two of them are rather bulky and a bit heavy (but NOT over the airline’s 50lb weight limit, I might add). With that in mind, you can probably also understand my great trepidation at taking those by hand down an escalator. I thought I was surely going to plunge to my death, and death by escalator was not what I had in mind after having come so far with no problems. Anyway, I managed to perform some amazing feats of balance and strength to keep myself from tumbling down the stairs, and we hopped on the train ... well, I say "hopped" but it was more like a wrestling match with those suitcases. TGV doors are narrow. A couple of guys helped me with mine, but no one offered to help me stack them in the baggage area, which was about as large as telephone booth. No one bothered to let us know that there were more storage areas throughout the train. Oh well. After I found a seat, I pretty much just collapsed...and it was all I could do to try to keep my eyes open for the train ride. I nodded off about 8 times and had to summon all the willpower I could to stay awake. (Kendra wasn't there for me to talk to because her ticket put her in a different car.) I enjoyed talking to the train ticket checker guy, though - a really sweet older gentleman. He told me I had a lovely accent and that I didn't need to change a thing. (So, evidently my accent is cute - that's great, but I'd really like to be able to say the right words with it. lol) That will come with time, though, and I'm actually understanding a good deal more than I thought I would. I’m not even feeling guilty for not being perfectly fluent (I did that last time, too). It's not nearly as difficult to speak as it used to be, so I think I'll start making some good progress fairly quickly.
Anyway, Kendra's hostess met her at the train station, but mine didn't. Mme. Thomas was very hospitable and called Mme. Ramakers with her phone, and then she stayed with us both until Mme. Ramakers came for me. Turns out she got the dates mixed up and thought I was coming two days later. It wasn't a problem though, and she took me home and introduced me to her two dogs: Trobinette the Jack Russell terrier and Chaussette the Bichon-Maltese. I've really hit it off with Trobinette. :) Jacqueline, my hostess, is 70 and doesn't have any other family. Her husband and son have both passed away, and from what I can tell, it is still extremely difficult for her to talk about it. She didn't even say the word "dead" when she mentioned her son; she wrote it down. I think her son died when he was about my age, because I haven't seen any pictures of him when he was older than late teens/early twenties. She was born in Angers, and has lived here all of her life. She is also devoutly Catholic, so her baptism, communion, and marriage have all taken place at L’Eglise de St-Serge. As she started talking about everything she does in the church and the community, I realized that she is probably one of the most involved Catholics I've ever met. Jacqueline takes care of decorating the church and preparing for services and taking communion to the elderly shut-ins on Sundays after mass. She's very nice and a bit like a grandmother, if a bit more disciplined of a woman than I'm accustomed to meeting. For example, she has a list of rules posted to my room walls, which intimidated me at first. It goes something like this, if paraphrased:
- An evaluation of your room will be done when you arrive and when you leave.
- You will vacuum and clean your room once a week.
- You can take your shower in the evening and for a maximum of 10 minutes
- You must warn one day in advance if you’re going to be gone.
- You cannot do laundry in the room or the house. There are laundries nearby.
- No university boyfriends in the house.
- No smoking.
- If requested, dinner price is 6 euros and at 8pm, and breakfast costs 2 euros.
- Do not leave any hair in the sink.
- I wish you a pleasant stay.
A lot of it is common courtesy, but there were a few things that caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting the extra dinner charges or the need to go to a laundry-mat, but those are just things to adjust to. It could be an adventure. In any case, it will be interesting to try the lifestyle of another culture. That's a main reason for me being here. :) One exciting benefit that I wasn’t expecting is that I do have access to my own kitchen, with a fridge, range, oven, sink, and a little table with a couple of chairs. The shower is right next to the kitchen, and it's tiny, but at least it warms up quickly. That part of the house is not heated, and right now it's rather cold, of course. So...going to the bathroom is rather......chilly, shall we say. :P Maybe I'll have time to post some pictures, or maybe a video, of my living arrangements later. I'd like to liven it up a bit over the course of my stay, but for the most party, it’s perfectly agreeable. The coverlet on the bed is SO soft and warm. I didn't think it would be warm enough with one blanket, but gosh, it's toasty. And I have an armoire to myself...which I've always wanted in my room. :)
Now, as for Jacqueline...I'm kind of in that awkward stage, still. I'm not sure how to read her yet, and of course, with the language barrier crumbling but still high in some places, it's difficult. After observing and thinking for a couple of days, I've come to the conclusion that she's probably really lonely, so I hope that I can be a little bit of sunshine in her life. Eventually, I hope I can be more than just a girl who rents out her extra room downstairs. For now, I'm trying my best to be a good guest and follow all the etiquette rules I can think of, but I'm still so afraid of tripping up and making her think I'm some kind of ungrateful, impolite American. She's been very accomodating so far, letting me use her phone and feeding me my first meals here: dinner, breakfast and lunch. She also took me to the supermarket last night, so I was able to purchase some groceries. I’m glad I’ve had practice with making up an impromptu menu! I’m also glad that the supermarket is kind of like Kroger and Wal-Mart all in one, but on steroids. I've never seen three whole aisles of yogurt, or plastic bottles of unrefrigerated milk. I was able to find a good ol' hair straightener, too, which I needed desperately. I hate to sound like the kind of girl who can’t live without her beauty appliances, but I honestly tried to make do with a blow dryer the night I arrived and it looked frightful when I woke up in the morning. :P Fortunately, the French women here don't seem to put a lot of effort into their hair. Clothes, yes -- hair and makeup, not so much. At least from what I've seen so far.
By the way, the food here is, indeed, amazing. I was invited to eat a casual but typical French lunch upstairs with Jacqueline and her friend, which consisted of an apératif, bread, chicken and pasta, cheeses and more bread, and then a dessert of raspberry filled custard-like pastries that her friend brought with some frozen nougat. I’ve never seen frozen nougat before, but this one was like a block of nutty, creamy ice cream with a stripe of raspberry sorbet in the middle. The whole thing was beautiful, with nuts and fruits arranged on top as a garnish. People don’t pull that kind of thing out in America unless you’re at a fancy restaurant, and this was just a basic lunch shared with a friend in a tiny kitchen. Crazy!
Well, I think I’m going to get out of my pajamas and start checking off other things on my list. I’m glad I arrived a little early so I could settle in before diving headlong into university life. Kendra and I don't have reliable communication set up yet, so I’m hoping that we can find a way to meet up and explore a bit today. We should be able to take care of buying SIM cards for our phones and getting bus passes soon. Classes don't start until next week. Orientation is this Thursday. I have to make some kind of trip to some kind of government office before too long so they can verify that I'm here or something. It sounds really official. The paper says something about me being summoned for a medical examination too (which of course, is going to cost ME money). :P Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes. Should be an entertaining story. ;)
À bientot!
Ps. Take a look at my actual blog page here: http://www.matchlessgrace.blogspot.com. The layout looks really pretty now, if I do say so myself. ;)
My little desk is situated next to the window in my room, which takes up most of the wall, so I can sit here as long as I want, watching tiny European cars whizzing down the street and French people ambling purposefully down the sidewalk - some singing, some with little ones in tow. It’s a charming downtown neighborhood (as much as anything can be charming when the sky is so gray), and it’s still difficult for me to believe that I’m actually living in it after having dreamed, imagined, and planned for so long.
I'm not suffering from culture shock as much as I thought I would. I suppose the time I spent in Québec last summer helped me learn how to acclimate quickly. There are still many odd culture quirks that I notice, and I'm sure I will continue to notice, but I don't feel as though I'm drowning this time. Believe me, it’s not a feeling I miss. I was rather exhausted by the end of my travels, though, since I was only able to sleep for a total of about 3 hours on the plane. Both flights went smoothly, with no major turbulence or problems at the airports. My luggage was even waiting for me as soon as I walked into the terminal. I must say, though, that I was a bit like a kid in a candy store on that plane. I've never been in a plane so big that I couldn’t see the front from my seat. They even had TV screens on the wall that showed a map and a tiny plane icon that moved across the globe to show where we were, and how fast we were going, and how far we still had to go, and how cold it was outside the plane. Kendra and I were so excited about the plane food, which was so-so, but we were quite enthralled with the rolls that came in sealed plastic. :P I felt really odd being one of the few passengers who wasn't asleep, because whenever I walked back to the lavatory, everyone was sprawled out on the seats like they knew what they were doing. I also had to go to the bathroom after the captain had turned the seatbelt light on again (I think he was a little trigger-happy), so the 'return to your seat' sign was lit up in the lavatory, and it started making that annoyingly nice "ding" to let me know as much. Unfortunately, it's kind of hard to return to your seat when you're still using the toilet. I was sure that at any moment the flight attendant was going to knock on the door and kick me out or something. :P Anyway, the movies weren’t anything special, so I just wrote in my journal, looked at the stars, and watched the sunrise when we got closer to Paris. Seeing the breaking of the dawn from the plane was one of the most breath-takingly beautiful things I've ever seen. The colors were so rich! When the sky started to show signs of light, I was listening to Chris Rice on my iPod. ( I find it funny how many moments in my life have an analogous Chris Rice song.) Anyway, his song "Sleepyhead Sun" came on. Look it up -- you'll see why it was really special to me. My personal opinion is that Abba was just giving me a token of his affection. :) He knew I’d been struggling with the fact that I was feeling as though I had lost lot of the awe and wonder in life.
We did eventually arrive in Paris, although it took forever for the plane to park and for us to get off the plane and be bussed to the terminal. They didn't make a fuss over the passport screening at all, so Kendra and were quickly off to find an ATM and the train station (which was conveniently placed at the opposite end of the airport). :P I finally found a place to buy a calling card so I could notify my hostess that I had arrived and which train I would be taking. Unfortunately, she didn't answer either of her phone numbers. Kendra's hostess did, though, so we waited until the marquis displayed the platform for our train (they aren’t displayed until 20 minutes before departure) and discovered that it was below us, and the only way down was an escalator. Now, you probably haven’t seen my suitcases, but you can probably imagine that the two of them are rather bulky and a bit heavy (but NOT over the airline’s 50lb weight limit, I might add). With that in mind, you can probably also understand my great trepidation at taking those by hand down an escalator. I thought I was surely going to plunge to my death, and death by escalator was not what I had in mind after having come so far with no problems. Anyway, I managed to perform some amazing feats of balance and strength to keep myself from tumbling down the stairs, and we hopped on the train ... well, I say "hopped" but it was more like a wrestling match with those suitcases. TGV doors are narrow. A couple of guys helped me with mine, but no one offered to help me stack them in the baggage area, which was about as large as telephone booth. No one bothered to let us know that there were more storage areas throughout the train. Oh well. After I found a seat, I pretty much just collapsed...and it was all I could do to try to keep my eyes open for the train ride. I nodded off about 8 times and had to summon all the willpower I could to stay awake. (Kendra wasn't there for me to talk to because her ticket put her in a different car.) I enjoyed talking to the train ticket checker guy, though - a really sweet older gentleman. He told me I had a lovely accent and that I didn't need to change a thing. (So, evidently my accent is cute - that's great, but I'd really like to be able to say the right words with it. lol) That will come with time, though, and I'm actually understanding a good deal more than I thought I would. I’m not even feeling guilty for not being perfectly fluent (I did that last time, too). It's not nearly as difficult to speak as it used to be, so I think I'll start making some good progress fairly quickly.
Anyway, Kendra's hostess met her at the train station, but mine didn't. Mme. Thomas was very hospitable and called Mme. Ramakers with her phone, and then she stayed with us both until Mme. Ramakers came for me. Turns out she got the dates mixed up and thought I was coming two days later. It wasn't a problem though, and she took me home and introduced me to her two dogs: Trobinette the Jack Russell terrier and Chaussette the Bichon-Maltese. I've really hit it off with Trobinette. :) Jacqueline, my hostess, is 70 and doesn't have any other family. Her husband and son have both passed away, and from what I can tell, it is still extremely difficult for her to talk about it. She didn't even say the word "dead" when she mentioned her son; she wrote it down. I think her son died when he was about my age, because I haven't seen any pictures of him when he was older than late teens/early twenties. She was born in Angers, and has lived here all of her life. She is also devoutly Catholic, so her baptism, communion, and marriage have all taken place at L’Eglise de St-Serge. As she started talking about everything she does in the church and the community, I realized that she is probably one of the most involved Catholics I've ever met. Jacqueline takes care of decorating the church and preparing for services and taking communion to the elderly shut-ins on Sundays after mass. She's very nice and a bit like a grandmother, if a bit more disciplined of a woman than I'm accustomed to meeting. For example, she has a list of rules posted to my room walls, which intimidated me at first. It goes something like this, if paraphrased:
- An evaluation of your room will be done when you arrive and when you leave.
- You will vacuum and clean your room once a week.
- You can take your shower in the evening and for a maximum of 10 minutes
- You must warn one day in advance if you’re going to be gone.
- You cannot do laundry in the room or the house. There are laundries nearby.
- No university boyfriends in the house.
- No smoking.
- If requested, dinner price is 6 euros and at 8pm, and breakfast costs 2 euros.
- Do not leave any hair in the sink.
- I wish you a pleasant stay.
A lot of it is common courtesy, but there were a few things that caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting the extra dinner charges or the need to go to a laundry-mat, but those are just things to adjust to. It could be an adventure. In any case, it will be interesting to try the lifestyle of another culture. That's a main reason for me being here. :) One exciting benefit that I wasn’t expecting is that I do have access to my own kitchen, with a fridge, range, oven, sink, and a little table with a couple of chairs. The shower is right next to the kitchen, and it's tiny, but at least it warms up quickly. That part of the house is not heated, and right now it's rather cold, of course. So...going to the bathroom is rather......chilly, shall we say. :P Maybe I'll have time to post some pictures, or maybe a video, of my living arrangements later. I'd like to liven it up a bit over the course of my stay, but for the most party, it’s perfectly agreeable. The coverlet on the bed is SO soft and warm. I didn't think it would be warm enough with one blanket, but gosh, it's toasty. And I have an armoire to myself...which I've always wanted in my room. :)
Now, as for Jacqueline...I'm kind of in that awkward stage, still. I'm not sure how to read her yet, and of course, with the language barrier crumbling but still high in some places, it's difficult. After observing and thinking for a couple of days, I've come to the conclusion that she's probably really lonely, so I hope that I can be a little bit of sunshine in her life. Eventually, I hope I can be more than just a girl who rents out her extra room downstairs. For now, I'm trying my best to be a good guest and follow all the etiquette rules I can think of, but I'm still so afraid of tripping up and making her think I'm some kind of ungrateful, impolite American. She's been very accomodating so far, letting me use her phone and feeding me my first meals here: dinner, breakfast and lunch. She also took me to the supermarket last night, so I was able to purchase some groceries. I’m glad I’ve had practice with making up an impromptu menu! I’m also glad that the supermarket is kind of like Kroger and Wal-Mart all in one, but on steroids. I've never seen three whole aisles of yogurt, or plastic bottles of unrefrigerated milk. I was able to find a good ol' hair straightener, too, which I needed desperately. I hate to sound like the kind of girl who can’t live without her beauty appliances, but I honestly tried to make do with a blow dryer the night I arrived and it looked frightful when I woke up in the morning. :P Fortunately, the French women here don't seem to put a lot of effort into their hair. Clothes, yes -- hair and makeup, not so much. At least from what I've seen so far.
By the way, the food here is, indeed, amazing. I was invited to eat a casual but typical French lunch upstairs with Jacqueline and her friend, which consisted of an apératif, bread, chicken and pasta, cheeses and more bread, and then a dessert of raspberry filled custard-like pastries that her friend brought with some frozen nougat. I’ve never seen frozen nougat before, but this one was like a block of nutty, creamy ice cream with a stripe of raspberry sorbet in the middle. The whole thing was beautiful, with nuts and fruits arranged on top as a garnish. People don’t pull that kind of thing out in America unless you’re at a fancy restaurant, and this was just a basic lunch shared with a friend in a tiny kitchen. Crazy!
Well, I think I’m going to get out of my pajamas and start checking off other things on my list. I’m glad I arrived a little early so I could settle in before diving headlong into university life. Kendra and I don't have reliable communication set up yet, so I’m hoping that we can find a way to meet up and explore a bit today. We should be able to take care of buying SIM cards for our phones and getting bus passes soon. Classes don't start until next week. Orientation is this Thursday. I have to make some kind of trip to some kind of government office before too long so they can verify that I'm here or something. It sounds really official. The paper says something about me being summoned for a medical examination too (which of course, is going to cost ME money). :P Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes. Should be an entertaining story. ;)
À bientot!
Ps. Take a look at my actual blog page here: http://www.matchlessgrace.blogspot.com. The layout looks really pretty now, if I do say so myself. ;)
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Soldier
I don't believe in anything but myself
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won
I sit in the back of a bus watching the world grow old
Watching the world go by all by myself
I took a faith full leap and packed up all my things and
All my love and gave it to somebody else
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won, but it can be won
But it can be won, but it can be won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
(And so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
(The war is won)
And so it goes, this soldier knows
(And so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
(The war is won)
But it can be won, but it can be won
- "Soldier" by Ingrid Michaelson
I bought more of her music this morning on a whim, and this is the first song on her new album. It grabbed my attention from the very first line.
"I don't believe in anything but myself."
I've been there. It's not a good place to be. I didn't like the inherently self-sufficient start to this song, and I started wondering if the rest of the lyrics would annoy me.
"But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else."
It's strange how you can catch glimpses of God in the most secular of songs. I'm sure this song was most likely intended as a kind of love song about a girl and a boy and the fight for love, but it reminds me instead of the love story between me and God. She even asks the questions I ask of Him when I walk through those darker times in life.
"But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?"
Even the chorus echoes the story of my Christian life, because I know all too well how stubborn my heart can be. But I also know just how steadfast His heart is.
"And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won."
Yes, it can be won. It can be won by a leap of faith and a daring surrender.
"I sit in the back of a bus watching the world grow old
Watching the world go by all by myself
I took a faith full leap and packed up all my things and
All my love and gave it to somebody else."
Who knew that a song like this could remind me of so much truth?
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won
I sit in the back of a bus watching the world grow old
Watching the world go by all by myself
I took a faith full leap and packed up all my things and
All my love and gave it to somebody else
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won, but it can be won
But it can be won, but it can be won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
(And so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
(The war is won)
And so it goes, this soldier knows
(And so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
(The war is won)
But it can be won, but it can be won
- "Soldier" by Ingrid Michaelson
I bought more of her music this morning on a whim, and this is the first song on her new album. It grabbed my attention from the very first line.
"I don't believe in anything but myself."
I've been there. It's not a good place to be. I didn't like the inherently self-sufficient start to this song, and I started wondering if the rest of the lyrics would annoy me.
"But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else."
It's strange how you can catch glimpses of God in the most secular of songs. I'm sure this song was most likely intended as a kind of love song about a girl and a boy and the fight for love, but it reminds me instead of the love story between me and God. She even asks the questions I ask of Him when I walk through those darker times in life.
"But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?"
Even the chorus echoes the story of my Christian life, because I know all too well how stubborn my heart can be. But I also know just how steadfast His heart is.
"And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won."
Yes, it can be won. It can be won by a leap of faith and a daring surrender.
"I sit in the back of a bus watching the world grow old
Watching the world go by all by myself
I took a faith full leap and packed up all my things and
All my love and gave it to somebody else."
Who knew that a song like this could remind me of so much truth?
Monday, January 4, 2010
A new decade?
So, it's 2010. When I was little, I used to think that we'd have crazy cool technology now, but most of my fantasies were somehow related to things I'd seen on Star Trek. I suppose it's not surprising, then, that I'm a little disappointed now. My expectations were rather high. ;)
It's a little disconcerting to be able to clearly remember the last decade of my life for the first time. 11 to 21...it was only ten years, but it was probably one of the most eventful ten of my life. Growing into young adulthood will do that, I suppose. It's rather convenient to be born so close to a decade mark because it gives me the ability to think of the stages of my life in increments of ten as the decades tick by. Of course, this makes my OCD brain happy.
I started thinking about the events that defined 2000-2010, and I realized that I can finally finish that gosh-awful chapter of my life called adolescence. I suppose the best title for the chapter would be: "Adolescence: thank God it only comes once." It was characterized by a lot of angst, a lot of anxiety, a lot of awkward moments, some amazing memories...and a lot more awkward moments. In fact, it was just mostly awkward. But now, my feet are a little more firmly planted, and I have 2010-2020 to look forward to as a young adult and all the adventures that come with that stage of life. It's amazing to me how many things these next ten years could hold. I plan on finishing college, and after that -- it's a mystery. I might find a job here or a job abroad; I might be asked to devote myself to mission work - again, here or abroad. I might find a man to stand beside in marriage, or I might be called to serve God in singleness. Whatever God has in store for me, I'm learning to have faith that He'll make me ready.
I admit that I've been very scared lately about leaving everything behind for the semester. I've probably cycled through just about any emotion you can think of during the break -- like they're on a color wheel, and someone's spinning it. Fast. I've been excited, I've been nervous, I've been sad...but most recently, I've just been afraid. But...the fear is beginning to fall away as Abba keeps gently reminding me that He is in total control of my life. I can rest in that, because He is holy. I'm not. It doesn't matter where I am, whether it be at home, at UCA, or exploring castles in France.
This may seem unrelated at first, but bear with me. Chris was teaching on Sunday from James about the idolatry we commit when it comes to money and how important it is to trust God instead of our worldly wealth and our own wisdom. What I felt like God was teaching me (and probably a lot of us) was that money is not the issue. It's just the indicator of the real problem: self-sufficiency. Anyone who trusts in himself instead of in God becomes a two-souled person, and everyone knows what happens to a divided house. I don't want to be the kind of person with two souls. I've realized that I become that person when I let my fears control me and stop trusting God to take care of me. So, I'm letting go again and remembering that I shattered my glass vase. I'm not supposed to be wandering around in the broken glass trying to pick up the pieces. It is His good pleasure to put my life together, with love and absolute holiness.
It's that paradox again. Surrendering everything is risky, but it's the only place I'm safe. So, I'll pack my bags and walk onto that plane in less than two weeks, and I'll remember that He's not just my Abba in the United States. He speaks French, too. :)
It's a little disconcerting to be able to clearly remember the last decade of my life for the first time. 11 to 21...it was only ten years, but it was probably one of the most eventful ten of my life. Growing into young adulthood will do that, I suppose. It's rather convenient to be born so close to a decade mark because it gives me the ability to think of the stages of my life in increments of ten as the decades tick by. Of course, this makes my OCD brain happy.
I started thinking about the events that defined 2000-2010, and I realized that I can finally finish that gosh-awful chapter of my life called adolescence. I suppose the best title for the chapter would be: "Adolescence: thank God it only comes once." It was characterized by a lot of angst, a lot of anxiety, a lot of awkward moments, some amazing memories...and a lot more awkward moments. In fact, it was just mostly awkward. But now, my feet are a little more firmly planted, and I have 2010-2020 to look forward to as a young adult and all the adventures that come with that stage of life. It's amazing to me how many things these next ten years could hold. I plan on finishing college, and after that -- it's a mystery. I might find a job here or a job abroad; I might be asked to devote myself to mission work - again, here or abroad. I might find a man to stand beside in marriage, or I might be called to serve God in singleness. Whatever God has in store for me, I'm learning to have faith that He'll make me ready.
I admit that I've been very scared lately about leaving everything behind for the semester. I've probably cycled through just about any emotion you can think of during the break -- like they're on a color wheel, and someone's spinning it. Fast. I've been excited, I've been nervous, I've been sad...but most recently, I've just been afraid. But...the fear is beginning to fall away as Abba keeps gently reminding me that He is in total control of my life. I can rest in that, because He is holy. I'm not. It doesn't matter where I am, whether it be at home, at UCA, or exploring castles in France.
This may seem unrelated at first, but bear with me. Chris was teaching on Sunday from James about the idolatry we commit when it comes to money and how important it is to trust God instead of our worldly wealth and our own wisdom. What I felt like God was teaching me (and probably a lot of us) was that money is not the issue. It's just the indicator of the real problem: self-sufficiency. Anyone who trusts in himself instead of in God becomes a two-souled person, and everyone knows what happens to a divided house. I don't want to be the kind of person with two souls. I've realized that I become that person when I let my fears control me and stop trusting God to take care of me. So, I'm letting go again and remembering that I shattered my glass vase. I'm not supposed to be wandering around in the broken glass trying to pick up the pieces. It is His good pleasure to put my life together, with love and absolute holiness.
It's that paradox again. Surrendering everything is risky, but it's the only place I'm safe. So, I'll pack my bags and walk onto that plane in less than two weeks, and I'll remember that He's not just my Abba in the United States. He speaks French, too. :)
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