Day 2 of "That Week."

So, I’m sitting in the “laverie” waiting for my clothes to wash and dry. I’m fairly sure I manipulated the machine correctly, although I may have chosen a washing machine that is too large for fear of cramming too much in one of the smaller ones. It cost me 5.50 euros just to wash my clothes, which comes to about $8. To an American, that’s just insane!

Anyway, Tuesday was yet another day full of adventures and misadventures. My knee was still causing me quite a bit of pain, so I decided to take the bus again. It was one of the coldest mornings we’ve had since I arrived, so everyone was shivering at the bus stop. And we shivered. And we waited. And we shivered. And we looked at our watches (or iPods or iPhones). The bus was five - no, seven - no, ten minutes late. So we waited for the next bus. Nothing. After thirty minutes at the bus stop and two non-existent busses, we finally spotted one. Of course, it was already packed full of people, so there was hardly any room to squeeze on. It was a rather awkward ride to the ‘centre-ville,’ and by the time I arrived, I was at least 15 minutes late for the class I was trying to attend for the first time. I didn’t have much other choice, so I walked in, and the professor just had to be one of those stern looking, no-nonsense, uptight schoolmarm types. *sigh* I was already embarrassed for being late, flustered by the bus mishap, and still mostly frozen, and her cold stare certainly didn’t help that condition. She asked what class I was looking for, and I stammered that I was sorry for interrupting, but that I was exchange student looking for the Version class. “This is it. It starts at 10:15,” she said with a glare. I wanted to tell her plainly that being an exchange student didn’t make me stupid, and that I knew how to tell time, but instead I explained that I was really sorry, but that the bus was late. She didn’t seem to care and told me to find someone in the class who had the text. I slipped as quietly as I could to the back of the class where I had spotted Kendra. I suppose those kinds of professors exist everywhere, but that still doesn’t change my opinion that they need to find another line of work. :P

After that horrible experience, Kendra and I spent a little more time in front of the schedule boards trying to figure things out, and grabbed some lunch at the student café. They have really good tuna tomato sandwiches, even if they are packaged. Then, we ran off to the meeting scheduled for exchange students interested in classes in the History, Literature, and Arts department. It was there that we received a lot of information about finding classes that we should have gotten the week before, which was extremely frustrating. I also found out that some classes change times and classrooms every week, and you have to be really careful to watch the posted notices. When things change, though, they just say “Oh, that’s life!” Gah, this much spontaneity is almost too much for me sometimes!

We met a girl from the states who has been here for a semester already, and we picked her brain for a while about her experiences. Looking back, I think it was a bad idea, actually, because Kendra and I were terrified at the end of the conversation. She shared her difficulties with professors and with understanding the classes, keeping up with the changing classrooms, trying to adjust to the environment, the fact that the professors and officials aren’t always very helpful, the bike accidents she’s seen, the awful final exams that were nothing like what the professor clearly hinted at. Everything. All her frustrations. Granted, there were some good things, but it was definitely not the conversation I needed to have in the middle of last week. I spent most of the afternoon stressed and depressed, and Kendra did too, at least until we went to our next class: Thème with Mr. Atkinson. He’s such a friendly, good-humored British man that it’s hard not to smile when you’re around him. And, I found that translation is what makes me happy! Working with the text and finding the right words and phrases to accurately express the ideas of the author is the perfect mix of structure and creativity for my brain. You have to be faithful to the text, which is where the structure and regulation come into play, but you also have to be creative enough to find the expressions that get at the heart of the text. By the end of the class, I felt energized, and quite excited about the opportunities I’ll have to improve my French this semester. It had been a while since I’d been that excited about school. :) I’ve even come up with some other ideas for improving my French since then, like using my newly acquired translation techniques to translate some of my favorite songs. It feels so good to find something that truly lights me up inside, something I feel God has designed me for.

Kendra and I had the chance to talk to another French student, Azilys, who was super nice and was able to help us with some French expressions that we’ve never been able to get the hang of. She spent last semester in North Carolina, so we talked a lot about the differences between French and American universities. Comparing her perspective to that of our American friend, I would have to say that talking to Azilys was much more helpful! I didn’t feel overwhelmed or depressed after talking to her, just interested and a bit more excited. I learned that there really is a distance between most professors and students, so it’s best not to expect a friendly rapport like we have in the U.S. I also learned that French students don’t stay up until 2am studying -- they actually think that’s pretty stupid. They would rather study during the day (which is easier when your classes only meet once per week) and spend time with friends, go out, and relax in the evenings. They’re very protective of their sleep, and Azilys told us that the one thing she found so strange about American students is that they nap! Talking to her was quite fascinating. Kendra and I were getting hungry again, though, so we left to hang out on the Rue Bressigny, which is where most of the internationals go to hang out at the bars and restaurants. We enjoyed some more good Lebanese food before heading to the famous “Mardi Café” meetup for internationals and French students at K’lypso Bar. It wasn’t too bad at first, mingling with people, but before long, the music was blaring and it was so crowded that you couldn’t move from one side of the room to the other. Not helpful for having conversations at all. I did win a free drink though, so I decided to taste pure apricot juice for the first time. Pretty darn good, I must say. Then Kendra and I got out of there, because it was just too loud and crowded, and it was getting late. A couple of the French students in R.I.R.E., the international welcome club, accompanied me to the bus stop so I wouldn’t get lost and so I would have someone to wait with. They practiced their English with me, and I practiced my French with them, and I realized that they’re so good at English because they’ve been studying it since elementary school! That makes me feel a lot better and a lot less behind, because I’ve only been studying since high school. I can’t expect myself to have an equivalent level of proficiency by any means.

Anyway, there were several other people at the stop, but for some reason, the bus drove right on by without stopping. It was the only one going my direction for another hour, so one of the girls was kind enough to ask her dad, who was going to pick her up anyway, to pick me up, too, and drive me home. It was at that point that I realized that dealing with this bus system was going to be a knock-down, drag-out, fight. To the pain, of course. :P You see, this is what I’m up against:

I am living 30 minutes away from the university by foot, and there are hardly any busses after 8:50pm that can take me to my stop. The night of Mardi Café was the third time the bus system had put me in a predicament, and I’m afraid that one day I’m going to find myself in less than ideal, maybe even dangerous, circumstances because the bus is so unreliable. Being stuck alone at 11pm in 35 degree weather at a dark bus stop is much worse than just being late for a class, although I need to avoid both.  I can't risk not having a way to get back safely if something happens and they ignore me again.

So...I was really quite frustrated, exhausted, and emotionally drained when I arrived home after midnight Tuesday. I’m gonna check my laundry in the dryer now...and then maybe update you on Wednesday.