L'Isle de Groix

Here’s what it is:

Being in France is like drowning. That’s what it is. It’s like my brain is drowning, and French is the water, but English is air. So basically, I have to turn my brain into a fish. Complete with scales and gills and googly eyes and a tail.

The next time you see me, I shall have fins.

If I’m lucky.

Now, on to other things.

This weekend, I went with my family and my friend Grace and her family (they’re friends with my family; we’re neighbors) to the lower west coast of Bretegne. It was quite the trip, we fit in an unbelievable amount of sights into Saturday afternoon and Sunday. But here’s the rundown:

We started on Saturday in this tiny fishing village just on the coast. It was quaint and lovely, really lovely. At least one hundred years older than anything I’ve ever seen in the States. We just walked around and saw the classically Breton things there were to see. So that was nice. Everything was cobblestone or wood and crumbling in the authentically tired way that makes you feel like years and years of different people have seen this little part of town in varied states of being. It was very cool.

Then we went to the Trinite sur Mer, and stopped in a little bar for tea and cookies, and looked at the boats on the water as the sun started setting. It was really calming and small, an intimate sort of tourism. Great cookies, too. They were bought cheap in bulk from the crazy patisserie/marche next door, but they were unbelievable. Buttery and crumbly and thick. I had four without thinking. Ah, so good.

Then we drove a little to the little tiny plot of land that the Houssel family owns just outside of the Trinite. They just use it to store old bikes and grow squash and tomatoes and peaches and radishes. It was one of the randomest things I’ve ever seen. But that was fine too.

The real amazing part of Saturday was the drive to Annie’s parent’s house in Lorient. The sun was making its final descent, and the sky was partly cloudy, and the colors were starkly contrasted and really one of the most purely beautiful things I have ever seen. The clouds were black and then in the gaps there was a yellow light, which changed to a deep orange, and then a thick pink, until it was purple, and then faded right into navyblack night. It was ridiculous, seeing these colors over the Atlantic, and then over the countryside, and out across cityscapes. They painted everything; it was like sitting in the middle of a postcard. I’ve never been so astounded by the sheer force of color, its depth and its brilliance. Grace took pictures, so I should hopefully be able to post them here once she emails them to me, but it’s something I don’t think you can capture. It was magnificent.

Then we passed through this little tiny town with one of the most beautiful church entryways I’ve ever seen, and the picture we have of this is fantastic, so that I think will be shown unabashedly and without pretense. It’s really awesome.

Then we got to Annie’s parents house, and ate, and slept.

And then the next morning, we work up at seven, and drove out to the coast, where we got on this massive, smelly boat, and sat there for an hour out to this dinky little island called the Isle de Groix. I did not have high expectations for this day, and to be quite honest, it was one of the most high-and-low days I’ve ever had, but that’s hard to explain.

So we get to this island, and as we’re getting off the boat, I slip down a flight of stairs.

And then we rent bikes. All eight of us. They’re great bikes, but the brakes are a little sketchy, and the gear shift is really hard to maneuver. So, alright, they’re not great bikes. The Bikes are just fine.

And we proceed to bike around this little island for seven hours. And let me tell you, this is no simple task.

First of all, it’s a small island, so that from wherever you are standing, in most cases, unless there is a big tree or building next to you, you can see the ocean. So that’s really cool. But the vegetation on this island is pretty much untouched, so the bugs are very eager and come in big groups to feast on any exposed skin you may have, and the paths are very overgrown and scary and bumpy with potholes and roots and other craziness. So it’s a hardcore bike trip. But in between the extreme riding, we stop on the different rocky coasts and beached of the isle. And these are astounding.

On the cliffs, the drop is steep. They said about 150 m, average. And it falls to these rocky cauldrons where the water looks like churning glass. It rises and falls in patterns you wouldn’t think possible, like it’s defying the laws of nature, when really you’re seeing the laws of nature at their finest. The colors were steely and opaque and cool; the sky was overcast and gray. And the wind was whipping and fierce, the kind of wind that blows during the scariest scenes in Disney movies, the kind that foretells bad, bad things. But it was so beautiful. You’d see someone on another cliff a few meters away, and their hair would be flying everywhere and they’d be crouched over the edge of the drop, staring at the sea, and you’d think immediately of some movie scene where the leading lady runs to ocean with her skirt tangled and flapping and her hair falling out of its bun and crying like there is absolutely nothing else she can do. That’s the kind of coasts they have, that’s what belongs there. You have to come see it.

And the beaches always have waves and most interesting sand and there isn’t as much to say, but they’re breathtaking. There’s a beach here that is concave instead of convex (meaning that the sand actually goes further out in the center than it does at the sides) and it’s the only one in all of Europe that’s like that. We didn’t get to swim, it was way too cold, but they were definitely cool.

But all of it, all of the beautiful stuff, just made me wish that I could see it with all of the people I love. I’ve never seen a world like that, and not being able to marvel in it vocally with someone who knows just why I love it so much, or someone who appreciates it the same way I do was just terrifying. I tried to describe the churning glass to my French mother in French, and that was just silly. It not only made me sound stupid, but I felt completely adrift. She didn’t even really want to know, so I was mostly struggling pointlessly. All of these beautiful things and no passionate appreciation. It was frustrating! I kept feeling like I was on the verge of tears. That was frustrating, too. I hate the cheek kissing. I want a hug, I want someone to hold my hand, I want everything to be comforting and warm and close.

This place is the loneliest place I’ve ever been.

But it’s also the most beautiful.

So wherein lies the answer?

That’s about all, I think. Oh, except! I saw dolphins in the Atlantic Ocean!!! There were two of them, they were really dark, and we were on boat back to Lorient. They swam right up to the wake and were jumping and diving along side us for like twenty minutes, and they came all the way into the harbor. It was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. They were a lot darker skinned than I thought they would be. Not at all that crazy silver-blue color that I drew all over all of my school supplies in elementary school, which was something of a let down. But you know, it was still amazing.

So everything has a happy dolphin ending.

And now, homework.

I wish you were here.

Until Next Time, “That’s when I miss you, that’s when I miss you, You who are my home.” (please go listen to that song, right now.)

COUNTDOWN to return: 247 days

Avenir Rennes

So, let's pause and reflect.

Hmmm.

Where do I start?

Two days ago, I was walking down rue Duchesse Anne, which is perpendicular tothe allee (the little street that my school is on), and a little girl was standing on the sidewalk in front of me. She was no taller than a foot and a half, she had straight sandy blonde hair and little blueandwhite striped railroad man overalls, and I couldn't see her face. She had her back to me, and was perfectly still. Walking up to her, I couldn't tell if she was a child or a doll. Every part of her was proportionally ideal, impecably positioned. It was almost creepy. But then her mother came out of the door just to her right, annd they took hands, and she started walking/skipping/frolicing down the street. It was amazingly perfect. I swear to god, it came from a storybook. And here's the thing. Something about this little, tiny doll of a child was so alluring, I was speeding up to catch a glimpse of her face. But I couldn't. I didn't reach her in time, and so I actually have no idea what she looks like. But I've been thinking about it ever since. A captivating little french girl in blue overalls, making the world go round.

Yesterday, on my way to my second gymnastics place, I passed a butcher who had all these cartoon pictures of the three little pigs and the wolf, and the boy who cried wolf and all those sheep, and cartoon cows and Bambi and Peter Rabbit in his shop window. I laughed out loud of the irony, and then I felt like I was a sick, sad, strange young woman, and that I should be shot, and then someone should draw a cartoon of it to put on display at my funeral.

Now that was a terrible string of images, but that's what ran through my head.

The french have a very strange sense of humor.

Oh yes, I started a second gymnastics class, to test it out. Avenir Rennes. It was a million times better than the last one, I actually enjoyed myself, even though I was the WORST one in the room, and I was the only new person, so the isolation was unreal, but I felt like I was working again, and I know that I can make my body remember some things. So it meets Wednesdays and Fridays, and if tonight isn't fun, that's what I'm doing.

BUT TONIGHT, I have Trampoline and Tumbling.

And let me tell you, I am BEYOND excited.

So yay.

Except, pain.

So sore, biked to school today, there's a big hill, so sore.

I wish I was writing more. For myself I mean. I haven't worked on anything worthwhile since before I left.

I'm crap.

Today is a strange day.

I slept poorly last night, I had twisted dreams.

I miss home, a lot, today, especially today.

But of course, that's normal, right?

Of course it is.

I'm sorry that I'm behind on my emails. I promise, I'm doing my best.

I love you guys.

Until Next Time, "The Atlantic was born today..."

COUNTDOWN to return: 253 days

PS: I can get on AIM express at school! So if anyone is around the computers between like 8 and 10 am, I'll be doing what I can to catch you LIVE.

French Gymnasts

So let's examine the facts:

1 Two days ago, I fell into a river.

2 I've biked more in the past three days than I ever have in my life

3 I walk more in France than I ever have in my life

4 I did gymnastics yesterday for the first time in YEARS.

Add them all together, and what do you get? Madeline is:

10 times as sore as she thought humanly possibly in every place on her body.

So yeah, that's cool.

The gymnastics was fine, not exactly crazy amounts of fun, but it was familliar. Though it's messed up to translate moves like those into French in your head, and then try and remember them with your body. Let's just say, I can't do the things I could when I was 11.

I'm gonna try a dance class, and a trampoline class this week. We'll see which one works out.

So there you go.

Today, school, and homework, and I'm TIRED. Just moving takes wayyy more effort than normal.

UGH, and you can't take long showers in this country.

But there is lots of tea.

Anyways, I love you all.

Stay tuned.

Until Next Time, soursaulte!

COUNTDOWN to return: 255 days (thanks Bo)

PS: KatieMary, you're amazing! xoxoxo Kiss the babies for me, and keep updating!!!

La Chute

So.

Will, you’ll be happy to know that lately, I bike everywhere. Europe is the most amazing place in the world for people who like to bike, there are special bike lanes marked in green on almost every main road, and one Wednesday per month they encourage everyone to travel by bus or by foot or by velo if they possibly can (which is code for “they egg your car”). So tomorrow, and the day after, when the weather is supposed to work in my favor, I will be biking to school. It’s not too close, not too far, the hills are hard, but it’s gratifying. Basically, it kicks ass. I love biking.

But not all experiences that happen on bikes. Oh my. Let’s see. I’m going to give this to you flat out:

My bike and I, we fell into a river today. A deep canal. In the middle of the day. Not on purpose.

And then I got lost.

How about that?

You want some back-story? There is a dirt road here, in Rennes, which runs along a river called La Villaine. The road (it’s more of a strip) is called le Quai d’Auchel. It’s mostly used by pedestrians, but it’s nice for biking during hours when the traffic is a little heavier, or if you’re in the mood for a simpler trip. And it’s less confusing, so my host mother thought it would be better than the main roads, at least in the beginning. For the most part, this little strip of dirt is fine. Not too bumpy, not too thin, mostly flat, easy to follow. But it runs right next to and a few meters below the level of a main road, called le Quai de la Prevalave. Every now and then there’s a staircase leading from the Prevalave to the dirt path, and it’s then that the strip thins out, and there’s maybe a foot and a half of passable space for twenty meters or so. There are three of four of these sections along the trail, which is probably a mile and a half, all in all. The last set of stairs caught me slightly unawares. My host mother was riding in front of me, and she was fine, and she called out, over her shoulder, “Ne tombe pas dans l’eau!” as something of a joke, and I was looking up at her after she said it because I hadn’t really heard, and then my front wheel hit a rock, so the bike veered to the left, and then right away hit the wall, and so it bounced back to the right, and of course to the right is a foot of dirt and then, La Villaine. So there I went, right over the edge, bike and all.

It was sweet.

The bike dropped right to the bottom, thank god I wasn’t tangled in it. The fall itself was rather graceful, if I do say so myself. But the bottom was like 13 feet away. So there was no hope for the bike, as far as I was concerned. My mother ran to lift me out right away, everything was fine. I was only in the water for maybe 20 seconds. But I came out sopping wet, and covered in weird canal crap, and completely unable to remember French. At all. Three guys were walking in our direction when it happened, and after they saw that I was okay, we were all laughing hysterically at my little mishap. Real, hysteric laughter. It was unbelievable. I FELL IN A RIVER ON A BIKE.

So then Annie said that she would call Philippe and the fire department about the bike, but that I should take her bike and ride home to shower and change. But of course, I shouldn’t follow the river again.

So I did, I left her there, and took the Prevalave towards Cleunay, our little district. And I got completely lost.

So here I am, dripping wet and covered in river crap, freezing to death and unable to speak French because my brain, and all of our plans for the day, decided to stay in the river with the bike, and I don’t recognize anything. All the bus stops I’m passing have unfamiliar numbers, I can’t remember the nave of the street off of which I live, and ever car that drives by feels like the wind of death. Of course, I practically gave myself a heart attack worry about whether I could actually ride a bike. And this time I would fall into the street, if I lost control.

So all in all, I was a mess.

A mess.

But it all turned out alright, of course. I am stronger than I thought, and after I stopped for a few minutes to reflect on what a dumbass I am, I pulled myself together and remembered that I do know some French, and found out that my neighborhood was just a stone’s throw from where I was wandering aimlessly. Covered in river crap.

And that’s the story.

But all in all, it was sort of… interesting.

I learned to watch out for stones. And I could feel it in my bones that no matter what, it could always become worse.

Alright, I’m exhausted, and tomorrow, I bike to school.

Goodnight all, and watch out for big rocks and tight spaces.

I missed you especially today.

Until Next Time, if at first you don’t succeed, try try again.

COUNTDOWN to return: 267 days

PS: I think tomorrow, after school, I try gymnastics. Think flexible thoughts.

PPS: I didn't realize I had the posting comments stuff all messed up. It's enabled for anonymous comments now. Sorry about that, guys. And for you who made blogs, you rock my world, and I hope you update them so I can check in!!!!

Deux pour la prix d'une:

le 16 sept.:

This is the year of all things unexpectedly wonderful.

Alright, no. The year itself is unexpectedly wonderful. Everything in it that is wonderful, I guess that is expected.

Except my wonderful English class. Who would’ve thought I could get an amazing English class in France? Pas moi. But I did!! I’ll show you what we’re going to study this year. It’s unbelievable:

Lost in Translation (the movie)
Daisy Miller by Henry James
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Apocalypse Now (the movie)
Notes From the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Othello by Willie Shakes
O (the movie)
King Lear also by Willie Shakes
A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley (won the Pulitzer, btw)
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
The Hours by Michael Cunningham
The Hours (the movie)
White Noise by Don DeLillo

Additionally, we’ll be reading short stories and poems along the way to supplement our knowledge of each piece.

Now, who can tell me that this course doesn’t kick all kinds of ass?

Plus, it’s not technically an AP, but it was designed to prepare us for the AP literature exam. So, how about that?

Today was my first full day of classes, and it was just fine. Nothing particularly exciting to relay, besides the fact that they are all in French, which is still a novelty that I don’t expect to last long. But right now, it kick things up a notch.

What else? The days pass so quickly. I have four periods before lunch, and five after, but they’re 45 minutes long, and lunch is 75. Plus, in a day, I usually have maybe 6 or 7 out of the 9 periods, which translates into at least like an hour and a half of free time. This feels sweet because it’s during the school day, but if you think about it, since I don’t get out of school most of the week until like 5 pm, it’s not that different than getting out at 315. Except that on Wednesday, I have school until 1 and that’s all. And, that day, I have 5 periods and 3 of them are free. Which is amazing. Except that they are the first and the last of the day. But who can complain about that?

So basically, I have work and it’s really hard, but the classes themselves are practically painless, and when I’m not in class, I can walk around town. Which is the most independence I’ve ever had, and it honestly feels like college. I just wish I could do it with you guys.

Oh, god, at dinner tonight, Pierre (mon frere francais) said that he had learned a bad word in la classe d’Anglais today. And then he said it. “Goatshit,” said my sweet little fench brother, who seems like the nicest boy in the world, very wholesome and well-kempt. Saying things like goatshit to his father. I started laughing so hard, I felt like I would never stop. It was a great moment. And then they translated it into French. So I can say goatshit in French, as of this moment. Crotte de biques. That’s right. Apparently, it’s not as taboo in France to say crotte de biques in front of adults as its English counterpart would be. Interesting.

Anyway, I have homework, so I’ll wrap up now and maybe add some more when I post this tomorrow.

Until Next Time, I’m blue dabadedabadie (They just remixed that song here. My French sister listens to it all the time.)

- - -

So here is the supplemental part of this entry that spans two days. Since I left my disc at home yesterday before school, I didn’t feel like redoing the whole things from memory, so I’m sorry if you didn’t get the full benefit of my daily excursions. Kidding, kidding, but I hope you’ll bear with me on the massive entry I’m in the process of constructing.

Let’s see, yesterday was nice. I didn’t have a first class, so I got to wake up an hour later. It’s only a Friday thing, but it was nice, for sure. All of my classes were fine; I’m really enjoying my English class. So much. Our teacher, Allison Stephens, has decided that if she’s in this country, she might as well learn French, so she’s sitting in on my Rouge group AP language class. It’s awesome, I think she’s the coolest woman ever. We have inside jokes… haha. I’m such a dork.

And yesterday, in the middle of the day, one class after lunch but three bands before the end of the day, Hayley, Evie, and I took a bus into the center of town and used our 100 minutes of free time to walk around and sit in a café and drink tea surrounded by French people (and one French couple who was speaking English, which was hilarious) and look at possible gifts for all of you at home. It was funny, actually, we all kept saying “Oh this would be perfect for soandso,” and then we’d have to stop and explain who soandso was and give a little backstory on our relationship to them and their impact on our lives up to present. It takes a lot more effort than one might think. After a while, I just stopped saying them out loud. But then we went into this little place called Salsa, and they had this awesome jewelry and beautiful scarves for cheaper than I’d ever seen anywhere else, and I practically hurt myself thinking of whom would like what. I love it here.

Ah, I bought a scarf for myself for 2.5 euros. It was the same price as my tea. I’ve decided my café days are over, if I can replace them with scarves.

So that was my day, and then I went to a dance class to try it out and I did not like it. I mean, the dancing part was fun, but the warm up was something like 3 times as long and it was boring. So it’s not for me. But hopefully, I’ll like the gymnastics. I think my trial classis on Monday.

And then Pierre and Grace (friend from school who lives around the corner) and Milena (her French sister) and I met a friend and her sister in the center of town and just walked around for an hour and a half, speaking half in English and half in French and basically laughing about the fact that whenever a French person attempts to say the word ‘winner’ they always end up with ‘wiener’ instead, which is just funny. There’s no way around it.

And then I slept and here I am. I took a shower this morning and fell. I mean, a hard fall. It hurt. I’ve never done that before. I didn’t hit my head or anything, I was fine, but the impact itself was shockingly intense. Not that that story really has any relevance at all, except to warn you to watch your feet. They can surprise you, you know.

Anything else? I love crepes but not as much as I love you guys.

It hurts to be away.

But otherwise, smile for me!

Until Next Time, “I am the wiener!”

COUNTDOWN to return: 268 days

PS: If you’re reading this and you have time, leave me a comment. I’m having a hard time keep up with some of my email.

St. Malo

Right now I’m listening to them talk about the American election on the French radio. Quite an experience let me tell you. I can only capture every other word or so (the vocabulary on the radio is astounding), but I can tell you that they’re about a heartbeat away from making “I LUV John Kerry” tee-shirts. Or, no, how about “Mrs. Kerry." I think they'd sell.

We went to St. Malo today. It’s a little fishing town about an hour north of Rennes. During the Second World War, it was completely leveled by bombs and napalm (it was the first place in the world that they used it), but they re-built it just as it was before to preserve the historic significance. So it’s al little trippy to think that everything around you is ancient and beautifully resilient, when in reality it’s just an imitation of what once was.

I don’t know if it makes me nostalgic or angry. Peut-etre, les deux.

Ah, a break pour le diner, et je suis retournee. I had mussels, guys! And fish!!! I’m a big girl now, trying new things and what not. Who knew I could handle a whole piece of mackerel. But it was perfect. The whole time, I had Doty’s “A Display of Mackerel” in my head “…it is the price of gleaming…” and that made it all somehow worthwhile. Go read Mark Doty, right now! En francais, si tu peux. Mais non. But yes, I ate fish, an dit wasn't good, but if you don't look a tit while you take the bites, it sort of blends into the background. Plus, there was cheese.

Well, that’s all. I won’t publish this until tomorrow, because I’ll have to wait until I can take my disc to school, but until then, I love you and goodnight.

I’m tired.

Until Next Time, il faut que je fasse.

COUNTDOWN to return: 260 days

LATER: So I've been looking into stuff with AP lit. Things are looking up.

And everything here smells funny.

But yay for the first real day of classes. I'm learning french!

I love you!

Rouge

So, here's the lowdown:

Yesterday, we took our placement tests for Math and French. Not fun. Not fun at all. They went quickly, and they were both what I expected, only harder than I'd guessed, but still, just NOT FUN. And as it turned out, not very successful, either. Well, no, Math was fine. I ended up in the equivalent of AMH, which is where I'd be if I were still at Hawken. But the french landed me out of AP french lit. Which SUCKS. a lot. I know that if I tested for the slot that I'm in, this is where I should be, but I wanted that class so bad, I'm not quite sure why. So basically, I'll be petition to take the class anyway, but it's going to take a few weeks, and a lot of re-working, and teacher conferences and blah blah blah. Basically, it's a long shot. But I'm not taking French history, since we covered it last year, so I can opt out, and this way my schedule is much more free for the extra work that it may entail. Be that as it may, I'm still aggravated. It's a stress I bring down upon myself. It turns out that I can't just cross the Atlantic to get away from it.

After morning classes, we're going to St. Malo, which is maybe an hour away by bus, it's supposed to be beautiful. And rainy. But we all brought bathing suits. Who knows what'll happen.

So that's the news. Family is good, Rennes is good. I went walking around on my own yesterday, just hopped on a bus and went to the center of town. It's amazing here, the independance we all have. I bought The Giver by Lois Lowry en francais.

Everything here costs too much money.

But it's beautiful.

Ugh, I'm lonely and emo. I'm no fun at all.

Miss you.

Until Next Time, at least red's my favorite color.

COUNTDOWN to return: 260 days

Le Jardin de Thabor

Salut! *bis, bis*

Comment ca-va? Est-ce que tu as passe une bonne journee?

Bon. Moi aussi.

So there you go.

Last night, I bought school supplies. All the binders in france have 4 clasps instead of 3, all the paper if graph paper, and they actually sell paper called les doubles that are two sheets connect at the wholes for larger assignments. Apparently, it's essential. Apparently, it's not alright just to us 2 single sheets. Apparently, our culture is a little behind on the full potential of school supplies.

And I got to watch my sister chat sur MSN. It was CRAZY! Talk about culture shock. Not only is all her chat in french (duh) but it's slang, internet french, so instead of "j'ai" it's "g" and for all the "qu" they us "k"... par example, "g un stylo aujourd'hui ke je l'aime bien." There were more, but I don't know them. mpdr is the substitute for lol. they like american swear words A LOT. And, they fait les bis to say goodbye.

Why don't we do stuff comme ca?

But I can't download AIM here. It's too complicated. BUT if any of you reading this want to create an MSN account, I can chat with you there. Email me if you have time to do so. I can get on the computer at home.

Took my french examen this morning for placement. It was a joke. We shall see. Whatever happens, I'll learn, right?

And we took a walking tour of Rennes today, not very far. Mais en faites, le Jardin de Thabor is SO BEAUTIFUL. It's in the very center of town just 2 blocks from school, and there are roses everywhere and paved walkways and stone benches, and I've never seen anything so green. The walls are high enough that you can't see the city at all, so you honestly feel like you're in a completely different world. It's one of the most tranquil places I've ever been. I wish all of you could come visit it with me. It's hard to see surrounded by people you only barely know. But they do have interesting views on things. One of my friends, Max, said something while we were there that reminded me so violently of someone at home that I had to stop walking and pull myself together. It was surreal. Everything here is surreal. And lonely, and brilliant, and perfectly wonderful.

I miss you all.

Until Next Time, the easiest question on my french test was about Babar. So Babar, this one's for you.

COUNTDOWN to return: 261 days

I'm Here!

So it's REAL.

I'm here.

And I'm just gonna give the facts, to speed up my time on this computer. I have limited time.

The town is beautiful. Everything is smaller and older and a little more exotic, just because there is nothing but french. But the buildings are older, and there is more stone, and more metal, all very old and intricate.

The school is small and sweet, it's only the neccessities, and everyone in it seems wonderfully accomidating. We start classes on Thursday, and orientation everyday until then.

My house is perfect. It's in a cute neighborhood, and one of the family's close friends has a girl staying with them, her name is Grace, and she was one of the four students not to be trapped in Boston for 3 days. She's so sweet, and I'll be doing all of my traveling with her. I'm really happy about it. It's making the transition a lot smoother. And I have my room, I made it homey and personal, there are pictures all over the place, it makes me sad, but I love it.

AND the family! Annie, the mother, is the one who interacts with me the most, and she's hilarious. Everyone is patient with me, they laugh when I make mistakes, they correct me when I'm wrong. The father, Philipe, is very eager to teach, and Pierre doesn't say much, but he's really sweet. Claire is ADORABLE, and we get a long really well. We actually bonded a little, in french, last night.

I'm going to be happy here. I really am.

I miss you.

Until Next Time, the french is coming.

COUNTDOWN to return: 262 days

Stuck in Limbo

SO.... long story.

I'm gonna make it shorter.

I'm still in Boston. Our plane, which was delayed an hour in the first place, got severely messed up, and we ended up sitting in it on the runway for FOUR HOURS before they told us to high tail it to the nearest hotel, cuz WE WEREN'T GOING ANYWHERE.

Then we sat in the Logan airport for another two hours, schelping our MASSIVELY OVERWEIGHT SUITCASES here there and everywhere.

We stayed in an Embassy Suites last night, near Logan, and it's all fine. I've made friends, everyone is sweet and outgoing, for the most part. When I have more time, you'll get more information.

We have a flight to Paris tonight at 9 pm.

Hopefully, it'll get there.

So, cross your fingers for me.

Missing you.

Until Next Time, I'm in the waiting line.

COUNTDOWN to departure (again): 9 hours and 20 minutes

COUNTDOWN to return: 265 days

This Is It.

This is it. We have hit the big time, the real deal, the deep end.

And I'm jumping. With my eyes closed, and my hands tied.

I'm packed. I have everything. I have more than everything.

I can't even tell you how apprehensive I am. It feels like the whole world is spinning faster than I can, but I'm struggling to catch up, when really all I want to do is let it move around me so I can be still and take time and think. And in the end, that is just selfish, I need to learn to live through everything as it happens the first time around, instead of in my head or in my notebook a few hours later.

The pros weight out the cons in this adventure, I know they do, we've all weighed them out in our minds. But I can't feel that right now. I'm scared and sad, and I'm just hoping that once the excitement comes (which it will, it has to) it will never leave. I hope that it will keep me afloat.

I love you, you who has decided that reading this is worth your time, and I hope that you will stick with me long enough to see the anxiety fade into exhilaration.

But my aunt Colleen is waiting to meet me in Boston, I have my iPod and my new clothes and my notebook to keep me company, and it's always healthy to cry.

The next time you hear from me, I will be in FRANCE.

SO...

Until Next Time, "I wish the whole world were flat like the old days, and I could travel just by folding a map. No more airplanes or speed trains or freeways, there'd be no distance that could hold us back." - Death Cab for Cutie

COUNTDOWN to departure: 9 hours, 40 minutes

COUNTDOWN to return: 266 days

The Great iPod Escape

My friends are truly amazing people. I've never been so touched by a group of people, I've never felt so loved or connected or integral to someone or something. Something being our group, our little circle of love. I love you guys so much.

On Friday night, my friends threw me a suprise going away party. There were roses and ice cream cake and bathing suits and a bunch of independantly wonderful people coming together in a pool house at 830 in the dark on the left side of the room to bid me farewell. They were all smiling and laughing and I was surrounded by some of the most kindhearted people the world has to offer. It was one of the best nights of my life.

And the coup de gras? THEY BOUGHT ME AN iPOD!!! An iPod. A fucking 20GB, massively amazing iPod which holds all of my music and more and is exactly what I needed and thought I would wait for and never needs batteries and has all of the most comforting songs in the world on it as of this night that I have spent slaving in front of iTunes. They all chipped in to Molly's idea, and apparently they were at the store in Legacy Village buying it while I was there with my grandparents for dinner, and they saw me sitting on a bench. It's like a plot thickening moment. Gah, iPOD.

I'm gonna miss this place, dear me.

What else? We've done more shopping, and I'm even closer to being fully prepared for departure. How scary is that?

I am pressing one of my roses. It shall last forever.

Until Next Time, "I'll be thad."

COUNTDOWN TO DEPARTURE: 4 days

COUNTDOWN TO RETURN: 270 days

Here We Go

So all that I know is, it is beginning.

This will be my basic way of communitcating with large amounts of people, States-side. I am a horrible correspondant, and if I miss emails or forget to call, this will be where you should be able to find everything out. It may be slightly censored, if only for my own sanity and privacy, but it should be all that is important to assure you that I am safe and happy and flourishing the FRENCH way.

Hopefully, I will be able to update often.

Hopefully, you'll enjoy it.

Hopefully, it will be worth your time.

Until Next Time, hang on tight.

COUNTDOWN to departure: 6 days

COUNTDOWN to return: 272 days