Have a Holly Jolly

Voila... so Christmas has passed (well not quite yet in the US), but for me, it is done. Things went just as I predicted and I had a very special Christmas. Yesterday, I took a train to Lyon to spend Christmas with Adrien's family. Christmas eve was spent at Adrien's grandmother's very cute vielle (old) house. As Adrien's mother prepared a late delicious dinner, I watched Adrien struggle to open the can of foie gras (the liver of a duck who has been force fed) to pass the time.
During dinner, we sat around the table drinking champagne and I tried to listen, picking up random words per sentence. Then Adrien's mother began to quiz me on my French vocabulary by pointing at different body parts. When we got to the eye (singular), I completely forgot, turning to Adrien to think. The word was at the tip of my tongue, therefore out of frustration, I blurted out "Putain! (bad word, could mean a few things, but in the context it probably meant the S*** word or the F*** word)" Oops... The room was silent and all eyes were on me... and then the laughter commenced. Adrien thought it was the funniest thing ever "because it came out so naturally," but I was mortified. What a first impression I must have made on his grandmother.
Then, Adrien's sister asked me to pass the champagne. The champagne was sitting behind me on a shelf next to the lamp. I turned around, grabbed the bottle, but rejoined the conversation, not paying attention, and nearly pulled the lamp down with the bottle. Later on, I was helping with the dishes, when Adrien's sister asked me to ask where the bowls belong.
"...les valises viennent d'où?" I demanded.
"mon cherie, ils ne sont pas les valises" (my dear, those are not the valises), Adrien's mom replied.
oops... I had just realized that I asked where the suitcases came from instead of dishes.
I had reason though, to say dishes in French, one would say "les vaisselles."
I went to bed, but I certainly did not have "visions of sugarplums dancing in my head." Christmas morning, I could not recall my dream, but I am certain that it was about World War II with Nazis and I am pretty sure that Klaus Barbie made an appearance. I then asked Adrien if his grandmother's house had anything to do with the war, but he said not really, just a bomb in the garden and he told me that a few areas were trenches. Interesting that I had this dream because Klaus Barbie was known as the butcher of Lyon for killing off and torturing thousands of people.
After we opened presents, we parted for Adrien's aunt's house. Conversation was hard for me, so once again, I found myself day dreaming often. Apparently it was quite apparent that I could hardly comprehend what was going on, because Adrien's cousin's boyfriend told me that it was fun watching my face when I didn't understand what was going on. Then Adrien's other cousin tried to have a conversation with me while I was daydreaming, so I did not respond. It was difficult to understand what was going on when you have 10 very excited people speaking at once all in a different language (which I am not fluent in). Adrien's aunt encouraged the others to speak slowly so I could understand, but this would last for just a moment, and the speed would quickly pick up gaining momentum. I have a hard time listening to people speak in English, let alone in French. The same, I enjoyed myself.
After dinner and after watching a video of his cousin (who I discovered was on the French version of American Idol), we left for the train station. This would not be a normal travel experience with me if something bad didn't happen, so of course, the second we entered the train station, we noticed a large group of people staring at the screen. Delays everywhere... all trains, except for mine. My train was cancelled. The trains were delayed, because someone assaulted the SNCF conductor (only in France would the entire chain of trains stop for that). I had to wait in the train station for an extra hour until the next and last train went to Grenoble arrived. This isn't a bad wait, except for the tiny fact that it is freezing in the train station. I was so cold, I could not feel my toes. I finally got on the train, but of course, I would have to sit in the only car that did not have heat. I sat curled up in the fetal position for about 30 minutes (but it felt like hours) freezing, layering everything that I had in my suitcase on me. Fortunately, Adrien's sister got me gloves (since I lose mine often) and his mother got me a scarf, so I was semi-good to go. I just needed socks. Finally the girl who was sitting in front of me had the bright idea to check the other cars for heat. She came back with great news and we moved. I was almost unthawed by the time we arrived in Grenoble, so I was disappointed that I was going to have to wait in line for a taxi. Since it was Christmas, there was about 2 taxis per hour (not true, but they didn't come often) After 45 minutes waiting in the below freezing temperature, a taxi arrived and I finally made it home.

Below are some pictures from Christmas


Adrien with the foie gras


Christmas eve table


Emilie and me


Adrien's grandmother and mother


Sleepy time


supprimer=cancelled


this meant nothing to me... it was the reason why we were never going home on christmas... so tired of the excuses, just work


waiting

So Incredibly Awkward

I love awkward moments. Actually I love to say that I love awkward moments- but in all actuality, I am picky about which ones I like. Today I had one of the awkward moments where you grind your teeth back and forth as you ask your self "Why?" a million times. In order for this story to make a bit of sense, I will take you back to last night. My friend Yiran invited me over to her building for a Chinese dinner with some other students in my class! I was soo excited to have real Chinese food plus it was no pressure French-meaning, I could speak French without worrying, because we all have problems. Of course I was wrong. Yiran invited all the neighbors as well-well not all, but three French guys. Bluahkda.... Ok, sort of excited now because the four B1.1 students speak broken French, so its all good, surely they understand. Then when the guy who fixed Yiran's computer network came in, I had an awkward bisous... For anyone reading this a bisous is what the French call their cheek kisses... I remember it was more of an air bisous, rather than the tap on the cheek with my cheek bisous... our cheeks didn't touch and I made an incomplete bisous as I could hardly reach the guy over the table. It was more awkward than I can describe, trust me... and I knew it was pretty awkward when everyone started to giggle. Laughing translates the same through any language. Well, after our dinner, we went to François's room for some cidre and chocolat and enjoyed eachother's company until midnight.
Since I have been studying for finals, I have been a wreck and sooo tired, so when I heard a knock on my door, I assumed it was Nodin (it was a strong Nodin knock and he has been coming to my room off and on today). I was wrong again. It was François. How he found my room, I cannot say. I just remember last night that I guestimated which window was mine. Ok, first, I was caught off guard, second-my room is a mess!!!! Earlier today, I thought I lost my debit card so I threw everything around in my room trying to find it...needless to say it was in my purse the whole time. So back to the story, I quickly jumped outside my door, so François could not see my science experiment of a room. Then, he was talking to me in French. My brain is barely functioning in English right now let alone French. One would think after living here for 5 months, I could carry on a conversation fairly well. This case is not true unless. So every sentence that came out of his mouth was more like "dlkajfoidmak fatigue"....I would get maybe one or two words out of each thought. haha wow! I was soo embarrassed. Then, we parted ways with awkward bisous.

Pictures

I have added pictures that I have been meaning to post to the blogs... recently updated blogs that now have pictures are Girl Next Door, Thanksgiving, and Secret Society!

Je fais trainer les choses (in other words... procrastination)

I have recently discovered that I have eight final exams. Are the French not good at math?-Not true, I live with a few hundred engineers, I know this is not true. But how did they get eight exams out of four classes? Something is wrong. My exams commence this Friday, December 14 at 14h00. Friday is normally my day off. Not only did they take my Friday, but my university stole my Saturday also. I have three exams that start at 08h00 on Saturday morning. Never have I ever heard such a thing! Basically I am venting about this, because I have one day to compose myself before my other elective exams.

I think these exams will probably be the hardest I have ever taken. Not only do I get extreme test anxiety when it comes to French exams, but I don't have my Ellis Library to lock myself up for hours to study (and to focus) nor do I have cafés nearby that stay open late... ahem Starbucks!
I have a small confession to make-I haven't really done much studying since I have been here. I need small tasks to remind me that I am in the class, so this is going to be tougher because in France, normally your final exam is the only grade.

Not good. I should have researched test and grade procedures before I chose my study abroad country.

Other thoughts... My neck is terribly sore and has been since last Wednesday. I think I am going to go to the pharmacy (the French alternative to a doctor) tomorrow to see what they think. Kyle told me I have meningitis-its a lie, I have been vaccinated, but it is still not the sort of thing to tell me.

Below is a picture of all of my postcards that I still have not sent out-they are all written on though. At least I have made it that far.

Lumieres!

First, I would like to apologize to anyone who has been reading my blogs, because I never realized how long they were. Although, if you know me well, you have probably realized that it takes me forever to complete a story and get to the point. Upon reading other blogs, I have discovered that these entries should be the abridged version-not every detail and thought.

At any rate, this last weekend, I went to Lyon for La Fête des Lumières. It is an annual festival to commemorate the Virgin Mary after prayers to her ended a plague in the 1600s. Since it is December, I figured a light festival would entail lots Christmas lights strung out all around the city. Wrong! So La Fête des Lumières, in my opinion, is a city-wide art exhibition. All around town, there are different shows. I took lots of pictures, met Adrien's friends from school, waited thirty minutes for Starbucks, and walked for nine hours, so it was quite a day. I can safely say that I did not have any problems and the weekend was stress-free.


The metros even took part in the celebration with pink lights!


In front of the Lyon Opera


I think this was my favorite. It was a giant stained glass ball and a light would shine through creating a giant kaleidescope effect on the walls.




This is the ferris wheel at Place Bellecour


Snowglobe? You can't really see it, but below it says "I LOVE LYON" and on the back it says "ONLY LYON"

Niki and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend

I had a bad weekend. A terrible weekend. A terrible, horrible weekend. To be quite honest, it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend.
It started off with Chandra and I waking up... hung-over, but needing to leave as soon as possible, because who knew when the next bus was going to come around since one in ten of them were running Thursday thanks to the off and on transportation strike (I def. live in France). It was early in the morning when we got to the bus stop and it was still foggy. Several old people stood around with blank stares facing off towards the left as they all searched for a bus. This scene was straight out of a creepy horror movie. On with the trip... We get to the train station with plenty of time (even after I had to buy a new coat and buy plastic baggies-not to mention deal with the transportation strike). So we had a large breakfast/lunch to calm our stomachs. At this point we mentioned about how great everything was going and then Chandra used the whole Meet the Fockers example when their travels seemed great until the brick flew through his rental car window and he didn't have insurance-it was all downhill from there.
When we got to the Grenoble Airport, we ran into a bit of trouble. Smaller airports are more strict. This one was strict about the liquids. We had them in baggies. Unfortunately the container that my expensive face wash, Chandra's face lotion and eye makeup remover were too large (even though the liquids inside the containers were less than the 100ml max). I begged the security lady to let me pour my facewash into another container and she said no... what a mean lady. This started my mood off great.
Then we get to Stansted. As we are walking to customs, Chandra realizes she no longer has her purple bag that had her ipod, cell phone, wallet, and PASSPORT. It was left on the plane. We reported this loss immediately to the officials and waited as someone "looked" for her life on our plane. No such luck, so they handed her a piece of paper-this was her only sense of identity. We then checked into our hostel. It was nice and I wish I could have experienced more hostels since I have been here. That Thursday evening, we hung out at the police station as Chandra filed a report and cancelled her credit card.
Friday, we spent half of the day at the US Embassy-the ugliest building that we saw in London. After about five hours of waiting around, running around, and taking vows Chandra had a passport. Then we went to the French Consulate to see about a visa. Of course the French consulate would be closed at 3 pm on a Friday afternoon. One man actually opened the door and Chandra explained her problem to him (fortunately she speaks French well enough, because he hardly spoke English) and he explained to her that she needed to email someone or something and fax something to someone and well you get the point, but neither of us had phones (my battery was dead at this point), so he disappeared back into the building. He came back and told her that she would be ok to go back to France, but she would need to return to London to get a new visa. She then told him she leaves in three weeks, so all troubles were over and he told her she was fine. After such a day, we found a cupcake shop and decided to treat ourselves.
At about 5:30 am, I woke up to an alarm on someone's phone. This lasted for about 45 minutes as Chandra tried to wake her up a few times to tell her to turn off her alarm. Later, we went on a free walking tour of London-Free=good! Unfortunately, we saw random places in London...not Buckingham Palace or Harrods! Later that evening, we met with some friends and actually enjoyed some time in London.
Getting back to Grenoble was an adventure as well. We had to leave our hostel at 2 am to wait for a bus that was about 20 minutes late. We weren't sure if it even ran that late, so I made the mistake to go into a fast food restaurant where there were five drunk people and a guy who didn't speak english who tried to help me but they were really curious about where I was from. One guy tried to give me his sprite. Interesting.
So eventually we got to the airport, when we were informed at the security check-in that we were only allowed one bag (including a purse). I had my backpack (completely full of books and clothes), my camera bag, and my purse (also full). I didn't have 32 euro to check the two other pieces of "luggage" in, so my only option was to put on every article of clothing on and try to fit my camera, camera bag, and purse in my small, almost falling apart backpack. So, I after putting on a thermal shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a short sleeve shirt, another longsleeve shirt, a sweater, a cardigan, and a thick sweater, two scarves, and my coat that had three books shoved in the pockets, I was finally allowed to enter in the waiting zone where I baked while I waited to get on my flight.
The trip was probably the worst experience I have had, but probably the most memorable.