Invaders: Level One Tourists!

Saturday morning all 14 CEA students staggered onto a large bus to head down to the south of France for our first excursion as a group. On our agenda was the Pont du Gard and then to Aigues Mortes where we would meet up with other CEA students who are studying in France (from Aix-en-Provence and from Nice). The Pont du Gard was nice, but I would have enjoyed it more without the wind. Then we arrived outside Aigues Mortes, parked the bus, and walked into the city. Aigues Mortes is a small town that relies heavily on tourism and a bit on its sea salt production and home made wine (which is then put in a recycled water bottle-> very potent! Don't let its bottle fool you). The city is surrounded by a city wall which used to be used to defend itself from invaders. Today, it is mainly a tourist attraction. This weekend just so happened to be Aigues Mortes' annual festival with rides, gardians (cowboys), and bulls! The trouble all began after the boys decided to drink the wine. A few bottles later (after the boys tried to play chicken with the bulls in the bull ring), the bull run began in the streets. This is where they let out seven bulls at a time run down the streets with two-three gardians on white horses block them from attacking the viewers. This was fun, I was running in front, risking my life and limbs so that I could take pictures. With all the excitement (and wine), one of the students from our group decided to jump in front of the horsemen and the bull when he was knocked off and thrown onto the sidewalk. After this an elderly lady of about 140 years old began to shout at him about how he could have been hurt. This is about the time where he should have apologized and moved on, but he shouted back.
So if letting crazy bulls out in the streets was not enough, the entire town (which was pretty much drunk by 7 pm) had a huge party in the center of town with a concert. We were advised to stay away from the stage and stay out of anyone's way... so basically we were only allowed to stand and look pretty... better yet, lock ourselves up in our hotel room. After dinner we went out to a pub across from the concert and danced with a few locals. After this and a few more drinks, we ended up at the concert (where we were basically advised to stay away from) where Rory, the strongest guy (body builder-literally) in our group was nearly in a fight after asking where all the single ladies were in the town and then asking the guy what his girlfriends name was... obviously there was a bit of confusion. Off to the side of the concert I noticed a girl from my group throwing toilet paper at the band.... she is probably the smallest one in the group... she could have easily been killed. My nerves were going all over the place, so I finally called it a night after getting hundreds of dirty looks by the locals.
The next morning, we finished breakfast at the hotel and left for our bus. Unfortunately, our bus driver frantically came running back to stop us. What can possibly go wrong now, I thought. Oh yea, our bus was robbed. Some kids busted in the window stole the bus driver's keys to his car and house, his car registration with his address on it, and his dental bridge (gross). This damage is going to cost him hundreds of dollars. I ended up organizing a donation from the other students and myself to help, but it barely made a dent in what he will have to pay.
So this weekend of high hopes turned into a lesson learned: Don't impose on local traditions.
Did I mention I did get to see the pink flamingos, white horses, and the cowboys that I was looking forward to. Thank goodness something came out of this!

Back to the Basics

When I was at the wee age of 6, I loved getting substitutes. They were virtually babysitters-we just watched movies, played with glitter, and they made sure we didn't eat the glue. Well yesterday, I met Madame Hélène. . . my substitute for the rest of the week. She is shorter and fluffier than my Madame Christine and one of the first things she warned us about was her lazy eye. . . so my initial thoughts were "this will be fun." That was also the day that I didn't finish my homework so I asked if I could turn it in tomorrow, but I lied and said "I left it in another notebook." hmm... she was fine with this as well... I don't know where my feelings of apprehension came from, but I believe it was the moment she handed out a hand-out for us to read. I was first and she passed the entire stack of papers to me. I thought I was supposed to pass the rest of them down to everyone else, but when I did not say "merci," she ripped them out of my hands and scolded me-teaching me the lesson of manners. haha So there we were... all sitting in a semi-circle, with Madame Hélène going around the room making sure that we each thanked our neighbor for giving us a piece of paper that we would work on until it was completely exhausted and work on it for homework. It is amazing how many things someone can think of to do with an article about how architects are planning on changing the world by creating new structures to conserve energy (find the words you don't understand and underline them so that we can discuss them for an hour- change the title, create a new introduction, and for homework just summarize it). I am soo over substitutes... and I think this may be a first... having a substitute, in college? hmmm
Later that afternoon, I attended Vocabulaire, and Madame Elsa is pretty much crazy. I never know what to expect, but she is so sweet. Towards the end of class, we were throwing balls of paper at eachother across the room while yelling expressions of fear in French. It was fun, a little awkward, but fun. I felt like a kid again.
Hélène and the paper balls made me realize how I am basically in elementary school. I am studying the fundamentals of French. Yes, it is difficult for me. Looking at my homework, and thinking about what I am actually working on and then looking back at the time frame that I worked on this was probably dated circa 1994. I am sure my morning phone calls to Adrien to figure out if I did the homework right are so frustrating for him. I screwed up possessive pronouns? That gets me inside time (lab assignment) while all my friends are playing on their break. Well, I guess the basic point about this is I feel like I am in elementary school-not that it is bad but it is not good either, just familiar.

Oh yea, did I mention I had the opportunity to go parapente! Basically I jumped off a mountain with a man stuck to my back and a bunch of fabric and a bag stuck to his. It was soo great! I love Grenoble!


Here are some pictures from my parapent experience (they aren't in order)

thats me flying away


taking off


Waiting


Getting ready!


That is the view that I had and those are my feet to give you a bit of perspective


This is my fantastic view of the village


This is the man stuck on my back... he was fun, I don't remember his name though

Picture Links

For those of you who don't facebook, here are links to my photos... paris, grenoble, and aix (I have some pictures from Switzerland so I will post them later)

Aix
http://missouri.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2202065&l=19124&id=15920991

Grenoble (and some paris)
http://missouri.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2196462&l=71f70&id=15920991

London (and some paris)
http://missouri.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2191356&l=84c10&id=15920991

Paris
http://missouri.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2191355&l=04a34&id=15920991

Things that make me go hmm...

Boys who wear headbands, aging, celebrations for new tramlines, and... public restrooms (for dogs)
Grenoble is a very special town. It is not too large and it is not too small... Parfait! Each day is a new surprise as I discover more things to ponder. Headbands are nice accessories... if you are a girl. In France, it seems to be acceptable for the men to wear them. Although this should not come as a surprise since French men are notorious for their sense of fashion (I mean this in the nicest way-honest!). Today, I was sitting on a tram and I noticed a guy wearing, not just a headband used to hold his hair back for sports, but this guy was wearing the sort of headband that was cool about 8-12 years ago that was just a circle of thin zig-zags. hmm....
Second thought of the hour... Grenoble has a lot of old people...or is it just France in general that has a lot... I don't know, but the last Sunday that I was here, I had the worst reality check of my life- wrinkles do exist! In the US we are sheltered from this epidemic as plastic surgery has become a social norm... I will be the first to admit that I do plan on investing in this trend. I have never seen soo many old people in one place...Yes, I am saying this and I know how odd this must sound, but I was really freaked out by this. It is no wonder that Grenoble has one of the only research plants in the world that is working to find a cure for aging (without plastic surgery!) Inconceivable! At anyrate, the senior citizens in France have priority... which they should. I was at the supermarket the other day, and of course the lines were crazy, so I waited in my usual line...the handicap line (which means if a handicap person comes along and wants to check out there, they can cut you)...normally, I have great luck here and no one comes ahead of me. This particular day, the friendly lady behind me noticed the older couple who were "oh la la-ing" about the long lines, so she invited them to cut in front of me because they have priority as she pointed to the wheelchair sign above my head. Ok this was fine, but then another older gentleman discovered this and came behind the couple. Beside this long line, was a younger man in a wheelchair... This was probably the longest amount of time spent in line to check out five items at the supermarket... I was just a little frustrated. Another nice thing that I have noticed is that even the "thuggiest" of boys give up their seats to the senior citizens on the trams and buses...it is soo nice to see this.
Random tidbit about my town: We have (excuse me had) three trams that traveled around the city until last weekend. Unfortunately, i was out of town for this exciting addition to the city, but there have been posters and signs and fliers, and anything else possible to publicize the new D line! oooo! Not only that, but Grenoble had a party, complete with aperatifs at each stop that this new D tram goes to. . . I haven't really figured out what is so exciting about this tram-it only has four stops. I would be happier if it wasn't a 5+ walk from my residence hall, but I still find the bus more convenient.
The last tidbit about my town... dogs are soo popular here that they even have their own public restrooms... special parks on the streets that are fenced off so the dogs can go to the bathroom. This is supposed to be an attempt to eliminate the surprises in the streets... which often lead to me playing hopscotch in order to avoid such unpleasant messes.
So, pretty much my town is AMAZING!

Practically Royalty

Well, I figured that I have written about enough negative adventures, so I am going to point out everything amazing in my life right now...
Finally, everything seems to be going just right here in Grenoble and my life seems like it is out of a fairy tale. I finally have a home-I live in Résidence Houille Blanche, which is a residence hall built in the 60s for the engineering school, so if one can only imagine, I am living in the equivalent of UMR, but with lots of smart, soon to be rich, French engineers (visitors are welcome to come to my Utopia, but my bed is very very small). My residence hall was practically built with me in mind since I have a dark room and an art studio in my building. I also have a swimming pool, ping pong table, music room (with piano), party room, and a role playing room (I can only imagine what this is for haha). It is perfect! Did I mention that I have a maid?!-my room gets cleaned by someone else...it can't get any better!
My classes are great and I can't say that I would really change anything about them. I take ten hours of just French grammar each week, plus three hours of electives and two hours of vocabulary. I am the only American in my grammar class, so I have mastered understand the Korean and Chinese accent when French is spoken. Phrases like "je travaille" have turned into "zhe trahbaiye" or "je voudrais" is "zhe boudrais." And the language spoken by the natives that is otherwise melodic is now choppy and short. This was a great challenge in the beginning, but I have now overcome this and I love my classmates.
I have found a great bar in town where I am pretty much VIP... The London Pub. I have been there just a few times, but the bar owner (or manager... don't really know about this) knows my friends and me and offers us free shots. We are also so close that we can even "faire le bisous"-the famous French greeting of kisses on the cheeks to our new friend at the bar. Each time we go there, we are greeted by the sweet bartender from England who says things like "cheers love!"
Another great thing that I am looking forward to is this weekend! My friend Crystal and I managed to find cheap train tickets to Aix-en-Provence for the weekend... can life get any more beautiful? Of course it can... because I also forgot to mention how there are icecream shops on every corner of my city.... HEAVEN!

Blending In: Lesson 1) The Euro-Mullet

Last Thursday was seemingly perfect day-sunny and warm, garden party at the Fairholme House (the house where 8 of the CEA American students live/my temp home), and not to mention my excursion to St. Tropez that I would soon embark on later that evening. I decided to skip class Thursday, because Lindsey wanted to get her hair cut and insisted that I come along with her. I went, because it was one of those things that sounded like a good idea at the time. If I could change my actions knowing that the end result would be horrendous, I would have stayed in class. We found a hair salon called Jean Louis David that appeared very chic and clean so we went there. The large photo in the window was the same hair cut that I have, so I figured this could be a good time to get my hair trimmed so that I would only have to point at a picture and it would be done. I could not have been more wrong.
It was weird from the moment we stepped in the salon as there was a young man… perhaps 18 years old sweeping up the floor who directed us upstairs when we told him we wanted a hair cut. We were then wrapped in white robes… giving the feeling of being in an upper class hair salon… hmm? Ok so the young boy washed my hair and it was the most awkward hair washing session that I have ever had- I could just tell he had no clue on how to wash my hair. So after 10 minutes of being very uncomfortable, I was sent downstairs and greeted-if I could really call it that- by a twenty something French man who wore a mullet with very short bangs (think beetlejuice). The man was very unfriendly to his assistants and he was the only stylist working at the time. Lindsey’s hair was almost finished, but I did not get to see the end product until it was too late. At this point, I had a razor that would normally be used to shave a man’s hair to shear my hair.
This was weird, but I went along with it, because I don’t know the techniques used here in France. Everything seemed like it could go ok…not great, but just ok (something I could work with in the end) until he asked me if I liked my “bit”-the piece that is my signature look, the long side piece. Of course I said yes… and then he took the razor and sheared my hair some more but now removing my “bit” leaving me with the most random hair cut in the world that can only be compared to Joe Dirt! Business in the front and party in the back! I am now adorning a mullet! Yes- I am bringing it back. The schizo hair stylist (if he is even certified to be one) gave me bangs that start from the back of my head and thin hair all around the bottom and where my “bit” was is now a chunk of bangs… so one side of my bangs are now thicker than the other side… its more a reverse of what I had.
I didn’t even know what to do, but when I exited the hair salon I just bawled uncontrollably. I cried the from the second I exited the salon until I arrived at the Fairholme House, receiving some very weird looks on the streets and making a complete scene on the tram.

Below are pictures of what my hair should have been and what it actually looks like... that is the picture that was in the window!

On being Sans Domicile Fixe

If you don’t know what “sans domicile fixe” means, it is a term used to descrive homeless. Better yet, I am homeless in France in a city where I barely speak the language and know no way around town. Actually it is not as bad as it seems, I am not living in a gutter somewhere nor am I begging for food or euros from strangers. I am residing, for the moment, at Hôtel Europe, which is located in downtown Grenoble.
It all happened when I first arrived and waited for an hour and a half at the wrong bus station in Grenoble looking for a taxi-whch there were none and the next taxi could only make it to the train station by 4:00 pm- so I was off to a stressful start. I managed to find out that there was a train going to the main train station, so I jumped on to find out my original housing plans were no longer where I would be living. Crystal, another CEA student who was living in the same residence hall as me, waited outside the train station for me with as our advisor dropped some other students off in a taxi. So we went to this other residence hall that was about 45 minutes away from our campus by using the tram (which our other residence hall was literally on campus and five minutes away). Patrick, our advisor, argued with the lady at the front desk about our mode of payment since we have already paid CEA who paid the people at the original residence hall (so he needed to get money back from them to pay the other people). This went on for about an hour and we finally checked out the rooms
They were not too bad-just remodeled! We entered and they were very very small. The first thing I noticed is that I didn’t have a bed… oh wait the bed gets pulled down from the ceiling. My best way to describe the mattress is that it reminded me of being a baby… the hard foam with the plastic that covered and protected the exterior. I sucked it up, knowing that this is what I should expect as I was living in a residence hall in France and not the Hilton. This was all a part of the cultural experience right?
Not until we found out that we shouldn’t go anywhere north of where we were past dark… since basically everything is north as we lived in a suburb of Grenoble. In order to meet with the other students in the program or do anything we had to pass this special area, which in the states it would be the government funded housing or the ghetto. We were warned to look out for guys who carried small man purses from Louis Vuitton or Prada as those were not used for money or cell phones, but for guns- especially going through that neighborhood.
Crystal and my parents freaked out because we have paid $10,000 to this program and this is what happened. Well they also didn’t understand that it had nothing to do with CEA and they were doing their best to find us new homes. So they basically demanded that we get out of that residence hall and move into a hotel until they found something.
You can bet there were a few awkward moments with our advisor after he received a phone call from the VP of CEA.
So we are staying at the hotel for the weekend and Sunday afternoon we are moving in the Fairholm House- which is a house that has 8 CEA students already in it. We will be crashing on mattresses in the huge house, sharing two bathrooms with 10 students for a week until we get to move into another residence hall (if it even has any openings). Think The Real World.