And after all it was a great big world...

I am writing this blog post at my kitchen table in Chagrin Falls, Ohio.

My journey back here was long and exhausting in more ways than one. It began at 6 a.m. in Angers when I said goodbye to my host family, got on a bus, and immediately began to cry. I knew that I would be sad to leave France, and I knew that I would be sad to leave my host family. I did not quite expect to cry for the entire four hour bus ride to the Paris airport, but I guess it was really just a testament to how great of a semester I had in France. My host family was unexpectedly the most perfect and amazing family that I could ask for in so many ways, and it's hard to say goodbye to close friends who I have lived with for four months without having any idea when we will meet again.

Once I made it to the airport and composed myself, I boarded a GIANT airplane only to come down with a severe case of motion sickness. I'll leave out the details of that miserable eight hour flight, and the two more to follow before I made it home to Cleveland, but it was surreal to finally be back home in my house and seeing my family and speaking ENGLISH!

This semester was a dream come true. It was time to come home, but I was sad to see it end.

I could write about all that I have learned this semester (which transcends the French language, although my French has improved a ton), or I could write about why I miss France. Instead, I'll tell you about my last day in Angers because I think it was a pretty perfect ending.

I began the day with my last final exam, and then I left my school for the last time.


I went with my friends Laure and Justine to our favorite Salon du Thé, "Le Dos de la Cuillère," which is just about the cutest place ever with homemade desserts and the woman who owns and works there always remembers us and which drinks we like to order. The desserts there change daily, but she saved the best for our last day - chocolate raspberry tart.


I went and sat with a few friends in the little gazebo in the Jardin du Mail, a park in Angers where we often hung out or had picnics.


Then we walked across the river to sit and take in my favorite view of Angers. You can see the castle and the cathedral and the river, and on a sunny afternoon there's nothing better.


I made my way to Louvigny, the best chocolatier in all of Angers, with whom my friend Katrina has formed a close friendship thanks to her macaroon addiction. I bought some French macaroons and chocolate to bring home.

Eventually I walked home to my French home for the last time, where I finished packing, then hung out with my host family. We watched some TV, made homemade ice cream, played badminton, then enjoyed dinner in the garden.


My life's chapter in Angers is over now, but the places I saw, the things I learned, and most importantly the people I met will forever remain important to me.

I don't like goodbyes. So instead, I will say, à bientôt !

Nearing the End

I have just four days left in Angers.

I do not know where the last four months go. I can't seem to decide if they passed quickly or slowly. In some ways it feels like I've been here forever, and in some ways I think that I just stepped off of the plane yesterday. The time has passed quickly, but I have gotten so used to life here that it's hard to even guess what I will miss or not miss or what will seem different upon my return to the USA.

I finished classes last Thursday. Kind of bittersweet, as classes at my school here are a little bit less than challenging. I do however, love my language teacher. Here he is with my friends Mackenzie and Dennis.



My last weekend in France was just about the best that I could have imagined, minus the fact that I had to take my first final exam on Saturday.

I started the weekend off with lunch with three friends at Le Favre D'Anne, a really nice one Michelin star restaurant in Angers. We splurged on one last great (amazing!) meal on a terrace overlooking the river and Angers' castle and cathedral. It was perfect. For more detailed information, you might want to check out my friend Dennis' blog. He's a much better blogger than I am, and he's kind of a French food expert.

Here's a picture of Laure and I at lunch, right before we ate our main dishes:



But the rest of the weekend included going to my host sister's orchestra concert and going on a brief shopping trip in centre ville with my host sisters.

We also had a small dinner party at my host family's house, which three of my American friends attended as well as some of my host family's friends. The French love long dinners, especially when they have people over their house: aperitif in the living room, meals with a few courses, followed by cheese, dessert, and then coffee, with plenty of time in between for chatting. The irony of how absurdly long their meals seem to us? They are such fast eaters! They eat each course very quickly, but they eat several courses. Seriously, on Saturday us four Americans were half way through each course by the time that everyone else was ready for the next one.

On Sunday, I went to mass at the French Church down the street from me one last time, followed by one last big Sunday lunch in the garden. (See my blog entry about Sundays).

Sunday afternoon our Notre Dame group had a fabulous goodbye picnic in a park I hadn't been to yet all the way on the other side of town.

Yesterday (Monday) I took another final, and another one today.

Tonight we have a going away celebration dinner at a nice restaurant in Angers, which I'm pretty excited about.

Still on my to-do list:
-lots of lasts, like visiting my favorite boulangeries for the last time
-still buying a few souvenirs
-three more finals
-fitting everything I came with (and everything I've acquired since) into my two suitcases!
-figuring out how to say goodbye to this country, this city, and most of all my incredible host family
-hopping on a bus at 6:30 a.m. Saturday morning in Angers, only to arrive home in Chagrin Falls, Ohio and crash in my bed TWENTY-FOUR full hours later

I'll always have Paris

Last Friday, I boarded a train out of Angers and arrived at Paris' Gare Montparnasse for one last time this semester.

On Monday, I boarded my very last train and arrived home in Angers, where I still stay for another week and a half before flying home to the United States.

When I got on that train, I left a piece of myself behind in Paris.

It's that piece of myself that is still a sixth grader walking into her first ever French class and learning how to say "Bonjour." It's the part of my being that has known ever since that I needed to study in France during college.

It's that piece of myself that never wanted anything more than to see the Eiffel Tower and walk along the Seine.

That piece of myself was exploding with both enthusiasm and fear when I left I my home in Chagrin Falls, Ohio merely a few months ago with just two suitcases and one backpack, not having any idea what was on the other side of that great big ocean.

Sure, everyone has a desire to travel. But for as long as I can remember until the day I boarded a plane over here, if you had asked me that all to common "If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be?" I would've said Paris. Without a moment's hesitation. It was not just any old destination. It was THE destination.

So why did I leave that part of myself behind in Paris?

That's where it always wanted to be.

It's happiest there, reveling in the dream of finally reaching that incredible city.

So I scattered it around...

In the Luxembourg Gardens, where Parisians hang out to talk or read or sunbathe.


With Les Bouquinistes (book stalls along the Seine).



At a Chopin piano concert in a teeny tiny Church in the Latin Quarter.



In the sunset view from the end of L'île de la Cité.



In the smallest of amazing details in the city; the bridges, the shadows, the sunlight.


With the wicker café chairs lining every sidewalk .



Amongst the gargoyles at the top of Notre Dame, my favorite view of the city.



Even around the old-fashioned Metro signs.



And of course, underneath the Eiffel tower.





When I got on that train back to Angers, I knew that I was no longer the little girl who could only dream of a far-off, magical city called Paris.

Now I can only hope that I never forget it. And never take for granted how lucky I am to be able to spend four months in France soaking up an incredible culture and learning a beautiful language.

What a NICE weekend!

In France, Ascension is a national day off of work and school, so two weekends ago I had a four day weekend.

And of course, May is the perfect time to hop a train to the French Riviera:



To begin, here's a little information about the South of France:

- It's full of Italian influences.

- It's colorful! If you've been to Paris (or even seen pictures of it) you know what I'm talking about. Angers is the same way. The buildings are all white/gray stone. Pretty, but lacking in color.

-The people speak French with a very different accent. I was proud of myself for being able to recognize how different they sounded. The Angers area of France, where I live, is the "accent-less" region of France. If you've heard French spoken before, you might have noticed that it sounds like they are making a bit of a choking noise in their throats when they pronounce R's. In Nice, they roll their R's.

-It's hilly! I really do love the Loire Valley and the area that I live in, but it's very flat, which does not make for amazing views. It also doesn't have the crystal blue Mediterranean sparkling in the sunlight like the Riviera does. In other words, I was in one of the most picturesque places ever.

We stayed right in Nice's old town, which is filled with colorful buildings and charming narrow streets right on the coast.



I especially loved the marketplace, which had my favorite outdoor market I've been to yet in France. That's saying a lot, considering that every town has at least one market.



We saw the mountains and the beach, and climbed a little mountain next to the sea:



This was the view from the top:



And of course, we ate great food.

The first night we went to an all you can eat mussels and fries restaurant right in the main market square. I'd never had mussels before, but what better place to try them then in Nice, right? They were delicious!



We took a day trip to Cannes, where the film festival was going on! There weren't any stars around in the middle of the morning, but we did see the red carpet.



From Cannes, we hopped on a ferry boat with amazing views of the coastline.



We arrived at the Island of Saint Honorat, a little island with an old abbey, vineyards, and amazing views of the Mediterranean.



On our last full day, we took a brief trip to a little town on the coast between Nice and Monaco called Beaulieu-Sur-Mer. That name, translated, means "pretty place on the sea." And pretty it was!



The last night of our trip, we went to a restaurant that specializes in olive oil. We had stopped by there earlier in the day because according to my guidebook the owner gave free olive oil tastings. After he let us try a few kinds and taught us all about it, we just had to make a reservation. Since Nice is so close to Italy, the restaurant had Italian-type food, with plenty of olive oil on every dish. I had ravioli niçois. (Handmade Nice-style ravioli)



I loved Nice. I also realized on the overnight train trip there and the all-day journey back home that France is pretty big. Even though it is barely the size of Texas, it takes a full day of train travel to get from Nice to Angers (which isn't even nearly all the way in the North!) France seemed pretty big and diverse to me after this lovely trip.

Fun Facts

As my time in France is winding down, I've been thinking back to my first impressions of France, and how all the cultural differences from the States seemed so interesting and striking to me.

Four months later, it has become a way of life.

Of course, I am still an outsider. I still don't dress like the all too stylish young French girls (and I will never wear high heels everyday like French ladies because I am already tall!), and I am not fluent in the language. But their everyday lives are no longer a mystery to me. Looking back at my early blogs about French culture and eating habits, and what they do on Sundays, I've realized that all the things I described have become normal to me.

Since I will be back home in less than three weeks, it's time to start preparing for a reverse culture shock upon my return to Ohio.

HOWEVER....

All that said, some little things never cease to amaze me and I still (although less frequently) constantly learn amazing tidbits about French culture.

Today, my language teacher told me that there are SIX CONTINENTS in the world. That is right, six. Europe, Africa, Asia, Australia, Antarctica, and America. According to them, the Americas make up only one continent.

I told my host sister this evening that Americans believe there to be seven continents, and it blew her mind.

I just thought you might like to ponder that idea while I enjoy the last of my time on one of the six? - or seven? - continents.

FIRE!

No, this title does not mean that a have encountered any fires in France.

I would, however, like to note the fact that French people do not believe in smoke detectors.

Why would those be of any use?

Well, yesterday my house filled with smoke because something burned. But there was a lot of smoke. And no beeping smoke alarm. I found this to be pretty bizarre.

Luckily, my house did not burn down.

But it's funny how you take some things for granted. For instance, when I smelled burning and realized there was smoke rising up into my room, I immediately thought that the silence was bizarre. I had never realized before that in my 21 years of life in the USA, my brain has been programmed that smoke makes noise. When something burns in my kitchen at home in the States, the smoke alarm goes off. But when something burns in my kitchen in France, it is greeted by silence.

It's funny to realize how many little things could be different about life in France. On the other hand, I wonder if more people die in fires in France because there are no smoke detectors....

Spring Break Week 2: Spain

Back to recounting my spring break journey... here is a very brief recap of my many adventures in Spain, beginning with:

Madrid

After successfully avoiding the volcano in Iceland and landing in Madrid, I didn't really know what to expect out of Spain. I knew plenty about France before I arrived there, and I was excited to go to Italy based on all that I knew about the culture, the architecture, and the food, but I had only a vague idea of what Spain would hold, based mostly on two years of high school Spanish classes.

Luckily, I traveled there with two friends who are completely fluent in Spanish, so language was not a problem (although after making it through Italy, I could have survived in Spain as well).

The afternoon we arrived in Madrid the weather was miserable, so we mostly just walked around and tried to get a feel for the city. I did discover, however, that Spanish tapas are delicious.


On Sunday, I really got to know Madrid, starting out with the giant Sunday market with all sorts of colorful clothing and jewelery. Unlike in France, the Spanish love to be colorful. (French people wear mostly subdued black and navy blue.)

My favorite part of the city was El Retiro Park, a giant park in the middle of the city complete with fountains, lakes, palaces and gardens. (see photo)


Also while in Madrid, I experienced the Prado Museum which is filled with the masterpieces of Valezquez, El Greco, and others, as well as the Museum of Modern Art, the highlight of which was Picasso's Guernica.

After a few days in Madrid, we left for a day trip to...

Toledo


Toledo, Spain (the sister city of Toledo, Ohio!) is a small city just a 30 minute train ride from Madrid. It's quaint and old and surrounded with walls and set up on a hill, and it has one of the most amazing cathedrals I have ever seen (and I have seen many, many old and beautiful churches in the past few months).


It was great to go have another break from great big cities, and to get views of the Spanish countryside. I took an audio tour of the cathedral, then we wandered around the city for a few hours enjoying the pretty views and great architecture. Late in the afternoon I headed back to Madrid for one last night.

Valencia


On Wednesday I boarded a train from Madrid to Valencia. My friend Mackenzie also met us there after having taken a 30-something hour bus from Prague to Spain and having missed our visit to Madrid due to the volcano. Once again, I got so lucky!

Valencia is a pretty city right on the Mediterranean, and we even got to go to the beach. The old city is filled with colorful buildings, and we even climbed an ancient tower to get a view of the city.

The highlight of Valencia might have been the much anticipated paella dinner - paella is a rice dish made with meat or seafood, that's pretty typically Spanish, but it's a specialty of Valencia so it's the best place to have it.

Valencia was a great city to walk around in and take it easy, even though I was hardly there for more than 24 hours. The following afternoon it was time to board a train to my final destination....

Barcelona

Barcelona is really different from the rest of Spain, because it is in Catalonia, which has its own traditions separate from Spanish culture, and even its own language, Catalan. I actually seemed to understand Catalan because I picked out different words that sounded like French or the limited amount of Spanish that I know, so it was pretty neat.

And Catalonian culture is amazing! It was such a laid back, open, friendly atmosphere. Without our even knowing it, we arrived the day before Saint George's Day. So on our first full day in Barcelona, it was like a giant festival everywhere we went, and all kinds of important buildings were free and open to the public.

Here is the story of St. George, as told by our tour guide on our walking tour around the gothic quarter of the city:

He slayed a dragon to save a girl, and I guess from the blood grew a red rose. So on St. George's Day, there are roses sold EVERYWHERE on the streets and men are supposed to give a red rose to the girl they love. Also, it's national book day, so there are book vendors EVERYWHERE on the streets, women are supposed to give a book to the man they love.


It was a great day to experience the city, the culture, and it's flair, and the gothic quarter that we toured really is the historical center of the city.

On my final day of vacation, I went on another walking tour of Barcelona, this time focusing on the famous architect Gaudi.

Maybe you've heard of the Sagrada Familia, that really big Church that Gaudi designed and that they started building in 1882 but still isn't done? Well, it's really different, but really amazing, even as a work in progress. See those towers? They aren't even nearly as high as the tallest tower, The Christ Tower, will be when the work is finished. According to my tour guide, you will be able to see it from anywhere in Barcelona.

I also saw some very colorful and incredible houses that Gaudi designed for the rich and famous of Barcelona back in his day, and went to a park on a mountain high above the city. The Park Guell was designed by Gaudi and intended as a place for the wealthy to have houses. Gaudi himself lived there, but only with a few other people, and so it eventually became a public park. There were great sculptures, street musicians, and tons of people enjoying the perfect day and the views of the city and the Mediterranean from high above. The park was one of my favorite things about my entire trip, so it really was a great way to finish.

Now that I have come to the end, I must tell you that I took well over 1000 pictures during my two week trip, and that I have been using careful restraint not to overwhelm you and not to slow down my writing process with too many photos. But, as the grand finale, and because I loved Barcelona and the Park Guell so much, I'll leave you with a few images:

Je comprends!

My post about my week in Spain will come soon enough.

But in the meantime, more about France:

It occurred to me one afternoon this week as I was watching French television with my host family that I understood everything that was being said.

I know that my French skills suffered a little bit after not speaking it or hearing it at all (except for eavesdropping on the occasional French tourists in Italy and Spain). So this point of nearly perfect comprehension must have happened before I left, without my even realizing it.

Remember when you were a little kid and you learned how to read and you started reading everything in sight, like street signs and advertisements? Well that is me, with listening comprehension in French. This week I have loved watching TV, listening to people talk on the street, and talking with my host family. I always enjoy these things, and of course I still don't understand everything. My vocabulary is less than perfect, and one or two words can sometimes be crucial to an entire conversation. But since I realized that the speed of talking does not trip me up anymore, my ears simply cannot get enough of listening to French.

My ears also cannot get enough of the chirping birds, and my nose cannot get enough of the lilac smell that is floating through the air everywhere in this city. French people love flowers, and they love their gardens, and spring has sprung in Angers! My stuffy nose and watering eyes are not the happiest of all, but other than that I am in pure bliss.

Italy: Gelato, Duomos, Gelato, Stairs, and more gelato!

It now seems like years ago that I spent a week in Italy, but it was definitely one of the best weeks of my life, full of wonderful food, beautiful weather, and incredible places.

So here is a summary of my brief Italian life:

First stop: Milan

The main attraction in Milan (besides fashion) is the Duomo. It's one of the biggest churches in Europe, and I climbed up onto its roof! (the first set of many many steps in Italy)

Other than that, my one full day in Milan was spent walking around and spending a lot of time in the public parks. It is a very modern city, so most of it did not seem that "typically Italian" in the way that most of us would imagine. After one day I was more than ready to board a train to.....

Venice!

On the train to Venice, I was looking forward to getting some good sleep, but I discovered that Italian trains are not silent like in France. Cultural difference number one: Italians are loud and boisterous and enthusiastic - all the time.

As soon as I exited the train station, however, I was greeted by blue skies, colorful buildings, and canals. It was exactly the Italy I had dreamed of.



Venice is quite crowded and touristy, but I still found ways to have an authentic experience. Getting lost on the narrow little side walks between the canals is a sure way to see the real residential Venice. And eating pizza for lunch on the side of a canal while an old Italian man cleans his boat and his wife shouts out the window at him is another. And despite the crowds, nothing can compare to the sunset over the grand canal or St. Mark's square.

After just over 24 hours in Venice, however it was time to head to...

Florence

I realized that the Italy of which I had always dreamed really is Tuscany, so I fell in love with Florence and it's surrounding countryside.

In my few days in Florence, I climbed many stairs to the top of a hill to watch the sunset over the city, saw Michealangelo's David, climbed many stairs to the top of the Duomo, and ate some of the best meals of my life.


On my second night in Florence, I had my favorite meal in Italy. We followed a guidebook to a tiny restaurant on a tiny side street for some amazing pasta. It was so delicious, in fact, that we scraped our plates clean, using our bread to soak up any remaining sauce. When our waiter came to clear the plates he looked at them, looked at us, looked back at them, then said "We have people to clean the dishes, you know."

As wonderful as Florence was, I was eager to move onto the stop I had been most excited about:

Cinque Terre

If you haven't heard of Cinque Terre, you are missing out. In Italian, it means "Five Lands," and it is actually five small villages on the Mediterranean in North West Italy. Tourists hike on cliffs and mountains between the five charming and colorful towns for breathtaking views of the towns, the mountains, and the ocean.

I would continue describing it, but you have to see it to believe how amazing this place is, and pictures don't even do it justice. But here it is nonetheless:




I took that photo from the trail looking down on Vernazza, the town that we stayed in. Besides the beautiful scenery, Cinque Terre specializes in great food: focaccia and pesto. I also ate breakfast at the best pastry place ever. And the amount of vigorous hiking that we did up and down millions of stairs more than made up for all the eating. Cinque Terre truly is heaven on earth - the best place that I have visited in my 21 years.

Pisa

Pisa was meant as just a stop over to spend the night after Cinque Terre so that Katrina could fly out of Italy and I could then go to Rome. But as soon as we got to Pisa, we got news of the volcano in Iceland, which would wreak havoc all over Europe for the next week. Katrina had to figure out what to do next, leaving us with only a few minutes to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Hence, my three pictures of the tower are not good. But here it is anyways, so prove that I was there:

Unfortunately for my friend Katrina, trains back to France were booked for the next three days and we had no idea when the airports would open. She opted to stay in Pisa to figure out her options, although she later ended up in Rome and didn't make it back to Angers for another week. But for the time being, I had to leave her alone in the Pisa train station and board a train to...

Rome

I had already been in Rome for Easter (which you can also read a blog post about) but I went back just for the afternoon before flying to Spain the next morning.

Lucky for me I got to go back, because there is so much to see in Rome. There were a few major sites that I had missed over Easter, so I hopped off the train and headed to the Trevi Fountain (below) and Spanish steps, before enjoying one last meal and gelato cone in Italy.



Luckily for me, my spring break was unaffected by the volcano in Iceland. I flew onto Madrid no problem, and had all kinds of adventures in Spain for a week, all while hearing stories of friends stuck in cities all over Europe and making painfully slow and lonely journeys back to France. But you'll have to stay tuned for more about my week in Spain!

17 days, 10 cities, 2 countries, one backpack

If you noticed that I have not posted anything in a long time, it is because I was off on a big adventure through Italy and Spain. I left 18 days ago with lots of energy and one backpack full of clean clothes and an empty camera memory card. I returned home to France yesterday exhausted, with one backpack full of very dirty clothes, and two memory cards full of photos.

I will eventually post some details and pictures about my trip, but for now I need to get some rest.

It was the most amazing two weeks of my life in many ways - I don't think that I will ever see that many amazing places in such a short span of time, and I am so lucky to have been able to do it.

At the moment, I am also thrilled to be back in Angers, where the flowers and trees are in full bloom and I have my own bedroom and bathroom again, as well as my host family.

I only have about one month left here. It's time to really start savoring every moment. The best moment of today, for example, was playing badminton in the garden with my host sister this evening.

Stay tuned for more about Italy - where I enjoyed lots of gelato and climbed way too many stairs - and Spain - where I was lucky enough to be unaffected by volcanic ash, enjoyed tapas, and became very grateful for other countries' non-smoking laws.

My visit with the Pope

Last Thursday I boarded an overnight train from Paris to Rome, and immediately learned some important things about Italy. First of all, Italians are always running late - our train left two hours late with no announcement of any kind. We literally just sat on the train for two hours in the station wondering if it would ever begin moving. Apparently this is typical. During the course of the journey, the train fell two more hours behind schedule.

Upon my arrival in Rome - the first time I've left France in the past two months - I found sunshine, color, and ancient Romans ruins all around me.

Katrina and I in Rome in front of some ruins:



After finding our hostel, Katrina and I wandered around the center of the city around most of the ancient Roman ruins before meting up with other Notre Dame students and standing in a huge crowd right in front of the Coliseum, waiting for the Pope to arrive and lead Stations of the Cross for Good Friday. Even though it was in Italian, it was an incredible experience to be among thousands of people holding candles with the Pope in front of us and the Coliseum behind us.

In this picture you can see Pope Benedict XVI presiding over stations of the cross.



Saturday morning we woke up bright and early to stand in line for a tour of the Vatican museums. I do not think that I was fully prepared for the extent of the museums and all that they held. The Vatican possesses a large amount of ancient Roman statues, and then there are a seemingly endless number of rooms with paintings, tapestries, sculptures, and murals before the grand finale: The Sistine Chapel.

After our tour of the Vatican Museums, we wandered around St. Peter's Basilica for a long time - it is absolutely incredible. There were so many incredible details and works of art to look at that my eyes were overwhelmed. Moreover, the length of St. Peter's is two football fields!

Me in Saint Peter's:



Saturday afternoon the Notre Dame group (nearly 200 ND students were in Rome this weekend) went on a walking tour of several other Churches around Rome that house relics of important saints. For example, we went to the first church of the Jesuits, which houses relics of St. Ignatius and St. Xavier. Churches in France are more typically plain and elegant, with no paintings on the walls, but in Italy I discovered that one is more ornate than the next.

Saturday evening I ate with friends in the Trastevere neighborhood. This area is the most "typically Italian" in Rome, with winding little streets, and is a little less "touristy." We ate a wonderful pasta dinner outside at a traditional Italian restaurant, and topped it off with authentic gelato before heading home to rest up for the main event: Easter Sunday!

We got to the Vatican at 7:45 a.m. Sunday morning. The streets of Rome were empty, but Vatican city was already buzzing. Thousands of people were lining up to get into St. Peter's Square, which opened at 8:30 for the 10:15 Mass. We were able to rush into the square and find seats in the first section.

Unfortunately, despite the perfect weather Friday and Saturday, it began to rain Sunday morning as soon as we found our seats. Amazingly enough, the only time that it stopped raining for the entire day was when the Pope began to consecrate the host. After communion was over, it began again. Besides the weather, the Mass with the Pope was incredible. It was truly a once in a lifetime experience to celebrate Easter in St. Peter's Square and be present for the Pope's Easter blessing. The Mass was beautiful, even if I only fully understood the one reading done in English and the one intercession read in French.




Early Monday morning, I bid Italy farewell, but luckily only for a few days - on Friday I begin my two week spring break, so I am flying into Milan, and from there heading to Venice, Florence, Cinque Terre, and Pisa. I will then spend a week in Spain: Madrid, Toledo, Valencia and Barcelona.

I am so excited to travel, but even after just three days in Rome I was happy to return to France where I can get around and speak the language.

A day in the life

I tend to write about the more exciting or out of the ordinary things that I see and do, but if you are just reading my blog you most likely are unfamiliar with my daily life here in Angers.

So here it goes:

On a typical morning I start class around 8 or 9 a.m. If I have time and or money, I stop at a boulangerie on my way to school to pick up a pain au chocolat or other yummy breakfast treat. It's hard to resist the amazing smells wafting out of the several boulangeries I have to pass on my 10 minute walk to school.

My class schedule is different every day of the week, as opposed to back in South Bend, where my class schedule repeats itself on Monday/Wednesday and Tuesday/Thursday. I really enjoy the variety.

Another different thing about France is lunch. At Notre Dame I sometimes don't have a lunch break at all, let alone the same lunch time as any of my friends. But in Angers, no one has class between 12:15 and 1:30. It's the same thing for all French citizens - everyone goes home for lunch! I usually just grab a sandwich with some friends or go to the University Restaurant (a really sorry excuse for a dining hall, but it's cheap) and once a week Notre Dame provides a sit down lunch for our entire group.

During my breaks from class I usually go to the library at school to get some homework done. I don't have much homework here at all, but I like to get it done during the day because there are more distractions at my house. (for example I have some homework to be doing right now, but instead I am blogging)

An afternoon snack around 4 p.m. is always necessary, since we don't eat dinner here until at least 8:30 or so. I usually take an afternoon walk and pick up something from the grocery store or a boulangerie to tide me over until dinnertime.

In the evenings I eat dinner with my host family, then hang out with them after dinner and watch TV for a bit before finishing up my homework and heading to bed.

That's just an attempt at describing a typical day, but the truly correct thing to say would be that there are no typical days here in France. I always seem to experience something out of the ordinary or learn something new or do something different.

However, my life is about to become very much out of the ordinary - in three days I will travel to Rome for Easter, then return to Angers for just a few days before embarking on a two week journey through Italy and Spain, so stay tuned for blog posts about those adventures.

Le médecin

Yesterday I had an unexpected lesson in French vocabulary and culture.

The adventure began when I realized that I had shingles (which I've had before). Treatment requires prescription medication, and the sooner you begin taking it, the better.

So yesterday morning - after looking up "shingles" in my French-English dictionary - I ventured out to the French doctor to explain to her that I had "le zona" and needed some medication.

Luckily, the process was simple and painless (well, except for the fact that the shingles themselves are pretty painful).

When I entered her office, the doctor asked for my "Carte Vitale," but realized by the look on my face that I was not French. But so began the culture lesson: French people all have cards that have special chips in them with all of their important identification and personal health information. At least 40% of the cost of a medical visit is covered by the government. Apparently French people still have private health insurance plans to cover the remaining 60% of the costs, which resembles the American version of private health insurance.

The French system was fascinating to me in light of the current debates over health care in the U.S. While I am sure that the French system has flaws of its own, something seems incredibly efficient to me about having all of your pertinent medical information stored on a little card. It appears especially convenient to someone like myself because I constantly have to remember to explain my medical issues and list of medications to each doctor that I see. If I were French, they would see it all for themselves when they scanned my card.

I also got to experience I French pharmacy. This time, I was prepared when asked for my medical card, and was able to respond "je ne suis pas française" instead of giving the pharmacist a bewildered look. I was impressed with the French pharmacy because I was in and out with my medications in hand in under two minutes - all the woman did was grab the boxes for the medications I needed, whereas in the U.S. I would have had to wait around for several minutes while she went in a back room, filled a new bottle with my pills and printed out labels.

While having shingles in France is a bummer, I am doing just fine, and I hope to be well on my way to recovery by Friday morning, when I will get on the train to Paris to welcome my Mom and Dad to France!

My French doctor's visit mostly reminded me of my continual amazement that, in a foreign country, everything turns into a cultural learning experience.

On a lighter note, I also learned about the French versions of Disney movies yesterday - who would have guessed that even every line to every song is perfectly translated to have the same meaning but also still rhyme and follow the same tune!?

Le dimanche

Today is Sunday.

Back home in the United States, people are going shopping at the grocery store, at the mall, and at Wal-Mart. People are eating in restaurants in large numbers, and the streets are crowded. Because that's what people do on weekends, right?

Angers, France is what Americans might call a ghost town every Sunday.

Stores are closed. Grocery stores are closed. Windows are boarded up, shades are down, no one is out on the streets downtown.

What do the French do on Sundays? They rest. Imagine that - on Sunday, the day of rest!

If you go out in the morning, you will find many elderly couples - and some families - migrating toward the sound of ringing church bells.

In the afternoon, you might find families in one of the parks in town.

But for the most part, they seem to stay at home and rest and eat large, delicious home-cooked Sunday afternoon meals.

Today, however, I saw many people walking in and out of school buildings around town.

Even though everything is closed on Sunday, French people hold elections on Sundays. While it may seem bizarre to Americans, who are accustomed to voting on Tuesdays, the French always vote on Sundays.

Today they held elections for the President of each region of the country. (Somewhat parallel, in my understanding, to what I know as the governor of a state.) I live in the region Pays de la Loire.

When I asked my host family if it was strange that they voted on Sundays because it is the weekend, they responded, "Of course not! People can't vote if they are at work!"

When I told them that we hold elections on Tuesdays, they responded, "Well then, no one goes to work on election day, right?" Ah, if only that were the case.

Welcome to France, where Sundays are for resting. And voting.

As for me, I like my Sunday routine: I meet friends for 11am Mass at Saint Joseph, an old church just a three minute walk from my house. Going to French Mass is pretty good for practicing my oral comprehension skills. After Mass, a group of us usually go to a crêperie for lunch. (I guess I exaggerated a little bit when I said everything is closed. But this place is, in fact, the only place that we can find that is open on Sundays). I usually just have coffee and sit and chat, because I eat Sunday lunch with my host family.

Sunday lunch is late - usually around 2:30 p.m. - and it is delicious! Complete with appetizers, wine, a main course, cheese, and dessert, it is probably my favorite meal of the week. There is also something amazing about sitting and having a nice meal with the whole family, when I know that at lunchtime on a Sunday in America, my family at least is still lounging around in pajamas or out shopping or fending for ourselves by heating up some leftovers in the microwave or making a quick sandwich.

On Sunday afternoons, I always find something to entertain myself with, even if everything is closed. One week, I went on a bike ride with my host sister. Another week, we went ice skating. Today, I just stayed home and hung out with my host sisters for a little while (including giving them an English lesson, which I should write more about later) before working on some homework.

Sunday dinner is simple, as everyone is still pretty full from lunch. And Sunday nights, I feel well-fed, well-rested, and ready for my week.

Bonne semaine!

Lost in Translation

While I have written a lot about travel, food and culture in France, I have not written much about the most important thing of all: learning the French language.

I have quickly discovered that there are good and bad moments for communicating in French. Sometimes I am able to communicate exactly what I would like and really understand a conversation in French. Other times, not so much.

I always knew that I was better at reading and writing French than I was at speaking it, but actually coming to France has brought me to a full appreciation of the challenge of learning another language. To become fully fluent in another language now seems to me to be nearly impossible.

One of the biggest differences I noticed upon my arrival in France is that the process of communicating with French people is much different than communicating in French with American French professors.

In the U.S., when I said something in French that was a false cognate or an "Anglicism," my French teachers always still knew what I was trying to say. Here in France, I am not understood unless I say something correctly, as the French would say it.

My daily life in France requires oral communication much more than it does reading and writing. Just when I found myself frustrated with my inability to orally understand and express the same amount of French that I know how to read and write, I stumbled upon an editorial in the French newspaper.

Written by Christian Lequesne, the director of the Center for International Study and Research at Sciences Po in Paris (which, if you are unaware, is one of the most prestigious universities in France).

Lequesne essentially argues that there are not enough French students studying in foreign countries and learning languages. He proposes that French schools should teach foreign languages based more on oral comprehension, so that students will be able to travel and communicate more easily.

He writes:

Un professeur de collège me dit un jour: « Vous voudriez donc que j’enseigne l’anglais d’aéroport ! » Je ne pus m’empêcher de lui répondre : se seulement tous nos élèves, au sortir du brevet, pouvaient comprendre les annonces en anglais dans les aéroports !

Yes, I will translate this passage for my English speaking readers, even though I am currently writing on the importance of learning foreign languages.

(Translation: A middle school teacher said to me one day: "So you would like me to teach "airport English!" I couldn't stop myself from responding: If only all our students, when they got their diplomas, could understand the English announcements in airports!)

In other words, foreign language teachers must not brush off the importance of simple oral comprehension - something that is certainly true in my attempts thus far to survive and communicate in France.

He continues with a thought about the importance of study abroad experiences:

L’expérience, dans sa jeunesse, de la différence culturelle est le meilleur moyen d’apprendre à être à l’aise devant le changement.

(Translation: The experience, in one's youth, of cultural difference is the best way to learn how to handle change.)

I completely agree with Monsieur Lequesne. This is exactly what studying abroad is all about. I am learning to communicate beyond cultural and language barriers, at the same time as improving my ability to understand and communicate spoken French. By doing so, I am gaining a great appreciation for the broader world.

With the exception of Latin, the languages that we study in school are living, with living people and cultures attached to them. The French grammar exercises that I mastered throughout middle school and high school did teach me a lot, as have the works of French literature I have read in college courses. But nothing compares to living in France and experiencing everyday life in a typical French city.

Perhaps our system of teaching foreign languages could be modified to emphasize oral expression and comprehension, but to learn about the world one must live abroad.

Sometimes I do just wish that I had the words to say something to my host family, or that I didn't have to concentrate so hard to understand even a small part of the plot of a French TV show. But that does not make me regret coming here. Rather, it makes me wish I had come sooner or that I could stay longer. Four months is not enough time to learn a language.

La Ville-Lumière

I just got back from a weekend in Paris, The City of Light!

I could write forever about Paris and its many sights, sounds, and smells (yes, even the smells: cheese shops, bakeries, flower markets, meat shops, crepe stands in the streets...) But instead, I will just include some of the highlights:


Wandering around the tiny streets in the Latin Quarter on a sunny Saturday morning, and seeing the "real" Paris - Parisians walking their dogs and carrying baguettes and coming home from the Saturday market to their charming old apartment buildings - rather than only the busy, tacky tourist sections.

A very long walk from Notre Dame to the Arc du Triomphe. The sights inbetween included: The Seine, Pont Neuf, The Louvre, le Jardin des Tuileries, l'Avenue des Champs-Elysees, and views of the Eiffel Tower.


Montmartre: the Sacre Coeur and the surrounding neighborhood, especially the artists painting portraits and scenes of Paris.


And of course, looking out over the city and spotting la Tour Eiffel in the distance.


The Musee D'Orsay. The building was beautiful, and my favorite paintings were those Monet and Degas, although they were all stunning and wonderful.


Strolling through the Luxembourg Gardens (twice!) on a sunny afternoon. It was a wonderful place for people watching. For example, Parisans often jog in scarves and sweaters, and jump at every opportunity to sun bathe (even when it is early March and 30 degrees Farenheit)


So, you might ask, is there anything I didn't like about Paris? The one thing that frustrated me is also something that many Americans appreciate about Paris.

Any guesses?

Everyone speaks English. And by everyone, I mean everyone.

Parisans hear the slightest bit of an American accents, and refuse to speak anything but English - even if my French skills are one million times better than their knowledge of the English language. Frustrating? Yes. I believe I had a few "bilingual" conversations in which I spoke French and the Parisian spoke English. At times, they were perfectly proficient in English. Other times, it was a failed attempt (on their end only, of couse, as I have been getting by just fine with my French skills while in Angers.)

I came home on Sunday evening exhausted, and found it suddenly difficult to understand what my host family was saying. I am used to speaking with them every day and taking classes in French all day long, and even at restaurants and train stations, not using any English at all to communicate with French people. While I speak English with my fellow Notre Dame students (it's tricky to recount a complicated story in French, so we eventually resort to our native tongue even when we try to use French with one another).

Yet somehow, I spent three days in the largest city in France, and my French language and my comprehension skills made a little bit of negative progress!?! C'est dommage.

While Paris did live up to and exceed my wildest dreams, I happily boarded a train to Angers on Sunday afternoon and came back to my warmer and quieter city, my own bedroom and shower, and my loving host family.

When I told people I was going to study in Angers, France, many wondered "where is that?" or "why not Paris?" Well, there you have it. I live in a real French town with a real French family and speak French every day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Paris, je t'aime. Angers, je t'aime beaucoup.