The Last Post Ever Maybe

I'm even worse at updating than I originally thought...

I'm on my lunch break at work and I've got some time before I get back to cutting things out and taping them on paper (so glad what I learned in preschool is useful. I was worried those were lost years).

Everyone made such a big deal about the immense reverse culture shock that I was going to have when I came back that I was convinced I was going to be crying in my room for weeks on end refusing to speak anything but French and reminiscing about how much better everything was in Paris.

While I do occassionally slip in the occasional French (the kid who works in the cubicle next to me is probably learning a lot of French swear words everytime I get a papercut), everything's been pretty normal. I just transitioned back in and it's kind of like I never even left. Except that I've annoyed several people by talking about Paris too much.

So things I've noticed about America since coming back (which I already knew, but have noticed a great deal recently):

1. We talk really loudly.
2. We actually wear sweatpants everywhere and don't look at all times like we might be posing for Vogue.
3. We have ridiculously large portions that no real person could ever actually consume.
4. But we consume them anyway, because that's how we roll.
5. We're very friendly, saying hi to everyone and everything. I have to get used to that again. Right now I'm passing people and they say hi to me and each time I look as surprised as I would if they were trying to hand me a million dollars.
6. We see nothing wrong with driving to exercise.

I know there are more, but that's all I can think of for now.

Théo and Arnaud (and maybe Ben... who if he's reading this should turn that "maybe" into a "hell yes") are coming to visit! Théo comes at the end of August and Arnaud (and maybe Ben) are coming for Thanksgiving. I'll also probably go back to Paris at the end of January (though only for a week).

Right now I'm considering getting my Teaching English as a Foreign Language degree and going back to Paris to teach. We'll see, but I'm pretty determined to go back there. Unless McGraw-Hill offers me a very large sum of money to stay, which they won't because publishing doesn't pay that well. Neither does teaching... I think I'm just going to have to either a) marry for money or b) write a bestselling novel that surpasses Harry Potter and Twilight put together. Let's see, they're both fantasy novels... so wizards and vampires are taken... I think I'll have to write about trolls. Really, what else is left? And don't tell me elves. Kebler took them all. And Lord of the Rings... well that greedy man took elves AND wizards. And people too! I'll just have to keep thinking.

If anyone has a job in Paris for me, let me know. ;)

Thanks everyone for reading and staying with me all this time. I hope you enjoyed it!

A Final Recount of Paris (For Now... I'll Be Back)

My last days in Paris were marked by sunshine, despite the fact that it had been raining all week. I think it was Paris' way of saying, "Meghan, don't leave me. We can work this out. Look how fabulous I am!" It apparently rained the day after I left, which I can only take to mean that Paris was expressing its true pain at my departure.

Melyn and I walked around our neighborhood, taking pictures and buying every dessert that I had always wanted to try but never had. We then went to the cafe where Amélie works in "Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain." It was a lot a bit overpriced, but that's what you have to pay for happiness and a few photos.

I spent my second to last night saying goodbye to most of my friends in a picnic by the Eiffel Tower. In true French style, there was red wine, baguettes, meat, cheese, and beer. Many people had cigarettes as well, and I couldn't help but think, "In 48 hours, I'll be able to breathe better, but it just won't be the same."

The next day was my last official one in France. Théo took me to an amusement park. Because it was a Saturday, it was a little bit on the crowded side, but I still had a lot of fun. French amusement parks aren't that different from American ones, except that everyone speaks in French and all the signs are in French.

We then came back and had dinner at a nice restaurant. I ordered clams, which were pretty good, though immediately following, Théo showed me the clam he was eating and we had something similar to the following conversation:

Théo: See how it's moving? It's still alive.
Me: They gave you a live one? You should tell them.
Théo: They were all alive.
Me: ... Like not the ones I was eating, right?
Théo: Those were alive, too.
Me: No, they weren't! Wait, were they really?
Théo: When you order clams and they look like that, they are always alive.
Me: If you had told me that before, I wouldn't have eaten them.
Théo: I know. That's why I didn't.

Not sure I'll ever have clams again, but now I know their secret.

We then met Arnaud and a few other friends on the steps of Sacre Coeur and drank wine. Because it's so high up, the view from Sacre Coeur is fabulous. I think it was a great final view of Paris.

The next morning, Théo, Melyn, and Arnaud helped me get to the airport. I wasn't quite ready to leave, so we went to an airport cafe and bought overpriced pain au chocolat. While we ate, I was instructed to take any offers to go on later flights if the plane was overbooked. Coincidentally, it was. They had already given all the spots away by the time I got up to the counter, and I would have only stayed an hour longer in Paris.

I did cry when I was saying goodbye to everyone. Théo, Melyn, and Arnaud stayed with me until they weren't allowed to go any further. I cried as soon as I started giving Melyn the first hug. I had already warned them, so I feel they were prepared. I finally had gotten some semblance of control when I managed to say the line I've always wanted to say to someone: "We'll always have Paris." I then completely ruined the effect by sobbing. Somewhere, Humphrey Bogart was probably very upset with me.

The plane ride was ok as long as I didn't remember what I was leaving. Though I didn't sob on the plane, a few tears did leak out occasionally. The four-year-old sitting across the aisle from me kept giving me I'm-terrified-of-you looks throughout the plane ride.

Landing and getting picked up by my parents and Uncle Hank and Aunt Cheryl was nice. We all went out for my first legal drink in the US. I chose a Bailey's Irish Coffee, because Bailey's has always had a special place in my heart. And plus, I was tired and it contained caffeine.

I have gotten to see a lot of my family since, and received an amazing cake from the Vonderheides (it was Disney-themed...). That's all been lovely. I've also been making my doctor rounds (gotta check everything to make sure Meghan's working properly), so I feel like I haven't really had the chance to let everything sink in yet. I think I will write one final entry in a week or two telling how I've adjusted/ what it's like being back in Dubuque. I'm going to guess the transition from Paris to Dubuque will be a semi-tough one. Though, like I've said, they're not SO different. They both have people in them. And buildings.

Reverse culture shock report to follow!

Final Countdown

In 48 hours I will be frantically running to the airport with Théo, Melyn, and possibly Arnaud... Actually, I hope I won't be frantically running. I'm hoping I will be casually strolling. And not terrified I'll miss my plane. I also hope I won't sob all over everyone when I go to leave. If I'm wearing mascara, it'll get all over the place and then I won't be able to get it off, and everyone on the plane will judge me and avoid me, secretly calling me "raccoon girl" behind my back and making inferences about my current mental status.

Should have brought my waterproof mascara...

I'm pretty much done packing. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm going to bring home an entirely new, chic wardrobe and have a Sabrina moment. First, this won't happen because my father is not the chauffer for a rich family with a lazy, womanizing-but ridiculously good-looking- son (pity). Second, clothes here are a tad bit on the pricey side. I would have bought a new wardrobe, but I would have had to give something up- like eating. I shall come home with 2 shirts, a pair of boots, a fabulous purple trenchcoat that all shall admire, and two pairs of jeans. Most of these were acquired when my parents came to visit.

Now I just need to give away all my (non clothing-related) worldly possessions that I've acquired while here. This mainly involves food and pots and pans. Molly really did leave in a frantic hurry, and so Melyn and I have had to deal with some of her stuff. I don't want to put the same burden on Melyn, so I'm going to have everything prepared by tonight. Probably.

Théo and I are going to an amusement park tomorrow, which I feel is a perfect way to end my time here. I love roller coasters, and this park sounds a lot like Six Flags, so it'll be like a transition into home. I suppose I could have gone to EuroDisney, but then I really WOULD sob over everyone when I finally left because who ever wants to leave Disneyland?

That's ok. I'll be back.

I'm already making plans for the coming weeks so I don't get too sad. I'm excited to see my family and friends, and Mrs. VonderHeide, I accept your offer of cake.

Prague and Packing

I'm in the final week stretch here in Paris. I'm going to miss it a ridiculous amount, but I'm excited to go back and see everyone. And plus, my friend Michelle is learning how to make pain au chocolat so that I don't get too Paris-sick.

The final day in Galway was fun. We went to a barbeque, which I hadn't been to in forever. I forgot how much I miss barbeques. I didn't actually eat at the barbeque because I'd already had far too much food that day, but the smells were enough for me.

Allison and I met Théo in Prague and we all travelled to our hostel. I booked us a dorm room that could house ten people. There were 4 Spanish guys and an Italian in the room with us. They all very much enjoyed spending long nights together, and would frequently reenter the room at 5 in the morning. This didn't really bother us, though we did judge them the night all 4 of the Spanish guys wore matching all-white outfits and proceeded to take a photo shoot in the room where they struck poses that slightly resembled Backstreet Boy pictures of yesteryear.

The three of us mainly just wandered around Prague, checking out the castle and all the cool stuff. I felt kind of bad for Théo because Allison and I would be walking and then get distracted by shiny objects or puppets that were carved to look like Harry Potter and demand to go into the shop. I don't think he was as impressed by the shiny objects as we were.

We also saw a show while there. Faust in blacklight (no words). Allison and I enjoyed it, Théo did not. Really, I'm starting to feel bad for him as I write this. I give him props for not leaving us to go hang out with the Spanish guys in their white outfits.

We did go to the largest club in Europe (it's like 5 million floors) and also went on a ghost tour. Apparently Prague has an entire street that no one lives on because it's haunted. There are only shops. Our tour guide said, "People used to live above the shops, but it gets annoying when ghosts walk through the walls all the time carrying their heads under their arms or whatever it is ghosts do."

So true. Annoying would be how I would describe a ghost sighting.

Flying home worked out well. Apparently having "Mrs" instead of "Ms" on my ticket didn't matter, and no one questioned the validity of my fake marriage.

Yesterday, I saw a friend from my college who had been staying in London. We got lunch in a cafe and I recounted my various European adventures while listening to hers. Now I'm just trying to plan the rest of my time here and pack to get ready to go back. I told my dad yesterday that I'm insisting on a family party celebrating my homecoming. I was kind of joking, but I do want cake. I don't even care what the cake says... "Welcome Home, Meghan", "Shit, She's Back", "Happy Birthday, Jesus"... Cake is cake, man. They don't have those proper really-really-bad-for-you cake mixes here, so I haven't had a decently sugarified cake since I left. I think this needs to change.

Alright, packing. Andddddddddddd go!

Irish Adventure Number 2

I finally made it to see Allison (one of my best friends from high school) in Galway. She wanted me to meet her boyfriend, Paul. When I got here on Saturday, Paul was drinking in the backyard with one of his friends. This turned out to set the tone of the evening as more and more of Paul’s friends came over to drink with us in true Irish style. All of them brought huge cases of beer. It made me feel right at home.

At one point, Allison said, “I’m surrounded by boys… I just can’t seem to get away from them.” At this very moment, three more boys knocked on the door, bringing the number of males in the house up to 12 compared to just 3 girls (me, Allison, and her roommate Carly), so I was inclined to believe her. They were all very nice though, and quite willing to sing Disney songs with me once they got drunk enough, so we got along swimmingly.

Later in the night, we all went out to a pub and danced to Irish songs. Paul and his friends kept buying me drinks, which was very nice of them. I would barely start one when a new one was placed in front of me. Instead of drinking a lot, it actually accomplished the opposite. I got so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of alcohol in front of me that I don’t believe I actually drank the equivalent of a full drink, it was more like one tiny sip of each accompanied by a “thanks.” I think this made them think I didn’t like whatever they had given me, which would cause them to buy me yet another drink. I suppose a better approach would have been, “Meghan, what would you like to drink?” But why ask someone what they want when you can just buy them loads and loads of drinks in complete and utter uncertainty?

Allison and I have spent the last few days going around all the sites in Galway, and today we went to visit a castle. It had a little village set up around it, so it was quite intense. Someone took farmhouses from all parts of Ireland from the early 19^th century and rebuilt them all over the estate, so one from Galway and one from Kerry and one from Shannon would be all next to each other. I don’t know who took the time to do this, but I hope they were well paid for it.

For dinner, Allison and I reserved spots for the medieval banquet that you can eat inside the castle. We had honeyed mead and meat in the banquet hall, just like in Beowulf, so I felt like I was living the literature major’s dream. We also got sung to by a little, old Irish man. I was just excited to have gotten to eat a banquet in a real castle, and will probably brag about this for the rest of my life to all those who haven’t been fortunate to relive Beowulf.

Tomorrow we’re just going to hang out around Galway, and then leave for Prague early in the morning on Thursday. We’re meeting up with Théo there, and are both extremely excited. We’ve already planned on going on a Haunted Prague tour, as Prague is supposed to be one of the most haunted cities in all of Europe. I’m prepared to not be able to sleep for the rest of my time there after taking the tour.

No worries, I’ll detail all the reasons Prague is haunted in my next entry. Well, providing I actually get back to Paris alright. I’ve already had to call the Prague airlines I’m using several times as they first put my name down as “Mr. Meghan” on the ticket and then “Mrs. Meghan.” I should have just left the first one on the ticket and seen if they asked me about how the sex change had gone.

I'd definitely have something to write about then.

Goodbyes

My heart goes out to my family today. While I wish I could be with them today, I'm glad they understood me staying here.

I've found Skype and my internet rarely work when I want them to. My brother's birthday, Mother's Day... I think the internet is secretly scheming against me. Théo was really nice and lent me his so that I could wish Brendan a happy birthday on facebook. I'm not sure why the internet here never works. My only theory is that all the strikes that the workers here have effected (affected? merde, I've completely lost my grammar skills) it and it's working French-style.

On Monday, I had to say goodbye to Ben. He's going to Dublin to work for at least the next six months. He's become one of my best friends here, so I'm really sad to see him leaving (really it's only by chance that I was tired and didn't sob all over him. He got lucky). We spent yesterday hanging out at the park then a cafe and I met him later for drinks.

I gave him my blog so he now has access to my incredible wit, intelligence, and modesty, even though it'll be over in three weeks. I would write one for Dubuque, but my entries would look like this:

Went to class today. And work. Am now watching tv. I think I might go to McDonalds. Do you think they have pain au chocolat there?

I cringe at the very thought. Though I suppose as a fiction writer, I could make up stories to make things more interesting.

I went to work, and a man in a suit was waiting for me. He claimed he was from the FBI and that they had a special mission for me... Go undercover at Disneyworld to stop a huge character riot.

Molly and I didn't end up going to Disneyland because that was the day I got the email and because neither of us could really afford it. She left on Sunday. Melyn and I helped her with her bags. This was necessary as she had 5 of them and two of them were roughly the size and weight of me. I'm still not sure how she got all of them on the plane, but I can't wait to hear that story.

Théo also found out about my blog and asked me for the address. Thinking of the "Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home is Gay" entry, I turned down the request. After being asked a few more times, I finally gave in. Théo and Ben, don't be offended by the list. It's all cultural differences... not any reflection on your sexuality.

Though really, everyone should thank me. It's a common misconception that French men are all gay and I have just done the work for them by pegging down specific reasons people think this.

Well, I have to go meet Katie at the office to give her some stuff she forgot from Spring Break, but I'll write more later.

Mema

This post is going to be dedicated to the memory of Billie Sue Hartsell, an amazing grandmother and person.

About 5 seconds after I read the email that she had passed on, Molly knocked on the door. She gave me a hug and was really nice and comforting and let me cry for a little bit, and then we went out to the park to just sit there with Ben and Melyn.

I got to talk to my family when we returned, which was a good thing even though I cried a lot. Tamara (my roommate) was concerned when she heard me and asked if everything was ok. When I told her, she said that if I needed someone to talk to (even if I wanted to talk in English) or cry on or to make Nutella sandwiches that she would be there, which I appreciated. Steven knocked on my door to see what was up for the day and realized something was wrong when he saw my face. He offered to make me dinner, which I thought was really nice of him. Melyn and Molly ended up making me pasta carbonera for dinner and Théo brought me pain au chocolat.

I just realized how much food was mentioned in that. Apparently eating is how I cope with things. No one should find this surprising.

It was really nice to see that I had a support system here even though I haven't been here for too terribly long. I got a lot of sympathy from the Language Exchange people as well. Everyone was looking out for me, so no worries.

I was glad I got to say goodbye last Sunday through Skype and talk to her one final time. I'm going to miss her.

Disney Trumps School

My classes end in exactly four days. Considering the fact that I've been in class since January, I'm ready to be done with classes.

Naturally, I'm not ready to leave Paris. I've already begun making plans to come back. I just looked up how to get a job at EuroDisney, and this is what I found:


Character work : Make dreams come true by bringing to life the famous Disney Characters, including the Princes & Princesses. No formal training is needed, just an abundance of energy, a big smile and a dream in your heart.


Energy? Check. A big smile? Check. A dream in my heart? I have more than one, so I'm overqualified.

I'm pretty sure I was born for that job.

Now no judgements please, but Molly and I are going back to Disneyland on Friday. It's her third to last day. This time we're going with British friends. They have been warned that Molly and I stick to the Pirates' Code: any man who falls behind is left behind. They laughed and thought we were joking, but they'll see.

Molly and I have actually had everyday planned out for the last two weeks to ensure that we covered everything before she leaves next Sunday. We've been mapping out our favorite meals and places. Someone in our class tried to set up a going away party for us, but that was Disney day, so I had to gently let them down.

Our French friends are utterly disgusted with our choice to go to Disneyland again. They all had some snippity comments to make, but soon stopped after I told them all they were Satanists for hating the most magical place on Earth.

The past week has been very fun. Molly received to vouchers for free meals from Hardrock Cafe, so we used them on Friday. Each voucher was for an appetizer, an entree, a dessert and a free drink. We had so much food on the table that at one point one of the servers went, "Look at that! It looks like they're having a damn picnic!" We ended up having 6 full boxes of food to take home. Our server couldn't look us in the eye because he started laughing every single time. But then, we were laughing too. We also went to the Phantom of the Opera's opera house again. Many dramatic pictures were taken. No Phantom sitings yet. I fear he's on vacation.

I have acquired a boyfriend. In France if you go on dates two days in a row, you're dating. True story. I was unaware of this rule until someone I hadn't been aware I'd been dating gave me the friend's speech. I think he was more confused than I was when I said, "Wait, weren't we already friends?" This is probably why relationships in Paris don't last very long. Anyway, this new guy (Théo) actually eats more than I do, so he wins. Though he refuses to come with me to Disneyland. His loss.

I have four tests in the next three days. And three papers (though I'm almost done with one of them). I should probably go study for those. I have absolutely no idea how I'll do in these French classes. The French aren't as straightforward about things like what you're learning or what's due or what's going to be on the final. They just give you a bunch of worksheets and go, "OK! Guess! Hope you're right!"

Molly and I tried to get one of our teachers to tell us what would be on the test and she started this monologue about Smurfs (or Schtrumpfs in French)- as in the cartoon characters. I'm not even joking. We were like, "Yes, Smurfs are blue... that's very nice. We assume that won't be on the test, but we were wondering if the past tense will be... What? No real answer? Still going on about Smufs? Ok." It's a tad bit irritating, so right now I'm just going to study as much as I can and pray that something she handed us a worksheet on will be one the test. There's about a 50% chance that it will be.

Pray for my French grades. They will probably need it.

Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home Is Gay

As promised...

1. Two words: man purse. Far too many European males are rockin’ the murse. I get that it’s good for carrying stuff around, and they can’t use their pockets unlike Amercian males because of #2, which is…

2. Tight pants. Not exactly skin tight, but there’s not much room for anything to breathe. I thought that was important.

3. They look so put together. They generally dress better and are more fashion forward than I am. No t-shirts for these boys. Even those trying to rock the American gangsta style still look like the model versions of American gangsters. (Except my friend, Arnaud, but he also knows every American rap song ever sung. I don’t think he counts.)

4. Their hair is also generally better than mine.

5. Man jewelry, and I don’t mean watches.

6. They wear ties to clubs. I can’t even count the number of guys I’ve danced with in suits. It’s a bit ridiculous. I’m pretty sure in the States a guy just picks up a random shirt, says, “That smells like it’s clean,” and then goes out.

7. Their cologne smells better than my perfume… and they always wear it, so they always smell slightly flowery.

8. They don’t really eat. Well, they do… just way less. It always makes me really uncomfortable when whatever guy I’m on a date with consumes less food than me. That happens… every date here. Unless they have discovered the joy that is McDonalds, in which case they can probably out eat me.

9. Their alcoholic beverage of choice is wine. In the States, you bring beer to a sporting event. In France, real men drink wine.

And last but not least,

10. I saw two guys bisous, which is the French greeting of kissing on both cheeks. I don’t care if they were drunk. Isn’t that when your true emotions come out?

Yet Another Holiday the French Have That You Don't

Right now a lot of the boys in my foyer are playing ping pong outside in the courtyard. I can hear every word they're saying, and am learning a lot of new French swear words.

I know it's been a long time. I beg your forgiveness. I just have been a bit busy with school and life. (We've been doing something pretty much every single night.)

I attended my first French film without subtitles last week. Coco Avant Chanel (Coco before Chanel). It was all about her love affair before she started her clothing line. As I know most relationship words in French, I did pretty well with it and only had turn to my friend one time and ask, "So wait, the guy she's having a fling with is married?"

This past weekend was the first that we went out every single night... from Wednesday night to Sunday morning (yes, I'm aware that I wrote morning). I done that exactly... never, so I needed all of Sunday to recover.

The French get May Day (May 1st) off. It's like their Labor Day. Apparently it's even bigger in Finland and called "Vappu," so all my Finnish friends organized a picnic. We all drank wine and ate bread and meat and cheese (I held away from the cheese). Some amazing person also brought bubbles. Then we went back to the girls' apartment and had sushi and some Finnish bread.

I've had sushi before, but I forgot (stupidly) that wassabi was very spicy. This led to tears running down my face and far too many people asking me if I was ok. I think wassabi improperly named. I think it should be called "Clear your sinuses" sauce. Though "wassabi" is probably the word first person who ever had it said when they tried it. It was supposed to be "What the hell?" but "wassabi" came out instead. Thus the power of wassabi. (I know it's a Japanese word... I imagine the direct translation into English is "Wtf, mate?")

One of my friends, Théo, was upset that he didn't get to come to Vappu, so he's having another one at his place on Saturday. His parents have a very nice apartment (it's really rare in Paris to have a big/ nice apartment. The one I went to 2 weekends ago would have made most New York appartments look like grand palaces), so it should be good. We decided to have another picnic before it.

One of my best friends from high school, Allison, is coming to visit. She's currently studying in Galway. I'm SO excited to be seeing her again. She gets in tonight. Théo has informed me that I'm allowed to bring her to Vappu, so she will have an unrealistic idea of French apartments. If I was allowed to show her my room to counteract this idea, I would.

I got to experience watching a soccer game in someone's apartment on Wednesday. Chelsea and Barcelona were having an important game, so Arnaud invited a few of us to his appartment. I was expecting the guys to bring beer or something like it... no, they all brought wine. And instead of having meat and chips and greasy food, Arnaud brought out peanuts. Molly and I had to go buy a bag of chips to feel at home. Molly judged Arnaud for his lack of proper food. When we opened his refridgerator, it contained only things like yogurt. He also had a bowl of fruit on the counter. I told him he wasn't a real boy. At that point, he opened the freezer to show me the steaks he had in there, but it wasn't enough to impress me.

I felt better when Molly said, "Don't worry, he goes to McDonalds a lot." Arnaud nodded and said, "Yeah, it's right around the corner."

Still, I could never marry a European male. I need someone who eats more than I do. These boys just don't cut it. I think my next post will be a list entitled: "Why My Family Will Think Any European Male I Bring Home Is Gay." Look out for it sometime this weekend. We have today off again because... the French have more days off than anyone else in the world.

I have decided to end my classes when all the rest of the people in my program are (May 22nd), and spend the rest of the time traveling or working on my great American novel. I think I may have to make the man slightly unrealistic (in the sense he will be both European and act like an actual man), but he'll still be European enough. We will see how this goes.

The Tour of Near-Death Experiences

Spring Break is almost officially over. Technically it ends tomorrow at 2 pm French time when I go to my oral French class, but I'm done with my travelling, so the fun part is over. Now I get to work on homework that I've been avoiding for the past two weeks.

Our last days in Greece were very fun. We finally made it to Oia, which is the part of the island where The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was filmed. Katie's a big fan, so we spent a large amount of time trying to figure out which parts of the city were used in the movie.

One of the restaurants by us housed my new favorite food. It was a homemade waffle with chocolate and Baileys on top. I'm recreating this when I get home, and possibly marketing it for large sums of money. It can be one of the items for sale in the fabulous bakery I plan on opening.

The bar right next to it housed some of the largest margaritas I've ever seen. I had a mango one, and it was one of my favorite alcoholic beverages. It came with an umbrella, as all good drinks should. It was only seven euros in Greece, so it would be roughly 300 euros in France WITHOUT the umbrella. We actually didn't get drunk. Usually we were so tired from our rough days of laying on the beach that we just crashed. Even though we're all 21, I think our actual ages can be placed more at 90.

The final day was definitely the best one. We booked a tour. They took us to a dock where there were a bunch of ships that looked like they should be in Peter Pan. I think my childlike enthusiam scared some people. I'm sure my "I'm sorry, I've just never ridden on a pirate ship before" definitely didn't help.

Don't worry, I took pictures.

The pirate ship took us to an active volcano and we climbed up the side of it. I wasn't told it was an active volcano until I reached the top, so thoughts of "This is going to explode... this is going to explode... I'm going to die in a fiery pit of lava just like Gollum unless the Eagle king comes to save me from the side of the mountain like he did for Sam and Frodo... But I don't know the Eagle king! I'm screwed!" Yes, most of my episodes of fear somehow turn into commentaries on Lord of the Rings.

But anyway, so apparently the volcano wasn't going to explode that day, so I just have a lot of pictures of igneous rock formations.

Next they took us to hot springs. I thought we were going to go on a little hike and BAM! the springs would magically be there. Nope, you gotta work for things in Greece. Our boat was parked some distance away from shore and they said, "Okay, so see way over there? That's the hot springs. We can't park there because there are a lot of jagged rocks, so you have to swim through this really, really cold water right here and then you reach the hot springs. Well, not really HOT, more lukewarm. But they're good for your skin! So you get to stay there and prepare for when you have to go through the cold water again to get to the boat."

I turned to Molly and Katie and said, "I think I'll pass." To which Katie replied, "You're from Chicago. You'd better be able to swim in the Greek version of cold." So the three of us jumped in along with two girls from Canada, who also thought they could take the Greek version of cold.

The Greeks and I have very similar versions of cold. Of course, I have slightly more tolerance so I psuhed my way to those hot springs, and basked in their luke-warmness. While floating, I noticed a clear circle in the water that kind of looked like a jellyfish, so I told everyone about it. No one heard me because it was at this time that Molly screamed because a plastic bag had touched her. Understandable, as plastic bags are known for their vicious sting.

Therefore, it came more as a shock to everyone else than it came to me when we swam back and were completely surrounded by a school (is it a school if they're jellyfish? I'm not up on my fish lingo. We'll just call it a gang then... a huge biker gang) of jellyfish. Much screaming and freaking out ensued. I stayed calm and just kept saying things like, "Just keep swimming" and "Maybe they don't sting in Greece." I supposed it kind of worked, because I sort of managed to calm down one of the Canadian girls.

We made it safely back to the boat, and all acknowledged that it would have been nice to know about the killer jellyfish before venturing out into the water. Some of us didn't express it that eloquently, but the sentiment was basically the same.

We then made it to Oia. The boat dropped us off at the bottom of a large cliff that had a beautiful, windy staircase. The city was at the top. Molly and one of the Canadian girls decided to walk up it, but Katie, the other Canadian girl and I decided to go on donkeys, just like they do in the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Also, the stairs were steep and at a 90 degree angle. After walking up about 10 of them I was winded, and I am in shape after carrying a 25 pound bag around Italy and Greece. A donkey doing the work for me sounded like a better idea.

Until I got on the donkey. My donkey and Katie's donkey were having the donkey version of a pissing-contest. They both wanted to be in the lead and would try to run past each other and bump into each other. If they had understood English I would have yelled, "Stop trying to figure out who's got bigger balls. We are on a CLIFF!" Except being Greek donkeys, they only understood Greek.

We made it to the top alive, and I vowed never to ride a donkey again. Though, now when I watch the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants I can go, "yeah, I did that" when they're all on the donkeys. Which really is all that matters, bragging rights. In life, it's not what you do that's important, it's what you did that you're allowed to brag about that's important.

We then ate dessert and had wine on the terrace of a resaurant while watching the sunset. THAT I will do again.

I probably made the tour sound terrfying, but it was actually a lot of fun when I wasn't about to have a heart attack. We made friends because there's no way you can swim through jellyfish-infested waters and ride killer donkeys with people and be enemies with them. It's just not possible.

It was a good Spring Break.

My Big, Fat, Greek Adventure

Trains, planes, buses, boats, and cars... I took one of each yesterday. Needless to say, today was a sleeping in day.

We're finally in Greece! Santorini is beautiful! We spent today at the beach. It was a little cold, but as Chicago girls we've had colder. We were the only people on the beach who actually braved the water. Molly did not listen to my many warnings about skin cancer, and now has a sunburn that makes her a lovely lobster color. Me and my SPF 30 worked quite well together. We plan on continuing our relationship for the next four days.

The ship to Santorini was a cruise-type ship. It took us to the island from Athens. They played My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding in English with Greek subtitles. It was strange to see, but it blended Greek with Chicago, so Katie and I were happy to be able to watch it. We both acknowledged while looking at the subtitles that we had no idea really what Greek sounded like... A little like Italian, but not really. I'm not sure what I was expecting. I've just never been in a country without the standard latin alphabet. It's really hard to guess what signs are trying to tell you, but thankfully some of them have English on the bottom.

Venice was just as beautiful as I remembered. Katie, Molly, and I went on a gondola ride and saw Marco Polo and Casanova's houses. I think that says a lot about the city: the famous people from it are an explorer and a man known for sleeping around.

I attempted to find Christine, but it sadly didn't work out. I'll have to wait until I get back to the States to see her.

We're going out tonight, so I have to go. Cross your fingers that Greek guys are less creepy than Italians!

Italians, Italians, Italians

Rome was interesting. Our hostel was somehow a campsite a little ways from Rome. This entertained me greatly, and Molly has taped footage of me singing "Let's Get Togther" from The Parent Trap in the cabin.

Of course, there were guys. It's Italy. You pretty much can't escape them, I've found. (Well, maybe with the exception of Milan where the only worthwhile men are gay.) We were at the Trevi Fountain and a group of Italians started talking to us. They bought all three of us roses, but that was all we allowed for. Southern Italians are kind of a lot creepy. I told them all I had a boyfriend (does it matter whether or not it's true?) which only made them say, "If you're in another country, it doesn't count."

Italian guys have such great morals.

We saw the Pope! It's his birthday soon so everyone was singing to him in different languages. I was happy becuase I understood most of the French, Spanish and English that was spoken, so I got the homily in three languages. Italian might be my next one. We'll see.

Now we're in Venice, my favorite and the prettiest city of all of Europe. We got a surprisingly nice hotel that comes with free internet and breakfast, so I'm pretty excited. They recommended this restaurant that gave us some amazing pasta for not too expensive. We already plan on going back.

The guy at the concierge of the hotel also just asked for my number... Italians are extremely forward. We already had the guys at the restaurant we went to tonight ask if we wanted drinks as well. I think I should just have a sign plastered on my forehead that reads, "I'm married with three kids" or "Being An American Girl Does Not Equal Easy." I think both would keep them away. Giovanni informed me that the guys are less crazy in the North, but Venice so far has not been agreeing with that.

Many people (like Christine) are going to be here this weekend, so I'm really happy that I get to see a bunch of friends before going to Greece.

Although, I just found out I have to write my thesis proposal by next week. I was not informed of this, and I am NOT happy about it. Ah well, I'm in Venice!

In the Land of Nutella

We made it into Rome ok! We just arrived about an hour ago. The traveling hasn't been too bad. I'm already not very fond of my bag, but that was to be expected.

Milan was a ton of fun! We've been walking around a lot. Molly, Katie, and I found Jenee while we were walking through the Milan metro system, so we spent the past two days with her. We haven't gone out yet, so I can't really comment on the Italian nightlife. The food has been amazing, but I already miss pain au chocolat. I'm going through withdrawl.

We did a little bit of shopping. We actually made an Italian friend during our time in Sephora (it's a makeup store for all those who aren't shoppingly-inclined). Jenee had seen Victoria Beckham in there the day before, so we wanted to check it out. We actually met the guy who applied her makeup while she was in there (she got fake eye lashes applied and talked to David on the phone while in the store... I'm better at celebrity gossip than the National Enquirer). His name was Marco, and he felt the need to inform us that he was gay very early into the conversation and that "if we had a cute brother, we should introduce him." I wanted to say, "You work at Sephora, your hair looks nicer than mine, and you're wearing mascara. Don't worry, we were aware." He was fabulous though. He made us come back to see him today, and we took a picture with him.

All four of us really wanted to see Leonardo DaVinici's "Last Supper," so we went to the building where it was housed only to find out that you needed to have an appointment two weeks in advance. This just didn't work for us. We wanted to see that painting, so we told the girl, "We'll be standing right there. If anyone doesn't show up for their appointment, let us know." We all used Oprah's idea of positive thinking and said , "We're getting in. No lies. Someone will cancel." We also prayed for good measure (just in case Oprah didn't work), and someone cancelled! It was perfection. I got to see "Last Supper!" Yay controversal paintings! The androgenous person next to Jesus is totally a woman, in case anyone was wondering. Either that, or it's a man who was taking styling tips from Marco.

Tomorrow we head off to the Vatican for Easter. I'm not sure whether or not we'll make it up for Mass (it's already almost 2am and we're an hour out so we'd have to wake up at the crack of dawn... don't know if I like that idea), but we will GO to the Vatican for Easter, and that's what really counts here.

I hope a chocolate store is open. I want to buy a chocolate bunny.

Happy Easter, everyone!

What Happens on Spring Break Stays on Spring Break

I'll try to write an entry today AND tomorrow because I don't know when I'll be able to write again in the next two weeks. I'm sure I'll find some internet cafes, so be on the lookout! I'm leaving tomorrow for an Italian tour (Milan, Rome, and Venice) and Greece (Santorini). I'm going with Molly and our friend, Katie. We all have decided that we're going to have a ridiculous amount of fun and our motto will be "What Happens on Spring Break Stays on Spring Break."

With a motto like that, I hope we'll all still be talking when we get back. Imagine the damage that could be done...

Don't worry, Mom. I will make intelligent decisions. I'll also resist getting sold into white slavery.

I have a language exchange tonight, so I'm looking forward to that. I get to see all my friends one last time before going off on my grand Greecian and Italian adventures. Molly and I have decided to dress up for this one: her to convince Aurélien that he wants to have a torrid love affair with her and me... for no real reason. A girl doesn't need an excuse to look pretty.

Hugo was supposed to be there tonight, but he called me last night and said, "I can't come tomorrow, but I want to see you before you leave! Do you have time to go out for a drink tonight?" When I agreed, he said, "Ok, meet you at the train station in an hour."

I don't think the male gender understands sometimes how long it takes to get ready. An hour did not seem like a sufficient amount of time to make something to eat, eat it, put on makeup, straighten my hair, change my clothes, and walk to the station, but I am Superwoman. I did it all AND beat him to the train station. When he told me I looked really nice, I said, "You should have seen me an hour ago. My face alone would have made children run in fear."

Ok, so I didn't say that, but next time I will. Probably.

We went to his friend's appartment (his friend is also in the language exchange) and drank wine, listened to old French songs, and some people smoked cigarettes (I spared them my cancer speech, but it was so tempting... Hugo doesn't smoke, which I was happy to learn). It was all very French. The conversation was also mostly in French, so I understood only about half of it... or more like a fourth of it. But every so often Hugo would ask if I understood and then everyone would give me a group French lesson. Having French friends is so much more helpful than actually going to school. Too bad "hanging out with French people" isn't a class. I would ace that one.

I returned the favor by teaching them more American slang. They needed to have it expanded from "OMG" and "LOL." They proceeded to call each other "tools" for the rest of the night. I don't know that I'll ever teach them "pimp" as the last thing I need is to hear a large group of self-assured Frenchmen calling each other pimps. Though it would be fun to hear in a French accent. I'm teaching Arnaud all the ghetto terms I can think of for this purpose. So far he can say "What's up, homie g?" and calls me "shawtie" (shawtie=shorty=attractive girl).

Today Hugo sent me a text message that said, "Have a goodtime and dont pay attention to italian or greek guy's! French are the bests!!" (The grammar is his, not mine.) I told him I would say, "I'm sorry, you're not just not French enough" to any guy who tried to approach me. I'm sure this will work as the perfect repellant, because Greecian and Italian males are known world-wide for giving up easily when a woman turns them down.

And now I have to go do homework and prepare for tonight. Time to get pretty again...

Gardens and Parks

Apparently, Sarkozy doesn't like the youth of America, because the free admission to the museums is only for European Union citizens. :(

I went with a group from Central College and Aurélien (my friend from the language exchange). Because we had already been to the Chateau recently, Molly and I turned down paying the large amount of money they demanded. We said, "We're going to go to the free gardens because it's nice outside." Two others from the Central College group joined us, and so did Aurélien (even though it was free for him, he's lived 5 minutes from Versailles his whole life, so he didn't need to see the Chateau).

I didn't get to bike, but I DID do something infinitely cooler: all 5 of us rented a boat and rowed along the pond by the Chateau. I thought the view was beautiful. Molly thought Aurélien was beautiful, and finally accepted my invitation to come to the language exchange this week.

Today, I planned on going to a museum with Giovanni, but he cancelled... again. This time he was sick or something. Tired of him cancelling on me (we're not dating, for all those concerned), I invited Hugo (the guy I danced with on Thursday) and Molly to come with me. As soon as Giovanni found out Hugo was going to the museum, he decided that he just might be able to come as well.

Molly and Giovanni both ended up having too much homework to do, so Hugo and I went to a park together instead. We sat in the park for 2 hours and alternated between speaking in English and French. I think my French improved a lot, and I also learned a lot of slang words. Hugo got excited when he found out that I sing. He plays the guitar, so he told me the next time we came to the park, he was bringing his guitar and I would sing. That's right, I'm having a jam session (or a Boeuf in French) in a French park! He said if we were good enough we could play on the metro for money. While I'm sure we'll be fabulous, I turned down the metro idea.

The brunch this morning was fabulous. I had 2 pain au chocolats, sausage, eggs, bread, breakfast potatoes, orange juice and hot chocolate all for 2.85! Tamara, Molly, and I agreed we would be repeating this adventure.

But not next week because I leave for Italy on Thursday! I can't wait!

The Helpful French (Not an Oxymoron)

I've been hanging out a lot with my roommate, Tamara. She doesn't speak really any English, so this has been very interesting. We've been having a lot of fun. She's been joining Molly and me for dinner. There are student restaurants throughout Paris where you can get a large meal for only 2.85 euro. Nothing is that cheap in France, so this is lovely.

Tamara told us the other day (whilest we were yearning for pancakes) that the student restaurants have the best brunch. Apparently you can get pain au chocolat, a hot chocolate, bread, bacon, sausage, and potatoes altogether for 2.85 euro. Or maybe it's even more food than that. Point: there was a lot of food for cheap. I was especially excited when she said (in French), "And you'd expect the pain au chocolat to taste horrible, right? But it's actually really good!" Which is like the magical phrase that made me say, "WE'RE GOING. ALL OF US. SUNDAY. I'M NOT GIVING YOU OPTIONS!" Tamara and Molly were both unresistant. Though I suppose it would be strange for someone to say, "No! I don't want a lot of good-tasting food for cheap! You can't make me go!"

The language exchange went well. I had a test the next day, and I thought it might be a good idea to study there. It was mostly Frenchmen, so I made them all help me study for my test. In return, I taught them more dirty American expressions. I felt it was the least I could do for their efforts. They were helpful until someone said, "You know how drinking alcohol makes it easier to speak a language? You should just get drunk before your test. You'll do really well then." The rest really enjoyed this idea, and the studying deteriorated somewhat after that.

I did not get drunk for my test. I also think I kicked its butt.

I went with Ben and Arnaud to the club with the open bar again last night. Giovanni couldn't go yet again, so he had to miss out. I danced mostly with Ben's brother, Hugo. Hugo turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer for a Frenchman, so he gets an A+. He also helped me get home on the metro so that I wouldn't have to go home late by myself. Apparently, chivalry isn't dead in France. I know everyone always gives the French a bad rep, but I've met some very nice ones.

Tomorrow I head off to Versailles! I'm going with some of the people from Central College and I'm going to meet up with one of the guys from the language exchange in the gardens. (I think I just made it sound like I was going to have an affair in the gardens of Versailles... well, I wouldn't be the first.) I'm really excited and hope to fulfill my dream of biking through the gardens in Paris spring...

Meghan's Brain Has Been Fried From Homework

Happy April Fool's Day! I was tempted to write an entry saying I'd gotten engaged/ married/ had been thrown in jail for drug possession, but I resisted. You're all very lucky as one of my friends informed his parents that he wasn't coming back to the States because he'd fallen in love with a French girl and her baker father was giving him an apprenticeship at his bakery. Another girl wrote her parents telling them she hadn't written them in awhile because participating in a protest got her put in jail. I'm being nicer and not lying.

Sarkozy decided to make museums free for all people under 25, so he and I are friends right now. A bunch of people from the Central College group are going to Versailles on Saturday (I'm going to bike in the gardens and I refuse to be held back!) and then Giovanni and I are going to some other museum on Sunday. No idea which one yet.

My Twilight expose (speech) went alright. I got nervous so it's possible that I might have spoken too fast. It's also possible that I might have mentioned that Twilight has both bad writing (the grammar is really poor) and is slightly antifeminist as well as having shallow characters, and when my teacher asked, "Then why is it so popular?" I may or may not have said, "Because it's amazing!!!!!!!!!!"

I'm pretty sure everyone in that class thinks I'm mentally unstable. Ah well, I'll never see most of them after I get back to the States, right?

For some reason, this has been intense homework week. With my expose, projects, test and papers, my brain has been destroyed. It hasn't been used to having this much work since... Loras finals week. It's much harder to concentrate in Paris than it is in Dubuque. I've gotten all my work done, it just takes longer.

I met Giovanni's friends this weekend. They were a bunch of nerds, so we got along really well. One of them was a literature major who only spoke French and Italian... very little English (he's Beligian), so we discussed books and our favorite authors and genres in French. I had no idea I knew that much French, so that was fun. The other two were Italian mathematicians. One of them specialized in Algebra Geometry, which apparently is NOT a mix of algebra and geometry, and should never be thought of as such. I still have no idea what algebra geometry is, but it just SOUNDS unfun and like a class I would have slept through in high school. Both Italians spoke English, but not French. Occasionally, they would forget I didn't speak Italian and attempt to ask me something. Thankfully, most of the time someone would go "MEGHAN DOESN'T SPEAK ITALIAN! ENGLISH, GUYS!" I would usually forget most of them didn't know French and respond in French, so there were a lot of miscommunications. I think we all did well though.

I'm going to a club again on Thursday and I'm really excited. Arnaud and Ben invited me again. They said it was similiar to the one last week, so it should be a good time all around. (Don't worry, Mom. I'll be careful.)

Alright, my friend David and I are seeing the rest of Pere Lachaise (Oscar Wilde!) because our class got cancelled so we have beaucoup de temps.

Paris Nightlife + Meghan = BFFs

I know it's so soon after my last post, but last night was so fun that I feel it must have its own entry.

One of my friends from the language exchange, Arnaud (my two main French friends are Arnaud and Ben. Both will be mentioned in this entry), asked me if I wanted to go to a party at a club. I hadn't been to an actual club yet while here (I know, I've been here for two months. It's a very sad state of affairs. I generally just go to bars and pubs), so I agreed.

I got off at the metro stop he gave me, and Ben (he's been mentioned before- he's the ridiculously tall one. 6'6" I found out last night) was there so we waited for Arnaud to come show us where this place was. Ben asked me, "Have you ever been to an afterwork party before?" And I admitted that I had not. And he said, "Well, there's an open bar from 7-9, so the point is to drink as much as possible during that time. So drink fast."

When we got there, the line was huge. This wasn't a problem as all the guys knew Arnaud. At one point, I lost him in line. About 5 seconds later, someone said, "Wait, are you with Arnaud's group?" and immdiately let me and my friend from Texas (Charisse) inside when I said yes even though there were people in front of me. Yay having connections! The inside of the club was awesome. Charisse and I went to get our champagne and found out there was a free buffet as well, so there was an endless supply of food AND champagne. Considering that it was 15 euro to get in and a glass of champagne would normally cost 4-7 euros, a meal would cost around 10, and getting into a club on the Champs Elysees (which is where we were) would cost anywhere between 15 to 40 euro and that's MAYBE including one drink, I feel like I saved a lot of money last night.

There were 7 guys in our group and 4 girls: me, Charisse and 2 Finnish girls. The Finnish girls left an hour in, I have no idea why. They probably weren't taking proper advantage of the open bar. But their leaving meant the Charisse and I had 7 Frenchmen all to ourselves. I haven't danced that much since the high school dances of my far-away youth.

Most of the guys weren't the best dancers because they're European and European males as a whole have no concept of rhythm. One of the French guys told Charisse and I that Americans didn't know how to dance (before he saw us dance) and we were like, "Yeah, you're flailing your arms about like a dying fish and WE'RE the ones who don't know how to dance."

Even though they don't really know how to dance, they try. They were all twirling us around and I got lifted into the air a few times. Arnaud and my other friend, MJ (he has a long, complicated French name so he has allowed us to just call him MJ), know how to do the pretzel so we did that as well. It was just a fabulous evening all around.

Well, I should go work on my Twilight speech. A few of Giovanni's friends are in town, so I'm going to meet them all at the Louvre tonight. Charisse is also presenting a few paintings there for a class, and I told her I'd go to her presentation. It's free for students on Fridays, so why not?!

An Entry in Which Food Isn't Mentioned. Progress?

I decided my speech topic will be... TWILIGHT! There are only 3 Americans in the class, so everyone else really needs to be educated. One of the Americans (Katie, she's also in my Central College program), fully supports this decision and claims it will be the best presentation of all time. It will be even though I'll be presenting it in French just because Twilight is that magical.

I was going to present on trashy romance novels, but it's a Catholic college and there are nuns in my class, so I refrained. Although, it would have been the presentation that would make all other presentations weep in jealousy, even the Twilight one.

Next time.

I have extended my stay by two weeks so that I can finish my classes. Originally, our program ends and we're supposed to leave before the classes we're taking actually end (it works out somehow, but it's kind of a lot confusing). I think it's silly to leave before the classes are finished. I came here to learn French and I technically paid for the full courses, so I've decided to finish them. I talked to my program director and my foyer director and I have a place to live! It's not the Dubuque isn't cool, I'd just rather stay here for a bit longer. I'm sad that I'll be missing Brendan's graduation, but when I apologized to him he said, "I wish I wasn't going, too." So I think I'm ok.

Last night we had another language exchange. This time even MORE people came. I have no idea who most of them are, but I did get to learn some more slang. I'm glad I'm not living in the suburbs. They take words and invert them. Like "voiture" (car) becomes "turevoi". I don't even know the real words, so I'm glad I don't have to guess their slang counterparts. The French guy who told me about it said, "I speak French fluently, and even I don't know what they're saying." I'd heard of this trend before, but now I'm really glad the inner city Parisians frown on this practice.

I learned more swear words, so all-in-all it was a very productive night. I know I'm getting better at French because I only have to ask people to repeat themselves 3 times instead of 6. They're less likely to give up and start talking to me in English now! My comprehension is now pretty good. I can mostly figure out what people are trying to say to me. I can't always respond properly, but they forgive me. I think.

Real Life Examples (pretend these are written in French):
Previously-
Frenchman: Can I have your phone number?
Me: The price of the bus back to Paris? I think it's 13 euro.

Now-
French Teacher: Are you leaving in May or June?
Me: I is leave June. I stay for all the course.


Judging by my second response, I think staying is a good idea.

Shells and Bones

Marseille was not as cool as Nice (they'd be upset with me for saying that because apparently the two cities have a rivalry. When we mentioned Carnival to our tour guide she basically implied that Marseille had invented Carnival and Nice had no business celebrating it at all). It was a little dirtier and there wasn't Carnival, so it was already facing a huge loss. Unless Brad Pitt had been there trying to adopt oprhans off the street, it really had no chance.

It was still fun though. A bunch of us went to the Chateau d'If- which is where the Count of Monte Cristo takes place (yay literary reference!)- and took sad-looking pictures in the prison rooms. I also bought the book and started reading it IN the prison, because I thought it would be cool to say "yeah, i read the Count of Monte Cristo in the actual prison where it takes place. Be jealous." Everyone I was with decided to talk in British accents for some strange reason unknown to me, and I'm pretty sure we annoyed all the British tourists on the island with us. Well, they did. I stopped whenever there were people around us. The youth of America: offending one country at a time.

We got to consume some pretty wonderful seafood. I had mussels and fries, which taste better together than you might think. They give you this excessively large plate with what looks like a billion mussels, but they end up being so small that put together they're more like the size of a hamburger patty. It's magical.

We came back Saturday night, and I went to the Catacombes (basically this huge grave with 6 million dead bodies... again, it's the romantic in me) with Giovanni on Sunday. At least, we tried to get into the Catacombes. We stood in line for an hour, but when we were five people away, the guard closed the line and said, "No more people." Giovanni, being the law student that he is, tried to convince the guy that we should be let in. He gave convincing arguments like "We're only in Paris for this one weekend, and who knows when we'll be back? We came from very far away. This was the one thing we wanted to see in Paris."

I applaud his lying ability, but it didn't work and he walked away saying, "I should have tried to bribe him." And this from the guy who wants to be a judge. I know Italy is corrupt, but he might do well in Chicago.

We ended up going to a movie. I think that's the first time I've been to an actual movie theater in France. We saw Milk, so it was in English with subtitles. Thank God, or I would have annoyed Giovanni by forcing him to translate most of the movie. As it was, he ended up asking me about a few words (they swear a lot). I got to learn several new French words through the subtitles that I should probably not post here, but will do me well in the bars.

We then went for a walk (Molly claims this is all we ever do, but why wouldn't you walk through Paris?!), to Notre Dame and along the Seine, which is very beautiful at night. I took a few pictures, so you can all stalk them down on facebook whenever I get around to putting them up.

Now, I'm off to do homework. I have a test this week that I desperately need to study for (I know, I'm ending a sentence on a preposition, which you're never supposed to do. please forgive me). I also have to give a 15-20 minute speech in French on something. Those were the instructions, just "something." I have no idea what I'm going to talk about. The last woman talked about Mexican cuisine and gave us tortillas and tequila. How am I supposed to top that? What alcoholic beverages can I offer the world?! If you have any ideas, please tell me.

The Strike of the Opera

Last night I saw a ballet entitled Le Parc, which means The Park in English. I know, that one was tough to guess. Don't worry guys, I'll always translate those difficult French words for you.

Now what exactly was Le Parc about? Well, that's a very good question. One I puzzled at through the entire ballet. I stared at the people dancing and went, "Wow, you're all lovely dancers and I wish I could do that, but seriously WHAT'S GOING ON?!"

Of course, being the creative-minded person that I am, I made up what I thought was a plausible storyline. First, the curtain opened to reveal 4 men in goggles and apron-type things. They were dancing robotically, so I was pretty sure they were either from the future or aliens. I just read a review and apparently they were supposed to be gardners. This makes no sense to me at all, so we're just going to flow with my storyline.

So the people from the future danced robot-ballet (it can be done), and then they disappeared. In their place came a bunch of men and women dressed in 18th century clothing. They danced with chairs and flirted with each other. I assumed the aliens had gone back in time to a party. Everyone left the stage, and a woman and a man shared a dance. I think she turned him down. It looked like a rejection dance. Obviously, they were the main people.

There was more group dancing (which is obviously just filler so the real people can have a clothing change), and then the main people danced again. She rejected him again, and then the aliens with the goggles got her. They dance with her and then return her back to the main guy, who she finally kisses. I assume this was because she was so happy to be back on planet Earth and not with the aliens.

Ok, so what it was supposed to be about: love. The aliens in goggles (or "gardners") were supposed to represent love being blind and all the dances were different facets of love.

That's not a real story. I need a concrete plot. New plot: the main girl didn't love the main guy until she got kidnapped by aliens and realized that he was better than an eternity in space.

Who really cared what the ballet was about? I was in the Phantom of the Opera's opera house. I couldn't find my camera, but here's the picture of the famous chandelier that one of my friends took:



Isn't it fabulous? The movie did a really good job of sticking to what the opera house looked like. I want to live there.

I was worried today because everyone kept making a big deal about the metro strike today. Everyone told me it was going to be horrible, and that I would have to walk to school (an idea which I shot down- that's several miles away). I was told that people in Paris enjoyed striking in the spring so they could take the day off. Molly and I went early, but everything was running according to schedule. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the metro guys they were striking. The closest thing I saw to a strike was a bus driver wearing a sweatshirt. I suppose that's one way to sick it to the man. "Damn you! I'm wearing casual clothing to work today!" You go, dude.

Molly went on the RER, which is the metro that goes out to the suburbs. Apparently, that was a million times worse. Thankfully, I didn't have to take it. I suppose I can't blame them for wanting the day off, it was a very nice day with actual sunshine and everything.

Tomorrow, I head to Marseilles. It's in the south of France, so hopefully it's even nicer there!

St. Paddy's Day Parisian Style

Tonight Molly and I had planned on going out with a bunch of people for St. Paddy's Day, but it didn't work out. My French friends ended up going somewhere else, my American friends decided to drink beforehand and were too drunk to stand straight, let alone find a pub in the middle of the city, and a certain Italian was like "I have 'jet lag' from moving to a new place." I wanted to say, "Pansy! Molly and I have real jet lag and we're still going out." But I resisted. Mainly because the term "pansy" is hard to explain through text message.

That's right. Giovanni moved to a foyer outside of Paris. It's very sad, but I'll see him again eventually. Though not if he's going to be a pansy about going out. (I'm being cruel, I know. I feel bad for him even though he's never going to read this.)

It turned out ok, because Molly and I went to a place that calls itself the oldest pub in Paris and had a ton of fun. There were a lot of Irish people there, surprisingly. Most people were speaking English. Molly and I really want to go back there one night. We were shocked at how crowded it was. Apparently, the French really want to celebrate their Irish roots, too. Afterwards, we walked around looking for McDonalds, but couldn't find one open. I'm not sure how Irish going to McDonalds is, but we didn't care.

Dublin was lovely. I got to see all my Loras roommates. Their jet lag surpassed mine by quite a bit. It was nice to be one of the normal people. We all went out drinking on Friday night at one of the pubs. We saw a lot of tourists in green hats. We also went to the Guinness Factory one day. I'm not going to lie, I got a soda at the end instead of my complimentary Guinness. Nothing against Guinness, I just hate it.

Tomorrow I get to see a ballet at the actual opera house that the Phantom of the Opera was based off of. Molly and I are really excited, and have been singing Phantom songs all week in preparation. Everyone is probably really excited for when we stop. Little do they know that we will probably continue even when it's over...

In Which Meghan Discusses Food Far Too Much

I'm getting busier and busier, which I think has become more evident as I write less and less frequently. Now that I'm actually making friends, I have things to do at night. It's quite fabulous. I'm still hanging out with the French guys I met last week. One of them has been helping me with my French a lot. I get to learn all the words they won't teach you in school.

I met more Parisans! This time they were girls. I like them because they offered to take me to what they refer to ask "one of the best bakeries in France" as soon as they found out about my love for food. One of them said, "It's a bit more on the expensive side, but it's really good." I told her that when it came to baked goods, this was ok. I'm doing what the Italians refer to as "tasting instead of eating." Those Italians know what they're doing when it comes to food.

Molly and I have decided to open a French bakery in the United States. We're getting the baguette recipes and pain au chocolate (crossiant bread with chocolate in it... my favorite thing ever). I think everyone will renounce all other bread when they come to our bakery. I think one of the best gifts you can give to people is great bread. How can someone be unhappy when they're eating something so beautiful? Answer: they can't. I've found the solution to world peace: French bread.

Speaking of food, I got some authentic Italian pasta last night. Giovanni made some for me. It was really amazing, and made me excited for touring Italy over Spring Break. I did have a little parmesan cheese with it, though just a little. I informed him early on that I wouldn't be able to eat cheese with the pasta and he got very upset and said, "Well then, it will not be pasta." Oh those crazy Italians getting all dramatic about their cheese. I told him I was lactose intolerant, and he allowed for the no cheese. And by "allowed," I mean he still grated the cheese and kept going, "Are you suuuuuuuure?" just in case my allergy had magically disappeared.

On an unfood-related note, I'm going to Dublin! (It's unfood-related because Dublin's food compared to Paris' is like a Beatles' cover band compared to the Beatles.) I'm going to see Christine (again!). My Loras roommates will all also be there. We plan on celebrating St. Patrick's Day the way God intended: drunk. Well, technically it's just the weekend before St. Patrick's, but you don't need an excuse to party in Dublin. I'll be back in Paris for St. Patrick's, and I've informed everyone that we are partying like it's 1999.

Travelers from Distant Lands

Yes, the title of this entry is a quote from Lord of the Rings. No judgements please.

I GOT TO SEE MY PARENTS AND SALLY (AND JIM MORRISONS GRAVE, THOUGH NOT AT THE SAME TIME)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's been such a great weekend. I love being Paris, but there's always something wonderful about seeing people you love and haven't seen in awhile.

I ate frog legs! I'm pretty sure frog legs are the one thing that no actual Parisian has eaten. They probably were all gathered around a table one day and were like, "What's one thing we'd never eat that we can convince tourists is good?" "Well, those weird Brits already have us eating cows brains. Let's get them to eat frog's legs!" "Brilliant! That'll show them. Spread the rumor that frog's legs are a delicacy." My dad and I ate them, and decided they did not taste like chicken. They tasted more like butter and garlic, though that may have just been the sauce.

I loved being able to eat in good restuarants this weekend. Definitely the best weekend food-wise. Not that I'm saying anything bad about my own cooking skills. I just don't have the talent to cook roasted duck. Or frog's legs.

My parents got to witness my mad French skills. Alright, so more "ok" than "mad." Chances were when my mom pointed to something and asked what it said that I had no earthly idea, but I haven't memorized the French dictionary yet, so just give me some time. It's only been 54 days according to my father's calculations.

My parents got to meet Molly the second night they were here. We went for crepes and told them all about our plans to become Disney princesses after college. (No joke, people. We have looked this up. Although, I doubt that surprises anyone.) I'd already found out how to be a princess in Disney World Florida, so I was proud of Molly for finding the steps to Princesshood for Paris.

The next day, I picked up Sally at the metro and we came to my foyer to wait for my parents. It was fun to talk to her and compare notes about living in a country where English isn't the first language. We also talked about how our English grammar has degenerated. (I used the wrong your on my last post. It's been fixed, but I'm so ashamed of myself that it hurts to discuss it.) I'm probably going to go back and accidentally write parts of my papers in French and use the wrong tenses. Of course, I'll probably also be going through massive culture shock when I go back. Not that Dubuque and Paris are that different. I mean, they both have... people in them.

When my parents got to the foyer, we all went to dinner. The tables were all pretty close together, so we were very close to the couple next to us. A little too close for my taste, as they were taking the "city of love" thing a little too seriously. Because of them, it was technically a dinner and a show. We were all tempted to applaud as we left.

Giovanni met us as we were leaving (yes, he actually met my parents. I expected him to be like, "I'd love to, but I have a root canal scheduled for that time." Italian boys apparently don't scare as easily), and we all trudged to the top of the Arch de Triomphe. My parents were by far in the best shape, and were about ten stairs in front of us twenty-something-year-olds the whole time. I showed them the sparkling Eiffel Tower (it glitters every hour on the hour for five minutes), which I will never get tired of seeing because it's a shiny object, and I'm like a bird in that I love shiny objects. It's a little known fact that the Arch de Triomphe gives the best view of Paris at night. Don't listen to those who say it's the Eiffel Tower. They're lying. You can't see it light up if you're standing on it. And besides, the Arch de Triomphe is surrounded by the most dangerous turnabout in France. One of my favorite things to do is stand at the top and watch the cars almost hit each other. It's like The Fast and the Furious without Vin Diesel and the cheesey lines about living life a quarter mile at a time.

Traffic example (though during the day):




I judge the idiot in this picture who thinks he can make it out alive on a Vespa.

Sally and my parents asked if Giovanni knew about my blog. He does and he knows he's in it, because I told him. When my mom asked if I was going to start filtering my posts because of this I said, "Nope. He knows it exists, but he also knows he's not allowed to read it." I'm pretty sure he's confused by the term "blog" though and thinks this is a diary. We'll just let him keep on thinking that, shall we?

I was sad to say goodbye to everyone today and last night, but all-in-all it was a very good weekend.

A Man Walks Into a Bar...

Last night, Giovanni and I went to an Irish pub with 2 Frenchmen, 2 Finnish girls, and a Mexican girl. When I texted this to Michelle, she replied "it'd be funnier if you were with a priest and a rabbi." Sadly, none of them could be convinced to change their vocations based on how funny I wanted my life to be.

Giovanni and I met one of the Frenchmen on the metro on the way to the pub. Giovanni's over 6 feet tall and his friend was even taller, so I looked like one of the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz standing next to them. I had to cran my neck up to even see their faces. I couldn't hear what they were saying because they were so high up. It's hard enough to understand French, but it's even harder when it sounds like it's coming from far away. I should probably buy a ridiculously tall pair of high heels to fix this. I'm not sure they make foot-tall high heels that I can actually walk in, though.

I guess the night did end up helping me with my French. The guys were all trying to help me and so they had me explain "wingman" and "take one for the team" in French, which turned out to be slightly easier than I thought it would be. I'm so glad they wanted to know such wholesome, family-friendly, American slang. I felt like a horrible person when I was saying things like (in French), "Ok, so 'take one for the team' is when there's this pretty girl who has a not-so-pretty friend and your friend 'takes one for the team' by distracting the ugly girl so you can get with the pretty girl." When I asked them what the term in French for this was, they laughed and said, "There isn't one. We don't need anyone to help us get with a pretty girl."

Clearly, European males lack self-esteem.

I found out last night that Nutella is Italian. I should probably have already known this (just by the name), but I just assumed it was French. Oops. Because I have utterly failed at researching this fabulous product, I looked up some information. Apparently there's a World Nutella Day that nobody told me about. I missed it! Next February 5th, I'm going all out. Nutella for everyone! I'll hand it out on my campus and everyone will be like, "This is really creepy. What's wrong with you?" But then they'll taste it after I convince them I haven't poisoned it, and they'll ask me if they can be my friend. Really, you can't not want to be friends with someone who gives you food.

Speaking of people giving food, my parents are coming! I'm very excited to see them again. I have no idea what we'll be doing, but I'm sure it'll be fun.

And now, I'm going to take a nap. One of my French teachers has been a little too excited about giving us a lot of homework, so I need more sleep.

Disneyland: Meghan's Future Home

I LOVE DISNEYLAND PARIS! If I could live there, I would. At the end of the day, Molly and I were trying to think of places we could hide for the night so that no one would be able to kick us out. Though we had a few promising sleeping places, we did actually end up leaving.

We went on almost every single ride, except "It's A Small World" because I have a great fear of getting stuck on the ride and being forced to listen to that stupid song for hours on end, after which I will go crazy and jump off the boat, smashing in all the heads of those singing dolls.

It's a very detailed fear.

There really aren't words to describe my day, so I'll make one up: funnificent. Yes, it was a very funnificent day. We ran around all through the park and were probably more excited than all the small children when we saw Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip. Of course, they'd only take pictures with the small children (it's prejudice, I tell you), but I still saw them!

We were exhausted but incredibly happy by the time we got back.

This morning I found a note from the Italian I met in the kitchen asking if I wanted to do something. We ended up going to a free museum with Molly, Musée du quai Branly. It was mostly African, Native American, and Indonesian art. Though it had no French stuff, it was still pretty cool. The national museums in Paris are always free the first Sunday of the month. It's quite lovely.

The Italian's name is Giovanni, which is so Italian that it's equal to meeting someone named Pierre in France. I've convinced him to be our guide through Italy for Spring Break. Myriem (Mimi, the Moroccan girl from our foyer) is going to be our guide through Morocco, and we're still attempting to find a Grecian to show us through Greece but Mimi and Molly have a Greek friend here so it shouldn't be too hard.

I think I should be their guide through Disneyland. It's only fair.

I've Just Seen a Face...

Yesterday, Molly and I walked past a GORGEOUS guy in our foyer. We both turned to each other as soon as we turned the corner said "damn" at the same time.

When I was doing laundry this morning, he was in the kitchen by himself, cooking food that smelled really good (I think the guys in our foyer cook better than the girls; except me, the cooking goddess). Of course, I didn't want to be impolite and just ignore the beautiful man, so I began talking to him. He offered me food straight away, so I can already tell we're going to be friends.

He's Italian, speaks English, is very nice, and is going to be a lawyer. Basically, he's going to be featured in one of my romance novels. Except he'll be a count and when he meets the heroine his shirt will be off.

I invited him to come with me and some friends to Père Lachaise on Sunday. What's Père Lachaise you ask? It's a cemetary. I know, I'm such a romantic. I mean, it's a cemetary where a lot of famous people are buried (like Oscar Wilde and Bob Dylan), but still.

Tomorrow I'm going to Disneyland!!!!!!!! My excitement cannot be contained. Molly asked me if it was ok if we left at 8:30 so that we could be there when the gates opened and I said, "We are going from the time it opens until the time it closes. I accept nothing else. Bring food if eating's important to you."

12 hours of pure happiness await! I'm bringing my camera and pictures of me are being taken with the Disney princesses and furry woodland creatures. I hope you're all ready for them.

I've Already Failed at Lent

Giving up English for Lent has been a bad idea. Apparently, I don't know enough French. I'll just put this on my list entitled "Things I've Given Up for Lent That Have Only Lasted for 3 Hours."

At least I went to church to get ashes today. I've forgotten to mention it before, but Jesus tastes better in France. (Can I go to Hell for saying that?) Not many people in my program are Catholic, so they had very strong reactions to seeing the ashes on my forehead. Most of them thought it was a massive bruise. My favorite was "Oh my God, Meghan! What happened to you?!" I told her I'd gotten into a fight on the metro, but added, "You should see the other guy."

I should probably give up lying for Lent, but where's the fun in that?

None of us were sure where to go this weekend. Prague, Barcelona, and Italy were too expensive, but then Molly and I found something for 29 euro: Disneyland Paris. That's right, I'm chillaxin with Mickey this weekend! I can't wait. I figure I'm not really Parisian until I've been to their Disneyland. I mean, isn't that how you're supposed to judge a country? It's not by the character of its people, or how good its food is, or how pretty it is, or by its economy. No, it's by how awesome their Disney theme park is. And if they don't have a Disney themepark they don't even count as a country. As only 4 countries have Disney resorts, pretty much the entire world is screwed.

Although technically the Paris resort is a Euro Disney resort, so I guess all of Europe is covered.

I bought Twilight in French! I only know what they're saying because I've read it six million times in English, but my program director told me this was a good thing. I suppose I'm learning more words this way. I think I've hit a French roadblock, though. I'm way better at pronouncing things now, but I think my mind got tired of learning words and is now like "Screw this. You know how to order food. What more do you want from me?!"

I have homework, so I should probably go do that. I wrote a short story this afternoon in English instead of doing anything productive in French. I'm going to do homework then force Mimi to talk to me only in French. Though, I lent her Twilight while I was writing my story so I doubt she'll want to speak to any human beings until she finishes it. Such is the power of Edward Cullen.

Carnival: Fesitval of Wonderfulness

This weekend I did indeed go to Monacco. I gambled away an entire fortune of 10 euros. At one point, I was up by 40 cents, but I wiped out my earnings in one sweep. I know I have a problem. I've already begun to seek help.

Three of us went to the Casino Monte-Carlo (the site of my huge montary loss), which is the big casino. Right outside was an array of Ferraris, Porsches, BMWs, and Mercedes. I'm pretty sure they have a montary value rule for the cars that are sitatuted directly outside the casino. If your car is under 50,000 euro, it just doesn't make the cut.

I've decided that Monacco is the perfect place to find a rich husband, and have decided that's where I'll look for my first husband. I'll only marry him if he has a yacht. Judging by the cars outside the casino, he shouldn't be hard to find.

Both Nice and Monacco were gorgeous! The weather was about 55-60 degrees (I'm completely guessing on that, but it sounds right), so I didn't need a heavy winter jacket. You should all be jealous. Though it wasn't really warm enough to be without a light jacket, I still saw a topless man on the beach. At least, I thought it was a man until he sat up and I realized that he had unusually large breasts for a man of his size. It wasn't the first time I'd seen a topless person on a beach, but it did confirm my belief that the people who go topless and wear thong bathingsuits (yes, they exist) are the people who should generally cover up the most. Not to judge their God-given beauty or anything.

Speaking of beauty, I asked a beautiful man for directions today. Though I didn't think of it at the time, I probably should have said, "I think I'm confused. Can you lead me there and then I can show you my gratitude by giving you my number?" I'm remembering that for the next gorgeous direction-giver I approach.

Nice's Carnival is cra-zay-zay. The parade lasted for 2 hours and there were little kids dressed up like it was Halloween. One thing I'm not sure I enjoyed was the silly string. There's a ton of vendors everywhere selling cans of it and at first I was like, "Ha! I don't need one of those. I'm far too old and mature for that."

Then some stupid idiot sprayed Silly String all over my hair, which had been looking particularly lovely that day. So I bought a can.

The others in the group bought cans too, but they weren't as smart about using them. They would just randomly spray them at people, but I waited until some evil person used their can on me. They then got a bunch of silly string in their face courtesy of yours truly. Of course, I still had a ton left after everyone else ran out of theirs. It's all military strategy. Nothing like a good, old fashioned eye-for-an-eye theory.

It's a good thing I had a lot left, because this ten-year-old boy decided that I was a good target and proceeded to follow me around the rest of the night. He completely destroyed my beautiful hair, so I bought three more cans of silly string. Don't worry: he got his.

French Progress and Fear of a Possible Gambling Addiction

My intensive language class is finished! While it was fun while it lasted, I'll be glad to not have 30 hours of French a week. Although, my vocabulary has expanded. I'll give examples.

Pre-Bootcamp: I like dogs. (J'aime les chiens.)
Post-Bootcamp: I think dogs are great, but I'm going to kill the next dog that poops on the street. (Je pense que les chiens sont très bien, mais je vais touer le prochain chien qu'il merde dans la rue.)

Pre-Bootcamp: I'm wearing a yellow shirt. (Je porte une chemise jeune.)
Post-Bootcamp: I just spilled nutella all over my shirt. Now I'm going to have to clean it, but I hate the washing machines. They're too expensive. Should I just buy a new shirt? (J'ai renversé nutella sur ma chemise. Maintenant, je vais avoir à le nettoyer, mais je déteste les machines à laver. Ils sont trop chers. Devrais-je acheter une nouvelle chemise?)

Pre-Bootcamp: I like this movie. (J'aime ce film.)
Post-Bootcamp: I like this movie because the actor in it is really hot. I'd like to be his girlfriend. Do you know his phone number? (J'aime ce film parce que le acteur est très beau. Je voudrais être sa petite amie. Est-ce que vous connaissez son numéro de téléphone?)

Pre-Bootcamp: I can't work with him. (Je ne peux pas travailler avec lui.)
Post-Bootcamp: This guys is an idiot. Can I please have a new partner? Preferably one with a brain. (Ce mec est bête. Puis-je avoir un nouveau partenaire? Je préfère quelqu'un avec un cerveau.)

When I thanked my teacher after class today, she told me I had improved a lot. She also said I no longer turn bright red and stutter when I speak, and that I should be proud of this. I hope to learn even more in the coming months. I've learned a lot of swear words, too, but I've already stated that I'm going to keep this PG. But really, you don't truly know a language until you can swear at someone on the train. Not that I've done that.

I'm going to be MIA this weekend. I'm going to Nice and I'm not taking my computer. I'm hoping it stays safe. My roommate is the nicest person ever, so I doubt she'll steal it and sell it on the black market. But then again, you never know. It's the nice ones you've got to watch out for.

I have to be gone by six tomorrow, so I'm off to sleep now. I'll tell you all on Monday of my grand Carnival adventures. I think a few of us might stop by Monaco, so there's a chance I'll be asking for cash donations for the "Save Meghan From Absolute Poverty Due to Her Gambling Problems" fund. Though the only time I've ever really gambled, I had to stop after 75 cents because I felt like I was spending too much (but I won a dollar, so that was a plus). I think I should be ok.

I've Run Out of Ideas For Titles

I got a 14 on the test!!!!!!!!!!!! I just looked at my handy dandy guide and found out that's a B! (An 11 is a C... I'm pretty sure it's an F minus in America.) I did better than some of the girls who have been studying French for 8 years, so I'm good. I also got a "great progress" on my test. For all who worried, my mother informed me that she would love me even if I got a zero, which is good because if I got a zero I wouldn't love me.

Last night we watched Sex and the City in French, which was strange but I was able to follow along pretty well. Sexy is the exact same word in French, in case anyone was wondering. We've begun watching movies every night. Now that my final exam has been completed, we no longer have homework. It's quite fabulous.

We've also begun having "family dinners" where Molly, Mimi (the Morrocan girl in my foyer) and I all eat together. I found out that I apparently have a talent for making omelettes (I think I'm spelling that in French instead of English. Are they the same?! I can't remember words anymore). I can't flip them in the pan to save my life, but they always taste good. Actually, the vegan (or Steven, as some call him) is really good at flipping omelettes. He claims he worked at a breakfast place, but I think he eats eggs when no one's looking.

I love the food here. I would eat all day everyday if I could. If I come back fat, you'll all know why. I know the pronouncation of all the French pasteries by now. I never get to buy them, really, but occasionally I splurge. I don't know what the French do to their food, but things taste better here. Ok, that's a lie. I do know what they do to the food. It's all natural and whatnot (Steven likes to talk about this and about how American food is corrupt and how the dairy industry is evil... I kind of stop listening after the first sentence).

This Friday I go to Nice for Carnival! Carnival is the French equivalent of Mardi Gras (except theirs lasts for more than just a day because the French know how to have a good time), so there will be lots of partying. I've already decided that for Lent I'm giving up English. Well, not on this blog or in emails, but when I talk to people here. All the American students have been informed and will have to suffer through my bad French for the next few weeks. I'm pretty much going to be giving up speaking for Lent, so I think God should give me some extra points. I think you get time off on Sundays, so those will be my days of not shutting up.

Another Entry With Large Paragraphs

Christine and I were reunited for the weekend. She brought Kelsey and Steve with her (all three of them are studying in Ireland through Loras), both of whom she fondly refers to as the "tourist Nazis." I thought it was a joke until I spent the weekend with them. By the time I met up with them on Friday at 6 pm, they had already been through 3 art museums and 2 or 3 national monuments. Considering that this had all been accomplished since 8 AM that morning, it was very impressive. And terrifying.

Molly and I took them on a crash course through the Louvre. We spent only an hour there, but we hit up all the good stuff like the Mona Lisa (overrated) and all the statues that are famous because they're missing limbs. Considering there are about 300 billion pieces of art in the Louvre, our 1 hour was impressive. I think they were all tired by then, though. I mean, it was a long day. Of course my "Ok, well that's really it unless you want to see some really weird, modern Dutch stuff" probably didn't make them want to stay in the museum.

They wanted French food (which is actually harder to find in Paris than you'd think. I could show you some good Italian, Chinese, and Mexican restaurants, though), so we took them to a crepe place. I don't think they got many tourists there because they guys gave us a free pitcher of wine and shots with ice cream and suckers along with our crepes.

Saturday, we went to the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty and mass at Notre Dame, finishing our night off with wine and the Arch de Triomphe. Well, at least that's all Christine and I did. We let Kelsey and Steve go off and be uber-tourists by themselves for four hours and then met them for mass. It seemed like the intelligent, less masochistic thing to do. I can't remember everything the two of them ended up doing, but just multiply our list by 7, and I'm sure it's somewhere near that.

Today, we went to Versailles. We all got the audio guides, but decided we didn't like them that much. They were helpful sometimes, like on the rare occasion when they told you the historical significance of the room, but it wasn't very interesting when they said things like "and that cabinet over there was made by some cabinetmaker you've never heard of before. He came from a family of cabinetmakers." The audio guide person always said that last line as if it was shocking and you should have expected the cabinetmaker to come from a long line of unicorn-breeders instead.

I was sad to see the three of them leave, but I'm going to see them all again for St. Patrick's Day. I'm flying to Ireland the weekend before. I actually booked tickets.

Oh, I had another test on Friday. I was all zen about it until she handed it to us and I read the words "Final Exam" on the front (we have another week of class. I'm not sure whether or not this test is giving me permission to not pay attention for the rest of them). I actually did way better on the listening portion this time, though it's quite possible I failed the rest of the test. I'm pretty sure I invented some new tenses, but that's what they get for expecting me to learn 6 tenses in two weeks. I'm hoping that either a) my responses were magically correct or b) my teacher gets really confused and becomes convinced that she doesn't understand what I've written because I know French words/tenses that she doesn't.

I'm not really concerned about my grade because I did try. Even if I get an 11 (out of 20), I'm still going to be proud of myself. I asked my mother, and she never responded as to whether or not she'd still love me if I got an 11. I'm just going to assume it was a bad internet connection.