28 May 2010

T'inquiète + Bittersweet

If only I weren't so gullible to the "charm" of the Frenchmen.


Today marked the end of my classes in France. After two hours of literature in a steamy hot room, the dusty curtains masking the sun that would have otherwise poured through the windows, I was more than ecstatic for a fifteen minute break before my last class of the year. Sitting in the grass with some friends, however, I realized that me being done with classes meant me being done with France.

Sure, I know it's, well, obvious for lack of a better word, but I'm leaving France. Reality hit me on Thursday, leaving my last Langue class ever. I suddenly realized that Florence would stay in France, everyone in my class would leave to their respective countries or stay in France [besides a few Americans, but even them to their own schools]. Stoked to be done with class, reluctant to leave the friends I've made and the culture, language and country that I've fallen in love with for the second time.

To say the least, even though I left my last class with a skip in my step, escaping the high-pitched and constant voice of my professor, I stopped outside the classroom for one last glance.

And by one last glance, I mean I'll be back next week for exams. BOO. Seven exams. How is that even real ?

After leaving the Catho, I went to meet Felix at Haras park to hang out with him and Flo. Felix and I ended up listening to music and laughing while we waited for Flo, who showed up late. Imagine that. A French person being late. I expected 10 or 15 minutes, but this kid was geekin' so badly, he was an HOUR late. No worries, I was happy to see him so I forgave him.

Until he turned into a brat.

In the park they recently planted flowers. As it's been a few days maximum since this happened, the flowers are still attached only to the compacted dirt they came in, and will pull right out attached to a heaping chunk of muddy goodness. First brat move by Flo ? He threw one right at my hip. BOOM. Dirt flew everywhere, got in my cardi's pocket. It only stung for a second. Sweet revenge in the form of a titty twister, and all was golden again.

Until he turned into a RUDE brat.

Another plant-pod. Teasing me at first, I decided to believe him when he said "t'inquiète" ["don't worry"] and assume he wouldn't hit me over the head with the enormous glob of who knows what.

MISTAKE. Paf, on the head. Dirt in my hair, down my shirt, pants, shoes, in my mouth. I was not a happy camper. But it was funny because I was with friends and we were just hanging out. I was the only girl, so naturally I had to take their shit.

Which continued, once more. Flo and I made a pact to not play the dirt on head game anymore, and he helped me brush my clothes clean [sort of]. What do I get for sassing him ? Oh you know, just like, thrown in the bushes. I guess it was about to be thrown, until I pulled some wrestling moves on him, which didn't really work and with the intervention of Felix, we both ended up with leaves all over and scratched up butts and backs.

An interesting ending to the last week of class. Good thing French people crack me up and it was too nice outside to pop a cap.

Friday night, only a week left in Angers ! Holy crap it's approaching quickly. I am pumped.

Tchuss for now.

"To live is like to love - all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it."
Samuel Butler

24 May 2010

Sunshine and Papillons

As cheesy as the title may come off, it's so true.

Finally, France has decided to stop being emo for a minute/week and be sunny. I like that. The wonderful weather has lead to picnics, walks in the park and lots of sunburn. Which, as I'm super white anyway, is okay because it means I have some color at least.

The one day of the week that was crappy outside, however, proved to be one of the rudest - I'm about a third of the way to my University and my bike chain falls off. I wasn't too concerned because stuff happens, so I hurriedly attempted to fix it before being caught by the rain that was looming above me in dark grey clouds. Fixed, black gunk all over my hands, hop on my bike. I swear, two seconds later it starts pouring. Greaaaat. So I rode my bike to school in the pouring rain. Good thing some awesome friends have made that day worth my while...

Next point, lunch in the park. Felix and Florian, two friends from Angers have been meeting me in the park lately for some relaxed few hours for lunch. Let's just say we geek out and it's wonderful. Hurray for geekin' glasses and gangster hats.

I suppose we're sort of moving backwards. No matter - this weekend was the last break before the end of the semester and we had Monday off. It was a pretty marvelously relaxed weekend and on Monday I went with my new host sister Chelsea, plus two other girls from Houston [Candace and Jessi] to Lac de Maine, a cute little beach in Angers where you can swim. Naturally, we all went and stayed for the majority of the sunlit day.

After we swam out to the docks, some obnoxious boys came and started bothering us, attempting to speak English and splashing all over the way boys do. Eventually they grew on us and Vincent, Demetri, Malik, old creeper and ye who introduced himself as Wesley Snipes hung out on the beach and chatted all afternoon.

::short interjection::
Wesley Snipes stole my shoes, for a minute. Keep in mind I usually wear black flats, so I need you to imagine a tall skinny guy from Amsterdam, dripping wet in his swim trunks walking around the beach, cigarette in hand, hip popped with black flats. Funny.

Also, I hate [again, still] how forward and blunt Frenchmen can be. For instance : Wesley Snipes told me I was beautiful, which I really just ignored until he said "well, except the scar isn't so good." Okay, that's cool, it's not like I'm self-conscious of them anyway, you can leave now. I mean. You don't make fun of scars that come from surgeries. Geez.

Then, I got into a little spat with Vincent, who said I was French. "Je t'ai GRILLÉE !" Quite the contraire, my friend. Just because I speak French decently doesn't mean I'm lying about being American. Demetri soon joined and Malik came to my rescue, saying he heard a little accent. I was relieved, until they all decided I must be Moroccan, if not French. Dudes. Look at my skin. I don't look remotely Moroccan. Frenchmen are Jims [Jim = familiar family term used to classify an idiot].

Now, I'm in my last week of class. One more day, one more long day of classes and I'm done [minus finals, what a killjoy]. I'm torn, to say the least, about my feelings regarding the whole leaving France business. I am excited to go back, by all means - excited to see people, cowboys, besties. Anxious to feel legally allowed to speak English in public. I'm also going to miss everything though. Hearing French and the rest of the list I created on last post. I'm going to miss Merry. Maybe I'm nervous about leaving because I know it'll be at least a year until I can come back. How is that fair ? Boo.

Last langue class today, watched a movie, talked about plans and ate food from everyone's country, followed by an enormous picture taking session. I'm going to miss everyone so much. Especially my professor. When she was saying have a good weekend today, I realized I'd never have her as a teacher again - it was the saddest I've been when realizing I'm leaving. I suppose it finally hit me that everything will go back to normal in a few weeks.

And by normal, I mean what I used to be used to. I wonder how it's going to be, re-adapting into a culture I was once so familiar with that now almost disgusts me. Only sometimes ^^

Exams ! It's high time I start to study or procrastinate, alors je vous souhaite une bonne fin de journée et bah à toute, mes amis.

"Never fall in love with an idea. They’re whores: if the one you’re with isn’t doing the job, there’s always, always, always another."
-Cheese Monkeys, Chip Kidd

08 May 2010

Home Stretch

Hokay kids

This is Corrie not having a story. Technically that isn't true, but technically I can't tell you what's going on ! It's exciting, I'll leave it at that.

In other news, I've decided to name what is left of my stay in Angers as the home stretch - less than a month until my two weeks in Paris, and then I'm back to the States.

On that note, here is what I'm looking forward to :
1. Completing the list
2. Family
4. Sherlock Holmes
5. Next semester
b. Being an RA
d. Learning German
e. Switching my major...again.
6. A summer full of water gun fights, pictures and long walks with the coolest people
7. Cuddle-off

I'm going to miss :
1. Hearing French on a regular basis
2. Being only an hour and a half away from Merry, Guillo and all my other Asnieres-ian friends
3. Real bread
4. Being legally allowed to buy wine for lunch
5. Speaking French every single day, to people who can actually help me improve
6. My host family and the little city of Angers
7. This entire experience and my friends from the Catho

Keeping them short because I've got a nasty case of ADD currently. No worries.

Maybe these lists seem early to come, but with the quickly approaching finals and pre-finals, I have no idea when I'll be able to do this next.

Why did I have to test into a level at the Catho where my classes aren't a joke ? I appreciate the challenge and the progress these classes are forcing me to accomplish as far as my French goes, but really ? That's not fair. I don't want real work in all 21 hours of my schedule.

And, oh yeah. France, you're still RUDE.

Not only does the bus system and train company go on strike every, what is it, two hours, but the post office does too now ? Thank goodness for precautionary people sending packages/tickets/lighters days early to ensure the items' safe and timely arrival.

I'm going to wear sunglasses a lot this summer.
And get freckley and blonde.

I like a U2 song. I think I'm breathing in too much pollution or something when I ride my bike to school everyday. Something is seriously wrong with me.

Speaking of my bike. Also rude. I re-rented it, regardless of the fact that I'm almost more turned off by it. You know why ? My ride to school every morning is about 10 km. For those of you who believe in American, that's about 6.2 miles. To school. Same back. As if I wasn't already reluctant to go out at night from time to time. Oh geez.

I swear, if my legs aren't ripped by the end, I will be super pissed and whine about it for a while.

Paris next week !

I've been in France for such a long time !

I miss my mom. [I miss video games.]

I was pretty emo in high school. I stumbled across some of my Facebook notes. Thank goodness I fell out of that phase.

And thanks Mom, for showing me the pictures of me after my surgery the other day. As if it wasn't traumatic going through it and realizing how horrendous I looked, you took pictures and showed me when I got out of the hospital. And then again. Gross. Glad that's over too !

I'm missing a rib.

Okay, I'm leaving. Laterzzzzzz.

-Will Rogers