Joyeux Noël from France

This Christmas season has proven to be quite different from what I'm used to. Instead of hot apple cider, I have vin chaud. My gingerbread cookies are in fact real gingerbread men (heavy emphasis on the bread part). Jingles Bells has become Vive le vent. And the Christmas tree sitting on top of my T.V. is only a foot tall with no presents underneath. But despite all these differences, I've still been filled with Christmas cheer. I've spent many days visiting the three largest Christmas markets of France in Strasbourg, Paris, and Metz and even ventured my way up to Germany where this joyful tradition began. My time has been filled with wonderful friends and lots of laughter. And although I may not be headed back to the USA to welcome in the New Year, I have my mom with me to help celebrate this holiday season. I don't need all the presents or the lights on every house. Having friends and family with me is more than enough. What a blessing I've been given.

So to you all, Joyeux Noël and Bonne Année!

Until 2012,
BreFi

Gingerbread men in Strasbourg

A little Christmas chez moi

Mulled wine in Hamburg, Germany

Mom and Bre at the market in Metz

All the World's a Stage

In the days when I did theater, I never let myself go. Even after the curtain rose, with the audience filling the chairs, I would find myself still repeating my lines off stage, afraid that the words I had recited countless times in the past weeks would escape me. This hindered me from ever truly giving myself over to the experience. I was never able to live in the moment on that stage or be true to the world in which my character was living. I didn’t trust myself enough.

Last night as I lay in bed, my mind was going over the list of things I needed to accomplish today. I saw myself going to the post office and soon I had a whole scene playing in my head. I rehearsed what I would ask the man behind the counter. « Bonjour! J’ai besoin de vingt timbres… » I stopped. « …pour les Etats- Unis. » No no no. « …aux Etats-Unis. » Wait. Which is it? And in that moment, I asked myself, does it matter? In all honesty, I think either phrase is correct. But what irked me was discovering my unrelinquished fear of making mistakes. I have asked for stamps countless times in French and have never walked away empty handed. So why do I still find myself repeating words and questioning something I know?

Shakespeare wrote “All the world’s a stage”.  There of course are many interpretations of what he meant by this. But for me, if I take this quote in its most literal sense, I find that my life on the stage is a magnified reflection of how I act in life.  Just like in those days of theater, it comes back to the simple truth that there’s a lack of trust within myself. The scenes I rehearse in my head are almost never what are played out. Instead of fretting over what I’m going to say to the man at the post office, I need to learn to just listen and respond to what comes at me.
Life is truly unpredictable.

A gift to myself: a Nutella recipe book along with my first creation.

For reasons unknown, I have grown quite fond of this chocolate, hazlenut spread while in Europe. 

Perhaps it was forced on me by the lack of peanut butter.

Regardless, I love Nutella and this has undoubtedly been my best purchase thus far.

Life and Learning

Two months ago today I arrived in Commercy, France. I was bright eyed and ready for what the next eight months would bring. Now here I am, a quarter of a way through this adventure.

What I’ve learned about myself:

• Small town living is not for me.
• The things that come to my mind don’t always need to be spoken.
• I miss having roommates.
• I love working with students.
• The more free time I have on hand, the less I seem to accomplish.
• Grey’s Anatomy is a girl’s best friend when it comes to learning French.
• Perhaps I can learn to be a reader after all.
• Hot water, bubbles, candlelight, good music, and wine can make even the worst day better.
• I don’t like walking home from the grocery store with heavy bags in tote.
• Some days I don’t even step outside and I’m okay with that.
• I prefer having a set schedule.
• I hate not being able to pick up the phone and call whoever, whenever.

This list just touches the surface. Being here has given me more time than ever to reflect who I am and what I want in life. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy with all this free time, but then I remind myself that I probably won’t have this much freedom again until retirement. Enjoy it while I can.

In general, things are looking up. I had a wonderful weekend. With the holiday on Friday (Bastille Day here in France), I spent the day with one colleague, her family, and an older retired couple. It was a day filled with food, games, and laughter. It reminded me a bit of home, especially when the round of Rummikub began, one of my family's favorites. There of course were language difficulties, as always. 

"BreAnna, do you like playing cards?" 

"No, I don't have a pet. My mother doesn't like animals in the house."

Oh my. But after six hours, I blame my exhausted brain for that one.

Saturday I was invited by another teacher to have dinner at a Chinese restaurant with her, her boyfriend, and her childhood friends. I wasn't sure if I would be able to last through another day of endless hours of French, but as the evening began, the conversation seemed to come with ease. We enjoyed the buffet, then headed back to the apartment for some Trivial Pursuit. Now, this game isn't for me when the questions are in English, so imagine me trying to play in French. Needless to say, I wasn't the most valued player. Despite the language barrier, it was still enjoyable. We took turns having me read off the cards in French, then having the other players try their best at translating them to English. This created quite the uproar among the group, making the next three rounds fly by with ease.

And on this typical Monday night, I sit enjoying a cup of tea, listening to the French radio, and basking in the glow of not having anything to do. What a great start to another week of life lessons.

Tour de France

The fair in Bordeaux

In the wise words of my mother, “just feel”.

I’ve been waiting for a day when my mood was a bit brighter to update my blog as to bring a little more joy to my writing. But here I am, over two weeks later, and not much has changed.

So instead of stressing myself out by thinking what can I do to fix this, I’ve instead been trying to take the above words to heart.

If the man at the pasta stand doesn’t understand that I want a Coca Zero even after having repeated myself three times and I walk away mad, feel mad. If I’m smiling from ear to ear because the elderly French woman at the costume shop and I had a great conversation about her travels in the United States, feel happy. And if the skies are gray in Commercy, the rain keeps pouring, and I still have no one to talk to, I’m slowly learning that it’s okay to feel lonely.

The best thing I’ve found about living in France would have to be the vacation. So amidst all this emotional turmoil I’ve been experiencing, I took advantage of my twelve days of paid time off…

Thus begins, my vrai Tour de France.

Bicycling through Bordeaux

Wine Tasting

Claire and I began our tour in Bordeaux: the wine capital of France. With a city bearing such a title, there was no way we could come and not take a tour of the local vineyards and wineries. Sunday morning, we woke up for a full day’s worth of pressing, fermenting, smelling, and of course tasting. We were accompanied by a nice retired couple from the Aquitaine area who spoke little English, thus making this a tour completely en français. At the end of the eight hours, I left with a tired brain from the abundance of new French and wine vocabulary being thrown at me, but leaving with the thought that if my next plan doesn’t work out, there’s always wine school. The rest of our time spent in this charming city included an evening tour of the city with a local Bordelais and an adventure on bike, checking off one more item in my book of things to do.

Next came the castles. We made the city of Tours our home base and took it from there. We were able to explore three châteaux in two days. Every time I set foot in one of the 500 year old structures, I couldn’t help but be in awe of the work it took to build and to see the beauty still standing today.

Château de Chenonceau

Château de Blois

Château d'Amboise 

On Wednesday, I had a special treat. My dear friend Asha from England, whom I met while working as a nanny in Maine two years ago, made the trek undersea (via the Chunnel) to reunite our friendship. It’s crazy to think we’ve only been together three times: first the United States, then England when I visited her in 2009, and now in France. Yet we never seize to have a great time. We took the next day and half to tour the big sites in the city of love. Following, we headed back to my neck of the woods. We took in a local restaurant of Commercy, saw a French circus, visited the “big city” of Nancy, and I was even able to show off the pride of my town, the madeleine. It was great to have a partner with whom I could discover new things throughout my area.

Asha and Bre in Paris

Halloween morning Asha and I headed back to Paris where we said our goodbyes, and I once again was reconnected with Claire. The two of us then hopped another train heading west, to our first French city, Caen. We celebrated the very American holiday with all our old friends in all our old spots. It was great to reminisce, but it was just a gentle reminder that you can never recreate the past. New memories were made, but the old will always have a special place in my heart.

Bre and Claire in Caen

And here is where my tour ends. There is, of course, much more that could be said. But living in a place where I so often don’t have the right words, has made me really take a moment to step back. Do I always need to say what comes to mind? When I find myself stuck on not knowing how to say something in French or missing the moment to add in my tidbit because the conversation has already moved on by the time I understand, I wonder if my words would have mattered anyway. So instead, I’m listening more and talking less. And when I'm completely lost, I'll tell myself, "just feel".

The Aging Process

“When faith in myself was so strong that I believed I could move mountains.”

A card given to me before leaving for France.

As I look in the mirror, I can see my days of youthful optimism dwindling. The lines in my forehead have become deeper. My eyes don’t have quite the same shine. My hair is thinning. Not only can I see the physical signs of my aging, but I can feel it as well. Just months ago, I felt I could conquer the world. I truly believed I had hundreds of possibilities for my future and it was simply a choice of deciding which I wanted to do next. But now that I’m here in France, living out one of my many dreams, I don’t have quite the same excitement as before. It’s sad to find the day when you realize that it’s not that you can’t do it all, but maybe you just don’t want to. What hurts me the most in saying this is the fact that I truly do believe in myself. I know full heartedly that I will succeed at whatever I set my mind to and be great. But it seems as though I’ve lost my passion. For traveling. For living in new places. For meeting new people.

Perhaps I’m looking at it in all the wrong light. Maybe I haven’t lost my passion for experiencing the unknown, but instead, come to appreciate the known. This summer I was able to develop deeper friendships with the people around me. I was able to see the beauty of the countryside of North Dakota as I would run down the gravel roads. I could look forward to meeting my mom for lunch. I knew that Sunday afternoons would be spent with Grandma. But now here I am, alone in a small French village. I’m craving the relationships I left behind.

It’s hard to accept that this is okay. To allow myself to want to settle down and have stability. It just makes me sound so… old. Students continually ask me what my plans are for the future. And I give them my honest answer. “I don’t know.” At twenty-two, I still have the world ahead of me. But perhaps at the end of these seven months, I’ll want that world to be filled with things I know and love.

Seeing the World Around Me

 A common belief: Stand up straight. Make eye contact. It gives you confidence.

This, however, no longer holds true for me. 

As I walk down the streets of France, I have learned that keeping my head high could be dangerous, deadly even. I could become "that girl". Yes, the one who wasn't looking at her feet to avoid that brown pile of mush and now has it all over her shoes. In France, dogs do not seem to understand that the grass is for such private matters. Nor do their owners appear to know the common courtesy of picking up after their beloved pet has done the deed. So not only do I have a lack of confidence due to my below average comprehension of the language around me, but I can't even fool the passerbys on the street by looking them in the eye because my head is glued to the ground, in fear of what I could find myself stepping in.

Thoughts:

No butter popcorn in France!

• In the past week, I have attended two movies. For each, I had no problem following the plot despite only comprehending 50% of the words being spewed at me. But it’s funny how back home I would never notice how loud and distracting my own sound of chewing popcorn could be. I would never have the need to take out a dictionary to better understand what’s being said. I wouldn’t be wide eyed as words rapidly shot across the screen, unable to take it all in before they were gone. As opposed to being relaxed, watching movies in French feels more like homework. I hope to keep these experiences close to heart and by May, announce to you all that I laughed at every joke in the latest flick, all while boisterously chomping my bucket of kettle corn.
  
  

• PDA is so overdone here. I can barely stomach what I see in the halls. The passionate kiss exchanged between couples as they can’t stand to be apart during the next fifty five minutes. Hands groping back ends with no effort to even conceal it. I keep my eyes averted to the best of my ability.
  
  
• I have yet to understand the school system here. I’ve got this part down:
  
  
  seconde (tenth grade)
  première (eleventh grade)
  terminale (twelfth grade)
  
  
  But then they throw in acronyms and I’m lost again. LV4. 1S1! TBPC?! 1BPUS?!? Really now. It has something to do with the fact that this is both a general and technical/professional high school which in turn is why my students’ ages range from 14-23. And despite their efforts to explain this to me, I’m just utterly confused. I simply go where I’m told and don’t ask questions.
  
  
• My first week in Commercy, I would practically die as I walked past groups of students surrounded just outside the front gate of the school on their smoke break. While trying to sneak past even my youngest, secondes, getting their nicotine fix, I can’t help but wonder “does your mother know you’re doing this?” But this week, something wonderful happened. “Hello. Hi! How. are. you?” Were they talking to me? YES! The smiles and greetings from my students made my day a little brighter. I flash a smile in return, and keep walking, a little less horrified of making my way through the crowds, knowing that they’ve accepted what I have to give.

Smiles from a Flower

«Plus on grandit, plus on a peur. »
The bigger we get, the more afraid we are.

I own a book called 2,001 Things to Do Before You Die. It has motivated me in many ways. It’s the reason that I made such an ordeal of seeing David in Florence and splurging on my gondola ride in Venice. It’s also inspired me to go skinny dipping, attempt to make pizza from scratch, and take up knitting. The joy I get from ticking off those little boxes after accomplishing something is wonderful. Thus this summer, a friend and I made another list for me. This special set of tasks is for the next eight months. Things to keep me motivated and involved as I carry out this French adventure.

“BreAnna’s List of Awesomeness!!”
17. Treat yourself to fresh flowers every once and awhile.

I came prepared for this one. While still back in the States, I found a flat vase that puffs out once filled with water. Perfect! Now all I needed to do was find fresh flowers. I had heard of the once weekly market in Commercy, so my first Monday here, I set out with one thing in mind: des fleurs. As I went up several aisles and down numerous more, I came out empty handed. The next day, while exploring the town, I came across a flower shop. The bouquets, however, were premade complete with signs of condolences on the loss of loved ones. Not quite the right vibe for my apartment.

Two weeks later, my vase is still sitting empty on my kitchen table.

It’s been difficult these past few days. Now that I’m back from my vacationing and past my initial move in period, it feels like it’s time to make Commercy home. This past Sunday I went to church. I’ve spent hours at the café. Yet no one has talked to me. A goal I made for myself was to get involved in a community activity. I have a whole book of things to choose from, but most have to do with some sort of political or parent group. Or there’s always archery and fishing. Needless to say, there aren’t many items that pertain to me. It’s getting me down. I’m not necessarily lonely. It’s been nice to have time for myself, yet with each day that I sit alone in my apartment, I can’t help but think it’s a day wasted improving my French.

So yesterday, instead of watching French TV, I decided to make my way to the city center before the shops all closed at 7pm. I found myself in front of the tourist office and the library, both of which had closed an hour earlier. While wondering back up the hill, I spotted some flowers on the sidewalk. This shop was exactly what I had been looking for! Yet it was twenty to seven and I couldn’t quite tell if they were open or not. Instead of going on in, I took a stroll back and forth, debating what to do. It’s so silly, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown more afraid of the world around me. So what if the shop is closed? Then I’ll go back the next day. Why would such a simple thing even need consideration? But that’s not how I was thinking. After a few minutes of pacing, I finally kicked myself in the butt and entered. As I browsed the selection, the shop owner came out and began chatting with me. I chose a beautiful pink flower, and while she wrapped it, she carried on, asking if I was English.

“No, I’m American.”
“You must be the English assistant at the high school. I know everything around here,” she said with a smirk.

We both laughed. She told me her daughter goes to the lycée and has Mme. Braudel for an English teacher. We discussed my plans for the holidays and how I like Commercy so far. As she handed me my neatly wrapped packaged, she smiled saying,

« Je vous les offre. » (A gift for you.)
« Non, non, » I politely refused.
« Oui! Une petite bienvenue à Commercy. » (Yes! A little welcome to Commercy. )

In the midst of my fear and low spirits, such a small thing meant the world. If I wouldn’t have made myself go in the shop, I would have gone home sad and lonely that night. But thanks to this kind woman, the whole way home I couldn’t help but smile.

The flowers that are now sitting on my table are a lovely reminder that there are people here who want to get to know me. I just need to be willing to put myself out there to meet them.

To Laugh or To Cry

There are sometimes in life when you only have two options: to laugh or to cry.

Trying to cook in French with a dictionary

• Climbing up a hundred stairs in the Paris metro with 85lbs of luggage behind you while your friend looks at you in pain: laugh.
• Watching the Simpsons in French and only being able to understand half of what they’re saying even while giving it your full attention: laugh.
• Making instant mashed potatoes with a dictionary and calculator in hand because you need to translate the instructions and convert the measurements: laugh.

But there are those days that all you can do is sit down in defeat and let the pain of being lost in a foreign language sink in.

For example, as I rounded the corner of an undiscovered road in Commercy, I found a treasure, the InterMarche. As opposed to the little grocery store across the street, this is a mega store, allowing my list of things to be checked off one by one. Here, unlike Hugo’s back home, the lettuce wasn’t neatly packaged, but hanging all out. Looking at the head, I decided I didn’t need much for dinner and proceeded to tear off a portion of the leaves. I collected the rest of what I needed and made my way to the caisse. The cashier weighed my bananas, next the apples, then the lettuce. “Vous avez pincé les feuilles!" Not understanding a word she was saying to me, I looked in confusion. She repeated herself again, even louder, now all eyes on me. “Vous avez pincé les feuilles!" Thanks to her visual cues, I understood I wasn’t allowed to tear off the leaves and there was no way she was going to let me buy just half of the lettuce. As I stood in embarrassment, thinking please shut up, I just wanted to tell her I would pay full price for half the head, but I couldn’t find the words. She finally let me go, scolding me to never do such a thing again. I scooted off sans salade. Claire came to the rescue, grabbing from the produce section what we had left behind and in the end, the lady gave her the other half, but not without giving her another firm word. Leaving the grocery store after being told off by the cashier: cry.

The largest garbage cans in Commercy.

The next day, I was given the telephone number of the insurance company by Nathalie, being told I needed to call them ASAP to get things in order. I took the number, dreading the thought of having to make a phone call in French, but knew it had to be done. After giving it a day, I made my way to a bench outdoors and dialed the ten numbers in front of me. The other end rang numerous times and with each buzz I rehearsed what I would say. Finally, a woman picked up, announcing she was with MAIF, confirming I had called the right place. At the end of my carefully prepared introduction, there was no response. “Pouvez-vous m’aider?” With my plea for help, the woman told me I needed to come to her office in Verdun. I told her that I couldn’t because I lived in Commercy (as I had already stated). She repeated again that I needed to come to the office. I denied this request encore. I said I was told I just needed to call and give her my address and the agency could send me the proper paperwork. With a loud, unforgiving exhale, she agreed to take down my information. We started with my name.

« Fiala, BreAnna. F-I-… »
« Attendez! Votre nom de famille.  (Wait ! Your family name.)
« Oui, c’est Fiala. F-I-… » (Yes. It’s Fiala. F-I-…)
« Non, non, non ! Votre nom de famille. » (No, no, no ! Your family name.)
« OUI. MON NOM DE FAMILLE EST FIALA. F-I… » (YES. MY FAMILY NAME IS FIALA. F-I-…)
« Attendez ! S comme Sophie ? » (Wait! S as in Sophie?)
« Non. F comme….uh…. Fume. » (No. F like in… uh… smoke.)
« S comme Sophie ? » (S like Sophie?)
« NON. F comme fume. Fumer ! » (NO. F like smoke. To smoke!)

Another annoyed exhale comes from the woman. She carries on telling me just to fax in my information. I need my address, my birthdate, and blah blah blah. The number is 03 39… By the time I’ve figured out the first four numbers, the other six have already flown by and I’m shutting down. For the rest of the conversation, I just fill in ouis and d’accords as appropriate. Au revoir. Merci. But really I’m thinking thanks, but no thanks. I literally sat on that bench, phone in hand, letting the tears roll. All I wanted to do was call my mom, but had no way of doing so. As I slowly got up, shoulders slumped, my phone rings. It’s my mom. How did she know I needed her?! While relaying the story of what just happened, all my mom can do is laugh. All I can do is cry. But in my time of defeat, it was nice to know that someone could find the humor.

And this is where I’m at. Every day I’m interacting with new people and I seem to find one of two things: either they’re a fan or they’re not. Meaning, they are either willing to help a foreigner with slaughtered French or they don’t want to give me the time of day.

FAN:
The men at the phone store.
The woman at the bank.
The girl at the post office.
The man at the café.

NOT A FAN:
The cashier at the grocery store.
The woman from the insurance company.
The man at the train station.

And the lists go on. Each of these interactions has a story and from each I learn something. I just keep reminding myself that for every person that doesn’t want to help, there’s another that does. I can’t let it get me down. And I truly have to believe that sometimes, it’s just lost in translation.


Thoughts:

American WWI Monument

• I've met eight or so classes of students. I was supposed to be observing for the first couple of weeks, but my school decided to skip that part. It's okay. I don't mind being up there in front of all the kids. It's mostly the same things. "What iz yourrr name? Do you like-uh Frrrahnce? Do you have a boyfrrrehnd?" For the most part, they are great. You can just see how some of them are in shock when I talk to them. They turn bright red and get giggly. Then there are those that I just want to scoop up and take home. Most of the students sit in their desks and won't ask me any questions even when I call on them by name. (Which, by the way, has been the favorite activity thus far. I will take the name chart and try to say each student's name. They laugh at me uncrontrollably. How would you pronounce names such as Anaïs or Gaetan? Even Kevin and Jessica aren't so easy. They are Keh-veen and Sheh-zee-kah".) One boy in particular had his hand raised the whole time and I could just see how excited he was every time I understood his question. At the end of class, he came up to me and told me "I half uh corrrr-eh-spone-dahnt een Phee-nix Arrr-ee-zone-ah. Whe whrrrite e-mailz." SO CUTE. And another girl was so excited because we have similar music choices. Another common question: do you like David Guetta? He is the pride and joy of these kids.
  
• Still no internet. I have already been twice to the store and they want me to come yet a third time. Things aren't always as efficient here... It's just not all that convenient for me to get there. It's a fifteen minute walk, but by the end of it I'm sweating and it's no joy to stand in the tiny room that has its heat on full blast while I wait ten minutes before anyone even acknowledges me. And then they can't help. GR. Really, people, I just want to Skype my family.
  
• There's just one church here and its of course Catholic, but on Sunday morning I ventured my way there. Now, not only do I get a bit lost during mass when I'm back home, but imagine me trying to follow along in French. The only plus was there wasn't a lot of kneeling, just mostly standing and sitting. I also chose a special Sunday which included a baptism and first communion. Well I happened to see one of the English teachers at the service. She was surprised, saying I was the first assistant she had ever seen at church. She proceeded to have me over for lunch. She has two kids with whom I was able to speak French! They were great. The whole family afterwards took me to see the American World War I monument about twenty minutes away. A wonderful Sunday afternoon.
  
• Did you know that French milk just sits on the shelves? It's always scared me that it doesn't have to be refrigerated, but I finally faced my fears and tried it. I'm not dead yet and it actually quenched my thirst. I still don't quite understand how that little bottle I bought isn't going to expire until December...
  

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Money Well Spent

Writing these blogs brings me back to that place during college. Late at night in my room, staring at my blank word document, overcome with the thought of “where do I begin?” This is by far the strongest reason I have never liked writing papers. The idea of trying to organize all my thoughts across such a vast empty space overwhelms me to no end. The only difference here being, I have no one to answer to. These entries can be as long or short or jumbled and mumbled as I desire and who is going to tell me that I’m wrong or can do better? Just me. So here we go.

I’m currently exhausted. One would think that after a lovely week spent in Italy, I should be refreshed. Au contraire, my friend. My mind is exploding. I’m constantly irritated that I can’t eaves drop on the conversation between the two businessmen on the train or know what that teenage girl is obnoxiously laughing at on the other end of her iPhone. I have all of these ideas of how to improve my comprehension but truth be told, I haven’t even had time to make my apartment feel like home, let alone the town and people around me. My week away was supposed to be a mental vacation before having to rear up for the start of school; however, everywhere I turned, there was someone speaking French. You would think I would just ignore this. This I could not. It purely reminded me of how much further I have to progress.

Don’t get me wrong. I had a great time. So, what did I love best, you ask? Is David as handsome as in pictures? Was the gelato everything you’d hoped it would be? Well let me tell you.

• Day 1, Wednesday (21.09). Claire and I caught the train to Paris then took the bus out to Beauvais, the airport by which RyanAir operates. As we’re waiting in line to check in, I notice everyone around me has papers in their hands. I look down at my fingers and all I seem to be clutching is my hard covered, navy blue passport. Hmmm… After being called next to the desk, we inform the woman we don’t have any papers to which she replies, we must pay €40 each in order to print our boarding passes. No no, ma’am, we’ve already paid for our ticket. You must not have understood us. Non non she says. We are required to pay this additional fee. REALLY? On a ticket that only cost €28, I have to pay another 40?! That’s how they get ya’. Now little did we know what we were getting ourselves into when we chose this budget airline. The usual occurrences take place. The seating of the passengers (well actually, this wasn’t so typical - it’s a free for all - no assigned spots), the hellos from the staff, the putting away of the luggage in the overhead compartment. Naturally, the explanation of the seat belts and life vests comes next. This is where the fun began! Our lovely attendant, dressed in sunflower yellow and royal blue, with a strong Irish accent, buck teeth, and a left eyebrow that just wouldn’t go down, not only explains, but demonstrates. Through three languages of proper procedure in case of an emergency, she is wearing the life vest with a blank stare and that one eyebrow lifted. After removing this accessory, she comes back with a concession cart, wearing an apron! It seemed as though I was at a baseball game, hearing “Snickers? Coke? Sandwich?” as she reaches in her apron making change from her vending sales. Once the apron is gone, next comes the lottery tickets. On a plane?! Through yet another three languages, my favorite attendant is fanning around these cards with the hope that one lucky RyanAir passenger could win one million euros. This hour has flown by with one comedy act after another and as we land, we hear the tune of the champion horse race go off and the entire flight claps and cheers. A fantastic way to end my most entertaining flying experience to date. We leave the airport, smiles on our faces, and find our way through the water to our hostel in Venice. From our window we can see a gorgeous view of what tomorrow will bring us.
  
  
• Day 2, Thursday (22.09). Rick Steves is the man. Claire carries him with her wherever she travels which means I have had the privilege of meeting this wonder. In his book, The Best of Europe, he tells us of all the wonderful sites to see while in each of our cities. His advice for Venice: get lost. The only way to get around in this town is by water taxi and the rest by foot through small alleyways with no real rhyme or reason. We took these words of wisdom to heart. Claire and I took the taxi across the water the next morning and saw a glorious dome. We took off in its direction, certain it was the famous San Marco, but upon arriving after a long winded hour and a half through many unknown paths, and seeing no tourists around, we wondered where we had gone wrong. We had come all this way to find ourselves at a beautiful, yet unknown basilica. Turns out, we were right in front of San Marco Square that morning, but had been so focused on getting to the dome that we didn’t even take the time to look before us. We carried on with the typical tourist attractions (San Marco Basilica, San Marco Square - complete with pigeons – the Bell Tower, the Clock Tower, the Bridge of Sighs, the Doge Palace, and the Rialto Bridge), including gelato at 10:30 in the morning, again at noon, and another serving after our dinner looking out over the water. And of course, what would Venice be without a romantic gondola ride.
  
  
• Day 3, Friday (23.09). On to Florence! We arrived by train that evening and took in the free sights. As we were crossing the bridge to our hostel, we noticed many locals sitting on the dam in the middle of the Arno River. This struck curiosity in me and I became determined to find the path out to join them. With wine in hand, Claire and I successfully made it to the middle of the river and shared our bottle under a wide open sky and clear air, doing as the locals do.
  
  
• Day 4, Saturday (24.09). I came to Florence in search of one thing: my dream man. That is to say, Michelangelo’s David and boy did we find him. Standing in line. Sitting in line. Leaning on the wall in line. This is how we spent our hour waiting to see this work of art. When we finally entered the building, we put our purses through the scanner, walked through the metal detector, and through the curtain. Right there in front of us was what I had come seeking. Wait. That seemed too easy. Weren’t we supposed to pay? Thank you for Cultural Weekend in Florence :)
  
  
• Days 5-7, Sunday-Tuesday (25-27.09). On the road again. This time, the lesser seen Cinque Terre. The colorful and fresh Italian Riviera was only a 10€ train ride away. It was breath taking. Claire and I spent three nights here, relaxing on the beaches, hiking the trails, hopping between the five towns, and doing what we do best: eating pizza margherita and filling up on gelato. Did I mention how great of planners Claire and I are? We couldn’t have done a better job choosing the days to visit each city. On Sunday and Monday, most museums are closed. We just so happened to be in an area with no sightseeing to do on those days. Someone is watching out for us.
  
  
• Day 8, Wednesday (28.09). Goodbye Italy, but not before a stop at the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Being that our flight was taking off from this city, we decided to check out of our hostel a little early that morning and snap some shots of this sight before heading back to France. Literally. We got off the train, had no map, no idea of where to go. We followed the crowd and before we knew it, there was the tower. We took pictures, bought postcards, ate some grapes, smashed some grapes (we were in Tuscany after all), and found the right bus back to the airport. All in a day’s work for these expert travelers.

Thoughts:

• David was honestly an amazing sight to see. It’s sad, though, that his beauty has been sequestered by his penis. Everywhere you turn, there are postcards with close-ups of his junk.
  
• On one of the nights, Claire and I met a group of girls from Germany. Although I don’t know German or Spanish all that well, I’m sure Sidney, the half Peruvian, half German mix, could speak both beautifully, because her English and French were flawless. Really?! Grr. I’m trying to master only my second language and here she is, spitting off four.
  
• It’s quite the thing, how Europeans are so open with their bodies. Women of all ages, shapes, and sizes flaunt around the beach wearing bikinis. Instead of looking for a place to change, everyone just wraps a towel around their waist and does the deed right there. And when it comes time to shower off under one of those beach faucets, be prepared to see it all. I really don’t mind it, but it doesn’t mean I have to participate.
  
• With Italy being only an hour flight from France, it's marveling to see how with such close quarters, each country maintains its own culture. Over this past week, all I wanted was a cheap baguette, but instead found myself munching pizza for lunch. The U.S. seems like one big hodgepodge of people clashed. But somehow, Europe has managed to keep its identities separate.
• Did you know that the Mediterranean Sea is salty?! I wish I would’ve been warned before diving right in.
  
• I’m constantly being asked what’s next in my future. What do I want to do, where do I want to go. I honestly don’t know, but after a week of watching all those tourist groups, perhaps tour guide is my calling.
  
• Coming to France with that huge backpack behind me was not the most pleasant of experiences. Seeing all those travelers doing that for a month seems like an even worse idea. If I were to backpack for an extensive period of time, I would bring a pair of jeans, shorts, a skirt, a dress, four short sleeved tops, one long, a sweater, a swimsuit, tennis shoes, sandals, and a towel. Really. I’ve decided that’s all I’d need. And when it gets a bit too grimy, I’d rather spend 6€ at the Laundromat and save my back the pain.
  
• People always ask how much money I spent when I studied abroad and in all honesty, I have no idea. Money was flying left and right out of my hands. This time around, I’m keeping a consistent record of all my expenses. So for those curious ones, here’s the breakdown of my eight days spent traveling Europe: 
• Airline: €46
• Ground Transportation: €189,90
• Hostels: €195
• Food: €222,85
• Sightseeing: €13
• Souvenirs: €30,2
• Miscellaneous (gondola, internet/printer, RyanAir fee): €90,65

For a grand total of €787,60 averaging €98,45 per day.

So when you ask is it expensive, yeah it is. Should I have spared a few bucks by cutting back from gelato twice a day to once? Never. Would I have opted out of the €50 gondola ride to keep the bank from breaking? Absolutely not. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. (Except maybe bring a towel!)

My French Life

Finally, the internet. Aside from the 10 minutes I was given on the ancient school computers to send an email back home saying I was safe, this is my first time with my hands on Wi-Fi.

Where to begin? I’ve decided to divide this post into two parts: facts and feelings.

On y va!

Facts:

• Day 1, Wednesday. Claire and I arrived safe and sound Wednesday at 13:00 at the Charles de Gaulle in Paris. Everything went incredibly well. Unbelievably, in fact. We kept thinking, when is something going to go wrong? All flights were on time. Our hour in Iceland flew by. We navigated the Paris metro no problem. Found our train station. Bought our tickets and carte 12-25. Boarded the train to Nancy with all bags. Got off, waited twenty minutes, got on the next, arrived at the station as expected at 18:36. Rolled our luggage to the front and there was… NATHALIE! Soon after came Francoise (Franne). We “bised” them both as the French do then Claire packed her bags in Nathalie’s van, mine went with Franne and off we went. We found ourselves next at my apartment, a glorious sight. Based on Alice’s photos (the previous assistant), I thought this was going to be a small place, mais non, an image to behold! I have a grand hallway, a nice bathroom, a wonderful kitchen, a living room with a couch, a bedroom with two twin beds, and endless closet space, but my most wonderful possession… a TV! I have all I could ever ask for. After my last journey in France, I thought time and time again how much it would have helped my comprehension to have been able to watch TV. It would be casual and on my own time, not having to think about the conversation I was involved in. My wish was their command. Thank you Lycee Henri Vogt! After setting down our luggage in the middle of the room and taking a quick tour, it was time to load up again and head to dinner. My first meal in Commercy took place at a little creperie. We were the only group there which consisted of me, Claire, Nathalie, Franne, Franne’s her boyfriend, and Anne (another English teacher). We started with an aperitif- crackers and rose cider (so French!), ate our main course of galettes, and of course finished with crepes for dessert. So much was going on, my brain was fried, they were talking quickly, that I mostly sat and smiled. But it was delicious nonetheless. Afterwards, we were off to bed. Bonne nuit!

• Day 2, Thursday. We awoke at 14:00, just in time for our rendez-vous with Nathalie at 15:00. This meeting consisted of using the internet, meeting the principal (as well as many other staff members), and being introduced to my first class of students! It went so well. After all this, Nathalie dropped Claire and me off in the centre where we bought our cell phones, anther wonderful feat. At this point, I could no longer produce French words, so Claire took over (merci ma fille!). The man asked if I wanted a tactile phone and not knowing what this meant and with the only word coming out of my mouth being oui, I am now the proud owner of a mobile tactile- touch screen. Haha. On our walk home (about a 15 minute trek), we saw the super marché. We stocked up on ground beef, pasta, pasta sauce, a block of Brie cheese (2,50€!), bread, three bottles of wine (2€ each!), two bottles of water, paper towels, and a variety of other necessities. My total came to a mere 40€. SO impressive. We hiked back to my gate which I must enter in order to reach my apartment. Well lo’ and behold, neither my key nor my card worked! So here we are, loaded down with bags of groceries and no way to get in. I turn to my left and there I see a box with buttons and names. I push the first labeled loge and a woman speaks to me from the other end. I tell her I am the assistant and my keys ne marchent pas. Our conversation lasts a minute then she is gone. I’m not quite sure how it ended, but I just pray that she soon arrives. Five minutes go by… no one. Another minute… still alone. Finally a car opens the gate and we enter. The woman (not the one from the box) speaks to us about the key and tells us to go to the office the next day. Regardless, we made it in and I whipped Claire and myself up a nice spaghetti dinner. We went to bed, set our alarms, and were up again the next morning at 8:30, for our next adventure: Amneville. 

• Days 3-4, Friday & Saturday. I had to turn in a few papers at the school and get my keys fixed, but afterwards Claire and I were off on the 20 minute walk to the train station, ready for the first train to her city, Amneville. Her Nathalie (because both of our contact teachers have the same name!) met us at the station, we had a tour of her school, met the principal and a few other important staff members, took a short walk around her centre, then met with the real estate agent to view what will be Claire’s home for the next 8 months. After deciding on taking the flat, Nathalie brought us to the happenin’ part of Amneville. There is a casino, spa, amusement park, 3-D cinema, and many diverse restaurants and shops. We had a tango (blond beer with flavored syrup), while Claire filled out her abundant paperwork to accept her apartment as well as apply for French welfare. Afterwards we headed back to the station and boarded our train back to Commercy… Or so we thought. As the time passed, our cellphones started sending us messages saying we could still call France even though we were out of our tower ranges. Silly French phones. But as the train came to a halt, I looked out my window and announced “Claire, we’re in Luxembourg”. With a look of unbelief, we hopped off and discovered that we had crossed country lines. In a fury of confusion, we boarded the train back to France, but after a brief line of “well I always wanted to see Luxembourg”, Claire and I made a quick decision to stay the night in this new country. And it was beautiful and wonderful and so worth taking the wrong train. We explored it all on our own, and thanks to the dirty map I found on the ground, we easily navigated ourselves to the best of the city. We had diner, gelato, then decided it was time to find the party. As we wandered the city, we heard loud music coming from down the street. We followed our senses, and indeed we found the party. There were young people filling a parking lot, all holding their beer in a plastic cup, chatting loudly with enthusiastic conversation. Intimidated by such a sight, Claire and I hid around the corner to discuss what should happen next. As much as the party scared us, we knew we would regret not going. We took a lap around the block then entered from the other side, pushing our way inside Roca’s. Surprisingly, there were less people in than out, and we made our way to the bar. To face my fears, I ordered our drinks (with success!). We went outside as the others were doing and stood awkwardly, trying to look engaged. After some time, we took a seat on the edge of the party until we finally decided to look for another place to waste our time. And that proved to be McDo. We bought a little snack, used the restroom and sat until 1:30. We closed the place down and proceeded back to the station. We had three hours until the 5:00 train, so we scoped out a place to curl up and take a nap. Only one creepy man approached us (don’t tell Grandma!), speaking French, and after he left, all I could think was “at least we understood him!” We got to Nancy and had three hours to kill. Finally we made it back to my place at 11:35 and headed straight to bed. After a night with nearly no sleep, Claire and I literally slept the day away until noon today, with only a four hour break between 22:00 to 2:00.

• Day 5, Sunday. After waking at 11:00, I took a relaxing bath, read a book, and took on the task of fixing my broken TV. Nathalie said that Alice went without TV all last year because of this. Well thanks to the television problems I encountered with Grandma this summer, I was easily able to figure out that all that needed to be done was have it do a program search and TA-DA! So now I REALLY have French TV. And a radio too, p.s. After such excitement, Claire and I gathered our computers and went on a search for internet. We knew this was a long shot being that nearly everything is closed on Sundays in France. But I do emphasize the nearly because we found the one café open… with Wi-Fi gratuit illimite! (unlimited free Wi-Fi!). HOWEVER, their internet was down, but we met a nice little French girl whose mother asked us to watch her while she went and smoked (HAHA!!). On our way home, we stopped at a boulangerie where I bought my first baguette. SO soft and SO cheap! (.85€ for a grande one!) The rest of the evening was calm. I took in two episodes of House (en francais of course) and read some more of my book. It’s nice to have time for me.

Feelings:

• PAIN. As much as I knew carrying 100lbs of luggage would not be pleasant, it didn’t translate to how much it would hurt my body. I’m still covered in battle wounds (bruises up and down my arms and legs) and have aching shoulders. I’m thankful for all the ibuprofen I brought.

• SURPRISE. Every time I speak French and someone understands me, it is the most wonderful surprise. The first day we arrived, I had four encounters in French. 1) The man at the airport in Paris whom I asked for directions. 2) The man I bought my phone card from and later went back to tell him it wasn’t working. 3) The woman from whom I bought my sandwich. 4) The man that I bought my ticket from and my carte 12-25 (discount train card for those under 25). Now not only did they all understand my French, but not one tried to speak English with me! Even the man at the SNCF (train station), whose counter was marked as international. I remember in Caen, it seemed as though every time I opened my mouth to speak French, my accent alone would cause someone to switch to English. And I was in Paris, the largest touristic city in France! This was surprise and joy.

• COMFORTABLE. I already feel like my apartment is my own and I’m feeling at home with my town. I am so grateful to have this little town. Nathalie said a few years ago an assistant left early because she didn’t like Commercy at all. I’m already in love.

• THANKFUL. Wow. I love Commercy. Nathalie is so wonderful as are all the other teachers. It’s been very nice to have Claire with me to help navigate and speak when I just can’t seem to get the words out. I’m thankful for all the prayers. Honestly, I know things wouldn’t be going this smoothly without them. I’m also grateful that I am more advanced in my French now than from when I first arrived in Caen. This means I will only progress even further, especially since I have more time.

• SCARED, but trying to face my fears. It’s funny because when we first arrived in Paris, I just knew that I needed to go up and ask questions and speak French. Now, I’m finding myself shying away. I have to keep telling myself to just face my fears and speak French. I’m not going to get better if I don’t. Just like in Lux, we went to the bar and I ordered the beers. I was scared to go and scared to speak, but it all turned out for the best.

• EXCITED. For all the new that is to come. Between now and my first day of class, I have my whirlwind tour of Italy and an orientation with all the other assistants in the Lorraine. Every day truly brings to me the unknown. And I’m learning to embrace it.

• PATIENCE. Have I mentioned how many hours I’ve already spent in the train stations? This year is bound to teach me patience. I'm also awaiting the day I get Wi-Fi in my apartment. I'm told they are working on it, which makes me a bit apprehensive. I'd rather just get it myself on my own time, but again... I'll try to wait it out.

I’m already learning a lot about myself in these few (long) days. One is that I’m quite observant. Claire loves words so she’s always teaching me something new and I’m always letting her in on what I see.

Observations:

• The people in my town aren’t very “French”. They aren’t up to date on the latest fashions and they are seen around town without makeup. I’ve decided this is because we aren’t a university town. As soon as I was in Nancy, the bar was set high again.
• In Lux, they kissed each other on the cheek three times as opposed to two in Commercy. However (as Claire saw), at the café here, some women kissed four times and the girls kissed the boys just twice. Hmmmmm. Interesting.
• The titles on the binding of books read in the opposite direction of English books! I thought my French books needed to be flipped around, but nope, that’s just how they are.
• At my first dinner at the creperie, everyone seemed to eat very quickly, and I couldn’t keep up! This wasn’t how it was when I was in Caen. Also, one person would switch hands with their fork, so not like the others. And another held their fork with a fist. It was just very curious watching them all with their silverware!
• And this is just funny, but I am having a hard time finding not only my French words, but also my English!! I just can’t keep any language straight at the moment. Even in this post, I used the incorrect form of “their and too” and do you know that apartment is appartement in French. How am I to remember who has one p and who has two?!

If you made it to the end of this, BRAVO! As I was writing this, I was dreading that my post would be so long, but then I told myself, you know what Bre, this blog isn’t just for them. It’s for you too and those that care will read it all. So to you, thank you for caring! It’s people like you that I feel love and support from and that make my adventures happen. And in return for this, I will try my best to update more often in shorter lengths (God-willing I can find the internet!).

Oh! And a word on the times. In Europe, they use the 24 hour clock. I’m quickly becoming accustomed to it and I hope you will too! In all honesty, it’s just much easier for me to use that format than to translate it. If you’re confused, just subtract 12 from any number over 12 and you’ve got it :)

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Third Time's a Charm

Before

Third time's a charm! The before picture posted doesn't even begin to describe the chaos I bestowed upon myself as I began to pack for 8 months in Europe. How do you choose what to bring and what to leave?! I thought after studying abroad, this would be old hat. Indeed, this was not the case. The before picture is actually my second, but not last, time packing and unpacking my bags. After this try, I weighed my bags, discovering the backpack was 35lbs and my suitcase was 70lbs.

Let's see: 35+75=110/2=55. Not great numbers when I'm allotted 50lbs each.

After

Now, my mother is somewhat of a saint when it comes to dealing with me when I am under stressful situations. I tend to "freak out" and let everyone know it. But after going through my bags endless times, I needed the help of someone who has gone through this before. Enter, Kelsey Baumann. After another hour of going through my already whittled down items yet again, I was able to remove three sweaters, two notebooks, and my coveted shampoo and conditioner (which was 7lbs alone!). 

At 12:25am, grandma, mom, and I headed off to the Amtrak station to start the first leg of my journey. The train was thankfully only 40 minutes late (a record) and what I was most nervous for, getting my heavy luggage on the train, was done with ease.

Kelsey: my free spirited, fun loving, do anything, best friend.

Saying goodbye to both my grandma and mom felt incomplete. My mom said as I was leaving that it still didn't feel real. And perhaps this is where I am at now. Maybe until I get to Commercy and begin this new saga, will it hit me. I'm currently sitting in Claire's dining room waiting until 5pm to head to the airport. We have a long 24 hours ahead of us and it might just be best for the time being for me to block out all emotional feelings until I arrive safe in my one bedroom apartment.

September 2011

September 2009

A comparison of luggage from my last time in France to this time. It may be hard to tell, but much more thought went in to those bags! Notice, I only have the hiking backpack and suitcase this time. None of that extra bag, blanket stuff. Hopefully, this will treat me well while maneuvering the metro in Paris! I just have to remind myself, I've done this before, I have less stuff, and I have a friend to do it with. Wish me luck!

Last goodbyes with Grandma Donna

A Tribute

This has been a week of goodbyes. My great friend Erin asked me how it was having to bid adieu to all these friendships I have invested in. I honestly haven't felt sad about it. And do you know why? Because I'm confident that the people I truly care about will remain in my heart. Here are some of the many people I love that I was able to spend time with before my great adventure.

My niece Skylar

Mickie: My Boss of Four Great Years!

Kristen: SBFFL (Second Best Friends for Life!)

The Always Thoughtful Tiffany

Brigitte and Whitney: Friendship Rekindled

Erin Barta: My favorite friend to do nothing with  :)

Finding Balance

This week I have just been all over the place emotionally. Today was especially unsettling. Next Monday night I will be hopping on the train to Minneapolis. As I reflect on this summer, I realize that I was given many new experiences, but have also discovered that I didn't keep the goals I had created at the beginning. This is a fear I have while in France. I have many intentions for this next year. Number one is to make time for myself. That's what I lost sight of during these past few months. I also want to really make Commercy my home. This includes making my apartment feel like mine, complete with decorations, and I really really really want to become involved in the community as much as possible. When I studied abroad, I got to know many other students, but found myself only spending time with them as opposed to natives of the area. This time around, I don't believe it's a priority of mine to make great friends with other assistants. I don't want to get too wrapped up in the night life. I want this to be a year of finding balance and satisfaction in my life. (All while perfecting my French!) Pray that I keep these goals in mind always.

Three Weeks to Takeoff

Can I pack already?

The countdown begins. In exactly three weeks from today, I will be boarding the train from Grand Forks to Minneapolis only to meet Claire and hop our flight to Paris the next day. SO READY.

This weekend was crazy. I went out both Friday and Saturday, which happened to be the first weekend all the college kids (non-inclusive) were back in town. This summer was slow out on the town, being that this is a college town. I was getting used to the intimate group of people and recognizing most of the faces I would see. This weekend, however, was not in the least bit what I had grown used to. THERE WERE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. Don't get me wrong, I love people! But it made me a bit nostalgic watching everyone excitedly greet each other, asking how their summers had been, and making plans for the school year. That's no longer me. I have no regret in graduating early, nor would I want to actually be going to my first day of class today. I do, however, envy the excitement around me. I know, I know. I'm going to France. I just felt left out (and we all know how I want to be included in everything!). And this is why I'm ready to get right outta here! I want to feel the anticipation of what's to come... and have that day actually arrive! Until then, I've got my 22nd birthday to celebrate, my last day of work (where I have slaved away for the past four years), and a going away party. THEN I can pack.

An Early Surprise

What a lovely thing to wake up to this morning: the postman delivering a much anticipated envelope (which may I add, cost $18.30 for the stamp), two week before I expected! That's right. I received my visa within four days of applying for it. WOW. Thank you express mail.

My token to an amazing year to come!

Commercy (and a lot of cows!)

Well, well, well. I have many a thing to tell!

On June 30th, while getting ready before work at Grandma's, I received the most wonderful email of my summer.

Hi BreAnna,

I am Nathalie and we have just heard about you in our high school, I am one of the six teachers of English. There are about 100 teachers and around 800 pupils (aged 15 to 22). I am sort of 'head of department teacher' but actually you'll be in contact with all of us. The names of the other teachers are: Anne, Anne-Sophie, Sabrina, Françoise, Louisa and Emmanuelle.

We hope that you are feeling fine coming to this part of France (the North East is not usually asked maybe because we are not a seaside coast but the people are very friendly and welcoming and all the assistants are delighted and wish to come back, never want to leave, ha, ha!!!

You will have your own flat 'free of charge' no rent to pay and the station is just about 15 minutes walk in order to travel to Paris (2 hours on the train) or nearest big town: Nancy (30 minutes on the train and a lot of assistants and things to do in Nancy) Commercy is in the countryside (about 5000 inhabitants and a lot of cows!!)

We will be very happy to wecome you and help you with all your administrative tasks and other things, don't hesitate to ask many questions and the name of this year's assistant was Alice Bridson, she is on facebook, I can send you her mail address if you wish to ask her about us!!

I am really looking forward to hearing from you and answering all your questions,

We hope you are still ready to come and spend 10 months with us and French pupils (they are nice and cool in our area)

Nathalie XXXxxx

What exciting news! I emailed Nathalie straightaway that morning and heard from her again that afternoon, as well as three of the other teachers (complete with pictures)! To know that they are so anxious for me to spend the year with them makes me all the more enthusiastic to go! It is such a relief knowing that I won't have to search for housing once I'm there, let alone have to pay for it. There is a Facebook group for all of the American assistants who will be in the Lorraine. Many of them were upset when they found that they would be living in a small city. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to the opportunity to truly become part of a small, rural French community. I already feel so welcome!

The next step was waiting for my actual contract to arrive, which came less than two weeks later. With my "arrêté de nomination" in hand, I was able to schedule my visa appointment for August 8th. Claire and I made a weekend trip of the 12 hour drive. We had a night to remember Saturday, reminding me of why I love having a friend with the same desire for adventure and fearless personality. We truly know how to take in the world around us. Our appointments were at 9:20am Monday morning and with an hour and a half train ride in to the city, we left ourselves with plenty of time for the Monday morning traffic. Little did we know that this wouldn't persist as a problem. Therefore, we found ourselves on Michigan Avenue (the Magnificent Mile that is!), sleeping the hour before our appointment away at a table outside the consulate. When the nine o'clock hour arrived, we headed up the elevator to the 37th floor where we were surrounded by the French language on signs, on the T.V., in books and in magazines. The worry of having to speak French after a night of little sleep overwhelmed me, but after entering the waiting room, and using my stellar eaves dropping skills, I was relieved to hear the woman behind the counter speaking English. The appointment went so much smoother than when I applied for my visa in Boston before studying abroad. Perhaps because this was old hat or the fact that I wasn't alone this time. Either way, Claire and I spent all of 15 minutes in the building, then got right in the car for the 12 hour home. As frustrating as it may have been to travel such a long way for such a short rendezvous, I was so thankful to have the time with Claire to dream about our coming year.

Now, I'm ready to pack. My life is in serious shambles. I feel like I'm living out of my car and while the average assistant leaving for France is probably fretting about the chaos that is to come, I'm anxiously awaiting finding myself in a routine.

P.S. Can I just say I LOVE LOVE LOVE Nathalie's "and a lot of cows" line! SO funny!!

Bre and Claire at the French Consulate in Chicago