Why yes, it certainly is "Finals" time here. For me, at least. So be warned that I won't be updating my blog for quite some time, as I'm very, very, very, very busy.
But also know that I won't be doing anything worth writing about because I am... well, busy.
Yes.
I have a dissertation to write now. Goodbye!
mardi 24 novembre 2009
mercredi 18 novembre 2009
lundi 16 novembre 2009
A omann gleay.
Or allap.bynfw ydco t.fxrape co p.ugocbi yr yfl. jrpp.jynf cb yd. y.qy xrqv C jabbry ucq ydcov Or frg ap. ircbi yr i.y a lroy cb ICXX>PCODv vvv ydco co oaev
Title: "A small update"
(Translation from above follows)
So apparently, this keyboard is refusing to type correctly in the text box. I cannot fix this. So you are going to get a post in GIBBERISH. ... this is sad.
Yesterday, I walked around. A lot. More than 6 miles. I walked to the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and ended up at the Centre Georges Pompidou (the modern art museum).
Why?
I was searching. Searching for living statues.
You know the ones: they paint themselves all in silver, gold, grey, white, or black and are masters at standing perfectly still. These are my favorite performers ever, and I have yet to see one. So I was on my search, which was unfruitful in that aspect, but what did I find?
A street performer!
He drew a HUGE crowd. To say that there were 200 people is an UNDERSTATEMENT. He picked three people from the audience: a German man, a Chinese man, and a Canadian woman. He made them do improv things. Oh, it was hilarious.
And since he was performing out in the open square, people were evidently walking by him in order to go to the museum building. He ran up to one woman and pretended to karate kick her in the FACE. She was terrified! She screamed and ran, and we all laughed heartily.
Later, a woman walked through the middle of his 'stage.' He stared at her, waiting for her to pass, when suddenly, she turns around and pulls down her pants. Turns out she was crazy! He had to wrestle her back to the side of the audience and hand her off to a man in the audience, who led her away (after forcibly pulling up her pants).
Oh, Paris.
Then at the end, after his 'volunteers' (victims, rather) sat down, a tiny little girl who was probably 18 months old in a giant jacket waddled out from the crowd. He stopped. He stared. Everyone chuckled quietly. He knelt down and beckoned her over with his index finger. She slowly walked towards him, and he turned away and picked up his jacket.
Suddenly, he pulled a piece of candy out of his jacket! The little girl broke into a run, dashing towards him with grabby hands. The crowd let out a roar of laughter, and he collected spare change from everyone in a giant polka-dotted umbrella.
It was a great day.
vendredi 13 novembre 2009
jeudi 12 novembre 2009
Obligatory post
It's actually a long weekend here in France because of 11/11, so I have no class.
But I figured that since you guys want to know that I am still alive, I would write a blog post.
Yesterday, I saw Hanna, my Swedish friend. We went to the Orangerie Museum that is in the Tuileries Garden. It has giiiiiant Monet paintings that take up entire walls, and a bunch of other impressionist stuff. We saw a little boy who fell asleep on the floor. He was adorable.
I did some work (translating comics, hurrah!), then I went to sleep around midnight.
At four in the morning, someone came into the apartment, washed his/her hands, and went into the other bedroom to sleep.
Why did I mention this?
Because my host mother is away in Bretagne (Brittany) until Sunday. Now, I'm not particularly concerned, as various members of her family have keys to her apartment and stay there randomly, but it's still weird.
Weird, I say!
So I went shopping and bought yogurt and "little swiss" cheeses, which aren't cheese at all: they're some sort of very thick yogurt... cheese. I don't know. They don't exist in the US. I bought lettuce and a couple of Kinder Surprises because this year is Ferrerro's 50th anniversary, and it's Asterix's 50th anniversary, so SOME have little Asterix toys inside.
Also, my personal computer died, which is extremely sad because I had discovered that I could get free internet on Saturdays if I walked to the Shopping Gallery down the street. But I will be getting a new one from my parents (Thanks Mom and Dad!) soon. Which is good.
I'm gonna go do homework stuff now. Perhaps nap. Perhaps figure out who is in my apartment.
But I figured that since you guys want to know that I am still alive, I would write a blog post.
Yesterday, I saw Hanna, my Swedish friend. We went to the Orangerie Museum that is in the Tuileries Garden. It has giiiiiant Monet paintings that take up entire walls, and a bunch of other impressionist stuff. We saw a little boy who fell asleep on the floor. He was adorable.
I did some work (translating comics, hurrah!), then I went to sleep around midnight.
At four in the morning, someone came into the apartment, washed his/her hands, and went into the other bedroom to sleep.
Why did I mention this?
Because my host mother is away in Bretagne (Brittany) until Sunday. Now, I'm not particularly concerned, as various members of her family have keys to her apartment and stay there randomly, but it's still weird.
Weird, I say!
So I went shopping and bought yogurt and "little swiss" cheeses, which aren't cheese at all: they're some sort of very thick yogurt... cheese. I don't know. They don't exist in the US. I bought lettuce and a couple of Kinder Surprises because this year is Ferrerro's 50th anniversary, and it's Asterix's 50th anniversary, so SOME have little Asterix toys inside.
Also, my personal computer died, which is extremely sad because I had discovered that I could get free internet on Saturdays if I walked to the Shopping Gallery down the street. But I will be getting a new one from my parents (Thanks Mom and Dad!) soon. Which is good.
I'm gonna go do homework stuff now. Perhaps nap. Perhaps figure out who is in my apartment.
jeudi 5 novembre 2009
The Power of Words
Today, as I was sitting in the lounge catching up on my emails, a girl turned to me and asked the following question:
"Do you know what Soup Con means?"
I stared blankly for an instant.
"Soup... Con...?" I asked. My mind was filled with images of giant convention halls filled with various soup vendors' booths. People dressed up in soup-related costumes, as ladles, even as giant cans of soup. Campbells handing out tiny cups with free samples of their most popular flavor - tomato, of course. In another room, soup-related games, bobbing for dumplings in chicken stock, trading rare soup can labels. In a smaller meeting room, a panel on the controversy of boxed versus canned soup; wet soup versus dehydrated soup.
All this and more flashed before my eyes as I grinned weakly with bewilderment. The girl looked down at her homework and spelled out:
"S-O-U-P-C-O-N. Soup Con. What does it mean?"
"Ohhhhh," I said, fighting back laughter, "soupçon, the verb is soupçonner. It means to suspect someone; to be suspicious. So a 'soup-sssson' is a suspicion."
She thanked me and went back to her work. Actually, maybe she didn't thank me. I don't know, I was too busy imagining this Soup Con.
For those of you who don't know, the cedilla (the little tail on the c that looks like this: ç) turns a c into the soft S sound instead of the hard K sound. Clearly, this girl had not remarked the cedilla.
If you'll excuse me, I have a Convention to plan. I will dress up as a spork. What will you be?
"Do you know what Soup Con means?"
I stared blankly for an instant.
"Soup... Con...?" I asked. My mind was filled with images of giant convention halls filled with various soup vendors' booths. People dressed up in soup-related costumes, as ladles, even as giant cans of soup. Campbells handing out tiny cups with free samples of their most popular flavor - tomato, of course. In another room, soup-related games, bobbing for dumplings in chicken stock, trading rare soup can labels. In a smaller meeting room, a panel on the controversy of boxed versus canned soup; wet soup versus dehydrated soup.
All this and more flashed before my eyes as I grinned weakly with bewilderment. The girl looked down at her homework and spelled out:
"S-O-U-P-C-O-N. Soup Con. What does it mean?"
"Ohhhhh," I said, fighting back laughter, "soupçon, the verb is soupçonner. It means to suspect someone; to be suspicious. So a 'soup-sssson' is a suspicion."
She thanked me and went back to her work. Actually, maybe she didn't thank me. I don't know, I was too busy imagining this Soup Con.
For those of you who don't know, the cedilla (the little tail on the c that looks like this: ç) turns a c into the soft S sound instead of the hard K sound. Clearly, this girl had not remarked the cedilla.
If you'll excuse me, I have a Convention to plan. I will dress up as a spork. What will you be?
mercredi 4 novembre 2009
Drugs: The Lowdown
So here's the info on drugs in France:
Paracetamol -- French tylenol.
Doliprane -- French ibuprofen.
Humex -- French Robitussin's.
Can I point out that Humex tastes like flat root beer? It's true! This is why French people HATE root beer (this is also why all of my high school classes forced our French aides to have root beer floats).
I have been informed that Germans hate root beer in a similar fashion, but not hanging out with a lot of Germans, I don't know first-hand.
Oh, by the way, I'm sick. I think it was just the regular flu, but it might have been Swine flu. Either way, I'm better, except for a lingering cough (thus, the root beer cough syrup!).
Activia unflavored yogurt is delicious in France. Not so in the US. Go figure!
But seriously, gotta go.
Paracetamol -- French tylenol.
Doliprane -- French ibuprofen.
Humex -- French Robitussin's.
Can I point out that Humex tastes like flat root beer? It's true! This is why French people HATE root beer (this is also why all of my high school classes forced our French aides to have root beer floats).
I have been informed that Germans hate root beer in a similar fashion, but not hanging out with a lot of Germans, I don't know first-hand.
Oh, by the way, I'm sick. I think it was just the regular flu, but it might have been Swine flu. Either way, I'm better, except for a lingering cough (thus, the root beer cough syrup!).
Activia unflavored yogurt is delicious in France. Not so in the US. Go figure!
But seriously, gotta go.
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