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.
jeudi 12 novembre 2009
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.
lundi 26 octobre 2009
mardi 20 octobre 2009
An Interlude
A big welcome to the people who work for Glimpse.org, who may or may not be reading my blog now!
I'd like to take this moment (perhaps in light of my newest readers) to point out that this blog is extremely representative of one thing, and one thing only:
How hectic it is to study in another country.
Sure, I could say it's showing how adventurous I am. I mean, I wrote about eating snails! Is that not fabulous? My mother points out to me that no, in fact, it is not fabulous. She says that snails are full of bacteria and that I should not eat them. All the more reason to argue that I'm adventurous! I'm eating bacteria-ridden snails! Oh, the adventure!
Or we could suppose that it could show my French prowess. I have conversations in French, I translate them into English, and I post them on my blog. How fantastic am I?
Maybe I've got the social commentary thing goin' for me on this blog. I have those pictures from Normandy, right? I'm proud to say that I was the first to notice that the Nazi flag had been spat upon, and the only who attempted to photograph the spit (and not just the flag). I have photographs of the beach. (I neglected to mention that as I walked across the beach with my sandals in hand, I felt as though I were walking across a graveyard, watching life go on.) And let's not forget the funny French stores with funny French names.
Perhaps I'm writing 'creative' reports about the French lifestyle. (This reminds me, I have two short poems to share with you as soon as I find my binder). Worms, my Abridged History of the World post, my little anecdotes about people asking me if I'm Russian, my difficulties with the Sorbonne's system... these all could be tiny reports! Okay, maybe not the anecdotes. Well, I'm sure I could write something about how to avoid being spoken to on the street (hint: try to look like an axe-murderer who is about to snap).
I could say that I've been showing off my writing style, but that would be a blatant lie. While much of what I write on this blog is very "me," you have to admit that if you've ever read one of my essays, my blogging style is written as though I were speaking to personal friends. ...which I am. And let's not kid ourselves, I'm no great orator. Or if I am, I've been hiding this talent from you for a very long time. Not that I'm terrible at speaking, mind you; on the contrary, I seem to speak quite a lot! Even when unprovoked!
"But Cindy," I hear you say, "France isn't all that different, is it? Don't you mostly keep this blog to let your friends and relatives (among others) know that you're still alive and that you have not yet contracted swine flu?"
My response is as follows:
What is this sudden pessimism on your part? If France isn't all that different, why do I find something to write about every week--nay, every day (I just forget to write down everything that happens to me)? And why do you occasionally leave messages of disbelief? Or rather, why, when I call you, do you say, "I read that on your blog, but I don't understand!" Why wouldn't I just create a contact list on my email account and send out a mass email once a week reading, "I live. I have no swine flu." (I eliminated the verb "to be" from that because there surfaces every few years a movement to eliminate all forms of "to be" from the English language. The question truly is "to be" or NOT "to be." This amuses me; thus, I share it with you.)?
Because truly, though France has many similarities to the United States, there are major differences between the two cultures and the two languages. You say avocado, I say lawyer!
And though I truly have many more topics about which I would like to wax prosaic, I simply must fly away on the wings of... well, on my feet, as the metro workers are having a strike and only 1/3 of the trains are running.
And lo! I depart! To the Sorbonne!
I'd like to take this moment (perhaps in light of my newest readers) to point out that this blog is extremely representative of one thing, and one thing only:
How hectic it is to study in another country.
Sure, I could say it's showing how adventurous I am. I mean, I wrote about eating snails! Is that not fabulous? My mother points out to me that no, in fact, it is not fabulous. She says that snails are full of bacteria and that I should not eat them. All the more reason to argue that I'm adventurous! I'm eating bacteria-ridden snails! Oh, the adventure!
Or we could suppose that it could show my French prowess. I have conversations in French, I translate them into English, and I post them on my blog. How fantastic am I?
Maybe I've got the social commentary thing goin' for me on this blog. I have those pictures from Normandy, right? I'm proud to say that I was the first to notice that the Nazi flag had been spat upon, and the only who attempted to photograph the spit (and not just the flag). I have photographs of the beach. (I neglected to mention that as I walked across the beach with my sandals in hand, I felt as though I were walking across a graveyard, watching life go on.) And let's not forget the funny French stores with funny French names.
Perhaps I'm writing 'creative' reports about the French lifestyle. (This reminds me, I have two short poems to share with you as soon as I find my binder). Worms, my Abridged History of the World post, my little anecdotes about people asking me if I'm Russian, my difficulties with the Sorbonne's system... these all could be tiny reports! Okay, maybe not the anecdotes. Well, I'm sure I could write something about how to avoid being spoken to on the street (hint: try to look like an axe-murderer who is about to snap).
I could say that I've been showing off my writing style, but that would be a blatant lie. While much of what I write on this blog is very "me," you have to admit that if you've ever read one of my essays, my blogging style is written as though I were speaking to personal friends. ...which I am. And let's not kid ourselves, I'm no great orator. Or if I am, I've been hiding this talent from you for a very long time. Not that I'm terrible at speaking, mind you; on the contrary, I seem to speak quite a lot! Even when unprovoked!
"But Cindy," I hear you say, "France isn't all that different, is it? Don't you mostly keep this blog to let your friends and relatives (among others) know that you're still alive and that you have not yet contracted swine flu?"
My response is as follows:
What is this sudden pessimism on your part? If France isn't all that different, why do I find something to write about every week--nay, every day (I just forget to write down everything that happens to me)? And why do you occasionally leave messages of disbelief? Or rather, why, when I call you, do you say, "I read that on your blog, but I don't understand!" Why wouldn't I just create a contact list on my email account and send out a mass email once a week reading, "I live. I have no swine flu." (I eliminated the verb "to be" from that because there surfaces every few years a movement to eliminate all forms of "to be" from the English language. The question truly is "to be" or NOT "to be." This amuses me; thus, I share it with you.)?
Because truly, though France has many similarities to the United States, there are major differences between the two cultures and the two languages. You say avocado, I say lawyer!
And though I truly have many more topics about which I would like to wax prosaic, I simply must fly away on the wings of... well, on my feet, as the metro workers are having a strike and only 1/3 of the trains are running.
And lo! I depart! To the Sorbonne!
jeudi 15 octobre 2009
PICTURES
For a real blog post with info, see the post below this one. It's short, I promise.
Now, pictures from my trip to Normandy.
This looks like a fish head. Don't worry; it's just shells :
Juicy Fruit: The Gum With The Fascinating Artificial Flavor:
Someone spit on the Nazi flag, and the museum workers never cleaned it off. I approve:
Kicking Hitler out of France:
In Normandy, life goes on:
Now, pictures from my trip to Normandy.
This looks like a fish head. Don't worry; it's just shells :
Juicy Fruit: The Gum With The Fascinating Artificial Flavor:
Someone spit on the Nazi flag, and the museum workers never cleaned it off. I approve:
Kicking Hitler out of France:
In Normandy, life goes on:
Life says, "Just kidding!"
I went to the Sorbonne today for [my] first day of the main course in Ancient Christianity. It's the third week of the course.
Sat in the Amphitheatre for awhile.
Noticed after about 30 minutes that there were 5 people in the room.
Walked up to a girl and asked, "Excuse me, is this the right room for the course on Ancient Christianity?"
She said, "Yes, but I think I heard some students say that last week, the professor said there wasn't class this week."
...
Gah.
Sat in the Amphitheatre for awhile.
Noticed after about 30 minutes that there were 5 people in the room.
Walked up to a girl and asked, "Excuse me, is this the right room for the course on Ancient Christianity?"
She said, "Yes, but I think I heard some students say that last week, the professor said there wasn't class this week."
...
Gah.
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