In Class

Class is boring and I've decided that I must not be a classroom kind of person. At this point, I'm not sure who really is; but that's a separate matter all together.

Anyway, I'm glad that I'm in advanced. The others in class with me seems much more advanced, but that's mostly because my accent is horrendous. I'm okay with them being better- at least I get to actually learn (kind of).

My teacher is essentially a hippie, but I say that with positive connotations in mind. She speaks very, very quickly and with a strong accent. At least classes are only 3 hours, 5 days a week. Only 60 hours. Whatever. (48 to go. But who's counting?)

These students though. Wow. An example:

Jalia studied French for 8 years. In an immersion school. 

Needless to say that's it's a little bit easier for her to speak French than me, who's taken 3 years and two halves. (That's either 5 years or 4. Your choice.)

This being said, Madame told me at dinner that I'm a lot better in French now than I was last Friday. I find this hard to believe, because I barely ever speak French here. I think I was just more nervous when I first arrived.

I said "thank you" anyway.

On a seperate note, Tolouse doesn't have air conditioning. This is not an overstatement, but rather a painful truth.

For everyone in AC places: appreciate your air conditioning for me please.

In Lauzerete

I know it's been like a day but A LOT OF STUFF WENT DOWN SINCE MY LAST UPDATE. There is a possibility that this is largely because I have not slept much and, as a result, have had more time available in which things can happen during. 

This weekend, Madame Celine (my host mother) took Karina and me to Lauzerete, a country village about an hour away.

Lots of fun.

(Karina and I at a cute, patriotic cafe where we used the restroom so Madame bought us obligatory coffee.)

This weekend was a long weekend because of Bastille Day (as in the storming the bastille). This was my favorite thing, the weekend. Madam's youngest son, Henry, came to visit and the whole fam (Madam, Karina, Henry, Tyrone, and I (ok there is an eldest son and a husband somewhere in the world too)) bonded. I don't know why people go on and on about Disneyland being the happiest place on earth, because the happiest place is definitely here. (Hmmm, wonder if it's difficult for Elizabeth to get comfortable...)

(Sunset over Disneyla...Madame's neighborhood)

I'm in such a good mood, I'm just going to post the rest of the itenerary in billeted format (what ever will you do without my extensive witty commentary):

Pool

Played Cards 

Won cards

Won cards a lot

I am a champion 

Hammock

No chlorine in the pool, just salt

Fireworks

Concert

Friends

Exploring

Eating

Shopping

People

American stranger helped with directions

Chickens in the park

Pony in the park (this country and large animals... 😉)

Testing for placement

Place in intermediate

Questioned my life and choices and existence (legitimately)

Internal breakdown

Ate Nutella

Talked to program leader on the phone

Switched into advanced

Celebrated

TV bonding with fam

Blogging

So the summary here is that everything was lovely. I know I'm leaving so serious gaps here in my storytelling. Sorry.

Anyway, back to last weekend:

So we went to Lazurete to see a friend of Madame's. Her town was having a big sale (a sort of country version of a U.S. neighborhood yardsale). Immediately in the town, we got the cutest coffees (merci, Madame):

The sale had a lot of winners for purchase. Take this skirt. If I were a skirt, I would be this skirt. Interpret that statement however you want.

They also had this stand that said "c'est pas moi c'est lui" (it's not me its you) and I'm including it here to assure you that every language holds the capacity for sass.

People smiled a lot at us here at the sale and it made me so happy. People really do not smile at strangers here and it felt so familiar to have them smile at me. We then had a picnic in the yard of a super cool abandoned house. Awe, France.

Now we're home and hanging out.

Here are the beautiful couches that have cause some very intense (yet pleasantly symmetrical) bruises on my things. (The French conserve energy and do not have lights on at night. When it is dark I can not see. When I can not see, I slam into couches.) The bruises are actually quite bad but Karina has bruises to match, so at least we're all in this together.:

Here is the kitchen where the Nutella lives:

(HAVE I MENTIONED THAT MADAME COOKS FOR ME)

 

Here is our wipe board of learning, where our host brother puts vocab that we really should already know. 

If you look closely, you'll see that Karina need to learn "maybe someday I will be the favorite". This is because Ty keeps saying that I'm his favorite. Or more accurately, that I am his "fahhh-voe-rit". (This is because I am. Obviously. 💁🏼):

Today we taught him the meaning of tan and wink. FYI, I already knew the meanings of all of the words on my list (he needed to put something there) so I then requested the days of the week to learn. No, I did not know them. I also am lacking in a lot of the vocabulary for numbers over 10. Shoutout to the curriculums of French 1A and B for depriving me of chances to learn the basics of the French language. 

Tomorrow I start CIEE class in the highest level in the program. Wish me luck.

(A nice photo of last nights fireworks (that I did not take).)

In "Lifelong" Friendships

**This post took a really melancholy turn, and I'm not my sure why that happened. I'm posing it anyway.**

Karina and I made the executive decision to skip the awkward stage here, actually. We overpasses the part where we can't be ourselves around Madame, Ty, and each other. I appreciate that.

 

She is a very real person and coined the phrase "meeting lifelong friends that we'll never see again" for me to use, which I truly appreciate. This is something I never really had an accurate phrase for until now. For those of you not living the life of a precocious teenager: we (young adults especially and maybe just people in general) are constantly thrown into these short term situations and forced by circumstance to bond with people. These people are often incredible and relatable and beautiful but you're then torn apart after a week or a month so. You're then left with someone who you can talk to about anything at all, who knows all your secrets, and has the bizarre ability to say just the right thing exactly when you need it- and they're thousands of miles away. You call them lifelong friends when you're with them because they "just get you"- and you're sure you'll never meet anyone just like them ever again. And you never will. 

With texts and Facebook and Skype, there are always a million and one ways to contact these people after you're no longer in the same location as them. You reassure them that you'll invite them to your wedding and you mean it too. You make hypothetical plans to meet up with them over spring break in college or thanksgiving maybe.

This is not to say that these relationships aren't valuable. Believe me, some of my closest friends are people I spend more time on the phone with than talking to face so face.

Some of the people will get tired of texting back you after a few weeks. Some of them you manage to keep in contact with for years on end, knowing how truly beneficial they are to your life. But none the less, all of these people are exactly as Karina put it: 

Lifelong friends we'll never see again

If you're lucky, you'll see them for maybe another few days out of your life at some point in the future. You'll drive out to meet each other or run into each other in a coincidence. But it's never going to be the same as it was when you became friends. 

It's always going to feel insincere, making this genre of friends- at least for me. Because they truly are disposable people and I have never really liked the idea of that.

And Karina gets an A++ because the first day we met we did, indeed, point this out. It's important to keep in mind; doing so is the reason I've been able to be in one hundred and one summer programs without having emotional breakdowns. Plus, it's an excellent reminder of how important it is to live in the moment. You never know for sure how much time you have with anyone at all.

Photos In Lauzerete

A field of turnasol

Street

Street

City center

The sale

Patriots decorations on café

A cute bike parked in the cathedral

The cathedral door

The inside of the cathedral (peep Madame Celine in the aisle)

The table of a friend of Celine (peep Celine and a friend in the background)

High-fashion that's obsurd looking

In The Marketplace

https://youtu.be/Fo_5Hh5lh-0

In Tolouse

Nothing's ever perfect, but I'd say that this is about as close as it gets.

They do my laundry and cook my food.

No one pronounces the h on the end of my name.

The people don't smile in the streets or in public at all, really.

There is the most amazing market every Sunday.

The church sermons are even more confusing than normal.

The dedication to dessert is real.

Each night I hear drunk songs, laughs, and chattering out my window.

I live with my friend from California, named Karina. Except everyone always says her name wrong. So I kinda live with Katerina.

Everyone drives stick.

I live in a pent house.

C'est la vie.

Myself with a Barbie bus. It was downtown in the middle of nowhere and on the other side was a slide. I still do not understand why and what, to be honest.

Photos In Tolouse

A city street

The canal at night

The same canal

My American exchange sister, Karina, at the canal with me

Some graffiti on a closed shop

The local cathedral

The inside of that cathedral 

The local park- Jardin de Plante

The street from the overpass that leads to the garden

A city street

My exchange sister and two other U.S. girls from the program- Sophia and Izzy

All of the toiletries I inherited from the American, Lily, who slept in my room before me

Me, by a pool. Right now.

The extraordinarily grammatically correct graffiti a street from my house