Classes...oh yeah, I have them

So I've made it through more than halfway of my semester abroad without even mentioning school! I am "studying" here, aren't I?


Classes here are harder. Ok, wait. That's not true. Classes here are different, which makes them harder for me. 


First and most obvious: they're in French. Now, I've had my share of classes in French back home, but the professor knows we are all learning the language and treats us as such. I can actually understand her AND takes notes! Meanwhile, in France, my history professor says a date and I miss the next two sentences trying to write it down. My one literature professor gets really excited and talks so fast that even the French students have to ask him to repeat himself. Which means I'm in the back of the class putting my pencil to use by balancing it in the space between my upper lip and nose. This same professor made me read an excerpt out loud for the class this week after I begged him not to (also in front of the entire class). 


Secondly, the structure is just plain different. Most courses have a "CM" (cours magistral) and a "TD" (travaux dirigés). CMs are what we would call a large lecture class whereas the TD is the same course with the same material but can be taught by a different professor and tends to be smaller than the CM and more interactive for the students than just a lecture. Classes are only once a week instead of two or three times a week. There are neither projects nor homework even; your entire grade is based off one or two tests with no study guides. Maybe a paper or presentation is thrown in there at one point, too.


Then there's just a bunch of random stuff that's so different. I already told you about the paper. That should have been my warning message that sounded something like, "Things are different here and because you can't even figure out how to write on this piece of paper, you're going to struggle, kid." And just because your classes are at the same university it doesn't mean that they're all in the same campus. I live at campus Valrose but have to travel about 40 minutes to get to my classes in Carlone. And if I want to visit my program coordinator, I have to take a trip to St. Jean d'Angely. There aren't really any student clubs so I don't pass tables of people trying to talk to me into helping them change the world. Everyone brings their computers to class and types paragraphs of notes instead of bullets. When students give presentations, the professor analyzes it and points out all of the flaws right there in front of the whole class. I witnessed one girl get torn to shreds. It's interesting how the French learn history: it's all through literature. No, not text, through works of literature. So I'm essentially taking a bunch of lit classes.


I started freaking out because I missed class more than once and my Italian friend said, "Don't worry, you're in Europe." Europe or not, a failed semester is a failed semester. I guess we'll see. C'est la vie.

Going Greek

It's Saturday night France time, 12:31 am Athens time. Yes, you heard me. Athens. Two of my Nice friends and I arrived in Greece yesterday afternoon and we're leaving on Tuesday.

I absolutely love this country. Everyone here has been so nice to us. We'll be in the streets somewhere - cameras strapped around our necks, maps held up and turned at all different angles, faces contorted into confused looks - and someone will walk up to us and ask us if we need help with directions. Now I know I gloated about and praised France in my early blogs, but please. If a blatantly obvious tourist seemed to be struggling with directions, she is more likely to be shoved out of the way than offered help. We Americans aren't much different. Here in Athens, I'm sure the locals encounter more tourists than fellow citizens. But on so many occasions, random Greek strangers have gone out of their way to try to lend a helping hand and show us the way.

Then there is this adorable restaurant host. This place is located about three doors down from our hostel, and we were walking by and he, like any good business man looking for money, stopped us and asked if we wanted to eat. We had literally just eaten and we told him this. He said, "Oh that's fine! Come, sit down, have a glass of wine. It's on the house!" We were very hesitant and didn't want to take his offer at first, but he was so sweet and kept insisting so we finally sat down. Oh, and the fact that he took me by the hand and dragged me in probably had a lot to do with it. He ordered us each a glass of wine, the waiter introduced himself and we enjoyed the hospitality. The next day he remembered us, and when we went to eat there for dinner tonight, he thanked us each personally. 

Ok ok, so people who want something from us are nice. That doesn't mean anything. I have one sentence for you: The girls here are nice. If you go somewhere and the girls are kind to other girls, then you know you're in a extraordinary place. There is a genuineness to the people here; it's not a surface-value kind of generosity. It's the kind of generosity that leads a person to walk up to a lost stranger and offer his time and help. It is so encouraging to see them respond to people this way during this hard time for their country. They're either really good at hiding a mess or they have life figured out more than we do.

There was a security guard at Acropolis today and he made me delete all of my pictures I had taken of a stuffed animal in front of the attractions. He spoke little English and I had a lot of pictures of the little guy so the process took longer than he had hoped, but at the end of it he told us he felt so bad doing it and he wished he didn't have to. He said we were very kind and that he would keep our smiles. I don't quite know what that meant but it made me forgive him completely for making me delete my pictures. 

There are two islands here that I would LOVE to visit - Patmos and Santorini - but they are seven hours away. Looks like I'll just have to come back! 

And here I will take some more of this blog space to gab about guys. I can see why the ancient Greeks were so quick to confuse men for gods. Tan skin, dark hair, European style: they've got a lot going for them. This is something I learned the first time I went to the Greek food festival back home, where all of the beautiful Greek guys would come out from wherever they seemed to be hiding and feed me delicious pastries. But now I'm in the motherland and they're everywhere. One smiled at me just as he got done doing chin ups in the park. They had to clean my heart off the street.

I never thought I'd say this, but I don't want to go back to France.

Lost in translation

It's 22˚ outside, I have to travel about 6.4 kilometers to class which starts at 13h30 (and it's on the third floor which really means the fourth) carrying a bag that is approximately 1.8 kilograms and costs 25€. Oh, and you're probably reading this earlier in the day than when I wrote it. As if the language barrier weren't enough.

No, don't worry, I am not going to spend the rest of this entry talking about math and numbers. Come on, it's me. It's just the little things I like to appreciate, the things you wouldn't think of until you're living it. For example, the paper here: It's all like graph paper! The spaces are super small in between the lines; you have to use at least three lines to write a word. But then you have all of these other lines running through your sentences. I creeped on some guy in the seat in front of me the first week in class to see how he writes on it. If my elementary teacher told me I had to write on that, I would have cried.

And then there's shopping. They give you bags when you buy clothes but not for your groceries. That was a fun little surprise my first trip to Carrefour. I had to bag my own groceries, take out my wallet, translate the number "17,80" in my head and figure out which color of Monopoly-style money I owed all at the same time. On the subject of money, I like to try to guess how many dollars I'm actually taking out of the ATM when I ask for euros. It's always more than I imagine, so not only do I lose more money but I lose my own game.

Now the big question everyone's been asking: How is my French? Well folks, know that if I'm in trouble I can scream for help. Ah I'm joking. My French isn't too bad, but it's far from good. I can get by. I can ask for directions, order food and have rudimentary conversations with people. It's very humbling, actually. You know how people just have a knack for things? My sister can play sports, my good friend can sing, another can do math, my cat can sleep for like 14 hours straight... Yeah I don't really have a knack for languages. It's quite sad because I love them. Nay, I'm fascinated by them. But learning another language doesn't come naturally to me. It's really hard. I feel like every time I learn something new in French, I also learn just how much more there is I don't know. It's extremely frustrating. But fluency is a goal I really want to achieve, a goal I have to achieve if I ever plan on graduating. It's not the hardest thing in the world to accomplish, there are so many people who do it better than me, and there have been countless times I've wanted to give up - accept my defeat and move on. But here I am. I refuse to run away like I always do (mainly because "running away" in this case would cost about a thousand dollars and another year of school). So, French, buckle up and prepare to get yerself learnt. I'm not going anywhere. Well, not until May anyway.

Until then, I will keep Wordreference bookmarked, my conjugations memorized, and a fresh box of tissues ready for finals week. And as always, thanks for reading!

Things to do when I get back home

Needless to say, there are a lot of little things here that aren't quite long enough for an entire post but are still worth mentioning. So here is a nice little list of things that I will thoroughly enjoy doing (without shame) when I get back home. Some things you might only get if you've ever actually lived in France. Regardless, here is my countdown:

20. Drive my car

19. Call someone in the States who lives in the same timezone 

18. Watch an American football game (soccer...really?)

17. Buy enough food for a whole month

16. Watch something on Netflix

15. Blast country music

14. Say "Bless you" to someone who has just sneezed

13. Not mentally freak out every time someone tells me a number longer than two digits

12. Know without hesitation whether the public restroom I'm walking into is male, female or both (and it's free!)

11. Respond to the correct pronunciation of my name

10. Not plan my breathing pattern around how many smokers I'll pass

9. Eat Mac n Cheese, bacon, American cheese, ranch dressing and drink a Pepsi product (just because I can)

8. Hear an American song in public that is post 1990 and is not Party Rock

7. Go to a bank, post office or administration building or be able to do anything somewhat productive between 12pm and 1:30pm

6. Eat dinner before 8pm

5. Tell you it is five thirty pm 

4. Buy a Frosty

3. Take longer than the guys to get ready

2. Wear sweats in public

1. Smother my french fries in Heinz ketchup