I realize that my last posting was about the cafeteria, but food is really one of the most interesting things around. So I was walking through the cafeteria the other day in Des Moines when I happened to glance at the menu. Yes, they were serving hot meat sandwiches again, but then I noticed that they were also serving Wisconsin Cheese soup. I asked the cafeteria guy (who always wears a VERY LARGE gold crusafix that kind of scares me) if the cheese actually came from Wisconsin or if it came from Iowa, or even perhaps California (which is, contrary to popular belief, the diary capital of the US), and he said he didn't know, that it was just called that. Has anyone ever heard of Iowa Cheese soup? No, it is always Wisconsin.
I actually have no idea where I'm going with this, but I just found it interesting that almost everytime a cheese soup is made, they name it Wisconsin Cheese soup (even in our state capital) no matter what the origin of the cheese and completely forgetting the fact that California produces more cheese than Wisconsin. Perhaps Wisconsin should take the phrase "America's Dairyland" off of it's license plates.
Conclusion of the day: Never trust the title of food with states in the name, you never know where it came from.

Why is it that cafeterias seem to be the most uncreative places to eat? I am speaking most specifically (though not exclusively) about the cafeteria here at the state capitol in Des Moines, IA. I have now been lunching here for just over a week only to find a menu item already repeated. Not hamburgers and fries or pizza, things that are repeated everyday for those people who don't like variety, but the hot roast beef sandwich. Why the hot roast beef sandwich? Why repeat that?
The only reason I can come up with is that they are good. I don't know who is doing their gravy, but it tastes and awful lot like KFC's, which is a personal favorite, and they serve it with rather taste ice cream-scoop-shaped mashed potatoes, alway a hot lunch favorite. But really, why repeat this? It boggles the mind I tell you. Perhaps they are repeating because so many people are just focused on getting hot lunches that they don't care about what they eat. Or perhaps it is just because they had roast beef left over from last week, but isn't that gross to be using it? Is it still fresh? Hmmmmm, will have to investigate and get back to one and all.
Conclusion of the day: I have to change the title of this blog and start bringing my lunch should I care for any variety in my lunch meal.

Hello everyone from America! After god only knows how many hours of traveling, I finally made it back to the states early this morning. It really sucked leaving France, but I know that I will return someday.
A slight change from my usual rant, I would just like to list a few things that were great about my trip home:
AirFrance played the movie "Amelie Poulain", with english subtitles, so I got to see it for a third time! And they served excellent duck for dinner. and I finally got to come home and sleep in a bed that wasn't two feet off the ground. And I got the Loft Story CD!
Bad things: The 5 hour wait in Chicago seem unnecessary and well, I was damn tired.
Sorry this isn't long, I don't have a lot to say at the moment, just a lot of sleep to catch up on.
Conclusion of the day: Never trust Chicago weather and fly AirFrance for the food and the movies

Oh hey, as of June 15th, I will be leaving France (SOB!) and I have no idea what to do with this blog as I will no longer be in France! So, please give me your ideas about what to do! Email me at hyperchouette@hotmail.com!

Why is sour cream called "creme fraiche" (fresh cream) in French? Which is it, fresh or sour? Who is right, the Americans or the French?
Well, if you ask the French, they will say they are the ones who are right, after all, their civilization has been around since before they can remember and we all know that French wine kicks California's wine's butt, plus, they don't have the death penalty. They will start ranting about what a huge impact their revolution had on the world (what ours was just a spat between two continents over tea?) and how we should all appreciate what they have given us over the past century (Charles de Gaulle and bad pop music are what come to mind first, though my roommate asked me not to forget Gerald Depardieu). Hmmmm, probably a little biased.
If you ask an America, they will say, THEY are the ones who are correct because hey, we all know that the USA kicks butt and the world bows to our every whim. The american will start ranting, in an increasingly annoying voice and at an uncontrolable volume, about how the french are weak (hell, we had to save them from the Germans how many times?), chain-smoking, american-hating jerks who just eat up american culture (so true). Heck, the american is surprised they haven't changed the name yet seeing as the French are all just american wannabes anyway.
So again, who is right, the American or the French? Both are right. The French Revolution did have a big impact, their wine is better, and they only good things that they have given us are Charles de Gaulle (the airport that is) and, well, let's not discuss their music. But, America did save them from the Germans, at least once, they are chain-smoking, and american-hating (though not all, and not all are jerks), and a lot of them are American wannabes. That brings us to the big question, sour cream or fresh cream. Well, it tastes neither fresh nor sour to me, so who really cares.
Conclusion of the day: My brain is filled with comparitive political institutions so my only conclusion is that minorities are highly unrepresented in political systems using unitary representation and non-proportional voting systems.

What is it about a girl sitting alone, reading, that makes French guys want to come up to her and attempt to pick her up? Is there an invisible sign that says, "Hey, come over and bug me, please!" Not last I checked. This, of course, happened to me yesterday. I was sitting out on the steps of my the Marseille train station when low and behold, this exceptionally icky man, who had to be at least 55 if not older, came up to me, sat down, and proceeded to attempt conversation. I tried looking disinterested (wasn't hard) and give him the cold shoulder, but that didn't stop him from making a move. He wanted to know if I wanted to go for a walk underneath the trees with him and his friends (!) 'cause I looked like I was getting too much sun. I turned to him, disgusted by all his missing teeth and told him that no, I was just fine where I was. He asked me several times again, each time I promptly told him no. After ten minutes, he got the clue and left. But why me? The fact is is that southern guys (we have had the problem in Spain and Italy) think that every girl is just waiting to be with them and that they should let the girls know how they feel the minute they are spotted. This results in massive whistling and cat calls on such a regular basis I'm afraid I'll miss it when I go back home (but trust me I won't). And we can't figure out if they are yelling at us because they actually think we are pretty or if it is just because we are female. And they never seem to get the clue that we aren't interested. All of these catcalls and whistles must have worked at one point, otherwise why continue? Somehow this all got culturally accepted, and no one knows why. Why are French women putting up with this crap? Are their self-esteems so low that they need gross, chain-smoking, beer guzzellling French guys calling to them to make them feel attractive? Who is giving in to this that it has become a norm? Well, certainly not me.
Conclusion de jour: Try not sitting by yourself in Marseille, and learn how to say "bug off!" to French guys, 'cause they will attempt to pick you up, no worries on that.

Was anyone else aware that the French hate multiple choice exams? Or at least they never give them? The majority of the exams given at the Institute d'Etudes Politiques are actually oral, meaning I show up at the appointed time, the prof gives me a question (which is usually a statement anyway) then I get 10-15 minutes to think about it and create a plan. While you are creating a plan, someone else is already talking. After they are done, you go up, sit with the prof, wait for someone else to come in and get their question, then give what ever little presentation you have come up with in the last 10 minutes. After the prof has stared off into space for the majority of your speaking time, he asks you a few questions on what ever he feels like. They have been anything from "Who is the greatest creator in cinema in the US?" to "What was a very important US legislative act in the 1960s having to do with the press?" (the Freedom of Information Act, which I had already mentioned had the prof been listening to my presentation). After that, you wait several days, then they post your score on a bulletin board, right next to your name, so everyone on earth knows what you got. And you know what they got. It's very open, but can be really horrible because if you did too well or really bad, everyone knows and we have found that they have the tendancy to gossip about it. This is one of the big faults I see in the French education system, this open scoring. In the secondary schools, they actually call out the kids' scores and then make comments about their work right in front of the whole class, which leads to a lot of embarassment. And the teachers have no shame, trust me on that, I have seen and heard that first hand (though never about me thank god!).
So, Conclusion de jour: Prepare for who-knows-what come exam time and pray you did well, 'cause your whole class will know if you bombed.

I keep forgetting to write everyone, but about two weeks ago I saw the most wonderful movie I think I have seen all year. This movie made my roommate sight for a good 15 hours afterwards, all because it was just so wonderful. Everyone must go see "Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain", or "Amelie from Montmartre" as it will be called when it is released soon in the rest of the world. Don't let the fact that this movie is French distract you from it's inexplicable charm. I don't know anyone who has seen this movie and hated it. Everyone I know who has seen it has seen it more than once they loved it so much (I saw it twice the first week it opened!). Time just wrote an article on it (click on the word "Time" to read it) and it has gotten considerable press here in France not only 'cause it rocks (yea!) but because it wasn't accepted for the film festival in Cannes, then Cannes kicked itself over that decision and decided to show it at an open-air screening at night, then the director got so ticked that he pulled it from the festival all together. Whatever, this movie is amazing You will leave with so many warm fuzzies that you will just feel the need to hug everyone as they come out of the theater.
So what the heck is the movie about? It is the story of this kinda quirky girl who decides to make everyone else's lives a little better while forgetting to help herself. In the process she helps people and falls in love. I don't to give anymore away, just go, GO NOW and see this movie. You will smile for hours afterwards, isn't that reason enough?
Conclusion of the past few weeks: This movie is one of the best I have ever seen and those who have the opportunity to see it and don't simply wouldn't know a good time if it bumped into them on the street. Or at a photo booth (movie hint!).

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud Americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendency to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarily the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of American tourists (it's not just the Americans who are the problem, they are merely the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in English, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarrassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tour guides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud Americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendency to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarily the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of American tourists (it's not just the Americans who are the problem, they are merely the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in English, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarrassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tour guides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

Instead of dissing this French (desolee les francais pour les autres postes!), I feel that I have a bone to pick with tourists. Most of this stems from the fact that I was awakened this morning at six by several loud americans discussing who is the better, N'Sync or Backstreet, but really, it is an ongoing subject of conversation here in Aix. There are a lot of tourists in Aix. A hell of a lot. And they all appear to be staying at the hotel down the street from my apartment. My beef with them is that they have this tendancy to forget that people actually live in this town. In fact, quite a few people do. They sleep past 8 in the morning on occasion and sometimes work in buildings that aren't sound proof. But tourists often seem to forget that. Or not necessarilly the tourists, but the tour guides. I woke the other day to hear a woman yelling through at a bullhorn at a group of american tourists (it's not just the americans who are the problem, they are mearly the example) to look at the architecture of the building across the street from mine. This was at 8 in the morning. Now, I understand that my sleeping hours don't necessarily correspond with those of the rest of the world, but no one should have to hear about the stunning architecture across the street through a bullhorn, in english, at that hour of the morning. It just seems plain rude. Have they no respect for those of us who call this street home? I'm really beginning to wonder. It is one thing for tourists to come in a town and not speak the language and being rude about the language and customs, some people are simply uncultured and unaccepting of other lifestyles, but it isn't difficult to respect an environment that existed before you checked into your hotel and will continue to exist after you check out. So keep it down already!
I was in Florence this past weekend (such an amazing town!) and I was constantly embarassed by the tour guides who walked around town with portable microphones and speakers (I kid you not) talking to their groups between various stops. I pity the people who live in the quite quarters surrounding Santa Croce and the Outroarno because between the months of March and October, they must get no peace. It is no wonder so many people take vacation away from the cities, they probably can't relax with all the tourists around!
Conclusion de jour: Avoid tourguides if you wish to stay in the good graces of the people who actually live in the beautiful town you are visiting.

I found a piece of grass to lay on!!!!!!!!! I can't remember if I ever wrote about this before, but the parks here in Aix are notorious for being full of beautiful grass and having signs everwhere telling citizens not to walk or lay on it. It has been killing me! All that greenery in the middle of so much cement and I'm not allowed to spread out there? What the heck is the park for then? Apparently, in some areas, parks are only good for walking, which is what you do on the nicely groomed paths. The grass is simply there to look pretty and give the place a little color. Whatever. Why can't I lay there? Why can't I walk there? Is it because you don't want to pay someone to for all the up keep (not trying to chip away at that 10% unemployment rate eh?) or perhaps because there is dog crap all over the grass (dog poop isn't just reserved for the sidewalks and streets here in France)? But, what does it matter, I have finally located two, yes count them two, parks that will let you bring a towel and lay down at your own risk.
So that is what we have been doing, laying there, reading, lauging, sunning ourselves. That is until the bum comes up to you. It appears to be obligatory, every park must have a bum who is most likely wearing army fatigues, and, for some reason, always wants a cigarette. For get the lighter (they always have those for some reason), they want a cigarette. And they look really disappointed in you when you tell them that you don't smoke. Sacre bleu! Someone in France who doesn't smoke? Oh la vache! Who would have thought? And for some reason, in the course of a few hours, the same guy comes up to you at least twice, apparently forgetting that he asked you before and that you haven't moved since. My friend Mark wondered if they expect people to just give them cigarettes because of socialism and communism and the idea that everyone kind of shares the wealth so to speak. Any ideas?
Conclusion du jour: when you find a patch of green without a "do not walk" sign, rejoice, and bring cigarettes, someone will definitly want one.

One of the most aggrevating things about living in a country where you don't speak the language as well as its inhabitants is that when ever one of the natives speaks to you and you don't understand, they automatically assume that you simply don't speak the language and attempt to switch into English (which is almost never any better than your, say, French or any easier to understand). In countries where I don't speak the foreign language, I find this a little comforting, but here in France I find it an insult to my intelligence. First of all, when ever this happens, the French person always gets this incredibly pained look on their face as though I have just extracted their wisdom teeth without any pain killer. Second, it seems impossible for them to simply repeat what they said at a slower speed. They seem to be under the impression that no matter how fast they are speaking, no matter what accent they have, no matter what vocabulary they are using, if you have studied an inkling of French, you should understand them. I really dislike that they assume that I am just a stupid american becauase I didn't understand them the first time around. Do they ever think to speak clearer? Perhaps use familier vocabulary? It is difficult enough to be thrown into an environment where you don't speak the language perfectly, but when people know you are foreign and deviate from familier or book vocabulary, then get upset when you don't understand, it becomes incredibly frustrating to do anything. It's not like we are idiots, and we don't expect everyone to speak English with us, in fact we are sick of them doing just that. Let us speak French! Let us learn! Stop speaking English! I want a day to go by here where I don't get that "Are you sure?" look from a French person when I tell that, why yes, I do happen to speak French.
Conclusion of the day: never base your language abilities on the looks French people give you when you speak.

I went to my first European soccer game last weekend, Marseille vs. Sedan, and boy was it strange. We decided to go early to the stadium figuring that we would be all European and sit and have a pastis or a glass of wine before the game and then get a hot dog later. We go to the stadium and after getting frisked by a french gendarme, walked in ready to have a drink before the match. Go up to the concession stand: no alcohol. Is this France? Is this Europe? Is this anywhere else in the world besides the US? Sacreligious we thought! How could you have a sporting event in Europe without a beer? Heck, they serve it in McDonald's here. Grumbling about what wierdos the French are, we climbed to our seats and took out the face paint figuring that we would fit in better with it on as we had no clothes to support Marseille. Again, we were wrong. We start painting our faces with the marseille flag and the letters "OM" (which stands for Olympique de Marseille, the team name) and soon these French guys come up and ask us what we are doing. We explained that we didn't have any clothes that said OM on them so we were painting our faces. What for? To show support. The French appeared dumbfounded, but they still took our picture. So slowly put surely people started to come and then we discovered why they don't sure alcohol in the stadium. THE FRENCH ARE CRAZY. Before warm ups even start on the field, the French start lighting off bright red flares in the stands and waving different flags in the air (disturbing as it was, we found the most interesting flag flown was the confederate flag). As the match begins, orange smoke just began to take over this one section, who was being led in cheers by a half naked man with a bullhorn. The flares kept going off, fans kept screaming threw bullhorns, flags kept rising in the air, and everytime they scored a goal (all of twice), the French would jump around and kiss everyone in a 10 feet radius. It was great. Then came the fireworks. Not at the end of the came as the Americans are accustomed too, but in the middle of the game, for no particular reason, from the middle of the orange smoke section. I mean it, the middle. I'm convinced the French have never heard of a fire code. Even if they have, they certainly don't follow it at football matches. After that all seemed normal. Marseille won, we all got kissed and the fans surged towards the metro, where, in typical french style, several different groups of guys, ranging in age from high school to late 50s i would guess, attempted to pick us girls up with some crafty french line. We promptly ran away.
Conclusion de jour: don't give a french person alcohol before a soccer match, 'cause you don't want them doing anything crazier than they would normally do.

I'm convinced that the French are in complete and utter denial of their positions in the world. I'm taking this class called "France in the World" and it is pretty much two hours of French propoganda every week. The class is filled with common phrases such as "back before we won the world war" and "after we became the #1________________ in the world" but the French never seem to realize that they are talking about the past and not the present. They keep trying to play themselves off as the heros of the Free World (They were occupied during WWII and nearly single-handedly fought the Germans off their land, quite possibly with only shovels and pick-axes they are so strong) or better yet the leaders of new world order (forgetting that it was themselves who halted a lot of the progress towards the commencement of the EU in the 1950s and 1960s). When will they get the clue and realize that the world no longer turns to them as an example as they did, I don't know, 300 years ago? The French are caught in this timewarp where their language is still the language of politics and the world, where they still set all the fashion trends, and where their word on a subject really matters to other countries. Forget the fact that they are on their 5th republic 220 years, their government is a model for democracy! Forget that they used to test nuclear bombs in the South Pacific, France is the model of environmentalism (they still don't really recycle here). Forget the Terror, the fact that they killed their king and queen, and the guy who killed them, forget their part in the slave trade in Africa, forget all the stuff they did in Indochina, France is a model of human rights. Whatever. The French need a serious wake up call 'cause they are all still dreaming that they are hegemon of the world. I don't think so. One day I hope they wake up, stop trying to teach foreign students how cool they are (we have all figured out what is going on by now, we are blind), and revel in what they are good at, cheese, bread, and wierd game shows. Until then, I still have to attend class.
Conclusion of the day: When looking for the nationalistic dillusionals of the world, look no farther than France.

What is it with the french and their scarves? Are they not aware that it is warm out? Spring's here baby, let loose a little! In Aix, it is a good 60 degrees everyday right now and the vast majority of the French are still walking around with their winter coats on, all bundled up as thought the ice age is coming back in full force later this week. Perhaps it is because I grew up in the midwest and the spring is always a time to air out the t-shirts and find all of the tank tops that have been hiding under sweaters that I don't understand the French need to dress like a mediteranian eskimo in March. It's not so much the coats that I wonder about, that is fine, but why scarves. Everyone ownes a scarf and they wear them no matter if it is warm or cold out, in style or not. They wear them in class, at the bar, but luckilly never when dancing. It really is a national obsession. I tried wearing my scarf 24/7 for a day or so and found it to be one of the most irritable things I've done all year. Are the French somehow bred with no glands in the neck region and that is how they don't sweat all day while wearing their scarfs? Actually, I shouldn't put this all on the French, I see many general Europeans doing this as well. Is it a continental thing? Either way I don't understand the obsession. It's warm out! The sun is shining! Everyone back in the midwest would be drooling at this weather! And yet they continue wearing the scarf. I'm dumbfounded.
Conclusion du jour: feeling like an outsider in France? Get a scarf.

I ventured out of the my French cave this weekend and went north to Amsterdam to see what life is like in the low countries. Wow, is that city great or what? It is nicer, less touristy Venice, at least canalwise. But, enough about how wonderful it was, let's get to what really fascinated me about Amsterdam: the traffic. Never in my life have I seen so many different modes of transportation with their own lanes of traffic, each at a different height than the one before it. First you have, of course, the car lane, where Dutch drivers wisk around curbs at speeds that make you wonder if the French didn't colonize to the north as well. Then you have the tram lane, which is a few inches higher than the car lane, but in which cars drive as well. Trams give about a millisecond forwarning that they are going to move, so if you don't have your wits about you, you will be run over by a tram and the driver has no problems with that apparently. There is no waiting for the pedestrian to safely cross. Then you have the bike lane. The bike lane runs right next to the sidewalk, but is on a different level as well. DO NOT WALK IN THE BIKE LANE. Bikes are similar to trams in that they don't care if they hit you. There are tons of bikes. Actually, there are hundreds of millions of tons of bikes in Amsterdam and they are all old school style. I think we saw one person with a mountain bike. Everything else looks like it is from the 70s or something. And they are everywhere, it is completely uncontrolable. They also use the tram lane, as well as the car lane. So, the lowdown is that you must look both ways about 10 different times to cross what is essentially one street.
Luckily for us, everyone speaks English in Amsterdam. And they speak it well. So it you are thinking of going, go, GO NOW, it is a wonderful city full of nice people and no dog droppings. Oh, but be forwarned, it looks like a war zone right now as we think they are attempting to recobblestone the entire city at the same time, so there are a lot of roads torn up. We spent the weekend walking in a lot of mud and dirt, none of which was appealing. But I'm sure it will look wonderful as soon as they finish it. And, unlike in France, we actually saw people working on the roads all weekend (with the exception of Sunday of course), so it might even be done soon. Then again, there were a lot of roads torn up.
Conclusion du weekend: Amsterdam rocks, but practice looking both ways accross the street before going 'cause you will do it alot. And don't bring nice shoes if you plan on walking anywhere.

So I've decided that instead of exporting infested agriculture to the US, the French need to export bisous. What are bisous you ask? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Why they are the little kisses that French people give each other when ever they see one of their friends, meet a friend of a friend, or just feel that a handshake doesn't suffice. And I'm not talking about those fake air kisses that Hollywood types feel the need to give each other so that they can look more "European" I'm talking about cheek to cheek kisses. Even the guys give them to one another! I mean, guys in America really need to loosen up and not be so insecure about their sexuality. Lighten up guys, Bis! I'm telling you, if everytime you saw a friend or a peer or someone you kinda know and you gave them a kiss on both cheeks (2 in the south, 3 in Languedoc, 2 in Paris, except when saying goodbye, and then I believe it is 4), the world would be a happier place and we could quite possibly have less war. Just a theory I've been developing. But seriously, I love hugs and everything, and they are wonderful, but I have to say I'm starting to think that "bising" (as we americans call it here) is kinda the way to go. I don't know, I could be wrong. So, those of you who I will see in the States in a few months, don't freak out if I lean to give you a kiss on the cheek, it just might be the new wave.
Conclusion de jour: Kisses on the cheek can help world peace.

I had the rare opportunity this weekend to see another country attempt an election. It turns out, unbeknownst to me, that the French are very secretive when it comes to voting. I was asked to try and get French voters to take a survey which, in my opinion, was typically French, ie long and bureaucratic, and the last question asked the voters to mark which person they voted for and you would have thought that you had asked them to give me their last remaining kidney. The survey was completely annoynomous and it was for a class, but several of the French looked at us as though we had asked them some horrible, demeaning question that they could never answer because G-d would come down from heaven and smite them. So during that whole fiasco, I decided to go to the bathroom which meant walking through the polling station. As I was walking through I decided to take a little peek as to how the French do this whole voting thing. So, they go into their little booth, just like we do, and mark their vote on a ballot, which they then put in a little cute orange envelope that says "Republique Francaise" (as though they could forget). They then walk over to someone who has a huge glass see through box, hand them their envolope, their identity card, and their voting card, which let's whoever the official is know that they have the right to vote in this particular election. This card gets stamped with the date (so you can't vote more than twice?) then they look at this list they have and ask the person to sign. Then they converse with everyone about the weather, the train, whatever fits their French fancy, and go along their merry way and tell me that they don't have time to take my excessively long survey. I really don't blame them for not taking the survey, I really didn't want to give it, but it still would have been nice if they had taken a little time to say, "no, i'm terribly sorry, I simply don't have time" instead of "no, really, I'm "tres presse", quickly shaking their head, looking perturbed about it all.
So, that was my experience with the French election system. Oh, my favorite thing was someone who took my survey, said he hated everything that the current mayor has done, then proceeded to tell me that he had voted for the mayor. A the hypocrisy of politics.
Conclusion of the day: Don't ask the French who they voted for and be kind to the students asking you to take a survey, they probably don't want to be their anyway.

Why must a french person always be late? Is it really necessary to NEVER be on time in this country? I'm directing this mostly at my professors. What exactly are they doing that requires them to arrive late every week? The topper came this week when my professor for comparitive political institutions arrived a whopping 25 minutes late for class, and what is really even more insane, is that I only saw two people get up and leave because he was so late. Has no one hear heard of the five minute rule! I almost had to inact the specially formulated, specifically for France, 30 minute rule in which I only wait 30 minutes for a class to start and if the Prof doesn't show in 30 minutes, well, as the french would say, tant pis, his loss. I think I have one, no two, professors who show up on time and attempt to begin class within the first 15 minutes of the appropriately designated hour. Most of the students come in late to those classes, I'm sure because they figured the prof wouldn't arrive on time and they could have one more cigarette before having to spend two hours sitting in an uncomfortable seat taking notes from a man who just sits at a desk and talks, looking almost as bored as the students.
Which brings me to another subject, the cigarette break. Now, classes here in France generally run for two hours and the prof is not required by any government statute to give us a break at the end of the first hour, so many don't. What is funny about this is that most students expect this break, and believe me, most of the time we need it. Me, I need it to wake myself up, go down to the vending machines, and get a cup of what has to be the best coffee every produced by a vending machine. The French, well, they need it for a cigarette. What makes this really funny is when we don't get the break. I remember the first time we didn't get the break in the middle of my French Economy class. The fidgeting got so loud I thought the prof was going to have a hissy fit. You could almost hear every student thinking, "Why isn't he giving us a break? Doesn't he know I need this break? I can't smoke here, what on earth am I going to do if I can't have my cigarette? No break? I can't deal! Help!" Yeah, well, it goes something like that. Anyway, they get all pissed because some snooty politics know-it-all is keeping them from their nicotine. It has to be one of the funniest things I have seen in my recent years. I'm surprised the government here hasn't mandated the nicotine break yet. It would cut down on a lot of noise in the classroom and the French would all be a little calmer and the beginning of every hour.
Conclusion du jour: never worry about being late for ANYTHING in France 'cause the only thing that is on time is the train (and even that is negotionable) and watch out for a Frenchie who has missed their cigarette break, things could turn deadly.

First off, I am terribly sorry for having let this site go but I was on vacation for a week and then was hanging out with my dad and brother who were wonderful and made the trip all over the big blue ocean just to see me!!!!!!! So I spent my week winter break in Scotland and England and all I can say is I love that island. First they had Starbucks. I know, I know, it is a horrible world-wide organisation that is throwing mom-and-pop coffee shops out on the street, but have you had a carmel frappocino? I mean really, who can deny themselves that after trying it? They are sinful they are so good. And it was just so nice to speak to someone and not have to think out the entire conversation before doing so, though we still had problems with people understanding us. It appears that no one in England or Scotland is really from England or Scotland. Everywhere we went, be it our hostels, restaurants, or museums, the person rarely appeared to be a native english speaker. That just seemed so strange and it became a problem because those people had all learned "British English" (said with your nose turned up and a slightly snooty accent) and we spoke "americn english" (said with a disgusted look but still the snooty accent), which these people just were not accustomed to. Finally, one night, we just started speaking to the waiter in French because he was from one of France's old african colonies.
Conclusion: if you want to be understood, stick to the US and learn a lot of languages if you go to england 'cause no one really speaks english.

I don't know why, but I have the hardest time understanding hair cutters in France. It is as if they all took a course on how to speak at just the right frequency that I can only hear hard consonants. I mean they just start talking, and it is not that I wouldn't necessarilly understand what they are trying to say to me, but I can't hear them! Yesterday they repeated something three times for me and finally they just asked if I spoke English. I felt totally stupid. And the music is always so loud! And I'm used to loud music! Whenever I go into a French salon, I feel befuddled by all the noise and the inablility to hear anything anyone says to me. And it doesn't help that I have no idea how to describe what I want done to my hair in French, so I just end up saying something about layers then they tell me what they want to do, which I can't hear, so I just nod and say oui and hope it turns out ok. So far so good.
Conclusion- get a hearing aide specifically for getting my haircut.

The italians. Who knew they could be so friendly? After spending the majority of my time with the French, who are nice, though not always the most overly friendly people, taking a weekend break to Venice was exactly what the doctor ordered. Not only were the Italians nice, they went out of their way to be especially accomodating to us. And they were so nice about the language barrier. None of us spoke Italian, but amazingly enough they really seemed to understand our French and what little Spanish we could speak.
And Venice. I can't remember who told me they didn't like Venice, but are you crazy? What a great city! Even while overrun with Carnival tourists, the city was incredible. I got lost constantly, but everytime I turned a corner there was something new to see. New churches (they appear to have one every 10 feet), new stores, new gelato shops . . . and they we took a gondola ride. They are just as wonderful as Hollywood makes them out to be. I even got rowed past Mozart's house! And it was at sunset and beautiful.
Conclusion: get off your butt and get to venice, and forget your English at home, no one seemed to really speak it.

I would just like to tell everyone how awesome the italians are. More later.

Yeah, so can anyone explain to me the reasoning behind having to take first semester finals four weeks into the second semester? Who thought of some thing as crazy as this? That's right a french guy. I have no idea who to blame it on. All of the other sections of the university finished their finals three weeks ago before starting the second semester, but no, we are special, we are politics students, we all think we are the best of the best, we should all have to take finals a third of the way into the second semester. I honestly can't get over it. Does anyone have any idea why i am stuck studying for classes I haven't attended since the second week of January? If so, please inform me. I'm dying to know. And if you know when the 1st French Republic started, let me know too. That exam is on Monday.

Today my bone to pick with the french has to do with their eduction system. For those of you who didn't know, I am currently an English Assistant in a local middle school every other week. We listen to music, we play games, I attempt to get the kids to learn what little English they are actually learning in schools and not from the latest Eminem song. The last two times I have taught, teachers have come into my room complaining about how the loud my kids were. It appears that if the kids make a peep, that is too much noise and they should be punished. Now, punishment in America usually consists of detention, a call to the parents, maybe some extra homework, but not in France. No, in France you get SCREAMED at, and I'm not talking about regular yelling, I'm talking about screaming all bloody hell to a child so much that the windows nearly crack then giving their name to the principal so that they can then be punished however that person feels fit. Now, I have been yelled at in my day by various teachers, all trying to get across the point that we were talking too much in class or just generally behaving bad, but never, and I mean NEVER have I heard a teacher scream like the French teachers in my middle school. In America if would border on verbal abuse. I have to say, I really wish I could understand most of what they are yelling, but it appears to strike fear into the toughest of the middle school tough, so it must be pretty bad. I know that my kids make more noise than they should, but I just can't bring myself to scream at them like that. I mean for God's sake, they are only making a little noise! I tried explaining to a teacher that we were merely playing pictionary and hangman, but the teacher simply told me that it wasn't my fault, they were taking advantage of me (only a little), and that she would be sure I never had problems again. Because, heavan forbid, the kids make noise.
Conclusion of the day: if your child talks, don't send him to a french school.

So, do mufflers not exist in France or what? I bring up this question only because there seems to be a plethera of French guys on motorcycles or what really look like glorified mopeds, and none of them seem to have mufflers. The French just go cruising through the streets making the worst racket I have heard come out of a motorized vehicle since I began my little life. And really, it isn't just the French, but the Spanish as well. There are tons of these same vehicles in Barcelona, riproaring through the center areas of town that are already full of people to the point that you wonder, what is the point of a motorcycle is you can only go as fast as the person dawdeling in front of you? They speed up and slow down so much that at first you think your ears are going to burst, then you fear for your life, afraid that at any second they will see an opening in the sidewalk and attempt to squeeze their unnecessarilly loud scooter through it, caring not if you or your friend, or even your dog, is in the way. All of this speeding up and slowing down must cost a ton in gas, but that is the french for you: drive as fast as you can for as long as you can and break just as you are about to give the person in the road a heartattack. Screw "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity", that should be the new motto of France. Perhaps one day they will realize that they will save a lot more gas, and therefore a lot more money (gas is considered very expensive here) if they learn to drive a little more like the americans. Or at least, hopefully one day they will realize that the reason they can't hear so well isn't because they spent their youth listening to bad american music (they try to blame all their problems on us), but it was because they refused to quiet their motorcycles.
Conclusion of the day: save some ears, get a muffler.

Continuing on with the theme of movies in France, why do the French stay through the entire movie AND the credits? I saw three movies this week, all of them VERY good, and at each one, when american would normally start putting on their coats while discussing what to do after 2 hours in the darkness, the French sit comfortably in their chairs and watch as the credits roll by on a big black screen. Are they waiting to see just who was the props master for Pulp Fiction? Or perhaps who was the best boy for Wonder Boys? Maybe they were dying to know just who did the subtitles for Liberty Heights? I honestly can't figure it out. Are americans just unappreciative of those who work behind the scenes? My experience in acting and theater would lean towards yes, having seen few actors thank and appreciate the backstage crew and everyone who works behind the curtain to make a show happen. Those credits are there for a reason, to show the appreciation deserved of the people who work day in and day out and got no publicity or awards for what they do. So perhaps I will take a hint from the french and start staying through the credits. I'm rarely in a rush to get anywhere, maybe it's time I figured out just who catered the people I have been watching for the last two hours.
Conclusion de jour: stick around and see who makes the magic happen.

So, what is with the French and their dogs? I mean, is it really necessary to carry your dog EVERYWHERE? They are in the clothing store, the bank, the post office, and, yes, the grocery store. Can't they just be left at home? Can the French not seperate themselves from their canine friends for 20 minutes to pick up some eggs and milk? One of my first memories from this year was standing in line at the post office and all of a sudden a dog comes in, lays down in the middle of the room, and proceeds to start munching on a bone that has RAW MEAT on it. I was, like, what the hell is that? What kind of country allows this to happen? Have they no sanitary decency?
Heuresement, someone did and the lady at the welcome booth in the post office started asking whose dog it was. Finally we pointed out a lady who kept looking motherly at the dog and the women promptly told her that her dog could not eat raw meat off the floor of the post office. The lady looked incredibly pissed off by this, so she told her kid (always the kid during the dirty work!) to pick it up and hold it until she got through the line. But really, how disgusting!
And they poop everywhere! Aix is like a walking landmine field. Why Aix can't clean up it's act like Paris has is beyond me. They actually built gutters into the middle of the street with dogs painted on the sidewalk pointing to the gutter, indicating that the dog should do his business there but they do it everywhere BUT the gutter, so the gutter is the safest place to walk in all of Aix-en-Provence. Rumor has it that there is a professional pooper scooper machine that goes around town and sucks up all the crap on the sidewalks and in the street, but I have yet to see it and I'm afraid that it doesn't really exist except in the imagination of everyone who has ever dirtied their shoes in the filth of the French dogs.
Ok, speaking of dogs, I took an online test yesterday to determine what breed of dog I would be were I a dog. I am proud to say that I would be a colllie. Everyone can take this quiz at http://www.emode.com. There are a ton of great personality tests and what not; I highly recommend it if you have 10 minutes to kill and you are on the internet.
Again, conclusion de jour: watch were you walk and find out what kind of dog you may be in your next life.

One of the best things about France is its movie theaters. Seeing a movie in France always seems like a treat compared to going to see a flick in the US. First there is the student discount. How much does that rock? Except that it doesn't apply Saturday's and Sundays, which stinks, but hey, 5/7ain't half bad. Then you walk in and sit in THE MOST COMFORTABLE CHAIRS KNOWN TO MAN. I'm not kidding, they are huge and plush and oh so comfy and you just want to melt into them. And I'm not kidding when I say they are huge. No shoving yourself into replicas of those tiny auditorium seats you swore only existed in high school and large university lecture hall. The French movie theater is equiped with seats that could fit at least 1.5 normal people in them and big enough for a small child to sleep in comfortably. I melt in these chairs. Then you get to sit and watch a good movie.
I went and saw In the Mood For Love, a wonderful Chinese movie last night. I highly recommend it. It was a great love story about two people who discover their spouses are having an affair. Most of it takes place in Hong Kong in the 1960s, which was interesting as well. I love how many foreign films the French get at their movie theaters. It is not as though the French are lacking in domestic releases, but they still seem to have a great appreciation for foreign films, an appreciation that I think more Americans need to pick up. You know, I bet Americans wouldn't be accused of being so uncultured if we had a market for foreign films, as well as foreign music (that's another post in itself).
So, conclusion for today: movie theaters in France rock and we Americans all have a lot to learn about comfortable cinema seating

Oh, I should note that while my messages may come off as being anti-french in some way I do truely love this country and the people who live in it, I just find them to be some of the strangest and most interesting people on earth.

While I know that this has been a topic of conversation for the last few months amongst my friends and I here in Aix, I feel the need to bring it up with you fine folks reading this. What is up with the French and their need to use 4 different colors of highlighters, two different pens, white-out, and a ruler when taking notes in class? I was sitting behind a girl today in class that, and I kid you not, had 3 different highlighters, two different pens and a ruler all just to take notes. Does this seem excessive to anyone else? Why can't they just take notes with one pen like the rest of the world (or is the US in the minority here?) I have tried taking notes with so many utensils and found it extremely hard to keep up with the prof, who has no concept of speaking slowly so that we can get all the information, and not only that, there gets to be so many colors that they begin to lose their significance. Then there is the issue of the stylo plume, or fountain pen, which apparently is extremely necessary in French culture if you want anyone to take you seriously. Francois, our almost snobbish French tutor who seems to suffer from the love/hate relationship of americans and our culture found so prevelant in France today, told us a few months ago that no one, I mean NO ONE, can be taken seriously using a ball-point pen. The French will laugh you out of the boardroom if you dare to use one. Could this be true? Forget everything I have ever learned, all I need in life to be taken seriously is a fountain pen? If only it were that easy. Of course, all the French need is a fountain pen, as an American you are required to have much more, the fountain pen is merely getting your foot in the door.
So, conclusion of the day: buy stock in the French national highlighter company and start using that fountain pen whenever I feel I'm just not being taken seriously enough.

Hello everyone and bienvenue! I started this site so that you can all hear about the awesome year I am having here in Aix-en-Provence, France. I hope to let you know all the little tidbits I love about the French, and all of the little tidbits I can't stand. Hopefully this will give you an glimpse into life in France and answer some of your questions about this awesome country like "how many cheeses do they really over there (a lot)," "do they all walk around wearing berets (hee, hee, thank god no)," and "what's up with their lack of deoderant (still not sure)?" So, if you have any questions you wish to be adressed, let me know and I'll get to them.
I went to the grocery store today a couple blocks from the apartment and attempted to use a VISA card to pay for my groceries. Let me just say I have never seen the usage of a credit card as such a hassel. The man working had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He tried to slide it through the machine everyway but the right way, including using the left and right side, as that is how french cards work, until he finally had to call someone to come down to the store and show him how to slide the card through the machine. While normally this would annoy me, it is kind of nice to be in a society where people still deal in hard currency and the credit card doesn't pay for everything. At the same time, the French are real sticklers for exact change. They get very upset with you if you try to pay for something that costs 10 FF ($1.50) with a 100 FF bill ($15). The concept of making change appears to be beyond them sometimes. Then when they finally give you change they give you all the coins they don't want, in denominations so small a machine won't even take them for a Coke. But hey, that gives you good change for the market!
Hey all you out there let me know how it is going and what you think!

Ok, here is the first posting just to get it all rolling! there is more to come!