Crushing it in Caen

The past two weeks have been filled with classes and trying to make travel plans. Classes have been good. I actually offer up answers without being forced to now! The first week of class I lived in fear of the teacher calling on me, and always tried to look busy or confused and never make eye contact. Friday was a personal triumph, because of the handful of French knowledge that I know, I was able to answer two questions. I think my teachers were impressed that I knew who wrote Madame Bovary (Gustave Flaubert) and that I had seen the movie L'elegance du hèrisson. Class is always interesting with all the different first languages and cultures of my peers. The other day I had to explain to my Japanese classmate that, in English, guys call pretty girls “hot chicks” and not “hot chickens.”  We range from the US and England to Mongolia and Ghana. I can only imagine how hilarious it must be to all out teachers to listen to our awful accents.

The professors here are all engaging and helpful. When I have big breaks in between classes, I like to hide in a corner of the international building on the top floor and read. One of the first days I did that, I met a professor named, Emma. I was in the bathroom pretending to understand what she was saying to me in French, and when I turned around to walk out she asked me in English if I was American. Apparently, an LL Bean backpack is a dead give-away. I’m not actually sure what she teaches at the university, but she has been so nice. She always asks about how I like my host-family, and if I am making friends. She also gave me a website to look at to find stuff to do in France. I keep waiting to meet those stereotypically rude French people, but it just has not happened yet. Maybe I am in the wrong France J

In other news, I think my friends and I have finally figured out how to order train tickets online, which is good, because I think the people at the train station are sick of us trying to buy tickets from them, and then deciding not to go… Other than realizing that traveling to London for a weekend was more expensive that my poor college-student-self could afford, and Fifth Third thinking I was not in France and putting a hold on my card, things have still been going really well.

I went out with the girls from my program on Valentine’s to a restaurant on the road we have deemed “the cute cobblestone road.” I tried duck for the first time, and it was delicious! The only way I could think to describe it to my friends was if a cow and a chicken had a baby, but it was different. They didn’t understand. We had champagne with dinner, and then walked to a gelato shop. Not a very romantic Valentine’s Day, but at least our waiter was cute! We have also found this little crêperie that we have gone to two Saturdays in a row. We went to a karaoke bar with a bunch of people from school this weekend. No one from our group actually got to sing though, because the wait was so long. It was really funny to hear people sing songs in English with thick accents though.

Today I had lunch with my host-family, and came back up to have a crêpe snack. I also got a French reading and pronunciation lesson with the eldest daughter (she is eight). It was actually really helpful, and I think we are going to try to do it several more times. When my lesson was over, we played the French version of the game of “Life.” It was an edition from when the parents were children, and used francs instead of the euro. I also played (and lost) several rounds of Uno. Then I met up with some friends for Kabobs in town.

Saint Pierre Church in
Downtown Caen.

I still have the nasty little habit of pretending I understand what people are saying in French, when in fact I don’t have a clue. I tend to smile a lot and repeat oui, and hope I didn’t miss anything important. Sadly, or luckily depending on how you look at it, my host-mom has caught on and now asks me questions to ensure I actually understood and wasn’t just lying. However, I know my comprehension is getting better even if only a little, and I am starting to gain more confidence to admit defeat and to ask clarifying questions when I am confused. It is also lucky that I can talk to my roommate in Spanish, when I am at a loss for words in French (which is most of the time).  It does feel a little bit like cheating though when I do. I figure it’s okay to though, because:

                    A.     It isn’t English.

                    B.     Practicing Spanish will help me not fail all my Spanish classes next semester.

All in all, France is a huge success. Especially now that I have discovered these little caramel custard cups at the grocery. They taste like little flans, and I have become officially obsessed. But I do miss Mexican/TexMex food. My friends and I had a Taco Night, but it just isn’t the same. The seasoning of food here is much milder than at home, and nothing is very spicy. Plus there is no queso here. I still can’t figure out how people here are living without it.