Today was yet another French holiday: Pentecost!! Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when I actually have to go to an entire semester of classes without having at least one or two four day weekends. Of course, not having classes on Fridays really is the way to go. If you can ever not have classes on a Friday, or maybe even a Monday, go for it.
Yesterday morning Jess and I went for a two hour bike ride to Betton, a suburb to the north. There’s a good-sized marché there every weekend and we wanted to look around for a little bit. Luckily we didn’t take any money along, otherwise I would have really been tempted to buy a watch and a pair of jasmine pants. The style is getting really popular here, and though it hurts my insides to want something that everyone else has, you have to admit that it would be super cool to have a pair of Jasmine pants with sequins embroidered into the belt. Maybe it will be a project for when I get home this summer and have nothing to do…
After the marché and the end of our ride Sophia pulled herself away from her homework and came to my house for lunch, which was the rest of the fruit salad from the night before, the yoghurt that the boys had left in my fridge, and vanilla wafers and a little bit of chocolate. Should I use this moment to say that I really miss vegetables? I eat so many potatoes and so much bread…I think I’m going to be a temporary vegetarian when I get home, just so I can cleanse my body of all the starch and carbs and other junk I’ve been putting in my body this semester. It’s not that the food is unhealthy; it’s actually fresher than most everything that we eat in the states. But when half your meal is potato and the other half is meat and bread and salted butter, you start to wonder why one of the first foods you learned in French was “green beans”.
When lunch was done we walked to Jessica’s house, I took the bike, and we watched Mary Poppins in French. The voices, we were rather surprised to notice, were done very well. We’re used to French dubbing picking the worst, most annoying voices to perform. It seems that in the years of Mary Poppins the standards were much higher. I rode home after that, didn’t get a huge hello from my returned parents, and took a shower. Afterwards I went out on the terrace and was reading. I tried to start a conversation with Elisabeth, but she didn’t really jump on the opportunity. I’m so confused. So they think that I don’t talk enough…but when I start a conversation, they don’t…respond in full. Ok. Whatever. They really expect me to start sharing my heart and dreams and frustrations with them? Elisabeth still doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not going to be a journalist, even though I’m sure I’ve explained about 10 times that I hate reporting. Then again, this really is a French thing. The French do NOT study one thing and go and do another. This is one thing I’ve discovered while here. It’s like my grandmother thinking that I’m studying to be the pretty face that reads a teleprompter…uh…no way. I’d rather encourage children to be fairies and pirates, thanks very much.
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