And they didn't want to kill us afterall

The other day in a class I was sitting in on, a bunch of Frenchies came up to us ("us" = us four American students) and us that they were all hanging out later, and why don't we come, what's your number?

That night (this was after the Monday that almost killed my brain) we met up at a bar, there was like 20-something of them huddled around three tables pushed together. When they first invited us I was a little weirded out. It seemed random, maybe they were rounding us up to guillotine us or something? (I have low expectations when it comes to humanity, clearly). 

But it was actually really fun, really chill. We struggled with our French, they didn't laugh at us, they lied and said our French wasn't that bad. 

I come from the land of "hey, we should get a coffee sometime...*three weeks later and no coffee*."So getting an invitation by a group of people who follow through, and quickly, is kind of nice. Their invite actually means something. 

It probably seems really boring to you. To be honest I feel like I'm having a hard time conveying all the awesome things here (par contre, I'm doing quite an accurate job writing about all the bad things here, oh Jackson School, you only taught me how to critique). Sorry, I guess you gotta come here and see it yourself!

The day I learned my room isn't so small afterall

You people saw the pictures/video, you read the rant, you know my dorm room is pretty dang tiny.

One of our profs, out of curiosity, had the people staying in Triolet raise their hands in class.

"Oh...je suis tres desolée" (I'm very sorry) she said with the kind of look you give someone after they tell you their dog just died.

But last night I was proven that not only is the room big enough for me, but it's big enough for two people.

Context: every Tuesday there's trivia at a bar called Shakespeare and it's sort of become a little tradition to go, try, and lose the game. It's fun. I'm not big on going to bars back home (shocker!), so it might be the same, but there seem to be two bar experiences: sit down, buy a beer, and hang out with people talking for a while (ie Shakespeare). And then there's the take-shots-get-drunk-make-a-fool-out-of-yourself, get-approached-by-creepy-old-men, be-really-loud, have-conversations-that-will-be-forgotten-in-the-morning (except by the sober ones) kind of experiences. (To be more accurate, at least from what I've seen in our group, it's more like get drunk on the stairs in front of the dorm with 2 euro wine, and then go to the bar and getting shots).

If I must to go to a bar (which, here, seems to be the only real place to hang out), I prefer the former.

Anyways, she wanted to go but she also didn't want to sleep on the street afterwords (her host family lives far away, and the trams stop running there at night), so she stayed here. I felt horrible because the floor is rock-hard, all we had were a few towels and a bed sheet she used as a blanket.

But it worked...sort of. Neither one of us got much sleep, her for obvious reasons, me...well I have no excuse, I just couldn't sleep. I had to do that thing where I hold me head up with my hands and my eyes open with my fingers, or tilt my head back hoping that maybe gravity can hold my eyelids back. I don't know, I tried to get creative.

It was worth it though, it was fun. Met some cool people, did that three cheek kiss thing. Lots of laughing. Fun times.I already wish I could stay the whole year.

Kumquats

Today I won the game of life a little bit.

I found Kumquat trees!! I don't think I can overemphasize how much I love finding edible things outside, it's one thing I really miss about home. Here we have lots of olives (can't eat those raw though), there are a few pomegranate trees, and fig trees, lots of fig trees.  

I was so excited this morning I told the first person I saw. 

"A Kumquat? What is that?" 

She didn't share my excitement. I told other people, similar reactions. 

GUYS! KUMQUATS! This is in the special section at Safeway! This is free fruit. "Here, try one"

*sour face* "I don't know, I want it more sweet."

Whatever, more for me, you people don't know good things. 

I found them inside a building, actually. We walk through a different campus to get to our university (it's small), and in one of the buildings there's an outside area, just a little square, and since I'm constantly looking for food in trees like a cave woman, I noticed orange things handing off. Apricots? Nope. Kumquats. 

It was a little weird when I walked back in, pockets full, and a professor asked me if he could help me find something, because normal students don't wander into dead-ends knowingly. No no, I am exactly where I want to be, thank you very much.

First day of classes...PTSD

I feel like my brain has been violated. Like it went to work today and was sexually harassed by its boss and has no idea how to deal with the situation.

Let me give some context: the first two weeks of classes we're allowed to take whatever classes we want in order to test them out, so naturally almost all of us are choosing to take a few more than we need, at least for now. I'm taking eight or nine.

I got up at six, went for a run, got ready, left my dorm at 8, walked over with a few people, got coffee number one, tried to talk to the history department people to see if I could sign up for classes, failed to talk to the history people to see if I could sign up for classes, went to class at 9:45.

Comparative political systems. Great class, surprisingly I understood most of it just fine. The professor asked the international students to raise their hands, "okay, French students make sure to help them," he said, "and I will try to talk slow." There was a French student I knew, and a bunch of other really great people I talked to during the break. But the prof also told us the class would be difficult for international students, and it's a three-hour long lecture. And it overlaps with another class I was planning to take, which would probably count towards my major, something about populations and health.

So I left early and headed over to that class. The seats looked like they had come out of a church, the desks were covered in graffiti, some (pretty impressive) carvings of Lenin and Stalin along with the communist symbol, an all-caps HELP, a poem, etc. etc. All in all, signs that the courses taught in that class are painfully dull. And dull it was.

We looked at a map. For two hours. A map of the world, and the more populated areas were represented by specs of yellow. Where is there more yellow? Why is there more yellow? This is the population here, this is the population there. What about the peripheries, why is there more yellow there?

Why, bald French man who pronounces his T's in a way that makes it hard for me to understand you, why must you do this at us? Stop, please stop.

Before the class started he pointed at our bench (i.e. the bench that us four Americans were sitting at) and asked us our names, where we are from.

"Ola"

"Encore?"

"Ola. O-L-A."

And he just sort of waved his hand at me, which to my knowledge is the universal sign for "eh, screw it, it't not worth it," turned around and kept going. Uh...okay. I don' really like my name either but at least I respect it.

In conclusion: boring, not worth it, and, although I'll probably regret it when I get back to the UW and have to take more classes to finish up the major, I don't think I'll take it.

Next: go to Andree and ask her how to sign up for the Comparative Politics class. I went with a friend and sat in a chair. Andree comes out, takes one look at me: "Here we go again, what do you need this time? You can't come see me every day, as you can see we're too busy," and she quickly speed-walked out to go to the bathroom or something.

I did say Andree and Judith are blunt, didn't I?

But we waited and waited, talked to a French-speaking Canadian, waited some more, finally got in only to be told that we can't do it online, we need to talk to the professor whose class we had rudely left halfway through. Okay Andree, sure, why not. I'm not really expecting anything to work in a civilized fashion here anyways.

Then I ran over to the international student common area, where I was supposed to meet a girl to discuss plans for our week off an hour before (sorry), didn't get a chance to talk, walked to get a sandwich, the place was out of sandwiches, so I got some weird pastry thing with tomato sauce and onions in it, then headed over to our next class.

Next class was a grammar class, one of the classes reserved for English-speaking students. It's in a portable which slightly resembles a port-a-potty if you look at it from afar, and it conducts heat like crazy.

One good thing I have to point out though, before I continue on with my little rant thing, the class is right next to a fig tree, so I ate those, which was great. That's one thing I miss about home, being able to go for a walk and just pick fruit wherever I go.

Moving on: we sat in the class for an hour and a half. I was dehydrated, and at this point I was so sick of classes I wanted to punch someone. But alas, it was not over, I still had a history lecture to go to. Now, at this point I became convinced that having people talk at me in French while I sat and listened was some sort of modern form of torture.

I walked in a little late to the history class because here, all the classes end at the same time as all the classes start, because apparently the French have mastered teleportation.

Within the first minute I gave up. It was at this point, an old man standing in front of me, spelling the names of all the books we would need (because why email a list out when you can recite it all for half an hour), that I felt my brain turn to mush, and I kept looking over at the other girls from my program taking that class and laughing a little bit, because I'm pretty sure if I didn't laugh I would cry. To be honest it stopped feeling like reality, I thought I was dreaming.

I couldn't really leave, that would be rude, so I took out my tablet and read my book with the sound of the prof's voice in the background.

And then I got out, and I was free. And now, I feel like I need to sleep forever. Today...what the frick just happened?

Pre-Stage is Ending?

On Saturday all of those who signed up to do home stays or managed to find an apartment will leave Triolet, and a bunch of other students will move in. As Judith put it, it's the end of our "cocoon stage."

It's actually making me pretty sad. The past few weeks we've basically owned Batimant C of Triolet. If I heard someone walking or talking, chances were they were part of our group. If I needed something I would just mosey on over to their room, if I was bored I would go see if there was a group on the "stoop" I could talk to or if there was anyone cooking in one of the kitchens. If people were going out I would somehow hear about it and go with them.

It's really frustrating, actually, I can't quite describe it and I wish I could. I suppose it's a little like going to summer camp. You're forced to interact with all these random students from different social groups and somehow you forma bond.

But it's not quite that. We're all sharing this one really special, weird experience, struggling with the same annoying pitfalls, seeing amazing things together. It takes no effort, like friendships usually do as we get older. You don't have to sift through your schedule to find an hour to "catch up over some coffee," or awkwardly try to text someone. Everyone is just here, and you just talk. Or you don't and you talk the next day.

And the one thing that I think I mentioned before but that continues to baffle me is the social dynamic here. There are people in this group I would have never thought twice to talk to had I met them in any other situation. Ever. I would have written them off right off the bat as "not my type" and moved on. Yet that doesn't happen here. You talk to people in their rooms for hours, you walk back with others from downtown late at night, you talk to people in the kitchens.

We've known each other for weeks yet I feel like I know their personalities better than those of people I've been talking to at the UW for years. (I'm sure it helps that almost everyone here has been pretty drunk at least a few times. Now I know one way to make friends: go to random bars and drink with people, people get very, very friendly).

It's like going back to grade school, where you spend all day with the same people, but people that have grown out of their jerk stages (elementary school and junior high) and their awkward stages (junior high and high school).

I have no idea if I'm being clear, but I tried.

Sadly, everyone leaves soon, so it'll go back to having to exert effort to stay in contact, new people will live next to me, the dorms will be loud and filled with people I don't know, no random going out. It's probably better, I won't be speaking English all the time anymore.

As a last "hoorah" today we had a sort of communal picnic near the statue of Louis XIV and got to watch the sun set.

There was bread and cheese and wine (there is always, always wine) and some weird but awesome chicken spread stuff and Nutella. There was tree climbing and talking and bubbles and overall it was great, but I couldn't help being a little sad knowing that in a couple of days this very unique time in all our lives will end. It's been an exhausting few weeks, but I sort of want it to just stay like this forever.

France...do better

Yesterday and today were just.... oh my goodness. If being a stressful day was a sport, today and yesterday would be going to the Olympics.

Yesterday I went to bed really late, then I had a weird dream that all the other exchange students were watching me sleep, and I woke up at 4:00am and couldn't fall back asleep for a while, so my alarm clock ended up failing to wake me up, or, as I like to remember it (and as my professor heard it) my alarm clock didn't go off that morning. 

I was 45 minutes late. I missed a test. I was so exhausted it rivaled the time a few weeks ago I got sick in Poland and thought I was dying. Whenever me or my sister would prop our heads up at the dinner table, my mom would ask "is your head too heavy for your neck"? For once I could have honestly answered yes. I was holding my head up with my arm and my eyelids open with my fingers. Then five minutes before class: "We're going to end class five minutes early so your colleague can take her test."

Thanks prof. Thanks for announcing that. Walking in in the middle of class wasn't mortifying enough.

Then there were two hours of presentations, and then we had a meeting with Judith, she and Andree organize the program. They are...they're very blunt, let's just leave it at that.  

I can't overemphasize how exhausted I was. It didn't help that it was really, really hot, even for Montpellier. Which is pretty dang hot. It also didn't help that I didn't have coffee that morning. 

I had our final the next day (today), which stressed me out, but even worse was classes. 

Oh France....oh boy. The classes. I heard the horror stories before I came here. The process of looking for classes left me thinking: Can you believe this country almost became the world power? Thank God for England, because, sorry France, but you would have just screwed everything up (well...even worse). I didn't know a country could be this disorganized and still be considered part of the "first world." 

Maybe I'm being too dramatic. But probably not. Back to that in a second. 

I then took (another) shower, because, as I said, it was hot, and deodorant fails here, and I smelled horrible. Then I laid down on my bed, still in my towel, and fell asleep on accident for almost two hours. After which I woke up and started stressing . Went upstairs to talk to a friend because he had it figured out a little better, and we sat upstairs for hours looking for classes. 

Classes here. Are. Death. Not the classes themselves, but finding them. I will never complain about the UW again. I will return and kiss the UW ground. We have it good. 

Here? I believe the word clusterf*** is reserved for these situations. There are five UFRs, departments basically. Each UFR is designed completely differently, because they do not cooperate, as Judith put it, they all think they're special. Each UFR is comprised of different smaller departments. Some departments have a class listing. Some have the class but no time or day. Some have the time and day but not the number of credits. Some have the books needed listed, some do not.

The one thing, the one and only thing these class lists have in common: they are nearly impossible to find.

Another problem: most of the RI classes (quick note: two types of classes: regular integrated ones, same as all the frenchies, and RI classes, in French, but specifically for Anglophones) require that we know what level we place in, which we won't know until tomorrow, so we have no idea what RI classes we'll be in, so we have to plan around that. That probably made no sense... in conclusion, it's complicated. The first two weeks we can move around a lot, so we also have to "sign up" for more classes than we intend on taking. 

Listen, I'm no internet whiz, I'm like and old person when it comes to anything technological, but finding a place, where a nice person has given the name and code of a class, the professor, number of credits and the time schedule should not be something that takes hours and hours and hours. Turns out that to get the full list and all the information for each class, one must go to each separate UFR building, where the information is allegedly posted, and look at the information which is tacked to the wall. And so we slowly unravel the mystery of the skinny French person: they smoke away their appetite, and they're so inefficient every task burns five times more calories.  

Because sticking a piece of paper. In a scanner. Posting it online. Is. So. Hard. 

First world country? I think not. More like...one and a half world country. What is this, the middle ages, come on France, do better. 

Don't even get me started on registration. Each class is different. Some classes you sign up online like a civilized human (but I don't think you do it yourself, someone does it for you, unless I understood wrong which is very possible), some you go to class and write your name on a piece of paper... like a savage. 

Right now I have this personified vision of France in my head: France is like that one kid that just keeps screwing up. Like...the parents kind of love it, but they also are a little ashamed of it and try not to bring it to parties. 

Anyways, that's registration here. It sucks.

Then today happened. I managed to get up on time, go to class and take a final that I had been too stressed out to study for and totally botched it. I turned it in, lowered my head, turned around and sadly walked away. So that was fun. 

After that I tried to go to the different UFRs and see their class list, after a half hour I was so overwhelmed I speed-walked over to a bathroom and proceeded to have a slight panic attack. Tried again, failed again, called someone and asked if she would do it with me. Thank God for these people. 

I went back to my room, ate things out of cans on bread (a sandwich...I think? But not quite.What do you call chickpeas on bread dipped in pre-made box soup?), went to said person's room, then went up to his room, and once again: Thank God for these people. He had made a genius spreadsheet that another genius girl had showed him how to do, which made everything so much easier. 

That is so beautiful to me, you have no idea. I don't know if I made my level of frustration clear above, but this calmed me down more than you can imagine. A small group of us sat in a room for a couple hours listening to music and working on it. I felt a hundred pounds lighter after that. 

And yet...and yet, despite the bureaucracy, the stupid barely-functioning system, the annoying way they do everything ("of course it doesn't make sense, if it made sense we wouldn't be in France" has been uttered by and/or to almost everyone here at least once) I'm glad I'm here. I still like it. 

What do you call that feeling you get after studying really hard for five hours straight, your brain feels fried and you're not sure whether to laugh or cry?

Whatever you call it, it feels the same as when you spend almost five hours running around in ninety something degree heat doing all sorts of administrative things in a language you only half-speak after three hours of class.

I went back to my dorm after class, ate food (tuna salad! Bam! REAL food, made it myself. It's a big deal), ran to make a photocopy of my ID photo (in which I seem to be both very angry and very sad), ended up making like 20, so now I have more unattractive photos of me than I could ever want.

Order of business number 2: getting a medical exam so I could sign up for sports here. Luckily I had gone during our class break to ask what time the medical evaluations start, so I was able to squeeze in an appointment today. "How much time will this take?" "Oh...about twenty minutes."

Rule #1: never believe the French. It took an hour and a half. First I saw a nurse, who was one of the nicest people I ever met (I kind of want to get sick so I can talk to her again). And she said my French is good, which made me happy. Good relative to what? I don't know, but I'll take it. Weighed me, checked my vision, my height, spent ten minutes explaining how to say contact lenses in French and why they are called what they are called, am I eating a balanced diet (...yeeaaaah, sure, random stuff out of cans and pre-made soup counts, right?) am I feeling okay, etc. etc. Then I had to wait to talk to the doctor. And I waited and waited.

She finally called me in, talked to me a bit, told me to lay down on a table, basically took my shirt off. I guess the French personal bubble is much smaller than the American personal bubble. Then I did squats in a corner which was strange. Anyways, details aren't important, the important thing is that I did it, and tomorrow I'll have to elbow my way through a crowd of anxious French students to get a spot in the sports I want. They have rock climbing (and they go outside once a week!) so I want to do that and maybe one other one, we'll see if there's room.

Order of business number 3: put money on my French bank account that I opened a week ago. So I walked there, did my thing, couldn't make it work, asked a lady who then helped me, finally walked back to my dorm. And here I am, and it's somehow 5:30 (I'm sorry: 17:30). Took a shower because I smell like cow. I'll say it once and I'll say it again: deodorant has nothing on the Mediterranean sun. It always stinks like feet and armpits.

So yes, lots of stuff today. I think I'm finally nearing the end of all the paperwork (knock on wood and fingers crossed).

My morning run is better than your morning run

Let's not kid ourselves, I haven't had a chance to run much here. "Haven't had a chance" being code for "have been too lazy to." But today I finally got my butt up in the morning to go out, and it was fantastic. For one thing, it wasn't a million degrees like it is all the time here, so Seattle-me was happy.

I ran downtown, through the Promenade de Peyrou where I said good morning to Louis XIV, Saint Clement Aqueduct, and got to watch the sun rise over the Arc de Triomph . No big deal.

http://www.panoramio.com/photo/47781031

http://journeyaroundtheglobe.com/europe/france/montpellier/

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Promenade_du_Peyrou_Montpellier.jpg

http://journeyaroundtheglobe.com/europe/france/montpellier/

http://www.pays-monde.fr/france-restaurant-montpellier-10.html

It was pretty awesome, one of those moments where I remembered "wow, I'm actually in France!" 

In conclusion: my morning run is better than yours. 

The Sausage Doughnut is really...

Source http://zapan99.deviantart.com/art/sausage-donut-round-about-99613967

I found out what the Sausage Doughnut really is. Something tells me I'm the only one who cares in the slightest (it welcomes me home everyday, so it's sort of like the family dog), but I'm going to tell you anyways. It's really supposed to be a balance between the masculine and feminine. Really changes the way you see the "doughnut" and the "sausage," doesn't it?

Grotte de Clamouse et Saint-Guilhem-Le-Désert

Since my last post a few...interesting things have happened, but, sadly, it would be rude to publish it for the world to see. (Oh look we're 10 again: "I have a secret but I can't tell you.")

So I'll move on to talking about our next excursions: Grotte de Clamouse and Saint-Guilhem-Le-Désert. Both really awesome, and they would have been even more awesome had I gotten more than four hours of sleep the night before.

I think I've made it pretty clear that my study habits haven't quite been the same here as they were at the U back home. Homework is sort of optional, going out takes precedence over studying, my notes tend to be 75% doodles and 25% words. (And I'm still one of the more boring nerdy ones here. "You don't get drunk? You don't do pot? What in the world do you do for fun?!" I watch you drunk people and laugh at the things you won't remember you said tomorrow is what I do).

Anyhow, I was going to spend Saturday night working on a presentation I had today, but then one of the girls asked me if I wanted to come celebrate her 21st birthday with her. At first I said sure. Then I said no I have too much to do.Then another girl, let's call her "Extroversion Personified," half-forced me to go after I happened to wander into the first floor kitchen where her and a few others were making a family dinner (some of which I helped myself to, my food is so gross it was awesome to have some real cooking for once).

"I want to but I need to be a nerd and work on my presentation." "You are in Montpellier," she said, hand on my shoulders looking right at my eyes, "when you go home you won't remember studying, you'll remember having an awesome time going out. It's what's-her-face's birthday, we need to help her celebrate." No, I suppose knowing each other's names isn't a necessary factor of friendships here.

So I was convinced to go, then I and Extroversion Personified convinced the one guy that was going to actually get work done, let's call him Studious Poli-Sci Major, to go. She gave him the same speech and I whined that he was making me feel bad about being a bad student. ("you're turning me into a bad person" I seem to be telling a lot of people here lately). Then another guy stumbled out of his room after just waking up and she made him go too. It was confusing for him.

"You going out?" "Out where?" "To celebrate what's-her-face's birthday" "I just woke up, I don't really want to" "Do I need to give you the Montpellier speech? Put on some pants, we'll wait for you."

So the group slowly grew, we finally went out to an Irish bar. Details aren't really important to the story: in conclusion I came home late, stayed up late doing the presentation, and woke up early to work on it a bit, thus I was tired. (Yes, I know, that whole story probably wasn't necessary).

First we went to the Grotte de Clamouse.

"A not-to-be-missed tourist site in the south of the France, in the heart of the Hérault Gorges, Clamouse is one of the most visited caves in France and gives an exceptional opportunity to discover and understand the underground environment. The site is in the process of being classed as a World Heritage Site by Unesco. Clamouse offers guided tours covering almost 1 km to help you discover the science of the underground world including: galleries and huge caverns hollowed out over time by the underground river, exceptional formations, a son et lumière show called “Cathedral of Time” by C. Guyard" according to their website."


My camera sucks at night/in the dark, so I decided to steel some photos/YouTube footage offline and just put some of my videos up. 

This video kind of does it justice, sorry there's so much talking in it:

And a bunch of not-my-pictures:

http://orx2.my.tripper-tips.com/photo/grotte-de-la-clamouse-700-3065.jpg

http://www.herault-location-vacances.com/images/clamouse.jpg

http://blog.sitesdexception.fr/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Cr%C3%A9ditPhoto@Grotte-de-Clamouse.jpg

http://d4.img.v4.skyrock.net/8740/62678740/pics/2559397347_small_1.jpg

http://www.monjardinenville.com/images/grotte-de-clamouse.jpg

http://www.gites-lac-salagou.com/images_photo/Grotte_de_Clamouse_193_lightbox.jpg

http://villesvillages.free.fr/ccc/clamouse/images/clamouse00.JPG

http://www.id2sorties.com/privileges/chasse-au-tresor-dans-la-grotte-de-clamouse-st--18102011104136.jpg

And a few that I took:

Outside of the entrance

Fish. Blind fish. There were also salamanders on the other side who didn't have eyes at all. 

At one point there was a light show, you can see part of it in the end of the video above

Afterword we went to Saint-Guilhem-Le-Désert for a few hours to have lunch. It was the more adorable little village/town ever. 

Some information if anyone is interested:

http://www.metmuseum.org/collections/search-the-collections/472181

https://sacredsites.com/europe/france/saint_guilhem_le_desert.html

Hot!!!

And then we went swimming at Le Point du Diable, which was amazing especially since it was 33 degrees outside. There's a bridge there that some people jump off of, and some boulders too, which would have been fun expect our grad student leaders would have killed us, put us on a baguette, and ate us. When we jumped off the rocks at le Pont Du Gard, one girl ended up with a burst eardrum. The program organizers were not happy, to put it lightly. 

So we swam, it was great. We went home, tired as always, ate food, I tried to work on my project and ended up just going to sleep. 

See the bridge there? A couple crazy people jumped off of it