Day 2

It's Tuesday, September 9, and this is my second day in Paris. Yesterday I arrived chez Douville around noon, after taking a taxi from the airport. The cabbie insisted that there was no street by the name of Alphand, but I was certain there was. It didn't help that my ears wouldn't pop so it felt like I had cotton stuffed in them, which made it even harder to talk to people. I gave him the Douvilles' number and he called Catherine, the mom, who explained where to go.

Once I got there, Lionel (the father) was waiting for me. The house is a tall, skinny building inside a small courtyard with a gate. If you've ever been inside a medieval castle, that's a lot what the stairs resemble. They're wood, but nearly spiral and small enough to make me worry that my suitcase wasn't going to fit. Mathilde and her boyfriend live on the first floor of the building (in a separate apartment, I think) but I think there's another flight of stairs that leads to a basement or something because that's where Lionel spends most of his time. Once you walk up the first flight of stairs at the entrance is where the Douville house itself begins. The first floor of the house has the bathroom, kitchen, dining room, and master bedroom. The stairs continue up to the second floor where my bedroom, Aurelie's bedroom, and the living room are. The ceiling is sloped so it's a lot like being in an attic. My bed is lofted like a dorm room and there are two small couches and an desk under the loft. It may sound big, but there are no built-in closets, just an armoire and a dresser, but I've heard other people describe their rooms and mine sounds pretty nice, and it is. The desk especially. It also has a rolling chair, which is where I'm sitting as I type this. Bathrooms in France are divided up; the toilet is usually in its own room while the sink and shower are in another. My house is no exception, but in this case the toilet, sink, and washing machine are all in one room. Parisians (indeed, many French people) don't really have dryers (I haven't met anyone who does) but I think we might; either that or we have two washing machines, but it's impossible to tell.

Lionel immediately walked me over to one of the school buildings, which, as it turns out, is barely an eight minute walk from my house. I think the main building is a different story, though. I'll find out tomorrow because that's the first day I have to go there. Orientation has been fairly boring and I'm confident I didn't miss anything too important on Friday or Monday morning. We had crab profiteroles (which look exactly like cream puffs, but with crab), duck leg with glazed turnips, and chocolate mousse for lunch at the center, which was delicious. After everything was over, I had to find my way back home, but after that happened last time I was in France, I was prepared. I walked back instead of taking the metro like Lionel suggested simply because I didn't feel like getting a metro card, although he seemed impressed that I found my way back on foot.

I meet Aurelie and her boyfriend Alex yesterday. They're both really nice, although the "r" in Aurelie is diffficult for me to pronounce, and Alex introduced himself as "Alexander" with emphasis on the "r," but Catherine referred to him as Alex, so I think I'll do the same. Aurelie says I can call her Aurel if that's easier. We went to some market to get bread and juice for breakfast, and Aurelie had me lead part of the way home so I can learn my way around. Her favorite TV show is "Les Freres Scott," (the Scott brothers), also known as One Tree Hill in the States. She also wanted to know if I watched 7th Heaven, and I said when I was little I used to. I didn't feel bad though; today when I told her I was going to take a nap she said only old people like her grandparents did that. She also has a cat named Cooky whom she's obsessed with. She and Alex go to the same school for accounting and last night was their one year anniversary, so they went out for dinner.

We had our language placement test today and got put into groups according to proficiency. I don't know what level group I'm in because they're not going to say, "dummy group" or "smart group," but the director of the program is my leader, so I'm nervous that it might be a difficult one. It's impossible to say because I think the test went well, but I certainly didn't ace it, and I hope I don't get put into a hard group because of some good guesses! The directions baffled me because one part would say "encerclez" (circle) your answers, then the next section would say "cochez (faites une croix sur la feuille)", which means "make a cross on the paper." So... I was supposed to make a cross on the multiple choice letter that I thought was correct? I was like, is this one of those genius tests to see if you're reading the directions, or is this some crazy French thing? And the sections kept switching it up, so I was really confused.

For lunch we had cold pureed mushroom soup with a piece of bacon, a fish puree with "bacon chips" which exactly resembled thick potato chips, and some disgusting berry souffle. I don't know what we ate for dinner, it was rice with meatballs and some kind of cooked pepper mixture. In France you eat your food in this order: melon (or some kind of fruit), then the main dish, then cheese, then salad (or maybe salad then cheese, I'm not sure), then dessert, which can be fruit, crepes, mousse, yogurt, or something of the like. I cut off a tiny slice of cheese because I wasn't very hungry, and they teased me about it. I'm not good at telling when French people are kidding, so they usually have to explain themselves.

Aurelie and I watched "Les Freres Scott" after she got home from school, and I met Mathilde for the first time. She seems very nice and invited me to play badminton with her on Mondays with her club. I was briefly introduced to her boyfriend the first day I was here but I didn't catch his name.

Lionel has told everyone in his family how he told me about (what I think is an upcoming) trip to Los Angeles, and I didn't understand where he was going because he couldn't pronounce "Los Angeles" or "San Francisco." He's asked me about ten times to repeat it so he can say it properly. They also insist that I pronounce my name the French way when I introduce myself, which I actually am not a fan of. They can say it however they would like, but I would prefer to refer to myself how I choose to. My family is really nice, but they correct me all the time. This is probably grammatical karma for me constantly correcting others in English, but it will probably get old if it happens all the time. It's good to know the proper way to say things, but sometimes I know I know and they know what I'm saying, but I can't pronounce it correctly and they'll try to help, but it's hard. I suffer from very poor pronounciation and I have a bad accent.

I knew that Europeans aren't big smilers, but I need to work on my straight face. No one smiles at each other in the street, and the program staff were adamant that we Americans learn to stop smiling at strangers. I did it this morning when I opened my front gate and make eye contact with some woman. French people aren't unfriendly, but they won't go up to you and make small talk. A man almost bumped into me while turning a corner and said "Pardon" and I wasn't sure how to react. Should I ignore it? Make eye contact and smile to say, "No problem?" Or say the French "no problem," which would be something like "Pas de probleme" or "C'est pas grave." I'm always hesitant to draw attention to my Americanness and saying anything is a dead giveaway. So I kind of ignored him and hoped I hadn't been overly rude. Next time I'll say the French "no problem." The urge to smile politely at everyone is still really strong.

All of the Americans I've met so far are really nice. My classes don't start until Sept. 22nd, so I have a while before I actually start school. Right now I've got orientation and language group classes (which I think are just to get us in the French groove). The staff is busy trying to arrange academic meetings to schedule classes, which is probably why we don't start school for so long.