Virtually Home

Here's why (with an apology in advance for any of my previous high school teachers who are reading this blog and may be offended by association, though I don't think that's likely to happen): NO ONE brought a computer to class. Almost as if they weren't allowed to. I'm glad I didn't, I would have looked like that silly American. People talked over what the professor was saying. Students tried to leave, repeatedly, five minutes before the lecture ended and had to be reminded that there was still time left. The desks were covered in graffiti -- "your mom" jokes and anarchy symbols mostly -- and all of this graffiti was in English. My favorite so far was a drawing of a smurf in blue ballpoint pen. I had five solid hours of class (not even any breaks -- a class would end at the same moment a new one was supposed to start, so I was always late but no one cared) with a lunch break that was too short to buy any food from the cafeteria. I went to my lin...

I didn't very well succeed at making my sleeping/waking schedule school-compatible in advance. As I was trying to go to sleep 7 hours "early" last night, I was struck by the memory of standing in my parents' kitchen, trying in vane to argue with my mother about my new school-year bed time. I was short enough I couldn't see into the microwave mounted over the stove, but I'm not really sure what that means. What I do know is that the night before last I went to bed at 7 a.m., and this morning I woke up at 8. Yes, this morning's wake-up time was last night's going to sleep time, give or take "snooze" a few times. It wasn't very fun, but all things considered I think I got more sleep last night than I really expected to. I woke up so early to go to campus because I thought "hey, I have no idea when my classes meet -- what if they meet in the morning? then I'd miss them!" My flaw with this thinking was in the belief that by g...

Match facial piercings of the passengers. For some reason there are a lot more people with facial piercings who ride the B line than there seem to be in the general Bordeaux population. Even-numbered sets earn a point. Watch people's eyes dart back and forth when they look out the window. This is also good for cars. Count kebab stands and laundromats as we go by. Watch bikers who are riding parallel with the train, and if applicable, count how many times the tram passes or is passed. Listen to children tell elaborate and enthusiastic stories to their bored guardians. Children are easiest to understand because they speak very directly, with limited vocabulary, and with plenty of expressive facial expressions, vocal intonations, and gestures.

Rollerblading. Both as a means of transportation and for recreation. There are definitely more rollerbladers at the skate park at any given time than BMXers or skateboarders. Wearing one's sweater tied over one's shoulders. And while this is a super preppy thing to do in the States, it seems that people from all different social...I don't want to say castes...circles? Do it with impunity. Céline Dion.

Today, I went to the university to try and figure out when my classes are actually going to be held, since school starts on Monday. I thought that by waiting until Friday I had behaved in a remarkably laid-back and French-compatible manner, and that surely, by now, everything was sorted out and communicated to, at the very least, the International Relations office, which would help me in my quest. What I found was a room with a table of schedules, unlabeled, sent from different departments, containing only that department's schedule. They were not even in a stack. They were scattered in no discernible order. This system is, evidently, not a problem at all for real French kids, because when they pick a major they take all the classes (and not really any others) on the agenda, at the same time as everyone else with their major, and that's that. For one such as me? Not going to work so well. Luckily for me, none of the four departments I have preliminarily aligned myself with ...

I will start by saying that this is the only photo I have from Amsterdam. It was a delicious pizza, and the photo illustrates an interesting quality of European pizzas, which is that not every slice is guaranteed to have all the ingredients you might have ordered on a single pizza. I particularly enjoyed the artistry of the ascending triangles of sliced ham on the left side overlayed by the more organic shapes of the onions. However, as "only" photos go? I probably should have tried to get some shots of the actual city with my phone. Every time I was outside it was cold and raining and I had other concerns, like not being run over by bicycles. So I will backtrack and start from the beginning. Alex and I left for Amsterdam on Saturday morning. The train left at 8:30 a.m., which meant leaving around 7:40 to take the two tram lines to Gare St. Jean. It should be noted that this was about 4 hours earlier than I've been waking up lately, and only two and a half hours after ...

People do not appear to fix their dogs in this country. And yes, I am the sort of person who notices these things. Amsterdam in the morning.