So Many Weird Things Have Happened Since My Last Post

The Gym's Toilet May or May Not Be a Star Wars Droid

Last week, I joined the gym. I went there for the first time on Friday, but I'm not sure how much of a work-out I got, because I couldn't stop laughing. Because it's very entertaining to see beefy men pumping iron, & when a friend enters the room in the middle of their set, the friend comes over & they smile & kiss (twice), then immediately go back to grimacing & looking tough.

But the thing I like best about the gym is the toilet.

Let me explain. After some time of running the treadmill/chuckling to myself about how short the men's shorts are, I went to the bathroom. When it came time, I realized this toilet didn't have a "flusher" button in its usual spot. So as my eyes scanned around searching for the "flusher,"I was totally unprepared for what was about to happen.

The toilet moved. To be specific, a claw-like, plastic blue arm (very R2D2-like) reached out from the back of the toilet. This arm proceeded to grip the toilet seat & slowly turn it 360 degrees, all the while using some sort of wet brush underneath its palm to clean the seat. When it was done, it released the seat & turned on a light that chipperly said, "Clean!" Then R2D2's claw retreated back into its home in the heart of the toilet.

Wait, WHAT?!!?

This toilet was so bizarrely delightful that I went back & watched its performance 2 more times before I left that night.

Why I Worked Out for 3 Hours (not just because of the toilet)

When I joined the gym, I also signed up to have a personal trainer named Jean-Phillippe. I figured our first meeting together, we'd just to talk about a schedule, maybe discuss some injury history, maybe drink a banana smoothie from the gym's "Health Bar." So I made sure to get in a significant work-out before my meeting with him. Unfortunately, Jean-Phillippe planned on doing some serious cardio & weights that afternoon. I could've just told him sorry, I just ran 3 miles, but (much like that toilet) he seemed so chipper about doing his job that I didn't want to disappoint him. I basically had to log-roll myself home that night.

Overconfidence is Not a Good Thing When You're Skiing for the First Time. Oh, Especially when You're in the Alps.

I went skiing for the first time ever this weekend. My friend Laura had been skiing twice before, so she was able to give me a lesson. The lesson went something like this:

*LAURA: Okay, so when skiing, you want to make an S-pattern in the snow, going back & forth.

So if you want to go to the right, stick out your left leg. And vice versa.

*JESSIE: Okay cool. Wait, I'm stuck in this snow pile. Wait, I'm going backwarrrddssssss Lauraaaa what do I dooooo--

*LAURA: I don't know!!!!!!

The solution to everything seemed to be, "Stick out your leg!" But, aside from falling off the T-Bar lift thing the first time I tried...everything on the Bunny Slopes was going wonderfully. I really wasn't even falling down that much! Sticking out my leg was working great. So after 4-5 times down the Bunny Slope, I suggested we take the chair lift to the top & take the easiest possible trail back down.

A near-fatal mistake.

Well, it turns out that I was nowhere near qualified enough to do this trail. (This should've been obvious to everyone when I accidentally stayed on the ski lift about 7 seconds too long & had to clumsily jump off at what seemed to me a significant height.) This trail was narrow & steep & surrounded by trees. (Keep in mind, for the last week, I've watched my roommate comfort her family because her father hit a tree while skiing & now has significant memory impairment. So I was more than a little apprehensive.)

*JESSIE: Laura, I've changed my mind. I'm nowhere near ready for this. I don't think I can stick my foot out fast enough to take these turns.

*LAURA: You're out of luck, kiddo, this is the only way back down.

My Dear Readers: I tried. I really did. I got through half of the course, inching along, terrified.

Wait, did I mention that I didn't have any gloves?

So I was really cold, too (except during the intervals that Laura let me wear her gloves). And about halfway down the mountain, I encountered a particularly menacing hill. Going down this hill, my skis did something so awkward, bending my legs out at 90 degree angles, & I thought for a split second I'd broken something. I was fine, but it hurt badly enough for me to realize that this was a little insane. So I took off my skis & walked the rest of the way. It took me forever, & when I finally caught up to Laura at the finish line, I felt like a soldier returning from war, with my skis slung them over my soldier like a bayonet.

Suffice it to say, overconfidence is not a good quality when you're skiing in the Alps. All that aside, the Alps is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. That's such an understatement. I felt like I'd stepped into a Planet Earth episode. And if it weren't for the fact that my ski boots were 2 sizes too small (because I don't know how to convert European shoe sizes), I could've stood up there forever.

But Wait, Did I Mention that Our Bus Crashed?

Did I Mention our Bus Crashed TWICE?

Because it did। This weekend was a particularly tricky one to be driving through the Alps because it was snowing quite hard & some roads had been blocked off. On the way to the resort, we crashed into a snow bank on the side of the mountain (thus saving our lives but making me spill my lentil soup). A piece of the front bumper broke off & I saw them pick it up & nonchalantly toss it underneath with people's luggage. Then, on the way back down the mountain, while rounding a sharp turn, we hit another snow bank. This time the door half-way broke off, & it was flapping around in the wind. A group of guys had to rig together (with duct tape) a contraption that held the door on. Then we watched a French-dubbed version of Gladiator & everyone forgot about what a terrible driver we had.

1 Week since Vanderbilt Infiltration into France

Sexism & The City

The title of this is appropriate 2 reasons:

(1) We've been watching a lot of French-subtitled Sex & The City episodes here (specifically, the portion of the series where Carrie lives in France with her Russian boyfriend.)

(2) In terms of sexism, France is apparently still really sexist.

The first time I noticed this was last week, at the end of dinner with Madame & Monsieur Bach. We'd finished eating, so we all stood up to take the dishes into the kitchen. Monsieur Bach, however, stopped Marquise (the only male in the group) with an outstretched hand & said, "No, no, no, let the girls do it." Marquise sat back down & uncomfortably gave his armful of dishes to the nearest female student, continued their conversation while we cleaned up. It was a little thing, but it definitely surprised me. When I told my roommate about it, she just said knowingly, "Yeah, it's because France is so [profanity] sexist." 

The other thing I noticed is that girls aren't active here. They don't play sports or work out or anything. I mean, a couple girls' sports teams exist, but it's definitely not common, and it's usually just basketball (says Madame Bach). Soccer in particular is considered to be a masculine sport (it'd be like a girl in the States playing American football...which explains the surprised looks I got when I told some people that I'd played soccer for 14 years). As someone who gained so much self-confidence & self-discovery through sports, I find this really sad; and as a girl, I just find that unfair! Anyways, apparently that's why French women are so famously tiny: they have zero muscle mass!

Le Fete Obama

Yesterday, I was interviewed by a local journalist about what young Americans thought about Obama. I told them about the incredible energy & excitement that's been circulating among most campuses...how I've seen a recent shift in dynamics among young Americans. A couple of years ago we were extremely polarized, sitting in our dorm rooms telling stories about the Big Bad Republican/Democrat; now it seems like people are more sane, less extreme, more cooperative in general. That's my take on it, as someone who has voted for both Republicans & Democrats.

Tonight we're having a party at the Vanderbilt Center to watch the Inauguration. All of our French roommates are coming also, & everyone's been looking forward to it, even those who didn't vote Obama. Regardless of who you campaigned for, everyone recognizes this is a milestone in history that no one -- even the French -- wants to miss.

This Week I Realized...

-I'm going to risk sounding like a Toby Keith song right now, but...America actually IS a really awesome country. For the longest time I was someone who figured Europe did everything better than we did. And maybe they do some things better, I haven't decided yet. But we are so tolerant, so diverse, so creative, so influential, so good (relatively) with women's rights & human rights in general...and, as of tonight, we will have elected a black president. I'm proud of us! 

Je suis Ratatouille

"...This is where I live?"

I finally took a good long run by myself today. I know I said I'd never try again in Aix, because everyone stares at you; but I did try again, because I realized I don't really care if people stare--maybe I'll become some sort of local celebrity if I do it enough. So I found a series of hills to run. At the top I turned around to start heading home, & what I saw literally took my breath away. I was standing in the hills of France & could see the whole city below me; & I could see (for the first time) the mountains sitting sleepily behind the city, wrapped in the warm purpleness of the sunset. I stopped running & just stood there for several minutes smiling & thinking to myself incredulously, "This is where I live." 

In a Word...

I am currently reading the book Eat Pray Love (Elizabeth Gilbert). She says that every city has a single word that defines it, that "identifies most people who live there." For example, she says New York's word is ACHIEVE, whereas Los Angeles's word is SUCCEED. Naples's word is FIGHT. (I'm referring to Italy's Naples, not Florida's Naples. Florida's Naples's word would be more like SCUFFLE.)

So I asked myself last night, "What is Aix's word?" At this point, I think Aix's word is PROTECT. They are fiercely protective of their culture. Everything here is ancient & perfectly preserved, because they protect their past. You can see the protectiveness in the people in the streets, as well: people don't make eye contact with passers-by, & (as mentioned) they certainly don't smile at strangers. (Let's be honest, the French can be a little up-tight about certain things.)

Despite Aix's word being PROTECT (for now), the individuals can be very kind, even to strangers. For example, the guy always working in my grocery store always says something friendly to me (well, God knows what he's saying, but it certainly sounds friendly) & today he became the first guy in Aix to open a door for me. (Warning to Southern girls: they aren't particularly chivalrous here!) 

I Knew I'd Find It...

Those who know me well know that I get "stuck" on certain foods--meaning, I'll eat the exact same thing every day, & I will look forward to it each time as if I hadn't eaten it in years. Past examples of this include Smoothie King, fig bars, lentils, and Special K with yogurt. Today I discovered my next food love: Ratatouille Provencale. I buy it from my new friend at the grocery store for about $1. It is both delicious & reminiscent of that adorable movie.

According to Madame Bach...

Contrary to popular belief in the States, French people like Americans a lot. In fact, my French roommate says they think we are very open-minded & accommodating of many types of people. They LOVE our music, our movies, our celebrities, etc. Rihanna is playing in the cafe. Britney Spears is playing in the drug store. So don't let anyone tell you different.

Madame & Monsieur Bach say that I've already made noticeable progress with my French. (Allison Stohl & Blair Slingerland: Madame is originally from Southern Spain, so I talked to her about you guys!) 

Madame calls me "La fille avec le grand sourire," which means "The girl with the big smile." 

"'Ay, America!! smooch!"

The Rite of Passage that Everyone Complains About (But Everyone Secretly Likes)

Today was a special day. As I was waiting for friends outside on the street, I had my first experience with some overt French flirting. As I said before, a sweatshirt is a dead give-away that you're from the U.S. As I tried to look nonchalant in my sweats on the street corner, a car of guys drove by, saying, "-Ay, America!!" & making kissing noises. And so I experienced my first France right-of-passage. We girls have been strongly discouraged from smiling at strangers...lest we be chased by these sophisticated, well-dressed men, forced to give them our phone numbers, left with no choice but to let them take us out to dinner & profess their love for us, eventually leading to adorable Francophone children & family life in a French vinyard. You can see how terrible with would be, n'est-ce pas? 

Dinner with a Retired Swim Judge

Vanderbilt hooks us up with older couples that we have dinner with 4 times a week. Tonight was our first dinner & what an experience! Monsieur & Madame Bach make an adorable couple. He's retired but is still a judge for swim meets (convenient for my conversation).

America has a weird & impersonal way of doing dinner. Most of the time, people take their food into their bedrooms, in front of the TV, etc. Even the extraordinary families that do eat together every night, usually sit down only long enough to insert their food, & then return to whatever solitary activity they were doing before dinner (homework, etc). 

Not so in France. Discussion around the dinner table is arguably the most important part of the day; as they themselves say, debate is the national sport of France. Monsieur Bach says that it's imperative to have a good, long dinner discussion, because it's the only time during the day you take to truly relax & connect with the people you care about. Dinner typically lasts an hour or 2 (or 3). 

In America, all the food is put on the table at the beginning of the meal, & it's more or less a free-for-all. But in France, each course of dinner gets its own time to shine. First there's the entree...you wait till everyone's finished, & then cheese and salad are brought out...Wait till everyone's done, & then dessert comes out. It's not uncommon to serve multiple types of dessert, too, & sometimes each dessert gets its own course.

After dessert, the French don't run away from the table. They digest, they get personal, they discuss politics & religions & sexism & racism & fine wine, they wax poetic...they marinate with each other. And no matter what controversial position you take on an issue, nobody holds it against you the next day. It is a closeness that is both uncomfortable & beautiful.

Aix-cellent!

Bonjour, mes amis! When I woke up (at 3pm today) I remembered I had not even started writing this blog of mine. So I'd better start at the beginning...

Journey to Aix (via Frankfurt & Marseille)

The first part of the trip went swimmingly. The plane to Germany had TVs showing where in the world our plane was, how fast we were going, etc; and, since I'd already watched the on-flight showing of a Hannah Montana episode about 3 times (ironic since I saw Miley twice in Nashville the week before I left), I watched our cartoon plane intently. Around Limerick, the outside temperature was -90 degrees Fahrenheit!

I got to Germany at 6am, which was quite an experience. What I learned about Germany was that, on their airport food, they don't report calories, they use kilocalories, which is confusing! (Shoutout to Margaret Choo) But anyways, it's futile to try to eat healthily in a German airport, unless by "healthy" you mean Toblerone chocolate, duty-free liquor, and pornography. (Let me emphasize that again: there was a porno store in the German airport!) 

I found my gate, thanks to the German passport checker who looks completely non-plussed when I told him in my involuntarily over-enthusiastic voice, "It's my first time overseas!" and I made my first French friend, Cedric. While looking for a seat, I kept accidentally making eye-contact with a giant guy sitting across the way; at first I just sat at a random table & started reading....but then a little voice (a voice that sounded an awful lot like Allison Stohl's) told me to be bold, reminded me that I have to seize every opportunity over here! So I picked up my stuff & asked the Frenchman, in French, if I could sit with him. We had a nice conversation of which I did not understand 70% of, but I think I must have been smiling & nodding at the right intervals, because he didn't seem to notice.

Finalement! Aix!

When we flew into Marseilles, everything was covered in a thick blanket of untouched snow. Everyone said that it hadn't snowed this much here in 20 years! My bus to Aix was running late because (just like Nashville), no one here knows how to drive in snow. After the bus, I took a Mercedez-Benz taxi to the Vanderbilt Center (classy, non?) 

(Lesson 1) French people drive their tiny cars VERY fast & no, they could not care less if they street-sweep a couple people every now & then. French pedestrians are equally aggressive & don't pay attention to the "walk/don't walk" signs. 

The Vanderbilt Center is this big house with a grand staircase & really high ceilings. I met my new tutors, Jerome & Jean-Michel...then they took me to my new digs. We walked about 15-20 minutes (dragging my enormous suitcases through the snow & slush while trying to keep up a conversation in broken French, without passing out),  & then I was introduced to....

Bellegarde

Bellegarde is the name of my new house....I have a house! It's the envy of everyone in the program. It's 2 floors: we have a really nice, new-looking little kitchen, dining room, 2 bathrooms, living room (complete with a stuffed squirrel on the wall, complements of my roommate); upstairs there are 3 bedrooms, a terrace, & a room that's just a big closet. We have a cute backyard (plenty of room for a little soccer/futbol) & a screened-in porch. Right now there's also the biggest snowman I've ever seen in my life. French people must take classes on snowman building in grade school. It's expert.

Mes colocs (roommates)

-Adeline: a French girl from Toulons who goes to the University of Aix 

-Alyssa & Lizzy: Vanderbilt girls who share a room with me

-Kevin: a French guy from Nice, who goes to the University of Aix & plays soccer on the Aix team

...and last but not least,

-Renaud: a French guy from a nearby town, who is not a student at all, but is a 23 yr-old professional motocross freestyler

Culture Shock

...is real. Even though I'd just gotten to my beautiful new maison, I felt completely shocked. Exhausted from trying to understand the language (most people in France do not speak English), embarrassed for all the times I didn't understand (it's bad when you have to say "Quoi??" more than 3 times)...the first time I went in the bathroom & saw that I didn't even know how to work the damn toilet, I felt like crying. 

So I went to sleep. I dreamt of American things, Nashville things: going running through Burton Hills, getting fig bars at Kroger, etc. When I finally woke up, to the sound of a male voice speaking rapid French downstairs...I thought about how I'd made the biggest mistake of my life: why did I think I could come live in France?? Why didn't I go to Ireland or England like a normal person?? 

But amazingly, that passed. I've been here less than 3 days, & while I still don't understand most of what's being said, I've grown slightly more comfortable with not understanding. I know I'll get better...& you can read a lot about people's personalities without having to understand what they're saying.

Interesting Things I Didn't Know About France

1. They all wear black. My roommate has this great purple jacket & she stands out like a sore thumb.

2. It's damn near impossible to go running around here. The sidewalks are ~20 inches wide and cars, as I mentioned, seem to have no qualms about sideswiping people. (I'm going to break down & join the gym this week)

3. THEY EAT TONS OF MEAT. They eat the liver, heart, fat, etc of everything that moves. If you were to stand in one place long enough, they would chop you up, wrap you up in a pastry & sell you for too much money. It's a challenge being a vegetarian. The other day, I stopped in a store for a Coke, & asked the guy about a big spinning blob he was selling; he said it was "doder" (??) & offered me a piece. Pretty sure it was something pastrami-ish, but I have a "don't ask-don't tell" policy here. 

4. Diet Coke ("Coca-Cola Light") here is made differently & tastes like heaven. 

5. If you want plastic bags at the grocery store, you have to buy them.

6. They don't sell coffee "to-go." This is not a Starbucks-friendly town.

7. Counterfeit money is floating around. Today apparently I tried to buy a "tomate mazzo" panini with a fake 5 euro. So I've already been punked once.

Nightlife

The last couple of nights, the whole program has gone out to dinner. Wine here is insanely cheap (Matt got a bottle for 1 Euro) & very, very good. ALL FOOD is very, very good. Everything is so flavorful, beautifully presented. Las tnight we went to a crepe restaurant & then a few different bars. It's true that they play lots of techno & old American pop music (e.g. last night I heard a Michael Jackson medley) Also, apparently it's perfectly acceptable to have a 4 yr old on a dance floor around midnight. (That kid could move.) There are tons of young people in this city; lots of college students. People stay at clubs until 6 or 7 in the morning!