October 26th

Power walking, it's the hip new way to exercise. You can do it anywhere; in a park, along a shore, or even when you're late to class and can't run due to the weight of your backpack. Yeah, I was a sight going to class, just plowing down the sidewalk with my freshman backpack desperate to make it to class on time. I know, people in France are always late, especially students, so I shouldn't worry about being late to class. Wrong! My homeland injected me with the famous American paranoia of being tardy that prevents me from ever feeling relaxed when I am going to be late for an appointment in my day. Good thing I wasn't late. Actually I made it to campus in twelve minutes rather than the normal twenty-three. I was tired, especially after running up three flights of stairs, but I was in my seat before class began. Score for Mary. Class was interesting today too; we discussed Aunt Jamima. Yes, in American culture class the topic of the day was corn syrup based maple syrup. Oh Lourez! In reality we were analyzing old print ads about Aunt Jamima and other southern characters that are featured in a painting besides Washington sailing on the Delaware. Ah classic cultural racism. Smells like history. My other class was simply lecture, though I proudly turned in my essay to my professor. She seemed pleased that I had actually done the assignment. Let's wait for after break to see my grade, probably will be a smiley face with a "you tried" written next to it. Don't give me that look audience, I did actually give it my all on this one. The thing is it is impossible, and will forever be, for me to write as comfortably in French as I do in English. My paper had the ideas and concepts of a college level essay with high school freshman grammar skills. Anyways, after class, and a much needed victory dance for break, Kate and I retired to the dorm to watch a rented DVD from the public library. Does anyone have a guess as to which film? Well you're wrong, it was Jamaica Inn by Alfred Hitchcock. Not his best film, definitely not. It was old and lacking a strong budget, but not completely terrible. I was thoroughly entertained, particularly whenever Sir Humphrey called for his servant, "Chaaaaaaaadwick." Good times. The best part of the movie had to have been the subtitles though. Since it was old, and not famous, the Jamaica Inn was not dubbed into French for the Francophone viewers. Rather, it had subtitles. Sounds normal right? Not exactly. At random spurts of the movie the subtitles would just disappear, while dialogue continued between characters and remain this way for a few scenes. Huh. I suspect that the translators where native French speakers and simply could not understand many of the lines spoken during the film. Logical solution is not to ask a native English speaker but instead to stop writing subtitles until they can distinguish what is being said. Again, huh. It was funny for me, but those poor little French orphans who desperately wanted to watch Jamaica Inn can now never understand the full film because some translators decided to be lazy with their job! So shameful. I would translate it for those little orphans, but alas I am but a lowly college student. They'll understand.