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. 

October 25th

Time to switch it up audience. Today's blog is in short poem form. On occasion I am bitten by the poetry bug so bear with me. I will explain what I am talking about in a short paragraph at the end of the poem. Try to enjoy.

My fingers are riddled in times new roman ink

All these French words nouns and verbs make my stomach sink

Why did it happen, how can this possibly be?

The cogs of the clock turned too quickly for me.

Here I write in stress with thoughts free from chains unbound

A pen in mouth paired with keyboard clicking sound

With thesis direction and many pages more

The analysis flows of the Arthurian lore.

Lancelot and Gwen their secret love has bloomed

Though the tale is fine Camelot is doomed

The knight of the cart is heroic in love and woo

But strong loyalty to the Queen makes him untrue.

Despite your weakness Lancelot the said fair knight

I wrote of your growth through quests struggle and fight

Becoming a man of the blade with a strong heart

Fearing nothing not even disgrace of the cart.

I digress and continue my battle with Word

Even with strain the finish line is assured.

For only revision does remain to adhere

Tonight some fun at the house of Magic Mirror.

Ok so the basic gist is the process I endured while writing a French essay about how Lancelot, yes that Lancelot, becomes a true knight through various challenges while trying to save Guinevere, Gwen for short. Magic Mirrors, I chopped of the "s" for rhyming purposes, is a dance hall that was hosting a party for the international students of Le Havre that night. Thus the poem ends with me leaving for Magic Mirrors after finishing my essay. Tis all audience.

October 24th

Universe, stop trying to kill me with surprises! Damn contrôle (quiz) nearly murdered me. Pop quizzes suck, but they really suck when they are not in your native tongue and are on medieval history terms. Damn. When Elina, Paula, and I saw the little slips of paper in front of us, our faces simultaneously went pale. Our teacher noticed this and told us, with sympathy, to "just try our best." Uh huh, ok prof. I did try my best, and actually I knew more than I thought I did. Still though, why universe why? Can't I have one week without bricks falling down? Lunch was better. Kate genuinely enjoys most of her classes, probably since she's done many similar ones back in Scotland, and also likes her classmates. I'm not too fond of the crowd that shares many of my classes, they are, in polite terms, not hygienic. Besides the sweet woman who helps me in Arthurian Literature, she clearly showers daily. The point of this is that Kate has made friends in her classes, including a new one name Edward. No his last name is not Cullen, thank goodness for that. He is a shortish blond with a really big grin that makes Kate giggle all the time. He's also fun for the rest of us to talk with especially on strange topics. Today's off-topic was slang terms for other nationalities. Ah, one of my favorites. I did learn some things too. Apparently the French, least in Le Havre, don't have any creative or distinct terms for Americans. They often just tack on an adjective, such as stupid or fat, in front of the word American. They need to kick it up notch. Frenchie is typical of the United States and me, but my personal preference is to simply put my arms in the air and say, "we surrender!" Love you France, jk though not at all. The fat promiscuous arrogant stupid ignorant yankee will stand by that one. It was a humorous conversation to say the least. Kate really dislikes a term the French use for the British, and according to Edward it isn't necessarily an insult. The French call the British "roast beef", I have no idea why, and Kate hates it. I mean I wouldn't mind being called "hamburger", it's a delicious food along with roast beef. Maybe it's similar to Brit, another word Kate isn't fond of, which is not an insult but merely an abbreviation of the word British. Whatever I suppose, though I would like it if the French adopted "Hamburger" for Americans, particularly barbecue western bacon burger. Drool.

October 23rd

Alright audience, let's see if you've been paying attention to those whom I have mentioned in my blogs. Remember Antoine? Probably not since I often refer to him in the nickname "Toine" since it's shorter. Yes, I am lazy with keyboards. Well, to dissolve any previous ideas about that I may have unintentionally planted into your brains, he is not a stalker. In fact, he's actually a decent friend of mine here. True that he shows up when I want to be left alone, but also true that he studies the liberal arts at my university. Plus I often like to be left alone. Now that the image of Antoine creeping on me is gone, I can began to discuss today. I'm not starting with class because comparative literature was boring as hell today. Let's just skip to lunch for two reasons; a, lunch is usually interesting, and b, lunch was different this time making it more interesting. On this Tuesday around noon, I had lunch with Antoine. Aw how sweet. Yeah can it bud. It was fun, even though I mostly spoke in Franglish, and he was very patient with me. I did blather about Chicago, but hey any native would, but also spoke about regular college topics such as classes, projects, and the upcoming fall break. It was a grand ole time. Afterwards we drifted to library where I stuffed my nose into "On the Road" for some much needed research. Toine was a bit curious about the book, it does have a fantastic cover, and I allowed him to read the back summary. He gave a surprised expression upon reading, "search for release or fulfillment through drink, sex, drugs, and jazz," and asked why I was reading it. I told him that it was for research. The universal, "uh huh you're crazy" nod was given my way. I guess French girls only read dime store romance novels or Betty Crocker cook books. I know that the father of Beatniks was not a moral icon by any means, but gimme a break Toine. "On the Road" is way better literature, for instance the term literature actually suits it, rather than other crap like "Fifty Shades of Grey." He might have looked less surprised had I been reading that monstrosity. I only accomplished three chapters, bummer, since I felt it was rude to read in front of someone, even though I was in a library. I asked him if he had even travelled out of France. He told me that he had, color me impressed. That sounds strange, but like crossing State territories, leaving France is a big step for the natives. I travel a lot, have ever since I was born, so I cannot fully understand those who rarely or never travel. I know the whole cost excuse, but a camping trip to Turkey Run in Indiana is by no means a stay in the Isle of Wight. Thus Toine's voyages were something to be noted. He has been to the States. Not my state, rather he went to the Big Apple. At least New York City is something, though to all those wanting to go to the States, the Windy City has better pizza and festivals. Taste anyone? Besides NYC, Toine had visited other areas of the world; more specifically he has gone to places that I've never heard of. Oops. He could not believe that I didn't know where some small Eastern Euro countries were. I admitted that geography outside of the Americas, I have your back S.A., was basically unknown to me. Heh, ignorant, and proudly arrogant, American. Since I love to debate and argue, I asked him if he knew all fifty states. He said no. I told him that he couldn't give me any crap. He shook his head. I then made a deal with him, if he learns all fifty states, not capital because who honestly cares, then I would learn European geography. He said easy. I then tacked on that he must pronounce each state correctly. He didn't agree to that stake. I then mulled it over and took away the pronunciation aspect. I had to, there is no way he could ever say "New Hampshire" or "Arkansas". Yes, Arkansas is challenge for everyone outside the U.S. because it looks phonetically like "are-Kanas". So instead the ending sounding like "saw" it sounds like "us". Brilliant. (Not) Sorry guys, but the internet has interactive maps of the States that pronounce each state name. I'd love to eradicate "Mary Land" and "Illinoise" from the world. Moving on, Toine left shortly after for class and I had some time on my hands before I left to tutor the little Frenchlings. Well, for about eight seconds I had time. Jessy decided to appear from nowhere and asked me how lunch had been with Toine. I looked at Jessy as though he were on crack. What the hell was he doing here and why did he care? I soon found out that he and Kate had been watching me from above, the third floor to be exact, exchanging giggles and whatnot. My oh my. I was then dragged upstairs and instructed to dish all the details to Jessy. Oh Jessy, it's now time for your character profile. Jessy is a flaming French student who shares a translation course with Kate and has since befriend Paula and me. He is hilarious and much needed. Paula and I, both American college girls, have a certain necessity for male gay friends. I have no idea why it is embedded into our beings, but we love them. Thus, Jessy is a welcome adversary my growing collection of friends. After conversing with him for about an hour, I left to walk to the Racadot residence. This session was a lot of fun because it was all about Halloween vocabulary. Hell yeah, score for one of Mary's top three holidays! Louis actually knew quite a few words, but I taught him the famous "Trick or Treat" and "Jack o' lantern" lines. I then helped Anne with her speech, including having her recite it to me, before taking my leave. It was a long day, but definitely not a bad one.

October 22nd

Oh lawdee, it was hot today. In the middle of October Le Havre decided to hit 75 degrees. Thanks a lot. Not only was I not dressed for hot weather, long sleeve plus skinny jeans plus boots, but I despise the heat. Yes, one more strange fact about Mary she doesn't like it hot. Hot days just cause everything to become sweat filled and uncomfortable, not an ideal. I prefer things to be cold, very cold. Chicago winters could be longer in my opinion, in fact just cut summer out and make it into a long spring. Perfect. So to say the least I did not enjoy the weather today. But, just because I hissed at the sun and hopped from shadow to shadow, doesn't mean others followed. No, everyone else was pleased as punch that the sun was out and had warmth to go with it. I thought that I was fortunate that I enjoyed spending time indoors, most gamers do, away from the sun and its rays of burning heat. Turns out my love of the indoors didn't help me escape the fiery air. Since it’s October, the university decided to turn on the heaters, and keep them on despite the change of weather. Thus between the beams of sunlight streaming through the windows and the grey vents spewing hot air, the library was nearly unbearable. The classrooms were even worse. They reeked of human sweat and were damp with body heat. French civilization almost smothered me to death. Despite this, Civilization was interesting. This was the session where we the students picked our speech topics about French culture. I decided to go with a classic; cinema. My speech will be a comparison between French and American cinema. When I told M. Martel this, his exact words were, "Oh Mary." I promised him that I would be kind, that it would be comparing and contrasting not slamming the artistic style of typical French films. He still seemed skeptical, but allowed me to keep the topic. Yay, here's a project that I'm actually going to enjoy. If only the heat would go away. Summer summer go away, bother me NEVER AGAIN!

October 21st

Wine and magazine party! Just kidding. This Sunday had a bit of distress, but was otherwise fine. Kate and I went to the docks, more specifically the giant Baobab store. A baobab is a huge tree that can destroy a small planet with its roots and when drawn poorly represents cabbages. No one? Damn, I thought at least one person would know "The Little Prince". Ah well. Anyways this store, like its name suggests, is huge. It mainly caters to gardening, but has a lot of versatile inventory. I had cruised through it the other afternoon, Saturday, and had picked up some hard candy and a scented candle. During that previous exploration of the store, except for the pet shop, I noted what an excessive Christmas area it had. When I told Kate about the Christmas corner, her eyes lit up*. She had been looking for some basic Christmas ornaments for her niece, but hadn't found any yet that charmed her. So we went to the Baobab for ornaments. Except, Kate wanted to also see the rest of the store. The first area we looked at was the pet shop, heh. You see, I love all animals, but not most reptiles. More specifically snakes. From my own plus the internet's diagnosis, which isn't official, I have ophidiophobia or the phobia of serpents. My greatest fear is being strangled to death by a boa, notably an anaconda. Whenever I see a snake I have the sensation of being strangled around my torso. Even pictures of them wig me out. That is bad. Thus why I avoid reptile areas of pet stores, they tend to have snakes. Kate knew nothing of this and excitedly pointed out the snake tanks. She only realized something was off when all the color drained from my face. "Mary do you not like snakes?" I had already returned to the cute fluffy bunnies at that point. Snakes, don't like 'em. After leaving that lovely area, we went to the Christmas corner for the long anticipated ornaments. Kate found some really pretty ones, she even grabbed one for herself, before looking through various types of Christmas lights. I was occupied with other things, more so masquerade masks. Halloween is coming, it's just around the bend, and I will be celebrating. I do not care if France doesn't partake in the awesome jack o' lantern celebration; I will by sporting a costume or rather a mask. I love masquerade masks, Kate does not, and have always dreamt of going to an exclusive masquerade ball in New Orleans. So when I saw some fancy masquerade masks decorating a few fur trees, my costume idea just fell into place. The other item of interest was a dolphin stuffed animal that looked as attentive as a retired rancher sipping on moonshine. Oh George the stoned dolphin, I'm very glad that I bought you. It sounds silly, but small things like a unique dolphin stuffed animal give me so much happiness. When we returned to St. Nicolas with the spoils of our day, and the costume idea in my head, Paula joined us for the showing of the film "Chicago" in my dorm room. It took a little bit of axle grease to make the library DVD work, mostly the audio, but eventually the film was playing in English with non-removable French subtitles. We loved it. Then again who doesn't love that movie? Ah Anglos watching American films in France.

*no pun intended whatsoever.

October 20th

Today was also not my day. Actually there are two reasons why it wasn't; The first half was a massive struggle and the second half was Spanish Paula's birthday. So yeah, not my day. I woke up around ten thirty and sighed. Yesterday's misfortunes were still a fresh coat of paint in my mind. But, that was yesterday. This day was the trip to Rouen and then Paula's surprise party. Well it should've been a trip to Rouen. Apparently, while I was passed out last night, Kate and Paula had decided to change the departure time for Rouen. Aka they made it earlier. Since I was asleep, I was not informed. So when they rang my bell at eleven twenty, all ready to go, I felt both surprise and somber disappointment. I was in no state to leave, shower was a mandatory need, and told them to go without me. That feeling sucked. I could see how awkward it was for them, I mean they weren't expecting the crypt keeper of Tales from the Crypt to greet them. Well shit. What was I to do with all this new found time? Fix myself up. One good thing about breaking down the day before, it made me not want to sulk. Feeling pathetic, literally feeling as though the world pities you, ticks me off. My response is to always prove them, in reality myself, wrong. So I showered, groomed my hair, slapped on some killer eyeliner, and the hit the docks for window shopping. I know, so dramatic of me. It turned out really well. I nabbed a cute top from one of the clothing boutiques and a very much wanted book from Le Plein Ciel. I don't say this often, typically when I do I'm being a smart aleck, but I'm a writer. Over the summer I became very interested in the Beatnik generation and began to work on a story in that setting. The plot is cliché and simple, tragic love story, but the setting is fascinating. I was inspired by a book about Beatniks while listening to the "Some Nights" album by Fun. in O’Hare airport. I know, such an exciting creation story. Anyways, the point is I am still researching the Beat generation, especially the cultural details. Thus when I found "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac in the "Livres en Anglais" section of the book store, I bought it without hesitation. That was the first half of the day, the struggle over and solved. The second half was a lot of fun. A bunch of us, the international students, greeted Spanish Paula at her door with a giant "Happy Birthday". We then brought in a collection of goodies, including a small cake, and had a small party in her dorm room. She was really stoked and thanked all of us over and over. I found out that she was turning twenty, such a youngling, and casually told her congratulations. She asked for what? I replied, "Paula you're not a teenager anymore. You beat teen pregnancy." Fortunately she found it funny, so I still have friends. Even though it wasn't in my favor, this day turned out alright

October 19th

One would think that after all the medical appointments that I've already endured in France, one more wouldn't hurt. Heh, it did. I was there on time, actually fifteen minutes early just to be safe, but that made no difference. The line was ridiculous. My appointment was at 9:30, didn't happen til' 10:45 am. The actual exam wasn't that bad, though they made me do every test possible; vision, hearing, flexibility, and blood pressure. The last one, blood pressure, was actually really funny. The doctor took my blood pressure three times because she couldn't believe how low it was. Ah the look on her face was priceless. It was as if she wanted to ask me if I was alive. After that session I walked to cafeteria for some well-deserved lunch, which wasn't so bad. They had hash browns today and they were delicious. I then cleared my head at the library for about an hour, I had eaten my lunch rather quickly, before going to Michael's office for an ISEP meeting. He reviewed my schedule and said that everything checked out. Good, that's nice to hear. Then my phone rang, damnit. It was a TNT delivery man. Double damnit. And there was a major problem with this one; he didn't speak French or English. Crap. Luckily Paula came in and spoke with him instead. Turns out I had until 6:00pm to pick up my package from a BMW location about forty minutes from campus. Life is crap sometimes. I had class until five, had no idea where this place was, and had to navigate a route via my beat up Le Havre map. Karma, please just leave me alone. Paula and Kate promised that they would have their phones nearby in case I needed their help. Well, I did find the BMW center, but my package was not there. Of course it wasn't. I tried to call Paula, and even Kate, to hear once more what the delivery man had said. No such luck. Neither of the calls went through. I even tried to ask the BMW staff, who were not thrilled to see the likes of a shabby college student in their dealership, if they knew where a TNT outpost was. They relished in telling me that they couldn't be of assistance. I was stuck, at 5:50 pm, in a random neighborhood of Le Havre without my package, without any help, completely alone. So I did the one thing all adult-children who are trapped in an unfortunate situation do; I called my mom. I asked if there was any way that she could search online for a TNT outpost in Le Havre. She tried, but the results were disappointing. There was no such thing in Le Havre. At this moment I looked at my watch, 6:03 pm. Time had run out. My package was somewhere else in France and was not going to my door anytime soon. This is when Mary lost everything, literally broke down, in front of a BMW outlet. Let's just end it there.

October 18th

Why, just why? Cat and mouse is a game that I frequently play in the States, there it is fun. In France though, it is not so fun. Here the cat is TNT and I am the mouse who is screwed over at every bend. Basically what happened today was I tried to yet again recover my package. I decided to pay a visit to the mysterious flower shop before class to see if my package was actually there. It wasn't. This was however the correct location to pick up packages. Apparently this crappy little flower shop, it looks more like an underground cover for a mafia gang, holds onto packages from TNT that were not properly delivered. Somehow this process does not strike me as normal, maybe it is here, since most packaging services have a post, at least an express, in the towns to which they deliver. The girl at the shop told me that the package was being delivered, to my place, again. DAMNIT ALL! She told me that it might be brought back to the shop around five o'clock that evening. Ok, I can do that. Even though I have class at five thirty with a quiz I can do that. I returned, on the dot, at five and was disappointed yet again. Frustrated is an understatement, I was far beyond that. So I returned to campus, heavy anger and all, to take a quiz in my French language class. That went alright, until the back side. Crap, French synonyms for various verbs. The one thing that we scraped over in class was all over the back side of the quiz. I had wondered why Kate said, "damnit!" right at the beginning of the quiz. She must be one of those people who take tests backwards. I did my best, hope it was sufficient, but I doubt I scored many points on that area. The rest of it was easy and were the subjects that I had studied. Next time, there are a few next times to come in this class, I will make sure to nail those verbs. I went home and collapsed onto my bed with unhappiness all around me. Tomorrow, also known as Friday, is going to be long and tiresome with a crunched schedule to boot. Somehow that doesn't install confidence into my being.