Giving Thanks

When it comes to holidays, I am a woman of tradition.  Whenever my family thinks about switching something up, like opening presents throughout the day on Christmas or not going to the Thanksgiving Day Parade because it is too cold, I am the one they have to fight for it.  So having a Thanksgiving that was not only untraditional but celebrated in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving was...interesting.
Before coming to France, I knew when the holidays came around it would be one of the hardest things to handle.  I didn't expect to be doing anything for Thanksgiving, but luckily I was wrong.  Our program coordinator put together a Thanksgiving dinner for all of the Americans, our teachers and our host families.  I even went and spoke with the chef myself, giving him exact directions on how Thanksgiving in America is done and translating recipes for him.  And I'm glad I did because it was fantastic.
Thanksgiving started off with my favorite thing in the world, Marketing class (sarcasm: it is the bane of my existence) which ended around 12.  We had 8 hours until our dinner and I knew that if I didn't keep myself busy I would let the sadness of being away from the people I am most thankful for in the world get to me.  So I went over to my friend's house and we made an American breakfast for lunch (eggs, bacon, the whole shabang) while listening to Christmas music.  After we watched episodes of Thanksgiving themed TV shows on Netflix.  It wasn't quite the same as Panera bagels and watching the parade as I usually do, but it was fun.
When it was time for the dinner, all the Americans anxiously awaited what this French chef would come up with.  And we were all shocked at how great of a job he had done.  As much as I'm sure he was tempted to add a French twist, he didn't.  It was all American.  Turkey, potatoes, pies, cranberries.  There was everything.  We also each gave a little toast, saying what we were thankful for.  One person did it and I think our French families sort of assumed it was an American tradition sooo we all sort of got guilted into it.  But I was happy to have the chance to tell them how much I treasure my relationship with them and how blessed I feel to have a second family here.
We got home around midnight and I was pretty proud of myself; I hadn't let a single tear out all day.  But right before I went to bed I saw a message from my dad saying he had to say grace since I wasn't there.  Ever since I was little I was the one to say grace on Thanksgiving.  I don't know why.  It is tradition and I love tradition.  I get that from my dad I think.  So that's when I lost it.  I was able to facetime my family and see them all wearing Kalamazoo College gear, making me feel like I was there even though I was on the other side of the world.  We talked and I started feeling better.  I left them to their dinner.
Thanksgiving was very bittersweet.  I was with my second family, but I wasn't with my family.  I was at home, but not my true home.  I had American food, but it wasn't American food.  The song is true: there is no place like home for the holidays.  But this is a holiday about giving thanks, and after the happiness I felt to be where I am as well as the sadness I felt because of it, I had a lot to be grateful for.  I'm a lucky girl.

Les femmes des volcans

Everyone wonders how the french are so healthy and in shape when all they eat is cheese and wine and butter.  What's their secret?  Walking.  In France you walk.  A lot.  Exercise is naturally incorporated into the day to day.  Not only do I walk to school, lunch, downtown, etc. every day, I have done a lot of hiking.  Now, anyone who knows me knows that nature and I don't always mix.  First of all, I am allergic to basically anything outdoors.  Second, I am not a huge fan of moving.  But I have been doing it a lot here and I actually love it.  It is a new me.
Climbing a volcano never even crossed my mind as something I would want to do in my life because it just seems so...insane!  And now I have done it twice and both times it was spectacular.
The first volcano I climbed was the Puy de Dome, the major tourist attraction of the region of Auvergne.  That is what I love about where I am studying.  I live in the suburbs with my host family, but a 15 minute bus ride and I am downtown.  And then a 20 minute car drive and we are in one of the most beautiful nature sites in France.  My host parents took me and two of my friends to climb it with them.  The leaves were all different colors and the view was amazing.  Although it got pretty difficult the further we went, when we reached the top of the volcano, looking out on all the other smaller volcanos in the chain, it felt so immensely satisfying.  I'm really thankful that I have a host family that likes doing things like that and pushes me to do the same.  Whenever I have a free day my host mom is pushing me to travel and find things to go see and do.  She knows how important it is to make the most of this experience and climbing a volcano definitely qualifies.
I went with my friends Natalie and Mallory and her host family to another volcano a week later.  Although it wasn't as large, this volcano you could actually climb inside of!  It took us a while just to reach the base of the volcano, and then we began to climb.  It started to rain a little bit and the wind started to pick up.  The higher we went, the worse it got.  People passed us and warned us about the wind at the top.  I couldn't imagine it would be much worse than what we were already experiencing, but I was wrong.  I literally had trouble not falling over the wind was so strong.  The experience of being around the top ridge of a volcano while the wind is almost making you fall off the edge and freezing rain is slapping you in the face is actually a lot better than it sounds.  It was such an intense and surreal sensational experience, it was unlike anything I had ever felt.  We made our way down to the bottom of the inside of the volcano and got an insane view of the volcano from the bottom.  By the time we made it back to Mallory's and warmed up with hot coacoa I was cold, exhausted, and exhilarated.
Being in France is an experience I am still in shock I get to have.  Climbing volcanoes, going for quick weekend trips to Paris and forming real family-like relationships with the members of my host family just makes it feel even more like I am not actually living my life; like it is all just a dream.  I'm not sure if I will get to climb a volcano again in my life, but I won't soon forget what it felt like.

From Paris, With Love

On Wednesday, I was talking about maybe going for a hike this weekend.  By Thursday, I was packing my bags for Paris.  What?!?  My life is so insane right now that the magnitude of it doesn't even hit me.  I am aware of it, but numb to it.  And then all of a sudden it just hits me, like it did this week.

We found out on Monday that we were having a 5 day weekend so we told our host families and, per usual, they came through for us and made this amazing weekend possible.  Natalie's host family (who I am also very close with and adore) told us they had a daughter living in Paris and although we never met her, she called her up and asked if we could stay with her for the weekend and she said yes.  She was also coming to Clermont on Sunday anyways so she gave us a ride home.  When I told my host family, my host cousin called his mom who lives in Versailles to see if she could pull any strings for a special tour at the palace since she goes there all the time.  She ended up reserving our tickets of entry and paying for Natalie and I to take a special tour of the King's private rooms that are not open to the public.  The entire weekend was one wonderful experience after the other, all made possible due to the generous hearts of our french families.  It was so humbling and so wonderful.

When we arrived on Friday, Natalie's host sister had prepared dinner for us and took us out to a bar with some of her friends.  We got to see Paris a bit through the eyes of a true Parisian, not just like the tourists we are.  We only had 3 days in Paris, but we made the most of them.  The first day, we went to the pyramide of the Louvre and ran to Musee d'Orsay.  Musee d'Orsay is AMAZING.  I remember when the DIA had one Van Gogh and it was such a big deal.  Here, there are paintings by him everywhere you look.  Pictures you have seen thousands of times in magazines and books, right in front of you.  There were also paintings by Renoir, Monet, etc.  A few months ago when we went to Monet's gardens, I stood on the exact bridge that is in the painting I was able to see.  It was surreal.  The next day we went on our special tour of Versailles, learning things like the King's schedule which included going to the bathroom in front of a window so all of the King's court could see that he was in good health.  After we went to Notre Dame and Shakespeare and Company (the coolest bookstore EVER) and had a wonderful dinner and drinks.  The last day, we walked around the Champs Elysees and saw L'arc de Triomphe. Finally, we went to Saint Chappelle, a Cathedral with walls made almost entirely of stained glass.  If I had only been able to see one of these things, it would've been enough.  But being in Paris, seeing the pictures of my history books come to life.  It still hasn't fully sunken in...  Plus I got to do all of these wonderful things with my best friend.
 Though each part was wonderful in its own way, I'd have to say the highlight of my weekend was the first night.  Natalie and I walked along the iconic Seine to the Eiffel Tower at around 6:45.  It was lit up, but not sparkling yet.  The grandeur of the Eiffel Tower is incredible.  We didn't know when the tower would start sparkling, but we thought probably at 7.  So we just sat and took it in for 15 minutes until 6:59 when I asked Natalie what time it was and it began sparkling.  I literally screamed.  Like a terrified scream.  It was so magnificent I couldn't help myself.  I have seen the Eiffel Tower before, I have even climbed it, but I have only seen it lit up from a distance.  Being right in front of it and watching it transform into this dazzling magnificent thing is something I will never forget.  There are few things in life greater than watching the Eiffel Tower light up with your best friend.

Zut

From the moment I returned from my fantastic voyages in Italy, I've been wishing I had never left.  It has been the worst week I've had here, all because of one, excuse my French, putant.  While I have loved my host family and experiences here, the classes have not been great.  But tolerable.  Until I began working in a group with other French students for my marketing class.  All the K students have been upset with this class, mostly because their groups just treat them like they don't exist and won't let them do any of the work.  For me, that was not the case.  I held my own, doing as much work as my French counterparts.  But one girl, from the start, was not happy to be workig with me, an American, and assumed the worst in me.  She made that clear throughout the project, but this week she hit a new level of mean.  When I couldn't make our group meeting because they scheduled it without me at a location 2 hours away from me by bus, she had had it.  On Facebook, for the rest of the group to see, she yelled at me, said she hopes she never works with me again, said she was fed up, etc.  It was humiliating.  But they sent me my part to complete and I prepared for our presentation.  Come the day of the presentation when my slide pops up, the horrible girl and I start talking at the same time. Apparently they had told me the wrong part to do.  And my other slide we never got to because we ran out of time.  So I said nothing.  And then she yelled at me for it.  I'm so glad that I have been able to meet people from France outside of this class including my host family and some friends I have made from the school because if it was just my group, I'd never come back to this country.

This had been the only bad experience I have had with someone from France.  The fact that it stemmed from the fact that I was American and it was slightly harder to work with me didn't feel great.  But, it was yet another situation when I truly got to appreciate the other people I am surrounded by.  My host family asked what was wrong and after I showed them the conversation I had with the girl on Facebook, they were furious.  My host dad wanted to message the girl himself and go to my school to speak with the professor (I declined his offer).  My friends were just as upset as my family was and I was completely surrounded by support.  It wasn't the end of the world, but they were protecting me like it was.  I wish it hadn't happened of course, but at least I had some wonderful people on my side when it did.

Italy Part 2!

After the stress and the beauty of Venice, when it was time to go to Florence I was slightly relieved.  Venice was a dream.  But I was exhausted at this point and I knew Florence would be a bit more relaxing.  I had already been to Florence with my high school and I LOVED it, so I had no doubt I would feel the same.  It didn't disappoint.  Florence is completely different than Venice.  It is gorgeous because it is so rich in culture and history.  Names I have been hearing ever since I was a little girl like Michelangelo and Galileo were buried there.  Churches that are older than my country still stand tall and beautiful.  You never get tired of it.  I did, however, get tired of the walking/climbing.  Since we didn't have a car, we would walk on average about 10 miles every day, and several of these miles were up a hill or up steps.  One of the days in Florence, we climbed the tour right next to the Duomo to get a magnificent view of the city.  It was breathtaking, literally (ba dum chee).  Over 400 steps and a dark, winding, slippery, deadly staircase later, we made it to the top and although I was panting like crazy, it was worth it.  I remembered in my political science class learning about how Machiavelli wrote about how in the times when republics were being formed, the cities' construction made it so everything sort of leads you to the city center.  From the top of the tower, that was easy to see it was the case here.  And then later that day, I got to see Machiavelli's grave.  Pretty insane...

It was hard to say goodbye to Florence, but I was dying to see Siena.  Before we left for our trip, everyone would ask where we were going, nod and smile at Venice and Florence, but then when we'd mention Siena, everyone beamed.  It did not disappoint.  We had 4 days in Siena, so there was plenty of time to explore.  The three cities gave us the perfect taste of Italy.  Venice, a dreamworld, Florence, a cultural/historical gold mine and Siena, the beautiful countryside of Tuscany.  Downtown Siena is still a major city, filled with shops and restaurants.  We took our time exploring the city, going to museums and churches and eating tons of gelato.  The duomo of Siena was actually probably my favorite cathedral I have ever seen.  It was gigantic and entirely underrated.  We listened to audio guides that told us about what all the symbols and architecture of the church meant.  We saw an old religious library, a crypt and even got another panoramic view of another gorgeous Italian city.  One of the nights, we got to see an Italian Opera.  The singers were magnificient.  Their voices were chilling.  Even though I had no idea what they were saying, it was impossible not to feel touched by the performance.  Surprisingly, I actually knew two of the songs.
Although Siena was great, there was one lapse in luck again.  We had ordered a hotel room for 2 people although there were three of us.  I volunteered to be the criminal, sneaking in and out of the hotel, trying not to get caught.  On the third day, we got a call in our hotel room.  It was the front desk, asking for their friend (me) to come to the front desk.  It was mortifying.  But the lady was nice and pretended like she didn't know I had been sneaking in and out for days, only making me rent a room for two nights.  It could have been worse.
Although all of Sienna was amazing, it wasn't until the last day that I fell in love.  We reserved 3 spots for a Tuscan wine tour.  IF YOU GO TO SIENA, DO THE TENULA TORCIANO WINE TOUR!!!!!!  It was incredible.  For 30 euros, we had a full day of being driven to 2 small villages with a tour guide who gave us so much interesting information we would have had no clue about otherwise.  We stopped at one of the Chianti vineyards and finally made our way to the wine tasting at a gorgeous wine cellar.  Just to get to one of those small villages would have cost 30 euros by taxi, and we got to see several, with a tour guide, finished with a wine tasting.  It was amazing.
When we got to the wine cellar, a dreamy Italian man named Lilo grabbed my hand and said "Ciao Princessa." I swooned.  Lilo was our guide for the evening, which made it hard to concentrate on the wine (sorry mom if you are reading this).  When we signed up for the tasting, we figured for the cheap price we would get to try 3, maybe 4 small glasses of wine.  That was not the case.  Giant wine glasses were filled with 9 different types of extremely expensive, delicious wine.  We were given cheese and salad and salami to taste with the wines.  Lilo taught us the proper way to drink wine and let us try their 30 year old balsamic vinegar, truffle olive oil and pepper olive oil.  It was all AMAZING.  I had to start dumping out my wine because I was starting to feel it and I didn't want to be drunk and not be able to appreciate the taste (although by the end of it, it is possible I was slightly intoxicated).  Lilo continued to charm us.  Despite the douchey, pompous American that was at the table with us who asked Lilo questions like "You say that this was aged 30 years but how do we know that is true" and his insane wife who made comments like "this cookie tastes like the Jewish cookies my mother was making when she died" it was one of the best nights of my life.
The entire trip was a dream.  The entire time it was happening, I already felt nostalgic because I knew how much I was going to miss it.  And I already do.  But I will be back.  It is my dream to take my parents someday.  So until next time, Ciao my dear Italia.

We are the champignons/Italy Part 1

I have always been a fan of Queen, but oddly enough it wasn't until coming to France that I started to become pretty hard core about it.  My friends and I, for some odd reason, decided we were going to try to learn all the words to as many Queen songs as possible by the end of study abroad.  So about two weeks ago when our program took us on a mushroom hunting trip, we searched the forest for mushrooms while simultaneously beginning to learn the lyrics to Killer Queen (we got it down now).

The forest we went to was like no forest I had ever seen.  Everything was so...mushy.  There was moss everywhere.  It was like walking on a million sponges.  But there were also tons of mushrooms (the french word for mushrooms is champignons).  Most were not edible, but by the end of the voyage we had all collected a decent amount of mushrooms for dinner.  That night when I cooked the wild mushrooms and ate them with my host family, it was the perfect way to say goodbye to France before my trip to Italy.

Although I am incredibly fortunate and grateful to be in France at all, I can't help but feel like there is some bad juju in the universe that doesn't want me to be here.  First there was the missing luggage.  Then my credit card didn't work.  I thought that would be the end of my bad luck, but the night before my early flight to Venice, my friends and I received an email saying the flight was canceled.  At this point the bad luck combined with me missing good ol' Michigan really got to me.  I was more home sick than I had ever been.  But my host mom pulled through and we were able to find a series of trains that would take us to Venice.  The next day I woke up at 4 AM and didn't arrive in Venice until 10:15.  The Hostel where we were staying requires that you check in by 9 and if you will be late you have to let them know and there will be a 20 euro charge.  If you are there later than 11, you can't get in.  So when we got off the train and realized that Venice, while gorgeous, is also very confusing, I started to think I was going to have to sleep on the street.  But that is when our luck started to turn around.  I asked a man for directions and he could see I was obviously stressing out.  Although the hostel was 30 minutes away, he dropped what he was doing and walked us all the way to the hostel.  We arrived just a few minutes before 11 and the owner of the hostel decided not to charge us the extra 20 euros.  My stress melted away and I was ready to enjoy my vacation.  Maybe the universe didn't want me to be there, but the people did, and I was happy with that.

Due to the airplane incident, we only had one day to see Venice, which meant we had to book it.  In one day we were able to see and soak in all of the major attractions of the island, as well as Burano, a tiny island filled with houses of all different bright colors.  Venice was a dream.  It was like nowhere I have ever been.  Although this was my second trip to Italy, it didn't seem like any part of Italy I had already seen.  We even got to ride the iconic gondolas, although it was 30 euros for a half hour ride so we just payed 2 euros and took a 2 minute ride.  We ate gelato while listening to a man sing opera in the middle of the street, we saw the iconic Murano glass and Burano lace.  It was a fairytale.
The next morning we were exhausted but ready for our next adventure.  We packed our things and said our last goodbyes to the sinking city.  Next stop: Florence.

Le Vin

When someone thinks of the stereotypical french person, they picture I guy with a mustache, a striped shirt, and a beret, smoking, and holding a baguette, some cheese and of course a bottle of wine.  From what I have noticed, all of these things are true (minus the berets) but most importantly the wine.  The french love their wine.  It is water to them.  I have not only been fortunate enough to taste many delicious wines from Bordeaux to Champagne, I had the unique opportunity of being involved in the wine making process.  In Michigan in the fall, I pick apples and drink cider.  In France, you pick grapes and drink wine.
We woke up at the butt crack of dawn to spend hours out in the vineyards picking (and eating) grapes.  We were able to work with the owners of the vineyard who told us about the grape making process and how they used organic grapes for the wine, which is why it took a lot of extra work.  We took a snack break around noon, which consisted of bread, cheese, assorted meats and of course wine.  That was glass number one of the day.  Afterwords, we spent a few more hours on the vines.  It evolved into a karaoke session, singing everything from Country Road to Drunk in Love.  By the time they called us for lunch, we were wet, dirty, starving and tired.
This wasn't your average meal.  We sat around a makeshift table when this giant chef comes out with a literal pork leg in his hand.  He had cured it himself and began to slice it right of the leg for us to consume.  It was a bit disturbing, but it was delicious.  We do not eat a lot of cured meats in America, and that is something I am definitely going to miss.  This was the best I had had.  After, we ate the first plate, which I thought was the only plate and therefor stuffed my face.  When they started bringing out the next course, I thought I might explode.  By the time the dessert came out I was sneaking food under the table to my friends.
At pretty much any french meal other than breakfast, you drink wine, but especially when at the vineyard.  We had two glasses before we started eating.  Through the course of the meal I was probably served 5 different types of wine.  When the meal was over, one of the men from the vineyard gave me what I thought was just sugar cube but was actually soaked in what tasted like rubbing alcohol.  Never challenge a French person to a drinking contest...
Although going out to the vineyards did make me miss Michigan falls, what with the leaves and the apples and the cider, it was such a unique and wonderful experience that I am sure I will never forget, despite the amount of alcohol I consumed throughout the day...

Maison Sweet Maison

Before arriving to France, I was told several times that 6 months is just enough time for you to finally get adjusted to life in France and start to feel comfortable.  For me, it has been closer to 6 weeks.  Every day has been so packed with activities and adventures, it seems like I have fit half a years worth of activities into just a few weeks.  Which is why there is not much to report this blog post, because all I really did this week was finally relax and adjust.  I feel like I am really getting used to the rhythm of the quotidien life here.
 It has been great to finally feel like home here in France.  I have gotten so used to the people and the city, and I love everything about it.  I have even started to venture out beyond my American friends/French family, hanging out with some of the native Frenchies and international students.  After this experience and from the past few years I have spent at K college, I will have friends from countries all over the world!  Pretty crazy...
But although it was nice to spend most of the past couple days just watching TV and baking cakes, I couldn't help but think how much better it would be with a glass of cider (they have cider here but it is all alcoholic and not at all the same).  Or how much I would love to just walk around the house barefoot in my PJs.  Or, best of all, go with my family to Art Prize (that's where they were this weekend).  I love it here.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.  But there is nothing like a Michigan fall with friends and family.  I love the new normal, but I love the old one too.

Joyeux Anniversaire

I am officially one year older than I was when I wrote my last blog post.  This Friday I celebrated my 20th birthday in France! Turning 20 in France was an amazing, yet sad experience, but I am sure it is a birthday I will never forget.
A common motif that has popped up throughout my blogs is how amazing my host family is, and here it is again.  As a birthday gift to me, my host family threw a dinner party for all 12 of my American friends and one German friend.  The pulled out all the stops.  There were little snack bowls, a fondue dinner with delicious cheese, potatoes and assorted cured meats, wine, cider, and of course cake for dessert.  I can't express to them how grateful I am (not just due to the language barrier) because they really make me feel like a member of the family.  Everyone had an amazing time.
On my actual birthday I went to a creperie with some friends for lunch and came home to some AMAZING gifts.  I did not expect to cry on my birthday, but cry I did.  My family gave me such sweet and thoughtful gifts with beautiful cards.  Some of my favorite DVDs, a poster of a quote signed by my favorite author John Green, a tea set and one of my favorite teas.  Not to mention a recording of them singing happy birthday with my dogs barking in the background.  It was amazing, but I so wish I could have heard it in person.  It is crazy how much I miss them in such a short period of time.  I also received a package from my dear friend Deanna filled with fall themed homey goodies (she knows how much I love an American fall), a few gifts from friends her and a beautiful memory book made by my friend Natalie.
That evening I went out with some friends to finish off my birthday together and I had an amazing time.  It is crazy because I know you are not supposed to be doing this until you are much much older, but I always get a little sad on my birthday.  My old friend posted on my Facebook "I still remember when you turned 16 and cried at the HFII Homecoming game because you were growing up." I still tend to do that.  And it is silly because every year things just keep getting better and better and I'm just afraid of when that incline is going to stop.  But I only let that kind of thinking distract me for a brief moment on my birthday and other than that it really was one of the best birthdays I have had.  It is hard to grow up.  It is hard to watch people you love grow up.  But it is something we all have to do so might as well enjoy it.

4 Days in Normandy

Last Thursday my friends and I left for a four day weekend in Normandy.  It is a place I have always wanted to visit and getting the chance to go was all that I hoped it would be.
To say the weekend was busy would be an understatement.  In the short period of time we spent in Normandy we saw 3 Cathedrals, 2 Abbeys, William the Conqueror's grave, the Tapestry de Bayeux, a Botanical garden, Monet's garden, Monet's house, 3 museums and a decent amount of the countryside as we biked about 30km to Omaha beach.  In between there was wonderful food and even better company.
I couldn't help but spend a lot of time thinking about my family this weekend.  As great as it is that I have this opportunity to travel, it doesn't feel completely right without them.  I thought a lot about my dad.  Not only because he is a history buff, especially when it comes to World War II since his dad fought in the war, but because there were a couple moments when I had an opportunity to do what he would have done and I did.
One thing I love about my dad is how respectful and passionate he is.  My whole life, no matter where we are or what we are doing, if my dad sees someone dressed in uniform or wearing something that indicates their service, he will go up to them, offer his hand and say thank you for your service.  It used to embarrass me


, but now I admire it.  When I was at Omaha beach, after hearing about all the young men who lost their lives, men who were only as old as I am now, and after seeing grave after grave of unidentifiable soldiers, I saw a Veteran walking with his wife.  Although I usually am too nervous to do something like this, I thought about my dad and decided to shake his hand and thank him for his service.  The reaction I got was completely unexpected.  His wife became emotional.  He looked completely shocked.  He thanked me so much and I could see how much it meant to him.  And at that moment I thought about how much my dad means to me.  On the train back to the city we were staying in, I heard some Americans speaking and I wondered where they were from.  I had another chance to be like my dad and introduce myself and ask where they were from, so I did.  They were so happy I came up to them they invited me to sit down on the train and have a beer with them as we discussed the impact we had all felt from the unbelievable thing we had just seen.

All in all it was a fantastic weekend.  Normandy is beautiful and the history is so rich.  It was somber but beautiful, and on the train ride home, my heart was very full.

Strike Two

So that thing I said in a previous blog post about my bad luck being out of the way...yeah.  I guess I was wrong.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, my bank, and my host dad who works at a bank my credit card does not work.  The past week has been a bit stressful trying to plan a trip to Normandy for the next four days and figuring out how I'm going to pay for it when my money is unreachable.  But luckily, my host family has gone above and beyond again and offered to help me out until we figure out this situation.
For the past 24 hours I let myself get away with throwing myself a little pity party, but that ends now.  It will all work itself out.  I may have encountered a few technical difficulties on this trip but it has been absolutely wonderful in terms of the people and experiences.  I grow closer to my host family by the day and each day I get to experience a new adventure in France.  This past weekend my host dad took me and my friends to the source of water for the company Volvic.  After we went to some cute cities and hiked to a beautiful mountain overlooking Clermont.  The next day, Natalie's family took us and some friends to the highest point in the region of Auvergne where we had a picnic and climbed down the mountain.  Tomorrow morning I leave for my first excursion: 4 days in Normandy with a few close friends.  Each day has been filled with adventures and discovery, despite a few bumps in the road.

New Home, New Me

It is no secret that I am not one to enjoy outdoor activities.  What with my allergies to most things green and general dislike of moving, I tend to prefer indoor, relaxing activities.  But I have decided that that is not the way to enjoy this once in a lifetime trip to France and have therefor been on the move since the day I arrived.
This past weekend I did something extremely rare for me: trekking through the woods.  We took a trip to this lake that was created due to an explosion of one of the volcanoes.  It is crazy to think that what once created destruction and death brought about new life and pure beauty.  The symbolic resonances are endless.  I thought about that as we made our way to the absolutely gorgeous lake which had clear water and was surrounded by beautiful woods and even a castle.
After spending sometime on the beach, we decided we would walk around the entire lake.  We restored our energy with some crepes (in France they don't have burger and fries at the beach like we do in the states, they have crepes...) and began our trek.  To be fair, the lake was really quite small and the path was not a difficult one to follow, but I was still pretty happy with myself for staring my allergies in the face and continuing on.  Sidenote: this may be the nerdiest blog post ever written...
The path was absolutely gorgeous.  The temperature was just right, and there were even blackberries the entire way in case you needed a snack.  It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to.  And while this outdoor experience was not nearly as difficult as I thought it might be, it has encouraged me even more to go out and explore!  Next thing on my list of things to do: climb one of the volcanoes!

Weekiversary

A week ago, I was waking up in America for the last time in 6 months.  A week ago, I was crying and giving hugs before I hopped on a plane.  Now, just one week later, I am already beginning to adjust to day to day life in France.  One part of that day to day life is lunch in the park.  Every day, my friends and I go to the market, buy some bread, fruit, cheese and maybe some wine and walk to the park where we catch up and relax.  On one of our trips to the park, we all said a rose, a thorn and a rosebud for our experience thusfar.  So after one week here in France, here's mine:

My rose: Although everything has been wonderful, I'd say my rose has been getting to know my host family.  I (of course) was terrified I wouldn't like my host family or they wouldn't like me, and it turns out I had no reason to worry.  They are all so kind and loud and goofy, just like my family at home.  I love jumping on the trampoline or picking raspberries in the garden with my host siblings Alyette and Edmond.  I love having conversations with my extremely kind host parents and I love eating delicious meals with all 8 members of my huge family.  Not only do I get to learn and improve my French everyday, I get to do so with wonderful people.

My thorn: My actual family.  Though its been great to continue being in a family atmosphere, I of course miss my family every day.  I feel so blessed to be having these great experiences, I just wish they could share them with me.

My rosebud: So far, I haven't done to much in terms of adventuring. Just adjusting to a host family and the city and school has been overwhelming.  But my rosebud is that pretty soon I will be taking some amazing trips with awesome people and I will get to see even more of this beautiful continent!  Tomorrow I am going with Natalie's host family to a volcanic lake (?) and next week (I think) I am going to Normandie for the four day weekend!  It would be easy to spend 6 months just exploring the beautiful city of Clermont, but I CAN'T WAIT to see and do even more.

La France, c'est bizarre!

As soon as I posted my last blog my host parents told me that my luggage was at the airport!  Dieu Merci!  I think I was correct in hoping that I got the bad event out of the way because it has been nothing short of fantastic ever since.  I have a loud, friendly, loving family just like my real family.  The city is beautiful. But although France has been great, there have been some things I've found a bit...odd.

There are fountains in the middle of the street you can drink from.  Actual fountains...not drinking fountains.  Today, I went to the bathroom in a little room in the middle of the square that cleans itself after each use...the floors, the toilet seat, everything!  It all takes a bit of getting used to but the process of adapting is not only nerve-wrecking. It is exciting!  France is different, but not in a bad way.

Bonjour

In the theatre, performers are often happy if something goes wrong before the show because according to superstition, now the bad thing has happened and the show will go off without a hitch.  Right now I am sitting in my room, looking at my three hanging clothes and a few other miscellaneous items praying that is the case here.  Of all the things I was nervous about coming to France, the airport losing my luggage was not one of them.  But luckily I was greeted by my very welcoming host family at the airport who helped me as much as they could.  I went from freaking out over this luggage situation to laughing with my French family out on the patio as I enjoyed my first homemade French meal (which was amazing).  12 hours of sleep later, I am beginning a new day in France with high hopes that things will turn around.  Cross your fingers with me and maybe a few months from now this will go from being a pretty rough way to begin my time in France to a funny story to tell.