I was sitting at my desk eating the world's smallest granola bar (all they sell here) and listening to the click of my alarm clock (the one that tells you that you got up twelve hours ago), and I realized it's been a while since I've blogged. The reason for that is pretty simple: Travel plans.
We get one week off in February and two weeks off at the end of April and beginning of May, and everyone tries to make plans before their friends become unavailable and the prices go up. This means that in the month of February I went from not having any plans to booking a massive amount of plane, hostel, train, and bus tickets. We're ALMOST done, and I am really excited to have time to do homework before midnight again. I've learned that you really earn the money you save through the hours of research you do on cheap tickets. I don't think it's minimum wage (at least not in CA), but it's still worth it. (I told my mom this week that I feel like a part-time travel agent.)
Anyway, that has consumed my life to the point where I've forgotten to be excited about my trips. As someone who absolutely detests spending large amounts of money, I've had to chant "You're only in Europe once" constantly. I realized today that I'll be in Barcelona one week from tomorrow, and my reaction was to stare blankly at the wall and wonder if we'd finished all of the necessary reservations. The new challenge: recapturing the excitement of getting to travel!!! (Feel free to help.) ;)
My inspiration for the title of this blog was a Tennyson poem that mentions "Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough / Gleams that untraveled world..." I've already experienced living in France for a month. I remember leaving the airport in Paris, getting onto the metro, and staring avidly out into the dark morning, when every glimpse of a graffitied shack or a light in a house made me excited. I remember walking off the metro with my giant rolling suitcases, pausing when I reached the sidewalk, and then casting my gaze every which way as I rolled off down the street, glorying in the lampposts and the billboards. I get to do that in Barcelona, Rome, and Florence in ONE week. In a monastery and a castle in Ireland, in Scotland, in Venice, in two months. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!!!
18 February 2011
07 February 2011
Des Petites Histoires (Some Little Stories)
I’ve decided to dedicate this blog post to stories. Most will be from a few weeks ago, thus ones that have been memorable enough to last a few weeks in my overworked mind (which I am very proud of). Here goes.
-Let’s start with a quick one. January 8th. I had flown out from San Francisco early that morning and was now anxiously sensing the end of my layover in D.C. I remember standing with my giant backpack and pea coat, scanning the people around me and thinking “Some of them must be French! Real French people!” (I do that every time I’m in an airport and I pass an international gate. In my defense, I’ve studied the French language for years in classrooms in America, but the only non-English-speaking country I’ve visited for a reasonable length of time is Mexico. Imagine my excitement when I discovered that it isn’t all just a giant con designed to waste my developing brain, there really is a country full of people that speak that language!)
Anyway, I was staring at people and mentally questioning their country of origin when I heard it. The Marseilles. Yes, the French national anthem, wafting through the sweet French-breathed air through the co-pilot’s harmonica. I saw him standing near the door to the plane entrance; he alternated between that one song and Frère Jacque, and then chortled softly to himself. I suddenly knew this was going to be all right.
-The night I met my host mother is definitely in my mind to stay. We’d taken a bus from Paris to Rennes, where I’d learned the details on my host family. We pulled into the university parking lot, and all forty-two of us rolled our massive suitcases (two each) into campus, past the staring French students and into a large foyer. The host families stood on one side of the giant room and watched us roll up and dump our things on the ground. Then we stood whispering to each other and guessing which one we would get. If anyone is familiar with the Orphan Train, that was us. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orphan_train)
My host mother was intimidatingly small (yes, that’s right) and fashionable. And brusque. We drove off with little talk and had a few short conversations (in which I sounded like I’d begun learning French a week previously), and she said something about leaving for work for the weekend and a friend who we would visit (who I later realized would be staying with me). Then we pulled up to a house and were welcomed by a nice-looking middle-aged woman, and I was in the middle of attempting to describe my eating habits (I’ll eat anything, a medium amount) when my mother had the realization.
She had left her scarf at the university. She ran to the car and searched the seat, ran back inside and collected me, and we were off (frighteningly quickly) to search after I said I understood. It was a Hermes scarf. If you don’t get it, Google the phrase. I had seen Princess Diaries enough to know that if Queen Clarisse used one to tie Mia’s posture into submission, it was probably valuable. I sat, clenching the door handle slightly.
Anyway, then we didn’t find it, went to the apartment (WOW), where she found it, and approximately two hours later I discovered how quirky my family is and it was all good. For proof of this, I will just say that the bathroom is my favorite room here (STOP judging me! Now!) and that I hope to post pictures of it later.
-Then there was tonight after orchestra. I take a bus with the orchestra-lent cello (being dramatically less expensive than my Stradivarius-poser), so I was just getting off with the clunky case when two girls with half-empty beer bottles ran up and asked me a question. Generally I’ve found it’s a good idea not to let people who’ve had a questionable amount to drink know that I’m a foreigner, so when they asked me if I played the cello I said “Oui” really quickly and mhmmed for a minute while one girl told me she’s been wanting to start playing and asked about prices. Of course there came a point where I had to open my mouth, and they immediately began guessing my nationality, going from German to Danish to other countries I didn’t know the French names of. Finally they gave up and I told them, and after a couple minutes of language-learning conversation, one girl told me in faltering English, “But you really don’t have a strong accent.” They went into the Irish pub near my apartment, and I waited until I got into the stairwell before questioning what had just happened and rejoicing in this unusual compliment. I’m still grinning about it now.
In other news, I’ve been booking planes, trains, and hostels for my week of February break with a couple friends. I think it’ll be really exciting when I calm down from the total cost tally (even though we’ve been VERY dedicated to keeping it economical). Barcelona, Rome, and Florence, I’m coming!!!
30 January 2011
Raclette
Tonight my host brother and his girlfriend came over for dinner, and the five of us had a three-hour raclette dinner. It was amazing. They warned me beforehand that it's a dish eaten a lot in the mountain regions, and that it's very heavy.
As we had visitors, the meal began with an aperitif and pistachios. I had extremely tangy passionfruit juice. After 20 minutes spent chatting in the living room, we moved to the table and the fun began.
Raclette is beautifully described in this article if you're really curious: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raclette
But basically, you take a large slice of cheese (I forget what kind^) and put it in a big spoon/little shovel on a hot table apparatus, and while you wait for it to melt you fill up your plate with potato, red cabbage, French pickles, onion, thin slices of Italian cured beef, etc. Then you pull the spovel out of the small hot table and pour it over your concoction. While you eat this mountain of steaming cheesy goodness, you put another slice of cheese on the spovel and repeat the process. It's pretty darn good.
Of course, after that came dessert (thin cookie crisps and oranges with a cinnamon sauce, a Moroccan recipe), and after dessert came a tisane (herbal tea) and chocolates. Needless to say, it was an amazing evening, made even better by my new cello (Stradivarius-modeled 150-yr-old), the new cookies I bought (not good timing, but tasty!), and the Edith Piaf CD I discovered yesterday. Her song "Non, je ne regrette rien" is featured in Inception, which is where I first heard her, but now I relentlessly play the CD to the point where my host family finds themselves singing Edith Piaf as they walk through the apartment. I love Saturdays.
As we had visitors, the meal began with an aperitif and pistachios. I had extremely tangy passionfruit juice. After 20 minutes spent chatting in the living room, we moved to the table and the fun began.
Raclette is beautifully described in this article if you're really curious: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raclette
But basically, you take a large slice of cheese (I forget what kind^) and put it in a big spoon/little shovel on a hot table apparatus, and while you wait for it to melt you fill up your plate with potato, red cabbage, French pickles, onion, thin slices of Italian cured beef, etc. Then you pull the spovel out of the small hot table and pour it over your concoction. While you eat this mountain of steaming cheesy goodness, you put another slice of cheese on the spovel and repeat the process. It's pretty darn good.
Of course, after that came dessert (thin cookie crisps and oranges with a cinnamon sauce, a Moroccan recipe), and after dessert came a tisane (herbal tea) and chocolates. Needless to say, it was an amazing evening, made even better by my new cello (Stradivarius-modeled 150-yr-old), the new cookies I bought (not good timing, but tasty!), and the Edith Piaf CD I discovered yesterday. Her song "Non, je ne regrette rien" is featured in Inception, which is where I first heard her, but now I relentlessly play the CD to the point where my host family finds themselves singing Edith Piaf as they walk through the apartment. I love Saturdays.
28 January 2011
Chocolat Chaud
It is Friday afternoon, I don't have any class today, and I went to a movie last night and then slept in until 10:15. Life is beautiful. At the same time, I finally went running this morning, and despite my layers and gloves I was pretty chilled by the end. Result: I'm camping out in my room, catching up on travel journals and blogging. I ventured out for lunch at a chain bakery (shameful, but the only one with tables where you can bring a book and eat slowly), and I'll be picking up my rental cello with my host mother in an hour. That's right, I found a cello! It's over 150 years old and the shop owner doesn't usually rent it out, but that's all he's got left. This is perfect timing because I had an audition for the Rennes community orchestra on Monday night, and I got in!!! (Despite forgetting to bring any music and playing the instrument for the first time in a month. Phew.)
In other news, all of the American students have pretty much settled in, which means we're starting to miss things from home. Peanut butter, I didn't bring you because I thought you weren't important. I hope I find you here soon. Also, I'm definitely hoping to eat at a pizzeria soon (they're everywhere). I bought popcorn kernels on Tuesday and made some on the stove for the first time. (My host mother thinks I'm a typical American because of the popcorn and the large amounts of bread that I can eat.) I also found a "café-bar"that has about twenty kinds of chocolat chaud (hot chocolate), as well as chocolate chip cookies. I'm pretty sure that all the Americans go there, but that doesn't stop me! Overall, of course, I'm still loving the food! Bakeries are the best.
Exciting news: Classes started yesterday! Apart from the fact that it's nice to finally have my class schedule (for the most part) and not be waiting for more changes, the program is looking really interesting. Okay, I'm not really talking about the classes, although they do look interesting; I'm talking about the people in the program.
Let me see if I can make this simple. I'm here in France with CIEE, with other American students from universities around the country. Our program is the biggest of ten (totally guessing) international programs that all tie together with the program CIREFE at the Univerité Rennes II. We have the option of taking classes at the university itself, but the majority of classes are taught by CIREFE professors to the hodgepodge of international students who all speak some French. This is really really interesting. So far I've met students my age from Brazil, Argentina, Albania, China, and Japan. That's only with one day of orientation and one day of class, so I'm excited to see who I meet next!
I should probably also mention that during my week-long winter break, I'm going to cities in Spain and Italy with two friends from the program. Tickets will be bought ASAP, and then I can tell you what cities.
Lastly, a little language update: It's getting easier. There are ups and downs, of course, like when I saw my newly-made friend from Argentina in the cafeteria line, and no matter how many times he repeated himself I had NO idea what he was talking about. But the ups are more frequent, like last night, when I talked to my host mom Beatrice while she cooked dinner and we ate, and I realized that I'm forming phrases more quickly than a few weeks ago. And then when I went to see a movie (a French film called "La Chance de ma Vie", a mediocre chick flick), and I followed what was going on for the most part. Even better, things that used to be tiring and frustrating like keeping my Facebook set in French, reading a French translation of an Agatha Christie book I've already read, or leaving French websites that I visit in their actual language... I don't notice it very much anymore!!!
Prayer requests: Encouragement and energy to take advantage of my time here
Honestly, God is taking such good care of me. He's provided friends, family, church, adventures, working internet... What a loving Savior I serve!
In other news, all of the American students have pretty much settled in, which means we're starting to miss things from home. Peanut butter, I didn't bring you because I thought you weren't important. I hope I find you here soon. Also, I'm definitely hoping to eat at a pizzeria soon (they're everywhere). I bought popcorn kernels on Tuesday and made some on the stove for the first time. (My host mother thinks I'm a typical American because of the popcorn and the large amounts of bread that I can eat.) I also found a "café-bar"that has about twenty kinds of chocolat chaud (hot chocolate), as well as chocolate chip cookies. I'm pretty sure that all the Americans go there, but that doesn't stop me! Overall, of course, I'm still loving the food! Bakeries are the best.
Exciting news: Classes started yesterday! Apart from the fact that it's nice to finally have my class schedule (for the most part) and not be waiting for more changes, the program is looking really interesting. Okay, I'm not really talking about the classes, although they do look interesting; I'm talking about the people in the program.
Let me see if I can make this simple. I'm here in France with CIEE, with other American students from universities around the country. Our program is the biggest of ten (totally guessing) international programs that all tie together with the program CIREFE at the Univerité Rennes II. We have the option of taking classes at the university itself, but the majority of classes are taught by CIREFE professors to the hodgepodge of international students who all speak some French. This is really really interesting. So far I've met students my age from Brazil, Argentina, Albania, China, and Japan. That's only with one day of orientation and one day of class, so I'm excited to see who I meet next!
I should probably also mention that during my week-long winter break, I'm going to cities in Spain and Italy with two friends from the program. Tickets will be bought ASAP, and then I can tell you what cities.
Lastly, a little language update: It's getting easier. There are ups and downs, of course, like when I saw my newly-made friend from Argentina in the cafeteria line, and no matter how many times he repeated himself I had NO idea what he was talking about. But the ups are more frequent, like last night, when I talked to my host mom Beatrice while she cooked dinner and we ate, and I realized that I'm forming phrases more quickly than a few weeks ago. And then when I went to see a movie (a French film called "La Chance de ma Vie", a mediocre chick flick), and I followed what was going on for the most part. Even better, things that used to be tiring and frustrating like keeping my Facebook set in French, reading a French translation of an Agatha Christie book I've already read, or leaving French websites that I visit in their actual language... I don't notice it very much anymore!!!
Prayer requests: Encouragement and energy to take advantage of my time here
Honestly, God is taking such good care of me. He's provided friends, family, church, adventures, working internet... What a loving Savior I serve!
23 January 2011
Now read it aloud!
Let me teach you a useful phrase. It’s probably not what the cool kids are saying, (as in, the real French urban teens), but it’s pretty popular in French classrooms throughout America. Take a deep breath, snap or swing your arm nonchalantly or something, and say it with me: “Zut, alors!” (zoot, Al-ore) Rough translation: Well, shucky-darn! (No, really. A squeaky clean phrase.)
It’s come in very handy today. Firstly:
When I got to a new church this morning (on time) the entire congregation was late. A greeter let us in and led us upstairs, paused, and said, "Um... Tous le monde n'est pas encore arrivé..." Then the five (literally) people who were there gave us bises, and I haven't felt that awkward in a while. And that's saying something, living here. I was so glad I came with a friend! Don’t get me wrong, they were all amazingly nice!
Another good example of prime usage time:
I like snacks. And the wonderful thing about snacks is their texture. I’m not one of those people who can have an ice cube or a yogurt or juice and call it a snack. In fact, I’m kind of in awe of those people and hope to be one someday, but I probably chose the wrong country to be living in then. Zut, alors! (Very good.) Anyway, I like bread or pretzels or cookies or something not nutritionally a good idea that might not even taste that good, but you can chew it and feel sustained. The family tends to have bread on a cutting board in the kitchen, which takes care of that, but lately the bread availability has been a little low. Today I get back from church to see my host parents taking their grandbaby for a walk, and what do I do? I scurry to the kitchen (remember there was a dinner party last night) and find four (four!) loaves of different kinds of bread. Anyway, throw into the mix that they didn’t get back for a while and that we ate lunch at 2:00 and dinner at 8:15, and you’ll get… one repentant bread-eater. There must be a French word for that.
Lastly:
It’s bedtime! (Oops, that was 30 minutes ago.) I’m in the bathroom washing my hands (salle de bain, translated "room of bath" because the toilet’s almost always in a separate room "toilette") when suddenly the lights go out! Say it on your own now! I literally did say it aloud this time, in the dark bathroom. Now all is well, however, and you know a new phrase! (Unless you’re one of those many French students out there. I’ll teach you slang terms for police and boyfriend another day. Still from a classroom, so still nice and clean.)
22 January 2011
Bon appetit!
It's been two weeks now! I'm settling into the customs and the language a bit more, although I still speak way too much English, but I've noticed something. Today we took a walking tour of the city of Rennes, and a guide brought my attention back to the ancient buildings and the tucked-away churches. I'm already taking this place for granted. I want to wake up every morning with the realization that I'm so blessed to be here, because I'm not here forever! The language, the FOOD, the cobblestone streets... What a great place to be, even at 7 in the morning!
I should probably mention that my host family's grandaughter is staying here this weekend. She's 4 months old. And really really really cute. Also the most fashionable baby I've every seen. When family or close friends get together here (in my classy, haute couture slice of French life), they show each other their new clothes and talk about the designers. Or artwork. I just stare at the champagne and wonder how many sips I have to take to be polite. Tonight I politely bowed out of a dinner party that started at 8, and I can hear them still talking through my door. It's midnight. The French and their dinners...
It's time to talk about cultural differences. You know, like the difference between hugging (American) and giving "bises"or kisses on both cheeks (French), which is very overwhelming for someone with a personal bubble like mine. Or the difference between "vous voy-ing" and "tu-toi-ing", the more and less formal ways to address someone in the second person. I still use the more formal "vous" for my family (with frequent slip-ups into informality), while a lot of my friends were told to "tu-toi" their families at the first meeting.
The biggest cultural difference, though? FOOD. Oh my goodness, yes. Where to start?
Breakfast ( le petit dejeuner): Usually small, like coffee and a piece of bread (My host mother bought me cereal, thankfully.)
Lunch (le dejeuner): I've eaten at lots of creperies as well as the Resto-U (school cafeteria), and I can promise you that the restaurants are better. (Surprise!) I live in the Brittany region of France, which has a culture that's sometimes very unique from the rest of France, and one of the regional specialties are galettes. They are sometimes called crepes in other regions, but they use a darker flour and usually include cheese and egg. Delicieux! Today we had oysters* and smoked salmon (yum).
*I've had them in soup as a kid and didn't really like them, but I thought I'd give them another try. They looked like they came straight out of the sea, and my family informed me that in Brittany you swallow them without chewing. Okay, I thought, I can handle that. Funny thing is, when you swallow an oyster without chewing, all you taste is salt water. Not my favorite food.
Afternoon snack (le gouter): This one is mainly for little kids and the occasional American college student. This one is my weakness. I've visited a boulangerie every day after school this week. My extremely thrifty Michigan college self is shocked! But it's worth it, even if every day I have to promise myself that I'll start running tomorrow... I've gone through several "This is my absolute favorite place and I'm going to be a regular!" phases so far. Also, this one grocery store has massive bars of Swiss chocolate that are okay, I guess...
Dinner (le diner): This depends on the family, but mine is an extreme case: 8:30-9:00, somewhere in there we'll start. I KNOW. Hence the gouter. My host mother serves lots of fish and vegetable dishes, which sounds healthy, right? They're all amazing, and there are two very good reasons for that. Butter and cream. That sentence about running also applies here. We eat bread (baguettes without butter) with every dinner, and I was introduced to a dessert called "fromage blanc", or "white cheese" the other night. It tastes like bitter plain yogurt (to me) that you sweeten with jam. Hm.
In case you are wondering, I have eaten escargots, and they were amazing. I have not seen frog, rabbit, or deer pate yet, or I think I would have tried them. I am also developing a large cheese repertoire, but we're still working on that one.
And the best part is, I've only been here for two weeks!
16 January 2011
Am I French yet?
Bonjour tout le monde! I've been in France for exactly one week now, and it's about time I updated the people in my life about... my life. One intense, great, jam-packed week, in one (hopefully short) blog post.
First, the progression of my thoughts on speaking French:
Day 1: Hey, not bad. I can totally communicate! Sometimes I might even pass for French!
Day 2: If by communicate I mean get my point across eventually, sure!
Day 5: Oh... Wow. That thing called grammar? My brain can't do that as fast as my mouth can talk.
Now: As long as everyone is patient and I don't panic, it will be okay and hopefully I'll get better. No promises on becoming fluent.
Basically, every time I open my mouth, I have to stop and make a conscious decision to try using French, which is much harder for me and much messier for other people. But I'm trying!
Well. I left the guesthouse on Monday morning, and after a (frankly) horrible metro ride with two huge suitcases, one of which lost a handle during the trip, I met up with the other Americans in the CIEE Rennes program and started orientation. We stayed in a hostel in Paris until Thursday, explored all the local sights (I finally have a picture of me with the Eiffel Tower), and tried to speak French to each other and the four French students that are our "moniters". It was great, to summarize a lot, and then we filed into a bus and drove to Rennes. As is customary in this program, you are placed in a host family after a personal interview with the program staff, which takes a lot of facilitation, so we found out who our families were... on the bus ride to Rennes. I had about two hours to process my information: Middle-aged couple, lives in a nice apartment "au centre-ville" (downtown), internet, no smoking or pets, husband is gone during the week for work, adult children visit occasionally.
We got off the bus and poured into a room on campus with all of our luggage. The host families were on the other side of the room, and we all watched each other surreptitiously until they started pairing us off. The madame who came to get me is small, brusque, and very very fashionable. I was so nervous that I told her my sister was "fifteen hours" instead of fifteen years old, and that took about a minute to come out of my mouth. Huh. She was pretty intimidating for the first two hours, until I realized how quirky she and her husband are. Now I love them, and I barely know them. They both have big black glasses, look very French, and are really funny. As for the apartment... WOW. I have a giant, beautiful room, and the whole apartment is... huge, beautiful, and classy. Hard to explain, but maybe I can put up some surreptitious pictures later.
Anyway, today we went to the fresh-air market (second-biggest in France=HUGE), where I tasted the world's best cheese and saw loafs of bread with a diameter the length of my calf, every kind of seafood imaginable, and tiny skinned lambs. That last one was pretty sad. It's the kind of place where I badly want to take pictures but desperately don't want to look like a tourist. After that, crepes and cider for lunch (slightly alcoholic- I'm proud I tried it), finally buying a cell phone, and exploring.
In the Disney princess movies, the girls always have some special secret place where they go to sing and hide from stepsisters. I think, largely because of the movies, that I've always looked for those, and today I found the best secret nook. My apartment's location in downtown Rennes is both great and a little too much city, so I was thrilled to discover a giant park two blocks away. By park I mean mossy little stone statues, a merry-go-round, rose gardens, and a 30-minute walk. I'd been having a little bit of the lonely blues (which amazingly haven't really been a problem so far), but this surprise gift from God completely cured it. How beautiful. Bed now, church tomorrow, the world on Monday.
First, the progression of my thoughts on speaking French:
Day 1: Hey, not bad. I can totally communicate! Sometimes I might even pass for French!
Day 2: If by communicate I mean get my point across eventually, sure!
Day 5: Oh... Wow. That thing called grammar? My brain can't do that as fast as my mouth can talk.
Now: As long as everyone is patient and I don't panic, it will be okay and hopefully I'll get better. No promises on becoming fluent.
Basically, every time I open my mouth, I have to stop and make a conscious decision to try using French, which is much harder for me and much messier for other people. But I'm trying!
Well. I left the guesthouse on Monday morning, and after a (frankly) horrible metro ride with two huge suitcases, one of which lost a handle during the trip, I met up with the other Americans in the CIEE Rennes program and started orientation. We stayed in a hostel in Paris until Thursday, explored all the local sights (I finally have a picture of me with the Eiffel Tower), and tried to speak French to each other and the four French students that are our "moniters". It was great, to summarize a lot, and then we filed into a bus and drove to Rennes. As is customary in this program, you are placed in a host family after a personal interview with the program staff, which takes a lot of facilitation, so we found out who our families were... on the bus ride to Rennes. I had about two hours to process my information: Middle-aged couple, lives in a nice apartment "au centre-ville" (downtown), internet, no smoking or pets, husband is gone during the week for work, adult children visit occasionally.
We got off the bus and poured into a room on campus with all of our luggage. The host families were on the other side of the room, and we all watched each other surreptitiously until they started pairing us off. The madame who came to get me is small, brusque, and very very fashionable. I was so nervous that I told her my sister was "fifteen hours" instead of fifteen years old, and that took about a minute to come out of my mouth. Huh. She was pretty intimidating for the first two hours, until I realized how quirky she and her husband are. Now I love them, and I barely know them. They both have big black glasses, look very French, and are really funny. As for the apartment... WOW. I have a giant, beautiful room, and the whole apartment is... huge, beautiful, and classy. Hard to explain, but maybe I can put up some surreptitious pictures later.
Anyway, today we went to the fresh-air market (second-biggest in France=HUGE), where I tasted the world's best cheese and saw loafs of bread with a diameter the length of my calf, every kind of seafood imaginable, and tiny skinned lambs. That last one was pretty sad. It's the kind of place where I badly want to take pictures but desperately don't want to look like a tourist. After that, crepes and cider for lunch (slightly alcoholic- I'm proud I tried it), finally buying a cell phone, and exploring.
In the Disney princess movies, the girls always have some special secret place where they go to sing and hide from stepsisters. I think, largely because of the movies, that I've always looked for those, and today I found the best secret nook. My apartment's location in downtown Rennes is both great and a little too much city, so I was thrilled to discover a giant park two blocks away. By park I mean mossy little stone statues, a merry-go-round, rose gardens, and a 30-minute walk. I'd been having a little bit of the lonely blues (which amazingly haven't really been a problem so far), but this surprise gift from God completely cured it. How beautiful. Bed now, church tomorrow, the world on Monday.
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