Short and Unfulfilling

I have my Art History midterm on Wednesday. Therefore, I have been a delinquent blogger. Coming soon: Dublin, Opera, and International Encounters! Now: why it is okay that the sun rises so late in Nantes (as seen from the kitchen terrace). Pink sky in the morning? Tant pis.

The W: A Rambling Study of Photoless Blogging

Sunrise Today:
7:57am

French Vocabulary Lesson:
claquettes - flip flops
acariâtre - cantaknerous

You'll notice a few things about this blog post. First: the brief account of practical knowledge prefacing the body of this literary chef d'œuvre. I have my reasons. To explain the second item first (because I'm all about digressions and convolutedness), I've been keeping a running list of the new words I'm learning. I haven't recorded all of them, but I have made a point of noting words that I find particularly useful and/or amusing. (Case in point: above.) The former item, the sunrise time, relates to a brief anecdote from the week:

My courses at the University of Nantes started this week, and my very first class (The Literary History of the 19th Century) commenced at 8:00am on Tuesday morning. Factoring in the 15 minute walk to the tram, the amount of time I would spend waiting for and riding the tram, the walk to the building, and the inevitable time I would spend being lost, I decided to leave myself a generous hour to get from home to class. In other words, I planned to leave at 7:00am. Much to my chagrin, the sky was absolutely pitch black when my alarm sounded at 6:00am. Figuring the sun would start to rise as I slouched through the necessary morning ablutions, I hauled myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Half an hour passed and I was dressed. Fifteen minutes later I had eaten breakfast (I've been doing that here). That adds up to forty five minutes, and even in the time it took me to calculate that sum, the sky remained decidedly, stubbornly dark.

I checked the weather: no rain. I checked my email: nothing doing. I read the newspaper online: that was depressing. Finally, I googled "global sunrise times" and discovered that the sun did not plan to grace Nantes with its presence until nearly 8:00am. So, at 7:10, I plunged into the night of morning. While the walk to the tram doesn't take me down any sketchy alleyways or narrow streets, it's long, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little afraid. Although I generally feel quite safe here, there are times when I am rudely reminded that I am a woman traveling in a foreign country. Sometimes, the young men here think it's okay to slink up to me while I'm staring at the ground waiting for the tram in the evening and shove their faces into my line of vision, forcing me into the eye-contact I've been told to avoid. It's no real threat, but it's a display of power -- no, machismo -- that I find quite off-putting. But, I digress.

Fortunately, though the sky could have been a 2:00am sky, the streets were what anyone might expect of pre-rush-hour morning streets. Businesspeople, uniformed school children, bedraggled university students. Soon, I was reveling in the crisp air of an autumn morning in Nantes. Crammed into my tram car with all the other morning commuters, I watched the sunrise. The sky turned purple, then pink, and was still working on blue by the time I found the amphitheater for my class. Moral of the story: the sun rises very late here. I find this both disturbing and amusing. I would like to document the gradual decrease of daylight hours here in Nantes, and I'd like to take you along for the ride -- hence the sunrise report.

In the spirit of digressions and disorderliness (and postmodernism), before I continue with my linear narrative, I'll briefly point out (and explain) another thing you might notice (or have noticed) about this entry (aside from my excessive use of parentheses...but that's not too out of the ordinary, anyway, is it?). There are no photos. I have no new photos to show you right now. Last Saturday night, I had a serious case of "The Plunge," as depicted in a graphical representation of "The W" earlier in this blog. Therefore, I did not go out with my friends or make plans with them for Sunday (no Planetarium, in the end). As much as I love it here, and as happy as I am with my friends and with Marie, sometimes a girl's just gotta cry.

Things took a turn for the better on Sunday, which I spent with Marie. I hope that these Sundays we spend together continue. This past Sunday, we went to two exhibitions in Nantes: a photo exhibit at Lieu Unique -- or LU, that's right the original Lefevre-Utile, LU cookie factory that's been converted into a bar/art space. Nantes: home to the industrial chic avant garde. Among the displays, there was an incredibly disturbing display on domestic slavery and violence, but I also found the artistic activism of the whole piece to be incredibly refreshing. Each panel comprised a simple photo of the façade of a building on one side, and one woman's story of abuse on the other. It made me feel how easily a façade of normalcy can conceal abuse and how sometimes closed doors are all it takes to deter prying eyes. It was a bit much for me in my fragile, W-ridden emotional state, but I'm glad I saw it. LU also apparently hosts artists, and we stopped by the "studio" where the current artist-in-residence had been working on these enormous wall-sized sketches of a young boy. Really stunning.

After that, we went to Scopitone, a very new age exhibit in one of the hangars over on Ile de Nantes (not far from the Elephant). Most of the displays at Scopitone incorporated multimedia and had some interactive component. I won't even attempt to describe any of what I saw there, but you can check out the website if you're curious. (If you can't tell, I just figured out how to add hyperlinks to blog posts.)

Marie's nephew Arnault and his friend Sarah actually came with us, and that just added to the fun, since they're much closer to my age -- mid-20s. It was also totally refreshing to spend the day speaking French with real French people. I haven't done enough of that yet since I'm kind of scared of the university students, but I can tell I'm getting better. There's still a lot of practical vocabulary that I'm lacking, but I'm learning, and the people I speak to are patient enough to teach me -- and hey, Conversation Club started this week! It's about half IES students and half local French students; we break off into smaller groups, each with a discussion-leader (animateur) and spend half the time speaking in French and half in English. We met some really nice French people this week, and every time someone actually understands what I'm saying, I feel more confident in my speaking ability, which just makes me giddy to practice some more. For once, a productive cycle.

Now, we return to my classes -- but there's a logical segue! I still haven't gotten up the courage to strike up a conversation with any university students. On the bright side, I understood about 80% of what my professors said this week, and I'd say that's a pretty respectable portion for the first week of class. Two of my classes (Literary History and African History) are lecture (or CM) classes in huge amphitheaters. In the spirit of cultural relativism, I've tried not to let my small liberal arts school sensibilities get in the way. The professors are very smart and with each passing year I stand more in awe of educators who engage a room with their verbal essay-writing. I miss having professors who care about my opinions, but for the time being I'm just as happy to keep them to myself in a packed amphitheater. In fact, my smaller class (a TD) is by far the most intimidating. The professor allows the students to speak up and expects each of us to deliver an oral presentation at some point this semester... I don't want to talk about it. At any rate, we're reading 18th Century erotic literature and philosophy, and the salacious reading material is engaging and easy enough to understand, so I'm content. Incidentally, textbooks are so much cheaper in France!

I stand both in awe and horror at how much I have managed to write of the mundane facts of my existence (albeit, a French existence). I will conclude by informing you that I had my first Salsa class today (my ju-jitsu alternative) and I'm making progress, both dance-floor-deftness-wise and French-friend-making-wise.

Tomorrow, I will again wake up before sunrise for an IES excursion to Mont Saint Michel and Saint Malo, just north of here. Photographic evidence of history and hijinks to come.

To my devoted readers who have gotten this far, I thank you and wish you the bonne-est of bonne nuits!

Do as the French Do: Monkey See?

I've been back in Nantes for about a week and a half now and considering my general predisposition for getting lost, I'd say I'm doing pretty well for myself. Thus far I've figured out two bus lines, two tram lines, and generally how to get around my home quartier, IES' quartier, and the university (kind of). Having said all this, I should also note that I carry a map of the city and transport schedules in every bag I have with me here. Nevertheless, I never thought I'd be this good at reading maps! A new talent emerges.

IES classes started this week, but I haven't had much to do as of yet since I'm taking most (le plupart) of my classes at the university and they don't start until next week. Here's how the ol' course selection shook down:

At IES: Topics in Advanced French Language & Composition, French Classicism: Art & Architecture

À l'université de Nantes: (I'll translate the course names) Literary History of the 19th Cent, Literature & Philosophy: Diderot & Thérèse philosophe, and Extra-European Civ: African History.

My "adviser" (I hesitate to call him that because he was basically some random professor whom I will never see again) had originally talked me into taking a third course at IES for a total of six courses because he was nervous about les grèves, the student protests French universities are famous for. I wasn't too keen on adding an extra class especially because I was hoping to fit some French gym classes (!) into my schedule. As it turned out though, the poetry class I added (because it was the only class of interest that fit into my schedule) focuses on Baudelaire, Rimbaud, and Verlaine, all of whom I have studied relatively extensively at this point. Having discovered the perfect excuse, I dropped that class like hot potato. In spite of my cavalier tone, I have some serious reasons for this decision. I know that French universities (and European universities in general) expect that students will take greater initiative in their studies than American universities expect, which makes it easier to slack off, but also provides room for me to prove to myself that I am capable of working independently and benefiting from it. So, that is my goal for this semester. I will work hard no matter how full or empty my schedule. Plus, now I get to take Aikido and Ju-jitsu! I figured martial arts classes would be as good a way as any to come face to face (or hand to hand?) with French students.

But, enough boring stuff. It's time for some etiquette lessons! (Also some photos.) With each photo, I will attempt to illustrate some of what we learned from our French etiquette crash course with Madame Rouchet (and also tell you a bit about life in Nantes). All of these photos are from a walking tour we took around the some of the older quariers in Nantes and from a weekend of exploration avec mes amis, which included a trip to the Natural History Museum and accidentally happening upon a huge carnival by the cathedral on Saturday night! And now, we learn:

This park by IES is as good a place as any to start. Here, you might encounter someone you know on your way to IES. As you would expect, it is appropriate to utter the traditional French greeting, "bon jour!" but only if it is your first encounter of the day. If you have already greeted this person once today, say nothing. Keep in mind that "bon jour" is always an appropriate greeting, while "bon soir" is only appropriate in the evening and when you quit your family for the night. If you stop to chat for a moment, you can say "bon courage!" when you're done. Perhaps my favorite recent acquisition, "bon courage" expresses perfectly the "cultural pessimism" of this country (Madame Rouchet's words, not mine).

The above interaction with the statue by the Médiathèque (our local library) demonstrates exactly what you should NOT do when you encounter someone on the street, although keep in mind that kisses are an appropriate way to greet your friends. But beware of la grippe!! When you kiss your friends, never touch your lips to their cheeks, but rather lightly touch your cheek to theirs and make a kissing sound into the air. Also, never, under any circumstances, use the verb "baiser" (unless you're into that kind of thing), as it is an invitation for casual sex.

When you're not singing for your supper like this street musician by the château in Nantes, you will sit for supper with your family. As Madame Rouchet told us, French people eat as much for "the spectacle" as they do for the gastronomical pleasure. It is absolutely obligatory that you clean your plate. (It's almost intense as televised turduckin eating contests.) Fortunately, portions are small and the food is delicious. If you particularly enjoy your meal, you should tell the hostess, "Madame, vous êtes un vrai cordon bleu!" I'm sure you caught the drift of that. Oh, and don't forget to eat all your fruit (including apples and peaches!) with fork and knife.

If you get invited to dinner at the château, ask your host when you should arrive, and then plan on arriving half an hour after the specified time.

Never, under any circumstances, greet, talk to, or look at strange men on the street. (Sorry, Scotty.)

Even though you must cover your shoulders upon entry to this cathedral in Nantes, apparently no topic of conversation is off-limits. (Take that worthless study abroad info session!)

The Natural History Museum in Nantes can tell us a little something-something about the evolution of man, but Madame Rouchet told us all we needed to know about the evolution of relationships in France from the vous stage (verb: vouvoyer) to the tu stage (tutoyer). Once you can address someone as "tu," you know you're in.

Le Passage Pommeraye is another one of those amazing collisions of past and present in France. Here, lofty ceilings and cherubic statues set the scene for lots of little storefronts, including one of the best chocolate shops in Nantes. (It's just like, it's just like, it's just like a mini-mall.) Just as the French comfortably reconcile their modern lives with archaic architecture, so are they comfortable with human aging. None of the French women I see on the street appear afraid of growing older. They allow their hair to grey and their skin to speak its years, but they exude another more permanent beauty in their grace and physical honesty. Not to lay it on too thick, but it's something that I've been noticing a lot and something that I've really come to respect about these women. If only more women in the world knew what French women seem to know!

Okay, I give up, that's all the etiquette I know. Here are some other pretty places in Nantes:

Oh, and let's not forget the carnival. I'm not sure, but I have on pretty good authority that this is the appropriate way to react when you stumble upon a carnival with the best ride ever (a.k.a. Le Boomerang):

This entry has gotten somewhat hefty, so I think I'll leave off here for now. I've got a few photos from my Sunday on Île de Nantes with my host mom, but I can save that history lesson for a few days.

Academic Preparation yo yo yo

So, today course pre-registration opened at 9:00AM CST, srsly? Yes. So, at 10:00AM my time, I logged onto the program webpage and pre-registered for my classes. The directions specifically said not to sign up for language classes, since everyone gets placed based on an assessment test administered during orientation, but the form still listed language courses among the options. It looked like some people had signed up for language classes, though (each course had little brackets with a number, like "[-2]," to indicate how many people had already registered for that class), so I'm hoping that I get extra points for following directions. I just really hope I get into my art history class...aside from my language class, that's the only other thing I'll be taking with the center, so it really will make a difference to me. I've got a couple backups -- a French history course, a literature course, and a sociology course on the EU and French identity -- and they all sound pretty interesting, but I just think art history would be the best fit for my schedule, since I've already committed to taking two literature classes at the Université de Nantes (the only way to get credit for my major) and I may end up taking a history class at the University as well.

Finguhz crossed kidz. I think I was one of the first people to sign up, so I'm sure it will be fine.

In an ideal world:

Courses at the Center
- Intensive French of some kind
- Art History

Courses at the University
- Literature
- Literature (lol)
- History
- Not too many strikes