Nocturne

I am listening to Chopin's Nocturnes tonight and staring out of my window at the clouds moving past the moon. The ring around the moon, dazzling, incandescent, yet shadowed by a sheet of silver silk sweeping across it's face. I find myself searching for it's light to luminesce through the pane once again, but it's light pales behind the milky curtain of fog.
We long for beauty, we search tirelessly for it. It often escapes our notice. I fail to recognize the sheer exquisiteness of the moon until it stares me in the face and demands my full attention. I can't help but be entranced. I see a pattern in my life of ignorance and even self-deception to the things which are truly beautiful around me. If I am honest with myself, at my very core, I long for those things which are most pure. This is far more alluring than the cheap substitutes to which I readily give myself over.
Tonight I am falling asleep to Chopin's bewitching melody. The clair de lune dancing through my curtain, reminding me of the beauty that God created for us and in us. It's tune is resonant, demanding an acknowledgment of a Master of beauty creating beyond what any human can even dare to imagine.

"Why American Women Get Fat in France"

Today I thought about starting a book, "Why American Women Do Get Fat in France". Well, I don't deserve the term "fat" quite yet, but I am definitely not losing any pounds while in the land of carbs. I think sometimes that God designed women with some sort of freak compulsion for sweets and/or bread. Why else would there be all these diets for women cutting out all carbs and desserts. To me, this is torture. I love a good pastry and I adore well-made desserts. Luckily, I am very picky about what kinds of sweets go into my mouth because the experience has to be all worth it. This habit of mine works well for me in the States because my dessert choice is thus, limited. If the dessert is not divine enough to give my palate exactly what it deserves, I will not eat it. Ah, but in France, almost every dessert or pastry is fresh, delicious and totally worthy of consumption. I am still in awe of the amount of dolce delights one can find in France. The book, "French Women Don't Get Fat" is all well and good for French women and even American women, but what the author does not prepare you for is your trip as an American girl to France.

I have never dieted and I never want to. I agree with Mireille Guiliano, author of FWDGF, on all of her points in her book. However, I have had to seriously watch the consumption here. Butter, butter, bread and butter, is all I see here. I mean Nantes has great seafood, so I enjoy that, but every time I go to buy a sandwich, I get a whole baguette with butter and mayonaise on it. Sick!! So, just a warning...I think it's a conspiracy by the French government to make foreigners fat. I seriously doubt that the millions of skinny French women I see who parade the streets of France ever touch an almond croissant smothered in butter and melted sugar. Maybe they just eat one bite, but how hard is that!!

Jack Daniels

I never thought I would feel so at home with Jack Daniels. I reassure you that what I am about to say is completely innocent, so don't get yourself all in a tissy. Having one of my fits of missing home/ friends/the South, etc, today I was comforted by a billboard of Jack Daniels whiskey. There is a giant distillery, I believe, near Chattanooga, and well Tennessee unfortunately is known solely for Jack Daniels in Nantes. It's hilarious to me that a large number of people here automatically assume that I drink Jack Daniels like water. In fact, I can imagine the stuff tastes disgusting! I hate whiskey for drinking, but I take comfort in its alterior benefits for me. So, today I learned two things from good ole JD: refrain from making grandiose assumptions about regions, states or countries because often you look like a fool. And two, reminders of home can come from some of the least expected places. Cheers for Jack Daniels!

I like this picture of marriage/relationships. I feel like it's hard to find really poignant, Christian lyrics, but Bebo Norman really speaks truth here.

"A page is turned by the wind to a boy in curly grin
With a world to conquer at the age of ten
But as history unfolds and the storybook is told
He finds salvation but not at the hands of man

And the God of second chance
Picked him up and He let him dance
Through a world that is not kind
And all this time, preparing him, the one
To hold him up when he comes undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And now a man, here you stand
Your day has come

A page is turned in this world to reveal a little girl
With a heart that's bigger, as it is unfurled
By the language in her soul, that's teaching her to grow
With a careful cover of love that will not fail

And the God of second chance
Picked her up and He let her dance
Through a world that isn't kind
And all this time, preparing her the one
To hold her up when she comes undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And grown up tall, here you are
Your day has come

Beneath the air of autumn, she took him by his hand
And warm within the ardor, she took his heart instead
And high upon the mountain, he asked her for her hand
Just for her hand

A page is turned in this life, he's making her his wife
And there is no secret to the source of this much life
When the grace that falls like rain is washing them again
Just a chance to somehow rise above this land

Where the God of second chance
Will pick them up and he'll let them dance
Through a world that is not kind
And all this time, they're sharing with the one
That holds them up when they come undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And once again, here you stand
And once again, here you stand
Your day has come"

In my oral comprehension/production class on Friday, we discussed what characteristics make up the "ideal" man or woman. It was hilarious. There are only two boys in my class. The dynamic is already entertaining because we have Mexicans, Brazilians, Russians, Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, Americans, Ghanaians all in one class. There were a lot of differing opinions. But controversy arose when the two boys Ferdinando, my Brazilian friend, and a Chinese guy whom I have never heard say a word, made their ideal woman practically a Step ford wife. They went on and on about how she would do the cooking and cleaning and that she would be "pas trop intelligente"(not too intelligent). Of course, cries of disapproval from the ladies erupted. I think they were joking but they never said anything about it being a joke. At least our teacher got a good laugh.

Running for the Tram

A typical day for me in Nantes consists of me running for the tram(I mean sprinting, and no, it's not very romantic), being confused or amused(usually both) in class, and then dinner and sleep. It's not as glorious as one would imagine France to be, but it's interesting in it's own way. I confess that I imagined my time here to be very different than it turned out to be. I over-imagine, over-romanticize, and over- analyze quite a bit. France did not end up fitting into my preconceived notions, but it actually ended up being better than I could have imagined. I have surprised myself with my ability to adjust, even to the point of comfort. Each day here poses a new challenge, but it's different than the challenges I face at home. There is a lot of self-discovery going on lately. I have actual time to reflect here. At home, my pace of life is much faster, and I don't have to be as aware. I have to think about what goes out of my mouth and into my ear, twice as hard as I do at home.
I am surrounded by so many different cultures, religions, languages. It is exhausting at times just because everyone comes from so many different places. But I LOVE it!

Even going to the grocery store poses a challenge. I don't have a car, so I have to fit everything in a small bag, which means I have to make several trips to the grocery throughout the week. I haven't had ice since August, there is no such thing as real iced tea here, no clean restrooms, etc. Convenience-wise, the U.S. wins out. However, France has some unique and lovely qualities that my country does not. Almost every store is closed on Sunday; everyone takes off for lunch; I have not had one single bad cup of coffee(and I drink a lot of coffee); public transportation is cheap and absolutely convenient(not to mention environmentally friendly!). Life moves at a much slower pace here. You would be hard pressed to find food to go, unless you want a Kebab. You sit and enjoy. It's all about pleasure here. And I cannot fail to mention the ART! Oh my, the wealth of art here is just enough to make someone want to spend decades in a place like this.

A Korean friend of mine, Ju A, brought a photo to show in our art class a few days ago. She had fabricated a shot of a cactus on the street in Nantes. She set her little plant on the ground and took a picture of some French people walking alongside it. I laughed a little and then our professor said, "does this symbolize that the French are a bit prickly?"(except it was in French). We all laughed. No, I honestly find all of the French friends and teachers, cafe owners and shopkeepers to be very friendly and open. My favorite cafe here is St. Nicholas. They have the best coffee and hot chocolate in the world. I love taking advantage of the gorgeous autumn weather by either walking around the hippodrome or sitting outside at a cafe all bundled up in a scarf and jacket, coffee in hand and favorite book.

A favorite activity here in Nantes is going to dance clubs or disco-teques. I had fun going but it isn't my favorite thing. Mainly because a lot of the people there cannot dance at all, but it was at least entertaining and safe. The night-life is very big here. You can go out late for crepes, or dp the club thing. I prefer the crepes and conversation. That's just me!

I realize that I will probably never have an experience like this one again. I have so much free time to explore. I have to really take advantage. I am going to Milan, Verona, and Venice for the Toussaint holiday next week. On week-ends following, I am off to Dublin, Paris( a few times), Belgium, South France, Barcelona, Lux. I am so blessed and I know I will have many more good stories to tell! So until then...

"In your head"

Watch this: I have always loved listening to the Cranberries, but I never watched the video of "Zombie"...interesting.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJEySrDerj0

An October Walk in Nantes

My eyes, refusing to blink, afraid to miss one moment of the amber and ruby,
Burning images and feelings of the past, present and future,
Heightening every sense in my body,
The lively, October air whistling through the trees and playing with my hair,
Dancing across my skin
The leaves in their full glory, crisp and bright, fall in slow motion, it doesn't feel real,
Change is the song they sing, rhapsodic, mellow, sonorous...
My love affair with Autumn in Nantes

How I Dearly Love to Laugh!

Today, I was reminded of how important laughter is for the soul. I had two French classes today and everyone just seemed to be in such a silly mood. In our first class, we talked about the institution of marriage in France. Naturally, we proceeded to discuss homosexuality in France. Level 4, which is my level of French here, does not possess the most eloquent of French speakers. Most of us like talking, but it is more likely that we will be misunderstood rather than understood. So, we end up having some pretty entertaining discussions. For example, today, one of the girls from Russia, who is particularly loquacious, suggested that a good age to marry is 18. She went on and on about how "it is necessary" to marry at this age. Our French teacher was a little shocked, but this was nothing in comparison to the next comment. A guy from China piped up during our discussion and said that he liked transvestites. What he meant to ask was, "what is a transvestite?" Our professeur got a kick out of that one. So many things get lost in translation. I really couldn't prevent laughter from this point on. I ended up spending the rest of the day laughing at myself and admittedly at others. It just struck me today for some reason, how hilarious and at the same time, how awesome it is to hear a roomful of different accents struggling to speak French. I love it!

A community is the mental and spiritual condition of knowing that the place is shared, and that the people who share the place define and limit the possibilities of each other's lives. It is the knowledge that people have of each other, their concern for each other, their trust in each other, the freedom with which they come and go among themselves.

• "The Loss of the Future" Wendell Berry

I love sharing place with people. I like to know the people whom I live near. I want to know that people I trust are in my business. I like how Wendell Berry explains community. We know each other, we learn to care for one another because we know. When someone shows genuine concern for me, I know I can trust him or her. When trust is in place, there is a liberty to move around within the community. C.S. Lewis speaks of friendship as "imminently spiritual." I like this. I have so many close, close friendships because they are profoundly spiritual. I believe that trust, in any relationship, is the most important thing. If you trust your friend, or your spouse, it's because you love them. You love people and you let them be who they are. Community is a bountiful feast. There's always room for more; in fact, it is necessary to bring in more. Just like in a garden, variety is a necessity to produce good crop. The unconditional nature of friendship is so liberating.

Confessions of My Ethnocentric Self

Sometimes you have to get away from a place in order to understand why you value it. This week, I felt the full force of wanting things to go the way they do “back home” in the states. I wanted a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks, a real pillow to sleep on, a man to act like a gentleman even if it’s all pretense, tap water, a store to be open after 18:00, space, grass, oh yes and a real taco. My ethnocentricity has made a grand entrance this week, but is leaving the party soon I hope. I am not so frustrated as I am distracted. Fortunately, I like so many things here that it overrides the bad aspects. I don’t miss home too badly, I just miss getting to talk to my family and friends. Home means so much to me. I love traveling and visiting new and beautiful places, but I can't help but love knowing that I will always get to "go home". I have had the opportunity to realize how much I prefer where I come from. There are many delights here that make me "ooh and ahh" but it's not home.

However, the days seem to fly by here, so there is not a lot of time to be homesick. There is so much to see that I can barely fit it all in. I almost have every single week-end booked! I feel like I am on a perpetual vacation, apart from stressful class. Every day I see something beautiful I have never seen before. I can’t imagine growing up in a place like France where almost everything aesthetically appeals to your senses.

This week-end, Miranda, Katie and I went to Angers and Rennes. Well, Katie came with us to Rennes and Miranda and I went to Angers today. Rennes is about one and a half hours away and Angers is about half an hour away. All the museums were free this week-end because it was some kind of patrimony week-end. I got to see loads of art at the two Musees des Beaux Arts; walk through the Palais du Parliament of Bretagne; eat baguette and croissant; and just bum around in yet another stunning French city. I happened upon a Monet and a Peter Paul-Rubens while in the Musee des Beaux Arts in Angers. That was cool. The Bretagne region of France is a pretty distinct region of France. The people seem to be a bit more hearty and outgoing than in Nantes. This is a generalization but I think there is some kind of Germanic, Gaelic, I don’t know, influence. I will have to bone up on some history I guess. Angers was gorgeous. Old chateaus and cathedrals were the highlights of the day trip.

It’s a bit more difficult language-wise at present because there are now tons of Americans swarming the residence where I live. I can speak English whenever I want. Often I want to just because it’s easy, so I have to force myself rather than be forced, to speak French. People on the streets here love to practice their English as well so it makes things difficult. I actually have been complemented a bit on my French this week, which I find hilarious, but I take what I can get. I think it’s the sheer fact that they know I am an English-speaker and they are pleased that I am trying. I like this about Nantes. The people here are very helpful with foreigners. I think there is a tendency with English speakers as compared to say, Spanish speakers, to be shy about saying things in French. We tend to be a bit more afraid of making mistakes. I am surprisingly not very afraid to speak on the streets, I just have a hard time in class when it comes to discussing movies or art. I don’t have a large enough vocabulary yet. I comprehend so much more than I ever did before. It's absolutely incredible how the force and necessity of communication, creates knowledge. Human beings love to express themselves. The best way to learn a language is to be forced to act upon your desire to express your feelings. Human beings love talking. We do it so well in every culture. I find that I want to be included in the discussions, jokes and small-talk here, so I am driven to understand as much as possible.

Restroom Etiquette

Today,
I went to the bathroom or the "WC" and I came out of my stall to find my male French professor going to the same restroom. I completely blushed. Men and women use the same restroom here. I cracked up after I left and told my American friends what happened! This is my week for feeling the cultural differences strongly. I have had a somewhat frustrating week, but it is beginning to pass. The best thing I have done for myself here is just to laugh a lot.

Class and Other Adventures of Sorts

Update on this past week-end. I survived my first week of classes so I was pretty exhausted by Friday. Miranda and I went to visit Paul, our crazy French friend. We ended up sitting in his room for hours only speaking French. This was a hard night for me because I had just had five and a half hours of French classes that day and I was exhausted. Paul’s friend Donauld dropped by and sat and talked as well. They are both so nice and patient with me. Donauld especially goes out of his way to help me and listen to my broken French. We ended up planning to go with Donald to his soccer game on Sunday. I was so tired by the end of that night and a little emotional from all of the French. It was good though because I am now moving out of the stage of being shocked and overwhelmed by only hearing French. Even though I don’t understand a lot, it doesn’t make me feel very frustrated. I try and grasp the main points and I forget the details. So, we went to a French film, “Comme Les Autres”, the next day, and it was great. It was nice just to sit and learn some vocabulary; and it ended up being a very interesting movie.

That night, Miranda and I went out to meet the British girls, and we ended up picking up a bit of an entourage before we left. Three French boys in our dorm decided they wanted to come along so we let them. We knew one of them from earlier and he was nice, but the other two were not so nice. They were just rude to us in that they kept laughing at our French and trying to speak English. This is very frustrating and disheartening when trying to learn a new language. After that night, we decided to be very choosy about which French boys to grace with our company.
The next day, Donald and his sister picked us up for the futbol festivities. This was my first ride in a car with a French driver. I had my reservations. The French are generally bad drivers. This is a true statement. Anyways, Donald is originally from Cameroon. We ended up going to his sister’s house for a bit, which was shocking seeing that one rarely gets invited into a French home. Ha! I defied the norm. We then went to a fete at a big park where Donald made us a traditional meal from Cameroon. Yum! Then we headed to his futbol game. He scored two goals, one for each of us I guess. I think he was pretty proud to have two girls watching his soccer game. It was just a great day. I got to practice a ton of French with Donald, his little nieces and nephews, etc.

We have been going to the cinema often because it’s very inexpensive and helpful. However, I have only seen one good film so far. The other two were ridiculous. In fact, the last one Miranda, Paul and I watched was “La Possibilite d’une Ile”. I kid not when I say that when the credits rolled, everyone laughed. The movie made no sense AT ALL.

Things are settling down here. I finally have finished all of the little details that were so consuming and I can now breathe; oh and learn French. My success in French is manic. I don’t know any other way to explain it. One day, I understand almost everything said to me in class or on the street; but the next day I blank on the simplest question. I laugh at myself ALL THE TIME. I say words and phrases wrong all the time. I even accidentally say bad things on occasion and that gives everyone a good laugh. I find it so refreshing to laugh at myself and move along. This way I don’t take my mistakes seriously; because how can I? I am speaking like a seven year old child! This deserves a good laugh. My writing class is my favorite because I know what is going on. All of the other classes I take are pretty confusing. In my art class, I don’t understand any of the vocabulary used so it’s hard for me to grasp what is being said. In my oral comprehension and speaking class, I am fairly lost but can at least conjure up some kind of sense of understanding during the lesson. In my cinema class, I, of course, get what’s going on in the films but the vocabulary is pretty new to me in this class as well.

Today I freaked out a bit to my professor. She really just read my face because my sentences were not making much sense, but basically I was trying to tell her that I was placed in the wrong level. There are people in my class who have been living in France for one or two years and they speak really, really well. I have a Romanian friend, Andrea, who lives with a French guy and can speak fluent French, but we are in the same level. This makes no sense to me. My professor explained to me that those who can speak well, cannot write and understand the grammar that I grasp. She told me just to relax and realize that the whole point of me being in this level is to challenge and improve the skills I am lacking. So, through some laughter and some tears, I was reassured to stay in my level. Consequently, I had two friends afterwards really encourage me to keep trying. My Bulgarian friend, who speaks four languages, told me that he can barely understand the dictations in class. This was a relief because he talks the most and seems to be the most confident out of everyone. He was encouraging and told me just to practice speaking as much as possible. He looks just like the Bulgarian, Victor Krum, from Harry Potter. It’s really weird.

I have made so many friends, it’s really difficult to keep up with all of them. For instance, today on campus, I was trying to work, but five of my friends walked by and stopped to talk. Then I made a new friend, Gladys from Ecuador, and she stayed and talked for a long time. So, I don’t’ get much work done on campus. If I don’t get much better at French, I will be content just having the experience of meeting so many people from so many different cultures. It is absolutely incredible. The diversity I am living in is fascinating. I get to learn so much about other cultures, but actually even more about my own through this experience. I think I have made way too many plans with people, but somehow I will manage!

Jumping into a bit of French culture, my friend and I were talking today about dress here. The women here are surprisingly modest on the whole. Compared to the U.S., there seems to be a lot less skin shown in public. From what my French friends have told me, the French don’t show off the body so much in public, but they are very comfortable with sexuality. This is obvious in the film, advertisements, etc. I am really confused by this. Promiscuity, casual sex and especially public display of affection seem to be the norm, but dress here is much less provocative. I guess it can be subtly provocative. Anyways, I just got to thinking about the typical American female and her dress. It’s perfectly normal for her to be scantily clad, but it does not directly mean that she is easy. Here, it seems to imply something much more direct. Moral of the story for me: never wear shorts in France.
I started running, ballet and salsa. I think some of us are going to a salsa club to dance on Thursday, woo hoo! This week-end, we are trying to make it to the beach before it’s completely freezing. We are planning to go near St. Nazaire, to Mont St. Michel. There is a stunning chateau here and a gorgeous beach we want to see. The days fly by, so Miranda and I are planning our week-ends in advance so that we don’t lose track.

The nights and days are so beautiful here. It has been so clear and crisp outside. I can see the moon at night so clearly from my window. During the day, I have been noticing the trees changing colors. I still can’t get over how nice the weather is.

Oh yes, the tramway. I wanted to talk about this because it’s such a brilliant idea. Nantes is a big city, so they have a genius transportation system. It took me a few days to get used to, but now I am completely comfortable with the tram. It is a bus that runs on a few different lines all throughout the city. It is just like a subway, but above ground. So, you don’t have to go underground to get to places, making it a safer and much lovelier ride. I heart the tram, and I think every city should have one.

As for now, I am aching to go to Paris, even though there is still so, so much to see here.

I am Changing

“Je suis tres fatigue. Je suis tres fatigue.” This is all I am saying in French right now. I am very tired. I just want to sit down for a few minutes and cry, but I have no where to do that. I went to the bathroom at the Eurostar in London before departing to France, but I couldn’t get a good cry out. I guess I don’t really need that kind of catharsis, but really I just need to sleep in a room by myself. My body aches from rushing luggage onto this train and that one, but I feel strong, capable, willing to take risks and therefore make mistakes. This is a FIRST for me. I never go into anything I do with this mindset. I always plan to avoid mistakes and often therefore evade risk altogether. Typically if there is a chance that I will fall down or mess something up, I will do everything in my power to escape the situation. As much as I thought that I like feeling safe and in control, I am realizing oddly that I like this feeling of the unknown. There is such a greater sense of triumph when you try something difficult, without knowing what the end will be like. It’s exhilarating! I feel like I am just a wisp of something being tossed about in the air. I have direction and goals, but I have no idea what the means are to the end. I am putting over-planning under-foot and I am facing challenges on the fly! One simply cannot dwell on failures and mishaps when traveling. I am learning to move on from things optimistically and sensibly because it is necessary especially when having to take complete care of yourself. I thought I was independent at UT Chattanooga, and to a certain extent I was, but this is so much more challenging. When I am upset, I can’t complain to my dear friends. When I am hungry, I have to go find something to eat instead of food being so accessible. When I want to just talk to someone, I have to speak in another language or ask if he or she speaks Anglais. I have met new friends and people along the way while in the UK, but no one is going with me. I can’t call so and so to come to the grocery with me, or to ride the train with me or to find a hostel or hotel with me, I have to figure it out myself. The thing about this being “independent” ideal is that one is never truly independent. We all depend, whether Christian or non-Christian, on something to help us through. This might be God, a friend, a bottle of wine, etc. What I am finding is that there is nothing that can replace the absolute security I feel when I relinquish all control to God and give dependence to Him. I have been shocked at the amount of times, just in two weeks, that God has made my way safe and good. But I shouldn’t be shocked. I am calling out to the Lord for strength in my time of need and He is answering me in His way. I couldn’t have asked for a better lesson to learn. I have been struggling with fear without knowing it for a long time. I am always afraid of what will happen next and how I can make sure I know the outcome so that it’s not so frightening. This summer was my dénouement of sorts in this story. I have been living in dependency on anything I could find available, any ready ear to hear my problems, any savior to rescue and stand with me, but these have all been cheap impressions because I have had the order all wrong. This summer, I was out of options. I couldn’t extract any more help from anyone; and I couldn’t give any advice either. I thrive on giving advice, and I think I am good at it. But I have been so lost in my own selfishness that I couldn’t say anything worth saying anymore. It was one of the strangest things I have ever experienced for I always have something to say. I value highly, opinions, and those who have them and who take a stand for them. But I couldn’t figure out where all of my words had gone. It’s like I had nothing good to say the whole summer. I think I know what God was up to now. He silenced me. When all my words, hopes, and “escapes” failed me, I had no other option but to look to the Lord. God makes it so easy for us to turn to Him. We can call His name anytime, anywhere. I wonder what is wrong with me so often when I struggle to get others’ help, attention and advice, and the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent Father is waiting in continuous grace and love for His flighty, unfaithful child.
I have always had an adventurous side to me that gets buried under loads of carefulness, restraint and ultimately fear. It’s not that I have ever really been afraid of doing crazy things, I like that part; it’s that I always try and imagine the outcome. Usually, I expect the outcome to be grim and unprofitable so I suppress the desire and move to safer ground. It took something as simple as taking flight, literally, to get me off of the ground. I am starting to really see what Chesterton means when he talks about how “unsafe” and perilous Christianity is! It’s not about perfection, it’s about risk. Being able to suck it up and say okay, life’s unpredictable, but God is not. Safety and rest can be found in no other place, but in His hand. When I fall asleep at night, I feel the most displaced. I am typically sleeping somewhere I am unfamiliar with. I have a very strong sense of place. I love travel, but I feel deep gravity toward home. So, naturally, at night I have always felt like I am in unsafe oblivion. I imagine that I am curled up in the palm of God, sleeping in a place so close to home; that my anxiety is gone and I rest well. I know it’s a bit strange but the mental picture give me solace.

I don’t want to get so far ahead of myself in thinking that I am changing when in fact I am still just as apt to control my life, instead of letting God control it. However, I feel a desire to relinquish hold on my life in a way that I have never experienced. Oddly, I am more productive, less judgmental and way more adventurous!

I am about to arrive in Lille. I have no idea if I can find a train ticket to Nantes. I haven’t cried yet and I somehow have some miraculous strength though I have had no sleep! Life has never been so full as it is now just because my heart is in the right place. “This journey is my own” as Sara Groves so wisely sings. I believe it; I want my dear family and friends, but these are satisfying only when I trust and love God above all else.

Specifics

Nothing much else interesting to tell except that no one believes me, until I open my mouth, that I am American. I guess I am a complete European poser, but everyone I have met either thinks I am French or British. This is a fun game. Also, whenever Miranda and I go out into Nantes, we get a ridiculous amount of stares, mainly from creepy men, I think because we carry backpacks like foreigners and Miranda has very blonde hair and I wear sunglasses. We have already had a fair few, misfortunate accosts from gentlemen, so I have resolved to stop smiling altogether.

Life is good here. I feel spoiled beyond all measure; I wish I could bring all of my dear ones with me. I know that I will grow immensely after and during all of this. I am so thankful for my parents who helped me get everything together for this trip. I don’t deserve this, but the Lord has blessed each of my steps. For now, I can’t wait for class to commence.

After getting settled in, filling out millions of French papers and running around town doing errands in a city I didn’t know at all, we decided to do something fun. After being pretty exhausted from my two weeks in the UK and then immediately being thrown into all things French, I crashed in my room for two days. Saturday, Miranda and I explored Nantes. We went downtown to all of the stores and sights there. Then we ran into a big group of British girls whom we had met earlier. They are SO much fun! They invited us to go out that night and so we met up with them at the tram that night. It was raining of course, but we still ventured out. We went to an adorable Italian restaurant in the centre-ville. After feasting, we made friends with the owner who was this sweet Italian man who gave us bottles of free wine and champagne. Everyone goes to bars here. It’s a lot different than at home. It’s very safe for the most part. I know it sounds sketchy, but it has been just another place to speak French for us. It was getting late, the Frenchmen were getting out of hand, so Miranda and I left. We don’t do the whole “going out” thing so we head home early if we even go out. On our ride back, we met more French boys who wanted to speak English and we simply refused! Do to our resilience, we caught the attention of a French student who only spoke French to us. So George is one of our new, favorite friends.

We went out the next day to see Les Machines d’Iles. This is a touristy thing to do, but it is awesome. There is this museum with all of these machines and also a giant elephant that you can ride around the town. Nantes is just beautiful with the Loire River and the sun shining on the boats passing by the café. We had a lovely day. We did have a guy come up to our table and try and sell himself to us for one euro; that was a bit of a shocker. Some people are very, very strange here. But you just have to move past it. On a good note, a man asked Miranda and I on the tram if we wanted to tutor his daughter in English while we are here. So this was good because we might get some extra cash and some more French practice.

Everyone asks me about the food. Yes, the food for the most part is delicious. Wine, cheese and bread galore! The wine and cheese is super inexpensive. It’s so different from home. One can get brie and camembert for just about 2 euros. A local, good bottle of wine is just as cheap as water. There are about four university restaurants here. We eat an entire meal, salad, entrée and dessert for 2.80. The food is very good. I am a bit of a snob when it comes to food so believe me, it’s an incredible deal. There is a lot of fish served here because of the location of Nantes so I am happy that I like fish. I am trying a different pastry every time I go to a patisserie/boulangerie. I love the coffee. I am learning to wean myself off of all the sugar and milk and I take a tiny but of sugar with my coffee. I drink hot tea with milk at night. The chocolateries here are incredible as well. We have tried all sorts of chocolates we didn’t know existed here. Yum, yum!

Many people stare here. There is not a lot of reserve in this area. It makes me feel self-conscious, but I am learning to get over it. In the US, when you catch someone looking at you, he or she tends to divert the eyes immediately. Oh no, not here. No shame. The pace of life here is very different. People take breaks during the day. They shop in the middle of the day. Everyone takes time to sit and enjoy. You are hard-pressed to find anywhere that will give you a coffee to go. I like this, though it takes some getting used to. There is a lot of freedom in the French way of doing things. They kind of cut you loose as a student and let you ask questions and figure things out. There are about a million different ways of getting one thing accomplished. Students are pampered in the US in that we get things done for us either by the system or our parents. The French let you take the reigns administratively. This is daunting, but liberating. There are quite a few grey areas.

Most everyone here has been extremely helpful and accommodating. People say the French are snobs, but I find this entirely false from my small experience. Everyone here is generous with their time and help. They don’t seem to mind my butchering their language. This has been a pleasant surprise. I feel my French digressing at this point already because I have spent a lot of time meeting other students who either speak English as a first language or speak English as a second language. I am ready to start classes so that I will be forced to listen, speak and write in French.

Snoop Dog is coming to Nantes. I just thought I would say this because it sounded hilarious to me.

I am taking ballet and salsa four times a week here. They have an awesome sports program here. I am so excited to get to do all of this dancing. I think it will be a good release and a great way to burn the extra calories I obtain from frequenting the patisserie! My skin has been breaking out pretty badly, which is a bummer. I don’t know that my nutrition is very good here. I need to work on that. In addition to my mandatory course work, I am taking Cinema and Art Discussion. I can’t wait!

Our new friend Paul is taking us out for dinner and French this week-end. Then, on Saturday, it’s French movie night with the British girls!

I know this is a lot of boring information. Right now, it's all my brain can think to write. Feelings and emotions will hopefully flood back soon.

First Days

As I stepped off of the Eurostar train from London to Lille, the reality of my immersion hit me like a ton of bricks. From this point on, I realized that I actually was going to have to speak French if I wanted to eat, sleep, or enroll in school. I took it one step at a time, beginning in the train station. I started with asking someone the time, then I proceeded to order some breakfast; ask directions and then for the big finale, hail a taxi to my hotel. I managed these small tasks in French on my own, but I had no idea how the next day was going to work itself out. After I woke up the next morning, I realized that I had not heard a word of English for two days except for the seven or eight minutes that I talked on the phone with my mom. This was a very strange feeling. That morning, I felt completely incapable of even taking a step outside my door. I thought, “well, Natalie, you can just go back home now, you’ve had fun, but this is not going to work.” Well, going home was not a real option, I tried crying; not a tear, so I set out to meet up with a Canadian friend I met on facebook who was coming to Nantes through my study abroad program. I waited at the train station looking for a blonde Canadian for two hours and still no sign. Of course I knew there had to be a glitch in this little brilliant plan I cooked up because no American can really function without a cell phone. I have already grown accustomed to being “disconnected” from cell phones, internet, etc., so this mishap was just a result of poor planning. It turned out that I was inside while she was outside, and she went inside to page me en francais while I went outside to look for her. As I was about to take a taxi and leave, I saw a seemingly lost blonde girl with way too much luggage. We were both ecstatic to see each other for fear that we might have both just jumped back on a plane across the Atlantic if the other had not shown up.

This first day was a catastrophe in that we were handed a million different documents with instructions from the fastest speaking French women in the country. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but when you are exhausted from dragging loads of luggage with weak arms like I have and at this point a pretty weak brain, you don’t want to have to do all of this. I felt like possibly what a baby would feel like if he or she could comprehend and remember what it was like not to be able to walk, but to have this driving force pushing and forcing you to survive. The city was brand new and Miranda and I had to make our way to bureaus, poste offices, and banks just so we could sleep somewhere that night; and yes, every single bit of it was in French.

The next day, I woke up feeling ten times better. Miranda and I had to go out to take care of more forms and such and then go take our placement test. Of course I am thinking, why in the world do we have to take a test the day after arriving; it’s a bit much. So we walk into this giant room filled with students and faculty at the front speaking French and handing out tests. I didn’t panic though. I started to feel this overwhelming sense of peace and ease about communicating in French. I was excited to take the test for some odd reason. Well, necessity is indeed the mother of invention, and I began to feel this idea play out in my own situation. I knew I had to understand directions, so I listened as closely as possible and I started to understand tons more than I thought I would. It’s strange; it’s as if you somehow understand words and their meanings even though you know for certain that you have never learned them in your life. I feel this ungovernable force compelling me to understand better, speak more, and take chances with the language. I knew logically that I didn’t possess the necessary skills for moving through all of these administration hoola-hoops in French. And I mean EVERYTHING was in French. Somehow though, I was able to understand and communicate, far surpassing my expectation. This is why I think that when people say they are no good at languages, they just don’t know that it’s ten times more difficult to be in a classroom than immersed and taught by force. If I want to survive here, I have to speak and listen in French. I opened a bank account already in complete French; this was interesting! I described a coat design to a sales person in French; and I got into level four, big surprise, in my French program!

I meet so many people here who speak three and four languages without any problem, so this puts my challenge in a new light. I am not being stretched that much. Right now, I am not stressed, which is completely shocking seeing that there are times when I fail miserably at getting my point across and there is just awkward silence that ensues. However, I am so excited to see myself improve. I also am just enjoying the pastries, cheese, bread, wine, coffee(all very inexpensive compared to everything else) and even the typical smelly French streets. No, it’s not all out of a dream, but for the most part everything is super! It is very rainy and chilly in Nantes. Nantes is right near the coast in a region called the Loire-Atlantic. They make incredible white wines, Muscadet, here in the valley. It is also a grand chateau/castle region. I have been pretty wet and cold here, but it is nice. There is always a break in the clouds and you can go out with a wool coat on or just a scarf, long sleeves and pants…whatever you wish! I think I understand why everyone here is so fashionable. It’s because they get to wear clothes without sweating all the way through until November. Autumn starts in September for sure, and it is going to be absolutely gorgeous, I just know. So, I adore the weather in Nantes.

Okay. okay, I am somewhat recanting what I said about bad fashion here. There are a lot of very interestingly, well-dressed people, but I am confused by the unbelievable amount of wool coats I saw parading the streets today in Bath. I saw many, many women in wool jackets and boots with tights. This is just breaking all kinds of seasonal fashion rules! It is an abomination to wear wool in August! Admittedly, it did not get above 65 degrees f today. It is Autumn already here, but I was fine in my cotton blazer and jeans. I even donned the scarf as I love to do, but come on. Boots, stockings, scarf and coat or wool in August?? I hope that the French have more sense. The styles are very distinct here; kind of dark, very edgy and a bit "emo" for my taste, but life indeed is tres posh here when it comes to clothes.

UK Fashion

Surprisingly, not many people here have good fashion sense. It's really strange. There are some, but most people obviously try very hard and to no avail. Maybe I am just partial to French fashion, but almost everyone I have seen on the streets dresses up, but it looks sloppy. I mean, the amount of leather boots I witnessed with these knee-high stockings paired with a skirt and scarf was frankly just not working at all. Very urban, without the chic. Just a comment, feel free to disagree.

Warwick and A Little Bath

After I left Pippa's house, which was no fun, I got on a train, well a few trains, to go see the town of Warwick. I really didn't know how I was going to get around with my huge backpack, but I thought I would just figure out as I went along. I really impressed myself with my ability to get on the right trains. I say this because I typically am completely and utterly directionally challenged, but train traveling is obviously made for me. I have gotten on a ridiculous amount of trains and have not made one mistake. I had to change trains three times to get to Warwick, so that was a bit exhausting. When I finally arrived in Warwick, I had no idea where I was to put my bags so that I could tour the city. I ended up walking all the way into town and finally finding a hotel in the middle of the city. At this point, it had been almost an hour with what felt like an old man being carried on my back and I was exhausted. So, I went in and asked for a room and the guy actually gave me a really big discount on the room. So with grandpa off my back, a swanky hotel room in the middle of Warwick and a moment's respite, I was good to go. I just toured around the entire day. Took pictures, read and had a coffee and scone, ate by myself at a delicious Thai restaurant. I got a little lonely after eating out; I have never really done that before. As I got back to my hotel room, I began to feel the loneliness of not having anyone to talk to or to share all of the grand sights I had seen that day. It felt strange staying alone in a hotel room, but I cheered up eventually! I opened my window because it is actually Autumn here, no joke; and just enjoyed instead of being annoyed by the solitude.

The next day, I checked out and prepared to make the long trek back to the train station. This time, I strapped everything much better to myself. On the way up, a man shouted at me from across the street, "Well, Love! That backpack is as big as you are! You going to make it all right?" We both just laughed and I retorted, "just as long as the wind keeps from blowing, I'll be fine." I made it, and continued on to Bath with three train changes. I am a pro at this point. The scenery from the windows was particularly beautiful. It must be where they film all the Jane Austen BBC movies, or at least some of them. I love listening to music on the train, whether it is Nick drake for the morning, David Gray for the stormy afternoon, or Kanye West when I am feeling bold and need to break all the seriousness. I get lots of reading done as well.

Well, I finally got to Bath and was delighted to meet Mrs. Mary Porter at the station. How incredible is this. Okay, so Mary Miller recommended this Bed and Breakfast in Bath. She adores the owners and the place. The couple, first of all, comes and picks me up from the station. I just can't understand why God has lavished so many blessings on me this week! We pull up to the manor, and yes I said manor, and it was like someone punched me in the chest. I couldn't breathe when I saw the house and the hills surrounding. John and Mary Porter are an older, incredibly vivacious and kind couple. I am going to get a picture of them because they are just precious. John is tall and thin with this incredible white hair that's perfectly messy. He looks like an Oxford professor and she is round and sweet as pie. We chatted over a cup and tea and a biscuit. Then I headed out to explore their gardens and then the canals. I kept ooohing and ahhhing out loud. It would have been quite embarassin' if someone had been with me, but I couldn't help it. I have never seen a garden with so many things growing in such fullness at once. The variety and use of space was a sight to behold. After my recontrer with Peter Rabbit in the abundant garden, I headed for the canal. I was just tripping down the lane enraptured by the landscape. What makes this kind of landscape so beautiful to me is that everything is so delightfully uneven. One minute, you are up high, and the next you are in a valley. I chatted with people boating along the canal as I walked. It is Autumn here, at least everyday feels exactly how Fall should feel.

We had a superb dinner together, straight from their garden. I love living so close to the earth! This is, I know, how Wendell Berry lives. Some friends popped in for coffee and rhubarb crumble, c'est delicieuse! I was chatting with Mr. Porter all about rowing and he was so happy to find a kindred spirit in the sport. He loves rowing and we just talked and talked all about it. He is going to take me down to see where he rows tomorrow. We ended up watching his recording of the olympic rowing from a few days ago. Tomorrow, Mr. John is dropping me off in town to spend the day seeing everything from the Roman baths, to the Jane Austen Centre. I am blessed beyond measure with all of these wonderful people. It's so nice, kind of strange, jumping from one place to the other. Everything is so different. One day I am in the countryside, the next day I am in London! I am here until Thursday and then I head to London. Ciao for now!

Birmingham, Pippa's home.

Leaving Swansea was bittersweet. I knew that after Friday I couldn't depend on any more motherly affection to keep my spirits high. Mrs. Mary and Mr. Rick were so sweet to me and I felt so at ease being there with them and their friends. I got to meet so many lovely people. We went to a cream tea in the city center with Jo, a friend of Mary's who is about my age. She was so vibrant and fun to be around, and she had this phenomenal Welsh accent that sounds like one is singing a song. They lift the ends of their words up very melodiously; and it sounds a bit Scottish or something. The cream tea was great; little scones(scons) as they say, with cream and sandwiches. SO cute! We walked on the beach and went into town.
That night, Mrs. Mary got the idea to go out for coffee, music to my ears, in Mumbles. Mumbles is a posh sort of vacation spot( what isn't in Swansea?) in Swansea. It is Catherine Zeta Jones' hometown! Mary, Bernie, and I went to Verdi's cafe overlooking the sea. Tres belle! I had the best latte of my life. It was Irish Cream and it put all of the lattes I have made and consumed to shame!

Oh man, I forgot to mention Trivial Pursuit night. The Lifelink church in Swansea was having a get together one night at a friend's house and so we went. It was just Mary, Jon and myself. The owners of the house were hilarious, just adorable people. Mr. John, the owner, kept trying to get me to "fatten up" so he would put pieces of food on my plate and say, "oh dear girl, nothing is going to be said for you if you don't fatten up a bit!" I laughed pretty hard. Okay, so there were a lot of young people there and they are all really loud and well, British or Welsh. I loved it. During the game, everyone was yelling, being uber-competitive, and just really getting into it. Mrs. Mary and I got a little frustrated because there were a lot of answers that all of these smart kids knew and we didn't until we came to find out that it was a British version. We were relieved that it was not expected for an American to know where some obscure river meets in some obscure town in Britain. It was a great night. The Millers just made everyday a delight. I couldn't have been happier.

So, I left Swansea on Friday after getting some fish and chips( I had to have these by the sea ONLY) and famous Welsh ice cream. I got on the train to Birmingham New Street and got off about two hours later. From here, I stayed with Pippa Rimmer, who is just well incredible! She, among other things, speaks five languages, drinks really good wine and has a killer accent. She made me laugh so much, which really made everything so comfortable. I will admit that I had felt anxious about staying with people I don't know, but she made everything super fun and we talked about music, languages, life, the arts, politics. Her music library is unbelievable and I don't know that I have met anyone so aware of other places and cultures as much as she is. We went out for authentic Balti Indian...bon apetit, then had a glass of really good wine and listened to albums I was drooling to hear! So we basically just had girls night every night because her husband was out of town. Pippa knows Corinne Bailey Rae and all sorts of other famous people. Oh and her cat, Taffy, is absolute fun. It has been such a lovely, perfect time so far.

Birmingham is the second largest city in Great Britain. It holds one of the most diverse populations in Europe.

God has just taken care of me traveling by myself and getting on and off the right trains in safety. Even more, it has been such a joy to be around these people. I have truly already learned so many new things. I am learning to be even stronger in the Lord, trusting in Him and therefore adding strength to my own self. My point in all of this going around by myself is to gt outside of my typical comforts and learn how to do things REALLY on my own. It's such a great challenge and my character is getting stronger; I can already feel it and I am not even being immersed in French everything yet! I thought I was independent, but after this summer and so many of my weaknesses became so apparent, I have begun to try and fix some of those things that I don't trust about myself. I plan to defy gravity this time, knowing that I will be flying and falling, but at least I will get off the ground every once in a while. The falling isn't bad because I have my Foundation.
Well, I am off to visit Warwick Castle tomorrow for a day. Many pictures to come. I am headed to Bath tomorrow night to stay in B&B for a few days. Thus continues adventures in Austen land. Can't wait!

p.s. I am sorry about the butchering of the English language in these ramblings, but I have to type fast and carelessly in order to get it all out!

Worms Head

Today was Wuthering Heights day. Mr. Rick and Mrs. Mary drove me out to Worms Head in Swansea to see the view. The drive was beautiful, though the roads are so narrow. By narrow, I mean that the white lines often end, meaning that only one car can fit, meaning that I freaked out a little. However, Mr. Miller is such a fantastic driver that it ended up being really fun. We got out to Worms Head and my Jane Austen fantasy world began to unfold before my eyes. With the vast, grey ocean spread out before me like a feast for my eyes, ever looking over it, but never having my fill. The velvet green, massive cliffs were the dessert of the whole thing. With the rain and let me record here, sleet, yes sleet in August pouring over us and the thick fog blanketing the giant rocks, I couldn't have asked for a better scene. It was very cold, probably low 50s, but it was all just eye candy, no time to think about inclement weather. After being soaked to the bone, we headed for a pub to get a coffee. I have been needing a latte for days, so this was perfect. We sat overlooking the sea in quiet admiration of God's designing so many delights for the eye and soul.
We came back for lunch. The people who work at the Bible College of Wales here, all eat together. I have never experienced such community. Everyone eats together, washes dishes together everyday. This adorable old man whom I had the pleasure of meeting, just melted my heart with his "oh lovely, lovely!"s and his pure gentility. We spoke a bit of French and I just fell in love with his manner and his story. Mrs. Mary told me that He waited to marry the woman he loved for 30 years. They both lived here and had declared to keep their vow of celibacy until someone told them that they could marry. They both kept their promise, working together in love with each other for 30 years until a new director came to the school. They got married in their 60s I believe and never go anywhere without holding hands. So sweet.
That's it for now. I am just working on my itinerary for the rest of the time. It sounds perfect.

Lesson 2: For once in my life I need to wear more clothes, it's cold!!

I can't post a ton of pics on here, but check my facebook for full albums if you wish!

Swansea, Wales

Trek to Swansea

Today I was glad to get off of my flight at the London-Heathrow Airport. I had to sit next to a middle-aged man who kept telling me that he could "extract poetry from my eyes" and other annoying nonsense for eight hours. Basically, I pretended that I was asleep almost the entire time so he wouldn't talk to me and I wouldn't have to look at him. All this to say that my flight would have been perfect, but my delusion of a pleasant flying experience this time, was quickly destroyed. I got off of the plane at 5:05 London time, 11:05 Central time, mind you so the jet lag began to set in as I had to make my way through customs and onto two different trains. Customs was horrific; I almost didn't make it through because I purposefully forgot to put the address of my destination; big mistake. Being bleary-eyed and completely disoriented, I surprisingly just stared him down while he railed on me about how stupid I was to forget this information. I didn't get upset but I just gave him an alternative and he angrily put me through. Then I cried a tear or two when I was safely out of view.

The next challenge was to get on and off of the Heathrow Express in one piece. I have been carrying two big suitcases, a big backpack and my messenger bag. I am a bit petite in size so there was a lot of swaying and such that went on. I felt pretty ridiculous. However, my one success of the day was that I even told a British guy which platform he needed to get on for the Heathrow Express to Paddington. I was proud. This temporary high was brought down by my getting on the wrong end of the train to Swansea, Wales and having to drag all of my bags through the train to the back while the thing was moving. I felt so UN-chic with everyone around me in scarves and leather briefcases and there I was tripping don the first class aisle bumping the elbows of tailored shirts. "Pooh, pooh" I said to quote my lifetime heroine, Madeline, and set my self down for another three hour journey. All worked out well. I played Harry Potter in the train. It was just like I had imagined the Welsh countryside. It was gray clouds laden with rain, chilling, damp wind and David Gray playing on my IPOD that brought to life the painting I had always conjured in my head of England.

I am jet-lagged for sure now and ready to sleep. The rain never stops in Swansea supposedly, but I got to walk out to the sea today and it was beautiful; from a dream really. Pictures to come of Swansea. I plan to feel better tomorrow and explore, explore to my little heart's content!

"How can I convince you it's me I don't like
And not be so indifferent to the look in your eyes
When I've always been distant
And I've always told lies for love

I'm bound by these choices so hard to make
I'm bound by the feeling so easy to fake
None of this is real enough to take me from you

Oh I've got reservations
About so many things
But not about you

I know this isn't what you were wanting me to say
How can I get closer and be further away
From the truth that proves it's beautiful to lie

I've got reservations
About so many things
But not about you
I've reservations
About so many things
But not about you
Not about you
Not about you
Not about you
It's not about you"


Wilco

"Did you believe it,
when they told you they discovered you?
And that everything is free,
as long as you do what they tell you to.
You think it's true?

But nothing could be farther from the truth,
my love.

Did you even listen,
When they told you to change your name?
And that nobody wants honesty when looking at a perfect frame
play the game.

Nothing could be further from the truth,
my love..
And nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world.
Play it girl,
play it girl,
play it girl.

Does it make you feel good,
when they tell you what you want to hear?
And after they suck all your soul,
well that's when they'll disappear.
Disappear.
They disappear forever..

Like a prince in your little fairy tale.
And you will find,
one day you put your soul on sale..

Nothing could be further from the truth,
my love..
And nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world."

Amos Lee

I thought that this song by Chris Thile was really interesting. Doubt can turn into disbelief.

"Doubting Thomas"

"What will be left when I've drawn my last breath
Besides the folks I've met and the folks who've known me
Will I discover a soul-saving love
Or just the dirt above and below me

I'm a doubting Thomas
I took a promise
But I do not feel safe
Oh me of little faith

Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face
Then I beg to be spared cause I'm a coward
If there's a master of death
I bet he's holding his breath
As I show the blind and tell the deaf about his power

I'm a doubting Thomas
I can't keep my promises
Cause I don't know what's safe
Oh me of little faith

Can I be used to help others find truth
When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie
Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs
That prove I'm not ready to die

Please give me time to decipher the signs
Please forgive me for time that I've wasted

I'm a doubting Thomas
I'll take your promise
Though I know nothin's safe
Oh me of little faith


[Thanks to slcs_iceangel@hotmail.com for these lyrics]
[Thanks to RoguesZone@Yahoo.com for correcting these lyrics]

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