What have I been up to since exams? I can't believe it was that long ago since I've written. I think apologies are due, but I'm stubborn, so here's a post. The thing about writing a post is that you have to remember what you did, and everything that I do has just mooshed itself into one big pile of France. And how do I decide what is big enough to deserve a blog post? The daily life in France is so significant to me, but so natural, and how can I possibly capture the good feelings and the atmosphere and the smell and my surroundings? Not a single picture can fully encapsulate that rush I feel when I am walking home and I remember, I'm living in France! My writing certainly isn't up to par to take the scents and sounds and bumps as you pass a grumpy French man and recreate this life of mine for your own eyes to see.
Pictured are some of my host family, Bernard, Nathanël, Marie and Raphaëlle. Some of these cold nights in Rennes, we like to have what's called a raclette. A raclette is where you melt cheese (see that big grill-like thing over by Bernard?) and pour it over meat and vegetables and potatoes; it's always really fun to make.
We were invited by a French high school to come for a day of games! We played trivia and guessing games, and tested our knowledge of each other's culture.
Rennes was blessed with a snow day sometime between January and today. I can't quite give you the date because, like I said, France has become just one very long, exciting day. That's probably because I never go to bed. But yes - A snow day. All of Rennes shut down. She didn't quite know what to do with herself, no buses, no stores open, the sidewalks still covered in the single centimeter of sticky snow. What was one to do? I ventured over to Melanie's house along with Rachel and Laura where we stayed all day drinking tea, watching movies and causing a ruckus for her poor host family.
While wandering the streets of Rennes, Omar, Laura, Melanie and I stumbled upon the steps of the Opéra to watch an ongoing protest. What they were protesting, exactly, we're still not sure. These pictures don't exactly montrer... I mean present... that we were at a protest or at the Opéra, but I'm telling you, we were!
There's this funny thing that keeps happening, too. I speak in a lot of Franglais - a mélange.. uh, mix.. of French and English. The French words pop into my head before the English sometimes, and you get a lovely mix of poorly conjugated and oddly mixed word-hybrids. I hate to admit this, but I had to google what the English word for montrer was, that I so poorly used above. It's not that I don't know the meaning of words anymore. I know them! But connecting an English word to them is so much harder. Have you ever used a word, and in usage you know exactly what it means, but taking that single word out and trying to define it is practically impossible? Montrer means montrer, can't you see that?!
.jpg)
Then there was that one day where Darby and I both felt that sweatpants were a necessity.. Actually, this was decided at about 4 am that morning (does anybody actually sleep anymore?). So after lunch we ran to the center of town to H&M, up to the men's department, grabbed sweatpants two sizes too big, and ran back to school. Have I stopped wearing them since? No.
And then there was Paris!
