Je ne pourrai pas dormir toute la journée comme aujourd'hui. J'ai trop de faire. La lessive, les devoirs, le menage, recharger mon passe navigo, etc.
Donc je dois me coucher plus tôt qu'hier.
I went out tonight to get dinner and groceries, and lo and behold, the city was lit up. This is the street I live off of:
The sun set today at 16:58, also known as far too early. I guess I really am living up north.
Thanksgiving does not exist here, though I wish you all a very happy one with lots of turkey and stuffing (and pumpkin pie mmmmm). I'll be dressing up in my new shoes and black dress for the dinner prepared for us American kids who are used to stuffing our faces today.
In French class this afternoon, we had two tests: one a written exam where we had to tell (using the passé composé and the imparfait and the plus-que-parfait) how we've changed from who we were five years ago. That was interesting. The other test was a listening exercise, where we listend to some snippets of French radio and had to answer questions. That one I bombed. The sound quality was really crappy, thanks to it being radio and interviews with people over telephone on the radio. But on the up side, we got out of class early, and I had time to get a panini jambon before phonetiques.
I went shopping yesterday at H&M even though we have those in the States, but they cater to different (very different) tastes and the clothes here are much more my style than the H&Ms I've been to before. It's getting to be automatic, moving around the city and using the metro regularly. Speaking of, I need to get my passe navigo recharged for December (that's the metro pass, in case you didn't know).
I'm not homesick in the sense that I want to be home. It just feels weird not to be. I don't like missing out on things, and this time of year especially, I'm so accustomed to being around family.It's snowing today in Paris.
Not that it's adhering or accumulating, but snow is coming down and not just one or two flurries. Which I suppose is Nature's way of making up for the past two days of being absolutely, unbearably cold. Snow and Christmas are the only things that make winter worthwhile, and the week ahead looks to be the coldest we've yet had, with highs of 40 at most.
I have classes all week, including a test Thursday, because Thanksgiving doesn't exist here. The AIFS staff is holding a Thanksgiving dinner for us though, complete with turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie (mmm). We have to dress up to the event, which means I need to go buy shoes and skin-tone hose. I have boots and I have tennis shoes; no shoes for going with a dress. It's tragic.
This week was a bit jam-packed. I had that painting test on Monday, then a test in French Society on Wednesday, and a grammar test in French on Thursday. Wednesday night I had a classical concert on the Champs Elysee which was good for the first hour, boring the second. I love music, but those seats were uncomfortable, I was exhausted, and one song—one song—lasted an hour. These songs were written in a time when the only way to hear music was to go to a concert or play it yourself, and there was nothing better to do with your time (no listening to music while doing homework, no listening to music while you read, etc.) so these concerts were a big deal. They had to last awhile. Now they don't. I can listen to these songs on my own if I wish, while I'm on the metro in the morning or falling asleep at night. Seeing the performace live is always better, of course, but keep it shorter than two hours. Especially if you're going to sit your audience in seats with backs that point inward and are lacking in butt-cushions.
In other news, I made plans this week for two trips: one in February to Scotland (with another girl from the south—we're going to freeze!) and one to Budapest the weekend before I leave Paris for Christmas break (mid-December). I'm also in the midst of planning a short weekend in Strasbourg, where they have spectacular Christmas decorations and festivals going on from 29 Nov. thru 23 Dec. I can get a round-trip flight for $30 on AirFrance, but the taxes are what kill you. It's so worth it though. I'm so incredibly lucky to get to do all this, and experience all this. I'm hoping to visit Vienna, Prague, and Florence too at some point next semester; I've been talking with one girl who's also staying the year about a trip to Germany (Berlin and Munich, mainly). So that's my Christmas wish list: money for travel. Or clothes for the Northern European climate, which I am severely lacking in. But mostly money for travel because vain thing that I am, I do so like clothes shopping.
I learned new curse words in French, too, which is always interesting.
Friday was a walking tour of Montmartre, the hill to the north of the Seine, where one can find Sacre Coeur and the Moulin Rouge. It's an infamous artist hang-out, home to Picasso, Van Gogh, Toulous-Lautrec, and many more. Because it's situated so high up, it's windy and very cold, but offers an amazing view of Paris as a whole. I think of all the places in Paris I've been so far, Montmartre is my favorite. It's quiant, with little streets and cute buildings, lots of history, and home to the last vineyard in Paris (apparently, though, the wine is so horrible it's literally undrinkable). It's home, too, to a cabaret where I intend to go one weekend, in which there are no can-can dancers and the thing to do is sit around and sing while you drink. Supposedly a very Parisien experience, and the building couldn't be cuter. It was originally the hang-out of every n'er do well and criminal of the area; then it was bought and the new owner wanted to make it less attractive to the rough crowd. So he hired a painter (A. Gile, hence the name of the cabaret: Agile Lapin—translating to agile bunny) to paint a fluffy bunny on the front. No tough-guys are gonna go there, right? And it worked! Cleaned up the place considerably. Picasso hung out at this cabaret in his time. Gave them his paintings instead of money.
The square where the artists hang out and offer to paint you at exorbitant prices is where, back in the day, nuns used to hang people who didn't pay the tax on their alcohol. And a little further up is the metro stop Abbesses, where during the Revolution, the abbesse of the church was beheaded. The place has a morbid history, going all the way back to its name: Montmartre. Martyr Mountain, basically. It's said that Saint Denis was the first person to bring Christianity to the area of Paris, and when the people there heard of the new religion, they didn't like it or him who brought it, so they beheaded him. His corpse then picked up his own head, washed it off in the horses' trough, and walked all the way to the nearest consecrated ground (now aptly named St. Denis) and buried himself there.
Sacre Coeur is actually one of the newest churches in Paris. It was started in 1875 as a dedication to France making it through the loss of the Franco-Prussian war. It wasn't finished until 1914, when the outbreak of WWI delayed the consecration of the place, so it wasn't officially a basilica until 1919. This is what the Parisiens consider "new". The stone it's made out of looks so white not because it's frequently cleaned, but because the type of limestone gets whiter when it rains. Nifty, huh? And it's home to the largest mosaic in Europe, that covers the ceiling and walls of the center of the basilica. Like St. Paul's in London, you're forbidden from taking pictures inside, but unlike St. Paul's, you don't have to pay admission fees. This is why I like the French.
After the tour, we went out to dinner and I sampled the Beaujolais Nouveau (it was just released Wednesday night at midnight). It was quite good, though what do I know about wine other than what I like and don't? I'm bringing home a bottle to have at our Christmas Eve celebration.
Saturday, with a high not out of the 30s, we went to Versailles. Me being the resident expert on Marie Antoinette and the French Revolution, I refrained from correcting our tour guide when she made grevious errors in historical fact. Not everyone loves history like I do and I think I'm finally learning not to correct teachers when they're wrong. They don't like it much. It would take a good two full days to see the entire inside of the chateau, and another two days to see the gardens. Add two more days for visiting the Grand and Petit Trianons. The place is enormous. The chateau itself has over 700 rooms and was home to more than 10,000 people prior to the Revolution. We saw the main u-shape: the king's apartments, the queen's apartments, the Hall of Mirrors, the chapel, and the marble courtyard. I bailed before we toured the gardens though, because I couldn't bear the cold and the wind that was about to tear my face off. I get to go back in the spring anyway, when the fountains will be turned on and I'll be much more open to pulling my hands out of my pockets to take pictures.
Now I'm resting, listening to Christmas music, and eating a rasberry tart (my parents were getting on my case about eating more fruits and veggies ::grin:: ). I picked up my room and did laundry today, and I'm reading yet another biography of Marie Antoinette (it's one that I haven't yet read, surprisingly, seeing as I've read at least 5 already, plus two more that focused on Louis XVI and/or their attempted escape to Varennes). I tried to find some "French" Christmas music, but I discovered that for the most part, they listen to the same things we do: Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, etc. I did find a nice version of Noël Nouvelet on iTunes, sung by Loreena McKennitt. And "Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel" by Enya, which is hauntingly beautiful. I'm a fan of this holiday, for the spiritual aspect and not the religious. I love the feeling in the air, the music, the decorations and the general cheer. Which is why I'm in love with Paris; there are decorations everywhere, and the city is lit up at night. Friday after dinner, we went on the ferris wheel that's at the Place de la Concorde and it looks down the Champs Elysee which was all aglow. Lovely.
I'm a little homesick, and am glad to be going home in a few weeks. But I'm just as glad that I'll be coming back, because I'm not ready for this adventure to be over. I'm glad to be where I am; I just miss what's familiar (and, admittedly, what's easy).I have a test tomorrow in my French painting class, and here's a brief snippet from my notes that I'm studying (just for those who might be curious):
"La forme de la salle de bal ne se prête pas aisément à la décoration peinte. Commencée sous François Ier en 1540, elle fut achevée sous le règne de son fils Henri II. Conçue à l'origine comme une loggia à l'italienne, c'est-à-dire une galerie ouverte de part et d'autre, elle devait étre surmontée d'une voûte. A la mort de François Ier en 1547, un autre parti fut adopté et on décida de fermer la loggia, qui fut couverte d'un plafond à caisson et on commanda le décor au Primatice. Les fresques ornent les écoinçons qu se rejoignent au-dessus des arcs."
I've been studying today. Yesterday I went exploring in parts of Paris I had yet to see (Rue du Rivoli, le Marais, etc.) and went shopping without really buying much (some leggings and a shirt). I've been making a list of what to get people for Christmas so I can have it all ready and packed before I have to leave to go home on the 20th of December.
This is going to be a long post. As you know, I spent the weekend in la bella Roma (I so don't speak Italian) and it was marvelous. We had spectacular weather—sunny, warm, blue skies, and I could wear my tank tops again. I met up with someone from high school that I haven't seen since graduation and reminisced about evil Berini and IB (and how easy college has been in comparison). I ate pasta and/or pizza at every meal, and it was all excellent. Our hostel was relatively cheap (for a three person suite, it was 90 euro a night, split three ways, so 30 euro a night) and clean, and provided a free breakfast every day. And though I had gelato twice a day and pasta countless times, I walked off every single calory I ate. Rome is a city without a decent metro (it has one, but only two lines and nowhere near as comprehensive as Paris) and there was a public transportation strike on Monday that rendered the buses and what metro there is useless. Our hostel was located in one far corner of Rome, and the Vatican (one of our main destinations) in the opposite end of the city, with the colosseum and Roman ruins to the far south (the corner opposite the Vatican). I stupidly brought only my pair of heeled black boots, which are comfortable, but after walking the 1,000 or so steps up to the top of St. Peter's dome on the first morning, my feet were down for the count. Except I only had two full days in Rome, and there was no way I was going to spend them nursing my feet. So I walked. It wasn't until Monday evening that I finally gave in and bought new shoes, pretty red New Balance tennis shoes. They weren't the fluffy clouds and massage my feet needed, but they helped.
The first day we got up and took the metro over to the Vatican, where we waited in line to go into the St Peter's basilica, and then found our way up into the dome. Smart tourist people that they are, the Vatican had a small cafe halfway up where you could buy water and/or caffeine in various forms. After that, I got separated from the group when I met Armanda for lunch and spent the rest of the day wandering the city, half trying to find the group and half taking pictures of the gorgeous light at dusk. I walked my way down the riverside and around the Colosseum, then up past the Roman forum and over to the Pantheon. Then I got a phone call from the rest of the group telling me they were at the Trevi Fountain, so I hoofed it over there and we went exploring to find a place for dinner. One restuarant had pasta plates for 5 euro and offered us a free bottle of wine; we went there. It was good wine, too, costing 20 euro a bottle normally and we got it for free. I headed to bed relatively early that night to save myself from going bar hopping with some of the other kids who came along. My feet hurt too much and I didn't want to spend any money on drinks, which get expensive.
Then Monday, we got up and walked down to the Colosseum where we went in and explored. I'd already been there, but as a history major, I'm never adverse to going again. And then I lead the way across the city back to the Vatican, so we could go to the Sistine Chapel as it was closed on Sunday. To get to the chapel, you have to walk through a maze known as the Vatican Museum, and they lead you all over the place, up and down stairs, through winding halls and loop-de-loops. When you get there, they forbid you from taking pictures even without flash, but I did anyway, holding my camera at waist height or on my shoulder and clicking. What I learned about the Vatican is that it's huge. My first thought walking through the halls was that it reminds me of Fontainbleu. Not St. Peters, because many churches are elaborate, but the rest of the Vatican, the museum and the various apartments at one point occupied by popes. How can a religion that preaches the non-material (and the evil of the material, the evil of wealth and greed) justify living in such luxury? It's not for the glorification of God, it's for their own comfort and extravagance. God doesn't live there, the popes and priests and bishops and cardinals do. That would be one of the reasons why the Reformation occurred, I suppose, but it's not like it did any good.
Ah, well.
After the Sistine Chapel, it was time for dinner. I bought my new shoes as we walked across town trying to get to the Spanish Steps (where we'd planned to get dinner) but as we realized we had gotten turned around and were back near the Pantheon (opposite direction of the Spanish Steps), we decided to just stop at the closest affordable restaurant. I found a vending machine that had bottles of presecco nearby. For dinner I had tortellini in a cream sauce with ham (which is more like bacon), and then a cheese cake for dessert and a jug of the red house wine. Fabulous. But we found ourselves still hungry, and went over to a Burger King for some junior whoppers. Italian and French food might be delicious, but so is American food. Some of what I miss: Chick-fil-A, Moe's, Quiznos, hot dogs, cake.
The weekend in Rome was fun. Tuesday morning we got up at 3:30 AM to get to the airport for a 7 AM flight back. We arrived at Ciampino airport at 5:00 in the morning, got in line to check-in, and puzzled over the large groups of people hanging out in the lobby of the airport, some even sleeping on the floor. I distinctly remember thinking I'd never sleep on a filthy airport floor. After about an hour of standing in a line where no one was moving and no one was even behind the check-in counter, we happened to look up at the screen of departures to find our flight had been delayed with an expected departure time of 17:15, also known as 5:15 PM.
We were sure it had to be a typo. A sudden 10 hour delay? There was no one around to ask (cheap airline, cheap service) so we sat and waited. Over the course of next few hours, we learned piecemeal that no flights were coming in or out of the airport, and that we'd be lucky to leave at 5. We watched and listened as flight after flight was cancelled, and ate what junk food we could find at the one "restaurant" at this airport (and it had really crappy food—I'd pick starving over eating one of their sandwichs). More and more it looked like we wouldn't even get out of Rome until the next day. Apparently a plane the day before had been hit by birds and was forced to make an emergency landing on the runway. A few people had minor injuries, and by Italian law, they're not allowed to move the plane until the investigation is finished. So the airport was essentially closed. A single computer terminal in the airport offered internet, so I waited an hour in line (nothing better to do, after all) to check on flights out of the other Rome airport and any potential of getting a train or bus to Paris. One of the main Italian airlines, Alitalia, was having a strike that day, and so flights out of the other airport weren't guaranteed and those that were had no space available. We decided to stick it out with the flight we'd already paid for, and spent 12 hours—twelve hours—sitting on the floor of the airport. I even laid down with my bag as a pillow to try and get sleep (impossible). Amazing what a few hours change, isn't it?
At about 3 in the afternoon, 12 hours after we woke up, the screen finally announced that our flight had been moved to the other airport and they would bus us over there eventually. Evenutally meaning 5:30. A bus showed up outside where several hundred of us stood with our luggage in clumps, waiting to board and get a move on. And then it was chaos. Free-for-all. Lord of the Flies meets The Terminal. It was a mob fighting, stomping, pushing, shoving, smacking, smashing their way onto the bus that could only hold about 30 people. And we were six people trying desperately not to be separated in a foreign country where none of us spoke the language. People would've stepped on me to get on that bus, and if I'd fallen over, I'd have been trampled. It seriously made me mad, and sad. This wasn't even a fight for survival, for food, it was about getting on a bus first, and people would've killed over it. Not exaggerating.
I did make it on the bus, but not in time to get a seat, so I had to wait for the next one. But when we arrived at the new airport, we got to the check-in counter where the people from the other bus were already congregated, and it was yet another mob to get to the front first. A slower, more subtly vicious mob, but nonetheless, disgusting. A lot of it was probably the four hours of sleep and the twelve hours in an airport doing nothing, but I hated all people at that point and shoved my way to the front with stepping on some toes and well-placed elbows. An hour or two later, I was seated on a plane and waiting to take off at 8:30 PM, 13 and a half hours after I was supposed to take off. Got back to Paris, took a bus back into the city (an hour long ride), and hopped on the very last metro back home (12:30 AM). I only barely made it, and guys on the train had to pry open the doors for me after they'd already closed. I'd been awake since 3:30 in the morning, and had been in a state of perpetual stress and frustration. I made it back to my room at 1 o'clock this morning.
Needless to say, I skipped class today. I didn't drag myself out of bed until 2, after which I got a shower and headed out to the grocery store to stock up for the week. I dropped my clothes off at the laundromat, and ran to the Monoprix (like Target), took my bags home, went back out to the Franprix (a small grocery store), took my bags home, went to the laundromat to transfer clothes to the dryer, watched them dry, then packed them up in my bag and walked to the patisserie/boulangerie down the street to get dinner. But they were out of sandwichs, so I settled for eating canned ravioli (amazingly yummy) and buying some dessert. I'd post a picture but for some reason it isn't uploading. But it's a chocolate cake with custard and strawberries in the middle, and a chocolate frosting on top.
It occurred to me this weekend, as I walked around the Roman ruins: what did the medieval people think of them? What did they make of these ruins they built their cities around, that were made of stone and carefully crafted for beauty as well as function? Obviously some people were educated and knew about the Romans, vaguely, but what did the average, illiterate person think? They knew there was a civilization before them, but did they wonder why they'd been so much more advanced? I wonder what it was like back then to walk by those ruins and just gape, not knowing what they were or who had really built them or how. Not knowing the meaning behind the freizes, frescos and sculptures.
I love old stuff, but there's simply not enough of it left and what is left has been tampered with. Or destroyed in war. Or replaced with the modern. I wanna know what it was actually like way back when, and I want to see what they might have seen. A frustrating desire to have.
PS. I bought the French version of Ramen noodles today. We'll see if they measure up.It's been a good week. Other than the weather (rainy, cold), both my country and my state elected the people I was rooting for; the first time since 1976 that North Carolina has gone democrat in a presidential election. And then my brother finally got his butt in gear and proposed. So he's engaged and I feel it's been a long time coming. Yay! "A wedding! I love weddings!"
Props to those who get the quote. Those who don't, boo.
I also had dinner tonight at "Breakfast in America", a diner that serves honest-to-God American food. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake. It was amazing. But I'm going back there sometime to order their breakfast, which is available all day, and they serve pancakes and American-style bacon. I. Cannot. Wait.
Saturday night I leave for a short trip to Rome. A long weekend and I'm going to Rome. Life is good. I'm excited for gelato and pizza, and I'm going to be seeing an old friend from high school too who's studying abroad there for the semester. Good times. I'll be sure to have someone take a few photos of me so you can see that I'm actually here and not just making this all up from a dorm room in Columbia. But also for me, so that I can see that I'm actually here and not in an extremely vivid La-La land, which has been known to happen from time to time.
In political news, I'm pleased with Obama's chose as Chief of Staff, and I'm liking the people he's got picked out so far for his administration. Experience, intelligence, and a willingness to listen and change are what we need in our leaders right now. Hope, too, and not this fear-mongering of the modern world where parents don't let their kids play in the backyard unless they can see them at all times. Those who claim it's Obama's fault our economy continued to go to pot in the past two days can just answer me this: what exactly is he supposed to do when he's not even the president yet? Economies are reactionary things, especially when they consist of stock markets and corporations. The impact we're feeling now was created in the past few years, not last night.
That's all to say for today. I'm living an amazing enough life that people actually want to read about it? So that's pretty cool. I hope I remember all this in my old age.
PS. Paris has Christmas decorations up.I love elections. They're like Christmas; the anticipation is the best part. You open the presents Christmas morning, and for a few hours, maybe, you're excited and go, "Cool! New stuff!" But then it wears off, and it's just more stuff cluttering up your room, with decorations that no longer feel holiday-y and have to be taken down. It's the weeks leading to Christmas that have a magical feel, and today it's the hours of nail-biting, will-we-won't-we that's so exciting. No matter who wins the election, after the initial glow wears off in a day or two (unless McCain wins. For me, that will be the end of faith in humanity, though I know there are those out there who will celebrate should the worst happen), the nation goes back to the way it always has been, and while change might come, it will be so slow that we won't notice until it's over. But there's something wonderfully exciting about the unknown, and still having hope that the best case can happen, and fighting fear that the worse case will happen.
Go vote, one and all! Unless you're voting for McCain, in which case, please don't. In fact, if you're voting for McCain, I would suggest picking up a book and educating yourself with a few things called facts. And you probably won't like a lot of what I say in this blog, seeing as I'm liberal and proud of it.
I voted for Obama back in September. I'm for a single-payer health care system, I'm for raising taxes on those who make over 250,000 a year, I'm pro-choice, I'm for allowing gays to marry if they want to, I'm pro-gun control, I'm for researching alternative fuels and NOT drilling in Alaska, I'm for acknowledging that Israel can do wrong ("Peace, Not Apartheid") , I'm for negotiating first and going to war only as a last resort, I'm for peace, I believe our "homeland security" efforts should be focused on capturing Osama bin Laden and giving young Arab boys reasons to NOT go blow themselves up, I believe our veterans should receive proper health care, I believe governors who allow the aerial shooting of wolves and allow hunters to go into wolf dens and shoot a handful of puppies point-blank should be removed from office and not moved up to VP (Sarah Palin, for those who don't know. Yes, I realize the issue is trivial to some but it shows a lot about character). I believe in Affirmative Action, I believe in Supreme Court judges who aren't activists (liberal or conservative) and who interpret the living Constitution according to our needs as a nation in the modern day, I don't believe in allowing a person's Christianity or lack-thereof to determine their worth in office, I don't believe in enacting laws based on a single religion's beliefs. I think that the young men and women who vote for McCain should be prepared to take their own butts over to the Middle East to fight the wars we've got going on indefinitely. (But if we absolutely need to go to war, then it's got to be important enough for everyone to go to war (a draft), not just the poor kids or those who volunteer. If it isn't important enough for your own sons and daughters to go fight for, then we do not need to go to war.) I don't believe in sacrificing my personal freedoms for a little security.
I believe no issue is black-and-white. There's no such thing as "Us versus Them". Simple solutions to complex problems don't exist. No one system is perfect nor is another evil and part of government is allowing a constant revision of the status-quo. I don't want my president to be of average intelligence; I want a president at least as smart as I am and hopefully more so.
I've got my pastries and my dinner and a notebook, and I'm settling in for the night to watch how the election progresses. I'll be staying up until a winner is announced (or until I simply fall asleep, as is entirely possible).
A man who believes that half the country isn't "Real America" isn't who we need at the head of this nation. We need someone who truly unites people, who inspires people to get involved when they normally wouldn't bother. Who causes chills up your spine when he speaks and makes you really believe in what he's saying, who carries himself like a president and doesn't lose his cool under fire and who doesn't run his campaign with sporadic jolts and flip-flops. There's only one man (or woman) on the ticket this year who fits that description, and it isn't the one calling himself a maverick.
Do you know how amazing it would be if we elected the first black president in the western world? There's a young boy whom I love very much who faces a tough future as a poor kid with black skin—what kind of hope might that give him to look up at the TV and see this guy who started out in a similar situation and ended up the president of the still most powerful nation on Earth? I want him to grow up in the America I'm hoping for today. Let's show the rest of the world why America is still the home of the brave, the land of dreams. When young people all over the world look to America and see a black man as its president, what kind of hope might that give them—what might that show them about Americans, in France where a black could never be elected because they're not of French ancestry, or in the Middle East and Africa where Al Qaeda recruit everyday using the idea of the US as a white, intolerant, oppressive nation? Let's show them that this is the 21st century, and we're moving forward. Let's be the shining city on the hill, and lead the way.Halloween in Paris means the Americans dress up and go to bars, and the French just go to bars. I tagged along with my roommate and her friends to go to a bar in the 5th that has beer pong. There's a table set in the back room and we challenged the French girls who were playing for control of the table. Two American guys versus the two French girls, and we almost lost. But we didn't. I actually never played, although I bought a pitcher of beer for those of us spectators. We hung out there for most of the night, and I chatted with several girls from the program, making friends, that sort of thing. Then when some people headed out to a sangria bar a few streets over, and it was a bit too crowded for me. Most of us were hungry, though, so we went over to one of the hundreds of Greek restaurants in the area to get gyros. I love their gyros. They put french fries in them.
But after that the rest of the weekend has been spent resting. Saturday was a national holiday (All Saints' Day) and many things were closed, and today was a regular Sunday where most things are closed. I did meet up with a girl from my french class today to work on homework. We're studying the passive voice, and we're having a hard time grasping the rules because A) we've never studied this before, and B) the teacher didn't explain it well. But my host mom had some grammar books that she's lending us to figure it out (she didn't know how to do the homework either and she's a native speaker).
I've been listening to Disney songs in French on YouTube. The lyrics are . . . very different. But still very pretty.