Even though it was on a Wednesday, I knew I'd be able to do it big, just because everyone here doesn't really care about classes (myself included, especially since Wednesdays I only have class from 3-6). I decided to pregame by the river, like we do it, then go on to Ayers Rock, which is this awesome Aussie bar/club thing. Paulina was such a trooper because she had class Thursday at 8am. And then we had the train to Paris at 6pm to get to Dublin. Ouch.
I get home from class and start getting ready, modeling different attire while Paulina's knee-deep in Lysol in the bathtub (cough, Tanya). Meanwhile we're also making dinner. We had to be done by around 9, 9:15 so we could all meet up at this girl Cerise's residence and head down to Guillotière together around 9:30. This wasn't happening. Paulina said we were waiting for Stephanie and Jessica, which made no sense to me. None. Because Stephanie and Jessica LIVE in Guillotière. Maggie from upstairs asked me to get her and Maria when we were ready to head out. Jessica said they left at 8:50. We live ten minutes away. It's 9:24. "If they're not here by 9:30 I'm going to get pissed," I said. "What time is it?" Paulina asked. "9:24." I texted them 2 minutes later and they said they were a block away so I told Paulina I was going to get Maggie & Co (her French boyfriend Cyril's birthday was the same day, too). She tried to stop me from getting them and I kept saying it'd save time. I came upstairs and came back down in about 3 minutes. I walk into our flat with Maggie, Cyril, and Maria and there, standing, are Stephanie, Jessica, Paulina with balloons all over the place and a cake on the table with candles burning in it, singing Happy Birthday. Not only was I a deer caught in headlights, I was an embarrassed deer caught in headlights. Jessica starts cutting the cake while Paulina takes out this Litchi alcohol thing from the fridge and starts pouring that for everyone. Okay, I guess we'll pregame here.
They explained they were late because they ran to get the cake (delicious) and change and all that. "Where did all of these balloons come from?" I asked. "I blew them up while your bitch ass was in class," Paulina said. HAHAHA no wonder when I came home she was passed out.
After shoving cake into our mouths and changing arrangements, we hopped on the metro and went up to the river. I told Paulina to invite her French boo, Sebastien, who brought his friend I met once before, Benoit (Ben for short). Besides that, though, EVERYONE was there, and when I say everyone I mean it. Even British Ben, who I was in love with but not anymore. After I tried Cerise's pastis, which is the most vile thing on Earth, I gather part of the herd and we head down to Ayers, under the direction of French Ben. Along the way we found out it closes at 1 so we're like, okay, Flemmings after.
We get to Ayers and it is poppin'. We post up at the bar and start taking shots of this blue vodka mess. 4 shots in I am stone cold sober. And then everyone starts buying shots for the birthday girl. I need something stronger and quick. Chris (my favorite Kiwi, re: my profile pic on FB), Jerry, and Megan show up. "Chris, you can do anything. Get me a straight shot of tequila. Jerry, I'll take another blue vodka thing. Megan, I'll take different colored vodka thing." I downed three of those in quick succession and then the happiness followed. Ayers closed and the lot of us were steadily moving to Flemmings in Vieux Lyon. I decide to hop on John McClain's back - he's like 6'4. Carries me two blocks or something and out of nowhere Sebastien's head comes through my legs (haha) and I'm sitting on his shoulders. I steal his fagalish beret and I am on top of the world. He was deliberately wobbling me around and forcefully smashed us into a garbage dump thing. I had enough of his near death experiences so I hop on Chris instead. Now he kept trying to tip me into the river but he got me like around the corner from Flemmings. He wins. Truly a man with a mission.
I walk into Flemmings and there are even more people there. I see Brit Ben and tell him to take a tequila shot with me. Even before this shot, I was pretty drunk and he was just wasted beyond compare. He had trouble standing. Perfect opportunity. We take the shot. I walk over to Paulina and drunkenly ask her to find out if he likes me. I'm juvenile, I know. Meanwhile some French dude named Xavier is telling me I'm the most beautiful girl he's seen and I'm like, "dude, come oooooon now." Out of nowhere he's like, "So you go home with me?" He cut to the chase haha.
Now here's where my night starts to get fuzzy. I remember taking more shots with French Ben, who so obviously had a thing for me, then with Stephanie (?), then with .... okay, I can't remember, definitely more people...maybe Tom? Whatever. The bartender found out it was my birthday so he gave me a shot of something vodka tasting with whipped cream on top and a candle. Everyone sang happy birthday again :) I blew it out and swallowed it. Next to it was a vodka-kahlua disaster that I took also. Okay, I am at blackout drunk. Everything following this are stories people told me mixed with odd things I remember.
I think it was closing time, 3:30, for Flemmings. Come to think of it, I don't even know where Flemmings is. No matter. Everyone is saying their goodbyes to me (I think) and French Ben does the whole bisous thing. He kisses me on one cheek, then the other, and then he just kisses me, several times (sidenote: Apparently I told Jessica, Paulina and Stephanie: GIGGLE GIGGLE HE KISSED ME HAR HAR I think he likes me." To which Paulina said, "YOU THINK?!" But my recollection of this is sketchy, although I'm pretty positive it happened).
Anyway, I'm stumbling out with Matt and Megan, who said they'd take me home in a cab a) because Matt was staying over and b) Megan lives across the street. Apparently I sat on a bench and said I didn't want to move (can you blame me) and then Paulina yelled at me (as usual). She apparently went with Sebastien on bikes (explains why I was so upset I didn't know where she was) because she gets hella motion sick. Somehow, Matt and Megan found the last cab in Bellecour, but not before I peed in some bush. They stuff me in the back and I pass out. They wake me up what seems like a week later and I see the school. Fuck. I do not want to move. Now here's what I am really curious about - how I was able to punch the code in to get into the building. I remember I took my lenses out and I sat in a chair in a kitchen. Someone wakes me up. Paulina. Apparently I was slumped over in a near 90 degree angle. Someone else picks me up and takes off my jacket. Sebastien. He grabs me under the arms, walks me into my room, puts me to bed and covers me. He tells Matt to go sleep next to me.
I wake up around 7 because I have to pee. I look next to me and see Matt. What happened last night? I look down and see I am still in my clothes. Also realize I am still very drunk. I hear moving - Paulina getting ready to go to class. I have worst dry mouth in history. Can't even open it to drunk. I go to the bathroom to change, wash off my face. Collapse into bed. Pass out some more. Hear Paulina walk in again, send Matt on his way. Too hungover to sleep. Look around, the flat is a MESS.
We shuffle out of bed. Paulina sits down and starts eating leftover birthday cake. Man that was a sad sight haha. Around 1:30 I decided to shower to feel like I came back to life. Eat some bread to mop up the alcohol in my body. We packed and then headed for train to Paris and then flight to Dublin.
Birthday French Style = EPIC.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Nice and Monaco
Herein follows the story of the first-ever, cherry-poppin' study abroad trip. This one led us to Nice and Monaco.
Jessica, Stephanie, Paulina and I had tickets leaving from Lyon to Nice at 6:35 am Friday morning so we could get to Nice around 11. Long ass train ride. However, seeing as how P and I hate packing more than life itself, we went out to a party at a flat near ours. We knew this was a really bad idea but we also knew they would be pregaming and then heading out to Vieux Lyon, in which case we'd head back home as they were leaving to center city. Everyone started filtering out around midnight and we got back home around 12:30.
Now we really to pack. Shit. If we had to be at the train station say 6:15, we needed to be up before 5 to get ready and get out. A lot of fumbling and swearing later, we got to bed around 2:30. In what seemed like 5 minutes, the alarm rang. Ugh. Fast-forwarding, the train left at 6:35 sharp and we were seated right next to Le Bar. Score.
After making obscene amounts of noise for about an hour, we decided to nap, until loud assholes boarded at Marseilles, but we knocked out when they got off at Aix-en-Provence. However, I noticed the sky was the same color at 8am as it was at 5am. Uh oh. Horrific thunderstorm ensued while on train. I'm the only one who brought an umbrella. Shit.
We finally disembark, ass numbness kicks in, and it's dripping a little but cold as all hell, at least for Nice. We find our hotel and scour for food, but what happens next - it starts pouring and thunderstorming. Awwww yeah! Seeing as how it was brick cold on the train, we got no sleep, and it was wet and cold in Nice, I stocked up on some Vitamin C as we wandered through the city. Sure it was raining. Hard. But we made the best of it. A bunch of ridiculous crap happened along the way but the city itself is beautiful. We schlepped up and down Nice and finally crawled back to our hotel. We decided to take a nap so we would be energized by the time Jerry, Daniel and all of the Spanish arrived. Well, Jerry and Daniel took the wrong train because they're retarded.
At around 10:30 pm the four of us went out for dinner and during the 25 minute walk to the hotel, it started to thunderstorm like nobody's business. I left my umbrella in the room because it really looked like it was clearing. Let's just say we owned the Wet Dog Chic look. We werked it fo' sho. Jerry and Daniel got in around 1am as we were drying off.
Saturday morning we got up super early to get to Monaco. No one else was able to open their eyes because they went to some gay club the night before and got home at 5 while we take our sightseeing seriously. Jerry did join us, though. We had a nice French breakfast, facing the ominous dark cloud coming our way. We hopped on the train to Monaco and a half hour we were there. So was the rain. All 13 or 14 of us (Daniel and the Spanish made it as well) walked around Monaco for hours and it was sooooooo gorgeous. Smelled like Park Avenue but worse. The Spanish saw some Spanish socialite and I don't even remember what the Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, exotic car count was. The Monte Carlo though was out of this world. No cameras allowed inside. By midday the rain stopped, which was nice. I can't understand why the Monaco Royal Family palace thing needs guards. Who the hell is going to rob/attack/hijack/assassinate the most useless people on Earth? For reals now.
Sadly on the way back we didn't get to stop at Villefranche which has absolutely breathtaking views of the coast, but what we saw from Princess Grace's garden and the like was also just as amazing. I learned I can't fucking stand traveling in large groups, or traveling with the Spanish, considering I don't even like the Spanish. Hence why Dublin was a better trip and the others will be even better.
Sunday was another half-day of touring Nice before our train back to Lyon. Which was over an hour and a half late, which means we got home over an hour and a half late. But it was one of the best times of my life, sitting on that train, with my 3 New York bitches and wild'n'out. Getting up for an 8am class blew hard but it was all in good fun.
All in all, great first trip. Nice was nothing too special, but Monaco was fantastic.
Jessica, Stephanie, Paulina and I had tickets leaving from Lyon to Nice at 6:35 am Friday morning so we could get to Nice around 11. Long ass train ride. However, seeing as how P and I hate packing more than life itself, we went out to a party at a flat near ours. We knew this was a really bad idea but we also knew they would be pregaming and then heading out to Vieux Lyon, in which case we'd head back home as they were leaving to center city. Everyone started filtering out around midnight and we got back home around 12:30.
Now we really to pack. Shit. If we had to be at the train station say 6:15, we needed to be up before 5 to get ready and get out. A lot of fumbling and swearing later, we got to bed around 2:30. In what seemed like 5 minutes, the alarm rang. Ugh. Fast-forwarding, the train left at 6:35 sharp and we were seated right next to Le Bar. Score.
After making obscene amounts of noise for about an hour, we decided to nap, until loud assholes boarded at Marseilles, but we knocked out when they got off at Aix-en-Provence. However, I noticed the sky was the same color at 8am as it was at 5am. Uh oh. Horrific thunderstorm ensued while on train. I'm the only one who brought an umbrella. Shit.
We finally disembark, ass numbness kicks in, and it's dripping a little but cold as all hell, at least for Nice. We find our hotel and scour for food, but what happens next - it starts pouring and thunderstorming. Awwww yeah! Seeing as how it was brick cold on the train, we got no sleep, and it was wet and cold in Nice, I stocked up on some Vitamin C as we wandered through the city. Sure it was raining. Hard. But we made the best of it. A bunch of ridiculous crap happened along the way but the city itself is beautiful. We schlepped up and down Nice and finally crawled back to our hotel. We decided to take a nap so we would be energized by the time Jerry, Daniel and all of the Spanish arrived. Well, Jerry and Daniel took the wrong train because they're retarded.
At around 10:30 pm the four of us went out for dinner and during the 25 minute walk to the hotel, it started to thunderstorm like nobody's business. I left my umbrella in the room because it really looked like it was clearing. Let's just say we owned the Wet Dog Chic look. We werked it fo' sho. Jerry and Daniel got in around 1am as we were drying off.
Saturday morning we got up super early to get to Monaco. No one else was able to open their eyes because they went to some gay club the night before and got home at 5 while we take our sightseeing seriously. Jerry did join us, though. We had a nice French breakfast, facing the ominous dark cloud coming our way. We hopped on the train to Monaco and a half hour we were there. So was the rain. All 13 or 14 of us (Daniel and the Spanish made it as well) walked around Monaco for hours and it was sooooooo gorgeous. Smelled like Park Avenue but worse. The Spanish saw some Spanish socialite and I don't even remember what the Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, exotic car count was. The Monte Carlo though was out of this world. No cameras allowed inside. By midday the rain stopped, which was nice. I can't understand why the Monaco Royal Family palace thing needs guards. Who the hell is going to rob/attack/hijack/assassinate the most useless people on Earth? For reals now.
Sadly on the way back we didn't get to stop at Villefranche which has absolutely breathtaking views of the coast, but what we saw from Princess Grace's garden and the like was also just as amazing. I learned I can't fucking stand traveling in large groups, or traveling with the Spanish, considering I don't even like the Spanish. Hence why Dublin was a better trip and the others will be even better.
Sunday was another half-day of touring Nice before our train back to Lyon. Which was over an hour and a half late, which means we got home over an hour and a half late. But it was one of the best times of my life, sitting on that train, with my 3 New York bitches and wild'n'out. Getting up for an 8am class blew hard but it was all in good fun.
All in all, great first trip. Nice was nothing too special, but Monaco was fantastic.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Lyonly Planet
It's odd but in its own way, being here can be quite lonely.
Don't get me wrong - everything is fantastic. I'm having beyond a wonderful time, especially considering there's a lot of travel coming up (more on that later).
But after you meet all of these people, and meet more and more as the days go by, you're not particularly close to any of them. Maybe this claim is a little premature considering I haven't been here for that long. But in my case, there's Paulina. I don't know what I'd do without her. Living alone seems so strange and terrible after living with her for these few weeks. We have nightly conferences over food that will probably be a fond memory long after this semester is over.
I finally caught up with all of Mad Men last night. I sold my OL ticket because I thought I'd have a class that let out too late but it was canceled this week. Oh well, I don't regret it. Even though Lyon won against Florentina, it was cold and wet yesterday. I was, though, all by lonesome last night considering Paulina had a rendez-vous with Sebastian, a non-icky French boy. Probably because he's not a boy at all, but a 27-year old dude. Very sweet though. Bought me tequila shots. Instant brownie points.
I came here thinking people would be different, especially after leaving New York and it's deep abyss of nauseatingly repetitive personalities. Maybe I will be surprised. Maybe they will be different. I haven't been here nearly long enough to decide if they or if they aren't.
What I can say is that I thought I would be blown away and seriously intimidated by the amount of international smarts I would encounter. I'm not. A lot of these people are as dumb as a pile of bricks. That landed on a billy goat. So, so stupid.
Although most of the students I've met here have significant others back home, I can't help but feel that they're all looking for someone special. I can't blame them. Maybe I am, too. There's a lot more hope in a new, fresh setting. I suppose under all of my layers of cynicism, part of me is still stupidly a romantic.
It's just so easy to feel lonely.
Don't get me wrong - everything is fantastic. I'm having beyond a wonderful time, especially considering there's a lot of travel coming up (more on that later).
But after you meet all of these people, and meet more and more as the days go by, you're not particularly close to any of them. Maybe this claim is a little premature considering I haven't been here for that long. But in my case, there's Paulina. I don't know what I'd do without her. Living alone seems so strange and terrible after living with her for these few weeks. We have nightly conferences over food that will probably be a fond memory long after this semester is over.
I finally caught up with all of Mad Men last night. I sold my OL ticket because I thought I'd have a class that let out too late but it was canceled this week. Oh well, I don't regret it. Even though Lyon won against Florentina, it was cold and wet yesterday. I was, though, all by lonesome last night considering Paulina had a rendez-vous with Sebastian, a non-icky French boy. Probably because he's not a boy at all, but a 27-year old dude. Very sweet though. Bought me tequila shots. Instant brownie points.
I came here thinking people would be different, especially after leaving New York and it's deep abyss of nauseatingly repetitive personalities. Maybe I will be surprised. Maybe they will be different. I haven't been here nearly long enough to decide if they or if they aren't.
What I can say is that I thought I would be blown away and seriously intimidated by the amount of international smarts I would encounter. I'm not. A lot of these people are as dumb as a pile of bricks. That landed on a billy goat. So, so stupid.
Although most of the students I've met here have significant others back home, I can't help but feel that they're all looking for someone special. I can't blame them. Maybe I am, too. There's a lot more hope in a new, fresh setting. I suppose under all of my layers of cynicism, part of me is still stupidly a romantic.
It's just so easy to feel lonely.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Voulez-vous..
A cute French boy (shocking, I know) was standing next to me at the crosswalk near my flat. I was coming from the Travelex in Part-Dieu and I went all by myself. Took the metro all by myself. He asked me if that gigantic building over there :points: was the Manufacture des Tabacs, which it was. But then he said something else and when he saw the deer caught in headlights look on my face and my mumbled "Pardonne, Je viens de New Yawk" excuse, he graciously apologized.
I wish I knew more French.
I wish I knew more French.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Le Weekend
I have some time before I go off to French so I figured to update. As I'm writing this someone is blasting French rap and it's hysterical.
Actual classes start Monday the 14th so I'll finally have a normal schedule I'll be able to follow.
Friday night, le weekend descended upon us. We all said, "Give me fierce!" and fierce it was.
All week there was talk that this Australian kid was throwing a party at his flat. His name changed continuously from Jimmy to Max and then back to Jimmy. Turns out his name is Max. How he managed to fit around 80 people in the flat and then another 60-70 or so in the garden/backyard/courtyard kind of thing baffles me even now, and I'm sober now. Friday night I was for serious drunk. However, I didn't mix. I stuck to my tequila. Several people offered me wine and I gave the same, "Fool, is you crazy?" look.
The party was intense. Lot of great people. Pictures posted on Facebook. This one kid though, Josef, was like paparazzi. He snapped all of these pictures. There are a few in particular I really want to get my hands on - they're of these two dudes dumping me into a fountain. Not completely but they did dunk my feet in.
Saturday morning roomie and I (grudgingly) woke up early to open an account with BNP Paribas, which is affiliated with Bank of America. They gave us 50 euros for opening the account, too. Woot. Then we went to guy groceries. We finally decided to walk into a patisserie and bought four croissants. We came home, made croissant-banana-nutella sandwiches with milk. Ate them in silence and went back to bed. Friends, it was glorious.
Then, after making dinner some hours later, this French kid was throwing a party at his flat as well. We went and encountered more than several people from the night before. It's so odd because when I go to a house party, I'm not entirely casual, but I'm not dressed in my Sunday best, either. There were these girls who came in teeny dresses and heels and we're just in jeans, hanging out. Maybe they had some foresight that they were going clubbing later. I did not have this foresight. In the cold light of sobriety, some of these girls were rather obnoxious. The Canadians being the biggest offenders. They took on the masks of Valley Girls and were Facebook posing, screeching and generally being quite annoying.
At around 12:30 in the morning, the 80 or so people crammed into this tiny ass flat decided to go to a club called Le Fridge. This is when Paulina and I peaced out for several reasons. It was really cold, we didn't feel like changing, and we had Ferrero Rocher ice cream in our Le Fridge. We left and that was that. One of the Canadian girls ended up hooking up with an icky French dude. Need I say more?
Sunday was just a chill day since basically everything is closed here. Today I went to get my SNCF pass that gives you half off all train fares, which is awesome. When I buy my first ticket, this thing will basically pay for itself. Tonight at 10 is a party thrown for us on behalf of the university in Vieux Lyon. Considering it'll last until 3 or 4 in the morning, they canceled all early classes. Ah, the French.
By the way, I am eventually moving to London or Australia. The men are just made better there. :)
Actual classes start Monday the 14th so I'll finally have a normal schedule I'll be able to follow.
Friday night, le weekend descended upon us. We all said, "Give me fierce!" and fierce it was.
All week there was talk that this Australian kid was throwing a party at his flat. His name changed continuously from Jimmy to Max and then back to Jimmy. Turns out his name is Max. How he managed to fit around 80 people in the flat and then another 60-70 or so in the garden/backyard/courtyard kind of thing baffles me even now, and I'm sober now. Friday night I was for serious drunk. However, I didn't mix. I stuck to my tequila. Several people offered me wine and I gave the same, "Fool, is you crazy?" look.
The party was intense. Lot of great people. Pictures posted on Facebook. This one kid though, Josef, was like paparazzi. He snapped all of these pictures. There are a few in particular I really want to get my hands on - they're of these two dudes dumping me into a fountain. Not completely but they did dunk my feet in.
Saturday morning roomie and I (grudgingly) woke up early to open an account with BNP Paribas, which is affiliated with Bank of America. They gave us 50 euros for opening the account, too. Woot. Then we went to guy groceries. We finally decided to walk into a patisserie and bought four croissants. We came home, made croissant-banana-nutella sandwiches with milk. Ate them in silence and went back to bed. Friends, it was glorious.
Then, after making dinner some hours later, this French kid was throwing a party at his flat as well. We went and encountered more than several people from the night before. It's so odd because when I go to a house party, I'm not entirely casual, but I'm not dressed in my Sunday best, either. There were these girls who came in teeny dresses and heels and we're just in jeans, hanging out. Maybe they had some foresight that they were going clubbing later. I did not have this foresight. In the cold light of sobriety, some of these girls were rather obnoxious. The Canadians being the biggest offenders. They took on the masks of Valley Girls and were Facebook posing, screeching and generally being quite annoying.
At around 12:30 in the morning, the 80 or so people crammed into this tiny ass flat decided to go to a club called Le Fridge. This is when Paulina and I peaced out for several reasons. It was really cold, we didn't feel like changing, and we had Ferrero Rocher ice cream in our Le Fridge. We left and that was that. One of the Canadian girls ended up hooking up with an icky French dude. Need I say more?
Sunday was just a chill day since basically everything is closed here. Today I went to get my SNCF pass that gives you half off all train fares, which is awesome. When I buy my first ticket, this thing will basically pay for itself. Tonight at 10 is a party thrown for us on behalf of the university in Vieux Lyon. Considering it'll last until 3 or 4 in the morning, they canceled all early classes. Ah, the French.
By the way, I am eventually moving to London or Australia. The men are just made better there. :)
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Indian Summer Lyon Style
It has been a crazy few days. Getting oriented is not so much difficult as it is tiresome. We, as in the whole lot of us - more on them later - want to get TCL passes, which is the French version of a Metrocard. For 25 euros a month you can take any form of transport, be it bus, tram, or metro, an unlimited number of times. But, in order to get that, you need to jump through 16 hoops of fire and then balance on a chair on your head while picking your nose with both hands.
Mmmm, I love the smell of a disorganized bureaucracy in the morning.
As of right now there's a group of us:
Paulina, my awesome roommate.
Daniel, a 27-year old student from North Carolina who is the sweetest Southern gentleman anyone can find.
Eden, a dude from Hawaii Pacific who's pretty cool.
Sina, from Munich, who is super sweet. Her birthday is 2 days before mine.
Hannah, cool chick from Australia
Emi, our Baruch sister
Joe, a half-Japanese/half-UK kid who we call Texas. Because he goes to a school in Texas.
Brent, a laid-back quiet dude from Vancouver.
And we're just adding more as the days go by.
It's looking like an Indian Summer for Lyon. It's not outright hot - it's not hot absolutely everywhere you go, but when that sun hits my bed at around 10 am (because the curtains are fucked up - dont ask), it's roasting up in here. In the shade, though, it's quite cool.
At the time of this writing, I'm preparing to experience my first hardcore Thunderstorm a la Lyonnais. It is pitch black outside. And very, very angry.
Monday we had our first day of orientation. There was a lot of BS administrative information and then we had an hour break before more crap. During this hour, which ended up being 12-2 (love the French), we ate and had a beer. Yes, I had a huge beer at one in the afternoon. And then what happened? It went right to my head. So I'm sitting in this hot ass auditorium with another 250 people and it is boring as shit and I passed oooooooout. But so did everyone else.
We went to Carrefour, which is like France's Wal-Mart. It is MASSIVE.
It looks like my schedule so far is Monday-Thursday, possibly Wednesday which is great for weekend trips.
This language barrier is huge but really funny. Food shopping is such a trial but well worth it. Doing anything that involves the locals is just exasperating. I can imagine how interesting going to the farmer's market on Sunday will be.
"Uhhhh, je voudrais un kilo du fromage."
"Quel fromage?"
"Uhhh, that one."
"Quoi?"
"What?"
"QUOI?"
I shudder to think.
Dublin still seems like a go for my birthday. It's hard to believe I haven't even been here a week yet. It feels like ages.
More to come!
PS. I have my address and my mailbox. WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CARE PACKAGES FROM CERTAIN PEOPLES?
Gurvich Jenny
5 Bis Avenue Frères Lumière, Apt. R402
69008 Lyon, France
Mmmm, I love the smell of a disorganized bureaucracy in the morning.
As of right now there's a group of us:
Paulina, my awesome roommate.
Daniel, a 27-year old student from North Carolina who is the sweetest Southern gentleman anyone can find.
Eden, a dude from Hawaii Pacific who's pretty cool.
Sina, from Munich, who is super sweet. Her birthday is 2 days before mine.
Hannah, cool chick from Australia
Emi, our Baruch sister
Joe, a half-Japanese/half-UK kid who we call Texas. Because he goes to a school in Texas.
Brent, a laid-back quiet dude from Vancouver.
And we're just adding more as the days go by.
It's looking like an Indian Summer for Lyon. It's not outright hot - it's not hot absolutely everywhere you go, but when that sun hits my bed at around 10 am (because the curtains are fucked up - dont ask), it's roasting up in here. In the shade, though, it's quite cool.
At the time of this writing, I'm preparing to experience my first hardcore Thunderstorm a la Lyonnais. It is pitch black outside. And very, very angry.
Monday we had our first day of orientation. There was a lot of BS administrative information and then we had an hour break before more crap. During this hour, which ended up being 12-2 (love the French), we ate and had a beer. Yes, I had a huge beer at one in the afternoon. And then what happened? It went right to my head. So I'm sitting in this hot ass auditorium with another 250 people and it is boring as shit and I passed oooooooout. But so did everyone else.
We went to Carrefour, which is like France's Wal-Mart. It is MASSIVE.
It looks like my schedule so far is Monday-Thursday, possibly Wednesday which is great for weekend trips.
This language barrier is huge but really funny. Food shopping is such a trial but well worth it. Doing anything that involves the locals is just exasperating. I can imagine how interesting going to the farmer's market on Sunday will be.
"Uhhhh, je voudrais un kilo du fromage."
"Quel fromage?"
"Uhhh, that one."
"Quoi?"
"What?"
"QUOI?"
I shudder to think.
Dublin still seems like a go for my birthday. It's hard to believe I haven't even been here a week yet. It feels like ages.
More to come!
PS. I have my address and my mailbox. WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CARE PACKAGES FROM CERTAIN PEOPLES?
Gurvich Jenny
5 Bis Avenue Frères Lumière, Apt. R402
69008 Lyon, France
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