3 Things Never Change

Nutella, School and my Bed

I have been in France for about a month, and I think that I have found a rhythm. Every weekday I wake up at 6:15 to get ready for school. For breakfast it is always bread (always wonderful) with nutella, or peanut butter or if I REALLY feeling like putting on weight that day, bread with nutella and peanut butter. Then it’s a quick car ride to the bus stop (which is just down the street), and then it’s a 5 minute ride in a bus which I call “the airplane.” Not because it goes into the sky, but because it is huge. One day it was a double-decker bus. After I get off the airplane it’s about 15-20 of hangout time or as I call it “ca va? Ca va” time, but then it’s class. My classes are different everyday, but the style of teaching is the same. Sit down, take notes and don’t talk. Or when I don’t have class, one goes to permanence or as I say “prison.” It is a giant room filled with desks in long rows, in which everyone sits (one per table), while the stroll about and kindly remind people of the rules, such as that I must wait until the end of class the throw away my used tissue. The best example of this was when I quietly turned to the cute girl behind me to get some help with my history class work: My “favorite” permanence lady walked over to me from across the room and said some quick, angry whispering French to me, to which I replied “Je ne compris pas que tu as dis, et je suis american.” Here’s a little hint for anyone who might be coming to France: If they have more power than you, use “VOUS” unless told not to. As a result, she told me to, “shut-up!” and then asked, “you understand that don’t you?” Needless to say, our styles collide from time to time.

After school which gets out (for me) at 5:25 Monday, 12:00 on Wednesday, and at 4:25 Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. I go home (usually by airplane) and have gouter, which I call second breakfast due to the fact that one eats the same things, only finishing this time with dessert. Once second breakfast is over, I usually “do my French homework,” which is just my way of saying “to take a nap.” After my first week and a half of school, everyone knew what doing my French homework meant.

For dinner it’s never the same (that’s a good thing), but it’s usually something light (for an American). Like a very moderate amount of rice and duck, or couscous and small (almost) sausages. Then I sleep. In the United States I thought that I was going to bed early on a school night if it was before midnight. Here it’s late if it’s past 10:00.