Raincheck

Well, my last post certainly was optimistic, wasn't it. I survived my first week of French university classes (with the help of a grève and some coincidence).

To backtrack a bit, I had an interesting weekend. I experienced my first French-style house party (in my house, no less). My host sister had a 'few' friends over Friday night and several of them partied so late they were there when I woke up Saturday morning. I really enjoyed talking with them, though, and it was nice to just interact with French young people in a non-school situation. Hopefully I'll be seeing some of them again soon. On Saturday night, we (CUPA peeps) went to a boîte, a French nightclub. It ended up being pretty touristy/international, with lots of other American and Erasmus students, but just the fact that it was a block away from Invalides and right along the bank of the Seine made it pretty awesome. (The friendliness of French men, however, can be... less that awesome.)

After a fun weekend, I was nerdily excited for classes--and my first one didn't let me down. It's a poetry class focused on Symbolism, Mallarmé, and the idea of "book-objects" in which the artist doesn't just write the poems but also has creative input in everything from the illustrations to the typeface. On Tuesday, France was striking (aren't they always?) so both of my classes were cancelled. Actually, they weren't really cancelled, it was more like the professors just didn't show up for the first day of class. Oh, strikes...

Wednesday I had two history classes, one of which was great and one of which was terrifying. The great one was about Europe in the 19th century, so of course I loved it ;) The terrifying one totally shot down my confidence. It wasn't that I couldn't understand the material (French politics post-Napoleon... okay maybe that was a small part of the problem), but that I literally could not understand the words coming out of the professor's mouth. I don't think they were words, actually. She was like a French Gilmore Girl on crack. Her French was just too fast and too mumbled and I left the class feeling panicked and already stressed about the coursework. That was my first (and only? fingers crossed!) super depressed moment thus far of study abroad. How on earth was I supposed to take this class for an entire semester when I couldn't follow 3 hours of lecture? Easy--drop the class! By happy coincidence, I ran into another CUPA student earlier today who is taking a different (and awesome sounding! History of 20th Century Wars through Literature and Film) class the same day that I've since decided to switch into.

So thank you, coincidence. You saved me from a stressful semester. I've been restored to the excited first-week-of-school student that I typically am, and I'm actually not dreading my first French homework this weekend. Also on the schedule for this weekend: Giverny!