Getting comfortable

Another strike is happening tomorrow, so bus transport is pretty much out. Whereas before I didn't have a problem with the strikes, Charles pointed out that they're often manipulated one way or another and don't always happen for the right reasons. For now, it's part of living in France.

School hasn't been this easy in years. Art History is taught in French, but there's no homework or textbook, and my final grade will be Pass/Fail anyway. Phonetics doesn't even count for credit, and all I do is sit at a computer and listen to a recording of French phrases. I'm often asked to repeat the phrase, but that's marginally important at 9:00 a.m. when I haven't had much coffee. I'm supposed to take a placement test for the real French classes next Wednesday.

I'm taking a (not-for-credit) French cooking class, which sounds awesome, but actually isn't. With one stovetop and 14 students, there's only so much the teacher seems to be able to handle. She doesn't speak much English but doesn't seem to understand that most of us speak fluent French, so that further hinders our ability to learn anything beyond spreading goat cheese on baguette. I paid 80 Euros for 4 classes, and last night was left wondering why I basically paid 20 Euros to eat a salad and some canned duck (already prepared because it would "take too long and was too complicated to explain"). Most of the stuff I've eaten in class I could easily figure out how to make on my own. No special preparation techniques; no food pairing secrets; no wine, unless I bring the bottle. So bring the bottle I did.

I also had my first French yoga class last night. There were a ton of people in the class and the room was uncomfortably warm because of it, but I think yoga and sports will be useful for improving my French this semester. It was a very basic class, mostly focused on breathing techniques (and I prefer that kind of yoga anyway as opposed to the calorie-burning, Westernized method). I liked hearing the teacher give an instruction in French and then following along on my own.

I'm also signed up for a ski preparation class on Thursdays and hiking on Saturdays. I watched Magali's handball practice tonight, but ultimately decided that team sports might be stretching my language skills a little too far.

I feel like I've been here for months already, although it's only been two weeks. I've done so much, and time passes so slowly here without anything pressing to do besides go to class. I have so much empathy for foreigners in the United States now; here, my identity is always The American or The Non-Fluent, Heavily Accented Speaker Who Can't Follow Our Conversation But Just Sits There With A Dopey Smile On Her Face. Every day I learn new words and phrases, but it's frustrating to tell a story and realize you're ruining the comedy with your linguistic mix-ups. I'd like to meet more French people, but I don't know how when I can't even keep a conversation with Charles and Magali's friends.