Une Super Baptia until Christmas

I know. I know. I haven't updated in about a century and a half. Let's put our past behind us though (hakuna matata) and move on.

A lot has happened since my French/American Thanksgiving (LeahVic it was titled, for those of you who have super-good memories), so I shall give you a table of contents of ... well ... the contents of this blog entry.

-Baptia's birthday
-Paris with Rotary students
-Clovis's house
-French Christmas Eve

On commence ...

Part One: Une Super Baptia

My host grandmother (Baptia) turned 70 on Thursday the 14th. Naturally this was cause for a huge party, which we had. I cut my last two classes so I could get home two hours early because Baptia turning 70 is MUCH more important than studying for a math test I was absent for anyway and ... English class.

Fine, I didn't exactly cut class. That just makes me sound so bad. Rawr.

Plus it's easier than explaining what I actually did. Just pretend oh-so-bad Leah skipped math and English.

Anyhow, when I arrived home,the preparations were in full force. That is to say, Alice and Pierre (host sister and "host cousin," respectively, for those of you remember no one) were painting on cardboard and occasionally yelling at each other. That's how it goes in this family, though, you know? It works for them, though. When they have a party planned for any X amount of time, all preparations commence two or three hours before it begins. Alright. We did have a planning period at Pierre's house a week-and-a-half before, but ...

Preparations were harrowing, stress was high, but I was feeling very hakuna matata about the whole thing. Baptia would appreciate anything, right? She loves her grandchildren unconditionally.

Do you know a lot about Baptia? She is The Matron. Everyone in the family respects her and loveslovesloves her. Very conservative lady. She's always cold (temperature-wise). When I first met her she scared me, but she's really a very sweet woman. While she has a tendency to be a bit imperial, she does a lot for the family and it was a top priority of the Petiots/me/Hugo (the boyfriend of one of The Cousins) to give her a great party for the big seven-oh.

And what does every highly conservative 70-year-old woman want from her grandchildren? A rap about her, of course!

I have to tell you. I love French rap. I find it highly amusing for reasons that even I don't understand. This was an example of genius. I hope I can get my hands on the video taken of the performance.

True, there was a small show before the rap, but that was really the icing on the cake. First we had a roughly ten-to-fifteen-minute show featuring skits that demonstrated fond memories Baptia's grandchildren had about her. When that was all finished we all lined up together with the background to a rap song playing while Pierre rapped these words:

Neuf petits enfants ont une super Baptia
Une Baptia qui a leur donné des ailes
Une Baptia tendre et douce comme le miel
Donc c'est pour ça qu'on est là
Pour ton anniversaire!

Roughly translated, it means:

Nine gradnchildren have a super Baptia
A Baptia who has given them wings
A Baptia who is tender and sweet like honey
So that's why we're here
For your birthday!

Part Two: SKIPPING SCHOOL IS SO FUN!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday the 16th of December I got to skip school. Shut up. Yes. I have school Saturdays. But ... I got to skip it!!

The reason for this is because somehow some Rotarian got news that Leah Darland was in town and wanted to put a face to the legend.

Psh.

Really it was a sort of rendez-vous (in the English sense of the term, anyway) with the other Rotary students in the area. At 9:45 in the morning we met outside some science museum in Paris. I was highly anticipating meeting lots of people from all around the world and be part of a huge mélange of cultures and languages!!!!

Who was there? Americans. Lots of Americans. Two Canadians. One Brazilian. One Mexican. A million Americans. All of us were from the same landmass, unless you count the Panama canal as separating North and South America. If you do, you're a loser.

Nevertheless. It was a great day. Much to anyone's horror who got to skip a day of education, we actually entered the science museum we met outside of. Don't worry, though. I didn't learn anything. We watched an omnimax film about Mars, which I don't remember much of. I don't like to pay attention to learny things on Saturdays.

It was raining that day. A cold rain. A bitter rain. A rain that got into my shoes and soaked my feet on our long walk to our lunch place. Ohhh, but it was worth it. For one thing, it gave us exchange students a chance to talk and to get to know one another and all that jazz. Plus, I ate rabbit for lunch. Only me, the two Canadians and another American girl (you know, one of many) were brave enough. One person had already tried it and didn't like it. Everyone else was saying some nonsense about cute bunny rabbits and other such rubbish. Whatever. Their loss. It was delish.

Really, a lot of that day is not recapturable in terms of words. It's really something that I can only have in my mind, you know. A lot of the memories are those of conversation and stuff.

In that case ...

Part Three: La fête chez Clovis

The adventure started before I even got on the train, my friends.

I had $64 that I wanted to change into euros, which was a service conveniently available at the Gare de Lyon where I was to catch my train. So I got in line and asked the nice man to change my money, which he did, and then I stepped aside to put it into my purse. Then, because my train didn't leave for another half hour or so, I took a stroll around the place.

A few minutes into my walk for some unknown reason, the thought popped into my head: I should double-check to make sure I have my ticket still. I knew I had it with me, though. I had double- triple- quadruple-checked that it was with me when I left the house. But. I looked into my purse. No ticket.

Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no.

For some other unknown reason I torn around a corner to me left which brought me back to where I had changed my money. There. Lying unscathed, untouched ... unstolen ... my train ticket.

And. Thank God I found it. Because it was ... a great party.

Yessir, it had a theme. Victoria (Australian one) wanted everyone to come as vampires. Wait ... what? How does one come to a party as a vampire? Basically, you just come in all black and let Victoria put some bloody-looking makeup on you.

Anyhow, I had a great fun time. Clovis's parents actually left the house to spend the night somewhere else so that Clovis and Victoria could have their party. Apparently, this is normal. Hey, mom? Dad? What do you think?

I knew no one there, save Clovis and Victoria, but that didn't matter. For some reason I actually talked to people (a rare occurrence, no?) and, get this ... they talked back. I think that's called "conversation with strangers" or something. Being outgoing has its benefits.

And it was entirely in French. Five ba-jillion points for Leah.

Hey!

Part Four: Christmas ... in France (Christmas Eve)

Actually, Christmas started on Christmas Eve. I got home from Clovis's house mid-afternoon on the 24th. It was a long day. I got up before eight and had a lonely breakfast of leftover cakey-bready stuff that we'd had with dinner the previous night (this is at Clovis's house still, by the way) until Guy (Clovis's dad) joined me and made me some coffee. God, I love him.

Clovis was still asleep when I was up but obviously I had to say goodbye so I woke him up and spent the last twenty minutes in his room talking to him. A highlight.

But what can be said about a five-hour train ride? Okay, it wasn't five. I took a train from Champagnole to Dole Ville and from there I took the TGV to Paris. If that means anything to anyone. Furthermore, I can tell you that I took a detour on my way home because I needed some more alone time (for reasons I cannot explain here) and took the métro 14 to the 7 (or 6, I don't remember) then the RER A. Does anyone get that?

But the holidays were in full swing once I got home. I was told to dress up because we were going to Didier's sister's house for Christmas Eve. Ok. That was a bit before 3 in the afternoon and we left ... well, hours later.

The French, I find, are late partiers. Do you know what time we left Corinne's house?????? 3:30 in the morning.

Many people have asked me what was done in France that is different from in America. That is, in fact, a rather difficult question to answer. I mean, everything was different. We didn't eat the same food, there was no football game on, the present exchange was different. Yet, to me it doesn't seem like differences I can call FRENCH and AMERICAN. It's difficult to explain. I'll just have to tell your about the evening and about Christmas and let you analyze for yourselves.

First, so I can do this easily...

Cast of Christmas Eve Characters:

(in alphabetical order by first name)

Alice: host sister
Corinne: Didier's sister. Hostess of the Christmas Eve shindig.
Didier: host dad
Douglas: host brother
Leah: (often referred to as "me" or "I"): the star. Everyone's favorite person!!!
Manon: a cousin (female).
Samantha: a cousin. Daughter of Corinne.
Victoria: host mom. No longer refers to Australian Victoria.
William: a cousin. Oldest son of Corinne. The other son is in America at the moment.

(the scene opens ...)

Not a lot was going on when we arrived. We arrived last. We arrived late. As usual. No big, though. Corinne was hurrying around her tiny kitchen, looking adorable as always. I really like her a LOT. She greeted me warmly, as she always does. Manon and Samantha were on the computer playing ... The Sims 2!! Alice and I joined them for a while, while the boring adults chatted and occasionally checked the progress of a soccer game on TV.

It must have been 10:00 when dinner began. Maybe 9:30. Alice, Samantha, Manon, and I situated ourselves at the far end of the table and I was greeted by a now familiar sight on my plate.

Yes, my friends. A traditional French holiday food. Foie gras. Goose liver.

The first time I tried it, I hated it. Tonight, however, it was served on a little toast (as usual) and with fig jam. I found it ... edible. Likable, even. I know ... goose liver. Vive la France, n'est-ce pas?

As always, this dinner was served in courses. The next course consisted of duck (yummy!), green beans and these odd fried potato ball thingies. I should find out how to make those. I bet that's something my family would eat. Maybe not the foie gras ... though if I said if was liverwurst I bet I'd have a few takers, huh Dad?

In between dinner and dessert we exchanged presents. As the youngest, Manon was in charge of passing them out.

What happened was everyone brought as many presents as there were people in their family, then they were numbered. Manon passed around a little hat with numbers in them and whatever number you drew (unless it was a present that you brought) you took that present. A lot of people got perfume, scented oils or candles and the like. "Does everyone in this family smell bad or something?" Didier asked at one point.

Me, I got lottery games from William. And guess what??? I won 8€!! I still have to get that ...

Then something happened that I know the Darland family will especially appreciate.

Over dessert, you know what was pulled out? A board game. Taboo. I didn't play because it's a word game and it's French ... anyhow, I got enough amusement watching.

As is always is, it started out friendly enough.

The family divided into two teams: guys versus girls. There were two more on the female side than on the male, but of course all the guys were like: "It doesn't matter, no big deal," because they were sure they'd beat the girls. Naturally, they lost.

But, as I said, it was peaceful at first. In case you aren't familiar with Taboo, the point is you have a word that you want your teammates to guess and you have to give them clues as to what the word is without saying the taboo words on the little card that tells you what word you want them to guess and all that. You have a limited amount of time and you want to try to do as many words as possible in that time.

So, everyone played nicely until--oops! Samantha said a taboo word so they threw out the card and started on a new one, but wait! A few turns later when William said a taboo word they made them forfeit the entire turn. Then Alice couldn't be heard because her uncle (don't remember his name) and Willian were both shouting when she was trying to give clues so she had to move, but that took time so Manon gave them a little bit more time, but that's not allowed! But it was the other team's fault they needed more time in the first place!

By the end of the game, I was highly amused and everyone else was angry with each other.

I felt so at home.

Je vais vous laisser.

I think this was a sufficient post. Here is what you get to hear about next time:

Coming Next:

-Christmas
-Paris with Anna
-New Year's Eve
-A brief recap of my afternoon with Alice and Baptia
-Moving in with my new host family...

... because by the time I update again I'll be with Guite Benoit! Moving in with her tomorrow evening!!!

Bonne année, bonne santé,
Leah

Thanksgiving à la France

That's right. Thanksgiving. But first, I have another conte to add to my previous repetoire. Then we'll get to Turkey Day.

Thursday I had English class. We are in the process of reading a short story in the back of our textbook that I've already read, like, a million times and it actually isn't that bad for a textbook short story. So. Everyone was struggling through it, taking turns reading, blahblahblah, and I'm kind of twiddling my thumbs. Then a boy in my class, Hugo, says, "Let's have Leah read!" and evreyone things that's a great idea. Woot. So I pick up from where we'd just left off ... and screw up. Oopsie. "Gosh!" I say in exasperation before continuing flawlessly though the rest of the text.

The class erupts once I finish. But it isn't because I read to fast or whatever. Through the tidal wave of French coming out on me, I pick out what the problem is: gosh. The word "gosh" wasn't in the text. Whywhywhy did I say it?

We had a five-minute conversation on interjections before moving on, but it was a fun moment for me.

I have noticed someting odd about my host mother's accent. The other day she asked if she could practice a bit of English with me--she teaches Engilsh to small children. Of course, I said yes and we started chatting for a while. It had been such a long time since we'd spoken in English in a really long time (rah rah!) and I'd forgotten what she sounded like speaking English. It's kind of funny because she has a mix of a French and Russian accent (her dad's Russian and taught her to speak it when she was little). It's cute.

Annnnnyhow. Thanksgiving. A bit late, I know, but on the real Thanksgiving we were too busy--Didier was leaving the next morning for Madagascar (lucky) and Victoria had a tango class. So, we did it yesterday. We couldn't find any cranberries or pumpkins, but it was okay. We had a nice turkey, cole slaw, green bean salad, potatoes, carrots, an apple pie and (not traditional, but because so many had been brought back from Madagascar) a mango pie.

Victoria got home yesterday (Friday) a short while after five. I was already cooking the green beans and she brought will her about five baguettes because what's a mean without baguettes???? Seriously. Preparation actually went quite smoothly, especially considering we did everything in under three hours! But it was a distinctly French Thanksgiving. We titles it LéaVic. Victoria's idea. Cute, huh?

Nine Rotarians plus Sayaka arrived at about eight o' clock. I think. At two minutes to eight I bolted upstairs and took a shower, changed my clothes and make-upped in less than fifteen minutes. When I got downstairs at almost a quarter after eight, most everyone was there.

We started, as we always do here, with little snacks. Cokes were offered to anyone who wanted to be American for the night but everyone but one person opted for champagne instead. We went into the living room and ate cherry tomatoes, pistachios, and (in honor of the US) chips and salsa. Really bad salsa.

A few refills of champagne each later, we migrated back into the dining room (which is the same room, really, just up, like, three steps). I told Victoria that in the USA during Thanksgiving (and all meals, really) we eat everything except the desserts together. She was nervous about that idea, though, so we served the green beans and cole slaw first (featuring homemade and not completely disgusting dressing by Leah).

Me and Alice and Sayaka were seated at the far end of the table and, naturally, we got to talking. That tends to happen, doesn't it? I relearned how to say "cheers" in Japanese which I now know in four languages (English, French, Italian, Japanese). Quite suddenly, everone had finished their salad and I was still chatting away with Alice and Sayaka, plate still half-full.

But we couldn't keep the Rotarians waiting. Turkey, potatoes and carrots were served. And. I must say. Yum.

MUCH smaller turkey than what is customary, but who needs all that when the portions are smaller and we still have leftovers anyway? Funnily enough we also had a cheese course, which both Alice and I always forgo. We accidentall brought the wrong cheese to the table at first. Oopsie.

In summary: success! It was the perfect mix of French and American so that it was reminiscent of Thanksgivings at home but so everyone was able to enjoy it. The apple pie, for instance, was different--more French. But there was apple pie nonetheless. You see?

Well, I'm off! À la prochaine!

I think I spelled that right.

Love,
Leah

Plusieurs Contes de Leah ... I mean Léa

No one will get that title. It's just because of something we're doing in French ... "Trois Contes de Flaubert" ... heh ... heh ...

Anyhow, I just have a few comments. Short stories, actually. In general, nothing terribly exciting is happening.

Firstly, I thought I should comment on the public transportation system. It's good. We should have more in Royal Oak. I mean ... we are right by Detroit, aren't we?

But what I really want to say has to do with the buses. Every time buses pass one another the drivers smile (sometimes) and wave at one another. I just think that's so cool! What a nice and simple gesture of camaraderie.

I just love it every time I see it.

Anyhow, I now have a quick word on history.

My history teacher is really intense. And she gets angry a lot. And she yells. A lot. Sometimes I don't even know what it's about, all I know is that her voice rises twenty decibles and two octaves and I'm deaf for ten minutes afterwards. But mostly it's for something little. I don't know, someone doesn't have a pen or something.

Last week a boy in my class, Axel, fell asleep. The teacher was sitting at her desk and giving a lecture and in mid-sentence she stopped and said, "Axel? Axel, are you asleep?"

Axel raised his head and looked at her. I could feel my ears wincing in anticipation.

"Were you asleep, Axel?"

"Uh ... yes."

You know what she did? She laughed.

This is Miss OH-MY-GOD-YOU-FORGOT-YOUR-PEN-IF-I-WOULD'T-GET-FIRED-FOR-DOING-IT-I-WOULD-BEAT-YOU-WITH-MY-HISTORY-BOOK-YOU-STUPID-STUPID-CHILD (admittedly exaggerated) ... and she laughed! What's more, she made a JOKE about it this week; "Okay, we're going to start class now, if Axel is awake."

Cuh-razy.

Also on history (sorry, Dad, this is also in a letter I'm going to send you), we got back the tests we took on Christianity on Monday. Teachers here have no qualms about making people's work (good or poor) public knowledge, and she made many many comments on how she spent infinite amounts of time correcting spelling and grammar mistakes--on more than half the class's tests, more time than she spent correcting content. This is a normal comment--French grammar is very complicated.

So, she was passing back tests, complete with comments ("You could do better," "Good job; best note in the class," and very commonly, "Your grammar is unacceptable," etc etc). Then she got to me. "You've made obvious progress in language, Leah," she said. Then she turned to the class and said pointedly, "And there were some paragraphs with NO FAULTS!!!!"

Hee ...

My last thing is about French class today.

My French teacher (who scares me) had me read a bit aloud today. Oy! It was sooooo frightening. I mean, I've heard people read aloud in my English class ... oy vey.

Anyhow, when I was through, she said, "Do you do this often, Leah? It's a good exercise for you."

I nodded feebly and said I do sometimes ... I have once to someone else and a few times to myself.

Then you know what she said that made my life complete? "You have a charming accent."

Woah.

Leah Elaine Darland. From the midwest of the United States, where we have horrible nasally accents and pinch our vowels and our "a" sounds (as in "France") are absolutely scary ... has been told that she has a charming accent.

I never thought I'd live to see the day, but it has arrived.

My accent ... is charming. Not simply preferred over British accents (which is just confusing) ... but charming...

Life is beautiful and it only gets better.

Until next time,

Leah