Days of My Life

Yup. I've pretty much abandoned you. I've been writing my sponsoring Rotary Club every week ... but with you, I just can't be bothered!

Ok, fine. I apologize. Let me recount my stories and we'll get on with life.

May 19-20 made about the millionth weekend in a row where I got to skip school on Saturday, which was just amazing.

Saturday the 19th, there was a picnicky-type thing with the Rotary students of the district--District 1770, in case you were wonder--both inbounds and outbounds. Almost all of the outbounds were headed to the States with six exceptions--four were going to Canada (three to Ontario and one to Manitoba), one was going to Ecuador and one to Argentina. After all the boring Rotary speeches (which Krystin--Tennessee friend, remember?--translated to English in my ear, even though I understood ... we were just that bored), all the students went outside and allowed the outbounds to interrogate us.

Alice, my first host sister, was there--she's going to California, just like she wanted.

In France, one says "America" to a French person and they picture California. It has been sais to me several times in casual conversation, "It's a lot warmer in the United States, isn't it?" and I say "Hah! Are you kidding me? In Michigan it's WAY colder!"

Because The Picture of the States in France, is pretty much California ... not much else.

Annnnnyhow.

After the picnic was over (me and Alice said our final goodbyes), I went to Krystin's house to stay the night. Compared to where I live, she lives in the country ... even though it isn't really. It's about a half-hour train ride from Paris--Chantilly. But then there's a drive of about twenty minutes to Baron, which is where her host family lives.

Her host mom seemed like the sweetest thing in the world. Her host dad was bald and rather large--when he came to pick us up, he was wearing a suit and sunglasses and had a little earpiece (one for a cell phone) in his ear, giving him a very FBI-ish air.

Krystin and I probably slept about four hours that night. We spent a good part of the evening discussing Grey's Anatomy, plus we had to get up reallyreally early to catch a proper train to Compiègne the next morning.

Compiègne, you'll remember, is where Taylor lives.

Taylor, you'll remember, is our Canadian friend.

Canada, you'll remember, extends farther west than Ontario--Taylor is (originally) from Alberta.

So. We had originally planned on taking a 9:35 train so that we'd arrive at 10:24, but we got an email from Taylor saying that crêpe making (which was our purpose for going to Compiègne) began at 10:00. The next earliest train to Compiègne was at 7:04, getting to Compiègne at 7:53. So it was to be an early morning.

At about 6:30, we awoke and groggily set about leaving. All was well. We got on the proper train and got to Compiègne at the proper time and everything was all ... proper. Except Taylor wasn't there. No, no. You don't understand. He's ALWAYS there. Waiting on the platform most of the time as well.

So we gave him fifteen minutes to show up. Nothing.

So we started to walk to his house. Or we tried to remember exactly how to do it ...

About ten minutes into our walk we saw a distant red coat, which, naturally, indicated an approaching Taylor.

Here's his excuse:

He went out with his host brother the night before (keep in mind he'd said he would check his mail before he went to sleep). Krystin and I had called his house when he'd been out and spoken with his host sister, telling her that we'd be there at 7:53. So. Yes.

Anyhow, he got in late with his host brother and he headed for bed. Without checking his mail. BUT, his host brother, Jean-Gab(riel--but we leave out that part) came SPRINTING up the stairs.

"Taylor! My sister says that your friends are getting here at 7:53 tomorrow morning!"

Okay.

So, he reheaded for bed. BUT Jean-Gab (okay--these people were drunk, there's no way tiptoe-ing around that ... Taylor and Jean-Gab were drunk) came SPRINTING back up the stairs.

"Taylor! Your friends are getting here at 8:15 tomorrow morning!"

Idiot Taylor decided to believe his drunk host brother instead of his sober host sister. And he didn't check his mail ... where there was a message from me and Krystin telling him 7:53.

That is why he was late. Pretty lame excuse.

But I had to forgive him because he said he wouldn't let me into his house until I did, and I really had to pee. So, I forgave him ... or did I?

Anyhow, we mosied around the house and around Compiègne until it was time to search out the Rotarians and start making crêpes.

Why were we making crêpes, you may wonder?

Why, it was the Joan of Arc festival!

Funnily enough we were waaaaaaaaay outside of where the festivities were taking place. It was cold. It was rainy. There were next to no customers. There was a crude man who came up and said crude things to me and Krystin, so we left for twenty minutes and screamed out our hatred for French men. It was cold. It was rainy.

Not the most exciting of days.

But we did eat kebabs when we went to the trainstation! That was cool! And tasty!

Monday I went to school. Unfortunately, my train did not break like it had the weekend of SSSS (you'll recall my last post ...).

In whole, however, it was a pretty lame excuse of a day, especially since I didn't get to call my sister for her birthday ... I did send her an email, though.

Tuesday night, however, I went out with my host family. We went to the 20th birthday party of the son of a friend of Myriam's.

The fête took place at a restaurant and there were a lot of family members and friends of the family who were keen to interrogate me on the States, which prevented awkward silences.

The food was good. The people were good. The everything was good. On a whole, it was a very enjoyable evening.

But. Here's something that my family is really going to appreciate--my family and those who know me well.

See, as usual, there were courses to the meal and after the main dish there was, as usual, a cheese course.

I was like "Oh, what the hell? I won't be fussy--I'll just try the stupid cheese."

So, I cut off pieces of goat cheese and brie cheese and ate them with bread.

And you know what?

... I liked it!

Leah. Liked. Cheese. Swallow it. Believe it. It's true.

THEN. The weekend following was a long weekend--no school Monday!! So, Taylor came and spent the weekend at my house.

We spent much of Sunday watching movies--"Good Will Hunting" (Boo! Bad Dialogue! Written by actors!), "Stalingrad" (good), and "Me, Myself, and Irene" (stupid, but funny). Monday, we were in Paris for the better part of the day, going to areas of Paris we'd never been, people watching, etc.

Tuesday I went to scool. Two whole hours. Woe. Is. Me.

Wednesday I met Taylor in Paris because he had some shopping errands to run and he needed second opinions or something.

You don't understand, obviously. Do you know what he bought?

A kilt. 160€ (rather inexpensive--very inexpensive, even, for a kilt). He had to leave it with a tailor to fix it to the right size. But the fact remains ... he bought a kilt. And a sporran. It. Was. Amazing.

We also, you know, walked and talked and went to a park and hated pidgeons and all that. Comme d'hab.

Friday I met Krystin in Creil (one train stop outside of Chantilly--three outside of Paris) and we headed for Beauvais to meet up with an exchange student friend of ours--a Canadian (from London, Ontario) named Kyle. He has red hair. Which makes him amazing.

Uhh ... yeah. So we spent Friday in Beauvais. Doing ... stuff. Not a whole lot, honestly. But ... stuff. You know?

Saturday morning I met up AGAIN with Krystin. We were supposed to go sari shopping again (a girl needs more than one, you know!), but I had to run some errands for Taylor (because I am wonderful and I do stuff like that), ie: pick up his kilt from the tailor and buy him some (ahem) "hose," which are, of course, necessary for a kilt. "Hose" ... whatever. They're just tall wool socks.

So, with me and Krystin in sari and with Taylor in a kilt ... we pretty much conquered Paris.

We also headed over to Maisons-Alfort to eat kebabs--because the kebab place in M-A has decidedly the BEST kebabs in all of France ... nae ... in all the WORLD!!!!

Krystin went home that night and I threw some stuff together and headed to Taylor's house.

When we got to Compiègne, we began walking to Taylor's house, but when we got to the marketplace, he stopped. And changed directions. Why?

Because, of course, he'd heard music. And when one hears music, one must follow it.

We found ourselves (and the music) in a little park. We also found a few of Taylor's friends, and after it was established that the music was being performed by mediocre Parisians, we decided instead to head to an Irish bar and have a drink. Or several. Whatever.

We headed home a bit after 11:00. We went into the basement, so as not to wake up the family with our bavardage (figure it out--look it up), but we were soon joined by Jean-Gab. He stayed and watched a movie with us--a really bad French one called "Taxi" that got so stupid within the first 15 minutes that I fell asleep on Taylor's really uncomfortable shoulder. I woke up as the credits were rolling.

I was told I didn't miss anything.

Further sleep did not happen until 6 in the morning, when we slept for four hours. We pretty much talked all night about pretty much anything, most of it having to do with religion, philosophy, and children. Heehee.

Sunday was a lazy lazy day. It was also Mother's Day in France, so the family ate together with Mme Chambon's mother as well. The Chambon family doesn't talk when they eat, so I was very surprised at the amount of conversation that was happening at the table ... which still wasn't a lot ... but it was more than usual.

Taylor kicked me out around 6:00 that evening, though I went back to Compiègne on Monday ...

Nothing happened yesterday and so far, nothing has happened today.

All my exchange student friends are on the bus trip, so I have quite a lot of nothing happening until the 16th, when I'm going to Gare du Nord to meet them.

Happy?

I love you all!

Leah!!!!