La Flâneuse Anna

Hi, my name is Anna and this blog originally was to document my travels during my study abroad experience in Nice, France, but is now used to document any and all traveling experiences I have

[laflaneuseanna]

An Aristotlean State of Mind

Well, it’s been a while. I’ve been meaning to write this for a while and just had a hard time starting since it had been over a year since I last wrote anything for this blog. I eventually decided to wait until I’d been at my new job for a month before I wrote about anything. And that is actually the topic that I have decided to cover today: my new job.

After about two months of searching and applying and jumping through hoops after I graduated with my BA in Computer Science and French, I finally got a response from someone who wanted to interview me for a Web Development position. Fellow Arkansans might remember Aristotle from their days as one of the state’s first internet service providers, and that’s what I remembered when I first applied for the job. However, in the past 20 years, they’ve grown so much from just that. There is a lot that they do and while that is all REALLY COOL I really can’t get into it right now because if I used this post to talk about all that Aristotle does now, well, there’s a reason they have their own website telling you all about it. Anyway, one of the things they do is build, host, and maintain websites, which is what I eventually got hired to do.

After getting hired, I was in awe. To be honest, I expected to have to continue to apply to five to six jobs daily for another couple months before I got any sort of positive response. I mean I had spent the last two months applying to jobs in the same manner, maybe one out of ten companies would reply to my application and even then it was only to tell me that they were sorry but I had not been chosen because they had found a more suitable candidate etc etc. I guess that’s what I get for only starting to apply for jobs after graduation when the market is flooded with recent grads looking for jobs. But out of the blue this company I vaguely knew about contacted me and wanted me to come in for an interview. I went in twice and within the week I had a job offer.  I’ve been at this company for a month and I’m still in awe that I was able to snag this. I have my own office, a parking spot, business cards, an office phone, a salary, insurance options, and a whole lot of other perks.

I still get a little scared that it’s all a dream or that I’ll do something little that will get me fired because it really is amazing to work there. I realized the other day how differently the power dynamics are in the office compared to the academic world that I have subscribed to for the past 16 or so years. I can’t say that there’s nothing wrong with academia because of my personal opinions of the system in general, but I can say that there’s nothing inherently wrong with how I was taught. However it was not a system that did well for me or my mental health. A lot of you who have read my blog before have read about my struggle with depression, and in the year of dead air on my blog I have struggled with it a lot. Senior year was the most difficult year I have had to face. I knew academically I was going to have a tough time because of my schedule but I did not forsee the toll it took on me mentally and emotionally. I had a singular month in those two semesters where my depression faded back to the point where I felt like a neurotypical human being again for the most part. I had so many projects to juggle and only so many acceptable places I could go to ask for help on it. I understand that I was not allowed to collaborate or use the internet to look up answers to show that I could learn and reproduce the material on my own, but in the back of my mind I always thought that there was no way that these restrictions would be placed on me outside of this institution and I was right. At my job I can and am encouraged to ask my colleagues for help on my work if I’m having trouble and am also encouraged to use any and all resources available, including google, to help me be successful. And if my code isn’t working because I’ve made a mistake or something, I do not fail, I’m just expected to go and fix it. Despite my inexperience, my newness, and my youth, my colleagues treat me just the same as they treat the other programmers.

It’s been a really good month for me and I have felt better than I have in a long time. Here’s to my first month at a new job and to many more. Thanks for taking a chance on me Aristotle.

[laflaneuseanna]

Guess who’s back?

After over a year of radio silence, I’m back with a new post, to be available tomorrow! There’s been a URL change from laflaneuseanice.tumblr.com to laflaneuseanna.tumblr.com. Maybe more changes to come too, from blog content to layout. Keep an eye out for them

[laflaneuseanna]

Hi xx I saw your responses to the other anons/ and the other tumblr account. Would you mind making a post about how to choose or decide on picking a France university, especially if you don't know any France colleges or the town you wanna live in. Also, not sure if you wanna celebrate it there, but happy 4th of July!! :)

So I didn’t exactly apply to a university as in I chose to go to France when I graduated high school. I went to a University stateside for two years, and I decided that for my Junior year I wanted to study abroad. I talked with the office that handles study abroad, and through them I picked a study abroad program that would best fit with me, that would accept my financial aid as well as transfer credits. I chose ISEP, which works with my university, and through that program there was a list of universities in France that were affiliated with the program. It lined them up and showed what areas of study they offered, and I had to pick 10 in descending order of how much I wanted to go to them. I picked 10 that had computer science programs that I could take classes from and then I talked with my French professor about the climates and city life of each place I was considering. I also read up on the cities through the ISEP website, wikipedia, and lonely planet and used those to help my decision.  

So, my recommendation is to do your research. Maybe find people from the university to talk to. But also don’t be afraid to wing it a little because it will turn out okay

[laflaneuseanna]

Oh dear. No, from the United States!! Born and raised here! I just said UNI because my hometown calls university UNI! So, we need to have proof of our US saying yes I am a citizen here are some bills that my parents had and all my junk. And what do you mean off the books? Like you can only work 30 hours? Is that a lot to manage? I know college is more cheaper there (compared to the United States that is) so is that a lot for a college kid? Thank you for being so informative!! Xx cheers

If you’re a US citizen, then your passport is proof enough of your citizenship. 

With a student visa, you can only legally clock in for work for 30 hours maximum in a week. Any more than that then you are violating your visa. 30 hours is part time hours and I did it for a while while in the US and it was rough. Most likely you won’t get the full 30 and that’s fine. I would say take at least a semester to get used to the course load before you go trying to have a job.

The kind of job mentioned above would hopefully be on the books, as in full and legal with rights and with paychecks and whatnot. Off the books is when your employer isn’t legally claiming you as an employee and would pay you just in cash and whatnot. It’s not something I would get into

[laflaneuseanna]

Hello! I'm 16 and I'm planning on going to UNI in France! BLESS YOU FOR YOUR POST BECAUSE IT WAS A BIG RELIEF AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Thank you xx! I had no idea where to start!! But what do I do for your last step about the visa? And can I even work if I have a visa?

Okay, from the way you said uni, I’m guessing that you’re from an Anglophile country and not the US? The steps that I list in this post here are for US citizens and I do not know how it works for the UK, Ireland, or Canada. CampusFrance should give you the instructions for that, somewhere. If you are a US resident who is nonnative and is planning to do university in France, there, you need to get proof of residence. When I was in France, I had to get a letter from my dorm for the purpose of keeping my visa there. I’m sure if you look up proof of residency, you can find something that proves your parents or guardians are residents and that you, as their dependent, also have proof. 

And as for the working, if you have a student visa, which is what I had, you could work on the books for 30 hours a week. Some places will hire you off the books but I would not recommend it.

[laflaneuseanna]

Would you mind recommending any tips and tricks on how you learn French language more fluently

Practice speaking. Find someone or many someones who have a proficiency in the language and talk, all the time. It wasn’t until I made a conscious effort to speak in French all the time did my skills go up. Don’t worry about vocab, that is what the internet is for and you also learn to circumlocute around the word. You’ve just got to put the hours into it.

[laflaneuseanna]

Shout Outs

I have met so so many amazing people here and I have failed thus far to mention them by more than by name or a passing reference. So my next few posts will concern these amazing people, how we met, and a few things about our adventures and why they’re so wonderful. 

[laflaneuseanna]

There can be nothing more frequent than an occasional drink.

Before I left for Europe, I was not interested in drinking. For the longest time I was a very rigid person, and though I relaxed a little when I went to college, underage drinking just wasn’t appealing to me. However, I knew that in Europe, the customs towards drinking were very different. In Europe, one can legally purchase alcohol at 18, but most start drinking before then. The custom of drinking wine with meals can be seen as early as 12, as children are allowed to drink from their parents’ glasses. One can usually see people having 1-2 glasses of wine with lunch, and dinner can be accompanied with 2-3 glasses. My friends and I routinely go through 2 or 3 bottles any time we eat together, though we do gather in groups in sizes from 4 to 8. Whereas in the States, if I admitted that I drank a glass of wine at lunch frequently or two or three each night at dinner, people would look at me and call me an alcoholic. (I don’t really do this all that often since I am but a poor college student and wine is much more expensive than the water I can get for free.) Tuesday nights are a ritual night with my friend group because there’s one pub that sells pints for two euro, and for Nice that’s ridiculously cheap. I only have afternoon classes Wednesday and Thursday and no classes Friday, so when I don’t have homework or when I finish early, I see no problem going out with my friends to have a drink or two on the weeknights before catching a bus back home, as long as I can make it to class the next day. Back in the states, there would be a very different perception of me if I did that. Drinking is usually confined to the weekends, with the occasional “study break” midweek. I once overheard someone discussing another person who had gone to one of the fraternity houses on my campus to drink on a Monday night, and they called that person “almost an alcoholic” for their actions.

And yet, for all of the restrictions and the stigma associated with frequent drinking, no matter how light it is, I’ve found that my peers in the states are far worse at controlling themselves in regards to alcohol than my peers in Europe. Of course there are always going to be those who go overboard in regards to alcohol no matter where you go, but I’ve found that it is less likely to happen during my outings in Europe than it has been in the states. Nearly every weekend going to the frats you could find people worse for wear because of an overconsumption of alcohol pretty much anywhere you turn. That’s not to say that I haven’t found those people here, but it’s less likely. Because the consumption of alcohol is much more moderated. Of course there will be twenty-somethings  who party a little too hard, but the other times everyone drinks moderately and often without any social stigma. I’ve been to university-hosted functions that serve alcohol because wine is expected to accompany a meal. Most of the outings designed to let the Erasmus/exchange students meet each other are in bars and clubs. You don’t necessarily have to drink, but it’s nice to grab a beer, meet new people, chat, and maybe dance.

I’m going to miss the culture involving alcohol here. It’s much more moderated and less stigmatized than it is in the US. I’m going to miss Tuesday nights at Jonathan’s. I’m going to miss grabbing a pint or a glass of wine at Garibaldi after a day in the library or at the beach. I’m going to miss sharing a bottle with wine at dinner. I’m going to miss the “tchin tchin” before a meal starts. I’m not going to stop entirely, since I’m now 21 and have the means to still enjoy a glass of wine with meals, but I’m sure once I return, my everyday alcohol consumption will decrease. Maybe one day the US will stop trying to raise the drinking age (the last I heard some presidential candidate wannabe wants to raise the drinking age to 25!) and instead start teaching moderation and making the alcohol culture less self-destructive. 

[laflaneuseanna]

Through The Looking Glass

J’ai dit que les gens françaises sont vraiment minces. Everywhere I looked when I got here, all I saw were these, skinny, gorgeous people. As time went on, I started to notice people with other body types, but the fact of the matter is that while there is some variation in body types, most of the people are skinny and very fit-looking. Even though I am a small person myself, I am still far curvier and far less skinny than a lot of the people I see here. And nice is by no means the only place where this is true. My cousin, who currently lives in Paris, has told me that the people there are even a size or two smaller than what I’m used to seeing here. Back at home, it is sometimes easier to feel comfortable in my own skin, though the media bombards us with heavily altered nigh-unattainable standards of beauty. I know that those pictures are airbrushed to death. I also can find a much wider variety of body types in my friend groups, so I don’t feel so out of place. In France, I feel out of place among these skinny, beautiful people, and I felt it especially so during the first semester

It’s interesting here how the French treat weight and their eating habits. One of my friends on tumblr wrote some really good commentary about France and body image that you can read in three parts. Here’s part one, part two, and part three. There’s a famous book titled “French Women Don’t Get Fat,” citing reasons like the fact that the French walk pretty much everywhere and the women do it in towering heels. Their servings are truly just enough, so it’s less likely for one to eat too much. But even the Italians, whose portions are far bigger than the French portions and who never let you leave the table without being stuffed, are skinny and lithe. I see them scroll through their Facebook feeds and see thin person after thin person.

It’s been one of the few struggles here. I usually have an overabundance of self-esteem and self-confidence towards my body, but I have struggled with it here, especially in the beginning. As you may know, I struggled with my depression the first semester here. Feeding myself became a chore and sometimes something that I could not possibly bring myself to do no matter how much I needed to or wanted to. Because of this, I dropped nearly fifteen pounds in a few months. And when I went to the state-ordered doctor’s visit I was told that I had a really “healthy” BMI at 51 kilos or about 112 pounds. I haven’t been below 115 since I was 15 or younger. And I got so many compliments at that weight. People told me how good I looked and I absolutely hated it. Isn’t that what I wanted though? To be skinny? No. Not like that. Every time someone told me how good I looked, I felt that they were congratulating the self-destructive behavior that had gotten me there. I could see my ribs and my hips. My pants no longer fit properly.

I have since gained back most of the weight. My pants still don’t fit quite right but the little pooch that had always sat on my stomach is back. Even though that little pooch is cause enough for some to squeeze it and jokingly call me fat, I feel so much better than I did at my skinniest. I will happily accept it because in the end, though I know I don’t look exactly like most of the people here, I don’t exactly stick out like a sore thumb. And no matter what others may say or think of me, I know that I am healthy and attractive. I look good and no one can take that away from me. 

[laflaneuseanna]

Finals Are Upon Us

It's finals season for me and for many of my comrades in the states. As I am studying literature here, most of the work I've been doing has been an inordinate amount of writing, so I sadly haven't had the time or the energy to write for my blog. Fear not! I'll soon finish and have a month of adventures to write about. I even have a few trips in the works, and I'll make sure you guys get to hear about it. So to all, good luck on your finals!

Bisous!

[laflaneuseanna]

Full-Fledged Strangers

One of the things I’ve grown to love as a foreigner living in France is running into other foreigners. I run into the most interesting people everywhere and there’s always something to talk about. I met one of my best friends here because he overheard me and some of my friends talking English on a bus. As it turned out, we were both from the central Arkansas area and though there was about a 5 year difference between us we grew up experiencing a lot of the same things.

I started doing this when I first came here because I would perk up every time I heard English being spoken and would often go over and ask the people where they were from and why they were in Nice, if only to speak a little of my own language for a bit. I met people from all over the country and even a few from Canada and Britain.

But as time went on and as I grew to better know Nice, I’ve been able to help people as well instead of just having a pleasant conversation. Since I know how it feels to be in a strange city and not speak the language well, I try to help out people that I see having trouble. Not only do I get to have a nice conversation, but also knowing that you helped someone get to a destination or find something nice to do is really pleasant. I like the fact that I’ve gotten to the point where I can seamlessly switch between English and French and that I can give directions and help people out. Nice has become a place that I call home and I’m so glad that I’ve come to this point in time. 

[laflaneuseanna]

Po-ta-to? Po-tat-o?

[laflaneuseanna]

Paris Holds The Key To Your Heart

My boots are dusty and well worn. The fake leather's peeling, the seams are fraying, and the sole is detaching from the bottom. My other pair of boots has already bit the dust, and I would not be surprised if these boots barely lasted me to the summer, though I bought them right before I left. France has done a number on me in terms of walking travel, and I absolutely love it. I've just returned from a weekend in Paris where I've done a whole lot of, you guessed it, walking. This was time number three in Paris, and I've gotten to the point where I can successfully navigate it on my own. This came in handy not only because I can't constantly demand that my cousin traipse around Paris with me, but also because I became a de facto tour guide not once, but twice this trip. It was so wonderful to see my friends and help out some American tourists, and it was liberating to maneuver my way around Paris alone. This trip, in addition to seeing Aunt Maria and Uncle Pete at my cousin Lana's place, I also got to see some of my friends from southwestern. I hadn't seen Allie and Annalise since I'd left SU the previous year, and it was wonderful to be able to experience a piece of home in the form of my friends. Annalise was with a group of girls with her program, so the six of us spent the day hitting all of the major parts of Paris: the Notre Dame, the lock bridge, the Eiffel Tower, and the Moulin Rouge. As I was the only person who'd been to Paris before and the only one who could speak French, I became the tour guide of the group, just a bit. I explained the French customs, took them to a little cafe for coffee, made a nice picnic lunch, introduced them to the practice of the afternoon drink (though I was the only one who got a glass of red), and guided them through the major landmarks of Paris. While I will say that the English was a welcome break from the near-constant steam of spoken and written French I have to deal with on a daily basis, I did get mistaken for a French person at least three times based on my accent, so I'm super proud of that. The next day my friends had to leave, but I did get a few hours with Allie to do just one more thing. We visited the Orangerie and saw the water Lilies. I... I cried a bit, to be honest. The paintings are HUGE and they cover the entirety of two oval rooms. There are benches in the middle and if you sit and look at the paintings juuust right, you can feel the sunlight sparkle off the water and on your skin, you can feel the wind through the trees, and you can hear the sound of water if you listen closely enough. Far too soon it was time to say goodbye to my remaining friend and we parted ways. Far too soon after I had to say goodbye to aunt Maria and uncle Pete as well. The next day I was left to my own devices, since my family had work and school and other such obligations. I took the day to do something that I hadn't done in a while and had never done in Paris by myself: took a long walk. I visited the père Lachaise cemetery and spent a few hours wandering through the graves and taking pictures. I made sure to visit the ones of celebrities and get some pictures, but my favorite ones were the ones of just ordinary people. The ones that were dirty and had fallen into disrepair. The ones that had flowers laying on them and were obviously visited often. The ones with flowers growing on them; the new life growing from the old. It was so peaceful and serene. Later, I climbed the Eiffel Tower alone, able to go at my own pace and marvel at the views in my own timeframe. Sharing experiences with others is wonderful and I try to do it at every occasion, but sometimes it's nice to be alone. I am the captain of my own ship, and it's nice to be able to remind myself that I can do things on my own. My weekend in Paris was a wonderful beak, but I've had to hop right back into the daily grind with what looks like little rest until I'm done. Fortunately (and unfortunately because I'm not ready for this whole experience to be over) I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel in terms of my schoolwork here.

[laflaneuseanna]

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

This Friday was a day of really wonderful times and a few not so great incidents. Some very high highs and some low lows. It started out wonderfully. The night before I had agreed to meet Paolo, Andrea, and Francesco at the train station in the morning to go to Ventimiglia, the first town in Italy right over the border. I was so excited the night before that I could barely sleep. I woke up early and met Paolo then biked to the station, where we set off to Italy. The others implored me not to think of Ventimiglia as what Italy was “really” like, since it was my first time crossing that border. (Yes I know, Italy is only 30 minutes from where I live and I really should have visited it before but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.) After forty-five minutes of sitting in the train, and watching a very odd fellow take out a gun and clean it and his ammo on the train (haven’t seen that since I left the states!), we were in Ventimiglia. The boys were there to get some things that they couldn’t get in France, and I was there just to watch and listen and taste all that I could.  First stop was the market for meat and cheese and wine. Dear god, the booths of fresh pasta and cheese and cured meat… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. After a turn or two around the market, the boys had most of what they came for, and then it was on to lunch. Lunch consisted of much talk about how Italy was so much better than France, I mean just look at how nice and thick this bread is! those baguettes just don’t compare, calamari, long waits for our food, frequently questioning if I could understand this or that bit of Italian, and pizza for all. I tried a pizza with mozzarella di bufala (water buffalo mozzarella), and boy was I not disappointed. Best pizza I’ve ever had. After lunch, we were on the prowl for a frozen treat called a “Winner Taco.” As it was explained to me, Winner Tacos were an ice cream treat that my friends remembered fondly from their childhood, but the company that produced it shut down years ago. In a surprise turn of events, the company had been bought up and just the week previous, Winner Tacos were back on the shelves all around Italy. (Arkansans, sound anything like Yarnell’s?) So on we went, inquiring at every place that sold ice cream if they had this delicious treat. They even got desperate enough to check the grocery stores. After about half an hour of unsuccessful searching, they decided to stop in one last grocery store and get some other things that they couldn’t get in France. I myself left with a small jar of pesto, and man am I glad I did. After a quick coffee, we were on our way back to Nice. Except not quite yet. Francesco and I stopped off in Monaco on the way back to look at the casino and the aquarium and maritime museum. The best part of the aquarium was the petting pool where you could pet baby sharks. The cute babies would stick their faces out of the water and swim towards you. They would beg to be petted and it was the cutest thing. Not long after I was just tired out, so it was time to head home.

Even then I couldn’t rest long, for there was to be a soirée at the beach and then a night at the club later, so I had to acquire something to bring to the beach, eat, and change. Somehow I managed to show up majorly early to the beach, as I usually end up doing. After calling my friends to figure out when they’d get there, I sat down to occupy myself as I waited for everyone to arrive. Mind you, I was dressed in my clubwear: a very cute dress, boots, and some beautifully crimson lipstick. Not a minute after I exited my residence I’d been wolf-whistled. I sat down and began writing, trying to look busy enough that no one would approach me. Unfortunately it failed. A man decided that he wanted to talk to me and sat next to me. Our conversation went something like this:

“Hi how are you-”

“Not interested”

“You’re not French are you? Where are you from?”

“Go away.”

“I was just wondering if you’d like to share this beer with m-”

“Not interested. Go. AWAY.”

  Even after the conversation had ended, he stayed, sipping on his beer. I did not look at him and focused solely on what I was writing, hoping he’d leave. After it became clear that he was not leaving, I left and called a friend to make sure I would have someone nearby in case he followed me. Thankfully he didn’t and left not long after I did. And not long after that, my friends began arriving.

The party at the beach was wonderful. We drank and danced and talked and sang. I was nearly tossed in the ocean for DARING to say that the pesto that I got in Italy would have been the best I’d ever tasted, second only to the fresh pesto made at home. At some point though, I set my purse down with some friends to talk to some other friends, and managed to forget to go back for it as I was called to sing “House of the Rising Sun.” I forgot about my purse as I was called to talk to someone here or sing this there or run from people trying to chuck me in the ocean. I was with friends that I could trust, so I had no reason to worry until someone told me that they thought they’d found my pirate bike card and put it back in my purse. “Funny.” I thought, “My bike card was inside my wallet inside my zipped purse.” I went to check, and immediately noticed that things weren’t where they were when I’d left it. I’d been robbed. All of my debit and credit cards were gone, as was the cash I’d had on me. Fortunately everything else, like my pieces of identity and my insurance cards had been left behind. I cried and panicked for the longest time, but I was able to cancel one of my cards immediately. I was also able to explain to everyone in French what was going on despite my panicked state. I had a friend walk me home and canceled the rest of my cards.

 In the end, it could have been worse. I only had 15 euros on me at the time and from what I checked the thief hadn’t managed buy anything on my cards before I canceled them. I wasn’t mugged and I don’t have to deal with identity theft. I have friends who support me and made sure that I was ok. At most it’s just an inconvenience for a few days while I can’t access my cards. Even after all that, I had a good day, just with a few rotten bits in it. 

[laflaneuseanna]

Sometimes it's nice to see that no matter where you are, there are still people who know what's important and shares your beliefs. Transphobia kills. Homophobia kills. We as people need to fix that.

[laflaneuseanna]

Come A Long Way

My first semester here, I didn’t venture far from Nice very often, for reasons such as money, school, and general depression issues. I kept having to tell people that next semester, I’d be much better about exploring Europe, and I have definitely kept that promise, only a month into the new semester. The past two weeks have been chock full of European exploration. While my adventures were fun and exciting, I’m glad to finally be back and able to rest long enough to write to you guys again.

The last week of February was our “spring” break. I decided to stay in Nice with my friends and we spent the week exploring Nice and the surrounding cities. We visited the Phoenix Park and watched the peacocks strut around and the tiny bunnies scamper about. Do you know how absolutely adorable it is to have your friends get excited to see a wallaby? It’s twice so when they notice that one is carrying a joey in her pouch. Wallaby became the word to say just to express fun words and cute things. We went to this tiny little village called Èze that’s home to a castle and an exotic garden. For someone who grew up in the south and frequents desert regions of the States, it’s bizarre to think that cacti are considered exotic here, but it’s also really cool to see that things that are commonplace for me are exotic for others. We got to see some amazing views and a castle; to relax in a water garden; and to eat lunch on a little spot on Nietzsche’s path. We went to the modern art museum in Nice, otherwise known as MAMAC, evoking reactions of “I’m not really into modern art” as I gazed lovingly at the mad and colorful and wonderful creations. We went to Monaco to see the castle where a real, live prince lives. We saw the changing of the guard and looked in awe at the outrageous prices of everything there. We wandered through the gardens and through the old town and a chapel and the city hall. We even went to the famous casino, awed by the beauty and the alluring call of gambling, promising that one day we would get dressed up and come back to be irresponsible with our money.

But apparently a week of long days and long nights wasn’t enough for us crazy young people, because not even a week after our break, a group of ten of us were heading to Barcelona to enjoy a few days in Spain. (Thankfully I only missed one class because of how awesome my schedule is.) It was three days of Spanish food, selfies, and sangria. One thing I have since learned to accept about going out and doing anything with a large group of young people is that not a lot gets done. The majority of the trip was spent sitting in cafes or on the beach or in a park talking, when we weren’t arguing about what we were going to do next and waiting for part of the group to catch up with us. Despite all that, we made it to see the Sagrada Familia and the Parc Guell and the Magic Fountain, as well as the Gothic Quarter and Barcelonetta. We smoked and drank and ate and talked and laughed and were boisterously noisy.

Barcelona is a really cool, beautiful place. The mix of the gothic architecture and Gaudì is just so pleasing to the eye. And the language just made me feel very homey, as someone used to hearing a lot of Spanish in everyday life. Though the Spanish spoken in Spain and the Spanish spoken by the people that I encounter in the southern United States is a very different language, it still is familiar. Catalan, the main language of the region that Barcelona is situated in, is different from Spanish, but it contains enough French and I understand enough Spanish that I can pretty much understand Catalan. My fluency in French is to the point where it’s equally easy to speak French and English and sometimes I don’t notice slipping between the two.

Barcelona has some beautiful sights and made me realize some things about my language skills, but the whole trip was really about the friends I’ve made so far. There’s really something about ten people sharing four rooms and two bathrooms for three days. It’s about having Italians cook you pizza and pasta for dinner, having the Americans make everybody a big American breakfast for everybody, and having the Polish guy heading up the drink station. It’s about everyone sharing cigarettes and lighters. It’s about people from all over the world eating paella and discussing politics and their favorite TV shows. It’s about seeing what everyone looks like in the mornings when you all went to bed at four A.M. It’s about finding places for people to pee wandering home late at night. The whole trip was a tribute to the wonderful friends I’ve made here so far, whether they were able to come with us or not. So I hope to keep traveling and keep learning and keep growing and keep making these new and wonderful friends. And I will keep letting you know all about it. 

[laflaneuseanna]

A small update on me

It's been a while since I last wrote. I've been busy with school and friends and plans to go to Barcelona. I'm currently looking for a job, and I'm getting out more. I feel so much better than I did in December for so many reasons. One big one is that my fluency has far improved. I can hold lengthy conversations in French. I can understand what's being said to me. I can take notes in class and understand the teacher. I can even understand some of the jokes my friends make. I've gotten to the point where speaking English is no longer a threat to my fluency level. I can talk for hours in English and go out without worrying that I've regressed in my French. I've even started learning Italian. So that has been a weight off my chest and has done loads to make me feel comfortable. The other thing is, after about a month, I feel like the medication I'm on is really starting to work. I feel like my old self again. Feeling energetic and free again has made me realize that I'd been struggling with low level depression for at least a year prior. I feel enthused towards school again. I can start projects before they're due. I don't feel like there are days when I can't do anything anymore, and I don't stay in at night because I don't feel up to dealing with people. This whole episode has also made me realize that I am not as introverted as I previously thought. Rather than gaining solace from time alone, not seeing anyone and not leaving my room when I was depressed only made me feel worse. Par contre, when I managed to make it out to see people, I felt mostly human again. I never had to fake enjoyment when I made it out with my friends. So I continue to learn about myself during my trip abroad. Wednesday I leave for Barcelona, so expect an update on that as well as a post on what I was up to this past week. Ciao!