Tag: university of orleans

Falling in Love With France

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Confession – January and February were pretty depressing. I was lost in the language. I was physically and mentally exhausted everyday. I missed home. I was cold and I hate being cold.  At the risk of sounding like a spoiled brat, I wasn’t so fired up about life in France.

!!! BUT !!! I’m happy to report that as of these past few weeks I have officially, whole-heartedly, fallen in love with France. Why? Because its Spring (actually, it’s been more like Summer) and for 3 weeks, it has been absolutely beautiful! I’m talking bright blue skies, no clouds, 70 degrees with a slight flower scented breeze.

Château du Morchêne - I promise, with all the shades open, it's really pretty.

My new-found lust has me realizing how lucky and happy I am to be here.  I’ve savoring every moment while walking around town looking at the ancient architecture and adorable shops.  I often stop, look around and think “Oh My God! I’m in France!”   To make these days even more fun, I have been making strong attempts to talk to any willing body and people are typically really intrigued by my accent. Asking for directions often turns into a 5 minute conversation and another step closer to fluency.  I even had an impromptu tour with the keeper of Château du Morchêne, which is the place where our July wedding reception will be held. The 20 minute conversation was 100% in French and, no doubt, I made a ton of mistakes, but she totally understood me and I could not have been more excited.

Île Charlemagne

This past weekend the lust turned to love when out for an 18km run (yes, 18km – I’ll get to that later), I was directed to l’Île Charlemenge. When I arrived it was amazing! There I was, in France, running along the lake, the Loire River, watching the boats, the Frenchies having picnics and make out sessions in the grass, kids playing, etc. It was totally picturesque. And then Sunday, Corinne and I rented bikes and rode around the streets of Orléans taking pictures of parks, squares and beautiful architecture. After the ride, I stayed in the city to have dinner at a friend’s place. So, when in Rome…I found a park overlooking the river, laid in the grass to read for an hour.

The bitter to all of this sweetness is that it’s causing me to really miss the husband. 5 months is just too long, even if we did have a short couple of weeks together recently. I know it may sound like torture, but running 18km on Saturday, in the sun, along the water, is like a day in heaven for us and I was a little sad not to have him with me.

Marjorie, me & Julia in Ubud, Bali

So, that being said, I am lucky to have some great adventures coming up to keep myself occupied!  This weekend, I’m off to gallivant around Paris with my friend, Marjorie.  Some of you who read my last blog, Stacie in Asia, will know her as one of my travel companions in China, Singapore and Bali.  On Sunday, we are heading to a neighboring city, Fontainebleau, to run a half-marathon (hence the long run this past weekend).  The race will be Marjorie’s first and my last since my knees can’t quite handle the distance anymore. None the less, I’m excited to spend the weekend with her and Paris when it’s not gray and freezing.

And to share a bit of France, here are some pics from the last few weeks:

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The Little Things

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I was really, really, really happy to be back in the US these last couple weeks. Even though I love France, being there for 2 months has given me a renewed appreciation for my home country. My absence also has me missing those certain little, familiar, often taken for granted things in US life….

Not A French Home

  • Big, beautiful American houses. They’re so colorful, pretty and have so much life. While French homes have old charm  and are built to last, they also seem a little sad. 99% are gray with a brown or orange roof. There, you’d never see a great big  house with a grand front porch and a meticulously landscaped yard.

A Small Line at the Prefecture

  • Government administration. Oh, I could write a book on the inefficient, incompetent, heartless, blood pressure raising experiences of dealing with French administration. After waiting for 5 hours at one of the world’s saddest places, the Immigration office (called the Prefecture), a week before I left, I walked out of the building without being able to extend my visa. It’s a long story, but I was advised to return at a date closer to my visa expiration so my next one could be issued with enough time to carry me until the end of May.  Considering this, on top of my initial visa experience, I’m not sure how I will survive the 4 years until citizenship.  But, I am sure a french friend who is living in the US would say the same thing about American administration after she waited 4 months for her work permit only to have it lost in the mail. She was then told the process must be restarted from the very beginning.

  • Convenience. Business’s in the US want to make money so they are driven by customer wants and needs. For example, if I wake up at 3am and decide I want to eat a taco, buy a pair of yoga pants, followed by a workout at a gym it’s not a problem. In France, it would be nearly impossible. In fact, one time I walked into a Paris restaurant and was told that they were not serving food that week because the cook was on vacation.
  • Cheap gas. Yes, you read correctly. In the US it cost $60 to fill the tank on my Pontiac G6 compared to $108 to fill the economically friendly,  Henri in Europe.
  • Breathing. And what I mean by that is being able to take a good breath outside without inhaling second hand smoke. This french stereotype, unfortunately, is true. 

Of course, being back in the States has me realizing a few things not so good. Things that give other countries a lot of ammunition to making fun of us and things that I, myself, have been guilty of (I won’t admit which ones).

Never would this happen in France and thank God for that...

  • First things first, unless you’re Mark Zuckerburg, put the pajamas away. Those are for sleeping only, not for going out in public, America.
  • Young American girls, I mean this with nothing but love – stop dressing like skanks. I never realized before spending 2 months in France, but a lot America college age girls could take example from their French counterparts. Last Friday night, in Nashville, we went to a sports bar on the Vanderbilt University campus.

    These only belong one place and that place contains a pole and super expensive drinks.

    Throughout the bar were scantily clad girls. One had on a red dress that barely passed her underwear line with a pair of glossy red stripper style shoes. The only instance where that would happen in France is if the girl was “working”. On a weekend night in Orleans, most of the girls could be found in something stylish, classy, but yet sexy and pretty.

  • Anyone denying our obesity epidemic needs to hop on a plane to France for a couple of days. Search for a fat person and maybe you’ll find one. Sadly, it’s true.  I can go for a week without seeing someone overweight. Basically, it’s

    In France there are 857 McDonald's compared to the United States 12,804.

    made me realize we must do something before we all die of heart disease and diabetes. Also, it’s just not fair that the French are so thin.

So, the past two weeks I throughly enjoyed American life, time with Fabien, our animals, going shopping, running, reading, watching Netflix and just relaxing. The past two weeks have me refreshed and ready to tackle the next 3 months with gusto. Also, I ‘m working on Spring Break trip that gives me heart palpitations and butterflies in my tummy! Details soon…

Chez Chevrier

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Sleep, school, study, eat, sleep – repeat cycle. With that being said, I’ve been spending a lot of time at home and hanging out with the french family. So, thanks to my hermit status, I thought this was the perfect time to give you a tour of the typical french home. And to kill two birds with one stone, let’s have a little french lesson.

First things first, the word chez means “at the home of”. All over France you hear people saying chez this, chez that and it basically means at someone’s home. For example:
Chez moi – my home (could mean the actual residence, city or country where I live)
Chez toi/vous – your home
Chez dentist – the dentist’s home (meaning his place of business)
Chez Chevrier – the Chevrier’s (as in my in-laws) home

You get the point.  I present to you, Chez Chevrier:

My room is the top window on the right.

Doors (les portes)/Windows (les fenêtres)/Basement (le sous-sol)/Garage (le garage). I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone come in the front door. Friends and family arrive at the windows to say hello. In fact, there are a few doors that one might even call a window. I say this because most of the doors and windows open the same way and there are no screens.  What I dislike most about the doors here is that you must have a key to leave. This is my mom speaking, “What if there’s a fire?”.  And in America, that would be a predicament, but here, you could just go out the window/door.  I almost always enter in the basement, which is also the garage. An interesting aspect of the french basement is that most of them have a wine cellar (une cave). Also, check out the cute, little washer and dryer.

Window/Door

Baby Washer & Dryer

Wine Cellar

Living Room

Living Room (Le salon). Really, this room could be burned to the ground and french life would not be affected. The only time you ever use this room is when you have company. Now, I know what you American’s are thinking, because I think it all the time…”Don’t you watch TV here?” Not really.

Kitchen

Kitchen (La cuisine). This is where the action happens in France! All food is eaten here. Rarely is there an exception. Also, this is where Jean-Paul watches TV at night. I thought this might be something done only at chez Chevrier, but after visiting other homes, I’ve confirmed the TV in the kitchen is a french thing. Another interesting part of the kitchen is the fridge (le frigidaire), which is to the left of the microwave and looks like a cupboard built into the wall. Note, there is no freezer (that’s in the basement). Oh, and there is no such thing as a garbage disposal in France, which explains why Fabien never uses ours. (:

Bathroom

The confusing shower

Toilet Room

The Bathroom (la salle de bains). Normally, in Europe, the bathroom consists of the shower (la douche, seriously), a bath tub (la baignoire) and a sink (le lavabo). Before we address the obvious missing link, let’s talk about the shower/bath combo. Notice how the shower doesn’t have a hanger for the shower head? This is something I will never understand and will never get used to in Europe. These types of bath/showers are all over France and become the frequent topic of conversation among the Americans at school. None of us know how to use it properly and we’ve all agreed that it’s not very comforting. I am fortunate because at chez moi there is another shower with a hanging head. Why, Europe? Why? Okay, I’m finished. Let’s talk about why the toilet isn’t here.

The toilet (la toilette). Contrary to popular American belief, most french homes do not have a bidet. In fact, I have only see one of these since arriving and it was at an older person’s home next to a regular toilet. Now, here’s something I like about European bathrooms- the toilet is its own separate room, as it should be. This separate room concept gives you great privacy and avoids the predicament of someone (most likely a husband) trying to use the toilet when your taking a relaxing bath. No thanks! Also, most of the toilets here have a 2 flush option. For “things” requiring more flush, push “#2” and for those requiring less, push “#1”.  The one bad point about this concept is that there is typically no direct sink to wash your hands post utilization.

The Bedroom (la chambre). Things here are pretty status quo. One of my favorite things about french homes (and apartments) is that nearly all the windows and doors have shutters (les volets) which make for wonderful sleep-ins on the weekend (gros do-do).

Nougat - Scout - Panpan

The Cat (le chat). No french family is complete without a cat or at least that’s what I explained to Jean-Paul after my brother-in-law moved taking his two cats with him. After a few days of Corinne and I begging and making sad faces, Jean-Paul agreed we could get a kitten. So, I present to you, the kitten (le chaton). His previous owners called him Nougat, but we have been toying with changing his name to Scout (the name of a friends cat who he resembles) or Panpan (the name of Thumper in the french version of Bambi because of the way he sits). Feel free to chime in with your preference of name.

So, I hope you enjoyed the tour of a typical french home. Speaking of home, I am headed to chez moi (the US) tomorrow for 2 weeks of vacation and I am soooooooooo ready. When I return to France in March, I’m looking forward to visiting London, Provence, Marseilles, Rome, Florence and potentially a few other cities. Until then, au revoir!