Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

PHRASE OF THE DAY
as of today: au jour d'aujourd'hui

I'm gonna do something a little different . . . because there's a reason I chose this phrase as the phrase of the day. It's not because I just learned it or because the etymology is super interesting. Rather, this phrase just sounds fantastic. When French people say it, it's like music. Ah. But we've run into a dilemma. How can I prove this to you? The text alone doesn't provide you with the auditory splendor that is "au jour d'aujourd'hui." But have no fear! The linguistics major is here! Last year in class we worked a bit on a speech generator website. So I've taken it upon myself to provide you with the link.

Step 1: Select Juliette . . . French.
Step 2: Type "au jour d'aujourd'hui" in the space provided.
Step 3: Click SPEAK.

I know this is involved. But I believe it's worth it. Enjoy. Oh you will.

**To feel cultured, click here**

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Mooooving right along . . .

I'm chock full of excuses. (and love.)

But my excuse for having disappeared from the blog world for a week is this:

I wanted to have photos to supplement the post. And I am a thoroughly unreliable photographer. So I was waiting for a friend to post her pictures on facebook.
This + last week of class = "IIIII'll get to it later."

Buuuut BREAKING NEWS!

I'm finally feeling settled in Nice! Woohoooo! And it only took 3 months!

I feel like I might remember my advisor at UT telling me this would happen. That I should go abroad for the year because it would take the whole first semester to get settled in and then the second semester to actually experience experiential experiences. But since I'm obviously a devil-may-care invincible superhuman, this advice was utterly ridiculous. This was petty advice for normal people. And it didn't apply to me.

Psh. She doesn't even know. I'm so adaptable! I can out-adapt a chameleon! Back up off me! She's probably just required to say these things. These silly silly things. I'll play along. But secretly I'm awesome.

Well, touché, Mme McAlpin. Touché.

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Regardless.

Things are looking up here in the old F, R, of Ance.

So guess what time it is! STORY TIME! . . . also really early in the morning.

1. Last Thursday night (right after I posted the previous entry, as a matter of fact), I attended a self-organized dinner with about 30-50 other exchange students at the residence! Everyone brought food, sort of like a potluck. Actually, exactly like a potluck. And we all paid someone a few euros in advance for, you guessed it, alcohol. Since about 85% of the attendees were either Italian or Spanish, you can imagine that the food selection was very disappointing. If you chose to imagine this, then you're wrong. It was freaking delicious.

♬Leaving my bedroom and meeting new people,

Proving to everyone that I'm bilingual,

Realizing French people rarely wear jeans,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Smelling aromas and trying new dishes,

What is that? Oh my god, that is delicious.

Those coffee cookies make me want to sing.

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the booze bites,

When the unfair stereotypes and perceptions people have of Americans sting,

When I'm feeling sad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad.♬

Tada! So here are some pictures!

It was a fun night.

Aaaand I finally met my first American! She's from Vermont. And apparently she's here in a program with 6 other Americans too. Who have all evaded me. Somehow.

(Funny story: I found out one of the guys with her program was actually the guy I saw staring at things back in September! The confused guy! Staring at things! Because he was confused! I knew he was American. Or I had a feeling.)

Another funny story:

When I was chatting with the girl from Vermont--talking about typical things like hometowns, majors, French moments, Thanksgiving, blah di blah di blah--something happened to me that I can't really explain. Basically my brain stopped working. It was just like "sucker!" and peaced out. (Note to Brain: this is not okay. You can't just take five whenever you want. You need to do what I tell you. This is imperative. Or we both look like idiots.) But Brain does not always listen to Molly. Brain's been quite incorrigible lately. I'm hoping it's just a phase.

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"So what are you majoring in?"

"Oh, French . . . obviously. And linguistics. And I'm minoring in theatre, but that confuses French people. They don't really understand minors."

"Haha yeah. Mine is kind of confusing too. 'Cause I'm studying geography and sociology here, but I'm studying something else in Vermont."

"Oh, what are you studying?"

"I'm a psychology major."

"Huh. I don't think I've ever heard of that."

. . .

. . .

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I have no idea what happened. Basically the word "psychology" momentarily evaded my auditory lexicon and I just stood there thinking:

Psychology? What is that, like the study of psych? That's peculiar. Maybe she can explain it. I'll ask.
Okay asking was a bad idea. Why did you do that? Now she's looking at you funny! Think, Molly, think! Why is this so challenging?! Why is this word missing from your vocabul . . . OHHHH! PSYCHOLOGY! hehe . . . whoops.

Thankfully I danced it off rather nicely. And we laughed. A lot.

2. I was pleasantly surprised this week to discover it was the last week of class. Why didn't I know this? Welcome to my life.

3. Dear Abby, 

Are you supposed to water your cactus? I haven't watered Fuzz Lightyear.
He's still looking very chipper. But I don't want to kill him.

Sincerely, My green thumb's kind of brownish

4. Pasta pasta pasta. I eat so much pasta. Pasta pasta pasta. I'm tired of pasta. Pasta pasta pasta. Are you tired of pasta yet. Pasta pasta pasta. It doesn't even look like a word anymore.

5. Downtown Nice is SO Christmasy! There's lights and Christmas trees and a ferris wheel and an outdoor ice skating rink and a German village and everything awesome and Christmasy and wonderful and merry and lovely and ahhhhhhhh :)

6. 11 more days. 11 more days til I get to see Amy and my mama in FRANCY PANTS!! AGH! Excitement is oozing out of me like . . . well, anything I say is going to be icky. But I'm still SO EXCITED!!! 

And I just can't hide it!

But for now I must finish this Archeology presentation. Until I'm free again.

Amitiés :)

What's Up, Doc?

I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!!

Finally. After months of hard work and patience and frustration and confusion and feelings of doubt and hatred and several assassination attempts, I am FINALLY in France . . . legally!

I went to the scheduled OFII doctor's appointment on Tuesday afternoon to get that last little stamp of approval on my visa saying I don't have small pox or polio or contagious stupidity, so I can travel ANYWHERE I WANT!!! Ahh it's so great.

But it wasn't easy. No. Nothing ever is with me.

VERY RELEVANT SIDE NOTE:
Remember when I told you that story about my French debit card? Yeah it was in my pocket. And I was actually wearing that jacket in the grocery store the day I realized I "lost" the card. But I guess I never did put my hands in the jacket pockets because I was also wearing a skirt with pockets, and I have this weird thing where I like putting my hands in skirt pockets more than jacket pockets. So I didn't end up finding the card until a couple days ago. Providing you with yet another example of slight OCD tendencies making my life more difficult. See? All my stories will eventually blend together and create one giant story that will ultimately eat the internet.

But back to the story at hand.

I got out of class at 12, and my appointment was at 1:30 all the way across town. The building was really difficult to find. You know: "get off at the Tabacs stop, turn right, find the Lidl supermarket, walk through the parking lot, find the SPACE building, go around the fence to the back, push a button that's not the OFII button to get into the building, hop on one foot, say the alphabet backwards, and you're there."

In true Kessler fashion, I was 45 minutes early. In true French fashion, everyone else was on lunch break until exactly 1:30.

So I finally got into the office with an array of other illegal people, first in line, huzzah.

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"I got my passport! I got my passport-sized photo! I got my proof of residency! 

I GOT MY OTHER PAPERRRS!!!"

"Do you have your stamp?"

"my what?"

"Do you have your stamp?"

"That's why I'm here."

"You have to bring a different stamp with you."

"To . . . to get my stamp?"

"Yes."

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Because that makes sense.

So I got all these tests done, proving once and for all that, no, I don't have the black plague. And at the end the woman told me I could go across the street and get the stamp I needed and come back by 4 to get the other stamp. She neglected to tell me that the "street" was actually an interstate. So that was fun. I did manage to find the building, but could not for the life of me find the entrance. I was walking around this giant fence thing with no doors. It was like the Secret Garden of office buildings. Then a woman came up to me because I obviously looked like I was about to jump the fence. She told me the entrance was in the back (no surprise there), and it closed at 2:30. It was 2:23.

So I ran. I ran like the dickens I did.

(I should mention that I haven't properly exercised in, ohhh, 3 months? All that endurance I built up over the summer? Yeah that's gone.)

But I bought that stamp. I bought that tiny fragile easily losable stamp for 55€.

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"You're back?"

"HERE IS MY STAMP. NOW GIVE ME MY. . . MY OTHER STAMP."

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My life is unreal.

Amitiés :)

Fantasia

WORD OF THE DAY

trashcan: la poubelle

I am prepared. My teeth and ambitions are bared. This week will surely be the most intellectually taxing of my stay in France. Lots of work due. Lots of responsibilities coming to a head. Everything is culminating at the end of the semester, and it is slightly overwhelming. Please pray for me . . . if that's something that you do. I don't pretend to know who/what you worship.

If not, then just think about me real hard.

If that is still asking too much, then I guess just enjoy my blog post. I suppose even horribly selfish people need a good laugh.

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[If you're reading this entry hoping to be entertained with stories of faraway galaxies and magical fairy lands where Molly has recently ventured, you will be sorely disappointed. As the semester draws to a close, it is becoming increasingly difficult to commit long amounts of time away from productivity. That's not to say that I'm a superhuman study machine with absolutely no room for procrastination. Quite the contrary. (What do you think I'm doing right now?) It's just hard to say "I'm definitely not going to study at all today" and then be morally okay with that. So the following accounts will be more or less devoid of jet-setter material. I hope this isn't too disappointing.]

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1. Today I was more productive than I've been since that last time I told you how productive I was. I went to the post office, the bank, the grocery store, the train station, class, the library, and even the kitchen to cook myself some very delicious veggie soup. Ack! I'm so adulty! When did this happen?!!

2. Well, to add to this adultiness, last night I went to the symphony with Zara and Ricky. It was SO fun! And it was free, making the fun exponentially greater. But, I should tell you (and I'm aware this will completely nullify all attempts at convincing you that I'm a grown up), but when I go to the symphony, I like to close my eyes and choreograph little Fantasia cartoon sequences in my head to go with the music. So it looks like I'm sleeping, but really I'm enjoying classical music the only way I know how. Through visual whimsy. Since we weren't given programs, and my knowledge of classical music is that of a dandelion, this is the only account of the night's performances that I can give you--a song-by-song description of what was dancing through my head (as scribbled on a notepad so I wouldn't forget it):

(Classical music often fills me with inspiration. Also images of hippos in tutus.)

-A very depressed mole who has no ambition to emerge from his hole to see the sun

-(I'm not gonna lie. My mind wandered in this one. Soooo dull. Sorry classical music. Somebody had to say it.)

-There is this royal procession with a lot of fancy horses drawing fancy carriages. The horses are really proper. But there is one new horse who is smaller than all the other horses. He is not very good at pulling carriages. But he wants to be. Unfortunately he is clumsy. This does not work in his favor.

-Near the horse procession, there is a jester who is trying desperately to make a living. He waves cards in people's faces and jumps through hoops to make a quick buck. By the end he is doing 8 things at once and falls over.

-There are 2 apple-cheeked children baking a pie without their mother's help. They are strangely efficient. Reminds me of "Whistle While You Work."

These are the children I envisioned.

-A man and a woman are ice skating on a pond. They are very good. There is also another man who is not so good. He is skating with a cherub who shames the man with his talent. Then there is a snowball fight by the pond. It ends in a standoff.

-There is a sad man who works in a factory. He does the same thing everyday, but he dreams of doing something different. One day he decides to quit, and he sprints out of the factory and finds the city. It is like New Orleans with jazzy music and dancing, and he is thrilled. But then there is a parade, and the music and the dancing become too much for the man. He runs back to the factory. And he is happy there.

-An elephant and an acrobat get ready for the circus.

-The rainforest at dawn. Slowly all the flowers open. There is a baby snake. He sees all the other animals who have hands, and he is sad because he doesn't have hands. And everyone is scared of him because he is a snake. This makes him more sad. Then he meets a squirrel who is not afraid. The squirrel tries to make hands for the snake out of sticks and leaves. This does not work. Then there is a fire! And there are men cutting down trees! And the snake saves the squirrel because he scares away the men.

Then they played that "Can Can" song 2 times. We all clapped along. It was so fun. I don't know the name of the song, but I always sing "Can Can, can you do the Can Can, can you do the Can Can, can you do the . . ." and so on and so forth.

3. On a more relaxed note, the other morning I woke up to this:

B-E-A-UTIFUL

4. When Zara and I hang out, we always find words or phrases in English that we say differently. It's like a game.

I say "knock on wood."

She says "touch wood."

I say "pacifier."

She says "dummy."

I say "Where's Waldo?"

She says "Where's Wally?"

I say "candy."

She says "sweets."

I say "course."

She says "module."

I say "that powder stuff that you put in regular water to make it flavored water."

She says "squash."

So we learn a lot. Even in English.

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Welp, that's all I have.

I guess it's morning now.

So good morning!

And in case I don't see ya--good afternoon, good evening, and good night.

Amitiés :)

Letters to Juliet, Part 1

In the criminal justice system, internationally-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In One French City, the dedicated blogger who experienced these offenses has written some strongly worded letters to the deserving parties. These are those letters.

♬Dunh Dunh♬

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Dear Right Boot,

They aaalways come crawling back.

-Molly

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Dear Cave people who live on my floor,

I understand that you come from a simpler time when rocks were used as multi-purpose tools and your dinner would actively run away from you, but, and I shouldn't have to be the first one to tell you this, you live in a university dorm now. And we share a kitchen. So I don't mind if you drag your rotting mammoth carcasses all over the stovetop, but I don't want to have to deal with it 3 days later when my pot sticks to the burner. I know I can't expect too much from you, as you've just recently discovered fire, but please use this new discovery and cremate yourself because this is disgusting. It's not even that hard! If you clean up as you cook, then it doesn't even really feel like you're cleaning up at all! Unless you pour an entire pot of grey rice and carrot mush into the sink. Then it might feel like cleaning. There's just no avoiding that.

-Molly

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Dear 15 minutes,

I will never ever complain ever again that you aren't enough time to get from class to class. You are perfect just the way you are.

-Molly

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Dear Fan,

Keep doin' whatchoo doin.'

-Molly

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Dear Lentils,

I'm so sorry. I . . . I didn't mean to. I was just so hungry! And it was 10:30 at night! What else was I supposed to do?? You were the only edible thing I had left in my room. It seemed all right. How could I have known that you didn't taste good with mustard? I know it's not your fault. I shouldn't put that guilt on you. You meant well. You just wanted to give me nourishment. And I appreciate that. Which is why it pains me to say this.

I think we should take a break . . . a break from us. It's not you. It's me. And my gag reflex. I want to love you. I do. But I've never been more turned off of a single food item than I am right now. I even put off restocking my fridge because I knew it meant I would have to deal with your leftovers, and I just couldn't stomach that. That noxious murder-face-corpsy-pickle-death scent you emanate, it permeates everything. But, hey, let's look on the bright side. You've made me a better actress. Now, all I have to do is think about you, and I can vomit on command.

Thanks?

-Molly

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CREATED BY

Dick Wolf

The Italian "Nut" Job

Sigh . . .

There's always something.
Aaaalways something with me.

Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
(This question is inevitably rhetorical, as this is a blog, so I can't actually hear your response. Also I don't care what you think.)

Well, the good news is I'm not feeling sickly anymore (fingers crossed).

The bad news is I left my French debit card in a ticket machine at the train station in Menton. So that was an unwelcome surprise while in line at the grocery store today. But I've cancelled the card, and, if I'm to find a silver lining, French credit cards don't work unless you have the secret 4-digit code. So no one would have been able to use the card even if they did find it. And I'm sure someone did inevitably find it. As I left it inside the machine.

Nevertheless! I still bought lots of groceries. This is welcome news as I ran out of my good food yesterday and was forced to dig into the yucky canned food I'd saved for such an occasion. More on that nastiness to come later.

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"So, Molly . . . "

"Why, hello, hypothetical reader. Long time no see!"

"Yes. Question: you said you lost your card in Menton??"

"Oooh! Nice segue, hypothetical reader! Yes, I left my debit card at the train station in Menton this weekend while buying a ticket to go to Ventimiglia!!"

"Ventimiglia? That doesn't sound French at all."

"That's very astute of you."

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Yes, folks, this weekend I decided to take a short day-trip just over the border into Italy!! It was super fun! And super cost-efficient! The whole trip cost me a grand total of 9€! All-inclusive! (transportation, pizza, apple, cactus, and little wooden chest thing!)

I KNOW RIGHT??

. . . if you can believe it, I actually already had this photo saved to my desktop . . .

Ventimiglia is a small Italian city juuust on the other side of the French border. There's not a whole lot to do there (like most of Provençal Europe), but it is rather famous for having one of the biggest and most wonderful outdoor markets. It did not disappoint. SO MUCH FRESH PRODUCE! It's no wonder Europeans stay so thin.

Then I found another "market" place along the coastline where people were selling odds and ends for really cheap. It kind of had a yard sale feel to it. But I use this term cautiously. Because I can't find another term for "place where people sell things, some of which have no business being in a yard sale at all, but they're Italian so it's not weird, it's antique." Now, I actually had a yard sale this past summer, so I know the ins and outs of putting one together. So I know that the real work of the yard sale comes before the sale even takes place. This is the time when you have to go through your unwanted material goods and discern which things are YOUR crap and which things are ACTUALLY JUST crap. If you've done this, then I don't understand how a used horse brush and a half-naked balding Barbie are still on your table for 2€ apiece. But I suppose it gives me something to look at.

However, I did make an interesting discovery. I realized that the tables you should avoid weren't actually the ones selling the golden baby statues and armless dolls. In fact, these were the normal tables. No, the tables you should be avoiding were the ones that most closely resembled actual stores. I found that there was a direct correlation between cohesiveness of the yard sale display and the vender's location on the crazy-meter. What I mean is, perhaps I should stop admiring your array of neatly organized merchandise and take a moment to question why you have a whole table just for your knives and 5 copies of the same Michael Bolton album.

But after perusing through the lives of 50+ "Italian nut-jobs," I actually did make some purchases. And here they are!!

This is Fuzz Lightyear and Eliza Wood.

(I would have gone with the obvious Woody and Fuzz Lightyear, but I think we can both agree that she doesn't look like a Woody.)

Here is another picture for size comparison. Fuzz Lightyear is about 3 inches tall. And he's fantastic.

(This is also a plug for ABLE Youth! Don't know what that is? Go check it out!)

Some other miscellaneous bits of Ventimiglia information:

1. I saw 4 different stores carrying FIVE KILO containers of nutella. WHAT! WHO NEEDS THAT?! I mean, I do . . . but it was mega-expensive. And I wasn't thinking clearly enough to take a picture. Just Google it and agree with me that this is unnecessary and amazing at the same time.

2. The pizza I bought was 90 cents. It seemed to be about as good as a piece of 90 cent pizza could possibly be. But because it was in Italy, it was the greatest pizza I've ever tasted. Bottom-of-the-barrel-Italy-crap-pizza=still delicious. Also, funny, it had one olive on it. Just the one.

3. There was no passport check at all. Or train ticket check. So I could have feasibly just ridden the train all the way back to Nice instead of getting off at Menton and taking the bus. This would have saved so much time. But because I am a good person (/terrified of the implications of doing anything even remotely illegal), I got off. It's not like it would have been that bad . . . just entering a country illegally. Big whoop.

4. I've found that I've learned some new French words/phrases in the context of certain situations, and I don't really know the English equivalents. This is the first time being stupid has made me feel more awesome.

5. On the way back to my dorm I stopped off at the grocery store to pick up a few things. While in the checkout line I tried to remove my purse to get out my wallet only to realize I misunderstood chronology that morning and had put my purse on before my coat. This was a strange realization, but not as strange as the realization that I'd gone the entire day without taking off my purse. (They're gonna love me at this grocery store.)

6. I've also realized that there are things I do for semi-OCD purposes that make my life inherently more dangerous. For instance, when I walk down the stairs I like to have my toes dangle over the edge of the step. This is not safe.

Well, that's all I have for now. Tune in next week for another exciting adventure of Molly and Fuzz Lightyear!

PS. If you get a chance, go look at the Google logo today before it changes. It's for Stanislas Lem, and it's supa fun!

Amitiés :)

Das Boot

The Ballad of Right Boot

Oh, Right Boot, oh Right Boot.
I've torn my room apart.
Oh, Right Boot, oh, Right Boot.
Why don't you have a heart?
I've looked around my room ten fold,
But you are gone. My foot is cold.
I don't know why you've run to hide.
The room is small where I reside.
You'd think this wouldn't happen here,
But now you've gone and disappeared.
I looked around my desk and chair.
(I even dug through underwear.)
But you are no where to be found.
My heart--you threw it on the ground.
Your brother's here, and he says hey.
But you are not. You've run away.
Did I do something apropos?
I don't know why you had to go.
I'm hoping that you come home too,
Cuz Right Foot really misses you.

Die Another Day

I'm recovering. Day by day I'm recovering.

I've been pretty reclusive on account of my cough and correlating exhaustion.

But today is a new day.

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ME: "Hey, you. Coughy McSucksalot. Where do you get off?"

THROAT: "Meh."

ME: "You've got some nerve. Here I am minding my own business, and you decide to come along and air 2 weeks of "The Itchy and Scratchy Show." Are you aware that you ruin everything?"

THROAT: (gurgle)

ME: "I will pummel you with antibiotics."

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I've decided I can't let my throat determine what the rest of my body wants to do.
Chief among these desires: to get out of my room.

So, I'm planning a trip for this weekend. And then a more awesome trip for next weekend.

I've been looking up flights and stuff, and, since it's still sort of last minute I've decided to stay somewhat local and possibly go to Aix-en-Provence this Saturday and then to the Gorges du Verdon next week. The Gorges are said to be the Grand Canyon of France. I've seen pictures. I will go there. You can bet your bottom dollar I will go there.

Until I have something more interesting to write about, here's some music to make you happy.

Amitiés :)