The lasting heat in Paris has rendered the city slightly unfamiliar to me, as well as most local Parisians. As we unanimously complain about the sweltering weather in class, our teacher further confirmed that “…we Parisians are not built for such weather.” Sunlight feels almost tangible. Street noises sound more irritating than ever. Even the once pleasant leaves turn glaring with an oversaturated green shade. Loud that is, the late coming summer in Paris.

As the sunlight grows increasingly intense, however, summer does not consist of endless carnivals or parties. A subject that I had always tried to avoid in my blog posts appeared ever so close to my daily life – the terrorist attacks. In fact, my rector once asked me before parting for summer, “You are going to Paris! Are you afraid, considering the November attack and everything?” Half thoughtless half self-encouraging, I gave her a No. Terrorist attacks however horrible seemed distant enough from me that I held but way-too-superficial sorrow and indignation for the victims. Not until the Nice attack took place did I come to full awareness that France has been in a state of emergency for months, and it would continue henceforth perhaps for a long time.

I was amid a large number of people celebrating the Bastille Day near Eiffel Tower. In retrospective, a slight and hazy fear bubbled indeed at the bottom of my heart. The powerful undercurrent of a huge crowd is always intimidating. Yet tracing back to the “No” I said to my rector, I went along anyway. The scene was doubtlessly wonderful. Shooting out from the Eiffel Tower itself, fireworks of various shapes made a grand feast of stars. People were exclaiming all around. In that extraordinarily joyous atmosphere, was absolutely hard to imagine that at the same time a truck was driving into the crowd in Nice.

A few days later, as I walked by a news stall near my school, a poster caught my attention with a caption “Comment vivre avec peur (How to Live with Fear).” Other than this, however, I sensed no great changes in everyday life because of the latest Nice attack. Our teacher mentioned but a little in class about the attacks. So did my classmates. If the whole Atlantic ocean seemed to be too great a distance, Paris is not close enough to make certain degree of “insulation” impossible. I find this state of calmness simultaneously baffling and soothing. I could still recall that after the Paris attack, a victim husband said, “Vous n’aurez pas ma haine (You will not have my hate).” People live on as usual and after all one could only comment, C’est la vie.

As for my French, it is hard to consciously detect much progress myself, but I begin to feel more confident going around and casually talking with someone. For the past week I have been to post office inquiring about a lost delivery, talked with customer service personnel and chatted with locals at cafés. Rather than an application that needs to be activated and takes time to warm up, French has become more casual and prompt to arrive for me.

It was raining heavily in Paris as I typed down these words. Roughly two weeks here has taught me before all a lesson about its weather, that it rarely pours even with the gloomiest sky. Yet this time it seems that the Parisian sky has finally made up its mind. The familiar nine-o’clock sunshine at dusk entirely disappeared. So had the French aspiration for the European Championship 2016. Aside from my refreshing French courses at CCFS, the most impressive thing that I have witnessed so far is the evident passion for soccer more or less unique to Europeans. I remember the amazement when I found bars and cafés that are usually closed for Sundays were mostly open for the UEFA final. Nowhere near a soccer fan, I was still able to learn each tiny progression of the match by just listening to the shouts outside my window.

My first week of courses has been truly inspiring. Instead of making huge progress in my French, however, the most salient lesson that I have received so far is about “assumption.” On the very first day, I came to realize how many of my classmates are not “students” – more specifically undergraduate students as myself. Instead, I have as my classmates a really interesting group of people. From graduate students to housewives and even to an elegant senior lady, our class was much more diverse in composition than I could have imagined. A strange feeling arose that I have finally stepped into the real society. As I wrote in my application that I hope to broaden my horizon on this trip, this class itself has been indeed a precious opportunity. Through my classmates I gradually perceive how French language could have such a great variety of meanings for different individuals. In addition to the relatively ordinary functions as a tool for work or studies, several of my classmates have also chosen French out of pure fondness or to further their communication with their French family.

While assuming beforehand that all my classmates would be students as I am make rather trivial impact on my class life, another assumption that I share with my classmates seems to be much more influential. Except for one or two of my classmates, the entire class could be seen as largely anglophones. Most of us are either native English speakers or have considerable proficiency as international students and employees. Thus the problem emerges. Even our instructor tends to directly give English translation of certain new vocabulary from time to time, not to mention ourselves, who are always trying to find equivalents between French and English. Yet I still sense some uncomfortableness in using such a convenient learning method. As we make acquiring French vocabulary into some sort of matching game with English, we subconsciously deny at least part of the independence of the French language. As we struggles to pair the nuances between “soul/spirit” and “âme/esprit” over almost half an hour, we cannot avoid forcing nonexistent relationships into the two languages while also slightly wasting time. One of the best habit that all my French professors at Notre Dame have tried to establish in students is to use French-French dictionaries. I could not fully appreciate that requirement until now. While none of my classmates nor me would willfully force English into French, I finally came to understand how learning French by French is not only beneficial for our progress but also renders the language even more dignity and integrity.

As my French listening has started to progress little by little, I discovered with amazement how I could roughly comprehend people chatting on the metro or in the restaurants. More than before I felt closer to a local. Still I could not resist the temptation to travel around Paris as a tourist. Strolling by the Seine and taking Roue de Paris, I still feel the same amazement when I first saw Paris years ago. In the pleasant evening breeze, the city is indeed the greatest gift for my summer.

Recently, I visited the Compagnonnage Museum in Tours.  Compagnonnage is when artisans travel around the country, learning regional techniques and honing their abilities before becoming masters of their trades.  After this, they complete a chef d’oeuvre, showing off their talent in a creative way.  Tours has a museum with a vast collection of such works, ranging from ornately carved sabots to sugar pagodas.  Although there were some works that were completed at a normal scale or bigger than normal, most of them were miniatures. 

The museum housed pieces created by artisans of all kinds, but my favorite section was definitely the one on carpentry.  Many of their chefs d’oeuvre incorporated unusual architectural forms, such as cones intersecting with spheres or other cones.  There was something graceful yet oddly whimsical about many of the works.  This was a chance for the artisans to show off their skill, so the results were often incredibly striking.

A carpenter’s chef d’oeuvre

Today was my last day of class.  I can’t believe my time in Tours is already practically over.  My five weeks went by far too fast, but at the same time I’ve come to feel very much at home here.  I’m leaving this weekend, so I’ll be putting up my last post shortly after that.  A la prochaine!

 

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

– Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Cliché enough, Paris is a dream realized for numerous people, of which I have never been an exception. When I read this famous quote from Hemingway for the first time, as a child I  imagined nothing but the scents of Paris. Taking his words literally, I envisioned the city to be exceptionally delicious. Would it smell like the most tender and juicy goose liver? Freshly made chocolate whose lovely scent lingers on in the last bit of warm vapor? Or the charming scents of fruits that rise from bubbling champagne?

Later on the city has taken on a much more romantic tone, which I imagined to smell like the richest blooming red roses. Then finally at the age of eleven, I came to the real Paris for the first time. Stepping off the coach and rubbering my shoulders with others’, I ran into a Paris filled with crowds and traffic. I understand neither the flowing French around me nor the extremely convoluted layout of roads. The intensive package tour exhausted both my parents and I, struggling to force our sore feet on and to memorize the numerous monuments we saw. The dreamlike city vanished in the face of fatigue.

Thus with the luxury of a one-month stay this time, I determined to find a Paris that conforms more or less with my earliest fantasies; or one that exceeds my wildest dreams. Tender breeze of a pleasant summer night embraced me the first moment I stepped out of the Charles de Gaulle Airport. As I traveled through the twists and turns of the Parisian roads, a strong sense of déjà-vus came alive. All those elegant light brown rooftops against the azure sky looked so familiar as if I have seen them for a thousand times before. “Home away from home,” I said to myself, “et Paris j’arrive !”

My host family is in a tranquil neighborhood in the second arrondissement, minutes away from le Centre Pompidou and the Seine. Opening the door, a cute black cat greeted me with clear elegance and suppressed curiosity. A lovely start of my Parisian life, I thought. Pondering the limited amount of French that still remains in my memory after a month of summer vacation, I stammered to my host mother, “Bon..bonsoir ?” She gave out an encouraging smile, though the next minute her cheerfully flowing French quenched my growing pomposity. As I finally lay down on my bed, looking at the darkening sky outside, my Parisian life started!

Since the program at la Cours de Civilisation Française de la Sorbonne (CCFS) do not begin until July 4th, I have the leisure to roam around Paris for almost a week. I started to immerse myself into the francophone atmosphere all around. There were times when I successfully “became” as a local, while other times I sneaked back into the familiar American space at Starbucks. Yet as I sat on the bench in Jardin du Luxembourg, amid numerous French people, I began to feel the everyday Parisian life creeping upon me. This time, and for the first time, I am not a hasty passer-by who would no doubt missed much beauty of Paris. I would not turn off my ears to the melodious French as a lazy traveler.

La vie est belle. Encore plus belle quand elle se passe doucement.

Between classes and living in with a French family, I really feel like I’ve learned a lot over the past four weeks.  Beyond the progress I’ve made in my my French, however, I also feel like the fact of being in an international environment has been a huge education.  There are students from all over the world at l’Institut, so I’ve had the opportunity to get to know people from different cultural backgrounds in a way that I’ve never before experienced.  Obviously Notre Dame has its fair share of foreign students, but that doesn’t quite compare with the student body here in Tours.  And although there have been several large contingents from American universities recently, I’ve actually had relatively few Americans in my classes.

Two of my closest friends in Tours are from Chile and Liechtenstein, respectively.  It’s been so interesting to talk to them and learn what their countries are like.  Coming from a country where you can drive for hours and still be in the same state, it has been fascinating to hear about one where it’s a 30 minute drive from north to south.  And when I mentioned that I missed seeing mountains, my friend Paola told me that there are always mountains visible in Chile, no matter where you are.  

I’ve learned so much about French culture since I’ve arrived, but through class discussions, presentations, and conversations outside of class, I’ve also learned a lot about other places and cultures.  Having never travelled to Europe before, this trip definitely put me outside of my comfort zone, but that’s exactly what I needed in order to encounter the new and unfamiliar.  My adventure in Tours is almost coming to an end, so I’m trying to savor whatever exciting new experiences come my way this week.  A la prochaine!

 

Week 3 passed by in such a blur! My friends and I are just starting to get to know Tours— even though it is a village about half the size as my hometown, it has a lot more to offer than meets the eye. This week the sun came out for the first time since I came to Tours, and the village under the sun looked like a completely different city. It was as if all my worries melted away with the clouds, and the nice weather brought a new kind of vitality to the classroom and the dinner table alike. I went out more and explored restaurants, chocolate stores and patisseries. I welcomed challenges in the class and outside, offering to order for my group of friends at restaurants and participating in the excursions. During this week’s excursion, we went to the Cathedral at Tours. The architecture was amazing, even better than that of Notre Dame in Paris in my opinion, because it combined the works of different artists from different generations. Because the Cathedral experienced destructions and reconstructions, and the length of the construction allowed different fashion and techniques to form with the old. Listening to the guide was no trouble at all, especially since the guide, who was also our art history professor, was extremely passionate about the Cathedral and the story it tells about Tours and France.

Our main professor, who teaches writing and grammar on Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday, impresses us each afternoon on those days with his knowledge of history and culture in France as well as in a lot of other countries. His lectures are always engaging and intriguing. My French improved tremendously these days—I can read stories which I never thought I could understand in such a short amount of time, and communicating with the locals is much easier. Whereas before, my attempts to speak french in restaurants and shops were often met with strange looks and shrugs, now the locals are able to understand and interpret exactly it is I needed. On Wednesday I had to buy allergy medicine at a pharmacy, and while I stumbled over some words, I could communicate my needs to the seller without major hiccups.

At home, I am starting to learn french traditional cuisine with my Madame. Each night we prepare a three course meal for a total of three people living in the household. I have begun to recognize common herbs, the names of the most typic sauces used in dishes, wine and types of cheese. While preparing the meal, Madame is always very helpful in explaining the new vocabulary and demonstrates the simple procedures every time for me. The conversations we have over the kitchen sink have greatly boosted my confidence and oral skills, which have proved to be more than useful every day!

This past weekend, I played board games with my Chilean classmate, Paola, and a few of her friends.  Aside from Paola and me, everyone was a native French speaker, which was challenging but also immensely satisfying when I realized that I could understand basically everything that was going on.  Being there and talking with them really helped me see how much I’ve progressed since arriving.  My oral comprehension is far beyond what it was a month ago.  I’ve picked up on a lot of slang as well, which I’m very excited about, because one of my objectives for the summer was to know when informal French was appropriate and be able to speak it.  Thankfully, I got placed in a host family where I’ve had the opportunity to practice this a lot.  My host dad really likes slang, and he’s been really good about explaining the register of the words that I’ve picked up.  It has really helped me in informal, conversational situations like the get-together last Sunday.  

The afternoon of board games was an interesting test of my French in another way as well; one of the games we played required a pretty wide vocabulary.  It was a little like Pictionary, in that there were words that you have to get your teammates to guess.  It was frustrating sometimes when I knew exactly what the word was, just not in French.  They were really nice, though, and let me guess in English twice.  But it was really exciting that that was all I needed!

Then, Tuesday was la Fête de la Musique, known internationally as World Music Day.  It was started by the French Minister of Culture in the 80’s, and now it’s celebrated in countries all over the world.  There were free concerts organized all over the city, but there but anyone who wanted to could perform as well.  Before you were even out of earshot of one group, you’d come upon another.  

If this doesn’t give you an idea of the kind of variety there was, nothing can

What I loved the most was that it really was a celebration for everyone.  I saw families, old couples, teenagers – people from all walks of life – come out to take part in the event.  It’s hard to describe the atmosphere, but I think the closest I can get is that the city was incredibly alive.  

My time at Tours is going far too fast, but I’ve still got lots to tell you about!  A la prochaine!

Last blog! I head home tomorrow! My last week here has been mostly relaxed and full of good food and conversations, which is the way I like to show real affection to a place—more so than traveling around and trying to see it all. That’s why I liked it here in Tours; it has that sort of atmosphere, not too huge and tourist-y to make me feel out of my element.

This week’s good news: I got a final grade in my French class, and if I were staying here, I would qualify for the next level! Practically I know it doesn’t mean much since I’m not staying, but it’s definitely a personal achievement. I would have enough trouble with those crazy listening exercises in English! Good to know I did all right on them. One of my teachers told me I had good class participation, which means a lot to me since her discussion exercises were easily my favorite part of her classes.

Overall, this was definitely a learning experience for me. I say that in a very serious way—this is the first time I’ve ever left the United States, and I was completely on my own. It was hard to adapt to, since for the entire first week I hardly met anyone my age. I’d like to say that I’ve gained a certain amount of maturity from the experience. Obviously, it was also a learning experience in the way that I hoped it would be—learning French. I came in with a high level of it, but I can now slip in and out of it so easily and express ideas without stumbling or using the word chose (thing) quite as much that I’m starting to think I might be fluent. I’m not quite sure what the qualifier is, but if I haven’t reached it yet, I must be close!

A huge, huge thanks to the people who made this possible! I’m very honored to have received this scholarship.

It’s hard to believe that it has been two weeks since I have arrived here. At times, it seems as if I have just gotten off the train yesterday, and yet at times it seems to have been months. The start of this week rolled out smoothly, with only tiny hiccups such as the malfunction of the trams which my roommate and I take each morning to go to the Institute. At first, we all thought it was a strike, which so typical in France that no one bats an eye if the train workers are calling for a strike; in fact, Air France has just announced a strike for next week and all the planes originating from CDG airport may be canceled or delayed—a real inconvenience for the people who are coming for the Euro cup. However, the trams next to my house has stopped due to an accident further south and would go back to work after three days.

At school, I am getting used to the weekly schedules, the amount of homework and the different methods each french professor adopts. It has became a habit for me to read the textbook and list general questions for the professor beforehand, and surprisingly, the classes became a lot more easier. After a while, I learned the each professor’s distinct way of teaching, which makes participating in class much easier. Once I knew the sequence of activities and what the teacher expects from me in terms of participation, the class became more enjoyable and fruitful.

Back at home, Madame Remion is very helpful in assisting our adaption to the French lifestyle. Every day at dinner she would explain the origin and tradition of each dish, and also practical things such as how to buy the various ingredients at the markets. Soon as I cooked up the courage to venture outside my room and initiate conversations with my Madame before and after dinner, I found out a lot more about her life, the history of the old house we live in, and the stories of other international students learning french who have stayed in her house before. I still find it hard to carry out a conversation without stopping now and then to search for a specific word or phrase. But I think I’m more open to speak in French with native speakers and I can understand a lot better compared to when I first arrived.