Francophonic nightmares

Last night I dreamt that I missed my flight to France.

Actually, it was much more elaborate than that, as my dreams usually are (Cara can testify - I've regaled her with dreamscape stories about whales in Paris and a quest to destroy Salazaar Slytherin (I'm still cool I promise)). The dream went something like this - 

I woke up, realizing that it was 9:00 and my flight was at 10:00. I must have been in Berkeley, even though my surroundings were decidedly Texan, because I remember thinking to myself, "I can't take the BART to SFO, it'll take an hour. Someone has to drive me." Some guy offered to give me a ride (I don't remember who, so we'll skip the Freudian analysis), and I left without packing - just zipped up my suitcase and shot out the door. In a later part of my dream I remember remembering, "Fuck, I left all my toiletries." We took this weird convoluted route through dirt roads and up mountains (yes, this is still San Francisco), finally arriving at the airport minutes late. They don't let me on the flight. The airline is Southwest, which is appropriate because they fucked up my last flight in all sorts of ways. Anyway, I look over and who do I see but Sophie! Apparently, she missed her flight to Madrid too. The next few minutes of the dream are taken up with me trying to decipher this convoluted chart that the airline rep hands me, which is supposed to be a flight schedule but looks like gibberish. There are no other flights to Paris. Ever. For the rest of time. With the same chart, Sophie finds another flight to Madrid and walks away happily, and I'm left stranded and alone, pulling my suitcase towards the automatic doors.

The upside is that now I'm going to set 3 alarms 5 hours ahead on the day I actually leave.

--

I'm running a bunch of errands with my dad today for Bordeaux. We're getting euros from the bank, picking up adapters and converters from Radio Shack, and getting a new suitcase from Southwest because they fucking destroyed the one I had. I'm not bitter, by the way. I want to pick up travel guide books and a book of French slang. There are so many things to take care of that keep popping in my head, it's impossible to keep track. My suitcase is already overflowing - I'll definitely be leaving a few things I originally packed at my family friend's place in Texas. Better to be overprepared than not at all, right?

Blogging is so difficult

So, I don't really know what to do with this blog anymore after starting the team study abroad one:

http://wadagirls.blogspot.com/

I think it may very well get abandoned if the other one takes off. Of course, that's optimistic. Even I, the Biggest Internet Whore in the Entire History of Time, drop off the face of the blogosphere frequently and without warning. There's no reason to expect more from my much more grounded-in-reality roommates. Despite the fact that I threatened death to Sophie if she did not update every week. I may just do double posts for now and see how it goes, but if my worst suspicions are confirmed and I end up being the only one updating, I'll just revert to this one all by my lonesome. Plus, I'm very fond of the layout, as I very well may have sacrificed my GPA to photoshop the heading.

So, the point of this entry is to let you know that for now, all posts of mine on Wada Girls will be identical to the posts on here. So if you're only curious about what's going on with me in Bordeaux, stick to this. If you want to get a fuller sense of study abroad with multiple countries and perspectives, check out the other one. 

Happy reading.

The Eternal Question

Is packing 6 pairs of shoes for next semester excessive?

...nah.

Ma famille francaise

It's finals week. All four of my roommates have disappeared to the depths of the library, and here I am - clad in sweatpants, notes in a haphazard stack on my desk, books yet to be cracked open - blogging.

Every day, it starts to feel more and more real. Last Friday we had our pre-departure orientation with EAP (Education Abroad Program) Alums, and this week we finally got our housing assignments. At first I was really disappointed, because instead of living in the centre-ville (downtown Bordeaux), I'm living in the suburb Talence, half an hour from most of my friends. Bordeaux is a commuter school, so the actual university is about a 30 minute tram ride away from the city. I'm somewhere between the two.

A Google Maps stalker search showed this to me –

View Larger Map

That's where I'll be living for the next 6 months. Je peux pas le croire. Anyway, I was none too thrilled about being so far from everyone else. On top of that, there was only one name listed - Mme Barry, whereas others' host families were listed as "La famille xxx," or "M et Mme xxx." Thinking I was going to be stuck with a lonely old French spinster, undoubtedly more bitter than the American variety, I begrudgingly emailed my host mom to introduce myself. Mostly though, I just wanted to find out if I had to bring my own sheets.

It turns out the email address they gave me actually belongs to Mme Barry's daughter, and her reply yesterday made my attitude do a 180. Turns out Mme Barry has three daughters - Lisa (the one I emailed), 21, Anna, 20, and Sarah, 22. Lisa and Anna are living at home next semester. On top of that, they have a dog (Bill), two cats, and THREE CHICKENS. I'm sure you've seen my outburst on that topic on facebook, but seriously, THREE CHICKENS?! How fucking awesome is that? They live in a big house with a spacious backyard. Mme Barry is German and speaks English fluently, and Anna is studying English at the University of Bordeaux, where I'll be going. It's going to be so tempting to speak English to them, but I'm going to do my best to resist temptation. Also, I had heard that it was really difficult to make French friends, but they'll have to be friends with me. MUAHAHA. In all seriousness though, Lisa has been so friendly - she added me on facebook and her emails were so nice. I'm really looking forward to meeting them.

Now I just have to calm down and study.