Hier Soir

The learning curve is definitely on full acceleration, and I find that I regularly think in French to myself, as I go about my business, for everyday expressions like "maybe another drink" (peut-etre un autre boisson) or "where is my purse" (ou est mon sac). At the beginning of the second week, though, I had a couple of days of regression in speaking that was really frustrating. I think that during the first few days here I would speak, knowing full well that I wasn't using the proper verb conjugation, but just hoping to get my meaning across. Then after the first week of class I started to gain control over conjugations, but when I needed to form a sentence I had to think it through before I said it, and that made me a slow and self-conscious speaker. Now I've picked up speed again and am finding it much easier. The second weekend I noticed I was totally comfortable conducting business in shops, where as the first weekend I wasn't. I'm also finding that it feels awkward to switch to English during class (like when I'm really stumped on how to explain something in French and have to use the English word) and I don't like it, and I try to switch back to French as soon as possible. The word order is so different between the languages that now when I do speak English I'm mixing up phrases and stumbling over words. During class I write down the verbs I want to use but don't know how to conjugate properly, and then study them at home that night. I have a pretty good idea of how to structure sentences, but now I really need to increase my vocabulary.

I've decided that I really hate the word "hier" (pronounced "ear"), that means "yesterday" in French. It's used all the time in conversation (tout le temps!) but is a real hassle to pronounce, especially when you pair it with "soir" (pronounced "swar"), which means night. Together, saying "ear swar" just doesn't form in your mouth properly.

- When did you go to the movies?

- Ear swar.

- Did you have an icecream recently?

- Oui, ear.

- How did classes go?

- The teacher was really animated ear, but today was boring.

Imagine what a great song we would have missed out on if the Beatles had been French.

The French also hate the letter J. Out of 40,000 entries in my English-French dictionary, there are only 96 devoted to the letter J. And the letter K is even worse, coming in at a measly 19 entries.

Besides the peculiarities with the language, the pharmacies are the second most annoying thing. One Sunday I was out visiting the sites and got a headache. It turned out that it is not possible to buy aspirin on Sundays. I went into 4 different tourist stores, naively assuming that next to the batteries and disposable cameras and gum and other things tourists regularly need there would be a small section for aspirin or other headache remedies. I was given a look of disbelief by the clerks, who each sputtered, "But no, it is not possible, it is Sunday, the pharmacies are closed." I suppose it is forbidden to have a headache on Sunday, and god help some poor tourist who has a heart attack in the street.

The other unbelievable pharmacy story happened during the second week. I was feeling the onset of a cold so I went to the pharmacy to buy zinc tablets, since zinc is known to reduce the symptoms of colds. After asking for zinc (in French), having them not know what I was asking for, consulting a massive English dictionary the pharmacist produced from behind the counter, and discovering that it's the exact same word in French, (Ahh, zinc! Oui!) I was sold a packet of what I thought were zinc pills. They turned out to be sealed glass vials of liquid zinc. After pondering this and consulting the instructions, I discovered that I was to break the ends of the glass vials and drink the contents. Now, I don't know about you, but selling medicine in a glass vial that must be BROKEN in order to be consumed doesn't seem like a safe solution to me. But I dutifully took one out, broke off an end, and tried to pour the contents into a glass. Apparently I missed a lesson in high school science because I was dumbfounded when the liquid contents stayed suspended inside the vial. Assuming I must not have snapped off enough, I broke off the second end and susbsequently spilled the zinc all over me, but learned a valuable lesson in the physics of liquids contained in small glass vials.

Castle Chenonceau and Amboise

And if you're in the land of castles, one day per weekend just isn't enough. Sunday found us taking the bikes out again, but this time cheating and taking them with us on the train. We met bleary eyed at 9:45 in the morning, loaded our bikes, and road the 30 minutes train ride to Chenonceau. It was beautiful, too, (although under renovation) and my camera died within the first 2 hours.

We were a much quieter group that day, completely exhausted from our 48km (29 mile) bike ride the day before, and we mostly wandered around the castle on our own taking pictures. The castle had a real life moat, with murky green water full of thick algae that I sure wouldn't want to dive into if I were keen on attacking the castle, and that I especially wouldn't want to go for a pleasure cruise on, although apparently some people did because they were selling boat rides. A boy in one of the boats almost fell in (and we were kind of hoping he would).

After Chenonceau the exectutive decision was made to bike the 11km (6ish miles) to Amboise, to see the castle there. Gingerly and with trepidation, we got back on our bikes. Well, all of us except Volker that is, who we found out had competed in a bike race just before arriving in Tours and therefore was well used to the exertion.

At Amboise we stopped briefly at the house where Leonardo da Vinci died, and then Volker and Karin bought a ticket for Castle Amboise, while Gregor and I decided to see it another day and went for chocolates instead.

My aim was a little off on this photograph, it's not really falling over.

Found this little guy in the grass at Chenonceau, , too young to fly, and I kind of don't think he made it.

House where Leanardo da Vinci died.

Castle Amboise

Shops in Amboise

Castle Villandry, Caves, and Intestines

The funniest thing about hanging out with a group of people who are all from different countries is that everyone seems to live up to their stereotype. For my first weekend in the land of wine and castles, me and a group of friends decided to do just that. The best part was that I didn't have to do any planning for the trip. The Scottish guy rallied the troops to get everyone to agree on which castle to go to, and then the German guy and the Swiss girl made all the logistical plans such as locating the bicycle shop, confirming how to get to the bike path, and determining how long it would take to get there. And all I had to do, as the American, was show up when and where they told me to.



We met at 9:30 in the morning, got our bikes, and started off. The chateau was about 20km away, so we had a solid 12 miles to bike before we got there. Luckily it was a beautiful sunny day and the path was wide enough to allow us to bike two across and talk to each other. The countryside was corn fields and cows, and I could easily have been in Kansas if I didn't know I was in France. It felt very Wizard of Oz and I expected at any moment to see a wobbly scarecrow stepping out of the fields.

We stopped for lunch at a small cafe in the town of Villandry, just a short distance from the castle, where I got the "formule" special, which was a premade sandwich, a dessert, and a drink for 5.90 euros. The sandwich was ham and butter on baguette. And it tasted fabulous.

Volker, the German, living up to his stereotype.

The castle was beautiful, but the grounds and gardens even more so. I was blown away by the size and intricacy of the hedges, and the variety of plants and colors used. They even had one whole side of the castle reserved for a vegetable garden (from which I stole two apples, but they had already fallen off and lying on the ground so I don't think I was actually stealing, more like putting to good use). My favorite part was the labyrinth, although it was a bit smaller than I would have liked. At least since I'm short I couldn't see over the top of the hedge.

After the castle we biked another 4km to the closest winery, a "cave", which lo and behold, really was a cave. It's by far the coolest winery I've ever been to, tucked away in a little curve in the road and almost hidden from site. When we arrived the owner told us (in French of course) to go have a look at the caves first before coming back to taste the wine. I expected a quick little poke around in the next room. Man was I mistaken. The cave extended back for hundreds of meters, and got progressively darker and colder the farther back we went. Outside the temperature was around 95, but inside the cave it couldn't have been more than 60. Around every corner was a new room that was more dramatic and sinister than the last, and the Count of Monte Cristo was probably entombed behind one of the walls I walked past. After a good 30 minutes exploring and taking pictures we somehow found our way back to the front to actually taste some wine. To me the wine itself tasted a bit acidic for my personal liking, but it was still good stuff, and I bought a bottle of red to have another day.

Biking back was one of the hardest things I've done lately. About halfway home I was ready to give up and walk the bike the rest of the way, and the 2 bottles of wine we had consumed shortly after the winery didn't help matters. It was especially comical because we had to rush to get back to make it home on time for dinner. At our ages of 27, 32, 38, and 45, we were concerned of making our "moms" upset if we were late.

In the US Saturday night dinner for my family is the most important meal of the week and we spend the most time preparing for it. Based on the grand meals I've been having at my host family's house I expected Saturday night to be even bigger. FOr the first time since I've been here I was disappointed in the food. Dinner consisted of the leftovers from the previous four days, accompanied by a new dish - a specialty in Tours - sausage made from cow instestines. It tasted just as disgusting as it sounds and I only managed to swallow 4 bites to be polite until I thought I might be sick. Later on at the bar my friends said that their dinners were also much simpler than any other meal of the week, so it must be a cultural difference.