First time making pasta

First time eating scallops

Once the two Musset children left and dinner had been cleaned up, Madame Musset and I went for an evening walk because nous avons mangé bien aujourd’hui. During our walk, I enjoyed our simple conversations but even more the long silences between. Only empty silence is awkward. The scattered lampposts stifled everything in sheets of sepia and the monotonous houses clung together so haughtily that Pascale and I were often obliged to walk in the narrow empty street. I wore the white mittens that my youngest brother gave to me last year for Christmas and a blue hat that I bought cheaply from a store on Saint-Germain but neither of these were necessary in the uncharacteristically warm night air. However, I liked them because they reinforced the musings and memories rolling lazily through my 21 year old brain.

Ça va toujours? Pascale asked me again.

Oui, ça va.

We went to a lovely textile museum during our afternoon in Angers

Homemade Stollen

At the organic farm getting
milk and flower for baking.

I have preferences and opinions for many things but when someone asks me, “do you want to watch this film that you've never heard of or that film that you've never heard?” or “would you rather go biking around a pretty lake or sit next to a warm purring cat and write?” I find it difficult to place an opinion. After soup, we went to the living room to sit with the wood-burning stove, the sleeping Coquette, and the sapine whose branches hold out Christmas balls like a sticky lipped child eagerly offering the appraised candy. 

"Quel film tu veux regarder?"

But I couldn’t use my favorite line, comme vous voulez because Monsieur Musset and Paul preferred to watch Good Morning England while Camille declared no one ever chooses her films. This statement passed undisputed. After three minutes of the boys giggling through the intro of what I believe Masaki Kobayashi intended to be a grave film, Paul returned the Japanese film to Camille and put in un film de Richard Curtis (en anglais) Good Morning England.

While Camille, Paul, and Madame Musset completed various errands around town, I tagged along for the sight-seeing. Some of the windows of the main street were uncharacteristically well-decorated, not in the gaudy ways of stringy tinsel and bizarre christmas creatures but with arrangements of greenery, intertwined branches, colors of gold and red, and snowy feathers. In addition to it’s zoo La Flèche boasts the first French florist, a shop which maintains a reputation and explains the beauty of the windows we passed as we approached the square and the ice skating rink. Paul and I leaned on the rail and watched the kids fall while his mom and older sister went into a shop. I quickly noticed that the ice was in perfectly shaped squares which were screwed into the ground. Paul noticed my wrinkled forehead and squinting eyes.

C’est la plastique. 

Ah bon?! C’est bizarre. Est’il toujours comme ça? 

Oui 

So, La Flèche has a zoo, the first florist shop in France, and in the winter, a skating rink of made of plastic cubes.

After my merry sensations were crushed, we left the plastic skating for the library, stopping to chat to a few people along the way. The first thing that caught my eye was Extra Terrestres Secret D’États. The second thing after we climbed the stairs to the American second floor but the French first floor, was a children’s book called L’Escargot N’Aime Pas la Pluie. Sadly, even in this simple book, I stumbled through the vocabulary. Then I found Asterix Mission Cleopatra, a well known French comic. This one, however, was arranged to help French children learn English—or to relieve a French impaired American mind. 

Sunday afternoon and a week until Christmas. People should be on vacation or tramping around la compagne. What is all of Paris doing at Musée de l'Orangerie! Then I noticed line "C" for special people. It was shorter. Im special. I'd waited 16 weeks and 6 days while living only 30 minutes away, to visit this museum and didnt feel obligated to have to wait any long. I watched the people at the front of the "entrance reserved"line to see if the guard was checking their papers for verification of their specialness. Yep. ok. See that nice couple and their kid in front of you? Act like youre part of their family. 
I got in.
The museum was fabulous.

As I exited the building for the last time, I heard crying from the Fontaine apartment. I pretended for a moment that my departure caused the tears but the more plausible theory is that the broom Clovis had been wielding finally came into contact with Chloé's head.

"Pussy" will be missed too.

The children are officially on holiday. After the vacation, my daily French class will interfere with watching the two French children. The family was so good to me and there are things about the job that I enjoyed. However, I will summarize my time saying "it has been an enlightening experience."

It's finished. I wrote my last exam yesterday before giving my photography presentation later in the afternoon. It doesn't seem like the semester is over. Maybe because I am not leaving.

me and Elisabeth. Once, I called her on the
emergency phone line when it was not an
emergency...

The CEA staff have been wonderful. Although I've heard complaints, I am convinced that my four professors in Global Marketing, Haute Couture: History of Fashion in Paris, French Intermediate I, and Urban Social Photography, were the most enjoyable and most qualified professor's in the Paris program. I can't speak for your experience if you are thinking about coming to Paris with CEA, but my experience has been fantastic.

il pleut

A friend gave me the keys to her apartment while she is away so I invited another friend to spend the night with me there. We met up at church last night. After the service I “chatted” with a guy from Haiti. He was impressed with my French and surprised that I’ve only been in Paris for four months. I hardly said a word—which is probably why he thought my French was good—and he, he talked about the famous people who have worn the sunglasses from his work. The only one I recognized was Lady Gaga.

After church, some of us piled into a van and headed through the rain towards the home of a young family for “a simple gouter.” Within minutes, car sickness set in and I had difficulty concentrating on the conversation with the Russian girl to my left. The driver took a wrong turn and got stuck behind a garbage truck. He didnt seem to be in a hurry to turn around. Qu’est-ce qu’il fait?!

La Noël approche!

During the little party, Sammy and I sat between a lovely couple from New Zealand. We all drank champagne. Several hours later after the raclette and various tarts accompanied by a large vat of warm chocolate sauce, our host offered his guests a midnight ride to the station. Google told me earlier that afternoon that we were a 15 minute walk from the apartment so I declined. It took us 15 minutes x 5 and for all but 10 of those minutes, it rained. I made tea while we listened to Civil Wars. Delirious and giggly, we never fully straighten the couch into a bed. It insisted on maintaining a sort of flattened “s” shape and Sammy and I lacked the energy to argue. She said she slept well anyway.

me and Samantha

I finally looked at the clock. Dismay. I'm going to be late. Fortunately the metro route I'd chosen to Trocadéro was quick and I arrived only six minutes past 19h30. It's cold, even standing in the middle of all the students. I hope we take the group pictures soon. I can feel the coolness in my feet that precedes wet socks. 
After pictures, the CEA staff announced our final event: dinner in the Eiffel Tower. Cheers. We excitedly made our way to the Tour Eiffel, happy with the surprise and with the prospect of being indoors. It was my first time up the tower and the elevator reminded me of a Six Flags Over Texas attraction. As we gained altitude and I glanced down the shaft, I hoped it wouldn't suddenly drop like the ride it resembled (which closed several years ago...for safety reasons I believe).  

We were a little confused when Professor Scattolin began her speech, the type of speech that my cross country coach used to give at the end of a season, not at the end of a workout. Then it dawned on us. We looked at each other in disbelief. This was our last class? Yes. Putting on her coat, Cathryn remarked in a sort of daze that she had been looking forward to seeing her home and family but until that moment, she’d forgotten the implications of going home: you wont have Paris. She must not have read Hemingway.

This semester has passed extremely quickly. I think while I was bending over my studies, someone changed the date from November 30 to December 7. 

I’m so glad I dont have to say goodbye just yet.