Oh lalala lala lalaaa

I’ve just come back from doing my “devoirs” at a little restaurant, accordion man and all, where I was looking for quiche but ended up with crème brulée and an apple juice that was unlike any state-side apple juice I’ve ever had. More green-appley. And no, I didn’t accidentally say crème brulée when I meant something else – they were sold out of the tarte of the day.

However, just because I managed to get what I’d asked for (that time) doesn’t mean I haven’t messed up. I once tried to ask for some goat cheese and Isabelle got me a chair instead…so today, I think, I’ll talk about some of the mistakes I’ve heard and seen so far. The day of the faux pas.

To start us off strong, I’ll go for a genuine faux pas: if you are a tourist, and you see some outdoor café tables in a square, say by a fountain or a church or what have you, you are not allowed to just plunk down and put your feet up if you feel like it. Not even if you’ve got a Panini or something you brought from home. Those tables belong to an actual café (hence, café tables), and the proprietor of said café will come out and yell at you in rapid French if you try to pull such a stunt. I advise buying your Panini from the café and saving yourself some trouble.

And now, a bit of a rant: I am annoyed at all the crazy American women who come to France to binge on French wine and French men. When they warned us in orientation on Monday that the girls especially should try not to smile so much because it sends the wrong message, I thought, “Oh, the wrong message. So there’s a cultural gap where friendliness is taken as a come-on.” But no, in fact, I’ve found the system to be a little different. Today (the second day of classes!), one of the students in my class took the ten-minute break as an opportunity to pass her digital camera around and elaborately act out to all of us how she got some “rose wine” at a store and got to jump in a fountain and got yelled at by the police and got escorted home by a guy on a Vespa and got highly (but not really) affronted when he asked her, “do you want to be touched by a French man?” etc. And perhaps now I sound like a prude, but this is ruining it for the rest of us, who want to go to a discotheque and dance around a bit, but all the French guys expect us to illegally douse ourselves in public spaces in a few minutes if just they hang around.

Which leads me (tangentially) to how I do not appear to be fitting in entirely well with the other American students. I know, it’s only been two days of classes…I’m a bit reluctant to thoroughly introduce further characters just yet, as I haven’t really met anyone that I can see myself hanging out with permanently (read: 5.5 weeks)…I’ve shared my textbook with Jonathan, found out I shared a birth date with Charity and Ashley, did a presentation with Nick, and showed Danielle where the library was, but…well, who knows.

I do feel kind of aged and decrepit, though, because I spend my mornings perusing fruit markets, my afternoons studying French grammar in cafés, and my evenings reading books or, as with last night, watching France spectacularly lose any chance of Eurocup. And maybe the weekend I will go to a boite (the supercool word for club) or travel around…I want to go to Corsica. (!!!) I’ve found a fantastic Anglaise bookstore/bar (called Book In Bar – shocking) that I have a feeling will be one of my haunts. And I’m not going to feel guilty about it. So there.

Right…back to the blunders.

I think a lot of us students have the perfect phrase with the perfect pronunciation in our heads and it comes out as mush the second we open our mouths. There have already been mix-ups in class with the French words for hair and horse, full and pregnant, and something about a bear that I didn’t get, but which the prof (Monsieur S.) found hysterical. Also, I’m still afraid to say, “I’m hungry,” when I might accidentally say, “I have a wife” (classic Dana, no?). And it appears I’m not the only one who knows a bit of Spanish.

I’m sorry to say that I haven’t got any photos for you today; I have always been an awkward photo-taker, and I can’t manage to suavely pull out the camera and force every stranger around me to group together for a picture. For all I know, I’d be getting some confused French kids in the pictures, as well. I also don’t really have any new pictures of the city – on Monday it rained, and yesterday I was at class or busy (napping). Also, I feel that I’m starting to get good at the disillusioned French walk, and I’m reluctant to totally blow my cover by whipping out the camera. Although I guess I’m overestimating my acculturation skills and am probably totally recognizable as “that strange, bug-bitten American.” Blech.

I just read over that and it sounds a bit negative? I am having a good time, though.