BUSY TWO WEEKS

I've been in France for nine hours short of a week now, and I've hardly had a break to use for anything other than crashing and napping because of the immense amounts of work/adjusting/partying/trying to find internet I've been doing.

And it doesn't look like it's going to ease up any time soon. At least not until next Friday. Until then, I have class every day from 9 to noon and 2 to 5. Which means my typical weekday looks something like this:

7:45 -- Alarm goes off. For 15 seconds I struggle to figure out what country I'm in. When I realize that my bed is literally exactly as long as I am tall, I decide I must be in France. I go back to sleep.

7:55 -- Another of my three or four alarms goes off, and I realize that I need to allow myself fifteen minutes for the shower to warm up, so I rise.

8:15 -- Scratch that, twenty minutes to warm up.

8:20 -- I meant twenty-five. I take a quick, mildly warm shower and get dressed quickly and head across the street to the RER station.

8:40 -- If I'm lucky, I'll get a seat on the train. If I'm really lucky, I'll get some sort of metro-show, which so far has involved an old man falling down and yelling "Jamais! Jamais!" while his friend looks on confusedly, and various homeless men doing strange things. (One thing I've noticed here is that way more homeless people have pets. I don't know why, but that seemed really weird to me.)

9:00 -- I show up at La Catho, and hope I see someone from my class who knows what room I'm in. It seems the French have trouble staying in one place and our class will change rooms on a daily, sometimes semi-daily basis.

9:15: -- This is when I generally realize that I'm going to have to speak French all day. I start going over random grammatical rules in my head. It is of no use. Several times throughout the day I will be called on and have no idea what to say. Usually I just pretend that I actually meant to be in the Spanish class and that I don't speak French at all. The professors never fall for my ruse.

10:30 -- Our morning break. I get to socialize with my classmates, who are mostly really nice, and mostly really good English speakers. We all feel guilty but seriously enjoy hanging out and speaking English in between class periods. This unity is remarkable, considering the 16 of us represent ten different countries: the US, the UK, New Zealand, Sweden, Venezuela, Japan, Brazil, South Korea, Greece, and India.

12:00 -- Lunch time. I head down to Rue de Rennes, one of the main streets in the Latin Quarter, and pick from one of the many street shops and small restaurants selling baguettes, paninis, crepes, galettes, croque-monsieurs and other delicious french lunch items. Take time to recuperate from the stressful Francaising of the morning, and head back in there.

15:45 -- Hit the wall. Thinking about speaking French is no longer possible. If I am asked a question, it is likely I will say something like, "Je don't know." Six hours of class is unprecedented at this stage of my life.

17:00 -- I drag through the end of the day and head back to the metro and cite universitaire. At this point, I'm ready to do anything as long as it involves staying off my feet, relaxing, and maybe putting down some wine and Kronenbourg.

So if it seems like the blog isn't touching on as many of the exciting aspects of Paris, this is why. This weekend should be a little more exciting, and once the real semester starts, I will be hitting the city with a vengeance. A much more upbeat blog update to come tomorrow.