First day of classes

Woke up at 7:00 to get ready for classes this morning to look like a bumbling fool downstairs.  Apparently the main door locks itself from the inside at night, so you have to press a button to open it.  Well, I was never told this so there I was pulling and pushing at the door handle, playing with the latch, and otherwise failing to open the door, until finally someone from upstairs came down, chuckled a little, and showed me how to open the door.

We took our placement exams this morning.  They made no attempt at hiding the scaled difficulty of the questions.  The oral comprehension part started off with something along the lines of "how are you doing," and ended with the French equivalent of an NPR show.  I was taken aback when I walked into my morning session because 90% of the class was Asian.  Aside from the Oklahoman and the Colombian, the others were all from Japan, Thailand, and Korea.  In any case, it definitely removed the possibility of mumbling a word in English, hoping to have someone else in the room recognize it.

Matt and I went around town looking for a nice place for lunch but ended up giving the school's lunchroom a shot.  If you're ever at CAVILAM, never dine there.

Afternoon class for me was definitely more interesting.  I was put in an oral communication workshop with a relatively amiable professor.  We spent the first part of the class interviewing our neighbors, so we could present them to the class.  He proceeded to make fun of every American accent in the room, seeing as they were all quite strong and noticeable.  That aside, he also chose a random fact from our profile to question us on . . . I had the misfortune of saying I was a physics major, so I had to describe what a Bose-Einstein condensate was to the best of my ability using words like "small ball" instead of particle and "traveling down a blocked road" to describe "classically forbidden regions."  The extent of my misery was quite mitigated in comparison to Cara, the girl next to me, who had to explain why she was majoring in botany with the intention of going to law school.  Our professor referred to her as the grand defender of plants for the rest of the class.

We spent the rest of the evening on a tour of Vichy.  Afterward, Matt and I found a kebab place in town, and he, too, finds that the kebab is quite the agreeable sandwich.

Vichy is known for its spring water.  We got to taste l'Eau de Céléstin here, which purportedly remedies headaches, treats boils, and reduces arthritis.  I'm not entirely sure about the validity of said claim, but I will say that the water is a bit more sour than expected and that it contains sulfur and iron, the same ingredients as some gunpowders.

A view of Lac D'Allier in Vichy.  The name is a bit misleading since it's actually a tributary that runs into the Loire.

Made from spring water minerals, these well-known mints are actually a lot better than the water they came from.

A monument for the fallen French heroes.  Every city has an equivalent memorial.  The most famous one, of course, is the L'Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

Matt and I had a good laugh at the weather clock here.  Note that today's weather is "variable"--which I suppose any Sooner can understand completely.

The opera house from which the Vichy Regime operated during WWII.  There is still some stigma regarding the Vichistes (collaborators) when you mention Vichy to the French, but that stigma is diminishing over time.

On commence

Sorry for the delay in posts.  I've been knocked out by a perpetual food coma.  This morning we drove back out to Frans where some people had stayed the night.  After another gigantic meal, we made our way to Vichy via the scenic route.  Unfortunately, due to lack of judgement, I left my camera in the back of the car for the ride.  I'll share photos next time I promise.  I've arrived at my room, which, despite its smaller size, I would trade for the one in Norman in a heartbeat.  The rooms here each have their own bathroom, sink, fridge, and cook-top.  H&F really needs to step it up.  In any case, I'm off to bed because we have our placement exams tomorrow morning at 8am o_O.

In front of Résidence Claudius-Petit where I'll be staying for the next month.  I'll post some pictures of the room later.

Sixth Day

Today I attended a Frenchman's birthday party.  Anna's (my aunt's neighbor with whom we went to Nespresso) husband turned 70, so my whole family and all their friends--who ended up comprising nearly 3/4 of the attendance of over 60--decided to throw him a party.  We drove to a beautiful countryside area called Frans, just north of Lyon for the festivities.  I learned how to play Pétanque, a form of boule where you score points by landing the metal boules as close to the cochonet (literally piglet and the little orange ball in the picture) as possible while knocking your opponents' away.  With some beginner's luck, Gaston and I managed to pull a win out from under some seasoned veterans.

Jo was an expert at "À carreau," knocking an opponent's ball away while keeping yours in the same spot.

Gaston was somehow really good at pointing, landing the ball near the jack.

The winning team!

Then we started eating.  This is where I tell you that French + Asian = Permafoodcoma--irrefutable mathematical fact that is.  There were so many different types of food!  But of course what's a French party without its cheese? Some of them were a bit too strong for me, but many of them were quite delicious.  We topped the evening off with three birthday cakes--I'd have to describe these in person, and even then it would be hard to fully describe how good they were.

The evening also featured an up-and-coming French-Asian screamo band... wasn't my cup of tea, so I went outside to play with my cousins Kenny and Emilie.

The band's performance.  As far as I can understand, they're my family's friend's sons.

I miss my DSLR already.  The S95 is great for its size, but I've had a taste of superior picture quality.

The evening ended at a nice and early three o'clock in the morning after opening gifts.  They sure knew how to party...

More or less my family and their friends in Lyon

Fifth Day

Mélody invited me to her end-of-the-year luncheon with her friends.  Her friend, Mélanie, the hostess, lived in a house rather than apartment, which is actually pretty rare for the city-French.  The weather was superb as it's been for the entirety of my stay thus far (75-83F with a light breeze), so we had a nice meal in the courtyard.

The first thing that catches my eye as I walk out is a fuzzy animal coming out of the shed.  Much to my cousin's friends' amusement, I mistake the overly furry rabbit as a dog.  Mélanie explains that almost everyone makes the same mistake--though usually, the rabbit has a comb-over that makes it look like Justin Beiber (whom the French also enjoy joking about).

The gossip at lunch stretched my French to its limit.  Usually I only have to follow a one-to-one conversation about rather ordinary things using relatively standard language.  The parlance at the table was not only idiomatic and sometimes laden with medical vernacular (they were all nursing students), the talk was shooting all around the table.  We take understanding a language for granted, but really, it's quite a feat to be able to filter through an entire conversation for several meanings at once.  Really knowing a language goes so much farther than being able to understand classroom dialogues and dubbed movies.

The rest of the day was just spent with family.

The furry rabbit

 

Here's my little cousin Emilie.  She's crazy but adorable.  She was running around the house with this piece of fabric covering people with "magic dust."  We scoured her "diary" in which she writes nonsensical things about her friends and cousins.  It was fraught with some really funny misspellings and ramblings of a Gleek.

Turns out Mélody is a Allod-addict.  Allod is a French free-to-play WoW-esque game.

Fourth Day

Most of today was spent with family.  We went down to have kebab again in the morning.  This restaurant had a really nice outside seating area and I met the family locksmith.  Apparently my aunts and uncles here decided that they needed to know everyone personally because I was introduced to every other person we passed in the street as their coveted American nephew/cousin.  Of course as soon as we finished eating, my family was already planning the next meal.

That night we had tarte flambée.  It looks like a pizza, sort of, but tastes much different--crispy, flaky, cheesy and seasoned with different set of herbs.

A staple confectionery for my cousins, the macaron comes in a variety of flavors and colors.  My favorite is the Nutella one.

Third Day

I'm adjusting to the jet-lag by one hour every day, waking up at a workaholic's 6:30 this morning.  Today we toured the Basilica in Fourvière, a grand structure that is very much a noticeable landmark in Lyon.  The architecture is very ornate and seems to mesh together Romanesque and Byzantium styles.

Gaston, me, and Laéticia out front of the Basilica.  Amélie is taking the picture.

So much detail in all the statues

The basilica sits atop a large hill.  As such, the view of Lyon from up there is stunning.

Instead of taking the same metro bus that took us up, we decided to walk down to the villa.  There were so many steps--so, so many steps.

Amélie and Me with the city view

Ok, well.  This had to be done at least once during my trip I suppose.

After that, we went to a couple of museums in the area.  First, we toured a Goudji exhibit.  Goudji is a contemporary goldsmith.  Not exactly my cup of tea in terms of art but it was still relatively interesting.

 

Next, we went to a quaint hole-in-the-wall museum that seems prevalent here.  This one showcased miniature art and movie sets and costumes.

A set for the super-creepy film Perfume.

This particular piece is so small, you have to view it under a microscope.  Its translated title is Jazz Ants.

We finished the day going to a Lebanese restaurant.  My cousins have been asking me for years if I knew what kebab was.  I now understand their obsession.  Kebab is similar a gyro.  The same type of meat is stuffed into fried bread with a blend of vegetables and spices.  It's topped off with some sort of Lebanese spicy mayonnaise.  I'm hoping I can find a store in the states because it was really, really good.

This is the store that we went to.  According to my aunts and uncles, however, it is not the best.  I can't imagine anything that would taste better.

Second Day

This morning I went with my aunt and her friend to a neat coffee shop called Nespresso.  They sell specialty modern coffee machines along with chocolate.

The coffee comes in little packets like this and are packed into boxes that look like the wand cases from Harry Potter

We went to the back of the shop where they gave us samples.  It's a good thing the French serve their coffee in tiny cups because that coffee was the strongest and most bitter that I've ever had.  On the other hand, they also gave us a caramel beurre salé chocolate square to try, and, it, in direct opposition to the coffee, was absolutely delectable.

That afternoon, we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean.  As it turns out that, when movies first come out, they're shown in English with French subtitles.  I got a first-hand experience seeing how many things are lost in translation: whereas I found many of the puns and jokes in the movie quite funny, the French translation often couldn't accommodate the humor very well.  Giggling at Jack Sparrow's mannerisms was the only time Laéticia and I were laughing together.

First Post

So, I'm new to this whole blogosphere business, so don't butcher me if I don't meet your expectations (though why are you reading this if I don't?).  The layout right now is freaking hideous, I know.  When I get my hands on photoshop again, I'll change it up.  This blog, however, should keep me from being lazy about posting pictures and saves me the breath of telling the little stories 32094 times to 1938 different people (projected from a supported theoretical model).  Here goes nothing.

The morning of my flight, I notice that I only have one check-in bag and my backpack to take with me.  Unfilled, my carry-on luggage lay on my bed, empty and seemingly forgotten.  It seemed like a waste to just not bring one, so I threw in a pair of socks, a pair of goggles, and a pack of batteries.  The TSA agent who scanned that bag must have drooled in envy of all my nice things.  My uncle comes to inherit the trouble of looking after the flora and fauna of the Do biodome and to take me to the airport.  Of course, before actually leaving the DFW area, by some heavenly intervention, we manage to miss the exit to the airport twice, so I got one last look at home.  Well, two last looks--but from different angles.

I won't bore you with the details of the flight and train ride.  Basically everything went smoothly, and I miraculously slept quite well during my eighteen hour intensive mechanical vibration massage and industrial-strength sound-therapy session.  After debarking the train at Lyon, I find myself in a shopping mall of sorts.  Apparently the French zone their train stations as commercial fiestas as well because that place was bustling with people.  I wander my way through the station, looking for a payphone to call my cousins.  Lucky for me, however, as soon as I discovered the secret location of the mythical object and began decoding its mysteries (i.e. I had no idea how to use the thing), my cousins Gaston, Amélie, and Laétitia somehow got a feeling to stop their train-station-induced shopping spree and triangulated my position.  Hugs and salutations exchanged, we dashed off toward the metro to catch the next train.  I followed a bit mindlessly to keep my sanity because I swear the Lyon metro system is built like the fourth layer of an Inception heist.

I spent the afternoon engaged in various conversations with my cousins and their parents (who were more overly worried for my well-being than my parents) involving broken French, accented English, and Vietnamese.  I'm 99% sure, however, that 50% of those conversations involved food somehow.  That night, we went out for a preliminary tour of Lyon.  If I remember correctly past the jet-lag-induced haze... never mind, I don't actually remember where these pictures were taken.

Gaston and me covering up some fountain.  I'll have to show my uncle how to take pictures.

Me, Gaston, and Laétitia covering up the river that was supposed to be the background

Town hall? I think? I don't think anyone could explain to me fully what this building was.

Laétitia and me covering up the town hall

This is either the Rhône or the Saône . . . one of the two rivers here.