The Substitutes :: Les Remplaçants

French high schools don't have substitutes for just one day.  It requires a pregnant teacher, or something, to even consider looking for one.

My English Literature teacher told us she'd be gone Tuesday for (insert forgettable reason).  Instead of the groans I was used to hearing, everyone was exclaiming exclamations of happiness.  (Forgive my lack of vocabulary, I don't care, I'm in France)

it's like summer vacation again

It all just reminds me so much of a university.  At least, from what I know from the movies, my high school is similar to college (that's confusing for French people college is a middle school and université is college).  

The cafeteria food is, while I wouldn't say host mother level, very good for chefs that have to cook for some thousand kids in two hours.  It's certainly better than the defrosted plastic that my American high school serves us.  

plastic, boxed, plastic, defrosted, and there is at least one nugget that is cold

My high school has dorms.  I always thought that that was just for snooty private schools or, well, colleges. Though the reason my high school has them is for students that live far away.  So, you know, the normal reason.  It might be hard to imagine for someone that lives in the city.  It's because my town is surrounded by a lot of country and farms.

Everyone looks older too.  Maybe it's just me, I've never been around so many girls that use as much make up as French girls do.  I'm not saying that French girls look like clowns, just that my friends and I hadn't really worn make-up fashionably before.

French girls are the version on the left

Maybe it's that.  The sense of fashion.  All the boys here have it too, or at least, they dress well.  I haven't seen anyone wear a simple t-shirt in ages.  They always dress it up with a scarf (boys too) and a necklace (less boys) and a jacket.  I can't really give a dissection of high school French fashion, though an incredibly vague thing that I could tell you is that there are always skinny jeans, leather bags, and scarves.  It just shows how unfashionable I am that I didn't know all that before.

There's also the structures of the classes themselves. This is where I pulled from the idea of colleges.  We go in the class, we sit down, and we copy the lecture of the teacher.  I wouldn't say that it's very interactive.  More like notes are pounded into our head, and then we leave to attempt recovery before going back for more.

we have no idea why either

France is making me grow up.  I highly recommend it for maturity purposes.  I'm learning how to cook, a vague sense of fashion (insert head pounding), how to read people.  When I can't understand what they're saying, body language does help.  

for example, here she is clearly thinking about pounding the teacher's face in

The Adjustment :: L'Ajustement

I'd say that I can adapt pretty quickly to new situations.  Except, that's different from getting used to it.  I adapted when I realized that it's way colder here than I expected (it didn't click for me that when my host mother said -10°, she meant in Celsius), and bought more clothes (expensive as they are).

Though I've noticed that now I'm used to France.  I walk down the stairs in the dark without fearing for my neck, and I can tell who's going up and down the stairs by how they walk.  I say that, but one time at school I slipped down the stairs, for like, three steps.

if they were just a LITTLE bit more slick...

I can type on the French keyboards as quickly as I can type on American keyboards.  I'm sure most of that is because of the blog, but I type faster than some of my friends here too!  Day 24: can type fluently...now if I could only speak.

I have to have a baguette with dinner.  I can't fathom not having a baguette anymore.  Going through many baguettes in a day (as many as seven!) is normal now, though remember that with me, there's six people in my host family to eat them.  You can understand why Marie Antoinette pissed everyone off.

it's not enough!

I memorized my school schedule, despite it's utter lack of normality.  I didn't explain it before, but there were so many wrinkles that I had to smooth out.  Other students take another language after English.  I was so hyped up to take Russian, but the other students have taken it for three years, and me, well-zero, so....no.  Other students get only one elective.  I managed to get two, Math and Art.  I also tag along with my friends for their Dance and Spanish classes each week.  

I can read the flowery handwriting of my friends, even the chicken scratch of my teachers.  I understand the abbreviations everyone uses.  For some certain four letter words, French people will just take out the middle two letters; sont becomes st and avec becomes ac.  Words that end in -ion, like addition or extension, are changed into addit° or extend°.  Words that end in -ment, like development become develop(tiny t like the degree sign).

MDR = mort de rire = (literally) dying of laughter = DOL?

I'm writing like French people.  In cursive.  My Ss look like teeny tiny triangles.  My Xs look like an S next to a C.  My 9s looks like Gs.  My 1s look likes 7s.  I've just stopped mixing the two up and bombing math tests as a result.

I can comprehend dates slightly quicker than before.  It doesn't help that the numbers are all crazy.  Whenever the teacher says "in 1893", it's not eighteen ninety-three.  Oh no, it's one thousand, eight hundred (totally fine, blah blah blah) four twenty thirteen.

I'm used to the crazy number system, which is Napoleon's fault, by the way, he wanted a system that spies wouldn't have been able to understand, and the writing, and the stairs.  I've started thinking in French (ooh la la look at me, la francophone-y), but now everyone is asking me if I'm dreaming in French.

the language isn't what's concerning me at the moment

The Books :: Les Livres

Sometimes, all the electronic devices get overwhelming.  My host dad raised a very good point this morning that I did not cross the Atlantic Ocean to live in a cabinet to stare at a glowing screen.

maybe if he'd had a computer he'd have been less angsty

So, I went out of the house to the book store, since I remembered that I had to buy some books for French class.  There aren't any Barnes and Nobles here, just small boutiques.  They're all so pretty too, so much cozier than big stores. 

I'd spend way more time in them, but I "can't" get books in France, so I'd feel guilty gawking at all the pretty parts of the store and then not buy anything.  It's just that books are too heavy to bring back to the USA.

that's not me, the books would've smushed my feet already

I'll buy used kids books for around an euro each, so I can leave them in France for my host sister.  The thing is, is that whenever I read a French book, I have to write in the English translation of words I don't know.  Annotating has suddenly become a necessity.

librarians aren't nearly as happy as my English teacher was whenever I do so

I went back to my iTouch, sorry that'd I'd ever left it, and just got a bunch of Gutenberg Project books on iBooks, since they're the only free books that seem interesting.

I'll probably come back to the USA with ye olde English and old French since I'm sure that in Literature class here, we're reading books from 200 years ago, and my English is slowly rotting from speaking French all the time.

my handwriting is becoming disturbingly flowery

Apparently that's totally normal for exchange students.  Instead of speaking English like a good American, I'm translating the sentence in my head from French first.  Seeing as how my French is an awkward jumble of gibberish (though the gibberish is more comprehensible now), you can see why my English is screwed.  My spelling was already affected before, just imagine typing family with two Ls without even noticing it.

the red squiggly keeps coming back 

Baked Apples :: Les Pommes au Four

Since everyone is always asking me about French food, as I mentioned before, I decided that I will just document everything my host mother cooks, making me camera-happy every day.  It gives me a wonderful excuse to whip out my iTouch.

It wasn't today, but a while ago, my host mother made these for a dinner with her in-laws.  Even so, they're very easy to make.  I'd say they take no time at all, but I really don't know, since my host mom is just magical in the kitchen.  I just got my wand (BY THE WAY a wand in French is une baguette magique)

they're all enchantingly delicious

I should probably decrease my baguette jokes : month ratio.  Anyways, I warn you that my instructions would not help those that burn water.  Just so, I've added a bunch of pictures that I hope are self-explanatory.

pic 1: go and be a chef now

I'll do my best, though anything I write will be a pale imitation of what my host mother makes.

I suppose in the future I'll end up typing recipes like those boring pages with all the ingredients first and what not, but I can't really do that considering how my host mother just whips things up together and I'm frantically trying to understand how.

"oh that's how you - nope you just did something French"

So, more explanations from me than neat recipes.  Shame, since one of my friends said that he needed a dissection comprehensible for five-year-olds in order to even attempt cooking.  Guess he won't be able to eat French food then.

stop whining and go back to them cheeseburgers

I'm procrastinating on actually writing the article.  I apologize, since I still am.

Let's pretend that you are going to serve eight people.   Now, you are also pretending that you are a French person, which means that for dessert you eat a tiny tiny bit of food since you'd already be stuffed from the  appetizer, entrée, salad, cheese, and everything else I have to suffer through everyday.

it's horrifying how I'm treated here

Take eight apples.  Fine, 16 since you can't handle pretending to be French (fellow American, I understand).  Now, don't peel the apples, that's not good.  The skin of them will split right off and make the entire dish ugly.  Well, I suppose it's not really pretty afterwards anyways, but trust that it is supposedly butt-nasty with collapsed apple skin.  My host mother made some incisions in the apple to try to prevent that.

revolting

Hint: use apples that are good for baking.  Like Golden Delicious, or whatever you use in apple pie.  I have no idea, not being an apple expert myself, but I shall do an experiment one day with Fuji, Granny Smith, and Gala apples.  Or you can, and tell me what the results are.

Eating the skin is not necessary, it's just there to keep the apple from completely rupturing and become applesauce.  We want to keep the skin, but not the middle with all the seeds.  I hate eating seeds, especially in grapes.  Somehow France has no appreciation for seedless grapes.  It's the worse thing in the world when you're trying to enjoy a grape at the cafeteria and CRUNCH you got bitter between your teeth.  

not seen: the hell contained inside 

So core the apples (=remove the middle).  I'm not going to explain it all, so here's a link : http://www.ehow.com/how_5016725_core-apple-apple-corer.html I guess you could half the apple, it'd be so much easier, but my host mother didn't, so like I said, pale imitation.  Especially since you need that tunnel in the apple to put jam and butter.

Before you go nuts and try to stuff a cup of butter in the apple, and I should've said this earlier, you need to prepare the baking casserole thing first.  You've seen the picture above, it's like a cookie sheet with sides.  So like a brownie pan.  I'll learn the vocabulary when I get back to the USA, no time for that now.

Don't butter it, not necessary.  Remember how you took 16 apples?  Well, I hope you can put 16 apples in your casserole like in pic 1 above.  Yeah, how's being American doing for you?  Well, considering the size of our brownie pans, you'll be fine.

it's our breakfasts that are too small

Anyways, the golden ratio is one slice of bread (a pancake might be good too, actually) for each apple, so line the brownie pan with one layer of bread.  Now remember the tunnel in the middle of the apple as a result of coring it?  Well make it so that it's perpendicular to the bread (that means vertical), and fill it halfway with unmelted butter (don't stuff it though, just put like half a table spoon of butter in) and then fill the rest of the tunnel with jam.  Reference pic 1 with the eight apples above.

My host mother uses jam made with red fruit, like strawberries, cherries, raspberries, or gooseberries (currant jam) since they're nicely acidic in comparison to the apples, but I'm not going to stop you from using grape jelly.  I wouldn't think that that'd taste good though.

remember what I said about grape medicine?

Make sure that the half of the apple with the butter is on the bottom.  It'll melt and give the bread purpose, which I think is not exactly crucial for this dish.

I should've probably told you this before too, but seeing as how my host mother just put the dish in the oven at the same time as the chicken, I don't think there's an optimal temperature that the apples need to bake at.  They're apples, there's not really a need to kill germs or anything.

I could be wrong

She put it in the oven at 205°C for 30 minutes, about.  The time isn't really exact either, since I wasn't timing it, and she didn't remember care how long the apples were in the oven. 

pic 2: just leave them in there until they look like this

To recap (you poor fellow, after having read all of that above):

8 (or 16) apples
8 (or 16) slices of bread, or just until the casserole is lined with ONE layer
jam of a red fruit
some butter (really, it's however much you'd like, but note that it is necessary)

1. line casserole with one layer of bread (I'm emphasizing that a bit much
2. wash and core the apples, then dry them
3. score the apples a bit, to prevent butt-nasty skin explosion
4. put one apple on each thing of bread
5. put butter in the middle of the apple
6. then put jam
7. put the casserole with everything in it in the oven, at 205°C for 30 minutes, or until everything looks like pic2
8. then take the casserole out

I'm counting on your common sense to make up for my bad instructions

Oh, and the apple on the bottom half of pic 2, second from the left?  That's the apple that wasn't scored properly, and had it's skin slide right off.  Disgusting  

My First Week in Japan

Alright, even though my first week here was a few months ago, I remember it quite vividly.  It was definitely not a time that I would easily forget.

My welcome cake from my host family! I probably should've thought to take the picture before I started eating it, though...

I arrived in Japan at the Narita airport, and after meeting up with the only other semester student from America, we made our way through customs with no problem and were met by YFU staff at the entrance. From there, it was a two hour bus ride and then a ten minute taxi ride to the Olympic Youth Center in Tokyo.  After that little ordeal, I understood (perhaps a little too late) the concept of packing light and why it is important.  I had packed according the airline's limits of luggage per passenger, but trying to carry all of that by myself was almost impossible and several times I had to receive help from the YFU staff, which was embarrassing if anything else.  

But I digress--back to Japan:  After our arrival, we had dinner and were left alone for the remainder of the evening to settle in.  Now, after all of that travelling, nothing is more appealing than a hot shower or bath. However, since we were staying in a public place, it's obvious to assume that we had to use a public bathing facility.  But this is Japan we're talking about: the place famed for its onsen (hot springs) and also the style in which the people bathe (publicly nude!).

Something like this, only sometimes a bit more crowded. And for a couple of Gaijin (foreigners) who were completely new to this concept, well, it was certainly a bit of shock.

So, after this utterly new experience, I can't say I exactly spent a relaxing evening thanks to the wonders of motion sickness, but I'll spare you the gory details and just say that thanks to a very very kind YFU staff member, I made it through the night and was much better off the next morning.

The orientation lasted for five days, and while most of those days were spent at the Youth Center taking a crash course in Japanese, we did get to go site seeing a bit around Harajuku, aka the fashion center of Japan.

This photo was taken during Halloween, but when I went in August (when it's around 100 Degrees Fahrenheit and incredibly humid) I still saw a few people dressed up like this in the Lolita style.  I was as surprised by their resilience as much as by their fashion!

Once my orientation was over, unlike the two other semester students who had to take the Shinkansen down to Kyoto, I was picked up my host mom and my host sister, and took my first Japanese train to Sagamihara City.  

The next day, which was also the last day of my first week in Japan, my host mom and host sister took me out for dinner and a fireworks show at the station, which was absolutely beautiful! 

My host sister and I at a gyoza restaurant in Sagami-Ono station after the fireworks show.  That was a really fun night!

So thus concludes the main events of my first week in Japan.  I can still hardly believe that it's been over three months since then, but time really flies!  I've done a lot since then, like going to school, and trying new cultural things, but those'll have to wait for their own blog posts.