Chapter 22: Freitag ist wunderbar

nerd blog post #23

On August 25th, 2008, at 11:57pm, I submitted the final essay for my Master's degree, electronically. I then looked around my room, which was a complete disaster. Two suitcases lay open and empty, my passport and various other important documents were mixed up with garbage bags for Goodwill, garbage bags for garbage, and all of the clothes and things I was to pack. And so I did the natural thing, which was obviously to quickly get changed and run down the street to the local pub entitled the Artful Dodger, where a dozen or so friends were ready for one last hoorah.

The next day was spent packing, running around, and trying to chill with friends and family. At the airport, even though I was sure I was underweight (my luggage, not me..), I was almost 10kg over, and had five minutes to make some hasty decisions as to what to leave behind. No, I would never payyy to bring extra stuff. And so my poor parents and Bronwyn stood around as I whipped clothes and books into different piles, and finally had two suitcases that barely met the limit.

Yes, dear readers, it has been exactly one month today since I left the true North, strong, and free.

For any of you who read Bronco's open letter to Cynthia re: my haircutting abilities in the comments section of yesterday's post, I would like to retaliate by saying the following:
1. Yes, I butchered Bronco's hair. Yes, it was thirteen years ago. And no, I didn't understand that curly hair, when dry, is shorter than when wet. Blame my parents for giving me the genes they did..
2. I was the victim in the infamous curling iron catastrophe of 1997. The victim.
3. Cynthia's hair looks great. Then we cut mine. Also great. Euro chic1000.net.

Last night I did what I said, which was to tidy up my room and write some e-mees. I also talked to some peeps on Skype. Skype is unreal, my friends, and I cannot encourage you enough to get on that train. It's free and you can see my face. I'll maybe even show you my lung x-ray. Just do it.

Now, it costs a pretty penny to come to France, but it would have been well-worth it for any of you to come just to see me in my first German class. It was amazingly awkward.. There are two two-hour classes a week, and I missed the first three classes because.. well, one because I didn't know yet, and the others because Doc was here and I wanted to see him the whole time. So I showed up on the fourth class, explained to the prof that I'm a lecteur, sat down in the front row (where the good kids sit!) and waited for everyone else to file in.

I don't speak German, but I also don't not speak German. With a few German friends, and a shameless will to try, I can understand some convos and say some things. I can memorize vocabulary like lines in a play. What I lack are the fundamentals of verb conjugations and placement, and a basic understanding of how the language works. Not so simple, but not square 1 either.

I knew that I would be behind, not because I jumped in late, but because these students have taken German throughout high school. I didn't know that I would be completely lost. I didn't think about the fact that all non-German would be in French, and at rapid speed. My head was spinning from the start. A few minutes in, it was time for each student to present their homework, which was to present two sides of a political debate to the class, in a couple of minutes. Since I had missed the other classes, and since she could see that perhaps I wasn't following anything, she asked me to go up to the front of the class and talk about myself for a few minutes..

And so I started..
My name is Emily. I have brown hair and brown eyes and freckles.
In what seemed like an eternity, I told the class everything I possibly could about myself, including that I don't have a dog or play guitar or tennis, that my brother has green eyes and that I live in the city. Eventually, she cut me off and I could sit down.

At the end of the class, she held me back and told me that perhaps I should consider a lower level. The next level down is the lowest level, which is for students who have never taken German before, aka the baby class. No thanks, I told her. I'll catch up.

I'm excited to see what four hours a week will do for my German, and if I'll make some friends in my class. I was concerned that I'd maybe get German and French mixed up, but I realize that since German is being taught in French, if that makes sense, it's impossible to melange the two. Needless to say, I have a lot of homework before Monday's class! I'm pumped.

The best part of my day is often the morning, when I checkee e-mees. Some days are better than others, no doubt, but so far there has always been something to read from home. Due to the time difference, the morning is when most of them come in, as most peeps do their internet business at night. Today I wondered if it was unhealthy to look forward to morning e-mees so much.. If I'm living here with too much of my heart back in Canada. I don't think so, though. I think it's natural, especially in the first weeks here. This morning was like Christmas/Hannukah! I heard from some dear friends for the first time, and from my aunt, who has not been so well the past couple of years. It was an amazing kick-start to my day.

Now, I'll venture downtown to buy dental floss. I'ma floss, for real this time. Next person who sees Dr. Katchy can tell him, and award him with 5 points. I'll also get my bank card, which was embarrassingly eaten by an ATM because I didn't understand which pin code to use... Then, some patio chillage and grandparent lettering. The rest of the week-end is still up in the air, but Rennes is sunny and Hinckster is happy.

Love to you all.

Hincks.