Houses and Rain

This has been a fairly hectic week, what with picking classes, finishing cours intensif and deciding to move homestays. On Tuesday I went to the ENSAM, an engineering school in Aix, to help out an English class. The professor, an Irish woman, wanted exchange students to go and join in the discussions with the French engineers. The school is on the outskirts of Aix and seems horribly run-down. The buildings are bleak concrete blocks and the classroom was bare and unattractive. Most of the students hadn’t really done any work, either. They’d been given two hours to read an English article but, when asked to discuss, few actually knew what the article was about. Still, it was interesting and the professor asked if I’d go back and help again next week.

Tuesday was also inauguration day. Because French TV was going to overdub Obama’s speech into French, I went with some other students to the cyber café and watched on CNN.com. I think we were all a little bit underwhelmed by the speech, to be honest, but the locals were exuberant. Everyone here is very happy Obama is in office and, like Americans, expects great things.

On Wednesday I finally saw where I’ll be taking classes starting Monday, La Faculté de Lettres. The quickest way to get there, apparently, is to cut through Parc Jourdan, take a bridge over the railroad tracks, and then follow a narrow, muddy path between the rails and a graffiti-smeared wall. People had warned me that La Fac looked like it belonged in a former Soviet country. That’s an exaggeration, but compared to Michigan, it’s a disaster. The outside walls are crumbling in places. The few signs around the “campus” and inside the building are dirty and faded. Inside, ads for student political groups, concerts, and tutoring help are plastered to practically every surface. Painting is a haphazard affair: on some walls, they seemed to paint for a little while and then give up. It looks messy and rundown. But the difference is that at Michigan, students pay upwards of $20,000 per year. At La Fac, French students pay next to nothing. And because all French universities are regarded as equals, there’s no competition between them to be nicer than others.

I also picked out my classes. Because it’d be very tough to get Communications transfer credit, I’m going to work on finishing up my French minor. That means taking classes that are about France, in any respect. Tentatively, I’ve picked out the following: Anthropology of Provence, Anthropology of France, History of Religious Life in France, Social and Cultural History in 19^th Century France, France in Perspective, and Expression Écrite, the mandatory continuation of cours intensif. It’s the equivalent of 16 Michigan credits, although it seems like far less class time per week than I’d normally take. French students typically take closer to 30 credits at a time, and we’re only doing a fraction of that.

On Friday I saw two new homestays—see the last post for why I might/will move. The first was an apartment in a part of Aix that’s perhaps less pretty than where I currently live, but far closer to La Fac and, well, everything else important. The woman who lives there, a Madame G, is in her mid-forties, works from home, and has a black dog. The apartment is smaller than Mme T’s, but there’s still adequate space and balconies looking out over Aix and the distant hills. But more than anything, Mme G seemed sooo friendly. She told me we’d try all sorts of French food, including frogs’ legs and escargots, and that she’d love to chat with me and would accept any differences in viewpoints we had—very different from Mme T, who seems to be confused whenever we challenge her stereotyped views of American life. Overall, I just got an overwhelmingly sense of warmth and welcome.

I also visited the home of Vivien, a British lady who teaches English here in France. She lives alone with her 15-year-old daughter. Their house is amazing: it’s an old, old building in a street very close to the Cours Mirabeau. When you enter through a big, thick wooden door, you go up a spiral staircase and along a long corridor to get to the main rooms. It truly is an old-fashioned house and was adorably quaint. She’s decorated everywhere with really nice furniture and lamps and posters, and my room was especially charming. There was a big fluffy bed, Ikea lamps, a large desk with a TV and DVD player, and in lieu of a closet—my actual closet would be just down the hall from the room—there’s a giant “nook” in the wall covered by a hanging curtain. But despite all this, I had some reservations. Vivien is British, and although she speaks French, it has a heavy upper-class British accent. And she said that she didn’t cook for her previous exchange students, but would try to make me all sorts of British specialties. I feel like me coming to France and living with a British family defeats the purpose of study abroad. Moreover, Vivien’s rent is €20 more per month that Mme G’s. I have until Monday to decide.

Yesterday it rained, and I told Mme T that we’d already seen every type of weather in Aix: snow, rain, and sun.

Today it rained more, and because I am also out of groceries with which to make lunches, I took the bus with some other students to Carrefour. A ten-minute bus ride from Aix, Carrefour is what would result if Walmart and Meijer had a child, and raised it in France. It is giant and sells everything: clothes, food, TVs, mopeds, freshly-sliced meats, books—everything you could ever want under one roof. And the food was cheaper and with a better selection than Casino or Monoprix in Aix. They also had free samples. I tried apple/mango/coconut juice, which was delicious; prawn crackers; and an absolutely amazing Alsacien sausage. Quite an experience!