C'est la vie en rose. Everything has been so overwhelmingly wonderful that I've actually had a few brief moments of panic where I imagine that I'll have to go through a major catastrophe as some sort of karmic payment for this week. Basically, this seems too good to be true. Aix-en-Provence is one of the coolest cities I've ever seen; my host family couldn't be better; my IAU classmates are awesome, and I've had some of the most stimulating conversations of my life this week, some of which were in French. This is quickly becoming a brag journal, but I guess that's what happens when you write about an experience worthy of envy.
Aix has everything a twenty-year-old francophile could want: world-class food (of every variety, not just French), beautiful architecture, rich history, lots of fun and often quirky bars, a few nightclubs, and 40,000 students who are generally excited to go out, meet people, and have a good time. I recently learned that Aix is also a hub for the arts, particularly music, and is home to a prestigious conservatory. Many of the street performers here are Carnegie Hall material. There's also a great park south of the city proper called Parc Relais Krypton where people go mountain biking, camping, etc. On my first day here, I took my host family's mountain bike out to the park and had a fantastic time despite the fact that my ambitious excursion onto an unmarked trail ended in a painful crash into a wall of thorn bushes.
That brings me to my host family. They're so cool that I often feel like a complete goober. My host mother Murielle is a psychiatrist, an artist, and a very caring person. Several times this week, she's asked me with heartwarming sincerity if I'm alright, if I miss my home and family, if there's anything she can do to help me transition. Her kindness and openness make it very easy to speak with her, and my French is improving exponentially as a result. We've shared - or at least begun to share - our opinions about religion, philosophy, visual art, literature, food, Facebook, various TV shows, rugby, and many other subjects that have happened to arise. My host father Olivier is also very nice, and he has a dry sense of humor that I find hilarious despite my inability to grasp it fully. Hopefully by the end of the semester I'll be able to appreciate the finer points of his humor and his intellect. My host sister Perle is one of the most mature 17-year-old girls I've ever met. Maybe it's a cultural difference between the French and the Americans, but she seems to have the social savoir-faire of a young woman in her early twenties. She is always very sweet, and like her parents, she's patient when I'm too tired to speak easily comprehensible French. On my first night in Aix, Perle took me out on the town with her boyfriend Armand and his friend Pierre. They were all exceptionally friendly and excited to teach me some popular slang phrases like "je kiffe ça," which means "I like that" or "I'm into that." My host parents also have two sons who live elsewhere now. I hope to meet them sometime this semester.
The Early Start Program was a worthwhile experience that I would recommend to anyone who plans to study at IAU. It was very easy to get to know the town without the stress of a full course load, and the program's various activities produced some very cozy friendships. The program ended with a mahvelous trip to the beaches of La Sciota, a town on the Côte Azur. The Early Start classes were very informative and offered a chance to become close with the professors before our semester-long classes began. Among our many fundamental lessons of French culture was one that dealt with the art of saying hello. Basic summary: "bonjour" for the first time you see someone in a day from morning to sunset, "bon soir" for the first time you see someone at or after sunset, "salut" for a subsequent greeting and/or a greeting that implies a bit of familiarity, "coucou" for a very familiar greeting. Our only assignment throughout the Early Start Program (at least in my group) was to write a one-page description of our experience at the marché aux fleurs, the city-wide market in Aix. My description may be of interest to those who have never been to a French market, so I'll post it here:
Quelques réflexions sur le marché aux fleurs d’Aix-en-Provence
Aller au marché aux fleurs d’Aix-en-Provence est une expérience fortement voluptueuse. Toute la ville sent le pain, les fruits, les légumes, les viandes variées et bien sûr les fleurs. On voit partout les gens qui s’occupent attentivement de trouver les meilleures choses à acheter. L’énergie de ces citoyens est presque palpable. Il y a aussi le son rythmique des discussions animées entre les marchands et les consommateurs. Le marché est magnétique ; plusieurs musiciens et artistes de rue y vont pour partager et vendre leurs talents.
Quand j’avais seize ans, je suis allé au marché aux fleurs de Bonnieux, un village dans le Luberon. Je me souviens que le marché de Bonnieux avait la même volupté et le même magnétisme que celui d’Aix. J’ai néanmoins remarqué à Aix des choses qui n’étaient pas évidentes pour moi à Bonnieux. Par exemple, j’ai entendu l’accent provençal. J’ai aperçu que les provençaux prononcent le mot « pain » comme « paing » et parlent généralement avec plus de variations dans la longueur des syllabes par rapport aux parisiens. J’ai aussi remarqué la variété d’articles à vendre. Il n’y a pas seulement des fleurs et de la nourriture ; quelques marchands vendent les vêtements, les bijoux, les peintures et même les petites sculptures d’aluminium.
J’ai décidé d’acheter une baguette donc j’ai salué la vendeuse de pain et en ai commandé une. Je n’avais malheureusement que des gros billets, ce qui est un faux pas pour lequel j’ai anticipé d’être puni. J’ai commencé à m’excuser abondamment tout en disant que je pouvais aller prendre la quantité précise. Puis, la vendeuse a ri, m’a donné une expression confuse et m’a dit : « nous avons de la monnaie en France ». Elle a commencé à me donner aimablement ma monnaie et pendant que je l’ai remerciée et lui dit au revoir, je me suis promis de ne pas oublier que les tendances culturelles ne sont pas des lois de la nature.
Aix has everything a twenty-year-old francophile could want: world-class food (of every variety, not just French), beautiful architecture, rich history, lots of fun and often quirky bars, a few nightclubs, and 40,000 students who are generally excited to go out, meet people, and have a good time. I recently learned that Aix is also a hub for the arts, particularly music, and is home to a prestigious conservatory. Many of the street performers here are Carnegie Hall material. There's also a great park south of the city proper called Parc Relais Krypton where people go mountain biking, camping, etc. On my first day here, I took my host family's mountain bike out to the park and had a fantastic time despite the fact that my ambitious excursion onto an unmarked trail ended in a painful crash into a wall of thorn bushes.
That brings me to my host family. They're so cool that I often feel like a complete goober. My host mother Murielle is a psychiatrist, an artist, and a very caring person. Several times this week, she's asked me with heartwarming sincerity if I'm alright, if I miss my home and family, if there's anything she can do to help me transition. Her kindness and openness make it very easy to speak with her, and my French is improving exponentially as a result. We've shared - or at least begun to share - our opinions about religion, philosophy, visual art, literature, food, Facebook, various TV shows, rugby, and many other subjects that have happened to arise. My host father Olivier is also very nice, and he has a dry sense of humor that I find hilarious despite my inability to grasp it fully. Hopefully by the end of the semester I'll be able to appreciate the finer points of his humor and his intellect. My host sister Perle is one of the most mature 17-year-old girls I've ever met. Maybe it's a cultural difference between the French and the Americans, but she seems to have the social savoir-faire of a young woman in her early twenties. She is always very sweet, and like her parents, she's patient when I'm too tired to speak easily comprehensible French. On my first night in Aix, Perle took me out on the town with her boyfriend Armand and his friend Pierre. They were all exceptionally friendly and excited to teach me some popular slang phrases like "je kiffe ça," which means "I like that" or "I'm into that." My host parents also have two sons who live elsewhere now. I hope to meet them sometime this semester.
The Early Start Program was a worthwhile experience that I would recommend to anyone who plans to study at IAU. It was very easy to get to know the town without the stress of a full course load, and the program's various activities produced some very cozy friendships. The program ended with a mahvelous trip to the beaches of La Sciota, a town on the Côte Azur. The Early Start classes were very informative and offered a chance to become close with the professors before our semester-long classes began. Among our many fundamental lessons of French culture was one that dealt with the art of saying hello. Basic summary: "bonjour" for the first time you see someone in a day from morning to sunset, "bon soir" for the first time you see someone at or after sunset, "salut" for a subsequent greeting and/or a greeting that implies a bit of familiarity, "coucou" for a very familiar greeting. Our only assignment throughout the Early Start Program (at least in my group) was to write a one-page description of our experience at the marché aux fleurs, the city-wide market in Aix. My description may be of interest to those who have never been to a French market, so I'll post it here:
Quelques réflexions sur le marché aux fleurs d’Aix-en-Provence
Aller au marché aux fleurs d’Aix-en-Provence est une expérience fortement voluptueuse. Toute la ville sent le pain, les fruits, les légumes, les viandes variées et bien sûr les fleurs. On voit partout les gens qui s’occupent attentivement de trouver les meilleures choses à acheter. L’énergie de ces citoyens est presque palpable. Il y a aussi le son rythmique des discussions animées entre les marchands et les consommateurs. Le marché est magnétique ; plusieurs musiciens et artistes de rue y vont pour partager et vendre leurs talents.
Quand j’avais seize ans, je suis allé au marché aux fleurs de Bonnieux, un village dans le Luberon. Je me souviens que le marché de Bonnieux avait la même volupté et le même magnétisme que celui d’Aix. J’ai néanmoins remarqué à Aix des choses qui n’étaient pas évidentes pour moi à Bonnieux. Par exemple, j’ai entendu l’accent provençal. J’ai aperçu que les provençaux prononcent le mot « pain » comme « paing » et parlent généralement avec plus de variations dans la longueur des syllabes par rapport aux parisiens. J’ai aussi remarqué la variété d’articles à vendre. Il n’y a pas seulement des fleurs et de la nourriture ; quelques marchands vendent les vêtements, les bijoux, les peintures et même les petites sculptures d’aluminium.
J’ai décidé d’acheter une baguette donc j’ai salué la vendeuse de pain et en ai commandé une. Je n’avais malheureusement que des gros billets, ce qui est un faux pas pour lequel j’ai anticipé d’être puni. J’ai commencé à m’excuser abondamment tout en disant que je pouvais aller prendre la quantité précise. Puis, la vendeuse a ri, m’a donné une expression confuse et m’a dit : « nous avons de la monnaie en France ». Elle a commencé à me donner aimablement ma monnaie et pendant que je l’ai remerciée et lui dit au revoir, je me suis promis de ne pas oublier que les tendances culturelles ne sont pas des lois de la nature.