The sun streams in through my window and I can hear Marie, my host-sister, playing the violin in the next room. Life is wonderful. It has been a whole week since I have arrived and I could not be happier with my decision to study abroad here.
My host mothers name is Santa Miccaeli. She is wonderfully welcoming and always says “comme chez toi,” like it is your home. Technically the host families are not supposed to feed you every single meal, but Santa said that I could come back here for lunch and save my money for traveling, that is more important. Her daughter Marie is turning 15 this Friday and there has been mush hoopla about the big party she is having. For a 15 year old Marie seems very serious. She plays the cello with a conservatory and participates in another professional orchestra as well. Santa told me that her daughter likes to draw and paint too, but needs to decide between that and the cello because there is not enough time to do both.
Their dog, Victor, is the king of the house. Santa told me she didn’t have time to really train him because she works so much so he kinda just does what ever he wants. Which isn’t that big of a deal because he’s a small dog, but he also pees on the floor a lot. Santa said that he is the king and the baby at the same time; he is coddled to no end, sleeps with Santa, and eats mostly human food. When we were at the grocery store she picked up some lunch meat and I told her I was a vegetarian, she looked at me and said, “oh that’s not a problem! We don’t eat much meat, this is for Victor!” What a spoiled dog. I have to keep my door shut when I’m not in my room because he will steal my things.
The first day I got here I met Marie’s father Francois. Santa explained that they are separated, but not divorced. Their relationship is still good enough that he comes over for meals on the weekends sometimes.
I am the only American student in the apartment, a fact that I am happy about. I was nervous that if I had an American roommate I would spend too much time speaking English. I only speak French with the family, sometimes if I really don’t understand what Santa is trying to say, she’ll speak a work in English to help get her point across. I’m still nervous about making mistakes when I talk, a fact that I’ll just need to get over.
The apartment is located in Centre Ville, another fact that I am happy about. The walk to IAU takes about 15 minutes and the walk to Marchutz, the art studio, another 20.
Like most French homes there is a W.C. with just a toilet, and un salle de bain, with a sink and tub. In France they do not take standing up showers, but use the tub and hose attachment on the faucet. There is no curtain either, so it takes some practice in order to not make a mess.
My host mothers name is Santa Miccaeli. She is wonderfully welcoming and always says “comme chez toi,” like it is your home. Technically the host families are not supposed to feed you every single meal, but Santa said that I could come back here for lunch and save my money for traveling, that is more important. Her daughter Marie is turning 15 this Friday and there has been mush hoopla about the big party she is having. For a 15 year old Marie seems very serious. She plays the cello with a conservatory and participates in another professional orchestra as well. Santa told me that her daughter likes to draw and paint too, but needs to decide between that and the cello because there is not enough time to do both.
Their dog, Victor, is the king of the house. Santa told me she didn’t have time to really train him because she works so much so he kinda just does what ever he wants. Which isn’t that big of a deal because he’s a small dog, but he also pees on the floor a lot. Santa said that he is the king and the baby at the same time; he is coddled to no end, sleeps with Santa, and eats mostly human food. When we were at the grocery store she picked up some lunch meat and I told her I was a vegetarian, she looked at me and said, “oh that’s not a problem! We don’t eat much meat, this is for Victor!” What a spoiled dog. I have to keep my door shut when I’m not in my room because he will steal my things.
The first day I got here I met Marie’s father Francois. Santa explained that they are separated, but not divorced. Their relationship is still good enough that he comes over for meals on the weekends sometimes.
I am the only American student in the apartment, a fact that I am happy about. I was nervous that if I had an American roommate I would spend too much time speaking English. I only speak French with the family, sometimes if I really don’t understand what Santa is trying to say, she’ll speak a work in English to help get her point across. I’m still nervous about making mistakes when I talk, a fact that I’ll just need to get over.
The apartment is located in Centre Ville, another fact that I am happy about. The walk to IAU takes about 15 minutes and the walk to Marchutz, the art studio, another 20.
Like most French homes there is a W.C. with just a toilet, and un salle de bain, with a sink and tub. In France they do not take standing up showers, but use the tub and hose attachment on the faucet. There is no curtain either, so it takes some practice in order to not make a mess.