Le Quatrieme Jour

Firstly, I would like to clear a few myths about the French:
1) France is not dirty, at least not any dirtier than would would expect with so many people in such a small space.
2) The French are actually very helpful, specially if you sit in their seat on the train and then they tell you that you have the wrong seat, but you don't understand them and then have to tell them to speak more slowly, then they start speaking broken English for your sake and you think they're telling you to wait outside the car, so you go fiddle with your luggage until they come and get you and explain that you can sit anywhere you want, but if someone has a reserved seat you have to give it up to them. Then they help you get your massive amount of luggage off the train because you look so young and lost, and you drop your suitcase on your toe again and nearly break it.
3) Not all French folks take wine with their meals, nor do they all smoke. My landlady, for instance, has said that she does not like to drink, and she does not smoke. In fact, I have seen fewer people smoking here than on the Westminster campus, and half of those people have been either German or Japanese.

Today I wore a t-shirt out and about, and never have I gotten more stares from the average passer-by. If women wear t-shirts here they're cute and fitted, so there's no better way to scream "I'm American!" than to wear a faded, loose cotton t-shirt.

Good news, all. I have a Skype account, laurel12685, at which you can call me. So please, call me at a reasonable hour, keeping in mind that I am 7 hours ahead. I'm insanely jealous of the other international students who still can use thier cell phones in France ("Call me later if you want to come out with us. Oh, no cell phone? Too bad."), but one way or the other I'll work around it. I would find the group of cell phone-enabled students. Also, I'm not the fat American, as I anticipated. There are several other Americans who fatter than I. And they consistently speak English, so they stick out like sore thumbs. Hah. Then again, the Germans do the same, though they tend to be a bit mor trim in their physique. But I'm not worried, since it takes my short legs 20 minutes to get to and from school, and though I've some wicked shin splints I anticipate a massive increase in leg muscle and endurance by the end of the semester.

Jet lag has displayed itself in funny ways. I can sleep and wake when I want/need to, but I tend to take really long naps in the middle of the day, such as from 4-10, or 2-7:30. I've missed supper twice becuase I've been sleeping. It's extremely disorienting.

I would also love to speed up my learning process, because every time I try to tell a funny story to Mme Rey, my landlady, I end up lapsing into silence because I can't translate fast enough or actually enough. However, there are a bunch of American students sitting around me, using their laptops as well, and their accents and their vocabulary are worse than mine, so I feel a little bit better. It's easy to tell who's American by their accents, or because they say "uh" when they are at a loss for words. I'm trying to avoid them, because I'll be thinking in French, speaking French, then the Americans cluster and I forget how to speak French. Curse you, fellow Americans in Angers. Curse you.

Well, it's time for me to find some food, stock up on groceries for breakfast (which will be interesting), and find a darn birthday card for my brother. For the life of me, I cannot find one. But au revoir, mes amis, et n'oublie pas à prier pour moi.