en retard is an understatement

Over the last few days, I've had several conversations about how France is behind, or "en retard", in relation to the rest of the world. It's true from the most banal of situations (the host of a talk show asking Jennifer Aniston about the possibility of a 'Friends' movie) to some that are pretty difficult to swallow from the perspective of an American student (paper registration at the university, professors absences being announced via bulletin board). There's also things like recycling (they only recycle glass, as far as I can tell), whole grain bread (impossible to find), and hybrid cars (here, almost everything still runs on diesel!). Perhaps it is linked to the sense of urgency there is here to preserve a formerly-dominant culture that is becoming less and less relevant, resulting in a reluctancy to adopt anything new (my European Union professor's words, not mine). And perhaps this is why we -- or at least I -- had always thought of France as having a sort of timeless style. The truth is, they just never changed their style.

I don't know about you, but I never really associated France as being a country that was particularly "far behind". Disorganized, yes; fashionably late, always. But I never realized that not showing up on time for a dinner party also had repercussions in wider social development. And what's even more interesting is that it took other French people alerting me to this connection for me to understand it. You see, the French are completely aware of the fact that they are a bit slow on the pick-up when it comes to newness, and are not ashamed in the slightest. I respect this a lot, considering I'm the kind of person who would totally bow to the pressure of what is shiny and cool and new and trendy. Just one of the many things France has to teach me.

I'm pretty sure that was Darth Vader that just walked by

So I think I've figured out the reason why Halloween has never really caught on here in France. It's because children here spend weeks thinking up the ultimate costume for Mardi Gras instead. Which, if you think about it, makes more sense than our holiday. Fat Tuesday festivities -- and all the masked revelry that accompanies it -- have been a tradition far longer than trick-or-treating. But apart from the masked toddlers I saw walking the streets of Lyon today, there doesn't really seem to be anything else to the celebration. And definitely no free candy (I definitely would have known about that).

Last night, I went to a concert that my French friend describes as plus branché que branché. It was a special invitation-only sneak preview concert of tonight's show at Grrnd Zero, the hipster venue of choice in this fair city. My friend is friends with the club's manager's girlfriend, so I was invited to tag along. We were there super early, so I tried to make friendly with one of the performing bands, Wavves, who actually hail from the good old US of A. Eventually, Lyon's hipster elite trickled in, filling the room with their enormous glasses and puffing on their cigarettes. Never have I been in such a tightly enclosed space with so much noise and smoke. Needless to say, my clothes smell horrible. And while it was certainly entertaining to watch hipsters bop their heads to non-rhythmic music, I couldn't stand it past 11:30pm and headed home.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to post last weekend from the small town of Bully, where I spent a few nights on the invitation of a friend from school. Her pseudo-boyfriend is woofing at a vineyard there, just short of an hour northwest of the city. I am not sure where that term came from, but it basically means he toils the fields all day in exchange for food and lodging.

I'm not sure it's worth it.

True, I'm probably the sissiest city girl you'll get, and the house has been inhabited by weather-beaten farm hands for the last three years, but would it hurt to mop every once in awhile? Aside from the claustrophobic and smelly bathroom, I really enjoyed seeing the countryside. The rolling hills and hamlets criss-crossed by cobblestone roads were exactly what I pictured. However, I am an idiot and forgot my camera. Hopefully I'll make it out there one more time before the end of the semester so I can show you what I mean.

finally, the french word for hipster

It certainly is nice to be back home. Berlin is fantastic and has a great vibe, but I don't think I could have lasted another day with my French travel buddy. Plus, it was super cold! It snowed for 2 days straight, which was awesome -- until it started to melt. But before it turned into goopy slush, Berlin looked like this:


When recapping my trip with my host family, Antoine (my host dad) described Berlin as very branché. Literally, it means "well-connected", but apparently it applies to very trendy, well-accessorized people too. Berlin certainly has plenty of those, which I appreciate a lot after coming from an incredibly homogenized city like Lyon. Had I been traveling with someone else (I'll try to stop complaining about her, but it's hard), I would have liked to hang out in more local cafés/restaurants/bars, but I guess I'll have to leave that until next time...

loosen up, bitte.

So, as I was saying, the French girl I'm travelling with is really getting on my nerves. While it's probably inevitable to not get annoyed by someone after spending an entire week with him/her, I've also made the unfortunate discovery on this trip that my friend is mean. Case in point: a middle aged German man was staying in our hostel for the first half of my stay here, and she just would not stop making fun of him. Every time we went back to the room, she would complain about how he smelled and would request that we go down to the lobby rather than stay in the room with him. He never did anything to us, and it kind of offended me that she was being so cruel to a person she didn't even know.

Other than her company, though, this trip has been pretty great. I would have liked to spend more time at the Festival (she said she wasn't just here for the festival and wanted to see the city too -- except that by the day the festival ended, we had already seen pretty much everything there is to see here). I had to settle on one movie a day, and since Sunday (the last day of the festival), we've basically just been looking for places to eat outside. This is pretty torturous for me, because she only eats muffins. Seriously. I don't understand how she is not vitamin deficient as she eats no fruits or vegetables or meat. And she is quite picky about her muffin/coffee breaks, asking that we find a little café off the main drag - and then appearing weirded out about the back alley-ness of the ones we do find. And then says that maybe we should just go to Starbucks.

Maybe I should be the one that's loosening up, but I will certainly be glad to get back to Lyon and have some good quality alone time.

is it sacreligious to say the french have no style?

I'm probably just being bitter, but the French girl I'm travelling with here in Berlin is really getting on my nerves. She just doesn't travel in the same way that I do -- that being, trying to really immerse myself into the culture and enjoying the best things the city has to offer (hear that tone of bitterness? I'm sorry, I really can't help myself). Anyway, she hasn't eaten any German food since we've been here, and pretty much only eats muffins and pastries. I'll go on a more detailed rant, but I'll leave you on a lighter note with some photos of this great city.

at least we've got a good average

I have to make this brief, because I'm posting from my hostel where everyone else seems to be asleep. Things are getting a little tense between me and the French girl I'm traveling with, but thankfully I have the movies to lift my spirits. We've seen a fair number of actors so far, which I'll list and hopefully provide a few photos for tomorrow. Berlin isn't gorgeous in the typical sense, but I feel a strong attraction to it, and I'm looking forward to discovering the various neighborhoods starting tomorrow. The two films I've seen thus far have been pretty average - nothing spectacularly mind-blowing - but I'm seeing two competition films on Sunday which will hopefully deliver the goods. Tschuss for now!

is that an asian girl? or, here comes the sun.

This fascination French boys have for Japanese girls is really starting to get on my nerves. Last night, I brought 2 of my japanese friends to a concert (which was good only for people-watching purposes, so I wont even bother to comment further). The first band resembled your everyday high school garage punk trio. Very cute in a 16-year-old-playing-their-first-gig kind of way, they almost upstaged the main act, a band from New York featuring a frontman who spoke in English with a terrible French accent (even though he is from NEW YORK). While it definitely takes balls to diss your entire audience, it's also pretty obnoxious.

While this incredibly un-PC guy was playing his set, the boys from the first bad (or as my friend dubbed them, the jailbait) came over to my friends and gave them a copy of their CD for free. When it became clear that the girls didn't understand completely what he was saying, he switched to English -- because, of course, that would work with girls from Japan where people speak Japanese. Anyway, I almost died laughing watching the kid put his moves on my friends while his wingman (aka the drummer of the band), a Ben Gibbard look-alike shaming true punks everywhere by wearing a Ramones t-shirt, just stood by awkwardly.

My friend (also American) and myself headed off to another party after the concert, but the girls decided to stay on for the after party at a nearby club. We wished them good luck with their new boy toys. But, as my friend pointed out, it didn't seem like they actually knew they were getting hit on. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

The sun finally came out today after a straight week of rain. I hope the weather in Berlin will be better.

selling the school

This afternoon, I met with Delphine, a third-year English major who is one of thirty applicants competing for the one spot granted to a Lyon 3 student at Georgetown next year. She speaks English remarkably fluidly (note: I did not say remarkably well) and has already visited DC and the campus after spending last summer in Maryland. It's amazing to me how difficult it is to go to Georgetown from France when coming here, for me, was a piece of cake. I was the only person who applied to the program for the full year, and the paperwork and interviews were really all just formalities. Delphine seems genuinely interested in coming to Georgetown, so I hope it works out for her. She gets the results in 2 weeks.

As for me, I'm counting down the days to my trip to Berlin. Only 6 days left! I've purchased tickets for the gala screening of "An Education" which received positive reviews at Sundance (and a distribution deal from Sony Pictures Classics). I also have a busy week ahead of me, with a planning pow-wow for a weekend in Chamonix tomorrow night, the theater on Friday night, and a concert on Saturday night. I mean, I've got to make these last 4 months count!

my face is tan, my butt is bruised

I am POOPED after my very first day of snowboarding at the small Savoie-Alps resort of Valmorel. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring my camera with me up to the slopes (it's too bulky, not to mention I would have fallen on it multiple times), but my friend who came with me took some pictures that I hope to post soon.

We had a 4:30am wake up call this morning, which is earlier than I ever hope to wake up ever again. Fortunately, adrenaline overpowered fatigue as I learned the basics with my instructor Sebastien during my morning lesson. He's only 21 and has been teaching snowboarding and skiing for 4 years! He also has really pretty eyelashes, but I digress...

The most traumatizing part was getting up the teleski - not a ski-lift, but the mini lift that you but between your legs to go up short distances. While I got it right the very first time, the next four times saw me face first in the snow. Strangely, both in skiing and in snowboarding, I have a lot of trouble turning left (à la Zoolander), so during my solo practice on the baby slope in the afternoon, there was a lot of turning right, falling, getting back up, and turning right again going on. All that physical activity was made a lot harder by the blazing sun, which provided a gorgeous view of the mountains (and also a lot of sweaty ski gear). We were so lucky to have such good weather.

I am proud to say that on my very last trip down the bunny hill, I made it all the way without falling. That put me in a good mood heading back to our bus (also helped by a delicious dark chocolate crêpe). Now, however, I am bruised all over and am doubtful that I will ever be able to get myself out of bed.