Proud to be an American. Most of the time.

First, I'm not so sure about the stereotypes about the French. Yesterday Dominique wore both a beret and a blue and white striped shirt. Maybe at the end of the summer I'll have a better idea of the true French.

I still believe that the stereotype that says the French are rude is a lie, although I did talk with a woman who  wasn't super polite after she found out I'm American. Pas grave. I think that is the only time that's happened. Usually, the people we meet are hospitable and friendly. We all have funny stories about meeting new people, but a common reaction is, "American? Cool!!" They are often curious about the United States. Much of our films, music, and television has made its way to France, and many French people think Americans eat a lot of pizza, party hard in Mexico during spring break, and live luxurious lives like the people in movies and music videos. Today, a girl in my communication class said, "I'm not proud to come from the same country as 'Jersey Shore,'" since it impacted her family's idea of a typical American.

While we were visiting Mont St Michel, there were American tourists, and- my word! English is much harsher on the ears. We all discreetly smiled at one another and laughed to ourselves when we heard an English speaker. I thought, "These Americans are irritating," before remembering that I too am American. Then I felt embarrassed, because these tourists were verifying many unfortunate stereotypes.

Although I speak softly in the bus so my accent doesn't blow my cover, there have been several times that I have been fiercely proud to be an American. The strongest was when I was walking through the American cemetary in Normandy, then on Omaha Beach. I have thought more about the differences between the two cemetaries that we visited, and I also asked several people for their opinions. The prof that I asked answered so well. His response was the puzzle piece I felt missing in my understanding of the cemetaries. He said that the American cemetary has an ambiance of heroism. That's what sparked my pride and patriotism in Normandy. The German soldiers fought by obligation. Both cemetaries, however, are the final resting places of many young men who gave themselves for their country. Both are solemn and heartbreaking when you consider the.... I truly can't remember how to spell the word I wanted to use next. I recognize more and more the atrophy of my English muscle. I'm sure you can imagine where I was headed with that sentence. The war devastated everyone involved. I asked my host dad why he thought the cemetaries are different, since he has been to both. He sees it in a different way. He said that the Gerrman cemetary is la mort and darkness. It is sad because it is a cemetary, but the American cemetary is vivant. It is full of life.

Apart from these experiences of patriotism, I am trying to conform to the culture (sans the smoking and drinking). Another aspect of la culture française that I haven't conformed to is how short French women wear their hair. My host parents explained to me that long hair is for young girls. When girls reach fourteen or fifteen years old, they often cut and keep their hair short. If it is kept long, it is usually pulled up into a bun. I've opted for the bun.

I've had a few people think I'm French! But it's only when I don't talk a lot. The first time probably doesn't count, because it wasn't with a French speaker. We were in Normandy, and some girls and I were returning from the beach to the hostel where we were staying, and an English girl was following behind us. When we reached the hostel, I held the door open for her out of la politesse and said, "Après toi." She responded with a "merci" that sounded very English. A severe R like ours doesn't exist in French. French Rs sound like a purring cat that has a mouth full of spit. It's hard to imagine that French is known for its beauty and elegance after that description, but it really is a lovely language.

During the weekend, I went with my host mom to a jewelry store to pick out a watch. Both my mom and the woman helping us asked me my opinion and preferences, which don't require lengthy responses. When the woman referred to me as Monique's daughter, Monique said, "Oh, she isn't my daughter! She's an American." And the woman was surprised! Gagné! Score!  Then she asked me questions about Indiana and my time in France, and she told me that I spoke well. Ah, merci beaucoup.

I think I speak well when I'm at ease. The woman working at the jewelry store was warm and friendly, and I was comfortable talking with her. There have been several times when I've been nervous while talking with people, and my communication skills are horrendous. Was that last word spelled correctly? I'm beginning to spell things phonetically when I'm not sure.

Les soldes have started! Every store participates, especially clothing stores, but I've seen furniture stores and a travel agency also advertise their sales. More than the clothes, I love the time I've spent with the other students in town. There are many jokes and laughs, usually shared over ice cream or pain au chocolat. I'm here with a really cool group of kids! Two students are only 15. Another is my age but just graduated, having finished high school in only three years. There are at least four students who are fluent in a language other than English or French (at least Spanish, Korean, and Lithuanian). There is a student who attends boarding school. One has been an exchange student to Japan before, since he also studies Japanese. One plays the accordian. One fences. Another joined the Air Force right before our departure from the US.

I was talking with another American on the bus today after class, and she said she thinks she sees people that she knows! Phew, I'm not the only one. I thought I may be losing it...

Happy late birthday, Lindsay! And happy early birthday, Blake and Austin! It'll be your birthday here in just a few hours... Linds, your birthday was an eventful day for me. It was the first day that I woke up without being ravenously hungry. Finally, my hunger is slowing down! I mean, sort of... At school, we have three choices of entrees, and it was the first day that an entree was repeated. I think the cafeteria food is better than the food I have at home here. Crazy. And there are so many choices! I usually have fish, actual French fries or rice, fruit, a dessert, and a petit baguette. Always a baguette. At the start of the line are the trays, glasses, silverware, and baguettes. C'est la France. It was also the first day that my family didn't have bread at dinner- une cambriolage! Actually, it wasn't a huge deal; that's just a great word that I don't get to use often. I hope the weather wasn't too hot for you!! It has to be rough in  a wigwam...

Is there anything you all would like to know that I haven't written about or that wasn't clear? I'd love to tell you whatever you'd like to know.

Oh, hey! Friday we learned several traditional breton dances!! It was so fun. The dances weren't complicated and are done as a group. Dancing tete-à-tete (one boy and one girl) is naughty in the traditional breton culture, and of course even their dancing shows the importance of the community! There aren't as many guys as girls in my group, so I got to dance the guy's part and dance with all my friends for several songs. C'est la vie. Dominique came with me to the dance, and as we were walking in he was explaining how the French wave. When they say bonjour, they can wave, but the hand is stiff, not moving back and forth or curling the fingers. He said that the waves with bending fingers are for little girls and when you see an attractive boy. "If you wave like that, oh! Look out!" I've stopped waving altogether to avoid attracting unwanted attention. On the way home, he was saying ridiculous tongue twisters and having me repeat them. When I'd get lost in the sounds and start laughing, he'd urge, "Come on, say it..." He would also say old French proverbs and want me to explain them to him. Jamie (my communication prof) does this with us, and I never get them right...