This is a story about how I ended up totally out of place speaking Spanish in a French classroom with a professor who would only address me in English.
Over the past week, everyone in the group has been choosing/signing up for classes. For the most part, we sign up for classes through CIREFE- the part of the university just for foreigners. We do, however, have the option to take classes with French students if we place into a high enough level. After planning out my schedule, I saw that I was only taking 17 credits (heh) and decided that I wanted to add another class.
The longer I spend in France speaking French, the more I realize how much I miss Spanish. French was my first foreign language and is still and always will be my favorite, blah blah blah, but I really did enjoy speaking Spanish this past fall. Sorry, I digress. Anyway, I decided to take a Spanish class. There are a couple other Hispanophiles (yes, that is a word) in my group, and Monday afternoon another girl and I went to check out the course listings in the Spanish department.
And we found the [potentially] best. class. ever.
It was a translation class- which sounds fun enough as is. And it involved Spanish. And French. Yes, a two-part translation course: French -> Spanish, and Spanish -> French. No English involved at ALL. I had a huge moment of language-geekness and pretty much died on the spot.
We didn't sign up right away- we decided to check out the class first. Smart us.
The first part of the class was Tuesday afternoon- it was the Spanish -> French section. We got there early, sat way over to the side of the room, and hoped to blend in. People keep arriving, but no professor. We had hoped to talk to him/her before class started, but when he finally walked in, he started class right away. Everyone whipped out packets of Spanish lit. and they continued translating where they left off the previous week. In French.
It was kind of boring, not having the texts... and also kind of disconcerting, listening to the uber uber uber formal translating all the students were doing. I guess I was (naïvely) expecting them to be translating like novels or newspaper articles or something (yeah... now that I think about it, that was kind of dumb of me). They were using the passé simple (old French literary tense which I know how to use, I just don't like actually thinking about it) as well as really archaic words that even the French students were kind of shakey with.
After halfway through the class, the professor turns to us to ask us to translate the next part... then he kind of does a double take... "Je crois que je ne vous connais pas..." "I don't think I know you... "
My first instinct is to start rambling in Spanish, God knows why, and he looks at us funny and asks us where we're from. Los Estados Unidos. He then starts speaking English. Like... no. Just no. We're in a French/Spanish translation class, why the heck is English even an option?
Anyway, we sat through the rest of the class, and went up at the end to talk to him. I can't remember the exact order of the languages spoken, but I do know that we hit all three and the conversation ended with him speaking English with us. Just English. Sigh.
Molé
So yeah, I'm not planning on taking the class now. I really just wanted an opportunity to speak Spanish while I'm here- and considering the class is conducted in French... it wouldn't be that useful. I did see a nice Mexican restaurant in town though, so maybe I'll hit it up for some molé and a bit of práctica.
Over the past week, everyone in the group has been choosing/signing up for classes. For the most part, we sign up for classes through CIREFE- the part of the university just for foreigners. We do, however, have the option to take classes with French students if we place into a high enough level. After planning out my schedule, I saw that I was only taking 17 credits (heh) and decided that I wanted to add another class.
The longer I spend in France speaking French, the more I realize how much I miss Spanish. French was my first foreign language and is still and always will be my favorite, blah blah blah, but I really did enjoy speaking Spanish this past fall. Sorry, I digress. Anyway, I decided to take a Spanish class. There are a couple other Hispanophiles (yes, that is a word) in my group, and Monday afternoon another girl and I went to check out the course listings in the Spanish department.It was a translation class- which sounds fun enough as is. And it involved Spanish. And French. Yes, a two-part translation course: French -> Spanish, and Spanish -> French. No English involved at ALL. I had a huge moment of language-geekness and pretty much died on the spot.
We didn't sign up right away- we decided to check out the class first. Smart us.
The first part of the class was Tuesday afternoon- it was the Spanish -> French section. We got there early, sat way over to the side of the room, and hoped to blend in. People keep arriving, but no professor. We had hoped to talk to him/her before class started, but when he finally walked in, he started class right away. Everyone whipped out packets of Spanish lit. and they continued translating where they left off the previous week. In French.
It was kind of boring, not having the texts... and also kind of disconcerting, listening to the uber uber uber formal translating all the students were doing. I guess I was (naïvely) expecting them to be translating like novels or newspaper articles or something (yeah... now that I think about it, that was kind of dumb of me). They were using the passé simple (old French literary tense which I know how to use, I just don't like actually thinking about it) as well as really archaic words that even the French students were kind of shakey with. After halfway through the class, the professor turns to us to ask us to translate the next part... then he kind of does a double take... "Je crois que je ne vous connais pas..." "I don't think I know you... "
My first instinct is to start rambling in Spanish, God knows why, and he looks at us funny and asks us where we're from. Los Estados Unidos. He then starts speaking English. Like... no. Just no. We're in a French/Spanish translation class, why the heck is English even an option?
Anyway, we sat through the rest of the class, and went up at the end to talk to him. I can't remember the exact order of the languages spoken, but I do know that we hit all three and the conversation ended with him speaking English with us. Just English. Sigh.
Molé
So yeah, I'm not planning on taking the class now. I really just wanted an opportunity to speak Spanish while I'm here- and considering the class is conducted in French... it wouldn't be that useful. I did see a nice Mexican restaurant in town though, so maybe I'll hit it up for some molé and a bit of práctica.
Macaroons: And not the coconut kind. These are everywhere. And, depending on where you go, pretty expensive. There are the standard flavors like chocolate, pistacho, and coffee... but then there are also cool ones like Earl Grey (which I bought the other day... for wayyyy too much). I had never had one before this past December when I bought two in New York City, but now I'm in love. 
Bread: THE FRENCH EAT SO MUCH BREAD. I know, you're surprised, right? Well, in this case, the stereotypes are 110% true. I see people walking down the road and on the buses with baguettes all the time. Unfortunately, they normally aren't wearing berets and black/white striped shirts... but still. We always have at least three different types of bread in the house. It's usually eaten plain, or used to scrape up leftovers on a people's plates after lunch or dinner. Leftovers can be anything from mashed potatoes to gravy to... well, anything. The one thing the French do not put on their bread, however, is... PEANUT BUTTAH.
Wednesday morning most of our group went to the Louvre. I'd been once before, but it's impossible to see the whole museum in one trip... also, I just felt as if I should go. I'm in Paris. It's just something that you should do. It was free admission if you were European and under 25... alas, I am not European... but I was with two French girls, and they decided to try and see if they could get us in for free. Just as long as we didn't talk (because that would obviously ruin it). The guy at the desk didn't buy it (we needed to show our IDs), but because I had my French visa (FRENCH VISA) I got in for free. Sweet. 
Friday we did orientation-type stuff at the university, and tomorrow we're starting a week-long intensive French program. French language class from 9-12, Civ from 130-230, and other orientation stuff from 3-5. This 'other orientation stuff' includes info on the French education system, the French people's perception of the US/Americans, and- of course- wait for it- wait- wait- okay- culture shock. Le choc culturel. After all the meetings we had about it in the DR, I think anyone from our group would be qualified to give a 2-hour presentation on culture shock.
So I ended up meeting up with a few other kids from CIEE right when I got off the airplane. It took us about 30 minutes to get our bags, get through immigration, take the tram, etc etc. During these 30 minutes, I really regretted bringing two 50lb suitcases. I was always the last one in the group because I kept having to change my grip on my luggage, pick up my luggage when it fell over, or just simply take breaks. I mean, I know that this is just an issue I’m going to have to deal with my first few days moving around and also my last trip to Paris in May (to fly out), and that I won’t regret packing thoroughly… but still. It was a HUGE pain. I have a big suitcase on wheel and a huge duffel, so I usually put the duffel on top of the suitcase with wheels and wheel it around. Of course, it usually falls off every 2-3 minutes. Anyway, Katy’s poor luggage-handling skillz aside…
After my lovely nap, we all went out to dinner at a restaurant called Relais d’Alsace. Which I’m pretttttty sure that we went to the last time I was in Paris, but I’m not positive. Dinner was fish, which I usually don’t like… but it was covered in butter, so no complaints. We had a couple different choices for dessert, and I got the crème brûlée. I’d never had it before (I know. Foodie fail), and I figured that I’d try it. Veryyyyy good. 
There were TVs on the back of all the seats, and there were a lot of TV shows and movies offered. I chose to watch Easy A… I tried to watch it in Spanish, but then realized I was too tired to understand. Then I tried to watch it in French… and realized I was tooo tired to understand. So I took a sleeping pill and put it on in English. Great movie. I also got dinner. Then I passed out.