American Frenchisms.

Along with Taco Bell, White Castle is one late night food joint France REALLY needs.

(And yes, this is the White Castle in downtown New Albany).

I went to Starbucks today.

Even though the overpriced gourmet espresso I drink at the Pares' house has me spoiled, there is something so comforting and...american...about an equally overpriced cup of Starbucks. I just couldn't resist. Nothing says young America like a venti coffee full of Splenda! I didn't even have to worry about butchering the italian coffee sizes; I got to butcher it all in french. Next thing you know I'll be stooping to McDonalds. McDo (pronounced like dough) as the french call it; as if giving it another name makes it less american-y and less fast-food-y. Yea right. A quarter pounder is a quarter pounder, even if they make you call it a McRoyal.

Searching for bits of my beloved homeland in France, I decided to trek to Carrefour last week. For those of you not up on the names of french discount stores, Carrefour is France's Wal-Mart. I dare say it might be a little better. What makes it so cool is that there is a butcher, gourmet cheese shop, french cafe, and fish market, ALL INSIDE THE STORE! Ah, France, succumbing to the american way of needing things cheaply and quickly.

Armed with my reusable shopping bags (plastic ones cost!) I entered the store with my shopping list as well as a list Caroline gave me. I tackled mine--after pausing to figure out whether crème something or other really meant conditioner--and moved onto the french list which was all stuff for Zoe's art class.

The first thing on the list was ruban adhesif de bricolage. So bricolage means DIY housework and adhesif means tape. So I'm thinking duct tape. I find the tape aisle and out of the 100 rolls, not a single one looks like duct tape or contains the word bricolage or adhesif. Off to a good start Dani. I grab one that looks sturdy and roll my cart on down the aisle. The next item was tubes de gouache. Somehow I managed to figure out before leaving the house that this very nondescript group of words means paint. I find the arts and crafts aisle and see there are many, many paint options; acrylic, water-based, oil-based, just no gouache. I mean I am really striking out.

Suddenly, a BRILLIANT idea comes to me. I remember that there is a book aisle in Carrefour. A book aisle BOUND to have a french-english dictionary. I'll just look up gouache and solve this problem. I leave the paint aisle and find myself a beautiful Roberts dictionary. Flipping to the "g" words, I finally find gouache. Translation: gouache. WHAT?! Gouache is not an english word. No way, no how, that word has never been uttered by an american. Do the dictionary people decide to screw with us every 1,000 words or so? I'm sure they were thinking, "Hm, gouache...no one's ever gonna look this one up, let's just forget about the translation." I search three other dictionaries. All the same. Gouache means gouache.

Feeling very flustered, I go BACK to the paint aisle (I skipped a few parts; I may or may not have fretted about what type of paint to get three or four other times before the dictionary incident) and throw a pack of acrylic paint in my cart. I was so pissed at this list I abandoned the rest of the shopping, checked out, and got some chinese food at the food court. Take that Carrefour.

In more serious tourist news, I had my first ever weekend out in Paris! Yea. I went out with my friend Neil Saturday and Sunday to get a taste of what life is like outside the Chaumes bubble. If you want to read a detailed account of the weekend, you can visit Neil's blog! I met up with him on Saturday and we did a little flea market shopping near his apartment which is in a cool part of town known as Les Batignolles. We moved on to another market where he managed to find an African drum and I splurged (NOT) on a scarf. That night we went out for drinks (two and I'm cooked!) in a really charming part of Paris. We took the scenic route along the Seine on the way back where we saw drunk french teens jamming to an orchestral version of a Nirvana song. The next day we ate delicious american breakfast in a diner and looked around the Centre Pompidou. My feet, unfortunately, paid a high price for this fun weekend. The blisters got so bad that I had to buy a pair of flip-flops from the flea market in order to not look like a cripple while walking. Next time I'm wearing tennis shoes no matter how cute the flats look.

And finally, today's news. I started class. Well, kinda. I showed up for class, along with the fifty other girls, while the professor decided to cancel without telling us. In case you're wondering, I'm taking french classes 3 days per week as part of my Visa requirement. Despite being stood up by the prof on the first day (SO FRENCH) I made two new friends! Yippee. Life is starting to come together.

Gros Bisous mes amis, ma famille, et toutes les pauvres ames qui lisent mon Blog!

(xoxo friends, family, and all the other poor souls who read my blog!)

P.S. If you're interested, there should be a link at the top of the page that says "Follow Blog" . Not sure exactly how it works, but I think you add your email and you get a message when I post. Cheers!