Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Ma petite chou

it was an uneventful plane ride. i was terribly gassy though, and the plane was bound for Mumbai, thus all these elder women dressed in saris and sandals kept smelling me and (i think) giving me strange looks. I watched "The Reader" and it changed my life--please see it if you haven't already.

i arrived with ease, found the two girls i was to meet, and we took a taxi (60 effing euros!) to the University where I met my "mohzzair." Her name is Catherine and is about as big as my little finger. So so sweet though. She is an architect. The dad Jose is Portuguese and moved to france when he was nine. He doesn't work, but used to work in hotels as a maitre and in the restaurants, where he once served Gorbachev! I know, right?! My sister is named Eulalie (pronounced eu-la-lee) and she just turned twenty-one and currently doesn't go to school, but used to for biology and she is wonderful and her friends--omg the hottest french girls i've ever seen. The brother is named Jean-Hughes; he is 26? and lives in Annecy and does computer work--dresses sooo dorky--you know, like dorky european? ugh, it's the worst.

One night, I met a co-worker of Catherine's, as he came over for appertifs/dinner, and he said "Oh you mean all the cars in America are automatic? It's genius that is!" I also visited Catherine's parents for Sunday lunch and Jose's after that. They both live in the Bourgogne region near Macon, which is a very quaint mid-sized town.

Perhaps one of the greatest reliefs so far has been Eulalie's boyfriend named Sean. He currently lives with close family friends (think Penningtons-McBrooms) at the cause of his mother's passing, and his father not being in "za peekchure." I am sure there are more details to this story that were, how do you say, lost in translation. Anyways, so this is how Sean and Eulalie met. He is from south london, and lemme tell you, he is a hoot an' a holler for sure! He says shit like sick and has tattoos but also drinks tea at every occasion and refuses to accept that American breakfasts are anything like "proper English breakfasts" (even though they are the exact same effing thing). Basically, he is a God-send because he (a) speaks English and (b) his crazy Brittanic ways never fail to make me laugh, or at the very least, miss being drunk and talking in british accents. Or just talking in british accents with all you gals back home.

Speaking of which, I am not homesick at all and I mean that in the best way possible. Things so far are so very good.

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