Photos!

Marseille!

Old Port and view of the Notre Dame de la Garde

My new dream neighborhood......

Starting the week of with a bang, well, more like a siren

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So despite my family hosting students for the past ten years, I managed to surprise them (only me!).

Monday, when I got back from school no one was home yet. I couldn't exactly remember the security code so I waited, and waited, and waited hoping someone would come back from work. Finally, I decided I remembered the code and opened the door. I couldn't find a light switch so I hit what I thought were the correct numbers and waited. For about twenty seconds I thought I was fine. Then this awful blaring noise rose up all around me. Halogen lights started flashing. NO! NO! NO! I run to the kitchen and find Cathy's number and then run back into the hall to get the phone. The alarm stops, perfect I think, I will have time to call Cathy before it starts again. But the stupid phone doesn't work! Some perfectly poised French lady is telling me I need a card. I don't have a card! So I run to get the OTHER phone. And as I'm running the alarm starts up again, louder even more high pitched. I have visions of mean French police bursting in like a SWAT team and demanding what I am doing in this house and me struggling to explain myself through tears and poor French. I dial Cathy's number on the second phone and wait. She picks up, I frantically explain, as best I can, what I have done. She tells me the code but, of course, I can't here her until I stow away in the pantry. Then I run back out to the hall to stop the alarm (which I still can't see because I still can't find the light) and everything stops. Just like that it's over.

I am still a little shocked this happened to me, but I'm already laughing about it. After everything I have been through this is "c'est normal", as the French say, for me and for study abroad.

Is this for real?

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Basically, Marseille is a dream. A really good one. The city is beautiful with its charming old red roof houses and classic French apartment buildings. The corniche languidly runs all along the coast offering spectacular views of the ocean and the isle d’If. The calanques, as they are called here, circle the city and plunge in to sea. My house is incredible with an open concept design that offers the best view of the city. The Notre Dame de la Garde basilica with it’s golden Bonne Mere watching over the all the city’s inhabitants is level with my living room. And in my room I have my own closet and shower!

My family is so nice and understanding. They have hosted many students before me so there is little I can do that surprises them (of course I did find one way…more later). They actually EXPLAINED things to me. As we drove through the city on Sunday they pointed out the big sites and important neighborhoods and commented on everything. My host dad is part Vietnamese and this weekend was a holiday celebrating the Vietnamese New Year so we have been eating the most amazing Vietnamese food. I have never eaten anything like this before but I love it!

The only problem is that, like all dreamers dreaming good dreams, I keep waiting to wake up. It can’t be this good…....right?

Entr’acte

One week and it starts all over again. The redeye flight. The overstuffed suitcases. The confusion. The excitement. Of course it won’t all be the same. I will be in new city, with a new family, at a new school. But the preparations – physical and emotional – are similar. I am once again off to Target with a shopping list in hand (this time modified to include travel tissues and cliffbars after various Moroccan experiences). And my anticipation of both the delightful and the dreadful is abounding. Marseille is inherently less intimidating than Rabat, but knowing exactly what can go wrong spawns a different kind of anxiety.

Luckily, I have had plenty of time to prepare. My one-month break between semesters has been ideal. It has lasted just long enough for me to recuperate, relax, and re-invigorate. By now, I am itching to be off exploring again. My “intermission” has been strange of course. After four months in Morocco things seem a little off, even though I am back in the “familiar.” Coins seem much too small – dirhams are just slightly larger. Toilets flush with handles on the side, not with buttons on top. And clementines don’t taste nearly as good. But ohh the showers. The showers are heavenly.

The croissants, however, are calling.  I can’t wait to explore Marseille and the Provence region – to eat fresh goat cheese and bouillabaisse, to see the countryside by train, to make new French friends. And I’m eager to continue with my French and Arabic (I already feel sadly out of practice). I hope my already signed and submitted language contract declaring that I will only speak French for the entirety of my program will ensure an improvement in my language skills.  Finally, I am already looking forward to my one-week program visit to Fes – yes, that’s right I’m going back to Morocco! I’m so glad my French program incorporates a little of le Maghreb.

So until my next post, a bientot!