uhhhh NON MERCI!

---

Where to begin? I’ve been so involved here that I’ve forgotten to write. But, thank you friends and family who have been harassing me, now it’s time for another update.

I’ve completely fallen in love. Well, with a city. Paris is one of those places that you’ve read about your whole life and seen on TV, and thought, “hmm the Eiffel tower, that’s nice”, but never really considered. It is so much more than a tower, or an arc, or a few museums; it is a living, breathing, vivacious entity. The smells (which are sometimes awful), the people (which yes, are sometimes rude), the metro (which is always dirty), and the food and sights (which are always beautiful), have the ability to completely surround you and make you feel as if you’ve arrived. You’re home. This is what you were meant for. This, is as life should be. The ability to spend an afternoon decoding the Mona Lisa, sip a café crème looking over Notre Dame, wondering who is ringing its bells, and be witness to romance that could make even the most heart broken smile. (Please insert ‘sigh’ and accordion playing ‘La vie en rose’ here) I was lucky to spend the weekend there not long ago, falling into its romance, which was followed by a quick trip to Rennes- the capital of Brittany.

Rennes was an experience all its own. Let me begin by explaining my reason for this little visit. Apparently, because I am American, I must have a medical appointment to be sure that I’ve had all my shots and don’t have any diseases. I suppose this is a valid request, but…really? Aren’t there doctors in Brest that could do this? And I’m from the States, not a third world country. Isn’t a note from my doctor good enough? (‘Non’ is the correct response) The French love their paperwork, and if doesn’t have an official stamp and signature it’s worthless. So, to Rennes I went. 2 hours by train. After a little sight seeing, (Rennes is filled with cobble stone streets and tiny shops and restaurants that filled me with envy- why couldn’t I live in Rennes!?) I made my way over to the medical appointment, and let me just tell you, while the paperwork may have to look official, nothing else does. In a small building, on a remote street, in between houses, was the office. After giving my name, I sat in the waiting room for a few minutes before being escorted into, well, basically, a closet. My directions were “take off your top”. To which I thought, “uhhh, what now?” So, there I am, in a closet, looking at a strange picture of two cartoon characters, one male and one female with no shirts on, smiling. So following directions, I took off my blouse and waited. A door opened from the opposite side where I entered, and I was given a funny look. “Non, non, le soutein-gorge aussi” and she waited, staring at me, while I had to take off, well, everything on top. (comment dit-on, awkward?) Alors, I was led into another little closet with an x-ray machine to check my lungs. MY LUNGS? Come on now. Pressed up against the machine, half naked, with someone trying to make conversation in French, and then standing there, still half naked, while she asked me questions about my lung capacity. Ridiculous. Then I was pointed back in the direction of the closet.

I got dressed, and then had to wait in another part of the office. They took my height, my weight, told me I wasn’t too fat (for an American, of course), asked me if I had had all of my shots, (no paperwork needed to prove- just a simple nod of the head), and then they checked my teeth. MY TEETH? COME ON. And then I came back to Brest. I mean really, was that all necessary? On the up side, I got to keep the x-rays of my lungs.

Later that week was Matt’s birthday and we threw a great party. Needless to say, we got in lots of trouble. However, it was totally worth it. All of the assistants in the area came, so we had about 20-25 people crammed into the smallest kitchen on earth, and I was introduced to, perhaps, the best game ever. (Thank you Austrians) Rupee-Dupee. The rules are simple- Standing in a circle, each player is given a number (1 to whatever) and must recite: “I’m Rupee-Dupee No. X and I have Y Dupees. Rupee-Dupee No. Z, how many Dupees do you have?”, the pace is rather quick, and if you mess up the phrase you are given a Dupee. What is a Dupee you might ask? Excellent question. After taking a lighter to the end of a wine cork, it becomes black and ashy. This newly ashy cork is then squished onto your face, like a stamp. Voila, you have one Dupee. The complicated part isn’t so much reciting the sentence, but keeping track of how many Dupees you have. Which is a problem, and usually ends up with more Dupees. Ahhhhhh Austrians. How I love them. They really have the best ideas…and words.

The following afternoon, the man who takes care of the apartment, M. Le Bris, came over and scolded us. Apparently we’re not supposed to drink at all. I never thought I’d see the day when a French person told me not to drink. (Interestingly, when I wrote my teacher, Chantal, to apologize for having a party, she wrote me back and said ‘don’t worry about it, just next time make sure your party is on Saturday, when M. Le Bris isn’t around’…good advice.)

Last Thursday night we had our first outing in Brest. It was insane. It’s like going out in the US multiplied by 45. Apparently, Thursday night is student night, and they really go for it. In front of the Hotel de Ville (the town hall) is a large plaza area, and it was FULL of students drinking. It was the biggest party I’ve ever seen. We quickly left that area after spotting a couple of students of ours (I really must learn the word for awkward in French), and headed toward the bars. After arriving, I headed to the line for the bathroom, where I spotted an exceptionally good looking Frenchman. Francois-Joseph (of course that would be his name) and we started to chat; I soon found out that he’s in the Navy, 24, and wanted to take me on a date (!). That Saturday night, we made plans to go to the movies. Moral of this story: he was late, we missed our movie, we couldn’t communicate, and then he asked if I would come over to sleep at his house, to which I replied “uhhhh NON MERCI.” (ugh)

Saturday was fantastic- I swear, those Austrians are brilliant- they devised a plan of visiting the island of Ouessant, off the coast of Brittany. We left around 6am and caught the ferry, which took about 2 ½ hours. And as the four of us sailed to our destination, with the cool morning breeze and the sun rising over the Atlantic, I couldn’t have been happier. The island was a small fishing village, and we biked through the countryside, hydrangeas lining our path, stopping only to take pictures and eat at a sea side café.

More has happened since Ouessant, but I’m leaving for Ireland tomorrow morning, yes, IRELAND! and have got to get some rest. I promise to write more when I return; I’ll be spending 1 night in Paris, 3 in Dublin, 3 in Cork, and then back to beautiful Brest. I miss you all very very much, and can’t wait to tell you about my vacation! Please give me some updates on what is going on at home with all of you! [e-mail]

---