Friday, September 25, 2009

Written on 14 September 2009 Montpellier Time

I received my class schedule today and begin school tomorrow. It's exciting to get back into something I enjoy. I have loved the relative freedom I have had my first couple of weeks in Montpellier. However, I was starting to get restless. I had the same feeling before I left to come to Montpellier. Summer, although wonderful, seems to take a little bit too long sometimes. I wanted, and will get tomorrow, an avenue to channel my energies. Something productive, challenging, and educational that will force me to use my mind in a result oriented setting. My challenges will be four seperate french language courses, a french economic and social class, and a history class. Altogether, it will be sixteen hours per week of classes spoken entirely in french. My schedule is heavy Tuesday through Thursday with only one class on Monday evening and nothing on Friday. I will work Monday and Friday afternoons for three hours at the Office of International Relations. All in all, I love the schedule. It will keep me busy throughout the week yet allow me enough time to study on Monday and Friday. Most importantly, it is nice to finally have a plan. Taking away the uncertainties of what you will do next will undoubtedly help me get more comfortable here. Although, somethings are still not fine-tuned, I like to back in the thick of things. After a while, I felt as if I was fomenting on the fringes of life, sitting and watching at my café as others pass through their everyday routines while I stood by contemplating thoughts that had no concrette way of being express in a contemporary outlet. I will try not to take away from summer too much, I love it. It is a chance to engage yourself in what you are truly passionate about. However, school and other enterprises allow you to express the improvements or diminutions you have either gained or slacked off in obtaining over you break. For this reason, it is nice to plunge my efforts back into something that does not permeate from me, dictated by others and the course I wish to take with my life.
Written on 13 September 2009 at 8:57 Montpellier Time

Today was another good day. This afternoon, Suzanna and I went to the Musée Fabre, a Montpellier art museum in the center of town. It was very nice. I still do not have the eyes for modern, abstract art. No matter how hard I try, I can't see anything more than a couple of splotches of paint here, dabs there, and random swipes all over. I know they are made to convey a message or have a certain vibe to them, I just can't put it together. I always come away thinking they have come up with with their designs on accident. They picked up a cardboard slab from the floor of the garage, saw some streaks of paint had seeped over from the neighboring paint cans from last month's kitchen project or a shriveled piece of tin, and there it is, your income and the beginning of countless interpretations made by art gallery visitors such as myself. I know that is not the case, I know, or at least I assume, it is a labor intensive, detailed way of work. A way of crafting a piece of art or sending a message through once erratic and chaotic elements. It's just not for me. I preferred the older art. The impressionists and romanticists of the past. The scene is there for you. I relate to these better. I can see these situations in my own life. the skyline, the landscape, the people, the buildings, can all be transcribed to a feeling or experience I once had that mirrored it. For me, it links the past with the present, the unknown with the known. The painting of the farmer laying in his fields one morning surrounded by his dog and cattle, although in a different context, reflects a similar feeling I would have one lazy Sunday morning after breakfast, at the farm. I found most, if not all, of the paintings as worthwhile to have seen and I was pleased with the visit. After the museum and a stop at a café, I walked the streets of Montpellier and returned home in time for the chinese dinner, part two. I found out a little more information on the meal, it is called a chinese fondu. The sauce is still a mystery, but I learned how it is used. They create the sauce in a large pan, not unlike the large bowl of cheese used in the fondus I am used to, and cook each course item separately in the sauce. First, was the meats, second, the potatoes and noodles, and last, the vegetables. While you are dining, the upcoming course is stewing in the fondu and the course following that is sitting on the table in front of you, rare and in water. Once again, the food was great and filling. One thing that struck me as odd though, the music we listened to at dinner, the conversations we would have about common interests in various subjects, and many of the clothes we were wearing were American. Televsion stars, songs, televsion shows, actors, and actresses, brands of t-shirts, were almost all made in or come from the United States. The conversation would converge on these topics even without me in the lead. Often, what my german and chinese friends found common ground on were American and often subjects I had not seen or heard or comment on knowledgeably. Each one of us has a uniaue culture deriveed from our situations back home. I thought the conversation would be more polarized, involving far differrent examples revolving around a central genre. We would share our country's shade of classical music or drama television. However, it was not like this. Many of the things they mentioned come from the U.S. Two things really struck me. First, the ability of our communications and broadcasting systems to reach distances across the globe and several time zones away. I guess, I really never thought of the tv show Heroes having an international, at least not chinese audience. Second, with such an influence over so many parts of the world, I caught a glimpse of the responsibility of U.S. citizens, government, private sector, entertainment, media, and communications outlets (others as well). What we do is seen by more than those that inhabit our country. We are here to make an example for all of the world. What an awesome responsibility and one that cannot be mishandled. We have the oppurtunity to set the stage in world affairs, under a common cause and by certain, over-arching principles. I hope we can live up to the awesome task or industry and hard work, in the past and present, has created for us.

Friday, September 18, 2009

12 September 2009 at 9:06 Montpellier Time

Today was an excellent day. A large portion of my morning was spent in my café and, on my way home, a trip to the grocery store. The afternoon was spent at the beach. Once again, the weather was perfect and the atmosphere was very relaxing. I got home around six this evening for the day's main event. Qibin and Tianghia had planned an authentic chinese dinner for us. It was magnificent. A five course meal of beef tips, chicken , sausage, tofu, noodles, rice, lotus flower, cucumbers, sausage tomato soup, some other things I fail to remember, and, for dessert, an orange and rice pudding. The food was excellently cooked in a wonderful chinese sauce. The sauce was a delicious mystery. When asked, Qibin could not translate into french or english the numerous ingredients it took to create such a masterpiece, a combination of spicy and sweet that brought each food item to life. It was enough spice to make you sweat and I had a few tears, but you never felt like you could breathe fire. I can truthfully say my pants felt tighter after the meal. I didn't think my skin was elastic enough to hold such an expansion. All in all, it was wonderful. We have so many differences in our household. Linguistically, culturally, religiously, yet, good food is a universal language. Over dinner, communication was easier. Words were replaced with smiles, sounds of joyous dining (mmmmm!), and hand and arm gestures (the thumbs up and rub of the stomach). In the moment, we could all relate and come together with ease and on common ground. We were happy consumers, sharing in the connectivity of food. After dinner, as hard as it was, we thought a walk in the park would help to digest the load we had just eaten. It was nice, relaxing. We shared stories of home and identified ways in which our cultures intersect with one another (ex: Yao Ming). It was a lovely evening and it should be a great night's sleep, I was almost too full to type.
11 September 2009 at 9:00 Montpellier time



Well it's nine o'clock and I feel as if I stopped typing, I would fall asleep and awake at the same time tomorrow. Today, I has no official duties and I spent the day doing mostly what I wanted to do. I spent the early morning and late afternoon in my café, sipping some coffee, reading, talking with a friend, and enjoying the sights of Montpellier. I love it. No matter how small the cup of coffee is, it is always worth the 2.30 euros I have to spend on it. You are paying for an experience, a hot liquid massage somehow reaching each nook and cranny of your body, relaxing and gently guiding you through a chunk of time in your day. The sights, smells, sounds are all the same. Several times I have sat right across the street on a bench in the small park facing the café and the beautiful buildings lurking behind it. The seats are relatively as comfortable and you are only about twenty feet away from the café. Basically, nothing distinguishes the two positions other than that one looks into the park and one is actually in the park facing the café. Yet, the experiences are not representative of the distance or comfort of either situation. I could stay for hours in the café. After a short time in the park, I am ready to go. I cant't explain it. The café takes a hold of me, rendering me motionless for at at least an hour. I read, think, and do whatever else one could do planted in a seat. Everyone is curious about the french diet. How do they eat such high fat, high calorie food and stay a very healthy nation. I think I have cracked that one, they walk, a lot. However, I find the café more perplexing. What are they putting in their coffee? Some secret tranquilizer that immobilizes its' victims. That makes no sense. A person like me who sits in the café far longer than his cup of coffee takes the seat away from the next paying customer. I keep them from making more money off a potential buyer. Yet, they never stare you down for lingering or try to hurry you out the door. Often, you are the one who has to ask for the check, it is not waiting for you. Maybe, I like to go to the café here in France becuase I think it is an aspect of french culture. By going to a café, I am integrating, getting to know, and becoming part of the french system of life. I enjoy it because it makes me feel more in touch with the society I have felt alienated from since I arrived. Whatever it is, the kind waitresses, the tranquilizer coffee, or me posing as a frenchman, I can't deny its potency. It's wonderful, an everyday routine adding pleasure and relaxation to my unfamiliar world.

Other than the café stops, I spent my day catching up on e-mails and blogs. I had a wonderful oppurtunity to talk to my mother, it was so nice to hear her voice. It truly made my day. I took Suzanna to a couple of the places she hadn't seen yet. The aqueducts, the Promenade du Peyrou, the Jardin des Plantes, all looking just as beautifully as the time I first saw them. That's all I got, Bon Soir!

Friday, September 11, 2009

Written 09-10 September 2009 at 8:36 Montpellier

The past two mornings have been the mornings from hell. Hours spent at those locations in France everyone knows to avoid. Even I, after only a week into my stay, have come to dread any and all official obligations leading me to one of the many government-run offices in Montpellier. The task was simple when contemplated. Go, submit a dossier I had already assembled and be granted a carte du sejour. Like many other passes of entry and residence, I wasn't too sure of its necessity other than it was demanded by the French government. I should have known it was going to be a trying experience. Whenever the process is mentioned, it is never stated as something to go get, rather, as something to go ask for. If that didn't give me a clue, the preliminary events, obtainting a certain, special stamp obligatory to the process, should have warned me that misery was on its way. When I say special, I mean special. We went to more than ten different locations looking for this rare item. Finally, after nearly three hours of search and destroyed missioned, we arrived at the Préfecture and received the stamp in less than two minutes. Then, it was off to the University of of Montpellier to ask for the carte du sejour. By this time we had been at it for a few hours, legs wobbly, stomachs growling in disappointment that mid-day lunch had not been served. We arrived, waited for almost an hour, and were finally taken back for our turn to ask permission to have a carte du sejour. If the wait and searching was not painful enough, the real agony came when the civil servicewoman told us it was not necessary for us to have a carte du sejour, our passport would do the trick. Well, that was enough for me. I have grown accustomed to this in France. Ninety percent of the battle is getting to the point where you are actually able to acquire what you are looking for. Once you are there, it's quick and painless. Give your dossier and files, get what you are looking for. The difficult part is assembling the things you need to get whatever you are trying to get. Whether photos, school papers, or official signatures, something always seems to go awry and take up far too much time. For me, When told we didn't need the card that was enough. She spoke english to me so I understood what she was saying and the justification for the change of plans seemed sufficient. However, my roommate, Qibin, who havs been so helpful in getting me to and from and acquiring the things I need, came in to help his seemingly lost roommate and seriously complicated things. I knew what was going on, she could speak english. Qibin didn't take her for her word. Here came the problem. Qibin spoke to her in french and came out unsure of the information he had heard. He didn't believe her. Mind you, he speaks good french, but I understand and speak english much better than he does either in french and she spoke to me in english. I knew what was going. However, confusion set in it when Qibin insisted that we report the situation to our director. Here it is, Qibin was confused, he didn't really know the reason why we didn't have to get the card. However, my french is not good enough to explain the entire situation to Qibin and his english is not good enough for me to have assure him in english. Welcome to the miseries of communication problems. It's a maze, no, rather a bermuda triangle where when something goes through it doesn't come out the same, it it comes out at all. We went back to the office and notified our director. This precipitated into into a twenty-minute conversation of the event, our director sighting precedents of past cases where the card was needed, Qibin dismayed over the entire ordeal, and me, standing silently, unable to enlighten the group and solve our issues. It's a scene when something doesn't go the way a french woman had expected it to go. Speech and bodily gestures rage rapidly. It seemed as though someone had a fast forward button capable of speeding up a human being. The speech is fast, colorful, and ranged in volume from low and slow to high and extremely fast. The arms flailed, the legs stomped, and hair was grabbed. The solution was that we would return the next morning to the bureau with Christelle, our director, and she would sort out the confusion. We arrived this morning for session number two. It was shorter and an even bigger waste of time. A servicemen successfully satisfied Christelle and Qibin with the original assessment I had had, yet, was incapable of relaying. We left, Christelle shouting "Vivre la France" as we exited the building. This is about the worst it gets here. It might not seem like much, but, in the moment, the world seems to stop functioning, everything beautiful and worthwhile in the world seems to die. It seems like a dream, more like a nightmare, something you wake up from with a cold sweat, running and screaming. It's not though, it's part of France and, I think it is fair to say, it's completely miserable. I recovered and had a good time later this afternoon with our new roommate, Suzanna, at a café in the Place de la Comédie. She is very very helpful and fun to talk to. I successfully closed, actually Suzanna did the work, my internet contract that proved incapable or supplying the thing it was supposed to. The past two days, despite the hellish mornings, have overall been good and I seem to be creating something of a routine in Montpellier.
Written 08 September 2009 at 8:15 Montpellier Time

I awoke this morning to the normal routine. A morning of mind-numbing, seemingly inconsequential errands of establishing a life in very bureaucratic France. It was a trip to the bank to get checks in which we were told we could get checks, but we would have to come back eight days later to apply for them. Some of the things we must do defty reason, seem extremely ineffecient for both the buyer and seller, the civil servant and the citizen. After the bank we went to the center of town to pick up our dossiers for our carte de sejour application, the card that alolows us to reside and work legally in France, followed by a trip to establish a bank account for our new roommate, Suzanna, and to terminate my existing internet contract?. It was nice, I had a friend to do my errands with. It seems to go much smoother with Suwanna, a german fluent in french and pretty good at italian, latin, and english. We accomplished nothing of what we set out to do, she was not having the long line at the bank and the person who sold me the internet contract was not at the store so we could not terminate the internet access I had purchased (that makes no sense to me). We returned to the aprtment for lunch and coffee, a power nap for my friends and a trip to the park for me. We returned to the city this afternoon. We parted ways. I stayed at the international house to catch up on e-mails and the other left for a day of shopping. Suzanna and I met up later on to take a second stab at the internet contract. The lady was not there, our attempt was frustrated again. We spent some time shopping for a few things my new roommate needed. We parted way, her in the direction of the local grocery while I took another walk around town. I was with people all day. I noticed I could speak a little more french, my vocabulary swelling to encompass new topics and deeper conversation. It was nothing ground-breaking but it was a definite improvement. Perhaps, I find it easier to comprehend french with a german accent attached to it than a chinese accent. Whatever it was, I could more clearly communicate my thoughts and comprehend more verbally that I have since I first landed. It can get exhausting, you never get to relax in a conversation. Your ears are always cocked, trying to transform vibrations in your ears into coherent meaning and thought. At some moments, I wish I could somehow push a button and make every person in Montpellier speak english. Nonetheless, I can see and feel an improvement in my language skills and a firmer grasp on the life I now live.
Written on 07 September 2009 at 8:15 Montpellier Time

After a few errands this morning, I thought i would head to to the beach. As should be expected in France, people were free to roam nude? Yes, the infamous, nudist beaches of Europe. That place, when mentioned before I left, that inevitably led to a "Sweet Dude" response from my male, not to mention college, friends. There I was, amidst the place that intrigued me so deeply as a child watching the slide show of my parents' trip to Europe. But what I found was more National Geographic that Playboy, more reading than observing. I had to give it to these women, if males can walk bare chested around a beach, so should women. In the settting, the objects lost the sexual power they hold over us men. It was natural, consistent with the demands of the environment. There was something very egalitarian about it. Without hiding the objects of many a man's lure and other's obsession, it exemplified taking a woman for more than her sexual appeal, which, I believe is done far too often by kids my age. Perhaps that is a little too dramatic, maybe it would just be better to add it to the list of things described as french. Add it to wine, cafés, cuisine, arrogance, fashion, architecture, the arts, and protest. I guess it was odd seeing it at first, but, after a few minutes, it became a nonentity.

My final roommate arrived this evening, she is an exchange student from Germany. She seems nice and should be a pleasure to live with.
Written on 06 September 2009 at 7:40 Montpellier Time

I awoke this morning to the sounds of Sunday cleaning. My roommates and I have a three-week rotational schedule. When it's your turn, you responsibility is to clean the common area. Luckily, this wasn't my week. I straightened up my room, ate lunch, and planned to look for a ride to the beach. "Ce n'est pas possible," my roommate informs me. On Sunday, mmost of Montpellier shuts down, including the buses responsible for me getting to th beach. I was bored. When you are in a situation like mine, no tv, no internet, just books, barely understandable conversation, and your thoughts, it's hard to find a way to waste time. You can only read and write in your journal for so long. I had to get out of the house. I thought I would walk, follow the tramway tracks to the center of town. It is about a forty-five minute walk from where I live to the center of town. Everything my roommate said was right. Monday through Sunday, all the streets, from my neck of the woods to the center of town, are bustling with people. Today, there was hardly anyone, cars or people. On the way into town, I only saw two open shops and , in town, the only places open were cafés and the train station. The contrast is amazing. The same places are jam packed with people throughout the week, young and old, college students , professionals, they are all there. It felt like I was on Notre Dame's campus one Saturday afternoon, the day they play Michigan at home and was one of the unlucky souls who couldn't get a ticket or would rather gaze at that golden dome. In short, no one is there, you the place to yourself and a few other. The early afternonn was beautiful, bright sun, blue sky like always and very comfortable. After walking around a little bit and checking out the prices of train tickets to different cities in France, I thought it would be best to do something extremely French, something, I am sad to say, I had not done yet. I grabbed a cup of coffee, actually two, the serving siwes in France are extremely small, took a seat at a table in the middle of the Place de la Comédie and lounged for awhile. I could see why such an acticity is so beloved in France. The temperature, the architecture, the vacancy, the beauty, all kept me in my seat far longer than the duration of my cup(s) of coffee. I was in a trance, looking about, thinking of whatever crept into my mind. It was this moment, and a later one at the park this evening, I realized this wasn't so bad. I have thought that before but it has always been strongly countered by a feeling of loneliness or a lack of confidence. Sure, some things are up in the air right now. I spenk franglais, find it difficult, if not sometimes impossible, to understand native speakers, my apartment has troubles, and the cpmputer situation is up in the air. Yet, for once I overlooked these, I finally found my natural confidence in the good side of things. I realiwed, perhaps it won't be so bad to live here for a year after all.
Written on 5 September 2009 at 10:24 Montpellier Time

Today was a day of ups and downs, unknown futures and memorable places. This morning, I was sleepy and slept in past the time my roommates were going into town. I regret that, it would have been a chance to spend time with them. Whenever they plan to go out, they seem to plan to do specific things. Go there and get that, come back and do this. I wanted to roam free, get lost and see my city. I did just that and found myself at the spots always seen on the "Visit Montpellier!" web-sites. The arc de triomphe, the Promenade du Peyrou, the Jardin des Plantes, and the roman aqueducts. They were all beautiful, definately my favorite day of sight seeing. The arc de triomphe was large and fancy, but new and somewhat gaudy. It just didn't fit in. I was in the roman, medieval, government office section of town. Things were old and you could tell. The arc went against the theme of the area, as beautiful as it was, it was simply out of place and overshadowed. Making my way through the arc and across the street, I discovered a park elevated four or five feet above the road. It wasn't a huge park, obviously designed less for recreational pleasure and exercise than worship of the Capetian line. It was beautiful and small, only the size of a couple football fields placed next to each other. Through the middle of the park were two opposite facing, about fifty yards apart, rows of trees leading the way to the statue dedicated to the Capetian line in the middle and a reflecting pool and elevated arc towards the rear of the park. I was elevated and could see nearly all of the suburbs of Montpellier and luminous figuere of Cevennes jotting up in the background. The rear arc was closed, what a shame, so I left by taking the rear exit of the park which lead directly to the roman aqueducts I have long desired to see. They werre beautiful and impressive, tall and well-structured to hold strong through centuries of wear and tear. I stopped, took a couple of pictures and descended some stairs leading me out of the park and onto street level. I walked the exterior wall of the park and was mesmerized by the fact that something so old could last so long. I thought of how many people had been here over the centuries. The kings, the soldiers, the poor, the baker, the writer, the children, all looking at what I was looking at, perhaps thinking of life the same way, what was happening and what should be happening. We are centuries apart, yet, and this is what amazes me about historical property, we can claim to have utilized the same spots.

I made my way back to the street I had initially entered the park from. Heading the opposite way, I spotted what seemed to be a park. It was the University of Montpellier's Jardin des Plantes. I had heard of this before and had to enter. It was truly beautiful and ranks as my favorite place so far. It was secluded, the moment you stepped through the entrance you felt you had left the city and landed in a desert mirage. They had beautiful, overhung pathways lined with many different kinds of trees, flowers, herbs, and small statues all coming from countries across the world. It was a zoo for plants, fortunately, you don't have to worry about being attacked if you get too close to a cage. After the botanical garden, I started my way back to the Place de la Comédie, looking to buy intenet access for my laptop. It all went well, I made it home and bought internet access while doing so. I had had a good day, saw the things I usually love to see in other cities. However, I noticed something different. I still noticed the beauty of what I was seeing, but I never relished it. Something kept me from truly engaging myself in the environment, holding me captive to realities. I guess whenever I see something like I did today I am with a parent, on a trip. We have a set itinerary, everything is paid for or has a way of being paid for. Unlessthe trip really goes bad, we are guaranteed a good time. It is trips to Ireland with Dad or New York with my Mom, they were relished in the moment. I was able to let go, enjoy my surroundings and amawe myself with whatever I was seeing. Today was different, I didn't have the people I love the most around me to share my experience, asking asking each other questions, soaking up the uniqueness of what we were looking at. So, I guess I felt lonely, but the feeling was more than that. The feel I had in New York and Ireland, Cooperstown and Belize, was that feeling you get on vacation. A one or two week release from your daily routine, only you and your loved ones, good times. That wasn't there. I am not on vacation, and I don't know know what I am doing well enough to foret what I should do in the next couple of days or weeks. I find it odd, the only ways I used to think of the rest of the world was through what I saw while vacationing. Everything sounded good, I thought of my time there as temporary, something without the necessities and must-do's of everyday life. Now that I am herer herer to stay and have no idea about what is going on around me, it changes things. I don't see the same joy I once had. It tarnishes my joy of the country, but it enhances the experience of it. I am living France, not just visiting, and that is what I was looking for.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Written 4 September 2009 At 1128 Montpellier Time

One aspect of my life that has changed is the satisfaction I get from the minor details of life I so often overlook in the United States. Getting to and from wherever it is I want to go, small chat with people with people working at the grocery store or gym, or completing errands. In the U.S., these aspects of life are often trivial. They are routine, often thoughtless acts I spend hardly anytime relishing. I have always taken satisfaction from conducting myself according to my principles of courtesy in conversation with momentary acquaintances or a nice drive down River Road with a cup of coffee in the morning on the way to school. However, they are always things I enjoy at that moment, often because they give me time to think of the things that are happening in my life or supporting the view I hold of myself as a nice guy. They do not last, always being eclipsed by my next thought or action. Tonight, and early this this afternoon, I held a lengthy conversation with with Vivian (french name for my female roomate, I couldn't possibly spell her real name). We spoke mostly in french and a few lines of english when the subject of our conversation delved into an aspect of the french language we are not accustomed to. I left feeling good. Our conversation amounted to nothing more than what year we were in at school, what I was doing that day, what we were going to do the next day, what she did that day, what our home cities were like, and our impressions of France and the language. Nothing too deep and something usually forgotten as verbal niceties in America, yet transformed into a major accomplishment here. I got the same feeling successfully riding the tram to and from the city and going to the grocery store by myself. By my standards of life at home, theses activities are trivial, minute details of the day easily forgotten and overlooked. But, here, they take on a new life. No matter how basic the conversation or how simple the task, it becomes something more. Something I can hold onto as proof that things will become easier and that I have the ability to survive here. It is fuel for my mind, keeping it from transgressing into a state of loneliness and unhappiness. Something to keep going and looking forward. Other than the activities listed above, I devoted my day to corresponding with friends and family through e-mail and Facebook and seeing some of Montpellier. I rode the Lacou tramway line as far as it would take me. It was fun. I got to see the outer reaches of the city as well as get a glance of parts of the inner city I hadn't seen yet. I met two Americans at the International Relations office, both were nice. It was nice to be around something I was familiar with, part of my home and easy to communicate. I won't write much about this because of a lack of information, but I saw the evening market open up in downtown Montpellier opposite La Place de la Comédie. It was fantastic. It had every food and item imaginable: candied fruits, french candy, several different types of cheese, meat, jewelry, pottery, wood carvings, dresses and other clothes, wine tasting, and olive oil stands. I was hungry and in a hurry to get home so I didn't stop to do any shopping. I can't wait to find out more!

Friday, September 4, 2009

03 September 2009 at 1900h Montpellier Time.

Today was a much better day. I forgot to Mention my roommates in my previous entry. I live with two chinese exchange, one male and one female. They are nice people, at least I think they are nice. Communication is difficult. the guy, Cabine, speaks chinese and french fluently, as well as a little bit of english. The girl, who's name I have yet to remember, speaks, of course, fluent chinese and, like me, very little french. We have a horrible time communicating with each other. French is very difficult to comprhend coming from a native speaker, much more when coupled with a chinese accent. We don't really knoww what we say to each other. We do our errands together. Cabine is a second semester student in Montpellier. He knows the ropes and has been very helpful getting us to and from different places. I would be completely lost without him. We have formed somewhat of a communicationless friendship. We have gotten to know each other through broken french and english, I am truly glad to have them around. Of course, it would be easier rooming with another American. However, I think this will be good for me. I will get to learn about a world I know very little about and, living in a home where french is the common language, my language skills will improve. I took my examinations for class placement today. I was suprised and happy to find both the oral and written tests easier than expected. I was happy to find out we have a beautiful park across the street from our apartment complex. I took a jog in it tonight. The sights and seclusion were a wonderful treat. The path took me through a wooded section, down small hills, around a field, and along a small lake. The scenery was beautiful. the park contains an ancient, large villa as well as several small gardens containing mostly apple and chesnut trees. I set up a french bank account as well today and began looking into a membership at a beautiful, plush gym a couple of blocks from my apartment. The gym is a compound of at least an acre of developed land containing spas, tennis courts, a swimming pool, as well as relaxation and fitness rooms, all dispersed across the property in small to medium sized bungalows. That is all I have. Bonne Journée.
02 September 2009 at 1755 Montpellier Time.

I have arrived and the first day is now done. It was a day unlike no other I have had recently, if ever. A day, full of first impressions, both of my new home and the new people in my life, tedious errands and payments, and absolute and unremitting confusion. I heard of culture shock before leaving and about the methods of containing. I wouldn't characterize myself as being shocked right now. Something told me before I left, the people in France zould be speaking french and would not look like the people I saw in America everyday. Yet, what I am suprised to find myself feeling is complete loneliness. I have never felt a deeper loss of the people I hold closest to me than i do this day. Perhaps, this is my culture shock. I have heard people describe the situation I am in and the loneliness I am feeling as a loss of a "safety net." That the people you hold closest somehow distort the "real world" through love and care. Once they are no longer able to be with you, the body and mind are released into a convoluted world of self-interest and disinterest. Yet, I don't see my relationships as what is given to me or what I give to others. My family and friends do not prop the world up above the realities of everyday life. They do not soften the blows of disappointments or magnify the pride of success. In this view, we are close to people not because they create a better life, but because they blunt the effects of those aspects of life we wish not to expose ourselves to. Yet, what I feel right now is not the seclusion of a world I once was not exposed to, but a deep loneliness derived from the complete absence of all those who made living in America so happy. We reciprocally transferred love, care, and happiness to each other. Now that this is incapable of occurring intimately, I a, confronted with, with a slightly different flavor, only absent the things I held most deeply in my life. So, for those who didn't believe me when I told them, you are and will be truly missed.

Yet, not all I take away from today is negative. I have to take pride in being able to put my head down and successfully struggle through the tasks of the day. My language skills failed me, but, by the end of the day, I felt myself coming around to coherency in speech and clarity in comprehension. I can retrace an improvement from a dismal state to something slightly above that. It was just one day, I can't imagine the impact of several weeks and months.

Montpellier is even more beautiful in person than in pictures. There is a medieval, spanish flavor to many of the buildings. The town center is definately the most scenice and beautiful part of the city. It has a beautiful town square of shops, bars, and restaurants known as the Place de la Comédie. Several other "places" find themselves intermingled with the disorderly placement of "rues" and avenues. The outskirts, where I reside, are nice but nothing special. I am lucky to have a row of villas lining a couple of the streets leading to my apartment complex. What a wonderful treat they will be when I have the oppurtunity to go for a jog. From spanish-style shingled roofs, terra cotta walls, and ebullient 18th and 19th century french buildings, similar to what you would see in the French Quarter in New Orleans, the architecture is beautiful. The city is spotted with medieval churches and fortresses, as well as some very beautiful, very old statues. I spent the entire day in the city, getting passes and insurences for different programs and transportation systems. The food is pretty cheap and very good. I found myself lone eating a jambon sandwich in the middle of the city this afternoon with a homeless man playing the accordion in the background. I thought that was a wonderful and fitting first impression. At that moment, alone in the city amongst the beautiful buildings, I saw the Montpellier I had come to see. Perhaps, I was not a jolly fellow the rest of the afternoon, but, at that moment, I realized the hard and tedious times would pass and a time of more wonderful moments were on their way.