Outbounds 2003-2004

August 27, 2003

Well, I’m finally in Brazil.  After months of waiting and preparing I’m here.  I have to say nothing is as I expected.  Rotary tried to prepare all of the students for their year abroad and I thought I was ready and had everything under control.  Well that’s until I experienced for my first time “Culture Shock.”  Culture shock really bites the big one.  Culture shock is arriving somewhere foreign like Brazil and not knowing what the heck is going on and everything is so very different.  Like here there is no air conditioning, no unlimited internet access, and there are maids.  On top of all the differences though, the most difficult part is the language.  Not knowing a word of what people are saying, and half the time not knowing if the person in front of you is talking to you or someone else.
I would have to say this is by far the most mentally, physically, and emotionally challenging experience of my life thus far.  You know I thought I would get here and everything would be great for the first few weeks and I would feel like I was on vacation.  Well if that first week was supposed to be vacation it would have been the vacation from hell, and I mean hell.

I was absolutely convinced I wanted to go home back to normality.  I missed my family, my house, air conditioning, my unlimited internet access, and my bed, and oh did I miss my boyfriend.  I started crying the second I left the ground in Jacksonville and didn’t finish until the end of the next week.  But the worst homesickness hit when I was alone in the Sao Paulo airport.  I was hysterical – I cried and cried and was completely oblivious to everyone watching.  So once I dried it up some, I went to the bathroom to find I no longer had my makeup on my face.  It was on my nice, clean shirt.  So, on top of all the sadness, stress and confusion I had to find a way to clean up.  It was an absolute nightmare.  The whole first week was one big cry fest too.  I thought a lot over the first week—but not good things.  I was thinking, “Wow I’m a complete idiot.  What kind of 15 year old wacko would do this.”  But by the end of the week I sort of came to my senses because my dad in the US said to stop calling all the time and suck it up—you’re the one that wanted to do this.  So, out of fury, I sucked it up and stopped calling all the time.

Things started to get a lot better once a lot of friends started coming over everyday and we started going out every night and weekend.  Everyone is so nice here.  They are so warm and inviting.  I am so lucky to be put into a culture that is SO GREAT.  I swear these people would give their right arm for you.  Anything they can do to help they do—but meanwhile they are trying to make you eat something.  They eat so much here.  All of the exchange students were right—you eat a lot.  Well instead of gaining weight though I’ve lost weight.  I think about 6 pounds.  It’s really cool.  So something good did come out of this.

My first week of school was something else.  I have never experienced anything like this.  Now I know why celebrities are reluctant about going in public without protection. Ha-ha.  Well my first day I walked into class and everyone stood up, clapped and yelled for me.  Rotary introduced me into every other class in the school and each class copied my first class in the cheering.  I was so shocked at that.  But through the whole week I was treated like nothing less than a celebrity.  People would stop in the hallways to let me walk through, clap as I walked by, and had me sign autographs.  Yeah autographs.  I think people in the US so under appreciate me!!!

Being an exchange student you get asked many questions all the time.  But the question I seem to get asked most is “do you like the food here?”  Oh do I like the food.  It is great.  I’m already a food fan but the food here is awesome.  Especially Pão de Qeijo.  Oh my God—I thought I died and went to heaven when I first tried it.  It is this warm ball of bread with warm, moist cheese inside of it.  If you have had Red Lobster’s cheese bread you will have an IDEA of how good it is.  Brazilians really know how to cook.

Well you are probably wondering about my town, or maybe not but I will tell you anyway.  I live in a town called Curvelo.  Curvelo has about 70,000 people living in it and everything is so close.  You can get anywhere in town with no more than a 10 minute walk.  It’s pretty cool except when you don’t want to walk.  But everyone here walks everywhere.  Curvelo is really good because everyone knows everyone.  When you go out you are never alone and you never have to worry about not being invited to any party because around here they are non-stop and everyone goes.

Even though Curvelo may be small, man when you go out you have to be dressed the right way.  Your shirt has to go with your jeans.  Your jeans have to match some color in your shoes.  Your shoes have to match your purse and everything has to go with your earrings.  I have definitely had to do some major shopping.  But, I’m not complaining.  But, the one thing I have not bought yet is a Brazilian bikini.  I was looking at one the other day and I couldn’t tell the front from the back on the bottoms.  There is no way.  I mean, it might fly for these dark, petite Brazilians but I am anything but that.  I am white, very much so NOT petite and I’m not willing to show everyone my butt.

Well, I think I’m just about out of things to say about my month here except that, I know other exchange students had said their first month in their country is the worst month of their lives due to homesickness and other adjustments.  Well, yeah homesickness sucks.  But I would not have traded this month for anything.  This month was hard but it was the best developmental month.  If I didn’t have this month I would be friendless and homesick.  But I have so many friends and I am so happy.  My feelings now totally contradict my feelings I had my first week.  I am thoroughly convinced, absolutely without a doubt, that I am doing the best thing for me and my future and I am so excited about this year.  You know I could think of a million other worse things I could be doing but I think that the worst thing I could have done was wimped out and not come to Brazil.  This has made me stronger and challenged every aspect of my being and I am absolutely thankful for everyone that encouraged me to do this and was behind me.  You know my friend Tierney said, “Your year is what you make it!” and she is right.  I am going to have the best year of my life.  I’m going to live every day to its fullest.

Well that’s all I have to say this month but I will write more next month.

Tchau,

Courtney

October 6 

Two months have come and gone and I can’t believe it!  Time has just flown by, and again this month has been great.  I’m speaking the language, I have so many new friends and I’m staying busy.
This month I have done so many unforgettable things.  My family took me to Minerão, the second largest soccer stadium in the world, to see Belo Horizonte’s home soccer team Cruziero play against Santos.  I was absolutely amazing.  There were so many excited people, happy and full of life.  When I entered the stadium it was like seeing a sea of blue and while jerseys with heads attached to them.  I have never seen this many people in the Alltel Stadium at a Jags game.  People sitting butt-to-butt and elbow-to-elbow.  People sitting in the aisles and standing on railing but no one cared how crowded it was.  They just made sure they weren’t sitting by anyone rooting for the other team.  Imagine an entire stadium with people waving banners in the air, playing drums, chanting, singing and doing the wave.  It was awesome!!

Also this month I went to another town near here with my friends and their families for the birthday party of the mayor of Augusto de Lima.  At the party there were something like 600 people there.  It was so much fun.  We danced Forro, ate barbeque and didn’t go home until like eight in the morning.  I did not sleep a wink.

Although this month has been really great and everything, you gotta take the good with the bad.  Yeah that sucked big time.  The car door cut through my fingernail and left a trail of blood throughout the car.  Oh my God, it hurt so bad but being the “tough” person I am I didn’t say a word until my friend looked at my pants and saw all the blood on them so she looked for the source and found my finger.  It looked like a knife had just sliced through my nail and it bled like it too.  About 30 minutes later I was going to get out of the car and I about fainted because I was losing so much blood.  My friend put my finger in salt water (which will never ever happen again) and then wrapped it in a rag.  Within 15 minutes the rag was soaked.  It was soooo disgusting.

As I said, I have made so many new friends and the weird thing is they are mostly girls.  In the US all my friends are guys and here I only have a few guy friends.  I love all my friends here.  They help me so much and they are really great.

Finally, my schedule has picked up.  I’m staying really busy now.  I am doing swimming, hydro gym, and walking 3 days a week.  Two days a week I have physical education with my school and Saturday and Sunday I do nothing.  Those are the days I do stuff with my friends, sleep and talk to Jonathan (my boyfriend).

Oh, Al, my mom told me you said I would buy a Brazilian bikini.  Well—-you were right.  It didn’t take much time but I bought one.  I haven’t exactly built up the confidence to wear it yet and plus I haven’t convinced my boyfriend it isn’t that small yet—Haha.

Ya know I just got here and I already don’t want to go back to the US.  I want to stay here in this great country with these awesome people.  Now this is where I call home.  I am so lucky to have two families, two homes and two wonderful countries and cultures I am a part of.  This is the best experience anyone could ever have and everyone should.

Well that’s all I gotta say this month folks, but I’ll keep ya updated—until next month.  Tchau.

Beijos e abracos,

Courtney

December 12

It’s been about five months since I arrived in Brazil. These past months seem like one. Everything here is good. It’s getting harder and harder to think of things to write because now not a lot happens. I’m just living life. One good thing is I don’t have anymore school. Thank God we are out for summer. School isn’t bad it just really sucks getting up early and going to school and listening to teachers you only half way understand because they are talking so fast. But now I don’t have to do anything but hang out.
So, yeah, I realize that I am late sending in my journal, so I guess I’ll write about everything now. Last month was good. I didn’t do a lot but I did get to travel. I took a 10 hour bus ride to Rio de Janeiro. It was so cool. I went to see my friend Ale. If you don’t know her she was an exchange student in Mandarin. She called me and invited me to come see her, so I did.

It was so awesome. Pictures do not justify the beauty of Rio. It is breathtaking. You have city living on the beach. When you go to the beach there are about 100 vendors going around yelling what they are selling and taking advantage of the tourists–ha ha. Well, I spent five days in Rio and they were absolutely great. I didn’t want to leave. The first day I was there I went to the beach and got so sunburned I was so red. Ale kept calling me her pink American. We had so much fun. We went everywhere and saw everything… flea markets, shopping malls, the Christ, Sugar Loaf and course all the beaches. The last day I was there I did not want to go home but then I got on the bus for the 10 hour ride and all I wanted was to be home.

So that’s all that really happened last month and it sure is more than this month. This month I only really hung out with my family and went to a bunch of fashion shows, bar-b-q’s and birthday parties. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed is the amount of parties. Party after party after party. But hey, I’m not complaining. Last week I went to a huge party for 15 girls for their 15th birthdays. I had to buy an evening gown and dress up and everything. It was really fun. I love to play dress up.

Well, Christmas is coming up. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I guess it is both. I mean I get to experience Christmas in a different culture with my family, but it is bringing the end of the year so close. In the beginning I wanted it to be the end of the year or the end of my exchange, but now when I leave I’m leaving another family and I will have to go through all the crappy, emotional stuff again–Yuk!! I hope this Christmas goes good. It’s my first without my family in the U.S… Well, my family just decided they are coming to visit Brazil in March. I’m so excited they get to meet my family and see where I live and I get to see them but the really cool part is they are bringing my boyfriend with them. I miss all of them so much. Well, while I’m talking about my family and boyfriend and everything I wanted to say hey to Jonathan and my family and that I love you.

Well, I hope that this upcoming month brings all sorts of new and adventurous things. Until next month–Bye.

Courtney

April 19

Hey, sorry it’s taken me so long to write this journal but it’s been absolutely hectic around here. In January I went on a month long trip to the Northeast of Brazil and got back to Curvelo in February and right after I got back my parents arrived and were here until the end of February and when they left, CARNAVAL started, so, as you can see it’s been really hectic.

Well, my year is coming to an end but I’ve had an absolutely awesome year. As I said, I went on a month long trip to the Northeast, it was absolutely amazing we went so many places – we went from Brasilia (Brazil’s capital) to Angra dos Reis (outside of Rio). In between we went to about to other cities. All the places we went were really great. Around 45 exchange students went. We were all on the same double decker bus, (you can only imagine the confusion)!!

But we all had the time of our lives! About 3 days after I got back from the trip my parents arrived and stayed for a while, I was so happy to see them we went to Diamantina, Ouro Preto (had lunch) dinner in the house of about everyone here in Curvelo; They got to know my Rotary club, my family, my friends, school etc…

Everything went really nice but it made me miss them more. But soon after they left my sadness was put aside for a while because of CARNAVAL!! My GOD, it was the most amazing Party I’ve ever been to in my entire life, I went to Diamantina, which is a historic city near Curvelo. I’ve never seen that many people in one small town. But imagine 5 days going out at 5:00 in the afternoon and getting home at 11:00 the next day, eat lunch and go to sleep until 5:00 and go out again! It’s great but it’s absolutely the most tiring thing I’ve ever done.

Well, that’s about all of the excitement since then it’s been normal. Just going out, with my friends and stuff like that. So, now I don’t have anything else to write about. But I’ll be home soon. I’m leaving here May. Thank GOD ! I’m ready to come home! Well, that’s all for this month and this year. Bye yawl.

COURTNEY

September 22, 2003

Wow I can’t believe I am actually one month into my year. Germany is exactly what I expected and at the same time totally different. My host parents are great. They couldn’t be any nicer. It was really strange because when they met me at the airport my host mom was crying. I was thinking, “Wait a second, aren’t the moms supposed to cry when you leave not when you arrive?” My first week was so long. I never thought I’d make it through. It was just about the worst week of my life. I figured out that Germans are not like Brazilians or even most Americans. They are not warm and friendly. I had to make the effort to make friends. I have never been any good at that, and at first I wondered why on earth I thought I could be an exchange student.

Exactly one week after I arrived things began to pick up. My History teacher threw a welcoming party for me and Omar another American from New York. That’s when I had my first case of culture shock. The kids were all drinking alcohol on school property. Like right outside and even inside the building with teachers standing around. It was darn crazy. But that night is when I really began to make friends and get invited to do things.

I’ve really learned to appreciate Al and my Rotary in Florida. Here my Rotary hasn’t really done anything with me and the other exchange students. I wish I could be an exchange student in district 6970. But it’s ok because I’ve had to make friends at school rather than just other foreign kids. By the way it’s really weird to be the foreign kid.

There is also a Canadian student named Nick. He always gives me a bad time about my southern accent, and a few weeks after I arrived we got another exchange student from Hungary. Her name is Dori. It’s been really great having a girl around.

It’s been difficult to force myself to learn the language because everyone speaks English. But I am picking up new things and I have promised myself that I am only going to speak German after October 1st. Wish me luck – it will be hard.

I am really beginning to love the German culture and the people here. I love how everything is so much slower paced than in the US. And all of the food tastes so much better. I think it is because of the time they put into it. I don’t even want to know how many kilos I’ve gained. And my city is great. Even though I don’t have my car I can still go anywhere I want by Trem or just walking. The trem is a street train kind of like a trolley and they go everywhere through the city. I never have a day where I’m bored. I can always go out and do things. My favorite thing to do is go to the Disco. I love to dance and it’s great that you only have to be 16 to get in. I had thought that all of the clothes would be so expensive, but they’re really not. I go shopping all the time. I love all the sweaters even if I won’t be able to wear them back home. But I’ve already began to feel at home here. I don’t even want to think about leaving. Right now all that matters is right now, and that’s a great realization to come to! And P.S. I want everyone to email me and tell me how they’re doing (especially you kids in Brazil, you know who you are). My email is still and will always be thesewerminnow@hotmail.com.

 

Hayley

 

October 18

I was thinking of a way to sum up all of my feelings here in Germany in a way that you Floridians can understand. OK, so here’s what I’ve come up with. I Feel… COLD!!! It is freezing cold here and only October. I am already wearing as many layers of clothes that will fit under my jacket and people are telling me that it’s only going to get colder. During the culture boot camp, we should have had something to prepare us for the difference in climate. But at least it gives me an excuse to do more shopping.

I didn’t get to go to Bavaria for Octoberfest, but there was a smaller Erfurter Octoberfest here in my town. I really liked it because it reminded me of state fairs that I used to go to in Tennessee. There were a lot of rides and games. I tried to find funnel cakes, but they didn’t have them. I settled for something similar to a candied apple instead.

I’ve tried speaking only German but that doesn’t always happen. My host family won’t speak any English with me anymore, which is really sweet, and when I go out I try to keep the conversations in German. I am learning a whole lot though. Right now I am just trying to pick up more nouns and things to extend my vocabulary.

I have to tell you about a DDR party that a friend of mine from school had. Well if you don’t know DDR is the name for the former East Germany the Deutchland Demokratic Republik where I live now. And my friends from school had a party to sort of remember what it was like to live in the DDR. When we arrived, if you weren’t born in the DDR you had to be sworn in as a citizen. And then everyone stood up and sang the DDR national anthem. One of the boys gave a short lecture about what the DDR was and about the last president and what it was like to live there. It was very educational. Then we watched an old cartoon from the DDR with no sound, on an old film projector. Then with an equal number of boys and girls, we drew names and had to get married. Once we were married, we played games to earn money for our family. For example, for one game two couples had to leave the room and then come back in with their legs tied to each other and search around the room for a hidden banana. The first couple to find the banana won 5 marks which could be used to buy food and stuff. This game was significant because the DDR was only allowed to import and export with other communist countries so the only fruit came from mostly Cuba, and bananas were very rare. We were also given stuffed animals that were our children, and then we had to sew clothes for them and had a contest for the best dressed baby. It was so much fun and an experience I will never forget.

I am beginning to feel very comfortable here and sometimes even like a native. Until, someone on the street stops me to ask something I don’t understand. But the other day a woman asked me how to get to Centrum. And I completely understood her, only I didn’t know how to get to where she wanted to go. But still it was quite an accomplishment just to understand.

My host parents know how much I like country music, and as an early birthday present they bought me tickets to a Gunter Gabriel featuring John Carter Cash concert that was in town. It wasn’t exactly the kind of country music I listen to. The first guy Gunter Gabriel is this German country singer. He only sang Johnny Cash songs, but ones that had been translated into German. It was really funny to hear “A boy named Sue” in German. I went with Dori the girl from Hungary and we were like the only young people there. And because we were in the front row, the Gunter Gabriel guy decided to keep talking to us and saying something about how young we were, but I couldn’t understand anything so I just kind of sat there with a goofy/embarrassed smile on my face. But when John Carter came on it was really good. He is Johnny Cash’s son and he does some more contemporary-old-time country music, if that exists. I really loved it. They played some songs that I knew, and it reminded me of home. My host parents were so sweet for doing that for me.

Well I guess that’s enough to give y’all a taste of what this past month has been for me. And if you ever want to really put yourself in my shoes just go stand in front of the refrigerator with the freezer door open wearing nothing but your skimpies. So long for now. Until next month. Tchüss! Viel Späss!

Hayley

 

November 24

I’m gonna sum this month up as, ”Settling in”. I’ve got a steady group of friends and my usual places to go. I’m becoming very comfortable and more relaxed. I’m learning a lot of things about myself and growing up in a lot of ways. For example: Back home I hated going anywhere by myself, but here its becoming quite the norm. I walk or take the trem into town on my own and its no big deal. I’m also reading a lot more. I guess that’s what you do when you’ve already seen every episode of Seventh Heaven and now in two different languages.

This month has been a lot of fun. When I last left off, it was just before Halloween. Halloween is just sort of starting to get big over here. I went to a party with some of my friends that have been to the U.S. Then later I found out that it and the DDR party were both experiments by two of my friends, Claudia and Steffi, for a thesis paper they had to write. We were all just guinea pigs for observation of social interaction among teenagers. But I don’t think anyone minded because we had a lot of fun in the process.

Then we had a Halloween-type party at school. It was tons of fun. We had games, and bake sales, and costumes. The highlight of the day for me was when we auctioned off dates with some of our fellow classmates. It was really funny. Nick the Canadian was a big hit. I think he went for €10 to two of our teachers. I really liked being able to help plan and decorate. It made me feel useful.

I haven’t done anything really big this month. Its mostly just daily stuff like hangin out with my friends. We go to the movies a lot, and to the disco. I really love to dance. Some of our common hang-outs include, Club 1, The Dubliner, McDonalds, Cinestar, and Anger 1.  What’s really cruel is that just as I’m getting ”Settled in” I have to uproot and move to another family. But I met them yesterday and I think I’m really going to enjoy it there. I guess I’ll have to tell you all about that in my next journal. And I haven’t been sending y’all any pictures so I’ll include those this time. Enjoy.

Hayley and Canadian

 

January 7

Sorry I’m a little late, but as I’m sure you can guess I’ve been very busy with the holidays. When last we left off I was just ready to move into my new family. Well I’ve been here a little over a month now and I LOVE IT! My family is so great. I don’t think I could get a better one. I have now five brothers and sisters and I can hardly call them my host siblings. They are like my real brothers and sisters. The oldest Raphael is 20 then there are Tabea 18, Benjamin 15, David 13, and Miriam 9. My host dad is a doctor here in Erfurt and my host mom is just about the best cook I’ve ever known. I love her food, as the scales will tell. And what’s really cute is that everyone in the family can play an instrument. The house is always filled with music. Oh and I think before I mentioned that I wouldn’t have a television. Well I don’t even notice. Now I fill my time with like reading and stuff. Crazy, huh?

This month I had my birthday. I’m 18 years old now and lovin’ it. My hosts were nice enough to allow me to use their house to have a party. I was feeling a little homesick so I decided to do something tropical and ended up having a Hawaiian themed dinner. I cooked, yes COOKED, a 3 course meal for all my friends. It was really good, especially the coconut shrimp, MmMm… But because my birthday is on the 23rd, I had the party a little earlier on the 19th. I didn’t think anything of it, but here that is considered bad luck, and everyone made sure to tell me. But so far it’s been only good for me (knock on wood). I also got to celebrate on my real birthday with my family. They were really great about making me feel at ho! me.

For the first time, I got to experience Advent. We had a little thing in the kitchen where you light a candle every Sunday leading up to Christmas and when you do, the hot air rises and makes a little windmill-type thing with angels on it spin around and then the angels ding a little bell and the more candles you light the faster it goes and the quicker it dings. It was at times kind of annoying but now I miss it. It made the Christmas season last longer. And on the sixth of December here is Nicholaustag. It is a day when someone kind of like Santa fills the children’s shoes with candy or something. But for us Nicholaus came to our house and gave all us kids boots filled with sweets. It was a lot of fun. And I made a really cute Gingerbread house with my family. It tasted good too, and I didn’t even use glue. For Christmas, the house was very full and very loud. My host dad’s mother and brother came to stay with us. They were both a lot of fun. Without school we all had a lot of free time on our hands. I can’t even count the number of times I played “Uno”. And our tree was so cool. It had real candles on it instead of just Christmas lights. I thought it was really pretty but I was sad that we didn’t put it up until the 23rd. But we did get to open our presents a day early. That was cool. And we got our first snow. So far there hasn’t been much, but at least we had a white Christmas.

We just finished celebrating New Years. I had a lot of fun. A friend of mine had a party at her house outside of town. A bunch of us stayed there, and we danced-in the new year at a very small disco, something like the German form of a Honky Tonk. It was tons of fun. And here the tradition is to have a lot of fireworks. And they give gifts like four leaf clovers to wish luck for the new year. And yesterday I went ice skating for the first time since I was really small. But I didn’t fall down once. I was very proud of myself. We’ll have to go again sometime.

*Time Passes*

And now for something that I don’t really include often; that is, that what I’m learning from this year, or as some might call it, meaningless ramblings. You know the term, “No man is an island”. I believe that is true for everyone. We all grow up with a certain view point of the rest of the world, and we all carry with us a bias that affects the way we see things. Our bias affects the way we encounter situations and how we react to them. It affects the decisions that we will and are now making. Last year I read a book called “The Things They Carry” by Tim O’Brian. It was a book about the Vietnam War but more importantly about the men involved. What I learned from this book is that while all of the soldiers ended up in often the exact same situations, whether it be combat or just surviving in a totally new environment, they never turned out one the same as another. What made the difference for each man were the things he carried with him, not tangibly but figuratively. I’m learning that as well. These past months I’ve learned how to, in a manner of saying, lighten the load that I carry. I’ve had to strip away all of the unnecessary baggage in my life. I’ve stripped it down to only the bare essentials. Now as I walk through the city streets nearly nude, my view is no longer so largely obstructed. I see (and when I say see, I mean really see, not only that what is limited to the vision of our eyes) things now that I never knew man had the ability to behold. But those few things that I do still carry with me, those are the things that have become even more precious to me. For example, my family is still with me. I hear their voices now much stronger than ever when we were in the same room. God is still with me. Now not because I learned in Sunday School that He should be, but because I choose Him to be. And my pride in my country is still with me. I only hope that I present a good reputation of the American people. When I first came to Erfurt, there were five of us, five “Foreign Kids”. We all started on the same path. We came to many of the same hurdles and challenges, but we all made our own choices based on our own separate biases. And now, our paths are proving to be much different, but we are all learning one common lesson and that is ourselves. I am learning who I really am and always was, and that is making a huge impact on who I want to become.

 

Hayley

 

February 26

I can’t believe I’m already “over the hill” so to say of my exchange student year. Everything is exactly what everyone said it would be, but with its own little flare of me mixed in. My German is really good. I hardly even speak English anymore. Which is really hard ‘cause everyone here speaks English and I’ve learned to use that as a crutch for my inabilities in German, but not so much now. A couple weeks ago I went sledding with a big group of my friends. It wasn’t the little down hill sledding that we used to do in Tennessee. Oh no, since I’m in Germany, we had to climb a whole mountain to go sledding. But I can’t complain. It was gorgeous. I’ve never seen so much snow in my entire life. The 9th was my little sister’s birthday. I played “Happy Birthday to You” on the piano. I’m proud. And the 10th was my middle brother’s birthday. We had Sushi and it was really good. I even helped make it a little. Last week I went to BERLIN. Pretty cool, huh? It was actually awesome. We saw so much stuff. My favorite thing was the Jewish Museum and of course Starbucks. That was for three days. Then the day after I got back I went to Weimar. It’s a little tourist town right next to Erfurt. Goethe lived and wrote there evidently. It was really pretty, but really cold. But then again its cold everywhere. Then the next day we went to Dresden. This city was gorgeous. And they tell me it was even more beautiful before the Americans bombed the bageezes out of it. Now I’m back in school and back in my old routines.

I have a theory. You know the saying that you can never step in the same river twice. (If not just watch “Pocahontas”) Well it’s the same for exchange students. You can never meet the same exchange student twice because we change everyday. Not just every day, but sometimes in a couple hours or just one moment. That’s why I’m a little reluctant to write in the journal that I keep. ‘Cause I’ll go back and read it and I think, “Who wrote this?” Sometimes I feel like the me in Florida and the me now are total strangers. Like what did those two people ever have to do with each other. And then one day I’ll surprise myself and I’ll feel like I never left home, or one day I’ll go all the way back to being the me in Tennessee. No matter how much I keep writing I know I won’t fully explain it. But I think the other exchange students know what I’m talking about. Sorry that I took so long to send in this journal. The me that prefers sleeping procrastinated a bit.

 

April 13 

Hello again. I take yet another break out of my fast paced German lifestyle to give y’all an insight into what I’m up to. Well let’s see…

When we last left our valiant heroine she was returning from many a travels abroad. Well lately I’ve stayed put. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced anything here at home. As a matter of fact, I went to the Ega here in Erfurt where I got to see the Minimundus. They’re models of famous places around the world all like 1/25th of the size or something. That was fun. And the Ega itself was very pretty. There were a lot of gardens and a butterfly room.

For another experience I went to the new theatre here in Erfurt with my family. We saw, “Das Traumfrescherchen”. Translated it means the dream-eater. It was an opera about a little princes who had bad dreams and her father the king went in search of a cure so that she could sleep again. In his journey he found das Traumfrescherchen and the little girl had to say a poem to get him to come to her and then he ate all her bad dreams and everyone lived happily ever after. I also went with my friends to see another play but it wasn’t nearly as entertaining and I didn’t understand it and not just because of the language.

Also just this past week and for the next I’m on holiday. I guess it would be Spring Break. But it doesn’t feel like it because it still isn’t quite warm. But I got to experience how Germans celebrate Easter. And ya know it’s about exactly the same way we do. My host sister did make a couple cakes in the form of a lamb and an Easter bunny. I’ve never seen that before. And on Saturday there was a duck run on the river. The little kids from our city bought rubber duckies and then launched them simultaneously down the river. The one that reached the end first won something. I don’t know what.

And I’ll be changing host families this week. I’m very sad as I’ve been with this same family for four and a half months now. Its kind of frustrating so late in my exchange to have to start all over again. But as every Rotary experience I’m sure it will be a good one.

This is the point in my e-mail where I should give some insightful words of wisdom. Well I don’t have any. I’ve been reading up on the new outbound class. All I can say is that I’m totally jealous. I wish I could go back to the beginning. Of course even if I could I wouldn’t dare change one thing. Even the smallest experiences are making the biggest impacts on my life! If you new outbounds are smart, y’all have probably been reading the journals from us current outbounds. So in mine I want to include my e-mail address for anyone who has questions… wait I already did that a few months ago. Well I’ll do it again anyway: thesewerminnow@hotmail.com

Hayley

 

July 7 

My year with Rotary has come to an end. This will be my final entry to close out this chapter of my life. I know I’m quite behind so I’m just going to skip the month of May, nothing too exciting happened then anyway, and I’m going to go straight to all that happened this past month.

In the first week of June I finally had my first event with Rotary. It was a camp in Northern Bavaria, one they’ve been holding for twenty some odd years. There I got to meet about fifty other exchange students from all around the world that were staying in different cities across Germany. We toured different cities in Bavaria including Nurnberg and Bamberg and learned about everything from the rise of Nazism to studying in a German University. But of course none of these things are what I think of when I recall this week of my life. During this week at Berg Feuerstein, surrounded by nature and sharing three showers among thirty girls, I met some of the most amazing people and made some of the strongest friendships that I know will last for years to come. I befriended some very special Americans, a couple Canadians to throw in a little spice, and some wild characters from Australia, all of which I have high hopes to see again. We were all amazed at how close we came in this one short week. I guess I can only say that there must have been something in the water.

Our friendships didn’t die up there on that mountain though. We all saw each other again in the weeks to come. The following weekend I was supposed to go to a campout with a neighboring district, but there was a bit of a problem with the trains, to say the least. To make a long story short, I didn’t make it to that weekend.

But then my dad came to visit me. It was so much fun to introduce him to my new family and my new home. We did a lot of sight seeing and I always found a chance to show off my German skills. But then Dad left and life went back to normal… yeah right.

The next weekend I joined District 1870 for their “Adventure Weekend”. And with the crazy cold weather and never ending rain, it turned out to be quite the adventure indeed. But what’s great is that I got to see many of my new friends again. We all painted t-shirts and went canoeing. It was great fun.

Then in the next week my friend Sarah from Australia came and visited me in my city. That was great fun. We watched Germany lose their final match and went out dancing. Then the following weekend I had two going away parties. The first was by my Canadian friend Nick whom I’ve known all year. We had a traditional Bratwurst dinner and just hung out at his house. The second was by a friend of mine from Indiana in a small town in Saxony. It was a very emotional evening. We stayed up all night watching the Goonies and enjoying every last moment together. The next day at the train station was all tears and goodbyes.

Then on Monday night I had my Abiball, which is the German equivalent of graduation and prom rolled into one. First they have a dinner with all of the parents where they say thanks to the teachers and play some games, then all the kids meet up at the disco for the dancing portion. Then Tuesday I visited Sarah again for her birthday, said my goodbyes there, and that night said my goodbyes to Nick and Omar. And Wednesday I had a luncheon with some friends from school and then dinner with my host family, and the next morning I was on a plane headed to Dallas Ft. Worth.

It’s amazing to recap now what all happened. I made enough friends and had enough experiences to fill an entire lifetime. And in a way I feel I did. The people in my life here will never understand exactly what I’ve been through, how I’ve changed. But am I sad that it’s over? No, just happy that I got to experience it.

September 30, 2003

I’m having a wonderful time here in Japan! Seems I fell into perfection. I’m the only student here who isn’t full of complaints! I’m sure I’ll have my rough moments too, though I’ve only made a few cultural blunders thus far … most having to do with when and when not to take my shoes off.

So far, I’ve walked in a parade, taken part in the school festival, toured some of Kanazawa (went to the garden on this post card!), and made many friends. Will write my monthly report as soon as our computer is fixed.

January 6

This is the fourth time I’ve tried to begin this entry. Got to be the most difficult introduction I’ve ever written, so I think I’ll just skip it at this point and just go. ^^;
Japan. Wow. What can I say about Japan that would even come near to describing truthfully the experiences and feelings I’ve had over the past few months? Amazing to me, really, that I’ve been here for months…time must move differently here, because months have never flown by in such a rush before. When I think back, Japan has been this mass of excitement and people and neon lights and intricate characters all balled up and thrown right in my face…a whirlpool of overwhelming colors and feelings that’s swallowed me whole. I swear I haven’t even done that much, yet thinking back all I get are visions of festival lanterns and chanting monks and again, SO many people, as if all the swirls of memory are something from some busy movie rather than experiences I’ve actually gone though.

My first night here I was already out with my host sister, who’s my age, and a group of Japanese teenagers, weaving through the crowds on the endless (or so it then seemed) Katamachi, the main street in my city. It was like I had tripped and fallen into the Discovery Channel; all the neon sighs and half-English half-Japanese advertisements everywhere, seas of black-haired people and so many boutiques and restaurants and little stands, and everywhere venders calling out “IRASHAIMASE!!” right in your ear. That means welcome. ^_^ Never going to seem quite right to walk into a store in America and not have at least five people screaming welcome at me. Hee.

I entered school right at the time of the school festival. What a time to get there…school festival means students everywhere, projects and costumes and food and havoc. Everyone is everywhere all the time. I really felt the size of my school then. The first sight of my school included a huge model of Atstro Boy (famous Japanese cartoon character) towering over me made completely out of soda cans. There were boys in dresses all over the place. o.O The festival would last for three days, and the opening day I was wrapped into a traditional yukata (like a kimono only cooler, because there are less layers) by one of the teachers and paraded around town…no really, I walked with my school in a parade right through the heart of the city to open our festival.

The excitement did eventually die down, and the students turned into the regular uniformed, intellectual kids who live and breathe school, as I had first expected. I’m still having trouble understanding classes, but hey, YOU try reading the board when the writing system consists of over 3000 pictograms. And this from someone who’s really good at reading Japanese too. It’s tough. Not to mention the fact that the teachers have horrendous handwriting. ^^;;;

Let me explain a bit about the Japanese writing system. There are three writing systems: kanji, hiragana, and katakana. Kanji is the scary one that everyone recognizes…the complex pictograms that number 3000+. There are easier systems though. Hiragana and katakana are more like what we would think of as “alphabets”. They have 46 characters each, each character representing a syllable (ka, ki, ku, ke, ko, like that). Japanese can be written completely using the easy texts, though usually what we see is a mix of all three. Kanji is used for the words, hiragana is used to change word endings and such, or for words that don’t have kanji. Katakana is for foreign words (which there are a lot of in Japanese) and sound effects.

I’ve become obsessed with kanji. I love reading and writing, and I’m far better in those areas at this point than I am at speech. That doesn’t, however, mean I know much kanji at all…kanji is impossible to just sit down and memorize, because not only are there so many characters, but there are more than one reading for most of the characters, and many ways to use the character. @_@ You just have to learn kanji as you learn Japanese, and this is why I still can’t follow certain classes at all. Classes like history and old Japanese are nothing but kanji. Math is easier to follow, and actually helps me to learn kanji, and then there are classes like PE and calligraphy which are easily my favorites because I can fully participate.

Moving off the writing tangent…I’m now with my second host family, which consists of host father, really cool host mother, and three older brothers.

I am having the time of my life.

My brothers are so great. Especially over the holidays there’s been no lack of brothers. Only one lives at home year-round. He’s the middle brother, at 24. The oldest (25), is in town, but we don’t see much of him. He and his fiancé were around quite a lot lately though. The youngest brother (20) is back from college in Tokyo for the time being. There’ve been movies and outings and even a trip to Kyoto with everyone. With all the brothers around there’s been sports on TV 24/7, and already I’m learning the names of wrestlers and actually coming to appreciate the difficulty of golf. I even watched a football game the other night of my own free will. Craziness. On top of warming to sports, since it’s all guys all the time, I’ve developed quite the “otoko Kanazawa-ben”, or boys’ form of the Kanazawa dialect. So apparently I’m going to go back to school talking slang like a boy. XD Plenty of video games and boys comics too, which are my favorite anyway, so I’m set.

We’ve had fun. ^^

So school starts tomorrow and it’s back to the old routine. I’ll be sad when it’s just my host mom and I around for the most part, once everyone’s back at work/school. I certainly will miss having my huge family around. I wouldn’t mind staying in this family for the rest of my stay.

I see the other exchange students now and then, mostly my friend from Canada and a guy who’s in my Japanese class with me. (Yes, I even go to cram school at night for Japanese, just like in anime! XD) Hopefully I’ll have more time to write some entries now that I’ve gained computer access.

Minna-sama, Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu! (Happy New Years, everyone!)

February 14 

Happy Valentines Day, everyone! ^^ Yes, it is celebrated here. Only slightly different. Valentines is more a day to say thank you. It’s the day when girls make chocolates and give them to the boys. There’s a parallel day, March 14th, called White Day, on which the boys HAVE to give chocolate back to any girl that gave them something on Valentines Day.
Thus I am making brownies for all the boys in my class. *grin*

The last month has been…eventful. But more in the Danielle-thinking-too-much or the Danielle-converses-inside- her-own-head-too-much way than true EVENTS. I guess I’ll start off with the fact that I had a bout of severe displeasure for a few weeks. I was upset with myself for not being better at Japanese. I was upset with my family and my school for not letting me be better at Japanese. I was upset at Japan for not being what I wanted it to be, and upset again at myself for wanting it to be more than it already was. I was restless, rather bored, majorly negative, and just all around wanted to go home for awhile there.

All in my head. It was only natural. I was fine at Japanese. I kept telling myself that, but just couldn’t accept it. Until. One day, no special day in particular, I went to school and WOAMYGOSH! I’m suddenly a Japanese high school student. I could understand my classes. Not all, by far, but I could copy kanji off the board, thanks to the disgusting amount of time I put into practicing kanji before. Then I could go home and slowly, painstakingly translate it. Thus more insane hours focusing on kanji. I studied all day until midnight every day for a week or so (just like the other kids), and whatdoyouknow, I can now open my math book and read it.

Practically killing myself in school perked me up so much. XD I felt like I belonged. Finally. I could communicate. Really. Not just sit there and pretend I could figure out what the conversations were about. …But now there’s this other sort of sadness. I wrote a journal entry on it a few days ago that I think proper to quote from:

“…it’s become my life now. Somewhere along the line, between my elation from being in Japan and my disappointment with Japan at the same time…somewhere in there a life began. And all of a sudden, I’m in this pattern. This fabulous pattern that feels so natural. It’s like I’ve never lived anywhere else. Traces of the American culture keep slipping away, and gradually the parts of America I used to long for seem a turn-off. And the Japanese lifestyle that once seemed so simple to me has become anything but. After a short spell of depression and general upset feelings geared toward everything around me, I fell into this perfect, wonderful existence.

Existence. But there’s so much more than that now. Now, instead of just existing while Japan went on around me, I’m now living Japan. I can communicate. I can understand. I study in school and joke with my friends and go through piles of manga (Japanese comic books) in a few hours rather than the one a day I MIGHT have been able to pull off around Christmas. My old American habits baffle me…what I used to do, how I used to think. And not that it’s all gone, I mean I’m still completely me…just a bit more Japanese.”

“And you know, I forget so often that I’m foreign. I forget that I don’t look like everyone else and that I won’t always be in this place I feel like I’ve lived in forever.

Then I catch someone staring and the truth comes crashing down around me. It’s like in a manga, when the background around me seems to melt into darkness and leaves me in the spotlight there…the gaijin in the schoolgirl costume clinging to her bento (lunch) and bag of Japanese-learning textbooks. And I bow my head and let my Japanese-style hair fall across my face so that maybe no one else will notice my eyes. I could be just a schoolgirl with dyed hair, right?

Right?
…

Four and a half months.”
*

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?”- LotR

April 29 

Well now. I must insist that it has definitely not been over a month since I last wrote. Valentine’s Day was last week, it’s the rest of you who are displaced in time and can’t quite see that. ……….. Wow. May already?
So busy comes not even close to describing how the past few months have been. I swear to you that time moves differently here. Japan is this big routine of school and club and work and if you’re lucky a little sleep, then school and club and work and work and school and work and club. And once you get stuck in this pattern, there’s no emerging unless you happen to get a week of holidays, like I’m on now. *whew* Honestly, I haven’t had a moment to breathe or sleep, let alone think of anything other than school in…well a few months.

It all started on spring break. The business started anyway, not the school. That ended. Heh. Spring break was me running all over Japan to everyplace I’ve ever wanted to go. There were towns and temples and Universal Studios, ATM machines and t-shirts and a general spending of too much money. Then on to more towns and meetings and Rabid Rotary Kids running all over town doing exchange-y things. Plus Tokyo and restaurants and brother (but not really).

Did you get all of that? That’s ok, I’m not sure I did either, frankly.

What’s lame about being so busy is that while you’re trying to keep up with everything, you end up missing a lot. School’s rather like that too.

School, which started again, and suddenly I’m in second year and I’m able to keep up with classes. Well, keep up with classes, that is, if I study every waking moment, and most of the moments which should normally be spent sleeping. That’s what I did, alright. Let me tell you, translating textbooks takes FOREVER. But I’m doing it. It’s fun, in a way. I get to learn lots of stuff, and I never get tired of working on cracking Japanese. Actually, I can’t keep up with all my classes. There just is no possible way. Takes me all my time and energy to keep up with Japanese history, world history, chemistry, and vocabulary tests. Now add that to club (cheer club and helping with English club) which goes till about six-thirty every day, Japanese cram school which goes later twice a week, and all the stuff I have to do outside of school on top of that…well, you can see why this entry is such a hectic mess. Because that’s what my life looks like. My mind’s programmed into my pattern now, and to break from it is just…woah. (o.o) Ok…slowing down now. Let’s see…I’m currently addicted to green tea. I can’t get enough of it. I think this is because I haven’t had it in so long. For some reasons, families tend to stock wheat tea….*makes a face* I can drink it, since I have to every single day, but I really hate wheat tea.

There’s so much good cooking I’ll miss when I’m gone…wish I had time to learn to make some of it. Maybe I’m taking this whole Japanese student thing a bit too seriously…but when everyone around me is busy working to the point of being ridiculous, one tends to want to be busy too. I recently sent home a bunch of stuff (mostly comics, of which I’ve acquired quite the collection, but hey, that’s why I can read so well now.), and I’m going to do my best to NOT let a lot more stuff build up. Moving to my last house on….a day that keeps changing that should be sometime next week. *laugh* Everyone’s too busy. Always, always. Break the pattern for moving? What?

Sometimes I love this pattern. Sometimes I hate it. I don’t think I could live it forever. I really, honestly don’t. I couldn’t deal with doing the same thing day after day after day for the rest of my life, without varying. It’s enough for now though, because it feels right, because that’s how everyone here lives. And that’s where I am. I’m here. (^^) Until the next, then.

October 13, 2003

The world according to Philip Ramsey.

My last time speaking with you, I was confident about the endeavor I was about to undertake. a friend once told me that confidence finds its roots in ignorance. he was probably right. as you may already know, I am in Italy.

The past month, has been comprised of me accepting the existence of a different reality, or rather, accepting my existence in a reality standing far off from the one that I was born into. when I first got here, I marveled at the beautiful marble walls and the insufficiently narrow streets, the cobblestone, the churches, the seven year olds with a smokers cough worse than my addicted uncle’s… every insignificant detail was a masterpiece painted with centuries of delicate preservation for me.

Now, I am comfortable and at home here. it grows harder and more hard for me to logically imagine just how exactly I used to function in a world so different from this one. with my slow and progressive knowledge of the language growing, I become more and more a member of this society. with open arms I am accepted as an authority on the mind of America and they gladly receive my perspective on the world.

Of course. certain issues must be avoided.

The war that America is involved in, for example. just walking down the streets of Italy, you can see that most people here are against this war. from windows everywhere there are colorful flags hanging, saying “PACE,” meaning peace. an expression of their pleasant and quiet protest.

it is hard to restrain myself from getting involved in these sort of talks, but what I say will be taken as the ideals of an entire nation, and therefore, cannot be said.

And on. the world according to philip is a world of routine.

My life: after settling into my new life, a certain euphoria establishes itself in my mind. sitting quietly in the back of my head is the knowledge that my current reality is what a dream consists of. and the awareness that I will not wake from this dream stems a plethora of emotions. it makes me nervous. this is for the simple reason that I still do not fully speak the language here and every step I take must be taken cautiously and with reservation because there is no way for me to explain to anyone my inhibitions. I also feel a tinge of regret. regret at my having left all that I know and love. I love Jacksonville. and miss it and all the people that I have come to form strong relationships with. however there is an established excitement and anticipation for all the experiences I am stumbling upon. I am learning an entirely new way of life. it is slowly becoming my life.

My day: in Italy, there are three types of schools; the school of the classical literature, school of the arts, and school of mathematics. I attend the school of mathematics. we have school Monday thru Saturday and the times of school vary from six hours a day to four. after school, I tend to go home and have lunch with my host mother (who is a fantastic cook). then I usually take a bike ride through the countryside. go to the Oglio River and sit by it while updating my journal. the land is beautiful here. everywhere you go there is open country and fresh air. on Tuesdays I play soccer with the local soccer team and twice a week my host brother and I go to the gym in the city. days run together here. because they are so similar in their routine, everyday seems like the continuation of a blissful rest from the anxieties of America (for there is no room for anxiety in our schedules). as a dream lacks the essence of time, so these days lack necessity for numbers.

Me: I am happy here. my classmates are more than kind (they recently took me on a trip to a festival in Modena). although I do not quite feel as if I have found my place amongst the people here, give it time, philip. much of my free time is spent worrying about how things are being kept up in Jacksonville. I am somewhat concerned that when I return, the world will have gone upside down in my absence. I know this will not be the case. it is simply the nature of fear to distort truth in such a manner.

Well. as of now, that is all. you will hear from me again. shortly.

November 7

In the past month i have written thirty-seven emails pertaining to this topic.

Emails consisting of ‘i went here’ and ‘i did this’ type of language.

Forgive me if i leave those lines out in this conversation-style entry.

In sixth grade i read a book by Gary Paulsen called “The Hatchet.”

It is a fiction about a young boy who was on his way from some city in america where he lives with his mother to canada.

His father lives in canada and he was going to go visit for a while.

Well.

The pilot had a heart attack in flight and they ended up crashing into a forest somewhere in the middle of northern america.

The boy survived the crash and learned to survive in the forest for a long amount of time before being discovered and rescued.

The thing that struck me that i still remember was towards the end of the book.

When the boy was back home. He was trying to explain what it was like living out there in the wild.

And all that he could come up with was the hunger. How there was always only one goal in mind and one thing to work for. The next meal.

Here. I begin to feel a similar sensation. However for me it is not in the pangs of my stomach. It is the language. It is in words. My independence and self-sustaining attributes lie in wait for me to be able to sustain a conversation. I crave the language and all of its intricacies as he must have craved the simplicity of drive thru service. To be fluent. Oh to speak as the wind moves. That is what my mind pursues.

It is the morning fogs that get to me. Something that florida is deprived of. Fogs that descend while we lay dreaming. And when we wake, they present our minds with that almost believable idea that we are still dreaming. If it weren’t for the frosty air, we may find ourselves believing.

On the bus to school there is always somewhat of a quarrel between the older kids to get to sit in the back. Well. I try to get as close to the windshield as possible on these trips. Because there is mystery in only seeing the next ten meters of road. And often i will turn my head to watch the fields that have been beyond harvest for two months now. This nebulous gives them all the glamour and glory that they must feel they lack in these colder times. It is the type of beauty that the poets call sorrow. And i love it.

Imagine a sawmill. Right on a river somewhere out west. Logs always floating in from upstream where the loggers send them from. These are the schools. the loggers being the teachers. And well. After two months, i am still a bump on one of those logs. the teachers here speak much faster than anyone else. And as a consequence, i cannot follow the lessons. I don’t mind too much. My italian professor has an expansive english library so i spend most of my time in school either studying the language, or reading some new book that i snatched on my way out of lesson.

Things are not better nor worse. Just different.

A philosophy that us exchange students must never let go of. The most efficient cure for homesickness i have found is the ‘Save as draft’ portion of my email account. Centuries from now when archeologists stumble upon the thousand upon thousand of words in rant and rave that exist in this file, they will probably assume me to be some sort of strange adventurer that did nothing all his time in the land beyond but write about the land he came from. Which in a sense i am. And i do. But the world turns and it has been gracious enough to take me along.

Gracious. A better way of putting it would be that i am now on one of those experiences that we have in our lives where we spend too much of our time making the observation that this completely breaks through the realm of what we ever could have hoped to have expected and extends into the sphere of a gift given by really amazing people who just want to change lives. They have.

I feel like a metaphor right now. As if some day someone will use me and my life as an analogy to some bigger picture that they are trying to draw. The bigger picture being … the humanitarian heart? The vocational beginning of adaptation? The taste of a good merlot? I have no idea. I think that is why i still feel it. Like the fog, i hold on to it’s appeal because it incites me with that romantic flare of mystery.

I see Freudian slips come about with nearly every sentence i try to produce. Of course, they are merely mistakes of my unlearned tongue. But i am very suspicious that it knows better what i am really wanting to say, and thus when the lady rings me up at the counter for my panini and caffe and i say ‘congratulations!’ instead of ‘see you later!’ well. I wonder if it was a mistake. Or if deep within all of us there is the smallest bit of a cynical humor.

I am going to wrap it up now.

End it with a french adieu and a farewell to friends.

Well, i’ll see you in a month right?

Same time as always.

And as a friend once put it:

This is philip signing off from the front lines.

December 4 

And of the now. Moments. Like. Escaping nothing. Remember when. Wait. That was. Now. Is. Moments. Superlative. Like.

This is my third time telling you stuff. Before starting this sentence, and after ending the one before, I went back and read every other stuff I told to you. This world is different from those described to you previously.

it is December now. December in Cremona is the color of fog. Without the lack of vision. You can see miles of blank stares. Blank grasses. Blank statues. Blank streetlights. Blank trees. Blank leafless limbs. Blank cobblestone. Blank churches. Blank. Blank. Everyday I work with words (I work on their combination for meaning, rubbing them together until my mind becomes blistered by their friction) to fill in the blank with an imagination of centuries of color being worked off and battered down on by rain and years and the. Unending amount of gravity that keeps bringing us back to earth. I watch this world slowly cover itself with an oneiric haze.

I feel a new and unsteady amount of gravity being placed on me as I begin to speak. As I begin to speak Italian, the unattached and floating sense of “this is just a moment. let us watch it as it passes,” moves away. I become grounded on this land. I become a member of something. Something similar to action. To the general beauty of action. I do not move through the motions of those leading me. I now make my own motions. Move my hands through the water. Create my own waves.

And I watch days pass. Watch them like the day before. The beautiful day before. Becomes the beautiful tomorrow. And I wonder which day is going to bring the regret of not inscribing each second. Into words. Into mind’s eye. But promenading through my routine is more cogent than losing these times to wondering how many moments are left. And so. The world becomes one again with the dexterity of grandfather time pulling strings to help me fall into place. All it takes is time. The world becomes one.

I have a performance the eighteenth of this month. My first performance. It is with an actor here, a guitarist, a singer, and a violinist. It is for the Rotary Christmas party. We have been practicing for it and I think it will go alright. But my host mother said that I should get a haircut and shave for the performance (it’s been a while since I really looked in a mirror). This actor said that in the spring he will be asking me to work with him on some other projects. We’ll see how that turns out I guess. But, the performance is the eighteenth, admission is free so long as you are on the invite list. Hope to see you there.

_____________________________

This line represents the lapse of seven hours. Seven hours ago from when I am writing this, I told you more stuff. In between those seven hours, I learned a fair amount of stuff. For instance, I now know my next three families. In January I go to a family with two boys and a dog. One boy is my age. I’ve met him. He smiles a lot and likes to play chess. After this family, I go stay with the principal of my school. He is a jolly old fellow who always wears a nice suit. And then I return back to the family I am in for the end of the year. The year. The year. For the rest of my life, whenever I say “the year,” there will be a specific year that I will be talking about. (this one).

And the rest of my life is very much up in the air after these past three months. Where does one go after decidedly changing their life? Back to the “good ole industrial pathway on which ye hath begun”? But how laughably unutterable those words become. Lives don’t change just for the sake of stockpiling memories. Do they? I wonder if I will ever be settled in America after this. In Jacksonville. A (originally A was a mistype, but then I decided that A could stand for: me) received a book in the mail from a friend. It was a beautiful book sent for the purpose of lightening the load of loneliness that A bore. It was a gift from a wizard, A assumes. For it worked like magic. But it also produced other effects inside of A. it was a story of a traveler in her first journey, a journey that has led her to a life of searching. And A wonders what she is finding. I wonder if I will find the same.

This is my December update on the situation in Italia. Me being the situation. This week I have to plan my return trip home. It seems a bit too early to decide. I guess it probably should be before September. But that seems so little time. My father says “usually in July.” I guess we’ll see, right?

It is December now. A blank December. A December filled to the brim with: Alacrity. Edification. You know. Stuff.

I am going now. Got stuff to do.

Bye.

Philipramsey.

January 7 

“i am destined to travel down

the secondary roads

of the american dream.”

Let’s start with a quote. We’ll begin with arthur miller and his perspective of middle class america and what it is that they hope (beyond hope) to get out of life. The american dream. With this quote, we’ll start from end and move backwards.

Next step after the great playwright: the secondary roads. We will not follow suit. We will instead take your directions and sort of kind of maybe get sidetracked by something more relevant to our misunderstanding of the way the world should be. We will wander from the director’s cut, revised edition, abridged and unforwarded story of a path that robert frost did not take, to the last (or was it first?) addition to our understanding of this quote.

 Destiny. Virgil says that Aeneas got his told to him more than once by mother, lover, god of earth, god of sea, god of everything you can imagine, even enemy and still was found unsure of his next steps at times. I wonder which road signs are mine. I wonder if this quote that we sit dissecting now was built for me. But. These are things irrelevant.

Shall we?

I found peace in milan. It was waiting in the form of rest for my late night weary eyes. It sat anticipating my arrival on a modern-style red sofa in a college girls room. The sheets already made for a fellow traveler to kick shoes off and smile. We spent our time (our being us being myself, avia (rotex from cremona who studies in milan), and jordan (texan just vacationing on rotary’s time)) walking San Babila and solving all the mysteries of those strange gaming gambling hustlers with their one-eyed jacks and their papercups. But there was more. There were shakespearean arguments on the value of time, there were ballroom dances, there were trees, there were icy needly winds, there were metro rides at midnight, there were grocery stores, there were

But we will move on.

I came back from milan with an air of inevitable change. The night of my return. The telephone taught me to recognize the voice of an american comrade of mine that i had not thought of in long. The night of my return we spoke of art. and of the growth that has been the essence of my personal movements of form. We spoke. And talked. And whispered about dead adventures. And shouted about tomorrow’s. and something that had been laying dormant inside of me since my arrival was awakened. He told me he may find his roads crossing the milestone that is Paris. In march. I hope our roads may cross in this city. In this time. In this time.

Tomorrow. I change families for the first time. I have been living and learning with the Bertoglio family for five months. But Rumor jumped the gun last week and came into my quiet sleep and softly cleared my mind to paint pictures of tomorrow. I am ready. But i leave the village of Scandolara. Become another city child. We will see what effects may come. What affects may grow.

In Italy, i am philip ramsey. The scruffy, ruffled, scraggly writer that smiles a lot and happened his way here from america. Now, having opened the doors and watched the peaceful solitude blow in the wind to be replaced with joyful conversation and the ‘slapontheback’ friendships that seem to come in surplus in this nation, i am philip ramsey. One and the same as when i left. Except. Well. The exception not coming to my mind in clear cut simple format. Let me turn to the words of someone i trust. Dickens said,

“it was now too late and too far to go back, and i went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen now, and the world lay spread before me.”

A metaphor.

If a rose does not bloom than it is not a rose. It is simply a weed with thorns.

A week ago, i saw a beggar, leaning on his wooden crutch. He cried to the passerbyers stories of the birth of italy. In times where children were the rose and the great empire that they were birthed under, the sun and rain. I want to be that rose. Blooming under the influence of thousands of years of sacred solemn radiant serenity and fruitbearing ethereal jovial triumphant

When the sun shines i notice the last word of the unended sentence caught echoing off of the brick and marble walls. A word that i reach for. Grasping, tearing at the nothing that seperates us. I hear it on the lips of mothers chiding their children to wear their scarves tighter around their necks. In the accordian chords of the city block wanderers who sing songs for quarters as we go about our way. A word that maybe possibly probably will not come to me today. But it is the most important portion of this journal. It is why i came to italy.

You will here from me again.

Soon.

Philipramsey

p.s. the quote was not of arthur miller. It comes from a north carolina poet named fitzgerald. I was introduced to her words by my mother. By my mother that i love so dearly.

February 7 

I did not realize that at a certain point in the year the complications would stop being cultural and start being the same type of stuff we worry about in America. well. hello.

i want to write you-

[(i want) to watch

the clouds sway

like

the lacing fingers of the weeping willow

(the one that stretches out into the calm river)

(i want) to watch

you.

first in my perspective;

the clouds

behind you.

you

(the wind

ruffling the calm blank

-et of water

with her

extend

-ed hands)

moving]

a poem.

Id call it romance. But it would be false to find first love in the warm wind passing winter from us. The sun set itself at four thirty yesterday. Me. My beingness. Stretched on an extended ended tree. I was thinking and thinging things inside a mind that watched four walls(balance) become and lose and manipulate innocence (youth) into personal growth (life). Balance was lost when youth became life.

There was a borrowed bicycle, an american boy, an ancient myth of a flowing Po river, music. E.E. Cummings’ orange winds passing. I found a secret place in the woods surrounding the southern tip of my city. Seven kilometers outside of the town and nearing the province, through mud and bush and trees stands Peace; Beauty. I watched myself in dreams emerge onto the field of psyche as she picked the golden fleece from the grazing rams. The colors. Sunsets and. The silence of flocks of birds returning. And. Colors are music.

But I do not think that is true. It must be inverted, rather. The undying goal of music must be a visual and superlative splash of surging of spectral reflective light on canvas. it is not the single drops of water that hit the canvas roof of the market fruitstand that catch the eye, it is the unbearable weight of all, the encumbering mass of millions of molecules of water that break through the sheeted covering and it is the universally recognized beautiful bombous BOOM as it  splashes against the cobblestone road. BEAUTY. BOOM BELLEzza.

(bathe in ethereal wind).

i was sitting on a bench. it was not a park bench and i am not just speaking in first person as a narration for a universal understanding of setting a fictional scene for a fictional her. i was sitting on a bench. and the sun broke a line through the clouds. and there were birds singing. and the wind picked up a newspaper that had been left on the sidewalk. and a man was holding a briefcase and walking fast and there were cars in the world making things noisy.

and i realized that this was happiness.

and it began to rain and i fell in love with days like today. walking home. the rain kept me from being dry. from drying out. and i was in one of those states. Who was it? Big Bird. He said. be happy.

tap

pingat the thekeys right now. this is one of the only times of the week that i get to read/think in english. so humor me.

Oh, I haven’t said a single thing about italy. But I think there is  purpose in that. Because obvious variations have occurred in the past little while. These were anticipated and their arrival was unnoticed. But I realized after the sending and response of emails from a friend that. The complications and problems of the rest of this year have become only of a domestic nature. That cultural and lingual and blah blah blah no longer present obstacles. Home is where (I’ll say it again) home is where we are probably maybe it is comfort. Home is comfortable and gives us the opportunity to be anxious and sit on sofas and lounge and make midnight snacks and invite friends for tea and borrow socks from brothers and home is where is where is where I and probably is possibly the thing that allows me! to grow close is comfort. Bringing this nonsensible enigmatic update to a close, home is where I am.

pHilipramsey

March 17 

two months ago i realized something about italy that fascinated me. it started with a phrase that i said in italian that we use in english. ‘I grow older’ so i said ‘cresco piy vecchio’. but i was told that they do not say it like that. they say ‘divento piy grande’. which translates to ‘i become bigger.’

it set me on a train of thought about the mindset of this nation and how they have similar modes and phrases that vary from america only in the respect that it separates the man from mortality. the speech used to speak about the natural progression of man (although unconsciously) is very much a discussion of evolution and the progression of soul above self. man does not grow. he becomes. not ‘how old are you’, but ‘how many years do you have’. Maybe there is nothing there to learn and it is just the common mode of speech. Or maybe this is all the difference separating worlds from worlds, realities from realities.

memories of places that you have left slowly walk away from you until you turn around to watch them and realize that they have disappeared into the silent echo of dreams. right now america and family and friends and home has taken the image of something that is not actually real. just a dream i had last night that will be forgotten soon. i know that when i return home, italy will become that dream. and i fear that for the rest of my life i will be left to chase dying dreams. one place to the next. unending.

I went to rome for a week. On rome: this is the sound of rome at early one morning.

statued_byron sat in villa borghese and i passed him and he stood grave and strong with marble eyes and i thought that this must be a day undeserving of less than history made in certainty.

i played a game of hackysack in the coliseum with a friend and then he accidentally kicked it over the fence and near the ledge and i jumped the fence and stood on the ledge knowing something was in the in that i was there.

i refuse to speak english wherever i go. they hear my accent and insist on assuming that it would be easier for me to speak in english but i walked out of seven stores and one bar today and this evening because when i asked for ‘due panini’ he replied ‘two sandwiches?’ and so this world comes to a place where sitting across from my friend i tried to make my complaint against it but before speaking i tried to name the countries of the world without their english speaking capitols.

short list.

rome is rome. it does not die. i saw a man with an accordion hanging across his back and he had a cup in his hand and i chuckled and said that ‘you’re not getting much money without making the song’ and he began to play and he played with soul and eternity and a blue wind poured down upon us from marble stones broken by earlier winds blown upon them.

i watched him play and i watched his eyes because his eyes watched mine and every intended solo in the single man band was presented with a wink from an eye that knows more than this world has taught it.

in vatican city i climbed sixhundred and something steps and saw you, rome. i saw you as you slept through yawning morning sun and your life was motionless in grey light and i sat with you perched next to sanpietro and benedicto.

I spent two mardi gras days in Venice. On venice:

I lose my

Self and my

Belonging desire to long night

O Venice. (you

Will always be my sadness that was gifted

So dear ago

To me from that stolen silhouetted

Memory of dream)

Your night stretched from

Bridge spot to bridge

I love you and you steal me.

venice. i smelled the sea in venice as i taxied across the bay to the city. i fell in love with that city. tomorrow i think i’ll go buy a gondola and just head out there to make my money as a tourist trap.

lines in stores do not exist. we just all use our memory about who was first. you walk in and memorize every face already in there and you do not walk up to pay until every face is checked off either by paying or indicating with a nod of the head or a tip of the hat or some other gesture that you are to go before them. that’s how i do it anyway. some people just walk in and pay and skip all the others but i like it my way.

don’t ever leave or change or grow.

this morning.

i have been the background to thousands of strangers foto albums.

philipramsey

April 6 

The improbable happens when we close our eyes. The mind is its own cycle and our thoughts run in patterns as our body rests. Images, sounds, textures, fragrances all can be created and recreated through the medium of an ever expanding memory. wherefore, the proposition stands that there is, in its own right and entirety, another world, another reality, something else that consumes the void, that in itself enraptures us, while we lay our heads to sleep. But I am not here to discuss the nature of dreams, instead I would like to share with you the essence of actualities.

At night, While sleeping, with my head thrown against the cotton covering of my well indented pillow, the identities of my family, the entities of my comrades, my friends, my loves spread out across this earth, are with me. Strangely, you do not hear my voice when I speak out to you. When I call for you to draw near so that we might embrace as only loved ones do, you do not heed my cry. Instead I watch good Time and black Night dance together through the thick and thorn-covered fields of Fear.

Italy, you are the closest that I have found to Silence. and I thank you for it. Tho’ at times my Voice and my Sad and my Rage and my Worry have pelted your stars with unjustified questioning, your wisdom, your strength to teach the world through patience and quiet, has given me everything.

Well, Jacksonville, How’re ya doin’? here i live in a routine that is broken every week or two weeks by my insistence on not falling down in a pit of redundancy which is when i hop a train on over to Milan or Parma or somewhere and stay with a friend for a night or two and open all the windows and sing old folk songs while drinking warm tea and watching cab drivers zip on by on the roads beneath our window.

I’m goin’ to Greece in a lil’ while. My friend went to Barcelona. He bought me the Biggest Sombrero he could find in all of Spain.

It’s BIG.

Through pathos and fog, sitting in a blue metal chair (stand, sit, stand, sit; movement influenced by the motions of the heart), searched and found was the word.

Silence.

Tho’ Night has stolen these solemn lofty flights through radiant skies, I steal back Moment’s hand and drag her through Daedalus’ sky-lined path from Minos’ kingdom to the rising Mountaintop of Chalcis. we chase the zigzagging line of Rumor through rumbling countrysides. Moment and I. Her hair flows behind her and her green eyes shine within their holy hollowed dome.

i try to speak but she and I both know that there is no word without paradox. no perfection with description. I want to shout I want to dream I want to fly. (you stand next to me, glorious Moment, and I cannot hide from your eternity. You are stoicism’s strength defined by nothing; Epicurus’ sip of water. I want to tell you about how I will not wear this world and all its burdens. That I will stand on Perseus’ clouds and learn from moving light. That I will escape this thick, heavy, mantle of mortality. I will escape like a cat in a hat that got out. or better yet. like a box of dynamite that turned out to be just another dud.)

I will shout I will dream I will Fly

philipramsey

May 24 

It is a dangerous thing that you all have given me. Dangerous in the sense that no matter which steps i choose or are chosen for me, the path has been given new colors; new tones, new ambients, new shades and darks and lights have presented themselves in the waking moment of my life. I learned on the top of a desolate mountainside peak that there will never be any change in the cyclical fall of time from our shoulders; no matter the relevance of its passing state, it will always pass; nothing returns. And that is how i sat in sunlit days in rome, in venice, in florence, milan, cremona, with my mother, sighing softly with the brilliant painted city on her mind, next to me. My mother is a rose with velvet petals, as she brushes through this world, she leaves her perfumed memory for the rest of us.

Poetry is a beautiful way to describe how i forgot to notice the sound of bells tolling in each hour of my day. My mother reminded me of everything that separates ‘us’ from ‘them’. Us. Them. When and where do the rest of ‘those’ fall, which i have become? Soon i will be flying across the atlantic sea and will no longer be ‘us’ but on my way to worry about re-becoming ‘them’. Poetry. It must be one of those contradictions of heart that allows me to be so faithful to such a chivalrous thought as that thought which prevents me from staying here. Paradox. Maybe that is all that poetry brings us. The realizations that, yes, i will write for you a heart that does not die and hopes to never change or leave, but, no, i will not remain in my physical state in your presence because this poetry that i have written is in fact just a mathematical formula comprised of strategically placed words. Language. It seeps from our pores reeking of misunderstanding. The dumb man eats just as well as the bureaucrat and yet we continue to proscribe a false necessity to its existence. Is there a necessity for this sensation that i receive as i walk from marble sidewalk to cobblestone street? I earnestly hope so. But i fear that if there is, than every day that i will be separated from these ancient fields i will fall further into that pit of regret.

I took my mother to the canals of venice, the fashions of milan, the eternity of rome, the art of florence, the nature of sirmione, the serenity of mantova, and the humanity of cremona. I heard music in her breathless awe- as she had never seen anything as truly different from the world in which she comes from as my home.

I guess this is my time for reflections. This is my final month and these are my last moments to stay attentive to this world that i love. Blink. Turn your head. Lose concentration on the unchanging rhythm of this life and it is gone. No more. Soon i return to america. America. Amerigo Vespucci would not recognize the title as his own. You are your own constellation. Separate from that which steals my evening gaze.

The nights keep passing and the morning neglects to speak to my silent waiting/watching anticipation. I awake to hear the rooster as he calls to light the worker’s eyes. I step through moment to minute as minute realizations are lost to the force of thought produced by the arrival of ends and beginnings.

Reflection. Let’s see. You have taught me to love a nation of hearts which before last autumn’s harvest, i had never known. Your silence has shown me the wisdom of laughter. The rains that pass through your never changing body have washed away my memory of life without; replacing my ignorance with necessity to taste the exhales and sighs that you heave upon the universal heart. Italy, i wonder if you know what you have given me.

The wheels turn. And of course i go where i am taken.

You will hear from me soon.

philipramsey

September 26, 2003

I can’t believe it! I’ve been in France for an entire month! It’s impossible to describe all that I’ve experienced and learned in the past month, but I’ll try anyway.

I arrived at the Clermont-Ferrand airport on August 26th after an hour-long flight from Paris and was immediately greeted by my host mom, Sylvie, and her 11-year-old daughter, Victoria. Soon after I was given a 45-minute car ride to admire the French countryside and wonder if I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life.

My first week in Brioude was one of the most difficult weeks I’ve ever suffered through. It was so strange to be without anything familiar to me – except for those few items that ended up in my two suitcases. And in the back of my mind the entire time was the dreaded fact that I’d be starting school in just a few days. I’d imagined the worst and didn’t see how school could be anything less than awful seeing as my French was nearly non-existent.

I couldn’t have been more wrong about attending Saint Julien College. I somehow managed to fit right in with the other students in my class (Premiere). For me that was a comforting and simply amazing thing. I’ve made so many friends (and had better luck with guys than I ever did in the United States). Classes are pretty boring because I don’t understand enough French to actually do the work, but it’s great to be around people my own age and they’ve helped me so much with my French, as has my 15-year-old host brother Xavier.

Xavier was in Canada on a fishing trip with my host dad, Jacques, when I arrived in France, so I didn’t meet him until the day before school started. He speaks English extremely well and is determined for me to learn French, which is great for me because he’s constantly teaching me more French words. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed getting used to the Estic’s four-story home. I share the top floor with Xavier. He’s as passionate about music as I am, plays the drums, and adores reggae music. That’s actually really big here, along with hard rock.

Brioude has taken some getting used to. The town has 8,000 people and two schools, that I know of. That’s just a tad bit different from Jacksonville. It is true that the French bring their dogs everywhere and it’s not uncommon to see them sitting at the owner’s feet in a restaurant (the food here is divine!!!). Often during the bus ride home from school I’ll see cows just wandering the streets. I still find that very amusing. French teenagers have to be 18 to drive a car, but only 14 to drive a “scooter”. They’re extremely loud and even now I cringe every time a 15-year-old zooms by on one.

The weather here drives me insane. In the morning I’ll wake up for school and it’ll be freezing, so of course I dress warmly. Well, by noon the sun is out and it’s really hot. I’ve also never seen such unpredictable weather. There won’t be a cloud in the sky one minute and the next it’s pouring down rain.

That extremely cliché statement that the French kiss a lot…is very true! Every morning when I arrive at school I’m expected to kiss all my friends, and even a few people I don’t know, on the cheek. At least at school it’s only one time. The adults tend to kiss more. A few nights ago Sylvie had six or so of her friends over for dinner. I had to kiss each one three times on alternating cheeks. That was actually physically exhausting! The interesting thing, though, is that the French kiss an insane amount, but they don’t hug. I’ve noticed that only really close friends will hug each other.

This past month has been quite an experience. I’ve visited several places in France already including Vichy (a more modern city that I absolutely loved!) and Le Puy. I’ve gotten to know my first host family, and I must say I’ve become very attached to them. I hate the thought of having to leave them after Christmas. They are beautiful people; one of those rare, perfect families. I had my 17th birthday here and the entire Rotary Club in Brioude sang me “bon anniversaire” (Happy Birthday) and surprised me with a cake. I’ve made many friends and have settled in quite nicely in little Brioude – as cold as it may be at times.

It’s only been one month since I left Jacksonville, and I already feel that if I came back now I wouldn’t be the same person. In many ways I’ve obtained more independence here, but in others I’m more in need of assistance than ever. It hasn’t all been fun, and it certainly hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t give up the past month of my life for anything.

I hope all is well in Jacksonville, and in the US. Kisses on BOTH cheeks! Until next month – Au revoir.

~Rochelle~

November 17 

“It’s a bitter-sweet thing knowing two cultures. Once you leave your birthplace nothing is ever the same.”

I had a life in Jacksonville. I had friends that I’d known for years. We went to school together, spent the weekends together. I had my family and a house I’d helped decorate. I knew what I liked and didn’t like. Everything was familiar. I suppose that familiarity is part of what makes a place “home”. Somewhere along the way I must’ve gotten tired of the familiar because when I look around now everyone’s speaking French. I’m going to a new school. I’ve had to meet new people, make new friends, and adapt to a new environment. But for some reason this fits too.

Not including people, I’ve become especially attached to two things: Star Academy and French Cafés. Star Academy is the equivalent of the television show “American Idol” (a show I never watched.) It gives me something to look forward to on Saturday nights. I’ve even seen artists such as Elton John, Seal, and Beyonce Knowles on the show. Elton John was trying out his French, which wasn’t too good, but I give him credit for at least trying. It takes guts to stand up in front of millions on live TV and try to speak their language.

Several times a week I find myself in one of the many cafés in Brioude. The French cafés fit nicely into my schedule because they’re almost always open. The nice thing about the cafés is that you can pay 2 € for a drink and then spend hours in there talking to your friends or playing video games. Thus, I’ve become addicted to hot chocolates.

Rochelle with her class in Venice, ItalyI recently went to Venice, Italy with my art class on a five day fieldtrip. We went with students from another school in the nearby town of Issoire, which was great because I met a lot of people and made a lot of friends. It’s strange being a foreigner, but in Italy we were all foreigners. Suddenly none of us spoke the language and it sort of made us all equal. Turns out that in Venice it was a good thing that I spoke English. We visited the Biennale of Venezia and everything was written in either Italian or English. Not French.

One evening while I was in the hotel room with my roommates getting ready to go dancing, a few of the guys who were rooming next door started knocking frantically on the door urging me to come into the hallway. I soon found out why.

A group of about 20 English-speaking girls were also staying in the hotel and the guys wanted me to translate for them. I hadn’t realized just how much my French had improved until I was standing there, at the foot of the stairs in the hotel- the 20 giggling English girls, who all seemed to be named Emma, in front of me, and my French speaking friends behind me; the guys asking me to ask the girls their names, ages, etc. And there I was, in the middle of it all- the only one able to understand both languages and it was bliss!

“It was as though, in trying to express myself in another language, I’d suddenly plunged 50 IQ points.”

Not being able to express myself verbally can be extremely frustrating at times. My French has greatly improved, but I’ve still got so much more to learn. I look at the French language as a huge puzzle. A puzzle I’m decoding piece by piece- word by word. French and English are said to be the two most difficult languages to learn. English, I imagine, because of all the slang. And French, because of all the words. It’s really just memorizing verbs and using them. If you don’t use a word you’ll forget it- it’s as simple as that.

There is a wonderful vacation from school in France that begins in mid-October and doesn’t end until the first days of November. During this vacation I went to the French Riviera (Nice and Monaco-Monte Carlo) with Joanna and her host family. (Her host father is the president of Brioude’s Rotary Club). Monaco was absolutely beautiful! We saw the world famous “Casino Monte-Carlo” and the Palace of Monaco.

After returning from Monaco, I spent the next few days at Jo’s house. We would wake up in the morning, hop on a train, and spend the day in another city. We did this twice. The first day we went to Vichy, and the second day was spent in Clermont-Ferrand. At around 5 or 6pm we’d get back on a train and go home.

Halloween has only been celebrated in Brioude for the past three years. Only the really little kids went trick-or-treating, although they say something other than “trick or treat”. I tried to explain that in America we carve up pumpkins, put candles in them, and put them on our doorstep, but I found myself looking at several confused faces, so I went no further with my explanation.

Halloween night I went to a dance with my friend Claire in the nearby village of Vergongheon (where my boyfriend Nicolas also lives). It was so much fun! Over half the songs played were American and we were all dancing to “I Love Rock and Roll” and “YMCA” (they do the hand motions too for that song). I love dancing here. It requires no talking, and that’s a beautiful thing. After the dance ended, at an insanely late (or early) hour, I stayed the night at Claire’s. We’ve become really good friends, despite the language barrier.

The amazing thing, to me, is how someone can leave everything they know behind and show up in another country, unable to speak, knowing no one, and still manage to fit into their new environment. I’ve made friends, I’m memorizing the streets of Brioude one by one, I’m taking dance classes, everything is falling into place, and I couldn’t be happier. Au revoir and kisses on both cheeks!

*The quotes are from Sarah Turnbull’s autobiography “Almost French.”

December 19 

Bonjour!

I wrote this in my journal on December 15th, and although I wasn’t expecting it to become this month’s journal entry at the time, I think it clearly sums up my thoughts, feelings, and experiences for this month:

“It’s almost time to write my 3rd Rotary journal entry- so I suppose I need to think of things to write about; brainstorm a little bit. Let’s see…what have I done since I last wrote? Well I just looked in my agenda and I haven’t done much this month. Ok, that’s not true, but most of my time has been spent with my friends, with the family, or at school. That doesn’t make for an interesting journal. I’ve gone to the movies several times and I’ve been to Clermont-Ferrand quite a bit.

I guess that there are more important things than what I do in a month. My French improves everyday and my relationships with my friends and the family have deepened. I’m realizing now how fast the time is going by and that my time here is a 3rd of the way over already. I’ve learned the different ways to wear a scarf (and now am never without one) and spent many hours in various French cafes and restaurants. I’ve eaten snails twice and found them to be quite good, although I still avoid most of the cheese and raw meat. I’ve attended several French plays and am especially looking forward to seeing Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” next April. I’ve gone on a few fieldtrips with my art class, which I’ve become very fond of, and am helping to choreograph a dance for my jazz class which is now one of the highlights of my week.

I’ve become very close to Joanna, an exchange student from Australia, but unfortunately she’s almost finished her year and will be returning home on January 7th. Home. What a strange concept. Where exactly is my home? Right now I call Frugiere’s home, where I live with the Estics. But home is also family and although I am very close to the Estics, they can never replace the family I’ve left behind in the United States. My family lives in Jacksonville, Florida (with the exception of my mother), so you would think that I’d call Jacksonville home. Strangely enough, I do not. I have found that it is indeed a curse to know two cultures, as I find myself extremely attached to both of them. My family and all I have ever known are in the U.S., but it was in France that I discovered who I am and who I want to become.”

January 19 

The first of the three “Lord of the Rings” film was released into theatres when I was in the 9th grade. I went with my little group of friends to a theatre we’d all been to a million times. I often wondered what my life would be like when the 3rd and final film was released, certain I’d have a car and possibly an after school job. I can assure you that I didn’t expect to be watching it in a two-room movie theatre in the middle of France, and moreover- in French!

So much has happened this past month that it seems like ages since I last wrote to you, instead of only four weeks. I celebrated my first Christmas in France, which was also my first white Christmas, with the entire Estic family (there were 17 of us total). We had a wonderful Christmas eve, and went to bed only after putting our shoes underneath the tree. The next morning, as in the US, all the children were gathered around the tree once more. Turns out I’m going to see Star Academy in concert with the family (except Xavier of course who claims it’s just for girls).

Two days after Christmas, the Estics and I piled into their Mercedes and drove the 5 or so hours to the Alps. I spent the next week learning how to snowboard (another first), going sledding, and having some serious snowball fights with the other kids. I have never been so cold in my entire life! (Today it’s the equivalent of –10 degrees Fahrenheit). After one of the most exhausting weeks of my life (the Estics are very sportive), including celebrating New Years and the existence of the Val Thorens ski resort for 30 years, we went back to Brioude where school started just two days later.

As if it isn’t difficult enough being the first week back at school, I also saw Jo, the foreign exchange student from Australia, for the last time before she went back home on a Thursday morning. I cried for the first time in a long time. Three days after Jo’s departure I switched host families after 4 and a half months with the Estics. I got the chance to cry again.

I’m now with my 2nd host family and have been for a week and a half. It didn’t take me long to discover that Gilbert and Catherine are two very kind people. They have three children: Maxime (13), Lauriane (12), and little Antoine who’s 6 years old. They also have two cats (which makes me very happy), and live in the actual town of Brioude, so my school is within walking distance.

This past month has brought about a lot of changes for me, as well as my constantly changing knowledge of the French language, which improves everyday. One thing that’s stayed the same through all this is my school, St. Julien, and my friends, whom I’ve become very close to. My time in France is almost half over already and there’s still so much I want to do here. I do miss my family, but I’m learning so much. Before coming to France I thought one year was an awfully long time to be away from home, but now I’m wondering if it’s long enough. Well that’s all for this month.

Gros Bisous!!! (Big Kisses)

~Rochelle~

February 26 

It was six months ago that my dad dropped me off at the airport. It’s been six months since I couldn’t help crying as I walked away from him. Five and a half months have passed since I last wondered if I was insane for leaving my home for such a long time. Two months have passed since I first started thinking that my time here is going by much too fast. It’s been one month and a few days since I last updated this journal. Here’s what I’ve been up to:

One of the great things about France is that there are four vacations during the school year, each one lasting a full two weeks. I spent last week in the indescribably beautiful Swiss Alps. I survived my 2nd week of life with a snowboard attached to my feet. And it was a lot of fun. I spent one week in Switzerland and now that I know how long it takes to really understand a culture, I left feeling a little uneducated. I did learn, however, that Switzerland has very pretty money which I’ve now added to my collection of Euros.

I’ve continued taking my dance and art classes and have made quite a career out of translating American and English songs for my friends at school. I’ve begun going with my host mom to the movies on Tuesday nights for her “Cinema Club” meetings. I’ve seen some fascinating French films (and even a Chinese one). My French continues to improve, but now I almost effortlessly understand the language (most of the time).

My 2nd Rotary weekend took place a few weeks ago. It was great seeing all my airplane buddies again. We had a good time swapping stories about our adventures in France and admiring how much our French had improved. It was a fun weekend, and makes me look forward to the bus trip even more!

My life at Brioude is nothing overly exciting to hear about. I’ve been living. Living very happily, and I suppose that’s the most important thing. There’s still so much I’ve yet to learn, and the time is going by so fast. I’ve been in France for six months already!! I have to keep telling myself that. It still hasn’t sunk in. Until next month when my stay in France will be 7 months (oh la la!)- Gros Bisous!

Love Always,

Rochelle