Las vacaciones

Yup, switching over to Spanish! I'm trying to rectify my former Spanish competence, so we'll see how that goes. Let's just say that I'm still speaking in French, so my translation process is: 1) English, 2) how do I say that in French?, 3) How on earth do I say that in Spanish?

Very little has changed since the last time I wrote, except for the fact that I'm becoming increasingly more aware that I'm obsessed with Gilmore Girls. I'm pretty sure that, at my height (or my depth, depending on how you think about it), I watched 8 or 9 episodes in one day- which, although pathetic, was incredibly enjoyable. I even reached a new low of pathetic Gilmore Girls viewership, because, a few nights ago, I had a Gilmore Girls dream. For those of you who watch the show, you'll know what I mean when I say that I had a Luke dream. So you can imagine that it was a pretty fantastic dream. I've actually surpassed Molly at this point, so that gives me an opportunity to slow down a little!

I figured I would fill you in on my 3-week short stay in the USA because it has been packed with things to do and people to see. I didn't waste any time jumping back in to life at home, and I got my hair chopped to a bob the day after my arrival. Right afterward, I wet to Michael's Crafts, which is essentially my heaven-on-earth, and got all of the necessary supplies for my Strasbourg scrapbook. That store is dangerously addicting, because the dollars add up very quickly with the scrapbook, special paper, stickers, and other embellishments. I worked for the rest of the day, and all of Christmas Eve day, on the scrapbook, and actually ran out of pages, so I had to go back to Michael's to restock. I was really pleased with the end result, even though I churned it out the quickest of any scrapbook I've ever made. Hopefully all of you will get to see it at some point!

Christmas day was relatively uneventful in the Bautz house. It didn't even really feel like Christmas, because my family hadn't even decorated the tree until Christmas Eve so as to wait until I, the biggest Christmas fan in the house, got home. So I turned on the Bing Crosby Christmas tunes (and yes, I'm pretty sure that my family judged me for knowing the words to Mele Kalikimaka), and, with my mom perched on her usual chair dispensing hooks, we hung all of our ornaments, wondering where we had gotten many of them. On Christmas morning, we all sat around the tree, and opened our gifts, which took all of ten minutes. We just had a few large presents this year (new MacBooks for Tim and I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), but they were very much appreciated. Then, my mom made her world-famous Christmas rolls, delectable as usual, and, after Tim set up my computer, we all got dressed and headed down to Rye for Christmas dinner with the Kingham-Bezes. It was so nice to get to see some of the extended family while I was home for such a short time, and, since my cousin Kelly has two little (ADORABLE) kids, Kaitlin and Alexzander, it was fun to have some little ones to entertain.

The 29th was a day that I had been eagerly anticipating for months, because it was the day of the Georgetown-UConn game in Hartford. The second I had found out about this game, I pestered my dad and my friends Maggie and Anne Mary to get us tickets. My dad was finally able to procure some from Athletics, and our friends the Devlins came up for the game too, always a comedic addition to our group. As it turned out, our seats were God-awful (we were, quite literally, in the nosebleeds), but at least we were sitting with the Georgetown contingent (in fact, Jessie Sapp's sister was sitting right in front of us and was absolutely hilarious). It was an incredible game: I was sitting with Maggie, AMC, Tim, Jack, Caki, Henry, and one of Henry's friends from home. We were, not surprisingly, very into it I even started the fight song by myself when Maggie and Henry bailed on me!- and my voice was really strained afterward. Against the advice of my parents, I had Maggie paint my entire face, per usual- despite the fact that we were in enemy territory. I thought that the Husky fans would harass me, but they were much nicer than their counterparts at Syracuse. If anyone said anything, it was, "Go Hoyas!," or "Hoya Saxa!." We played really well, and knocked off the number two Huskies 74-63. I was saying to AMC afterward that, although I'm the most superstitious sports fan EVER, it never even occurred to me that my Hoyas would lose the only game that their biggest fan was at this year.

The following weekend was my much-anticipated trip to Boston to see Alexandra, Kristin, and Josh. I went to Alexandra's house right after a Hoya loss (so I had a little more road rage than usual as I drove on the Mass Pike), and we went into Harvard Square, which is so cute and quaint, and poked around all of the cute little shops that lined the snow-covered streets. We made some good purchases- I found presents for my host family, a birthday gift for my mom, and a couple of things for me. We took all of our requisite photos frolicking around Harvard Square, and then headed back to Alex's house for a delicious feast of cheese AND chocolate fondue prepared by her mom. Then we settled in by the fireplace and watched a few episodes of Gossip Girl, and stayed up chatting. It was so nice to catch up, since we had a semester worth of chatting to catch up on (even though we took advantage of that wonderful invention that they call Skype throughout the semester).

The next morning, we coordinated with Kristin and Josh, and decided that we would meet Kristin in the city for some shopping in the early afternoon, and then would grab some lunch in the North End and meet up with Josh. I always love moments when someone you haven't seen in awhile comes out of an airport or a train station, but it was especially wonderful to see two of my summer housemates when they emerged from their respective T stations. I had Skyped with both of them several times, but Kristin didn't have a webcam, meaning that I couldn't actually SEE her. I missed them both so much this semester, especially since I have such fond memories of our summer at our little Burrow :) I loved catching up with them and hearing how everything is with them- Josh is applying for jobs, and I am really not looking forward to the fact that, a year from now, I'll be in the same boat, faced with the prospect of leaving the insular little environment that is Georgetown. I can't even think about it right now- I'm just focusing on having a fun (and hopefully completely stress-free) semester in Spain, and then I can start worrying about all of that when the time comes. Anyway, it was incredibly sad when I had to say goodbye to the three of them to go back home, because that means another semester without seeing all of them, another semester where my only connection to the outside world is Skype. But don't get me wrong, I AM excited for all of the adventures that this semester hold. I feel so fortunate to get the chance to go back to the Continent again and travel all over creation- not many people get the chance to do that, so I really feel lucky that my parents are totally on board for all of my traveling.

Thursday was my last day at home, and it was a surreal feeling, because I had really only been at home for two-and-a-half weeks. So a part of me really just wanted another week or two to lounge around (and maybe finish Gilmore Girls?!?), but, on the other hand, I am really ready to embark on my Spanish adventure. On Thursday night, we celebrated my mom's birthday and had some family time. My mom's plan was to watch the college football BCS game, but that was, of course, thwarted, when we had a minor packing meltdown. My dad suggested, at the last minute, that we try to fit all of my stuff into one suitcase and one duffel, no small feat for me- ESPECIALLY give that I have so many clothes and am packing for two seasons. We finally did it (but not until we got to Dulles on Tuesday), but on that note, let me just take a minute to express my dislike for airline baggage policies. My suitcase is not even close to being full, but, because it weighs about 15 pounds by itself, I really couldn't put that much in it, or else it would surpass the maximum weight of 50 pounds. I think they should take the weight of suitcases themselves into account when determining baggage weight limits.

Anyway, on Friday, my mom and I made the 9-hour drive down to the Shenandoah Valley to visit my grandparents, who I hadn't seen since May. I always love seeing Grammy and Grampsy, even though they always seem a little overwhelmed when they have lots of houseguests. They recently acquired a new dog, Disney, from my uncle Kevin out in Colorado, and it is really fun to see Grampsy around the dog. He is incredibly affectionate with the dog, and absolutely melts in his presence, and Disney, in turn, follows him around to no end. The other houseguests this weekend were my aunt, uncle, and two cousins, who I hadn't seen since June, so keeping with the trend of this vacation, I saw a lot of people in a very short amount of time. I really loved catching up with my cousins; Amy is my age, and we have always been close (aside from when we were toddlers and were not really sure about each other- this fact can be confirmed in the endless hours of home video that we have), so we had a lot to talk about; and Michael, who graduated from high school this past year and spent fall semester at a NOLS program in Patagonia. It looks, from his pictures, like he had a blast, and I could tell from talking to him that it was just what he needed. On Saturday, the girls (Grammy, my aunt Susan, my mom, Amy and I) went to this adorable little tea place that we really like for lunch and, of course, tea. Even though my friends were horrified to learn that I went out for tea with my family instead of watching the Georgetown game, I always love our ladies' tea lunches. It has always been a good family bonding activity.

A few funny things happened this weekend: first, I gave Grammy my old Mac laptop and attempted to teach her how to use it; and second, we watched home videos of when my mom, my aunts, and my uncle were growing up. Teaching Grammy how to use the computer was, well, one of the funniest experiences of my life. I think that getting her a Skype account may have opened up a can of worms, as did teaching her the shortcut for quitting an app (apple + Q, in case you were wondering) and the shortcut for scrolling up and down a page (scroll on the touchpad with two fingers). I think I was relatively patient with her, though, because I know it's a lot of information to digest at once, especially for someone who has never had her own computer. Once I showed her how to play a DVD in the computer, she was happy as a clam. On Sunday night, we watched the now infamous home video. This was another instance of Grammy shocking me with her interest in technology: apparently, she was at Costco one day and saw a sign at the photo center for the option of converting home videos into DVD format, so she went home, got all of the home videos she still had, and had DVDs made for all four of her children. So the four of us (Grammy, Grampsy, my mom and myself) sat down and watched it on Sunday night, and even without sound (the vids WERE for the '50s and '60s, after all), it was hilarious. However my mom sensed that a pattern was emerging when, with each year that passed, the clip that followed Christmas was not her birthday in January but her older sister Susan's birthday in July. So she joked that, technically, she was only two years old, because only two of her birthdays were documented. It was funny to see her take on the attitude of the sibling scorned, however much she was joking.

Another part of my scheme for break was to go back to Georgetown for at least an overnight. Initially, my mom was really resistant, because she thought that it would just make me sad to go back to my beloved Georgetown, but boy, am I glad I did! It was a whirlwind 15 hours, which I think will be the most evident if I lay out what happened, so here goes:
4:30 Visit with the Porterfields
5:30 Quick visit with Kim and Derek, two senior friends
6:00 Brought all of my stuff to Kristin and Alexandra's apartment
6:30 Dinner at Sweet Green with Alexandra, Kristin, and Anne Mary
7:30 Chat with Tim, a friend who went to Salamanca last year (Kevin stopped by as well)
8:00 Gossip Girl (I missed part of it because, not having watched an episode live since September, I had forgotten that the show started at 8, not 9. Oh well...)
8:45ish Kamil and his friend Kesse stopped by
9:30 I FINALLY got to meet Kevin, Kristin's boyfriend
10:45ish Maggie stopped by
1:00am BED!

In addition to all of this, there were a bunch of phone conversations thrown in with other friends. For example, Josh called, because he was in D.C. on Monday and Tuesday doing job interviews and going to job information sessions, so, once again, three Burrowites were in the same city. Neither of us had any time to get together, but it was nice to hear from him. To paint you a picture of how amazing a time I had at Georgetown, let's just say that the smile didn't leave my face from the moment I stepped on campus...no, I take that back, pretty much from the moment we entered the D.C. metro area. I told my mom, as we drove through McLean, that I had butterflies in my stomach from being so excited, and luckily, Georgetown and my friends didn't disappoint. I convinced my mom to drive by the Burrow, too, so I had a little moment with my former house :)

Leaving Georgetown the next morning was not at all pleasant, but it was nothing compared to how I felt when I said goodbye to my mom. Before it happened, I was thinking to myself, 'Hey, I'm an old pro at this by now, I'm not going to cry.' W-R-O-N-G!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was majorly early for my flight (not surprising, for those of you who know me well), but I just wanted to rip the Band-Aid off and get through security, because I knew it would be excruciating. I should say, first, that I somehow managed, by the grace of God, to fit almost all of my stuff in my one rolling suitcase, one small duffel, and my backpack (although my mom is sending me a small load of spring clothes) and not incur any overweight baggage fees. But my mom and I were rearranging and debating until the bitter end, and , believe me, it was not pleasant. It seemed to me that the Delta employee who took charge of my personal case took some sort of perverse pleasure out of watching my mom take things out of my suitcase to get it down from its original weight of 58 pounds to about 52, frantically rearranging objects. Needless to say, I didn't appreciate it. So by the time I got to security, I was already worked up and wanted nothing more than to go home and never leave again. but I got in line after hugging my mom twice and immediately breaking into tears. So much for being the seasoned traveler immune to homesickness. Mu mom stayed until I got through security, which was nice, just in case there was a problem, but awful at the same time, because every time I looked back at her, I started to cry. But I made it to my terminal and settled in at my gate, immersing myself in the world of Gilmore Girls for two hours to numb the pain.

When I stepped off my airplane (I had cried intermittently during the flight) I was in Atlanta, and, after what felt like the longest walk ever (with an incredibly heavy duffel slung over my shoulder), I spotted Molly and Mary Kathryn, who were ready to take me on a little tour of the city. Our first stop was Margaret Mitchell (the author of "Gone with the Wind")'s house, which was interesting. After that, we needed some sustenance, so stopped at the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. Then we saw the play Hairspray, which was one of those productions that made me want to get up and dance!

By the time we got back to Dalton last night, it was almost midnight, and, despite the latte I had had before the show (my first latte ever!), I was tired. But I soon got my second wind, and we stayed up until 3:30 talking, then proceeding to sleep until noon. I always feel bad about myself when I sleep in that much, but I guess I needed the sleep.

I can't believe I've leaving tomorrow. I'm terrified, on the one hand, that I will have forgotten all of my Spanish, but, on the other hand, can't wait for all of the adventures that this semester will bring. So the next time I post, I'll be in Spain!!!!!! Sorry for the excessively long post, but, as you can see, a lot has happened over a very short period of time. I hope all is well with all of you, and as always, I'm

Sending you my love,
Kristen

La fin de Strasbourg

I know I've been a complete and total slacker about updating the blog this break, but I have literally been the most unproductive individual on the planet this vacation. I now own all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls, and am currently on season five. Every day, when I've watched my fifth or sixth 45-minute episode of the day, I start to feel a little bad about myself, but it still doesn't stop me from watching more. If Lorelai and Luke don't end up together, I will have wasted a lot of sleepless nights.

Anyway, I promised I would chronicle my last few days in Strasbourg, my long trip home, and what I've been up to this vacation (aside from my new, aforementioned couch-potato tendencies). Leaving Strasbourg was actually a lot harder than I had imagined. Once I finished my exam on Thursday, I was just ready to be done and peace out of Strasbourg. I just wanted to see my family and sleep in my own bed. But I still had a lot of miles between me and home, so I had to make the best of it. I squeezed in a few more workouts at what turned out to be an amazing (and seemingly elusive) gym, which was probably one of the things that most helped me maintain my sanity. On Thursday evening, I met up with four of the Holy Cross girls at Theresa's house, and we baked white chocolate chip-cranberry-oatmeal cookies, and consumed ridiculous amounts of dough and all of the added ingredients. They have become really good friends of mine, so it was nice to get to spend time with them. They'll all be in Strasbourg for the rest of the year (HoCro only offers yearlong programs), but hopefully, if our promises don't prove to be empty, we'll be able to find a time for them to come to Spain, and I'm hoping to go back to Strasbourg for Obama's visit in April. After our baking spree, we went to a classical music concert, put on by the Marc Bloch music department. The groups weren't that great, so we scooted out as soon as we could and went to a pub. All I really wanted was a Cosmo, but of course, they don't have cranberry juice in France (silly me for even asking!) so we all got beers. That night, I got to meet the two other people from the Holy Cross group that I hadn't met yet, and I've decided that they're all pretty incredible.

On Saturday morning, my host mom took me to the train station. I had been trying to decide, for several days, how I was going to get myself and my mountainload of stuff (two rolling suitcases, a duffel and a backpack) to the train station: my phone had run out of minutes on Monday, so I couldn't call a cab, and I decided that trying to ride the tram for free with that much baggage was pretty much asking to get caught, so I gladly accepted when my host mom offered to drive me to the gare. Before we left, I gave her the odd assortment of gifts that I had found for her throughout the semester, and she gave me a wrapped gift, telling me not to open it until I got on the train because it would make me cry. I opened it when I got to Frankfurt, and, big surprise, I did cry. It was a recipe book, that she had made, for Tarte Kristen, the tarte she had learned to make for me. It had pictures and text and was absolutely adorable, and it was such a personal, heartfelt gift, so I very much appreciated it. She said a ton of really nice things about me in the car, which only made me not want to leave her even more. Once at the gare, I found my train, and nearly fell up the stairs trying to drag my two gargantuan suitcases at once. Luckily, a nice man helped me by carrying one, but I think he soon regretted his offer to help.

The first train was fine, but, as usual, it was a little bit late. I had only had eight minutes in between trains to begin with, but I was freaking out. In Offenburg, Germany, where I had to change trains, there was not a digitized schedule, only a written timetable, and it turned out that my second train was not leaving from the same platform. I ran to the elevator, which I was thrilled to see, and raced over to the other platform, making it by about two minutes (which is cutting it close for me). Everything was going well on the second train until, about an hour into the ride, the screen that I was looking at listed the next stop as Interlaken Ost (which is about three hours outside of where I wanted to be). So I started panicking. Was I on the wrong train? What was I going to do. Luckily, there must have been an error on the screen, because the next stop was, in fact, Frankfurt. I caught a cab and drove to my hotel, which was really quite nice considering what I paid for it. I lay in the custom bed and watched movies. It was really nice to decompress.

Early Sunday morning, I flew to Dublin. After a few annoying incidents in the airport (including having to go through security twice, and having to remove my riding boots twice after being told that I could keep them on; of COURSE they would set off the buzzer, they have metal clasps!), I was in lovely Ireland, and was thrilled to get that passport stamp. My hotel was downtown, about a half-hour cab ride from the airport, and my cabbie was an adorable little old Irish man, who proved to be half cabbie and half tour guide. I have him to thank for a lot of the things I ended up doing, because I probably wouldn't have known about them otherwise. Once I checked into my ADORABLE hotel (more like a B&B), which was right on St. Stephen's Green, I walked around the downtown area that wasn't far from the hotel, stopping at Dublin Castle and Trinity College (a trip to see the Book of Kells and the library upstairs that made me feel like I was in Beauty and the Beast), waltzing down Grafton Street, the main shopping street, which was teeming with holiday shoppers. I then walked over to O'Connell Street, the true city center, and then wandered over to the Christmas Market, which in no way rivaled Strasbourg's. By that point, it was pouring, so I quickly located a Starbucks and then went back to the hotel. I was finally able to reach my parents, who had been worriedly trying to reach me for about an hour- my phone never rang- and then talked to poor Kate, who was very distressed, because Dave had been due to arrive that day, but, due to a ridiculous winter storm back in New England, was stuck in Connecticut.

On Monday morning, I walked around the city for a little while longer, but was excited to head back to the airport. The airport turned out to be a major headache, because we had to go through American customs just to get into our terminal. Of course, the customs officials weren't even in their booths, so we had to wait in several lines just to get our passports checked. But before I knew it, I was on my plane headed back to Boston. Right up until a few minutes before takeoff, there was an empty seat beside me. I thought it was strange, especially given the fact that it was holiday time. But finally a guy showed up and sat down in the window seat. He's a film student at NYU, and was just returning to Boston from an amazing semester in Madrid, so our respective study abroad experiences gave us a lot to talk about. Thank God he was there, because, had he not been there, the flight would have passed even more slowly than it did with him there. I was giddy with excitement as I walked off the plane, wearing my Red Sox hat proudly in celebration of being home. However, we still had one more layer of customs to go through, meaning that my family wasn't waiting for me in baggage claim. It took me nearly an hour after landing to get my bags, during which I was practically crying, because I knew my family was just beyond the doors, but I couldn't see them until I had my bags.

Once I grabbed my two suitcases off of the belt, I practically ran past the customs man and through the double doors. I saw Tim first. He was sitting down (probably because he was about to pass out from hunger). Then I saw my dad. My mom must have been standing behind him, because I didn't even see her initially. And then I saw a mass of blond hair, and my jaw dropped. Alexandra had called my mom the night before and asked if she thought it would be okay if she met me at the airport. I was so excited to see her, and obviously appreciated the gesture more than she will ever know. Just seeing another familiar face was so nice! My parents had told her mom that we would take her out to dinner, and, after a lot of driving around and lots of protests from a very hungry Tim, we decided on The Cheesecake Factory at the Atrium Mall, a few minutes from Alexandra's house. After we dropped her off at home, we drove back home, and the hour-and-fifteen-minute drive dragged on FOREVER. I was so relieved that I had made it in one piece (Dave had finally arrived in Italy the day I got home, so it was a doubly exciting day!), and I was so happy to be with my family again and in my own house.

Okay, so, since this is getting a little wordy (as my posts tend to get), I'll write about vacation in my next post. Stay tuned!!!

Sending you my love,
Kristen

La fin du semestre le plus infernal

Yes, I'm FINALLY home, and I wanted to do one last entry to describe my last few weeks in Strasbourg. To put it simply, they were stressful. Very stressful. My finals period was 9 days long, so the best strategy would have been to pace myself, but when you have an isolated few finals and then several finals one day after another, it makes it hard to multitask and study for finals ahead of time.

On Wednesday the 3rd, I went to my first class, my Comparative literature class, and was a little bit shocked when my professor called me up before class started. This was one of the 3 finals I was scheduled to have on December 13th, and, even though my French literature professor had already said I could use my exposé as my final, this other professor didn't know that. So she had arranged a special final for me on the following Tuesday...as in 6 days away. I decided to take the earlier final, because it would be 2 hours long (as compared to 4), meaning that I would probably have another question. But I panicked a little bit, because, being that this is France we're talking about and all instructions are vague, I hadn't done anything for the class, other than buy the books. I had literally done nothing. So for the next few days, instead of beginning to study for my other finals the following week, I crammed- Baudelaire, Michaux and Trakl, specifically- which was a really new feeling for me. I can safely say that I have never in my life crammed for an exam like I crammed for every single exam I took in France, and I must say that, even though my need to study in advance makes me a total nerd, at least I feel like I'm in somewhat good company at Georgetown. Luckily for me, I could use my books and a dictionary, so I did what I usually do and took copious notes in the margins as I read poem after poem. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was just ready to be done, and, after my two-hour exam, I numbly left the building. I was mentally exhausted, although it was nothing compared to what I would feel within a week.

I don't know what I was doing between Tuesday afternoon and Friday, but somehow, on Friday afternoon, I found myself panicking- and cramming- again. After a trip to the gym, "to loosen up and temporarily banish a little bit of my stress", I hung out in bed, cramming with flashcards of every single date of French colonization and every literary prize ever won by a francophone author. This was for a "literature class." Lie. A literature class involves actually reading. We didn't read a thing. Later on in the afternoon, we had a study group at my friend Theresa's house, during which we realized how much we were in complete shambles. Our concentration was completely shot, which is not exactly conducive for last-minute studying. On Saturday morning, I was up at 6 to head over to Café Michel, my new favorite café (because, frankly, the personnel at Brant were becoming increasingly difficult to deal with, so it as time for a change). The Holy Cross girls rolled in one by one and we spent the entire morning studying...or, rather, trying to. Eventually, we all just accepted that we've developed ADD-like tendencies and dissolved into a fit of giggles in lieu of studying. We walked into our final- in a GINORMOUS amphitheater- and were nervous beyond belief. But I walked out of the exam feeling good, so I was satisfied. Again, I felt like I couldn't think anymore once I got out of the final, so I just accepted it and went to my last mass ever at the Cathedral. I took some videos before and after the mass (which I realize don't work for some reason if you don't have a Facebook account, so I'll consult my technical staff and try to get them up and working again) of the Christmas markets, and, more generally, the downtown part of Strasbourg. That was the first time that it really hit me how much I was going to miss France, but really, at this point, I had much bigger fish to fry.

So I had two exams down, and three more to go. One on Monday, which I spent almost all day Sunday studying for; one on Tuesday, the incredibly feared History of Alsace exam; and one on Thursday, for Religions and Societies in France and Germany, 1830-1914 (yes, I realize that it's a mouthful of a course title). The exam on Monday was fine- I finished in less than the allotted two hours- but immediately afterwards, I started stressing about Tuesday's exam. I had known, for over a month, that it was not going to be a pleasant exam to study for, but I just couldn't bring myself to start studying for it (and I also had so much other work to get done first that I really didn't even have time to study for it ahead of time). Also, immediately after my Monday exam, I was talking to my friend, and my phone died- as in, my SIM card ran out of minutes. And since I was already in the process of closing my French bank account, I couldn't recharge it, so, for the next few days, I felt like I was stuck in a boat with no paddle. I could receive calls and texts, but could not make them myself, so it was a week of pure frustration. So on Monday night, I quickly ate my dinner and then was in my room for the rest of the night, reading through lectures and outlines and attempting to make sense of the task at hand. Since there were 7 Americans in the class (me, two other Georgetown girls, and four Holy Cross girls), we had divided up the lectures and each done an outline for a lecture or a lecture-and-a-half, which was helpful, but it was still a lot of information to read through. I was fully prepared to pull my first ever all-nighter, so was pumping myself with black tea and was really wishing that I drank coffee. By about 3:30, though, I was not retaining any more information, so I went to sleep and got up at 6:30. I headed to Mich and was joined much later by the Holy Cross girls. I was hating life. I was dead tired, and all I wanted was a shot of espresso. And I felt like, despite having only slept for 3 hours, I hadn't actually picked up anything. I felt just as lost as I had before having started studying.

Cat, Theresa and I decided, at about noon, that we couldn't sit in the same place any longer, so we grabbed lunch at Fec, one of the student restaurants, and headed over to the PalaisU, where we sat outside our classroom for nearly 3 hours, quizzing each other and trying to make sense of it all. By the time 3:30, the start time for the exam, rolled around, we just wanted to be done. But, as I walked into the exam, I still felt like I didn't know anything. Well, let's just say that I received a gift- someone up there was looking out for me that day. The essay topic was very specific- much more specific than I had expected- and, to my surprise, it dealt with the "mendiant" orders, the Franciscans and Dominicans, which had been MY outline topic! It was really the only one that I could have written a halfway decent essay on, and I was done in two hours and fifteen minutes. I walked out of the exam feeling an unparalleled level of relief, and, to celebrate having finished that monster of an exam, the girls and I went out for tarte flambées and free drinks. I had a holiday party at Susan's house afterwards, but none of us stayed very long, since we had so much other work to do and exams to study for. I have never been as happy to get into bed and fall asleep as I was that night. I was absolutely exhausted.

I did study for my last exam, but the studying was a lot less intensive, because I knew that the format of the exam was a text commentary, so I knew that, even if I was short on facts, I would be able to comment on the text. It went well though, and I was the first person finished just about 2 hours in to the exam. When I got out of the final, I LITERALLY danced down the hall- I was absolutely ecstatic- and then proceeded to rock out to Christmas music, unable to wipe the smile off of my face or shake the overwhelming feeling of relief at being done. I went to the gym, and then met up with the Holy Cross girls to bake cookies (and essentially eat our combined weight in cookie dough). Then, we went to a little concert, and then moseyed on over to a pub for some drinks. It was an absolute blast, but it was sad because it was the last time I would see a few of the girls. I am so glad I got to know all of them, and I even got to meet the lone guy in the group that night, which was fun.

I have to take a little break, but I'll write again soon about my final day in Strasbourg, my long journey home (by way of Frankfurt and Dublin), and my re-entry into life into the US (just in time to depart again for Spain!)!!!

Sending you my love, and wishing you a merry Christmas and a happy and healthy New Year!!!

Kristen

Quelques vidéos

Here are some videos that I took at the Marché de Noël.  I'll put up more when my computer stops pretending it's about to die (but really, it's not pretending).

Notre Père, qui est au cieux, que ton nom soit sanctifié...

Yes, it's that time of the year.  Prayer time.  All I'm asking for is to make it home 12 days from now all in one piece (and by that I mean not having a complete and total breakdown- plus just making it home safely).  Luckily for me, I have one final down, four to go, and my next one isn't until Saturday afternoon.  After I got out of my exam yesterday, I gave myself the rest of the evening off, writing (and decorating!) all of my Christmas cards, which most of you who are reading this can expect to receive sometime soon- I just sent them today!  And of course, I had to catch up on the latest episode of Gossip Girl, which was probably the best single episode of the series!   I have been getting a lot done and have spent a good deal of time studying, but I still feel as though I have so much to do.  The next order of business: memorizing dates of French colonialism and francophone literature (including every literary prize a francophone author has ever won-- great).  The flashcards are done, so now all I have to do is motivate myself to sit down and actually learn the dates. 

While I'm doing that, I sort of need to multitask, because I also have my History of Religion exam on Monday and my History of Alsace exam on Tuesday, the latter of which is pretty much scaring me to death.  Once I'm done with that 3-hour exam, I will essentially be done, because on Wednesday I just have to hand in a paper that I've already finished, and on Thursday I have an exam for which the information is a lot more conceptual, and to which I can bring at least some outside knowledge.  I have imagined the moment that I get out of my last exam on Thursday, and I'm anticipating a huge release of energy, stress, and nerves (which probably means that, when combined with sleep deprivation and lots of traveling, I'll get sick the second I get home).  I plan on going down to the Christmas Market and just enjoying it, not thinking about the millions of other things I need to be doing.  

I don't really have anything of note to add- I guess I just wanted you all to know that I'm still alive (although an IV of caffeine would be really nice right now).  I am leaving Strasbourg in 10 days, and, after my brief stopovers in Frankfurt and Dublin, will be home on the 22nd.  That will probably be the happiest moment of my life so far.

Anyway, for those of you who are taking finals in the coming weeks, good luck!!!! You can do it!!!!  And for those of you who are not, consider yourselves lucky!!!

Sending you my love,

Kristen

Mon Dieu

Oh, how quickly things can change.  Yesterday morning, when I last posted, I thought I would be in exams from 8 am to 5:30 pm on the 13th of December.  Well, I went to my first class yesterday and my professor told me that she's giving me a special exam on Tuesday- as in 5 days away...I could have said no and just kept the 4-hour exam on the 13th, but this exam is only 2 hours long, so I'm guessing that means I get another question (an easier one, I'm hoping!).  And really, I would love not to have 8 hours worth of exams in one day.  The bad news is, I hadn't done anything for this class since yesterday afternoon, mostly because I didn't know what the hell I needed to be doing, and like I already said, this class, for my comparative literature class, is 5 days away.  Well, there go my weekend plans, I guess.  

So barring any more last-minute changes, here's what my next 2 weeks look like:

Tuesday 9th December: Comparative literature exam

Saturday 13th December: Francophone literature exam

Monday 15th December: History of Religion exam

Tuesday 16th December: History of Alsace exam

Wednesday 17th December: Childhood literature 10-page paper due (I finished it yesterday!  Woohoo!)

Thursday 18th December: History and religion in France and Germany exam

And I just turned in my exposé for my Aurélien class, which I think I did pretty well on, based on her feedback to the girl who did a presentation in class on the same topic.  So let's just say it's going to be a VERY interesting two weeks...

Unfortunately, over the past week or so, I have not been getting much sleep.  Believe me, it's not from a lack of trying, but 4 or 5 nights in the past week have consisted of me lying in bed for an hour or so after turning out the lights, eyes closed and physically exhausted but unable to fall asleep.  This has been particularly unfortunate when I've had to get up early for class (and actually, most mornings this week I've actually been getting up before my alarm, which is weird because I don't get up at the same time every day).  The bags under my eyes keep getting larger and larger, and the last few times I've gone to the gym, I've felt as though I would pass out (or fall asleep!) on the elliptical.  In fact, I made the executive decision not to go to the gym today because I feel so crummy, and you all know that I REALLY have to not feel well to skip the gym.  I know that i need the sleep in order to survive these next 2 1/2 weeks, but I can't seem to talk my body into letting me sleep.  This is a problem.  And I really don't know what's going on.  I also have had a really terrible stomach ache for the past 48 hours, and mysterious stomach pains always freak me out, so I sort of hope they're tied in to the lack of sleep and it's not something more serious.  Yes, I know that I'm particularly stressed right now, but I think I would know if I was so stressed that I couldn't sleep.  It's not like I'm completely behind in everything; I cross things off my to-do list daily, so I don't know what's going on.  Ugh...

I decided that it just wasn't worth it to go to my second class yesterday, both because I didn't feel well and because it's the class that I just finished the paper for.  So instead, I came back to the apartment and worked on translating poems for my exam on Tuesday.  When I stuck my head into my host mom's room to say goodbye, she asked me if I was feeling better, and when I said that I wasn't, she told me that I looked pale.  I was not really in a joking mood, but what I was thinking was, 'No, I just get pale and pasty-looking in the winter, especially since there is not too much natural sunlight in Strasbourg.'  

I wanted to talk a little bit about my host mom, because I realize that I've only really mentioned her in passing.  On Tuesday night for dinner she made what she has apparently started to call "tarte Kristen," because it's my favorite dinner that she makes me.  I guess Rita, my "host sister," called her from Portugal to ask for the recipe for "tarte Kristen," and apparently the name stuck.  I asked her if the student who will be with her next semester is a vegetarian, joking that maybe she'll be able to have meat again, and she said that Susan told her that the new student is a carnivore.  but she said that she's learned how to make a lot of new things in order to cook for me.  Apparently, tarte Kristen was completely experimental, but it is completely delicious (by the way, it's a pastry crust with a few kinds of cheese and lots of veggies inside).  She asked if she could take my picture with it.  So cute.

Apparently, she was in a really good mood last night, even though she had been coming down with a cold for the past few days.  She told me how much she had loved the dress I wore to Thanksgiving dinner, telling me how beautiful I had looked.  Not that she's ever been anything other than nice to me, but she's not exactly the type to throw out compliments left and right either, so I was a little shocked, but was still very grateful.  In case you were wondering, the dress I wore was one that I got at Forever 21 last year (that a lot of you have seen), a gray silk trapeze dress with a bejeweled neckline.  It was a great purchase.  Anyway, another thing about my host mom is that she's pretty much a therapist to all of her friends.  She's one of those people who gives really good advice and is far too nice to say no to people, so all of her friends come to her with their sob stories, which I have become privy to both because she tells me about them and because our walls are really thin so I can hear her phone conversations.  With one of her friends, it has kind of become a problem, because she completely takes advantage of Angelita's kindness, so I feel really bad.  One more thing I found out is that Angelita and her son, David, are going to Istanbul for Christmas, and she's totally freaked out.  Apparently, she has a friend who lives there, and one time, when she was on the phone with him, she heard what sounded like gunshots in the background.  When she asked what it was about, he said, "Oh, those are just police killing drug dealers."  Great.  I honestly don't know why she's going to Istanbul- it doesn't seem like it will be a very relaxing vacation if she's constantly paranoid.

Yesterday after class, the Georgetown group got together and went out to dinner with Susan at this really great vegetarian restaurant.  We were all bemoaning our finals situations, and Susan was being very sympathetic, but then she told us that French students have a really difficult time too when they go to the States.  Apparently, at least one student a year from the IEP (who goes to the US) gets accused of plagiarism, and they're pretty much always guilty.  It's not because they're mean-spirited or are blatantly out to cheat, but in the French education system, original thought is not at all valued, so they literally just copy everyone else's thoughts word for word.  It's really ridiculous.  So we were saying that they would be majorly screwed if they ever had to use something like turnitin.com, which, for those of you who don't know, is a site where you turn in your paper to have it checked against the internet for any possible plagiarism.  It's scary even if you know you haven't plagiarized!  Susan said she had to give a presentation about plagiarism to the second year students who are planning to go abroad next year, and they were FREAKED OUT!  It just does not even occur to them to cite anything.  One of the girls said that she had been proofreading an English paper written by a French student, and she found that an entire section of his paper had been copied and pasted from Wikipedia- with  no citation!!!! There was a hyperlink, so that's how she found out.  It's really ridiculous.  

Besides not having original thoughts and not citing anything, French students are ridiculously incompetent when it comes to bibliographies.  I remember having had MLA format drilled into my head from about second grade on, so it is horrifying to me that French university students STILL cannot write a bibliography for their life.  Do they not know that there are websites that will pretty much do it for you?  So in every class where students have to give a presentation, the professor ALWAYS- and I mean ALWAYS- critiques their bibliography.  No joke, one of my professors said to one girl, "The author's name comes before the title," and she said, "No it doesn't."  The other Georgetown girls and I looked at each other as if to say, "Is she SERIOUS???".  The entire concept of putting the bibliography in order by the author's last name also seems to be a difficult task for them.  You just have to chuckle.  Susan put it this way: French students don't actually learn how to do anything practical.  Amen to that.

Sorry for the random post, but some interesting things happened yesterday.  As always, I'm sending you my love,

Kristen

Le Marché de Noël, ou bien une merveille d'hiver

In front of the Christmas tree in Place Kleber

In front of the Cathedral

HUGE gingerbread cookies

Slightly frightening amount of Christmas lights

I guess I could say before I came to Strasbourg that I loved Christmas.  When we were little, Tim and I would be up at 6 on Christmas morning and would be forced to wait at the top of the stairs until 7, when my dad had gotten a cup of coffee in him and had had ample time to charge the video camera.  "Is it time yet?," we would pester endlessly, until it was close enough to 7 for my parents to let us down the stairs.  We raced down the steps in our slipper feet and, turning the corner to go into the living room, marveled at all of the gifts sitting under the tree for us.  There was always a bigger, unwrappable gift for each of us (or a shared big gift, like our first combination pool table/ping pong table/foosball table).  I still remember, from the video of our first Christmas at our house in Longmeadow, when I was 4 1/2 and Tim was 1 1/2, my Barbie RV, which I thought was just about the coolest thing ever.  Grammy and Grampsy, who were visiting/helping us move in (we moved in only days before Christmas!) marveled at the car.  Tim got a rocking horse, a big heavy plastic one on springs, so he sat on "Rocky" for awhile, being perfectly content not to open any other presents and to just rock.  After the spectacle of present-opening was finished, my mom always made a special Christmas breakfast.  Her Christmas rolls are pretty much legendary in our house, and, while they may sound disgusting to you, they're the perfect Christmas treat.  She lets frozen bulkie rolls rise overnight (since our bathroom was the most humid, and, thus, provided the best environment for letting the rolls rise, that was the place where they always were on Christmas Eve night when we went to bed), and then adds a sauce of butter and butterscotch pudding.  Once they come out of the oven, they are a mass of pure gooey deliciousness. 

Since I've been away at college, Christmas has become synonymous with the end of finals, with going home for perhaps the first time in the semester.  This year, that image has only been enhanced.  I've been picturing the moment when I rush off the plane and run to find my family at Logan Airport in 2 1/2 weeks, and the thought of it just makes me smile.  As you get older, you realize that it's not the presents that matter so much (although, God knows we all love to get presents every once in awhile!), but it's being around the people you love.  I can't wait to get off of that airplane, be reunited with my family, drive home and sleep in my own house for the first time in 3 1/2 months.  It has been a long semester- an incredibly rewarding semester, but a long one nonetheless- and the thing I need the most right now is to be home and surrounded by the people I love.

Being in Alsace around Christmas time this year has added an entirely different level to my Christmas revelry.  Before I go into the specifics, let me just explain why Christmas is such a big deal here.  When you think France, one image that comes to mind is that of laïcité, the complete separation of church and state (which sharply contrasts the pluralistic model of the US).  In most parts of the country, any outward symbol of religion, whether it be a cross necklace, a yarlmulka, or a headscarf, is strictly "interdit", and there has been much debate about the latter of those examples, about whether Muslim women should be allowed to wear their headscarves.  Laïcité is an incredibly interesting, albeit extremely complicated, issue.  In Alsace, though, such rules banning outward religious signs do not exist.  Université Marc Bloch, the university where I study, has two departments of theology (one Catholic, one Protestant), which do not exist anywhere else in the country.  And there is this Christmas Market, which, having existed in Strasbourg since 1570, is an integral part of the regional character.  And the reason for all of this religiosity?  During the time when much of the secularization of France was taking place, Alsace was in the hands of those awful Germans (and believe me, there is still a lot of anti-German sentiment in Alsace), a more religious people, so much of the religiosity of the region was preserved.  I think this is the one time when I would thank the Germans for occupying Alsace, although I think some Hansi children would skin me alive if they knew I had committed that thought-crime.  

Anyway, on to the main event: the Christmas Market, le Marché de Noël.  The Marché is open every day from the 4th Saturday before Christmas (in this case, this past Saturday) to I believe New Years Day (I could be mistaken on that one, though).  So, for Alsatians, December is a month of Christmas on crack, and I can safely say that no one does Christmas better than they do it here.  There are signs all around with colorful graphics and slogans calling Strasbourg the capital of Christmas, and at first, I have to admit that I scoffed at the idea.  'Yeah, okay,' I remember thinking, 'we'll see.'  Boy, was I wrong.  Now I have such an intense pride in our marché that when other people put up pictures of what Christmas looks like in the city where they're studying this semester or year, I laugh at their city's pitiful attempt (pitiful compared to Strasbourg, that is) at Christmas lights and a few meagre window displays.  

On Saturday afternoon, after class (yes, one of my professors made us have a make-up class for a class SHE missed on a Saturday from 8:30-11 in the morning, the first Saturday of the marché; needless to say, she is NOT my favorite person), I walked downtown to the marché, not really knowing what to expect.  I had seen, on my way back from the gym the previous week, vendors setting up their booths, and I had seen all of the intricate decorations of store and restaurant façades, but still I doubted.  Well now, I feel kind of stupid.  Walking through the Christmas Market is a true journey of the senses: there are flashing Christmas lights as far as the eye can see, giant gingerbread cookies (we're talking bigger than a human head) with unnecessarily long German holiday greetings written on them, delightful-smelling marrons (roasted chestnuts- the only time in my life when I've actually sort of wanted to have nuts), entire stands devoted to nativity scenes, and lots and lots of vin chaud (hot wine, apparently a regional winter specialty).  As you walk around (or attempt to walk, depending on when you go), you can hear a plethora of languages being spoken, but you are all bound together by the common experience of loving Christmas.  Hand-crafted ornaments and toys abound in the rows and rows of stalls that are spread out among various squares of the downtown area, some tucked into pockets unknown to those who don't live here.

I would liken the experience of going to the marché to that of cherry blossom season in D.C.  People from all over the world come during a very specific time to take endless amounts of pictures (well, even though I live here, I'm still guilty of that, as you all know!) and marvel at the wonder that is your city.  You try to think that you're better than them, because they're the tourists and you live there, but the truth is, you enjoy it just as much as they do.  It is oddly satisfying to think that Parisians are bused in here to go to the marché, making tourists out of the people who live in the ultimate tourist capital.  And the fact that all of these people come from far and wide to see this spectacle makes you think that maybe Strasbourg isn't so bad.  Although I have certainly spent a lot of time this semester being annoyed with France, and, more specifically, Strasbourg, the marché makes me realize that maybe it isn't so bad.  Although I am counting the days until I go home (the current count is 19, and I'm glad to finally be in the teens), this place has sort of grown on me, and has become familiar.  

The marché has been sort of a mixed blessing thus far.  While I love walking up and down the rows of stands and staring at the giant Christmas tree in Place Kleber for a few moments, losing myself in all of the lights and decorations, it is, on the other hand, an unnecessary distraction from the paper I still have to finish and the 5 finals I still have to study for (which start a week from Saturday- yikes!).  So I've tried to limit myself in how much I go downtown.  It's so hard though, when the promise of forgetting all of your troubles in a downtown area that looks like Santa's village beckons not far in the distance.  Who knows? Maybe it will keep me motivated to get everything done...?

As always, I'm missing you all and am sending you my love,

Kristen