Picardie, je viens d'arriver

So I'm here.  Whoot!  Which means it's time for a play-by-play recap of days 1-2.

Somehow, I managed to fit 7 months of clothes into 3 suitcases.  The lady at the Huntsville Airport was nice, so I only had to pay $60 in overweight baggage fees.  After a quick jaunt from Huntsville (best airport ever, by the way: security took me all of 15 seconds), I arrived in Chicago.  For my last meal this side of the Atlantic, what else would I choose but Chili's?  I had a craving for their yummy honey-chipotle chicken crispers.  After all, what's more American than chicken tenders?  Nothing.  I also found a host gift at the Chicago airport.  What is more appropriate than fancy chocolate?  Fancy chocolate from a company started by a Vandy grad that uses a French tag line (Haut Chocolat, which translates roughly to "fine chocolate." Ok, you probably could figure that out).  And yes, this is the same company that makes bacon chocolate.  If you don't know about that, ask me sometime.  It's exactly as perfect as it sounds.

So after a nice little flight of 7.5 hours, I landed at Charles-de-Gaulle.  Interesting note: the French prefer to call it "Roissy."  I met another assistant on board; she was going to Lille.  Next: the train.  I found the train station without much trouble, but I had to wait in line for my ticket.  I had to change trains during this ride, which doesn't sound too bad, expect that I had at least my own weight in luggage to tote around.  I got on the first train, made it to the Gare du Nord (the station at Paris), and proceeded to wander in vain looking for the trains to Picardy.  I started to panic; they were nowhere to be found, and there was no master schedule in sight.  But finally after floundering around like an overloaded pack mule for a while, I found my train.  All that stood between me and Soissons was a 1.5 hour train ride.  Oh, and a flight of stairs that looks a lot more imposing when you're running on essentially no sleep and have bags larger than 8-year-olds.  But somehow I conquered them, plopped down on the train, and made it to Soissons.  Brigitte (my contact at the school) met me there, took me to lunch at a nice little French bistro, and showed me around my school and town for a while.  Finally we made it to my host family's house.  I had NO idea what to expect.

I was greeted by a very nice French lady named Irène and her middle son Eli (14 years old).  Just behind the door lay the most beautiful little courtyard ever; perfect green grass, a sweet dog named Patch, a chubby bunny (no, literally a chubby bunny) and tons of space.  Their house is on one side of the courtyard.  On the first floor, there's a great kitchen, living room, and TV room.  They even have a pinball machine!  The second floor belongs to the parents, Irène and Benôit (who is a dentist and shares his name with the French version of the pope's), but there's a foosball table there, too.  The third floor houses my bedroom, the three boys' bedrooms, a huge bathroom, and a video game area.  Since there are three boys (Nathan is 8 and Olso is 16 I think), they have a TON of games.

The kitchen

As an aside, the cat hair isn't bothering me at all.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I took a shower and a nap, then that evening we had a nice dinner with the whole household, the sister Camille (who's at college at Reims but came back for the evening), her boyfriend and friend, and Irène's parents, then we went to a concert that Olso and Eli were playing in.  They're in a rock band, and it was really fun.  "Tu dois crier!" Camille told me, so I screamed.  Afterwards we walked home and I got a well-deserved sleep until late this morning.

French version of European monopoly: Guess what the equivalent of
Boardwalk is?
Yes, you guessed it--Paris.

Today, we had Benôit's work partner over for lunch.  After that I went cell-phone shopping with Brigitte, with no success, and went to track down another one of the assistants.  She turned out to be busy, though, and I got a chance to wander a little for the first time.  During these wanderings I realized I'd forgotten the word "apostrophe" in English, since I couldn't find it on the French computer I had to use.  One home, we started a game of French monopoly, rented a movie (with English subtitles!  yay!), had crêpes for dinner, and now I'm here blogging about it while the rest of the family sleeps.

Moi, je ne parle pas l'anglais...

So now for the most exciting news--a little tidbit I saved for everyone who's read this far.  No one in my family speaks English.  Not the parents, not the children, not the bunny.  This has demonstrated to me that my French is WAY rustier than I was expecting.  This is great in the long run, because I'm here to work on my French, so I have no option but to practice, but in the short term it's made for some humorous moments.  I really hope I'm not bugging the family to death with my terrible pronunciation and even worse grammar.  So everyone keep your fingers crossed that everything comes back to me, and more.  I'm the first American anyone in the family has ever met, so I need to leave a good impression :)

Well, it is quite late.  I need to rest up for my big day tomorrow!  A bientôt!