So I survived 2 days of school so far. It takes me one hour to get porte to porte and my profs are not too interesting or strange. My classmates are a variety of people from everywhere. Yesterday I discovered that even answers to profs questions have to be carefully thought through. A whole new meaning to the concept of being "salt" springs to life. I want my words to be pure and clean and my thoughts to be conveyed in good, knowledgeable French. But one must be careful. My profs are french educated masters of language and teach for that matter. One speaks Japanese fluently and the other has a handle on Cantonese- said to be one of thee most difficult languages out there. Nani and I were assigned to debate the computer- did it liberate us or not? So we dove in and we talked through the pros and then the cons and we hit on the aspect of pirating and just brushed the idea of pornography. The prof caught it and said, "Now, thats moral, not whether or not the machine herself causes liberation." He admitted though that the internet itself could suck one in and not allow actual freedom. Even my debate skills which are seemingly few, come up against a brick wall with the French. They are so well thought out. Heck, even 5th graders are studying Camus. I hardly know who that is...


So my little daily routine is beginning to form: wake up at 8:30ish (alarm #1 is at 8), turn on the liztoppy and start some music, eat some breakfast, email, shower, get ready, review studies, blog, leave at 12:25ish for school, ride RER and walk to school, grammar with Alexandre from 1:30-3:30ish, conversation with Jean-Baptiste from 3:35ish-5:30ish (the french are quarkochronic so we're never really on time), chat with classmates as we walk to metro, get on and return home. Maybe shop if need be. Eat dinner, email, hang-time with God, bed. Thats kinda what the week looks like. Now the weekend? couldn't tell ya.


Yesterday I bought Rocky. I don't have a car here so Rocky is almost a must. I tried to live for a bit without him but when I saw a young arab boy 'faire les courses' with one similar to Rocky, I realized how much simpler that race through Tang Frere would be. I could even take Rocky to Continent (where I bought him) or to Auchan which is another couple stops down the RER and bring water home, milk in those crazy boxes, soupe too! I found that carrying heavy things in plastic bags will really kill my hands and so I dropped the cash on a deeply tan, handsome, but older styling fellow, who constantly sports black and blue (in plaid of course cuz the French love that plaid). He has two wheels and follows smoothly. Rocky is my caddy and I love him already.