Better late then never?

****soooo this was supposed to be my first blog post back in november but then i never published it soooooooo here's some old thoughts

It's a cold, wet, and cloudy day in Strasbourg and I've spent all of it on the old computer my host family here in France, the Matters, are letting me borrow while my school bought DELL computer remains black and very much not working.  After finally emptying my Holy Cross inbox of all the useless junk they insist on sending me despite the fact that I'm not in Worcester (although I was excited to hear about Dinand's new 24 hour policy), catching up on all of HCs Halloween pictures, and indulging in a bit of online American television, I stumbled upon the blogworld via Audrey and the Florence girls' blogs.  Well ladies you've inspired me.  To what I'm sure will be the intense amusement of a certain Sadie Sisk, I have created a blog.  Although I've kept the title of my fake blog from last spring in which gems like "Too many opportunist jealous gurlz frontin bout my burthday." were credited to my name, I can attest that unlike previsouly blogs that may have been attributed to my name, this is really me.  Disclaimer:  although I like to think I'm the only one who knows the password to this, when my posts about my alterego "Gimli" start appearing, look no further than Caitlin Reilly.

Anyways for my first post I'd like to give some impressions of my new host country, region, and family.

France
Stereotypes that are false-bérets, only eating weird food like frogs legs, not wearing deodorant (for the most part), and that the extensive train system is cheap
Stereotypes that are true-cheese (and again Dad, the French word is fromage not chesois), the strikes over n'importe quoi, and of course the baguette totting bike riders. 


With my newly purchased pink bike I hope to soon ride through the streets of Strasbourg looking like this

Alsace

Obama

Acutal Alsatians

The small region passed back and forth between France and Germany for centuries whose people typically speak both languages, as well as a dialect called Alsatian.  Both France and Germany have been a bit confused as to what to do with the Alsatian people throughout the region's rocky histroy.  As a result, Alsatians are typically considered by most Frenchmen as not "truly French" while they are simultaneously shunned by Germans as "too French".  Although the rest of the world may be unsure where their alleigence lies, Alsatians are absolutely sure...the motherland is ALSACE.  I have never met people so proud of where they come from and with such a strong sense of solidarity/nationalism not belonging to any country.  Although mostly endearing, Alsatians love for their region and people somtimes borders on the ridiculous.  In a recent meeting with an Alsatian singer/songwriting for my ICIP (Independent Cultural Immersion Project) I was suprised to learn that not only the designer of the Statue of Liberty was Alsatian (alright, believeable) but also none other than President Obama.  Okaaaaaaaay Alsace, starting to stretch it there. 

The Matters

Whether declaring that "Faustine (the 2 year old girl she babysits) can eat more than you", insisting on a 2 hour shopping trip to the French version of Walmart, or serving me yet another portion of potatoes, my French host mother, Marlene, is always a source of endless entertainment for me (and for the other HC kids here in Strasbourg to whom I recount Marlene's every move).  Raymond, my host dad, tries to moderate our Chesecake Factory style portions that Lisset, my American roomate from Boston, and I recieve each night, only to be chastized by Marlene "You eat like a bird!!"  But seriously I love my host family and they've been so helpful with everything from fixing my bike (recently stolen one yes) to letting me use this computer till mine is fixed!  Coming from a picky eater family of only fish and pasta I'll admit I'm struggling with the lamb shoulders and was absolutely horrified yesterday at Auchun when Marlene announced she'd soon be preparing the French delicacy of escargot for us, but with my wine and water (which its apprently strange to drink at dinner but i've decided to ignore that) in hand I think I'll survive.