Isn't it mid day? Why are the stores closed?

Oh, France. How you overwhelm me. With your beauty, architecture, people and lifestyles, how could anyone ever be upset with you?

Wait a minute. What was that? Everything is closed from noon until 2 o'clock? What? Why? How could you do this to me?

That was my mindset, but not quite as poetic, for the first week I was here. Everyday, people take what is known here as 'le sieste,' which is basically 2 hours off of work and school to eat and sleep. No, seriously. Everyday at noon, my French family, Pascal and Michelle, fall asleep, Michelle watching poorly dubbed soap operas in the living room and Pascal in his bedroom. I'm not too surprised they take 'le sieste,' though, since French people drink a gallon of coffee each morning, and they're bound to crash hard when the caffeine wears off.

On a different note, I've started my schooling. I'm taking langue, comrpéhension orale, expression orale, et l'histoire de l'art Française (Language, oral comprehension, oral expression, and the History of French Art, respectively, if you couldn't figure that out). I'm really excited dive into my subjects. My teachers all seem nice and understanding. My oral comprehension teacher talks very clearly, of course, and is a funny individual. He's very energetic about his class and knows how to convey his points well to people of limited vocabulary. My art teacher looks, for lack of better words, rad. She's the only history of art teacher on campus. She's petite, wears cool dresses and has big, frizzy hair. She talks very clearly because there are a lot (lot lot lot lot) of Asians in my classes who don't comprehend as well. In fact, there's usually only about 2 or 3 people not of Oriental descent in any of my classes. It's odd being a minority for a change. My language professor is young and just had a baby girl. She is understanding and seems like an alright person. I could easily see her being a grump, though, so I'll try to stay on her good side. She seems well enough. I haven't yet taken my oral expression class, so I don't know what I'm in for there. We'll see.

It's a 15 minute walk from my flat to the university (le Catho (cah-toe), as most city-dwellers call it). It doesn't really matter where you're walking to in Angers, there's always something to look at and admire. The old city is simply fantastic. Everything is new there, even if time is starting to take root on its structure and slowly start its merciless transition into rubble. The shops are small and built together, the people jolly, carrying bags of new clothes or a fresh panini wrapped in a yellow-and-black striped paper bag (a favorite of Abby's and mine). The buildings are old, with criss-crossing wood planks crawling up white walls. The roads are of round cobblestone, ground soft and edgeless in over a century's use. Even the wind feels different here. When I visit the old city, I always make sure to breathe through my nose, as there are always plenty of petite shops bellowing out storms of tantalizing smells. There is an air of freedom for me when I come here. It's amazing the spiritual upliftment you can experience by throwing some Coldplay-filled earbuds into your ears, bundling up warm, and simply walking along the ancient cobble stone paths. All you need is sky above and ground below, a smile on your face and to throw doubts to the wind, which will be happy to replace them with confidence and an profound sense of freedom.

You'll get some pictures in my next post! They're all on Abby's computer, but if you're impatient, check out her blog, C'est La Vie, at http://abbygallagher.blogspot.com/.

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A bientôt!