French boys are crazy, but not as crazy as MOATS

I'm going to start off this post with a quick analysis of French boys.
French boys:
1. They like rugby and handball.
2. They can all cook but don't know how to NOT leave a huge mess behind.
3. They are insane.*
4. They are all very fashionable and they all take as much time in the morning as girls do to get their hair looking just right...


*(Boys everywhere are insane, but especially French ones)
 And now here is the anecdotal evidence:

Exhibit A: Noe
Relation to me: Host brother, aged 11
Noe is totally, completely insane. He was watching innocent cartoons like Totally Spies on TV when suddenly he started screaming at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason. I asked him why he was screaming and he just shrugged his shoulders. He really was screaming for no reason at all. When Noe doesn't get the flavor of yogurt that he wanted because Clement (Other host brother, aged 14) took it first, Noe will scream, yell and cry about the horrible injustice that has been done to him. When things like this happen, when Noe gets so serious about something as simple as not getting the last container of cherry-flavored yogurt, I can not help but laugh the whole entire time and hope that he doesn't notice. Once, Noe tried to bake a cake. He forgot to add the eggs, the butter, and the sugar. When he tried to add chocolate sprinkles to the batter he accidentally ripped open the sprinkle bag and dumped half a pound of sprinkles on the ground. I heard him say "OH NON!", watched him leave the kitchen, and was dumbfounded when he turned on the TV and starting watching the Simpsons, leaving the huge mess for some sucker to come along and clean up. (That sucker was me; I cleaned up his sprinkle disaster) Noe also does his hair in the mornings right before we get on the bus. He coats his hair in gel and then smooths it up into a little wave that comes to a point right above his forehead. I noticed that once Noe started doing this all of his friends on the bus started to do it too.
Exhibit B: Matteo
Relation to me: Kid on the bus who sits in front of me, aged 11
One day I told Matteo about how I have a boyfriend. Next thing I know he's drawing pictures of stick figures having sexual relations on the windows of the bus and the stick figures are named Bob and Sam. He is eleven.
Exhibit C: Clement, Simon, and that other guy who wore a sweater with "Japan Rags" scrawled across the front
Relation to Me: Three older teenage boys in Perrine's class
These crazy Frenchmen-in-training had one simple task: Make spaghetti. Not only did they burn the spaghetti while it was being boiled in a huge pot of water, but they also got spaghetti noodles on the ground, on the stove, in the sink, on the table, on the floor, and all over Clement's pants. They didn't have a specific sauce to put on the noodles so they told everyone to just use butter and ketchup to add flavor. When Clement served himself, he put the spaghetti on his plate and then he gently set his plate down on the table. The plate broke in HALF as soon as it touched the wood. That's just a big red flag that he's totally insane. The boy wearing the sweater has been to Japan and didn't like it there. Another red flag of insanity.
Exhibit D: McFlurrion
Relation to me: Dude at my highschool
McFlurrion (clever word-play of his actual name) loves to watch me on the computer in the library. I will be innocently doing my homework when I hear a little noise behind me. I turn around and realize that McFlurrion has been a foot behind my chair watching what I was doing. I say "Bonjour" and ask him if everything's okay. He answers me with the bare-minimum that he could possibly say and then walks away. One day he did this 4 times with about fifteen minutes of time between each 'visit'.

So that ends my little tidbit on French dudes. Now I want to talk to you about something else that's very, very French: Merde. Merde is the French word for poo, but a little bit more vulgar. Have you ever wondered what the plumbing system was like in castles of the Middle Ages? Well the other day I learned how it all worked and the knowledge will never leave my memory.

So moats are pretty cool right?  They seem to serve a good purpose by making it more difficult to breach the walls of a castle and can harbor man-eating crocodiles as an additional deterrent to invaders. Moats also serve aesthetic purposes by adding a certain island-esque charm to the castle or serving as a cool watery-lily gardens. The truth of the matter is that moats actually serve a much darker purpose...

In the Chateau of the Dukes of Brittany I found a little room with a stone block that had a hole in it. This room was very discrete and had a little window from which you could see the surrounding buildings. I thought to myself: 'Oh, it's the latrine!' My host mother proceeded to explain to me how the latrines worked. When people had to go to the bathroom, they would go into these little bathrooms, do their business sitting on a wooden board posed over the hole, and leave. The hole leads directly to, you guessed it, the MOAT. And how was it possible for fish to survive in these moats for so long? Well the fish ate what dropped out of the holes. People were also known to hunt the fish that lived in these moats and I'm sure they would take pride in the specific "freshwater" flavor of their bounties. Moats were the waste-treatment plants of the dark-ages. No wonder it was such a terrifying prospect, to be thrown into the moat. I honestly think that crocodiles have never been a part of the natural fauna that lives in moats, and perhaps the idea of a moat filled with man-eating crocodiles originated from the fact that moats were full of POOP. And the word "crap" sounds a tad-bit similar to "croc", in crocodile, or a "crock of crap". I'm rambling now, but basically I just thought you should know that moats are a lot worse than you may have thought.

What once lurked in that innocent-looking water just a few hundred years ago?

The extra kilos and a chateau

Hello world, it's me again. Your friendly neighborhood Sam. So guess what? It's vacation in France! It's a bit complicated, but vacation technically starts in a week but because my class at high school went to Liverpool this week I can just loaf around the house for the time being. In fact, I'm loafing around the house right now. I did just go on a twenty minute jog around the fields with Vick, the scary guard dog. Vick is such a ferocious animal that when this house was broken into some time ago he didn't make a single noise and let the burglars lock him in the walk-in freezer. Vick is one of the nicest giant dogs I know; he makes me happy and he loves running with me because it's an opportunity for him to pee on everything.

I'm running because... I've put on some weight. We all knew it would happen. A girl who loves food goes to France, land of good food, and doesn't gain weight? Impossible. So I've gained a couple of kilos which roughly translates to 5 pounds. I knew I couldn't eat pastries next to every single day and not gain a bit... but I can always hope. Now that's its vacation it will be a lot harder to find pastry shops though; there are three within 10 minutes of my highschool but only one about twenty minutes away from my house. At school I would get very bored in between classes and walk down and get a tartelette aux pommes... (Apple Tart) Here it's not worth the sorrow to walk 20 minutes for a quick nibble of something delicious but calorie-laden. So yeah, I've been jogging now and will jog every day this week. And try to avoid putting too much nutella on my morning "pain complet". (Complete Bread)

Saturday I went shopping around Nantes. All I want is a really cute bag and a new pair of shoes because my turquoise converse are dying, my black heeled boots are in their death throes, and my cut-out oxfords are withering and getting stained with French things. My fake toki-doki purse is also stained and too big for my evolving fashion tastes. Now I want a old school canvas knapsack. This is uninteresting, I'm going to stop talking about what I want to buy and will wait until I've actually bought something... So I didn't buy anything saturday, but I did go to a creperie and got a crepe titled "chevre chaud", which means hot goat cheese. It was incredible. Readers, if you have never eaten a crepe before, leave your house right now and find the nearest one. Go inside, buy a crepe. Eat it and never be the same....

Sunday! Sunday I went to the Chateau des Ducs de Bretagne in Nantes. (The Castle of the Dukes of Brittany) The Chateau was very pretty, but my favorite part was the huge museum that was installed in one of the main chateau buildings and afterward sitting on a bench watching a French dad play 'cache-cache', hide-and-go-seek, with his daughter who had obviously just learned how to walk. I was surprised watching the dad and his daughter. He would just put her down and then run and hide behind a bush about 20 feet away. She would stand there, slightly wobbling, and then start walking/running/stumbling in any odd direction until her dad would call out her name. Once she would hear her name she'd fall over, get back up like a frog launching off a leaf and toddle over to wherever she heard her dad. They played this game for 15 minutes and I watched and laughed the whole time... It was more entertaining than watching the European Championship Handball match between France and Denmark. (France Won)
PICTURES!

Traditional French Instruments...

The Original Array of LU biscuits.

Camille is Pensive

Happy Chocolate Lady Sculpture

When I jog, this is all I can see for miles

Ever wonder how they make so many cookies that have the same shape and size? Well this is how. I don't know about you, but my mind was blown.

macarons....

This is a map of the area. I'm on that map right now, somewhere in the lower right corner above the huge black river.

The Chateau

Pretty Pastel Window Panes

In France, there are cigarette butts

Something for the males. A French sword!

A window display outside the Gallery Lafayette!

Little Old Me in the Chateau. I was trying to appear very regal, just didn't work out

Fortress and the Machines

So I went and saw some pretty cool things this weekend. Oh, and today is also Valentine's Day so HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY AMERICA!!!

Saturday I experienced "Les Machines de l'Ile". That directly translates to "The Machines of the Island". Now, the Machines are located on a little island in the middle of Nantes, the 6th biggest city in France. Nantes is very well known for its ship building and biscuit industry. Ever heard of LU cookies? Well, they're pretty much the most popular brand of ANY food item in France. The LU company makes all kinds of biscuits too...buttery biscuits, chocolaty biscuits, waffle-esque biscuits, pocky-like biscuits... Anyways, they singlehandedly own the French biscuit/cookie market and their factory is in Nantes. It is my goal to go visit it and eat some biscuits fresh from the corporate oven of France. (The cupboards here at my house are already full of their products though)

The Machines of the Island were dreamed up by two French dudes with tons of money and nothing better to do with their lives. (At least I think that's what the tour guide said...) These machines shaped in many different kinds of animals are powered by people and by electricity. The most impressive machine by far is the towering mechanical elephant that is about the size of a three story building and was walking around the industrial park when I first arrived at the Gallery of the Machines. This huge elephant is made of metal, wood, and leather. It's ears flap around, it's trunk moves and sprays the bystanders with steams. The huge glass eyes look around and wink at people... there is also a stereo that yells some very authentic elephant noises to further enhance the effect. One thing that I thought was even more impressive was that this megalith of a machine wasn't behind a fence or anything. It was just walking around right next to the people who looked like toys in comparison to it. In America I'm sure this creation would be behind bars for fear of some idiot running out under it's feet... I'm happy that the French have faith in their own idiots to not do something like that.

The Machines were fantastic and Noe, my host brother, was especially happy that we went to see them because our original plan was to go to Mont Saint Michel that day instead and he really didn't want to go there. In fact, while we were all sitting around eating lunch we were keeping a tally of how many times Noe said "I don't want to go there", or in French, "Je n'ai pas envie d'y aller!!!" I'm pretty sure he said it about 8 times while we were sitting down eating a meal of curried chicken over rice...
Nevertheless, Sunday we made it to Mont Saint Michel after a two and half hour drive through the extremely beautiful and peaceful countryside of Normandy. It was also foggy, raining, and cold but that's besides the point. A little note here, in France a two and a half hour drive is considered a very long drive to get anywhere. To put this in perspective, to get from the northern tip of France to the southern tip of France takes around 8 hours of driving. France is about the size of California if you cut CA in half and put the two pieces side by side. In other words, France is small and the people don't like driving. Anything more than an hour is a really long drive and should be avoided at all costs... but I am here now so long drives are necessary to show me all of the cool things within a four hour radius of where I live.

Mont Saint Michel is a fortress built on a huge slab of granite that resisted the erosion of the constant battering from the tides of the English Channel. The commune on this island is a real medieval town. The streets are so narrow that only 6 people standing shoulder to shoulder could walk through them at some points. There is a moat, and slits in the wall for people to shoot arrows through. There is also a draw bridge and huge metal doors to close as a last ditch effort to fight back the invading Roast Beef (The French name for the English, American's are yankees). In fact, a lot of English own homes in Normandy for retirement or vacationing during the summer, and my host father told me that on the first day of summer all of the French line the streets of Normandy holding little rocks for throwing at the vacationers. He said it was a sort of festival marking the beginning of summer. Haha, funny Antoine and his funny jokes...

LE MONT SAINT MICHEL!!! GLORIOUS EVEN IN 30 DEGREE WEATHER!

Arrow Slits for Protection

DRAW BRIDGE

Total Medieval Town, especially with the japanese writing on the sign. Oh those tourists!

Look, I'm so historic!

The Cathedral

At Mont Saint Michel there were more Japanese people than French people. In fact, all of the signs were written in English, French, and Japanese. I saw more Japanese people crammed in those narrow streets than any other place in my life. They were everywhere, taking 'kawaii' pictures, being adorable in general, speaking Japanese... Antoine cracked a joke that the Airbus from Tokyo had just dropped its load off at Mont Saint Michel. Funny Antoine and his funny jokes... This is all besides the point. What the point is? I don't know. Mont Saint Michel was really awesome and I thought about a million times "ancient lords and knights have walked where I am walking with my beaten up old converse... coooooool...." There's the teenage brain for you. I feel like I've already written a thousand words so I'm going to just show some pictures to make up for the next few thousand.

Valentine's Day in France... If I was in Paris I'm sure it would have been a lot more obvious, but the only way one could tell that it was Valentine's Day was the fact that while I was sitting out in front of the Supermarket I counted ten guys in twenty minutes who walked out holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and some form of alcohol in the other. Why I was sitting in front of a supermarket? Camille and Brittany needed to buy chocolate and we celebrated the day by sitting on a bench and eating next to all of it. Tonight I made my host family old-fashioned banana bread. They loved it... I guess American food is good enough for the spoiled French taste buds! Woohoo! A little interesting tid bit... while I was at a local book store I stumbled upon this book full of recipes from "all around the world". The recipes from America were things like Meatloaf, cornbread, and Banana Bread. Random...
Here's an iffy picture of my French family. Not a single picture turned out with everyone looking the same direction, forgive me, but at least you guys can all get an idea of the awesome people I'm staying with.

One last thing before I go... I was at school the other day waiting for my turn in the girl's bathroom. I waited about five minutes in front of the door, clearly marked with a person in a dress, when suddenly two guys walked out and brought a strong smell of pot with them. I went in a few moments after, registering the fact that two dudes just smoked pot in the girl's bathroom of a French high school. I had to brush little pieces of pot off of the sink and the pot stink was heavy in the bathroom. This is France, not Arcata!!

The Gulf of Morbihan and Kouign Amanns

So the past week has brought me many new experiences, all of which I would do over again in a second, except for accidentally eating a rabbit's esophagus.

Saturday, I tried rabbit for the very first time. Alexia, my wonder-woman French mom, dished me up two morsels of meat. When eating rabbit, it is necessary to eat around the bones. As I was picking at the first chunk, trying to separate flesh from bone and other random detritus, I picked up a strange tubular thing with my fork and thought 'well, it doesn't appear to be meat, but it doesn't appear to be bone either... might as well try it', so  popped the little thing in my mouth and as I bit down on the rubbery little tube I realized that the morsel of meat I had been picking at was the throat of the rabbit, and what was in my mouth at that moment was it's esophagus. Needless to say, I will not be having esophagus again.The rabbit was good though! So I finished up my yummy meal when Alexia plopped another morsel of meat on the plate of Antoine, my genius host-dad. Perrine was immediately overwhelmed with disgust as she looked at the rabbit head on Antoine's plate and shouted "UGHH CA C'EST DEGOUTANT!!!". Funny thing is, this little rabbit head still had it's teeth in tact and perhaps the eyes as well, nicely cooked along with the rest of the body... I was a little grossed out and Antoine politely refused the head by saying he'd rather eat it later in private. (I'm pretty sure he was joking, as he also told me he liked to eat all the bones too and it was necessary that I ate the bones that I had left on my plate...) That was saturday afternoon.

Saturday night I went to a little fete for all of the people in the Pays-De-La-Loire who love traditional French folk dancing from Bretagne, the region north of the Pays-de-La-Loire. This special form of dance involves a lot of pinkie holding, doing the two-step while occasionally skipping and sliding, and constantly moving in one direction around the room. There are multiple forms of the traditional Breton dancing, my favorite being the one where one must hold two other people's pinkies with one's own pinkie, and then do a little two step while sliding to the left. When  you hold pinkies with someone, they're also holding someone else's pinkies. It's a long pinkie chain that can be 10 to 30 people long, and there are around 5 of these chains in the ballroom. I think the fun part of this dance is that your chain can't hit all of the other chains or the wall. It was like playing 'Snake' but on a much larger and traditional scale. There are also couple dances, and a skinny little bartender asked me to dance with him during one of these special couple dances. I agreed, because I wanted the cultural experience (I was not attracted to this tiny person), and discovered that he had very sweaty hands and that traditional Breton couple folk dances last too long. Nevertheless, I did enjoy the night on the whole and had fun dancing around with a ton of older French people. In fact, one older man told me that I had a good sense of rhythm. YESSS

Sunday, I went to the Gulf of Morbihan, located in Bretagne, and was totally floored by the beauty of the place and took around 16 seashells from the seashore, with intent of selling them and renaming myself Sally. (This is where you laugh) (Or not, because it really isn't funny) I can best explain this outing with pictures:

The Gulf of Morbihan is full of islands and many rich and famous people own property on them..

"Paris Brest"

MACARONS <3

After walking around the beauitful Gulf I tried something called a Kouign Amann, which is aptly named because Kouign Amann directly translates to "butter cake". (The words are from a celtic language) This delicious pastry is just flour, butter, sugar, and delicious all baked up... there is so much sugar that the crust is caramelized... this is the 8th wonder of the world and it must be shared with America. I don't understand it, the French eat more butter than Americans do yet on a whole are way skinnier... oh those French!!!

Monday and Tuesday came and went the same as usual: I ate delicious food, spoke some broken French, learned some new words, read aloud from a French text in a French Literature class and was not laughed at (phew), went to a piano lesson with Perrine, celebrated crepe day..etc...