A Couple of Pictures

Although I don't have time to write a full post right now, I will post the only two pictures I've take while being here, because I finally bought a camera cord! More pictures to come soon, as soon as the sun comes out and Toulouse looks pretty (because it has done almost nothing but rain here lately).

The view from my room

Annnnnd another view from my room, but just.... more of it

Just Call Me Wolf Blitzer

I've been asked by The Dickinsonian, Dickinson College's student newspaper, to write a biweekly column about being abroad.  Sometimes, in lieu of writing a blog post, I'll just post the column here.  Thus, here is my first attempt at being a foreign news correspondent:

I think it is most appropriate to use my first column to describe a few of the cultural differences I’ve noticed thus far while studying abroad in Toulouse, France.  I’ve only lived for an extended period of time in two places in my entire life: Brunswick, Maine and Carlisle, Pennsylvania.  Although you would be hard pressed to find someone who thinks either town represents the epitome of American culture, I have enough life experience to notice that many things are culturally dissimilar between France and the United States.

The other day, my host and I chatted about French and American politics.  The most striking part of the conversation was her confession that the French could not care less about a politician’s love and sex life.  An elected official could have two, three, four (here she was holding up her hands and gesticulating with the appropriate number of fingers) mistresses and it is all the same to them.  I remarked that in the United States, unless they were especially skilled or popular, this revelation would potentially ruin a politician’s career.  Bill Clinton was impeached for the offense, and it was all the media could focus on when Newt Gingrich ran for president in 2012.  My host could not understand why, when America created Jersey Shore, has more fans of Fifty Shades of Grey than of the New York Times, and is the leading producer of the world’s pornography, we care so much about the private sex lives of politicians.  I have to admit, I couldn’t give her a good answer.

I’ve also noticed that the French tend to be both more and less polite than Americans.  On one hand, they are less polite because they are not very good at waiting their turn in line.  In the United States, if you are waiting to get on a bus or metro, or are filing through a door or up the stairs or escalator, you typically let those in front of you go first.  In France, someone behind you will have no qualms about swooping in and slipping in front of you, sometimes stealing your bus seat or the last spot in the elevator.  Another difference is one’s degree of friendliness toward strangers.  The French, and especially the students, rarely make warm introductions when meeting strangers for the first time.  It takes effort to break the ice – but when you do, the relationships are just as rewarding as the ones made in the U.S.  I think this is why the French are made out to be rude and snobbish.  However, in some respects they are more polite than Americans.  As each patron exits the bus, he or she tells the driver an obligatory “Merci, au revoir.”  Day or night, rain or shine, every single rider says this phrase.  It’s not something you typically see in the U.S., and the French pride themselves on thanking people for services.  Obviously many Americans are very polite and say their please-and-thank-yous, but in France it seems to be a more universal utterance.

Of course, there are more than two cultural differences between the countries, but so far those are the two that I find to be the most interesting and nuanced.  Another is that McDonalds here sells the McBaguette – yes it’s what it sounds like, and yes I’ve had one.

"Arrêtez là! Montrez-moi vos papiers d'identité!"

The first thing I want to address is the name of this blog.  I've had a couple people ask me if the title had anything to do with losing, or losers, or Toulouse having a lot of losers, or me being a loser in Toulouse... None of the above.  I just wanted to have a clever blog name and it worked out to be this one.  So, pay no attention.

There has been a lot going on in the past few days, so I'll just tell it all.  First, included as part of my program here with Dickinson is 20 hours of community service for the semester.  It can come in any form, as long as we are integrating ourselves in the Toulouse community and making connections with the people.  It's called our "benevolat," and I've decided that mine is going to be helping to coach a debate team at one of the universities here in Toulouse.  It is called SupAero, and it is an engineering school for aeronautics students.  They have a debate team, and I learned through a friend that they were looking for someone to help the team practice.  I did debate in high school, so I went to their first meeting and spoke with the coach, who is thrilled for me to come.  I'll go once a week, every Tuesday night, and help the team prepare for their meets.  The students who debate are foreign themselves -- I met two from Belgium, one from Germany, and one from Sweden.  Next week there will be more, and I don't doubt it will be a good time.

This brings me to the name of this post, "Arrêtez là! Montrez-moi vos papiers d'identité!"  For those who know French, you know that means "Stop there! Show me your identity papers!" Yes, that was said to me.  Yes, by a police officer.  The director of my program, Madame Toux, told us that the French police would often stop young people and ask for identity papers, just as a means of keeping a tight lid on security.  Well, this happened to me the other night as I left the metro.  It was around 11:30 p.m., and as I exited the metro a French police officer with a rather large gun told me to stop.  Freaked out, I immediately blurted "I'm an American student!" as if that gave me a free pass to just do whatever I wanted.  He looked me over and said (in French), "Yes, obviously you are, but you still have identity papers and I still want to see them."  So I showed him the copy of my passport and was on my way.  In retrospect it wasn't such a big deal, but at the time I was convinced this was the equivalent of passing a NATO check point in Afghanistan or something far more serious.

One thing I've noticed is that the French love to party.  And by party I mean protest.  A lot.  I've already seen two such demonstrations -- one against the use of animal fur for clothing, and one against high taxes.  The animal fur protest was much more exciting.  The demonstrators were a young group, lots of piercings and ripped clothes, and hair colored with every shade of the rainbow.  In the middle of the march a dozen or so protestors were wearing doctors' scrubs from head to toe, including a surgical mask.  And each of them were carrying the skinned carcass of a pig -- I know, that makes no sense since pigs don't have fur and I'm pretty sure we don't use their skin for leather.  I think it was simply a representation of dead animals and using fur in general.  Either way it was disgusting.  I was sitting at an outdoor café at the time, and the gentleman next to me suddenly turned to his wife and said, "Shit, I'm wearing fur, I need to get the hell out of here!" and he stood up and disappeared.  Good thing he did, because the protestors were going from person to person and yelling at those who had fur for being animal torturers.  The protest against high taxes was far less exciting, but it did block the road and therefore my bus route, making me late for class.

The biggest event of the past few days, and the most disappointing, was that I had my debit card and all the money in my wallet stolen.  Yes, I've been in Europe for only 9 days and I've already been robbed. I'm not sure where it happened exactly because I didn't know until well after it happened, but my best guess is that I put my wallet down in the bar the other night and someone came over and snagged my money.  I only lost 20 euros and cancelled my card immediately, but it was still a mental blow.  Unfortunately I wasn't the only one -- a girl in my program lost some euros, and another friend had his card stolen and the burglar immediately withdrew almost 200 euros from his account.  It really sucks but it happens, and it is a reminder that I have to be vigilant when out at night in a big city such as Toulouse.  I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Thanks for everyone who is reading the blog, it's a fun way to keep track of my trip and to let friends and family know how I'm doing.  I plan on posting pictures as soon as possible, but I forgot to bring my camera cord so I need to buy one in order to transfer the pictures to my computer.  In the mean time, I'll just post some pictures that my friends took and put on Facebook.  Remember to subscribe to the blog on the right hand side so you can get email updates!  Bonne nuit!

The city center, called "La place du Capitole."  The building shown is the town hall.

A town square in the heart of Toulouse.

Le Canal du Midi, a canal that runs through the middle of the city.

The First Day of Class

With every new experience or environment comes a period of adjustment, and never is that more true than the first day of classes in a French university... for an American student.  That day was today, and the adjustment was tough and will probably take a fair amount of time.  I am taking two classes at Sciences-Po (the shortened name for l'Institut d'Etudes Politiques de Toulouse), both in the political science/law department.  My one class for the day, "Gouverner en Europe: du droit européen au droit communautaire"("Governing in Europe: from European Law to Community Law") started at 8 a.m. and was two and a half hours long.  Now, I am used to the classes at Dickinson, which started at 9:30 or 10:30 and lasted either 50 minutes or 75 minutes.  But two and a half hours?  And completely in French?  You would have to be crazy to put yourself through that, and I suppose I am a bit.  But it actually wasn't as bad as I had thought.  I understood the professor better than I expected, and there are one or two other Americans in the class; we plan on collaborating with notes, etc.  I will also try to make a French friend or two -- they are usually very willing to help American students.  One of the biggest academic adjustments I have to make is to the size of my classes.  My class today is in a massive lecture hall with over 150 other students.  My biggest class at Dickinson was 36 students.  As you can expect, there is little to no connection with professors in France, and the typical format is for the professor to lecture for the two, two and a half hours, and then the students leave.  There is no question and answer, no discussion.  My other class here at Sciences-Po, "Socio-histoire des idées politiques, XIXeme - XXeme siecles," ("Socio-history of Political Ideas, 19th to 20th century,") will probably be the same way.  This is actually an indication of one of the biggest problems with the French education system.  There is a high unemployment rate (hovering around 11 percent) because many students aren't going to college, or don't take it seriously.  They don't take it seriously because they have little incentive to learn -- the professors aren't engaging and the classes are long and tiresome. Now, this isn't meant to bash the French education system, because not all professors are boring and not all classes put you to sleep, but it is a common thread in much of the system.  I'll be able to report more about the classes later in the week.

On a more interesting note, yesterday I went with my host's son, Guillaume, to watch a Toulouse rugby match at a local pub.  Rugby is very popular in France -- probably second to soccer -- and the Toulouse team is very good.  Last year, they were the top ranked team in France, and in 2010 they won the Heineken Cup, making them the top ranked team in Europe.  I knew almost nothing about rugby, but Guillaume and his friend explained the rules.  It is actually not as much like American football as people tend to think.  The play is much more fluid and consistent, and, although they wear minimal protection, there are fewer injuries.  Rugby values brawn as much as the NFL does, but it values precision and finesse in all the positions, not just at quarterback or running back or wide receiver.  The spectators at the bar (which was Irish themed) were very passionate about the team, and I found myself getting really excited with them.  Now that I know the rules more or less, I'm hoping to go to a game and really become a real fan.

Right now, the hardest thing about being abroad is simply making the adaptation to another culture.  I need to think so much more about what I say and what I hear, and each action may or may not be a social faux pas -- overall, I must be much more careful.  Luckily, this will all come with time.  Tomorrow, I have one of my classes at the Dickinson center, and some orientation as well.

The History of Toulouse

Today was full of history. I started with a short history of Toulouse, and ended with a full knowledge of the story of Toulouse from the days of Rome until today.

The day started with my orientation class with Madame Toux. We talked about the expectations of studying abroad in Toulouse with a family, etc. Then, myself and another student left and went to the political science university, Sciences-Po (Sciences Politique), for a short tour with a current student, Alice. She showed us the classrooms at the political science university, as well as the cafeteria and the library. The building is actually pretty old and run down, but the library is nice and the cafeteria had good food. Even though the food was good, it was difficult to navigate. You can get one "entrée," one "plat du jour," and one "dessert," but it is hard to tell which food qualifies as which type of dish. Turns out fruit is a dessert and pasta was a "plat du jour." Luckily, the food is very cheap in the cafeteria and it tasted pretty good.

After the tour of Sciences-Po we went on a walking tour of Toulouse with a history professor from the American university here. His name is Monsieur Créma and he is a character, to say the least.  We walked for almost two solid hours around Toulouse, looking at the old churches and the walls that used to surround the city. Toulouse dates back to the 1st century AD, and so some of the architecture is a couple thousand years old. It's pretty amazing that in the United States, we think it's amazing when something we see is 200 years old. Here, the French are constantly seeing things that are 800, 900, 1000 years old. This is a huge difference in culture.

After the historical walk, I went back to my apartment and rested, and then the Dickinson group went out to dinner to a restaurant that specialized in mussels. I had the garlic mussels and a nice red wine, and then a chocolate fudge cake for dessert. It was all very delicious and worth the 13.50 Euros. It is easy to find cheap food in Toulouse, but it is also easy to find expensive food. After the restaurant we talked over to a bar that specializes in beer, my favorite. The bar makes its own beer, so I had the house wheat beer and the house ginger ale (beer), as well as the blonde ale. Interestingly, the alcohol percentages of the beers here in Toulouse are significantly lower than they are in the U.S. I'm not sure why, but it is certainly noticeable.

Because I left the bar at a certain time, the buses had stopped running and I was forced to walk back to my host house. The walk took a while but, at night, Toulouse is very peaceful and I enjoyed the time alone. Now, it is time for bed and a nice rest, as well as sleeping in. Tomorrow I plan on going to the supermarket for some essentials and meeting a friend for coffee. A demain.

Day One

Today marks the first day of my five months abroad in Toulouse.  I'm leaving behind my friends, family, girlfriend, dog, cat, and lots more for five months of French immersion with people I have never met in a country to which I've never been.  It's a gamble, but maybe the wine will make it worth my trouble.

I won't go into details about the journey here; it went very smoothly and I had no issues whatsoever.  My host "brother," Guillaume, picked me up at the airport with his girlfriend and helped me get settled into the apartment.  I have a room with double door windows overlooking a Toulouse street, and a bathroom right next door.  Madame Auban, my host "mother," is a social worker and certainly defies the French stereotype of cold and unwelcoming.  She has given me a liberal reign over the kitchen and living room, and we sat and talked for a while about each others' families, friends, and interests.  I can tell we are going to get along.

There are certainly aspects of being abroad that are already strikingly different.  First off, all the outlets are different so you have to be prepared with a converter.  Then, the toilet is in a different "bathroom" than the shower and sinks, so you have to make two trips if you're so inclined.  Lastly, the shower has no curtain, so if you don't lock the bathroom door then you should be prepared to put on a show for the next unlucky (or lucky?) soul who wanders in to relieve themselves.

Overall, the beginning of my trip has been interesting and very much a whirlwind.  I've been thrown into speaking almost nothing but French all the time, and it isn't easy by any measure.  There is definitely a language barrier, but in a few weeks times I expect to be getting along nicely with the French.  Now I've got to get a hold of the jet lag and I'll be set.  Orientation starts early tomorrow morning.