What one learns at tea:

In Chinese, there are 5 different sounds for each group of letters. Take "ooo," for example:
1. ooo
2. ooo
3. ooo
4. ooo
5. ooo
You know, French ain't that bad.

This semester has a different feel. Most of the Americans in my classes went home. I thought others would be coming, but I only have two new classmates from Norway and a guy from an Arabic speaking country (I didn't catch where he's from exactly). So, all in all, it's me and the Japanese! And a girl from Taiwan! My lovely Laure flew away and I suppose Jake #1 is off somewhere in the mountains of British Columbia, smoking his pipe and finishing Le Petit Prince. Caitlyn and Jake #2 moved in on Saturday. They got the usual explanation of how everything works "chez nous" and, of course, felt like they'd been hit by a train. I had to be on my best behavior. No talking to myself. No random dance moves. I figure I'll let that come after we're a little more comfortable. I will be learning how to knit very soon from one of my French neighbors. How do you say "purl" in French? I talked to my friend Becky from New Orleans last night for the first time in a year! She's in Aix! We'll meet up soon over coffee. Ha! That's so crazy! I know, Eleanor, I know! Eleanor, you're talking to yourself again. I know!

At tea, one learns how to say "hello" and "goodbye" in Chinese. I'm sure this sounds profound.

Franz Liszt was a rockstar

If you listen to the music of composer Franz Liszt, you'll find that it resembles the heavy metal of our time...so I hear. I hear that the ladies used to throw their shawls and kerchiefs on his piano as he played.

The girls (being Courtney, Ashlee, Lisa) and I went to a piano concert last night. I could see the reflection of the musician's face through the shiny black of the grand instrument. I liked the way he moved his eyebrows. And then he would whisper something.

There was a mosh pit afterwards, French style. They served wine and little pieces of bread with different kinds of spread. Food+French=Mosh pit! I learned that if you let yourself flow with the tide you'll eventually end up in front of the food table.

This was the first night I felt the travel stories flowing. In the past, it was: "Oh yeah, we went here and we saw that. It was beautiful."

But last night, it was:

So, one night, Courtney and I went to buy a hot dog at the Christmas market in Prague. The man started to make our order. A Czech song came over the loudspeakers. Every so often the singer would say, "Meow, meow" to the beat in a deep voice. The hot dog man sang along. But, the Czech people have such strong mannerisms. They seem so serious. I now have a permanent image of the hot dog man making our food with flare and saying, "Meow, meow," with an austere stare.

I forgot to mention that everytime Courtney ordered something at the market, they thought she ordered hot wine. Hot dog, babaccina placka, you name it. She got hot wine.

New Year's Eve and the Opera

Bonne Année!

Jake and me in front of the Marseille opera house

Marseille at night

Opera!!!

That's Laura! (P.S. And that's my room!)

Prague

Ashley and the Astrological Clock

Fred and Ginger Dancing Building.
See! Even buildings dance!

Sun Setting at 4:00

Travelling Partners in Crime

The Old Jewish Cemetery

Prague

Good King Wenceslas

Mucha stained glass!!!

The bushy hat

One of these days, I'm gonna marry Robin Hood

La Traviata

I've seen many a musical and now I've seen an opera. I think I'll sing everything I say for the rest of the week (in Italian). Every step I take will be loaded with meaning. I'll make gigantesque gestures and clutch the backs of chairs as I walk by them--as if the chairs themselves are able to support me. But I won't die. Although dying in someone's arms might be kind of cool.

Laura and I took the opportunity to dress up. She just happened to take two evening dresses with her to France. Jake did his best with a suitcase full of Canadian clothes.

Marseille is beautiful at night. You can't see the dirt. Even the smell of fish is beautiful.

And now let the week of exams commence! I miei exams cominciano! A plus tardi! Alora! Gatto! Gelato! Come si dice in italiano?! Andiamo!

[Eleanor clutches her heart and stables herself with the back of a nearby chair.]

There is a sign in front of mine

It's official. There is a "for sale" sign in front of my house back home ("home" being New Orleans in this context). My parents will be moving to Dallas soon.

I've been wondering why it's so blasted hard for me to get over being homesick--or just sick as in lonely or sad or depressed. I am a living paradox. There are so many beautiful things to appreciate here. It is a dream, my dream. I want to tell you that I'm having the best of times and I am. Yet, the minute I say that I feel the knot in my stomach swell. How can I be so inspired and heart broken at the same time?

It comes to this, I guess:
Nothing is the same and I am grieving. One day I will return to familiar faces but, for the moment, there is not a single thing of the past. In times like these we revisit memories of childhood, but the places of my childhood no longer stand. They are flooded, destroyed, taken in the arms of a greedy wind. And I just want to have a good cry.

So, I will continue to tell you about the kissing practice and the really good food. I will describe the breathtaking countryside and the smell of fresh bread. I will dream for you in French, if you like. Just know the dreams we fight for do, indeed, put up a fight.