We'll always have...London? (Part II)

Where was I? Ah, yes, Wednesday:

We got up early-ish (7:30, better than for school but still early considering how late we'd been up the night before), had breakfast and made our lunch and dinner for the day (sandwiches!) and set out straight for King's Cross to take the Tube out to Buckingham Palace (the stop was at Green Park and we walked from there). We were given about half an hour free, so after we got the iconic images we messed around for a good bit and took pictures of each other. By some fluke (which might have been planned), we managed to catch the ceremony for the changing of the guards, and I got some pretty good pictures since I sprinted out to the railing before the crowds could get there (and it turned out that most of the crowds were on the other side of the square, anyway). After the first of many group photos, we left on a long walk through Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens, where we had lunch and fed the squirrels. The squirrels were utterly fearless-- they would eat right out of our hands. They were all also quite remarkably fat.

We spent an hour at the Victoria and Albert Museum, which was hardly sufficient time to even see just the theater gallery, but still wonderful all the same. It's a beautifully constructed museum, one of the most beautiful I've been to, and the exhibits are very artfully displayed. I'd like to go back, if I get the chance (a recurring theme, as you'll see). 

At around four we went to the Lycee Charles de Gaulle to meet a group of French drama students much like ourselves, except that they lived and studied in London. We performed little pieces of our scenes from Monday evening and they did likewise (they'd had a performance on the Friday of the week before that we were supposed to have gone to, except that we had to postpone the trip a week because there weren't any openings for 37 people at the hostel). They were pleasant enough, and it was interesting to hear one of the teachers talk about the differences between the English and French systems of education-- a lot of the things he pointed out were things I had noticed myself. Certainly, there are ups and downs to both systems-- the capacity to specialize earlier in the French system, the ability to have courses like math and languages more often in the American one, for example. There are reforms going through now to make the French system more like the American one, and I think that would be a real shame if that were to pass, since the French do certain things much better than we do (although I'll say the same is true the other way around). I think there's a happy balance that could be struck.

After that, we took the Tube out to the Lyceum Theater to see the Lion King, and I finally heard the 'Mind the gap' announcement over the intercom for the first time. I was the only one that was thrilled by this-- the French students didn't get what was so interesting about it and the rest of the passengers were, of course, British, so I was basically looking like a total idiot smiling and giggling by myself. I don't think it would have been half so funny if I hadn't been so tired, but still. Anyway, the performance was absolutely magnificent-- I've been hearing half my life how amazing the musical of the Lion King is and was never really quite sure whether or not to believe the hype, but in this case it actually is true. The costumes in particular were just incredible-- my favorites were Zazu and Rafiki (Zazu was a man in a suit with a puppet bird, with his face painted fantastically in black and white; Rafiki also had her face painted magnificently and was wearing shaman's dress more or less with a large target-type thing over her rear for the baboon's butt-- one of the most amazing mixes of ridiculousness and beauty I've ever seen). You could tell that the dancers had really studied the movements of the animals and incorporated it into the choreography. The only thing that was really weird for me was that all the actors had really strong accents-- it didn't bother me in Zazu and Scar's cases since they have accents in the original, but the rest of them were just strange for me. The hyenas in particular-- Shenzi had a really, really strong Scottish accent, which was just too much of a 180 from the original for my poor language-fried brain to stand... It was a general hit with the French students, although none of the songs were repeated quite so often as 'You Can't Stop the Beat' (as I said, they're -still- singing that one).

We got back to the hostel around ten-thirty/eleven, and went to bed after conversations until about midnight.

Thursday:

We got up at more or less the same time, with the same shower/sandwich/Tube routine. We spent the morning at Covent Garden shopping. We had to stay in groups, and the first shop that I was dragged into (literally) was the Disney Store. All the French students loved the things like that, Starbucks (where I think I went at least three or four times while I was in London, though I only got coffee twice), and Build-a-Bear (where around a third of the thirty-four students made a stuffed animal), and it was strange for me-- I've been surrounded by these things all my life, so I would never think of going to them on a trip to London, but for them these were all pretty special treats. It was interesting to think about. Once we left these stores, I once again confirmed the general rule that I should not be set loose in a marketplace with a full wallet, but about half of what I spent (amount classified) was on gifts for other people, so does that improve things, slightly?

At Covent Garden we also had authentic fish and chips at an authentic London dive, which was fabulous. Whether it was actually that good or if we were just too eager for a change from sandwiches, I'm still not sure.

In the afternoon we set out for the river Thames, where we took a boat up and down to see some of the famous sights (the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, several bridges, a few monuments and museums, etc). The tour guide was quite funny, and I ended up having to translate a lot of the jokes when my classmates asked me why I was laughing so much. We got off in front of the Globe and walked the short distance to the Tate. Unfortunately, we only arrived in time to use the restrooms there and see one room before closing time. We spent the rest of the time out on the steps of the Globe, eating dinner (guess what it was!) and waiting for the gates to open so we could get good spots next to the stage. Since we were in line first, we were right up against the center of the stage-- I was literally leaning against it for about half the show, and had to take my elbows down when the actors got too close (during swordfights and such).

The play we saw was Romeo and Juliet, and it was extremely well done: the actor who played Mercutio was particularly impressive (his talent was such that even the solely French-speaking students and teachers remarked on him afterwards). The Nurse and Lord Capulet were also very well-portrayed. By contrast, Romeo and Juliet in particular I found rather weak in comparison (her soliloquy just before taking the poison was not convincing at all), but it didn't diminish my enjoyment of the play any. It was amazing to experience theater like this, in a way so similar to how Shakespeare originally envisioned it. I think it was one of my favorite parts of the whole trip-- I was so enthralled that I didn't notice how badly my feet were hurting after a day of walking all around the city and standing still for three hours straight until intermission and then when we left-- the French students were not quite as enthusiastic. About half left during intermission and spent the rest of the time talking and smoking outside, but honestly, I don't blame them-- it wouldn't be fun to watch a play you don't understand when your feet are aching and you're tired and ready to go back to the hostel and sleep. We still had to walk a good bit to get back, though we did take the Tube most of the way; I think everyone was grateful to go to bed after such a long day.

Friday: 

We started out the day by going out to Trafalgar Square and the National Art Gallery. I really enjoyed the museum; I spent so much time poring over some of the paintings and reading all the little information cards with background on the artists and the specific pictures that my friends abandoned me after about half an hour and I suddenly found myself alone. I still enjoyed myself in any case-- I especially loved the portraits by Cezanne and the paintings by Van Gogh. There was also an interesting exhibition on Picasso's engravings (which I didn't even know existed). I also saw the Rokeby Venus and a few other paintings by Velasquez and got lost three times looking for the gallery with Leonardo da Vinci's paintings, only to find that half of them had been taken down for restoration. I didn't mind, though; museums are some of the better places you can get lost in.

In the afternoon we had lunch in St. James Park (three guesses what it was) and took a long walk through the City of Westminster to see the important monuments there (Downing Street, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, etc). My camera died shortly after getting pictures of Big Ben, so I didn't get any pictures of my first impressions of Picadilly Circus (where we went after a break for ice cream in St. James Park in the late afternoon). Despite never having been to New York, the place reminded me of Times Square. During the free time we had there, I ended up going to Starbucks with my friends (though I didn't get anything), as well as several souvenir shops where, to my delight, I found a shirt that said 'Mind the Gap' on it. 

At five we went to the Picadilly Theater to see 'Grease,' which unfortunately wasn't very good-- even apart from being not at all the type of thing I enjoy in terms of storyline, the actors had no talent whatsoever and the leads were exceptionally poorly chosen. And it wasn't just me who thought this-- pretty much everyone agreed at the end that it was bad. I guess you can't win them all.

We spent another couple of hours at Picadilly Circus after the show, where, after a twenty-minute discussion of what we were going to do as a group, I ended up going to Starbucks again with my friends (and this time I split a caramel hot chocolate with Laurene). Funnily enough, the people who decided that we were going to Starbucks and were the most vehement that we all do something together (and thus took twenty minutes deciding on what we were going to do) were the first to leave without any explanation and without telling us where we were going so that we could stay together.

I love teenagers. I really do.

Saturday:

We took the Tube out to Picadilly Circus and spent most of the morning there and on Oxford Street. I considered getting new earphones for my Ipod (which had broken our first day in London) at the Mac store on Oxford Street, but decided not to when I saw the price (20 pounds-- 40 dollars. No way. I waited until I got back to Tours and I found some at the Fnac for a quarter of the price). There was one clothing store on Oxford Street that was really popular with a lot of the students-- I think about a third of them had bought something and were carrying the bags with them when we met up for lunch. I wish I could remember which one it was, because it was funny, all of them with these gigantic brown bags... We met up in Leicester Square and ate at Burger King (you read that right; I wish I were kidding), and it was the first time I'd had fast food in nearly six years. Normally I'd refuse on principle, but in the context it seemed too bratty to do so, and I figured since it wasn't me buying it, it wasn't really me supporting it, so I ate and pretended that I wasn't. I felt disgusting for the next two days; you won't find me eating fast food for another six years, at least. 

After that, we went back to the Tate, since it closed before we really had the chance to see anything on Thursday, and I spent most of the afternoon there perusing the galleries by myself (I started out with a group of my friends, but they mysteriously vanished after the first room and I never found them again). The exhibits were absolutely incredible, very moving and inspiring and strange, and very well-presented. The two things that stick out in my memory are a room of paintings by Ed Ruscha and a film by Ana Medieta. The Ruscha paintings stuck out to me for the way that the artist used text as a centerpiece for his art for the most part without focusing on font (although my favorite piece, "The End," worked mostly because of the font chosen for the words 'The End'), something that appealed to me as a writer; the film by Medieta was just very simple, but very raw and powerful and chilling, in a way that I have no comparisons for. There were many other beautiful and inspiring pieces, of course-- I could make a list as long as this entry so far-- but those were the two that stood out to me the most. In the gift shop I found a fascinating book on street art, which I decided to get with the intention of donating it to the art department at Bosque upon my return, and another on the place of ethics in aesthetic philosophy (everyone was curious about the cover-- a man in a prison jumpsuit, hooded by an American flag).

After that, we walked down to the National Theater and had dinner on the little square outside (and guess what we had). The performance, which was of All's Well that Ends Well, was ok-- the setting and costumes were very well done, but I think they played up the tragic aspects more than was appropriate for the play, and the acting wasn't especially spectacular, especially on the part of the actress playing Helena (she had almost no inflection in her voice; it got old listening to her speak by the second act). The French students without exception fell asleep or left; even the teachers apart from the English teacher were seen to be dozing off. We got back to the hostel rather late since it was a long performance, but since everyone slept during the show, no one wanted to sleep when we got back, so everyone was up until nearly two talking when we had to get up at six the next morning in order to prepare everything and leave. There was a brief argument between myself and the people that wanted to talk which didn't end well; things have more or less blown over now.

Sunday:

We drove. For twelve hours. And I didn't sleep at all on the bus, though everyone asked me if I had. I got coffee at a rest station once we got back to France, though, so I felt much better for the second half of the drive. I spent most of the time reading the street art book (had to make sure it was worth giving to the art department; it definitely is), and this time I remembered what I read (as opposed to on the way out). And that was more or less it.

Since I'm not feeling that well (Julie was sick in London, and I think all of us that shared a room with her caught whatever she had) and I have a test tomorrow morning, I'm going to go to bed early now and do the rest of this week on Sunday/Monday's entry. I'm not envisioning that I'll have much to recount, but in any case...

Ciao!

We'll always have...London? (Part I)

Ok. On to the entry! First, the week before last, filling in the major events before my departure:

On Sunday I went out to the Abbé de Fontevraud with the other AFSers of the Tours area (although a few people from outside Tours came, it still wasn't all of the Centre students). It was a nice visit-- the abbey itself was beautiful in a sad, old-building-that-hasn't-been-restored-faithfully kind of way, and the birds were quite lovely and absolutely unafraid of people (one of them kept flying into the windows of the parked car when we were still in it, and there were swallow nests in the eaves of almost all the buildings and flitted in and out, though I seemed to be the only one that noticed them). In any case, it was nice to see everyone again and see how everyone was doing. 

Monday we got out at eleven (technically, we weren't out until two, but we didn't have any classes after eleven) and went to the Salle Oesia to rehearse one last time before the performance. We spent a lot of time hanging around and running lines and trying not to stress, since there were two other theater groups that needed to rehearse on the stage as well. We also ordered pizza, since we decided that the sandwiches we'd brought were not sufficient (little did we know what was to pass in the next several days...). Finally, after nearly six hours of waiting (we got there at two and the performance wasn't until quarter to eight), the show began. 

The Premiere Facultatif went before us (the other theater group that runs for fewer hours per week); they put on 'Le Nuit des rois,' which is the French title for 'Twelfth Night.' It was a fair performance; they didn't speak loudly enough for the most part, since they were used to rehearsing in smaller rooms where you don't have to shout to have the back row hear you, so I had trouble understanding what they were saying sometimes. After that was the Writers' Workshop, which was really funny and cleverly done. Each of the students had a different style in reading their pieces, and at the end they read rejection letters, which they tore up and then stormed from the stage. I think it was my favorite performance of the evening (besides our own, of course).

Finally, it was intermission and with butterflies galore, we put up the set for the first of our short plays. I wasn't in it, but I watched from backstage and it was done really well. I was really nervous up until the moment where we walked on stage-- from there it went so smoothly, we might have been in rehearsal but for the brightness of the light. Everything went perfectly, no problems, and we rushed once the lights went down to change for the next short play. I had literally less than a minute and hadn't quite finished putting on my heels when the music started-- my cue that I had about ten seconds. Luckily I made it out in time and did my little bit as the TV show host without a problem. The play (Inventaires) went well-- there was only one point when one person forgot their lines, but she covered it pretty well (people told us later that they couldn't decide if she'd really forgotten or if it was part of the scene) and there were no troubles from there. I noticed afterwards though that, in the rush to change, I'd forgotten to take a barrette in the shape of a butterfly from the previous scene out of my hair; I hope it wasn't too noticeable (it was a big butterfly). Everyone commented on my dress, though-- the French teacher went so far as to come up to me afterwards and say that she wanted one like it (I know she was kidding, though). 

I missed the chance to get a seat for the Terminals' performance because I spent too much time chatting backstage with people, so I went out to the lobby and listened to a book on tape instead while I waited for the performance to end and Catherine to come and take me home. We got in at about eleven thirty-- I made Rice Krispie treats for the class and a sandwich for myself for lunch the next day, and then I went to bed for three hours.

Susan's father picked me up at ten to four and we were at school within ten minutes (the roads were completely dead so early in the morning). We were delayed slightly in leaving by one student forgetting her identity card and letter of permission to leave the country at home, but finally, we made it off fine, only about ten minutes late.

Most everyone slept most of the ride-- I woke up at around six-thirty when the sun started to rise and couldn't get back to sleep for more than a few seconds of dozing. I remember listening to my audiobook for at least an hour but I can't remember any of what I listened to. At around nine we stopped at a rest station somewhere in Basse Normandie (we never figured out exactly where) and I bought myself a cup of coffee flavored with Milka chocolate, which definitely perked me up.

At around eleven we reached the coast and took the Chunnel to jolly old England (again, I don't know exactly where we crossed). After another three hours' drive, we arrived in London feeling still quite tired but in general more perky from having eaten and from having arrived.

We were dropped off at the youth hostel, Journey's King's Cross, and given time to arrange our things a little in our rooms before we set out for the evening. To describe it, I'm going to borrow the paragraph written about the hostel from the little itinerary packet the teachers had prepared for us (this is a direct quote; no translation):

"You thought you had enlisted a four star trip to London? YOU WERE SO RIGHT!!!! Prepare to eat the best sandwiches you ever dreamt of and this for the next 6 days. You will be staingat the classiest hostel of the CITY, well known for its small rooms (8 persons per bed [this is crossed out and room is written in its place]) and its private high-tech bathrooms (6 showers for 218 tourists and endless hot water from 4.15 to 4.30 a.m). Your tour leaders have selected the best mean of transportation ever: YOUR OWN FEET... Think about it: no problem of car park, no time wasted waiting for the bus, no huge amounts of money lost in the subway fare...........and the best speed to enjoy the scenery! So what do you think? Aren't you the luckiest students at Vaucanson?"

Funny, but no joke. We nine girls in Premiere were all packed into a room together, sleeping on three-tier bunkbeds, with no room to open our suitcases fully, windows that didn't really open at all, drunkards fighting in the streets at night, glass-fronted showers for the whole floor with freezing water...it was a lucky thing that we were really only there to sleep; otherwise, I think we would have killed each other after the second day. 

After choosing a bed and throwing our bags on top of it, we set out for Camden, which is exactly the kind of neighborhood I want to live in someday. It was pretty much hipster heaven (I swear, there must have been a retro clothing store on every corner). After exploring for about an hour, we had our lovely dinner of sandwiches in the square (as it was) and from there went to Shaftesbury Theater to watch Hairspray.

I wasn't at all familiar with the musical beforehand except for the hazy memory of it coming out as a movie with John Travolta in it last year. It was pleasant enough for all that-- the peppy music kept us awake, in any case. Musicals aren't generally my cup of tea, but I enjoyed it well enough despite myself. I think that the entire class was singing 'You Can't Stop the Beat' and 'Good Morning, Baltimore,' for the rest of the week. In fact, they were still singing it on Monday. 

By the time it was over, it was past ten, so, duly exhausted, we trooped back to the hostel and went to bed. Which is where I'm going to leave it for right now, since it's about the same time as I'm writing this and unfortunately I have to go to school tomorrow. I'll try to get the rest of the trip up tomorrow, though-- I get out at one since it's a Wednesday, so I should have plenty of time to finish up.

'Til tomorrow!

Briefly before I go

'Ello, 'ello,

I'm back from London at last! Sorry for the long pause, and that you'll have to wait another day to hear about all that's happened in that time-- it's late over here and I have school tomorrow, and after school we're going to the theater again, so I probably won't get the time to update fully until Tuesday. I'll try to write at least a bit tomorrow, though, provided I don't get home too late.

'Til then!

Rounding the two mile marker

Today marks exactly two months until my return home. Hard to believe the time has gone by so fast...well, they do say that time flies when you're having fun. Other people who have done exchanges told me before I left to savor every moment, because it'll be over before you know it. When they said that, six months so far from home sounded impossibly terrifying and long. Now it seems far too short. At the end of this week I go to London for a week, and then after that I have three normal weeks of classes before I finish up for the summer. There's one week free and then my dad comes, and after that two more weeks and I'm home. When you break it up like that, it seems like no time at all. Strange to think about, hard to believe. 

In any case, that only marks one of several surreal events today, but before we get to that I'll start from Wednesday last week:

The only significant event was an epic four-hour rehearsal in the evening, for which I almost missed my bus. Beforehand I was having doubts about the performance (the eighteenth), but afterwards I felt much better. It helps to have run the script more than just once. Afterwards everyone was exhausted (despite the effects of delicious revitalizing cakes brought by Susan's mother, Alice, and our teacher), but in a fulfilled kind of way.

Thursday we went to the movie theater in the morning as part of the Lycéens au cinema program (high schoolers at the theater, basically) and saw Almodóvar's All About My Mother. I managed to understand everything despite the distracting effects of half-understanding the Spanish and mostly understanding the French (I did learn a few new expressions from the film; nothing appropriate). Afterwards I was free since the afternoon classes were cancelled for a faculty meeting on the new school reforms, so I took myself out for pasta in town and then caught the bus back to Mettray. I took a run, read, and listened to music the afternoon, and Camille came home and she furthered my education in French music.

Friday morning I went to a commemoration service at the Mettray cemetery since May eighth is a national holiday in France commemorating the end of WWII in Europe. It was fairly simple: there were some former military men holding French flags, the mayor gave a short speech on remembrance and the values of freedom and human dignity that the Allied combatants died for, and the national song was sung and afterwards everyone went to the town hall for refreshments. It was interesting. I think that I was the youngest person there (though more kids mysteriously showed up for the cake served at the town hall).

For the rest of the weekend I alternated between reading and procrastinating on my homework and not much else. I also introduced my host family to green chile, which they loved, made them breakfast burritos and made tiramisu for the first time by myself (and they begged to have me make it every week, so I was pleased with the results). I'm learning all kinds of useful things to bring back to the US.

Monday was a fairly quiet, standard day. I read nearly all of Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore in my free periods. In English we listened to 'El Condor Pasa (If I Could)' as an exercise in listening comprehension, which made me smile.

Today was wonderful, if it did start somewhat strangely. I woke up fifteen minutes late because I failed to set my alarm the night before. Normally I have some twenty minutes to check my e-mail before I leave for school, but today, understandably, I only had five. I noticed a message in my inbox from my dad saying how he had gone to an awards ceremony at Bosque that evening and that the Yale Book Award, the most prestigious award given to juniors, had been awarded to one of my friends Joel and then another student who hadn't showed up for the ceremony. I was thinking, 'gee, that's inconsiderate of them not to come. what a jerk!' And then I looked at the photo he attached-- it was of my mom accepting the award in my place. I felt incredibly stupid (this is why I shouldn't read when I'm tired) and incredibly touched-- I started tearing up in front of the computer. And then Catherine called from the living room and reminded me I was going to miss my bus, so I shut off the computer and left, and from there the day was absolutely normal. All the usual Tuesday morning exhaustion and irritableness. It was so surreal.

Not much to speak of for the rest of the day-- notes on the Holocaust and a film in History, notes on the book we read over break in French, and towards the end of a lackadaisical rehearsal Julie took me aside and helped me out with my pronunciation (I had to repeat one of my lines a good six or seven times before she was satisfied). 

Then I came home, found that I had three pieces of mail (a copy of All's Well That Ends Well I had ordered from Amazon, a few tins of sweetriots from my mom and a letter from my dad), started listening to John Campbell's series on world mythology, and that was more or less it. I also found many more kind messages from my friends on Facebook and a couple of e-mails from my teachers about the award-- I still can't quite believe it. But in the best possible way. It would make me homesick, I think, if things weren't going so well over here. Instead it just confirms that it won't be a disappointment to come home.

I'll update one more time on Sunday night for the last events of this week before I go (not that I'm seeing something big happening in the next couple of days). And it definitely will be Sunday, since I have the performance Monday night. So until then!

Better late than never

Honestly, there's not much to write about, but in any case:

On Thursday morning I left for Golinhac (a village of about 300 inhabitants close to Rodez, which is in the vicinity of Toulouse) with John, Sophie, Julie, Elisabeth, Mathieu and a friend of theirs named Vincent. I took the train up to Orleans and they drove down from Paris to meet me at the station, and then we continued on together all the way to Golinhac. It was about a six-hour drive and I finished up my reading for French (earlier than the rest of the class, it seems: my fear of being the last to read actually ensured that I was one of the first to finish. Since most people waited to get the book during the break, whereas I got it the day it was assigned, by the time they went to the bookstore there were no copies left and they were thus unable to finish the assignment. So I'm ahead, for once). I also started Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses. We got into Golinhac around eight-ish and had dinner with John and Sophie's friends, Lionel and Rhadija, that we had come to visit, and then went to bed.

Friday was spent in reading and taking walks and cooking. In the evening, we celebrated Lionel's fortieth birthday, with much food and alcohol and bad dancing (by the end). I spent most of the time hanging out with another girl my age who also happened to be in Premiere Litteraire. Unfortunately, she was also there with her boyfriend, so she mostly wanted to talk to him since I had slightly more difficulty understanding what people were saying over the music (as a consequence, I think most people thought I didn't speak French very well). In any case, a good time was had by all; the hall was a mess by the end and I was duly made fun of for starting to clean up in the midst of the party (it's just something I do. When I see plates/cups/etc out of order, I have to arrange them. I just have to, or it bothers me). I think we went to bed around two in the morning and slept in until nearly noon, despite the fact that the churchbells across the street rang the hour quite loudly and insistently. 

Saturday was another reading/walking/cooking day. We had another mini-party in the evening and Rhadija made couscous, which was delicious. We did slightly better and got to bed around one in the morning, if I remember correctly. We woke up the next day slightly earlier (I was the first up at eight-thirty, and then people sort of filed in during the next hour). I finished my book, started another one, we prepared ourselves for departure and then set out for the six hours back to Paris.

We started too late and so I missed my train for Orleans, so we stopped in Bourges (the city we arrived in just about when my train in Orleans was leaving), exchanged my ticket and spent the next hour walking around the center of town, visiting the cathedral, etc. I said goodbye and spent an uneventful train ride reading.

Monday was the first back from vacation and passed relatively painlessly. Not much else to be said than that.

Today was alright. In History we had a test that I'm not exactly sure how I did on; I feel less anxious about it than the last one, but all the same on the last question I started rushing because I spent too much time figuring out how to phrase things, and the second question I think I didn't detail enough, but we'll see in a few weeks. (It was over the Great Depression in Europe and the rise of totalitarianism directly before WWII, by the way). French was cancelled because the teacher was absent for reasons unknown to the general population, so we spent the time practicing our lines for Drama and playing Uno instead. After lunch we took the bus out to the performance center where we'll be performing on the eighteenth for a rehearsal, which went fairly smoothly. We worked out the major blocking for the longest piece and got a start on the two smaller ones. I'm honestly quite nervous for the performance: this will be my first time acting in front of an audience in a foreign language, and also the first time I'll have performed in a stage production since middle school. So we'll see how that goes.

Tomorrow is the last real day of school for the week: Thursday we have a movie canceling the morning classes and during the afternoon the faculty are discussing the proposed school reforms, so class is cancelled then, too. Friday is the anniversary of the end of WWII and is a holiday in France, so there's no school then, either. All in all, not a bad way to start back. After this, one more week and we're headed to London, which I'm looking forward to. And then three more weeks for me once we get back, and I'm done. Since I'm not taking the Bacs, I miss the last two weeks of school: classes are finished on the 12th of June, and the last two weeks are for revision and exams, respectively. Since I'm not doing the exams, revision is rather pointless, so I get out earlier than I thought. Hard to believe that my time at Vaucanson is nearly over-- it feels like I only just got here. Time flies...

I'm almost positive I should be able to update Sunday, so until then!