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!