I feel freshly orientated...

Today: Orientation.

After only a week in France, someone has finally told us where the Caf is. Not that it matters, all bets are off until we see if they have two-foot long hotdogs.

Not that I need any more proof that the world revolves around me (and sometimes the people standing in my viscinity), but I (and Carrie, too) was the lucky person to find the surprise in the Gallette Roi, the french King Cake. I haven't yet figured out why there's king cake in every shop window at this time of year, but I got a paper crown and and a little plastic dude out of it, as well as the adoration of the masses. Not really. I can tell you though, finding a little plastic cartoon character is a lot less creepy than biting down on a little plastic baby.

That was essentially all of orientation, oh and learning that I have to make 14's in all of my classes in order to keep all A's. The average for a native french speaker is an 11. We shall see, we shall see...

Last night was an adventure in Laundry. Put the detergent in the middle slot of the drawer on the left... what? Then turn the dial to the cycle of your choice... Fair enough, except all I see is little pictures of party hats and cinnemon rolls. Then wait twenty minutes while your clothes are whirled into a vortex in which there is no water... hmm. Mine were done "washing" in a half hour, I think. While Carrie's took approximately thirty years. They weren't dry until two in the morning, at which time I came downstairs and got dirty looks from one of the Spanish girls for using the singular drier in the time slot which I had signed up for. Carrie had to hang her wet unmentionables from the radiator. We get two hours a week, one load of laundry per week. Sounds do-able until you see that the machine is about the size of Charlie Brown's head. All in the name of smelling Cotten Fresh.

Lesson: the machine may be free, but do international laundry at your own risk.

Also, this morning I had the distinct pleasure of smelling a Spanish man as he showered in the stall next to mine. He smelled like bulls and flaminco dancing. It was amazing. I hope I don't smell like capitalism and TV.

Phrase du jour: Je ne voudrais pas me levée, juste parce-que il neige. (I would not like to get up just because it's snowing.)