Southern France!!

Wow! It's been waaay too long since my last post! Time to catch up... or at least on the big trips...

I'll start with our trip to Southern France!

First off, I hate strikes. On Thursday morning (Oct 21st) I had to get up at 5:00, an hour too early to even be alive. We barely made it to the station in time for the train... except we found out that it was canceled. When was the next train out? It was scheduled to leave at 10:30. So basically I didn't have to get up so early, because the French won't be forced to retire at 64 and not 62. Oh well! While we waited, we ate breakfast at a famous cafe called "Le Train Bleu". It's huge and ornate, with murals and statues all over the walls .... nothing about it's appearance speaks to it's being a cafe or anything to do with trains, as the name implies. It speaks more of a resemblance to the inside of a palace... the flipping expensive menu goes right along with it.

So then we hopped on the train, waited around for an hour, then set off toward Dardogna, in Southern France!

We arrived early that evening and went to the first of three castles - Carcassonne! It was all lit up with eerie orange lights that took us back to a nighttime in Medieval times! It was so cool! We climbed the walls and ran around exploring and scaring each other!

The next morning we drove down South, almost to the border of Spain, and went to the second castle.... I can't remember the name of it right now.... but it's at the tippy top of a mountain! It was the last Cathar castle to be destroyed by the crusaders. It had a fantastic view with green valleys and winding roads...

After that we went to l'Abbaye de Frontfroide. It was pretty cool. The stain glass windows were remade with pieces of broken stained glass gathered from bombed churches during WWII. My favorite part of this, though, was an experience in the chapel.... It had great acoustics, and they played a recording to show how good it really was. We left and as the tour guide talked just outside about something else, we heard another song start. Except our group recognized the voice. Dear Michael Abbot had begun to sing Ave Maria when everyone had left, just to judge the room for himself! Some ladies not in our group snuck in there to see what was going on and asked him to sing some more! It was funny! (And I was jealous... i didn't have the guts to start singing, though i wanted to...)

We finished off the night in Sarlet, the only city that is totally legitimately a renovated medieval city! It was really cool! Though the restaurant we ate at wasn't medieval... on the contrary we sat in lounge chairs as we listened to Beyonce and Yolanda Bee Cool. We ate a goose fat spread that is specific to the region, that was very rich and sweet! For the main course we had goose and potatoes, and they were fantastic! They were kind of sweet like the spread, but like nothing I have ever really tasted... apparrently they overfeed the geese chickens and ducks with some sort of food that makes them fat and tastey! Haha! Whatever they do, they raise some pretty dang tastey squakers!

The next morning we spent a few hours at the open air market there in Sarlet! They had everything there! All sorts of food, cute clothing , homemade hats and scarves, umbrellas, furniture, tablecloths, jewelry... it was crazy! It was a fun way to explore the city! Wandering around we would squeeze down a small alley, turn a corner and suddenly we'd be in a square that was full of fresh fruits and veggies with a big fountain in the middle!

Then we were supposed to go canoeing up a river, passing beautiful stuff and lots of castles, ... we didn't get to go. Because although it was a beautiful day, the current was supposedly bad and our priesthood holders decided it was best not to go... So instead we went to one of the castles we would have seen on the way... and for the life of me I can't remember what the name of it is!!.... and neither can anyone else! .... So I'll just call it the Ever After castle :D It looks EXACTLY like the castle at the very end when Henry goes to rescue Danielle and proposes to her....

This was my favorite castle! Probably because it had the best view... A river winding through a valley patched with farms and fields as the sun poked from between the clouds between the green hills in the distance... I loved it! We played all around the castle, exploring and running around like little kids.

For lunch we stopped at a CUTE little town Lascaux, with colorful balls hanging all around the city leftover from.... an accordion festival... well whatever floats your boat! But it was so cute... even though every place in town was closed for lunch... but we got our baguettes and cheese ad ate by the river and enjoyed the sun!

Then we went to a little town, literally called The Red City. All the buildings were red, which made the flowers and green scenery stand out brilliantly! Very pretty!

Then we were supposed to go home... but thank you strike! We had to stay down there another night! No one had extra clothes, let alone Sunday clothes... so we stayed in a little hotel, where we could run loud and wild since we were the only ones there. Even though one of the guys set off the fire alarm when he took a shower that night, we were up bright and early for and had a nice devotional over breakfast the next morning...

It was a good trip! Next post - Belgium!

Coming soon....

Hey i'm sorry for the lame posts.... better posts are soon to come! :D

Why I Hate My Toe by alli kofoed

Once upon a time...

There was a nasty little bugger of a toe... a big fat stupid one on my right foot that is keeping me from seeing the Moulin Rouge (the place not the movie), Angelina's (best hot chocolate in the world), the Louvre, Some wonderful French Garden, and General Conference in Versaille!!

So once upon a time in a far away country, this toe decided it was going to hurt. A lot. For weeks it ached and bled and made me suppress a cry of pain anytime I tripped (this is not an exaggeration.... and I trip a lot!) I consulted my mother, a nurse, as to what I should do about this annoying little creaton that was driving me insane. She said that it sounded like I needed to see someone here...

I looked at a list of doctor's in my area to decide who to go to, and lo and behold there in the middle of all the French names that I could never hope to pronounce, I saw "The American Hospital of Paris"! Note: it was not "L'Hopital Americaine de Paris" but "The American Hospital of Paris." I was so happy that for the first time in three weeks I wouldn't have to struggle through my inadequate comprehension of the French language to fix my problem! I pictured it in my head... walking into the hospital to see a nurse walk up to me with a big bright smile and a twinkle in her eye welcoming me with a warm "Well how ya doin' sweetheart! Why don't ya take a seat right o'er there!" The doctor would come in and would ask me how things were back in the states, telling me how he was from California, and though he loves Paris he misses the beach....

When I really first walked into the hospital, I was surprised that everyone there was still speaking French... I seriously thought, "Well.... these must be the French people visiting their American friends!" A little far fetched but.... it's the American Hospital!! Shouldn't there be at least one American there?! Apparrantly not, because the whole time I was there I did not see ONE American!

Anyways... My expectations for the hospital: I was going to see if they took walk ins, and if they didn't then I would schedule an appointment for another day. In out done. Wrong. First I got sent to about 5 different places before they sent me to the emergency room. I told them it wasn't an emergency, but they said to just go there anyways.

After 45 minutes of waiting in the waiting room, a nurse came and checked my blood pressure and all that. She then stuck me in a room and said the doctor would be in in about 10 minutes. Literally an hour and a half later a british/australian lady came in, looked at my foot for a second, then said something about poking or scraping it with a stick. I'm not even kidding. For the pain she just shrugged and said pain killers. She went to call another doctor to see if that was an ok thing to do. When she came back she said there was a change in plans and that I needed to find a Doctor Casinova in Orthopedics and he wanted to take a look.

So after waiting a half an hour more, Dr Casinova took a look at my foot. He said we needed to move to a different room. They laid me down on a table. Understand that I'm still waiting to hear what's wrong with my stupid toe, and I assumed they were still doing some sort of diagnostics. But then he pointed about halfway across my toenail and said, "This is where we are going to start cutting."

I was shocked. I couldn't say anything. He smiled at me and said, "Don't be scared." Don't be scared?! He just told me he was cutting off a chunk of my toe and he's telling me don't be scared?!? But I was so in shock that I could only nodd my head and whisper an "ok.." He and the nurse were very smiley as they prepared my foot, wrapping it in blue paper stuff to keep everything clean, sticking a needle in it to make it numb, getting out all the shiny metal things that were going to tear my toe apart.... I was not all smiley as I was still processing the idea that the crazy old little French man was about to cut off a part of my toe!

When he was finally ready to start, he told me not to look. Good idea. So I looked up at the ceiling and concentrated on it really hard. It didn't hurt too bad, but I could still feel the instruments on my skin... The nurse and doctor tried to help me keep my mind off it at first, asking me where I was from and why I was here. I responded to them in French--if I had to think about the French I didn't have to think about the toe... The Nurse watched me to let the doctor know if I was in too much pain.

There's a phrase in French, "Ça Va." Usually when I say it it mean's "How's it going?" And "Ça Va bien" is it's going good. But in this room "Ça Va?" meant, "Are you dying of pain yet?" And my panicked "Ça Va! Ça Va!" Was outwardly an "I'm good! I'm fine!" But was inwardly an "Oh my gosh oh my gosh just get this dumb thing over with!!" I said Ca va more times then than I have said the whole time I've been here.

After a half hour or so of chopping and cutting, the doctor finally announced that he was done. My toe was a bloody mess, and as soon as it was cleaned it was wrapped up in gauze, so I have nothing to say about the battle scar I am going to have... But as the nurse wrapped up my poor foot, the doctor told me that I was going to have to relax and keep my foot elevated ..... until Monday. Trying to sound lighthearted but really feeling broken-hearted, I said "so... this means no walking around and exploring Paris this weekend...?"

He said "Ha ha ha.... no."

I was crushed... I had so many plans for the weekend... we were going to Versaille on Sunday for General Conference, Saturday I was going to have the best Hot Chocolate in the world and stroll though a garden with my roommate and see Le Louvre at La Nuite Blanche, a night where everything is open all night long, and that night, Friday night, I was going with the group to see the area where the Moulin Rouge is.... But now I was going to have to sit in bed all the stupid weekend long, borrowing my roommates computer when I could because mine is broken until Tuesday, hitting my head against the wall wishing I was in the city....

Then comes the cherry on top. As the nurse wrapped up my foot she strongly emphasised that I could NOT get it wet. It was raining outside, and since my tennis shoe was too small she gave me a bunch of skimpy little bootie things that were supposed to keep my foot dry until I got home. I don't know if she thought I was driving home or what....

So I thought I'd take a different way home, getting off the bus at the first metro stop I came to, because traveling underground is dryer with less wandering around (the metro is a lot easier to figure out than the bus).

Keep in mind that I'm going off two different maps, one for the bus, one for the metro, assuming if the stops have the same name, they have the same stop.

I got off the bus and couldn't find the metro. Every person I asked made it sound like it was right there, "just down the street and to the left." I was getting nervous and trying to walk on my heel to keep my toes dry, hopping on one foot from time to time. Finally I took the plastic bag that the nurse had given me to hold my shoe in and stuck my foot in, tying the top of it just below the knee.

For an hour I walked around Paris with a bag on one foot, in the rain, muttering to myself about how mad I was. I might as well have been a crazy homeless person.

So looking back... I guess it was a memorable experience..... and I'm counting my blessings: I have two more months here to catch up on what I was supposed to do this weekend, General Conference can be watched online because technology is so amazing, I have an awesome roommate who lets me borrow her computer and who goes to the store and buys food for me so I won't go hungry, I now have some time for my Billy Jean (my guitar), and, hopefully!, I will someday be able to wear heels again....

...And someday I will be sitting at Angelina's, gazing off into the sunset as I sip my perfect hot cocoa, and I will live happily ever after....

The End

Top of the World, Beautiful Normandie, and Stupid Americans

Bonjour tout le monde!!

Another awesome week has come and gone in Parfait Paris!! Classes are keeping me pretty busy (which s prety stupid, cause we're in Paris and living here is a living experience in and of itself and if I have my nose stuck in a book the whole time I'm being deprived of the full experience of living in Paris France, attempting to be a Parisian!! ... sigh! Whatever!) but life is still a blast! Slowly but (hopefully) surely the French is starting to come! Yay! Though sometimes I feel like I'm getting better, and then I talk to a French person and realize that I have a long ways to go... But I still have 2 1/2 months for that!

Highlights of the week:

Tuesday we climbed to the top of le Tour Eiffel!!! I'd been by it to see it in it's magnificent glory, but I'd never gone to the top!

When I say climb, I mean we climbed. Yes, Craig, they have elevators, but they're really expensive, and it's only a few euros to use the stairs. It was a long hike, and by the time we got to the second level we decided to pay to take the elevator up the last stretch to the top.

At the top of the Eiffel Tower.... there are no words to describe the moment when I reached the top... That is the top of the world for me. I felt like... like the queen of France. I felt like I could do anything, that I could conquer the world. I was overwhelmed with a rush of emotions... disbelief, admiration, awe, excitement, bewilderment... It was the most amazing feeling in the world. As I gazed at this beautiful country, I started to cry. Sounds kind of stupid... but I was just so overcome with this feeling that ... that I had made it. I was at the top of THE Eiffel Tower. I was THERE. It was like... like a dream come true. It was so surreal, so magical, that I never wanted to go down...

Definitely Going in my Top 10 experiences in Paris.

Thursday our group hopped on a bus and drove to Normandy!

Normandy is gorgeous! I want to come back in the spring when all the flowers are in bloom! It's so green and ... refreshing? I don't know... As much as I love Paris it was kinda nice to get outta the city and explore the countryside...First we saw the Tapestry at Bayeux. It depicts the Battle of Hastings and the rise of William the Conquerer. It was pretty cool and kinda got us in the medieval-ly mood... :)

Next we went to the memorial at Omaha Beach. That is a place that will stay with me for a long time. There are white crosses everywhere you look, and no matter how far you walk it feels like there's always more. Some are stars of david for the soldiers who were Jewish. Some have the names in Gold; those were the people who were generals or had honorable mentions. Some didn't have a name, and simply said "Here rests in honored glory a comrade in arms, known only but to God." Later I read stories of people in the war, most with morbid descriptions of how the comrade they were just talking to got his head blown off, or helping a reporter whose leg was laying only a few feet away... These stories really opened my eyes to the horrors of war...

On a less serious note, later that night I learned something: When you get raw oysters eat them with the vinegar -- otherwise it's like swallowing salt water.

The next day I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time! I know it's still the ocean but... I don't know it was still cool..... We walked along a medieval ... wall? battlement? I don't remember what you call it.... and watched the boats out in the water.... There was even a pirate ship! Pretty cool!

Lastly we went to Mont Saint Michael. It was so pretty! First to get there you had to walk up a tiny street full of shops and restaurants, and I even saw a little boy and his grandma walk into a door and calling it home! IDk I thought it was pretty cool... then you walk up a bunch of stairs, turn a corner, and voila! There it is! Mont St Michael is a medieval monestary that's huge and... well medieval! It really takes you back.... it has a beeaauuutiful view!! It was a little bit overcast, but there was enough sunlight to make the scene perfect... Just gorgeous green everywhere you looked.... loved it! Except the little St Michael on the tippy top... he's got nothing on Moroni! Just sayin...

Well coming back to home... we just can't seem to break this stupid American thing...

Especially when you come home to a bunch of 17 year olds dressed like hippies!

We joined the family's hippie party the Saturday after we got back from Normandi, and it was so much fun! They invited us to their party weeks ago, but we didn't realize how crazy it was going to be! They cleared out their whole main floor, and what is usually very classy and elegant living room/dining room was covered in band posters and signs with french words and peace and love! For the first hour or so there weren't many people around , so Lex and I had the floor to ourselves! Haha we danced by ourselves and were being goofy, and the people who were there started to watch us. Lexi got a little self conscious and said she didn't want to take away from Tiffaine's party, but I didn't care so I kept dancing!

When the fashionably late people arrived, the whole house was filled with a ton of French kids in all their hippie garb! There were so many! They filled up the house and were spillinginto the yard... Yet somehow we still stood out. Probably cause most of the time when the French kids danced it was pretty contained in one area with some jumping and swaying, but mostly keeping to themselves, where Lex and I went all out.

There were some kids who were crazy -- I don't know if they took after us or if they just wanted the attention of the dance floor. One of them I had a little two step competition with. Well... basically he saw me do some footwork (and by footwork I mean moving my feet around under me and pretending like it's something cool) and he started some of his own, and we kind of went to see who went the longest. I won, of course. He was so jealous... ;) This was kind of the whole dance... Lexi and I put our heart and souls into our dancing, always moving around, doing our own crazy American thing. Sometimes people would just stop and stare, other times people would try to join us (or maybe they were just making fun of us I don't know) but all the same, it was sooo much fun!! I'd needed an excuse to dance...

La Premiere Semaine

Bonjour fam and friends!!!

First of all I read through my last post and after findin out that so many people are reading this now I have to put out the disclaimer that I just kinda type my thoughts away, so I apologize for bad grammer misspelled words and long rambly sentences....

Anywho... Bonjour de Paris!!!!

It's been a week and it's felt like so much longer and so much shorter all at the same time... if that makes any sense... Either way it's incredibly that I've been here a week! One down, about eleven more to go!!!

Paris is absolutely gorgeous!!! The architecture is ancient and articulate... Walking through our neighborhood is fun just because all the houses are different, but all so beautiful! I actually found out that the house I'm living in is over a thousand years old!! So much for the US's "Founded in 1976" that's found on a lot of buildings. but our house, it's big and white and beautiful. When the cab pulled up to it the first day, my roommate and I stood forever just gawking at the huge wall and gate wondering if this was for real. While we stood there a cute, energetic 13 year old girl came out to greet us and help us into the house. I've heard lots about how everything is smaller in France, which is kind of true, so we weren't expecting much. This house is 3 or 4 stories high with a huge backyard and is literally right across the street from the Seine river! Alexi and I have our own rooms and they're HUGE!! Mine has a little bar in the corner where we put half our food, and the other half we put in OUR fridge!! We share a bathroom with eachother, but it's our bathroom, and we basically get to do anything we want. The monsieur simply said that we were like his daughters, that as long as we were careful and didn't party too late and didn't go around drinking and kissing boys, we were good to do what we pleased!

The family is so nice! The dad is a surgeon.... What kind of surgeon I'm not sure of...BUt he's a surgeon! He's really nice, and is very forgiving of our terrible French. He is very kind, always willing to help us when we need it. The wife is very quiet and sweet. She has made some of the est dinners! They have 5 kids. Their oldest is married and the next youngest is at college, so we haven't really seen them. The next oldest is 17, Tristian. He's the only boy in the family. He has long untamed curly hair and he likes to wear British rock tees. He kind of comes and goes as he pleases, but when we do see him, he is a funny boy. The other two are a 16 year old girl,( .... her name starts with a T... :/ ) and a 13 year old girl, (Lidwine). The youngest girl came out to greet us the first day, and she is very happy and energetic. Jason I think you should check her out on Facebook..... Jk ;) Haha but the girls are very nice and love to help us with our French. :) One night at dinner the Mom kept talking to us in French, and the 17 year old kept telling her that she needed to speak in French so that we could learn. Every time she talked in French T--- would get mad at her and tell her to speak French. It was very funny.

Speaking of speaking French..... it's really hard.... I'm getting better at understanding the people when they talk to me, even though they talk really fast... but I'm still having problems putting words together, remembering the words I need to express what I want to say... It doesn't help that all the music I hear is American... Since we've come, on the radio or around the house we keep hearing songs like Dynamite and Club Can't Handle Me, even a new one by Keisha that I've never heard before (not the Take It Off one). We asked Lidwine for some good French artists, and she couldn't think of anybody. "Well," we said, "What do you listen to?" "La musique Americaine biensur!"Hahaha! Well hopefully I'll find some good artists who speak French so I can really surround myself with French....

For the first week I visited the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, le Pompidou, L'arche de Trioumphe, Champs-Elisees, La Louvre, Le Palais Royale, a good chunk of Chateau-Croissie, and, of course, the Seine. As my dear roommate Lexi often says.... No big! ;)

To Obtain the Impossible Visa

When you love someone, you don't stop loving them easily. You stick with them through thick and thin, no matter how annoying or frustrating they may be. But the annoyance and frusration that came from the French people at the French Consulate in San Fran nearly ruined my love for the French, making me hope dearly that this is simply the way of the American French and not the way of the French in general...

Part of my Prep for Paris is getting a visa. Why? Because you can't stay in France for more than 90 days without getting a visa. BYU has everything covered for the 89 days of the program, but if my mother and I are going to backpack around Europe from my 90th day in Paris up until Christmas, of course I need to get a Visa.

First the biggest hassle was going to the French Consulate in San Francisco in person. First we thought we could go to the one in LA and make a family trip out of it. But no. I am from Utah; therefore, of course, I must go to San Fran for my visa, even though it is significantly further away. My mom ended up just booking me a flight there and back Monday August 21st. The plan was get in, get the visa, get home.

It was a good plan and everything was set to go the Saturday before until I discovered, to my horror... The letter from BYU explaining that I was covered financially and that I had housing and health insurance, was missing. For two days we literally turned our house inside out, searching every nook and cranny frantically for the stupidly important letter that I had stupidly lost. My flight left early Monday morning, so there was no way that I could get another copy of the letter before I left. We ended up having to cancel the appointment until we could figure out what to do.

My mom changed the flights to Thursday, the last day I could fly out that week (You need to get your Visa at least 3 weeks before you leave). I went to change my appointment too, but when I went online, the only place you can schedule an appointment at the consulate, the next available appointment was September 8th -- the day I leave for Paris. In a panic I grabbed a phone to call the Visa section of the consulate. There was no answer. The automated French voices kept taking me around in circles. I called another section of the consulate and asked if they could help me. They gave me another number that took me into another circle. Before I could get another real person again, 3:00, their closing time, had come and gone.

The next day I tried again. No luck in the Visa section from either number, so again I called another section to get a real person and asked to be transferred to the Visa section.

"No one can talk to you. Everyone's too busy," she said.

"But I'm having a problem with my appointment..."

"Go online and book your appointment there."

"I tried. The first available date is the day I leave!"

"Well... I think one came up on Thursday, check again."

"So basically if nothing opens up then I'm screwed."

After a short pause she finally gave me an email address in case something didn't work out. I kept checking the schedule, and when an appointment came up on Thursday morning at 9AM I snagged it.

Bright and early the next Thursday morning, after an adventurous shuttle ride among San Fran drivers and a night in an old hotel, I headed out for the consulate. Ok sidenote a minute: Why do Utah drivers get so much crap? Every place has their crazy drivers, but for some reason Utah has acquired the reputation of having the worst. If anybody cuts me off on the freeway, the person next to me says, "Stupid Utard drivers!" First time my Freshman roommates at BYU drove with me, one of them turned to the other and said, "And this is why we hate Utah drivers!" Come ON people!! I know I'm one of the crazy drivers, but honestly we're not that bad!! You want crazy drivers?! Go to San Francisco!! They drive 85mph on the freeway with their nose glued to the bumper in front of them while brake lights flash everywhere in front of them. The residential streets have no lines in the middle of the road, so you drive down the center of the street until someone comes barreling toward you head-on. Now I'm usually Ok with crazy drivers-- I'm Ok driving with my brother, and that's saying something! But in that shuttle I swear there were a few times that I really thought that I was going to die! So anyone complaining about Utah drivers please take a trip to San Fran.

Anyways, back to the consulate.... at 9AM sharp they opened the doors. After getting through security I stepped into a room with a bunch of chairs and a TV with a French weather-woman telling us it was going to be cloudy today. I sat in a chair and looked at a long counter with a long window with a couple of holes that you spoke to them through... it reminded me of a bank teller, or better yet like a box office except 3x bigger. K couldn't believe that they had made such a stink about getting an appointment when it was basically just like going to the bank. You didn't even go in a certain order-- sure we had appointment times but it was basically first come first serve. I was near the front of the line, so I got to go up almost right away.

I handed the lady my papers, smiling and relieved that this was finally almost over. She looked over my stuff and said in an almost whispered, very bored voice, "Do you have your preh fahbie fillhou?"

".... What?"

"Do you have your bablie racket?"

"I'm sorry..... What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do. You. Have. Your. Semile macking paper."

"I...I... I have all the documents that you said I needed on the internet... That letter is from the group I'm travelling with that explains..."

"Alright alright hold on." She then turned to the person next to her, (who seemed very relaxed and available to help for being one of the people in the Visa section who were "too busy to talk to anybody"), and they started speaking in French.The guy read the letter then looked over at me. Luckily he spoke better English.

"Listen, this school that you're traveling with, they're not approved so there's no way we can get you a student Visa..."

"No no no I need a Tourist Visa. I'm not studying at a French University."

"Ok... and are you staying on a campus...?"

"No we're staying with host families."

"Ya I'm gonna need some sort of proof..."

"It's in the letter!"

"Oh Ok.... well you're also missing a bank statement..."

"The letter explains that I'm financially covered!!"

"Well... online it says you need a bank statement to show that you will be able to support yourself...."

"The person who gave me the letter assured me that that was proof that I have prepayed for this trip!!"

"Oh... well.... so you need to fax us a copy of your or your mom's bank statement and proof of your housing and then we can send you your visa."

"THIS LETTER SAYS THAT I AM COVERED IF YOU DINGBATS WOULD JUST READ IT!!!! IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM CALL THE PROGRAM DIRECTOR HER NUMBER IS RIGHT THERE!!! OH WAIT!! YOU GUYS DON'T USE PHONES HERE!! BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY SITTING AROUND AND BEING STUPID!!!"

Actually I didn't yell. I just signed what I had to and promised I'd send them what I needed. I left calling my mom and sobbing. Then my mom called the program director who made a thousand calls to get in touch of the consulate trying to help me with this stupid problem. She told me she had never had a problem like this before, that the consulate always accepted the letters. I'll tell you why they didn't accept it, because I had horrible service from snotty ignorant little people!! Well I'm sure they're actually good people, I just don't like them.... Because because pf them, I spent the rest of my last day in San Francisco waiting in front of the stupid consulate waiting for this stupid problem to get resolved.

I am never getting a Visa from San Francisco ever ever ever again.

Heya!

Hey! So this is my first attempt at a blog… Please forgive me for my shortcomings! Hopefully I can figure this out by next fall — the main purpose of this blog is to give updates when I am living in Paris! There won’t be much to see here during the summer, but I promise that come September it will be much more interesting! ;-P