Grandma and Evil Cat

I love old people. I love cats. Both of which are cute and funny and make great viral videos.

Today I had an interesting conversation with Grandma, this reoccurred about four times throughout the afternoon. Grandma would walk into the house in her usual state of confusion, most likely seeking company and someone to make her a coffee. Upon laying her eyes on me she would slowly and stealthily sneak up behind me, and just stand, either staring into space or glaring suspiciously at me. I would not notice she was there until the stench of her strange strange old people cigarettes wafted into my nose. Even though this occurred several times, I was no less frightened the second or fourth time. After a few more moments of starring, either deciding whether I was a real human being or merely an illusion, or perhaps she was so thrown off by the foreign banter of CNN that she had no other reaction than to fall into a trance, the following conversation would ensue.

Grandma- You are all alone?

Me- No.

Grandma- They leave you (the strange foreigner who talks like a cowboy) alone in the house?

Me- They are here (I actually had no idea who was home, but someone was there, I could tell from the ever so often reassurance of a cough).

Grandma- Where, there is no one here?

Me- They are upstairs ( unfortunately this is one of the more complicated french words).

Grandma-They are not here?

Me- Yes they are here, they are upstairs.

Grandma- Oh they are upstairs. Ok.

At this point Grandma is less concerned about my presence in the house.

Grandma- My daughter is here?

Me- I have no idea.

Grandma- That is not done around here, leaving strangers alone in the house.

Me- I live here.

Grandma- They are here?

Me- Yes Grandma, they are upstairs; however, I do not believe your daughter is here.

Somehow this is reason enough to stay and survey my actions; however, the lull of CNN must not do much for an old Luxembourgish, seeing as she would leave (only to reappear an hour later).

On another slightly more terrifying note, is Evil Cat. Evil Cat has by all means set out to kill. me. I can not help but feel incredibly helpless and fearful of this entirely black cat of whose only hobby is to sit and stare at me, most likely inventing methods to kill me while I sleep. My first encounter with this so called normal house cat, was about two months ago. After a particularly exhausting day of doing not much, I was far too tired to search for the light switch of the unfamiliar bedroom, so assuming I couldn't get to lost until I found the bed, I fumbled into the room with my hands out, hoping to at some point land on the lush bed waiting for me. Seeing as how the French have lovingly implemented the use of shudders, bedrooms are completely pitch black, in equal participation to what could be called the scariest moment of my life, is the cat, who is also a true true shade of black. So as I walk past the bed, imagine the horrifying scream that I am sure everyone in this tiny town heard, when this cat attacked me latching onto my arms, whilst letting out a yoawl that can only be described as a scream of the devil.

Now jump forward two months, this same Evil Cat ( I have lived in its presence for two months and still don't know its name), insists pestering me at every given moment, sleeps on my pillow all day, and has the off habit of licking me. I can only come to conclude that Evil Cat is preparing to kill me, after the not so successful first attempt.

I am not sure if it is the intrusion of a foreign object into the house or if I am just particularly appealing to pester, but I think Grandma and Evil Cat have a few similarities in there approach to the exchange student.

Where I am at

The last five months have been the most memorable,amazing, difficult, fun, weird, bizarre, life changing, slow, cold, french, awkward, wonderful, learningful, time of my life. It started with a plane ride. It has not finished yet, and at times I wish it never would. Its foreign, yet not all that different. Its not my home, but it's where I belong.

I got to France, not knowing quite what to expect, apart from the harsh stereotypes that some millions of American tourist have established. I saw all the things that can be found in the countless tour guide books bought by countless clueless travelers. And while I can obviously say yes its just like in all the pictures, I can also say more. Not all the French are the same, there are huge variances between the families, just as is to be expected no matter where in the world you go. Some french people do smell distinctly horrible, but a lot more smell like a lovely bunch of flowers on a sunny spring day in a prairie in the beautiful country side (sorta). They are not the romantic lovers that 18th century french literature would like to make them out to be, even if they keep thinking this. They do not hate America, in fact, they love us, especially our television series, music, clothing, style, and even some of our food (not so much the peanut butter or Kraft Mac n' Cheese)-they can't get enough of Mcdonald's, even if they pronounce it wrong. Bread is important, so is cheese, and wine, and they are very proud of this. There are still open air markets, but there are also large grocery stores. The teachers still write on the chalk board. There is a massive network of highly efficient public transportation, something the US has a huge lacking. There is high quality health care for everyone. University is free. At the end of the day, the ocean separating these two countries is not very large, both face similar set backs.

In the last five months I have been in Audun-le-Tiche, Thionville, Metz, Nancy, Verdun, Ottange, Esch Sur Alzette, Luxembourg, Reims, Paris, Vittel, Langres, Brussels, Ostende, Berlin, Lyon, Monoblet, Arles, Montpellier, Millau, Uzès, Leuven, Anterwerp, The Hague, Coëtquidan, Dinan, Saint Malo, Mont Saint-Michel, Strasbourg, I have been in France, in Europe.