C’est vendredi, après la grève.

The city is back to its bustling self. The strike didn’t affect me, personally. I just made plans to do everything on foot yesterday, staying close to home, which was fine.

Today, Je me suis réveillée tôt, pour étudier. I had planned a small adventure, just about 7 stops via Métro, to secure a specific souvenir for a special someone (fun and successful!)

Class went well. I really love my prof, and this course. I was that nerdy kid who LOVED Phonics and worked ahead in my workbook in those early school days. I haven’t changed much in that regard, and today, the prof took note. It seems the nun and I are the only two showing that we’re doing the work. <le cringe> This made Mr. Harvard a little defensive, and I admit I had to try to hide my smile. He’s clearly not used to being called out, and OMG after being reprimanded (always checking his phone, not repeating the group oral exercises, or just otherwise disengaged) he was over-the-top participatory. He’s a professor dude, but is clearly used to phoning it in. I don’t get it.

I feel like I’ve said this before about the teachers at Alliance Française, but it bears repeating. I have never met such patient teachers. And I’m in no way making fun of the 4 students in class who really, really, really, really struggle with pronunciation. They’re brilliant in their own right and in their respective fields. They are learning a whole new alphabet in some instances, and whole new sounds; it’s no small feat. But I watch in my own patient frustration too, as the teacher makes the SAME corrections over and over and over, and I am amazed at her ability to act as though each time is the first time. These are adults. I’m sitting there, stifling yawns because I do know a lot of this stuff already, but, she has been amazingly energetic and positive.

Today, she told the others they had to do the work, and said they cannot keep coming to class so unprepared. She was clearly frustrated, but was more incredulous than angry. Another young man continues to think he can just speak super fast and get away with sounding fluent. Nope. She calls him on it every day. He’s another nice guy, but he misses so many syllables I literally lose count. We’re often partnered, and I help him as much as I can. Meanwhile, I wanted to fist bump la nonne. She struggles like the others, but WORKS so hard, and it shows.

Now having said that, let me say that MOST of these students can understand spoken French better than me. As I’ve said, it has improved for me, but I’m not as fast as the others just yet. It’s because they’ve LIVED here for so long I guess, so now they’re filling in their gaps with the grammar, pronunciation, reading, and writing. There are so many components to this, and we all have strengths/weaknesses. Mine is really only in ONE area, so I’m going to just keep working hard.

Tonight, I treated myself to a lovely chicken salad dinner at Saint-Placide Café. It was early by Paris standards, but I was famished after class. (Three hours of eh, euh, euhr, oo, ee, ai, ahr, really works up an appetite!) The café was abuzz, as is normal for Friday nights. People meet in groups and take over all the small tables just to have drinks and socialize after work. Some of the groups actually include dogs. The three corner cafés in this one intersection of my old neighborhood were all equally packed. No practicing my French with the staff on weekends; they’re way too busy.

I popped into the grocery store as I walked home, and picked up a few things. Fewer and fewer as the month progresses. Once home, I put a load of laundry in, and the machine let me know it’ll all be ready in just 6 hours. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out the machines here. There’s little to no writing/explanations on the dials; just symbols, and they don’t make sense to me. I just continue to select « délicat » and hope for the best. Right now, it sounds like WWII in the kitchen with machine gun-like sounds emanating from behind the closed door. I’m a little worried about my unmentionables.

Oh, almost forgot. I signed up for a cultural event tomorrow. It’ll be my first and only one for the month, since I was shut out of the Frida Kahlo event this month (not to worry, remember that I bought my own ticket for a later date). Anyway, tomorrow there will be an afternoon « balade, » a (usually lengthy) walk and lecture en français. Tomorrow we are to discover the Covered Passages of Paris. A gentleman named Babi is leading the group, and he is fantastic; I remember him from many events last year. They hire him a lot, and for good reason. He’s why I signed up!

Update: 45 calls from Mom, and we’re chatting live, now.

Update: Laundry is done, and it didn’t take near 6 hours. I remain confused.