Deodorant, swine flu, chateaux

It is wicked hot here. Yesterday the echo of thunder and a ceiling of storm clouds promised so much, and followed through with nothing. Rien. I think I slept for an hour last night. I remember swearing in the winter that I would never return to a cold climate again.

Banal. It's summer. It's hot. Rien d'étonnant.

French women wear coats, still. What are they thinking? Je n'en sais rien.

In every language, people waste words on the weather. I think it's worse in France.

And while I'm generalizing:

French boy: What are you going to tell your family about your impressions of France?
Me: Uh... well, I talk to them pretty much every week. So not much.
French boy: You can tell them French people complain alot. It's true; we do.

But I base no generalizations upon that one particular example. He is less than representative.

What kind of anti-perspirant has the strength to combat ce chaleur? I have brought three (3) different kinds of American deodorant with me, knowing that the French value their memories too much to moronically apply aluminum directly on their skin daily, just daring Alzheimer's to mess with them. But to no avail. Franchement, ça fait rien.

The Swine Flu is at level 6. I'm wondering what I'm thinking going into the US when my French resistance that I have built up over the last 9 months is keeping me safely protected right here. In the land of volcanoes, organic food and farm animals. I have a real fear of this thing.

I went to see some chateaux the other day. Just like, "Alright, I think I'll hop on a train and visit them," and then did it. Ate some frog legs. Talked to some French people. Grew some more freckles. Had a picnic on the plateau. Talked to a dude from Morocco who kept interrupting me, and drives a hot bus on Saturdays.

It takes me a long time to read things at museums because I don't know the vocabulary. I felt like I was reading Biblically because the endless geneology of the Polignacs. "Blah begat blah, begat blah and blah and blah." I am a true historian, n'est-ce pas?

Today:

It rained.
I found the most delicious pain au chocolat I have ever tasted in my life.
I got a letter in the mail.

One of my daily rituals is the watching of the news, Channel 1 with Laurence Ferrari, at 8 o'clock. I only do this when The Host Mom is here; I don't know why. The only time I talk in the morning is when The Host Dad drives me to school. Sometimes I do not open the door to say good morning, but I always say goodnight. We have our routines. We drink our coffee and tea in respectful and necessary silence, the flipping of newsprint and the intersection of ceramic and spoon the only sounds that echo in the kitchen. I never watched the news in the US. I have no idea why.

You are my captive audience. I apologize for the frequency of "I."

Je je je je. ça m'enerve, les gens qui disent tout le temps "je."

I can make it all false and CTRL + F "I" replace "you" and make subject-verb agreements for consistency, if this will help. It's a common manoeuver in poetry. But thank God Robert Frost didn't employ it.

"You took the road less traveled by and... that has made all the difference."

Tu vois? C'est pas du tout pareil.

Wish me luck. I want to sleep.