Un Bon Weekend À La Campagne

The reason I haven't posted in a while is because I went to visit my host family's grandparents at their beautiful house à la campagne (in the countryside). Here's a summary of my weekend (sorry for the long post):

Friday:

We met at Accent at 2pm for a "visa meeting", which consisted of them taking one look at my visa and saying "you're all set". I decided to head home, change into running clothes, and go for a jog. Le Jardin Du Luxembourg is only 1.5 miles from where I live, so it makes for a great jog there, around the park, then back. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I got stared at the entire time. It could've been because I was jogging on the sidewalk. I've noticed that not many people jog on the sidewalk, but there are lots of runners at the park, so how do they all get there without being stared at? It could've also been because I was wearing a short sleeve T-shirt on top of a long sleeve to keep warm. Maybe that's not customary here? I have no clue. All I know is that I stuck out like a sore thumb for some reason. I have a half marathon in May to train for, so I guess I better get used to it.

My Steak Tartare

Twelve of us went to dinner at Chartier, a train station turned restaurant. Kristin's 20 yr old host sister came with us; she is a student at L'institut Catholique (where we go to school), majoring in English, so she seizes any opportunity to converse with native English speakers. It was cool to have her there and hear about the typical life of a Parisian adolescent. Our table ordered an appetizer of escargots, but they were gone before I mustered up the confidence to try them. I did, however, unknowingly order steak tartare, which I naively thought was steak with tartar sauce. For those of you who don't know what steak tartare is (or perhaps I'm the only one), it's pretty much raw ground beef. When I saw the man at the table next to mine receive his, I got really nervous and wanted to back out of it. I had to remind myself that the whole reason I'm here is to be adventurous and try new things. A few minutes later, my meal arrived, still mooing. It wasn't nearly as bad as I was anticipating, but not the most appetizing thing I've ever eaten. I probably would've enjoyed it more had I been able to block out the fact that I was eating cold, raw meat. After eating half of it, I decided that that was enough adventurousness for one day and focused on the dessert, which was Chou Chantilly. I'm pleased to report that it went down much smoother (and quicker) than the steak tartare. Après-ca, six of us went out to a couple of bars. Unfortunately, nothing exciting to report about those

Saturday:
My host family invited me to have lunch with them, which was très gentil. Before I came, I was slightly concerned that whomever my host family was would be picky about the fact that my program fees technically only include 7 breakfasts and 4 dinners a week. Fortunately, I lucked out with an aimable host family that doesn't like to starve their guests. We had potatoes and hamburgers. Très Américain. In our lunch conversation, someone happened to mention the word écureiul. They asked me what it was in English, and I told them it meant squirrel. Then, all six family members said "skwy-rell... skwy-rell" and kept trying to pronounce it correctly- it was hilarious. Their 18 year old son, Audoin (pronounced oh-dwan) came home from prep school this weekend, which is what many French people go to in between high school and a specialty school (in his case, engineering school). We packed our things and left for their grandparents' house à la campagne, about 2 hours by car outside of Paris. Their grand parents' house is very old with plenty of history. Apparently a previous owner of the house was a French man who lived there during World War I. When the Germans invaded and attacked the village, he hid in the attic (which is now an upstairs area) with his girlfriend. He was an artist, so he spent the days in hiding by drawing her (in rather risqué clothing for 1915). The grandparents have preserved the drawings by not touching / painting over them. Madame et Monsieur took me on a walk around the village, showing me the places with the prettiest views. I then watched part 2 of Harry Potter 7 with the kids and they were kind enough to turn on the English subtitles for me, since I hadn't seen it. Dinner was ready shortly after and we started with vegetable soup, made from vegetables the grandparents grew in their garden. We then had yummy quiche and this delicious dessert of baked apples atop toasty bread.

Sunday:
I had the best jelly ever at breakfast. It was raspberry jam made by the grandpa with raspberries from his garden. Absolutely fantastic. Then, madame and I played tennis (rather poorly) at the court right next to the house. The family went into town for something and I stayed behind to take advantage of the lack of clouds by taking pictures of the countryside in all its bucolic glory. After they returned, we had a lunch of roast beef stew. Monsieur, Madame, Geoffroy (whom they lovingly call JoJo), Diane, and I went for another long walk up and down the country's rolling hills. Once we got back, it was time for a pasta dinner. I don't know what their pasta is made of, but it's WAY better than American pasta. The entire weekend, the grandpa kept asking me to take more food after I'd cleaned my plate twice. When I insisted that seconds were enough and that I didn't need thirds, he would tell me that I was afraid. I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but I awkwardly laughed and said "nooo" every time. After dinner we packed up and headed home, where I am now writing from. Please enjoy some of the pictures I've included from my weekend below. Unfortunately, these pictures don't do any justice to the gorgeous countryside

If you've read this far, I commend you for sticking out the longest post ever. (Hi mom and dad. I know you've read this far).

Affecteusement,
Katie 

Chez Grand-Mère et Grand-Père

View from my window

Drawings in the attic

Beautiful church right next to the house

Place where the village used to wash clothes before the invention of machines