I've been quite the busy little expat this week. Finally, after 4 days I'm plopped in front of the screen ready to deliver. So today I had my 23rd birthday party. You could call it more like 23 going on 12 because I had an ice cream party. No worries I spiked the punch..a lot.

I must have some psychic ability because on top of planning an all-girl party, it turns out that it is also International Women's Day! Holler atcha girl. It was exactly that too: 7 girls, 7 nationalities.
When I'm stressed, happy, sad, or what have you, I want Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream. I have a really unhealthy obsession in which sometimes I just scroll through their Instagram and drool. So on this gorgeous 70 degree day, what better excuse is there for an ice cream shin-dig?
My friends are trying to convince me that this is my calling in life: party planning. I'm starting to think they're not far off. I don't enjoy the hours of cleaning, but I am in complete euphoria when I can organize and make things look pretty.
I was somewhat nervous that the girls wouldn't be all that excited by ice cream, because it's really not that big in Europe like it is in America. However, my friend Anne-Fleur quoted "C'est vraiment très bon, je suis trop contente."AKA-this is really good and I am so happy.
What gets me more excited than anything is watching other people be happy. Mission 100% accomplished because they all loved it.
The girls even bought me a pink polaroid camera for my birthday and also to say thank you for always having them over. It really meant a lot to me. I guess I am a good egg!
This party was suppose to be at 11pm, but since Kerri couldn't attend and the weather was too perfect, we changed it to 2pm and did half inside, and half outside. Everyone packed up the blankets, grabbed the punch bowl and we headed out front of the apartment to the lake.
Anyone who came to lay near us quickly regretted it. Drinking games went on for a solid hour and a half. I had to find things that only required actions or numbers, while still letting everyone get a solid buzz-on under the sun. It was actually very difficult to find anything outside of beer pong and flip cup. However, "Buzz" and "Thumper" worked just fine.
I cracked and invited our guy friend Mehdi, who eventually became our personal outdoor photographer. There was a girl modeling across the street so we felt the need to mimic. I did say I was 23 going on 12..Here's Mehdi's impersonation.
All in all it turned out to be a great party. After all of that sun the girls and I were wiped and came back inside for round 2. This time it wasn't ice cream, it was Domino's. You don't tip delivery boys here so we offered him Snickers.

Merci Kerri for some beautiful photos!

I've become numb to this whole grey sky and rain thing in Bordeaux. Today however, there was sun shining through my window. I practically danced my way out of bed and got ready to meet up with Nicole. A perfect day to channel my inner French girl and expand my waistline at the Bordeaux markets.

If there's been one thing I have been consistent with since day 1 of being in Bordeaux, its been Monday night quiz at Cock and Bull. I've clearly got my priorities straight huh? My small town in N.J. is about 6 times smaller than Bordeaux, but might have equally as many pubs, and if there's one thing I know it's that there's nothing better to have between friends than a great pub.

Me (left) and Anne Fleur (right) in matching clothes no less

I wish I could go back to that moment when we awkwardly sat around at the table, trying so hard to make conversation but failing miserably. It was almost too international that it at times felt like it couldn't work. Luckily, pub quiz is in both French and English, so even if we had no idea what each other was saying, we still had a chance to win (doesn't happen often, but hey we try).
The best part about this group of friends? Even though it was really hard at first, we all came back every single week to try again. Of course alcohol helps and all, but we actually kept learning from each other. Anne Fleur now speaks English, and I now speak French. Who would of thought?
I know it seems pretty insignificant--going to a pub on a monday night for a quiz, but it's turned into way more than that. I learn something new from these people every single week (whether I remember it  or not the next day isn't always certain); from a new word in another language, to something about the other's culture, to just drunken personal talk over way too many mojitos. Cock and Bull has turned me into a Monday lover. Yep, I said it..I LOVE MONDAYS.

I'm not sure what sort of atomic bomb has gone off in my head since I've arrived here but I have suddenly turned into a domestic goddess.  I've progressed from Easy Mac for one to planning four-course dinner parties for ten. I don't know who I am anymore.

As Mat and I talk about him moving to America with me, I really think about how we Americans view the French. Ha. Before ever coming to France I had the traditional image in my head: thick mustache, beret, striped shirt, bicycle, and baguette. Oh and his name is Pierre, along with every other person in this country.

I asked Mathieu to put the beret on just for pure entertainment.

My friend Ryan wore this exact costume last Halloween, just to poke fun at our French friend Guillermo. So far I've seen 2 people who have dressed this way..sorry they biked too fast for me to ask if their names were Pierre.

Cliché french costume

I also had the impression that all French people were hairy. Welp--the men are. But quite frankly I question any man with a shaved/waxed chest anywho. As for the girls, it's completely false. I think that was one of my first questions to Mat actually, and he was baffled that we even thought this.

You all know where I'm heading after this right? Smelly. Of course. Okay so this one I'll be real honest with. Our gym smells like a porter potty sometimes, and the tram can nearly set fire to my nose hairs, BUT, it was the same in Italy. So I'm not succumbing just the French to this. Europe does not allow for aluminum in the deodorant and they are not 'antiperspirants' either. Therefore, until my mom sent my over a box of chemicals (aka American antiperspirant) I too smelled very bad.

Side note: Mat showers 3-4 times a day so I can tell you he smells great.

Paris, France September 2013

On a serious level the one stereotype I wish didn't exist is that the French hate Americans, and that they are mean people. Every single person I have met here has been wonderful to me, with or without Mat around. They make an effort. Before I knew French it was really hard for me, and yet still with as little of English they knew, each person tried their hardest to speak with me. One girl even went as far as to sit with me and go back and fourth on Google Translate.

A really strange coincidence is actually occurring while I'm writing this that I just overheard on tv. Previous president, Nicolas Sarkozy said in a speech to the U.S Congress "France is the friend of the United States of America. It is not simply I, the French president who says that; I am simply the expression the voice of the people of France." This is far more accurate.

For some more less serious stereotypes, I was also convinced everyone was healthy and stick thin. Stick thin, yes. Healthy? Eh. The things they do differently: they don't snack and most of them smoke. The French don't fear dessert, cheese, alcohol, or basically anything. But they also don't overindulge in it either. While I'm arm deep in a box of cookies, Mat is patiently waiting for dinner.

Speaking of him, I stereotyped the French with being romantic. This one is completely true. People making out in the streets, men buying flowers for their women, and couples spoon feeding each other dessert. Depending on my mood that day I either think it's just so0o0o cute, or I'm sick.

The boys on New Years Eve 2013

I give the frenchmen credit though, they respect women more than I have ever seen. Chivalry isn't dead here. They know how to be courteous: holding doors for girls, apologizing when cursing, pulling out chairs. Every single one of Mat's friends kisses my cheek hello before shaking his hand. It's sad that my American generation is completely shot of this.

This whole stereotype thing is a worry for Mathieu a bit. Would you want someone to automatically think you hate their country? Or that you don't shower and are rude? Of course not. However, my friends in America welcomed him with open arms, and although I know he might encounter a few ignorant people along the way, I feel like we don't really believe our own stereotypes sometimes. Oui oui.


credit: http://ohsacrebleu.wordpress.com/category/french-culture/ for cliché frenchman photo

Unless you have Daddy Warbucks as your father, you're probably not traveling every single day. I for one waited tables and interned all summer just to be able to live in Bordeaux as a student. I'm kind of on the exchange rate struggle bus here. So today after a long phone call to America my friend said he wants to see what I'm doing everyday even if it's not "blog worthy." You know, what my apartment looks like, how I get to school, where I go after school, the simple things. Sometimes we forget those things are what matters most.

Before I came to Bordeaux I was given great advice: "Find somewhere you can go frequently, somewhere that your comfortable. Search for a good coffee shop, a place you can have alone time, or go with friends, just something that you feel a part of." It makes perfect sense. When you come to a country not knowing the language, and nothing truly feels comfortable, this is the best thing you can do. Whenever I came to Europe Mcdonalds felt like a sort of safe haven, because it was familiar. Sad, but true. Believe it or not familiarity is the best form of comfort.
Nicole, Kerri, and I have a new safe haven: Pain et Cie. I don't always go with them, sometimes I go alone but it's like having a secret fort when you're a kid, you have a place to hide out. Nicole and I met up today at 9:30 before she took off for London for the weekend and I headed to the gym. Aint nothin' like a hearty baguette covered in 6 variations of diabetes before a good workout. Of course I vowed to hop back on the healthy wagon yesterday...too late.
The place is fairly cheap and it's French breakfast at its finest. Every carbohydrate you can think of is available here. However, they are fairly organic, so it makes me feel a little better. They make all their spreads: chocolate, praline, hazelnut, white chocolate, apricot, and strawberry and you can buy them for home. Not to mention all of their juices are freshly squeezed as well. So it's possible to steer of the calories somewhat but come on look at this masterpiece of food. A basket of fresh bread plus every spread you want? Sorry I'm not sorry.
I don't know what it is about Europe that made me fall in love with tea, but I did. Maybe it's the part of me wanting to be some kind of sophisticated European, even though I'm 100% a loud quirky American. This is the main reason I come here. It's so relaxing and they have so many gourmet teas like "A weekend in Rome," which somehow tastes like chocolate (living in Rome did not taste like chocolate, more like exhaust fumes). Not to mention they serve it in a little nugget tea pot, I'm in love.
This has, more than anything taught me to do something different: relax. You can't chug tea, nor would you want to. So I go here a couple times a week just to take my time, write in my journal, and enjoy the moment. Sometimes I even bring the French boy along too :)

Update 8/21/14: Pain et Cie permanently closed down.

Since today is January 1st I thought i'd dedicate this post to my new friends of the new year. My apartment has become the United Nations lately, with all of the different nationalities coming together to hang out. There's really nothing like it, and let me tell you after a few drinks it's probably the most entertaining thing ever. Alcohol can really help when there is a lack of vocabulary, but it's the openness and great personalities of my new friends that make it work the way it does.