Bonsoir, friends. Tonight I went to an informal French class. French. It’d be nice to know a little. I mean, I’m going visit France. When I saw that someone was teaching French Tuesday evenings for super cheap at Cambridge I jumped. All levels welcome? Great!
I met some exciting people from all over the world (including Singapore and Russia), and the French teacher was welcoming and nice. One hang up: everyone knew French except for me. All levels means basic through advanced, not beginner. If the Swedish student I met hadn’t told me how to say my name I wouldn’t have had a single thing to say through the whole class. The teacher spoke exclusively in French, and I had no idea what she was saying. For next week, she’s assigned an article (in French) to read which we’ll discuss (in French). An hour and a half wasted? No, I took a brisk bike ride and enjoyed conversing with some of the other students (in English) before the class started.
I’d still like to pick up a little French, but since I can’t participate in that class I’m going to have to find some other means. Or maybe I’ll just mentor people trying to learn English. Who knows.
On another note, the book I’m reading is killing me! The Brothers Karamazov. Ugh! One of the characters is getting himself into so much trouble, and he doesn’t even realize it! The lawyers (shout out to Dave, David, and Kitty) are just toying with him, and they don’t even care about his side of things. I am so frustrated at this point that I don’t even feel like reading. Plus, I already know how the case ends up–that was given away in the introduction. Hopefully Zach will finish his math soon so we can read The Fellowship of the Ring. It’s way less frustrating, but I always wish Smeagol would disappear. Pity, I know, but I’ll tell you one thing: it’s a good thing Bilbo ran into him first and not me. I’m with Sam–Smeagol’s a creep.