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Friday was a calm, ping-pong filled night. Saturday, however, started decently early with me making a trip to the Laundromat. Heh. You see, the machines in our building are not working yet. No one knows why or when they will be back in service. Now, I had already done one load of laundry in the sink, but I figured that since I've been here for nearly three weeks that I was probably due a good, thorough washing instead of the gentle scrubbing I had done in the sink with dish soap, as I had forgotten to buy detergent. But I was prepared this time. I put my clothes in the laundry bag, my detergent in a rinsed out jelly jar and started walking.

Let's make sure that we all understand the scene here. Outside it is extremely grey, and looks as if it has been raining since dawn, but the kind of rain that's almost mist. It is 9:30 on a Saturday morning. The laundromat is about 10 minutes walk from the dorm. I head out wearing the cleanest clothes I have which happens to involve the camo long-sleeve shirt Dane gave me, not exactly a common item in Europe. I pass the old man that is always in his doorway, who asks me, as he always does, if I have a cigarette. I kindly reply, as I always do, that no, I in fact do not have any cigarettes. As I pass him, I hear him laughing at me and my laundry misery. But I continue onward.

Getting into the place, the prices slapped me in the face and I was about ready to turn around and run out of there. Because of the crazy expense, I grabbed a 10 kilo machine, put as much as I possibly could into the thing, leaving out some more stuff that I could wash by hand. I then went to put money into the thing…turns out this clever piece of machinery only takes 1 Euro coins and below. (See, there's this great system of Euro coins coming in denominations of 1, 2, 10, 20, and 50 cents as well as 1 and 2 Euros. From there on up it's in cash) I had a pocket full of two euros. So, lucky me, I got to go next door to the grocery store and change some money, come back, pay the machine 5.50 Euros (ouch-- take that Hendrix) to wash my clothes. 40 minutes later I went to put them all into the dryer. And placed into the dryer a one Euro coin. Which gave me all of a whopping 10 minutes of drying time. After the 10 minutes flew by, I packed up all of my clean, if damp, clothes and hiked back, having forgotten that wet clothes definitely weigh more than dry ones. After the trek up the stairs, I proceeded to rig up my clothesline to finish drying my laundry.

Remember how I said it was a rainy-ish kind of day? Yeah, well the sun never showed up to really dry my clothes. Sunday afternoon and the clothesline is still up. I think that the whole washing in the sink thing is suddenly a very, very appealing option.

After putting on a pair of semi dry pants, a few of us headed into town in order to buy some notebooks and the like. We accomplished this, ran into some celtic music and proceeded to watch them for a while, then went to the Aussie bar and watched a rugby match.

Side note: this sport is AMAZING. It's like football, only no padding and the play never stops. CRAZY.

Came home for a bit and then met up for our cheap wine soirée Our grocery store had a wine festival thing going on and we walked in on Friday and saw shelves upon shelves of wine. We decided to partake of the under 2 Euro wine and each came back with a different bottle. A few of us—Lena (Belgian), Kirsty (British), David (Irish), Ben (Hendrix!)— met up in Fabien's room, the only native Frenchman among us. We passed around bottles, recognizing the fact that cheap wine is still cheap wine even in France. It just doesn't come in a box. Lena treated us to some Belgian beer that her mother had given to the cause of the International Students. We then went on into town to go to a Latin American night. Somehow, only Fabien knew that this event was happening, and as so, he was also the only one who knew where it was. He managed to be the one who was more than a little tipsy as well. We made it to the event, after a bit of wandering, after a few awkward songs, start dancing. And dance until we're exhausted. On our way out, we pass the coordinator of the international students who recognized and smiled.

Went to a pub or two and then realized that we had missed the last metro. Ben and I are both very tired and decided to go catch a cab home while the others continued their night. A little after one, we began our walk to Gare Lille Flandres and took our place in the line at the taxi place. It took until nearly two fifteen for us to get a taxi. Ridiculous. Helped me to remember that missing the last metro is not going to be done all that often in my time here. I came home to a bed with no sheets, as they were still wet. That was fun.

Tomorrow I will buy the coveted monthly pass for the metro and will begin my cultural pursuits of the city in earnest. The cool thing about your classes only being once a week? I have finished my homework for this coming week. Therefore I have nothing due until next Monday. Not a bad deal, eh? So, say tomorrow, I plan on going see a French poetry slam. Ben is probably going to come along, the slammer that he is, and it should be a fun outing. Tuesday night, Youngblood Brass Band is playing downtown. !!! I have been trying for a good two years to see these guys and they end up playing a little club on a Tuesday night a bit away from me. AWESOME.

Other than that, things are going well. I successfully cooked rice without a ricepot for the first time in my entire life on Friday. And soon to come are the sweet potatoes. Anyway, off to supper and a bit more homework.

After a full day of getting things done— a little homework, a little cleaning, a little shopping—we all gathered together downstairs. (We have a tendency to do that, us foreign students. I always wondered why they clumped together at Hendrix, but now I understand completely.) Anyway, in this giant clump, we made our way to the university around 7 for the animated film night at the university's cinema, Kino. It was a double feature for 6 Euros. I was slightly apprehensive about this film, after all, the last attempt at enjoying a movie in French remained just that: an attempt. But the featured movies were Ratatouille and The Simpsons. Both American films which means, at the very least, American humour. As the French are very proud and therefore protective of their language (did you know that they have only had 9 editions of the official dictionary since 1836?) both films were dubbed. Ratatouille went by just fine. I had seen the film once before and it isn't a difficult plot to follow. I got a good number of the jokes (I might even venture to say most) in The Simpsons. That is, once I got over the hilarious voices used for dubbing. And somehow, I don't think that Spider Cochon has the same ring too it as Spider Pig. Although the German version is Spider Schwein and I think that one rolls off the tongue wonderfully.

As we were walking back from the Metro station in the ridiculously chilly weather (low 50s with a definite wind), I started to really think about what we had just seen.

The film: Ratatouille.
The scene: Paris, France.
The stereotype: All French are beret wearing, wine drinking, passionate lovers who have a strange affinity for the striped shirt.

The film: The Simpsons.
The scene: One of the many Springfields.
The stereotype: All Americans are rather stupid, rather fat, and rather ignorant to the problem of pollution.

Yes, stereotypes are based in truth. And it is true that we can laugh about it. I sat next to Fabien, a français, and we continually exchanged nudges and snide remarks. "I didn't realize that all the French wore berets… did you forget yours at home?" "What, didn't you know that all of us are incredible lovers?" "Do you own a trashcan or do you just use the river?" It was funny. But every now and then the majority of the theatre would laugh at the typical American thing that just happened, just as we would laugh at the typical French person on the screen.

I have yet to encounter someone who is really against America. Hard feelings have managed to stay away for now. But tonight, after the sighs that accompanied the scenes of oil drilling in Alaska where we might have inserted a laugh track, I wonder when I will have to defend my country as a decent one. And I wonder how I will do it.