Dear Diary,
We have now completed our first week of class. It’s interesting to see how they put everything together in the different classes, how they blend it all. The teachers all have the same methods and repeat the same things and, through repetition, I am slowly starting to actually use correct French. I’ve also realized how very awful my spoken French is, very lazy really, and why the French often look at me, cock their heads to one side and try to figure out what I have just said. I hope I am speaking much more clearly at the end of the month.

A window in the old section of Villefranche. I love the Italian colors.

I had a very embarrassing occurrence one day this week. I guess I go into a kind of trance or zen mode but I actually went to a room and sat through the wrong class without realizing my mistake. Finally at the end, the teacher said, “Why aren’t there enough of these to go around?” Even then I just sat there oblivious. Then he wrote Debutant 1 and 2 on the board and I suddenly realized that I was the reason his numbers were off. I was so embarrassed. Am I in the early stages of alzheimers? The class was a review-for me-of numbers which I needed anyway so that was a good thing. I was even wondering why they were reviewing the same thing. I got to see how two teachers taught the same subject and how they use the same methods of getting points across. In my defense, it was a combination of two classes and everytime that we have done that before there are people I haven’t seen before and it took place in a huge room. Nevertheless, Dear Diary, am I losing it?

A lovely lookout post in the castle wall that looks out over the bay.

Maurice arrived after school and then we went to a party that the school gave with wine and a really good buffet. I was able to introduce Maurice to my fellow students and some of the teachers. We got to speak English so we could communicate on a much better level. It was a fun night. Afterwards, I found myself slipping back into my old ways of speaking English with Maurice and will have to force myself to go back to speaking French. Poor Maurice. He will have to live with someone speaking to him with the vocabulary of a child. It won’t be very interesting for him.

This little chapel is devoted to fishermen. It has been painted by Cocteau

The director of the school came up to me at the party and told me that he had found my blog, which surprised me but it turned out that someone had written to the school for a brochure as a result of reading my blog. He told me about another student who is keeping a blog for her newspaper about her experiences at the school.

How nice to have a yellow mailbox with purple wysteria hanging above it.

March 31st
Dear Diary,
Today we found out which class we would be placed in. Sometimes at these French schools (and I’ve been to many), based on the tests, I get put in the Debutant class but, happily this time I was placed in Intermidiate which is just where I think I should be. I was worried that a few people would be in my class that I found irritating. I know from prior experience that there can be people who monopolize any class they are in by constantly talking, answering all questions and just mainly trying to be the center of attention. I just want a class where there aren’t irrtations and distractions, especially from other students-Is that asking too much, Dear Diary? I guess that makes me a crab but there you go. I was happy when I got to my class and found none of the people there that I feared. My class turned out to be full of people much like me who just want to learn and don’t need to be the center of attention.

This guy is in the very beautiful garden smirking at all of us who want to speak French.

Our teacher is very nice. She spoke only French, of course, but very clearly and I understood just about everything she said. She was really good at what she did as most of the teachers I have met here seem to be. What is surprising is that she asked us not to take notes. We were just to listen and to repeat. Works for me. We watched a slide show with characters going through some situation with a sound track and slowly, through repetition, figured out what they were saying and how to say it ourselves.

There is a cruise ship in the harbor every day.
At lunch, we sat with a teacher who, along with making sure we spoke French, helped us with vocabulary and just chatted with us. The food was very good and also plentiful. To my surprise, they presented me with a birthday cake and sang Happy Birthday to me. The cake was delicious. How nice.
In the afternoon we had another teacher for more work on speaking. I felt like I knew most of it but everytime I was called on, I usually blew it. Ah well, it is the first actual day of class.
Later we did some grammar and even some work with the alphabet. Even at our level, we all seemed to have trouble with certain letters, espcially, for me, G and J. At the end of the day I was beat. There is tea offered afterwards but I passed up on it. I just didn’t want to speak French anymore or listen to others try and speak it. I just went back to my apartment and washed some clothes and looked at the view.

A view from the tiny balcony as a ship sails away to another port.

A few photos that I don’t think I’ve put up on the blog before–but I could be wrong.

A view of an artist painting Sacre Coeur in the background.

Grafitti of an artist which is rather fitting as there are many artists up on Montmartre.

This sculpture is based on a French short story in which the man runs out of time while using a formula for invisibility and gets stuck in the wall.

A window that I like found on the front of an old cinema.

March 30-
Well, Dear Diary, I am doing it again, taking yet again another French course. I was very disappointed with the course I had in Aix en Provence and didn’t know if I would ever find something good. I heard about St Anne’s University in Nova Scotia, A French University, and it sounded really good but I just couldn’t face a cold April in an area north of cold New York, way north. I think it might have been fun but in another month. A friend recommended The Institute Francaise in Villefranche sur Mer, a small place situated between Nice and Monaco, not too shabby.

I’m very lucky to get this opportunity. Maurice is going to visit me on the weekends but only if he can control speaking to me in English. We will see.
I’m renting a nearby apartment just a two minute walk from the school. When I went to see the director to give a key deposit he said, “Don’t tell anyone, but you got an upgrade. The woman who was supposed to rent your place cancelled at the last minute and and had to pay the extra it would have cost you.” I had thought it was really nice when I walked in, very roomy and with a fabulous view of the bay. It doesn’t need much, and it is rather bare, with a huge window to take in the view. I have no complaints.

So, Dear Diary, the first day of school proved to be very interesting. It started with a small breakfast in the usual French fashion with bread and confiture and coffee or tea. What I found interesting were the people at my table. There were two Russians, an Australian, two Swiss, a beautiful Norwegian girl and moi. There was also a man from Bulgaria who had been in France for two years and couldn’t speak any French which made me feel a little better. We could all speak English at the table except for one Russian lady, but kept plugging along in French. We were told later that starting tomorrow we could only speak French. We would be fined one euro if they caught us speaking English and the collection of fines would be used to buy champagne for the last day.

We took tests and will find out our placement tomorrow. The Professeur explaned their system of teaching and why it was different from many others. It sounds like just what I need. They get you speaking French easily without hours of the drudgery that I am used to. There is some grammar, etc, but just a little different approach.
So, Dear Diary, we begin tomorrow. Should be interesting but a lot of work.

My view this morning.