c'est chouette

Classes start Monday and I'm somewhat surprised by how much I am not looking forward to that. We've had this week free and we've been going around, exploring the city and getting acclimated to our new home. As fun as that's been though, we're starting to run out of things to do, adn it's starting to get awkward to be always in a big group of Americans. (We like to stick together because amazingly we're all awesome and we all get along really well.) So I really should want the structure of classes and regulated French-speaking in my life, but I just don't. So far, from what I've heard and what I've seen of the university, I don't think its going to be a very rewarding experience. But we'll see. Also, on a side note, the university is ugly as fuck.

This week we've been all over the place--we've gone to a few good bars, and went shopping in the market, and hung out at each other's houses. (Every other house I've seen is huge and beautiful. I'd say my house is pretty normal sized, but in comparison to everyone elses it's tiny.)


Le marché

We took a tour of the city with a funny little lady named Carmen who wore oversized gloves and apparently knows everyone in town. She scored us free food and, but spoke far too much English and awkwardly brought us into random people's houses because they were historical and because she could. It was a strange tour. It was also snowing.


Of course, we stopped at a mustard store. They don`t actually bring up mustard very much, but when they do, it`s guaranteed they will tell whatever American is listening that Barack Obama loves Dijon mustard.


Old buildings like this are everywhere.


The sassy Dionysos statue. I love it.


Colored roofs are a tradition of Burgundy.


Notre Dame. One of the many churches.


Le chouette. It was once a sculpture of an owl, but has been touched so many times as to be barely recognizable. Because touching it is supposed to grant wishes.


The oldest building in Dijon, and the place where Gerard Depardieu has been!

The next day we went to the Musée des Beaux Arts. It was bigger than I was expecting and there were some neat pieces, but nothing that knocked my socks off. This is because it was snowing and so, in an amusing twist of fate, the contemporary area of the museum--which houses the modern art and, of course, the impressionists--was closed because it doesn't have heating. No impressionism in Paris and no impressionism in Dijon--it seems that, for now at least, this is my fate. I will simply have to go back.