A Window is not a Fork, and I am not a Nun

Bah, I have a whole lot that I could say about the past few days. But I'm really tired right now, as it's 12:30AM here in Montpellier. I could just wait until tomorrow to do this. But what fun is that?

I will thus begin with the fact that classes are going very well. I like the 3 professors that I have. They are three very entertaining French women, and they are very good at their jobs. Which is good for me. Now I've been asked numerous times what kind of classes I'm taking. I finally have an answer since I've now had a week of classes! I will be tested in 5 areas: reading comprehension, writing, oral expression, listening compression, and phonetics (for some reason, it took me a long time to figure out the common English expression for those things - apparently they don't translate exactly. Like so many other things). So I guess these are the classes I'm taking? Though I'm not quite sure still. Oops.

Story time (just for the heck of it): the first week I was here or so, I didn't speak a lot of French; I was with Americans most of the time. However, on Sunday I went to my friend, Ryad's, place. He speaks English, but Katy (an American STINTer with whom I went) and I wanted to practice our French. So we'd throw in random French phrases. I felt like I was doing pretty well until we began to eat a cake that Katy made. Now, maybe I was getting too cocky with my speaking or maybe I was just tired. But I said, "J'ai besoin d'une fenêtre." Katy and Ryad just looked at me, though I'd known that was incorrect as soon as the last word came out of my mouth. I tried desperately to think of the correct word, but nothing came to me. "I need a fork," I said. "Not a window." Fenêtre is a window. Une fourchette is a fork. Oops. Of course, we all laughed about it. For a long time.

Oh well, that's not the only interesting translation issues that I've had. On Tuesday, my first day of class, I spent most of my time with a girl from Iceland and a guy from Ireland - we spoke English. However, on Wednesday, I changed it up a bit and spent most of my very long day with two people from Japan. THEY DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH AT ALL. So we had to speak French. It was a lot of fun. But during lunch, I was talking with Konomie (the Japanese girl) about what I want to do with my degree in geography. Well, I don't know the French translation for LDI (Leadership Development Institute - it's a sweet thing at my church that I'm considering) so I told her it was an internship with a church. She understood but not quite. She asked me what I would be doing. How on earth do you explain that to someone in French?!!? I had no idea, but I went for it anyway. I told her that I'd be assisting the pastor. But I didn't know the French word for pastor. So I said the French word for priest. Well, she didn't know what that was. But she did have her handy-dandy little Japanese translator, so I told her the English word for pastor, and she typed it in. Suddenly, she looked up at me with HUGE eyes. Like the anime eyes. You know the ones I'm talking about:















Now, I'm not stereotyping at all. But her eyes were huge. She asked me if I wanted to be one of those, and I said no. I wanted to be an assistant one (because my French is bad and this was getting complicated). She then looked at me funny for a few seconds until a light bulb went off. She said - in English (?) - "You want to be a sister!" She'd finally understood. Our translation struggle was over! But oh, she was so wrong. I told her no, that I wasn't Catholic, I was Protestant, and that I wanted to work for a Protestant church and help the pastor. She didn't ask anymore questions after that. I don't blame her.

Love.

Address and Schedule

Many people have been asking for my mailing address:

Jordan Noblitt
1 Rue Henri Gunier
34000 Montpellier
France


AND I got my class schedule today. It's sweet :)













No classes on Friday. And sleeping in. YES.

Love.

I'm So Glad I Was Born.

Yesterday (Jan. 22 or 22/1 depending on where you live) was my birthday. And, as I told my friends numerous times that day, I LOVE my birthday! Not because it's MY day (thought it could partially be that) but because it is an excuse for awesome things to happen. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't need an excuse. But some other people do. So it makes it easier for them.

Also, I'm a planner by trade. It's just what I do: I organize, I administer, I schedule. And I ALWAYS plan something epic for my birthday. However, this year, for my 21st birthday, I'm in France. Which makes this slightly harder. But with the help of my lovely friends - Stephanie, Jeanette, Katy, and others - a party was planned.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I started off my first day of being 21 by sleeping until 10. I then made myself a cappuccino and did absolutely nothing besides drink that and spend time with Jesus until 1.

My dear friend, Chris, has been in Montpellier since September. We've had a little contact here and there, but now that I'm in Montpellier also, we wanted to get together to catch up. So at 1 I went out for coffee with Chris. I - of course- got a caramel macchiato, though it was the French version. AND IT WAS AMAZING. After 3 hours of great conversation, we decided to call it quits, as we both had a party to attend later that evening. Coincidence? I think not.

So I came home, made myself some food, then called my sister. I was able to talk to her for 40 minutes without being disconnected! It was a wonderful birthday blessing. I also got to Skype with my friend, Chao, for 20 minutes. I had to cut that short, however, because I'd told my friend, Aaron, that I'd be calling at a certain time. And the time had come. Anyway, sorry for all the name dropping. But that's just how I tell stories. Trust me, it'd be way more confusing if I said boy 1, boy 2, boy 3. Maybe. Or you'd just think I was being mysterious. Which I'm not. Though apparently, I'm elegant? According to Chao. ANYWAY.

I call Aaron and proceed to have a wonderful theological conversation for the next hour and a half or so. Now, for those of you that don't know me, I'm going to clue you in. I love talking about theology. I love the tangents that are possible. Ones that may not matter that much, but they sure are fun to talk about. So anyway, Aaron's gift to me on my birthday was a head-asploding (SBEmail anyone?) spiritual talk. AWESOME.

After that, I had to hurry and get ready and walk to Steph, Jeanette, and Katy's apartment. Which I did without incident. Jeanette wasn't feeling well so she was at a friend's place to rest, but shortly after I got there, others started to arrive. Who arrived first? Men. French men. Like 8 French men. What?!? I was overwhelmed. I think Stephanie and Katy were, too. So we sent them into another room. Haha. Actually, Philippe decided to start a game, so he led them into another room graciously. Others (men and women, thankfully) arrived eventually, though, and the party began. Again?

There was a lot of food, a bilingual cake ( :) ), Goo Goo dolls on the stereo/iPod device, and lots of game playing. People played Settlers of Catan, the French version of Mafia (I played. In French. OMW that was hard.), Wanted (aka Bang), Atomic Business (WTHeck?), charades, and this other card game that I don't know the name of. There were tons of people there! Some of them I knew, but some of them I just met last night. They were great, though. Oh, and Adam came! I met him this summer and haven't seen him since. So that was exciting! We were all jam-packed in this tiny little apartment, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The last person left around 2ish, and since I didn't want to walk home at that time, I slept in the ladies' guest room. I then proceeded to do the ol' Walk of Shame home early the next morning so I could shower, change clothes, and go to church. I felt judged by a lot of French people. Not really. But it was odd to do the Walk of Shame in another country. Next time, I'm taking a change of clothes with me. Just to be safe.

I loved my 21st birthday. And they'll just be getting better from here on out. I'm sure of it.

Love.

Hermit the Frog... errrrr

So this week has been Orientation for my program. However, apparently that means not actually doing much. We took two(?) tours of the city. And I've taken my placement tests. Which were interesting. At least the oral portion.

My oral test didn't go as well as I'd hoped. I was very tired at the beginning of the test, which was in this little tiny orange room. And I sat across from a French professor (probably looking terrified) who asked me questions. Which I didn't understand at first. So I told her that. And she repeated herself more slowly. So I answered. But the questions were dumb. And required one words answers. So that's that I gave. For example:

"What is your nationality?"

"Where do you go to university?"

"What do you like to do in your city?" Have you been to my city?

"Do you prefer to live in the country?"

"What were you doing this time last week?"

That's where things got interesting. I asked myself what time it was, thought for a second, then told her: I was sleeping. And she laughed. Now my first thought was that I'd lied. I might have been watching Wyatt at the time. But she'd have no way of knowing. My second thought was, "OH MY GOSH, MY FRENCH PROFESSOR JUST LAUGHED." She wasn't making fun of me either. She thought I was funny. I didn't see that coming. She proceeded to ask me if that was true. And I told her yes, that I was on winter break and that I love sleeping. The rest of the conversation was super casual, and I was no longer nervous so it flowed nicely.

Since then, I've not done a whole lot. I've read, worked on a short story that I'm writing, read some more, took naps, being a hermit in my apartment. Besides going to a friend's place for dinner last night. My life is pretty boring right now. But I'm in France! Classes start in 6 days. And my birthday is on Saturday! I can't wait!

Love.

France, France, France.

I've arrived in France. Goodness, there's so much I would like to say, but I don't know where to start. Or to end. Or what to put in the middle, for that matter. Brief synopsis.

I traveled all Thursday and most of Friday (what seemed like Friday. It was Friday in France, but not at home). I got on my plane at 11:13 on Thursday in Indianapolis. The ride was brief, but I met two girls in my program that were also on my flight. That was cool. We landed in Minneapolis, where it was snowing of course. 3 hours later, we left for Paris! The flight was long, but I managed to catch some sleep. I loved it when we landed in Paris! I was so excited, and it was so exhilarating to be back! I've missed this place, and I was so thankful to God that He's allowed me to come back.

The 3.5 hour layover in Paris was a killer, though. I nodded off and few times but not enough to really help. However, I slept the whole way to Montpellier (only an hour). I felt bad, because the cutest old French man ever was sitting by me trying to talk to me. I couldn't keep my eyes open though. Oh well. I missed the free beverage. We're even.

So I get to Montpellier and take a cab to the hotel. Then I have nothing to do the rest of the evening. Mind you, it's 12:30PM in France. I could sleep, because I'm exhausted. But instead, I lay on my couch like a zombie for THREE HOURS. Not moving. Or sleeping. Oops. Then I took a super long shower. Mostly because I didn't want to move at all. Standing like a zombie is like sleeping, no? My roommate, Ashley, and I went out to dinner after walking around Montpellier for a while. That was fun. But not nearly as fun as going to Jeanette, Stephanie, and Katy's apartment for a movie night! The 3 ladies were there, as were Beth and Scott. And Nastassia! I met her this summer and have been looking forward to seeing her ever since!

Saturday I toured the city though I wasn't shown anything new. Which was fine, of course. Then, I moved into my apartment. Lugging my luggage (weird words to use together; I'm not changing it) across the city (or only 5 blocks or so) by myself was not fun. But I'm here and living life now. I went to bed early Saturday, but Sunday I went to church and saw some old friend. I also met two new ones. I then spent the afternoon with Jeanette, Stephanie, and Katy again. It was lovely to just sit and eat lunch and talk. I'm so blessed by those ladies :)

Tomorrow is orientation and placement tests. Though I have all afternoon free so I'm going to English club! I can't wait to see more of my friends! I am missing my friends friends at school, though. However, we will be reunited soon. Time to eat Nutella.

Love.

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane (and all those other cliches that are appropriate)

I've now entered the Last 25 Hours in the United States part of my life. Oh gosh, that sounds like this is permanent. It's not. At least, I don't think it is. I have no idea what tomorrow or 6 months will bring.

"Now listen, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.' Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, 'If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.' As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil." (James 4:13-16)

These goodbyes that I've been saying are all quite different. There's the "Let's not actually talk about it" kind of goodbye. Where you talk about everything else but the fact that you won't be seeing each other for 6 months. Then at the end of the conversation, we say "See you soon!", hug briefly, and go our separate ways. This goodbye is brief and fairly easy. I can't decide if I like it though.

Another type of goodbye is the Overly Dramatic, Tear-Inducing, Drawn-Out goodbye. I HATE THIS. It's not that end of the world that we won't be seeing each other anytime soon. And we'll still be in contact. So a 2 minute hug while crying isn't going to make the goodbye easier. It's just going to annoy most people who are witnessing this. Then they'll feel like there's something wrong with them. Like maybe they're emotionless sea-monsters. Or just like their friendship means less. Which it doesn't.

Then there's the perfect goodbye. These are few and far between but appreciated greatly. You tell the person briefly what they mean to you ("You're a great friend." "It'll be different around here without you."), you encourage them ("You'll have a great time!" "Can't wait till you're home; we'll be counting down the days!), or you just make it super simple ("I'll miss you. A lot."). Mixtures of these can be appropriate. As is a hug. Tears are not inappropriate. Neither is laughter. Just be real, but be polite and respectful of everyone else involved.

Also: you can get major points for doing little, unexpected things. For example, if you've never hugged before, it may be nice to hug now. If you're good enough friends. Another option is a small gift. Not in a conceited way. But like a little pocket pebble (I just made that up) or something that has some made-up meaning. That could be nice. Saying that you'll be praying for the person is great, too. I'm sure there are other little, unexpected things. But I won't name them. They're unexpected, right?

That being said, these are all generalities. I'm guilty of all of the mistakes mentioned. And this is by no means a request for perfect goodbyes for the rest of my life. I like imperfect ones, too. They make them special and quirky.

So today we'll see how the rest of my goodbyes go. Wait, I'm leaving today? Or tomorrow rather? Where has my life gone? Where has my winter break gone? I'M GOING TO FRANCE?!?! Those thoughts have been in my head for that past few days. And yesterday I was not very excited about going. I was, but you know, the transition week(s) are going to not be fun. Or they could be. I hate being all pessimistic-y.

As I get ready to leave, though, I have other thoughts, too. I want to see Christ in France. There aren't many Christ-followers there, but I want to see Him working. I want to be able to share my faith. I want to grow. I want Him to keep refining me. I want find truth about Him and about myself. I want France to rock me and God's presence in me to rock France. Pray with me?

Love.

Monday, Monday - Can't Trust that Day.

I have three more days in the U.S. Whoa. I'm making phone calls and hanging with my people like it's going out of style. Maybe it is? I doubt it, though.

Just so you know, Jesus is really cool. Now, I say that about a lot of things. This time it's for real. He's basically the coolest person ever. And yes, He was/is a person. 100% man, 100% God. You do the math. And that's what's on my mind today: how great Jesus is. Well, not only that. More like the implications of how awesome Jesus is.

If Jesus is who He says He is (the Son of God), and He did indeed die and was raised to life, then what the heck are we doing? Why are we living like this isn't true? I guess sometimes we do. When someone dies or when times are hard, we turn to Christ. We know everything will be alright in the end because Jesus promised it would be. And He's sovereign. BUT. If He's sovereign, why do we still take most of our lives into our own hands? Our relationships. Our education. Our finances. WE have control over these; not God Himself. How vain and stupid is that?

If Jesus was God and died for us, for our sins because we can't pay for them ourselves, then why are we still sinning? Sin is no longer our master, right? Why do we allow it to be? I guess this is what I'm dealing with lately. I'm convinced that I'll never get out from under this sin. But Christ has made a way for me to: Himself. Yet, I spit in His face and try to fix it on my own. Ugh. It's disgusting. I've been living my life of my own power, of my own will. That's living a lie. Jesus is so much more than that. That's pure truth.

Love.

Sometimes There's Nothing to Do But Watch the Snow Fall

It's not snowing. The title of this blog is a metaphor. A simile? No, a metaphor.

This morning, I sitting here with my 3/4 full mug of steaming vanilla chai latte. Because I can't measure. It tastes good though. That's all that matters. I can always make more. Though I won't have time, because my sister is coming over!! !! !!!! ! I'm that excited. She comes over or I go to her house every day. BUT today is different. Her boss gave her the day off today to spend with me :) He likes me. I don't know why. He didn't used to, but one day I told him off. Ever since then, he's really liked me.

Now, let's get something straight here. I did NOT actually tell him off. But my sister and her friend at work sure think I did. Because he was saying things to me like he does (He knows everything and can be demeaning, but hey, I like the guy. Kind of.), and I just disagreed with him. I told him what I thought matter-of-factly. He didn't have a response so he said okay and walked away. I've been famous in her office ever since. This happened in May of 2010.

So because of this, my sister does not have to work this Friday, January 7, 2011. Life is funny.

Holy crap, it IS snowing. I swear that just started. Maybe I'm a psychic? Gosh, it took me far too long to spell that word. Apparently, I'm not. Actually, there ARE rumors that I am, but only amongst the 20 or so people in the Paranormal Psychology class that I took sophomore year. One day, just for the heck of it, our professor had a psychic visit our class. We took a test to see what kind of psychic abilities we had and how strong they were. Let's just say the force is strong with me. Me, I just think I'm good at reading people and situations. But alas, this is a gift and a curse.

That's enough of story time. My sister will be here any minute. I need to finish getting ready. And at least put socks on since it's snowing. You would think I would have seen that coming. Dang.

Love.

Loud.

I ate steak tonight. For the first time in ages. One of my dad's friends from work, Tim, decided at some point that he likes me. Not like that. He's considerably older than me and married. But I guess he decided that I was cool. Basically, the only times I remember being around him was when my sister was dating his roommate, and we stopped by to drop something off. Tim came over and talked to 12-year old me. I was annoyed by him. Fast forward 7 years. He came to my mom's visitation after she passed away. I didn't recognize him because he was wearing nice clothes, looked older, and wasn't wearing a hat. Afterward, I felt bad for not really talking to him. Anyway, last May he told my dad that the week that I was home between finals and going to France on a summer project with Campus Crusade for Christ he wanted to take me out for steak. Random? Yes. Awesome. YES.

I like steak. And chicken. And pork. And crab. And meat in general. On my list of 10 requirements for my future husband (that would have to be a completely different blog post all together), it is required that he not be vegan. I'm considering bumping that up to vegetarian. I love to eat meat. So he must, too. Anyway.

We went out for steak. And I was dumb. I ordered the New York Strip steak instead of the prime rib which Tim suggested to me. I felt bad. The prime rib was so expensive. I didn't make the same mistake again tonight. And let me tell you, it was the best steak I've ever eaten.

We had lovely conversation. Basically Tim is one of the most inappropriate people that I've ever met. I don't know why he likes me? I make my fair share of comments that I should just keep to myself, but I couldn't keep up with him in this regard. Ever. And I don't think I want to. But I absolutely love going out to dinner with him. He's always on his "best" behavior on these dinners. Tim, his wife, my dad, and I. We spend most of the time making fun of my dad and talking about France. And the Bible. Which I found weird. But surprising. And pleasing.

Tim loves to kill things. He hunts EVERYTHING THAT HE CAN POSSIBLY SHOOT. EVEN YOU. Especially you. Actually, he loves to hunt raccoons. I think? I don't know, I spaced out during that part of the conversation. He wears camo and flannel all the time. And hats, like I said earlier. And he's fairly short. And works at a label-printing factory. So his hands are ink-stained. He makes poop jokes and kind of sexist jokes and jokes about his co-workers (who I know - all jokes are based in facts).

Tim is cool. So is prime rib. That is all.

Love.

All My Good Intentions.

Oops. It's almost been a month since my last post. I had every intention of being consistent with this blog. In light of that (and New Year's Resolutions which exude good intentions), I decided that that would be the topic of this blog.

I would first like to say that I do sometimes follow through. There are things that I plan to do that actually get done. Going to France was one of those things. Going back to France was another. I'm sure there have been others; I just can't think of them.

Anyway, I think that one big reason that I don't follow through with things I have intended to do is that I am quite easily distracted. If you know me, you know that already. I'm not the kind of distracted person that likes shiny objects. My friend, Thea, is that kind of individual. I'm distracted by movement. There are many consequences of this ailment. I think I will now briefly dive into them.

- Talking on the phone is SO HARD. I need to be in a place with as little movement as possible, such as a padded room or something like that. Even then, I am still at risk of being distracted by my own movement. I fidget all the time. My feet, hands, shoulders are always moving, just as a general rule. If you're ever talking on the phone to me, don't be offended if I trail off or don't hear what you say. It's inevitable.

- Many things I begin end up only 5/6 of the way done. Now, you might be thinking that this is a ridiculous fraction for an approximation. But I'll have you know that I've started enough blog posts, puzzles, and sand castles to know how much I don't get done. I always stop with about 1/6 of whatever unit you're counting in from the finish. What if we did that with everything we began? The Great Wall of China? The Eiffel Tower? The spectacular brownies I had last night? Free Bird would be too short. Our lives could potentially be insanely different...

- Staying focused while driving is surprisingly easy. Things are constantly moving, so I don't have a problem. However, if someone is sitting in the middle of my backseat, I tend to focus on them. I talk to them more, I look at them often, and everyone else gets ignored. Ride with me sometime. You'll understand.

- I stare at people when they're talking or when I'm talking. This is a result of me trying to not be distracted. Whenever I'm out for coffee or on a date (like THAT happens often, right?), I don't break eye contact. People are constantly walking by, gesturing with their hands, standing up, doing cart-wheels. You know what I'm talking about. If I break eye contact with the person I'm with, the conversation is lost for at least 12 seconds. That's how long it takes to get my full attention back. Give or take 10 seconds.

Hmmmm. Well, that's about all I have for now. I had every intention of making this blog post longer... but you know how that goes.

Love.