Unchanging Window

People, people, people…have no fear.
I am back.

Since we last spoke…I went to Les Fêtes de Wallonie in Namur with a gaggle of exchange students and had lot’s of uh, funThis included carnival rides, a marching band playing Lady Gaga, gay magazines, Journey songs, walking way out of our way along a busy highway, searching for a bald boy in a courtyard-turned-nightclub, more fun, more Journey, and following a trail of red paint up and down the Citadel of Namur.

School is something else. I now have a schedule…with 13 hours of French a week…and mostly with small children. I’m grateful for the work and my absolutely gorgeous teacher, but I could do without the beady judging eyes of Belgian 7th graders. Today they spent half the class asking me questions about America though. That was cute, but brings me to my next point.

I would like to thank you, George W. Bush, for singlehandedly making my exchange more difficult. More than often I find myself defending the good left in America. My main motivation to learn French right now is to be able to properly address the issues at hand.

First of all.
America is fucking huge. I can’t stress this enough.
I gots peoples all sayin’ “They slaughter a lot of cows in Chicago right?”…”yeah ok”
I don’t know what they’re eating in Utah. It ain’t perogies though.

Yes, I do like hamburgers some days. Not a problem, right? What IS a problem is that Belgian frites lady tryin’a deep fry my hamburger. blasphemy.
I miss you

I know the healthcare system sucks.
I don’t know how to say “Obama better git er done” in French yet.

This whole exchange experience is just turning me into a nationalist.

Saturday night I witnessed a Franco Dragone spectacular. There was a real fire organ involved. That’s a ll I’m sayin’,
The image of that 15 foot puppet scaling that church wall in pursuit of the moon, will be forever engraved in my mind 

Tomorrow I’m hanging out in Charleroi
Saturday I’m going to a Beatles festival in Mons



One response to “Unchanging Window

  1. Miss you, Kass.

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