Manges, Manges, Manges

They feed me here-- lots and lots of food. Several courses at lunch and dinner and lots of bread at breakfast. They insist I eat more until it's to a point that I am beyond the point of full. After every meal, it hurts to move.
One one hand I'm concerned because a packed schedule means little time to hit the gym (and I haven't seen any so far, but it's my goal this week to find one and get back on the treadmill asap.)
But at the same time, I'm laughing on the inside.
Here's why:

1.) My mother read an article in the newspaper a few months back about a college kid who studied abroad in Egypt and nearly died of starvation.
When he returned to the US, he weighed under 100 pounds! His host family never fed him because of a lengthy religious fast. This headline clearly shook my mother to the core and she was constantly bringing it up. Even after I told her how well I am being fed, she's still paranoid. A care package filled with high protein foods arrived at Madame's house this morning.

2.) I have learned that there are just as many stereotypes that come along with being an American as there are stereotypes associated with French people. Europeans believe that Americans are stupid, ignorant, promiscuous and fat. (Now, there are some truths to every stereotype, but I'll get to that later...) During the time have been here, there have been a few cases where people were surprised by how "skinny" I was.
But what's so funny about this is that I have eaten heftier portions here than I have ever eaten in the states.
Back home, 99 percent of the time, I am responsible for feeding myself. Hence, this typically means using whatever rice/cereal/pasta/peanut butter and jam I can find in the pantry, and making some sort of "meal" out of it. A lot of times, it's grab and go between sleep, class and CM Life. On a good day, I'll grab Q'doba or Subway and that usually fills me up for the entire day. Typically, I eat one decent meal per day between the countless cups of coffee, handfuls of oyster crackers and occasional free banana or bagel. I eat what I can when I can. I don't have a lot of time or money, so it's just a matter of getting by.

Sunday, I went inside three castles on the Loire River: Le Château D'Azay-Le-Rideau, Château de Chenonceau and Chambord
It was part of a 14 hour bus tour, in which we saw all of the castles on the Loire River. (We drove past the rest of them).
About halfway through the first castle tour, the batteries inside of my camera died, so I have very few photos from my day. Unfortunately, though still impressive, D'Azay-Le-Rideau was the least impressive of the three.
My favorite was easily Chambord. Not only was it Mammoth, (we had an hour and a half to tour it and I didn't even make it through half of the castle) but the design and architecture was unbelievable. There were tiny, intricate designs on every stretch of ceiling and on every door. Leonardo Da-Vinci designed the castle's double helix staircases, combining the design of the traditional French spiral staircase with Italian style landings at each floor. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that the castle was six centuries old and stood there appearing untouched. (minus the names in all languages that had been carved into the walls throughout) The original, actual portraits of the Louis', Marie Antoinette and François I were still there hanging on the wall.

We spent 14 hours on a bus and roughly four hours off the bus, actually taking a look at the castles. It was a long, exhausting ride.

While I was walking through a gift shop at Chambord, I found a T-shirt that colorfully displayed the Castle's most recent promotional campaign "Made in Chambord." It's an idea that has been used by the world's commercial industries who try to sell all things French.
I liked it, but, I couldn't find a small, so I headed over to a sales person who was sitting at a desk. Halfway to my destination, another woman stepped up to the desk. As the saleswoman greeted her with "Bonjour", the customer made this sweeping motion with her hand in the air, across the front her body and snootily said "English."
That was apparently her cue to this French person that she could not and would not even attempt French, not even a "Parlez-vous Anglais? Merci." And the woman behind the desk began to speak to her in English.

I don't care if you're a tourist or not, not even TRYING to speak the native language is disrespectful. You have to try, even if your French is awful.
How annoyed would this woman be if someone came up to her in the States and started speaking Spanish, or Italian, or Russian? She would look at them like they were crazy. I felt a little embarrassed to be an American.
For the record, It was determined IN FRENCH, that they were out of smalls.

Like I said before, I have good days and bad days with my French. Sometimes I understand everything that is being said to me and easily reply. Other times, I'm confused or find that to construct a sentence, it requires several words that I just don't know. Though, typically, I have at least one complete disaster of a conversation and one really great conversation everyday.

I wish life was like "The Matrix" and someone could just upload the French language through a USB port that would already be naturally in place on the back of my neck. That would be nice.