C'est pas grave.

I realized during my French Literature class that I accidentally told my host parents that my sister was mentally handicapped. Great. I meant to say that she had a learning disorder. It's funny how that happens. As it turns out, I am like a five year old in France. Sometimes, I can't even communicate my most basic needs. Communicating in broken French has turned out to be a very humbling experience. Buying a phone in French is proving to be an even more humbling experience.

Also, quick note. When I said that France is similar to the US, I didn't mean that the two countries are exactly the same. Cultural differences exist! But on a very basic level, I could survive life in France as I am now. Why do I say that? Because little things like gestures are the same. For example, when I nod my head up and down it means yes and when I make a fist and point my thumb up it means good stuff! France is a little more formal than the US, but in a way I almost prefer that. You know what else I prefer? The mountains! This city is beautiful. I'll post pictures later.