L'Auberge Limousine

So I got lost in Limoges, quite literally, on the way to my first class. Who knew that the city is such a vast, sprawling metropolis (with its very own beltway lined with lackluster 70's style highrises)? And the well-meaning Frenchies that I queried on the street really had no clue about the location of the Fac des Lettres, and sent me on a wild goose chase, circling kilometers, during which I decided that grey Limoges is for the birds (and I mean the grimey pigeon variety). Bus no. 14 only goes by my stop once every hour? And who's heard of a town without helpful taxis?

But then I started class. And now the cat's out of the bag. I've discovered the best deal, worldwide, for learning French. My teachers are awesome (super-energetic, patient, kind). And, I've got five- count 'em 5!- of them for different subjects like Expression Orale, Phonetiques, and even Storytelling. Pierre and I did the math and it's a total steal what I'm paying per hour. Plus, it's like my own little L'Auberge Espagnole, except my class covers almost all the continents, instead of just Europe (the film does a good job of stereo-typing the roommates to represent each of the EU member states). Cute older gentlemen from Turkey, a shy brother and sister duo from Poland, a basketball player from Mali (whom I've already bored to tears talking about Malian music, my dictionary clutched in hand), a gay Colombian dancer hottie, my chic friend from China, Madagascar, Czech Republic, Brazil... The list goes on and on (potential friends for MW!)

And the only common denominator: French. We've got to speak French. How rad.