Author: Ali Vitali

Ali is an NBC News Campaign Embed covering Donald Trump and the Republican Party for Decision 2016. She joined MSNBC in September 2012 as a member of the video team, responsible for publishing video content, and then moved to The Cycle as a Graphics and Segment Producer. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @alivitali and on Snapchat avitali.

Bienvenue a Aix!

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Finally – my first post from Aix! (Applause.) For any of you who aren’t Blackberry addicted, and thus haven’t been able to BBM me during this past week, I have no internet in my host home so blogging, Skyping and other things of that nature n’existe plus pour moi.

But I finally cracked the Tumblr code and figured out how to blog from BBerry – wahoo! Let the blogging commence…

The first week has definitely been a whirlwind – of emotions, experiences and time zone changes but I’m slowly getting used to (and falling in love with) my new surroundings. My host mother, Marie-Claire, is so nice and its getting easier everyday to have actual conversations as opposed to her talking and me nodding, smiling, and adding an occasional “oui.” Thank goodness!

As for my program, there are 32 of us that make up the American University Center Provence (AUCP) class of Fall 2010. 30 girls, 2 boys. So its basically the Tulane Freshmen class ratio but on a smaller scale in France. Other than the lovely Audrey Bowes, I didn’t know anyone before coming to school on Day 1. And making friends in French was definitely an unexpected curveball that made getting to know people much harder than its ever been for me. But, somehow, we all made it work!

And now, after a week of orienting and french reviewing, my first real day of classes starts bright and early tomorrow at 9am (ew) and I’m taking a break from my first reading assignment to sit by my sun-filled window to squint at my -2 size font and write my first reflection on Aix. Things are just getting started and I am so excited to finally find a rhythm to my day, complete with classes in French, baguettes by the mouthful and afternoon after afternoon spent in the shade of a cafe awning with an espresso by my side and a sea full of new people to watch. (Yes, I drink espresso now, Dad!) Bienvenue a Aix, readers! There is definitely more to come!

Courage!

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I’ve been in Paris for a little under a week now and am slowly – I’m talking snail’s pace – gaining some confidence in my French. In the words of my program, “Courage!” This is a quick update, though. Once I get my pictures onto my computer, I’ll be able to post some pictures and anecdotes – of which, Pange and I have accrued a few. And so for you, readers, “Patience!”

Tomorow I leave Paris and meet my host family and ma nouvelle ville! Aix-en-Provence, j’arrive…

Comment vous dites “chow?”

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Today was a pretty successful day, which is good because my last day in the US should be a day of productivity, I guess. I’m 96% packed and can manage to eat the inside of bread, so I’m safe when it comes to les baguettes a Paris. Fewf! But the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy now. I wasn’t nervous when I left for college – it felt like it had been such a long time coming that I was ready to go as soon as they let me – so I’m not really sure if what I’m feeling is nerves or excitement. It’s probably both, although I’m finding it hard to find the excitement which is mixed in so well among the anxiety, questions and jitters that I’m experiencing.

I guess my main fear is communicating. Strange because anyone who knows me knows that I’m a compulsive networker who could talk to a wall (I try not to do this too often). But diagnosing the problem is step one to fixing it, right? My French is, to say the least, rusty after an entire summer off. I’ve heard of the magic of “once you’re there, it’ll all come back to you” so I’m hoping that I can wave my magic wand (of course, I have one) and create some space in my brain for a new language. Either way, I’ve got a crash course in francais coming at me straight away. First word I’ve got to look up: chow. Then I can at least tell my former NBC co-workers that lunchtime is the same in Aix as it is at NBC.

Chipmunk cheeks here!

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And, yes, I’m talking about my face. It’s been 4 days (of hell) since I got my wisdom teeth removed and while it didn’t hurt at all during, I really and truly felt mislead. Once that numbing gel and Novacaine wears off – DAMN – it hurts. I had a friend who called me a few hours after her surgery asking if I wanted to go out “tonight” and as I laid on my couch I began to wonder if she was a robot, because there is really no way that’s possible. Really, Aliza, that’s impossible. Needless to say, I’ve been groggily laying (drooling/sleeping) on my couch for the better part of my last week in the US and am -.5% closer to being packed for my next 5 month’s abroad. (I unpacked from my Hawaii trip -somehow- and now just have empty suitcases and misplaced socks.) Always the acheiver. But I consider this post some small step out of my kodeine induced and prolonged stupor – I mean, if I can string ABC’s together, outfits might be next. Maybe. Probably not. Delusions are good medicine, too.

But really, the packing has to start sometime. And this swelling has definitely added a new twist to my French accent. By that I mean, I kind of talk with a lisp now. As if I weren’t worried about the language barrier before…I’m just hoping I won’t have to perform my well-rehearsed French explanation of why my host family looks to be housing a small rodent instead of a student.

On the plus side, I finished “Lost” Season 6 which means that I finished the entire series in one summer. Before you applaud this amazing feat, I should say that – as Suzy can attest to – there were some hard times on this road to success. I chose Jack over dinner, Sawyer over Tasti D-Lite and even Kate (that two faced little -) over IsaShakes (which you know I love). But now that it’s over I guess I have to move on to a new obsession, something else to be unhealthily attached to…and before you say pain pills, my prescription runs out in a day. Damn it. Next best thing: Pretty Little Liars! C-Fed, I blame you for this…

Ya can’t stuff the notes back in Louis Armstrong’s trumpet

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“Crime? Yes, it thrives along with the magic. Festering wounds? Sure, but tour-bus outings to the still-devastated Ninth Ward stop at grassroots home-building initiatives such as the Musicians’ Village and the Brad Pitt-led Make It Right project. Not rebuild the country’s most distinctive cultural scene? You might as well try to stuff the notes back into Louis Armstrong’s trumpet.”

-Jerry Shriver, Town&Country. August 2010.

“And I’m…Link”

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Sorry, Hairspray’s on. Sing-a-long version…it’s really infectious.

Anyway, SF’s still cold and (no offense) but continually giving me reasons to believe that NYC is the only city that actually knows how to conduct mass transit. And in writing that sentence I realize I’ve become that typical NY snob. Aw well, there are worse things. Like dysfunctional mass transit and ignorant cab drivers.

Otherwise, Fisherman’s Wharf provided ample entertainment for the afternoon. Ghiradelli Square presented great people watching (obviously a favorite pasttime – don’t pretend you don’t love it, too), a satisfiable (though not quite Le Madeleine level) cup of coffee, and a great square of chocolate. Great afternoon but I am just about ready to get back to NY. I have accepted that I’ll be living on the couch for the next few days with puffy cheeks and froyo courtesy of Oral Surgery. Yay wisdom teeth? Visitors welcome!

Aloha, Hawaii

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I sit here writing this post cup of coffee in hand, cushioned lounge chair under me, sea-scented breeze running through my hair and into my nose, and one of the most perfect scenes sprawling in front of me.

This brings me to the aloha/aloha dilemma brought up so eloquently by Sandra Bullock in “Miss Congeniality.” If you haven’t seen it – do, but don’t bother with the second one. Anyway, when I say “aloha” this time I mean it in the goodbye sense. I’m using the post as just one more reason to put off packing in hopes that maybe I’ll put it off long enough that I’ll happen to miss my flight and, damn, we’ll have to stay for another day. I’ve never been so lucky so I don’t expect to start now but hey, I’m open to it.

This past week has been, in one word, relaxing. Just what I needed before going home to an anxiously awaited removal of wisdom teeth, packing and pre-France mayhem. The soundtrack of waves remixed with the BroBible Summer Playlist (yes, I said it) was all my ears were privvy to and the most movement I did, save for my Day 1 run to scope out the resort, was flip myself over to avoid an uneven tan – which was a successful operation.

Aloha, readers. Next post from San Francisco.

Ode to Irby 233

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Everything old really is new again. Not that Irby can ever really be considered new, but the sentiment stands. I’ve recently been informed by the ever-so-reliable Facebook that my old room has new, “smelly” inhabitants. I do, however, know these rascals and happen to enjoy the tales of their antics, which I’m sure will continue in the spaces that I and my 7 roommates used to call our own. Still…to be blunt: this is insanely weird. I mean, it feels like yesterday that I was lugging box upon suitcase upon suitcase – correction, Matt and Foster were lugging box upon suitcase, but that’s just semantics. Besides, I encouraged from afar.

It seemed like some distant omen hearing Chris call “dibs, bitches!” on my bed for next year. By the way, good luck with that….

Well, either way you slice this pie the Irby corner suite of old has become new again. We’ll miss the jungle, the days of the hammock, the welcome (and unwelcome) visitors at all hours, the constant notes of Miley and some good ol’ country flowing escaping through our door, the acoustics of the bathroom (ah-hem!), The List, our coloring book display, the reliability of the railing as you heaved the nights drinks into the leaves and the sun soaked floors that we used to bathe in sunlight – whoa, did I just make Irby sound glamorous? Peace out, Irby 233. Good times, good music and probably more memories than we can even try to remember. Oh and if the new tenants are reading this: If you guys happen to find my blue Thing 2 wig, keep it. While it has sentimental value, I’m pretty sure it’s also decaying and may be a health hazard. Cheers!

And now a quick trip down MemIRBY Lane…

Love you girls!

Since when did Move-In Day become something I’m jealous of?

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With half of my friends going abroad, and half of my friends staying in New Orleans it’s easy to see why I would feel torn between France and it’s old colonial territory of Nouvelle Orleans – isn’t it? My feelings of regret for exploring the world are shared with many of my friends – some of whom have left and others of whom are still trying to fit just one more pair of shoes into an already about-to-explode suitcase. International Brat Syndrome, as we have termed it, is best characterized by feelings of self-pity, frequent visits to “MyTulane” and an almost constant repetition of the phrase: ‘do you know what it means, to miss New Orleans?’ on almost every social networking site known to the college population.

It’s clearly a testament to Tulane that I would feel pangs of jealousy even at the thought of moving stranger’s boxes up Monroe’s 12 floors, by foot, in 98 degree New Orleans heat, just to be side by side with my New Orleans crew. In fact, until now, Move-In Day has never sounded so good – and that’s saying something, considering last year I got a drawer full of free Tulane t-shirts.

The only word to describe this feeling – about to embark on a 5 month voyage into French society – is bittersweet. Someone once said that “where ever you go, there you are.” And there is validity to that. But I can’t help but think that while I may be only physically in one place, my heart can be in many. And while New York will always have a piece of it, New Orleans and Tulane have more than earned the piece of me that I’m leaving there this Fall. Still, I am more than excited to get to France and spend the next 5 amazing months of my Junior year as a resident of it’s countryside. I’m so excited that I feel like I am an embodiment of my packed-to-the-brim suitcase: about to burst at the seams but trying to fit just a little bit more in everyday.

(Our attempt to spell “TULANE” really fell apart at the “N”…)