Une Amerloque en Normandie

It's August 20th. In one month and five days, I will get on a plane and travel to France, where I will live for... well, at least seven months, and most likely quite a bit longer. I'll be living in Normandy, working in Normandy, and researching in Normandy. And yet no one ever fails to ask me, "When are you leaving for Paris?", "How long are you staying in Paris?", or to state the obvious, "Oh, you're going to have fun in Paris!"

Except that I won't be in Paris. This is Paris:

Paris is the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, the Arc de Triomphe, confused tourists walking SLOWLY wearing EVERY PIECE OF JEWELRY THEY OWN, busy Parisians walking FAST wearing BLACK, smoking cigarettes, stopping only to linger over a café (coffee) and croissant (croissant) on a terrace with little chairs facing out to the street, so that they may scowl at passersby or gossip with fellow Parisian friends about how obnoxious the tourists are: "ces sacrés amerloques!"

No, I'll be in Normandy, and more specifically, in a little town called Flers. I'm not really sure what to expect, except one thing: cows. There are lots of cows in Normandy. Since there are cows, there is also a lot of fields. And cow-produced food. Such as cheese. And butter. And, well, beef.

In addition to living in Flers, I'll be traveling to Caen quite often as well, which is also in Normandy, but is a much bigger town. This is a picture from my last trip to Caen:

So I'm starting this little web journal so that, if you so wish, you can follow my experiences in France. Think of it as a buddy pass: your personal invitation to live vicariously through my travels. Although, consider yourself forewarned, there are no Champs-Elysées in Normandy. But there are indeed "les champs"...