In one week, I will get on a train. I will step away from my baguette-filled existence; I will finally finish this chapter of my life. I will cry. Or maybe, smile. This last month has been so ridden with conflicting emotions that it is hard to say what my reaction will actually be when the conductor blows the whistle. Will I be excited, like I was getting on the plane in September, or will I be a teary mess? I don't know. Probably both.
I will miss France. I will miss the gray stone buildings of Flers that my peers find ugly but I find charming. I will miss the typical Normandy architecture that one finds still intact in towns that weren't hit by the war. The little towns sprinkled here and there in between the Normandy cow pastures. I will miss finding yet another magnificently constructed church that is who-knows-how-old in every town that the two-lane, no-billboard highway passes by. I will miss how green the hills are. So green that they look cartoon-ish, a caricature of reality. I will be sad to no longer indulge in fancy tarts every Sunday after a three-hour family meal. I will look back nostalgically on the occasional extended family get-togethers, that include more than 40 people and are possible because no one ever moved away too far from home. I will miss spending Wednesday afternoons drinking coffee at our favorite cafe with my friends before skipping off to my dance class (I won't miss the break dancing, however), and using snow days to go sledding instead of taking notes. I love the little shops in town that specialize in meat or bread or vegetables and are of much better quality than what one finds in the chain supermarkets. I adore the style here. The way girls and especially boys dress, so much more sophisticated and original than in America. I might even miss electro music. More than anything, I will miss the people. The sisters, brothers, cousins, grandparents, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles that all live close enough to drop by any given afternoon. My international friends from AFS or another organisation who were such a relief when it all got to be too much, and who teach me about cultures from all over the world. And my French friends, beautiful and hilarious, stylish and confident, whom I envy, love, and dance with until four in the morning. These people are what will really have me sniffling as I load my bags onto that train.
And I will be happy to land in Berkeley. I am excited to get a taste of the international cuisine found in restaurants all over the city and also in my own kitchen. Mexican food, Thai food, Chinese food, Indian food, Italian food, even good old American food (my mouth waters thinking about baby back ribs and grilled chicken at the next barbecue). I will feel a sense of relief to rediscover the relaxed openmindedness of the bay area, where people can look past the blue hair and questionable attire to see the real person inside. The French can be much too judgemental. I can't wait to be back in a megalopolis where it is possible to walk down a busy street and not see a single person you know. I miss going to see dance performances and musicals nearly every month to support my friends and be blown away by a great show. I will appreciate school spirit next year, what with sports teams, rally days, school performances, prom, senior pranks, and red and gold graduation robes. France is lacking in school pride. I will be happy to no longer be the foreigner, the one who is always in the wrong, the one whose customs are always weird (like who could possibly eat a nectarine before dinner? That is a dessert fruit Tiana, come on.), and who still trips over words from time to time. Above all, I am enormously impatient to see everyone I left behind. I have lived a year without my parents to pick me up after the SATs, ask me how it went, and make me good food for good recuperation. A year without my little brother to drive me crazy and make the whole family homemade pasta and bagels. A year without my (less numerous) aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, who may not all live in California, but who provide wonderful excuses to travel to hot and humid Florida, busy New York, beautiful New Hampshire, or calm and sandy Lake Michigan. (International friends are also practical for this reason). And my friends. A year without my crazy, wonderful, amazing, friends. Friends who never make me feel like an outsider and are up for wilderness adventures, long intellectual discussions, movie marathons, beach trips, or whatever else you can think of. This year had its long moments when I really felt the distance between me and these people.
To be completely honest, if I had to choose between living in the Bay Area and living in Normandy, I would opt for the Bay. As much as I love Normandy, I would miss the California Coast too much if I came here permanently. But leaving after one year here is still so difficult. It is more than just leaving a place that I am fond of. The pain comes not only from leaving behind the many people and things I have grown to love, but also because I have finally made a life for myself here. I am finally comfortable. I did it; I succeeded in finding friends and understanding the French way of life. I have built a new world for myself. Giving that all up is awful. A bit like that Linkin Park song that Eli used to annoy me with all the time. I've tried so hard, and got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter.
That song is extreme. I know what I've done here matters. I know how much it has taught me and how it has affected my life. And I really will be happy to be home. But like I said, I can't yet tell if the happiness or the tears will win out on the plane flight back across the pond.
I should go now. It's time to start my suitcase.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Seasons in Normandy
I have now lived in this rural Normandy paradise for ten months. When the other AFSers and I dismounted the train in September, the fields around us were lush and green, the skies were a dry, summer blue, and bumble bees bothered us in the heat until we couldn't take it anymore and dove in the pool. Ten months later, (without taking into account this last week of rain), the bees are buzzing again and the hills have achieved the same green. Before coming to Le Chatellier (population 300), France, I had seen red leaves and snow on occasional family vacations, but I had never lived through a year with real, well defined seasons. It might get slightly more wet in January and slightly more dry in September where I come from, but I had never experienced waking up to see everything blanketed in white, or watching every green leaf gradually turn yellow and then brown. This year, I have gotten to relish in each new change in temperature (relish...or sometimes freeze). Every time I see the colors changing around me, I marvel. Here are some flash backs to each seasonal chapter of my year abroad, so that you can marvel with me, because it really is incredible.
Autumn
Most of these pictures were taken by friends and family, not me. Fall was beautiful, no question about it, but it didn't make as big of an impression on me as winter or spring. I think this is because everything was so new for me in those months, not just the climate. There was also the language, food, people, architecture, school system, and everything else to get used to. A little while later, and the only thing that really took my breath away was the new solstice or equinox, but in October I was still caught up in learning to speak french and finding my way around town (the 20,000 person town where my school is, not the 300 person town where I live, because that one was pretty easy to navigate).
Winter
Although the pictures tell a different story, winter wasn't just about snow. Yes, late November and all of December were filled with its magic, but there were at least two months after the new year that didn't sparkle, just stayed wet and windy and cold cold cold. Those two months were some of the hardest of the year for me, and I was too caught up in my struggles to document them on camera. It's alright, though, because I would prefer to remember the snow ball fights and sledding adventures anyways.
Spring
Our Spring this year was an unnaturally warm one. This long week of rain that has been keeping me from taking advantage of summer vacation should have been switched with April and May's seventy and eighty degrees. But, despite being caught up in classrooms for some of it, we did get some nice mid-trimester breaks and spent our hour and a half of lunch time sitting on the grass hills at school. The dominant spring colors were yellow, white, and green, unlike Berkeley's famous pink.
Summer
These pictures were taken in the beginning of the year, but I'm hoping the landscape will go back to resembling it soon. At the moment, the once dry dirt road is a puddled mess, but I still have hope that I will get to frolic in the sunshine before I come back to a foggy Berkeley July. Today is hope-inspiring because there were some pretty warm half hours in between storms.
I don't know if you can tell, but I am gearing myself into goodbye mode.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Summer! ...Kind Of.
Although the grim rain clouds that have been lurking outside my bedroom window all day make it hard to believe, school is out. Well, technically, this week is a scheduled week of "reviewing" before our big, important Baccalaureate tests starting June 20th, but so far that "reviewing" has looked a lot more like coffee in town with friends than school books. I will get to studying soon, I promise, but for now the temptation to relax is just way too present to ignore.
School ended very abruptly. Not only did the last week of school sneak up on me much faster than I thought possible, but it actually got cut short one day, which no one, not even the principal, expected. Every year there is a sort of hazing tradition in the last few weeks before summer, a French equivalent of Freshman Friday, and apparently something happened that scared the administration so much they decided to shut down a day early. Usually, the tradition consists of a school-wide food fight, Seniors against Sophomores (because high school is only 3 years here), but some senior must have done something a lot more serious than just through eggs and flour at the underclassmen. There are many rumors flying around but none of them make much sense to me. In any case, we were all very perplexed on Thursday evening when some school officials came into class to tell us we were done. We had all thought the hazing to be a complete failure as only a couple of sophomores had been spotted covered in shampoo, and the seniors hadn't even made it to the main parking lot which is the usual war zone. Apparently last year it was complete chaos, so I was disappointed to have witnessed nothing (even though I should be grateful because I was supposedly a target--but I had even made sure to dress down that day!). And then I was confused as to what could have been so awful to send everyone home, but yet go unnoticed by most of us students. It is all very perplexing.
I know my Berkeley High buddies who are facing a long week of finals are going to hate me for saying this, but I wasn't jumping for joy with the end of school. I didn't burst in to tears either, but I wasn't happy. It was a weird feeling. A this-is-really-the-end feeling. I will probably never see my teachers again (except for the French and Science teachers who will be there for the test days), nor many students that I like but are not part of the group that I see outside of school. It's like I had been waiting to deal with all those conflicted emotions until Friday evening but they all kind of pounced on me unexpectedly.
I'll stop complaining, though, because it was pretty great to spend Friday in the sun with my best friends. And then again on Saturday. Not Sunday, though, because I was at a cousin's first communion. I went to a different one the weekend before. Both consisted of the traditional church services followed by a big, long family lunch; the kind I love and will miss. The church was interesting, because I've never really been to a church service before, but I can't say I will be rushing to return. I mostly just loved the day because I got to spend it with the kids of the extended family, playing musical chairs and dancing to french 80s pop music. I love seeing that side of the family. Every one of these meals makes me want to see my biological family; cousins, second cousins, tenth cousins four times removed; much more often. We should organize 50 person meals too! It is such a fun environment. Everyone is so cheery and funny and happy to be there with the cousins and uncles and aunts and grandmothers (except the occasional teenager who hadn't slept more than 10 minutes the night before and would rather be in bed). I had so much fun with all the youngsters, who may make fun of my accent but will never talk down to me, as some adults do once they have noticed one of my mispronunciations. It is so easy to stop being self conscious and just laugh with kids. I am really going to miss those cousins. Fortunately, I have one more big family meal scheduled before I leave, so it isn't goodbye yet.
I'm going to put off talking about all of the things going on in my head concerning my trip home until my last blog of the year. For now, I will just leave on a happy note.
Also, I don't know what is wrong with me, but for this blog I had to look up translations for words that I knew in French but wasn't grasping in English. And while skyping with my parents this weekend, I noticed how often I was thinking in French and needing to pause to translate it back into the appropriate language. This will be interesting on my first day home...
School ended very abruptly. Not only did the last week of school sneak up on me much faster than I thought possible, but it actually got cut short one day, which no one, not even the principal, expected. Every year there is a sort of hazing tradition in the last few weeks before summer, a French equivalent of Freshman Friday, and apparently something happened that scared the administration so much they decided to shut down a day early. Usually, the tradition consists of a school-wide food fight, Seniors against Sophomores (because high school is only 3 years here), but some senior must have done something a lot more serious than just through eggs and flour at the underclassmen. There are many rumors flying around but none of them make much sense to me. In any case, we were all very perplexed on Thursday evening when some school officials came into class to tell us we were done. We had all thought the hazing to be a complete failure as only a couple of sophomores had been spotted covered in shampoo, and the seniors hadn't even made it to the main parking lot which is the usual war zone. Apparently last year it was complete chaos, so I was disappointed to have witnessed nothing (even though I should be grateful because I was supposedly a target--but I had even made sure to dress down that day!). And then I was confused as to what could have been so awful to send everyone home, but yet go unnoticed by most of us students. It is all very perplexing.
I know my Berkeley High buddies who are facing a long week of finals are going to hate me for saying this, but I wasn't jumping for joy with the end of school. I didn't burst in to tears either, but I wasn't happy. It was a weird feeling. A this-is-really-the-end feeling. I will probably never see my teachers again (except for the French and Science teachers who will be there for the test days), nor many students that I like but are not part of the group that I see outside of school. It's like I had been waiting to deal with all those conflicted emotions until Friday evening but they all kind of pounced on me unexpectedly.
I'll stop complaining, though, because it was pretty great to spend Friday in the sun with my best friends. And then again on Saturday. Not Sunday, though, because I was at a cousin's first communion. I went to a different one the weekend before. Both consisted of the traditional church services followed by a big, long family lunch; the kind I love and will miss. The church was interesting, because I've never really been to a church service before, but I can't say I will be rushing to return. I mostly just loved the day because I got to spend it with the kids of the extended family, playing musical chairs and dancing to french 80s pop music. I love seeing that side of the family. Every one of these meals makes me want to see my biological family; cousins, second cousins, tenth cousins four times removed; much more often. We should organize 50 person meals too! It is such a fun environment. Everyone is so cheery and funny and happy to be there with the cousins and uncles and aunts and grandmothers (except the occasional teenager who hadn't slept more than 10 minutes the night before and would rather be in bed). I had so much fun with all the youngsters, who may make fun of my accent but will never talk down to me, as some adults do once they have noticed one of my mispronunciations. It is so easy to stop being self conscious and just laugh with kids. I am really going to miss those cousins. Fortunately, I have one more big family meal scheduled before I leave, so it isn't goodbye yet.
I'm going to put off talking about all of the things going on in my head concerning my trip home until my last blog of the year. For now, I will just leave on a happy note.
Also, I don't know what is wrong with me, but for this blog I had to look up translations for words that I knew in French but wasn't grasping in English. And while skyping with my parents this weekend, I noticed how often I was thinking in French and needing to pause to translate it back into the appropriate language. This will be interesting on my first day home...
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Another Vacation? What?
Sorry for being so awol. I don't mean to be, I do enjoy writing this blog, but writing something interesting enough to read takes so much time that it can get pushed to the side when I am busy. And also, I need to have internet access to post something. This last vacation zapped me of both time and internet and hence no blog was written. But it was great! And now I can get to writing.
There are things I don't like about the French school system. Teachers have no room to teach creatively and struggling kids have much less access to help than back in the states (Not that the states great at helping the bottom climb up. France is just worse.) They get abandoned to their own devices. However, I am willing to overlook those drawbacks because this vacation thing is awesome. Since the first day of school, I have had 7.5 weeks of vacation and that doesn't include strikes and absent teachers. Just as you start to feel the motivation slipping away and the days stretching out, a couple of weeks of rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation show up to get you back on track. Man, is it a life saver.
This vacation has been especially excellent. I got to start it a day early when my mom showed up on Thursday evening. I showed her around town instead of going to class on Friday which was nice and I think she enjoyed, despite the 9 hour jet lag. I liked showing her my town, the movie theater, the park, the best bakery, my high school, and where I get coffee on Wednesday afternoons. What my life is actually like now. Then on Saturday we took a trip with my host parents and sisters to the Mont Saint Michel, one of the seven great wonders of the world. It is about an hour from Le Chatellier. It is an abbey situated on the very top of tall hill that used to be an island (the water has dried up a bit now). There are shops and other buildings surrounding the abbey, in a very medieval town-enclosed-in-castle-walls way. It is beautiful and incredibly still intact after hundreds, even thousands of years (the very first building on the hill existed in roman times). It was touristy. Very, very touristy. But that only slightly lessened the effect.
And then, Great Britain! Alice, mom, and I skipped off across (well, under) the channel to the home of Harry Potter and the Beatles. It was a wonderful week. We saw three musicals, Mamma Mia, The Lion King, and Stomp, all incredible in different ways. Mamma Mia was silly and fun and everyone was dancing in their seats; The Lion King was visually stunning, so many intricate, breathtaking costumes, just such a spectacle; and Stomp was not only full of talent and interesting noises, but also funny, even though not a single sentence was spoken. The week was filled with good food, museum visits, interesting architecture, lots of (expensive) stores and shops, and of course, the Royal wedding. Even if the millions of people made it impossible to see much, it was so much fun to be in the middle of such a patriotic fuss. They weren't just celebrating this marriage but also everything good about England and Brittish culture. Everyone was so happy! I like happy people. My mom's friend was so generous with us and it was so nice to see and talk to my mom in person and in depth. The entire stay was lovely.
And also, the stay was busy. High energy, with lots of this to do every day all day. So the next week of vacation was the perfect next stage: a relaxing, nature and family filled week near the beach in Brittany. I made sure not to stuff too much in to the week and just enjoy the sunshine and blue waves.
We went to the beach several times in the week, and while the water wasn't what I'd call warm (and I have a high tolerance), I did go swimming and even got into an algae fight. I went on a beautiful 8 mile hike in the hills right on the coast and even got a bike ride in, something I've really missed. I cooked a mexican meal for my family and they seemed to enjoy it. I have to say, it didn't match what Concha makes or any of the nice mexican restaurants in California, but at least I got to eat black beans.
Then school started up again. I took a test on Tuesday in Caen that will give me a diploma saying I speak french if I pass, which meant I didn't have to sit through two hours of French class and three of Art Plastiques and instead could stroll around Caen with Karla (the Finnish girl). So the first week of school was a gradual entry, not too stressful. I am pretty confident with my performance on the test. I hope this means I can come back and work in France some day. Otherwise, this last week was back to the books and the hours of note-scribbling. But then I hopped on a train and came to Paris for the weekend!
Paris still hasn't lost its magic. It is so beautiful. I am in awe of the romance and art in the architecture and monuments and little boutiques every time I go. This trip was cultural, for a change. I saw museums at 10:00 at night and ate wonderful food and wandered through the alleys with my Grandmother and her French friends. I really enjoyed this trip. It left me feeling sure that I will live in Paris for at least six months of my life. I am decided. I'm not sure I would want to live there forever, but I will for some period of time. I will start saving as soon as I get off the plane in California.
My return is looming. I am so undecided. There is so much I will miss about France. The billboard-less auto-routes that wind through the little towns, the individual chocolate and pastry and meat and vegetable shops that replace big ugly strip malls and grocery stores, the long meals where we practice the "art of conversation", my new wonderful friends, and so much more. But Berkeley is calling me. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss that people don't judge you the second they see what you're wearing, I miss the international presence, I miss going to school performances and I miss passing by the Thai Temple on my way to school every morning. I guess for the moment I should just push that all aside and take advantage of the short two months I have left. I will try.
There are things I don't like about the French school system. Teachers have no room to teach creatively and struggling kids have much less access to help than back in the states (Not that the states great at helping the bottom climb up. France is just worse.) They get abandoned to their own devices. However, I am willing to overlook those drawbacks because this vacation thing is awesome. Since the first day of school, I have had 7.5 weeks of vacation and that doesn't include strikes and absent teachers. Just as you start to feel the motivation slipping away and the days stretching out, a couple of weeks of rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation show up to get you back on track. Man, is it a life saver.
This vacation has been especially excellent. I got to start it a day early when my mom showed up on Thursday evening. I showed her around town instead of going to class on Friday which was nice and I think she enjoyed, despite the 9 hour jet lag. I liked showing her my town, the movie theater, the park, the best bakery, my high school, and where I get coffee on Wednesday afternoons. What my life is actually like now. Then on Saturday we took a trip with my host parents and sisters to the Mont Saint Michel, one of the seven great wonders of the world. It is about an hour from Le Chatellier. It is an abbey situated on the very top of tall hill that used to be an island (the water has dried up a bit now). There are shops and other buildings surrounding the abbey, in a very medieval town-enclosed-in-castle-walls way. It is beautiful and incredibly still intact after hundreds, even thousands of years (the very first building on the hill existed in roman times). It was touristy. Very, very touristy. But that only slightly lessened the effect.
And then, Great Britain! Alice, mom, and I skipped off across (well, under) the channel to the home of Harry Potter and the Beatles. It was a wonderful week. We saw three musicals, Mamma Mia, The Lion King, and Stomp, all incredible in different ways. Mamma Mia was silly and fun and everyone was dancing in their seats; The Lion King was visually stunning, so many intricate, breathtaking costumes, just such a spectacle; and Stomp was not only full of talent and interesting noises, but also funny, even though not a single sentence was spoken. The week was filled with good food, museum visits, interesting architecture, lots of (expensive) stores and shops, and of course, the Royal wedding. Even if the millions of people made it impossible to see much, it was so much fun to be in the middle of such a patriotic fuss. They weren't just celebrating this marriage but also everything good about England and Brittish culture. Everyone was so happy! I like happy people. My mom's friend was so generous with us and it was so nice to see and talk to my mom in person and in depth. The entire stay was lovely.
And also, the stay was busy. High energy, with lots of this to do every day all day. So the next week of vacation was the perfect next stage: a relaxing, nature and family filled week near the beach in Brittany. I made sure not to stuff too much in to the week and just enjoy the sunshine and blue waves.
We went to the beach several times in the week, and while the water wasn't what I'd call warm (and I have a high tolerance), I did go swimming and even got into an algae fight. I went on a beautiful 8 mile hike in the hills right on the coast and even got a bike ride in, something I've really missed. I cooked a mexican meal for my family and they seemed to enjoy it. I have to say, it didn't match what Concha makes or any of the nice mexican restaurants in California, but at least I got to eat black beans.
Then school started up again. I took a test on Tuesday in Caen that will give me a diploma saying I speak french if I pass, which meant I didn't have to sit through two hours of French class and three of Art Plastiques and instead could stroll around Caen with Karla (the Finnish girl). So the first week of school was a gradual entry, not too stressful. I am pretty confident with my performance on the test. I hope this means I can come back and work in France some day. Otherwise, this last week was back to the books and the hours of note-scribbling. But then I hopped on a train and came to Paris for the weekend!
Paris still hasn't lost its magic. It is so beautiful. I am in awe of the romance and art in the architecture and monuments and little boutiques every time I go. This trip was cultural, for a change. I saw museums at 10:00 at night and ate wonderful food and wandered through the alleys with my Grandmother and her French friends. I really enjoyed this trip. It left me feeling sure that I will live in Paris for at least six months of my life. I am decided. I'm not sure I would want to live there forever, but I will for some period of time. I will start saving as soon as I get off the plane in California.
My return is looming. I am so undecided. There is so much I will miss about France. The billboard-less auto-routes that wind through the little towns, the individual chocolate and pastry and meat and vegetable shops that replace big ugly strip malls and grocery stores, the long meals where we practice the "art of conversation", my new wonderful friends, and so much more. But Berkeley is calling me. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss that people don't judge you the second they see what you're wearing, I miss the international presence, I miss going to school performances and I miss passing by the Thai Temple on my way to school every morning. I guess for the moment I should just push that all aside and take advantage of the short two months I have left. I will try.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Spring is Springing
It's April already. I'm finding it hard to believe. Every day the sky turns pink a little bit earlier and every night the sun is still shining when we eat dinner at 8 PM. I love it. I was really excited about winter and snow back in November, but the snow melted away in January and then the short, cold, rainy, windy days got old fast. Now, the fields are covered in yellow daisies instead of snow. Daffodils and tulips are blooming everywhere and the trees are slowly getting their green leaves back. It isn't an explosion of pink like what happens every February in Berkeley, but more a gradual increase of yellow and white and green. Every week you notice a little bit more color on the trees and in the pastures. The sun is shining bright and it is bringing my smile back. I don't know why but I have found it so easy the past week or two to talk and laugh with people. Except for Tuesday which involved a pompous art teacher and a frustrating karate class, I've been good.
I learned a new French tradition the other day, called the "poisson d'avril," or "the fish of April." Every April first instead of just pranking people, which they do as well, French children (or teenagers. same difference.) cut little fishies out of paper, write things on them, and stick them on each other's backs. I didn't get any but I saw a whole lot of people walking around with "t'es moche" stuck to their sweaters.
The spring has also brought a new taste of culture shock. In fact, maybe the only time I have really felt "shocked." The smoke was overwhelming at first but even that was somewhat expected. I wasn't used to the food rhythm but I didn't find it weird or unexpected. I think the fact that I have had the opportunity to travel so much already has me less easily unsettled with new cultures and traditions. But now that the sun is coming out, my inner California girl is a little bit startled at how rare it is to go tight-less. In the United States in general (or at least the states I've been too), it is completely normal to see girls in short shorts and tank tops when the weather is nice. California especially. In beach towns, people will walk around the streets wearing their bikini top and shorts and that's it. Okay, I'll admit, my dresses can get to be a little bit too short (sorryyy, I have long legs), but Thursday my dress would have passed the Longfellow dress code (can't be shorter than where your fingers hit your thighs). The fact that I wasn't wearing transparent tights got some very strange looks from people. Even though you can barely tell the difference. I found it strange that in light of a sun hot enough to turn your skin red people still weren't showing their shoulders.
Now that I think about it, throughout the year I have noticed remarks here and there about the hem or neck line of someone's outfit. Potential dresses have been rejected on shopping trips because the French girl I am with considers it to be too short, whereas for me it looks completely reasonable. In this small town in Normandy they are much more traditional when it comes to showing skin and when someone does it is somewhat looked-down upon. It is just a different culture. I think it comes from the weather which is gray and rainy for most of the year, so showing too much skin isn't just provocative but also stupid. It is something I didn't at all anticipate; I assumed that in somewhere like France, said to be the fashion capital of the world and where there are nude beaches, young people would have pretty much the same ideas about what is appropriate and what isn't. It is interesting to learn how I am wrong, to see how the different cultures can really change the way you look at something.
After seven months here I am really starting to see all the ways in which this culture functions differently from mine. For example, people are very insistent with food, really pushing you to try something and finish off the serving dish, but at the same time, people don't accept right away. I wouldn't call it impolite to say yes immediately, but people are more likely to refuse and then accept with insistence. People are less open and extroverted at first, but they find it awfully hypocritical when someone is nice and talkative the first day but then doesn't turn out to be a true friend. It's like a puzzle, the different practices and beliefs all fit and work together to form the culture.
Last weekend I went on a road trip all day Saturday to see the landing beaches and memorials of World War too. It was fascinating. It is one thing to learn in your history class that the Americans invaded to fight off the Germans, but it is a whole different thing to see the remnants of the forts that were destroyed and the cliffs that the soldiers had to scale with German canons coming for them. There are people in my little town that still remember the war. It's incredible to think about. And it was also wonderful to drive through the tiny little coast towns. None of them had strip malls or fast food restaurants, they were all so idyllic and calm. The villages built of bricks and wood with flower gardens and little cafes overlooking the ocean. The fields of flowers in between each town. The stone walls that were almost, but not quite, knocked down in the war and are now overgrown with wild vines. We picnicked at one of the beaches for lunch with salmon and brioche sandwiches followed by baguette and chocolate for dessert. It all felt so stereotypically French. I even started listening to accordion music on my ipod.
I learned a new French tradition the other day, called the "poisson d'avril," or "the fish of April." Every April first instead of just pranking people, which they do as well, French children (or teenagers. same difference.) cut little fishies out of paper, write things on them, and stick them on each other's backs. I didn't get any but I saw a whole lot of people walking around with "t'es moche" stuck to their sweaters.
The spring has also brought a new taste of culture shock. In fact, maybe the only time I have really felt "shocked." The smoke was overwhelming at first but even that was somewhat expected. I wasn't used to the food rhythm but I didn't find it weird or unexpected. I think the fact that I have had the opportunity to travel so much already has me less easily unsettled with new cultures and traditions. But now that the sun is coming out, my inner California girl is a little bit startled at how rare it is to go tight-less. In the United States in general (or at least the states I've been too), it is completely normal to see girls in short shorts and tank tops when the weather is nice. California especially. In beach towns, people will walk around the streets wearing their bikini top and shorts and that's it. Okay, I'll admit, my dresses can get to be a little bit too short (sorryyy, I have long legs), but Thursday my dress would have passed the Longfellow dress code (can't be shorter than where your fingers hit your thighs). The fact that I wasn't wearing transparent tights got some very strange looks from people. Even though you can barely tell the difference. I found it strange that in light of a sun hot enough to turn your skin red people still weren't showing their shoulders.
Now that I think about it, throughout the year I have noticed remarks here and there about the hem or neck line of someone's outfit. Potential dresses have been rejected on shopping trips because the French girl I am with considers it to be too short, whereas for me it looks completely reasonable. In this small town in Normandy they are much more traditional when it comes to showing skin and when someone does it is somewhat looked-down upon. It is just a different culture. I think it comes from the weather which is gray and rainy for most of the year, so showing too much skin isn't just provocative but also stupid. It is something I didn't at all anticipate; I assumed that in somewhere like France, said to be the fashion capital of the world and where there are nude beaches, young people would have pretty much the same ideas about what is appropriate and what isn't. It is interesting to learn how I am wrong, to see how the different cultures can really change the way you look at something.
After seven months here I am really starting to see all the ways in which this culture functions differently from mine. For example, people are very insistent with food, really pushing you to try something and finish off the serving dish, but at the same time, people don't accept right away. I wouldn't call it impolite to say yes immediately, but people are more likely to refuse and then accept with insistence. People are less open and extroverted at first, but they find it awfully hypocritical when someone is nice and talkative the first day but then doesn't turn out to be a true friend. It's like a puzzle, the different practices and beliefs all fit and work together to form the culture.
Last weekend I went on a road trip all day Saturday to see the landing beaches and memorials of World War too. It was fascinating. It is one thing to learn in your history class that the Americans invaded to fight off the Germans, but it is a whole different thing to see the remnants of the forts that were destroyed and the cliffs that the soldiers had to scale with German canons coming for them. There are people in my little town that still remember the war. It's incredible to think about. And it was also wonderful to drive through the tiny little coast towns. None of them had strip malls or fast food restaurants, they were all so idyllic and calm. The villages built of bricks and wood with flower gardens and little cafes overlooking the ocean. The fields of flowers in between each town. The stone walls that were almost, but not quite, knocked down in the war and are now overgrown with wild vines. We picnicked at one of the beaches for lunch with salmon and brioche sandwiches followed by baguette and chocolate for dessert. It all felt so stereotypically French. I even started listening to accordion music on my ipod.
Park near my house
Spring flowers!
One little town on the beach
The memorial at Omaha beach, which the US actually owns. It was weird to see all the signs suddenly have English as the first language and French in small text underneath.
A little village we drove through
Fields of yellow flowers
Another little village
And another one
My front yard
Miss and love you all. So much.
P.S. I have the best grade point average in my class =D
Monday, March 21, 2011
Some Pictures
New Year's Dress
Our house set up for a big lunch celebrating the New Year
Foie Gras...
The kids in the family
A music shop in St. Lo (where there are many other exchange students) that made me want to take piano again. We all taught each other little pieces.
The AFSers
On the train to Paris
Child-wrangling in the big city
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
AFS and the Avenue de Montaigne
Let's see, where did we leave off? I am now in the middle of my second week of the february-march vacation, worrying about all the work left to do before we return to the French essays and demanding Economics teachers (not to mention the project we've been working on since september that should be finished by now and must be finished by monday). I have been in a really good place for the last month. All those mental breakdowns are in the past and I just feel like everything is going well. Yes, I do get frustrated when I can't find a word or am stumbling over my grammar (I understand so well but by speaking still hasn't completely caught up), and it's true that not getting into dance productions was a downer. But I am laughing more this month, I am trying my best to stop worrying or being self conscious, I am studying but not crumpling under classwork, and I do get to go to Paris every now and then, so how on earth can I complain?
The weekend before vacation was the second AFS reunion. It was the first time since october that I had seen my Normandy group, as we failed to find a date to all meet up in between. We won't let that happen again, though, because that weekend reminded us all how great it is to be together and laugh about how pushy the French are with food. There were some new recruits this time, a Canadian, a new American, and three French kids that will be leaving this summer, but we had also lost a few to the end of the semester. I wish I had seen them before they went home.
We started the day with some quick "break the ice" games (telephone is even better when half the group doesn't speak the language of the whispered message) and pictures for local newspapers. I'm in the news! Then we ate lunch and were left with 4 free hours in our beautiful little town of Flers (for which a grand tour lasts about one eighth of that time). We popped into a music store for a bit and listened to one of the french boys play guitar and then stayed in a cafe catching up about families, friends, life, everything. We met back up with the volunteers and then joined some of the host families to go bowling and eat dinner at a nice restaurant. The bowling gods were not with me because I came in second to last, but it was fun all the same. I had wanted to go to a concert that was the night of the reunion but I ended up not regretting the day in the least.
Then there was the last week of school full of tests and homework and more tests. Eight hours of testing, all together. Four of those eight hours made up one long French test which nearly exploded my brain but which I think will have good enough results. I understood the texts, at least. Otherwise there was a two hour history test and then one hour of math and another for spanish. The spanish teacher did not look very pleased when I handed in my copy. Anyway, the week was long, and by the time the bell rang at 5:00 PM on Friday evening I was well ready for vacation.
And vacation is sweet! So so sweet. I spent saturday finishing my audition video (even if it wasn't good enough I did like the dance in the end) and sunday was a big family lunch as usual. On Monday some friends came over and I made them pancakes in the morning. Pancakes are such a crowd-pleaser here! On tuesday I made a failed attempt to be social, going into town to meet up with everyone just as they were all about to go back home. And it was cold, too. But then the rest of the week was filled with social activity because I went to visit some AFSers in St. Lo for three days. Like I said, we are not going to let 5 months go with no contact again. Altogether we were three Americans, a Norwegian, a Brazilian, and two French. We wandered the town, went to various cafes, browsed a bookstore, and practiced piano and guitar at another music shop. We watched movies and made crepes in the evenings and talked and talked and talked. We switched back and forth between French and English. The last AFS weekend in October was exclusively English but this time there was definitely some mixing and mingling of the two languages. It was fun. I hope to see them again soon.
Another weekend passed, and then, Paris! There is nothing better to take one's mind off of a rejected audition than a big, beautiful city waiting to be explored. This time we went up with my host nephews and niece to see a museum exhibit of evolution. The little kids were so excited, they were jumping in anticipation at the train platform and nearly cried when one of the party joked that we had missed the train. The museum was nice. More for the young ones than for Alice and I, but it was fun to see them enjoying it. After we had exhausted the exhibit Alice and I went off on our own way. First to the Hotel de Ville, which is maybe my favorite part of the city that I have experienced so far. The architecture is beautiful, and while it is undeniably a shopping center, it doesn't feel uniquely commercial. It feels like there is real culture there. There are big brand names but also little boutiques and restaurants down little alleys, with incredible monuments right around the corner.
Tuesday morning was back to the streets of Paris, this time the Champs Elysees and then the Avenue de Montaigne. We went down the Avenue de Montaigne looking for a bank, but turning the corner down that street is like stepping into a new world. On the Champs Elysees, or in Paris in general, everyone seems stylish and elegant and important already. But when you step onto the Avenue de Montaigne the whole world outside looks just dreary alongside. Everyone on that sidewalk walks with their eyes forward and their strides confident. The women are either young and belong on the pages of vogue (and probably have been their at some point) or middle aged in fur coats and belong in some giant office with a view of the city giving people orders to bring them expensive coffee and chocolate. Think Devil Wears Prada. The men are all in designer suits and look like they just gave an important presentation at an important meeting of important business executives. All of a sudden, the mini coopers speeding down the Champs Elysees are replaced by sleek mercedes with chauffeurs. Gone are the H&Ms and Zaras of the lesser beings, here the stores have names like Chanel and Dior. You see someone come out of Dolce & Gabana with a huge bag; you start to feel better about the 40 euros you just spent.
The Avenue de Montaigne is wonderful for people watching, but it starts to get dizzying with all the light reflecting off of the 200 euro sunglasses. That lifestyle is undoubtedly glamorous but I don't think I could handle it, personally. We didn't stay there long. We instead got lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing by the eiffel tower. Stretching out on the grass in the first spring sunlight and then getting a coffee at the least expensive cafe we could find. We got home at 10:30 last night.
I plan to work the rest of the vacation, and maybe go out some as well. So far it has been excellent, I hope the next 5 days can continue that. Much love to everyone across the ocean, I miss you all immensely.
The weekend before vacation was the second AFS reunion. It was the first time since october that I had seen my Normandy group, as we failed to find a date to all meet up in between. We won't let that happen again, though, because that weekend reminded us all how great it is to be together and laugh about how pushy the French are with food. There were some new recruits this time, a Canadian, a new American, and three French kids that will be leaving this summer, but we had also lost a few to the end of the semester. I wish I had seen them before they went home.
We started the day with some quick "break the ice" games (telephone is even better when half the group doesn't speak the language of the whispered message) and pictures for local newspapers. I'm in the news! Then we ate lunch and were left with 4 free hours in our beautiful little town of Flers (for which a grand tour lasts about one eighth of that time). We popped into a music store for a bit and listened to one of the french boys play guitar and then stayed in a cafe catching up about families, friends, life, everything. We met back up with the volunteers and then joined some of the host families to go bowling and eat dinner at a nice restaurant. The bowling gods were not with me because I came in second to last, but it was fun all the same. I had wanted to go to a concert that was the night of the reunion but I ended up not regretting the day in the least.
Then there was the last week of school full of tests and homework and more tests. Eight hours of testing, all together. Four of those eight hours made up one long French test which nearly exploded my brain but which I think will have good enough results. I understood the texts, at least. Otherwise there was a two hour history test and then one hour of math and another for spanish. The spanish teacher did not look very pleased when I handed in my copy. Anyway, the week was long, and by the time the bell rang at 5:00 PM on Friday evening I was well ready for vacation.
And vacation is sweet! So so sweet. I spent saturday finishing my audition video (even if it wasn't good enough I did like the dance in the end) and sunday was a big family lunch as usual. On Monday some friends came over and I made them pancakes in the morning. Pancakes are such a crowd-pleaser here! On tuesday I made a failed attempt to be social, going into town to meet up with everyone just as they were all about to go back home. And it was cold, too. But then the rest of the week was filled with social activity because I went to visit some AFSers in St. Lo for three days. Like I said, we are not going to let 5 months go with no contact again. Altogether we were three Americans, a Norwegian, a Brazilian, and two French. We wandered the town, went to various cafes, browsed a bookstore, and practiced piano and guitar at another music shop. We watched movies and made crepes in the evenings and talked and talked and talked. We switched back and forth between French and English. The last AFS weekend in October was exclusively English but this time there was definitely some mixing and mingling of the two languages. It was fun. I hope to see them again soon.
Another weekend passed, and then, Paris! There is nothing better to take one's mind off of a rejected audition than a big, beautiful city waiting to be explored. This time we went up with my host nephews and niece to see a museum exhibit of evolution. The little kids were so excited, they were jumping in anticipation at the train platform and nearly cried when one of the party joked that we had missed the train. The museum was nice. More for the young ones than for Alice and I, but it was fun to see them enjoying it. After we had exhausted the exhibit Alice and I went off on our own way. First to the Hotel de Ville, which is maybe my favorite part of the city that I have experienced so far. The architecture is beautiful, and while it is undeniably a shopping center, it doesn't feel uniquely commercial. It feels like there is real culture there. There are big brand names but also little boutiques and restaurants down little alleys, with incredible monuments right around the corner.
Tuesday morning was back to the streets of Paris, this time the Champs Elysees and then the Avenue de Montaigne. We went down the Avenue de Montaigne looking for a bank, but turning the corner down that street is like stepping into a new world. On the Champs Elysees, or in Paris in general, everyone seems stylish and elegant and important already. But when you step onto the Avenue de Montaigne the whole world outside looks just dreary alongside. Everyone on that sidewalk walks with their eyes forward and their strides confident. The women are either young and belong on the pages of vogue (and probably have been their at some point) or middle aged in fur coats and belong in some giant office with a view of the city giving people orders to bring them expensive coffee and chocolate. Think Devil Wears Prada. The men are all in designer suits and look like they just gave an important presentation at an important meeting of important business executives. All of a sudden, the mini coopers speeding down the Champs Elysees are replaced by sleek mercedes with chauffeurs. Gone are the H&Ms and Zaras of the lesser beings, here the stores have names like Chanel and Dior. You see someone come out of Dolce & Gabana with a huge bag; you start to feel better about the 40 euros you just spent.
The Avenue de Montaigne is wonderful for people watching, but it starts to get dizzying with all the light reflecting off of the 200 euro sunglasses. That lifestyle is undoubtedly glamorous but I don't think I could handle it, personally. We didn't stay there long. We instead got lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing by the eiffel tower. Stretching out on the grass in the first spring sunlight and then getting a coffee at the least expensive cafe we could find. We got home at 10:30 last night.
I plan to work the rest of the vacation, and maybe go out some as well. So far it has been excellent, I hope the next 5 days can continue that. Much love to everyone across the ocean, I miss you all immensely.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
J'aime La France
I was just reading back through all my blog posts and I realized this shyness/social issue has come up a lot. I'm going to stop beating you all over the head with that, you probably get it by now. I'll just say that I am really making an effort to be myself again and I hope that effort will pay off. Now on to the update.
A while ago I said that I was having difficulty in adapting to the food rhythm. I actually really like it now. Yes, I do still miss the array of breakfast foods I used to have and especially the big Sunday mornings with popovers and fried eggs and fruit, but I have come to really enjoy sitting around the lunch table for hours talking to my host family. At first it was hard to stay seated for more than a half hour, I got impatient and antsy. But now it's nice and relaxing to slowly savor the meal and then get into long discussions about politics, education, friends, religion, anything in the world. It is a great way to practice my French and to connect with my family, and I learn a lot about France's history and culture and politics. I think that dynamic of sitting around and talking is missing from a lot of American households.
It still can, however, go past the point of being enjoyable. It gets to be too much for me when we are still at the dinner table at 11:30 at night. Last Saturday I went to a dinner party organized by the karate club and by the time dessert came around we had passed the midnight mark. It didn't help that our "teenager" table was the last to be served in a room full of 200. It's okay, though, the other four people my age and I spent the wait playing tic tac toe and drawing on our napkins. Then we started dancing and all was right with the world. These parties are another thing America lacks. In every city, town, or village, even the tiniest like Le Chatellier (population 300) there is one or more party rooms that are so busy they need to be booked months, even a year in advance. Every association, organization, club, group, and so on has big dinner parties like this where they invite mountains of people, hire a catering service, and dance until five in the morning. It is so embedded in their culture, so normal for them. My host mom told me you can find one of these things to go to every weekend. I didn't know how long it lasted so I asked to be picked up at 1 AM. When I told that to some of the black belts I knew from the dojo, they told me I was crazy and should have said 4. I did manage to stretch the time a bit, but when I left at 2 AM it felt like things were just getting started. I think we should bring this tradition to America. Anyone else up for karate parties that last until sunrise?
Karate in general has been going very well. It is the highlight of my day on Tuesdays when I have loooong classes from 8:30 until 6 PM. I do miss the soft style and variety of Cuong Nhu, but I enjoy the high-intensity work outs and I think I am getting stronger. I have started talking to people more which improves the classes enormously because the friendless feeling I had at first was unnerving. Dance is also fun. I like the people and now that I understand the choreography I like that more as well. However, I crash and burn every time we try to learn the acrobatic break-dance moves. I just don't think I have what it takes to be a break dancer. Can any of you imagine me break dancing? Okay, stop laughing, I get the point.
I am getting good grades. Except for Spanish, where I am just in over my head, and science, which I find hard to follow because I only have it for one hour every week. But otherwise grades aren't a problem. I even lied to my friends once and said I got a worse grade than I did because it was a test on which most people did awfully. I think this year is the perfect combination between work and school. I work hard and I still have lots of academic ambition but I don't stress, slaving away for 4 to 6 hours every night like last year. I am not slacking off but I am also doing my best to live in the moment and explore this new culture. I'm trying to savor it before I have to dive back into senior year craziness.
Lastly, I don't parle English anymore. When I think, it is a mélange of English and Français. I hope this won't be trop of a soucis for moi when I take le SAT.
A while ago I said that I was having difficulty in adapting to the food rhythm. I actually really like it now. Yes, I do still miss the array of breakfast foods I used to have and especially the big Sunday mornings with popovers and fried eggs and fruit, but I have come to really enjoy sitting around the lunch table for hours talking to my host family. At first it was hard to stay seated for more than a half hour, I got impatient and antsy. But now it's nice and relaxing to slowly savor the meal and then get into long discussions about politics, education, friends, religion, anything in the world. It is a great way to practice my French and to connect with my family, and I learn a lot about France's history and culture and politics. I think that dynamic of sitting around and talking is missing from a lot of American households.
It still can, however, go past the point of being enjoyable. It gets to be too much for me when we are still at the dinner table at 11:30 at night. Last Saturday I went to a dinner party organized by the karate club and by the time dessert came around we had passed the midnight mark. It didn't help that our "teenager" table was the last to be served in a room full of 200. It's okay, though, the other four people my age and I spent the wait playing tic tac toe and drawing on our napkins. Then we started dancing and all was right with the world. These parties are another thing America lacks. In every city, town, or village, even the tiniest like Le Chatellier (population 300) there is one or more party rooms that are so busy they need to be booked months, even a year in advance. Every association, organization, club, group, and so on has big dinner parties like this where they invite mountains of people, hire a catering service, and dance until five in the morning. It is so embedded in their culture, so normal for them. My host mom told me you can find one of these things to go to every weekend. I didn't know how long it lasted so I asked to be picked up at 1 AM. When I told that to some of the black belts I knew from the dojo, they told me I was crazy and should have said 4. I did manage to stretch the time a bit, but when I left at 2 AM it felt like things were just getting started. I think we should bring this tradition to America. Anyone else up for karate parties that last until sunrise?
Karate in general has been going very well. It is the highlight of my day on Tuesdays when I have loooong classes from 8:30 until 6 PM. I do miss the soft style and variety of Cuong Nhu, but I enjoy the high-intensity work outs and I think I am getting stronger. I have started talking to people more which improves the classes enormously because the friendless feeling I had at first was unnerving. Dance is also fun. I like the people and now that I understand the choreography I like that more as well. However, I crash and burn every time we try to learn the acrobatic break-dance moves. I just don't think I have what it takes to be a break dancer. Can any of you imagine me break dancing? Okay, stop laughing, I get the point.
I am getting good grades. Except for Spanish, where I am just in over my head, and science, which I find hard to follow because I only have it for one hour every week. But otherwise grades aren't a problem. I even lied to my friends once and said I got a worse grade than I did because it was a test on which most people did awfully. I think this year is the perfect combination between work and school. I work hard and I still have lots of academic ambition but I don't stress, slaving away for 4 to 6 hours every night like last year. I am not slacking off but I am also doing my best to live in the moment and explore this new culture. I'm trying to savor it before I have to dive back into senior year craziness.
Lastly, I don't parle English anymore. When I think, it is a mélange of English and Français. I hope this won't be trop of a soucis for moi when I take le SAT.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Mental Breakdowns
I think I am going through a low period. No, maybe not a low period, too many good days for it to be actually low. But definitely a weird period. Part of the reason that I haven't written my blog in so long is because my mood changes so often that one day I will start to write and then the next day I'll look back and disagree with everything I've written because my outlook on the world has capsized. The other part of the reason is just that I've been ridiculously busy; sorry to those of you who are actually still reading.
Anyway, it's not like a lot of bad things happen. In fact, January has brought a lot of good. I went to Paris one Saturday (enormous six-week sales in every store in France!) which always puts me in a good mood. I saw an incredible hip hop performance and Mozart orchestra concert. We had a huge family meal (32 people!) last Sunday which was delicious and fun and involved dancing contests on the Wii (in which I tend to do pretty well). Sundays in general are nice because in France there is a January tradition called the "Galette de Roi," a big tart that we have for dessert with a little tiny doll hidden inside. Whoever accidentally bites into the doll is the king or queen and gets to choose someone to rule with them, and the last time we did it I won (although my king, Alice's four year-old nephew, chose himself). France is rich with little traditions like that. Those traditions are some of my favorite things here, I love them. I have been doing well in school and I am starting to learn some new scarf-wearing tricks (I can copy well, but I don't think I'll ever have that ability to just throw it on and look perfect, a talent that all the French girls have). Looking back at all the events, you would think it has been the best month of the year, and I should be the happiest I've been in my life. I am really happy, sometimes. Maybe even verging on most of the time.
And then, sometimes, I crash. My good moods come screeching to random halts and I turn into a basket case. I don't know why they come so suddenly in the middle of perfectly good days, but each breakdown comes for a very similar reason. It all has to do with my lack of social comfort. Sure, I've made progress. I talk more than I used to; I try my best to have as many conversations as possible; I am slightly less inhibited than I was in September. But slightly isn't enough. People will talk to me, things like how was your weekend, did you have fun at the party, do you like the French teacher, but that isn't the same as being really friends with them. How long can you have small talk before the walls come down? I haven't been inside an inside joke in ages. People can have serious conversations with me, but they don't joke and laugh with me like they do with their best friends, like I did in Berkeley. And I know it's my fault. It's like I've forgotten how to be fun, how to joke around and be goofy. I've always been easily embarrassed and never a huge conversation dominator, but I do seem to remember at one point in the distant past being able to let go and belly laugh with my friends and occasionally even be funny myself. When did I get to that point in all my friendships? I know it didn't take this long.
There are a few people who have seen the real me from time to time. With Alice, at home, it's actually really good, I feel more comfortable. I am myself at home. And with a few people at school it is alright as well. But I still feel that most people have no idea who I am. And the problem is, after five months with me in their lives, they think they do. Their opinions of me are becoming more and more solid every day. My window of opportunity is shutting and baby steps aren't doing me any good. How do I show people that I'm not the shy, quiet, boring girl I appear to be? I am familiar with this shy mask because it comes on almost every time I first meet new people. But it always comes off eventually. Why won't it now?
I don't want to be afraid anymore.
Anyway, it's not like a lot of bad things happen. In fact, January has brought a lot of good. I went to Paris one Saturday (enormous six-week sales in every store in France!) which always puts me in a good mood. I saw an incredible hip hop performance and Mozart orchestra concert. We had a huge family meal (32 people!) last Sunday which was delicious and fun and involved dancing contests on the Wii (in which I tend to do pretty well). Sundays in general are nice because in France there is a January tradition called the "Galette de Roi," a big tart that we have for dessert with a little tiny doll hidden inside. Whoever accidentally bites into the doll is the king or queen and gets to choose someone to rule with them, and the last time we did it I won (although my king, Alice's four year-old nephew, chose himself). France is rich with little traditions like that. Those traditions are some of my favorite things here, I love them. I have been doing well in school and I am starting to learn some new scarf-wearing tricks (I can copy well, but I don't think I'll ever have that ability to just throw it on and look perfect, a talent that all the French girls have). Looking back at all the events, you would think it has been the best month of the year, and I should be the happiest I've been in my life. I am really happy, sometimes. Maybe even verging on most of the time.
And then, sometimes, I crash. My good moods come screeching to random halts and I turn into a basket case. I don't know why they come so suddenly in the middle of perfectly good days, but each breakdown comes for a very similar reason. It all has to do with my lack of social comfort. Sure, I've made progress. I talk more than I used to; I try my best to have as many conversations as possible; I am slightly less inhibited than I was in September. But slightly isn't enough. People will talk to me, things like how was your weekend, did you have fun at the party, do you like the French teacher, but that isn't the same as being really friends with them. How long can you have small talk before the walls come down? I haven't been inside an inside joke in ages. People can have serious conversations with me, but they don't joke and laugh with me like they do with their best friends, like I did in Berkeley. And I know it's my fault. It's like I've forgotten how to be fun, how to joke around and be goofy. I've always been easily embarrassed and never a huge conversation dominator, but I do seem to remember at one point in the distant past being able to let go and belly laugh with my friends and occasionally even be funny myself. When did I get to that point in all my friendships? I know it didn't take this long.
There are a few people who have seen the real me from time to time. With Alice, at home, it's actually really good, I feel more comfortable. I am myself at home. And with a few people at school it is alright as well. But I still feel that most people have no idea who I am. And the problem is, after five months with me in their lives, they think they do. Their opinions of me are becoming more and more solid every day. My window of opportunity is shutting and baby steps aren't doing me any good. How do I show people that I'm not the shy, quiet, boring girl I appear to be? I am familiar with this shy mask because it comes on almost every time I first meet new people. But it always comes off eventually. Why won't it now?
I don't want to be afraid anymore.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
And a Happy New Year
The decision to come to France for a year, leaving behind my friends and family and stepping way out of my comfort zone, was a scary decision to make. However, the fear I felt when I got on the plane was nothing in comparison to the fear I felt when trying to get ready for the New Year's party. With no one around to help me out I had to depend on my own miserable hair and make up skills to try and look New Years Eve-y when I knew that every other girl at the party would be stunning. And once I finally did decide on a hairstyle and color of lip gloss, I then had to enter the party room alone and awkwardly search for a place to put my stuff, in front of everyone already seated at the dinner table. Unfortunately, self consciousness got the better of me and I abandoned the hairstyle after about five minutes inside. But after I got past the fear and the awkwardness, I did have a good time. We stayed up way too late and danced way too much and did the overall New Years thing. There was even champagne. It was fun to see everyone all fancy, with their beautiful dresses and elaborate hair styles that must have taken hours. I am glad to have gone. Next time, though, there is absolutely no way I am getting ready alone.
The week of vacation leading up to New Years was nice and relaxed. The snow slowly melted away and we spent our time going out to movies and eating through our Christmas chocolate. It was relaxing, but I was definitely still missing Florida and family. There were a few moments at the New Years party where I found myself thinking I would rather be eating smores at a bonfire. I think this vacation was the low point for me in missing all you people. Those two weeks were filled with hard moments.
It's alright now, though. Diving back into everything has given me plenty of distractions to keep my mind off homesickness. School with it's tests and homework and nine and a half hour days (tuesday and thursday) that start and end with a dark sky. Karate and Dance and P.E. (two hours of swimming laps on thursday mornings) have all started up again, keeping me perpetually sore because of all the muscle I lost eating that Christmas chocolate. And more exhausting than all that, I have really been pushing myself to talk to people and participate in French conversations. My most important New Years resolution was to come back to America not just understanding French fluently, because I think I've got that down, but speaking it too. People here might not notice the effort I'm making because I still don't dominate any conversations but I have been working up the courage to participate in group discussions and talk to people about the holidays and the differences between here and the states. It does take a whole lot of effort but with each comment the next one is easier. I think I've made progress this week.
In between my school and my dance class every wednesday I have three hours to wander around town and explore. This week I decided to get organized and on top of everything so I spent that time doing errands for school. I couldn't find something I was looking for in the store, so I used logic to figure out what it would be next to and I eventually did find it. I also wanted to find the post office in town and I found it without getting remotely lost or asking for help. I don't know why, but these were huge triumphs for me. There have been days here where I have had no idea what was going on or where to find what I needed and just felt lost and confused and foreign. But finding what I was looking for made me feel like I know this town. Like I understand it. I'm not just a tourist staying for an extended stay, I live here.
The week of vacation leading up to New Years was nice and relaxed. The snow slowly melted away and we spent our time going out to movies and eating through our Christmas chocolate. It was relaxing, but I was definitely still missing Florida and family. There were a few moments at the New Years party where I found myself thinking I would rather be eating smores at a bonfire. I think this vacation was the low point for me in missing all you people. Those two weeks were filled with hard moments.
It's alright now, though. Diving back into everything has given me plenty of distractions to keep my mind off homesickness. School with it's tests and homework and nine and a half hour days (tuesday and thursday) that start and end with a dark sky. Karate and Dance and P.E. (two hours of swimming laps on thursday mornings) have all started up again, keeping me perpetually sore because of all the muscle I lost eating that Christmas chocolate. And more exhausting than all that, I have really been pushing myself to talk to people and participate in French conversations. My most important New Years resolution was to come back to America not just understanding French fluently, because I think I've got that down, but speaking it too. People here might not notice the effort I'm making because I still don't dominate any conversations but I have been working up the courage to participate in group discussions and talk to people about the holidays and the differences between here and the states. It does take a whole lot of effort but with each comment the next one is easier. I think I've made progress this week.
In between my school and my dance class every wednesday I have three hours to wander around town and explore. This week I decided to get organized and on top of everything so I spent that time doing errands for school. I couldn't find something I was looking for in the store, so I used logic to figure out what it would be next to and I eventually did find it. I also wanted to find the post office in town and I found it without getting remotely lost or asking for help. I don't know why, but these were huge triumphs for me. There have been days here where I have had no idea what was going on or where to find what I needed and just felt lost and confused and foreign. But finding what I was looking for made me feel like I know this town. Like I understand it. I'm not just a tourist staying for an extended stay, I live here.
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