It's A Quiet Village

The first minute of this song plays in my head just about every morning on my way to "work." I literally had a woman pop her head out of her window while opening her shutters, exactly like this. And it's not just the baker, but everyone walks around with their morning baguette. On bikes, in a purse, under an arm with the morning paper. I often see the same people in the same spot on my little route. Yesterday I ran into the man who gives me a ride to church on Sundays. I think he'd been yelling my name for quite some time, but it took me a minute to recognize "Carrier" in French! It's so small, I've run into people I know a few times! Here are some more pics of my quiet village. 

 

I wish I'd discovered the view from this park during my first month while it was green. But it's still beautiful. Every day I walk from home, which is a little higher than this hill, all the way to the far edge of downtown. It takes about 35 minutes, and I really enjoy it.

 I do have to hug the walls on some of the bends, fearing for my life. It would be nice to have sidewalks.

Downtown (Centre Ville)

The mediatheque. Apparently since they have a lot more than books, they don't call it a biblioteque. I work here a lot in the afternoons, especially on hot days since it has air conditioning! 

Conversation and Courses

Today Matthias and some friends from Nimes had a scuba diving class just outside Montpellier, so we all piled in the car and tagged along for some beach time. That was twice in one week for me! (I went on Thursday with my friends from the Secours Populaire, where I volunteer). The ocean of course was great, although it was really windy, which made spending time on the sand pretty miserable. I had fun swimming and taking pictures of the baby, but we only stayed a couple hours. The highlight of the day was actually a potluck BBQ they had at the dive school after their dive. I kept telling Holly that this is what I came to France for! It was so fun to be a part of their culture. I feel that people think barbecuing is a truly American experience, but we’ve got nothing on them. I loved that something as informal as a BBQ is still a reflection of French eating.

They started off by setting out drinks and aperitifs. The drinks were mostly wine and other alcoholic drinks, but they also had orange juice, water and syro, which is a concentrated fruit/sugar syrup that you add to water. I actually like some of the fruitier ones with the sparkling mineral water, but I put so little in that it’s similar to drinking water with lemon or essential oils. The aperitifs were just chips and nuts.

They brought out salads next, and then the meat started coming of the grill. That’s when the volume suddenly doubled. Oh, and I must mention that for some reason there wasn’t any bread at the start of the meal, and you would have thought we’d forgotten the grill or something. There was a lot of panicking. But someone went and bought two bags of fresh baguettes, and all was well. There were a few kabobs of chicken and steak, and some of duck heart, which was surprisingly very delicious. I was worried about the texture, but it just seemed like regular meat, except with that rich duck flavor. The main meat was sausage. I think there were at least 4 different types, and it just kept coming. They even had one that was stuffed with roquefort cheese. It was ok, but that’s one of the stronger cheeses, and I couldn’t eat very much of it. The absolute best part was the next round when they brought out the cheeses. They had put them on the grill after the meat, and melted them. Wow. Melted Camembert. It was divine. It’s also a fairly strong cheese, but not as much as Roquefort, and I loved it. I ate two pieces of bread and cheese, and now I’m a bloated mess, but it was worth it! The cheese course also included fruit and an apple tart. One dessert. As in one tart for about 20 people. They cut it into little slices, and I’m sure not everyone had one because cheese and fruit are also dessert. And you don’t eat everything, like at an American BBQ. I absolutely love eating in courses. I fell in love with it in Spain, and always want to eat that way, but then when I get home I just return to my American ways and throw everything on my plate at once.  

Another big difference is that this whole process of eating lasts about 3 hours. At home it seems to take forever to get all the food together, everyone is starving waiting for the meat to finish grilling, kids are crying, etc. When it’s finally done everyone piles massive amounts of food on giant plates, and inhales it all in about 10 minutes. And then you do that all over again for dessert. Other than the occasional green salad, and healthy meat, most of the food is junk. Eating in courses means that you can pick at things while the meat grills, so everyone is happy. The food is almost all good for you, and you just enjoy conversation along with every course individually on your little plate, and before you know it 3 hours have gone by. Who’s up for a French BBQ this summer? ;)

 The Camambert. Amazing.

 This looks huge, but it's a little appetizer plate. That's the duck heart. 

 Note Holly's sandals, almost completely buried. With he wind that happened in minutes. 

 Baby footprints. So so cute. He didn't love his first beach experience, but we had fun with him. 

Getting Gypped

Sunday July 5, 2015

This week was going really well, until Tuesday when I got ROBBED! This is the 7th country I’ve lived in, and that was the first time I’ve ever had anything stolen. Holly wanted to collect some rocks at the river, so we were just making a quick stop on the way home from the grocery store. Right before we parked we saw this guy biff it on his scooter, so Holly popped her head out of the window and asked if he was ok. He said he was, but he gave us the heebeegeebees so we sat in the car and watched until he drove away.  We were just going to be at the river for a few minutes, within sight of our car, so we had just stashed our purses under the seats (so stupid--I never do that...the one time!!!!). There are some steps down to the river, and we were just below them when that same guy came back! He pulled up on his scooter and started saying terrible things that he wanted to do to us, so obviously we didn’t want to go anywhere near him, and he had parked himself right between the top of the stairs and our car. All I could think about was getting away, so we walked over to the next flight of stairs to get back up on the road and in sight of more people. As we were going up, I could hear him break the window of the car. The fact that he was hanging around our car because he wanted to steal from us hadn’t even crossed my mind, or the fact that he was probably a gypsy. He grabbed all our stuff, and took off on his scooter right in front of us, and in broad daylight, as we were running towards him yelling and trying to flag down another car. We ran and screamed and yelled, but there was nothing we could do! It was so beyond frustrating. He took my phone and wallet. Luckily my passport was at home. Jerk. Anyway, we went to the police and reported it, but I don’t think they’ll even do anything about it. It’s like no one really cares... We flagged down one of those mini euro vans, right after and told him we’d just been robbed, and to go after the guy to go after the scooter, but he didn’t seem to care. We stopped at a neighbor’s house who had been watering his garden and asked if he saw which way the gut on a scooter went. He said he may or may not have seen him. It was so weird! Everyone was just so indifferent. But, at least we were safe.

I think one of the most annoying things about it is that I came with such few belongings, and I needed all of them! It’s a bummer to be out a few hundred dollars, but I can get over that. I just want my things! If I were at home I would replace everything he took within a couple days, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. But here I can’t do that. I had spent a lot of time finding that particular purse because it holds a lot and is really light and the strap doesn’t dig into my shoulder. And he took my good phone--my Samsung, but also my little pre-pay France phone, so I have no way to communicate, no alarm clock, no time piece. I went into Nimes yesterday and felt so helpless. My train was an hour late and I had nothing to read (I usually just read books on my Nook app). I wanted to go the museum of fine arts, and I had taken a pic of the map on my laptop with my camera, but it just didn’t suffice. I asked two French people where it was, and they both gave me wrong directions. They love to be helpful, and give directions, but don’t always know where the place is. So I had to walk to the other side of downtown to the tourism office to get a map, and then I didn’t have enough time to go.

Sat July 11, 2015

Epilogue

A purse came in at my 2nd-hand store, that was a pretty good replica of the one I had. They gave it to me for free. And then yesterday on my walk home from the grocery store I found a discarded pre-paid phone in the street, really similar to the French one I had. I don’t know if I can find a battery for it, but it made me feel watched over, nonetheless. :)

I'm Not Uncle Peter

My dad has a brother who is charismatic, funny, outgoing, pleasant to be around, and very talkative. I don’t think I’ve been with him at a restaurant where he doesn’t address the server by name. He makes everyone feel chummy and comfortable within minutes of the conversation. He genuinely enjoys talking to everyone he meets, and wants to meet everyone he can. My aunt told me while they were staying in China, he would stop people on the street and just keep saying hello until he could get someone to have a conversation with him. Ever since my first couple days here, I decided in my head that if I’m going to learn this language, I’m going to have to be Uncle Peter. I didn’t have any friends, or anyone to talk to on a regular basis-- I just needed to start talking to neighbors, clerks, bus drivers, and anyone I see.

I could think about doing that. It made sense, logically. I wanted to speak the language, and I wanted friends. But real life looks like this: I go to a park and sit on the bench to rest for a minute. A woman walks up and sits on the next bench over. We exchange greetings. I smile. She pulls out some snacks. I stand up to go. She says, “Oh, you don’t need to go because I sat down.” I say that I was just going to head home for lunch myself. I tell her “bon apetit,” and head on my way. As I walk away, all I can think is how that was such a good opportunity to get to know a neighbor and to have a good conversation. But my whole being is shouting “Code red, code red! You don’t know her. Abort. Abort!”

It doesn’t matter the language. I am an introvert. The fact the I am trying to have small talk in a foreign language only makes it more intimidating. Uncle Peter thrives off small talk. He feels great. The new friend feels great. They all come out bubbly and happy and better people. I shrink with small talk. Panic sets in, and there’s nothing in my brain to talk about. Nothing! I am an intelligent person, right? How does my brain go blank because someone I don’t know is talking to me?

I started volunteering this week at Secours Populaire Français (a charity organization). I spent the first 2 days (well, 1/2 days because I teach my online class part-time also) at headquarters going through donations, sorting and listening to the other workers, and doing my best to join in their conversations. Wed through Friday we had an open air market, where I worked at the clothing booth. People would come up and look for clothes. I just had to greet them, help direct them to where specific items of clothing were, tell them prices, and then write up a little receipt for them to take to the cashier. Side note: In my mind I kept thinking how much I’d love my students to be able to do something like that. The real-life version of what I try to create in my classroom! But, back to me. I realized by the second day of selling clothes, that I was comfortably talking to strangers!

I read a book a little while ago about being an introvert/extrovert (It was excellent--I highly recommend it to introverts and extroverts alike!). She talks about how introverts can act as extroverts in specific situations, for a specific purpose. That is what I do every day at work. Beng in France gave me a purpose to have the extrovert spill out. But it wasn’t a specific enough purpose. Yet selling clothes apparently was! I just happily went along fulfilling my little role, marveling at how much I enjoyed it.

And I’ve really enjoyed the little insights to French culture I’ve picked up along the way. One of my fellow co-workers telling a very large customer we have “des grands grands pantalons pour vous.” (very very large pants for him). And this was right after she told me all about how a teanager at the next booth over had just told her overweight granddaughter that she eats too much bread and chocolate (a problem she soothed with ice cream bars for both of them).

My moment of overwhelming popularity came when a British woman wanted to buy lotion. No one could understand her, so they all waved me over to translate. They’d been trying to sell her sunscreen, but I solved the problem! I may have broken, barely functionally fluent French. But it works. And it’s fun!

First Day of Work

Mon June 22, 2015

Today was my first day on the job. I found it really easily, and when I got there, I explained a little about who I was, and that I wanted to volunteer. They got the director (Mireille), and she was really really nice! She showed me around the place, which was a second hand store with clothes, shoes, and a couple other random things, and then some smaller food items and shampoo and personal hygiene stuff for sale. She introduced me to so many people there, in the store front, and showed me the back room where they sort, and the offices where they meet with people and discuss their needs. Then she took me out to the market. Our town has a really big outdoor market every Monday morning, so they have a booth there where they sell the same sort of things, but especially a lot of candies and packaged foods. She told me I could work there, and I stayed for a little while, but it ended up being hard because they didn’t really need me, and I was distracting them from their jobs. So, she took me back to the office and had someone take me with them to their epicerie (small corner store) where they sell produce and other expiring items donated by the grocery stores. I helped there for a little bit, which was fun, but again, they really didn’t need me much. Then when they closed, I went back to the main office, and they actually needed a lot of help because someone had just moved and sent tons of boxes that needed to be sorted. We just went through and took out all the winter things to store, and then got the summer things ready to go on the floor. That part was more fun, but there was one lady there who wasn’t very nice. She wasn’t too terribly mean, but she just treated me like I was a little dumb. Other than that everyone was really nice, and very happy to have me there. Mireille (the president) told me my French is excellent! And when she was introducing me to people she would say things like “I don’t know what she’s doing here, her French is so good! It’s funny because people say things like that, but my French is not very good. Really. I get stuck. I say the wrong things. I can’t express myself. But I guess because my accent is decent, and they generally understand me, and because my French is better than their English, that qualifies me as a great speaker. Whatever...I’ll take it! But I’m glad I have 6 weeks left, so I can get better. I really have come a long way in the last 3 weeks. And I really like having a break at home, and being as American as I want. It was such a blessing to end up here--definitely divine.

Saint-Marcel-d'Ardèche

Somewhere in the midst of trying to feel a part of life here, we spent a day visiting some family members of the family I'm staying with. I went on a little walk by myself to savor the landscape. The photos don't even begin to capture how beautiful it was. I imagined what it would be like to grow up here, like Matthias did, in a medieval village, with rolling hills of vineyards, pomegranate trees, figs and olive orchards.

And then I saw this tree, so strong and so alone. Of course my mind wandered, and I thought of myself. Of how much courage it takes to cross the world alone, and of how strong I can be. I couldn't stop taking pictures.

 And then I got closer, and saw this:

French Best Friends

June 18, 2015

I went to yoga Mon night, but got the time mixed up, and I got there 20 min after it started, rather than 10min before, like I thought. So I just walked around town and did some more exploring instead. Tues was an American day, and I went into Nimes and went shopping with Holly. Yesterday I mostly worked. And today I worked in the morning, and then went to the volunteer center to try and find some sort of volunteer activity so I can be involved in the community and speak French! I had emailed and asked, and they told me when to come. I went, and even though, according to the sign posted on the door with the hours, they should be open, alas, they were closed. It said they were open from 2:30-5. I got there at 2:45, so I decided to just stroll around town and come back. I looked at some bookshops and clothes stores, and just people-watched and eavesdropped on conversations, longing to be a part of them. I talked to some people in a bookstore, but it’s hard to have a conversation of more than a few min with strangers. I went back to the volunteer center a little before 4, and they still weren’t open, so I just headed home, bummed. I just want to be a part of France. Why won’t it let me in?

On my walk home, I started thinking about all the ways I make friends and become involved in the community at home. Church. Not in my town. And other churches have services at the same time. School, nope. Work, nope. Yoga, nope again. They moved yoga to the park this week, and the teacher took my email address and said she’d email me, and give me a ride. But it’s Thursday, and I never heard back. :( Another fail.

I am really enjoying being here, walking around the village, and spending time with Holly and her family. I really love them, and love living with them. And I don’t really have to learn French for any reason. It could really be the perfect set-up for anyone, living with a great family in a great spot. But I LOVE learning languages. I love being able to communicate with someone from another country in their language--I love the connection it brings. I love hearing how they phrase things, and learning the idioms that reflect their culture. It really brings me so much joy. And I am so close in French. I can understand so much. I can speak well enough to get my ideas across. And I’m in their country, in one of their quaint little villages, but I just don’t know who to talk to.

I’ve thought a few times that I just need to get over it, and start talking to everyone I see. I’ve done it a few times, but it’s very hard, and I don’t really get to practice much, because a conversation with someone on the street is only going to be long enough to ask directions, or if they have a cigarette or lighter (I've been asked that a few times--so European!). Anyway, I realized that the reason I can’t just get myself to do that is that those sorts of conversations are not fulfilling to me. That’s not the part of the language I love. I am an introvert. I don’t enjoy small talk. Even in a foreign language. I crave heart-to-hearts with people I’ve built a trusting relationship with. And that’s what I crave here, in French. I need some French best friends.