Friday, March 21, 2008

My France Hurts

Last night, as I was getting ready to go out, my host-mom was putting her daughters to bed. Among the typical good night wishes bonne nuit, bisous, chouchou and requests for lights to be left on and bibrons to be made, something strange emerged.

Kid: J'ai mal au ventre (my stomach hurts)

Mom: Eh oui, j'ai mal à la France

Kid: J'ai mal à la Russie!

Mom: J'ai mal aux saussissons!

It was the first time I'd heard, or at least caught onto, something ressembling the kind of idiotic inside jokes that families make-- jokes bred, I think, by a need to relieve the stress of living amongst one another hour after hour with a healthy does of loony. I don't intend this entry to be some sort of 'everyone smiles in the same language' kind of crap. Well, actually, maybe I do.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Anyone out there...anyone?

So I clearly haven't been so diligent about updating my blog these days, and I'm not certain people are still reading it-- so if you ARE reading it, please leave a comment letting me know! Otherwise, I will assume that my blog has become the virtual equivalent of talking to a wall, or worse, an imaginary group of friends.

Let me say that my recent absence is not for lack of things to write about. Life in Lyon is as challenging, absurd, thought-provoking as always. I just haven't had connection to the internet on my own computer. From now on, I'm going to try to take a different approach-- to just write short but frequent entries rather than these long, ruminative, probably tedious pondering on life as an ex-pat. That is, of course, if anyone is still reading in the first place.

And what could demonstrate my newfound conversion to brevity better than...a list?

Signs that I’ve been living in France for awhile

1) If possible, I try to cater my shopping so that the cashiers won’t have to give me any large amount of change.

2) No matter how warm it is, my neck feels cold and naked without a scarf.

3) I can easily go 24 hours without the internet.

4) I cannot go 24 hours without cheese.


5)
I have lots of difficulty typing on English keyboards.


6)
I think that 1 euro (i.e. $1.50) is a reasonable, even cheap, price to pay for a can of coke.


7)
The idea of exerting any energy whatsoever on Sunday, besides maybe for cooking a good meal, disgusts me.

8) Nicolas Sarkozy and Carla Bruni have replaced Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie as the couple of interest in my mind

9) I no longer 'think' of plans, I 'propose' them. I tell people I am 'in accord' with them and I say things like 'I'll call at her' and 'I got myself up'

10) I barely notice when service is slow, and when it's fast I treat the server like my best friend.

11) Upon looking at the ‘tall’ starbucks latte I’ve ordered I think ‘my god, that’s huge ! there’s no way I’ll ever finish it all !’

And ONE sign that you can take the girl out of America but you can’t take the America out of the girl ;

Despite my doubts, I still finish the latte. And want more.


Ve-love

So, after months and months of avoiding Lyon’s bike system out of fear, laziness, and a lack of sufficient funds for the deposit, I finally got my act together and purchased a Velov card. Now my only regret is that I didn’t do this earlier. Much earlier.

Now, for those who are unacquainted with the concept of such a system (i.e. non-europeans) I will give a quick run-down of how it works. The Velov is essentially a bike rental system available to anyone with a French bank account. To use it, you purchase a Velov card (just 1 euro for a whole week) and pick up a bike at one of the various stations positioned around the city. Afterwards, all you need to do is drop it off at another one. It’s all machine operated and very efficient, except of course, when the bikes are faulty (which is often). The practical benefits are bien evident – it’s cheap, good exercise, and environmentally friendly.

But what pleases me the most about the Velov is the feeling of swiftness you get whizzing around on it from point A to point B. It’s as though I’m suddenly seeing Lyon through new eyes—those of a well adjusted local and not a confused foreigner. On the bike, I can easily glide past the numerous street solicitors as well as the standard creeps without having to exchange a word. A strange feeling of control is attained.

(warning : feeling not attained on a Sunday afternoon in the Parc de la Tete d’Or whilst put-putting through the masses—all cardiovascular benefits will be negated by the blood boiling rage you will feel for the folks that walk slower than snails).

French Friends??

As of two or three weeks ago, I had basically resigned myself to never having any French friends. I figured it was a pity, but tant pis. Until then, I had met a fair number of Frenchies, but the language barrier just rendered it too difficult for me to make any sort of real connection. It was always the same, really-- we'd be introduced, make small talk which would eventually fizzle due to my inability to understand or just a plain lack of things in common. None of them ever showed interest in extending our friendship beyond the occasional party or casual chatting at school.

It was okay, I thought, because I was practicing with my family. And it wasn't like I was hanging out with a bunch of Americans.

The sort of fantasy I'd always had, and I think it is one shared by countless exchange students, was for some very fun, friendly French students to introduce themselves to me, show interest in me, where I'm from and why I'm here, compliment my French, but coyly correct my mistakes, and then, most importantly of all, ask me to hang out with them.

After six months in Lyon, I'd written this off as a laughable pipe dream. But friends, it has actually happened!

And so here I am (or was) sitting in a bar, the only exchange student among a group of French girls and boys, straining to follow the trail of their banter over the blaring music, whilst self-consciously sipping the prim little glass of white wine they teased me for having ordered (I was in the mood for it!)

And here I am (or was) walking down the streets of Lyon with them at 1am as they speak in English and I speak in French (practice all around!)

And here I am, greeting one of them with a bisous before we go to take a coffee at an outdoor cafe.

And I figure, even if nothing comes of this, I'll at least have these moments to remember when I look back on my year in France.