Tag Archives: montpellier

Still in France

Hello all! Just in case you couldn’t tell from the title, I am still in France. Because I’m in school, I’ve really just been living day-to-day and embarking on very minor adventures. In lieu of reciting my daily routine for you all to gloss over, I thought I’d make a list of pros and cons of my experience thus far. For the sake of optimism, I thought I’d list the pros first. Or you can read the cons first, if you’re the type of person who pushes all the carbs aside on your dinner plate to save the best for last.

Disclaimer: The list below sits upon a throne of subjectivity; as do most things that have entertainment value. Enjoy!

I. Pros:

a. It’s (almost always) okay to be late.

i. It’s true that the French are never in a hurry. There’s nothing more refreshing than seeing your professor stroll in 15 minutes late smoking a cigarette and clutching a motorcycle helmet, then take his sweet time in beginning the class and make no comment regarding his tardiness.

1. This is not to say that I take advantage, (as punctuality was a priority of my New Year’s Resolutions 2014 Edition,) but knowing that I’ll never be the last to class is always a relief when the trams are running behind schedule or when an extra 5 minutes of sleep sounds better than a date with Taylor Lautner. (Still #TeamJacob). Taylor, if you’re reading this, you know where to reach me.

a. Caveat: This rule is true most of the time, but not always! I will never forget the positively mortified look on my classmate’s face when the professor venomously tore her apart on the loudspeaker as she strolled in late to lecture. If I were her, I would have left. It was excessive to the point of borderline harassment/public humiliation. Know your rights people. ‘Merica.

–> You’re welcome.

b. Public transportation is efficient (although nothing else is)

i. I’ve never had to wait more than 15 minutes for a tram to come. Now that I am a transportation snob, it’s a burden to wait for more than 10 minutes. Even the drunk homeless people who ride for free are pissed off, when in fact we’re just spoiled by the efficiency of the system.

–> Psychedelic, right?

c. Free healthcare

i. Kidding, it’s not free. It’s only free if you’re not a resident and therefore don’t pay the astronomically high taxes required to live here- hence the nearly ¼ unemployment rate. Takeaway message: if you’re here on vacation, feel free to make the most of the experience and get some surgery, or whatever.

ii. On the same note, and for the same reason, school is also unbelievably inexpensive. I picked up a 1-inch thick pamphlet for an integrated lecture class, and the cashier looked puzzled as I whipped out my wallet. Free! Something equivalent at home would probably cost at least $130.

1. With government-funded schools, you get what you pay for. Squatting over the graffitied (ß that might not be a word) hole in the ground bathrooms has a cruel way of reminding you that capitalism has many benefits. At least that’s what I’ve heard, I’ve still been holding out on actually using them.

–> Blog interface won’t let me turn the image, so kindly tilt your head 90 degrees to the left.

d. Ecological responsibility

i. France, as well as most of this region of Europe, seems to really love our beautiful planet. For example, the grocery stores don’t give out bags. Many things are packaged in glass and cardboard so they can be recycled. They don’t utilize as many factory farms (hence meat being super pricey). Utilities are wildly expensive, so people are religious about conserving energy and water.

1. I, too, passionately love the environment, so it is nice to see a developed country with elevated GDP per capita that still uses the Earth’s resources with care. I wish America would go bagless! Sacrificing minor conveniences can minimize waste and pollution. Don’t you want your future descendants to breathe fresh air? The only reason that I don’t actually hug trees is because I don’t want to get sap on my couture. Moving on…

e. Location

i. Europe. Travel to just about anywhere is easy. And the architecture? Breathtaking.

–> Arena built for Roman gladiators in Nîmes.

II. Cons:

a. Hygiene

i. I get it- dog poop is biodegradable. Doesn’t mean I want it to biodegrade on the bottom of my shoe. Also, showering. Sitting in a lecture hall full of students is akin to taking a class in the men’s football locker room at home. Yum.

ii. I searched for dental floss in the giant store that is basically French Walmart. I first looked where the toothbrushes are. Nope. I asked two clerks who work at the store; they also looked where the toothbrushes are despite my telling them that I just did that. Doing the same thing repetitively and expecting a different result is a working definition of insanity- still no. Alas, I found one box of dental floss on the other side of the store, in the pharmacy, at the bottom of a shelf for 6 euros (equivalent of $8.25). I checked- it wasn’t plated with gold or any other precious metals. But I was a captive audience, a sucker for hygiene. I bought it. On the bright side, I do find myself doing an exceptional job when flossing.

–> I like soap bubbles.

b. Lurking: Creepers to my left, creepers to my right.

i. While there are many kind, normal people, there is absolutely an elevated prevalence of creepers. Look at me throwing around this term as if there is only one definition, like everyone knows exactly what I’m referring to. What do I mean when I say “creepers”? I mean people (9 times out of 10, men) who stop you to ask random questions that they probably don’t actually need to know the answer to, especially at night. I’ve been stopped while running by men who stand right in front of me, forcing me to stop or go back the way I came. There are also those who just come right up and touch you, like they can’t see your impenetrable personal bubble space. Give ’em the red light, or a right hook, I mean- whatever it takes.

1. There is a law here that states that homeless people cannot be arrested or removed by authorities if they have dogs with them. The police must first be able to place all of the dogs in a pound or animal shelter. As a result of this, almost every homeless person walks around with one or, more often several, dogs as a sort of insurance policy. They then get drunk in public and do whatever the hell they want, dragging the poor dogs along for the ride.

a. Boldly inserts controversial belief: If you cannot care for yourself, you should not be responsible for the safety and wellbeing of a dependent, (animal or child.) It’s a disgrace to the universe.

2. Attitudes toward women.

a. This is strategically placed under the creeper heading because, well, it fits here. The sleazy catcalling and constant shameless appraisal of females is so normal here that it was actually in our introduction guide under the section that dictates what we should know in order to to fit in. It’ll never be acceptable in my mind. Feminist: (n.) advocate of the SOCIAL, political, legal, and economic rights for women as equal to those of men (Dictionary.com). Scholarly source right? You got the point.

More to come soon.

X’s O’s & Une bonne journée à tous,

RJB

Location: Montpellier, France

Adfrenchures: Chapitre 5

Adfrenchures: Chapitre 5

Le Moiti� // Halfway

Sorry I’ve been unable to update for so long! Unfortunately, my laptop broke since my last entry, and with class, homework, excursions, and a week of vacation, getting on the Internet for something other than homework has been nearly impossible.

Since my last entry, I’ve been to Carcassonne with the program, Prades in the Pyr�n�e mountains with my host family; I’ve celebrated Halloween and my two-month “anniversary” in France. We’re at the halfway point. I’m trying not to think about leaving (or all the stuff I’m going to have to try to fit into one suitcase).

Carcassonne is sometimes called the prettiest Southern French village and houses a medieval fortress and castle. We took a tour of the castle and learned about the different defensive strategies built into medieval towns. We were lucky that the day we had chosen to visit, there was a medieval faire going on– like the Renaissance Fair! There were people dressed up as knights, medieval peasants, ladies-in-waiting… It added a lot of character and ambiance to the city as we toured it! We also ended the tour with a brief visit to a small Museum of Torture displaying instruments from the Inquisition.

One of the stained glass mosaic windows in the chapel of Carcassonne. The rose frequently symbolizes time as a circle. Here, Time is stopped by two smaller circles, symbolizing Eternity.

Pillories were used to punish people who, for example, spoke poorly of their neighbors. Contrary to popular belief, neither tomatoes nor rotten stones where thrown. It tended to be garbage or stones. Ouch.

For the week-long Toussaint vacation, all of the American students were scattered to the four winds. I, however, didn’t go to Greece or Norway– I had the FRENCHEST vacation ever had by any American. I’m 99% sure.

I went with my host family to their vacation house in Prades near Perpignan, about a two hour drive to the oriental face of the Pyr�n�e mountains, where Anysia’s father, Jacques, has a French villa. The villa is nicknamed the “chateau” by people in the village because it is so large, on the side of the river, and was the very first building built in the small town of Prades. It is largely furnished in the style of its era– it’s over 100 years old and has been a “family house,” owned by their family, for 4 generations. It belonged first to Jacques’ grandfather.

We ate lunch every day on a huge stone terrace outside at a large table. Lunch was a huge production, bigger than dinner, and frequently the cousins who own the neighboring villa came to join us. I learned of the French tradition of “l’apero,” which is short for “l’aperitif.” L’aperitif is when you drink liquor and talk before the meal, and it can sometimes last longer than the meal itself, anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half. Since we were in the Catalan region, there were lots of Spanish olives, Spanish whiskey, Spanish wine.

For lunch, we ate two whole roast chickens with vegetables; one day, we ate a leg of lamb that was the best thing I have ever eaten in my entire life; the third day, we had roast guinea-fowl cooked with oranges and fresh-picked figs from a nearby tree; and finally, our last day, Anysia’s mother (both of her parents come from Strasbourg, the border of France and Germany) made Alsacien food– sauerkraut, sausages, roasts, potatoes, and Alsacien white wine. On the edge of the terrace was a persimmon tree and once, for dessert, we plucked fresh persimmons from the tree and ate them. Don’t even ask me about the cheese; I tried so many different kinds, Spanish and French, that I can’t even recall them all. It was AMAZING.

Finally, at the end of the week vacation, we celebrated a cute little Halloween in our house. Mila dressed up as a little witch. Anysia made her a witch hat out of black construction paper and she made a paper magic wand with golden ribbons and a star on the end. They even carved and lit a pumpkin for me. Then, last night, with friends over for dinner, we broke out the champagne to celebrate my “halfway anniversary,” as yesterday officially marked two months in my host family.

Before dinner, I talked with Anysia in order to have a little “debriefing” on my stay so far. I confirmed that I was not an insufferable bore, unknowingly impolite (“No, you haven’t made any grand faux pas,” she told me in French), or otherwise a burden to live with. I also asked her what she thought about my language skills so far. She said I was already at such a good level when I arrived that the only things that had changed are an increased vocabulary and that now, speaking French was less tiring for me. It’s true that when I first arrived, speaking was a little bit exhausting for me. Now, I can hold extended conversation in French with ease and– this is new– a great deal of confidence. In fact, I successfully mingled at the debut of her father’s art expo in a restaurant, talking about literature and France with complete strangers. I’ve been told that my accent is distinguishable as anglo-saxon but not definitively American. And, at every turn, I meet people who express surprise at my level of French. Last night, a friend of the family’s who was over for dinner told me that it was incredibly impressive that I understand everything everyone says. So, to debrief, I am more confident, more at ease, and at an advanced level in listening. I’d say I’m still at an intermediate level in reading, and am fast approaching an advanced level in speaking. All I’m missing is vocab.

So, now you’re all debriefed, too. I’m going to come back and add pictures of the Prades house, the castles and cave I saw while I was there, the delicious food, and our Halloween hijinks. Au revoir!

Location: Montpellier, France

Adfrenchures: Chapitre 1

Chapitre 1:
Bienvenue

“sonder: (n.) the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own […]” — The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

“Je vais m’asseoir sur ton lit et je vais te lire une histoire¹,” Mila declared, struggling to get on top of the bed with her tiny legs. I lifted her up and handed her the book: Derri�re le Tracteur, with little cartoon birds following a tractor as it turns up fresh earth, full of grubs. She can’t read yet, but she made up stories anyway as she turned the pages, and I returned to unpacking my massive suitcase.

Here, I have a linguistic cycle– struggling against the language, loving it. Suffering under French, then liberated by it. It is in turns facile and difficult. In a way, I had packed my French away during the summer, like a winter jacket, and now it’s the correct season for me to bring it out and dust it off. (It is incredibly dusty.)

The first week was half-orientation, half-vacation. If I had a cobblestone for every step I’ve taken during our three different Montpellier tours, I could probably reconstruct half the streets of the city. The Meditteranean Sea lacked the murkiness of the Atlantic and was five times as salty. I have met people at the fountain called Les Trois Graces in the Place de la Comedie more times than I count– it’s the most important part of the city, a wide open space that somehow also seems to carry an incredible amount of weight and density.

It was our first full day in France, walking through the Place de la Comedie as a huge group of jetlagged Americans, when someone said something that struck me: These people spoke French before we showed up and will continue doing so after we leave. While blatantly obvious, I think the very physical and complete comprehension of this sentiment is the beginning of “global citizenship.” Of course, I believe that these people exist when I’m not around (I’m no solipsist), but there is a certain je ne sais quoi to the final, genuine comprehension of what that means and all of its implications.

In a way, this recognition is described by the imaginary word “sonder,” made up by The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. In France, I am a foreigner who briefly and poorly asked for coffee; that girl who totally tripped getting on to the tram; the back of a head that exited a classroom; or, to Milla, for instance, I will simply be an idea: “notre invit�e who stayed in our apartment when you were 3 years old,” and 13 year old Milla will put on her sunglasses and say, “Oh, I don’t really remember. I was so little then.”

In terms of intercultural understanding, thinking of oneself as a background character is actually quite liberating. I am unafraid to stop and ask for directions, speak halting French with the Monoprix cashier even though the line extends out the door, and tell the homeless man who tried to touch my face that he was crossing some serious boundaries and, very sternly, Bonne journ�e, Monsieur. In France, I am a footnote in the lives of others– as the defintion says, “a lit window at dusk.” And others are my lit windows, a kind smile and a finger pointing on my tram map, someone bumping elbows during classtime, my near-death experiences when trying to cross a road. (Seriously, driving in France is borderline suicidal.)

Being a background American also means I get to try every kind of cheese and not be embarrassed about not having had it before. It means I get to ask really, really stupid questions, like “This is embarrassing, but how does the toilet work?” (You have to pull the button upward instead of pressing it.) According to my two new friends Irina and Deborah (Lithuanian and non-descriptly francophone, respecively), being American is also somehow glamorous or cool. It also apparently means that I am constantly honked at, catcalled, hit on, and aggressively stared at by French men. It also means I get to do a few touristy things like go to the final “L’�stivale du Montpellier” wine tasting festival of the season, then dance as if no one’s watching.

Now, our orientation-vacation has ended, and it’s time to get down to business with courses. Even after a week, I can tell how much my French has improved. My goal for next week is to make at least one French friend, since now I have new American, British, Lithuanian, and Francophone pals.

A bient�t!

— Marie

Location: Montpellier, France

Education Abroad GeoBlog

Penn State bloggers from around the world

Tag Archives: montpellier

Still in France

Adfrenchures: Chapitre 5

Adfrenchures: Chapitre 1