How do you say...

Last night I was invited to dine with a prospective host family.  My contact here decided it would help my French to live with a French family, nevermind the awkwardness of actually living with a French family.  So my prospective host dad, Gilles, and his 6 year old son Maxime, picked me up at 5:30 for dinner.  He was kind enough to speak French as slowly as possible while I answered in English.  He explained to me that they lived in a flat on the fourth floor (already a bad sign) and that I would meet his wife and his 4 year old daughter Juliette.

You know that moment when you enter someone's home and whether you know them or not, it's immediately awkward?  Then comes questions like "where do I put my bag and should I take my shoes off too or do I wait in the foyer until they invite me to sit?"  Well, in a French home where the customs are already foreign, it is 10 times worse.  Children always know how to cast aside the awkward.  Juliette with wide, beautiful brown eyes gave me a gift and invited me in. 

After sitting with the family and being introduced to the butterfly prince and princess of the Barbie Kingdom, I set the table and watched as Gilles' wife prepared dinner.  They asked me to describe popular Louisiana cuisine and I chose crawfish, which is impossible to describe.  (Everyone in France seems to think that Louisiana is more French that it really is--a bank clerk asked me today if we speak a little French in Louisiana...um not so much).  Dinner consisted of an entree of melon and tomatoes, a premier plat of delicious potatoes and roast, and a dessert of glace (try explaining the phrase I scream for ice scream--"you scream when you're afraid, yes"... or for ice cream)

During dinner, I played English tutor to Gilles and his children:

Maxime "Comment a dit anniversaire en anglais"
-Birthday
Juliette "Comment a dit tomates en anglais"
-Tomatoes
Maxime "Comment a dit Maxime en anglais"
-Maxime
Juliette "Comment a dit Leslie en anglais"
-Leslie

This went on for quite some time, but it was adorable. I hope the kids I teach this year will be just as curious and cute.

After dinner, Gilles and his wife offered me a room--their daughters room to be exact--and although they were quite generous I've decided to make my life a little more difficult and live with the other assistants in a dorm room.  Studying French has become my most time consuming hobby it seems.

I will plan on my life abroad becoming more interesting in the coming weeks.

A Bientot for now

An American in Douai

Aside from the train station fiasco, France and I have made peace and become friends.  Douai sits outside of Lille and is my current residence.  I'm living in a dorm room at the Ecole des Mines, something I haven't really experienced before.  Four other assistants live on my floor, three from America and one from England (I tend to think with a British accent after speaking with her).  So far I haven't done anything too exciting besides exploring the city.  Douai has amazing shopping...not that I'm doing any of that, but maybe in the future. 

I frequently visit Le Match, the supermarche closest to my dorm usually to buy something for lunch and each time American music is playing.  Being American is apparently a benefit.  I can find my culture anywhere!  Including translations of Twilight and Uncle Ben's rice jazzed up French style.  The disadvantage is obviously the food.  I have had some of the best food since my arrival.  My first full day here I ate at La Creperie.  Crepes are of course a French staple, but I have now experienced a crepe is its most superb form: the Galette.  Oh yeah.  A galette is a lunch or dinner crepe.  I ordered the club galette filled with gruyere cheese, ham, and an egg.  C'est magnifique!  Is it sad that the most interesting event since my arrival has been my first meal?...no

A Bientot

Waiting for the train Day 1

Highlights from Day 1

1 nice woman from Prague 

2 encounters with body odor before leaving the airport

2 hostile "madams"--I should pay more attention

18 consecutive looks of disdain for the clumsy American with an absurd amount of luggage 

2 very stressful train rides 

2 very sore feet

1 cut on my hand from absurdly heavy luggage 

1 excruciatingly long and painful walk to a second train station involving an absurd amount of luggage and stairs 

I've picked up to pieces of wisdom in my first days in France. 1) I am the crier of the family and 2) never...ever...ever bring three bags of luggage to Europe...never.  If you can't carry it up or down a flight of stairs without the help of 2 very friendly Frenchmen you don't need it.  

My flight to Paris was uneventful, thankfully, however never having been forced to take public transportation I was unprepared for what came next.  After buying my ticket and heaving the absurd amount of luggage I've already mentioned around the airport/ train station, I finally found the platform.  If only it was 9 3/4 life would be easy, but there was no mention of which platform led to which train.  After asking several people I found the right train and thus came the 18 consecutive looks of disdain.  Most people were willing to help the sad and pathetic looking American and for that I am eternally grateful, but I have learned my lesson.

After all of that, I do love this city.  It's beautiful and I can't wait to start working and explore more of France. 

Just waiting for the train that first day in Lille I know I can do just about anything 

A Bientôt 

Leslie