An American Girl in Avignon

Avril 19 Sunday
Last night, after a much-needed shower after a day in Nimes, I agreed to meet Rachel at Red Sky and accompany her to her correspondent’s party, mainly to alleviate the awkwardness of a first-time rendez-vous. It is crucial that I mention how “rendez-vous” does not have the same connotation/undertone as it does in English. When one mentions a “rendez-vous” in America, the implied meaning is a romantic/secret meeting with the opposite sex at some ungodly hour of the morning. This belief connotation can be attributed to Eve 6’s “rendezvous then I’m through with you” lyrics. However, in France, the word rendez-vous has no romantic or scandalous undertone unless one adds the word “romantique” at the end - then my friend, you have la même chose (same thing); it simply refers to an arranged meeting: whether for business or pleasure. No wild night of forbidden love intended.

Her correspondent, whose name I didn’t understand (he is from Morocco), met us outside the pub with his friend and walked us to his apartment. Now, at first, I was a little concerned, and thanked God that I had not seen the movie “Taken.” After I found out his girlfriend was going to be there, I let out a sigh of relief. Call me paranoid, but I made sure my cell phone was in my pocket, with Kyle and Adam’s numbers on speed dial. Thinking back, I really should have paid attention to the street name, because even if I needed help, I would not have been able to give them a ballpark region of where we were. You live, you learn. Two girls going to the apartment of two French boys they just met a week ago sounds like the base for the next slasher film.

Of course, everything was fine and there were several other students there. So, talking with them was easier than I thought, especially after they brought out some food, drinks, and started blasting some American tunes that the French seem to love so much. But, just in case the situation was awkward, we had pre-arranged for Kyle to text us, and remind us to meet him at Red Sky after an hour or so (sounds horrible, but you gotta have an out). So, we left, but agreed to be back next week with our other friends. They were really nice and friendly to us, had a really cute cat, and the décor was red flower-themed. I was surprised to learn afterward that he had chosen the décor himself. The French men are very secure in their masculinity/metro-ism.

Well, today we woke up early, even after being out, because the family had agreed last night at dinner that we would make pancakes in the morning. Yet, when we got up, the usual array of burnt bread and jelly was on the table (including the box of cereal I had bought for Kristina and myself. Even though we had asked them to provide cereal for us (and they’re supposed to), I just said, “screw it,” and bought some. Sometimes if you want something done, you just have to do it yourself). When we asked to make pancakes, they acted shocked and confused (I kind of figured this would happen when Kristina tried to show the mom the recipe the night before, and she blew us off). Oh well. The situation with the family is getting more and more challenging every day. Things will get better, but then they will get worse. I don’t want to use this blog as a place to complain, but I will say that the other night, when Kristina, Meghan, and I tried to walk in the living room to pick out a movie to watch upstairs, they told us, “Ne nous derangez pas.” (Don’t bother us). This baffles me, because we were just going to walk in the room, pick one out, and take it upstairs. A lot of more serious stuff as happened, but I will just use these events as examples. I am trying to keep a positive attitude by reminding myself that the grève and hard economic times must be taking a toll financially and emotionally on the family. I know that having to deal with problem such as these is just a learning experience; so hopefully, I will grow to thicken my skin a little by dealing with some blatant rudeness. But after talking with the host family tonight (Wednesday), I feel better about the whole situation (in an upcoming blog). Yet, I don’t want to feel like a burden to a family who is going through a hard time. They say what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger (ain’t that the truth!), so I know that learning how to deal with a difficult situation such is this is probably a blessing in disguise: it’s a learning experience. I have been saying my favorite prayer, the Serenity Prayer, a lot, and it really helps. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” Words of wisdom indeed.

Unwelcome at the family lunch today (after the mysteriously missing pancakes), we were wished luck in our attempt to find places open on Sunday as we waltzed out the door.. Sick of steak frites, paninis, crêpes, or salade niçoise, we decided to fulfill the American stereotype and take a trip…to McDo (the French nickname for Micky D’s). I found it funny that the girl behind the register knew I was an American as soon as I opened my mouth and began speaking English to me. I can wear French clothes, speak French, and try to blend it, but as soon as they look at me (and I speak in my “accent”), they have me pinned: American. You can take the girl out of America, but you can’t take the American out of the girl.

While at McDonald’s, a lady who had forgotten her glasses, approached us and asked if we could read aloud the bathroom code on her receipt. As I mentioned before, it is not uncommon to have to purchase something before being granted access to the toilets. McDonald’s has a punch-in access code and operating hours for their porcelain thrones. Amusing, but annoying to all those who have “gotta go”

a plus tard!
XX...X (three bissous: this is Provence after all)