An American Girl in Avignon

April 4th, 2009 (jour 12)
Last night was officially the first time I have gotten a decent night’s sleep for the past two – possibly three weeks, aside from my first night in Paris. Sleeping in never felt so good. Kristina and I went downstairs around 11:30 for a late breakfast, only to discover that our host family had abandoned us for the weekend…without telling us. We tried to rethink our conversations over the past week, and neither of us could remember them saying anything about leaving us alone to fend for ourselves. Thankfully, Paul was home, because he had to study for the French version of the OGT called the BAC. Apparently, our family had spilt for the weekend to go to their house in the country. I thought back to my high school French classes and remembered reading a culture section on how it was common for Francophones in the city to have getaways in the country specifically for weekend excursions. I had absolutely no problem with my host family being gone aside from the fact that 1) they didn’t tell us they were leaving (and if they did, neither of us understood) and 2) we had paid for four meals this weekend which we were not getting fed. Hmmm….this was not good for our wallets or our stomachs.

Panicked, I called Kyle and Adam to see what they were up to…and if we could snag a dinner invite to their house that night. (Danielle is an excellent cook). After thinking it over, we decided that it was too early in the program for us to be inviting ourselves over to each other’s houses for dinner (we had barely been here a week after all), but made plans to go out that afternoon and see a movie with them and Jenny, a grad student who acts as our “assistant” on the trip. She is truly a delight, and had plenty of advice for Kristina and me, since she lived with the Morviellez two years before. Apparently, this disappearing act had happened in previous years, so she understood our condition.

We met Kyle, Adam, and Jenny at the end of the Rue de la Republique a few hours later to do some shopping and grab some lunch. It was absolutely beautiful in Avignon today, and it seemed as though everyone was out to enjoy the sunshine. The nice weather lifted my mood so much that I felt a little at home for the first time in France today. I have a feeling that Avignon, like Athens, is slowly but surely going to become one of my “homes away from home.”

On the other hand, while attending the university, I am starting to understand how the Japanese students must feel at OU. We all, we being the twenty OU students studying in Avignon this spring, stick together like the Japanese students seem to socialize amongst themselves at OU. Being amongst fellow Americans provides some sense of familiarity in the midst of a country so different from your own. When I return to OU, I am going to make an effort to reach out to one of these foreign exchanged students. I now understand what it feels like to be so far away from home while trying to get an education in a country full of people who don’t speak your language. I did become good friends with a Chinese girl named Yin who lived in my mod first quarter, and part of winter. Sadly, she had to move out, but gave me some chop sticks from China before she left the dorm and thanked me for always being friendly and talking to her. I am touched when I look back and realize how much those little acts of kindness and small talk in the bathroom must have meant to her. Sometimes it takes walking in another’s shoes for a day or two to really understand how they really feel.

Speaking of feeling more at home, I have noticed more and more frang-lais creeping its way into my everyday conversation. I’ll be speaking in English and subconsciously, I’ll throw in a few random French words into the mix for good measure. The funny thing is that I don’t even realize I am doing this; it just happens. I’ll say things like, “okay, let’s allez to the cinema ce soir,” or “yeah, of course, ça marche bine.” It’s really amusing. I hope that I will just start speaking French all the time one of these days, instead of busting out in uncontrolled frang-lais. I’m hoping all of this frang-lais is a sign that I am slowly but surely picking up the language.

Sun, shopping, and lunching at a Snack Stand of steak frites and hot tomato and mozzarella sandwiches was exactly what I needed to brighten my day. While sunning ourselves outside the café, we began to talk about what fast food places we missed from home; we even talked about how much we missed things like the Wok Bars at the dining hall. You really learn to appreciate the things you have when they are taken away from you. The Chipotle closest to the Columbus airport is my first stop on June 13th. Can’t wait for some of that cilantro… Yes, we are in France, the culinary capital of the world, but most of the good food here is too expensive for us to buy, and croissants and crêpes, although tasty, do get old after awhile.

While browsing around, we decided to take a rest at a different café for some drinks to enjoy the weather. The conversation quickly flowed from politics to divorce in less than five minutes. I guess that’s the French rubbing off on me; they love to talk politics…and apathy is not accepted here…which is difficult for indecisive me – one MUST have an opinion and know why they have it. Divorce, while considered taboo in France, is sadly on the rise, like in most other countries. Although divorce is a big no-no, I found it interesting to note that mistresses and French public figures go together like peanut butter in jelly. I don’t think that this is acceptable in any way, shape, or form. I am, unfortunately, realizing that affairs are more common over here. Case and point: two of my friends (which shall remain nameless) seem to have been placed in a host family in the midst of an affair. I began to think how I would feel if I was, for example, Nicolas Sarkozy’s wife, and the public accepted the fact that my husband had a mistress. I wouldn’t like this at all. I guess some things, like morals, are different in France. Since the French are not big fans of Sarkozy at the moment and since Obama is in Strasbourg, it seems as though they have adopted him as their own President in a sense. It’s really quite an interesting phenomenon. O-bama fever exists thousands of miles away from my college town in the hills of the Appalachia.

After the café, we went to the Fnac, the French version of Best Buy. I was on a mission: a mission to find a cool French band. Guess it was meant to be, because I ended up finding one with the first CD I picked up. The band: Eiffel, the CD: Abricotine. As soon as the first song began, I knew I had success. I also found a Daft Punk album of hits, although not in French, this would suffice. I bought them both and walked out of the store with a big smile on my face.

Since we had been abandoned for the weekend, Jenny decided to adopt me, Kristina, and Paul for the evening and treat us to dinner at a fancy French restaurant. The expensive gourmet dinner consisted of three courses: you pay one price up front and are granted the selection of an all-you-can eat buffet full of French delicacies with a menu that changes each day and night. This food was exactly what people were referring to when they talked about the beauty of French cuisine…and it was worth every penny. Hands down, the best dinner I think I have had in my entire life. The appetizer options were countless purees, fancy popcorn crèmes, vegetable kebobs with dip, shrimp cocktail, and a bunch of other fancy food that I have no idea what is called. The entrée was couscous, chicken, ratatouille, duck comfit, a fish dish, and some other exotic meat. The desserts were an endless array of colorful tarts, tortes, pies, airy strawberry mousses, and mini sundaes – all arranged for maximum appeal in tiny shot glasses. Bon appétit, indeed.

After dinner, we met Kyle and Adam at the movie theatre to see Milk, or “Harvey Milk” in France. The movie, although presented in English, had French subtitles. It was fun to try to read the French subtitles along with the English dialogue and make the discretion between which lines were and weren’t literally translated. I found it interesting that French theatres don’t allow you to be late to a screening, and lock anyone out trying to enter after the start. There are no previews, and the bathrooms are located in the back of the theatre. Also, most French people stay around to watch the credits. We found this out as we rose out of our seats to turn around and exit as soon as the cast list flashed across the screen,only to turn around and find everyone still seated…and staying that way. Maybe this is because the French have a greater appreciation for film making and aren’t in a hurry to rush out of the theatre as soon as the credits start rolling. Je ne sais pas.

After the film, we decided to meet up with Guillaume, Kyle’s correspondent whose name I misspelled in my pervious blog, and Katie and Sakinah at the Red Sky for a drink before the discotheque! The discotheque we went to was called Red Sky and in a way reminded me of 19 South, only this was 19 South on steroids. Lights flashing, music (mainly American music…US music is more popular here than French music…it’s nice going into bars, clubs, and restaurants and hearing something like Lady Gaga blaring through the speakers…it reminds me of home) pumping, smoke flowing, people dancing everywhere…it was awesome!!!! For someone who likes to dance, this was like heaven on Earth. Heck, me, Adam, Katie, and Sakinah even jumped on the platform for added amusement. Funny that the four people table dancing in a French club were, in reality, just a bunch of nineteen-year-olds from Ohio. When in Rome, or this case, Avignon, do as the French do. And boy, do the French like to dance. It’s safe to say that we will be returning very soon.

While leaving, Sakinah found the French version of Big Mommas/Goodfellas. Only the French have crêpes in place of burritos and pizza at three in the morning. She was lucky to find it, because the shops in smaller cities in France close at 7:00 for dinner, aside from restaurants, clubs, and bars (even McDonald’s closes), and everything, except the bakery and a select few cafes, is closed on Sundays. Danielle, Kyle and Adam’s host mom, told us this was because the French were lazy and didn’t like to work. Although it was funny that she said that, she, herself, being a French woman, I beg to differ. The French seem to work every hard from what I’ve seen. Perhaps they decide to close everything early, because they like to enjoy their life outside of work. I admit that it’s inconvenient to consumers, but I think it’s nice that French business owners keep a sense of family and make time for themselves outside the workplace. It’s a refreshing mind-set.

Speaking of work, I have a paper to write before grammar class tomorrow and pick a time to call my mom. Since we are six hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, it is difficult to find a good time to get in contact with family in friends. But hopefully, I will work this all out as I get more adjusted to the time zone. Maintenant, c’est le temps pour faire mes devoirs. XX (online version of the bisou)

Oh, I almost forgot, on the way back from the discotheque, we saw a crazy man in the street who felt the need to bare his backside in the middle of the Place Pis. I thought it was interesting that the French cops, although there, just stood around and let this happen. That guy would have been handcuffed and tasered in two seconds flat in the US. Guilluame told us that cops (les flicks en français) in Avignon usually just let things like that fly, as long as the guy doesn’t hurt anyone. Interesting indeed.