Yesterday, I arrived in France. It's all very strange at the moment. I'm staying in the countryside, or, as my host mother, Sylvie, says, "in the bush," which is very different from my home in California. My family speaks English well, but they're nice enough to speak mostly French with me. I'm doing okay, but there's a lot I don't know, and when many people talk at once, very fast, I get confused and give up trying to listen. At first, my body was very confused; I was hungry, but when I tried to eat I felt sick, and Iwas tired, but could not sleep. Everything was confusing. Even the keyboard layout is different, and I couldn't figure out how to login to my Facebook and Blogsopt accounts because the numbers are different.
Besides that, I've been doing well. Today, we visited a friend who had a pool, and I went swimming. I learned a card game called Jungle Speed, and even won twice (Jungle Speed is most like a combination of Uno, Egyptian Rat Screw, and Set, but mostly like none of them). I also met a little deaf girl, and she was hard to understand at first, but I got better.
Today, at dinner, I discussed American politics and the Civil War with my host mother. It was difficult, but very fun. And after dinner, my host sister and I cleaned up the dishes. I even made a joke about le chevre, the goat, and got her laughing, which is good, because I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what to say to me, so it's often awkward.
School starts next week, and I'm Sylvie has arranged for me to participate in the theater. That's right, there school has a theater! Also, she has arranged for me to go on a boating week, to learn to sail. I'm a little scared.
C'est tout! The keyboard has worn me out.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Pre-Trip Fears
Tuesday morning, at 5:55 am, I'm flying out of Santa Barbara for a year in France. I'll be staying with a host family and attending a lycee, or high school. I'll be immersed in French and hopefully become fluent.
To be honest, I'm really freaked out at this point.
I need to finish packing, and at this point it's mostly just gadgets, gifts for my hosts, and paperwork. Still, it's been years since I've gone out of the country, I've never been to Europe, and I've never traveled on my own. I keep having these weird nightmares where I land in this tiny little airport much like the one in San Luis Obispo, and they won't let me through Customs. Or, I arrive, and it turns out I'm fluent in French, because the French language goes no further than the simple phrases I learned in school, like, "Je voudrais un croque-monsieur." "J'ai soif." "J'aime la musique." "Est-ce que tu vas au piscine?"
Worse yet, though, is the fear that I'll arrive and my host family will realize that I'm not at all what they expected.
Then again, these are all my irrational fears. I should also add that I'm afraid of ghosts living in the basement of my mother's piano studio, and zombies in the backyard (they'll attack you in the jacuzzi if you're not careful).
Beyond all these fears, I also have about a thousand cheerful hopes for how my year abroad will go. I will become fluent in French. I will live in the French countryside. I will get to travel all over France and Europe, absorbing the ins and outs of a culture that most American tourists just skim over on a ten day trip.
Of course, the nagging doubts are always louder, and sometimes I feel as if I am just about to plunge into a lake of ice water, and it's to late to turn around and stay dry. But what else is there to do but plunge, right?
To be honest, I'm really freaked out at this point.
I need to finish packing, and at this point it's mostly just gadgets, gifts for my hosts, and paperwork. Still, it's been years since I've gone out of the country, I've never been to Europe, and I've never traveled on my own. I keep having these weird nightmares where I land in this tiny little airport much like the one in San Luis Obispo, and they won't let me through Customs. Or, I arrive, and it turns out I'm fluent in French, because the French language goes no further than the simple phrases I learned in school, like, "Je voudrais un croque-monsieur." "J'ai soif." "J'aime la musique." "Est-ce que tu vas au piscine?"
Worse yet, though, is the fear that I'll arrive and my host family will realize that I'm not at all what they expected.
Then again, these are all my irrational fears. I should also add that I'm afraid of ghosts living in the basement of my mother's piano studio, and zombies in the backyard (they'll attack you in the jacuzzi if you're not careful).
Beyond all these fears, I also have about a thousand cheerful hopes for how my year abroad will go. I will become fluent in French. I will live in the French countryside. I will get to travel all over France and Europe, absorbing the ins and outs of a culture that most American tourists just skim over on a ten day trip.
Of course, the nagging doubts are always louder, and sometimes I feel as if I am just about to plunge into a lake of ice water, and it's to late to turn around and stay dry. But what else is there to do but plunge, right?
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