Thanksgiving in France

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right? Wrong. When in Rome, ignore the Romans and celebrate an American holiday! By far one of the coolest things I will have done yet, this Saturday I will be inviting over twenty French people to my host family's house to eat a real Thanksgiving dinner, complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. Not a single one of the guests has ever experienced Thanksgiving, so I decided I would bring a bit of my own culture right here to Le Havre, France. There'll be friends, family, and family friends spread throughout the house eating à l'américain. Thanks to a few state-side packages containing American food not readily available in France, I'll be able to cook a true American classic holiday feast. After all, the point of an exchange is just that: an exchange. I've eaten (and loved) lots of French food, but the French have yet to be enlightened on the subject of American cuisine, a fact that I will soon change. Bon appetit American-style!

The second exciting event that has happened to me recently was a meeting with my second host family, the Bonins: Bruno (father), Sophie (mother), Margaux (daughter), and Simon (son). Bruno is a surgeon and Sophie is a psychologist. Margaux was an exchange student last year in Mexico, so the situation is much like my current family whose daughter is currently in Argentina. She's 17 and goes to a local private school called Jean d'Arc. Simon is 16 and goes to a different high school called François Premier. I'm very lucky to have at least one host sibling in both of my families who is the same age as me: and even better, two host brothers of the same age. Pablo, my current 18 year old host brother, has been incredibly helpful by bringing me to parties and introducing me to his friends. En plus, the Bonins have already told me that we'll go to Paris a few times, to Rouen (a very important city in Normandy) and Caen (the most important city in Normandy). They live in a thin but tall house that looks very French in the centre ville, about a three minute's walk from the beach and a five minute's walk from the mall and the pedestrian streets. Even though I'd rather not leave my current host family, if ever I had to go, I would choose to live with the Bonin family. Ils sont trop gentils.

On Thanksgiving day, it had been three months exact since my arrival in France. On that day, I reflected on the stages of language development I have gone through so far. For the first month and a half, I often spoke English, whether I was at home or at school; however, during this time, my comprehension of the language went from 0 to 95%. I was still unable to speak effectively, or even at all, but I after a month and a half, I was able to understand anything said to me.

After the comprehension stage came the reading and writing stage. I began to read real books (Harry Potter, Pride and Prejudice, 1984) in French and I could hold up real conversations on Facebook chat with my friends in French over subjects other than where I come from or what my name was. This lasted from week 6 to week 10, and during this time, I began to copy and understand notes taken by classmates in class. This was by far the hardest part for me because, even though I could hold up conversations in written French, if I tried to emulate these same conversations in real life, I would fail. 

Now, I have entered the third stage: speaking. About two weeks ago, it just clicked. I can now hold up actual, lengthy conversations in French with little or no errors in grammar, and not many difficulties with pronunciation. I have also begun to collect an advanced vocabulary and even started taking notes in class by myself. I rarely have difficulty expressing myself, and almost never have to search for a word. However, the real task will be the fourth stage: the perfection of the accent. Even though I am starting to speak intelligible French, my accent is just as noticeable as always, especially between the words rue (street) and roux (wheel), which have surprisingly different pronunciations. I'll get there, but not until after several months of speaking out loud to inanimate objects or layabout pets (it is, in fact, more enjoyable to speak to inanimate objects than to speak to yourself, until they start talking back). Dès qu'ils commencent à parler tout seul, c'est là où on sait que quelque chose ne va pas.

Between the meeting with my next family, the idea of an American meal with French friends and my exponentially improving French skills, I'm really starting to feel at home here. Certainly I'm having more fun, speaking more, and being more active with my friends. Oh, c'est la vie!

Milestones

So, I've been thinking about the steps of an exchange student's life, and I've decided to write them down. Here they are:

1) You locate your host country on a map.
2) If unfamiliar with the language, you learn the words for "hello," "goodbye" and "bathroom."
3) You've packed.
4) You've gotten on your plane.
5) You've gotten off your plane. Rinse and repeat (twice more).
6) You've met your family.
7) You've met your bed (soon after meeting family).
8) You've realized just how unprepared you are.
9) Breakdown #1.
10) School.
11) Breakdown #2.
12) School gets better.
13) Breakdown #3 (not required).
14) You've gained or lost weight. I've lost weight.
15) Language skills improve.
16) You begin having fun.
17) You go home. Breakdowns ensue.

Notice that numbers 4-13 happen within the first week or two after arrival. After you've adjusted, things only improve. They certainly have for me.

Other students.

Now, it goes without question that there are other students here in France, most of whom have blogs just like mine. I'm going to list their names and their addresses here. Read- they're just as educational and enjoyable as mine hopefully is.

Ellie Duff: http://www.elliesfrenchyear.blogspot.com/
Anne Fetherston: http://alfetherston.wordpress.com/
Sara Babcock (fellow Nebraskan!!!) http://gwentheavenger.blogspot.com/
Joelynn: http://joelynninfrance.blogspot.com/2010/09/first-rotary-orientation.html?spref=fb

Ups and Downs

Well, it turns out that "tomorrow" was NOT the best, as I ended up sick. I was sick from Wednesday night to mid-Friday, and I still have a few symptoms yet- runny nose, cough, and fatigue. But that didn't stop me from going to school today (Saturday), not that it was any use. On Saturdays I have French from 10-12 (again, not that that class is of any use to me). However, my class took a test today. I didn't know we were having a test. Hell, I didn't know we had covered any subject material FOR a test. Being as it may, the teacher told me I could just leave for the rest of the period. So, after going to school for 40 minutes, I ended up in the library studying Italian. E, perché io ho studiato molto per questi giorni ultimi, posso parlare e scrivere l'italiano molto bene per qualcuno che non ha avuto le classe d'italiano.

First and second days of school.

Ok. First things first- yesterday was great. Today was better. Tomorrow will be the best. I've finally started school, made friends, and I understand more French by the minute. French school is something of an enigma to me- different, difficult and dangerous, but desirable all the same. In France, high school is split into three years: deuxième, première, and terminale. Here, we count backwards from onzième (eleventh, and the equivalent of 1st grade in the States) to première (first, our juniors in high school) and finally terminale (final; senior). I am in première, even though I would be a senior in the US. Première is easier. That's all I needed to know when I chose it. Also, every grade level is split into three segments: Littérature, Science, and some other word I cannot remember. All I know is that it means Economy. I am in Littérature, because literature classes are going to help me the most with the language. And every segment of the grade is split into classes, like homerooms, because there are too many students to put them all in the same class. Therefore, my full class name is première L 2. You usually have most of your classes with your specific homeroom- that way, you get to know your fellow students better and feel better about interacting in class. So, without further adieu, I present to you my full class schedule:

Monday
8:00-9:50         Littérature Étrangère (British Lit)
10:10-11:05     Français (Take a guess...)
11:05-12:00     Histoire & Géographie
12:30-13:25     Italien

Tuesday
8:00-8:55         Espagnol
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie
10:10-11:05     Free period
11:05-12:00     Italien
12:30-14:25     Free periods!!
14:25-15:20     Français
15:35-16:30     ***Espagnol Renforcé***
16:30-17:25     Français

Wednesday
8:00-8:55         Italien
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie

Thursday
8:55-9:50         Histoire & Géographie
9:50-13:25       Free periods!
13:30-14:25     Français
14:25-15:20     Espagnol

Friday
8:00-9:50         Littérature Étrangère
10:10-14:25     Free periods!!!
14:25-15:20     ***Espagnol Renforcé***

Saturday
10:10-12:00     Français

*** Means it will be dropped or moved. Notice on Friday how I have one class that ends at 9:50 and another that begins at 2:25 in the afternoon. That is not going to pan out- I'd rather just go home.

Also, every class with the same name is with the same people. For example, look at Tuesday afternoon: I go to Français, then Espagnol Renforcé, then back to Français. Both of those classes are with the same students and the same teacher: the French system just throws classes wherever they will fit, regardless of whether you end up having that class once per day or three times.

Now that all of the administrative explaining of how school works is over with, I can move on to what actually has happened. As I said above, yesterday (Monday) was great. Today was better. And tomorrow will be the best. Monday was an oddly fun day. I got to my first class about five minutes late- I was looking for it on the wrong side of the wrong building. After asking a wayward teacher to escort me to class, I was left to knock, enter, and explain my tardiness all by myself. Luckily, my teacher was British- after all, this class was foreign literature. He then proceded to tell the class that I was "our resident American." In just so many words. I chose a seat at the back, and everyone stared at me. As I passed, a girl held out a book to me and said "take, borrow." I accepted. It turns out that everyone in the school, except for me, had started last Wednesday. Thus, this literature class had already received and read the assigned book. Everyone but me. So for two hours, I leafed through the rather basic-level book, all the while enduring stares from other kids and the occasional question about America from the teacher. After class, three girls volunteered to show me around, and to take me to the next class (in which all three of them were enrolled. Just like I said, the same people usually had the same classes, except for stuff like Spanish or Italian). French was bad- very bad. Not only was I introduced as the American again, but the teacher spoke so quickly and with such a heavy accent that it was impossible to understand. The girls who led me around later admitted that even they had lots of trouble figuring out what she said. To this point, I have had three hours of her class, and I have not understood more than two words: vingt-six. A page number. So that class is useless to me until I understand more French. Not that I truly care about grades here- I know what is more important. Finally, history- boring, useless, basic. Nothing interesting happened.
After history, I was free for the day (I had not yet entered into Italian). I had four hours before I had to get back to school to have a meeting with a school teacher and Célia about my schedule, and any proposed changes I wanted. So I went to the school cafeteria to eat, planning on probably sitting alone. However, much to my liking, a kid from my BritLit class started talking to me in very good English while waiting in line for food. Apparently, he had spent three months in Canada. He was also in the International section of the school, and most of his classes (even French lit) were taught in English. We talked, and he invited me to sit with him and his friends. I was just happy people weren't treating me like a pariah. After lunch, I left school (I know, its amazing! You can do it anytime you have free periods) and took a cable car down the hill to the le Havre downtown. I got a haircut (which I'm immensely satisfied with), finished my school shopping, and bought a new belt. Then, I took the car back up to my school and went to the meeting with my teacher, where I chose to drop all math, science, and P.E. classes in favor of extra Spanish and Italian. Next week, I will be adding a class called FLE (Français Langue Étrangère). It's comparable to ELL (English Language Learners). It's like a French class in the US. Here, French is literature and writing, just like English is to us. This class is specifically for exchange students (as the name suggests- étrangère means stranger. Here, I am an étudiant étrangère). That way, learning French will be much easier for me.
Today was cooler than yesterday. For one, at lunch, as I talked to the lady in charge of lunch money, the three guys I ate with on Monday walked by, said hi, and gave me the bro-shake. Then, as I was looking for a seat, they saw me, waved, and pointed to the seat next to them. I spoke more today, and offered information of my own whenever I could understand what they said.
In my Italian class, after the teacher took role, and noticed I had not been called, she asked my name. When I replied Austin Ford, she laughed, like most people here (Austin, which all of the French pronounce oh-steen, is their nickname for Mini Coopers. Coupled with my last name, Ford, I have two car names here in France. So EVERYONE laughs at my name, which is very embarrassing). Within two minutes, she knew I was an American, I spoke no Italian, and I could barely reply in French. So, she proceded with the lesson and generally ignored me. All the kids were asked to pronounce a line of Italian vocabulary, which they did with varying success. French and Italian are very different in pronunciation. In Italian, every single vowel is pronounced. In French, vowels mix together, and are often forgotten altogether (like the word étrangère- phonetically, it is pronounced ay-trawn-gair, with a soft g. The last e is completely dropped). Thus, these little French kids who were so unused to pronouncing vowels usually messed up every other word. Also, like in Spanish, the Italians roll the r whenever possible- something the French found very, very hard to do. The French r is difficult for me to make. It is a sound made by growling in the back of your throat while trying to make an r sound without touching your lips together. It is a sound we do not have in English. Rolling r's are just as hard to the French as the French r is to me. Fortunately, I have had four years of Spanish, and can roll r's perfectly. So when it came to be my turn to pronounce the two lines of Italian words, the teacher was surprised that I pronounced them all far better than these kids who had had two previous years of Italian. I then told her I'd taken four years of Spanish, and that catching up in Italian would be very easy for me. She became very, very happy after that.
So far I have listed the great things about today; now, I will mention the bad things. In history, the teacher asked me a very unfair question. She asked whether I thought the U.S. or Europe was more economically stable. This may not seem so horrible at first glance, but consider the implications: if I answered Europe, I would probably be lying. Also, in the eyes of the other students, I would be stabbing my country in the back, something I am determined not to do here, no matter how much negativity I encounter here. I might also be trying to curry favor with the teacher. If I answered the U.S., I would be an elitist, ungrateful of my host country, and continue the preconception that everyone in the U.S. feels themselves superior. So, I took the only neutral way out: after a moments thought, I answered, "Je ne sais pas." I don't know. I think it was wrong of my teacher to force me to choose between my countries. It certainly made me feel a little slighted.
The second bad experience occurred in my afternoon Spanish class. Soon after the lesson started, I realized that if I looked the teacher in the eye, she would ask me a question. Every time I looked her in the eye, without fail, she would ask me something. She never asked me a question while I was pretending to read the handout she'd given us. So when she said something that sounded like my name, I gave into the knee-jerk reaction, and looked up just as she looked at me. Straight in the eye. So she asked me a question, and I couldn't answer. That would have been fine, but for some reason I became a deer in headlights. Everyone was staring at me, the silly American who couldn't speak French or Spanish to say "I don't know." My face grew red (those of you who know me personally know exactly how red my face can become) and it grew hot. I stared down, unable to say "Je ne sais pas," or even "No sé." After a minute, the teacher realized what was going on and asked someone else. Everyone looked away, and I began to cool down. But I didn't look up for the rest of the lesson. After class, I went to the teacher and apologized, explaining how it had been two years since I'd had Spanish, and how I was still learning French. She agreed to take it slowly with me until I caught up with my previous level of the language.
So, in the end, the day was a success for me. Friends, a cool new language, and the comfort of a daily routine made the day quite enjoyable. So now I must bid adieu. It's ten here and I haven't slept very well lately, so I need to hit the hay. Expect another update within the next three to four days.

Winding Down

Stuff is pretty chill around here. Since I still haven't started school, there's not much to do. I don't even have chores- around here, parents do all the work. I get shooed from the kitchen when I start rinsing my plate, and the only thing I have to do is my own laundry, which is a weekly affair. So for the most part, I watch TV or study French while Célia goes about her several disparate businesses. Even Pablo and Matthieu have stuff to do- namely school stuff, seeing as how everyone else here in France has started except for me. Which sucks, because I can't wait for school. It will give me something to do, people to talk to, practice for my French, and interesting stuff to learn. I visited my school Friday with Célia, and talked to the principal. My school is very international- they even have an international section for students learning French. While I don't know exactly what my emploi du temps is quite yet, I do know several classes I'll be taking. Since I'm in Première L, something equivalent to a Junior who takes lots of lit classes, I don't have to take much math. I don't have to take any, actually- if I were so inclined (and I am), I could ask the principal to drop that class and he would. Not any student can do this- just the exchange students. After all, how will math help my proficiency in French? How will PE make me a more fluent speaker? So I get to take only classes I want, and drop the ones I don't want, and pick up a few more that I'm interested in. Like Italian, Spanish and English literature. I'll also have history classes, French literature (I'll take more of those than English), and French language classes. All in all, exchange students are treated very well at my school, so it will be easy to adapt. Monday I'll post my schedule, as well as proposed changes, and how my first day at school went.

30/8/10

Yesterday was pretty uneventful, so there's nothing to report there. Today, however, was pretty fun. It started off with the purchase of my French cell phone from the nation's leading cell phone company, Orange. It's nice- the Samsung Player One, with a midsized touch screen and lecteur MP3 (music player). The plans here are cheaper in some ways and more expensive in others: for instance, I'm only paying 25€ a month for 12 months, and I get unlimited texting. However, I only have one hour of talking time per month- mostly, that time will be for quick conversations. Everyone texts here- minutes are too expensive and texting is incredibly cheap. I also only paid 1€ for the phone, a benefit of their contracts. C'est un bon marché.
After that, I took a short nap and had lunch. I had some tomato (something I hated in the States but now love here), lettuce, some type of warm pie with olives and beans, and four different types of cheese. Food here is fresh, and you usually go to the store every couple days. The stereotypical marché in the street is pretty rare now, but markets are still small, and oftentimes you go to a specialized store (la charcuterie, or deli, for ham and prepared meat; la boucherie, or butchery, for beef cuts; la boulangerie, or bakery, for breads, croissants, and the like; the patisserie, or pastry shop (my favorite, of course) for the most amazing pastry desserts you'll ever find, all of which are freshly made and usually still warm). I've found that I like lots of foods here that I didn't like state-side. Whether that's because it's prepared differently or because of a change of scenery is not yet apparent.
After lunch, Célia (my host mom) dropped me in le Havre for the day while she ran business errands. Being dropped off in a foreign city in a foreign country speaking a foreign language I barely understand five days after arrival in France was something else: exciting, fun, but mostly terrifying. However, it was an experience I was determined to have, to prove to myself I could handle this. I'd been to le Havre three different times already, so, with my good sense of direction and memory of places, I set out to explore.
First, I walked down la Boulevard de Strasbourg, one of the main streets, away from la Gare, or train station. I walked past la Palais de Justice, the courthouse, and l'Hôtel de Ville, the town hall. I meandered around, sometimes on la Bl de Strasbourg and sometimes on small streets whose names are impossible to remember (the French name all, and I mean ALL, of their streets after famous people. It would be an insult to walk down a street with hundreds of years of history if it was called "A" Street). I walked through a few parks and took plenty of pictures of everything- to see them, see my Facebook album entitled "France!". Then, I went à la Plage du Havre, the beach, and walked along the boardwalk. Just as you might expect, there are plenty of tiny cafés that look like they're made of cardboard and steel sheets, but have some of the nicest furniture you'll find. Lots of these cafés have three sections: inside, for cold weather; outside, under umbrellas, for mild and warm weather, and a special section on the boardwalk with reclined lawn chairs and small, simple tables next to you on which to place your coffee, chocolat, or martini. I bought un café au lait sans sucre, coffee with milk and no sugar, and sat on the boardwalk seats watching passerby and enjoying the occasional sun that pierced the omnipresent clouds. Another French habit that I've picked up in only five days is taking coffee without sugar- in the States, coffee is pretty bland unless you pay out the wazoo. Here, premium coffee is available for practically nothing. No sugar necessary. Also, not that I would, but if I were wont, I could order vodka and orange juice and sit on the beach. And I'm only 17. Public consumption of alcohol is not only allowed, it's looked upon favorably.
After getting my fill of the beach, I went to one of le Havre's two centre commercials, malls, the Docks. It's a large quasi-indoor mall on the seaside. While the Docks has a ceiling, there are no doors, just portals of entry. There, I bought some stationary, envelopes, un stylo plume (fountain pen), and an austere, utilitarian black journal to write mes activités de jour (daily happenings) in. I returned to la Gare where I learned the bus to Montvilliers (the village next to mine) didn't leave till 18:48, an hour from the present. Luckily, Célia was in le Havre on business again, so she was able to pick me up and bring me back, at which time I began to write this. With nothing to write, I say adieu! (It means to god, but no one cares anymore).

First Impressions

Everyone speaks French. That much should have been obvious, but I honestly didn't truly understand how hard it would be to listen and respond in French. The most difficult part will obviously be to learn the language- but for that, I got lucky. My host mom, Célia, speaks English as well as French, and will be helping me learn for the first three months that I live here. Not everyone has a family that speaks English, so I will definitely count myself lucky.
The food is exactly as we Americans imagined it. Everything is fresh, bread is served with almost every meal, and lunch and dinner are followed by cheese and dessert. The bread and cheese here are amazing- I've already tried ten different types of cheese (the only one of which I can name is Camembert, my favorite so far). I've also had a glass of wine with dinner, and loved it as well. Generally, food is freshly prepared and cooked. The French would cringe at the thought of a TV dinner, or even a dinner that didn't take an hour to prepare. They're also very eager to offer food, and I've repeatedly had to decline third helpings.
Today (the 28th) I went shopping with some of Célia's friends' kids and my older host brother, Pablo. I spent over 200€ on clothes and shoes- everything is expensive here, even if the amounts were in dollars. However, I was able to sufficiently augment my wardrobe so I'll never have to wear the same thing in a week or two, and I still have plenty of money left to ‹‹sortir avec les copains››.
I don't start school until Monday the 6th of September. I'll be majoring in literature, which means most of my courses will be French, Spanish, Philosophy, and other less math-y and science-y classes. The French system allows you to major in three different schools in lycée, or high school: literature, science, and general assistance (mechanics, etc). I'll be attending l'Institution Saint Joseph, a higher-end school in le Havre. The school is next to the mayor's mansion, in the ‹‹posh›› section of Havre. It's very nice, and it has an excellent reputation.
Well, that's all. Don't expect such long posts, because life will soon slow down- it's still the holidays here, and there are parties and family/friend dinners every other day. Also, expect about one post per week- I can't spend all my time on the internet, because I'm not here to blog. A bientôt!