French Meals:
[... about to eat a delicious French meal that we helped make ourselves.]
Are delicious. When I eat them whole. Actually, even when I don’t have a complete meal, I’m happy because I’m eating forms of bread, cheese, and sugar. I think many of you can vouch for times my cravings for “hot cheese,” “bread,” and cookies. So I love it here. The French don’t have calories. They measure everything in energy. Which is the same as a calorie, but with a complete different connotation, no? Since my classes are on the 5th floor of a building and I usually take the stairs, a French diet is completely justified.
A typical day....
Petit dejeuner (breakfast) – bread with apricot jam, yogurt, a clementine, or a croissant with chocolate. While there is some milk and cereal available, I’ve decided to forgo my addiction for the more traditional French breakfast experience.
Dejeuner – Sometimes I pack myself a sandwich au jambon (ham) or head over to the university restaurant, where you can get things like couscous, steaks (aka hamburgers), some fruit, and a dessert for 2,80 euro. It’s not exactly ND, but it’s also not bad at all. Sometimes I go somewhere and buy a monstrous sandwich and finish it off for dinner.
Diner – About three times a week I eat with my family, and that’s when I get spoiled by bread, multiple courses including soups, meats, cheeses, and always desserts. The best was a meal of pasta, smoked trout, and a cheese sauce the other night... amazing. Other times I scrounge for bread, cheese, and any combination of foods I can pick up at the Petit Casino market by our school.
Sometimes, when my host family feeds me, it just never ends. Which is good. But just so overwhelming. The night before they left for vacation, we had a nice dinner of sausage, rice, and vegetable soup. There was a ton of food – and then they brought out the lasagna. I declined, politely. Then they brought out the cheese. Then they brought out yogurt. Then they brought out the mousse. Then they brought out the applesauce. Then they offered me a pastry. I was like, dear God it never ends! I eventually figured they must be trying to clean out their refrigerator before vacation. I mentioned this. They laughed at me and said that wasn’t a concern. They just... wanted to feed me.
On a related note, the other night my host mom asked me if I preferred pasta or potatoes. I told her I didn’t know... and then somehow segued into how an Irish meal is meat and potatoes. She somewhat, but completely seriously, freaked out and claimed meat and potatoes is and always will be a French meal. My host dad nodded vigorously and kept eating. So the French have claimed meat and potatoes. I didn’t try to argue.
---------------------------------------------------------------
French music, television, and movies:
[... this is how one dances to French music at a French discothequa]
My room came equipped with a radio, which I was pretty stoked about. But unfortunately, the grand majority of French radio stations play American songs... I don’t know how many more times I can hear “Apologize,” “No One,” or that song about boots wit da fur without throwing myself out my screenless window. I mean, I was getting sick of these songs in America. My host sister seems to share my confusion about Timbaland and how he gets credit for songs when he merely grunts in the background (see JT, Nelly Furtado, One Republic, etc.). It’s good to know that he can’t dupe the French either. I occasionally figure out how to turn on the TV... which has about 20 music video channels, and much more French. Those are good times.
One guilty pleasure I’ve indulged in is Star Academy, the French love child of American Idol and Big Brother. I hate both of those shows in America, but when I watch this French show, it’s a cultural experience. The finale is on right now as I type... and I don’t know if Mathieu or Quentin is going to win!!! French TV is cool because they just put all of the commercials at the end. HOLLA.
I haven’t watched many movies here yet, though I did go to see Juno the other day, in English with French subtitles. It was really sad because the movie is distinctly American – tons of pop culture references, slang, etc. I was reading the subtitles and it just didn’t translate at all. I don’t know if the French got to truly enjoy it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
And, of course, a little story:
[... this is me searching for a new perspective on life after conversing with the Belgian man]
Here is a conversation I had the opportunity to partake/listen in the other night at the pizzeria. A jolly Belgian man found out we were American, and since he had visited America, he wanted to share his experience with us. And of course, practice his English.
Belgian Man: You know the state... the state of the potatoes?
Everyone: Idaho?
Belgian: Yes! Idaho! You know Idaho? I go to Idaho all the time!
(blank stares... sad shaking of heads because no one knows anything about Idaho)
B: Well it’s o-kay! I love your country very much. I love America. My wife and I, we experience true America! We took... uh, that large, American... the bus, the dog, the bus?
Someone: The Greyhound?
B: Yes! The greyhound! We take it from Los Angeles all the way to New York!
(everyone murmurs their amazement)
B: Wonderful. It was wonderful. Long trip. But real American people. We went to Jackson Mississippi! And let me tell you, the closer we come to Washington D.C. from Jackson Mississippi, the more of the black people get on the bus!
(we shift a little uncomfortably)
B: No, it’s true! By the end, my wife and I were the only whites on the bus! So many black people. (he stops and addresses Gloria) And I know you are one of them. One of the black people. And I – I do not care! That is fine, that is o-kay! I just tell my story with the facts like it happened to me!
Gloria: Hmm. Yes.
B: Anyway! There were many babies on the bus. Many – how do you say? Priestes? Preachers! And they point at all the babies and say, “This baby it comes from God!” And I just think to myself, “Oh, boff, oh...” (he rolls his eyes). One preacher, he sits by me, and I’m drinking my bottle of water, and he points at it and he says, “That water! That water is the water of God!” And I just say to him, “Oh shit” (he rolls his eyes again and starts laughing hysterically). You know?!?
(we nod or something)
B: But let me tell you. Washington D.C. We get off the bus. And there are all the black people, with their radios on their arms, and they’re dancing....
*At this point, I went to the bathroom. When I came back, he was handing Gloria his business card and saying we could stay with him whenever we’re in Belgium. Which we fully intend to do. Kidding, Mom. Ahh. I love a good race relations debate with a Belgian.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
List of French things I’ve done so far:
[... this is Mont St. Michel... a gorgeous fortress/Church built on a mountain island... some may call it Catholic Disneyland]
1. Joined my family on a picnic in the countryside... which turned out to also include a 12km hike. I don’t know if hike is a cultural connotation of picnic, but... it definitely happened. Mad props to my host family though. They have a grand kid. And they went on this hike. If this is what French people do on the weekends, no wonder they can live on bread and cheese.
2. Shopped at the outdoor Saturday morning market... I got a deliciousss crepe, some pears, and bread. And one guy gave me a free fig! Probably because he could tell French is not my native language and he felt sorry for me. But I’ll take it!
3. Made a French dinner. I actually only cut some pork and apples... but the end product was delicious. I felt French doing it at least.
4. Gone to a French basketball game... this was cool, because basketball isn’t as big here. But we didn’t let that lessen our enthusiasm for the game. We started a whole bunch of cheers, and the TV guy loved us. We still lost. Eh.
5. Danced until 4am at the discothequa. It’s a very European thing to do. I had just perfected the soulja boy dance before we left, so we all got to show that off at the club. Which was SWEET! I also did a freestyle dance to Apologize on the stage. That may be deja vu for some of you. Or a lot of you.
6. Really embarassing: I went into the phone store to argue that paying 25 euro had only given me 16 minutes of calls (which was the number I saw logged on my phone). After I went in and tried to communicate my point for like 20 minutes, I realized the 16 I saw was actually 16 hours, aka the phone I’m using has made 16 hours of calls during its lifetime (I’m renting it). Also, when they searched my records they found a 40 minute call to Grenoble on February 13. Erica. Oops.
7. I started French drama club the other day. Improv is a lot harder when you don’t speak the language. I find myself resorting to physical humor. A lot.
8. And this weekend, I’m going to Mont St. Michel and the tryoglycides (?)... which has a whole bunch of houses built in caves. It’s a lot for one weekend, but I really wanted to see both. So I’m excited to see a little more of France!
I hope this can suffice for a little while.
Love you all but hate the computer,
Lisa
No comments:
Post a Comment