“Bonjour!, Nous sommes a Paris, Bon Voyage et merci pour voyager avec AirFrance” We've landed, I look around dazed wondering what time it is or what the weathers like only to remember I have another flight to catch. Damn! It hasn't hit me yet as I step off the plane that I am in a different country or that I don't really speak the language.
“Excuse-moi, vous avez perdu ton sac!” says an old man as he points down by my seat
“What?” I say, realizing that I left my bag, “Ohh, Mer-ci” I croak out in a incredibly foreign sounding accent mixed with extreme jet lag. I look over to see my bro Max waving at me and yelling something about “exploring” the airport, we made this plan prior to the flight, as soon as we land, we would go do the one thing we couldn't in the U.S, sit at the bar and chill. As Max, a six foot, incredibly skinny Canadian and I, a 5'-10” Irishman sit there, we prophesize about all the good times to come in the next month
Three hours later....still waiting for our plane to Toulouse, Max and I wait, trying to break the ice with the other 20 people on the trip. As much I wanted, most of the kids on our trip don't exactly fit in with our “crowd” or maybe vise versa, they are the more artsy antisocial type. If Max and I went into one door, they would probably find another one only because we went into the first one. We then meet the rest of the group and perform the act after a friendly soccer game where we all shake hands in a line and try to look happy. I hear the call for our flight, finally, we all file sluggishly to board the plane wondering about each other and hoping it all works out
Now in Toulouse, we're on the bus taking us to the hotel, everyone's tired, hungry, but incredibly excited. Once at the hotel, we literally drop our bags off and change socks before we have to go to eat at a local restaurant and “taste the town” as our chaperones liked to say. The food is delicious, fresh baked bread, real mouth watering French onion soup, steak fresh off the grill with a creamy mushroom sauce, oh man, it was great. After dinner, with a full meal in my stomach for the first time since take off, Max and I discuss heading out and going clubbing but as soon as I sit down, I can't get up, In seconds, I'm asleep.
After parading around the town, we are finally going to start the culture immersion and meet our first host family. Its pick up time, this is intense, anxiety to the extreme: two by two, they trickle off to live in a complete strangers home for a week. Max and I sit there and make small talk, trying to keep our minds off of what could go wrong. Before I know it we're in the car with this short, kind of round woman who is saying things in French really fast.
She keeps repeating one phrase, “ Vous etes scoots de la mer, oui?”, I look at max for help, he looks at me, both wondering what the hell she is talking about. Hmmmm, “Scoot” what is a scoot? She then reaches in her purse and pulls out a sheet with information about the both of us. She points to a word, scout.
“Ohh, I say, scout, “ Oui, nous sommes sea scouts”, all of us laughing now and then it occurs to me, if she has this much trouble pronouncing english, I wonder how I must sound, damn. As I look out at the town and its streets, people, buildings, it was like looking at a really blurry picture where you can't really focus on anything. I start to think about our room and hope I got lucky enough to have one with warm water and a shower. We pass a huge garden where there are people unloading big semi's, our host mom turns to us and says “ Ce soir, il y a une grande fete, alle,”
“Did she say big party?” asks Max in English,
“ I think she did, boo ya!” I respond with a huge grin across my face
Our resting spot consists of two cot beds side by side, two drawers for clothes, one bathroom, and a closet all crammed into about a 10x10 room. Whatever. As we go up for dinner I observe where we live in close detail and try to figure out what is respectful and what not to do. Dinner is excellent, French frozen pizza is just as good as ours, maybe better. With clean clothes on my back, its time to head into town and see what's good, possibly have a beer or two. Max and I decide to take the metro downtown and see whats going on before heading to the “grande fete”. At the nice bar by the train station, we go up to the waitress and say “ deux beers s'il vous plait”.
She looks at us for a moment then answers, “ Beer? Qu'est-ce beer?”
I respond, “ Uhh, Beer? Be-er?” No luck, Max points to the tap.
“Ohhh, Be-ire” she says understanding now, the words sound almost exactly the same, how did she not get that? We then grab the Heineken's and proceed to drink them over at a table only to receive continuous condescending looks and stares from the old folks and employees. We finish our beers and head out to find a place thats, well, younger and less hostile. The next block we stumble upon the L'epicierie de Nuit, its the equivalent of a 7-11 and has much better prices than bars. After purchasing our brews, we start to drink them over on a stoop by a one way street near downtown, a car passes by giving us the eye, then the same car comes back around and the man sitting in shotgun says something in French. He then repeats himself and gets out of the car holding up his police badge. Oh shit,I just start to feel the dread coming over me, I wonder what the drinking laws are? What have we done wrong?Should I run? If our trip people find out we're screwed. This could be 6000 dollar beer, oh my god.
The officer starts to speak very quickly and make lots of hand gestures but all I can do to respond is shrug and say that I don't know. He then proceeds to check my pockets and pulls out my wallet. My CA I.D pops out and he looks it over, then he says something to his partner and they start to laugh. At this moment it was like the sky went from dark and stormy to blue and sunny with a band playing hallelujah in the background, I knew everything would be fine from here on out. They leave, my chest is pounding, I begin to calm down but still think to myself how that if I had been arrested I would not have been able communicate with anyone and would probably be in jail before I could figure out what I had done.
After our run-in with the law, we have no fears, we are ready to explore. We go to the party where there is a live band playing English covers and a lot of people, mostly older, trying to sing along in horrible accents. We head down the street to get some food only to be reminded of the trademark smell of most French streets, piss. Sure enough there is a firefighter pissing on the wall about 5 feet from us, as we pass by, Max asks whether peeing in public is illegal, His response was “ In France, you can pee wherever you want”. Interesting. This night of exploring gave me a chance to understand that my speaking skills were far from great and that I couldn't really have a conversation with anyone in French.
The coming Tuesday, we started school, weekdays from 9:30-1:00, it sucked. As I file in to my classroom to begin my teaching, I am thinking how I didn't sign up for tests and homework, I signed up to see the country and have fun. As class trickles by I come to the consensus that school might not be so bad as long it helps me improve my speaking skills. Our teacher was big on hands on stuff, which is cool because it took the tenseness off and made it bearable to sit there for four hours everyday. Luckily Max and I both managed to be put in the 2nd easiest class which is what allowed us to survive. This class allowed me to personally see how the language was spoken with the use of slang and rhythm, giving me something to try to accomplish in terms of actually speaking the language . Although it wasn't bad and was by far better than any class I could have taken at BHS, I still hated it and couldn't wait to escape to the streets everyday.
By the 4th day of the week, there were a couple groups that formed: the artsy antisocial kids, the sugar-rush crew( people who drank soda when offered alcohol), and the party kids which consisted of me, Max, a chiller named Danny, and four to five girls. We would split off in those groups and go do whatever we pleased. Its strange how that works, people just form alliances and don't really care to see what else is out there. That night, we all went to a bar/club to hang out and get drunk, at the bar, the girls all bought extremely expensive drinks that didn't have very much alcohol, the men stuck to beers. After a couple of rounds, the girls that convinced Max and I that they were experienced drinkers and we had nothing to worry about, started acting out of pocket and being foolish. They were beginning to take the shape of that annoying drunk person who talks too much and is way too emotional. Yep, about 10 minutes later, two girls were kissing for fun, one was in tears because her roommate was drunk (one of the kissers), one was puking in the street, and the other was just chillin with the bros, fun fun. We knew we were making a scene but didn't think much of it because no can understand us and we can't understand them. After the crier left things calmed down, things started to open up for the night and we got to know each other. Later, I came to realize that because we never met each before the trip, it actually brought us closer and people didn't have to care about image or what their friend/family will think simply because none of it matters, people are a lot more mature and don't judge, its awesome.
I wake up. Above me I see the clocks reflection on the ceiling, to my right there is this dude named Jon who I just met eight hours ago and to my left there are two little dogs staring at me. As I lie there, I think to myself how it all feels so strange to be sleeping in someone elses' bed and living someone elses' life. This week will be ridiculously difficult, I will be forced to speak nothing but French. I get up to go eat breakfast and as I walk through the door, the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and homemade hot chocolate fills my nostrils. On the table, there are all the kinds of cheeses you could think of, some scrumptious French bread, and the most rich-delicious hot chocolate in the world. Think of the greatest breakfast ever and that's how to describe it.
As Jon and I journey through the streets of Montpelier, he points to various buildings and statues that would be interesting if I could understand him, but I can't so I nod and say yes a lot. When we pass over a bridge I am hit with a 360 degree view of the city. On one side I can see the country side with the sea salt mountains glistening in the sun, and on the other there is the Mediterranean Sea. It's gorgeous, the weather is perfect, everything is green, its the typical sea side town except it's big enough to have life at night. When we make it to the beach, I meet Jon's crew. They were the most Euro people I have ever met; designer jeans, button up shirts, sandals, and sunglasses. We start up a game of pick up soccer on the beach. The sand is hot so you always have to be moving and focused on the game. GOAL! I connect with my teammate for a beautiful bicycle kick goal. Instantly we are all connected through the play, I feel more at home right now than I have all trip. I have become accepted among them. Although I don't speak French very well, I am fluent in the language of soccer. This allowed me to see how people put aside their differences to help each other accomplish a goal whether it be on the field or in a science lab, everyone wants to win.
At night, Jon and I head into town to meet up with his friends and the other Americans. After watching the French bros bicker for awhile, they have decided we are going to the club. As soon as you walk through the door, you are hit by the flashing strobe lights, thunderous techno music, and the pungent smell of everyone sweating in the room. I hit the floor and start to dance but after a little bit I realize that I can't really get at any of the girls or talk to anyone, it's like theres an invisible wall between us; Language. When we exit the club, we see two groups of people yelling at each other, looking like they are about to fight. The crowd starts to form, there is more yelling, then I see a knife flicker in the light. Oh shit, something is about to go down.
“Aaron, wait here with Ludo while I go find the others, it is time to go” says Jon
“O.K., Ill meet you by the door in five minutes” I respond quickly and Jon slips off into the crows. As I stand there watching the circle of people yelling at each other turn into a stampede as a squad of cop cars pull up with sirens and lights blasting, it hits me. I just had a conversation in French without having to think about the correct verb tense or gender of the word, I just spoke and it worked. I understood him and he understood me, I think. This gave me a feeling of confidence I had lacked all trip.
On the walk back Jon explains that the local gangs sort of run the clubs which is why he and the other French bros were arguing about coming tonight. He explains how there are usually fights afterwards and how the police always come eventually. I continue to ask all the questions I can think of simply because I can and for the next forty minutes Jon and I speak fluently in French. It was like my speaking skills went into another gear and I all of the sudden I could understand what was said and people could understand me.
I am woken up by dogs barking and my host dad telling me that it is time for me to go to the train station so I can go to Paris. While I pack and do whatever needs to be done, I find myself thinking about the things to be done such as getting my clothes or taking a shower in French. Weird huh? During the car ride over I make my “thank you” speech and tell my family how much I enjoyed living with them, how much fun it was, and how sad I was to be leaving. Now that i was able to talk to them, it made everything so much harder when it was time to go because I was now connected to them through language.
Looking back, it is funny to me how when I finally develop my speaking skills well enough to talk to people, the trip has come to an end and I get to go right back to speaking English. Being put in a household that didn't speak French really forced me to adapt and change how I thought about things. Language is what separates people and brings them together. Language is a bliss.