The weather is peculiar here in Collonges, France. The campus where I am currently attending classes, is located near the base of a mountain/cliff known as le Salève, and because the Salève is massive and also directly to the east of the school, you never get to see the sunrise from campus. Your mornings are spent shivering as you wait for the sun to make it over the range of cliffs so that it can dry up the ample amounts of dew on the grass and heat your cold American body. But the weather isn’t the only thing I’ve been adjusting to. Though I must say that all of the adjustments so far have been pleasant ... so let’s adjust.
A large group of smoking teenagers is lounging to my right as I walk down a small alley on the way to my favorite patissêrie. They sit there every day and watch me as I meander past, books in hand, endeavoring to comprehend the little bits of their conversation which drift past my American ears. We’ve exchanged salutations on a few occasions but, for the most part, we keep to our own little worlds. Their world intrigues me. Not because they’re smoking (as seemingly everyone does in France), or because they’re French (though that is a very good reason), or because of their clothing (which is so different from mine), but rather because they are a new world to me. Here they sit, in the quaintest alley I have ever seen, with cobblestones and old stone walls, doing nothing but smoking, laughing, and endeavoring to look cool.
The houses surrounding me have window boxes and latticed blinds, some with shutters open. I can hear someone practicing a piano in one of the houses, and in the yard to my right a man is tending his garden. He’s humming. I can’t recognize the tune, but that gives me some relief — now I won’t have it stuck in my head all day. This small town makes me wish I had theme music to follow me everywhere I go so that I could walk to its pace, hum along with the tune, and throw out a “Bonjour!” to passing strangers in between verses. I have already picked out a house that I will someday own, complete with stone walls, latticed blinds, and a garden. Eric Weber, Grant Perdew, and I will someday live there together in a domestic partnership, tending the garden, speaking copious amounts of French, and eating far more French food than is good for us. We will adopt lots of French children and spend our entire day listening to them talk in their adorable French voices as we sit on our front porch overlooking Geneva.
Many of you may be wondering if I have discovered any kittens here. You will be happy to know that I have discovered many forms of the feline species here in France. My impression that the French did not have kittens was completely misguided and I can now think of no cuter picture than a small French child holding a small French kitten. It’s truly adorable. And if you have never seen such a thing, please travel to France immediately and complete your life experience. (I will have a child and kitten waiting here for your convenience.) Though the kittens and cats alike are adorable here in France, I have not found them to be overly friendly. At first I thought it might be because I was speaking to them in English, but I was sad to discover that they are equally unpleasant when spoken to in French. Next I will try Korean to see if they have a more positive response.
I have found the French people to be much more agreeable than their cats. I wasn’t sure how I would be treated in France, and the stories of stuck-up French people were leaving me nervous. But I have found that the people here love my “Franglais” and willingness to be taught their slippery language. As soon as people find out that I am American and that I’m here to study French, they invite me to pick the fruit in their yard, try more of their French desserts, or meet their entire family. Sometimes it’s a little scary.
But the scariness of being in a new country has been unable to dislodge the pleasant experience of living here in France. Welcome to my world. You’re going to see more of it as I begin to relate to you, my friends, the beauty and the absurdity of the French culture.
Welcome to France.
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