During my first conversation with my host father, the car ride from Saint-Pierre-des-Corps train station to his quaint home, I bumbled through introductory French with vigor, falling back on d’accord and the hmm sound whenever I couldn’t understand. After one week, I’m still vigorously bumbling and Tours still looks quaint save for a scarcity of cobblestone.
What surprises me is the abundance of activity around Tours. There are multiple language schools and colleges, and tourists (mostly French) frequent “Tours Old Town” and Avenue de Grammont, the road running North-South through the middle of town. Rather than making it kitschy, all the activity gives Tours a vital air which is partaken of most consistently at La Guinguette de Tours sur Loire. La guinguette means “the tavern” and many towns along the Loire have one situated by the river, so mention of “la guinguette” is understood to refer to the local riverside dive. This week, I went to Tours’ on Wednesday for an outdoor movie and on Friday to dance with fellow students.
At L’Institut de Touraine, the language school where I’m studying during my séjour, students from around the world attend anywhere between a week and a year strictly to learn French. I’ve already met students from Taiwan, China, Japan, Turkey (tentatively Kurdistan), India, and Spain, as well as many other Americans. Americans make up the largest portion of students, so I have to discern who amongst them is willing to speak French if I want to get the most out of this experience. As of now though, tout va bien.
At least in regards to language-learning. My navigational ability still wants improvement. Without phone service, I’ve tried to familiarize myself with the layout of Tours by walking. The day after I arrived, a Sunday, I planned to take a half-hour walk to Place Jean-Jaurais. The said Place is the central junction of all of Tours, so it’s useful to recognize. It turns out that unfamiliarity with Tours can lengthen the walk there and back to about 3 hours. The next day, the first day of school, I got lost returning home because I exited the Jardins Prébendes d’Oé via the wrong gate. I walk through those gardens everyday on the way to school and back, and now through the correct gates.
I enjoy getting lost in Tours more than in most places. Old buildings line the streets, many of which are strikingly quiet. Detours can lead to gardens, wine bars, or (as I discovered on what I thought was the way to Musée des Beaux-Arts de Tours) a beautiful mental hospital.
The most ridiculous of these misdirected outings occurred this Saturday, when I met a friend to attend an outdoor play. Online, the event had an attached map with a pin. I recognized the spot as an insignificant point along a road near my host family’s house, but I showed up anyways to find my friend confusedly searching. We didn’t find the play because the pin was misplaced by about three blocks. Despite foreknowledge, I really expected to find the play, even in the middle of the road. Maybe because of a sensory overload, or maybe because I’m an idealist, I feel a sense of heightened possibility here and am thrilled for the weeks to come.