Category: SLA

Ohhhh, We’re Halfway There….

….And some days, I’m still Livin’ On a Prayer. Once again, good morning from rainy suburban Moscow! Today marks 4 weeks since I arrived in Russia on a cool, dreary day, meaning that I have nearly reached the halfway point of my journey. The past two weeks have honestly been a bit of a blur, with so much learning in the classroom and sightseeing around the city. I can now sense noticeable improvements in my speaking ability and vocabulary; further details are forthcoming.

Today’s blog will be the first of four or so posts dedicated to cultural or political topics here in Russia and my engagements with native speakers about those topics. Since millions of Americans at home (and abroad too!) celebrated Independence Day, I want to discuss foreign attitudes of Russians about Americans and the United States. Given everything between the United States and Russia recently – elections, Syria, sanctions, Crimea – this post will be nowhere near comprehensive in analyzing various opinions. Instead, this is a chance to look at issues from the viewpoint of Russian students and adults, including my host family.

View of the Moscow Kremlin and the Moscow River from the Big Stone Bridge (Большой камменый мост)

First – and this is a crucial distinction – attitudes about the American government are not the same as attitudes about American citizens. Everyone seems to agree that relations between the two countries are in dire need of improvement. Yet, Russians seem frustrated that the promise of improved relations has not arrived – sanctions are still in place, differences of opinion regarding Syria and Crimea have no easy solution, and generally Russians sense lingering political hostility and distrust from the American government. My host mother, in particular, was particularly critical of current American relations and foreign policy in regards to Russia – she was vocal about her displeasure with sanctions and Crimea. Among many students with whom we conversed in our program’s Russian-American Club, there was a general agreement about the idea / mentality of “us against the world” (especially the Western World) among Russians. Politically, they see themselves as an isolated state, pushed away by Europe and the United States. Many writers have suggested this as part of the reason behind perceived recent Russian aggression; for what it’s worth I believe there is merit behind this theory.

However, these attitudes do not seem to carry over into how Russians view Americans as a whole. Russian students and young adults, in particular, love meeting and interacting with American students and always have a lot of questions about life and politics in the United States. My Russian isn’t necessarily good enough to give complex answers but is sufficient to convey my ideas, and so conversations have been informative and enlightening. Many Russians use the opportunity to practice their English with Americans, which can be slightly frustrating when I’m simultaneously trying to practice my Russian. As a whole, Russians want to see improved relations with the United States and believe that the two nations can be friends and allies. It is important to note here that generally, they believe that the United States needs to show a greater commitment to this process.

“The Annunciation” (Благовещение). Novgorod, 12th century. Now displayed in the Tretyakovsky Gallery in Moscow. This is one of the oldest icons in the entire gallery.

For example, my host mother has hosted American students for years and firmly believes, despite her attitudes about American foreign policy, that interaction can bring about greater understanding. Additionally, one of my Russian friends spoke of дружба (friendship) between the two nations as if a matter of fact. Finally, a middle-aged gentleman who always comes to our Russian-American Club always posts opportunities on Facebook for American students and even started a Facebook group to facilitate interaction between all of us. As an American who has read too much into what divides Russia and the United States, these sentiments allow me to believe that better days are ahead.

Since I haven’t posted in two weeks, I’d like to conclude by giving some of the highlights.

  • The World Cup: Russia had an unexpected run during the tournament, but unfortunately Сборная Россия lost to Croatia last night on penalty kicks in the quarterfinals. Nonetheless, it has been incredible to witness the support for the team – after the upset victory against Spain, Moscow celebrated practically all night. I haven’t seen those Belgian fans since that night at the pub, but given Belgium’s success I may still see them.
  • Classes: My academic work continues to be engaging and informative, and I believe I am learning a lot here. Some of the lessons have focused on strengthening the fundamentals, which has honestly been good for reassurance and a more solid understanding of more complex topics. I am picking up on new vocabulary and am starting to use verbs more correctly and accurately – one of the hardest parts of the language. The workload has increased and I’ve had to spend more time in the past couple of weeks in my studies. I still leave myself plenty of time for exploration.
  • Exploration and Historic Sites: There’s too many here to list, but I’ll name some of my favorites – Alexander’s Garden (Александровский сад), the State Tretyakov Gallery of Art
    Memorial to all the cities that saw fighting in the Great Patriotic War (WWII). In the foreground is Leningrad (St. Petersburg).

    (Государственная Третьяковская галерея), the War of 1812 Museum (Музей Отечественной воины 1812 года – The Museum of the Patriotic War of 1812). Александровский сад is a beautiful park that sits right outside the western wall of the Moscow Kremlin, where one can see monuments and statues next to beautiful plants and pines. Notably, the Tomb of the Unknown Solider and the Eternal Flame sit right at the park’s entrance, and further down are monuments to all the Soviet cities that saw fighting during World War II – or, as it is called here, the Great Patriotic War (Великая отечественная война).

  • St. Basil’s Cathedral (Собор Василия Блаженного): St. Basil’s gets its own post because I had the opportunity a couple weeks ago to purchase a ticket to see the museum inside. Gazing at hundreds of years of beautiful icons, mosaics, and the multiple iconostasi – walls of icons in the nave of the main church and chapels – I stepped back in time to an era when Russian Orthodoxy, along with the monarchy, was the center of the Russian world. The Cathedral also gives beautiful views of Red Square, the Kremlin, and the Moscow River. The only disappointment was that my phone ran out of battery while inside – now I have an excuse to return.
  • Speaking: Last but not least, I was proud of myself this past week for some very good days of listening, comprehension, and speaking. For sure, not every moment was glorious – miscommunications and broken speech still mark me as a foreigner. Nonetheless, in the past week, I noticed myself suddenly speaking quicker, more accurately, and more consistently. The glaring errors and breakdowns are less and less, so good days now don’t seem like a fluke. The challenge going forward is to further push myself to speak when I tend to listen. I won’t be near an expert by the summer’s end, but certainly I will be able to communicate in many more situations.

If you’re still here, thank you for your continued interest in my travels and experiences in Moscow. I love hearing from everyone back home, so please reach out through Facebook Messenger, Snapchat, WhatsApp, etc. Hopefully the second half of this journey leads to similar learning, fun, exploration, wonder, improvement, and confidence as the first half!

Frustration and Joy

It’s now been almost a month since I arrived here, and as I predicted in my last post, I haven’t had the easiest time here. To be honest, as far as language progress goes, I’m a little disappointed in myself. My vocabulary is very poor, and I’ve spent a lot of time wasting time, rather than sitting down and working on my vocabulary like I should. That isn’t necessarily true, because I do have a job now that takes a few hours out of my day, but there is a lot of time that I spend not doing anything at all, even seeing the city, and I’m starting to get a little frustrated. In class it’s showing, when day after day I’m the only one in the room who doesn’t know a word, and it’s tiring. Furthermore, in class there is one student who has very little respect for the rest of us and it shows, he’s dismissive, and sometimes outright rude, and takes up a lot of valuable time talking when the rest of us could be working our conversation skills and learning something. The frustration I feel, with myself mostly, is very real and sometimes a little difficult to handle. It gets very emotionally exhausting, especially when I feel like I have very few friends here. I have people I can talk to, and the students on the program with me, Russian and American, are all very kind, but there isn’t anyone here I feel like I can confide in, and the atmosphere in my host home is always a little awkward. I didn’t realize this could happen, but there is a very real stress that comes with not having a place in which you feel comfortable or a person with whom you feel comfortable. Nothing is terrible, I have people I’m friendly with and my host family is very sweet, but the emotional load just feels heavy sometimes, especially coupled with my disappointment in myself.

On a lighter note, I have created some very wonderful connections in my first month here. My second week in, I went to the little playground in the courtyard of my apartment building to work on some words for myself. Out of the building came a Бавушка (grandmother) and her grandchildren, two boys. They started playing and eventually I worked up to talking to them, and then playing tag with the boys. The youngest (two, Архипка, Arkhipka) was at first a little suspicious and adorably protective of his older brother (Захарка, Zakharka), and they’re both very active. I proceeded to spend the next two hours running around with them, and learning the Russian rules to a familiar game from my childhood. If you care to find out: the person who is “it” is (водит) (leading) and you’re safe if you’re в домике (in the little house). That day was the happiest I’d been in the country so far. The kids and they’re wonderful Баба Наташа (Baba Natasha) were so welcoming and inclusive, despite the fact that I was a stranger and foreigner. Since then, they’ve taken me into their routine. I’ve met their mother, who loves talking to me and learning about english and helping me figure out how to say things in Russian, some other children: Федя, Соня, Стёра, Маша) (Fyedya, Styopa, Sonia, Masha), and yesterday a wonderful old man with whom I talked about the music I play. They’ve shared ice cream with me, and Sonia even gave me a picture she drew!

It says Рите! Which means, to Rita, which is what Im called because I introduced myself by my Russian name, which is Margarita

Baba Natasha has really brought me in to her home, the family talks about me, and the kids wait for me to come outside and play with them. I feel really blessed to have met these amazing people, and to have been accepted into their little playground world, my terrible Russian and all. To be honest, I learn much more from them and from practicing with them than they ever could from me, and playing with them is my favorite part of the day.

I’m also lucky, because I got to overhear a student in my program asking about volunteer opportunities with kids, and shamelessly asked if I could tag along. I’m glad I did. Five days a week, from five to seven pm, I am an English teacher at a learning center on the edge of the city. The kids range from 4 to 7 years old, and it’s absolutely an energetic bunch. I get the songs they learn stuck in my head mercilessly, but it’s so worth it. I even learn Russian during the moments when the kids refuse to speak English! I love working with them, and on friday, I even stayed after and talked with the other teachers, who are Russians, and got to do even more language practice!

If I’m proud of one thing on this trip so far, it’s the connections I’ve made with kids. I’m so lucky to have this world of interaction and play and joy open to me while I’m here. It lightens the load of everything else, and is probably my saving grace on this trip.

Views toward the USAt

Views toward the USA are obviously a very difficult thing to write about, and a very hot topic in the Middle East – for obvious reasons. After speaking with ARabs for many years I do not sense a very substantial degree of difference between men and women and their views toward the USA but there certainly are differences between generations. Here is an example. Under Saddam Hussein’s government Jordanians received free gas. After the USA invaded and toppled the government Jordanians stopped receiving free gas, and in fact the American war in Iraq set off a domino effect of negative economic consequences for Jordan as a whole. Obviously, the young generation (below 30) today doesn’t really feel the effects of this as much as the older generation. The older generation also has a longer memory of US actions in the region. The Younger generation tends to be more favorable toward the USA because of the cultural influence – music, movies, etc. However, nearly every ARab I have spoken with for the past ten years makes the distinction between the US government and the US people/culture/land itself. There is a great dissastisfcation and even anger toward the US government for obvious reasons but also a great draw toward US culture and values. This is the classic case of “soft power.”

Trump’s presidency throws all of this into the air. What most Arabs say about Trump’s presidency is that certain actions of his are not just bad for the USA but bad for the entire world, and certainly the region here. Many Arabs are also deeply suspicious of Trump’s close relationship with Saudi Arabia. They cannot believe that Trump sold Saudi Arabia, for example, so many weapons recently without any qualifications and these weapons are being used to slaughter so many innocent people in Yemen. This being said, one interesting thing as well is a deep dissatisfaction with Obama’s presidency. Many Arabs view Obama as correct in a philosophical/theoretical sense – meaning, the USA shouldn’t be mired in wars in the Middle East – but are frustrated with him in a practical sense. There is a great degree of dissastisfaction with Obama for not having done more, for example, to stop the escalation of the war in Syria long ago.

Slang words

Community Interaction Task #1

One interesting thing about ARabic is how distinct the dialects are. Generally, the region of Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan is referred to as the Sham. There is a general Shami dialect but even within this each country has distinct dialects. Here in Jordan, especially amongst the more rural populations, girls are taught from a young age to drop the ق (q) sound because it has a rough, masculine sound/connotation. Girls are taught to drop this letter entirely and pronounce the word without it. So the word for coffee – qahwa – simply becomes ahwa. Boys are taught to pronounce it with a hard g sound – so qahwa becomes gahwa.

Another interesting thing about the colloquial language here is how Muslims and Christians pronounce the same words or phrases, especially religiously-infused words or phrases. For example, it is very common here to hear the word “Al-Hamdoulileh” which literally means Thanks to God. It can be used for just about everything: How are you? “Al-Hamdoulileh [I am fine].” Someone might remark that the weather is nice, and someone else might respond by saying “Al Hamdoulileh” (Thanks to God it is nice.) And so on and so forth. Another common expression is “Masha’a Allah” which is a general way of expressing appreciation and thanks to God – for just about anything. A new car? Masha’a Allah. A beautiful baby? Masha’a Allah. Delicious food? Masha’a Allah. The interesting thing here in how these words are used colloquially is that – very generally speaking – Muslims tend to pronounce them very distinctly and classically – without dropping vowels and so forth, while Christians tend to make them more slang-ish. So while Muslims might say al-Hamdoulileh very properly, Christians might drop some of the vowels and just say “Hamdoullah.”

A few young people I spoke with said that this was because Muslims view these words as Divinely inspired and so forth, and so there is a degree of respect for the words themselves and the ARabic as the language of God. Christians have just as much respect for religion and for God but don’t necessarily view ARabic as the language of GOd.

Madaba

One week left for my language classes here in Amman, and the SLA grant has been extremely beneficial for launching me into learning new sorts of language styles and texts that I will need for my dissertation research. I have a newfound appreciation for the richness (and difficulty!!!!) of Classical Arabic poetry. I need to use a dictionary for just about every word, and was feeling very down on myself about this, until a group of teachers at my school told me that they also need a dictionary for every word, since these words just aren’t used anymore. This reflects the rich history within the ARabic language itself. I went to Madaba yesterday to have lunch with one of my teachers. Madaba is a small town about 25 minutes from Amman. Madaba is where John the Baptist lived and ministered, and very close to Mount Nebo – where Moses saw the promised land – and the River Jordan, where John baptized Jesus. Jordan is an incredible country and one of the take aways from my stay here will be expressing this respect and awe of Jordan to Americans, and encouraging more Americans to appreciate all that Jordan does for the USA in the region.

Brazil gazes at America in a German setting

Walking by myself in the historical center of Munich, I began to notice the increased frequency of yellow t-shirts around me. I gazed at them, wanting to say something with my eyes: “I too am Brazilian! And I am actually on my way to watch the soccer game too!” Whatever invisible line connected us at that moment, as those who share the same origin and the same exile, wasn’t readily noticed, but it still made me look at them with more affection, as if they weren’t strangers as the rest of tourists and Münchner walking by on that afternoon through Marienplatz.

Arriving at the tram station, I found two other Brazilian friends from my Sprachschule, who were also going to the same Brazilian Biergarten to watch the game. We weren’t very close to one another, but the time spent on that tram, which changed its typical route and was taking longer than it should, made it seem to me that some intimacy was already presupposed, given to us, and not formed by time. In complaining about the change of route, in wanting so much to arrive in time for the game and, specially, once arriving in that sea of yellow t-shirts, typical food, and loud laughter so characteristic of my Heimatland, I felt… What exactly did I feel? Perhaps I felt that I would always be Brazilian, even if my whole life was spent abroad, or perhaps that there was something beautiful about that easiness and light intimacy shared by all who were raised in Brazil. These ideas came to my mind with some surprise: did I even like soccer after all, as most of my friends at home did? At that moment, raising from my seat at each possibility of gol and laughing at the jokes about “Menino Ney,” I think I really did.

A mixture of German ice cream and beer, Brazilian “mandioca,” hand gestures which say “Beleza Pura!” and loud laughter about “Menino Ney”

 

And, then, something happened: my Brazilian friends started calling me “a americana” and referring to me whenever any comment about the U.S. was made. They certainly did not deny me any share in that little Brazilian community, but a new dimension was added which contained in itself both their impressions about the U.S. and their impressions about Brazil. How could I express it all in words? The broken history of Brazil, its interrupted democracy, its culture, often drifted by external influences and injured by corruption… All that was present in that afternoon. At that victorious game, though we were celebrating our country, how wouldn’t we notice that we were still out of it! Gazing at the United States, at the stability of its history, at its leading position in the world, and perhaps also at the positions taken by its leader, there was certainly some resentment in their voices as they called me “americana.” It was something subtle and didn’t take away the affection and union that made me leave the Biergarten with warmed heart, but it did make me reflect on the eyes with which the United States is seen, and made me realize (also with joy) that the U.S. was somehow and increasingly becoming my own. In the end, brasileira e americana, (perhaps with the heart a bit in Germany too after these dreamful five weeks), I left the Biergarten thinking about the beauty of these temporary homes given to us in our exile in this world.

 

Esther and I – Two new fans of Brazilian soccer and “Americanas”

 

Petra

Last weekend I took a group of students at my school for a language-immersion weekend to Petra and Wadi Rum. Petra is absolutely breathtaking but the real gem was camping in the desert with the Bedouins in Wadi Rum – where they filmed The Martian. The Arabic language is a very historically rich and culturally-infused language and I explained to the students how it is about much more than just vocabulary words on a piece of paper. So we all saw this in action while camping with the Bedouin. Learning the simple vocabulary word “sahha” or “sahtein,” for example, which the Bedouin said when seeing one of the students take a drink of water, requires understanding the history behind the word – which is that of the harsh life of the desert, and the linguistic reflection of expressing appreciation for something as simple as water. So something I always encourage younger students in their language journey – sometimes it is necessary to forget the pen and paper and go out and lose yourself in the actual lived language!

A Helpful German (me)

Tonight I had an interesting encounter, which I shall here recount, as I find it to be interesting in itself and furthermore indicative of the progress I’ve made in the German language over my few weeks here in Munich.

I was returning from an evening of footballing with some friends (football here means soccer–I call it football only in an effort to fully immerse myself in the German culture) and, as I normally do, I walked to the tram station to await the

A stellar view of Olympia Park, where the Munich Olympics were held back in the day.

next tram back to my house. As I approached, I noticed, as is not uncommon at public transportation stops, a few people sitting on the benches and waiting for the next bus. Three of these people clearly made up one group, and they chatted busily amongst themselves. Struck with a brilliant idea, I seated myself next to this group, intending to eavesdrop and hone my listening skills, which are a weak spot for me. From what I could gather, they had gone to a casino, and were recounting how much money each had won or lost. (From this retelling I concluded that there were formerly additional members of the party, but these others however had already gone home for the night.) Additionally, they seemed to be arguing about the appropriate amount to tip someone for something (I was a little fuzzy on this part of the conversation).

 

Suddenly the woman in the group turned to me–I was mid-sip with my bottle of water, and trying to look like I wasn’t eavesdropping–and said something about getting something to drink. I smiled and said something about yes, I was drinking water. She continued talking to me. For some reason, I struggle when locals talk to me. I can understand them reasonably well when they talk with each other, but as soon as they turn to me, I freeze and find myself unable to process the

Me trying on hats at a festival at Olympia Park

words that are being spoken. I did however catch a few words that led me to believe she was asking for directions. I stood up and walked her over to the transit map at the tram stop.Then, using fancy German words like “umsteigen”, “Bus”, and “Tram”, I talked her through a fairly complicated route to her desired location. The best part of this encounter was not that she understood the instructions I gave, nor that I’m now familiar enough with the city to give directions involving changing buses and subways and trams. The best part of this encounter was that, after about a full minute of conversation, she stopped me and said, “You’re not German, are you?” I informed her that I was not. “Yeah,” she said, “I could tell by your accent.”

 

By my accent–not by my limited vocabulary or my subpar grammar, not by my relative lack of experience with the language, but by my accent.

A burger, eaten on the 4th of July to celebrate America’s existence

I’ve really been working hard at improving my vocabulary and grammar, at being able to speak more easily and more confidently, and in this one small interaction, it paid off. It’s very rewarding to study for hours every day in class and then finally start to see some results in real-world encounters. A few weeks ago, it would have been immediately obvious that I had no idea what I was doing with the German language. But now, I’ve put in some work and some time, and I’ve taken significant strides toward fluency.

 

For me, this interaction was really encouraging. Perhaps she was just being nice, and perhaps my grammar and vocabulary still mark me as a non-native speaker from the instant I open my mouth, but I really think that’s no longer the case. I still have a long way to go, but I’ve come a long way as well, and it’s great to see that time I’ve spent result in a positive experience like this one.

new classes and birthday celebrations

It is now the end of week 6 here in Tours–of what felt like the quickest week since my time here in France. The start of the week was met by many new students at the Institute, primarily those from America, but also those from places such as Spain, Russia, Venezuela, and elsewhere. I was placed into a new class, and it was a little interesting yet taxing to go through the process of re-acquainting myself with others and doing a bit more than the typical Notre Dame introduction. I have made mention of my school name and what I study, along with where I live, but the discussion of heritage has actually been quite prevalent since my time here in France. Americans often marvel at the accents of others, and I usually hate the fact that my French accent does not sound as natural as I would like, but I find that others have come to enjoy the sound of the “American” accent or what one man called my American twang.

Class discussion this week focused on grammar, as well as NGOs within France and elsewhere in the world. Unlike last week, it is back to normal–where we work within groups to explain the use of the subjunctive and conditional tenses. We even discussed some of the French slang spoken by the younger population. With my teacher being an older man, he made the joke that if we wanted to pick up on any of the slang, we would have to visit the guinguette where younger French locals spend their time. He taught us some phrases such as “Je kiffe grave”, which is the equivalent of “J’aime beaucoup”. He also taught us something that I have picked up on since being here in France. When speaking French, the French will take many short cuts. Rather than creating a sentence with the subject, verb, and object, when speaking, they will combine both the subject and the verb to say something like “J’suis Francais” or “T’es quoi?” rather than “Je suis Francais” or “Tu es quoi?”. I have even found a way to truly practice my French without simple rote learning. I have now gotten into the habit of journaling in French. While I am not entirely sure if all the grammar is correct, it has forced me to enhance my French vocabulary, rather than using the same adverbs and adjectives. Since doing this, engaging in class discussion, and speaking with both my host family and locals outside of class, I have actually seen a marked improvement in my oral comprehension and my reading and writing skills. At dinners with my family, I am now able to understand about 85% of what is said, while the other 15% is spent shifting my gaze between my house mates to see if any of them understood what was said. And even before, as we would eat dinner and watch the World Cup, it would be as though I was only passively listening to the French commentary. I would recognize words such as “tourner” or “catastrophe!”,  essentially all of the French words that sounded the exact same in English, but I have now been able to identify particular phrases and other key words about players and their teams.

Shifting towards the sports, (something I think it actually quite critical to French culture like in any other), this week for the World Cup felt quite slow, as it is now almost over. What used to be a daily spectacle now occurs every few days. Japan lost against Belgium and Colombia lost against England, but today is the day that my host parents keep referring to as stressful, although I think it will pass rather quickly. Today, France plays against Uruguay, and although stressful, these days seem to be the funnest as streets near Place Plum become crowded with a montage of red, white, and blue. Many French people will cover their faces with tiny French flags and sit in groups in front of TVs preparing for the match to commence. But aside from just this, the Tour de France is also starting this weekend. My host father tells me this is actually one of his favorite times of the year, given that it is televised on TV from an aerial perspective, giving people the ability to see the eclectic terrain in France near the Alps. But aside from these athletic events, there is a lot to be happy about. Just two days ago, some students and I from school celebrated the 4th of July. Although a very small celebration with just a few sparklers, a group of French people approached us asking if it was someone’s birthday, but after mentioning that it was the “Fete National” for the US, many of them joined in the celebration, making note of the fact that they were actually quite familiar with the 4th of July.

Yet, the festivities did not end there. One of my housemates from the US was actually preparing for her departure and with my birthday approaching, my host parents decided to have a small celebration–a farewell and a birthday party all in one. Often, dinners are quite extravagant here, or at least more formal than anything I would typically prepare at home. Yesterday’s dinner, however, was slightly different. The table was adorned with some of the most beautiful plates I had ever seen, and beside our cutlery, were small containers of bubbles. After going through the first two courses–poached eggs and then a Moroccan dish called tajine (accompanied by couscous), my host family brought out the typical cheese platter. The cheese course is usually followed by dessert, but this dessert was beyond my expectations. I was presented with a giant cake and gifts, but even without the additional surprises, our discussions over things such as the importance of the ecosystem (and the ways in which France attempts to preserve it), the predominant religions existing in France and other countries, or even the ways in which the cultures of others (Africans, Asians, and other Europeans) have been taken and adapted by France are enough to sustain me.

That night we decided it was necessary to take a “family” photo. Thus far, this is probably one of the most multicultural families I have ever been a part of–with a girl from Spain (and previously, a girl from Colombia), a girl from Taiwan, and another from America. With the night coming to a close, I decided to visit the cathedral in Tours to view the frequently talked about light show–documenting something so modern on a very ancient building.

In turn, I’d say the past three days were some of my best days since being here, but for now, au revoir!

 

n’est pas la semaine dernier, juste le cinquième

After 5 weeks here in France, it almost feels as if I have been here for months. I have gotten used to a lot of the same things–such as going through Les Halles each Sunday after my runs and walking through particular streets when I decide to go for walks.  This week at the Institute was a bit different, as most people have left, with the intentions of returning next week. Friends from my class last session have gone to their respective countries–Iran, South Korea, Taiwan, and India, but with others departing and new students arriving, I have had the pleasure of fortifying new friendships once again.

This week’s classes were dedicated to oral comprehension. Often, we had class discussions about a particular topic such as the use of phones while driving. but we also had an activity where we were forced to go on a scavenger hunt inside a store to answer questions such as, “what are some foods that are exclusively French or exclusively found in Tours?”. Most people thought it was quite weird that we were approaching them with such specific questions, but that activity  actually proved to be one of my favorites.

During the weekend, unlike most of my friends, I did not go to Paris, London, or Amsterdam, but I was actually fortunate to experience something that I did not initially anticipate. Saturday, after a nice stroll through Tours and time spent at a local bagel restaurant for a game-watch between France and Argentina, I had dinner with my host family and decided to take one last walk past the river and through Place Plum alone. My stroll actually led me to a group of men playing soccer and a group of children running alongside them playing a game of their own. After acknowledging what these children were running from, I noticed there was a celebration taking place inside a building. It became the perfect opportunity to use my French, and although this is something I would have never done had I been in the US, I decided to walk up to one of the people standing outside the building. Out of curiosity, I simply wanted to know what was being celebrated, as I heard a lot of the music and quickly recognized that those people were of African descent. He then invited inside, which would typically seem very weird and slightly unsafe, but my intuition did not steer me wrong that night.

The first person I met was a Senegalese woman who had been studying in Toulouse–a city in southern France, but we instantly became friends. She was a little taken aback by the fact that I didn’t actually know anyone at what I later learned was a wedding reception, but after informing the rest of her family members, they were delighted to have me. They were excited to come across someone who spoke English, but after learning I was a student who had the intentions of learning French, they made the decision to solely speak to me in French. Occasionally, I would ask them to slow down or revert to English and sometimes my previously learned Spanish, but my time with them was rather heartwarming–especially when I met a woman from Sierra Leone who was happy to find another person with whom she could speak English rather than just French. They asked about my time here in France and my perspective on Tours, and I then inquired the same. I later found that most of them did not even live in Tours, but in neighboring cities, cities in Belgium, or Paris. We talked about French cuisine and the more obvious cultural differences between the French, Americans, and Africans. When leaving, I talked to the woman I first met, expressing my appreciation for the way in which they welcomed me. She laughed and told me that this was quite common for them–that they would have easily treated anyone else in the same. This isn’t the first time I have really had an interaction like this, and perhaps it is based on context, but being abroad, I see that life here in some ways is not entirely different, but the values upheld are.

After returning home, I was still surprised that I had managed to truly go outside of my comfort zone–to speak French (which is actually a lot harder for me when I come across people I have never met) and to walk into a party alone in an entirely different country. Nonetheless, it was more of a growing experience for me than anything else.