Author: mkvarats

You’ll often hear physicists say that the universe has four dimensions, three spatial dimensions and one time dimension. Once, I was on a youtube binge watching some particle physics videos from the Fermilab youtube channel (I know, how quirky physics major of me) and a segment of one video was giving a simplified analogy to describe the relationship between the three spatial dimensions of the universe and the time dimension. Essentially, it used a graph and some straight lines to illustrate a basic tenant of special relativity: the more quickly you move through space, the more slowly you will perceive time to move.

All of this unessential background is simply to say that I now understand the whole “time is a construct” idea. There’s no other feasible explanation as to how the past 5 weeks seem like they’ve passed by in the blink of an eye while it’s also true that I feel as though my arrival to France happened years ago. I’m incredibly grateful for how much I’ve learned and done in my time here, but it’s hard to believe I already only have three weeks left!

Speaking to French people has been a learning curve, specifically understanding them. When I first got here, my listening comprehension–as I very quickly learned–was basically garbage. Frequently people would have to speak very slowly for me to get the idea of what they were saying, and if they had spoken quickly my buffering time was almost laughable. Gradually, though, I have found myself able to grasp their ideas faster. That ability has also allowed me to actually speak with people. And boy do they have some thoughts.

Obviously a pretty common talking point among people from different countries is going to be the differences between those countries. I will say, though, that discussing French ideas of Americans has been pretty entertaining for me. Interestingly enough, one of the most straightforward conversations I’ve had about “typical Americans” was an offhanded one with a saleswoman in a store. I had walked in just to peruse the skirt/dress selection and ended up striking up a chat with the woman working there (in French, for reference). Mid-conversation, she looked at me and remarked, “You guys are all friendly. You smile so much! None of us really do that.”

Though that’s something I’ve heard from other Europeans (exhibit A: my Georgian uncle telling me not to smile with teeth in a family picture because, “Nobody does that, Maya! There’s nothing right now to be that happy about.”) the fact that I was in fact smiling when she said that kind of hit me across the face. I don’t think that smiling is a bad thing at all, but the whole “American picture” kind of came together for me, I think. Later that week, my host mom described it in full. Generally, the French idea of an American is as follows:

Imagine that you’re walking down the street. You’re minding your own business, probably wearing black and carrying a tote bag with some sort of bread product in it, when someone loudly says “excuse me!” as they pass you. Observing them, they smile at people as they walk down the street, are generally social and talkative, speak at an unnecessary volume, probably only speak english, and are distinctly unafraid to take up space. You, a French person, also assume that they’re probably good at math, bad at geography, and don’t know what year the French Revolution started.

What French people as a whole think Americans are like was pretty interesting for me to learn. This is mostly because I am a lot like they think we are in some ways and completely different in others. For starters, I most certainly am overtly friendly, social, and loud. In the US, this wouldn’t be considered a bad thing, but French people generally think of these traits as obnoxious. Also, I know plenty of people who are terrible at geography and history, so they’re not completely off about that either.

Though I think that these heterostereotypes aren’t necessarily all bad, they can be detrimental. An impulse I’ve noticed amongst Americans when they travel is the feeling that they have to mask the things that make them stand out. To a degree I understand this desire. Being perceived, especially negatively, is never something we want. But I’ve also noticed that the mental instinct to stereotype tends to fade when considering individuals. It’s unlikely that whole groups can alter their heterostereotypes, but it is worth noting internally when we are doing that and trying to supress our urges to treat people according to them. After all, we Americans aren’t all hollywood bimbos or people who gorge themselves on fast food constantly, and French people aren’t all holed up wine-drunkenly at a cafe with four lovers, a beret, and a cigarette (though so many people smoke). A lot of my French heterostereotypes have been diminished in their caricature-like quality since coming here, even though individual parts of them have proven very true. And I hope that the French people I’ve interacted with have taken my smily loudness in stride and realized that individual traits which happen to coincide with the stereotype don’t define a whole country of people.

What a week! I can’t believe I’ve already been here this long. I arrived in France on May 19 and stayed just outside Paris with some family friends for two days. They took me to a few really amazing places. On Friday night, we went to the Eiffel Tower, where I got to see the sun set over Paris. The following day, we visited la Basilique du Sacre-coeur at Montmartre, where we not only saw the inside of the basilica but also got to climb to the top of the dome (293 steps upon which I learned little by little just how out of shape I am). Paris, obviously, was beautiful and I loved every moment there.

On Sunday, the family I stayed with for the few days in Paris generously drove me to my residence in Tours. Once there, the man at the front desk showed me to my room and around the residence. Notably, I am pretty lucky in the fact that the residence is less than a 2 minute walk from the Institute I take classes at and about a 5 minute walk from the center of the town. After arriving, checking in, and calling my parents, I decided to head to the downtown area to get some lunch. Why is this notable? This is where our critical incident story begins.

Some background information: the area where I tend to get food is a t-shaped section of a larger downtown area that loops around to itself. There are lots and lots of restaurant options here, all of which are pretty good at the very least (at least, the ones I’ve tried). When I found it for the first time, I walked around to see exactly what some of my options were, and I knew I’d find something I would like at pretty much any of them. However, I couldn’t bring myself to actually walk into one. I made the loop once, then twice, then a third time, and before I knew it I had been walking the same t-shaped path for 30 minutes and had traversed more than a mile and a half in the process. Every time I tried to enter a place and order something off the menu, the little man in my head steered me away and down the same road again. Finally, I picked a place, walked in, and in the least intelligible French I think I’ve ever spoken, I began with, “Hello, I’m so sorry, I’m American and…”

Looking back on myself, I can laugh pretty hard, but in the moment I felt like I was watching myself fall over in slow-motion from a third person perspective. Anyway, the poor hostess was incredibly understanding. She asked if I wanted to sit inside or outside, and then if I wanted the english menu, to which I replied, “Non, je peux lire en francais…” I ordered a cocktail (because she said they had one and I was afraid to make a choice), a plate of salmon, and after, a panna cotta. I paid, and I ran back to my room.

As far as first interactions in French go, I’m genuinely unsure if mine could have been any more awkward. To the hostess and waitress who dealt with me at my most strung-out (I think ever), I’d like to issue both a huge apology and a huge thank-you. I never could have predicted just how terrified I was going to be even when just trying to order food for the first time.

Ripping that band-aid off proved to be the first defining moment of my stay in France, and my fear brought with it a lot of points for reflection. First, I realized I wasn’t as advanced, confident, and culturally competent as I thought I was. I had only really interacted with situations and people I felt I could express myself to, and when that fundamental ability wasn’t as in reach, I absolutely panicked. I got to actually see where the boundaries of my comfort zone were and then had to jump over them, instead of just toeing the line.

I also, though, actually managed to get through an interaction in French, and after that first one, asking for a few croissants at the Boulangerie didn’t seem as intimidating anymore (and I even got one for free). Despite how clunky my French still indubitably was, the interactions themselves began to run smoother and follow a now-comfortable formula, which let me see that improvement was actually attainable.

I met Martha and Andy as well, and got to walk and talk with them. I’m super excited to see how we all progress here and experience some wonderful things in the process! Allons y!