WEEK 1- ADJUSTMENT & HOMESTAY

“Parlez-vous anglais?” I was at the mercy of the man behind the counter, the one who would service me with my first French phone. With soft-spoken grace, he replied “a little bit,” the sharpness added to the t’s humoring me. It was my turn and if it wasn’t obvious already that I was American, the way the next sentence came out of my mouth would surely blow my cover. “Um…je voudrais…acheter un…tele…phone pour seulement textos et d’appels… s’il vous plait.” Though it sounded more like this, “Um… jhey voodray…ahshatay ah… tehley…fone poor sullmunt textohs et dahpells… seel voo play.” The man spared me the scorn I was expecting and continued the conversation in English. Exchanges like these happen on a daily basis for Parisiens so I hope that my business mixed things up a bit for that man, even though I was convulsively running through the conversation and mentally dropkicking myself for the inconspicuous nature of my American accent. It wasn’t all bad, just incredibly humbling… and it’s only the 2nd full day! Arriving at my homestay apartment, I tried to recall three years worth of high school French classes before ringing the doorbell. But the excitement and anticipation clouded any chance of that happening. I was in for yet another humbling encounter. More on that another time. But for now, I will leave you with this small yet significant moment from last night. My kind homestay mother cooked an extremely pleasant meal, accompanied with the staple cheese and bread. It was around 19:30, the dining table at which I was sat seemed to jut from the small kitchen area into the also small living room, but it felt very fitting. Madame was explaining something with animated French hands, oblivious to the incredulous view that was procuring through the wide windows of her fifth floor apartment. The lights hadn’t been turned on yet but the slight darkness of the room accentuated the spectacle occurring in the Parisian sky. Madame’s silhouette and her Fren-glish accompanied this view like a fine aperitif paired with the appropriate meal. Things started stirring and I settled in my chair at the dining table, eyes tearing up due to dryness of keeping them open, as if blinking would dissipate the wild sight before me. The roofs of the characteristic buildings of Paris kissed the painted orange (my favorite color) sky. It’s only the 2nd full day and I’ve already been subdued by the city, what will become of me within the next couple of months? I try to answer this question week by week, check back for more about my French quest next week!