Strikes and Squid

So many aspects of my life are different now, that it makes me appreciate what I took for granted before.  These changes are evident in even the most basic parts of my everyday life, such as my diet and daily transportation.

Before I came to Montpellier, I would have considered myself a fairly picky eater.  This is no longer the case, as I don't really have a choice anymore.  So far, I have eaten more squid than I would have ever thought possible.  My latest encounter with this new food that I have yet to fully embrace was on Friday.  My host family had company over, and we had an "apéritif dinnatoire."  This type of meal is very popular here and just consisted of lots of small little appetizers and a selection of wine.  I was starving and excited to dig into what looked like little pastries, until I realized upon closer inspection that they were actually small round crackers with a variety of fish based spreads.  My host mom encouraged me to try the pink spread, which turned out to be fish eggs.  Alain later insisted I try the black spread, which was a mixture of olives and fish.  This "tapenade" is a regional specialty and very popular here.  Also on the menu was baby squid, served cold with little toothpicks.  After hearing Michèle and Alain rave about them, I popped one in my mouth, trying not to think about what I was eating.  The taste wasn't bad, but the texture definitely wasn't my favorite.  While these foods aren't exactly what I'm used to eating, maybe that isn't so bad.  The reason I chose to live in a host family was because I wanted to experience the culture as well as improve my French skills.  Since a huge part of the culture is French cuisine, I am learning to eat what a typical family living in the south of France eats.  While the squid and seafood is going to take some getting used to, I am surprised by how much I actually do like.

Just when I was starting to miss some of the foods I eat at home, dinner on Saturday night presented a welcome change of pace.  After a long day trip to Anduze, I returned home, exhausted and starving, to find Alain barbequing ribs!!! I couldn't believe it.  We had ribs and potatoes and carrots cooked in olive oil.  I was so excited to eat food that I actually recognized that I probably ate a little too much...

In addition to my new diet, I also have a whole new mode of transportation-the tram!  Public transportation in Europe, or at least France, puts the limited options in Minnesota to shame.  Between the trains, trams, and buses here, there is no need to even own a car.  To be fair, everything is a lot closer together and more easily accessible on foot here than would be possible in the States.  Between my tram pass and being able to walk just about everywhere, I can get to wherever I need to go!  After I got over the initial shock of having to shell out 230 euros (the price AFTER the student discout) for my tram pass, I have grown to love the convenience.  On average, I only have to wait about 2 minutes at the tram stop and then off I go!  The catch?  Strikes.

While I knew strikes were common in France, I had yet to experience the impact of these "grèves" until I actually got here.  I have only been here for a little more than three weeks, and there has already been two strikes.  Right now, there are probably more strikes than usual because of the retirement age issue, but that's another story.  Last Thursday, I got my first taste of the effects that these strikes have on the functioning of every day life, when I naively assumed that I would still be able to use the trams more or less as I usually did.  I faced my first obstacle when I tried to take the tram from my stop (Place de la Comédie) to my internship at the radio station near school (stop St. Eloi).  I was waiting for about two minutes before a police officer came up to me and explained that the trams were not coming to this stop today.  I guess I should have put two and two together when I saw a bunch of vehicles parked across the tram tracks.  The officer told me I could take the tram if I walked to the next stop (Corum).  I took off and got to the next stop after about a 10 minute walk.  After waiting another 20 or so minutes, I boarded a packed tram to my destination.  There really aren't words to describe how crowded the trams can get, except to say that you can't move an inch inside.  While I was able to make it to my internship on time in the morning, coming back home after my late afternoon class was not so easy.  Heading back from campus, I took one look at the crowded tram stop and decided I had had enough of battling large, angry crowds for the day.  I ended up walking home from school, which turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant and peaceful 45 minute walk.  I am beginning to realize more and more that if you're going to live in a different country, you have to learn to adopt the same mentality as the people there.  In France, this attitude is very "go with the flow" and laid back, essentially the opposite of my type A, list-making, planning self.  Learning to just relax and not freak out about every little problem (like workers going on strike every other day) here is becoming one of my biggest challenges yet.

Carb Overload

I think I have eaten enough bread these past few weeks to last me a lifetime.  When I think about how much bread I regularly eat at home, it is no more than a small fraction of how much I consume here.  In my host family, it seems I am offered bread at each meal.  In Montpellier, or in any French town for that matter, the abundance of patisseries and boulangeries is almost as noticeable as the alarmingly large number of pharmacies on every corner.  It's safe to say that bread is a French staple and makes up a large portion of the diet here.  And why shouldn't it? French bread is delicious and unparalleled by any variety I've tasted in the U.S.  Between all the sandwich shops and bakeries offering their tempting fare every few steps, I seriously wondered how everyone here seems to be so thin.  I got my answer soon enough a few days later at dinner with my host mother, Michèle.  We were talking about eating habits and the differences between France and America.  She was describing what she usually eats for breakfast and I asked her if she often ate croissants.  She laughed and said if she ate croissants every day she would be 300 pounds.  I found this hilarious because my host mother is anything but big.  I should have known that assuming the French eat croissants on a daily basis is as much a stereotype as thinking that everyone in Paris walks around all day wearing berets and carrying baguettes (okay the baguette part is somewhat true).  On a similar note, some French students were shocked when I asked them if they often ate sandwiches for lunch.  I had to ask since there seem to be sandwich shops everywhere you look here.  They replied that they rarely ate sandwiches for lunch, only if they were really pressed for time.  As beloved as bread is here, most of the locals aren't constantly eating the buttery pastries and confections that they are famous for.  It wouldn't surprise me if all of the fattening fare being offered by so many local establishments is more targeted toward tourists than the people that actually live here.

As much as the French seem to limit what and how much they eat, they love to talk about food.  Most of the dinner conversations I've been a part of since my arrival have centered around the topic of "la nourriture."  While this obviously isn't true for everyone, it certainly seems to be the case for my host family.  Before I came here, I didn't know it was possibly to debate for hours what the best patisserie was in Paris or where the best macarons could be found in Montpellier.  Food is an inherent part of French culture and a passionate subject here.  Even the way they eat food here is much different than at home.  Mealtimes are sacred and often take around two hours.  As an American, used to rushing from one thing to the next, I have to make a conscious effort to slow down and just enjoy the experience.  Normally, I tend to eat smaller amounts more frequently during the day, undoubtably a product of the typical, fast paced American lifestyle that lends itself so easily to eating on the go. This habit is one that is proving to be very difficult to break now that I live in a place where its only acceptable to eat at designated mealtimes.  Michèle and her brother, Alain, both adhere to this strict French regimen.  Breakfast is eaten at around eight or nine in the morning.  Lunch is at about one in the afternoon and dinner isn't eaten until eight at night.  Meals are generous and well balanced to ensure that hunger doesn't strike in between.  Supposedly.  I'm still unconvinced.  Alain informed me that if I do get hungry in that seven or eight hour stretch between lunch and dinner, it's acceptable to eat an apple.  A whole apple!  Most evenings, I'm still ravenous by five, about the time I would be eating dinner in the States.  While I knew I would have to change some of my eating habits when I moved here, it's still harder than I thought it would be and will definitely take some getting used to...

Still in Shock

Sometimes I'll catch myself still doubting that I'm actually here. I've wanted to study abroad in France for longer than I can remember so now that I'm actually here, it's hard to believe.  Thus far, the whole experience has been surreal.  Already, I've seen so much, and the whole year still stretches ahead of me, full of possibilities.  I hope that I make the most of my time here, taking every opportunity that I can to explore, learn, grow, and most importantly, improve my French skills.  As I sit here reflecting on my goals, I wonder when it will actually sink in, that I really am here, living in France for a year just like I always dreamed?  As participants in this study abroad program, we are constantly reminded that as soon as this "honeymoon" phase is over, we will hit a low point.  While I can't say that I'm looking forward to this "depression" or period of missing home, I almost want to just get it over with, so I can really settle in here and fall into an everyday pattern, just like I do at home.

As of right now, I feel like I'm living in some kind of fantasy land, but I have a feeling reality will hit right around the time classes start on Monday.  I guess some things never change, no matter what country I happen to live in.  That being said, I am pretty excited to experience classes here, in an entirely different educational system.  The differences in attending school here and back home are noticeable already.  Even something as simple as registering for classes is an entirely different process for the French.  I can't speak for all French universities, but at Paul Valéry, there is no online registration for classes.  There aren't even course catalogs.  Information about classes has to be gathered from the different departments, which can be difficult since class descriptions and timetables are often unavailable even less than a week before classes start.  I still don't know where my media class is being held...  Anyway, once classes are selected, students just show up to the classes they want to take; there is no official registration.  I'm sure I've only just skimmed the surface on the number of differences there are between the educational systems here and in the U.S., but it will be interesting to see how many more reveal themselves as the year progresses.

In the meantime, I'm going to savor what's left of the summer and enjoy the gorgeous weather, my lovely French apartment, and delicious food.

À bientôt!

Adjusting to Life in Montpellier

No matter how many hours I sleep each night here, I am still exhausted by the end of the day.  While much of this exhaustion probably has to do with jet lag and trying to get settled in, I realized that simply being surrounded by a language other than your own is exhausting in itself.  Even trying to understand what people are saying takes constant effort and concentration, not to mention speaking.  I think these first few weeks are going to be much of the same, as I will find myself immersed in the language from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed.  

It's been a whole week since I last wrote, but I feel like it's been much longer since so much has happened.  Everything has been a whirlwind since I arrived in town with my rather ridiculous amount of luggage.  It turns out that the narrow, cobblestone streets and packed trams in France are not ideal for lugging around two enormous suitcases, a backpack, and a purse.  Now that I'm finally somewhat settled into my new home, my large, bulky, "American" luggage looks almost comical in their new, refined, French surroundings.  At home, it's hard to notice, but even after being in France for just a few days, the whole "bigger is better" concept seems ridiculous.  Even the fruit is smaller here.  

While being in France helps put American excess in perspective, there are definitely frustrations with living here.  Everything seems so much slower and less efficient.  There is no such thing as stopping somewhere for a quick bite to eat, unless you are getting your food to go, and forget about quickly running into a store for a few items.  After spending the day at the University yesterday, I returned back to La Place de la Comédie, the center of town, to grab a few items from the Monoprix, the rough equivalent of a Target.  Since we had just finished a tour and placement testing at Paul Valéry, I was already pretty tired and just wanted to buy my stuff and go.  While I am familiar with how stores operate in Europe, I had forgotten just how frustrating it can be.  There always seems to be the longest line imaginable because there is only one or two people to ring up everyone's purchases.  Whether it's adjusting from the 30 check out lines at Target to the one, long line at the Monoprix, or going from a quick meal at Panera to a two hour lunch at a café, these differences are all part of the experience.  Appreciating these differences is part of embracing the culture and slower pace of life here.