Bonsoir tout le monde. How has it been 3 weeks in Paris already?
Last weekend, my host mom invited me to her house in northern France, in a tiny town near the coast. The weather was less than ideal, but we still got to take some walks on the beach. The best part of the trip was that we took my host mom’s cats with us. She has two cats, Rigoletto and Fidelio. They are very sweet and adorable – but they are also quite young, less than a year old, and are thus very energetic. On multiple occasions, I have taken my eyes off my food for a few seconds, which is all they need in order to steal something off my plate! They are fast. But they’re too cute to get mad at. On Friday night, the first night in northern France, my host mom knocked on my door to let me know that Rigoletto had escaped through the bathroom window. I immediately got up to help look for him, of course. It didn’t take long to spot him going under a bush in the garden. I lured him out with pspspsps (cat people know) before scooping him up and taking him back inside. I did injure my finger trying to get the very old, very rusty door open, but at least I got to feel like a hero.
On Saturday, my host mom and I watched the women’s French Open, where Coco Gauff won! YAY! I have never watched a game of tennis in my life before this weekend, but I think I might be a fan now. It was very funny to watch with my host mom (and the cats) and hear the commentary she made during the game. She was also very pleased with the outcome.
My host mom is probably my favorite part of my stay here. It’s very nice to feel like I’m welcome somewhere that’s so far from home, especially on the days when I’m really homesick. She and I often watch the news together and she will explain to me the parts I can’t understand, which is both informative and good for my French. When I come home from a long and sometimes frustrating day at work, I really appreciate her making me feel at home.
Speaking of frustrating, one of the things that has been somewhat difficult to adapt to is that you absolutely have to say “Bonjour” when you begin a conversation with someone. It is perceived as extremely rude to walk into a store or walk up to someone, and just start talking to them without first saying “bonjour” or “bonsoir.” I had a situation last week where I was trying to enter my office building and had to speak to a security guy. I asked him if I could enter the building and he replied with an affronted “bonjour!” I quickly realized my mistake and was quite embarrassed. Then again, sometimes it’s not my fault. A few days later, I walked into a restaurant with a friend and said bonjour to the employee at the entrance. I guess he didn’t hear me, because he did the same thing – replied with a sassy “bonjour” with his hands up like he was expecting something. I swear that one wasn’t on me. It’s not like it’s so difficult to remember to say one word but it can be stressful when I rehearse what I’m going to say to someone, only to feel like a total idiot when I realize I forgot to begin the conversation with a proper greeting and now I look rude despite my best efforts.
Another thing that requires some adapting to is the bluntness of French people. I was warned about this during my orientations, but it’s one thing to hear it described and another thing entirely to have it happen to you. At my job, we are supposed to send daily reports to our supervisor, with a list of our planned tasks and our progress on them. I had apparently listed something on my report that my boss found irrelevant, and he made this very clear. Remember how I said in my blog post a few weeks ago that French people don’t mince their words? Yeah, I can very much attest to that through the interactions I’ve had with my supervisor and those I’ve observed between him and my coworkers. Any of my friends or family members will tell you I’m sensitive (overly sensitive, I know guys) so this is definitely jarring and a little disheartening, though I’m trying to remember that this is just part of the culture. It’s not like every piece of negative feedback means I have made some terrible mistake, but if you have done something wrong, even something minor, you will hear about it. Even if it’s a bummer to hear sometimes, at least it gives me a chance to learn.
I guess that’s just what culture shock is. It’s jarring, but it’s a natural part of studying abroad. I have to be patient with myself and remind myself that basically everyone is going through the same stuff, and it just means I’m getting out of my comfort zone, which is good! Can’t wait to go to work tomorrow and be shocked some more. À plus tard!
