I tend to write about the more exciting or out of the ordinary things that I see and do, but if you are just reading my blog you most likely are unfamiliar with my daily life here in Angers.
So here it goes:
On a typical morning I start class around 8 or 9 a.m. If I have time and or money, I stop at a boulangerie on my way to school to pick up a pain au chocolat or other yummy breakfast treat. It's hard to resist the amazing smells wafting out of the several boulangeries I have to pass on my 10 minute walk to school.
My class schedule is different every day of the week, as opposed to back in South Bend, where my class schedule repeats itself on Monday/Wednesday and Tuesday/Thursday. I really enjoy the variety.
Another different thing about France is lunch. At Notre Dame I sometimes don't have a lunch break at all, let alone the same lunch time as any of my friends. But in Angers, no one has class between 12:15 and 1:30. It's the same thing for all French citizens - everyone goes home for lunch! I usually just grab a sandwich with some friends or go to the University Restaurant (a really sorry excuse for a dining hall, but it's cheap) and once a week Notre Dame provides a sit down lunch for our entire group.
During my breaks from class I usually go to the library at school to get some homework done. I don't have much homework here at all, but I like to get it done during the day because there are more distractions at my house. (for example I have some homework to be doing right now, but instead I am blogging)
An afternoon snack around 4 p.m. is always necessary, since we don't eat dinner here until at least 8:30 or so. I usually take an afternoon walk and pick up something from the grocery store or a boulangerie to tide me over until dinnertime.
In the evenings I eat dinner with my host family, then hang out with them after dinner and watch TV for a bit before finishing up my homework and heading to bed.
That's just an attempt at describing a typical day, but the truly correct thing to say would be that there are no typical days here in France. I always seem to experience something out of the ordinary or learn something new or do something different.
However, my life is about to become very much out of the ordinary - in three days I will travel to Rome for Easter, then return to Angers for just a few days before embarking on a two week journey through Italy and Spain, so stay tuned for blog posts about those adventures.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Le médecin
Yesterday I had an unexpected lesson in French vocabulary and culture.
The adventure began when I realized that I had shingles (which I've had before). Treatment requires prescription medication, and the sooner you begin taking it, the better.
So yesterday morning - after looking up "shingles" in my French-English dictionary - I ventured out to the French doctor to explain to her that I had "le zona" and needed some medication.
Luckily, the process was simple and painless (well, except for the fact that the shingles themselves are pretty painful).
When I entered her office, the doctor asked for my "Carte Vitale," but realized by the look on my face that I was not French. But so began the culture lesson: French people all have cards that have special chips in them with all of their important identification and personal health information. At least 40% of the cost of a medical visit is covered by the government. Apparently French people still have private health insurance plans to cover the remaining 60% of the costs, which resembles the American version of private health insurance.
The French system was fascinating to me in light of the current debates over health care in the U.S. While I am sure that the French system has flaws of its own, something seems incredibly efficient to me about having all of your pertinent medical information stored on a little card. It appears especially convenient to someone like myself because I constantly have to remember to explain my medical issues and list of medications to each doctor that I see. If I were French, they would see it all for themselves when they scanned my card.
I also got to experience I French pharmacy. This time, I was prepared when asked for my medical card, and was able to respond "je ne suis pas française" instead of giving the pharmacist a bewildered look. I was impressed with the French pharmacy because I was in and out with my medications in hand in under two minutes - all the woman did was grab the boxes for the medications I needed, whereas in the U.S. I would have had to wait around for several minutes while she went in a back room, filled a new bottle with my pills and printed out labels.
While having shingles in France is a bummer, I am doing just fine, and I hope to be well on my way to recovery by Friday morning, when I will get on the train to Paris to welcome my Mom and Dad to France!
My French doctor's visit mostly reminded me of my continual amazement that, in a foreign country, everything turns into a cultural learning experience.
On a lighter note, I also learned about the French versions of Disney movies yesterday - who would have guessed that even every line to every song is perfectly translated to have the same meaning but also still rhyme and follow the same tune!?
The adventure began when I realized that I had shingles (which I've had before). Treatment requires prescription medication, and the sooner you begin taking it, the better.
So yesterday morning - after looking up "shingles" in my French-English dictionary - I ventured out to the French doctor to explain to her that I had "le zona" and needed some medication.
Luckily, the process was simple and painless (well, except for the fact that the shingles themselves are pretty painful).
When I entered her office, the doctor asked for my "Carte Vitale," but realized by the look on my face that I was not French. But so began the culture lesson: French people all have cards that have special chips in them with all of their important identification and personal health information. At least 40% of the cost of a medical visit is covered by the government. Apparently French people still have private health insurance plans to cover the remaining 60% of the costs, which resembles the American version of private health insurance.
The French system was fascinating to me in light of the current debates over health care in the U.S. While I am sure that the French system has flaws of its own, something seems incredibly efficient to me about having all of your pertinent medical information stored on a little card. It appears especially convenient to someone like myself because I constantly have to remember to explain my medical issues and list of medications to each doctor that I see. If I were French, they would see it all for themselves when they scanned my card.
I also got to experience I French pharmacy. This time, I was prepared when asked for my medical card, and was able to respond "je ne suis pas française" instead of giving the pharmacist a bewildered look. I was impressed with the French pharmacy because I was in and out with my medications in hand in under two minutes - all the woman did was grab the boxes for the medications I needed, whereas in the U.S. I would have had to wait around for several minutes while she went in a back room, filled a new bottle with my pills and printed out labels.
While having shingles in France is a bummer, I am doing just fine, and I hope to be well on my way to recovery by Friday morning, when I will get on the train to Paris to welcome my Mom and Dad to France!
My French doctor's visit mostly reminded me of my continual amazement that, in a foreign country, everything turns into a cultural learning experience.
On a lighter note, I also learned about the French versions of Disney movies yesterday - who would have guessed that even every line to every song is perfectly translated to have the same meaning but also still rhyme and follow the same tune!?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Le dimanche
Today is Sunday.
Back home in the United States, people are going shopping at the grocery store, at the mall, and at Wal-Mart. People are eating in restaurants in large numbers, and the streets are crowded. Because that's what people do on weekends, right?
Angers, France is what Americans might call a ghost town every Sunday.
Stores are closed. Grocery stores are closed. Windows are boarded up, shades are down, no one is out on the streets downtown.
What do the French do on Sundays? They rest. Imagine that - on Sunday, the day of rest!
If you go out in the morning, you will find many elderly couples - and some families - migrating toward the sound of ringing church bells.
In the afternoon, you might find families in one of the parks in town.
But for the most part, they seem to stay at home and rest and eat large, delicious home-cooked Sunday afternoon meals.
Today, however, I saw many people walking in and out of school buildings around town.
Even though everything is closed on Sunday, French people hold elections on Sundays. While it may seem bizarre to Americans, who are accustomed to voting on Tuesdays, the French always vote on Sundays.
Today they held elections for the President of each region of the country. (Somewhat parallel, in my understanding, to what I know as the governor of a state.) I live in the region Pays de la Loire.
When I asked my host family if it was strange that they voted on Sundays because it is the weekend, they responded, "Of course not! People can't vote if they are at work!"
When I told them that we hold elections on Tuesdays, they responded, "Well then, no one goes to work on election day, right?" Ah, if only that were the case.
Welcome to France, where Sundays are for resting. And voting.
As for me, I like my Sunday routine: I meet friends for 11am Mass at Saint Joseph, an old church just a three minute walk from my house. Going to French Mass is pretty good for practicing my oral comprehension skills. After Mass, a group of us usually go to a crêperie for lunch. (I guess I exaggerated a little bit when I said everything is closed. But this place is, in fact, the only place that we can find that is open on Sundays). I usually just have coffee and sit and chat, because I eat Sunday lunch with my host family.
Sunday lunch is late - usually around 2:30 p.m. - and it is delicious! Complete with appetizers, wine, a main course, cheese, and dessert, it is probably my favorite meal of the week. There is also something amazing about sitting and having a nice meal with the whole family, when I know that at lunchtime on a Sunday in America, my family at least is still lounging around in pajamas or out shopping or fending for ourselves by heating up some leftovers in the microwave or making a quick sandwich.
On Sunday afternoons, I always find something to entertain myself with, even if everything is closed. One week, I went on a bike ride with my host sister. Another week, we went ice skating. Today, I just stayed home and hung out with my host sisters for a little while (including giving them an English lesson, which I should write more about later) before working on some homework.
Sunday dinner is simple, as everyone is still pretty full from lunch. And Sunday nights, I feel well-fed, well-rested, and ready for my week.
Bonne semaine!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Lost in Translation
While I have written a lot about travel, food and culture in France, I have not written much about the most important thing of all: learning the French language.
I have quickly discovered that there are good and bad moments for communicating in French. Sometimes I am able to communicate exactly what I would like and really understand a conversation in French. Other times, not so much.
I always knew that I was better at reading and writing French than I was at speaking it, but actually coming to France has brought me to a full appreciation of the challenge of learning another language. To become fully fluent in another language now seems to me to be nearly impossible.
One of the biggest differences I noticed upon my arrival in France is that the process of communicating with French people is much different than communicating in French with American French professors.
In the U.S., when I said something in French that was a false cognate or an "Anglicism," my French teachers always still knew what I was trying to say. Here in France, I am not understood unless I say something correctly, as the French would say it.
My daily life in France requires oral communication much more than it does reading and writing. Just when I found myself frustrated with my inability to orally understand and express the same amount of French that I know how to read and write, I stumbled upon an editorial in the French newspaper.
Written by Christian Lequesne, the director of the Center for International Study and Research at Sciences Po in Paris (which, if you are unaware, is one of the most prestigious universities in France).
Lequesne essentially argues that there are not enough French students studying in foreign countries and learning languages. He proposes that French schools should teach foreign languages based more on oral comprehension, so that students will be able to travel and communicate more easily.
He writes:
Un professeur de collège me dit un jour: « Vous voudriez donc que j’enseigne l’anglais d’aéroport ! » Je ne pus m’empêcher de lui répondre : se seulement tous nos élèves, au sortir du brevet, pouvaient comprendre les annonces en anglais dans les aéroports !
Yes, I will translate this passage for my English speaking readers, even though I am currently writing on the importance of learning foreign languages.
(Translation: A middle school teacher said to me one day: "So you would like me to teach "airport English!" I couldn't stop myself from responding: If only all our students, when they got their diplomas, could understand the English announcements in airports!)
In other words, foreign language teachers must not brush off the importance of simple oral comprehension - something that is certainly true in my attempts thus far to survive and communicate in France.
He continues with a thought about the importance of study abroad experiences:
L’expérience, dans sa jeunesse, de la différence culturelle est le meilleur moyen d’apprendre à être à l’aise devant le changement.
(Translation: The experience, in one's youth, of cultural difference is the best way to learn how to handle change.)
I completely agree with Monsieur Lequesne. This is exactly what studying abroad is all about. I am learning to communicate beyond cultural and language barriers, at the same time as improving my ability to understand and communicate spoken French. By doing so, I am gaining a great appreciation for the broader world.
With the exception of Latin, the languages that we study in school are living, with living people and cultures attached to them. The French grammar exercises that I mastered throughout middle school and high school did teach me a lot, as have the works of French literature I have read in college courses. But nothing compares to living in France and experiencing everyday life in a typical French city.
Perhaps our system of teaching foreign languages could be modified to emphasize oral expression and comprehension, but to learn about the world one must live abroad.
Sometimes I do just wish that I had the words to say something to my host family, or that I didn't have to concentrate so hard to understand even a small part of the plot of a French TV show. But that does not make me regret coming here. Rather, it makes me wish I had come sooner or that I could stay longer. Four months is not enough time to learn a language.
I have quickly discovered that there are good and bad moments for communicating in French. Sometimes I am able to communicate exactly what I would like and really understand a conversation in French. Other times, not so much.
I always knew that I was better at reading and writing French than I was at speaking it, but actually coming to France has brought me to a full appreciation of the challenge of learning another language. To become fully fluent in another language now seems to me to be nearly impossible.
One of the biggest differences I noticed upon my arrival in France is that the process of communicating with French people is much different than communicating in French with American French professors.
In the U.S., when I said something in French that was a false cognate or an "Anglicism," my French teachers always still knew what I was trying to say. Here in France, I am not understood unless I say something correctly, as the French would say it.
My daily life in France requires oral communication much more than it does reading and writing. Just when I found myself frustrated with my inability to orally understand and express the same amount of French that I know how to read and write, I stumbled upon an editorial in the French newspaper.
Written by Christian Lequesne, the director of the Center for International Study and Research at Sciences Po in Paris (which, if you are unaware, is one of the most prestigious universities in France).
Lequesne essentially argues that there are not enough French students studying in foreign countries and learning languages. He proposes that French schools should teach foreign languages based more on oral comprehension, so that students will be able to travel and communicate more easily.
He writes:
Un professeur de collège me dit un jour: « Vous voudriez donc que j’enseigne l’anglais d’aéroport ! » Je ne pus m’empêcher de lui répondre : se seulement tous nos élèves, au sortir du brevet, pouvaient comprendre les annonces en anglais dans les aéroports !
Yes, I will translate this passage for my English speaking readers, even though I am currently writing on the importance of learning foreign languages.
(Translation: A middle school teacher said to me one day: "So you would like me to teach "airport English!" I couldn't stop myself from responding: If only all our students, when they got their diplomas, could understand the English announcements in airports!)
In other words, foreign language teachers must not brush off the importance of simple oral comprehension - something that is certainly true in my attempts thus far to survive and communicate in France.
He continues with a thought about the importance of study abroad experiences:
L’expérience, dans sa jeunesse, de la différence culturelle est le meilleur moyen d’apprendre à être à l’aise devant le changement.
(Translation: The experience, in one's youth, of cultural difference is the best way to learn how to handle change.)
I completely agree with Monsieur Lequesne. This is exactly what studying abroad is all about. I am learning to communicate beyond cultural and language barriers, at the same time as improving my ability to understand and communicate spoken French. By doing so, I am gaining a great appreciation for the broader world.
With the exception of Latin, the languages that we study in school are living, with living people and cultures attached to them. The French grammar exercises that I mastered throughout middle school and high school did teach me a lot, as have the works of French literature I have read in college courses. But nothing compares to living in France and experiencing everyday life in a typical French city.
Perhaps our system of teaching foreign languages could be modified to emphasize oral expression and comprehension, but to learn about the world one must live abroad.
Sometimes I do just wish that I had the words to say something to my host family, or that I didn't have to concentrate so hard to understand even a small part of the plot of a French TV show. But that does not make me regret coming here. Rather, it makes me wish I had come sooner or that I could stay longer. Four months is not enough time to learn a language.
Monday, March 8, 2010
La Ville-Lumière
I just got back from a weekend in Paris, The City of Light!
I could write forever about Paris and its many sights, sounds, and smells (yes, even the smells: cheese shops, bakeries, flower markets, meat shops, crepe stands in the streets...) But instead, I will just include some of the highlights:
Wandering around the tiny streets in the Latin Quarter on a sunny Saturday morning, and seeing the "real" Paris - Parisians walking their dogs and carrying baguettes and coming home from the Saturday market to their charming old apartment buildings - rather than only the busy, tacky tourist sections.
A very long walk from Notre Dame to the Arc du Triomphe. The sights inbetween included: The Seine, Pont Neuf, The Louvre, le Jardin des Tuileries, l'Avenue des Champs-Elysees, and views of the Eiffel Tower.
Montmartre: the Sacre Coeur and the surrounding neighborhood, especially the artists painting portraits and scenes of Paris.
And of course, looking out over the city and spotting la Tour Eiffel in the distance.
The Musee D'Orsay. The building was beautiful, and my favorite paintings were those Monet and Degas, although they were all stunning and wonderful.
Strolling through the Luxembourg Gardens (twice!) on a sunny afternoon. It was a wonderful place for people watching. For example, Parisans often jog in scarves and sweaters, and jump at every opportunity to sun bathe (even when it is early March and 30 degrees Farenheit)
So, you might ask, is there anything I didn't like about Paris? The one thing that frustrated me is also something that many Americans appreciate about Paris.
Any guesses?
Everyone speaks English. And by everyone, I mean everyone.
Parisans hear the slightest bit of an American accents, and refuse to speak anything but English - even if my French skills are one million times better than their knowledge of the English language. Frustrating? Yes. I believe I had a few "bilingual" conversations in which I spoke French and the Parisian spoke English. At times, they were perfectly proficient in English. Other times, it was a failed attempt (on their end only, of couse, as I have been getting by just fine with my French skills while in Angers.)
I came home on Sunday evening exhausted, and found it suddenly difficult to understand what my host family was saying. I am used to speaking with them every day and taking classes in French all day long, and even at restaurants and train stations, not using any English at all to communicate with French people. While I speak English with my fellow Notre Dame students (it's tricky to recount a complicated story in French, so we eventually resort to our native tongue even when we try to use French with one another).
Yet somehow, I spent three days in the largest city in France, and my French language and my comprehension skills made a little bit of negative progress!?! C'est dommage.
While Paris did live up to and exceed my wildest dreams, I happily boarded a train to Angers on Sunday afternoon and came back to my warmer and quieter city, my own bedroom and shower, and my loving host family.
When I told people I was going to study in Angers, France, many wondered "where is that?" or "why not Paris?" Well, there you have it. I live in a real French town with a real French family and speak French every day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Paris, je t'aime. Angers, je t'aime beaucoup.
I could write forever about Paris and its many sights, sounds, and smells (yes, even the smells: cheese shops, bakeries, flower markets, meat shops, crepe stands in the streets...) But instead, I will just include some of the highlights:
Wandering around the tiny streets in the Latin Quarter on a sunny Saturday morning, and seeing the "real" Paris - Parisians walking their dogs and carrying baguettes and coming home from the Saturday market to their charming old apartment buildings - rather than only the busy, tacky tourist sections.
A very long walk from Notre Dame to the Arc du Triomphe. The sights inbetween included: The Seine, Pont Neuf, The Louvre, le Jardin des Tuileries, l'Avenue des Champs-Elysees, and views of the Eiffel Tower.
Montmartre: the Sacre Coeur and the surrounding neighborhood, especially the artists painting portraits and scenes of Paris.
And of course, looking out over the city and spotting la Tour Eiffel in the distance.
The Musee D'Orsay. The building was beautiful, and my favorite paintings were those Monet and Degas, although they were all stunning and wonderful.
Strolling through the Luxembourg Gardens (twice!) on a sunny afternoon. It was a wonderful place for people watching. For example, Parisans often jog in scarves and sweaters, and jump at every opportunity to sun bathe (even when it is early March and 30 degrees Farenheit)
So, you might ask, is there anything I didn't like about Paris? The one thing that frustrated me is also something that many Americans appreciate about Paris.
Any guesses?
Everyone speaks English. And by everyone, I mean everyone.
Parisans hear the slightest bit of an American accents, and refuse to speak anything but English - even if my French skills are one million times better than their knowledge of the English language. Frustrating? Yes. I believe I had a few "bilingual" conversations in which I spoke French and the Parisian spoke English. At times, they were perfectly proficient in English. Other times, it was a failed attempt (on their end only, of couse, as I have been getting by just fine with my French skills while in Angers.)
I came home on Sunday evening exhausted, and found it suddenly difficult to understand what my host family was saying. I am used to speaking with them every day and taking classes in French all day long, and even at restaurants and train stations, not using any English at all to communicate with French people. While I speak English with my fellow Notre Dame students (it's tricky to recount a complicated story in French, so we eventually resort to our native tongue even when we try to use French with one another).
Yet somehow, I spent three days in the largest city in France, and my French language and my comprehension skills made a little bit of negative progress!?! C'est dommage.
While Paris did live up to and exceed my wildest dreams, I happily boarded a train to Angers on Sunday afternoon and came back to my warmer and quieter city, my own bedroom and shower, and my loving host family.
When I told people I was going to study in Angers, France, many wondered "where is that?" or "why not Paris?" Well, there you have it. I live in a real French town with a real French family and speak French every day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Paris, je t'aime. Angers, je t'aime beaucoup.
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