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Bonjour,
I've been meaning to update my blog about Lyon for ages but the longer I don't write, the more there is to write about, so the harder it is to write, so the longer I don't write. It's a vicious cycle.
I'm well settled in Lyon now, although it's a strange kind of settled living in a country where you have to struggle constantly to be understood.
The French are all that they are imagined to be and that includes not being the most tolerant when to hearing the French language in anything but the most fluent form. Even the Canadians, some of whom French is their first language, don't quite cut it, because their accent so different (I'm actually with the French there, it sounds like people using an American accent to say French words).
I find there are up days and down days with not much in between. On the up days you chat away (a few drinks help alot with this) to French people, you understand the conversations you are eavesdropping on in the metro and French people very generously tell you, 'tu parle tres bien'.
But then there are the down days. Someone talks to you and, when the realize you do not have the fullest grasp of their beloved language, treat you as though you not only cannot speak French but have the mental age of a two year old (which in their minds is the same thing). Note that they never slow down or repeat themselves, instead they tend to say something similar ever faster, then roll their eyes and turn to another French person and say "anglaise". I can understand that I want to say, and I'm not English, I'm a New Zealander, you might remember that as the country you bombed in the 1980s, but I don't because as you may have gathered the French are a very intimidating people.
But no more so than the receptionist at the building I live in. She is one of the most terrifying people I have ever met. She is probably in her forties, but from afar looks like a 20 year old. Her skin is extremely tanned which is set off by her bleach blond hair and her outfit, which is always white. She likes to be charming by calling me "jeune fille", in fact her favourite phrase is "dite-moi, jeune fille" (speak to me, young girl).
She doesn't speak a word of English, or if she does she hasn't spoken it to me, but seems to find it the greatest of novelties that I don't speak French. Her favourite pastime is to tell me something extremely fast and watch as I flounder around trying to figure out what she said. She then will follow up with one word to sum up her long speech said slowly and repeatedly with the clear inference being that I am an idiot. If I try to speak to her it is even worse. She will listen to my carefully planned sentences with a bemused look on her face and then say as though I am speaking in Swahili (which may at this stage actually be easier): "quoi?" (what?). I now avoid the office at my building as much as possible.
The person I can understand best is my French teacher. We only speak French in class, which is by far the best way to learn and she speaks fast but I can always understand her, she is one of the most expressive people I have ever met, she constantly gesticulates wildly and acts things out. She is completely crazy but we love her. Last class she was trying to teach as the word 'drageur', which is the verb for a boy trying to 'pick up' a girl, we don't really have an equivalent English word. To demonstrate she flirted outrageously with one of the boys in our class for about five minutes while the rest of us cracked up laughing and he looked uncomfortable.
On top of being hilarious, our French teacher has the added benefit of being one of the few French people who acknowledge some of the less endearing traits of the French. A lot ofour non-French teachers who have been living in France for years allude to this throughout their lessons so that by the end you get the feeling you are living in the middle of some kind of enemy territory. One of our very energetic and enigmatic professers we had in the first week whose job it was tointroduce us to 'French culture and civilization; came right out and said it "the French are proud, arrogant, stubborn, individualistic,but they make really good wine." This is the only course I've ever attended where we were graded on our ability to remember the five steps to wine tasting (look, smell, chew, swallow and discuss, if you're interested).
So enough about the French, and more about France.I'm living in Lyon which is called the second largest city in France, but really is neck and neck with Marseilles. Lyon is sort of in the centre, but a little to the South East so it is very close to Switzerland. It hasa population of about a million and it is a very rich city compared to the rest of France. It still feels a lot dirtier than what most non-Europeans are used to, but parts of it are very pretty. I live four trams stops away from the Presqu'Ile, the peninsula the forms the centre of town, right next to the TGC railway line and a graveyard, both of which are not usually desirable factors in a location, but I really like them. The train rattles around at all hours of the day reminding me I'm only two hours from Paris and four from London. The graveyard is beautiful, like a park with huge old monuments, it stretches on for miles from my window.
I've left Lyon a couple of times, first a few weeks to go to Annecy for the day, a beautiful little town near the Swiss border. The weather was stunning and the lake there is a brilliant blue colour (apparently the Swiss did something to it to make it like that, I've no idea how). We hired a paddle boat for an hour, which doesn't sound like long, when you're the one paddling it is along time. Me and Ruben had to paddle all six of us and I was also given the responsibility of steering, leading to much "turn, Charlotte, turn the ferry is coming towards us" "I'm turning!" I'm just saying, it's harder than it looks.
Last week I went away for the whole weekend. First to Marseille, which at first looks dirty and rundown but once we got a bus out round the harbour is breathtakingly beautiful. It looked to me far more like the middle east than Europe, which was aided by the fact that Marseille is the most ethnically diverse place inFrance, an already an extremely ethnically diverse country, so every second person was Arab or African.
After sharing a dorm with the roommates from hell (no it is not ok to pack and unpack your bag at 3 in the morning), we caught the train to Nice, then straightaway hopped on a bus to Monoca, which is has to get the title for one of the most bizarre countries in the world. It is tiny. We kept looking at the map and assuming it would take half an hour to walk whever we were going and we'd be there in five minutes. It glitters withwealth, but almost to the point where everything looks a bit superficial, like a Disneyland for adults. My highlight was the palace guards whose uniform consisted of white pants, tight at the top and flared at the bottom, a tight white shirt, a brown safari hat and aviator sunglasses. For some reason I was the only person who found this funny, "it's practical for them to dress like that, it's hot all year round here," Adna told me.
We got back to Nice that evening (it's only 40 minutes and 1 euro by bus) and the next morning headed straight to the beach. Nice is very pretty and I think if I were put in charge of designing a city centre I would base it on Nice's. It is made up of a cobblestoned square with elaborate fountains and surrounded by beautiful (pink!) buildings and grassy areas. Best of all, only one block away is the sea. Me, Tajreena and Augustina sunbathesd, while Adna frolicked in the water, occasionally looking up to check she was still alive. That night full of salt and sun, but no sand (the beaches in Nice are rocky) we ended up at an Arab fashion show/ music festival. Once again I felt like I was stuck in the familiar game of 'spot the Caucasian person' Tajreena is Bangali so she fits in relatively well but Adna, and I especially I were the clear gate-crashers. But after three months of 'mzungu, mzungu' I'm pretty used to the role.
I'm going to go now, it's a beautiful day so I'm going to go and study in the park and make the most of the weather before it gets cold.
A plus tard,
Charlotte
- comments
gia hey charlotte, nice to read about your adventures. so you're in france now? still on break from school or your on exchange or something? i'm back in lebanon, living and trying to teach english near the palestinian camp. mourra and i got married in the court and are trying to go the states to have a wedding and be with my mom. hope you're enjoying your adventures and absorbing the place and language. gia
Sharon Great blog. The French are living up to their reputation nicely! Glad we sent you there to learn how to taste wine - I didn't know to chew wine. SF X
Momma Great blog. Please your having such an interesting time. Happy birthday for the 18th. Do everything I didn't do on my 21st Lots of Love Momma