Soon, Siri-bug, soon. Ne t'inquiete pas.
I am going to go here:
And here...
and here:
I can't wait.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Come april...
I've got the traveling bug, and it is eating me alive. I want to hop on a train and sit in the window seat, my hand on the glass and a world whirling by me. I want to go somewhere hot, and dry, different from here, which is always slightly damp. I want mountains, and canyons, but I also want cities and sunsets.
Soon, Siri-bug, soon. Ne t'inquiete pas.
I am going to go here:
I can't wait.
Soon, Siri-bug, soon. Ne t'inquiete pas.
I am going to go here:
I can't wait.
Monday, March 12, 2012
La Pelouse: Interdite
Today I spent a lovely afternoon in the Jardin du Thabour, a very beautiful park in the heart of Rennes. It's a favorite hang-out for my friends and I after class, and it's also a great place to run, if you don't mind make a few circuits.
I should note, this is one of the few public parks where in certain areas one is allowed to sit and walk on the grass - it's unfortunately quite common to see a sign marked "Pelouse interdite. " What is it there for, I ask you, if I can't walk on it? And why are your trees shaped like little inverted ice-cream cones? But I digress. This blog entry was not meant to be a rant about the French and their relationship to nature...
Before returning to my prior train of thought, I also think it relevant to say that I have found myself speaking english more and more frequently these past few weeks. I speak French with my international friends and usually with my american friends as well, and of course with my host family, my professors... but at night, when I'm in my room on my computer, I'm in English-mode, even if much of the time I find myself thinking primarily in French and translating to English. I converse with my friends and family back home in english, I browse the web in a mixture of the two languages, and I may watch a few american TV shows as well... There are days that are better than others, where my french flows rapidly and I have extensive discussions with my friends, and even a little with my host mom as well. And then there are days when I wake up in all-american girl mode, whatever that means. Usually, that means the day is lost. I can't explain why this happens.
Anyway, today was a day of the mother language. But I think it was something that I needed. There are some things that you can't express, and therefore cannot fully comprehend, until you speak frankly in your own tongue.
At the Thabour, it ended up that it was just Stephanie and another american girl, Brynn, who is here in Rennes with her home university of Nazareth College. While we lounged happily on a patch of grass that ended up being forbidden, we found ourselves on the topic of cultural differences, the future, our dreams, and our newly evolving visions of own country. One of us (I forget who) posed the question, "Could you envision yourself settling down and building your life in France, or another foreign country?" The answer was communal - "hard to imagine, now that I am here"
It's funny, because before, it was a dream: When I grow up, I am going to leave the States and move to Europe. A romantic vision, to be sure. Possible for all of us - we have the means, the language, the independence, the resourcefulness. But is it really what you think it will be (even if you convince yourself that you accept that reality will not be your fantasy)? No. You picture the stereotypes, the good things. But you don't have an idea of what it will really be like - the nuances, the bad side of all the good, and the incredible homesickness that will inevitably come. You don't have any way to gauge beforehand what will bother you, what will strike you, or what will capture you, in a new country.
There is so much beauty here. For example, as Stephanie pointed out today, the French have a verb: profiter. It translates to "profit from" and while we can understand this, I don't think there exists an equivalent in English. Profit from the day, profit from your experiences, profit from your friends, profit from the sun. I do think this reflects the French way of life. For example, today in the sun, the whole world was out on the street and in the park. It's as simple as that... content to be, to take advantage of what is there. Along the same line, it is clear that the bonds between families are something highly valued in this country (and yet, that I know of, there is little talk of so-called-threats to "family values"... hmm....), and I love to see families out together on an afternoon walk. I love how clear it is that parents cherish their time with their children. In the States, on the other hand, I often see frazzled, overworked mothers dragging their children through the supermarket line, clearly annoyed, as if taking their child with them shopping is a chore, and not an opportunity to spend time together.
But there is also so much that I think would ultimately deter me from a life here. Notably, on a very explicit level, the amount of cigarette smoke! I blame my lingering bronchitis infection on this - I don't get to breathe clean air when I go to the park, for example. Meanwhile, Americans get criticized the amount of fat and sugar that we consume, which is certainly a gross problem, but I ask you, where do the Europeans get off on a derogatory outlook, when their children start smoking at 14 years old? Not my children. They will also be able to go to the park and run on the grass... I am speaking here of the physical, the evident: these are truths that are easily perceived and could be written off as just superficial differences that aren't significant to the culture, but in fact I think that these phenomena reflect a deeper cultural nuance that is inherently different from my own, even if I can't quite find the means to explain it (perhaps this will be the subject of another blog post).
On another note, I have also found that being in Europe makes me just as eager to return to the United States and explore my own country. After all, there is such a diversity to be found. We have fifty states - someone said today, it's as if we have fifty mini-countries, each with its own identity, its own past and its own future. I feel a need to get to know my own country - there are so many of us who never leave our own respective states of birth, and how can we call ourselves Americans if we don't make an effort to understand one anther, to learn the history of our own country, to explore the land and discover all there is that makes up the soul of our country - a vast patchwork of identities, of histories, and of terrain.
I am beginning to see so many positive traits of my own culture and my own country that make me thankful and proud to be what I am - an American who has taken the time to learn a new culture, to reflect upon her own roots, and to allow herself to renew her perspective.
I should note, this is one of the few public parks where in certain areas one is allowed to sit and walk on the grass - it's unfortunately quite common to see a sign marked "Pelouse interdite. " What is it there for, I ask you, if I can't walk on it? And why are your trees shaped like little inverted ice-cream cones? But I digress. This blog entry was not meant to be a rant about the French and their relationship to nature...
Before returning to my prior train of thought, I also think it relevant to say that I have found myself speaking english more and more frequently these past few weeks. I speak French with my international friends and usually with my american friends as well, and of course with my host family, my professors... but at night, when I'm in my room on my computer, I'm in English-mode, even if much of the time I find myself thinking primarily in French and translating to English. I converse with my friends and family back home in english, I browse the web in a mixture of the two languages, and I may watch a few american TV shows as well... There are days that are better than others, where my french flows rapidly and I have extensive discussions with my friends, and even a little with my host mom as well. And then there are days when I wake up in all-american girl mode, whatever that means. Usually, that means the day is lost. I can't explain why this happens.
Anyway, today was a day of the mother language. But I think it was something that I needed. There are some things that you can't express, and therefore cannot fully comprehend, until you speak frankly in your own tongue.
At the Thabour, it ended up that it was just Stephanie and another american girl, Brynn, who is here in Rennes with her home university of Nazareth College. While we lounged happily on a patch of grass that ended up being forbidden, we found ourselves on the topic of cultural differences, the future, our dreams, and our newly evolving visions of own country. One of us (I forget who) posed the question, "Could you envision yourself settling down and building your life in France, or another foreign country?" The answer was communal - "hard to imagine, now that I am here"
It's funny, because before, it was a dream: When I grow up, I am going to leave the States and move to Europe. A romantic vision, to be sure. Possible for all of us - we have the means, the language, the independence, the resourcefulness. But is it really what you think it will be (even if you convince yourself that you accept that reality will not be your fantasy)? No. You picture the stereotypes, the good things. But you don't have an idea of what it will really be like - the nuances, the bad side of all the good, and the incredible homesickness that will inevitably come. You don't have any way to gauge beforehand what will bother you, what will strike you, or what will capture you, in a new country.
There is so much beauty here. For example, as Stephanie pointed out today, the French have a verb: profiter. It translates to "profit from" and while we can understand this, I don't think there exists an equivalent in English. Profit from the day, profit from your experiences, profit from your friends, profit from the sun. I do think this reflects the French way of life. For example, today in the sun, the whole world was out on the street and in the park. It's as simple as that... content to be, to take advantage of what is there. Along the same line, it is clear that the bonds between families are something highly valued in this country (and yet, that I know of, there is little talk of so-called-threats to "family values"... hmm....), and I love to see families out together on an afternoon walk. I love how clear it is that parents cherish their time with their children. In the States, on the other hand, I often see frazzled, overworked mothers dragging their children through the supermarket line, clearly annoyed, as if taking their child with them shopping is a chore, and not an opportunity to spend time together.
But there is also so much that I think would ultimately deter me from a life here. Notably, on a very explicit level, the amount of cigarette smoke! I blame my lingering bronchitis infection on this - I don't get to breathe clean air when I go to the park, for example. Meanwhile, Americans get criticized the amount of fat and sugar that we consume, which is certainly a gross problem, but I ask you, where do the Europeans get off on a derogatory outlook, when their children start smoking at 14 years old? Not my children. They will also be able to go to the park and run on the grass... I am speaking here of the physical, the evident: these are truths that are easily perceived and could be written off as just superficial differences that aren't significant to the culture, but in fact I think that these phenomena reflect a deeper cultural nuance that is inherently different from my own, even if I can't quite find the means to explain it (perhaps this will be the subject of another blog post).
On another note, I have also found that being in Europe makes me just as eager to return to the United States and explore my own country. After all, there is such a diversity to be found. We have fifty states - someone said today, it's as if we have fifty mini-countries, each with its own identity, its own past and its own future. I feel a need to get to know my own country - there are so many of us who never leave our own respective states of birth, and how can we call ourselves Americans if we don't make an effort to understand one anther, to learn the history of our own country, to explore the land and discover all there is that makes up the soul of our country - a vast patchwork of identities, of histories, and of terrain.
I am beginning to see so many positive traits of my own culture and my own country that make me thankful and proud to be what I am - an American who has taken the time to learn a new culture, to reflect upon her own roots, and to allow herself to renew her perspective.
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