Something I much prefer about Tours is that it's not a tourist's city in the same way that Paris is. Walk down the streets in Paris, go on the metro, and the odds are someone's speaking English. In restaurants in Paris, and in the attractions, the staff will switch to English fairly quickly -- especially if you have a strong American accent or stumble over words.
There's always been a lot of irony in involved in Tourism for me though, because as much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I *am* a tourist, not a local. It IS all new for me, and YES I'm going to gawk at the sites. But tourists, ESPECIALLY American tourists, are annoying. There's a reason we have such a reputation in France. When I was in Paris, I saw it all the time -- Americans coming in, being loud, speaking English, being disrespectful, and being entitled, angry that someone wasn't speaking English. In France. In a foreign country.
This is the stereotype. And unfortunately, it's true, the amount of entitlement that comes from Americans is truly ASTOUNDING.
The more French I learn, the more I'm inclined to side with the French. Everyone I've met in shops, in restaurants, in attractions, is ALWAYS polite, friendly, and professional. No one is RUDE. I just wanted to point this out because this is such a stereotype. It's simply not true. Now, if you barge in, don't say hello, demand to be served right away, and do all this in English, then yes, you know what, they might be snippy. But I would be too.
I've found that French people are genuinely excited when Americans are speaking French, and the better your French, the more pleased they are. But even a drop of effort will open doors. On the plane over here I sat next to a girl, probably a few years younger than me, who was going to visit her boyfriend. They were going to be in France for a few weeks. He told her she didn't need to learn any French, because everyone knew English. I mildly commented that you know, a "Bonjour," and a "Merci," wouldn't hurt, but she waved me off.
I also wanted to point out (again, because I've done this in another blog post) that NOT EVERY FRENCH PERSON SPEAKS ENGLISH.
Should I say this again?
It's weird but it's like FRENCH is the language of FRANCE or something?
Here's the other thing. Some may not speak it at all, some may know a few words (the nice lady in the phone shop who couldn't read the sim card notes in English in my phone as we were installing it. She said, my English is "nul" which in French means, it's 0, does not exist), some may have learned it in school and forgotten most of it (my host mother), some may have some phrases and comprehension (my Paris host mother and the doctor I saw last night) but dislike speaking it because it's hard for them and they feel uncomfortable and self conscious. Some are fluent. There was a doctor I saw here who's English was practically perfect. Great! But to assume that of everyone you meet is stupid.
So onto my day.
Both weekends, I've tried to see and do things. Mostly because my host mother keeps being like "really. You're in France. And you're not going to see anything. Huh." But also because last weekend, I got an invitation to visit my host family in Paris!
It was a last minute thing, but I absolutely jumped on a train and went to see them. They are super and I had an absolute blast.
Saturday I walked around Tours looking for a SIM card and grabbing lunch (I did not find one and my ankle hurt) and honestly, I did not really enjoy that day.
But Sunday, early, I walked to the train (20 sweat drenched minutes) actually found my seat correctly on the train this time, and went to Paris!
It was quite honestly, as I remembered. The metro was as easy as before, and I got straight to San Michel (aka the Tourist stop of Tourists stops) to go to Shakespeare and Co.
Unfortunately for me, I have no god d*** sense of direction. I got lost. Well, not lost, because I knew where I was, but lost because I had no idea where I was going.
I stopped and got breakfast at this restaurant, but I can't say I enjoyed it too much. I was panicking (I didn't have a SIM card, I was worried about my ankle, which was really bugging me), the food was not great (it was fine, just not great), so I just picked at the Ham and Cheese crepe (I'm pretty sure my host mother would have thrown me into the Seine for that. But luckily, she wasn't there. Or maybe unluckily, I'm sure she would have had good advice), and drank my water. The air smelled like smoke, as the restaurant was full of smokers. Which, funnily enough, I never noticed the first time I was in France, but have noticed much more this time around. Plus, the man spoke to me in English, despite me replying in bad French, which made me feel like a Tourist.
Then, instead of asking for directions like a sane person, I asked him for the nearest Tabak (smoke shop) where I'd been told I could buy a sim card. I headed off in that direction after paying . . . and did not find one, continuing to be lost.
Now, this was the question asked of me by my host mother. "Why didn't you ask for directions!"
Well. Um.
Uh.
Hmm.
We'll call it anxiety, stubbornness, and dumba**ery all rolled into one and carry on. Also, between you and me, I really didn't want to admit, that (a) I was lost, and (b) I was looking for a tourist attraction.
So, let's call it stubbornness and leave it at that.
So I did what any anxious person does when they're lost AF and doesn't want anyone to know. I pretended I was just wandering around enjoying the scenery. (Really, I was looking for a company that had wifi I could steal, but no luck).
I "enjoyed" the Seine (Anxious OH LOOK THERE'S THE RIVER I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ENJOYING!), and walked along it for a bit, and thought back to memories where I'd taken a sandwich and eaten next to it.
I "watched" the tourists, thought about asking for directions some more, didn't, and looped the river. Now I actually was lost, because I had no idea where I was. I did, however, know the area, and I spotted Notre Dame. I decided to go there because let's face it, I was hoping there was WIFI.
So I did. It was boarded off, and it was then I remembered there'd been a fire there. That it wasn't open anymore while it was being restored. I couldn't help but feel like I was in this surreal moment. *I'd* actually been there. BEFORE the fire. I knew what it looked like. And how the world had changed!
There was something going on to the left. I was still searching for wifi, but no luck. I glanced at the sign again. It was some sort of exhibit and I was admittedly very curious.
So, finally figuring that I had a lot of time (and wanting to stop circling. I'd absolutely got RIGHTFULLY honked at when I walked on red in front of cars and a BIKE -- Dumba**ery level 5, anxiety was high at that moment, tunnel vision) so I decided to check out the exhibit. And that was when things got cool.
Turns out the exhibit was a history of Notre Dame, and especially focusing on how Victor Hugo had saved it, and made it a huge part of the Paris culture today. There were illustrations, old photos, and all this stuff they'd found under the cathedral, including a whole bunch of stuff on how Paris was founded and the old ruins and stuff. It was VERY cool.
Basically Paris was built by recycling these old . . . like stadiums? And turning them into something different? And the Seine river used to be in a different place. So that was cool.
As far as Victor Hugo goes, basically, the French wanted to modernize the city and thought the cathedral was an eyesore, so Victor fought hard, wrote The Hunchback of Notre Dame, made everyone fall in love with this thing, and then it was redesigned and updated. Pretty cool, I think, especially considering it was his writing that changed everything. Plus, the film Disney made, made the site even more popular. So that's pretty cool.
I also enjoyed chit chatting in French with the security guy. He told me my French was good. (Always a plus. He even said tres bien, so there!) and to watch out for thieves. (Voleurs) because there's a lot of them in Paris. (Which is true, and they go after tourists, because tourists are easy targets.)
After that, I left the exhibit.
I was pleased to realize that after turning my phone off airplane mode (which I did to avoid international charges, which I strongly recommend,) while I didn't have internet, I could access a map with a dot with me on it. It was in this really stupid, insipid fashion, that I finally found my destination -- Shakespeare and company, though not before going through a lovely garden first, which I actually quite appreciated.
Here are a few shots of me being like HA! Shakespeare and Co is just ahead!
And so I made it to the bookshop.
I wish I could say I found it as magical as some people seem to. To me, it was one of those things that was left better in my imagination. They way I remember it was a mix of old and new books, tight corners, and I remember finding this really cool Aladdin papercut out book that I wanted to get for my mom (I didn't because she said don't get me anything. Regrets). It was old and different and mysterious.
Flash forward to today. It reminds me of pretty much every other bookstore I've ever seen, and seeing all the English titles is a bit unnerving. I genuinely miss the French language and hearing the (nice) booksellers talk in English is also a bit unnerving. That, coupled with the long line that had been outside the store, reminds me that this is why Paris' tourism will always feel a bit . . . frustrating to me. But mostly, let's just admit I'm a snob and be done with it.
I did pick up a few books, plus a cute bag, the most interesting book was what I'd consider a collector's item: a history of Shakespeare and Co, hardbacked, and stamped. Uh, DUH I'm getting that. It's going to be a pain to take back to the US though. Books are heavy!
Still, considering I want a private library, I think it's a pretty good piece.
I want to basically be that person who has books and treasures from all over the world. I just think it's cool, you know?
So SPEAKING of libraries -- my transitions are great, RIGHT?? -- my next step was the Francois Mitterrand library -- the part of the library open to the public -- that was once the biggest collection in the world! (The library of Congress now has that honor -- don't think it's not on my bucket list!) It was SO SO cool to check it out. Though, the lunch was subpar (I stopped at Pret a Manger which is chain and it's . . . what you'd expect. Not bad, not great. But it turns out I hate Chutney.) AND of course,
I GOT LOST! AGAIN!
*&*&
Did I ask for directions?
Did I follow the signs?
Did I turn around when I was clearly going the wrong way?
No
No
and yes, eventually
READER we are not going to TALK about HOW FAR I WALKED before I realized it was the wrong way.
(hint, it was FAR!)
I could just hear my host mother, like a little critter on my should going, "You know, that SIM card? The thing I've told you for a week to use? Do you think that might come in handy now?" and "You . . . could ask someone. Anyone really."
BUT eventually, due to my little blue dotted map, I realized which way I needed to go. And I wrote down a new year's resolution in my notes on my phone: LEARN HOW TO READ A MAP/TAKE AN ORIENTEERING CLASS!
But -- I admit, it was worth it.
The library was WAY cool. It was surrounded by this garden, and there was this HUGE building in front of it, which honestly, I don't know if it was just there, was a part of the library, THE LIBARY at one point or what, but it was huge. I took a video of it. but I'm lazy, so here's the pictures.
Once inside (there was a huge line + security check) I was an idiot, walked too far the wrong way, hit a dead end and was told I needed a ticket to check out the library. Which in hindsight, DUH. I'm not sure how I missed the big welcome sign, but I did.
I finally purchased my ticket, then made my way to the library. I do stand by the fact that it was HUGE. Each type of section, art, literature, etc. had it's own big room, with many many shelves. Most of the books were in French (DUH) but some were in English. I enjoyed checking out the different rooms and enjoyed seeing the Foreign Languages section (literally translated would be STRANGE LANGUAGES), the children's section (you've met me right?? Also the magazines were cool), and of course, I was most content in the Graphic NOVEL section.
I was beyond thrilled to find a copy of Tillie Walden's Spinning! What a way to come full circle!
I definitely want to buy my own copy some day. I read what of it I could understand, which was surprisingly a lot, then carried on to other sections.
The last thing I saw in the library, was two HUGE globes, meant to go to one of the kings (Louis. But I can't read Roman Numerals too well). There was one of the earth and one of the sky. They were GIGANTIC! They must have been at LEAST 30 feet by 30 feet. The one with the sky on it had the astronomy figures. It was very cool. No photos allowed though.
Then it was OFF to visit my host family!
This was my favorite part of the trip, and the reason I'd gone in the first place! My host family was so incredibly special to me when I was in France and I always wanted to tell them thank you.
I got the official okay around 4 and I headed right over, around arrived in Malakoff at 4:30. It was just as I had remembered. The metro stops, the street, the sky . . . and I didn't need to use my GPS anymore. I knew exactly where I was going. My feet led the way. My heart pounded. It felt like HOME.
And then I was dumba** and couldn't remember which gate it was, and didn't have a key, so I hung around like a lurker, emailed my former host family, and waited.
Then I heard an "EMERY?"
But I couldn't see anything.
So I waited.
Then finally, I saw her.
My host mom, looking AMAZING, in this perfectly put together outfit. She wore a red shirt, a beautiful red neckless, and a skirt that matched.
Her eyes and voice were as kind as I had remembered them. Her smile too.
She welcomed me warmly and we spoke in French, my heart pounding, feeling awkward as I wondered if she felt obliged, if I would be able to speak at all.
She complimented me at once on the improvement of my French. And then we were in the Elevator.
It was smaller than I'd remembered but the same color, white. Then the voice from the elevator, "Troiseme etage"
I had arrived.
My host mother explained that they had renovated in between now and then, and my host father sat in the center of the living room. Blue carpet, the entire back wall covered in windows. Elegant, classic, warm, with lots of wood.
He was warm too.
We were awkward for a bit, I can't lie, all of us sitting there, feeling polite and shy. But at some point, it shifted, and it was like no time had passed, and more. We spoke easily, happily, engaged. I spoke about Hollins, California, my depression, the time began to shift quickly. They spoke of their children, Hollins closing its Paris Program, and how their last host student had been in 2018. My host mother seemed sad. They had hosted their first student in 1983, with students all after since. She went to look for the exact date. I spoke to my host father. I complimented the rug (it was a cool rug) he told me it had been a 40th anniversary present, and how soon, it would be their 50th.
My host mother returned -- I begged for a photo. And got one. I sent it to their joined email and asked if it was common to have one like that.
My host mom laughed and said no, that it was just them and most people thought it was old fashioned that they did that.
My host dad proudly pointed out that he had one of his own. For business.
My host mother just laughed at him. "And when's the last time you got something there?" she said.
He only grinned at her. "Never," he admitted.
I showed them pictures of my family, whom they'd never seen before. We talked more.
Then I noted I should probably go.
But my host mother was having none of it.
OH NO, she said, I MADE YOU DINNER!
I was stunned. I had originally invited THEM to dinner. I had assumed since they said no that they had other plans -- and they both assured me that they had already eaten. But they WANTED me to eat.
My host father pointed out that my host mother was NOT letting anyone leave with an empty stomach.
So I ate.
And her cooking was absolutely wonderful. There was a salad, with a dressing I can never replicate, ham, and rice. I noted, with some struggle, that I had LOVED beets ever since she had made them for me.
She laughed and seemed happy. She noted that most students loved her salad dressing. (which I get, it's AMAZING) but couldn't remake it because the ingredients in the US are different.
I looked at my watch and noted I should probably go, but again, she insisted. She'd made dessert. Apple Sauce with Fresh apples from Normandy.
Ok but WHO CAN TURN THAT DOWN.
She insisted I put a little sugar on it.
READER.
That apple sauce.
WAS MAGIC.
The love I felt from her and her husband, the warmth, the talk, the food, and the sugar. I just wanted to cry from happiness.
But it was time to leave.
I had two final requests.
When I was in Paris. every night, I'd sit in the kitchen and look out their window -- because at night, you could see the Eiffel Tower, blazing, gleaming out. I asked to see it again.
She seemed pleased. "But of course!" she said, "It's the symbol of France!"
So I looked, and I saw it, steady and glowing as always.
But I had a second request. "Can I hug you guys?" I asked.
But this was met with even more enthusiasm.
"But of course!"
She hugged me then, and did the french thing that I've never quite mastered of kissing first on one cheek then the other (which no one in Tours does -- probably because of Covid). I turned to my host father who was standing rather stiffly. "You too?" I asked.
He gave me a warm smile and hugged me as well, with the same cheek kissing thing that I did just as ungracefully as the first time.
And then I left -- with talks of zoom, may thanks on both side, and a warm appreciation for the people who were even kinder than I had even remembered them.
And then I got onto the metro, got to the train station, bought sweets and french comics, took the train home . . . and got lost of the way back again.
But that is a story for a different time.
All for now!
~ Emery
No comments:
Post a Comment