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French-American Center Newsletter

Fact vs. Fiction - Round One

By Jeff Hellenbrand

This summer I worked around fifty hours a week - half of the time I was an academic advisor helping new students register at the university, the other half I spent selling soft serve ice cream at a Dairy Queen on campus. That's pretty typical of an american college student. Just the same, I don't really like working that much, in fact, I can't think of anyone who does. So, to get myself through one of those fourteen-hour days, I would fantasize about coming to France in the fall. I had never spent much time in France, so I didn't have a lot to go off of - mostly my imagination and some trivia I picked up in French class.

Basically, my dream would go like this: strolling down to the beach, laying on the beach, drinking coffee or wine in a cafe near the beach, or swimming at the beach. Sounds blissful doesn't it? To be honest, I had other thoughts as well (it was a long summer) of drinking wine, smoking a lot of cigarettes, taking several hours to eat a delicious thirty (or so) course meal, and other things that did not include watching tv.

I was in dire need of a reality check, clearly. The wine part was dead-on; I drink a lot more wine here than I ever did in the states. But the beach is a bit of a hike. Actually, I've only made it to the beach once in the month I've been in Montpellier and that was on a guided trip with my study abroad program. The sea is amazing - saltier than I ever could have imagined and cold. But Montpellierian life does not revolve around the beach, at least not yet.

I'm lucky enough to be living with a wonderful french family who has graciously opened their home to me and I have been learning a great deal from them. French primarily, but also about the private life of a french family. They eat dinner together, which is a great opportunity for me to learn Frenchm though I'm usually lost when they get into a conversation. Eating together is an important aspect of family life, in my opinion, but it rarely happens in America. Having supper at eight or nine at night has required some getting used to, as I'm accustomed to eating at around six. The mother usually spends an hour or more preparing dinner, which I find rather perplexing, considering that it takes them no more than ten or fifteen minutes to eat it. The meals have been absolutely magnificent, if rushed. I've never eaten so well in my life and the cultural value of fine eating will be one of the things I am going to try to encourage and continue when I get back to the U.S.

I find the conversations that I have with my host parents rather amusing, largely because I have no idea what is being said most of the time. When I first arrived, they asked a lot of questions about which american films and books and actors I liked. We were all surprised to find that I hadn't heard of any of the american authors whom they'd read so thoroughly. Maybe it's the age difference. I continue to be surprised by how much more the French know about american media than I do.

I guess when I was imagining France, I didn't really consider the fact that everyday life exists everywhere. Most of all, I wasn't prepared for how challenging everday life could be. For example, I'm not really clear on what the laws are. I mean, I'm pretty sure you can't kill somebody, but that's fine and it's not something I did very often in the states anyway. But as far as little things, I'm clueless, like: can you spit in the street? On the sidewalk? I'm not a big spitter - just curious. Are there laws against loitering? Is there something that's not a big deal in the states that could get me sentenced to life in a french jail? Part of the problem at first was that I couldn't read any of the signs. "Stop" was easy and I would never drive here (the streets are too small and everyone drives way too fast, in comparison to America), but it took me a while to learn "interdit." That's a handy one to know, too, and it relates back to knowing what's allowed and, more importantly, what isn't.

As far as everyday life goes, there are other things I've found perplexing. Like the fact that public restrooms largely do not exist, and that restaurant bathrooms are not always free. This one has probably been the worst for me, because you can only go so long without going to the bathroom. I am pleased to report that I have not wet myself so far, and that I've started to remember to use the bathroom if there's one handy, because there might not be another for awhile. Quite possibly a very long while. Somehow, in all of my daydreams of french life, holding my crotch on the cobblestone streets praying for a toilet never really came to mind.

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