Ireland

So being a volunteer abroad (specifically in France) is harder than I thought... To make a long story short, let's just say that introducing yourself as an American who studied psychology is apparently 2 strikes against you from the French perspective... Who knew?

I stayed with the Finiel family again this weekend in St. Hillaire (fresh air, beautiful view both into the valley and above with the rising giant cliffs). Joël tried to sort out the apparent miscommunications based upon language and culture differences (not mentioning prejudices) that had been arising without my knowledge. He and his wife also helped me out practicing my French in order to teach songs and games to children and students. They are so kind and helpful.

Also, visiting the Finiels means a busy weekend with outdoor hobbies. I have two great experiences to share:

- Joël and his neighbor and I all got into harnesses and helmets. I figured this was going to be interesting since no one was wearing climbing shoes. One rope, I was tied into the middle and we climbed/hiked along the cliff edge of a huge Alps mountain. It wasn't too difficult, more of a mental challenge for those scared of heights, but truly we were so high that I was thrilled! I really wish I had a photograph of climbing that high. I hope I can do it again!

- To come back to Grenoble, I biked the 25 km descent on a windy, two lane road through two tunnels. Parts were so steep that I stopped to walk a bit, but with many personal prayers for safety, I had a great time. It also helped me adjust slowly to the city grim and only took two hours as was expected.

Returning the international foyer and describing to the girls what happened over the weekend concerning the misunderstandings, I learned that even some of the other girls who speak French better than I do struggle with the unfriendly attitudes here. While I just assumed that I was "condemned" because I was American and I don't speak French well, they have also felt the same way. Interesting...

By the way, I've been advised to tell people I studied education, to smile all the time and to only discuss simple conversation topics (how many brothers and sisters do you have? Children? etc.). Apparently France will make me a chronic liar and conversational bore... (sorry that comment's for Gramps-- Mom you can tell him.) All this kind of makes me want to wait for a travel companion before I do this again for another long time period... I find out if my VISA will work next Tuesday... If it does, Mom, Tricia and Sarah can all buy their plane tickets to visit and I'll start planning a trip to Ireland... :-)

The Language Barrier

A couple days ago, a man asked me what I liked about Grenoble. I responded, "The Alps... The Alps...." and honestly couldn't think of another thing I enjoyed about this city. Today is officially the one month anniversary of my arrival in Grenoble and I think the reason I haven't fallen in love with this city is because the language barrier prevents me from participating in many of my usual activities like theatre. Even helping with the church youth groups, I'm still a bystander because I don't yet have enough words to speak freely.

Even asking simple questions like "What should I bring for the weekend retreat?" are pre-thought, attempted with "What is it that I can bring tomorrow?" not understood, pre-thought again, reattempted, "What is it that I need for the weekend?" to which finally the response is "I don't know. Ask Delphine." Do you see where my frustration comes in?

I'm also learning not to ask stupid questions. When I try to ask a question that I pretty much already know the answer to, if I'm not understood, I'll say, "It's not important." To which kind Frenchmen (women or girls) will say, "Non, non. What is it?" I know they are trying to be helpful, but I really didn't care enough about the question to spend the time and mental energy trying to ask again, knowing that then I'll have to listen to their responses in French which I may or may not understand. Yesterday, I tried to tell sweet Coralie that it was in fact a stupid question and not important, but in my last attempt not to cry in front of this kind teenager, the word "stupido" seemed harsh.

One last rant about speaking French (or attempting): You know how Americans think accents, especially those from other countries, are generally cool and we can sort out what you are trying to say with a slight envy at your exotic accent (think English, Irish, Indian, etc.). Not only are the French obsessed with their preceived necessity (I am completely insulting them at this point, only slightly sorry) of everyone speaking French, it is also crucial that everyone use a perfect accent. More than once, I've had Frenchmen correct a single word, making me repeat it over and over for five minutes while they listen for the perfect vowel sound. As a visual learner and definitely not an auditory learner, I sit there laughing internally because there is no way I will remember this because I can't even hear the difference between how I am saying the word now compared to five minutes ago. Like a monkey, I imitate their facial expressions, gestures and voice tone, but my brain and mouth just don't wrap around the letter sounds...

There's a 24 hour overnight with the church youth groups beginning this afternoon. I'm afraid to bring the English novel I'm reading because every Frenchman and his mother think I should be reading French books and will criticize me if they see it (I wish I were exagerrating). It doesn't matter that the main character is a Russian boy who goes to Paris as a great dancer. Hoping that being in the mountains with fresh air will help restore my spirit. (By the way, I saw a double rainbow over the city yesterday which was cool except that the clouds behind it were a scary, hazy red shade... I wonder how much pollution affects one's sense of well-being).

Not trying to be negative, but I think this post is a pretty good representation of why I'm struggling with the language barrier and with adjusting to Grenoble. At least I have 2 Chinese, 1 Spanish, 1 Canadian, 1 Belgium & 1 German girl friends and Félix and Sylvie, my 2 French friends here... Yes, I have made one male friend in a month. That's pathetic but due to living in an international girls' foyer. C'est la vie. That's life.

Still kicking

I survived yesterday and actually had a great evening with the students' group debating ten themes (God's role in our decisions, the necessity for evangelism, why is there misery in the world, etc.) before reading scripture about each topic. I had found verses for each theme that really were challenging, not necessarily answering the questions, but what Jesus said about each. Of course, I was nervous about what the students and the other leader would think especially because it would be difficult for me to explain in French why I chose each verse, but I think it went well.

Also, they accepted my French toast as an authentic American dish, but chose to eat it either by itself or with carrots or with SPAM-like eggs. Not a single person used the jelly I brought (substituted for syrup). I was shocked and laughed internally watching them add carrots to the toast. They also think we should change the name to "American toast". Voilà.

Tonight, I have an unofficial French lesson with Félix to which I'm bringing Heather's homemade salsa (minus a few ingredients with a tight budget) with brochetta instead of nachos which cost about 4 dollars for a little bag. Excited because the planned topic of conversation of our faith will be more interesting than reading children's books aloud. And after that, I have a youth group meeting with the 16-18 year olds for which I've grilled hot dogs and onions to combine with noodles and ketchup for an extremely authentic American dish that I think my babysitter used to make when I was little. Or maybe my brother Jamie and I invented it... along with cappuchino before Starbucks stole my idea...

Hopefully a nap and a snack will carry me until dinner without tears because when I described what happened to Félix last night, he said nervously, "Please don't do that with me." I'm really going to try not to get upset. That may be the biggest reason I'm bringing food to his place...

And the floods rushed in...

The waterworks arrived today, as was predicted. After too little sleep and a 30 walk to the food pantry while mentally calculating my limited food and travel budget with the pressure of cooking for tonight's soiree, I was unable to control my emotions when two short old ladies cornered me insisting, "Parle français! Dis quelque chose!" I had been trying to be polite, asking a German woman where she was from but she didn't understand my attempt, so I said, "Ce n'est important." I think they misunderstood me, that they thought I said speaking French was unimportant. I want to find the humor in the situation, but imagine any one's reaction to being forced to speak immediately, let alone in a foreign language... it'd probably be frustration, perhaps with anger or tears like me. And this wasn't just the single tear. I excused myself from the cornering with a few "Un moment," and began crying with full lung capacity sobs (not wailing though, I don't do that). Maybe I'm a shy person who doesn't speak often in my native tongue anyway... (yeah, yeah, yeah; I know I can't really claim that excuse, but I have shy moments!).

I have nothing against learning French. Of course, I want the freedom of communicating with more people here and being able to express myself. But I don't do well with being overwhelmed... Surprising comment from the girl who double-majored, performed in three plays in a month and used to thrive on busyness in the past. Maybe it's the stress spectrum that Mom and Dad often mentioned to me last year. Maybe leaving Jville for perhaps the last time, selling my car and disconnecting my cell phone (no more easy access to friends and family) to move to France, having various things not work the way I expected, the culture shock setting in as I adapt to city life, etc... perhaps these are causes of my reaction. Perhaps I just am not doing well with being overwhelmed at the moment.

I can feel my body begin to relax finally as I listen to Jason Upton and plan to take a nap before starting the cooking fiasco again with the student's group tonight. Life is truly far from terrible and will be even less so after I get a nap.

On a positive note...

I'm thankful for the beautiful mountains that are visible from most streets;
for the opportunity to spend a year abroad in a foreign country with a different language
(can you believe I said that? I did and do actually appreciate these challenges, I think...);
for the responsibility to only work less that 20 hours a week (will never happen again!);
for the time to research and pray about what to do next year;
for the English-French Christian radio station;
for the opportunity to call Dad and Mom occassionally;
for health;
for faith;
for God.

Sense and Sensibility

Concerning the last post, I seethed for about an hour, then found Sharon, an Indian-Canadian friend. Together we concluded that the statement that my salad wasn't American enough was actually based in unintentional ignorance and stereotypes.

(I'd like to point out the the man who said that has actually helped me a lot and welcomed me into the family, so I try not to hold it against him... however, the fact that he wasn't at the meal, and thus that he got the information from another suspected source irritates me since I had forgotten that in a country where I am new and don't speak the language, that people might talk about me behind my back...)

These people won't be satisfied until I've brought them something that they think is American (hamburgers, hot dogs, peanut butter, grease and sugar) which will simply perpetuate their stereotype that all Americans are fat because we eat these things. See how my salad disappointed their mindset (how can Americans be fat if they eat salads like we eat?). Thus I can either be a people-pleaser, bringing food that they think is American, or I can bring food that I usually eat (that they eat too), disappointing them but hopefully demonstrating that indeed the USA is a melting-pot with food from all different cultures which can in fact be healthy. I can stress out or I can laugh at their disappointment with broken stereotypes... I think I'll bring fruit salad and a smile next Thursday... And eventually I'll have the French words to explain myself.

Blessing: We had a personal dinner party for 10 (apparently French rock out on dinner parties from a young age) last night and I cordinated a massive homemade Mac&Cheese with grilled hot dogs pieces, onions and peas which all worked. It's like God rubbing my back saying, "Relax, darling. Don't give up."

P.S. Thanks, Amie, for the french fry idea. I think at least two Frenchmen have pointedly asked me why Americans give credit to the French for those... it's rough representing our huge nation in France when I have little interest in food or politics, but does anyone care about the recent Broadway negotiations here? Nope.

Desperate for Ideas

Apparently I disappointed the French when I brought a salad last weekend to the students' fellowship. Apparently my strenuous attempt to make caesar salad w/o 5 euro dressing, but with meat and cheese was a disappointment. They want something American...

#1 Almost everything that is American originated from another country.
#2 Peanut butter (an American staple costs way too much)
#3 No one told me that representing my country by cooking was a requirement of this position.

If I'm not fretting about my French, then I'm meal-planning for the next fellowship gathering.

COOKING IS NOT MY DEAL!

Sure experimenting last year with Tricia was cool and I got pretty good at fried chicken, stir-fry and salsa, but cooking for 15 stresses me out. Oh, brother, this was an unexpected struggle.

If anyone has any ideas, please please suggest them and attach a recipe if possible.

P.S. I only have 1 pot and 1 skillet...