Kind Strangers

Today I only had 8 minutes to change trains, and I couldn’t find the platform. There weren’t any official looking people around, and I had already asked two people who didn’t know where my platform was. 4 minutes before my train departed, all I could do was stand and look around. A kind stranger approached me; he must have noticed my panic stricken face, because he asked me where I was going. The stranger explained that my confusion was justified, and walked me to the platform. I was so grateful to him! I said thank you very much as I was running to the train but I regret that I forgot to wish him a “Good slide into the New Year.”

This stranger went above and beyond to walk me to my platform. It isn’t the first time this kind of beauty has been shown to me while I travel. Kind people remind me how wonderful life is. If it weren’t for this stranger, I would have missed my train. I’m sure I would have caught another one, but my day went a lot smoother because of the stranger. Just three minutes of his time made so much difference to me. I only hope when an opportunity arises that I will also be as giving.

Toungue Tied

After a little over a week in Germany, my German is nearly at the same level as it was when I was 18. I’d say I speak German and French at about the same level but I understand German considerably better than French. As an example, when I hear a German song, even if it is rap, I understand most of it. I only understand French songs it if it is slow and if the lyrics are louder than the instruments. German is buried deep in my soul. I’ve been interacting with German since I was 12, nearly half of my little life.

With some people I regularly speak both English and one of the foreign languages. When I reflect on conversations with someone I regularly speak two languages with I sometimes forget which language we used. In both German and French, I’m fluent in small talk. I can talk with someone about their day, their family, their interests, job, etc. Talking about politics, life philosophy, and other soul bending conversations in German or French are much harder but I think I’ll get their. I’ve had several good conversations with Patrizia’s dad, Klaus. It is extremely hard to express my ideas, but I feel sure I understand his. I know our conversations end sooner than they would if I were more fluent, but I appreciate them so much nevertheless.

Christmas

I spent Christmas with my good friend Patrizia, who I’ve known since I lived in Germany. It’s been four years since I’ve seen her and her family. I’ve really missed them, and I feel so lucky that they would share Christmas with me. I even got to decorate the tree with Patrizia!:)



Christmas in Germany is a three day affaire. Everything closes on noon of the 24th and reopens on the 27th. The 24th is called Holy Night and it is generally reserved for the immediate family. The 25th and 26th are the called the First and Second Christmas Day. Many families divide this time between the mom’s side of the family and the dad’s side of the family.

On Holy Night Patrizia’s big brother came over for diner. We started with a soup, and then those who weren’t cooking socialized. Then we had a fantastic diner where everyone ate slowly and chatted. After a longer break and gifts were exchanged, we ate desert and played a game. It was such a lovely night where everyone took time to genuinely be together. I really loved that the gift exchange was small and secondary to connecting with each other over good food.

On the First Christmas Day Patrizia’s little brothers girlfriend had a nice lunch with us and we played a game. On Second Christmas day Patrizia, her parents and I ate lunch together. In Germany I heard a little bit of Christmas music before Holy Night but not very much. I would walk into stores and think, why are we listening to the top 40? There was all kinds of Christmas music from the 24th-26th though. The attitude toward Christmas music was an interesting contrast to the States where it starts the day after Thanksgiving and grows in intensity right up until Christmas.

Trier

I had the opportunity to go to Trier with the German classes this week. We took the youngest in the school. They are all about 11 years old. 11 year olds are still cute. One of my favorite moments of the trip was when the girls in the photo used wax from their cheese to make a Rudolph nose.

Trier is the oldest City in Germany, founded by Constantine in 16 BCC. When the Roman Empire was divided into East and West this charming city was the capital of Western Rome. We took a tour of Trier in French, and I am happy to say that I understood a good 90 percent of it.

The tour of Trier brought out a cultural difference between the students and I. I had my camera out, and I took pictures of everything old and everything pretty. My students couldn’t be bothered with such typical things. Not many of the students brought cameras, and the ones who did mostly took pictures of friends.

When the tour was over, everyone was free to explore for a couple of hours. After I ate and found some gifts at the Christmas Market, I went to the birth house of the notorious Karl Marx. It was fantasticJ I was so excited! I toured the house in German and I understood a most of it. I was so afraid that I had forgotten German. When I met with the class to go back to France I couldn’t speak French for a while because I had spent time thinking in German.

That is the way it is with me when I try to move between German and French. I can always understand, but speaking is a whole different monster. I’m in Germany for winter break now, and on the train ride there, I heard German and French all over the place. As a result I couldn’t speak either language very well. I feel really lost when this happens and nobody understands me. I hope that one day I will achieve a level of German and French that permits me to move fluidly between them. I would really like to add Spanish to that mix as well.

Interesting Tid-Bit

It’s legal to marry your cousin in France. Needless to say it doesn’t happen very often, and it isn’t very socially acceptable. My friend explained it is a vestige of monarchy and the desire to keep money in the family.

I’ve been busy putting together an americorps application for next year. I head to Germany Thursday for a day trip and again Friday for vacation. I’m trying to get some stuff done before I go. I’m not really sure what happened to this last week, but I just didn’t have time to put together a more interesting post. Thanks to everyone who reads my blog:)

Residency Card

After many hours in the prefecture, my residency card has arrived! I’ve been showing my residency card to everyone with much enthusiasm. This little card represents my goal to be in France, my first two months here, and opportunity. A friend said if ever I need another French residency card I could obtain one in a week with little trouble. I feel just a little bit French now. All French people receive an identity card when they are born. At 18 they are required to carry it with them everywhere and the police can stop anyone at anytime to request their identity card. A friend saw someone taken off the train, because he didn’t have his residency card with him. People of color are asked for their residency card more often than white people.

Everything is going really well here. Now that my residency card has arrived, I’m waiting for my housing assistance and my health care to be validated. My French is progressing, and I‘ve had one dream in French. (another super exciting milestone.) I still have trouble placing impersonal pronouns such as it, he, she, them, those. In French these little words come before the verb, unless there is an infinitive then it comes between the verbs. If I am using a negation, the passé composé (past tense with two verbs), and an impersonal pronoun, my sentence becomes a messy jumble of words. It’s worse if I have to consider if the verb I’m working with is reflexive or conjugated with ‘to be’ instead of ‘have’.

I’m really lucky that I have excellent colleagues. I have friends that still don’t have a fixed schedule. My colleagues are really supportive, friendly, and professional. All of the assistants I know have had doubts about why they are here, and they haven’t always been happy. I miss my family and friends, but I am deliriously happy to be in France. I know why I’m here, I’ve worked really hard to be here, and time is flying by.

Lorraine

People in France are very proud of their department and their region. Many people’s families live in a particular region for generations and generations. I live in the department of Moselle which lies in the region of Lorraine. The people of Lorraine and Alsace are especially proud. Lorraine for example, has its own Association of Patriotism. Many people from Alsace and Lorraine don’t even refer to themselves as French. They are Alsacien’s or Lorrain’s. A friend explained that this attitude is a result of the struggle between Germany and France to exploit the mines in Alsace-Lorrain during the World Wars. My friends Grandmother lived in the same house her entire life and her “nationality” changed four times.

In an effort to divert future conflicts the coal and iron mines of Alscace-Lorraine were used as the start of a Common European Market in the 50’s. Later, this common market evolved into the European Union. The mines and factories were the driving force behind the economy in Lorrain. Entire cities were built around the mines and Emigrants flocked to this area seeking work. The mines sponsored schools, hospitals, sports teams, musical ensembles, parties, housing, and more. Children of seven started working in the mines and at 14 many kids left school for full time employment as a miner. Most miners didn’t own a car because; work, the grocery store, family, and friends were all within walking distance. Mining started to decline in the sixties and the last mines closed definitively in the early nineties. When the mines closed, the mine towns were abandoned. Those who could moved, those who couldn’t were often impoverished. Eighteen years after the mines closed the old mine towns are starting to revitalize as middle class people leave Metz in search of affordable housing. After their closure most mines filled with water, but a few are maintained as museums. I recently had the opportunity go on a field trip with my school to a mine. The tour was led by an old miner who brashly recounted the dangers of mining.

Pretty French People

Hygiene and appearance were mentioned on the first page of the first chapter in a French Civics book. It was discussed immediately after, liberty, fraternity, and equality. A friend of mine used the proverb, “If you love yourself, other people will love you” to explain the importance of appearance. She told me being well put together is evidence of self love.

Well put together French women wear heels more often than American women. There is noticeably more heels here than there is in laid back Bellingham; where some people don’t even wear shoes. As unbelievable as it sounds, I saw one woman bowling in heels. Another time I went on a 45 minute walk with two women who were both wearing heels. On a different occasion spent all day walking around Luxembourg with a woman who was wearing heels. The thing that tops it all off was the shirt I saw that said, “I’m afraid of tennis shoes”. This fanaticism for heels is really strange for me. Currently I don’t own heals, and when I did have heels I wore them for short periods on nice occasions.

French men are much more fashionable too. Trendy men are common place and it isn’t considered a sign of being gay or metro-sexual. Classy clothes and pointed toes on shoes is what a good looking French man is made of.

I don’t think I can ever make friends with heels, but I have made a small effort to be prettier in France. I wear make up more often, and I’ve started regularly painting my nails. I haven’t bought any clothes here, but I don’t dare wear a t-shirt at school or in a bar. Occasionally I feel underdressed, but not enough that I’m ready to buy clothes.

Alcohol

My latest goal is to become an expert in making wine sauces. Wine is ridiculously cheap in France. The closest equivalent to the Grocery Outlet in France is called Lidil. All the wine at Lidil is under 4 euros and everything I have tried is really good. So far my favorite is a half dry Riesling that costs 1.50 euro.

Alcohol at the grocery store is a lot cheaper in France than it is in the United States. Yet the alcohol in a bar is a lot more expensive in France than it is in the United States. A friend told me that the price of drinks in a bar includes the cost of a heavy tax. At a dance club in Metz, a beer costs about 5 euro and the cocktails start at 6. At a grocery store you can get 12 cheap but tasty beers for just under 5 euro. I was also shocked to discover that one can buy an entire bottle of hard alcohol at a club. A bottle of hard-a in a club runs between 50 and 80 euro. You can buy the same bottle at a grocery store for less than 20 euro and there is plenty of hard alcohol under 10 euro.

At a smaller bar where people sit and chat the drinks are about half as much as they are in a club. Nevertheless drinking in a small quite bar is still way more expensive than buying at the grocery store. At a small bar one can simply ask for a beer, and not specify what kind. If you ask for a beer you will get the local brew on tap. It is the cheapest beer at the bar and I’ve liked every one I’ve tried.

X-ray

I was recently x-rayed to see if I had Tuberculosis. This is required of all foreigners in France who are seeking a residency card. The x-ray took 15 minutes from the time I arrived until the time I left. I had the feeling that I was a product in a small medical factory. No one ever told me their name, or pretended to want to know how I am doing. I was simply invited into a small closet and told to leave my necklace and shirt on a hook. As I was undressing I could hear instructions to breath in and breath out from the adjoining room. Then I heard, “thank you” and the sound of the closet to the left of mine opening. Without missing a beat or knocking, my closet was opened and the radiologist requested my name as well as the status of my baby-maker. After assuring her I wasn’t pregnant, the radiologist arranged me so that my naked torso was pressed against a bright orange wall. The wall had smudges on it; presumably oil from other peoples skin. I wasn’t bothered by the smudges or the toplessness, it’s just different than one would expect in the United States. When my x-ray was finished, I was led back to my closet, and as I was dressing I could hear the next round of x-rays. After waiting for 5ish minutes I was handed some paperwork. The only explanation offered was, “good-bye” and a smile.

Bisous

French people love to kiss, but don’t touch them! I’m a toucher. I frequently touch arms, and shoulders. I’m learning to keep my hands to myself though. When I touch French women they typically look alarmed, and the French men usually look a little too excited. I’m grudgingly getting used to less hugs as well. Fortunately my friend Ursula hugs me, and most of the kids I know hug me.

Kisses can’t replace hugs, but I do adore them. There is only one way to express kiss in English but the French have a few words. The kiss most common and platonic is the bisous. Bisous are quick kisses on each cheek. Kids are encouraged from day one to give bisous. If you know someone at all it is very likely that you will exchange bisous upon saying hello and goodbye. If a friend is introducing you to another friend, you exchange bisous, particularly if there is a woman involved. Two men being introduced by a common friend will likely shake until a relationship is more established. Bisous are so comon that people verbally send them over the telephone and radio. E-mails and text messages also frequently contain bisous.

The bisous has various levels of intimacy. If someone is just an acquaintance the bisous is a touching of the cheek and a kiss sound. If you know someone, bisous are real kisses on the cheeks. Under special circumstances one might grab the head of the person they are giving bisous. This doesn’t happen very often, but I’ve seen it, and it has happened to me once. Special circumstances being, birthdays, someone is feeling down, or something really exciting has just occurred.

Bonjour!

WARNING! Should you visit France, take note that it is only acceptable to say “Bonjour!” once a day per person you meet. I found this out after a month of using “Bonjour!” the same way I would use “hello”. I would say “Bonjour!” to my colleagues every time I entered the staff room, and every time I saw them in the hall. I must have said “Bonjour!” to some people upwards of 5 times daily. I laughed really hard when I discovered my folly. I wonder why nobody else clued me in! I guess I’m going to have to start using the other “hello” option “Salut!”.

Recently an acquaintance named Gildas told me I’m the reason people aren’t allowed to talk on cell phones and drive. Everyone in the room laughed, and I was clueless. Someone was kind enough to explain that the gestures I rely on to be understood are creative. So I joined the laughter, and promised I won’t need gestures in February. Later I told Gildas, “I like to help”. He responded, “I don’t understand”. So after carefully reconsidering the construction and vocabulary of my phrase and adding a few gestures for good measure I restated, “I like to help”. Gildas laughed at me, and said that my phrase was correct the first time. At that moment it occurred to me that I was being teased about my logic and habits. I had a good laugh about this. It was relieving to be misunderstood on a pseudo intellectual level after a month of being told countless times daily that someone didn’t understand me, because what I said was incomprehensible. I spent the weekend with Gildas and he tried several times to joke with me, but I don’t get jokes, sarcasm, or teasing in French yet. It’s all I can do to understand the literal. It must have amused him to watch me struggle, because he also spoke in French proverbs which are much harder to understand than jokes. My first French course starts next Friday.

Myself and many French women are in love with Christophe Mae at the moment. Check out the video of my favorite song! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_kAH8GyNNA

Waving

Americans like to wave. It’s a way to acknowledge people. Germans are less enthusiastic about the waving, but they have a similar attitude. French people have a whole different attitude all together. While in France, I have received some funny looks for waving and I was starting to get the feeling that my gesture wasn’t entirely appreciated. However it takes more than a few awkward waves to break an old habit. Therefore, when a car drove by while I was playing on a deserted country road with Axel, (the son of my French Family), I waved. I was a little shocked when the driver turned around, got out of the car, and started talking to me. I asked him if one of the boys playing soccer in the field was his son, and he said no. We chatted a little more, and then he left. Upon recounting this experience to Carole I was told that in France people only wave to friends and it implies one should stop and chat. Oh la la!

The French custom toward waving is particularly amusing since the French say “Bonjour!” every chance they get. I walked into the doctors office and quietly took my seat like I normally would in the States, but the people must have thought I was rude! Everyone who entered the waiting room after me said “Bonjour!” and everyone waiting politely responded in chorus “Bonjour!” How could I have known?

Schedule

My life is relaxing here in Metz. I only spend about 32 hours doing work-like activities per week. As a frame of reference, I worked about 30 hours while I was a full time student and track athlete. I never realized I was so stressed as a student because I was always happy, but now that I have a more balanced schedule I can feel a radical difference in my body.

Mondays I arrive in Florange at 8:00am. I only teach two classes on Monday, so I spend the rest of the day making lesson plans and pretending to be a French middle schooler. The first couple of times my students saw me taking classes with them they were shocked. It’s good for my French to sit in on classes, but it’s also good for my relationship with the students. I only teach each student once every two or three weeks, so it is really hard to learn names, build a relationship, and see progress.

Tuesday and Thursday I’m at school from 8am until 5pm and I spend most of that time teaching. Wednesday I babysit all day for a wonderful nine year old boy named Paulo. Friday I’m off.

In the evenings Monday through Thursday I usually eat diner in the cafeteria with my friend Ursula. After diner I typically go to my room to write e-mails, skype, or read.

On the weekends (Friday through Sunday!!!) I go out on Friday or Saturday night, I explore Metz, I run errands, and I spend time with my French family. I stay fairly busy, but it’s an intentional busyness, not overwhelming busyness. I was dreading living alone, but thus far it hasn’t been as lonely as last time. I would prefer to have someone to say good morning and good night too, but I spend all day interacting with people so coming home hasn’t been too bad.

I just updated my facebook with pictures from before I left, and I am hoping to put up some pictures of France next week. If you are interested in what I did before I left for France you can click on this link. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2134084&id=25913832

Big Sigh

Thanks to the help of my colleagues I have settled into the Foyzez Mozart, a comfortable all girls dormitory. Under no circumstances are boys allowed to visit the rooms! The girls are between 16 – 25 years old, and we are all affectionately referred to as “young girls”. The women who live at Foyez Mozart are students, workers, mothers, or all three. Additionally, everyone who lives there is qualified to receive housing assistance from the government. It is evident that the staff at Foyez Mozart really strive to provide a safe and understanding place for young women who are trying to establish themselves.

My room is bright yellow with a small kitchenette and bathroom. I am also on a meal plan of 16 meals a month in the cafeteria. Foyez Mozart is right in the heart of Metz and the lease is month to month. Best of all I’ve made friends with a Spanish language assistant from Chile who lives two floors down.

I’m better at French than when I arrived, but I have a long way to go. At the moment I’m truly embarrassed to say I studied French in college. French frustrates me in ways that I don’t remember being frustrated in German. I’m trying to look at it as an opportunity to practice patience and build compassion. Several common words are maddeningly similar to each other in French. This led to me telling my friend that his cat is a good slipper, when I meant to say hunter. If two words are similar I can usually hear the difference but it’s much harder to articulate the difference. Moreover, French is spoken like a language lubricated with ky jelly. Thus French words slide together into a rapid word mess creating notoriously beautiful yet incomprehensible sounds.

Despite my frequent requests for phrases to be repeated slowly, French people have been very patient with me. They regularly say things like you speak more French than I speak English. My favorite thing is occasionally someone will tell me I speak French like a German.

Now that I have the basic living necessities organized I think my French will improve exponentially. I am reading more, and I am auditing classes at my middle school. I was also fortunate enough to get an all day baby sitting gig every Wednesday. Baby sitting should be a rewarding way to keep busy and learn French. My goal is to be able to read Simone de Beauvoir by March.

I finished my first week of teaching and I’m starting another. I’m still adjusting to teaching, and I’ll report back later.

Je suis arrivée

Everything has been shockingly smooth since I've arrived. It feels like I've been in France a long time, but it hasn't even been a week. Fortunately someone going the same direction as me helped me get from the airport to the main train station. After arriving at our stop on the extremely crowded city train we walked through some side streets to get to the main train station. I really don't think I could have done it alone.

The train ride from Paris to my French home town of Metz (don't pronounce the t!) wasn't long but I slept through most of it. The first thing I did was find a cafe with wifi so that I could eat and announce my arrival. Then I went and purchaqsed a pay as you go phone. Buying this phone was my first French undertaking and the man who helped me had the patients of a budhist monk. Getting a phone was wise and I'm grateful to the people who gave me advice about it before I left the states.

After getting a phone I waited on the steps outside of the train station for one of my colleagues. While I was waiting a man in his 50's with a mustache and a hat offered to buy me a coffee. I refused and explained that I was waiting for a friend. He said he could be my friend. Then he offered to buy me a coffee againg and tried to sweeten the deal by tellingme he could show me his house. I laughed at him and firmly refused but I didn't ask him to leave. I didn't feel unsafe and I wanted to practice my French, besides later he helped me find the post office when my friend said I should meet her there instead of the train station.

The next time I hear someone say that French people are rude, I'll have to resist the urge to pinch them. I'm already planning constructive dialogues in my heard to preepmt defensiveness when the occasion arises. Everyone here has been unrelentingly nice to me. Since arriving every need has been taken care of. I never expected such a thing. Assistants were told to find a temporary housing such as a hostel while we look for a permanent place. In contrast, my colleagues are hosting me and helping me find an appartment. They have also assured me that I won't be alone on the holidays. There is plenty of abundance in my life here too and I'm joyous.

I'll wait to comment on French culture until I can distinguish what is reliably French from what is particular to the family I'm staying with and the region I'm staying in. I will say that the traffic lights here are on the same side fo the intersection as the car it directs and 85% of the time the traffic ights are on the right side fo the road. When the lights are in the air they are much higher than American traffic lights.

Hours from Take-off

I had another neat couch surfing experience. I met a wonderful 26 year old college grad who works odd jobs and runs a circus space with her friends. The energy was so positive. It was a bunch of adults who hadn't forgotten how to play. Their definitions of success seem healthy. It's a live, love, laugh, simplicity, and happiness approach to life. It's counter culture and free spirited. The circus space had an extremely high ceiling from which hung various devices for areal tricks. There were people writing a clever song in one corner, two jugglers, and two people catching a stick with other sticks. My host graciously and patiently tried to teach me some hula hoop magic. Sharing and learning permeated the building. Perhaps next June I'll have the opportunity to interact with this community again.

Another interesting experience was attending my first Mary Kay party. Mom used Mary Kay when I was a kid, so when I was young I thought of Mary Kay as a symbol of being a woman. Now that I am a woman who veiw's the world though a feminist lense it was especially fascinating to participate in a make up party. I enjoy comparing my adult perceptions with my child perceptions. The make up party consisted of a group of women carving out time for themselves as an affirmation and assertion of our own value. Yet there is an underlying acknowledgement of feeling less than through the desire to conform to a socially idealized standard of beauty. Skin care products are designed to maintain healthy skin, but women using them are motivated less by a value of health and more from a fear of being old. My understanding of beauty standards as oppressive didn't prevent me from purchasing make up and skin care products.

Our Mary Kay representative was full of passion. Mary Kay empowers women to have their own business and determine their own working conditions. In the same offhanded way I want to do most things, I would consider being a Mary Kay representative. Mary Kay is mainstream, but it's fun, and I could bring in a radical influence.

My last night in Bellingham consisted of camaraderie, song, and dance. My last weekend has been full of family and my best friend. I feel silly putting so much physical distance between myself and all the love in my life. Love grows everywhere, and I'll be back so soon. I'm into the idea of impermanence, but I think love might be an exception to that philosophy. Perhaps love between two people is impermanent, but love as an energy is a pervasive force.

I traded in My backpack on a smaller better fitting one which I acquired from a friend I serendipitously reconnected with on a city bus that I wasn't intending to take. I really admire this individual. So the whole experience was thrilling. I've managed to get rid of a few more things. I've also lost one thing, but I guess I didn't need it after all. I'm sure those who know me most are proud of me for moving every other day for three weeks yet only loosing one thing.

Backpacks and Such

I’ve been transient for 2 weeks now and I’m enjoying it much more than I thought I would. It’s been great having this time in Bellingham, to live out of my backpack and experience couchsurfing. I have officially couchsurfed once, with a lovely couple in Fairhaven. It was truly incredible. They both radiate positive energy. Their home is a sanctuary filled with art and an exquisite garden. One of them is an artist and the other spent over 20 years as a teacher, amongst other interesting things. Hearing about their experiences was inspiring. The rest of the time I’ve been staying with friends and family. I was supposed to couch surf another time last week, but he forgot about me and he had moved, so I called a friend. I have to expect that couch surfing dates might not always work out. If that happens while I’m in Metz, I’ll just mosey over to a youth hostel. I’m set to couch surf again on Tuesday and Wednesday. As of now I have set up two weeks worth of couchsurfing in Metz. This should give me plenty of time to get settled.

When I started being transient my backpack it was too full, but living out of it has helped me let go of a few things, and I’m hoping to slim my bag down some more before I depart. Currently I have an additional smaller backpack to fit everything I “need”. Experience illuminates the real necessities and I’m getting rid of things accordingly. Thankfully I’m figuring these things out before I fly with to much stuff. I also keep reminding myself that I’m going to a society of abundance. If need be, I’m sure I can find something within my budget when I arrive.

Day to day, I’m really happy and relaxed. I feel incredibly grateful to be surrounded by loved ones as well as plenty of work. Yet, I know that I am stressed on an internal level. I’m tired everyday despite getting 8-plus hours of sleep. My dream cycles are long, and scary. I typically remember 3 or 4 dreams a night. Life keeps providing me with evidence of the worthlessness of worry, and still I worry. I’m wondering how many times I’ll learn the same lesson before I am able to stay relaxed in the face of uncertainty.

Excited-Nervousness

I’m about to venture out with a back pack to France, a country where I have no friends. I’ll be staying with strangers who I met through couchsurfing.com. I’m barely intelligible at speaking French and I know this will cause many people to assume that I’m stupid. Initially I will be absolutely dependent on the kindness of strangers. Taking off in this manner has caused me to relinquish any pretence of control over the events of my life. I’m trying to trade in expectations for acceptance and appreciation of what is.

The idea of the valiant individual isn’t uniquely American, but we certainly do it the best. I don’t want to be a burden. I want to lessen other peoples burdens. I have an intense and growing appreciation for community, yet strangers still seem risky. There is a possibility that I could be physically injured in my pursuit to connect with strangers. Nevertheless, I believe most people are loving. According to Freakonomics 87% of people are basically good. Yet the voice that returns to the very first things I learned in life, both as a woman and as an individual, tells me that strangers are not to be trusted. I’m trying to silence that voice and open my heart to the possibilities.

I struggle with the fact that people are going to assume things about me. I’m guessing that in France I will deal with a lot of assumptions that I’m not used too. Assumptions about being American, assumptions about my intelligence. I assume things about people and I’m working on it. I, like most people, wish to be seen as I see myself. I want to be less attached to this idea. Perhaps the way I see myself isn’t even accurate. I try to remember the saying “What other people think about you is none of your business”. I’m trying my best to stick to what I know for sure and make observations. Example: A woman talking on her cell phone is driving poorly. Instead of: That woman is a terrible driver. Or worse: Women can’t drive.

I know in my mind that many people do the same program I’m doing every year. I know that my safety net is much bigger than the average person who immigrates to the United States. I know that this phase of my life, as all things are, is temporary. I know that things will be alright in the way that things always seem to be alright. I know that I will make friends. I have been fantasizing about travel for years, and I know I don’t want to stay. All of this knowledge resides in my mind and does almost nothing to quell my nerves about leaving. Experience will help me internalize my knowledge. I am extremely privileged to participate in travel and I’m trying to keep this in the front of my mind. It is my hope that travel can be used as a vehicle for self awareness and living in the moment. I think I will travel until I have synchronized my thoughts, values, and behavior patterns.

It concerns me that I continue to pursue activities that are so self serving. Somehow I just don’t feel grown up yet. I want to engage in helpful activities but I don’t want my attitude to be patronizing, myopic, condescending, or ignorant. There will be ever more room to improve as a person, even when I’m 80. But I think there are some experiences and emotional skills I need to acquire before I can set out to participate in activities specifically designed to be of service. For now I hope to be of service in small interpersonal ways. More importantly I hope to be self aware enough to know when to back off. So off I go!