everything so far--wifi finally yes!

le 20 sept

First off, how lovely to type with a good ol American keyboard. I hope by the end of the year I am an expert at the French keyboard, but for now, I remain stuck in my USA ways.

Yesterday I arrived sur Istres. It is beautiful here. In between two lakes, full of sunlight and tile-roofed houses. Monsieur Benech picked me up from the airport. I had been worried about having enough to talk about with him—how silly of me. These istreens love to talk—and with their hands surtout! So what was hilarious is as he was driving me back, he would be talking, gesturing with his hands so the car would slowly glide into the next lane as he finished his story before grabbing the wheel again. His wife later complained, “Il parle comme un pi.” I guess that means he’s constantly squawking like a bird—he even forgot to pick up his son from guitar practice because I had kept asking him questions!

In any case, basically this would be the moment when you really start believing in fairy godmothers, guardian angels, and any other mythological creature you know off whose job it is to take care of random clueless people like myself. This is what I love about traveling and what constantly astounds me while traveling. People around the world are pretty freakin’ nice. Now, having traveled to what you might call “non-western” countries like Senegal, Ecuador, Guatemala—I always assumed this overwhelming hospitality that I felt from strangers abroad must be a characteristic specific to those countries. But here I am in la France, heart of Western Civiliation, and am being taken care of by incredibly sweet and thoughtful hosts.

Who is Monsieur Benech? A nice guy who offered to help me out for no other reason other than the fact that he had taught French in Louisiana and knows how hard it is to move to a new country and get settled. He’s been helping me with my housing situation since I was back in the U.S. and then offered to pick me up from the airport. But get this—he doesn’t actually work for the program I’m doing. He’s not getting paid to do any of this. He just offered to help out when one of his colleagues told him about how there was an American assistant coming to Istres.

He took me to my hotel, then took me to the 2 apartments to see, then we ate dinner at his place with his family! His family, by the way, is just as idyllic as this town. His wife, Sylvie, is so sweet and kindhearted—she went to the tourist office to get me tons of pamphlets and maps about Istres. I guess they met while doing their teaching program in Louisiana. Their children are eloquent and adorable. Their son had helped her make the apple tart we had—their daughter commented on how delicious the vinegrette was that he father had made. He explained that was because he used a mushroom oil, which gives it a nutty flavor. I thought, “who has conversations like this?” Oh yah, French people I guess.

His daughter also spent a month in London, Canada! Whoooah—totally where my parents met!

Monsieur Benech used to have 2 pet rabbits that ate at his table WITH him. :-D (His children immediately started giggling at this story…)

Speaking of rabbits, I saw my first “rabbit food” product. In the grocery store, they had a microwavable “lapin” and veggie dish. Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Oh, I made my first joke too! It was at one of the apartments I saw. It has a big window in it, that looks like a door. A sort of balcony. So I said “Oh perfect if someone wants to serenade me…” Yuck yuck yuck…and the women said, “Oh oui, Romeo et Juilette…” So true so true


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le 21 sept

Monsieur Benech is the best. Today he took me to sign up for everything that I could ever want to do.


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le 22 sept
Remi under Paris. It’s beautiful here, but what’s the point of seeing a beautiful lake without being able to comment to someone, “My, what a beautiful lake.”

I have to admit that I’ve been a bit lonely so far. I mean, everyone I met is extremely friendly and welcoming, but still I feel a bit anxious about everything. Not that it is a rare thing for Miriam to feel anxious, but really, there is no reason to feel this way. I keep telling myself, “nothing is wrong!!! You are here in this beautiful French town, with amazing people helping you, you have housing, you’re health is good—there is nothing wrong!” But still I feel uneasy. I go back and forth between wanting to hide under my covers and wanting so desperately to just be in company with someone, anyone, else. So perhaps it’s a good thing that I’ll be living with a very nice French woman, Mme Guichenduc. She’s the principal of a preschool, so she should be relatively nice, eh? In fact, she’s already offered to take me to the beach tomorrow. But see, that just stresses me out because she’s this elegant French woman while I have a crazy looking leg that I don’t usually like showing off in a bathing suit. Not that I brought bathing suit to begin with…sigh, so I don’t know what to tell her. So now I am looking up words like “scarred leg,” “feeling self-conscious,” “weird-looking.” But all that is such a small thing! Such a tiny detail of life, and in a day it will be resolved, so why freak out about it?

My French has been surprisingly just fine. I’m able to communicate relatively well—certainly I am making grammar mistakes left and right: “Oh tu etais nee aux Etats Unis?” *doh, stupide Miriam* ;-) But je me debrouille quand meme. Why, just this morning I had a whole conversation with the woman at the hotel about whether they accept traveler’s checks. (She’s pretty sure, but she will contact me if there is any problem.) It was right out of a text book I tell ya.

What I’m thinking is I need a routine. Right now I am just wandering aimlessly (literally) around Istres. It’s sort of good to be here early, but it also means I have the whole next week ahead of me to just kind of hang out. Which for some reason makes me anxious. Gah. And I’m sure once I start teaching that will make me anxious too and I’ll wish I could just hang out.

I am chronicling all these feelings down in the hopes that 9 months from now I will reread it and think “Oh Silly Miriam.” But I’ll be thinking that in French.

I guess it’s my first trip anywhere really by myself. Every time I’ve studied abroad or volunteered abroad, it was always with a group. In Senegal, I arrived early with Angela—we explored Dakar together. I don’t understand why people like traveling by themselves. Maybe you have to be extremely outgoing, but to me, it’s just not as fun. It feels a bit empty.

On the up side, I have plans to take yoga this year, join the photo club (I hope), and possibly the hiking club. But I think you need a license? You also need to have a doctor’s note to join any kind of fitness club or activity here. Again, I just need something to do, some way to meet people.

I feel like I am living the Buddhist criticism of how people sit in front of a table (metaphoric of course) of delicious food, but don’t know they are sitting in front of a table of delicious food. So they feel hungry…forever. Dun dun dunnnn.

A good excuse to eat more nutella and morbier, I’d say. (Not together though, ick) Hopefully I’ll see the food soon.