Posts Tagged ‘France’

Many people talk about the quality of French food.  From my experiences I cannot argue with the amazing taste and flavor.  However, one aspect of French food that struck me the most the the amount.  Europe is known for having smaller portions for meals, a possible reason Europeans seem to be in great shape.  This may be true for the main course, but what about the many other courses?

A simple meal often consists or three of for courses.  As an American I struggle to comprehend the length of a meal.  The meal begins with something called “apéritif” or a pre-meal drink.  The traditional drink is Pastise mixed with water, a strong liquor with a taste similar to black licorice.  The main course follows served, as expected, in small portions.  Often I have my fill of food during the main course, as I would in the States.  However, one must always save room for potentially three more courses.  After people have finished their food and discussed many different things for some time, a large plate of cheese is served.  Fresh French bread already decorated the table, allowing people to choose from a great selection of cheeses to eat with bread or alone.  The portions, again, are fairly small.  Yet one should not fill themselves during this course either, for dessert is served next.  A vaste array of ice cream flavors, pastries, chocolate, or some other sweet creation is served to complete the food portion of the meal.   These four courses are the normal, everyday meal presented here in France.

The French culture revolves around relationships.  Families spent around two hours at the table for dinner each day.  Invite a few friends and the meals last all evening.  A few days back some missionary friends joined us for dinner along with their four children.  The table hosted eleven people for a meal I never could have imaged.  Seven courses to be exact.  Four were similar to our everyday diner, but with some wonderful addidions.

First course: chips, peanuts and pretzels laid out for appetizers.  Second course: “apéritif” or before meal drinks.  Third course: a selection of the different salads, lettuce, carrots and tomates with olives.  Forth course: the mail course, chicken cooked with a simmering sauce of olives and tomatoes.  Fifth course: cheese and bread.  Sixth course: one’s choice from an assortment of ice creams.  Seventh course: served roughly three and a half hours after the meal began, coffee or tea with biscuits.

Not being accustomed to the style of eating, often I find myself rather filled halfway through the meal.  On this occasion, each course tempted me beyond my ability to resist.  The next two days I found myself ill, a combination of swimming in a new lake the day of the feast and the sheer size of our meal.  Regardless, that meal will be remembered for years to come.

I have reached two weeks of studying French. Surprisingly, I’ve learned quite a large amount of verbs and vocabulary, allowing me to get what I want across to most people. The only problem is the large gap which exists between knowing the words and being able to understand them when others talk.

The first week living here proved to be quite fun, laughing at my many failed attempts to communicate, meeting new people and places, experiencing a new culture. Anyone can thrive in this setting for some time, but once the glory of the new experiences diminish, one is left in a new place where communicating is difficult.

Living in a household of seven people is difficult in and of itself. Often stealing time to myself becomes a struggle around so many and sharing a room with Guillaume.  No matter how much I slept or hid away from people, after a little more than a week I was continually exhausted.

Last night Christine and I attended a bible study downtown. Ironically, most of the people spoke English, many being American missionaries. However, that night I primarily heard French. Throughout dinner a few words of English were spoken, allowing me to practice comprehending the French the rest of the evening.  The study took place in French taught by Henry, an American missionary who has lived in France for forty five years.  After thirty minutes, I couldn’t muster the energy to continue listening, attempting to understand the quickly spoken words.

The study lasted around an hour with another thirty minutes of prayer following. When we finished, everyone began talking with one another about, well I haven’t a clue what.  However, Henry turned to me and said, “Exhausted isn’t it?” I respond ” What is?”.  ”Trying to follow in French, translating what you can in your head. It takes a lot out of you. I know it did for me for the first few months I was here.”

Amazingly enough this never hit me until then. The mental energy necessary in attempting to understand another language is immense.  Looking back I find times when I mentally tuned everyone out because of my exhaustion from trying to understand. At night I often watch a tv show or two in English because I need to listen to something without the mental effort to comprehend.

Before realizing this, I found myself longing to be back in Denver with my friends, only to converse with other with minimal effort. Now I understand why.

Sunday I experienced my first major “Oh Crap” moment while in France.  The first five days I spend all my time with the Gabriele’s primarily at their house, with a few trips to the park, the Basteille and Grenoble.  Each day my French would improve by working with them, resulting in them often saying I’m learning French very quickly, faster than any other person they’ve taught.  But of course I think, “Yea, I’m getting pretty good at this.”  Who wouldn’t think so if everyone keeps telling them?

This weekend I spent time with George’s brother, Nicolas’s friends, attended church with the family, and a university group with Nicolas.  Holy crap! Bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, one word I know, bla, bla, bla, bla, one word I know, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla, bla. After five minutes of the sermon, I simply gave up trying to understand anything because of the headache it gave me.  I decided to write in my journal instead, at least it would be productive.  George and Christine, my French parents as I call them, lead worship at church and kindly introduced me to the entire church.  I just wish I knew it was coming since I have no idea what they said until Guillaume hit me and said stand up.  After church, a few missionaries who attend the church became my saving grace by seeking me out and talking.

During the drive home and through lunch I barely spoke a word, French or English.  I felt a great sense of accomplishment concerning my French skills throughout the week, only to have a rude awakening at church.  Christine asked me why I was quite and I simply told her I was overwhelmed, of course a word she didn’t know so we looked it up in a dictionary, a routine task we perform about fifty or so times a day.  The Gabriele’s tell me I am progressive extremely well, but also my friends here who speak English repreatively tell me after two months my French will be great, able to carry on most conversations.

Combining the daily progress and the vast amount of encouragement the view of my French skills was greatly inflated.  But alas, even though David or Ashley aren’t here to burst my bubble, someone stepped in to take their place.  After lunch the family, George, Christine, Nicolas, Guillaume and I went to the Chateau de Visille, or Castle of the Revolution.  One of the best things about the Gabriele’s is everyone, literally each family member, loves helping me learn French.  We walked through the castle garden’s for over three hours, the entire time George walked beside me teaching me the language, all while laughing and having a great time.  Exactly what I needed after the morning.  The Lord brought me here for the summer to learn French, to be humbled, and to learn it’s okay to look stupid.  So far, the last two have been greatly accomplished.