Each time I'm here I remember why I'm here, in France. I can't even begin to express how thankful I am to have these people in my life. Sometimes it's hard to reassure myself that it was the right decision to leave Orléans. But, as my midnight walk with Marie Jo and her daughter reminded me, there isn't any life in the streets of Orléans, even when the clock strikes 12 to bring in the new year. Even though Marie Jo and her husband, who are originally from Marseille, have settled into and officially retired to Orléans, they are still shocked by how silent Orléans is. "They should have something for young people!" Marie Jo went on and on as we turned each street corner. But despite their willingness to criticize the orléanais lifestyle at every opportunity, each day they fill their house with laughter, music, and good food, and they are beyond willing to share everything they have. I have a theory that it has something to do with the fact that they are adoptive parents. Stéphane adopted one of his children, too, and both his family and this family feel like true family. I never feel like I'm imposing on their lives or that they are just inviting me over or taking care of me out of politeness. In Orléans, I was also blessed with my wonderful advising professor, Chantal. This week, we spent a day with her daughter making cookies and it felt so nice to be in a home with people who feel naturally like home.
I'm returning back to Lyon tomorrow morning, I have a bunch of exams coming in the next week and then the new semester. Unfortunately, I have sort of an overwhelming feeling of stress when I think about going back, but I think this has to do with the fact that I feel at home here in Orléans, and I'm on vacation/not responsible to do schoolwork or work work for the moment. And I'm in a place that I already feel I've conquered. Even if after conquering it I felt I need to move on to something bigger, it still feels so nice to come back to the tamed familiar.
I was able to realize between my five or so days in Bretagne with my wonderful host family in Brest and my five or so days here, that I'm starting to feel like myself in French. This is what I have always wanted, and what has felt so beyond my reach—this is what I have been craving for such a long time! Even though I still have a lot of work to do, I at least feel like I'm able to transmit an accurate image of myself to others. When I travel around France in covoiturage (the carpooling/organized hitchhiking system I use to get around France), for example, or when I'm introduced to new people, I'm able to plunge in. I no longer feel like a silent void, unable to fill spaces in the conversation. Now I'm able to pick up the phone or the thread of the conversation, ask the questions I want to ask, delve deeper into real conversations with others, and I'm not afraid to ask for help when I'm struggling to find the right words. And I want so badly to continue to get better. Above all, I am in France for this reason—to get better at French, to find myself in French. And I am so thankful for the people who are willing and have been willing to help me get there one baby step at a time.
Life in Lyon has improved exponentially since I moved into an apartment with three other French students. My roommates are absolutely perfect. They make me feel so at home. And my neighborhood, and the apartment is perfect.
The only thing is that now I have to work my ass off to make enough money just to barely get by. (Warning: I'm going to get a little debbie downer on you for a paragraph or two). With a job where I am paid to teach by the hour, even the hours I'm assigned are guaranteed if someone cancels a lesson. I also have to spend a lot of time doing preparation, which I am not paid for. And I make much less than I did last year even though I work many total hours more. But I am at least happy to my job, even though I miss teaching at the middle school with groups of kids. I do, however, give a lot of myself to my students (it takes a lot of energy to teach people to express themselves, and to try to fully understand what it is they want to express and then show them the right way to do it) they are all very kind and at the end of an hour and a half lesson I am never grumpy or bitter, but usually pleased, and feeling like, I, too, learned a lot from our interaction. That's what I love so much about teaching English in France. You get almost as much out of it as you put in. And I have the liberty to help them discover English in whatever way I think is best. There is grammar and logistics, of course, but I can also bring them articles, and cooking videos, and TV show clips, and poetry, and books. In two of my lessons before Christmas I read the chapter from "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" where Francie receives a doll from a Christmas pageant. In reading the last line of the chapter, both of my students let out a sigh of awe, meaning that they really made a journey through the story, despite the cryptics of reading it in another language. Nonetheless, it's a very special type of stress when even after working 15 hours at a job, and 3 extra hours giving private lessons on my own, to feel that you make barely enough money for just rent and food and nothing beyond that (books, my monthly transport card, an occasional drink out to be socially normal and thus emotionally normal, are things that sometimes feel scarily out of reach). I think when I get back what I need to do is add some more private lessons, even though I don't really have the time to give them. But I think having the money stress even lifted a little bit, will be worth the exchange of overworked-feeling stress. I know that coming back to France was my choice and now I have to live with the consequences, including the financial ones. I'll get there somehow. I need to find a moment here and there to walk around and breathe and listen to music. I hate feeling like I'm running from one thing to the next from 8 in the morning to 8 at night (not including course preparation and schoolwork). But that's the American Dream, right, even if that American Dream is being lived out in France?
When I'm feeling overwhelmed, I try to take the 20 minute trip up to the basilica on Fourvière. I take the furnicular up the hill, and go inside what I think is the most beautiful structure I have ever seen. I take a few minutes to say a small prayer, and I light a candle. I then go out of the basilica to admire the view over Lyon, and the surrounding mountains. And instead of taking the furnicular back down, I walk through the park on the hillside which spits me back out into old Lyon. Then, when I feel like I'm falling apart with stress, I look up at Fourvière from wherever I am in the city, and think about my candle burning there.
I must admit that I am not too happy with my studies. There are definitely moments that I gain a lot from—I chose to take a few courses in French in order to improve my French and challenge myself. But I am very frustrated with the French university system, which is very unorganized and impersonal.
In any case, what I've realized this past week, is that this year has been the best year of my life. And in prolonging my time in France, even if the beginning was a bumpy start, I needed it to get where I am in the French language. And that in itself is worth all of the bumps of disappointments and stress.
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