17, am I legally an adult? No. Can I drive? Theoretically, I should be able to, but still no. What’s the takeaway of the previous questions? I have absolutely no idea. The idea that I would celebrate my 17th birthday here in France, though completely rational, never occurred to me. Back home my mother posed to me every birthday two questions.
- What was one thing of significance that would contribute to my definition of the year?
- What is one thing that you hope to accomplish in the year to come?
More so even than New Years, birthdays induce a feeling of introspection. Who cares about you? Who and what in your life do you care about? With whom do you wish to share this moment that comes once and then becomes forever irretrievable? More dizzying perhaps is the realization that you don’t know, and wondering whether in the year that has passed you have moved closer to or farther from a sense of clarity.
This year there was no one to pose these same questions. In their place was answers to a few other musings that I had not been ready to admit to myself were real. Did I feel at home here? Was my host family really like blood? Did I have a place in this country? Could I expect to ever have a place?
This year there was no one to pose these same questions. In their place was answers to a few other musings that I had not been ready to admit to myself were real. Did I feel at home here? Was my host family really like blood? Did I have a place in this country? Could I expect to ever have a place?
I’ve found the answers to be yes. The entire extended family gathered together, as I share a birthday weekend with my host brother, who turned 30 on the 30th. We shared cake and dressed in bizarre costumes. I found myself on the receiving end of probing questions concerning my love life back home as well as more abstract ones like whether golf was popular in America, which only served to quickly endear me to these people I was meeting for the first time. I hadn’t been sure of what all I could expect with my birthday being only 3 days after my host brother’s. Would there be enough room for me in this family when push came to shove? And there was. I was sung the happy birthday song(once in French, once in English) and surrounded by little host nieces and nephews grinning from ear to ear. My host family gave me a gift, and the week before we all had the chance to do a sort of pre-birthday celebration with my actual family via skype. Though I had been unable to imagine it myself, it was perfect.
Of 71 students in my class more than 10 already have changed host families. Some cite the terrors of being rendered mute by insufficient language capacities as the culprit. Others recount horrific tails of tyranny and inconsideration, and in the midst of all this meanwhile, it at times feels easiest to cling only to the friends you have met here rather than the family that has offered to take you in as their own. It is a formidable temptation. However, when the initial awkwardness finally has dissolved and you find yourself eagerly anticipating being on the receiving end of your host mom’s hug, you’ve won half the battle.
Speaking of battles, poetry slam!! Does that transition work? Perhaps. I had the chance to see my first show this weekend and was absolutely awestruck. The only thing cooler than poetry in your language is hearing it in another. For those of you interested in hearing some French spoken word you can subscribe to: “grand corps malade” (big, sick body) on youtube . But the video depicts my first exposure at Musée des Beaux Arts .
For the first time I also had the opportunity to spend some time extensively outside of Rennes, the city where I attend school, and visit Nantes. This city boasts many wonders, including an opera house, an “ile des monstres (island of monsters), and the Loire river running dead smack through the center to only contribute to the tranquil beauty. At the invitation of a family I met since arriving, I visited the city two hours away by car, only to have my belief reaffirmed that France will never run out of surprises.
Another gift that comes with November (aside from the birth of your wonderful blogger) , is independent travel. With the first of the month students are officially allowed to voyage nearly anywhere they want (upon presenting a well constructed travel plan ) and stay the night. So I will be visiting Paris for the first time next weekend!