France 101: Lessons in making a fool of yourself in a foreign country.

I finally have internet! You just wait until you hear about our wonderful experiences this week.

So my friend, Catherine and I, flew to London from Boston on Friday morning. We got to London at about 8:00, where we had a 12 HOUR LAYOVER. We pretty much read and played cards all night. We actually met these kids from Toulouse at the airport who were coming from New York, whom we played cards with. It was fun.

So I'm not going to lie, I got to Toulouse and I was pretty depressed. Probably had something to do with the combination of not having slept for 40 hours, being in a foreign country, living with people I didn't know, etc. It was not a fun weekend. I did go to my host mother's parents house in the country, where I met all the family. My friend, Tanya, from Dickinson, is actually staying with her brother's family.

Then, on Monday, Dickinson in France started, I started to love Toulouse, and I was no longer extremely depressed and homesick. Now, just slightly homesick, but I can't wait for this semester to get going. I have already tackled many new things, including a metro and bus system (coming from a tiny town in Maine, not exactly something I was comfortable with at first). I can get by easily around town, although sometimes the people here do talk very fast. I am a little worried about understanding professors, since I start real French classes next Wednesday - two weeks sooner than everyone else. I am doing this program at the Political Science Institute especially for international students, and thus, we start next week.

As much as I have tackled, I have also learned many new things. Kids, when your parents tell you you should learn by making your own mistakes, they are telling you evil and cruel things. If I were someone that gets embarassed easily, I don't think I would have made it past this week. So in keeping with the spirit of this blog, here are the cultural faux pas's that I have committed this week, cultural things I have learned, and some things that actually won't surprise anyone, since it was just me being me, the Jarrod Bouchard you all know and love dearly. So here are this week's lessons:

France 101: Things to do and not to do (mostly not to do) while in a foreign country.

Lesson 1: If you are driving in a car, you must honk at every car that passes, whether they are terrible at driving or not.

Lesson 2: Everyone drives like a madman, thus see lesson 1.

Lesson 3: Yell and swear at every pedestrian and driver you go by, just in case they didn't get the picture.

As you can probably tell, from my observations I have concluded that the French drive much more aggressively than in America. Everyone accelerates as fast as they can, no one stops for pedestrians, they don't look when they pull out of the curb, etc. I am happy I will never have to drive here.

Lesson 4: It is perfectly acceptable to walk down the street, not on the sidewalk, but literally in the street. Just move if a car comes. So you move a lot. It is a city, after all.


Now we get in to my lovely adventures around town. You might want to go to the bathroom first, cuz now it even makes me laugh hysterically.


Lesson 5: Always wear slippers around the house. It is rude to walk around the house in stocking or bare feet.

Lesson 6: Make sure you know how the key to your house works. No, this isn't the funny part yet. The keys do not work the same way as in the United States. IT is weird, you have to turn it just the right way, click your heels three times, and then pray. Then it might open.

Lesson 7: Although it is important to wear slippers in the house, it is just as important not to wear them around in the city. So the other night, I am leaving my house to go have dinner with some friends. I leave my house, get about 5 feet down the road, when I realize I still have my slippers on. I go back to the house, and I can not get my key to work. Well, I was late for meeting my friends, so I decided, oh well, my slippers look kinda normal, they'll do. That's right. I went into the middle of the city with my slippers on.

Lesson 8: If you happen to be wearing slippers around the middle of a city, and you are planning to go out to eat, do not choose a fine Italian restaurant. Both on the metro to and at the restaurant, I was the subjct of many stares, even a finger point or two. Yes, it was my night.

Lesson 9: If you happen to be in a fine Italian restaurant in the middle of a city wearing slippers, when they ask you what you would like to drink, then run down through the list of cocktails and wines, do not proceed to order pineapple juice. Again, anyone who knows me extremely ell knows that pineapple juice is one of my favorite things. I was having a bad night. I wanted pineapple juice. More staring. Some weird looks from the waitress.

Lesson 10: NEVER WEAR A T-SHIRT THAT HAPPENS TO BE FROM THE GRAND TETONS. Don't even think about wearing anything that came from Grand Teton National Park. Would anyone like to learn a little French? In French, Grand means big. Teton means boob. I have a t-shirt from Grand Teton National Park that my cousin bought for Christmas one year. I like the shirt. Yesterday, I wore it in to town, not knowing that I was wandering around with a shirt that in huge letters says BIG BOOB all over it. I was on the subway, had many odd glances in my direction. I get to the Dickinson Center in the morning. One of my friends happens to have been a guide in the Grand Tetons this summer. She looks at me, starts laughing, and says "Bouche, you know Grand Teton means 'Big Boob' in French, right?" PS, this is the day after my escapades with the slippers and pineapple juice in Italian restaurants. So I am shocked, embarassed, laughing hysterically. I just decided to get through the day, go home, and change immediately. I got through the day. I went home. I forgot to change immediately. I happened to be having dinner with my host family last night. We are about halfway through the meal, when my host father looks at my shirt, squints his eyes, starts laughing, and then my host brother does, as does my host mother. I do too, because at that point, whatever. I explain to them that it is a mountain in the United States, but at that point, there is no getting out of it. The rest of dinner, we would randomly crack up. "What would you like for dessert, Jarrod? Yogurt? Grapes? ... A Grand Teton?"

I love my life.

Au revoir!