I think this state has changed me into a bona fide hippy. I say this because just a couple of weeks ago, out of nowhere, I decided that perhaps I would like to grow my own fruits and vegetables. I'm 34 years old and I have no idea how to grow anything except a pinto bean plant I had to grow as a project when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.
Card Man is all about organics, but that's probably because he's lived in this state all of his life and MIL is a hippy. A couple of years ago, the farmer's market caught my attention. It didn't do it on its own though. A visit to France with my classmates in '08 opened my eyes to the way people outside of this country eat and live. The food was amazing and in particular, my host mother's house had mostly fresh fruits and vegetables.
I was called on eating quickly (as most Americans do) and since it made me self-conscious, I slowed down. I lost a bit of weight those 6 weeks I was gone and it wasn't just the eating. I had no vehicle to take me back and forth so I had to rely on walking or mass transit. Since I was in France, I did not mind it one bit. I would sit at the bus stop in Rennes every weekday morning listening to my ipod and looking at the houses that lined the street across from me. I would imagine how French families greeted their mornings and how they would go about their day. One of those days, since my host mother needed to get to work early (she is now retired but was a language teacher at a high school), she dropped me off at a friend's host parent's house. The father and mother were very courteous and it seemed as if the French home was what the American home was in the 50s. The exception to this was the fact that both parents cooked and served breakfast. They both got themselves and the children ready and then would part with a loving hug and a kiss that was unseen by us.
I guess psychologically what drew me so much to life in this small village was the fact that I did not have that sense of normalcy growing up. My childhood was turbulent and painful. I don't blame anyone for it, it's made me the person I am today and for that I am grateful. However, there were two parents in that French home. Strictness was obvious by how clean the house was and no sign of clutter.
Arriving in France altogether was a surreal experience. During the stop I had to make in Philly, my two hour layover turned into a 12 hour lay over. I was asked if I could give up my seat in exchange for another seat on the same plane because a husband and wife had gotten separate seats. I was fine with it and once I boarded, there was an Asian family sitting in the middle row, except the father would have been separated from the family. I exchanged seats once again and ended up sitting next to a woman who was attempting to sleep. I watched the in-flight movie, 3:10 to Yuma which was very good, I was impressed. I also watched another movie but the name escapes me. Once morning came and we were about an hour away, breakfast was served. This consisted of a wrapped danish and nasty airplane coffee. I saved my seat mate's danish and she woke up just in time to request her drink. She thanked me and we began chatting. We talked about our kids and the topic came up that I would be away for my daughter's 8th birthday. I would have to make it up to her by going to Disneyland Paris and getting her a hat with her name stitched on it. Turns out, my seat mate works at Disneyland Paris and gave me her contact information. She would be able to get me in for free! As the plane approached Charles de Gaulle, I looked down and saw the countryside just outside of Paris. My heart leapt into my throat and it hit home for a moment that I was in Europe. Once we arrived, my seat mate offered to walk with me all the way to the terminal. We made small talk and I discovered in France, they don't call it "wy fy" they call it, "wee fee." For some reason this stuck with me and now, almost 3 years later, I still call it "wee fee."
Once I claimed my baggage (I will never travel with that much baggage again), I headed out of the airport where I was supposed to meet a friend of mine. I was scared I wouldn't find her since my layover made me over 12 hours late. However, she was just outside baggage claim. Neither of us had slept in over 24 hours, so I wanted to get to a hotel STAT. I wasn't aware at the time that there were shuttles that took us from the airport to the nearest gare (main train stations), so we navigated the metro (with my huge bags). This was tiring and frustrating because Paris apparently has to put steps EVERYWHERE.
Once we arrived, we popped up in the Metro in the Latin Quarter. Many people assisted me with my huge rolling suitcase up the steps and down the steps. Once we got to the top, we wandered around the Latin Quarter for a bit and found a hotel, Hotel Saint Severin. This place was awesome in a French sort of way. It was small and cozy, but beautiful. Our room had a very Parisian charm that is hard to explain. The walls were painted a reddish brown, the windows were french doors that opened to a tiny railing that blocked the bottom half of the window. I squealed girlishly when I saw this. We took off to wander around the city for a little while so as not to disrupt our sleep schedule because we would have to be at the gare early the next morning and if we slept now, we'd be destroyed that next day again.
I think it finally hit me that I was in France when we saw Notre Dame in the distance. It wasn't far, but it was far enough for me to stop and wonder if I was dreaming and if so, when I would wake up. We wandered around Notre Dame and then the small make shift shops set up along the Seine until we felt it was time to eat. At that point, we went to a cafe where the waiter correctly pinned us as Americans and spoke English. We joked and laughed, he was really pleasant.
Finally, the time came when we were headed back to the hotel to finally catch up on sleep. While I tried to sleep, I found Spongebob in French and that was also very amusing to me.
The next morning, we were on our way to the gare to meet the rest of our class and travel to Rennes. The TGV (Train à Grande Vitesse which means high-speed train) was quite an experience. I hadn't been on a train for many years but this was a very fast train that allowed us to view the countryside on our way to Rennes. We were there in an hour and when we arrived, many families were already waiting for my classmates. My host mom was a bit late but she called ahead. She had gotten off of work late and was apologetic when she arrived. Her car is a Citroen and just to see that name seemed so foreign to me. As we entered the city, she showed me the original city wall, the cathedral and the school I would be going to.
Once we got to her house, once again, there was so much French charm. It is a small 2 story house, a duplex really. The inside was very simple and very nice. She spoke to her animals in French. I attempted to speak to the cat in English and it looked at me as if it would rip my face off. Eventually the cat took a liking to me.
My host mother became a second mother to me. She would care for me by cooking, making sure that I ate when I was supposed to and by forcing me to spend time with her. Understand though, that by "forcing" I mean she would draw me out of the room to have conversations that I quite enjoyed. We would watch television together and have a great time. She had a lunch guest with her adopted daughter who was perhaps 2 years old. I ended up playing with the little girl when she was having a meltdown over lunch. I taught her how to high-five :D.
She took me to Nantes where one of her daughters lived one weekend, another weekend, I went to a couple of traditional dance classes and had a LOT of fun there. With my class, I took a trip to Broceliande (Merlin's forest) and to Mont St Michel. As cheesy as this may sound France called to me, I felt like I belonged. When my three weeks were up, we left for Paris where I had originally arrived.
In Paris, we once again navigated the metro, again a huge pain in the ass. We arrived at the student housing late, but they gave us our room. It slept 3 and my roommates were at one of our other classmates' dorm room. I set my belongings down and waited for them to arrive. Once they arrived, we decided to walk around town and familiarize ourselves with the Bastille where we were located.
The next few days consisted of meeting our classmates at predesignated spots (by our teacher), exploring cafes, the market, grocery stores and landmarks. I spent three weeks in Paris and I feel as if I was still missing a lot of it.
Here it is three years later and I can't wait to return.
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