It's Normal...Too Normal

I always expected to get sick when I came to France. Not with a headache, or a cold. Not even with the dreaded swine flu (Grippe A, en francais). No, the sickness that would strike me down would be that most horrible and merciless of all foreign diseases: culture shock. I was warned time and time again, by pamphlets at the study abroad office, by fellow students who had braved overseas study and, most notably, by a faintly terrifying article sent to me by my own program.

Contained in this article is a description of the second stage of culture shock. This unnamed period follows the short-lived honeymoon phase, and brings with it such symptoms as “excessive washing of the hands.” (Good for preventing Grippe A). “The second stage of culture shock is in a sense the crisis in the disease,” the article warns, “If you come out of it, you stay; if not, you leave before you reach the stage of a nervous breakdown.”

Needless to say, I was rather concerned by this. But, despite all trepidation, settling into French life has not been difficult so far. Actually, the strangest thing about life here is how not strange everything is. There are, as far as I can tell, three main reasons for this disturbing normalcy:

a) I’ve only been here for 12 days at this point. Duh. I haven’t even been out of the States for two weeks. And it’s not as if I would be going to class or working if I were back at Northwestern. So I still feel like I’m on a slightly extended vacation in some country where they just happen to speak a strange-sounding language and eat lots of cheese.

b) Tours is a very insular environment. Lest you think me hyper-critical, let me assure you that I am really enjoying my time here. I love, love, love my host family; the town is beautiful and charming; the food is delicious; the people (both on the Sweet Briar program and in the city itself) are incredibly nice. But so far I’ve managed to avoid any major—or even moderate—inconveniences. Classes are made up exclusively of Sweet Briar students and my section rarely gets homework. Plus, I speak mostly in English when I’m with friends outside of the program center. So far, I would estimate that I’ve had 10 actual encounters in which I had to speak French to people outside of my host family. And at least two of these encounters have gone as follows:

Alanna: Un sandwich, s’il vous plait.

Sandwich Lady: €3.85, s’il vous plait. [Takes my money and hands me the sandwich].

Alanna: Merci. [Walks off triumphantly, hard-won lunch in hand]

Yes, my life is a seventh-grade French textbook.

Again, I don’t mean to be critical of the program. I think spending two weeks in Tours is actually a really good idea. It gives us a chance to practice our French and get used to studying again, while softening the blow of culture shock.

c) The last reason for this normalcy is, I think, the fact that I am living with a French family. The past two times I visited European countries, I was living it up tourist-style. Most of you know exactly what I’m talking about (I can say this with reasonable certainty because I have a good idea as to who is reading my blog, all five of you). Most days are itinerated. You’re living in ho(s)tels, eating at restaurants, taking thousands of photos a day. It’s really obvious that you are on a Vacation, having lots of Adventures and visiting Important Cultural Destinations.

Living in a family changes that rhythm significantly. I get up every morning, make myself some toast, go to class, eat dinner at the same table, with the same napkin, every night (the green napkin because, in the words of my host family “Tu es irlandaise”) and fall asleep in the same bed. I’ve had days where I’ve visited chateaux or museums. But I’ve also had days like yesterday, where I spent all afternoon reading Gone With the Wind on the swing in my host family’s garden. (Eunice, if you are one of the above-mentioned five readers, it is a really good book). I guess there is the danger of getting too lazy, but it does make for a more relaxing and authentic transition into a new country.

In short: Living in France is not as strange as I thought it would be. I guess this is a good thing. But it seems almost too easy. How am I supposed to “find myself” and start my “journey of self-discovery” if nothing seems that different?

Still, I am sure that this normalcy will change as soon as I get to Paris, start classes and have to interact with French government officials. There will eventually come a day, standing over a Parisian sink, hands bloody from over-washing, when I will look back on this entry and shed a tear for these simple days. But that’s for another day. For now, I’m just enjoying my last—normal—days in Tours.

A bientot,

Alanna