La vie quotidienne

daily life~ As a blogger, it is easy to fall into the routine of writing about that which is spectacular or, more precisely, that which can stand on its own as  two or three paragraphs and select photos.  But the rhythms of life in Rennes from day to day and week to week perhaps paint a truer portrait of my experience, or at least a fuller one.  These rhythms are what I am afraid to forget, the life of a French university student, daughter, sister, woman, friend...

my "emploi de temps"- schedule

     The alarm rings: 7 A.M.- matinale (morning person) that I am sometimes, I jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, and go for a run.  Some of the boulangeries are already open, and I can smell the morning pastries and the day's supply of bread wafting out of the open doors.  Parents walk their children, often bundled up in raincoats or carrying miniature umbrellas, to school, and the morning traffic has already begun.  The park de Bréquiny, about 2.5 km from "chez ma famille d'acceuil" (my host family's house) awaits.  There I will find a playground, a garden, and a lovely dirt track, still hidden in a bit of morning fog, and perfect for amateur and serious runners alike.  Back at the house, I eat my morning bowl of "Fitness," my new favorite cereal (a combination of flakes and dried fruit- yes, this habit is very American) and prepare for my own commute, a 20 minute walk to the metro, which then takes me directly to the university.  The compartment at the back of the metro is the best; there, when it exists from underground, one can see the city flying away and, on the 8h15 class days, the sunrise in all its glory.                

Friday morning

     Classes are very different from day to day, with most of them meeting only once a week.  Some days, I audit a "Sociology of Integration" or "Sociology of Health" class at the university.  Monday night is Salsa class and "latin training" (reminiscent of zumba) time, Wednesday, "dance rock n' roll" followed by dinner and Bible study with the wonderful people from my church (an American missionary married to a Frenchman and lots and lots of French students!).  Fridays I have no class, but there is always something to do- lunch with friends, a movie to watch, a museum to visit, homework to do- and just to keep myself going, I'm signed up for a tennis class with the university Friday morning.
     It is hard to find a balance between being too American (staring around with an awed smile on my face and wanting to look people in the eye to share my joy) and making sure that I set aside time to take it all in.  For life is quite busy at this point; in my attempts to try to do everything, I could just start running around like a crazy person, looking at no one and nothing until December comes around way too quickly for my liking.  The space that I try to make for reflection is where the French rhythm of life comes in.  Lingering at the table with friends or family, I can smile and think, "oui, je suis toujours en France!" (yes, I am still in France!)  Professors are often late for class, and the moments of waiting are perfect for little pieces of reflection.  These are the times when I discover that despite my love for nutella, I miss peanut butter, I want to stay in touch with my international friends and my new American friends from this experience, the word "amour" (love), when pronounced correctly literally puckers one's mouth as if for a kiss, I very much dislike the fact that so many people smoke here, and- oh!- I meant to look up that word in the dictionary...let me do that now...voilà!  I have augmented my vocabulary...

FOOTBALL!!!

     Life is punctuated by interesting tangents; this past week, I went to a "football" game, where Rennes won 3-1 against Toulouse!  We of course ate sausage galettes (basically crèpes made with wheat flour), a Bretagne football tradition, and we found seats under the covered area to watch the game among a sea of excited French people.  One Friday, I went to the Musée de Beux Arts (Museum of Fine Arts) with a friend from church and an American friend, where I discovered not only the very French expression for "to cry a lot," "pleurer comme une madeleine," but also the fact that Mary Magdalene's name in French is "Marie Madeleine."  Another day, I attended a meeting of "SOS Racisme," the main organisation in France that works against racism (perhaps a bit too militant/political for my liking, but interesting nonetheless), and a couple of times, I have gone "au cinéma" to watch the beautiful film, "ces amours-là," a love story and world war II tragedy, and the award winning film "les hommes et les dieux," the true story of a group of devout priests engaged in mission work, embraced by their community of Christians and Muslims, and killed by terrorists in the end.  Yet another Friday, I sought out the closest thing I could find to American bacon (la poitrine fumée) and made pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs for my host family.  An evening visit to the "Rue de la Soif" ("road of thirst"- known for its many bars) is always a possibility, but I am finding that I am more of an aperatif, mixed drink, champagne, or wine with meals during the day or in the early evening kind of girl.  Late night binge drinking is not something I ever want to try, much less in France, where every moment is too precious to forget.
     And I look forward.  I know that this rhythm is entirely different from that which will surround and live in me next semester.  My fellow pre-med friend in my program, Katie, shared a book entitled, Monique and the Mango Rains with me that I practically devoured.  It is filled with all kinds of cultural and linguistic tidbits, and as it is the story of a peace corps volunteer in Mali who first learned French from a semester abroad in France, it is of particular interest to me.  The international community of Rennes is also very helpful in my preparations.  I am learning from Maria of Colombia to take nothing for granted, from Ali of Iran the heart of Islam, and from Katie, the American who is at heart from Cameroon, how to cross the street daringly, fully appreciate fruit and sunlight, and love "football" more than just about anything else.  This is my life in France, and it is good.