Today was
a very good day. After breakfast, I went
by tram with my host dad into Montpellier and then spent a half hour wandering
through the Old City while he ran an errand. There were countless boutiques and many people
moving about.
Lunch
was amazing. My host sisters made a sausage
dish from the island of Réunion, a French possession near Madagascar. It was spicy and I am tempted to ask for the
recipe.
After lunch,
my host mother drove me to a bus stop and pointed out to me how I was to get
back by foot. She wanted me to try the
way on my own, giving me her cell phone in case I got lost (my own cell phone
is currently inoperable, but I am going to receive a SIM card that will work in
France soon). I then took the bus into
town and found the Office of Tourism without issue, where I joined my
classmates for our guided tour of the city.
We were given an overview of the city’s history and taken to see the
original walled in area, the Old City, where I had coincidentally been
wandering earlier that morning. The Old
City is fascinating: if you turn off of the main streets, away from the side
streets with the boutiques and into uninhabited alleyways, it is like you enter
a different world, a different era.
Everything is still and silent, and the effect is even more pronounced
inside of the two ancient “hôtels” (dwelling places) of the Middle Ages rich
that have been preserved: each having a small courtyard bounded by high walls
of the building with distant light coming from the sky above. One could almost feel the oppressive weight
of the aged stone weighing them down. We
also visited an ancient mikvé, an ancient Jewish religious building
that has a spirally descending stone stair case terminating in a pool of water,
naturally refilling, used for symbolic purification rites. It is hard to put into words, but visiting
that place was very moving, very powerful in a way beyond description. Emerging onto the streets of the Old City,
one felt as if hours had gone while underground.
After
that we were taken to the Arc de Triumph, no, not that one. The Arc de Triumph
in Montpellier was erected in honor of King Louis XIV; it actually replaced the
ancient city gate at the entrance to the city.
We were allowed to go up inside of it to the top. A small door opened from the street that
passed under the arch, and we climbed up a narrow steeply winding metal
staircase up and up, beyond easy reckoning, to the very top. The view was worth the climb. The breathtaking vista of Montpellier, lit by
the late afternoon sun, lay sparkling on all sides of us. I hope that pictures will do it some justice,
though I sincerely doubt it. It was an
amazing experience.
After
the tour finished, I took the bus back to my stop in St. Jean de Vedas without
incident. I started for home simply
enough, but soon realized that I had taken a wrong turn at the traffic
circle. The sun had begun to set, which
happens unexpectedly and occurs rapidly in Montpellier. I went back to the traffic circle and then
used my inner-mapping sense to replay the angle from which my host mother had
turned into the bus stop, visible from said circle. I struck off in the direction that I thought
was the right one. Yes, there was the pedestrian sidewalk that she had told me to use…
okay, there could be the street that she told me to turn on… I started up that smaller side street and
turned with it and started up a huge hill.
My apprehension that I took the wrong route mounted the hill with
me. I reached the crown of the hill, where the
road I was following ended in a T-intersection.
I turned right, thinking it the proper way but stopped after five steps,
knowing it was wrong. I looked
around. There were street signs for the
other roads that turned onto this one, but not the one that I needed the
most. I started off in the opposite direction,
fear mounting until I saw a familiar gate and cars. Unfortunately, the gate was closed and I saw
no way of opening it. So I climbed
it. As I landed and started up the path,
one of my host sisters poked her head out of the door, investigating what was
going on. “Salut!” I waved nonchalantly as I strode past her into the
house.
Inside,
she had two friends visiting (I would like to remind my readers at this point
that my host sisters are all in their twenties). I shook hands with the guy and offered my
hand to the girl, unfortunately messing up my first bis-en-bis in the process. I
realized a moment too late that she was offering one, but we quickly got over
my misstep and completed the ritual.
When they were leaving, I managed to get it right. As it is the first Sunday of January and my
host family are Roman Catholic, they were celebrating la fête des rois or Epiphany.
We had a galette, a kind of
cake. It was very good. They went to Mass before supper, but left me
home with one of their daughters, who was taking care of her sister’s two young
boys. After Mass, we sat down for dinner and my true
initiation into French cuisine.
For
dinner we had a zucchini soup, which wasn’t bad. Then came the fois gras and champagne. The
champagne was authentic and it would be my first time having either. I actually
enjoyed the fois gras and the
champagne was exquisite. I had no idea
what to expect, but I found it a very interesting experience. I felt that with this meal, I had overcome a
necessary trial of my integration with French culture.
Every
day is being filled with so many new experiences, so that it is almost
overwhelming. But, I am trying new
foods: I have thus far tried every new dish that has been placed in front of me
and I have not yet been disappointed.
While I am still struggling to follow conversations in French and to
produce the language, I am finding that I am comprehending more and more. I was able to understand the vast majority of
what our tour guide said today and I can understand more and more of my host
family. My host brother, Thibault, is a
great help and we are getting along famously.
Tonight he showed me his vinyl collection, which is quite
impressive. He is a good kid and if I
had a little brother, I would greatly enjoy one like him.
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