A Few Minor Differences, but the Spice Girls Say It All

This past week has been chock-full of cultural experiences for me. Of course, if I wasn't in a French Cultural studies class, I would be far less aware of their cultural significance and much more aware of the fun I'm having during them. Regardless, the culture here is incredibly different, and it's actually government-regulated--there are laws that enforce French TV shows, the government produces French films, and 40% of all music that is played on the radio must be French. They're serious about not being overtaken by the dominating American/English culture, which I totally admire. The hardest battle is to be yourself in a world that is trying is hardest to turn you into everyone else!

On Wednesday I met my new conversation partner, A, and her boyfriend, other A. I had sent her an email introducing myself and asking for her help in learning French. She responded with her phone number and "je serai ravie de t'aider pour ton français"--basically, I would absolutely love to. She invited me to a "soirée" that night at the Fac (Faculté des Lettres=School of Humanities). I brought a friend with me, for moral support as well as physical (:P), and we ended up in a giant courtyard full of drunk freshmen. Apparently, other A is an "RA" of sorts and this was their "freshman hazing...." It was really calm comparatively; just a lot of camera flashes in the dark, some free beer, and games like "Spin Around Really Fast 10 Times, Then Run to One Corner of the Courtyard and Take a Shot Without Falling" and "Who Can Eat the Yogurt the Fastest Without Using Their Hands?" We had a fantastic time and ended up meeting a ton of French people, most of whom were really excited to meet Americans. It never fails to surprise me--we're met with either contempt or absolute adoration wherever we go, and contrary to most stereotypes, it's usually the latter!

After the soirée we trekked over to the Hoegaarden for karaoke again--every Wednesday, baby! We had missed the most entertaining part of the evening and the night was pretty much winding down, but we still had a great time! The French are pretty serious about their karaoke, which I love--people who can actually sing come to karaoke to actually sing, instead of just drunk friends getting up and doing invariably godawful renditions of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." The best part about the latter, though is that they're drunk, so they sing badly, and they're French, so they speak English with an impossible-to-ignore accent, so it's still a lot of fun :) Granted, it's fun at their expense, but they don't seem to mind!

On Thursday night (yes, I went out four nights in one week--I'm in France, therefore, I am entitled :) ) a few of my friends met our new French amies for "les apéros," or after-dinner drinks and whatnot. We walked to C's apartment and I absolutely fell in love with it--it's just a one-room thing, tiny by all definitions, but she'd crammed about a dozen people into it! They were sitting on the bed, the floor, the couch, some even had to stand. She's into theatre, so there were fun posters and photos all over the place...including a life-size printout of Chad Michael Murray :) 

Apparently one of C's traditions is that, at every party she has, ever, she makes pancakes! So we got some good ole American pancakes (I told her that we put bananas in ours and one of my American friends contested me, saying that only Jack Johnson does that. No, Jackie Jay, I'm fairly certain you stole that idea from my MOM!) We ate them with Nutella (heaven) and spent the rest of the night imbibing, drawing body parts on the etch-a-sketch, dancing to Spice Girls, lip-synching to Shania Twain, and swapping cuss words. Some things never change :) 

On Friday (another very early morning following another very late night!) we went to the collège (read: junior high) where my friend's host mum works. It was about a half an hour outside of Pau, near Soumoulou, and the drive there was gorgeous--as we got closer, the Pyrenees got clearer and clearer and we could see tiny mountain towns nestled in the crevices between peaks. It was absolutely gorgeous! The school was tiny--it's a private Catholic school, but despite the marriage between church and state, there was very little religious influence in the school itself, just the occasional crucifix in the teacher's lounge. I think school was more designed for a different curriculum, not necessarily a religious one. 

Regardless, it was the Jour Des Langues Étrangères d'Europe, or the European Day of Foreign Languages, so we came into their classes and spoke in slow, measured English about our lives back home, our schools, our favorite music and movies, our families, our cars, our customs, our culture, etc. It was a great experience :) They begged us to teach them how to line dance; they admired our perfect pronunciation of all the English phrases they get wrong (like "this or that, which is which?" It always comes out, "zis or zat, weesh ees weesh?"); and at the end they asked us for our autographs. So cute :) We ate lunch with the professors (quiche, cake, and red wine) and spent gym period with the students out on the lawn speaking "franglais," or Frenglish. There was also a Venezuelan girl who came for the Day of Foreign Languages and taught a salsa dance class in Spanish, which was a ton of fun! I was shocked at how much Spanish I understood, how few boys danced, and how badly the room smelled when all the French girls took off their flats. Some things never change :)