I don’t think I actually realized that I was doing this until the second my plane touched the ground in Copenhagen. I know it’s my second time to come to France for an extended period of time and all, but this time is a bit different. For example:
* Though I’m still young and Mme Carmalez, my contact person, sometimes refers to me as “l’étudiante américaine,” she and I both realize that I am not in fact a student as I was the last time I was here. This time I have actual responsibilities other than attending class à l’université, and people will realize if I don’t show up because I oversleep or something.
* I’m in an entirely different part of the country; instead of practically being in the Mediterranean, I am practically in Belgium. Also, instead of living in a fairly large metropolitan area, I’m in a small city of about 33,000 (Maubeuge). One day a week I’ll be commuting to a tiny town of about 900 (Villers-Sire-Nicole), where one of my schools is located. I met the mayor of that one yesterday morning.
* Instead of living in a three-bedroom apartment with another American and a completely absent landlord, I’m living in a little studio apartment that’s attached to my landlord’s house. (My landlord wasn’t here when I moved in, but she left me a note and a box of Belgian chocolates on the table. I love French people.) A French girl named Lind is renting the room upstairs from mine, but I haven’t met her yet.
* Instead of having a safety net of Americans automatically at my disposal, I have yet to meet any other Americans this time. There are only three others who are assigned to my town, as far as I know. (In theory I’ll be meeting them all soon.) This is a little intimidating, but at the same time I know it will be good for me.
However, my trip here started out exactly the same as my last one in that my suitcase got lost somewhere between Dallas and Brussels. I have finally been reunited with it, which is good since it had my power adapter in it. (I really don’t know why I found it appropriate to carry all my electronics with me but check my adapter. Lesson learned.)
Mme Carmalez and her daughter Angèle, who goes to college (la fac) in Mons, which is about twenty miles north from here in Belgium, have been incredibly helpful. So far they have: picked me up in the airport in Brussels, taken me shopping for food and other necessities (such as underwear, which was also in my suitcase), helped me set up a bank account, fed me…basically everything I could ask for and more. Pretty sure I’d be lost without them!
On Friday I ate lunch at the school in Villers (where Mme Carmalez is both a teacher and the director, basically the principal) so I could meet some of the teachers and kids. The kids are maybe the cutest things ever. Little kids are always much cuter when they speak French, I’ve realized. One of them asked Mme Carmalez if I understood French, and she answered, “Yes, but we’re not going to speak French with her, we’re going to speak English.” “That’s not fair!” the kid said. I thought it was funny. After lunch, the kids got to play outside and color before they started class again. Four of them drew me pictures. So cute!
After spending my first two nights in the presbytery (yes, really) of Villers, I have been able to “install myself” (to literally translate the French term) in mon petit appartement, which is exciting (…not in the French sense). It’s really kind of adorable; it’s small, but this works in my favor because I like small spaces and don’t really have all that much stuff. The shelves and the walls are quite bare, but the door and cabinets are tables are painted a pretty shade of periwinkle and the floor tiles are pretty. This is the first time I’ve truly lived by myself, with no roommate or anything, but I guess I’ll get used to that soon.
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