1) On a Friday night, I wanted to take The Boy to a “Macdo” (McDonalds) to profit from the french fries and playground. After hopping on the bus that passes by our apartment complex and that McDonald’s, the bus driver (in English) asked where we were going and explained that this specific bus didn’t go on the whole route. While explaining to me how much he likes Americans, he drove us straight to that McDonalds. He said that since he would just be sitting at the bus stop where his routed ended for 20 minutes, he might as well drive us directly to the McDonalds. So we were chauffeured in a huge public bus, literally the biggest favor we’ve had done for us so far.
2) The last day of our Bonnes Vacances https://millermissioncorps.wordpress.com/2013/11/04/bonnes-vacances/ was spent in the town of Rouen. After a two hour scenic drive we then rack smack into the insane rush hour traffic of Rouen. It was 90 minutes from the time we entered the city until we got to the place where the GPS was leading us. The problem, however was that the GPS (which had been a great tool throughout the entire trip, especially on all the round-a-bouts) couldn’t find the hotel’s address. So we tried to find with my phone’s GPS, which lead us on another one hour, frustrating trek through the crazy traffic.
At one point, we found ourselves being directed down a small, stone street that went through the middle of the old town. When we found ourselves driving on the courtyard in front of the Rouen Cathedral, we knew we were in trouble. I told Erin, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here” and tried to get out of that area, though I found out later cars do occasionally push through the crowds of people on that square. So we tried a different street to get us out of that square. I turned down a tiny street full of shoppers and drove toward what looked to be an exit onto a larger street. Just as we got to the end, we realized there was a barrier at the end of the street. I hoped it would go down when we got close, but it didn’t. So I attempted to slowly back the manual transmission back down the pedestrian filled, narrow medieval street. Just as we were about out, a car came up behind us. This became our breaking point, we had been under intense stress for a couple hours and Erin was actually worried I was going to get out and fight the driver behind me. What I did do, though was stop the car and wave for him to back up as I thought he was just following our same dumb mistake, but I was way off. Erin later described this man approaching our car as an angel, since his immediately turning down a side street after our conversation gave the appearance of him disappearing.
When the driver came to my window, I tried to explain that the way ahead was blocked when he asked, “you speak English” (it’s always so obvious…). I then explained, in English why we were lost. After our explanation, he flicked away his cigarette, pulled out his cell phone and asked “want me to call my phone? (French and English prepositions don’t translate directly). So he called the Hotel for us, explained the situation and found out that the Hotel is just across from the train station.
Waves of relief washed away our panic and we took off toward the train station, which we could find on the GPS. I have to say, though it took another 40 minutes to go the one mile to that train station, though and the guy at the hotel’s front desk had a good laugh at our expense. Have I mentioned the traffic that night in Rouen was terrible? It was pretty quite the next morning, however.
3) Before we moved, I sold my favorite possession, my squat rack, along with the weights, mat, heavy duty bench and olympic bar. It was hard to sell it, but I couldn’t take it with me and didn’t want to move that huge thing. The good news is that I sold it for more than I bought it all for and have been able to use that money to join a gym that’s about a 12 minute walk down the plateau from our apartment. It’s been interesting to be in that gym a few times a week; to meet a few new people, learn some new vocabulary and participate in the interesting cultural practice of walking around the gym and greeting everyone else in the gym upon entrance. Actually, though I don’t do that, I just shake hands with the French guys who do all the greeting.
Another interesting French phenomena is that the gym doesn’t open until 9:30 in the morning and has short hours on the weekend. An American friend who lives in Palaiseau said that going to the gym early in the morning would be “too American.” So when the gym was closed last Friday, with the national holiday of All Saints Day, I tried to get in a workout on Saturday afternoon, at 3:30.
Upon arriving at the gym, I was surprised to see the doors open but the gym empty. Just as I walked in, the owner (a very nice guy who speaks English and lives in the house across the alley) came over to tell me the gym had closed at 2:00. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I tried to apologize but he cut me off and asked, “what do you want to do?” He told me he was still cleaning the place, so I could do something for a half hour, if I wanted. Which is exactly what I did. I got in a quick half-hour dead-lift workout and then gave him an enthusiastic, “merci a vous” as I was leaving.
A French cultural idea is that you’re supposed to know the rules; you are expected to know the regulations, ways to act, procedures, hours of your gym, and every other part of functioning in society. I’ve heard that French people can be pretty unforgiving of those who don’t know those rules and, as these three examples show, I clearly don’t know all the rules for living here. Despite my ignorance, those who do know the rules continue to help me out, even if that means breaking the rules to do so.
millermissioncorps 