Yvonne

I am a person who loves to tell people how much I love them. It gives me much joy to tell loved ones I appreciate them, what I appreciate about them, why they are special, what I hope for them....

It's funny that I got placed with a host mom who almost never gives compliments, praise, etc. It's funny because I think most of the time I don't even notice. I think in th ebiginning, I just assumed that all French people where like that, until I met my host mom's friends. I am always overjoyed to be in the presence of all of Yvonne's friends, and I realized why. Because they are very warm. This Saturday morning, I came downstairs to find Yvonne's fried Jacque and his wife Veronique. They were going to take me to Dinard because my host mom had to go really early to meet someone who was installing a heater in her veranda. Anyway, this man Jacque was so sweet...he gave me four (FOUR!) bises and was immediately asking me all sorts of questions, telling me how great my French is, etc. I was so happy, and felt so welcomed, which I have to admit, is not always the case with my host mom.

We spent the weekend with them and also with her friends Monique and Bernard (bear-nar), and Monique was also one who spent a few minutes of her time telling me how sweet I am and how good my French is. I

I feel like her friends bring out the best in Yvonne. Yvonne becomes more affectionate, more open... and I begin to see that she also does, in fact, find me to be sweet, and mature, and blahblah all these things her friends make a point to say about me.

I was talking to Yvonne in the kitchen after we got home, and we were talking about Friday night, when she went out to a dinner party and I made crepes for the first time all by myself. I asked her if I put everything away correctly, etc., and she said yes, but then went on to tell me that she doesn't compliment very much, and doesn't expect compliments, but that everything that her friends say about me is true, and she's very happy to have me here... It made me really happy. It's funny that I just grew up expressing myself that way...telling my family and friends how much I love them, and I have no doubt I'll be like that with my own children one day... lots of positive reinforcement, lots of loving comments...

There is so much less of that here, in general. And it works, here. People have relationships, very strong relationships, without that. Yvonne's grandchildren adore her. It's as if people don't NEED compliments... they somehow just know. Relationships take longer to form, but when they do form, they are real - not superficial at all. Since Yvonne's sometimes so hard to crack, I don't know if we'll ever be really close...but who knows.

Now I've come to understand this system of relationships here, since I really am a part of it, and I happened to be placed with a very French woman who sometimes has a bit of a wall. No matter how much I see that it works here, I still have this cling on my own culture. I look at my life in the United States and all those in it, and I imagine what it would be like if I was French. First of all, I probably wouldn't have met Kevin, because if he was French, he probably wouldn't send a message to a stranger, and if I was French, I probably wouldn't have a facebook profile which revealed my dreams about the world (if you're confused, you can ask me). Furthermore, if I was French, I probably wouldn't be as close with Kev's family, because I probably wouldn't be invited over so quickly, and after I was invited over, I probably wouldn't chat with his parents the way I do, I would probably "vous" them, etc etc. I love my life, and I love the fact that Americans can ask each other personal questions, or just share a lot of things with each other, and become closer by doing so. I appreciate the open-ness of America, and that people truly open their arms to each other, and I do believe that a lot of the time, it is genuine.

All that being said, it is a ride here. My host mom is a bit of a mystery, and every time she shares something personal with me, it's like I open a new present. I am grateful for the experience of discovering who she is... My hope is that I can find more and more ways to spark her into telling me a story, because those are my favorite nights. We sit at the table for over an hour as she tells me all about something that is important to her... our soup lasts longer, our salad lasts longer, our meal lasts forever, and our dessert takes time too. It is those nights when I imagine that I see a sparkle in her eye of warmth and love before I head off to bed.

One time Kevin and I got into an argument about me being myself here. It really got me thinking. The truth is, sometimes I'm not, and sometimes I feel like in French I'm someone else, because I can't express myself the same way. In French maybe I'm different, and that brings me sadness. I want so much to be who I am no matter what culture I am in, what language I am speaking. It is just hard when you're surrounded by everything you've never experienced. I try harder and harder and harder, and I know I succeed more and more. But there are those times when I come up to my room, and I think, if I was really being me, I would have given my host mom bises (kisses on each cheek, which really replaces hugs here in France) before I went upstairs. I would try to break down her wall... It is just hard sometimes. In the beginning, I just followed whatever she did...I mean, you don't want to make mistakes in a culture you're not familiar with. But now, I do wonder sometimes, what I could do to break down the wall...if I could do more than I do now... if I should just talk about personal things, ask super personal questions, compliment-away... because that's who I am, isn't it?? What's sad is that sometimes the problem is vocabulary. I think about my friends and family and Kevin... small talk leads to big talk. But when you don't have much to say in a foreign language...it's hard to get to deep subjects. And if you do get there, you may not understand them. You may not know how to respond in the way you would. For me, at this point, sometimes when I am talking about something serious in French, and I don't know how to express something, the ENGLISH version of what I'm trying to get out does NOT come to me. Imagine that, can you? You've completely lost the words. You're own language doesn't surface to help you translate. You literally can not express yourself. Sigh... that's the way it goes.

Tomorrow I'm going to bring my host mom flowers. Flowers speak any language, and she loves them.