You decide to have breakfast at a restaurant your first morning in a new town. You see the menu and read “pressed lemon” (citron pressé) and you think to yourself, “fresh lemon juice! Yes please!”. However, when the juice arrives, you immediately realize it is exactly that, pressed lemon… a full glass. No water to dilute it, no sugar, no anything. You try to drink it but your teeth actually hurt when you do. It is just impossible. Welcome to the new town.
What I love about learning a language in the country where it´s spoken is that you come to understand it at a level that would otherwise be impossible, no matter how much you read or study. Living the language makes it your own. You also come to understand the world better. Life is not only about our customs and experiences. There are as many different ways of doing things as there are countries on Earth. When in a new place, it can be really hard to adapt to the local diet, schedule, concept of space… but it sure can be fun.
After many years of living in the U.S., I have realized that I am accustomed to big, open spaces. In France, and probably all over Europe, spaces tend to be rather small. One day, you end up in a restaurant, trapped at your table between other tables where patrons are sitting. If you need to get up, you have to ask them to let you out. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really like bothering people, especially if they are eating. They are probably used to that, but we didn’t find out, because we waited until everybody left to move.
The eating schedule is also different in France. At noon, all restaurants are completely full, but at around 1:30 pm, they start emptying out. From 2 pm to 7 pm, when dinner begins, all kitchens are closed. Some of the restaurants might remain open, but they won’t serve you food. Some of them only open for lunch. Dinner in France is late by my current standards that I´ve adopted over my 10 years in the U.S.
The structure of French meals has my stomach highly confused. I would normally have a Mexican-style breakfast —that is to say, a big one—, a combination of a Mexican and an American lunch, and an American dinner. Here in France, breakfast is just a cup of coffee and toast with jam. When I go to my morning class, I feel hungry and like I’m lacking fuel for my intense class. I anxiously await lunch, but once it rolls around, an obstacle presents itself: menus are handwritten in small cursive print on a type of little blackboard. If you’re not familiar with French dishes and ingredients (and your blood sugar is low and your brain is fried), these menus can be tricky to read. I often end up ordering food without really knowing what I’m getting. When it does arrive, I find the portion sizes to be too small to satiate me.
That said, the food is always delicious. Also, after dinner, the French have cheese for dessert, and I love cheese!
People here eat bread all day, fresh from the corner bakery. I normally try not to eat so much bread, but that is truly impossible here. Right from the start of the trip, I gave in and decided to just enjoy it.
The million-dollar question is “how will these dietary changes affect us?”. We have noticed that French people are quite thin, and we wonder how that is possible since they eat a ton of bread and cheese. Maybe it’s in their DNA.
The answer to this question will reveal itself over the next few months. I can say, however, that after a week of being here, I am convinced that I could sleep all day long. I’ve been told that the more you sleep the more tired you are, and that might be the reason for my fatigue. But, how could I not be this tired if I spend about eight hours a day deliberately working on a language that is not mine, looking for words, trying to understand the mindset of the people, and trying to remember everything I learn, plus dealing with the jet lag and the different food? Of course, I am tired!
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” We are trying, but it is not so easy!
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