Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Couscous Behind Closed Doors



Ok maybe the couscous was not so secret as that. As in... maybe we had it in the garden, under the fig tree, next to the six Love Birds (les oixeaux inseperables) that Michel keeps. With a delicious, heaping plate of couscous with lamb and veggies followed by chocolate mousse with Grand Marnier mixed in. Got my board fixed with the school today, and oh! It is wonderful to be able to eat what I smell cooking in the kitchen all afternoon. Anyway, closed doors are another custom that I have to get used to in France.

So in Canada I've always felt (yes PSA members, felt) that a closed door is kind of a silent 'go away, leave me alone'. This is not the case in France at all. Since I arrived at the Forquin household I've been opening my door, being as it keeps mysteriously closing. It mysteriously closes because Catherin not-so-mysteriously shutting it as a sign of respect for my privacy! Ah, the things that are lost in translation. All the doors here are left shut; the bathroom, the toilet, Michel and Catherine's room, my room, Alexandre's room. Not as a way of asking people to leave you alone, but as a respectful way of recognizing that that space is yours and that the housing in Europe is tiny. It took a few minutes of confused french conversation for me to figure out what was being explained to me, but... look! Look at the Canadian! She gets it!

I am also falling in love with the tram system here. It is a tram, kind of like the C-train in Calgary, but infinitely cooler. Why you may ask? Not only because the whole tram is very roomy inside, painted pink and decorated with an abundance of flowers - there's more! Once you enter the suburbs of Montpellier (where I'm staying) there are sections of rail with grass underneath them!



No joke! Like real, soft, green, alive grass! I was exclaiming this happily to Michel who taught me all sorts of new words to describe my delight (joyeux, joli, alegre, heuruesse) when he called his little black dog Duke to heel and looked at me very seriously.

"Kendra," he said gravely. "The grass is plastic."

No.

No!

Devastated, he insisted it was so until I went over and touched it. The grass is real, and he had an excellent laugh at the whole thing hahaha! Catherine thought the whole story was excellent. One day, I will board foreign students and tell them all sorts of terrible lies when they are incredibly happy, and I will do it with a straight face, and it will be a blast.

1 comment:

  1. Trams are awesome. I love them.

    Rhi Rhi

    ReplyDelete