Fête!

Yesterday was my first French party, the celebration of my host sister's 17th birthday and her friend's 18th birthday. I learned that 18th birthdays in France are a combination of the American Sweet Sixteen and, since 18 is when they gain la majorité, the American 21st birthday.

On the whole, it was great to meat a lot of people before starting school (tomorrow!), but those of you who have ever had a sleepover with me won't be surprised when I say that I was ready to be finnished at midnight. However, the party was going strong until 5:00 in the morning, when everyone fell asleep in chairs or in sleeping bags scattered across the floor. With the clean up in the morning, we didn't actually leave until 1:00pm the next day.

Once I resigned myself too a long night, I was able to follow the crowd in the French dances. One of my favorite things to see was how they danced to the American song Cotton-Eyed Joe. I know that there is actually a choreographed dance to this song, since we were forced to learn it in 8th grade PE, but since nobody was familiar with the dance (or understood the lyrics), they made a tunnel of people holding hands, London Bridge-style, and as the two people at the end of the tunnel each ran through it to the other side, the tunnel snaked energetically around the dance floor. In general, many of the pople there were excited to meet the American. In fact, many attempted hilariously to speak in English with me, leading me to the conlusion that there is very little more difficult to understand than a drunk French teenager attemping to speak in English. Actually, thanks to American media, many of the kids there were surprised when they heard that I personnaly don't drink. But none of them cared enough to stop asking, variously, if I was proud to have a black president, if I played American football (miming a basball bat), if I was familiar with the names of different soccer players, and if I went the the beach a lot.

Yesterday was spent cleaning up and catching upsleep, and today, being my last day before school starts tomorrow, I am enjoying the quiet. In fact I though I might spend the time listing just a few of the cultural differences I have encountered so far.

1. Flip flops are worn in the house, but seldom outside of it. Once my host sister accidently left the house in her flip flops, and we had to drive home so that she could put on real shoes.

2. It is not uncommon to wear the same clothes for two days in a row. This isn't even rewearing jeans or a sweatshirt- the entire outfit, if it isn't stained or too wrinkled, is laid out at the end of the day, ready for the morning. It's not considered dirty- my host sister was the first person who I noticed to do it, and she is the only person I have ever met who brushes their teeth three time a day. (As a side note, there is zero truth to the stereotype that the French don't shower).

3. Since the roads are so small, drivers just park with two wheels on the sidewalk. In addition, I though the the California idea of following distance was nonexistant- but French drivers don't come to a halt until the front bumper is practially touching the bumber of the person in front of them.

4. It's all about the bread; there is baguette bread with every meal, and it is such a staple that it isn't even placed on the plate. Rather, it rests next to the plate and often used instead of a knife to push food on to the fork, and at the end of the meal is used to practically swab the plate down. For us, good bread it a part of the meal. Here, as far as I cam tell, it is almost one of the utensils used to eat the meal, and it just as common and necessary as water. In fact, today I discovered where the stale bread goes (since it is bought fresh everyday) in the house. In the garage by the recycling bin I found two enormous tote bags of the odds and ends of bread which hadn't been eaten before it went stale. (And the tote bags here are enormous, since they don't use paper or plastic shopping bags).

5. Those of you with rats and mice at home might be wondering at the wisdom of keeping that much stale bread lying around. However both those rodents, and one other pest have been pleasently absent to far. Dispite the standing water of the nearby marais, I have seen no mosquitos whatsoever. It is a mcuh appreciated absence especially after, for some of you, our night by Charlotte Lake not too long ago.

6. Everyone wears watches. Actually, because of this, I've noticed a lot fewer clocks around, so I'm going to need to get one too.

7. This may only be my host family, but they iron everything from T-shirts to jeans.

8. Pizza actually is eaten with a knife and fork. When I mentioned that it was my first time using utensils to eat pizza, I was greated with surprise. "Even at resaurants?" asked my host mother.

9. On the topic of food, I haven't seen any grilled meat so far. At home, something comes off the barbeque nearly every night during the summer and frequently during the winter. Here however, meat is fried in about a quarter cup of melted butter in a frying pan. At the end of the cooking process, both sides are sprinkled with salt, garlic powder, and dried basil. Simple, and very, very good.

10. There is just as much subtlety to the bises and handshakes (kisses on the cheek) used for greeting and good-byes are there are to the hugs and handshakes used at home. Women and women do bisous with eachother, as do women and men. Men shake hands, for the most part. However, you know the hankshake-hug-backslap that men who are good friends do? Replace the hug-backslap with a bise, and you have the French version!