Mme's home is an apartment within an old mansion. Very French, on a quiet street only a 15 minute walk from school.
My room was quite large with a desk and comfortable bed. The home was as I expected, old with quite a bit of charm in terms of old doors, intricate baseboards and very high ceilings. In its' day, it was likely a spectacular home.
Mme was very specific in how to manage in the house. The doors and locks were a bit finicky and she wanted to ensure that locked up tight every night. Including the front gate. Oh, and that I please leave my keys on the front hall table so that she could know if I was in or out at any given point. No problem, I am a guest after all.
I unpacked and got settled in. Toward the end of this task she arrived to see how I was doing. My first lesson was that if the door to my room was open, she was apparently welcome to come in to see how I was doing. This was an important lesson as Mme does enjoy talking. During this encounter, she was kind enough to inform me that the location I had chosen for my shoes was not to her liking and that I should place them elsewhere. Um, ok. No biggy.
She also explained to me that in the morning I should feel free to open my window to air the room out. I suppose she was somewhat familiar with how stinky us guys get.
Dinner time was agreed to and I showed up promptly at 7pm where I met Stephanie, a 16 year old Swiss girl who was also staying with Mme for the next two weeks. Dinner was, simple. Salad, 2 sausages (local), a glass of water, some pasta and chocolate pudding for dessert. You know, the kind your mom gave you in your lunch when you were 10. Conversation was good, a nice opportunity for me to practice. At the conclusion of dinner I felt it best to retire to my room where I got ready for my first day of school and hit the sack.
Up the next morning, into the shower, shaved and back to my room to get dressed. First challenge was where to hang my wet towel. No hooks. The washroom was not an option given that one of the rules was to leave the door open "just so" in order to make all inhabitants aware of whether someone was in the bathroom or not. With no operational lock, I imagine at some point poor madam was shocked by an unexpected visitor.
I chose to hang my towel on the stairs that lead to the loft/storage area above my bed (remember the high ceilings? Makes for great storage solutions) and off to school I went.
Upon my return later that day after class I found that my towel had been moved to the radiator where it was neatly draped. Upon hearing my arrival (yep, left that door open) Mme announced that I had left the towel in the wrong location and that it should be placed over the radiator instead. Wood and water do not go well together. While this is true, it was a damp towel not a soaking one and the stairs are simple Home Depot 2x4s not 17th century antiques. However, no problem.
I learned this day too that my first week of class would be every afternoon from 1-7 not the morning/afternoon I had been lead to believe. This was likely going to be just for the first week. I let Mme know this as it did affect the dining hour and she was understanding but felt that I should really talk to the school about it to have the schedule changed. She also let me know that there was a good library in town that I could spend my mornings studying at. Um, ok. Then what is the desk for in my room I thought to myself? I was getting the feeling that my room was for sleeping in only.
Did I mention that she had a lovely salon? A corner room with lovely views of the garden with the light streaming in? She did show it to me. But I was not invited to use it.
Dinner was served at 7:30 right when I got back from school. We had salad, left over pasta and some "yummy" prepackaged fish delicacy that is unique to Lyon and that she was very proud to serve. It smelled like fish, tasted like fish but I'm not entirely sure there was any fish in it. And chocolate pudding for dessert.
The next morning I was informed that as I come and go between rooms that I need to be sure to close the doors. I had been leaving my bedroom door open for the 3 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Noted.
Clothes for washing were to be left for Saturday morning. But she did my laundry on Friday anyway. I was informed that I needed to turn my shirts inside out for her so that they wash better. I was missing 4 socks when the laundry was returned to me (neatly folded I might add). I found this quite amusing as apparently French laundry machines have the same appetite for socks as Canadian machines. When I tried to share the joke I was asked if I was sure that I had actually brought them with me from Canada. Um, yes. Yes I am sure I brought complete pairs of socks with me from Canada.
In my second week I caught a cold. Nothing horrible, just an annoying stuffy nose. As I had no kleenex in my room I used toilet paper. Works just the same. Two days later I was informed that I was not to use toilet paper for my nose. Kleenex was much better. I agreed and informed her that as I had no kleenex in my room that I was using toilet paper instead. No, this had to change. It was not her responsibility to provide kleenex for my nose. TP for my bum yes, but nothing for my drippy nose. I needed to buy this myself.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Off I went to the school to ask for help to find another place to live. I still wanted to stay with a family, but I needed a less rigid place to live. Unfortunately, because of the length of my stay there were not a lot of opportunities that met my primary considerations, specifically, walking distance. The trams are great here, but I'm back and forth a lot and walking is way better. Especially with all the cheese I'm enjoying.
There were a couple of studios available within walking distance. This unfortunately meant I'd have to provide for myself (hence no French food to enjoy) and I'd loose the extra time speaking french with a family. However, my sanity was a priority.
Besides, I think I may have stretched a little thinking I could return to "dorm" life after so many years living independently.
In short, after 2 weeks in France, I decided to move.
So, on Saturday April 23rd I moved to a studio within town and not too far from where I was living originally. Boy oh boy, Mme was not happy when she found out. But it validated my hypothesis that the students she takes in are a way of supporting herself. Which explains why she works so hard to keep costs low. Wretched bread, chocolate pudding and no kleenex etc. To be honest, not a great situation for her I recognize, but she is unfortunately also short changing her guests on the French experience in the process.
As for my new studio? Well, it is frankly just a bedroom with a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom. However:
- the family is awesome! Gracious, friendly and even offered to help me with my homework
- they invited me to join them for dinner the first night. DELICIOUS!!! OMG! Yummy! I must find a way to get invited back. :)
- the studio is at the back of the garden, in a stand alone building, so I'm truly independent. Because it is a courtyard set up, I'm completely shielded from any street noise
- there is AC!!!!!!
- There is a roof top terrace all for me, with a hammock!
- and the icing on the cake? A pet tortoise in the garden. Although, it took me two weeks to find him - he's pretty good at hiding. (note: for Jay, Dan and Penikett - insert "2 week" refrain here).
So after almost two full weeks here I am much happier and more relaxed. It is a bummer not being able to enjoy home cooked French meals but the restaurants in Montpellier are known for their food so I'm enjoying those instead. As for conversation, since they are so welcoming, I'm doing my best to use them instead of Google to find out stuff.
The moral of the story? Home is really important. For those of you have moved countries or cities or have done something similar to what I'm doing, you likely get this. I had to learn it. It is vital to one's well being to feel comfortable, safe and relaxed in the place they choose to call home.
During my first two weeks here I was "existing" in France. Now I feel like I'm "living" here.
