By Maya Minwary
Staff Writer
“Bonjour, comment allez vous? Je m’apple Maya …”
These were the thoughts running through my head as I was trying to recollect the three years of French lessons I received in high school, while frantically looking through my pocket dictionary on my last flight to Lyon, France.
It’s still a bit weird for me to say that I’ve actually lived and studied in France. I’ve always thought that my first trip to France would be on my honeymoon or on a family vacation. Never in a million years did I think that I would study and live there when I was only 18 years old. The truth was that I didn’t think I would continue my study of the language. I had stopped taking French my junior year of high school. But since it was a General Education requirement, I thought what better way to fulfill it than taking it over the summer in France. It would be quick and easy, right? Well it was quick, but not as easy as I expected.
I arrived in France last May on a cold, rainy day in Lyon. I didn’t know anybody else who was going on the trip with me and I didn’t know what to expect. I had never been to Europe before, let alone live with people I hadn’t met or talked to. Our summer 2002 group was the first group to stay with a host family in France, so we were essentially the guinea pigs of this international program and many of us felt like we were ill prepared for the days ahead.
After all the hustle to get my two big suitcases, plus my backpack and a small duffle bag out of the rain, I sat inside the facilities where we would soon be having our classes. I remember how nervous and scared I felt to meet my French host family. My palms were sweating, even though it must’ve been 60 degrees outside, and my heart was beating fast.
Various host parents came to greet their new students until my parents, Madame and Monsieur Bouchut, finally arrived. They happily greeted me and started talking to me in French. Of course, as my luck would have it, my host parents didn’t know any English. I didn’t know how I was going to communicate with them. I couldn’t get away with mixing French and English together as I had done in high school.
Madame and Monsieur Bouchut drove me back home to their house in Oullins, a little suburb outside of Lyon. As we arrived to their quaint condominium, it suddenly hit me that I was in France, actually in France. It had always been my dream to go to France and immerse in the culture. So I felt a little better about my new living situations.
Since my French parents did not know how to speak any English, throughout my stay we both had our translation dictionary on hand at the dinner table. The funniest story I remember was during my first night there and I had asked my parents, “Où est-ce que je mets mes gens?”
They gave me the strangest look because I had asked them “Where should I put my people,” instead of asking them my intended question, which was, “Where should I put my money?” I had mixed up the word “gens” for “argents” and didn’t even realize it until a few days later. It was bad at first, but afterward, I learned so much more than I had anticipated from this program. By the end of my stay with the Bouchuts, I was able to converse with them for hours.
When the end of first semester approached, I was sad. I was rather fond of my host parents, Lyon and Oullins. When we arrived in Paris, however, my mouth just dropped. I couldn’t believe how gorgeous the city was. I’ll admit, I had very low expectations of Paris because a lot of people told me of their disappointment about the city. I was expecting Paris to be this big dump, infested with trash and thieves. Paris turned out to be the complete opposite.
Paris was a stupéfiante ville (which in English translates to: “amazing city.”) The Louvre, Museé D’Orsay, Point Neuf, Île de la cité, Tour Eiffel, was just some of the most beautiful and amazing places we visited. Our group of 18 Pepperdine students bonded more than ever in the one week we were there. My most memorable experience in Paris was when we had our very own “French picnic.” Our group decided to go to Île de la cité with baguettes, cheese and a big jar of Nutella, while the guys brought their guitars and must’ve serenaded everyone present that evening. One week in Paris was definitely not enough.
Normandy is another incredible town. We visited the site just two days after the anniversary of D day and there were still many World War II veterans still present at the American memorial paying their respects to comrades. It felt very surreal for me to be present at the site where (as my friend Peter Celauro put it best) the fate of the world was decided.
The beach in Normandy is one of the most gorgeous beaches that I’ve ever seen. But the atmosphere felt eerie. The beach was somber and quiet, a sharp contrast to 58 years earlier when it was a tumultuous and bloody area. It really made me and all of us who went appreciate what the soldiers went through June 6, 1944, the day for our freedom, the world’s freedom.
The last month in France was spent in Mentone, which is in Southern France, about 15 minutes away from Monaco. Most of us didn’t travel much and spent our days at the beach, when we weren’t buried with homework, at the beach. On the plus side, I finally got a tan. I did get a chance, however, to go to the town of Calvi in Corsica, France. The water there were amazingly blue and it was a nice relaxing vacation.
Many people who learn that I’ve studied and lived in France ask me how it was. My only answer would be that it was absolutely remarkable and astonishing. I didn’t even get a chance to write half of what I experience summer of 2002. I could tell you many more stories of my exciting adventures overseas. I could tell you the countless number of things I’ve learned from my overseas experience. I think that most of us who went on the trip came unprepared for our new way of life in France, but by the end of our two-and-a-half month stay, all of us had gained a valuable skill and understanding of the French language and culture.
January 16, 2003