J'arrive à Tours

I haven’t blogged since I left England two and a half years ago. I’m back in Europe now and know that some are interested in hearing about my experiences. I hope the next four months of this blog will be as interesting to these readers as it will be valuable to me in conveying and reflecting on my time in Tours. Laisse les bon temps rouler! (This mardi gras slogan isn’t really a FRENCH French phrase, but I can’t think of anything else to say to commence my fresh wind of blogging. Maybe I’ll learn an appropriate exultation soon.)

It wasn’t that long of a flight, me being more used to flying to Paris from San Francisco (and this time from Philly). Eight of us (Bucknell students) flew together, and as we deplaned (I detest that word), made it through customs, and found our luggage, we transitioned into French…although sometimes it’s more of a franglais.

When we rode into Tours on our bus, the sun had just come out, and my enthusiasm grew as we passed over the Loire river. There were a few guys fishing and some others sitting on the banks, and I told my friends I can’t wait to go rest by the river too.

So far, I’ve had very little interaction with my host mom, but she’s pretty cool. She’s lived in Tours her whole life, and she got really excited when I said I like 16th century French literature.

A few notes on my house:
- It’s made of stone and has lots of floors. The neighborhood was among the first to be built by the Romans very long ago.
- Inside, it’s really colorful, with a piano and lots of books everywhere. Each room we entered, I expected Mme Saint-Louis to tell me, “This is my art studio” or something like that. Instead it’s like, “This is the living room, this is my office, this is the bathroom.”
- In fact, the bathroom features a large photo of a goldfish in a bowl and another of a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Sometimes bathroom reading can be a little dull, but in the corner of this toilette lies a pile of Beaux Arts magazines.
- When I shower, I look out to the cathedral. The bells of which ring a lot. This probably won’t be a problem though.
- This isn’t really about the house itself…but I have a friendly housemate named Bolina who speaks English.

I’ve often thought about how it will be the first time I step into a French host family situation, with particular concern for my (lacking) mastery of French. It was pretty cool when we walked through the city to the house and all the way up the flight of stairs, chatting about whatever, and I think I understood completely. And I’m pretty sure I was understood. The one thing I wasn’t sure of was the time she said dinner was…and even if I was, I haven’t really been able to tell time since Kindergarten, so this may be a problem. My next language goal: not to have to strain so hard to communicate. We’ll see how dinner goes tonight, if I ever make it.