Day 51: IRFLEE Soiree

Top row: X, Nana, Tiana, X, XX, Mari Bottom row: X, Karen (yellow), random girl who jumped in the picture
Jose dancing a Colombian jig with a mug on his head.
This is the crazy Asian kid I was referring to...

21 octobre 2009 (Day 51)

It is decidedly evident that the fruit and veggies from the market taste a ton better. I bought Elstar apples and had one for breakfast and they did NOT taste at all like the same apple. I also had my last tortilla (swirly pastry) and some yogurt. I have a lot of yogurt to eat before I leave for Switzerland on Friday.

In culture today we had a mid-term test and talked more about writers who chose to write in French. We read different excerpts from non-French writers who choose to write in French. Here are some of the thoughts that I particularly liked: “Who am I, in French? I don’t know; all and nothing without a doubt.” “Style, someone said, is a marriage of love between an individual and their language. But can one “marry” an adopted language…And if not, what’s the purpose?” Part of the test was comprehension. Thankfully I read the text twice, because I missed a lot the first time. It was actually a really sad text. This gentleman wrote about how his father forced him to learn French for his good (he was a muslim) and how this caused him to lose his relationship with his mother and his soul.

Practically all the food was gone at the RU Terte today so after waiting in line for 13 minutes Nana and I sped walked to the Rubis. We both got the infamous French steak-frites. Thankfully a lunch lady answered my prayers and brought out a fresh container of ketchup. It was much needed ketchup as the steak was quite flavorless and fries alone don’t make the most balanced meal. Afterwards I did my homework that was due in an hour and helped Hannah by showing her how to print off things at the library.

In writing Annick went on a really long lecture/tangent about grades and writing and being creative while still having a plan. This happened because people were complaining about their good grades (a 16/20 is great in France). Take me for example. Annick said my paper did not work so she wasn’t even going to score it because I’d get such a bad grade. Seventy or eighty minutes later we finally got started on the work we were planning on doing for the day.

Tonight we had an IRFLEE soiree (aka party!). I went early to help set up. I’m lying. I actually thought the party started earlier so I got there in time to help set up. I also got to play Juan’s guitar, which was super. It felt good to have my baby back in my arms again. The professors really outdid themselves. They bought so many drinks and they even made some special rum-punch. Luckily Madame Rialland told me it had alcohol in it before I tried it! Everyone brought a dish from their respective country. It was all really good and I definitely ate too much. I talked to a Swedish girl who brought some delicious Swedish meatballs. Those Asian boys definitely know how to cook. There was one who had his in a fancy presentation and was even wearing plastic gloves as he set up his presentation of food. I had yummy chocolates, things from the orient, Brazil, Colombia, and elsewhere. It was especially fun to see the teachers dancing. I had fun dancing a particular song with this boy from some country somewhere and also with my classmates from niveau (level) C1.

Different people presented dances from their respective countries. I saw Brazilians samba, Americans embarrass themselves trying to dance like something from a horror film, and more. It was a lot of fun to dance with everyone. Sarah and I were at one point dancing in the window seal laughing at the people outside oogling at the embarrassing American trying to seduce the audience. Just to clarify, we were in the window seal so that we could see better. I really like the music the Ghana girls know. It has a really great beat and is easy to dance to. Tonight I pretended a lot that I could dance. I guess all these strangers don’t know that white girls can’t dance because they thought I had skills! If only they knew how much my dance instructor Jeremy shook his head hopelessly after seeing me try to dance. I left a little after 10 because I was tired and sweaty. I met Karen’s (a Colombian) French husband and talked to him and Igor, a very tall Utahn with big glasses for a little bit. Igor was so pleased/happy/in awe that I was Mormon and had pioneer ancestors. He said it was a big part of his life, the Mormons but I am not sure if he was honestly in awe and really enjoyed it or was sarcastic. He seemed a lot nicer than most native non-Mormon Salt Lakers though.

As I walked home from the party, face dripping slightly from dancing, eyes twinkling from all the fun, umbrella ready to whack people hiding in bushes, I thought about tonight. I think I realized something profound. I am not just an American. I am Scandinavian like the tall blonde who loves to dance, I am Ghanaian like my good friends who love dancing to the Ghanaian music and believe in God, I’m Colombian- I love to love, talk, and eat good food like Karen, I am Portuguese like Tiana who is earnest, kind, and loves her family. I am all, I am everything because I am simply human. I don’t know why we feel obligated to define ourselves as anything other than human. Tonight we were all one mélange, many ingredients put together in the same pot to create the world. Tonight I was in a group with an American, a Colombian, a Ghanan, a Brazilian, a Chinese and we were all together sharing the same space at the same time dancing. Borders, color, language, it doesn’t matter. We are one because we have found something in common, we are all Francophiles, we are all people with our own respective histories and backgrounds, but we are all together as one all because of a language.

I looked up. In the sky there were stars. This is the first time they have been out in Nantes and they were twinkling back at me. It was such a wonderful sight that I had to stop and stare for a moment, taking in the twinkling star language.