I got to Charles De Gualle airport around 7:30 am. Because I am ridiculously ambitious, I decided to change into a cute French-looking outfit in the lavatory at the back of the plane while everyone else was deplaning. Consequently I was the last one to leave and had to find my way to customs without a handy trail of people to follow. Because I’m horrific with directions in English, I decided not to try out my French while asking for help, and eventually I got through customs without a hitch.
At baggage claim I ran into some girls who are spending this semester in a different study abroad program a few hours away. I chatted with one of them while we waited for our luggage and then took off to find the train station. Between my overflowing backpack, and my heavy duffle perched atop my slightly-over-50-pounds-but-they-let-it-slide suitcase, I ran out of energy quite quickly.
The train station was a huge mass of people milling around, getting online, and paying—yes, paying—to use the bathroom. I walked around a bit getting the layout, then asked a very nice man at the information desk where I could find an ATM. He pointed me in the wrong direction, but I ran into a couple of very friendly train station employees with decent English. They pointed the way and I was off.
With money in hand, it was time to find my fellow Nantes-bound exchange students. I began searching for the bright blue luggage tag that signified our program and eventually found Eric, Tess, Addy, and Mary. We headed off to validate our train tickets and waited in line for several minutes before it occurred to us that they might not need validating. I ducked out of line to ask an employee (in French!) and it turned out we didn’t need to. We found a place to park temporarily and then I discovered that my train was leaving 3 hours before theirs. Not wanting to go alone or miss an opportunity to get to know my new classmates, I got back in line and changed my ticket.
We found a permanent place to set our luggage and sat down. As we began really introducing ourselves, we discovered that Mary wasn’t in our program…she and Eric has met in a terminal in Chicago that morning and decided to stick together. She was heading out on a yearlong solo exploration of Europe. We exchanged blog urls, e-mails, and the like and suggested she come visit us in Nantes later on.
As the morning progressed, more and more students showed up and joined us. We eventually split into two groups and from there smaller groups of people took off to explore the station while others guarded the luggage. Someone discovered a small bakery that was selling baguettes for 95 Euro Cents, and one by one we all headed over for a baguette, croissant, or sandwich.
By the time we’d been there for a few hours, Addy, Mary, and I were shivering on the cold marble floor. It was surprisingly cold in the station, and we were all huddled up in jackets or scarves. That was when things got interesting.
A man came hurrying over chattering a million miles an hour in French and gesturing to Addy’s guitar case with what appeared to be some kind of self-rolled cigarette. We all looked at each other and then back at him, trying to figure out what to do. We were in charge of four other people’s luggage and couldn’t just walk away, so we sat there smiling politely. He then held out the cigarette and tried to convince us to sniff it. Addy and Mary politely refused but I put my hands up in front of myself, shooing him away. He then proceeded to light up right there in the station mumbling about “Hash Hish! Hash Hish!” He held out the lit Hash Hish to Mary who shook her head, and we then somehow managed to get him to walk away. After a few seconds of incredulous silence, we started laughing.
Things went pretty smoothly from there, and we all managed to get on the train to Nantes. The ride was long but the French countryside is beautiful. The grass is a gorgeous vibrant green and the houses are so genuinely European. Many of the trees have these huge green balls of foliage that Addy informed us is actually a parasitic virus of some kind, but because they look like something out of a Dr. Suess book we dubbed them Truffala Trees.
At the train station in Nantes, we all split into pairs and rode in taxis to the Center. Addy and I engaged in a lively Frenglish conversation with our chauffeur de taxi, and we spotted our first real French castle. Apparently there used to be royalty living right here in Nantes.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of faces and names, and then at 7 o’clock I met my host mother. She speaks very good English (which I discovered when she was explaining some complicated instructions for this morning). My host sisters are very fun. The younger sister laughs heartily when I make mistakes which actually makes me feel better about taking grammatical risks…if I mess up, we’ll all laugh about it.
The older sister spent several minutes trying to explain to me about a cake that is eaten in honor of the baby Jesus and the three wise men every January in France, but I completely misunderstood. I thought she was talking about our dinner, so while eating a delicious egg dish I asked, “So the eggs are for Baby Jesus?”
Cue the laughter.
I finally caught on when they sent the younger sister under the table to tell the older sister which piece of cake went to which person. They told me this was a tradition and I asked if it was France-wide or just in their house. They laughed and said it’s a French tradition. We then began to eat. A minute later the older sister bit down on a small plastic toy and was declared le roi (king), although she placed the crown on my head (atop my beret) and said I could be queen.
My host mother explained my breakfast options and asked what I like to eat in the mornings. I told her I was flexible (although I used the word for the kind of flexibilty a gymnast exhibits). I was then excused to go to bed.
Quite an eventful first day, I must say.
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