Second Days

My Second Family

Though free time is scarce here, a rather adamant mother insisted my first blog entry was much too short. I can't blame her. If my non existent daughter was almost 4000 miles away, I would want to know absolutely every last detail about her life, and since I won't be able to wash the dishes for another 10 months, I figured I'd do whatever it took to appease her. This next entry will be entirely about the members of my first host family, however I just call them by second family because ultimately, they are.

Philippe (deuxième père)

As you've presumably read, I first met Philippe when he took me on a tour of the jungle he just so happens to own. While this was a good indication that my second father did not care about speed limits, I am still learning new things about him every moment. He is extremely complex. Philippe is a dentist and also knows English very well. He likes asking me questions about America and helps me improve my French while he delights in learning words in English. Perhaps my fondest memory, to this day, is when we were going over my time table for my classes. While we were looking at how early I started school and such, I said, "My schedule is very complicated." At the sound of this, he jumped up and clapped his hands together, "Say it again, say it again!!!!!" 
 "My schedule is very complicated."
He clapped again and asked me to say the second word again.
"Schedule."
"Again!"
"Schedule."
Once, twice, three more times, and me writing it down on a paper and than he was ready to try saying it on his own. "Scrrrrrradole."
I choked back heaps of laughter and sat there with him for ten minutes, saying the word and having him repeat it. Each time I said schedule, a look of utter excitement crossed his face and yet he refused to say the word in any other way but scrrrrrrradole. Finally, I decided just to smile and tell him good job. He than called my host mom and sister downstairs to share the delight of his new found word with them.  Now, whenever he introduces me to people, the first thing he shares is that I taught him the most exciting word ever heard. Honestly, I like his pronunciation best. 


Valarié (deuxième mère)

My host mother is amazing. She doesn't speak a word of English and I don't speak a word of French, yet somehow I feel closet to her out of anyone I have met here. She is so kind and always making sure I feel comfortable and okay, and if I come ten feet from the kitchen no matter the time of day or the reason, I am obviously ravishing and need to be feed the entire contents of the kitchen. Although she doesn't know English, there are people in the house that do, and she will not stand for one word to go by without me knowing what it is. Every time someone says something, she can be heard saying "Expliquer Maya, expliquer Maya!" And even if it is simply Victoiré saying she was bored in math today. The conversation does not move forward until it is has been explained to me and I have reassured her  that I am now very much aware that Victoiré was bored in math today. If this has come across to you as me being judgemental, you're in the wrong frame of mind because I love this about my second momma. I feel completely comfortable around her and can never be bored when she's there because there's always more food to be eaten or else I know something has gone terribly wrong.


Charles (premier frère)

This is how I met my 22 year old brother: He ran downstairs in his underwear. 
French boys are always running around in their underwear... Ladies.
Naturally, I have grown up in America where most people don't have six packs and perfectly tan skin, therefore, strutting around in tightie whiteies is not a common practice, so I felt rather awkward on this first encounter and didn't know where to put my eyes. No one else seemed to be the least bit surprised by the almost naked turn of events. I learned quickly that Charles spoke about three words of English but he did know enough to tell me he was a male playboy. His words exactly.
Despite this awkward first encounter, my host brother happens to be the nicest boy I've ever met. Always making sure I am okay, aways offering something to drink, always holding doors open and picking Victoiré and I up from school without complaint. The other day I felt under the weather and was sitting on the couch sniffling. When I told Charles I did not feel good, he walked away immediately and came back with a travel pack of green Kleenex. "For you. From me." He said. Now have you been offered green tissues from a French playboy? 
Didn't think so.

Victoiré (premier soeur)

I have never heard a person sing Call Me Maybe so many times in my life.
Although this cannot be overlooked, my host sister is quite awesome and beyond her 13 years of life in many ways. I scarecly hear her complain and she is always willing to help around the house and do chores without even being asked. My 13 year old self could learn a few lessons from her. Victoiré speaks very decent English and is the constant victim of Valerié forcing her to explain every last detail to me. I am surprised she hasn't implanted a chip in my brain yet that forces me to speak French. I don't know. One of our favorite past times is listening to the other say stuff in the other person's language. For example, two weekends ago the family went to their beach house so me and Victoiré shared a room. We stayed up until about three in the morning recording a two hour long video that consisted of Victoiré telling me to say stuff and me repeating it. i am pretty sure you can't understand a word that was said, however, because we were laughing hysterically the whole time. If there's one thing I have learned from my host sister, it is that laughter is an international language. Half the time, we don't know what the heck the other is saying but we do manage to laugh constantly.



On another note, I am pleasantly surprised by the amount of views this has gotten. Sure, at least half of them are my mom anxiously refreshing the page every odd minutes to see if I have added another entry, but even so, I will try to write consistantly for whoever it turns out, wants to read. Also, I have gotten a few requests to be notified when I write another entry via Facebook. If you would like to be messaged the day I publish an entry, just ask and I will be happy to. I am shocked that no one has requested I send them a bit of mayonaisse. Seriously guys, you are missing out big time.