Last night, at an Arabian Nights costume party, I leaned over to Julian, pulled him in close, and gave him a compliment I never would have imagined myself saying. “Julian, I just want to let you know how proud I am of you. I know that when we first arrived you were gagging on all the cigarette smoke, making it very clear that you disapproved. But I notice that now, even though you still hate the smoking, you look the other way. It is a mature thing to be able to personally disagree with someone but to continue to let another make different choices from you.” Although many may argue with me on this point, because smoking is known to be so bad for people’s health, for Julian I see this as a big milestone. Tolerance is a positive trait in this situation!
Along the same health and safety lines I find myself letting go of things that in any other situation I would not stand for. We are still carless despite the rental car of last week. For several different outings we have had to rely on the generosity of others to get us to a location. Not every car is set up for children riders. We have ridden with Noah on my lap. Or, the hardest for me, two boys belted together into one seatbelt. No car seats, no one-boy-one-belt situation. But we are in another country, relying on other people, and grateful for the opportunities that keep coming our way. It is a hard thing to reconcile, because this is the safety of my family at hand. Will I then accept rides at home that are under less than ideal conditions? Will I start to refuse rides here because I know that they will not meet safety standards? The jury is still out.
My family has been more than a bit vocal about another issue – the issue of contacting us. We got a cell phone as soon as we arrived, but we couldn’t get a full plan one until we had bank cheques. The phone that we had was a pay-as-you-go with only a limited number of minutes on it. No land line, either. The cheques arrived last week and we now have a fully active phone that can make AND receive calls. But for that short amount of time it felt a little strange to be so disconnected. At least it taught me how to call a land line from a computer, and how to video chat with my family.
In a different matter, we have also changed our regular habits. The French eat on a totally different meal schedule than we do in Toronto. We wake up a bit later (it’s summer after all) and eat breakfast sometime around 8. Lunch is not until 12:30 or 1:00, with no morning snack. There is a “gouter” around 4:30 or 5, a small snack, seemingly with a drink for the adults as well and then dinner is not until after 8. Restaurants do not even open until 7:30! Our schedule is mostly the same as this, with dinner around 7:30. It is amazing to me how quickly we all adjust. My kids don’t even ask me for a snack until the time in Toronto when they would normally ask me about dinner.
And, for a girl who is normally pretty tight with her pennies, we have been buying wine all the time, and having at least a glass just about every day. This is totally out of the ordinary for me, but I have to admit that it is enjoyable, especially in the heat of the late afternoon, to sip a cool glass of rose. Chalk it all up to adapting to a new culture, right?
The last thing that has gone out the window is bedtimes. At home I am fairly strict about bedtime – earlier for Noah and the older boys by nine. Here it is Noah who goes to bed around nine, and the older boys not until closer to ten. As I mentioned before we are all sleeping in just that wee bit more, which helps. But the whole early to bed, early to rise doesn’t really cut it around here right now. And on party nights… the boys have already, in the four weeks that we’ve been here, had a number of nights keeping them up until 11, 12, and the other night, even until 3 in the morning. Two of the three fell asleep at that party, but not Julian! I know, I know, it’s just that start of many late nights for my children. But yikes! At least we don’t have any important events to need to wake up for. And I am sure that once school begins we will get onto a more “normal” schedule.
But for all the differences, all the things we are letting go, I sure am enjoying the experience. I definitely feel like an outsider. So many things keep surprising me, keep catching me off guard. And in order to take it all in I am trying really hard to roll with the experiences that come my way. This year is only one year, and we have to live it with vivacity!
One last funny story: We finally received our carte de sejour, down in Marseille, on Ed’s birthday. The prefecture was a nightmare – I have never seen so many people crammed into so many different lines. There was even a line to get your line-up number. We had an appointment, but no one seemed to know anything about where we should go, or what we should do. Finally, after about half an hour of waiting, we went upstairs. When we were called in for our appointment, the woman went through the typical French bureaucratic rigamarole. First off, look grim and dour so that everyone knows that you will not stray from ANY of the rules. Then, find one small thing that is not done properly. In this case Ed had his visa in his Canadian passport, but his entry stamp in his U.S. passport. Next step, fuss and complain. “I’ve never seen this type of problem before…” We just apologized and waited. She walked away, and then came back and shuffled the papers. She looked up. “Happy Birthday!” she said. From that point on she chatted with us, mostly in French, but even a bit in very good English to tell the kids that her children had just gone to go see the Harry Potter movie. And then she sent us on our merry way, two cartes de sejour in hand. Thank goodness for the registration process! Vive la France!
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