Friday night was the “Soirée International,” which I had pictured as somewhat similar to Ste-Anne’s theme nights, specifically Soirée Anglaise, which is everybody’s goodbye night. This was not true, due to the fact that a) most of these people will be back in classes next week and seeing each other, b) we don’t all live together and its not total immersion so people don’t bond as much, and c) unlike at Ste-Anne, there is actually stuff to do in Angers, so we don’t have to rely on our program for social events.
So we stopped by for half an hour but it was just the chorus singing and we left in time to be at the Falstaff (our favorite bar) by nine, which Kat (the bartender/owner) had asked us to do. We got a booth and sat down, and a few minutes later Kat turned off the lights and the music and brought out a brownie/cake thing with candles in it and the whole bar sang Happy Birthday to me – Kat wanted to celebrate my birthday because when it actually was my birthday, she didn’t know.
The brownie/cake
It was also sort of a goodbye party. Scott did his part and bought a “meter of beer” (yes, they exist) for himself, me, Vaune and Chris as a goodbye gift to Vaune and myself. It was pretty funny.
We also got delicious fries from the kebab place next door.
Vaune and I were both tired so we left around 11 and walked home. We found we can pretty much walk home together, and then I have to go a little ways by myself to get to my house. Good thing to learn – on our last night in Angers. I called Alexis and we got to talk for a while which was nice, because we haven’t been able to in a few days.
Saturday morning I went downstairs to take my shower and Madame was like, “Make sure you open your shutters. You can’t clean a room in the dark.” This woman is obsessed with me opening the shutters because she assumes that when the shutters are closed that I must have every light in the room on, burning her energy bill into oblivion. Which is not true. So I took my shower and went upstairs and got dressed and came down for breakfast. She was walking in the door - she had gone outside to check and make sure I had opened my shutters. So I get down there and she’s like, “I TOLD YOU TO OPEN YOUR SHUTTERS. STOP WASTING LIGHT.” I tried to explain to her that I did not exactly feel comfortable toweling off and changing into my clothes with the shutters wide open for everyone to see, but this apparently was wildly unreasonable and she just kind of huffed around for a bit, and then brought it up again. She was like, “You must not use the lights in daylight!!” Yes, Madame, but I am not giving a free show to your neighbors. I don’t know why she couldn’t grasp this. And I can’t believe she went out and checked.
When I told her I was leaving at 1:19, she asked me if I was having lunch. I told her I would get lunch at the train station. She was like, “Well normally, Bobbie, people eat lunch at noon.” I told her it was okay and I would get something there, but this, too, was unacceptable. So she told me I had to eat lunch with them. And the grandchildren were over for lunch. The boy is little and cute, but the girl is older and loud, rude and obnoxious beyond belief. So that was already making me unhappy. Then lunch was peas and meat. Guh. Madame was screaming at her grandchildren, who acted as if she didn’t exist, and then she would just sigh loudly. I’ve noticed she’s just incredibly rude to everyone – her husband, her daughter, her grandchildren, me… Anyway so then it was time for dessert and she took my plate, which still had a couple peas and all the pea juice on it and she was like, “In France we clean our plates.” I wanted to smack her. I wanted to say, “Oh yeah? Well in the US we don’t wipe up pea juice with stale bread.” Instead I just said I don’t like wet bread, which is true, but she just sighed in agony at my primitive rudeness.
All through the meal Vaune had been texting me, because her family totally ditched her and she didn’t have a ride to the train station. She was going to take a cab, or meet me at my house and take the bus with me. She couldn’t decide. I was telling M et Mme and Madame was like, “Well some host families are really rude.” YES THEY ARE.
The pièce de résistance, however, was at the end of the meal. Madame was like, “Sometimes, I just say what I am thinking. It’s a good thing. Any tension between us, it’s forgotten.” Sorry, woman. I have already filled out my host family evaluation. Too late.
Finally, I got on the bus and managed to maneuver to the train station with my luggage. Chris and Debbie had come to wish us farewell, which was really sweet. I’m really going to miss Chris. The train only stops in Angers for two minutes, so that is all the time we had to get ten people and their luggage onto the train. But we did it, assembly line style, and settled in for our ride. Two hours later, we were in Paris.
Madame B talked at us for half an hour in the train station, which was a bad move as no one could hear anything she said. Finally she gave us cab money and we went and waited in the taxi line, which took another half hour, especially because cab drivers did not want to take me with my big suitcase. This one guy was like, “It won’t fit.” I was like, “Just look, it will fit right there.” He said, “It’s too tall.” It obviously would have fit and I tried to show him and he just cut me off and was like, “I know my car!” I thought, “Okay, if you don’t want my extra two euros for an extra bag, so be it.” I waited until a nice guy came along and he took me. Good thing, too, as he drove faster than all the other cab drivers and I got to the CISP Kellermann first and had the lowest cab fare (yes, we are staying at the damn hostel again, for two nights until we move into the Fondation on Monday – the same day that classes start… classes that we haven’t registered for yet).
I went upstairs and dropped off my bags and waited for Vaune to arrive. Once she did, we sprinted out of there and two the closest Metro stop. After changing trains about five times, we finally arrived at Place de Clichy, on the other side of Paris, at about 6:30 – only a half hour behind schedule. Erin came and got us and took us to her tiny one room apartment, complete with bed, bathroom, stove, washer, and fridge. Impressive, for a room smaller than most singles.
She and her friends Matt and Veronique had made pasta for us! It was delicious. We had spaghetti with tomato pesto sauce, and cheese and olives and tomato, and dessert. And wine. Erin said, “I made this kind of weird meal… because you look vaguely Italian so I thought you would like it.” This is true. She did good.
After that we went home, internetted, and then crashed in our tiny rooms. This morning I think breakfast made me sick. Also a man yelled at me for the way I ladled my pudding. Madame Gilot has shifted shapes and come to Paris. He finished by saying, “Is that how you do it at your house?” in a snide voice, as if I live with pigs. I told him, “At my house, we fat Americans don’t eat chocolate pudding for breakfast..”
Now Vaune and I are doing our laundry and dreading our meeting with Madame Beaufort this afternoon. Classes start tomorrow, as well as moving. Interesting.
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