I've Been in France Longer Than I Thought

Today hasn't gone quite as planned. I left my apartment at 6:15 this morning with high hopes of spending the day exploring Paris: the Christmas market, some of the shops, going ice-skating outside, etc. Unfortunately, it turns out that the snow I was so looking forward to seeing in Paris was going to freeze my plans (pun intended, hehe). The train tracks between St-Omer and Lille were blocked, so the 7:12 train I had intended to take wasn't running. A woman announced that a bus would come to bring all of us stranded passengers to Hazebrouck, and from there we could the train to Lille. Unfortunately, she had no idea when the bus would be coming, and ultimately it didn't arrive until after 9:30.

I was able to kill time by talking with a random guy. He sat down next to me while I was on the phone with Emily, and then laughed at something I said, thus revealing he spoke English. When they were making announcements about the delays, we teamed up to pool our less-than-perfect French to figure out what was happening. Don't get too excited - yes, I'm on the hunt for a French boyfriend, but he won't be it because he was a) much shorter than me; b) Mexican (and therefore not French); and c) returning home to Mexico around the time I get back. It was nice to have someone to pass the time with, though. It turns out that we know a few of the same people because he was studying at the business school in St-Omer, and I went to one of their parties with Estela a couple of weeks ago. I'm convinced that there is a maximum of two degrees of separation between me and everyone else in St-Omer by now. It's such a small place that it has gotten to the point that I run into people I know (especially students) almost everywhere that I go. I've always wanted to live in a small town for just that reason! While waiting at the train station, I saw two of my students. It was cute because one was with his family, which includes two little brothers who look just like him. He awkwardly waved at me, and then pointed me out to his mom.


By the time I finally arrived in Paris and to my hotel, it was 3:00pm. I had intended to be here at 11:00am, so sadly this delay forced me to cancel my plans to explore. My hotel is so far from the center of town and it gets dark so early that it just wouldn't have been worth it. Alas, I still have not seen Paris at Christmas. Hopefully next year. While killing time at the hotel, I looked through all of the pictures I've taken since being here, and one in particular stuck out to me. What is it about this picture that strikes me? It's the fact that my friend Alexandre (the only guy in the photo) is wearing a shirt almost as low-cut as my dress, and it wasn't until now that I noticed it. I think that's a true testament to how long I've been in France. If I saw a guy wearing that in the United States, I'd assume he was gay or had bad taste, but here in France, I've become okay with guys wearing v-neck shirts. Yikes.

I started reflecting, and you can see the French influence on more than just my social network and acceptance of male v-necks. Because I love lists:

1. I enjoy cooking for myself now. While I can still be lazy about it and settle for simple recipes, I've also experimented with a lot of new stuff. This includes touching raw meat for the first time.

2. I'm not such a mangy mess anymore. Granted, this was bound to happen as soon as I got a real job, but instead of going for the typical les cazh (lesbian casual) the I've opted for in jobs past, I've actually started putting effort into looking cute. Earrings, mascara, and scarves have become standard and are seldom left at home. It's all part of being a TILF. Hahaha.

3. People understand me when I speak to them. It's awesome. I still have a long way to go, but my comprehension and communication has improved exponentially.

4. Escargots don't make me want to retch. I still don't like the texture, but when eaten with bread and the right sauce, they can be quite tasty.

5. Drinking wine has become a pleasurable experience. It all started with my beloved vin du pays, which costs 2,60 euros a bottle. Now I like the higher end stuff too. And by higher end, I still mean less than 10 euros.

Yet, how nice it'll be to have two weeks back home! I can't wait!

Desperate Times

Now that my internet situation is finally improved, I am making my triumphant (ha) return to blogging. Don't worry, I won't depress you like I did when I was in Scotland. Life in Saint-Omer is going really well. I'm feeling very settled here - I love my new apartment, we finally have internet at our apartment (hopefully it'll last), and I have made a lot of friends here. Included is a picture to prove that I am only a loner when I travel by myself. It was taken to commemorate our bootleg Thanksgiving dinner, which consisted of a baguette, salad, green bean casserole, stuffing and mashed potatoes.

In total, there are six language assistants in St-Omer. Four of us are American: Rachael, my roommate, Christine, Tara and me. There is also a German assistant, Carina, and a Spanish assistant, Estela. Tara, Estela, and Carina all live together in the school where they work. Rachael and I have an apartment near the center of town, and Christine lives with her boyfriend, Julien, who she met when she was an assistant here last year. We really lucked out with that because it gave us a built-in social life. Julien is studying at a nearby engineering school, so basically all of his friends are guys. Unfortunately, it turns out that all attractive French men have girlfriends.

Shortly after arriving in France, I realized that working only 12 hours a week left me with too much time on my hands. The perfect solution? Having a French boyfriend, of course. Not only would I have an automatic time-filler, I'd improve my French! Ideally he would have either a car or a motorcycle/moped so that I wouldn't have to carry my "milk bricks" home from the grocery store. Unfortunately, finding the perfect French boyfriend has been more difficult than expected. The only guys fawning over me are either a) creepy and overly persistent, or b) still in high school. Out of curiosity, I looked up the age of consent in France - Emily had been making jokes about me dating a student - and I discovered that it's only 15, but I think we can all agree that it would be really freaking weird if I went there. Not to mention unprofessional!

Yet at my school, there are also students who have taken the bac, that is to say finished high school, and are continuing in a program (BTS) that is the rough equivalent of a community college education. Therefore, they are 18+. Apparently teachers have married BTS students in the past. They are technically fair game for me, especially since I'm not a true teacher, but I resolved not to date any of them. After all, they're still students. Yet, I think that my decision was affected by the fact that none of the guys in my two BTS classes are very attractive. My resolve has since weakened, partly because the supply of single guys is limited and partly because I met an absurdly cute BTS student last week.

It all started when my supervising teacher, Marianne, asked me to come to her class and help the students with essays they were writing. One student in particular had a question that she wanted me to answer, and I couldn't help but notice that he was incredibly good-looking. Tall, brown hair, blue eyes...and guys speaking French just makes whatever they say to me sexier. It was cute because at the end of class he asked Marianne if I could come back and help them again. She told him it was up to me, and because I am so nice (and getting desperate) I agreed. And I'll be honest: I wore my tightest jeans to the following class.

Annoyingly, I didn't have a chance to talk to him at the next lesson because a bunch of his classmates had questions for me. How dare they put their academic needs ahead of the cure to my boredom. I was forced to leave that Friday without knowing his name or age, which were two pieces of information I had intended to collect. I did find out that one of his classmates is 22, so that gave me hope that he was my age and heightened my interest. Reaching a new low in terms of desperation, I announced to Marianne at a dinner party the next day - attended by two of her friends from Britain, her 22-year-old daughter, Anne, Christine, Julien, and Rachael - that I thought one of her BTS students was really hot. She knew exactly who I was talking about and said that he had seemed interested, but unfortunately, one of the girls had turned to him at one point and said, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" Of course he does. They all do. What a shame. He even had a motorcycle.

It's a little sad to have gotten to the point that I'm ready to date my students, but I don't even care anymore. Don't worry - I haven't relaxed all of my standards. The following are still in effect:

1) He must be at least 20 (That's not too young, right? I'm only 22...);
2) He must not have a girlfriend;
3) He must not live with his parents (Is it bad that I'm wondering if I should leave any flexibility here?);
4) He must live in or near St-Omer or at least have an easy means of transportation;

and most importantly...

5) I must be genuinely interested in him - no dating purely based on boredom.

As I'm headed home for Christmas in less than a week, I'm not optimistic about my prospects, but I'll resume the hunt after Christmas!