It has been a hot minute since I have had any time to sit down and write, so let's hope, for all of our sakes, that my English level hasn't decreased too drastically.
So much has happened in the past (not quite!) two months; I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of gallivanting around in a foreign country. Granted, the vast majority of my time has been more than good, but the bad and ugly make for fantastic stories.
On the 21st of November, I started to feel slightly off. I was quite shaky and almost falling asleep in class, which hadn't happened since the first month of my exchange. After lunch, my friends were urging me to go home and go to bed, but I couldn't bring myself to skip my one sociology class for the week. The teacher is one of my favorites, and the subject matter is new and engaging. So, unwisely, I decided to stick it out for another two hours. Unfortunately for my poor body, my host mom had a surprise meeting come up after 4:00, the time at which we had planned to meet and return home, so I stayed at school until around 5:00. By the time I arrived at our house, I barely had the energy to change out of my school clothes and into pajamas before falling into bed, where I would rest until noon the next day.
For about one week, I migrated between the couch and the bed, reading and watching French TV when I was awake enough to process the information. I was slowly losing my ability to eat and stand for extended periods of time, but I am also a master of denial. It wasn't until I had to sit on the ground after ten seconds of brushing my teeth that I allowed myself to consider the possibility that I was not 100% well. In hindsight, I was probably closer to 50% percent well.
On the 29th, I was admitted to the hospital and diagnosed with pneumonia, which explained the coughing and exhaustion. The doctors gave me an oxygen tube, which made breathing so much easier but getting out of bed much more complicated. I was also promptly hooked up to an antibiotic drip and IV fluid, which only exacerbated my stuck-in-bed syndrome. I stayed in the pediatrics ward until December 3rd, eating French hospital food and learning some really fun medical terms! The exchange student dream!
But in all seriousness, I felt very well taken care of and safe for the whole ordeal, first by my parents and finally by the team of doctors. I am very lucky to be in a country with a medical system very similar to that of the US, and I am doubly fortunate to have access to a network of medical professionals at home, some of whom even speak medical French (hi Bubba!).
After my discharge papers were all signed and insurance paperwork was being handled, I was finally allowed to go back home. Because I was in the hospital for so long, and with such a serious-sounding diagnosis, I had access to a part of my insurance plan that would fly a parent out to be with me. Initially, I was very reluctant to mix my two worlds. However, four days in any hospital, especially a foreign one, can make a person need their parents. In short, I decided that two moms are better than one, and my American mom flew out of Boston and into Geneva. She arrived at 2:15 on December 4th, after what should have been a much shorter drive.
My mom was with me for a week, during which I heavily suspect that my host parents grew more fond of her than they are of me. Which is truly, totally, 100% fine with me; I am more fond of Anne McGowan than I am of myself too. What can I say, my mom is the coolest.
However, she supervised my ridiculous-looking lung exercises with the eye of a hawk, which was not my favorite thing in the whole wide world. Nevertheless, I understood that someone had to do it. If it hadn't been her, it would have been me, and I was already too busy trying to keep track of the ten million pills I needed to swallow three times a day. We also went on a few lung-rebuilding "strolls,"which turned into me walking, then panting, then stopping to pet the horses.
I had one major competitor for my mother's attention: my host mother's uncle, Pascal. He is originally from France, but he now lives in Whistler, Canada. He speaks fluent English, builds adorable cottages, and is the king of card games. After he discovered that my mother is the veritable queen of cribbage, I had to surrender some precious mother-daughter time (during which I basically imitated a baby koala to the best of my ability) so that they could play. My mom often won, which led to demanded rematches. Eventually, I would always intervene and steal her back into my koala clutches.
My mom left one week from the day she arrived, and after her departure I jumped back into school. At least, that was what I had planned. However, I quickly found out that I maybe was not quite ready for the ten hour school days. Until Christmas break, I attended classes rather sporadically and according to how I was feeling on any given day. I was lucky to not have to make up much work, and the transition back was a relatively smooth one.
Now we have arrived at Christmas vacation. While writing this, I am beginning to feel the longing begin for February break. Six short weeks left!
Christmas vacation began with a trip to Montpellier to see my host parents' son's baby daughter. She was born on December 17th, so she was still a little baby when we arrived on the 23rd. It was absolutely lovely to meet so many kind, wonderful people; I was especially impressed given that I was aware of how little most everyone in the house had been sleeping!
On Christmas Day, my family and I woke up early and drove to the ocean. Montpellier may be in the south of France, but don't let that fool you: it was one chilly excursion. Once we reached the beach, my host mom, sister, and I stripped off our warm coats and scarfs to reveal bathing suits and goosebumps. With my host dad holding a camera and instructed to "press this button here!", we plunged into the ocean. However, I had not counted on how shallow the water was. We had to run out far away from the shore in order for the gentle waves to reach above our thighs. Nevertheless, we persevered, counting to five and diving under. It was quite a way to really wake ourselves up on the 25th.
The rest of the day was much calmer (and warmer!), with present opening taking place in the late morning, followed by a four hour meal. Yes, you read that right. Four. 4. And it definitely could have gone longer. Everything was, in true French fashion, deliciously to-die-for, and by the end everyone was happily sated and in need of a nap.
We left Montpellier the day after Christmas, exiting with a flurry of kisses on cheeks (it's three in the south!) and strokes of soft baby fingers. We returned home, where we stayed overnight, and left on the 27th, sans my host sister, Marielle. Driving to the Jura, our flat and strangely Vermont-like destination, all of my plans to read and study during the ride quickly slipped out of the car window and headed home. What can I say, I can't fight my I-fall-asleep-in-any-and-all-modes-of-transportation gift!
Once we arrived, I promptly set up two stations. One was at the piano downstairs; I figured that if I had all this free time, why not try to learn something other than Silent Night? Unfortunately for me and everyone else in the thin-walled house, the easiest sheet music I could find was a Mozart minuet. For those of you whom are not familiar with my level of piano prowess, let's just say that I am undoubtedly not qualified to even look at anything other than Christmas carols. Even so, I persevered, taking breaks from my biology homework to plunk out my tune on the piano. I tried to keep the volume at a reasonable level, but, as I mentioned, thin walls. Sorry, everyone.
There was an ever-rotating cast of characters in the house, but we hovered around ten. This number included one other young girl, and together we played board games and faced the onslaught of mealtime snails and oysters. Besides games and food-dodging, I used this portion of the vacation to read, get work done, and relax. Sleeping in is a wonderful thing, and I took full advantage of my eye mask to keep out the morning rays of sunshine for as long as I possibly could.
I found New Year's Eve to be more difficult for me than Christmas was, for a mixture of sentimental and circumstantial reasons. I enjoyed parts of the evening, but I also had a very difficult time separating myself from my American identity as the conversation turned to, in my opinion, an overly simplistic and poorly informed discussion of American values and politics. Being away from the States while all of the current political horribleness plays out is difficult. I feel the pressure daily to serve as an example that Americans can be smart, brave, curious, kind, knowledgeable, level-headed, and invested in expanding cultural horizons, even when I am not particularly feeling like one or more of those things. I spend a lot of time avoiding full separation from my American-ness in and out of school, as I believe that a large part of my "duty" as a Rotary exchange student is to serve as a link between cultures, not to renounce my home. Although I am painfully aware that the United States is currently failing minority citizens, federal workers, and a myriad of other populations, I still have to believe that America is more than our government and shortcomings. In short, conflicting desires to separate myself from the sharp critiques and to guard my nationality in the context of myself as a full, nuanced individual made the evening very uncomfortable for me. My discomfort was nobody's fault, and I do not blame anyone for the way that I felt. I just feel that I should tell this story to prove that France-Julia is still very human.
The rest of my stay in the Jura was uneventful. I cranked out assignments, hiked, and skated, with no further identity crises. We returned home on the 3rd of January; I was back to relax, translate essays, and regroup for Monday's eight o'clock French class.
I have just finished my first week back, and I can happily report that I still understand what's happening a solid 95% of the time. I am less pleased to report that I am learning calculus in my première math class, and after three hours of class time I still do not actually understand how the secant pivots and a tangent magically appears. I am quite ready to entertain the possibility that I have not understood the teacher's explanations, and if any of my loyalest readers (thank you for getting all the way down here. I love you.) are calculus experts I would happily welcome any tips or tricks. And also someone please explain the concept of "the limit" to me?
Many bisous from France, especially for my HHS midterms loveys. If I can make it through bacteria taking up residence in my lungs and derivatives, you can more than make it through this.
Julia