Sunday, January 25, 2009

The first day here I noted the obvious cultural differences:

- Cat-calls are even more regular than in the states
- People walk very slowly
- Everything and everyone runs late. Helene (pronounced: ell’en), my Reunionnaise Mom basically, said to just be patient “C’est tropical.” She warned that even buses run when the drivers get there and classes usually start 15 minutes late.
- Chickens sold on the sidewalk is the worst smell I’ve ever encountered
- People here are very open, notably about their views and histories with sex, religion, and politics
- Everyone who has brought it up hates Bush and loves Obama
- Music can always be heard playing from at least 3 different sources
- Everyone line-dries their laundry on balconies and in windows usually after washing them in the shower (I have taken to this practice, too, since it is 2 euro per load.)
- Surprise! No recycling. What? You’re on a teeny tiny island!
- And everyone loves/is fascinated by Katie’s red hair

C’est tout pour le moment.

I thought about writing about my room in detail, but then I thought you’d get the idea with a mere list:

my own room and bathroom with shower
small, but I don’t need much
no air conditioning
great cross-breeze with open doors
balcony complete with Indian Ocean backdrop

Tonight, I went to a bar downtown with a bunch of students, so I had a crash-course in Reunionnaise culture and French.

The first difference I noticed was that we left for the bar at 7:15pm. In Knoxville, no one goes to bars or clubs until 11pm. The bars here also close at midnight. I like it better this way.

At one point we were all dancing (which is serious cardio; no wonder everyone here is thin) to a local band. Stephan, who was dancing in front of me abruptly stopped and pointed to my flip flops and wagged his finger back and forth. I stepped out of them and standing behind them, I looked up at his face. He kicked them off the dance floor and I found myself dancing in spilled beer among barefoot friends. Culture.

On the way home I saw a snail as big as my fist on the sidewalk and no one was interested but us Americans. Everyone, however, was interested when a naked man walked up next to us. Romuelle, a student in circus school (not kidding) and friend who is not much taller than me but is wider by at least 6 inches and pure muscle, said something that made the naked man literally run away. I asked Sarah (pronounced Zarhah, from Germany) what he said, but she wasn’t listening and just said “Probably something mean.” Then she and I continued our conversation on how marijuana, “zamal” in Reunionnaise Creole, is practically legal here. She said, “Even the policemen smoke. No one cares.” Apparently it’s easy to come by and cheap, a pound for 50 euro. Damn.

Today the last of the American exchange students arrived. His name is Luke and we’ve already taken to calling him Jean-Luke (Une idee brillant de Chelsea). He’s from Georgia which makes us all from the American south, but surprisingly none of us have southern accents (or at least not to my ears).

After going to the pool and struggling to speak French with our new friends all day, the four of us ate dinner and hung out together and spoke english. It was a guilty pleasure, but in my opinion, fine for now. I realized I haven’t laughed since Tuesday, laughed a hard laugh anyway because humor is the last thing you seem to get in a language. I don’t know all the puns or ironies, and can barely hold on to a funny anecdote. So tonight, in english, we talked and talked and laughed and laughed with “That’s what she said”s and cultural quips no one else understands.

Tomorrow, it’s back to french, or bust.

I just woke up from another shitty night’s sleep. All I want is to sleep well and this heat and humidity makes it impossible. I sleep with my balcony and hall doors open in hopes for an ocean breeze that will cut the stagnant heat. No go. One day (the day I said there was a great cross breeze) there was wind. Now it’s hiding.

I haven’t cried since I left my house when I teared up saying goodbye to my mom. I was wondering just now if it was because I’m trying my damnedest not to be dehydrated and can’t afford the tears. I’m not sad, just frustrated with the constant heat with no relief and I’m a person that usually cries upon departures and in frustration.

On monday I have to be in academic buildings and I hope they have air conditioning. I also get my student card on Monday so I can finally go to the cafeteria, library, get internet, and a bus pass. I don’t know why they asked us to be here this week if we can’t really DO anything until Monday. They aren’t even giving us our food stipend until February 2, so we have to put our own money on our meal cards for now. C’est tropical, non?

P.S. I love nutella.

P.P.S. After writing the above entry, I realized the vitamins I had been taking before bed have a warning on the label that I missed: "This product contains about as much caffeine as a cup of coffee." I now take my vitamins in the morning and I'm much happier.


kaitlyn sage said...

wow friend. it sounds like you are having an experiential type of experience. i miss your sweet smile and laughter floating through the house. I think your presence echoing through your old room has made me a more optimistic, hopeful human being.

hannahrose said...

I miss you like crazy gf. It seems like you're in paradise, what a great experience! I love love love Aix, it's totally different, and luckily I've actually been able to joke around en francais! C'est merveilleux.
Gee, skype a girl up or something. Im jealous of your ocean.