Kindness, everyday

I really want to tell y'all about our little date night at a new bistro in Clermont - a bistro that took over the former home of a burger joint called Emily's Diner - but I don't want to forget what a regular day feels like here. So let me tell you a bit about today, and a little bit about the day-to-day realities of trying to learn a new language.

It's a Wednesday, but the kids have had a cold for a few days, so it was Lincoln's first day of school for the week. (Remember, there's no school on Wednesdays until second grade). Luckily his cold is all but gone, while Sylvia's is still pretty bad, so Josh worked from home while I took the big kid to class. She's feeling pretty good, considering.

Dino feet!

 Since I was on my own, I brought my little wheeled grocery cart and took the bus from the school toward the local supermarket. When your fridge is 1/3 the size of the typical U.S. one, a couple of sick days means there's no food left in the house! And for some indecipherable reason, my bus stopped two stops before the one I needed and kicked us all off. So I walked through the park. It did not disappoint.

 Irises are my favorite, and whatever this variety or cousin of irises these are, they're incredible. Taller than I am, and so striking with the purple leaves - anyone care to identify them?

I made my way to Casino Supermarché and stocked up on crackers, such as they are, zucchini, bananas, apples, duck sausage - it was on sale and I needed fresh sausage for dinner tonight - and a bunch more random things. I was delighted to come across a display for "La Nuit Halloween!" Apparently American influence is growing, especially when creepy costumes and candy are involved.

It was a momentous trip in that I finally remembered that in France, one has to weigh and price one's own produce. If you bring it to the register without a sticker from the scale, you can't have it, and I allllllllways forget. Yay me! I came home, did a ton of chores while chatting with Sylvia about the Uno games and time outs she'd had while I was gone, and then she came along with me to pick up her brother. 

Back on the B bus! She charmed someone into giving up their seat, as usual, and we enjoyed the warm weather on the walk to Massillon. Lincoln, fortunately, had had a GREAT English class and was given a stack of Pokemon cards from a kind and generous older expat kid in the courtyard. We basically danced our way back to the bus stop, pausing only for the kids to beg for candy from the corner shop. Whoever decided to put a candy/doughnut booth on the corner between the college and the primary school is an evil genius.

Lunch was quick and uneventful, and the kids spent the afternoon drawing and stickering on paper while I put dinner in the crock pot, ironed a bunch of clothes I'd been ignoring, and did a few other household chores. Josh emerged from his home office, i.e. our room, a couple of times to talk or grab a bite, and before we knew it it was time to leave for karate class. 

The 9 bus this time! It's a fast ride but only comes every fifteen minutes or so, so we had to leave early with Uno cards, snacks, and water bottles in tow. Lincoln looks so cute in his gi, and a neighbor we've never met said "Good luck, Mr. Judo-kan" in English as we walked by. Then as we got off the bus at Bughes, a young girl struck up a conversation in French with me - she loves the U.S., helped me learn to pronounce "Bughes" correctly, and let us know when our stop was coming up. On our walk from the stop to the karate class at Maison des Sports, a woman bringing her own kids to class told me that her daughter overheard us, and she (the little daughter) loves America as well. The woman is from Tanzania and lived in the U.K. for a long time, so her English and French were perfect. 

I was so engrossed in conversation that I didn't notice Lincoln watching his feet as he walked directly into a wall-mounted mailbox. WHACK. He smacked his head hard, poor kid! He was ok so I made him go to class anyway, but he was benched for most of it. When he was done, he told me "It's ok. I needed to be there to watch and learn, even if I couldn't do the class." So mature. 

Meanwhile, since parents are strictly forbidden from watching the classes, Sylvia and I had an hour to kill. We busted out our Uno cards on a little table in the lobby and soon collected three more kids who were bored and waiting for parents or siblings. 

This is the part that's all about learning a new language. The most common advice I've gotten from my few French teachers has been "listen to as much French as you can." Whether it's TV, radio, podcasts, or actual in-person conversations, the more French I'm exposed to and/or using, the easier the learning will be. So Sylvia and I spent a good 45 minutes speaking in French to kids around 5 years old, naming colors for Uno when someone played a wildcard, asking whose turn it was, and celebrating whoever had won the last round. It was a special, unique moment in what can be a boring and tedious part of the week, waiting for Lincoln's class to end. 

We missed the 5:07 bus home and had to wait for the 5:22, so at the stop I once again struck up a conversation, this time with an older woman who is originally from Portugal and sympathized with my French struggles! The reputation France has for being unfriendly to Americans is, in my experience, 100% undeserved. People regularly go out of their way to speak to me, help us find our way, aid me in improving my terrible French. 

The kids and I walked home from the bus stop and had a delicious dinner from the crock pot - which they both refused to eat. Le sigh. Josh and I loved it, even with duck sausage and zucchini instead of pork and chard.

The little, boring, everyday days of this life are the ones I don't want to forget as time goes by. Irises and Pokemon cards, sniffly noses and a hundred small kindnesses. That's what I want to remember from this time of our lives.