Culture shock

Peur du jour- 1 fevrier 2012: Moving on

J'ai passé une matinée épouvantable. 

 Yesterday a delightful cold front came in. It brought rain, gray skies, and below freezing temperatures (it actually snowed yesterday). It's not that I don't like the cold (sometimes I really miss my midwestern winters when I'm in NC), it's just that I am not terribly prepared for it. I don't have a winter coat here because I didn't think it would be worth the space to bring it. None of the shoes that I would care to wear in public (not going to wear my slippers or my running shoes around France.. super tacky) are loose enough to permit me to wear thick socks. I left my heavy scarf, hat, and TOASTY mittens back  home.

So okay, I'm cold when I'm in transit. Not a big deal. What is a bigger deal is that I'm cold inside too. My winter woes at home have been solved due to the slightly-embarassing-but-very-toasty-so-I-don't-really-care snuggy that my mom sent me (the best part of my day is when I wrap myself up in it like a burrito before I snuggle into bed). Today I learned that French classrooms can be just as freezing as French homes. Trying to pay attention in class is really hard when your toes are going/have gone numb.

Paying attention in class is also really hard when the people behind you won't stop whispering about the cross word they are doing, rustling through some sort of plastic bag, and laughing at the conversation they are having. This professor is already hard enough to follow: he doesn't talk slowly enough to allow for note taking, he doesn't write anything on the board, and he frequently spirals into anecdotal tangents which may or may not be important (not to mention it's in French...). The last thing I need is noise from the peanut gallery.

What's more frustrating is that this is part of the culture here. I'm not even sure if it's considered disrespectful. The professor doesn't seem to care and doesn't say anything about it (not even a dirty look!) during the two hour class period (yeah, two hours). This means that I can't say anything about it. It is honestly one of the most frustrating things I have had to deal in the 14.5 years I've been in school.

So I leave class and I'm kind of ticked off. And it's still cold and the tram is PACKED and I'm tired of smelling body odor and I'm more sick of being harangued in the street by people demanding that I give them money. When I get home, I still can't feel my toes so instead of going for a run, I just sit in my room with my feet (wrapped in three pairs of socks) on the luke-warm radiator feeling sorry for myself. I was in the hole.

And I clawed my way out. I got off my butt and braved the cold to go for a run. Exercise always makes me feel better (endorphins, music, feeling of accomplishment, warmth!). Each stride was me pulling away from my bad morning and running towards the hope that this class has to get better.

I've decided that culture shock is just like a big magnifying glass on my life. My highs are really high and my lows are pretty low.  I've tried be fairly discrete about them and focus on the highs thus far, but the lows are just as big a part of me discovering the culture here. The thing I've resolved to do is to move on and keep pushing forward. There is something that God wants me to learn from my low points, my frustrating mornings, and my bouts of homesickness. Nothing under His control is out of control.