Je ne parle pas français. Est-ce qu’il y a quelqu’un ici qui parle anglais?

Translation: I can’t speak French. Does anyone here speak English?

No, seriously, I can’t speak French. Well, okay maybe a little. Here is the complete and comprehensive version of my French vocabulary: Bonjour… s’il vous plaît… merci… oui… je suis désolé… je ne sais pas… je m’appelle Alyson… salut… au revoir. And let me tell you, that’s not really handy when you have an actual French girl living in your house for two weeks.

Marine, Joe, Jerome, and Me.

Marine, Joe, Jerome, and Me.

Yep. I hosted a French student. Her name is Marine and she’s already come and gone. Luckily for me all of the thirty-one French students who came to my school spoke English pretty well. We had to resort to hand gestures a lot or refer to one of the actual Americans who take French as their language class (I take Spanish), but it got done.

Unfortunately for me, I won’t be able to go to France come spring, which is disappointing. Because, I only get to hear about the culture differences from Marine whereas she got to see them first hand. I’ll have to take her word when she says her classes in France are harder and that we have way more free time after school and such.

Hosting Marine was exhausting, but I would do it all over again. We seriously had so much fun… but I didn’t really show her a typical day. I don’t usually go to parties every weekend or do something with friends every day after school. I’m just not cut out for that social of a life. So, that may be part of the reason all the French students say they prefer the US (except for the food, although they did eat plenty while they were here). If they really did experience a typical week as me they may not feel the same way.

I miss them so much, more than I thought I would. I admit I cried… well bawled, really, when they all got onto the bus that took them to JFK. I mean, I was literally sobbing and I couldn’t stop. I want them all to come back so I can live a little crazier, make fun of Jerome’s pronunciation of ‘sweetheart,’ beat up Pierre for calling me a chihuahua, poke at Patrick’s hair, and hug Marine, Marine, Marie, Maria, and everyone else.

I need to hear French accents! Maybe I’ll recruit someone to pretend to be French and have him follow me around instead….


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