When I think back to living in France, it usually is with that rosy nostalgia-induced view that perhaps embellishes a little over time, but life was not always the scintillating cultural magic that it appears to be in the photographs . . . a few days ago I came across the following chat-conversation between another student studying abroad and myself, saved under the title of France: Turning me into a Diablesse Francaise Sans Coeur. It reminded me that there is also a decent amount of cultural frustration inherent to country-changing!
Cakey: a THREE YEAR OLD corrected me today
Cakey: bratty kids
Cakey: and afterwards he was like “Tu as compris? Tu as compris?”
Cakey: seriously. Three year old jerks
KM: oh man Abby!
KM: you should have punted him
Cakey: I wish I had thought to
Cakey: I’m laughing so hard right now . . . at the thought of punting Hector
KM: good, haha
Cakey: I’m laughing about violence towards children . . . what is France DOING to me!?
KM: killing you . . .
KM: turning us into evil heartless French girls
Cakey: let’s get tattoos that say Heartless Evil French Girl
KM: haha, indeed
KM:or a pineapple with an anti sign over it
KM: (I hope that makes sense to you, if not, ask)
Cakey: I don’t get it . . . anti-pineapple?
KM: pineapples are the international sign of welcome
KM: I’m a freak