MOVING INTO THE “QUIET VILLAGE”

Let’s face it— moving sucks. You gather your things, pack the car (multiple times obviously because you refuse to make more than one trip), carry everything from the car into the apartment (which somehow is always up flights of stairs or at the end of a very, very long hallway), unpack, and make approximately 3 trillion trips to and from different stores to fill in the gaps that you inevitably forgot. Sound about right? So you can imagine why I was already not looking forward to moving into a new apartment… let alone in a foreign country. 

The day started with my mom driving two and half hours through the French countryside (well it actually started with driving a rental car through the center of Paris, but that’s another story). In between singing the most appropriate music choice I could think of (The Beauty and the Beast soundtrack—obvi), I couldn’t help but feel increasingly nervous the closer we got to my new home in the “Little town. It’s quiet village, where every day’s like the one before.”

We pulled into town and found our way to the high school. The high school has a boarding school option for the kids that live too far away to commute every day, and they offer the same for the teachers. We walked into the administration building and were greeted by a nice French man who brought us up to the place. The best way to describe what I walked into… hmmm… Bleak? Desolate? Prison-like? Take your pick. The storm shutters were closed on every window, shielding any resemblance of light from the room. To my left there was a large room with a desk, coffee table, and two lonely chairs plopped on a plastic floor facing a TV from the early 2000s. The bedroom had a bed frame with a sad-looking mattress (if it could even qualify as that), and there was a spare bedroom with nothing in it. The kitchen came with a mini fridge, old toaster oven, a microwave, and a small kitchen table, but not a single plate, utensil, pot, or pan. I looked around, quietly, and nodded my head to whatever French that guy was spewing off at the time thinking to myself oh god, what have I gotten myself into???

Maybe I sound like a bit of a brat right now. But you gotta think, I’m in small town in a foreign country and my mom leaves with her car in a day and a half. 

I take a breath. 

I walk around and start to open the windows. And one by one, I feel more and more hope. The light fills every corner of every room, and it suddenly doesn’t seem so bad. My mom goes into total interior decorator mode, and we start rearranging the furniture. We make a game-plan. We take on these stores with a mission… we make it happen. In that first day we get everything we can think of, from a fresh mattress to a couch. We were told we could come back the next day to rent a truck at the store and take them home with us. We go to sleep at our adorable bed and breakfast that night feeling good.

The next day we continue to make progress…. until the time comes to pick up the couch and mattress… Little did we know that the truck we were renting? Yeah… it was manual, not automatic. My mom hadn’t driven manual since high school, and we couldn’t even get the thing out of the parking spot. OOPS. We made it this far, what now???

By some grace of god a girl we had befriended in line said that the man she was with could drive it for us if we paid him. So we got in the truck and we were on our way. This man did not speak a word of English, and he told us that only about 3 in 10 people speak (minimal) English in this town. And after being here for a few weeks, he is totally right. But what he also exemplified in his actions was just how nice these people are here. When he got the truck to the apartment, he didn’t just sit in the driver’s seat and wait, he helped us carry everything up the stairs and into the apartment. He even gave me his number and told him to call if I ever need anything. And every person I have come across has been this willing to help me too. From one of my students who lent me a bike (and replaced the tire when it went flat), to the administrative woman at the desk who helps me with all of my paperwork, to the students who invite me to eat with them at the canteen every night, the people are just so sweet. 

Okay— back to the apartment. I was really hesitant as we bought some things, knowing that I’d only be here less than a year. My mom kept repeating, “Yeah but you need to be comfortable here, or you’ll hate it.” And she was 100% right. Yeah, it may have cost a little extra to get the cute pink and gray table runner or the turquoise furry pillow for my couch, but it’s all worth it because it makes me happy. And at the end of a long day, I don’t feel like I’m walking into just another apartment… I feel like I’m walking into my home.

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