I Wish The Eurostar Stopped In Provence Instead

And now, I would like to present you all with a teensy weensy commentary that has been gnawing at my mind since I arrived. It revolves around the tragic tale of a poor Canadian girl (a.k.a. me) and her experience at the Paris train station; a girl with poorer French language skills that a London-baked baguette, and a kind of naive optimism about "La Ville-Lumiere" that should have been suffocated hours before the train arrived in Paris.

Perhaps I had such optimism because I had been to Paris before. I was only eight at the time, true, but the city left such an impression on me that the memories of riding the elevator in our oversized hotel, circling the Arc De Triomphe, and gaping open-mouthed at the Eiffel Tower have never left me. It is no wonder that I had every hope of disproving the stereotype of Parisians as rude, unhelpful and most importantly, anti-English.

I was in for a very rude awakening right from the word "aller".

At the information booth at the Gare du Nord, only one sour looking gentleman was on duty. He looked as if his wife had just told him that she had never loved him. Hesitantly, I tried to explain in garbled French that I was looking for the Eurostar to Torino and hadn't a clue where to go because I couldn't see any English signs directing me to the proper station. I received no response. Next I tried in very simple English. No response again. I would have knocked on his head and yelled in his ear to ask if anyone was home if there hadn't have been a six inch piece of glass between us, obviously put there just in case I pulled out, you know, a machete or something. However, I came to my senses and decided it would be more worth my while to ask someone else.

Who would have guessed that the same event would occur four more times -- literally?? I was almost at my wits end when I finally found a lady who was willing to lend an ear to my troubles. In the end, thanks to her help, I did find the train but with only a couple of minutes to spare.

I am always bereaved to discover that certain stereotypes have more than grain of truth to them. However, I have been forced to join the masses in saying that Anglophones would be best to stay as far away from Paris as possible, unless their French is passable. And even then, according to some of my French friends, it's a gamble.

Welcome Week's Greatest Gift

When I woke this morning, I was surprised to find my face and pillow wet with tears. After a week of welcoming new international students to the University of X and making many friends, the realization that my experience here will soon become a page in my past has struck surprisingly hard. I will not detail the entire week to you, but I will say what the greatest gift this week has given to me is:

The recognition that the news and popular media provide unfair representations of the people in our world.

"Well, duh!" you might be saying. "Isn't that a fairly common word of caution?" Yes, but think about it. Are we actually capable of coercing our minds into rejecting everything the media tells us about the countries and people of our world, and forming unique impressions about them on our own? I believe the answer is no, not unless we have not been to or met anyone from that area.

I will use Iran and Pakistan as my two personal examples. Before this week began, I will admit that 'terrorism and violence' were the two words that would involuntarily surface to my mind whenever I was presented with the name of either country. And then I met M and A - two lovely university students from the countries in question.

M is a peace loving Iranian with a quiet countenance, an educated mind, and a smile that could melt even the toughest of butter. A is a boisterous and enthusiastic Paki with a passion for life and learning. One minute he will be setting the floor on fire with his Bollywood dancing, the next, he will be throwing himself full force into his work and studies. Everything M and A do is with an open mind and an inherent desire to make other people feel at ease. In addition, though both M and A were fasting for Ramadan, they were able to maintain a positive attitude throughout the long hours of the week. They are possibly two of the nicest individuals I have ever encountered.

Owing to my two new friends, 'terrorism and violence' no longer bubble to the forefront of my mind as pertinent descriptors for Iran and Pakistan. Say the name of either country, and all I will be able to visualize is M's gentle smile and A dancing the night away. Perhaps as a remedy to prejudice, everyone should join a Welcome Week of their own.

Have you ever met an international pal who has changed your impression of their country?

I'll be back with a vengeance!

Dear readers,

I would like to warn you in advance that my posting may be less frequent this upcoming week since I have taken on 50+ hours of intense work as an International Student Welcome Week Worker at a nearby university, and may hardly be able to stand during my periods of respite, let alone get intimate with the keyboard.

However, I have great hopes that this week of conversing mainly with second language learners (and as a second language learner!) will provide an abundance of linguistically relevant tales to tell in the weeks to follow!

Wish me luck and stay tuned! H