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Yesterday, I called my host mother, Muriel, at her home in France. I spent a goodly amount of time fighting with international calling protocols before the phone rang the way I wanted it to.
I only call her once or twice a year, so it's a real treat for us to talk to one another. She sends me postcards every few months, and I send her little gifts and card back.
She and I were talking, and she thanked me for all of my gifts over the year. My mother and I put together a little personalized calendar for her, filled with photos I've taken in France, Switzerland, Monaco, and America. But the present she loved the most was a pair of photos I e-mailed to her, months back.
The last time I was in New Orleans, I found a bistro right on Jackson Square called Bistro Muriel. I yelped and made my sister take shots of it, immediately. Muriel has American pen pals in Louisiana, but when she and I talked in France, she loved hearing about New Orleans. She wants to visit one day and see the Cafe du Monde and the Moonwalk for herself. So to find a bistro practically named after her, in the heart of the Vieux Carrie, was pretty amazing.
She told me that she had the pictures printed out and set up in her house.
I've sent her a lot of stuff, but it was really cool to me that she found that photo as cool as I did.
She also broke decorum and told me, in English, that she loved hearing from her girls every year, and that she was very happy when we called. Muriel has hosted three other girls, that I know of, including the Australian girl that I lived with for a few months, and she makes a point of keeping track of us, sending cards and little gifts. I don't know how typical this is, but I'm glad of it. The French are sometimes thought of as an aloof, haughty bunch, but when they think of you as family, you are going to be family until the day you die. I'm proud to consider Muriel and her clan a part of my family, and it was really kind of awesome to be refereed to as one of 'her girls.'
It was also funny to see my family's strange looks as I wandered around with the phone, babbling in somewhat broken French.
Even if I had issues with the day feeling like Christmas, calling home made things a little more awesome.
I only call her once or twice a year, so it's a real treat for us to talk to one another. She sends me postcards every few months, and I send her little gifts and card back.
She and I were talking, and she thanked me for all of my gifts over the year. My mother and I put together a little personalized calendar for her, filled with photos I've taken in France, Switzerland, Monaco, and America. But the present she loved the most was a pair of photos I e-mailed to her, months back.
The last time I was in New Orleans, I found a bistro right on Jackson Square called Bistro Muriel. I yelped and made my sister take shots of it, immediately. Muriel has American pen pals in Louisiana, but when she and I talked in France, she loved hearing about New Orleans. She wants to visit one day and see the Cafe du Monde and the Moonwalk for herself. So to find a bistro practically named after her, in the heart of the Vieux Carrie, was pretty amazing.
She told me that she had the pictures printed out and set up in her house.
I've sent her a lot of stuff, but it was really cool to me that she found that photo as cool as I did.
She also broke decorum and told me, in English, that she loved hearing from her girls every year, and that she was very happy when we called. Muriel has hosted three other girls, that I know of, including the Australian girl that I lived with for a few months, and she makes a point of keeping track of us, sending cards and little gifts. I don't know how typical this is, but I'm glad of it. The French are sometimes thought of as an aloof, haughty bunch, but when they think of you as family, you are going to be family until the day you die. I'm proud to consider Muriel and her clan a part of my family, and it was really kind of awesome to be refereed to as one of 'her girls.'
It was also funny to see my family's strange looks as I wandered around with the phone, babbling in somewhat broken French.
Even if I had issues with the day feeling like Christmas, calling home made things a little more awesome.
