What is SDF? This is the much more politically correct term for the homeless that the French use; sans domicile fixe (without a fixed... domicile?). Anyway, this term is important to understand as I can pretty much categorize myself as an SDF. Yes, yes, I live in Marvejols, but really though, I have no fixed residence. This includes my life in the United States; I live in New Hampshire, but really more in Connecticut, I went to school in New York, I lived in Boston for a while, oh and there was that time I lived in France... sans domicile fixe. Why does this relate to me now? On verra...
On Thursday, I was officially going crazy in Marvejols. I couldn't take one more awkward silent meal with the students and/or teachers and I needed straight up human contact. I took the train down to Montpellier that night so I could enjoy the whole Friday in Montpellier. My friend Lisa was nice (and amazing) enough to let me sleep on her floor, HOMELESS. On Friday we at the most delicious kebabs I have ever had and drank amazing mint tea. After we wandered the markets and did all sorts of taste testing: olives, goat cheese, honey and, oh yes, wine. We were able to try a 60 euro bottle for free... then we went to about 4 other tents. I was in heaven. That night a group of us went to Susanna's apartment for an authentic Austrian dinner, again, amazing.
The next morning I woke up early to head off to Aix-en-Provence, where I studied about two years ago. I was so happy to return! I stayed in a hostel just outside of town in what might be considered the "ghetto" area, but the hostel itself was in a park. I then spent the day going to my favorite old cafes, fountains, etc. I met up with a friend from Hobart who is doing a semester in Aix and sat in my favorite Irish pub for a couple hours. Later that night, I had dinner with my host mom and it was SO great to see her. She really was the best host mom! We ate dinner with my friends she had introduced me to from Mauritius and Greece, always so international.
Well, the real excitement happened later, which really explains the title of this entry. After grabbing a drink with my Hobart friend, I headed back to my hostel and arrived there around 1:15 am. Not terribly late, I thought. I walk up to the door of the hostel and it is locked. Curious, I thought. I went to the reception, locked. I went to every single door. Locked. Every window? Locked. Meanwhile it's probably 40 degrees out and at this point 2:30am. I banged on every door to no avail. As I was about to resign myself to either breaking into a car for the night or sleeping under a tree, I found one door open. This door, however, did not lead to the hostel but to an isolated conference room. There, I slept. I put my back again the heater, my scarf around my legs, my purse as my pillow and I "slept" on the tile floor. HOMELESS. I basically was a squatter. At 7am, when reception opened, I met the lady working at the door with a simple question that should have been made very clear when I checked in: "Um excuse me, is there are curfew at this hostel?" She looked at me in shock and said something to the effect of "Putain, did nobody tell you???? How long have you been waiting outside?" Seven hours lady, seven. So I trudged up to my run, crashed on my bunkbed until 10am, when I was forced to check out. Note: never. ever. stay at this hostel.
The next day I ended up taking an earlier train than expected because I was so exhausted. Saying goodbye to Aix for now, I dragged myself to the train station and simply walked onto a train to Marseille without a ticket. I had one for later so I planned on playing the dumb American. In Marseille, I found a train to Montpellier and sat on the floor because there were no more seats and I didn't have a real ticket. HOMELESS. Arriving in Montpellier, again, Lisa let me stay at her place. Instead of showering and composing myself, we went out and found an Irish pub that played AMERICAN football. Well, Giants vs the Saints, don't know if that really counts as real football... Also at this pub we met a group of 15 Englishmen who may have been the rowdiest group of guys I have ever met. Very fun and nice; we even did a little rugby scrum in the streets.
Monday, back to Marvejols. I'm beginning to get tired of living in Lozere, there is little to do and practically no one my age. The teachers are all really nice and welcoming, but after a while I don't feel like answer the questions: "How do you like Marvejols? Have you explored the region much?" Like... no... Fortunately, a teacher at the high school down the road came to my school last week to give me contact info for a Spanish guy that was working at the school that was looking for human contact... like me! I met him for coffee today and we talked for about two hours about how sick we are of Lozere. He even almost left last week because he was so bored! But now we have eachother. His English is excellent and he's going to teach me Spanish. Moral of the story: I have a friend!
Starting on Thursday, I have two weeks of vacation. You know, after working less than three weeks, I'm glad the French government realizes we need a break. Where I'm going for vacation... still no idea.
On Thursday, I was officially going crazy in Marvejols. I couldn't take one more awkward silent meal with the students and/or teachers and I needed straight up human contact. I took the train down to Montpellier that night so I could enjoy the whole Friday in Montpellier. My friend Lisa was nice (and amazing) enough to let me sleep on her floor, HOMELESS. On Friday we at the most delicious kebabs I have ever had and drank amazing mint tea. After we wandered the markets and did all sorts of taste testing: olives, goat cheese, honey and, oh yes, wine. We were able to try a 60 euro bottle for free... then we went to about 4 other tents. I was in heaven. That night a group of us went to Susanna's apartment for an authentic Austrian dinner, again, amazing.The next morning I woke up early to head off to Aix-en-Provence, where I studied about two years ago. I was so happy to return! I stayed in a hostel just outside of town in what might be considered the "ghetto" area, but the hostel itself was in a park. I then spent the day going to my favorite old cafes, fountains, etc. I met up with a friend from Hobart who is doing a semester in Aix and sat in my favorite Irish pub for a couple hours. Later that night, I had dinner with my host mom and it was SO great to see her. She really was the best host mom! We ate dinner with my friends she had introduced me to from Mauritius and Greece, always so international.
Well, the real excitement happened later, which really explains the title of this entry. After grabbing a drink with my Hobart friend, I headed back to my hostel and arrived there around 1:15 am. Not terribly late, I thought. I walk up to the door of the hostel and it is locked. Curious, I thought. I went to the reception, locked. I went to every single door. Locked. Every window? Locked. Meanwhile it's probably 40 degrees out and at this point 2:30am. I banged on every door to no avail. As I was about to resign myself to either breaking into a car for the night or sleeping under a tree, I found one door open. This door, however, did not lead to the hostel but to an isolated conference room. There, I slept. I put my back again the heater, my scarf around my legs, my purse as my pillow and I "slept" on the tile floor. HOMELESS. I basically was a squatter. At 7am, when reception opened, I met the lady working at the door with a simple question that should have been made very clear when I checked in: "Um excuse me, is there are curfew at this hostel?" She looked at me in shock and said something to the effect of "Putain, did nobody tell you???? How long have you been waiting outside?" Seven hours lady, seven. So I trudged up to my run, crashed on my bunkbed until 10am, when I was forced to check out. Note: never. ever. stay at this hostel.
The next day I ended up taking an earlier train than expected because I was so exhausted. Saying goodbye to Aix for now, I dragged myself to the train station and simply walked onto a train to Marseille without a ticket. I had one for later so I planned on playing the dumb American. In Marseille, I found a train to Montpellier and sat on the floor because there were no more seats and I didn't have a real ticket. HOMELESS. Arriving in Montpellier, again, Lisa let me stay at her place. Instead of showering and composing myself, we went out and found an Irish pub that played AMERICAN football. Well, Giants vs the Saints, don't know if that really counts as real football... Also at this pub we met a group of 15 Englishmen who may have been the rowdiest group of guys I have ever met. Very fun and nice; we even did a little rugby scrum in the streets.
Monday, back to Marvejols. I'm beginning to get tired of living in Lozere, there is little to do and practically no one my age. The teachers are all really nice and welcoming, but after a while I don't feel like answer the questions: "How do you like Marvejols? Have you explored the region much?" Like... no... Fortunately, a teacher at the high school down the road came to my school last week to give me contact info for a Spanish guy that was working at the school that was looking for human contact... like me! I met him for coffee today and we talked for about two hours about how sick we are of Lozere. He even almost left last week because he was so bored! But now we have eachother. His English is excellent and he's going to teach me Spanish. Moral of the story: I have a friend!
Starting on Thursday, I have two weeks of vacation. You know, after working less than three weeks, I'm glad the French government realizes we need a break. Where I'm going for vacation... still no idea.
First of all, I'm nearly peeing my pants from laughing so hard. You, my dear sister, have become like the wolves. Literally. Wandering the countryside like a vagabond, with no 'pack' to run with.
ReplyDeleteSDF or not, you are still my sister, and you always have a home with me :). PEACE OUT.
You still have a home, ma petite, and we love you. Enjoy leisurely lunch breaks, because in the real world, you will be lucky to get 20 minutes. I have never had a job with more than a 30 minute lunch break total. I hate stuffing down lunch. Love you, Mom
ReplyDelete