African Journeys

This last weekend we had a visitor stay with us (that’s you Tim), and we were able to travel around a little. See some of Italy, a little more of France. But besides having a great weekend, I noticed  two other things. One, it felt like coming home when we returned to our apartment at the end of our day trips. And secondly, we no longer notice things that seem strange or new to outsiders. Walking down the street, it was Tim who pointed out the snow-capped mountains surrounding our town. And though there is a little sadness at not continually experiencing the excitement and wonder of a newcomer, it is comforting to feel at home. When we returned at the end of the day, we knew where we were headed. We felt comfortable and at peace.

We know what it feels like to live out of a suitcase and to pack up our stuff and move to a new location and I’ll be honest, it is nice to have a place we call home. So even though I no longer stare at the mountains as I walk to school (don’t worry, I still look at them), I think I can accept that for a place to call home.

…is hard to do!

This one of the many lessons we’re learning currently. As a couple who has moved a lot since getting married, not to mention the recent trek overseas, we are experiencing, yet again, what it’s like to try to “make new friends and keep the old”. Maintaining relationships is hard when you’re so far away.

Skype is great, and Facebook a little too consuming, but nothing can replace the good ole’ face-to-face conversation in the same room. And while it’s hard to say goodbye to friends, God has blessed us with new people who are quickly becoming close friends here. But it’s still hard. I had this exact conversation a few days ago with one of those “new friends”. We both are in the same boat. We both have friends back home who know us better than anyone else. But they’re not here right now. They’re not experiencing this with me, the daily life of learning to live in France as a  Christian American. She and I were there, sitting at that table, bonding over something as silly as card-making. But it was good.

Getting to know someone is hard. And believe me, it doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, effort, patience, and selflessness. It’s an investment, one that can yield huge returns.

Jo and Ayla with new friends

Yesterday, Jo went to the store to buy a toy for Ayla to encourage her in her new endeavor of walking. Upon arriving at the store, she saw the options were limited, but found a two-wheeled grocery bag thing, somewhat resembling a golf bag cart. (These are the norm in France since every0ne uses them to carry their groceries as they walk home from the store) Along with the grocery cart there were some plastic foods. Now up until now, this is very much like something you would find in the states. A little grocery cart (albeit in a different form) with plastic foods. And for the most part the foods are what would be included with a similar stateside purchase. An apple, a pear, a lemon, an artichoke…wait a second, an artichoke?

It is not a big difference, but it is one more reminder that even the toys exhibit some cultural differences. I think in place of an artichoke you might find quite a few other foods, like a banana, a carrot, a frozen pizza maybe. The other French staple that was in there was something that no sane French person would forget, a baguette. I am actually a little surprised there wasn’t a wheel of Brie.

I (Jo) have this thought often as I sit in class and try to navigate French through my American English lens. It’s usually because I’m lost or too tired to follow the Australian sitting next to me speaking French in his thick accent, and I think how odd it is that we all speak different languages. Wouldn’t it all be easier, and by ‘all’ I mean all of life and every aspect of it, if we all spoke the same language. There would be no need for that little red book I have a love/hate relationship with, my French-English dictionary. I wouldn’t need to pause every so often in frustration when speaking to someone about my eye problems, thinking “What is the word for retina?” Shoot, there wouldn’t be any need at all for my job, for that matter. We wouldn’t need to be learning French so we can move to Africa so we can communicate with them sufficiently enough to learn their native language so we can translate the Bible into that native language. I’d be unemployed!

And though I do not claim to know God’s reasons for doing… well… anything, I think that all these languages show God’s creativity. I mean, who else could have come up with all of these languages except an almighty being? Those guys who made up the languages for Lord of the Rings and Star Wars and any other stories with fake languages should even be impressed. “Oh, you made up a language for the Elves? Big deal. My God made up THOUSANDS of languages. And He created everything else that ever was or will be! Booyah!”

Anyway, the thing in class that caught my attention and made me even start thinking about how weird languages are in the first place was a conversation about how to describe being full of oneself. In English, we say “He’s getting a big head!” In french, they say “He’s getting swollen ankles!” And my teacher spoke about it like, “Duh, swollen ankles! So he can’t pull his boots on! It makes total sense!” as if it were completely normal to talk about one’s ankles when saying that that person if conceited. Because an over-sized head makes much more sense, right?

I have recently been asked what our days look like here in France. And it is usually the case that when one person asks, there are others who have the same questions. So here you go for all who may be wondering.

I (Nathan) am in French language class 5 days/week, 4 hours a day, either in the morning or afternoon. Jo is in language class 1 day/week (because she is already so awesome at French) and is going to be getting a private tutor to supplement her language ability. She also meets with a mom’s group from church once a week and spends time with a French woman from church as well.

Outside of the language learning aspect, we have our daily routine. We cook almost all our meals (saves money, but leaves plenty of dishes) and we have to walk everywhere (no car). This makes going to the grocery store quite an event. We walk about a mile each way and, depending on the size of the grocery list, it can be good excercise coming back.

There is not much else to tell. There are several Bible translation families doing language learning here who have become good friends. It is just another way God has provided for us during our time here.