Novembre (noh-vehm-bruh: November) has officially arrived in la vallée de l'Isère (lah vall-eh deh l-eezehr: The Isère Valley). How do I know? Because I've been trudging through rainy sludge in ballet flats for the past week, spending entire afternoons in bed willing summer to make a comeback, and have decided to make coffee, hot chocolate, and soup my staple diet for the rest of the year. Sure, I might die malnourished, but at least I’ll be warm in the process.
I'm sure I'll feel giddy about the winter as soon as I have a pair of decent boots and more than one sweater in my name, but in the meantime I reserve the right to complain. I mean, it's wrong to expect a coastal Californian girl to be able to prepare herself mentally for the biting cold...isn't it?
Anyway, this past freezing, rainy Thursday, after sitting through lesson planning for two hours at the collège (kol-ehj: junior high) where I start teaching next week, I was in middle of town waiting for l'autocar (l-aught-oh-kar: the bus) which was, per its typical schedule, a fashionable 20 minutes late. Noticing my hands turn a burning shade of frostbitten reddish-blue I've never seen before (I haven't taken the plunge yet into investing in even the cheapest pair of gloves: I'm a masochist at heart), I made the executive decision to flag down the first autocar I saw, even if it wasn't headed in my direction, and beg for a ride home. What can I say? I guess I have a thing for pissing-off bus drivers.
Well, as it turns out the driver I flagged down, a Monsieur Ruedouane from Algeria, not only took pity on me but let me ride for free, informing me that I had a free ride home with him for the rest of the year! While taking me back to La Côte, Ruedouane told me about how much fun he’s had getting to know the teaching assistants throughout years, and that anytime he has a layover between bus schedules he'd love to grab coffee and discuss American-Arab relations. And no, I'm not talking sexual relations. Ruedouane is simply an outgoing, curious, and harmless middle-aged Frenchman who has temporarily renewed my faith in the French Republic. Now, not only do I have a free commute to the junior high school, but free French lessons and coffee to boot! Génial (jeen-ee-al: brilliant)!
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That's really cool about meeting Ruedouane! Seems like the kind of chance experience you can only have when you're living in a place for a while rather than just passing through. You'll have to post how his name should be pronounced though (I'm guessing ru-DAN or ru-do-WANE?). I guess I know what to get you for Christmas now: a sweater or some gloves!
ReplyDeleteLovely post, Leith! Grenoble isn't known for its gloves for nothing. Very cool, but how did you know how to spell it? Ruedouane hand you a business card for bus drivers? It sounds like a miniature story of Ruedouane sweeping you off your feet, and lifting you to rescue. Poor Leith being so cold! He sounds much, much nicer than the bus driver you mentioned in the other post. I would pick you up and give you free rides if I was there, if you had any doubt!
ReplyDeleteI'm with Cai on this one! You need sweaters and gloves, and to post how to pronounce those weird French names! ;D
ReplyDeleteLove you lots Leith and keep you in my prayers. I hope that things start looking up, though honestly, I would kill to be able to spend a few cold afternoons wrapped up in bed...with a good book of course and some yummy tea or hot cocoa! :D Love you lots!
Finally got a hat and gloves a few days ago, just in time for the November heat wave. But I'm glad I did. I've discovered hats are a ownderful way to hide my just-slept-in hair. But haven't seen Ruedouane since :-(
ReplyDeleteOh, and it's pronounced: roo-doo-ann