16 years ago...

Last Friday, I went to visit Paule Schneersohn, the woman who ran the study abroad program I did during my junior year in college. It was kind of strange coming back here after so long but it was comforting as well. I remembered la rue de chevreuse and Reid Hall and couldn't wait to see them and Paule again.




I had a great time when I was in Paris before. It was the first time I voted and the only time I cast a winning vote for a presidential candidate. I lived with a host family and rented an apartment. I lived in the 6th arrondissement which was very upscale and in the 11th which wasn't then but seems to be more so now.

In any case, I remember it fondly. What I didn't know then and do know now is that it is really hard to find a place to live, enroll in courses and generally get around in France. And 16 years ago my French was so bad that when Paule met me at the airport and asked me "Comment est votre francais?" I didn't even come close to understanding it. Using every bit of my French skills, I said "repetez, s'il vous plait" which she did several times. I dipped deep into my reservoir for phrases as sophisticated as "Je ne comprends pas, Madame" and "Comment?" but still I didn't get. Finally, without a hint of exasperation she asked the question in English "How is your French?". After an awkward pause, I responded "I guess you know the answer to that question."

Now, even with vastly improved but still not great French, I still have all kinds of problems and find everything just slightly more difficult here. I wish I could have appreciated all that she did for me when she was doing it. I am sure that I will appreciate something about this trip later in life that I don't appreciate now.

Paule is doing well. She seems to be the same warm and generous person I remember. Her kids, Antoine and Noemie, who I babysat 16 years ago, have grown up. Antoine is married and has a baby of his own. Antoine was great and helped me out with his sister, Noemie. Like many 8 year olds, Noemie gave me all kinds of trouble. But she was also sweet and patient with my bad French and more importantly, introduced me to "La Vache qui rit"(laughing cow cheese), which I thought was French and was astonished to see in my local Edwardsvillian grocery store when I returned to America.