Tonight, I met up with a dear French friend named Aurore. We sat ourselves at a cafe on the Place Capitol in the evening sunlight and gave our orders to the waiter. Then we dove into conversation.
I hadn't seen Aurore for probably over a month and had missed her a lot. She wanted to hear about Easter. I wanted to hear about her past and upcoming travels (she's been SO many places!). Our ice cream sundaes disappeared somehow; our beverages also. Before we knew it, an hour had gone by and we decided to move our meeting to her apartment.
When we got to her apartment, the first thought that sprinted into my head was, "WE ARE THE SAME PERSON" !!! Albeit, in two different bodies, living two different lives, residing in two different countries of course. As I looked around Aurore's apartment I realized that she and I had such similar taste. Rich fabrics in purples and oranges, candles, souvenirs from her travels, books and more books, were all arranged beautifully around the space. Her furniture was low and comfortable. There were great mismatched tables holding things from the computer, to the TV, to books. Even the arrangement of the furniture and the kitchen utensils was just as I would have arranged them had I moved in. Aside from just a couple of souvenirs that she had displayed, the space was me all over. She even had the pillows to match the bedspread that I had all throughout college!!!
Aurore turned on some Spanish music and helped me make fresh guacamole. After she served up some apple juice for both of us and arranged our Mexican snack on her gorgeous wood in-lay coffee table, we sat down (or rather, sunk into) her comfy furniture. While we ate our guacamole and tortilla chips, we talked about the difficulties of pronunciation in both languages and our favorite words in each other’s native tongue. We talked of education, religion, and racism. We talked about dance. I talked about cheerleading. We traded boyfriend anecdotes. The conversation flowed organically till long past the sun went down. For the second night in a row, I was treated to someone else’s cooking; Aurore prepared a simple pasta and hamburger meal with Provençal herbs. As she took our dirty dishes into the kitchen, I stole a glance at her cell, noting that it was already 10:30. Where had the past four and a half hours gone? Had she and I really been talking almost continuously since we met for the café at 6?
Following these thoughts was the feeling of disappointment. I didn’t want the night to end. I felt so at home in her apartment. I almost felt like I was back in America just hanging out with one of my closest friends – except that I obviously don’t speak French with my friends like I do with Aurore– I was so at ease and happy. The hours had slipped by while our friendship and understanding of one another’s culture had grown. Unfortunately, I knew that I had better go before the metro closed; besides, Aurore was leaving the next morning on a week-long trip and hadn’t packed. Around 11 we headed for the metro station, traded hugs and cheek kisses and more hugs, wished each other well for the upcoming week and weekend, and then parted ways. As I rode the escalator down into the metro, I thought to myself that I might just be as sad leaving France this year as I was when I left after study abroad my junior year. There may not be the same desire to stay and live the ‘French life’ as there was junior year, but there was the same feeling that I was leaving ones I loved behind; and this time that feeling was magnified. What an amazing night it was indeed.
~Tam in Toulouse
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