So, PART 2--the things I have not really enjoyed getting accustomed to. It was with a grateful heart that I posted my last post; and, believe me, I am beyond grateful for the blessing of being here. And this post, by no means, contradicts any of that. It's just that sometimes I need to vent my frustration--mostly at not being able to speak or understand French. I take full responsibility for that, of course. And I understand more French every day--I wish I could say that about my speaking ability.
So, here we go.
One of the hardest things for me is shopping and cooking. I mean, look at this:
Even with limited French, anyone can see that the package on the left translates to "Cream Fresh" or fresh cream. The package on the right is clearly "Powdered Sugar." Right? WRONG! The Creme Fraiche is actually sour cream and the powdered sugar is good old regular granulated sugar. Who would know? Just when something looks like it makes sense, it doesn't.
So, I've obviously bought the opposite products than I was hoping for more than I care to admit. I've also cleaned the toilet with oven cleaner (it did quite a nice job, actually) and made other similar faux pas. Take rice for instance. I've cooked rice all my life with great success. Here there was a package of rice in the cupboard and it said that the rice cooks in 10 minutes. I've never used converted rice before, but figured that's what I had here. So I looked on the back of the package to look for readable (for me) clues that would tell me how much water to use for the rice. While 1 liter of water seemed like a lot for a little package of rice, I confirmed with Doug that it did, indeed, say to use 1 liter of water. So I did. An hour later, the water was absorbed and I had the biggest pan of thick white paste that would have made a great advertisement for Elmer's Glue. What a mess. I dug the package out of the garbage can and showed it to Doug to prove that I had "read" it correctly. The joke was again on me--I really was supposed to use 1 liter of water but that was just to bring to a boil before dropping the whole little brown bag (bag and all) into the boiling water, cooking for ten minutes, removing the bag, cutting it open and pouring out perfectly cooked rice. Again, who knew?
Sometimes I think I just need to go to an xylem--at least there we can solve water. What the heck? I apparently don't even understand English any more.
A few other things that I really am miraculously getting accustomed to (and actually enjoying the process) are these:
- The hot and cold water faucets are on opposite sides than I'm used to--usually. If there is a pattern on when the hot is on the left and the cold on the right, I can't figure it out. To add to the guessing game, one turns on by twisting away from you and the other by twisting toward you. It's always a guess--no consistency for the hot turning one way and the cold the other. Seems so inconvenient, wasteful, and time consuming to me. I'll let you know if I find a pattern--I'm sure you'll sleep better knowing, and I know I will.
- Restaurants don't open for dinner until 7:00 p.m. Being "senior citizens," we would really like to have our supper in the early evening, please. Also, the French like to dine for a couple of hours so the waiters, waitresses, and cooks, really take their time. Sometimes we've waited 30 minutes to receive our check after asking for it.
- A great thing about restaurants is that there is no tipping. Nice. A frustrating thing about restaurants is that you don't get ice in your water or butter for your baguette.
- One of the first words I learned in French from Rosetta Stone (pre-mission) was "cheval." It means horse. I'm so grateful I learned that word, even though at the time I thought it silly to learn the word for horse. BUT, as I was looking for meat at the grocery store, I was glad to realize that the section of meat I was in was "cheval." That was a close call--getting granulated sugar when I wanted powdered is far better than getting horse meat when I wanted beef.
- Speaking of grocery shopping, we love going to the outdoor markets for fruits and vegetables. But what really is frustrating to me is that you aren't allowed to touch it! The vendors pick out your items for you. They do a good job, I have to admit, but I'd just like to give that mango or peach a little soft touch test myself, if you know what I mean.
- French manicures: they don't exist in France. In fact, I have yet to see a French woman here with her fingernails even painted. Just doesn't happen. By the way, I've never seen a French braid either.
- It's illegal to do your laundry before 8 a.m. or after 10 p.m. as you "might disturb the neighbors." The washing machine takes 3 hours for one small load and the dryer almost an hour--so with working from 8 or so until 7, 8 or 9 or so, and also obeying the mission rule to never leave your apartment with the washer or dryer running, what are we to do?
- Going even 1 km per hour over the speed limit can be very expensive--we luckily haven't personally been picked up on the invisible radar, but many, many of our missionaries have. Seriously, there's no 7-10 mph grace given to anyone here.
So really, just a few minor inconveniences that sometimes on especially stressful days seem bigger than they are. Deep breath, let it out slowly. After all, when in France...
And now that I've vented and with my frustrations waning, that's exactly what I am doing my best to do.
Legend is that King Francis I of France was with him when he died in this bed. His last words were reported to have been: 
