Each year Tech sends dozens of students abroad. This past January, I was one of them. Everyone has their own reasons to go abroad; some do it to fulfill a requirement, others to spend a summer hanging out with their friends, but not me.
I was a freshman engineer who made a small change: Now I study English and have dreams of going to culinary school in Paris. However, there was one small problem with my plan: As you may know, they speak French in France. Being Cuban, I studied Spanish but had never spoken French a day in my life.
So like any logical person, I decided to spend a semester in France to learn the language.
Montpellier, France. Never heard of Montpellier? I hadn’t either. I took this as a good sign, a sign that the number of English speakers there would be limited. My hunch proved to be quite true.
On January 15, 2010, I arrived in Montpellier. I spoke no French, and didn’t know a soul. This was going to be fun.
A few days later I was settled into my university dorm room. It felt like a castle compared to the miniature rooms of Cochrane Hall. I had my own bathroom, a kitchen, and best of all, plenty of space all to myself. Even if nothing else went right for the next six months, the room would do just fine.
Quickly I noticed that things are different in France. The notebook paper has too many lines on it, everyone wears black, everyone speaks French, and the food can be amazing and strange at the same time.
It’s that strange and amazing food that led to one of my first run-ins in France.
Monoprix is a French grocery store. And while it may not be the worst place to do your shopping, it is certainly not the best. However, it is convenient.
So on occasion, when my stomach called, I paid a visit to Monoprix. And each time I went I was greeted the same way: smell. And it was bad. Really bad.
And after several visits I finally determined the cause of the smell.
Eggs.
I absolutely love them. Really, I love eggs. For breakfast, on sandwiches, in cakes, for dinner, you name it. I love eggs. But my love affair with them came to a screeching halt when I first arrived in France.
There, sitting on the Monoprix’s floor, were piles and piles of eggs.
Eggs that were not in a refrigerator! The idea was a bit too disgusting for me.
My initial confusion was followed by rationalization. Eggs come from chickens, not refrigerators. Eggs on the floor is… normal. I have heard about un-refrigerated eggs before.
But I still couldn’t do it.
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This is what English majors are good for: a pointless narrative in an otherwise well-written newspaper.
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I disagree. This is not a pointless narrative; this is a story of cultural immersion and learning. Well done, Brittany.
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I agree that the piece was on value in allowing us to better understand cultural differences. My lady and I have just returned from our first visit to Montpellier and found it delighful. And we too wondered about the odor at the grocery store. Thanks for sharing. We hope that you will share other insight, since anticipate a return visit.
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This was fun and charming!
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Although I've heard this story from Brittany before both on her blog & over video chat, it never gets old! Eloquent & charming, Britt. This nearly justifies your change of career path from the chemical engineer you once dreamed of becoming. Just joking, great job. I'm proud! :)
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