Scarsdale Students Sojourn in Aix en Provence

"The word is actually pronounced cuh-lide. You said koh-lide"
"Okay, collide."

Within two hours of arriving in Aix-en-Provence, France, my American friends and I had already witnessed the first major difference. It just so happened that the first class we were there to observe was a biology class conducted in English. That day, groups of kids were to present their topics to the class. Immediately after the first presentation finished, the teacher began to directly address the individual who had mispronounced the word "collide." She then made her way down the line of students, correcting every minor slip-up in front of the entire class. We Americans were quite surprised to be witnessing this level of public criticism, a practice one would be hard-pressed to find within the Scarsdale Schools.

Probably the part of the Exchange that we were most nervous about --but also very excited for-- was meeting our hosts' families. While Florie lived at my house in October, she had shown me pictures of her father, mother, brother, sister, and dog. Actually, on second thought, the dog may have been my biggest concern, considering I have no pets at home and generally do not love large dogs. In the end, however, both the family and the dog Curly proved to be amazing and nothing to fear. To my pleasant surprise, Florie's mother Corinne picked up a few Americans and me from the airport even though we had been told that there would be a bus taking us to the school. On the way, a friend of mine in the car, though verging on falling asleep, tried her best to find the words to tell Corinne that Florie looks just like her.

That night, I met both Florie's eighteen-year old sister Pauline and her father Bernard. During my first dinner with my new family the following night, I learned that Bernard could speak a little English. But, whenever he tried to say a word in English, Florie called him out on it, telling him that this was not his Exchange, just like I had to reign my dad in when he tried to speak French to Florie this past fall.

On Friday, I finally met Florie's nineteen-year old brother who attends school in Avignon but returns home every weekend. He provided me with a much-needed dose of "guy-time;" his first night home, we sat on the couch for hours playing FIFA, a soccer video game. During those games, I quickly picked up on many common French words, none of which are taught in school! The following day, while Florie and her sister went shopping in Aix, I ventured around the area with her brother and his friends. There were two main things I mentioned that his friends really latched onto: 1. I could drive starting at 16 and 2. I do not yet know what I want to do when I graduate. In France, the students are required to decide what academic path they would like to continue on when they are only fourteen-years old. Many of the French guys told me they hope to become engineers but that they envy how I have not yet been forced to make any sort of major decision regarding my future.

Thinking back to that first day in Aix, which was an endurance test for all of us, since we had gone straight from the airport to Lycée Paul Cézanne High School, I remember a lot despite my overwhelming fatigue. As we pulled up to the school, we spotted our French friends who were eagerly awaiting our arrival following three months of separation since their stay in New York. After stepping out of various cars, we did the traditional "La Bise" double-cheek kiss with all the French kids, walked passed the groups of students smoking cigarettes in front of the school's entrance, and made our way to our very first French class. Following the somewhat shocking biology class, Florie and I went to her Spanish class where she had a "pop test." The teacher kindly gave the Americans the precious opportunity to take desperately needed naps. Aside from my snoring, which may have distracted a few kids in my area of the class, my first couple of French classes had gone smoothly.

Although our flight to France was delayed from Friday, February 8th to Sunday, February 11th due to the Nor'easter, cutting our trip short two days, there remains no shortage of stories to be told. (Oddly enough, when the French kids came to Scarsdale in October, they were here during Hurricane Sandy, so their perceptions regarding the severity of weather in New York may be slightly skewed.) My first lunch in the school's cafeteria, I sat with Florie and a group of both French and American students. When the hour-long lunch period had almost ended, the kids at my table began to head over to where the trays get collected. I was the last one to stand up, and before I could start to walk over, a lunch lady approached me. Because she spoke rapidly to me, I simply nodded, smiled, and walked away. But, then, I heard her yelling after me. It turned out that she had wanted me to clear a pitcher from the table. After handing her the pitcher, I glanced around to make sure that nobody else had witnessed the incident but realized there was a whole table of kids who had watched the whole scene play out. I felt a little bit less embarrassed than I might have knowing that all the other Scarsdale High School kids would soon surely be subject to similar misunderstandings during the next eleven days.

Linguistically, we, of course, encountered many amusing situations. Some of the differences stemmed from the fact that we are accustomed to learning more formal French while the French students are taught proper English. Other slip-ups simply derived from differences in pronunciation. When Florie took me to her friend's house one afternoon, the girl's father asked me what I thought of "Meet Romeknee." After he repeated the name a couple more times, I finally picked up on the political question he was trying to ask. The linguistic misunderstandings continued even after I got back from the trip. A couple days after returning home from France, I received a Facebook message from someone who was in my host's class but not directly involved with the Exchange. (In France, the students have the same kids with them for all of their courses.) The French boy asked me if I was back in the USA, so I told him that I was in fact back home. He then asked, "Did you enjoy your sojourn in Aix (en Provence)?" At first, I thought that he must have used Google Translator to come up with the word "sojourn." Rather, it was simply one of the words taught in school. We Americans also had plenty of chances to speak too formally and became accustomed to being corrected or playfully mocked.

Every other weekday during our first week in France, the Scarsdale students would embark on excursions while our French friends attended school. From the moment we would get on the bus to the instant the bus reached the desired destination, everybody would exchange stories about the previous night's adventures with the host families. We arrived in France on Monday, February 11th, and our first day of excursions was that Tuesday. The main topic of discussion on the bus that Tuesday: The Bathroom Situation. Even though we all had known what to expect, we were nonetheless taken aback by the French way of having a separate room simply for washing hands. In my house, I actually had the privilege of having three different bathrooms: One for the toilet, another for washing hands, and a third for showering.

At almost every destination we visited, there would be a few kids who would proclaim their love for the area and announce their plans to live there sometime down the road. If I had to choose, my favorite spot would be Cassis. It was so beautiful there, and it immediately appealed to both present and future Noah. Eating great food, hanging around by the beach, and having amazing views never can be outgrown. Also, many adults there play Bocce Ball near the beach, a game involving so little movement that I could definitely see myself taking it up later in life. Our group also took a forty-five minute boat ride around the spectacular region to get a better feel for the area. I fortunately even had a second opportunity to visit my future home Cassis when my French family took me on the hour-drive one afternoon to eat lunch by the water.

We were only in France for a grand total of twelve days, but we managed to visit and explore so many different places. Our first week abroad, the voyages included Arles, Le Pont du Gard, Nîmes, Avignon, Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, Gordes, and Roussillon. Then, our second week, the sightseeing trips included Marseille, Cassis, Nice, and lastly Monaco, another one of my top picks. In Nice, we went to the famous Flower Carnival, where it is traditional to try to catch blossoms as they are thrown off the floats. The outlandish costumes worn in Nice were memorable to say the least; a few kids on the Exchange joined in by purchasing colorful masks. I think everyone at the carnival really had a great time that day, except maybe the few girls who got Silly String stuck in their hair. It is also possible that the parents of the child who got knocked over by a man who was taking the flower-catching challenge a little too seriously may not have had a flawless experience. But, excluding those few, everyone had fun and will never forget the amazing costumes and interesting assortment of people present that day.

Ultimately, although the touring was incredible, there is no doubt in my mind that the greatest part of what we all have taken away from the experience is the relationships that were formed in Scarsdale back in October and then continued to develop this past month in Aix. As one French boy on the Exchange accurately posted in our French Exchange Facebook group, it is now the responsibility of us students to both continue to keep in touch with one another and to hopefully one day soon all get together again. We Americans will surely never forget our wonderful sojourn with our French friends in Aix.

On behalf of all the students in the French Exchange, "merci beaucoup" to the French teachers from Scarsdale who came with us and organized our events, Madame Corten and Madame Chan and also to the French teachers involved, Madame Sahut and Madame Swift.

This article was contributed by Noah Klayman, a student at Scarsdale High School.