JE PARLE UN PETIT PEU

I speak a little bit, in French. A very very little bit.

It has been a busy week; I have met so many people and kissed so many strangers' faces. The French greet everyone when they enter or exit a room, and it always involves la bise. I was never very interested to know how soft other people's faces were before, but now, I can assure you, there are a lot of soft, firm faces to be found in France.

Yesterday I met a woman named Allison, who is a missionary here with her family. They're from Texas, and they seemed so familiar to me even though I didn't know them at all. Allison has a huge smile, and she has that Southern Baptist mama thing about her and told me to come over again any time. She used to teach the classes, but then got reassigned, so now OM has taken over for her. She still knows all the ladies, though, and was having them over for a party.

These immigrant women are so cute, it kills me. They all gather up on the sidewalk in their endless layers of clothing, concerned because we are standing near a church where both men and women are practicing music together. The church allows this? Are you sure? Finally everyone has arrived and we set off for Allison's house. We begin to take off layers, and sit in a large warped circle in the living room. The ladies shatter to each other in languages that all sound like this to me: zhhigrahamzahhhkfaammmzzz...

Their shoes are off, their veils a little looser, they drink tea and soft drinks from short little glasses and excitedly tell each other what I assume to be the latest news in the neighborhood. When they do speak French I can catch most of it because they speak so slowly- they only know a little more than I do. The other missionary ladies come in and out with more food and drinks. Allison tells a story about a cracked pot in French and Moroccan. Eventually some of the ladies start singing high-pitched chanting songs; someone gets pie tins from the kitchen and uses them as drums. A couple people dance in the tiny space in the middle, the rest of us clap.

A good afternoon.

Later that day I was introduced to a French youth group (more kissing), and today I went to their church. They speak very fast and make fun of each other when they practice English on me, and then make fun of me too when I try to reply in French. It's like a big game. Sometimes my face hurts for smiling.