By Rae Daniels-Henderson
Coming to France for the first time, I felt anxiety about how my four-week experience was going to play out. My terrible French speaking skills and American caricatures of the French people as stuck-up and impatient weighed very heavily on my chest.
I am the first in my family to travel abroad, let alone study abroad for a month. My fear of the unknown and my family’s fear of me traveling for so long added stress I didn’t realize I had until I arrived in Arles.
But I have sighed my biggest ever mental sigh of relief because I have actually found a sense of home in Arles.
Our first day in Arles, when my classmate, Judas, and I got lunch, I fumbled my words asking for a bottle of water. I soon became extremely embarrassed but was immediately put at ease when the server gave me an impromptu French lesson, pointing and translating with the warmest smile almost as if she was doing this to include me so I could better understand the culture.
That felt like my official welcome into this small community that has had iconic moments of history, including long visits from famous artists Paul Gaugin, Pablo Picasso and Vincent Van Gogh, and that was even a provincial capital of ancient Rome.
A few days after that experience, the group was asked by Katie Thornton, the director at our language school, if we noticed any differences between our families at home and our host families. I realized I genuinely could not think of anything.
Dinners with my host family have been most recently on the patio during warm evenings with a musky yet sweet-scented incense burning to repel mosquitoes. That resembles my life back home with aromatic incense filling my dining and living room with an added sense of warmth. Both at home and in Arles everyone enjoys a meal, loud laughter, reminiscing, sharing stories and then breaking out into dance or the occasional funny-face exchange among siblings.
I had already felt a sense of familiarity with my host mother, Françoise Meyer-Gardeur. But when she sat me and my other housemates from the program down one day and asked if we were comfortable with her, I realized she reminded me of my mother. The way that they both instill the courage in you to speak up to them about any concern, the showing of mutual respect to their children, and the genuine love, admiration and warmth that radiates from them are like the sun illuminating and bringing life to everything it touches.
My supportive Arlesian home on rue Jean Granaud has become my base to recharge and has given me confidence to explore more every day.
Even though I have been here for two weeks I now stop and occasionally have friendly conversations with people of this small community. Just as back home, I speak to people I see every day about their husbands, approaching traveling plans or even updates on pets. I have also experienced pleasant nods followed by a small smile and even little “Bonjours” if I accidentally lock eyes with someone while passing by on the street.
Apparently, I am getting a special welcome, because when I recount these interactions to my hosts, I get surprised and puzzled reactions.
When my time comes to leave, I will miss this place immensely. I am grateful for the beaming Arlesian sun melting away my hesitation and fears, while I embrace it and all of its light and guidance through these cobblestone streets.
