Livin' and Learnin'

Hey hey so this past weekend was the most traumatic ever, but now that I'm feeling better I can write about it. SO.....Valentine's Day night, myself and 3 friends met at midnight at Bourse metro stop, just off of the Champs-Elysees. My friend Emma had found this new club that was free for V-Day so we hopped on that train as soon as we found out! It was a new club and pretty cool looking. Unlike those in the states, the people there are mostly going to listen to the music instead of to dance. They more like sway back and forth. Anyway, club, blah blah blah, I get home at about 7:00 in the a.m. when I realize I don't have the key to my apartment. Shoot! I'm locked out! That was my only worry. So I found the concierge and got the emergency key, but i misunderstood and thought she was giving me the key permanently. So I didn't bring it back when I should have. The wonders of learning a foreign language.
So the next morning....well, more like an hour later....i didn't think to tell my host mom because 1.) i was totally out of it and 2.) i didn't think it was a big deal. WELL...when I got home that afternoon, she was standing at the concierge's door and BLEW UP when she found out I'd lost her key. I was stunned speechless. My friend Eurah was with me, so we immediately went to key (hah, punny) places where I knew I was so we could search for it. I had no idea just how important French keys are. Let me explain a little: they're not at all like the flimsy keys we have at home, that you can have copied for like 5 bucks. They're super intricate and apparently very hard to reproduce. Had I known this key was like a first child to Madame Michel, I would have reacted much differently when I found I had lost it. So Eurah and I looked everywhere, but to no avail. I talked to the Metro people with no luck. I began to break down in the metro station. Dear, sweet, kind Eurah grabbed a chocolate bar and some strawberries out of her purse and gave them to me. We had to part at this time. So there I was, by myself, sobbing on the metro, holding strawberries and chocolate. I'm sure it looked like I had just broken up with my boyfriend. You should know the French NEVER show emotion, especially on the metro. So later that night when Mme Michel came home and we sat down to dinner, I explained to her that I looked everywhere and did everything I could possibly do. Holy cow she hit the roof. The next 2 hours I sat there, tears a-flowing, as she told me what a horrible person I am. Though I can speak French, I'm not at all to the point of being able to completely express all my feelings. She insisted that keys are the same all over the world. But they're not. I had no idea how much more valuable they are here. There was much more than a language barrier here. There was a major cultural barrier. That was the most horrible 2 hours of my life. The next morning I went over to my director's house and called my mom. The guy in charge of housing talked to Mme Michel and basically told her she cannot treat me like I'm her child and she must know that I come from a completely different culture. I understand where she's coming from too, though. She's a widow, so the possibility that someone has my key and then followed me home is really worrying her. Anyway, after a long, hard weekend things are finally starting to look up. I've gotta say I have learned more about French culture than anyone could ever learn just off the street. This is just one of those experiences that really sucks, but helps me grow so much more. I don't want to add too many sorrowful details and I'd rather not dwell on it......
Anyway! I climbed the 400 steps to the top of Notre Dame today. It was gorgeous.