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Sending five packages to North America might be the hardest thing I’ve done here in France! I was at the post office for over an hour yesterday, got spotty customer service, and finally had to leave to catch my train to Nantes. I went back first thing this morning and had a much better experience but still spent nearly an hour in line or at the self-serve kiosk or online. Last night I set up an account with La Poste and that came in handy today because the kiosk won’t take US packages and the clerks at the counter won’t or can’t fill out customs forms. So I did it online, downloaded the form, scanned the bar code at the kiosk, and then printed the forms, which a clerk then attached to my package. I left after thanking that particular clerk for all her assistance only to find a flurry of alerts from my credit card; really hoping I wasn’t charged twice and that I didn’t somehow misunderstand the French directives on the website.

It’s strange—some days I feel like I could live in France with just the minimal French skills I possess, in part because technology makes it possible to either avoid human contact or translate things almost instantly (and some folks do speak English). Then I swing the other way and feel discouraged because my vocabulary has been reduced to less than 10% of what it is in English. I’m no longer clever or witty or even sarcastic—I just flounder and wind up feeling stupid and embarrassed. I’m not stupid—I know that—and I’m quite proud of the things I’ve managed to do on my own here. Nantes was my second solo train trip since I visited a Brazilian classmate in Le Mans on Tuesday—another case where technology makes things relatively easy and the train stations here are almost identical to the ones in North America. My classmates from Iowa go home tomorrow, which feels like a loss, but I’m meeting another group of expats on Wednesday for a little holiday get-together. I’ve been listening to Xmas music and went to the local holiday market this morning. Xmas trees aren’t that expensive, though I didn’t bring enough ornaments to cover an entire tree…and after the stress of getting rid of EVERYTHING last month, I don’t want to buy anything that isn’t essential. Might settle for a small wreath but will wait until I’ve moved into the new Airbnb next week. This first one was definitely the worst one in terms of noise. Really hoping for a quiet Xmas…

In Nantes I visited the Memorial for the Abolition of Slavery. It’s an underground exhibit, which is somewhat frustrating because you wouldn’t necessarily notice it unless, like me, you were looking for it. Glass bricks were embedded in the paved walkway leading up to it, but nothing indicated that they were stamped with the names of slave ships that departed from Nantes. I have a lot more research to do…I was especially interested in Le Soleil, a slaver from which 14 African women jumped to preserve their freedom. This collection of poems by Fabienne Kanor is now at the top of my reading list. For the first time I’m reading e-books! Wasn’t sure I could adapt but the last novel I finished (The Rebels of Ireland) was almost 900 pages long; not practical for travel. I’ve gone from the religious wars of Ireland to the religious wars of France (The Burning Chambers). Plenty of overlap, sadly.

I might take another train to nearby Langeais this week. I’ll be working with a different instructor for my private lessons, and for 90 minutes instead of an hour. Will it make a difference? I don’t expect to be fluent in 3 weeks but do wonder how much progress I’ll make by the time my tourist visa ends in February. If I go to Ireland for three months, will I lose those gains? It’s a real commitment, learning a new language! Sometimes I’m surprised when things are easy because so many things require struggle. But then I’m also wary of easy things and feel guilty when I entertain options that don’t require sacrifice. A friend predicted I’d wind up in England and I want to prove her wrong. But it would be a whole lot easier there…When do we get to stop hustling? Retirement, I guess, though I don’t think writers ever retire…