Living with a Host Family (and Michael Jackson)

Feeling a bit perturbed by this thought? Scared what type of family you might get stuck with? I’ve been there! Thankfully for me, I had an amazing host family so I really lucked out. BUT, I do know some people who did not luck out as well as me, and they still had a great semester abroad.

Being someone who was so terrified of studying abroad, I wanted so badly to just get an apartment to myself, or live in on campus housing, so that I didn’t have to also have the fear of being placed with a bad host family. However, with the program that I did through the University of New Hampshire, we had no choice. Lucky me, I thought.

Prior to leaving for Dijon, I had been in communication with my host family, so I knew a bit about them. This helped me out a lot and made me feel about .0001% better about the situation I was about to be put in.

So, when Jordan and I got to Dijon, France on January 25, 2016, and stepped (stumbled – seriously I almost face planted) off the train with our massive luggage, we very nervously awaited our host families. We had been traveling at this point for (if my memory serves me correctly) 16+ hours, so we didn’t smell great, didn’t look great, and were so delirious that my friend Jordan forgot most of his French when greeting his host family. Due to the delay we had from the snow in Boston, delaying our connecting flight in London, delaying our train to Dijon from Paris, we didn’t arrive in Dijon until about midnight, and had not eaten since I don’t know when.

My host mom met me at the train station, we exchanged our bisous, and got into her very small car with my very large luggage. As we drove through the city, she asked me questions and I tried to keep up the small talk with my extremely tired brain. We arrived home where my host dad lugged my luggage up the spiral stair case. Looking back – thank God for him because I didn’t have the energy at that point.

As I unloaded my suitcase in my abnormally large bedroom for France, their cat Bleu (French for “blue”) was pouncing around in my suitcase. For anyone who knows me, I am not a fan of cats. At least, I wasn’t at this point in the semester, but eventually overtime had to grow some sort of affection for this strange animal that used to climb up my bedroom wall like an alien creature. (Thanks, Bleu, for the great snapchats).

As I looked around my bedroom for the first time, my eyes went directly towards a mannequin head of Michael Jackson. Yes, I was just as confused as you are reading this. I didn’t quite believe that this would be Michael Jackson, but indeed, his name was on the bottom of the mannequin. Once again, thank you Michael for the great snapchats. From this moment forward, I decided that this strange experience of  living in a foreign country with a brand new family would lead me to some interesting things in life that would later become great stories.

Back on topic…living with a host family is something that I was super thankful for. I had dinner with them most every night when I was home, which allowed me to become a lot better at speaking French and really get the true French experience. I understood their table manners, got to eat a lot of different foods that I would not have tried otherwise, and got to listen to my host dad’s terrible “dad-jokes” which I thoroughly enjoyed. Because I had a good relationship with them, I always felt like I had someone to turn back to if I ever needed the help. Having this support system in a foreign county was extremely valuable.

One of my most comical memories with my host family was near the end of the semester when I was invited to my host sisters dance gala. My host dad picked my up at the house to go to this, and I thought he was so dressed up because he was just coming from work so I didn’t think anything out it, until I actually got to the dance gala and was SO underdressed. I was wearing sneakers…SNEAKERS! Everyone else there was in dresses, heels, etc. However, this seemed to be the least of my problem as the night went on…

This “gala” was just a dance competition hosted by the dance company that Chiara (my host sister) worked with. At least, I thought it was just a dance competition. There was an intermission, which took place around 8 PM. At this time, all of the parents and spectators got up and started dancing. My host parents really wanted me to join in, but a little (a lot) more champagne was needed before this was happening. During this time, my host mom and I talked about the differences of dancing in the US versus France. For example, this was NOT normal for me to go to a dance competition in the US and join in on the dancing. Thankfully, the intermission ended, and the dancers started again. The show ended around 10 PM, and I was thankful to be headed back home soon.

WRONG. Everyone got up to dance again! I remember frantically texting my sister saying something like “I’ve been here for six months, and have not experienced culture shock to this extent yet.” Thankfully, the champagne was getting passed around, so I kept gladly accepting. As my host parents kept insisting I dance, and I kept insisting that I don’t, I thought I had gotten out of the whole thing.

This was until the Chicken Dance song came on and my host mom screams “Ohhhh!!! Américaine Américaine!!!! Vous êtes Américaine, Brianna!!” And just like that, I was forced off my seat to go squak my little arms like a chicken in my sneakers. At this point, I gave in. I mean, really, did I have a choice? So, the songs kept coming, I kept dancing, or at least tried to since every song has synchronized steps that no ‘non-French’ person would know. My host dad tried to teach me the steps, but I was struggling…in my sneakers.

Study abroad they said, it’ll be fun they said…

We ended up getting home at around 3 AM that night (morning?). I will forever remember this hilarious night where I felt more uncomfortable than I’ve ever felt, and just decided that if I can’t beat ’em, might as well join ’em!

So, for all of you about to go off and live with a host family – it will be awkward, it will be uncomfortable, and you will be totally outside of your comfort zone. However, you will have the fondest memories (even those who won’t have the most admirable of families to live with) that you will cherish for a life time. Just remember, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!