The Wasp :: La Guêpe

I wasn't in the habit of sitting down at a table for a family dinner.  Before France, I used to just grab some bread and make a sandwich, which I would eat mindlessly in front of the television.

Here?  Oh no, silly Americans, we EAT in France!  Legit, I read an article (since I now have the time to do that) about how French people are eating more unhealthily than Americans.  

The first one literally says we eat too much cheese

With my host family, I am required to sit down (and TALK) with other people and stuff myself with French food.  I don't know how much longer I can last.  My poor brain is over-whelmed by the fact that I have to eat properly, talk without my mouth full, and hold my knife and fork properly.  Oh, and the whole thing about everything being in another language and all.  No big deal.

just tried walking and talking and chewing gum at the same time

Seriously though, I eat more here than I did in the USA.  That's kind of a problem considering I just bought my first pair skinny jeans.  FRENCH skinny jeans.

This is where I shall rant about being vertically challenged.  In France, or at least the store I bought the leg suffocating contraptions, jean lengths are all LONG.  The jeans are to my legs like crumpled straw wrappers are to straws.

leg of a stick person putting on white skinny jeans

So now I walk around looking like I took the pants from a tall person.  Which I essentially did, because I'm sure some model-esque French fashionista would've bought the jeans if I hadn't, since, you know, THEY'RE ALL THE SAME §%*€ LENGTH.

Fret not, fellow Americans, the waist size changes.  If not, I'd have to have my parents ship me a bunch of jeans to prepare for the effect of all the baguettes.  Seriously, my host family bought four baguettes today.  You know where all that goes??

Spongebob knows

Anyways, just to reassure my parents, I don't just eat French bread.  I'm not sure if I'm healthier here or not, considering that while I'm not eating Pizza Hut every other week, my host family has no problem at all with butter.  

They use it every day.  Now, all the propaganda from health class (and my friend in high school who constantly bombards me with calorie numbers) has me meticulously slicing out a tiny portion of butter.  See?  I'm going to eat butter, but I'm going to do so responsibly.

I don't really notice the different mindset of my family until I sit down and eat with them.  A couple of days ago, we were eating outside (another thing that's different, we eat outside a lot) in the garden, and a wasp came buzzing around.

Now, none of us freaked out or anything (except maybe my host sister, but she's seven), so my HSHB quite systematically destroyed it.  Yes, the word was destroyed.  I can't even handle giving a descriptive play-by-play of the process, but I will tell you what was used.  A fork, some mayonnaise, a butter knife, then a paring knife. Okay, it's not long, but it's more than a rolled up magazine, which is all I need to get rid of a fly.

I was like, alright, okay, kill the wasp, fine, it's just a bug.  Then they told me about my HSHB and a mouse he met at lunch.

it'd be more merciful

I'm slightly afraid that everyone reading this will think that my HSHB is a psychopath now.  Actually, I think that everyone's going to think that my host family's totally out of whack since I don't really describe it when they're normal.

Today, my host family ate BREAKFAST!!! So exciting!! I've NEVER seen people do that before!!

Or if I tried to do it like this:

Oh, so people in France eat breakfast.  Yeah they're not that different from us.  Let the world all realize we're similar and hug each other.

What you were supposed to get from that was yes, my host family does eat breakfast.

Anyways, after seeing my reaction to the wasp, my host family joked about all the other nasty food I already braved through, such as "le camembert".
First night I got to this house (of delicious and terrifying dinners), they offered me this tiny bit of cheese.

the venus fly trap to us flies

Looks good, doesn't it?  Now see, it's hard to understand the horror of the camembert until you smell it.  My HSHB warned me, but I foolishly ignored him.  I probably should have caught on when everyone was wearing eager smiles of encouragement.

So when they offered to let me smell it, I accepted.  Ah well, since you've read this far, I'll warn you.  It smells like the crap of a garbage rat that's been rotting for ten years in a sewer.

I'm not exaggerating.  The problem is, is that it looks so similar to other, perfectly nose-compatible cheeses, like Brie, that you could accidentally pick it up at the supermarket if you are one of those people that doesn't read cheese labels.

Don't be one of those people that doesn't read cheese labels.  AVOID LE CAMEMBERT (unless, of course, you intend to sic it on others.  Then go ahead and plug your nose and do that).

I kid, it's not so bad (if you don't breathe at all while eating it).  It's creamy and soft.  My host father often laughs that, if you can survive the camembert, you'll be able to eat anything.

Maybe my tastes buds won't be suicidal then when I leave all the French food.  I just have to eat camembert before I leave France.