A day in the life…

I think I live a pretty boring, and uneventful life. Others think differently it seems, and thus I am going to write about it, and outline “normal” things that seem to happen to me. Before I bias any readers about the possibilities of whether or not it can or can not be true, I am always honest in my accounts, and I admit that some crazy stuff does indeed happen to me.

Each day is a little bit different, and it’s always changing but there is one sure thing that seems to happen to me on a very regular basis; getting verbally molested by random people. It happens in the most obvious of places of course, bus stops, on the bus, tram stops, on the tram, in the supermarket, coming out of a supermarket, going through the market and of course in school. I’ve made it quite clear that my students come on to me quite strongly, so I am negating this aspect of my life for the moment, however this is what someone said to me the other day when I was getting off the bus:

Excusez-moi, you speak English? I need lesson, and I fuck you. Good deal?

I shit you not… Lucky for me, I was descending off the bus and ran away to the closest non-public place. I hate strangers that are creepy, but they are rampant in this part of the world. And for the record, even if I wasn’t getting off the bus at that moment, I wouldn’t have dignified that series of statements/questions with a response.

My bus stop seems to attract creepy people too. I am pondering to change my stop and walk a few extra minutes just to avoid the sketchy people, not sure what I will do as of yet. However, the trusty Ligne 2 which connects me from Place Villiers in 5 minutes to the downtown core via stop Théâtre, Démogé, or Bernières depending on where I am trying to end up. It’s quite agreeable, however I find that people on my bus are always strange. You see, I live near the psychiatric hospital, which I imagine doesn’t let it’s people run free, but I’m starting to think that they have times where they let the people just run around town because at my bus stop people talk to themselves, get into arguments with others, and all I can do is stare at my feet hoping that the old homeless woman won’t ask me for money. I don’t think I will be able to confirm nor deny the actual reason for this, but in any case that’s my reasoning and I think it’s pretty valid.

In happier news I went to the street Market at Saint-Pierre, which extends down the entire port. It’s quite huge with tons of great, and strange things. The strangest, are €100 bed mattresses. My colleague Hannah and I both agree that it’s bad enough we buy food in an open market, but we can’t come to trust getting a mattress at that price that’s from the street. Just saying. Today I bought something for the first time timidly. I promised myself that I would buy something but I found it a bit overwhelming for awhile, so much that I’ve been perusing for the last few weeks. Certain vendors have a special way they do things, like they handle the food and put it into bags, or you grab what you want and give it to them, so I need to observe a little first. I’m never in any rush, especially not on a Sunday!

So what did I buy? Lettuce, yes I know it’s simple and it only costed me €1!! That’s nearly €2 cheaper than at the supermarket, great buy! I bought it from these country farmers in a quieter area of the market. I refuse to purchase things from people that are yelling at me: “Allez! Allez! Deux Euros, un kilo de clémentines” It’s just poor form. So I found this area that was quiet, less people, spacious, and had lots of vegetables. It seems to be run by the sons / daughters of the farmers, because they were all young. Maybe they are slave workers, that I’ll never know! But I pointed to the non-green one lettuce bunch that I wanted and said “Celui-ci s’il vous plaît” timidly. “Dans une petite séchée, Monsieur?” Side-note, I hate being called Monsieur as it makes me feel older, and I hate even more being called “Mesdammes,” which always happens when I am clothes shopping. The 17 year old farmer bagged up my lettuce and I gave him the euro, but he seemed a little embarrassed, or even as timid as I. I promise to go back to the same vendor next week and get something there too just to try to work out a comfort level.

Well that’s a nutshell of my life, it’s quite crazy and pointless. Who know someone could have anxiety about going to the market? I’m just glad it didn’t rain, for like the first time ever here in Normandy!!

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