Ivan’s Journals

October 26, 2025

Adventure and Assimilation

Salut tout le monde !

I can't believe it's already been just over a month since I wrote my last journal entry. Now that I have established my routine, time seems to pass even faster. I know which sports I’ll be playing, the friends I will be seeing, and the classes I will be attending—all of which have become new habits. I’m fortunate to say that I have made significant progress in my French as well. Previously, I would put myself out there by speaking in “caveman” French, hoping people would understand me, and now that effort is beginning to pay off. 

Actually, I'm a little worried that my English might deteriorate since I hardly use it anymore. I always make sure to tell people to speak to me in French, which they are more than happy to do. Now, the words coming out of my mouth are understandable but somewhat crude, and I can make a few jokes with my friends. To my delight and horror, I'm beginning to blend words from Spanish, English, and French into a new hybrid language: Franglishpañol. I will say, though, that I can confidently speak some “Minionese” from the Despicable Me movies, as it draws inspiration from the same three languages.

Classes here have started to pick up, and I'm beginning to get to know most of the people in my grade, which is great. Since there are only around 100 students in the grade, I can relate to almost everyone through mutual friends or shared experiences. One interesting thing I've adapted to here is that the French don't use calculators in math class; instead, they are taught to do the calculations mentally. This amazed and shocked me after seeing my peers crunch the numbers in seconds. In terms of scores, I surprised myself by discovering that I have a better average than some of my friends, yet I still feel clueless in my French and philosophy classes. However, I have been fortunate enough to gain significant exposure to *Les Cahiers de Douai* and *L’Étranger* in both classes—true classics of French literature.

The other weekend, I had the opportunity to go to the beach with my host family and decided to take a dip after making a deal with my host mom that we would both get into the water. For context, the temperature was in the high 50s. Immediately, the water stung my skin, and I felt so cold that my body started to feel like a sauna a few seconds later. Looking back at the shore, I almost forgot all my worries, and everything seemed to melt away. The shore appeared to stretch out forever, and the rocky edges seemed to defy the ocean. With that in mind, I stayed in the water to enjoy myself; after all, you only live once.

Another memorable adventure I experienced with my host parents was the annual flea market in Brest, a city about half an hour away. There, we strolled through stand after stand smelling sweet and savory aromas and admiring the items on display. As I looked around, I realized how different French society is in terms of its population makeup. The bulk of the immigrants coming to the country are from the Maghreb region and Sub-Saharan Africa, such as Algeria and Cameroon, which have largely replaced the familiar Latino culture seen in the United States. Personally, this was exemplified when my host family and I ended up eating Moroccan sandwiches, or kebabs, which I immediately fell in love with.

After spending some time here, I have noticed that not only are the majority of cars equipped with manual transmissions, but there is also a noticeable lack of pickup trucks. The reasons for this, I learned, are thanks to a cultural preference for the jolt cars give when switching transmissions, as well as France's narrower roads, stricter environmental regulations, higher fuel prices, and the greater fuel efficiency of manual cars. Furthermore, while most students cannot legally drive until age 17, many of my friends ride dirt bikes, scooters, and small Fiats. This helps explain the abundance of these vehicles, as I mentioned in my first journal entry, since they are regulated differently from regular cars.

One thing I would like to point out is how people from different cultures have distinct informal handshakes. Here, people touch hands in a suave manner and curve their fingers, while in my hometown in Mexico, people usually slap hands and give a semi-hard fist bump. Another fun surprise is how ambulance and police sirens sound whiny and weak compared to American ones, to the point of being almost comical—just as Hollywood movies often portray European sirens.

On my walks to and from school, I pass over the river that runs through the city, which always offers some interesting scenery. Because the river connects to the ocean not far away, it experiences fluctuations in high and low tides of around 4 to 5 meters. What's more, on windy days, you can actually smell the salty sea air, while seagulls often scavenge the riverbed at low tide. Speaking of meters, the French are incredibly proud of their metric system. I have had several instances where the French have asked me why we still use the imperial system, as we are one of the few countries that actively do so. The switch from Fahrenheit to Celsius though is something else entirely, and I am still struggling to adjust, but I can still make mental calculations for conversions.

The weather here often ranges from the low 50s to the low 70s, accompanied by some wind and cloud cover. Furthermore, there are no air conditioners, but they are unnecessary since the temperature rarely exceeds the 70s, except for a couple of weeks each year during the summer.

Well, that's it for me then. À la prochaine!