La Rochelle #36: "Se debrouiller" and "Third Culture Kid"

Before I start on the awkward social drama from last night, I just need to say that yesterday afternoon there was A BUSKING BRASS BAND by the statue opposite la grosse horloge/the clock tower. (Took photos on Vegetarian's camera; will upload when I get them.)

If my pathetic knowledge of brass instruments is correct, there were: two saxophones, three trumpets, two trombones, two things that looked like baby trombones, two big wrap-around tubas, two smaller tubas (as confirmed by Wikipedia anyway),  a big bass drum, a little wear-able drum kit, and a badarse solo oboe (which I think is woodwind technically but it was a nice addition). And a lot of brightly coloured feather boas.

We noticed them while walking to town, as we heard a MICHAEL JACKSON MEDLEY (we got the 'Thriller' and 'Billie Jean' ending). Aside from various presumably-Frenchy things, they also played 'Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!', 'Pokerface', and what I swear is the song that the Tetris theme came from (since I don't know if there's a fuller version of that).

I think I was appropriately enthusiastic about it all. It did make me miss my piano and bass though.

Anyway, okay, so onto last night. This'll be a long rant.
[Spoiler alert from 2013: 
So, after my post-OE privacy freakout, my plan was to remove bitchy things that would be awkward if stumbled upon, etc etc. But you know what? This was an important rant for me, so fuck it.] 
For the purposes of my ramble, the only properly relevant facts are that last night we went out, but no one really knew what was happening plan-wise - and that goes equally for the exchange girls and the locals (who were variously late, extremely drunk and/or disputing where to go).

Despite being the neurotic geeky-admin one of the exchange girls, it turns out that I'm the only one who was able to just go with the flow and not be too fussed about it.

Part of this is probably because one of the girls seems rather uncomfortable trying to speak French - while the other girl is unimpressed with the social life here because "they [the French] drink often enough, but not ENOUGH" (unsurprisingly the latter thinks it is imperative that I do a funnel at some point). And, whether speaking English or French, neither of them seem to know how to ask a French person a basic small-talk-type question when there is a lapse in the conversation.

The other part is that the exchange girls are having difficulty learning how to "se debrouiller". That's pretty much just French for "to cope", but I swear the connotations are, well, fuller I guess, in French.

That's fine, of course - and naturally to be expected. I mean fuck we're on a study exchange on the other side of the world, it's a learning experience.

My problem with this though, is:
(1) The way in which they are struggling to 'se debrouiller', e.g. they're still looking for fucking Wattie's sauce, and they hardly speak in French (and I know they can, because I've heard them in the CUFLE class and on the first day they both made fewer mistakes than I did; I just spoke with more confidence).
[To be fair on the Wattie's sauce point: I did myself constantly hunt for weetbix when I came here - but I see that as serving a more functional purpose, because it is the only filling breakfast I know that I can prepare and eat quickly. If only a French/European equivalent of that were available (technically is what I get; 'Weetabix' with rounded edges), I wouldn't really give a shit.]

(2) The fact that their experience of learning how to 'se debrouiller' sometimes holds me back from my attempt to experience France, e.g. to speak in French to people who aren't necessarily from New Zealand or England, and more importantly to have a substantive conversation that doesn't primarily revolve around New Zealand or the All Blacks.

In short: I am bored of all the conversations and quips about the seemingly abhorrent fact that I am unashamedly ignorant when it comes to the New Zealand national anthem, New Zealand geography (beyond the capital and a couple cities), and the All Blacks. It is apparently irrelevant to them that I don't know anything when it comes to the same subjects (taking the latter as I suppose national sport or pastime) for all other countries.

I may have vaguely mentioned this before - but anyway, on the day they found out about my lack of, well, much of anything beyond a simple fondness and a passport for New Zealand, I decided that I couldn't be fucked putting up with being scolded for not knowing the National Anthem (they actually went on my laptop and started searching for YouTube videos of it with lyrics so I could fucking learn it).

So, I summarised some stuff I'd learned in early politics classes at Vic: about the recent and fictional nature of national identity, nation-state-building, and the objective interestingness (to put it politely) of feeling comradeship with a bunch of people that you never have and never will meet, just because (often by accident of birth) they happen to live in the same box on a map as you do.

At some stage I got them to explicitly accept some of what I was saying: (1) people categorise things in the world including themselves; (2) national identity is one of many ways (sex, age, system of belief) in which a person can categorise themselves; (3) it does not necessarily follow that national identity is an important category for everyone, particularly me.

I even made references to Bloody Mary times, the difficulty English people faced of having to choose between their national identity and trans-national religious identity - and, more recently, sexuality and asexuality.

Nevertheless, the exchange girls' final response to this was, and still remains: "I can't believe you've lived in New Zealand for most of your life and you don't even know all of the National Anthem!" I've explained that I've had to learn it, and I did, but didn't feel the need to retain it.

They also asked me to name All Blacks players, and didn't realise that the few I remember, I remember for various reasons:
(1) Tana Umaga: anyone in my highschool year will know a certain someone who was a BIG fan.
(2) Dan Carter: Before France, I was told that he'd ripped some sort of groin muscle and had to change how he posed in underwear photos or something, which I found amusing.
(3) Piri Weepu: During the World Cup, all the people I know who watch rugby told me he was hot.

Anyway, as I've tired of all this, my responses to the exchange girls have since progressed as such:
- "I don't really feel like I have a strong sense of national identity with anywhere. When it comes to 'home', I consider The Hague as important to me as Wellington."
- "Look, go to a Model UN conference and I'm sure you'll find a bunch of diplomat-kids. Talk to them - some might have a strong sense of national identity, but I'm sure quite a few will be just like me."
- "I told you, I don't care about sports."
- "Yes but I told you, I DON'T CARE ABOUT SPORTS, with or without the accompanying sense of nationalism THAT I DON'T FEEL."
- "Fuck you both - name me five philosophers!" (This is the current response, which has been repeated thrice.)

They couldn't name five philosophers - though I doubt they even paused to think about it.

Anyway, on the other side of the battlefield is Buddy#1 - who, in front of the others last night, easily rambled me off four before she paused (we'd been talking about words so I gave her John Locke). The subject had reared its stubborn head when Buddy#1's older English-teaching Wellingtonian friend arrived, and kiwi conversation had ensued.

Then Buddy#1 and I figured out that not only do we two get along really fucking well, but also that she's kinda doing her thesis on me - or what would be me if I were a population of Chinese immigrants and their children in New Zealand.

She also introduced me to the term "third culture kid", which to varying degrees is what I've generally meant by "diplomat kid" or "mongrel" (that is, when I didn't mean a sort of okay-in-small-doses-I-guess artificial and shmoozing ponce - or, for the latter term, Filipino). BUT LOOK IT'S A THING.

Buddy#1 is equally fed up with the other exchange girls, who don't even respond well when Buddy#1 switches to English (and her level is pretty good; she did write her Master's thesis in English after all). Last night, the exchange girls also tended to whisper and bitch to each other instead of just asking Buddy#1 straight out (like I do), "so what the fuck is going on?" [FYI the usual answer is "well no one really knows"; but I've realised that as long as I'm in good company/amongst interesting conversationalists it doesn't really matter].
They also bitch about Buddy#1's (admittedly frighteningly-impressive) smoking habit. But fuck, Buddy#1 always makes a point to make sure that she is upwind, and as long as I don't have to smoke or pash her then I don't give a shit. And we're in FRANCE; stereotypes are founded in truth.

The final blow for me though was when Buddy#1 was smoking outside and I was talking to the TeachingWellingtonian. The exchange girls decided that their first attempt to communicate their confusion and sobering boredom was to passive-aggresively burst out in "ALL BY MYYY-SELF, DON'T WANNA BEEE". Yeah real mature, guys.

Anyway the exchange girls eventually left. We'd bumped into OldGirl (the exchange student from Vic who's been here from last term), and as Pirate and Vegetarian were getting more and more fed up, she kept telling me to sort things out if I were their fucking babysitter.

Anyway. I think I'm okay, and (I hope in part due to sticking to a policy of honesty) I've managed to come out of this feeling more sure of myself, whilst managing to be on decent terms with everyone:

(1) Buddy#1 and I are good. Plus, she has a massive mix of interesting friends and friends' friends; and I've got along well with pretty much everyone I've talked to. And I'm officially invited to ArizonaHost's next Friday dinner party!
In fact we bumped into him at a little bar (that has AWESOME IRISH COFFEE, with a bit of coffee, more whipped cream, and a fuckload of whiskey; photo later) - he bastardly told me that he'd had empanadas for dinner that night! I swore at him then said that I'd make him potentially-chocolate bread if he made me empanadas; he said he'd make me empanadas if I made him bread; then I said I'd make him bread if he gave me an oven for 20 minutes; and he said he'd give me an oven if I gave him bread. BAHAHA.
Also Buddy#1 likes my catchphrases; I told her I wanted to have ArizonaHost's dancing capoiera babies. (I had to change it to "gay dancing capoiera babies" because as the newbie she wasn't sure if I knew; in future I might need to make it clear that when I say "I want to have X's babies" it doesn't necessarily mean I actually want to have sex with them.)

(2)  Exchange girls and I seem to be good. As I explained to Buddy#1, I get along fine with them when there aren't French people around - unless the French people we're with are random ones we bumped into in the street/bar.
Plus, we're thrown together a lot and more importantly they left their shit at my place yesterday before we went out. Have texted them both, and sent them Facebook messages - in both I apologised for the awkwardness of last night, but nothing more. Because I AM sorry about the awkwardness, but like fuck I'm going to make any excuses for anyone.
They responded in a friendly enough manner, though I haven't talked to them in person yet. I wonder what they'll say, hah. Of course, there's a decent chance that they'll just pretend that nothing happened, or bitch about it/me behind my back, or both - but any of those scenarios demonstrates no big loss of a strong friendship, so I'm not bothered.

To end on an amusing anecdote:
At some point we went to a flat party that turned out to be way too fucking crowded (it was after this place that the exchange girls went home, and I stayed out with Buddy#1 and her friends). I hung out outside for a bit as Buddy#1 smoked and talked to some PhD kids.

Then a completely-shitfaced guy who we'd noticed as being unwantedly-gropey in the flat had spotted me as a fellow Asian, and came out to ask me (in French bien sur), thrice, where I came from. I kept saying New Zealand, and he kept following that with "seriously?" (and also "seriously" without the question mark). I kept trying to continue my conversation with the PhD kids.

The final time, he tried to make a more obvious attempt of chatting me up. I responded affectionately that I was actually his sister and therefore wasn't fair game (to the great amusement of one of Buddy#1's friends; oh god I'll need more nicknames - let's call this one Boulet, 'cause that was what Buddy#1 called him in the beginning). After quips were exchanged about my declaration, he said that if I was his sister he'd respect that, because respect and family are important in Asia. Then he kissed my hand, said goodbye with a low bow, and went off to harass TeachingWellingtonian.

BAHAHA.

Apparently I'm invited to Vegetarian's for salsa and chips, provided I bring their bags. Alrighty then.