Temp Housing. French style.

Within 10 seconds of arriving at our temp housing I was sobbing. If I could've found the airport I would've gotten on the first plane to Greenville. Looking back it was exhaustion and several other factors at work. I'd been awake for about 24 hours and was extremely nervous, about everything.

First we had been given a manual transition car as a rental. I hadn't driven a manual since high school and driving in France is nothing like driving in the US. I seriously mean NOTHING. No right on red, at left turns several cars pull up around you - behind you - and beside you and make left turns all around you if you don't go in a timely manner, you must stop on yellow, etc. Not mention we live in a dormant volcanic mountain range. I was a nervous wreck. I prayed I wouldn't roll into the car behind me at every stop light.

Then there was the temp apartment itself. I had no idea how to use the dishwasher (all the words were in French), the washer (French), the dryer (you get the point). In addition I had no idea where we were in relation to the city. Where were the grocery stores? Was it safe to walk outside with the kids by myself? Why was there dog poop everywhere? Why didn't anyone leash their dogs? Why were my kids so loud compared to French children?

I think it was a blessing that we didn't have internet the first few weeks we were here. I didn't have many good things to say about anything. It is a hard thing to move to a country you have never been and not know the language. Three kids added to the equation didn't help.

Temp housing kitchen. All the counters were crazy low. Lily could touch the front burners on the stove!!

This (at the time) was the strangest washing machine, and smallest, I'd ever seen.

 

We lived in temp housing for 6 LONG weeks. Looking back it wasn't that bad. Hindsight is always 20/20 but at the time it felt like a torture chamber.