Berkley Center

My experience in Lyon has been far from anything that I had expected. Before arriving, I was sent a piece of paper describing my “host family.” I knew that upon arrival they would be different than expected, but never pictured what was in store for me. I was indeed living in a cute room with a “petit balcon” with Mme. Bertrand, but little did I know I would be learning much more about other cultures and religion. All of her sons that were listed had moved out of the apartment and have been replaced by renters of many cultures. When I arrived, a 19-year-old French girl was here, and a 25-year-old Italian boy staying in another room. A couple of days later, a 20-year-old Colombian boy joined us, and the three of us soon became friends.

This was a base to compare our different cultures. Even more unexpected, however, was the zeal my French host mother had for her Catholic-Byzantine Orthodox religion. I had heard from a French friend at home that an estimated 85 percent of French people are Catholic but only 10 percent are practicing. Lyon seems to be an exception. My mother was so pleased to hear I was Greek Orthodox, and had a Catholic father, much like her Orthodox-Catholic mix. She immediately brought up the topic of religion and invited me to Mass with her the first Sunday after my arrival. We pray before every meal, crossing ourselves before and after the prayer. In the United States, I am considered religious for going to church every Sunday. In her house, we must be religious at every moment in the day. My host mother is also a history teacher at two Catholic high schools, so she knows and is willing to explain the background of many of the French traditions and customs practiced in France.

Many of the celebrations early in the year that we have celebrated have religious ties, and I was able to learn all about their beginnings from my host mother and luckily all are celebrated with food! We enjoyed the “galette des Rois” on January (and for most of the week after). This “king's cake” is a puff pastry filled with almond paste or apple and a small figurine. The person who gets the figurine in their slice is crowned the king for the day. This tradition celebrates the Epiphany and the three kings in the Bible. Then there was “La fete de la Chandeleur” on the second day of February, which is also known as crepe day or the festival of light. The crepes eaten on this day represent the sun, or light, and this is used to commemorate the presentation of baby Jesus and the purification of “la Vierge” (the Virgin Mary). Now we have just entered “carême,” or Lent, which comes from the Latin word “quadragasima,” which means the French word “quarantaine” or 40 days. During this period, in addition to not eating meat on Fridays, the French try not to eat yogurt or eggs products during the 40 days. I have certainly gained a new perspective and a new thirst for the knowledge of the history behind traditions. In France, you must know why something is the way it is, or at least its origins. This is something I believe many Americans can learn from the French.

Not only could I observe the differences between my host mothers religion and my own, but I also was exposed to the reactions of my other multicultural roommates to my host mother's behavior. All three of my housemates enjoyed the cooking celebrating these three holidays, but only the young French girl took my host mother as seriously as I did, attending church with my host mother whenever she was invited. The Italian boy made a cross and laughed every chance he got, and the Colombian boy was simply fed-up with my host mother's backwards and prejudiced ways, blaming them on her religious zeal. I can only hope that the rest of the semester will bring just as many surprises, controversy, and new knowledge as it already has.