comment dit-on "awkward"?

Living in a foreign country has thus far resulted in an endless stream of silly mistakes and awkward/uncomfortable situations... I am currently upstairs in the computer room hiding from our dinner guests... we had 2 last night, and an additional 2 tonight, and I couldn't tell you another time I've been so uncomfortable for such an extended period-- I just don't know what to do with myself!



Classes started this week, except that 3 out of my six are at the university and don't start until next week (which no one told us, so we showed up at the university to find an empty classroom and then wandered around various buildings looking for something telling us if the class had been moved/cancelled/etc... oy). My 3 classes at the program center have been fine so far: I'm taking a French class, The Palestinian question, and the Construction of a European Union. I'm not taking any business classes because I won't get any credit for my business major at home, so I'm taking advantage of the year to fill some gaps in my education. The last two classes are definitely highlighting some impressive holes in my knowledge base...



Professor: When was the Roman empire? What dates?

Us: [blinking noises]



... a few minutes later...



Professor: Who was the leader of (insert country/important movement here) at this time?

Us: [cricket noises]



At one point, the professor of the Palestine course was looking at a map with us and pointing out countries that, in her experience, Americans never hear about, and she was remarkably accurate (wait... that's a country??!). It's embarassing at times, but I'm excited to learn. I'm also going to be taking a contemporary history course at the university, which should be an experience.



Anyways, the delay in classes starting has left me with an awkardly open schedule: yesterday I had class from 9-10 and then again at 5:30 pm, and today I had... nothing. I went to a university restaurant for lunch and then wandered aimlessly around the city (which started rather unintentionally because I got on a bus going in the wrong direction) until I called and met up with a friend... and then we wandered around the city, shopped, and people watched together.



Eventually I made my way back to the house, at which point the real awkwardness began. I went downstairs because didn't want to hide out in my room while guests were over, but then the guests went out on some sort of errand and I was told there was nothing I could do to help with dinner preparations, so I went upstairs.



When the doorbell rang and even more guests arrived, I figured I should go back down and present myself, so I did, and then they wandered off into the backyard, so I sat down in the living room where the tv happened to be on, to wait. My host dad came in a few minutes later and informed me that it's extremely mal élevé (which means something like badly raised, but with more weight) to watch tv while there are guests in the house, so I followed him out to the backyard, and then silently back into the living room, then began the always awkard french pre-dinner apéritif ritual, with a bonus of "and what exactly is this charming young lady doing here?" followed by a:

"well, why don't you explain Lindsay, and you can practice your French!" which I was somehow completely unprepared for:

(um, I go to university! I'm studying French and... other things.... um... [attempt at a charming smile])

"oh, she speaks very well! [slight pause]. Anyways, the other day..."



By the way, older French people unaccustomed to interactions with Americans simply cannot say my name. One of the guests starting calling me "Elsa" and must be wondering why she had such a terrible time pronouncing it last night. Also: Sacramento is not a sufficient reference point for where exactly in California I am from-- "oh, that's by Las Vegas!" "uh....well...."



Also, the other day my host mom overheard me stumbling through a rusy version of Chopin's "minute waltz" on their piano and now proudly proclaims to everyone that I am a virtuouse, resulting in their disappointment in my reluctance to "give a concert"-- which I am assuming is a lesser evil than the combination of their disappointment and my embarassment if I DID attempt a concert.



Throw in a spilled serving of chicken, the dropping-in-the-dish of a couple serving spoons, and awkard references to the U.S. followed by looks in my direction ("comme en Amérique, non?") and you have my evening.



And now I'm afraid to leave this room for fear of awkard hallway encounters (the guests have made their way back upstairs and are right across the hall from where I am now, and I told them I was going to bed hours ago).



You gotta love it:)

morning after update: I walked in on an elderly male guest in the salle de bains this morning. Oh yes. Fortunately, he was completely dressed, and nice about the whole thing.