Guide and driver
I spent a bit over a week in Arles in Provence in October of 1964, while waiting for a ship from Marseilles to Africa. There was nothing going on in Arles, Aix, or anywhere in Provence in1964. It was pastoral and looked and felt much like the wonderfully retrospective films "My Mother's Castle" and "My Father's Glory".
After a painful breakup, the author travels to Provence for a language immersion homestay and learns the value of facing up to mistakes.
By Jenny Gross
Reporting from the South of France
Oct. 14, 2024 - NY Times
When I booked a one-on-one intensive language program in France, I envisioned a dreamy getaway, where I could practice French while getting to know Provence through the eyes of a local.
But as soon as I arrived, I had immediate doubts. Days earlier, my long-term relationship had collapsed. As my head spun, I wondered how I was going to weather four days of forced small talk, away from home, in another language, with a stranger.
Or was this exactly what I needed?
Brigitte Miramont, the host of my program, suggested over the phone that we meet at the Starbucks near the Marseille train station’s “dépose minute.” I had no clue what that was, but at our agreed upon time and day, I found the Starbucks and met a beaming Ms. Miramont. She pointed out the “dépose minute,” explaining it meant “drop-off point.”
That explanation was the last exchange we had in English.
Learning a Language, and a Few Life Lessons, in France
Greg