Bavard comme un pie.

Last night, Karinne's French house mom, affectionately and simply called "Madame", invited Haley and I over for dinner. Wednesdays are her half-day at the hospital, where she works as a secretary, so she insisted Karinne invite us on a Wednesday, leaving her plenty of time to dazzle us with multiple courses and delicious food.

Madame is a single lady probably in her sixties. She is short and plump, but oh-so loving, especially towards Karinne. She hosts students for the companionship, as her husband left many years ago and her son now lives in village about an hour away.

Haley and I arrived with chocolate in our hands (it is customary to bring your hostess a gift in France-- and Karinne told us that she gave Madame chocolate for her welcoming gift, and Madame loved it so much it was gone in two days! I must say, Madame might be one of the first French people I would describe as "plump", but it is a grandmotherly, reminds-me-of-home sort of "plump") and ready to practice our French. Madame insisted we sit down and talk amongst ourselves while she finished preparing, but she also warned us that there would be a $1,000 fine for speaking in English. "Only French in my house!" she yelled from the kitchen.

She spoiled us rotten. Curry chicken, rice, salad, cheese plate, baguette, pear, apple tart, and nutella. The course precession just kept coming and coming, accompanied with a petit-French interrogation of course.

Where are you from? Where do you live in Aix? Do you have a boyfriend? What do you like about Aix? What don't you like? What do you think about Sarkosy? What do you think of the weather here? How close is your apartment to the school? Where have you traveled before? Where do you want to travel?

She was so inquisitive, and while my response in French might have been a few hastily put together phrases (for lack of knowing how to say more), her responses were reaching and complete. She talked slowly out of consideration for our French, and explained any unfamiliar phrases or words when I would shrug my shoulders and ask, "What is that exactly?”

I felt as if I could see loneliness in her eyes, but also a strong desire to remain youthful by questioning us about our "adventurous and carefree" lives. My heart was heavy as I left, but I suppose in a good way, as I think she appreciated our presence as much I as appreciated her generosity.

When she was mid tart bite, I ask her about a picture of a young girl with strawberry blonde hair I had seen prominently framed in the entryway. As she finished chewing her tart a tear came to her eye. "That's ma cherie, the love of my life. My granddaughter Lauren."

She was "bavard comme un pie", or talkative like a magpie (but only if the French mean that in a good way!). Karinne is so lucky to have such a doting house mom while here.