An American Avox in France

For those of you who have gobbled up "The Hunger Games" trilogy, as I have on this trip, you're all too familiar with this dark term. For those of you missing out, an 'Avox' is someone whose tongue has been cut out as punishment for crimes against the Capitol, and is, therefore, a mute. Okay, so a bit of a macabre title for a blog, but it sums up my new status rather poignantly.

Back home I'm the girl at the dinner table telling ridiculous stories, gesturing wildly with her hands and laughing a bit more loudly than is appropriate. It's part of who I am - a storyteller, an entertainer, a comedian. I love to make people laugh. To engage them. To watch their eyes grow big at some crazy anecdote. When I was young, I eagerly studied Lucille Ball, watching every episode of "I Love Lucy" in an attempt to mimic her seemingly effortless comedy style. I wanted to be her when I grew up. Couldn't imagine a better job. Still can't. Now I'm no Lucille Ball, mind you, but I like to think at least a minuscule sliver of her passion and skill has robbed off on me.

However, in France, in a country where I don't know the language, this characteristic of my personality is completely lost. It's my fault, of course. I should have done my best before we left to learn the language, but there never seemed to be enough time to tackle such an immense undertaking. And mom was picking up the language so well, I assumed we'd be okay. What I hadn't considered was how much I would miss a good conversation. There I sit each night at the dinner table, as other pilgrims or hotel guests speak to one another in rapid-fire French, unable to join in, unable to make jokes, unable to share stories, unable to entertain. Sure, I've come to comprehend quite a bit, and have my arsenal of simple French phrases, but even mom, who does her best to chime in now and then, grows exhausted by the effort needed to follow their conversations and properly conjugate verbs.

I sometimes wonder what these people must think of me, sitting there silently, grinning like a fool in an effort to look invested in their conversation. Do they think me unintelligent, ignorant, uninteresting, unfriendly or worse yet (gulp) boring?! I feel like a mute, a wooden puppet, a statue, an Avox. Yet, on a trip very much about looking inward and figuring out just what it is you want to change about yourself and, at the same time, what it is you value, I take my new American Avox status as the first significant step into this Camino world of inner insight, allowing me to discover the personal quality that I do, in fact, cherish - the girl at the dinner table telling ridiculous stories, gesturing wildly with her hands and laughing a bit more loudly than is appropriate.

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Location:Toulouse, France