France, my first.

I had organized a place to stay for the night through couchsurfing.  It was my first time doing this, and I didn't really know what to expect.  After a half an hour walk through the charmless town of Calais I arrived at the beachfront property of my host.  It was an apartment building, and a large one at that, yet it looked cheap and costly at the same time - it's hard to explain.  I rang the bell.

'BZZZZ!'

'We, allo?'

'Allo, uh, Jonathon?'

'We, ce moi...et ce qui ca?'

'uh, ce Jeremie?'

'Ah!  le couchsurfer!'

'We we we we tres bon, un second...'

BZZZZZ!!

Up I go.

 

Jonathan lived in a small, student orientated room, with bunkbeds and a futon.  It reminded me of my place in Lister, but without the dirt, grim, stains, or the broken heater.  I was impressed.  He was a very nice person, and had a good heart, however, he was.... boring a bit; he needed to open up a bit.  Anyway, Jonathan had invited his friend from class over to have dinner with us (which he made for me), and then Jonathan was to go play hockey (odd I know).  

Knock'

'Iurii?'

'we ce moi'

'Entree'

'Allo', he said, directed at me

'allo' 

'are you the couchsurfer?'

'Ya'

'fucking couchsurfers'

Iurii turned out to be the best of guys.  He is a Ukrainian who attends school in France - speaks 5 languages, is very intelligent and warm hearted.  Jonathan left to play hockey, so me and Iurii spent the night drinking wine and talking about Psychedelic drugs, society, and human nature.  It was great.  It was really great. 

Iurii sized me up that night and told me I could stay with him the following night.

I wished him a safe drive home, set up my futon and spent my first night in France.