In cultures around the world, the act of gathering around a table to share a meal is deeply ingrained and cherished. It's not just about satisfying hunger; it's a ritual that binds families, friends and communities together. And at SYA, the simple act of sharing a meal transcends mere sustenance; it plays a fundamental role in deeper cultural immersion and learning opportunities for our students.

Food is a cornerstone of cultural identity, serving as a tangible expression of a community's history, values and traditions. From recipes passed down through generations of host families to our students preparing a special Thanksgiving dinner for their host families, each meal is a repository of collective memories being shared across cultures.

Whether at the host family table, lunch with local peers or gelato with classmates, the communal act of sharing a meal fosters a sense of closeness and connection. Sitting down together encourages conversation, laughter and the sharing of personal stories. It's a time to catch up on each other's lives, offer support and strengthen interpersonal relationships. Gathering around a table to share a meal is much more than a mundane task; it’s a celebration of our cultural diversity, a testament to our capacity for empathy and an affirmation of the bonds that unite us as a global community.

Savoring Sundays and Family Dinners
Natalie G. FR'24 (Castilleja School)

With the end of my first semester in Rennes, I have begun to reflect on what has impacted me the most. One aspect of the French way of life that I will carry with me long after I go home is French conviviality. 

The most significant cultural difference I have noticed between my hometown in the Bay Area, and in Rennes is the way that time spent with other people is at the center of French daily life. The typical French schedule is structured to encourage social time. The cultural value of community-building has solidified my belief that the people we surround ourselves with make us who we are.

Every Sunday, my host family convenes at my host grandmother, Marie-Françoise’s house. With almost every store in Rennes closed on the final day of the week, spending Sundays with family is the local norm. Despite not being an actual member of the family, the expectation is that I join, too. My first week, Marie-Françoise opened the door with a huge smile on her face. My mind raced on the rules for greetings, and with false confidence, having not really learned the cultural rules around bisous, I kissed her three times. The family laughed, playfully making fun of my mistake, and I followed Marie-Françoise into the kitchen to help her with the aperatifs. I threw myself into their community, talking with the very open French family about everything ranging from school to deep conversations about our personal lives. Living in a new country with such little familiarity, having the support of a large community full of love and laughter as a constant to return to every week has been invaluable and a huge highlight. 

In addition to the French schedule often including family time on Sundays, the work week is also filled with social time. Work contracts do not exceed 35 weekly hours in France, which encourages a balanced life. Additionally, the majority of stores close by seven, forcing people to go home and spend time with their families. As a result, family dinners are a regular part of French daily life. Helping make dinner nightly, and enjoying the meal together has really made me feel like a part of the family. Extended dinners with my host family have not only allowed us to develop a close relationship, but have also helped me feel more connected to French culture in general.

The lifestyle in France, with its emphasis on family has inspired my vision for how I want to live as an adult. The culture shaped around making time for family will serve as a guiding light as I shape the rest of my life.

New Year, Old Talk
Aaliyah B. IT'24 (San Francisco University High School)

I ushered in the New Year with old Italian traditions. That is, gathering around a group of friends, family, food, and talking. I was taken from house to house and celebrated with my host family’s extended relatives, and their friends, and their extended family… The lunches lasted until dinner, and dinners crept into the early morning hours as we played the night away with cards, laughing.

Naturally, each meal was filled with constant conversation. But Italian conversation is unlike any of the conversational practices I’m accustomed to. Firstly, Italians talk with their hands that add both an Italian flair and communicate feelings and expressions that cannot be captured through words.

Secondly, the topic of discussion is usually centered around food. I remember listening to my host father and a man he had just met debate about pandoro and panettone, and which one was better. My host mother leaned over her shoulder and whispered into my ear, “Guarda, Aaliyah, siamo Italiani! Parliamo sempre di cibo. Anche a pranzo parliamo di cosa mangeremo per cena.” Look, Aaliyah, we’re Italians! We always talk about food. Even at lunch we talk about what we will have for dinner.

If it’s not about food (unlikely), it’s about something “mundane”– the latest gossip, what they’re going to do for the day. Not to say that these talks are any less important; I’ve just realized that Italians are more likely to talk about near-present things and the past than worry about the future.

For example, a couple days after New Year, I was sitting next to my host mother and other host moms during dinner, and the dialogue (from what I could follow), went like this:

They started with host children, and asked me what I thought about the spring semester students. Then, they discussed what vitamins were best to take for nausea, which morphed into childbirth and their experiences, and ended with comparing hotel prices for a trip they are all taking in March.

It’s rare to overhear an Italian conversation about their future worries. Even when an Italian is confronted with a question that would worry an American– say, university or job-searching–they answer with grace and a sort of “it is what it is” attitude.

Chiacchierare is the verb that encompasses the essence of Italian conversation. Depending on the context in which it's used, chiacchierare takes on many meanings. During carnival, chiacchierare is a popular sweet, fried sugar-dusted pastry. Someone who's talkative might be called a chiacchierone (difficult to earn, all Italians are famously talkative).

Above all, chiacchierare is the verb that describes the idle chit-chat that has been present at every gathering I have attended. It’s to talk about things you'll never do or problems that you'll never bother to solve. To Italians, chiacchierare is a form of stare in compagnia, being together.

I’ve learned that, as long as you are surrounded by good company, the nature of your  conversations or circumstances will not dampen the comfort of community and friends.