Arachnophobia

Adjusting to life in the countryside

Everyone's got fears. Heights, confinement, death, small children, birds - there's a lot to be afraid of. A lot of the time, our fears aren't really rational. Roller coasters don't normally break, but there's a chance this one might. The probability of dying in a plane crash is much lower than the likelihood of dying in a passenger vehicle, yet most people fear planes more than cars. It's hard to talk ourselves out of fearing something scary, even when it doesn't make sense to fear it. Anyways, this is an unnecessarily long and abstract lead in to describe one of my main fears... spiders.

I've just completed the first week of my stay here in beautiful Fleurance, France. Fleurance is located in the Gers, about an hour or two from Toulouse. It's the real countryside; beautiful rolling hills of farmland, flowers, tilled earth, cows idly grazing, birds and horses and lots of fresh air. It's nothing like any of the places I've lived. The most rural place I've lived is the suburbs of New York City, and even then, I did my best to spend as little time outside as possible. To make it clear, we're dealing with a girl whose least favorite season is summer, because it means spending time outside.

My very first day, a friend of the family I'm staying with picked me up at the closest train station, in a nearby village. Train station probably isn't the right word - it was a place where the train happened to stop, but there was no station in sight. The parking lot was just a dirt cutoff right off the tracks with room for three or four cars to park. That's when I thought to myself - Lord, where am I. And, more importantly, why do I put myself in these situations?

****

My room is built into the main house building, but it's separate and has it's own entrance all the way on the other side. The third night, the father walked me from the side of the house where the family stays over to my room, since the walk is very dark without a flashlight. I get in the room, turn on the light, everything looks okay. But when I really look, I see a spider has weaseled its way in during the .2 seconds the door was open, and jammed itself up into the corner right by the door.
"Okay," I think to myself. "He's playing it cool. He's bunched himself up. He doesn't want to be seen. Let's just wait to see if he causes problems."
I hastily don my pajamas and, after thoroughly checking the rest of the room for unwanted visitors, climb into bed. I mentally set the timer for twenty minutes - if the spider doesn't move in that time, I'll go to bed. I turn off the main light and leave the bedside light illuminated.

About fifteen minutes goes by, and I'm starting to feel comfortable. I'm exhausted from all my travels, even three days in, and lying in bed has made me sleepy. I've been staring at the wall with the spider so hard that my eyes hurt. I start to think, hmm, maybe I should close my eyes, when...
I see a single dark brown leg inch its way out, testing the waters. Then another. The spider is slowly moving its way along the wall. He's out. He's active. And it looks to me like he's heading towards another spider nearby, one I'd deemed small enough not to be troublesome. He's stretched out to his full length now, huge and menacing and ready for dinner. Unfortunately, his dinner plans put him on a straight path in my direction.

Now. I know, as the rational person that I am, that no real harm can come to me from this creature. He's not going to eat me... not by himself, at least. The worst he can do is bite me, or crawl on or near me. (I've heard some of the horrifying things spiders can do like crawl into your mouth or ears and lay eggs inside your head, but that's not even the kind of thing I'm worried about. My fears are more basic, more of the genre of a spider just being in my general vicinity).

I start to panic. He's up too high for me to reach with anything. And he's also pretty darn ginormous. To hit him with a shoe, I'd have to use a work boot, and I'd have to be extraordinarily accurate because he's fast. I'm trapped in the room with a monster, and there's no way out. I can't get to sleep with him hovering over me, I can't stay up all night watching him either. Every scenario seems to lead to eight hours of misery to come. Everything is terrible, life is miserable, I should have stayed home where we have svelte cosmopolitan city spiders. This country life is not for me.

Suddenly - a flash of brilliance! The bathroom door is just slightly ajar. It forms a triangle of sorts. I'm at the top, the bathroom is along the wall adjacent to me, and the spider is on the opposite wall. His trajectory is sort of on the hypotenuse, if any of this geometry nonsense makes sense. If I could dash in the bathroom, I'd have a completely spider-free area and could potentially get a little sleep.

A major thank you to my mom who has talked me through many of these situations.

Now for the logistics. I get up slowly, so as not to startle the spider into attacking. I lift the mattress. Too heavy to carry to the bathroom alone (not to mention the fact that it probably won't fit. This is a normal sized bathroom we're talking about). Okay, that's fine. I gather the comforter, blanket, and pillow, and a couple shoes just in case I have any surprises while inside my safe zone. I look up - the spider seems poised mid-stride, as though unsure what I'm about to do. This is it, my only chance. It's go time.

I grab my giant bundle of bed things, sprint to the bathroom, and immediately close the door. I put a towel down on the very cold tile floor, stuff the bathroom rug under the door crack so nothing would get in, and settle in for an awkward but safe next couple of hours.

The next morning, I gathered my courage and opened the door (the spider was immediately visible, thank goodness, so I could keep tabs on him) hastily put on my clothes, and stepped outside. I requested some assistance with the spider. The dad just came in, grabbed the spider with his hand, and tossed it out the door. Real simple.

I'd be mortified if anyone knew the lengths I went to because of a (very ginormous) spider. If you're not scared of spiders, it seems over the top. If you're from the countryside, it seems downright ludicrous. If the family knew I'd spent the night in the bathroom, they'd very quickly question my sanity. When I showed up at breakfast the next morning with bags under my eyes, I was so embarrassed I blamed it on bad dreams.

But that's the thing about fears. They only really make sense to you. And in the heat of the moment, sleeping curled up with your head tucked between the toilet and the sink just makes so much more sense than the remote possibility that a spider may crawl near you.

So. This story is a pretty good summary of my adjustment to rural life. But I am so grateful for the way the family has welcomed me into their home, and the time here has been lovely. And just think how seasoned and tough I'll be by the end. A real outdoorsy type.

If not, I always have the safety of the bathroom.