Adventure #9: Vienna

Christmas in Vienna… sounds idyllic, right? And in many ways it was. However, even the most beautiful and Christmas-y places can only come second to being home. When I talked to Daddy on Christmas Eve I made a deal to never not be home for Christmas again… and I’m so OK with that.

In coming into Vienna from Salzburg I felt a bit like I returned to reality. Tourism being far and away Salzburg’s #1 industry, they cater exclusively to us and make everything clean and beautiful and perfect. This coupled with the ubiquitous Julie Andrews and Mozart make it seem a bit… Disney. Branding its own sort of charm, Vienna contrasts as a working, bustling city independent of edelweiss and schnitzel and even little Amadeus (though they certainly play their roles). It certainly is lovely, even the humblest of buildings have ornate carvings and are beautifully colored. So much history and culture are crammed into this town I feel like we barely scratched the surface. In hindsight, getting a city tour would have been nice. Pictures can be found here and highlights are as follows:

Schonbrunn Palace: Austrian version of Versailles (which we’re planning on seeing while we’re in Paris so I can compare and see who wins). Here, I discovered a new fascination with the Hapsburgs as well as a new fascination with fabric-covered walls. Especially damask. LOVE damask.

MAK: We readily admit and accept that we’re not exactly museum people. Despite appreciating art, I feel silly and self-conscious in museums (though I should admit I got a B in Darius Spieth’s Art History 1001 at LSU, I mostly blame that grade on the class being at 7:30 a.m., a time almost as ridiculous as the professor’s name). I never know: How long am I supposed to look at painting? What am I supposed to be thinking? Or am I supposed to be feeling? Am I supposed to be noticing the composition or the medium or the style more? Do I need to learn about the historical context to better appreciate the work? Or does all this depend on the artist or style? Do the answers to these questions even matter? But I overcame this neurosis at the MAK Museum of Applied Art in Vienna. I like the Applied Art genre because it, like advertising, embodies creativity that has a purpose, a characteristic that quiets the battle between my right and left-brain. Furniture, jewelry, textiles (my favorite), pottery, you get to celebrate its form AND function. Well, that checked off our Viennese museum (an adjective that gave mom trouble, she kept saying “Vietnamese,” haha).

Christkindlmarkts: Scattered all over the city, we had planned on seeing a few of these Christmas markets but enjoyed some bonus ones that happily popped up in our paths. They were lovely and I like the opportunity to compare them to the French ones (Austria has more punch options and obligatory mugs), though I think I’ll allow Strasbourg to keep its “Capital of Christmas” title. Tried more Gluwein (once with rum and another with amaretto) and ate some Bratwurst like a hot dog, which may be the Austrian answer to the “best thing I ate” question. The sausage is just good. Concerning sweets, after having it three different ways, I think I’m maxed out on the Austrian default dessert Apple Strudel.

Midnight Mass: For both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we had a nice dinner (only one served strudel). Austrians typically celebrate more on Christmas Eve with opening presents and following a large dinner with midnight mass. So, we did the same. Though we had to stand for the crowd, I feel so lucky to have been in St. Stephen’s Cathedral (aka the Stephansdom) for Midnight Mass. To be celebrating one of the most important Christian holidays in the most important church in one of Europe’s important cities was a singularly unique and special experience.

An Austrian priest wrote “Silent Night” in the area around Salzburg in 1819. They even commemorate where it first played. Because of this, and the fact that it’s a great song, Austrians love and sing it ALOT. Though they obviously sang it in German it was nice to hear something so familiar during a Christmas experience that bore little resemblance to any of my previous. But my holiday was good, though different and I thought often of everyone back home. I love you, I miss you, and Merry Christmas.

Adventure #8: Salzburg

OK, so Mom and I have officially started our Christmas European vacation. I'm short on time and internet is touch-and-go so in lieu of actual posts I've fleshed out the pictures gallery with more informative comments. Click here and enjoy!

I found it a little strange to see her again, I guess I've gotten so used to my life here having the two worlds merge took some getting used to. But after a few hours we (well, mostly me) were talking away and everything was back to normal. In general, I like Austria. It's beautiful, the people are nice, and their side salads are ten times better than the French.

p.s. I've also finally loaded pictures of my town at Christmastime. I meant to do an actual post, but never got around to it... so here they are!

p.p.s. Just discovered that I had a little movie clip on my camera from The Sound of Music Tour. A clip of the snowy landscape for which the bus tour conveniently provided background music.

They Wish You a Merry Christmas.

I couldn't resist sharing this with y'all. Plus I realized I hadn't posted anything in awhile but don't feel like actually writing... The video is one of my CP (1st grade) classes trying to sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." Even though my awful voice overpowers them a bit they're cute, right? My favorite kid is William (no idea what his real name is), third row back in the gray striped shirt. He reminds me of my brother as a kid, except William smiles and can count to ten! Will post something more informative and substantially blog-like soon.

Adventure #7: Strasbourg

I did a project on Strasbourg in Madame Richard’s French II class at SJA. (OK, I was totally going to link to an article in the SJA website news archive, but they’ve deleted so many of the past articles that use to come up when you searched my name. This lack of digital proof of my one legacy in life really disappoints me...) Honestly, I remember very little about that project except for the timbered houses and something about sausages. But even though my memory failed me a bit, these two things ended up contributing to why Strasbourg is probably my favorite trip so far. The group we had was great, the city was adorable, the markets were so fun and the weather even held out for us.

Strasbourg, claiming to be the “Capital of Christmas,” doesn’t host one big Christmas market but rather a handful of many tiny ones scattered throughout the city. Stand after stand selling Christmas-y things like crèche figures, ornaments, lights, decorations, etc. And surprisingly, I didn’t get tired of them, the stands didn’t repeat themselves too often in what they sold, and many of the markets centered around different little themes. But the best stands were the ones selling food and hot drinks. The perfect setting to walk through the stalls and grab a little thing here and there to eat or drink. At the markets, I ate galettes (like a crepe but for meats and cheeses), knacks (sausages!), beignets, and pretzels, but the best was the fruit on a stick, especially the clementine, I’ve eaten an average of maybe three clementines a day here since they’ve been in season, they remind me of Louisiana satsumas. At the market they put the slices on a stick and then dip them in dark chocolate. I think this just may be my new answer to the “best thing you’ve eaten” question, at least in the “on a stick” category. To drink, all the hot drinks, like warm pulpy orange juice with nutmeg and cinnamon and honey, blueberry nectar that was delicious but made me look like Violet Beauregard for like 3 hours, and the piece de resistance vin chaud (red or white hot mulled wine), with all kinds of spices that smells just as good as it tastes… very Christmas-y!

Our hostel was far out of the center of town and walking back to it Saturday night proved to be a big adventure… And since we spent most of our time at the markets, we didn’t really get a chance to see much of the town itself, so I’d definitely like to revisit it. This may be the trip for that last weekend with Joy! Oh, I almost forgot about the lights... Sadly, my camera battery died on our last night there so I don’t have too many pictures of them (not that they would come tout that well anyway, too bad there’s no “Christmas market” setting on my camera). But you can see the ones I do have here. Every street had some sort of decoration, and they had a gorgeous huge Christmas tree. (Trivia time: While googling the city, I learned that the first Christmas tree supposedly popped up in Strasbourg.) I noticed the French (maybe most Europeans?) don’t use stars are angels as tree toppers but little spear-like finial things. I kind of like them, another option in the angel vs. star debate, though I’ve always been on team star. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for a nice one for my future Christmas trees. Something interesting that, as an old lady, I can use as a prompt to tell long-winded, repetitive stories about that one time I lived abroad...

Some of us decided that we should visit every town in the world at Christmastime just to see if Strasbourg can really claim the title as the “Capital of Christmas.” But until that happens, I think I believe them.

Hopefully Great Expectations.

Even though I’ve been here over two months (went by fast, right?) I still have my “Wait, I’m in France?” moments. Especially when I realized that this past Saturday, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, marked one year since I applied to this program. I remember rushing to get my application finished and to the Post Office with my aunt and uncle still in town for the holiday. I wasn’t even sure about my chances of getting in, much less what it would be like to actually go. This summer I had no solid expectations, other than what I thought I would like or miss (and it turns out, I don’t even miss ice that much at all). When people asked me if I was ready, and I would answer about plane tickets or living situations. Now that I’m here I don’t think I really could have imagined or prepared. Other than the physical and practical suitcase-related things, there’s not much you can do to prepare for taking a step like this. You have no idea what it’s going to be like until you’re mid-stride. I think this trip, this job, this experience, (or whatever I should call it) is something you can’t really prepare for, because when you prepare or plan or try to imagine what they’ll be like it never ends up being what you expected, for better or worse. Even little trips and things here tend to change at the last minute. Some of us were joking just today that it’s pointless to plan things because they usually end up changing, though most of the time it’s for the better.

Take this past Thanksgiving for example. I had little expectations (mostly worries) that we wouldn’t have enough food, that my dish would be a bomb, and that our tiny little apartment would be the worst possible venue for a party of at least 15 people. But Friday night was definitely a success! Everyone seemed to like my jambalaya and had a good time, it was a great group of people: Americans, French, British, Swiss, Spanish sharing a meal and having such a nice enough time that no one seemed to mind sitting on the floor. Everyone brought something different to contribute. I took a few pictures to share with my family, since I got to see some of theirs!

I hope my expectations keep getting surpassed for the rest of my time here. Including spending Christmas away from home for the first time, teaching, and a possible new side job!

En remerciement...

It’s Thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving I’ve spent outside the US. Thanksgiving has always been a favorite holiday of mine because it encompasses two great things: my family and food. And my family making food is especially great. Right now, I’m missing Aunt Marie’s sweet potato casserole (with PECANS, none of those yankee marshmellows), Nana’s corn pudding, Daddy’s and Maw-maw’s corn bread and French bread stuffing, Aunt Lynne’s Pickapepper sauce appetizers, Mom’s hot pepper jelly… I should stop before I get too homesick. I’m missing all the people who make the food too. I taught on Thanksgiving in my classes this week and I tried really hard to make them understand the importance of family and being thankful, and then we made hand turkeys. I think they liked the second part better.

Some of the other assistants and I will celebrate a bit of a faux-Thanksgiving here. Faux because: 1. We’re in Europe, 2. Non-Americans will be there, 3. It’s on Friday, 4. We’re not eating turkey, 5. The only “football” here to watch is soccer. So, I will attempt to recreate a semblance of the real American holiday by participating in the tradition of listing things for which I am thankful:

• Being in France. Obviously. Having the opportunity to be doing what I’m doing right now. It’s not always the easiest thing in the world, but the rewards have outweighed the challenges. By far, I think.
• My Family. They enabled me to have this opportunity, both financially and supporting-ly, especially my parents. I’ve participated in everything from soccer to drama to rowing (I sometimes forget I did that) to bowling (I’d definitely like to forget I did that), student governments and youth groups, working in stores and libraries and offices. But they always supported me (though sometimes with an eyeroll or two) and for that I am thankful. I am also thankful for the way they raised me. I feel like any success I have in life is due to my dad teaching me how to work and my mom teaching me how to be happy. I’m SO blessed. And even though I couldn’t be home I am thankful for the opportunity to have talked with all of my family while they were celebrating without me…
• My Friends. Both the old ones and the new ones I’ve made here. The old ones for everything we’ve shared and for still being my friends while I’m away and the new ones for preventing me from being lonely in France. Not only do I now have a little network of people here, I actually really like them.
• My Country. I love seeing a new culture and way of living, but I’m thankful to be American. I mean, if I wasn’t American I wouldn’t have a reason to write this cheesy Thanksgiving post, right? And I’m thankful for my homestate. It’s definitely imperfect but as I’ve gotten older and been away I appreciate coming from Louisiana. I also like having the heritage to actually back it up, like a bonus. And I’m thankful for LSU (still haven’t had my “Geaux Tigers!” moment – keep your fingers crossed!).
• I’m thankful that I’m happy. I think it was St. Paul that said you can be happy no matter your circumstances (totally don’t mean to sound preachy, it’s just a quote) and I like to believe that of myself more or less. Though I have yet to be tested much (thankfully).

Sometimes I worry what price I’ll have to pay for all these blessings that I have. I really haven’t done much to deserve all this… so, Merci!

Adventure #6: Geneva

Some of the teachers in Besancon are on strike this week so I teach five fewer classes than I normally do. Perfect time to catch up on blogging and make up for the last two pity posts that I whipped out and in which I used way too much passive voice, disappointing The Manship School and all their writing essentials.

NEWSFLASH: going to anther country means you need your passport. It doesn’t matter if they still speak French or that it’s “just” Switzerland. Laura and I both forgot ours but we lucked out and never got checked (something to be thankful for at Thanksgiving this week), but I’ll be honest, I prayed some Hail Marys going through customs. I think saying them in French gave us the extra edge. Lesson learned.

Geneva sits at the base of Lac Léman which fog completely covered most of our trip. We didn’t get to see the famed “Jet d’Eau” either, it wasn’t spouting for some reason… whatever, I’ve seen the real deal Old Faithful. But we did get to ride on a boat! Geneva’s public transportation includes water taxis that run across the lake, so we just hopped on for a round trip, pretty much the aquatic equivalent of riding a city bus around the block for fun. And it WAS fun, I like boats. ALL boats.

What impressed me the most about Geneva? The drinking water fountains. I usually drink more than the recommended eight glasses, but I find staying hydrated while traveling in Europe a bit of a dilemma. Sure, you can ask for a “carafe d’eau” in restaurants (hopefully for no charge) but what about in the meantime? Either you have to shell out two Euros every few hours for a new bottle or tote an empty one, which never fits nicely into your purse or pocket by the way, hoping to eventually fill up. But where? You can’t trust every sink you come across, much less a nearby lake, though I’m sure Bear Grylls has some tips for that. Finally, if you do manage to safely fill up that just makes your bag heavy so you drink it quickly. Good for your thirst but that means you’ll just eventually need a restroom, which are sometimes even harder to find and throw a wrench in your day plans. Quite the Pandora’s Box isn’t it?

Anyway, Geneva closed the lid on the where? problem with their nice fountains all over the city clearly labeled “Eau Potable,” i.e. “Drinking Water.” They more resemble outdoor fountains than the ones you find in school hallways. (FYI: LSU’s best water fountain is upstairs in Prescott. A classmate tipped me off to it. Runner-up is by Daddy’s office in J.C. Miller. Consistently cold, but not so cold it hurts your teeth, they have substantial, steady streams and foot pedals.) Filling up my empty Evian bottle at little spigots in quaint town squares made me feel connected to the Genevan women who, before indoor plumbing, possibly fetched their cooking and washing at these same spots.

I will now discuss my favorite activity of this particular weekend adventure: Ice skating in a perfect, picturesque little rink in a perfect, picturesque little park, in perfect, picturesque Switzerland (with skate rentals only costing a perfect two Francs, the only cheap thing in that town). What could possibly ruin this perfect, picturesque, Swiss Christmas-village moment? My skating. I have skated before, thanks to the Baton Rouge River Center and this go-round, I did find it easier than I remembered. I didn’t need to grasp the wall white-knuckled and I only fell once, when I got vain and tried to imitate the nice graceful, glides of a Swiss girl who could actually skate and even had the cute skating outfit (a Fair Isle sweater and tights). Falling isn’t the worst thing about skating. The worst thing is when you’re about to fall and for a split second a panic consumes you that you’re about to die. But other than that, skating was SO fun. If I could live another life, it would be as a figure skater. There’s a rink here in Besançon that I’m pretty sure I have a coupon for… wouldn’t it be fun if I came home able to skate? I’d love to be able to at least do this.

Food? Fondue. Chicken. Deliciousness. We ended up spending an obscene amount of Francs on a fondue dinner, but totally worth it, I mean, it WAS cheese, and the Swiss are celebrated for their fondue (in addition to using their army knives while not using their army). So, when in Rome! Also had my first mille feuille (I’m pretty sure they call it a Napoleon back home), white wine I actually really liked, and a proper, machine-mixed McFlurry! We saw the outside of the United Nations, walked through a flea market, walked for an hour to find a cemetery that ended up being gated closed, went through a very nice art and history museum, and the Botanical Gardens that I very much enjoyed, all for free. Despite the nasty weather, we had a successful trip. Unlike Lourdes, I’d definitely revisit Geneva, especially in the springtime and when someone else is paying (time to recommence Operation: Get my Parents to Europe).

Click here for my Geneva pictures and special thanks to Laura for the fondue pic of Natalie and me above.

Adventure #5: Annecy

One thing I (and a certain phantom) love/hate about Baton Rouge is that everyone seems to know everyone. Thought I would escape that for a year but it turns out that even France is a small world. Ashley, a fellow Louisianianne assistant I met this summer lives with a friend of one of my new Besançon friends. So, two Louisiana assistants have each befriended two Northern Ireland assistants independently of each other, in France. This = small world + a reason to visit another town! Consequently, Laura, the Northern Ireland to my Louisiana, and I hopped on a train to Annecy this past weekend (whim!).

Annecy is just too cute for words. Tucked into the French Alps, it reminded me a lot of my Barcelonnette days. I loved the little canals running through the town with the sweet little bridges over them. There’s just something picturesque and lovely about bridges, right? The views of the snow-capped mountains from these bridges didn’t hurt either. But what I loved most was how colorful it is. Surrounded by all the buildings bathed in pinks or yellows or blues, I never realized how monochromatic Besançon is before. They also have such a fun little group of assistants to hang out with too, most of them are from the UK (in fact, my friend Ashley was the only American I met there) and they all seemed so fun and sophisticated. It was really great to see another town and get a glimpse at another assistant’s experience. Ashley’s outgoingness has inspired me to try to do more things. She sings in a church choir and is looking into taking language classes. I’ve always been a joiner so why not join some French things myself? The question is just… what? I’ll keep you posted.

Hopefully Lynsey and Ashley will make a visit to Besancon soon so Laura and I can return the favor! All in all it was just the perfect, chill, little visit with walks around the town, homemade French-inspired meals, and the girls were sweet and gracious hostesses. See here for some pictures, isn’t it adorable?

Misc. #2

So I’ve been a little MIA, but the hiatus has made me realize that there are, in fact, a few people that care about reading this little thing (THANKS Christine and Mina)! Encouraged by this and some positive feedback from friends who are actual writers, I shall recommence with another bulleted stream of consciousness:

• I must have sung head, shoulders, knees, and toes about 300 times this week (in my classes, not just for fun, though it IS fun and slightly aerobic) and will probably be singing some more tomorrow and into next week too… I just started it because I panicked for something to do in one class and that’s the first thing that came to my head. Now I’m stuck singing it over and over and over… at least next week I can take a break and teach some Thanksgiving!
• 
  Love. The. Foliage. Click here and check the end of the album for some new pictures of a boat ride we took around the city. It's so wonderfully autumnal! Though the cold will be a trial, having actual seasons is a definite reward. I just love the fall! Always have, even in Louisiana, the home of “oh wait, it’s 75 degrees AND humid in December?” I love fall because I swear that the sun seems to shine more... golden, more warm in way, more glowy and comforting. The sun of summer is bright and blue and sharp but the sun of fall is encompassing and cozy... perfectly complementing the colors and textures of the season. It has mostly been gray and cold and rainy but this typical Franche-Comté weather hasn’t bothered me too much yet. Fogs and clouds and rain just feel so appropriately French. As does wearing a trench coat and carrying an umbrella while walking along cobblestoned streets. But what totally makes up for all the grayness (other than the romantic outerwear)? CHRISTMAS IS COMING! I’ve been watching the city put up lights around centreville for the past week, including a whole arrangement in the big fountain at Place de la Revolution. I cannot wait until they actually light them! AND there’s a roasted chestnut stand where we already have plans to spend some Euros.
• But thinking of the holidays gave me my first real pangs of homesickness. Though I’m SO excited and glad to be able to travel over the break with my mom, it’s going to be my first away from home. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite, because of the tradition and the food. I’m going to so miss seeing the rest of my family. I’ll also miss the sweet potato casserole, the cornbread stuffing, the boxed mashed potatoes, the hot pepper jelly and the pecan pie. We’re planning a little Thanksgiving fête here, so that will hopefully lessen my sadness. All the wonderful emails and messages and cards have helped too! Holiday Season 2009 WILL be very different from all my previous but from what I’ve seen so far, Europe does Christmas pretty well… it’ll be different, but amazing and I’m so glad and THANKFUL to be able to “profiter.”
• Food update: I have been living off a lot of yogurt lately but I am not complaining. Especially because I recently discovered a twelve pack for 1,17€ at my neighborhood Intermarché! At the farmers’ markets, I’ve been stocking up on Clementines, the closest thing I can find to Satsumas, which I could eat by the sackful this time of year back home. After buying my compulsory bag of citrus, I just walk around until I see something that strikes my fancy. First it was those artichokes, last week it was a cauliflower that I steamed and ate with Comté cheese, Tuesday I bought two eggplant that I’m not sure what I’ll do with yet… but I’ll definitely need to buy some olive oil to do it. I recently added to my pastry-tasting repertoire an almond croissant, a caramel croissant (less croissant-y and more king cake-y), and a chocolate-dipped meringue (HUGE and cheap plus it has that cotton candy dissolving quality when it hits your tongue, which I always enjoy). Monday I received a package from Daddy filled with Cajun-ness: jambalaya and gumbo mix, roux, file, Tony’s, Tabasco, etc. Can’t wait to cook some and show these Frenchies, Yanks, and Brits what’s what at our pseudo-Thanksgiving. We may technically be in the culinary capital of the world, but nothing can compare with South Louisiana. I mean, come on.

p.s. I did see some packets of crawfish at the aforementioned Intermarché, but they’re from China and it’s November… However, I’m still tempted to try them. Opinions?

Adventure #4: Lourdes

I’ve written these last two posts while sitting on trains (I brought my computer since we now know painting my nails is a bad idea). I’m glad I had the practice of accumulating little victories with a group so that I won my solo little victories a little more easily. Plus, while leaving Paris I got my first glimpse this year of the Eiffel Tower. I have to remind myself surprisingly often that I am indeed France, not because things don’t look or feel French, but because it’s just such an odd thing to believe I’m doing. I’m so not cool enough to be jet-setting around France, but I am? Even though I’ve been here over a month, it still is taking some getting used to.

Fellow SJA alum-turned-French-assistant Caroline and I planned a trip to Lourdes over the summer (actually, it was mostly Caroline, merci!). I remember rooming with Caroline for Key Club Convention sophomore year of high school and now, six years later, we’re in France. Definitely an upgrade from the nasty Holiday Inn near the Biloxi Convention Center.

Lourdes was… OK. I’m so glad to have gone to catch up with Caroline, to have seen the home of Saint Bernadette and stick a butterfly on it, but I don’t think it’s a place I’d revisit. Outside of the sanctuary with the Basilica and the Grotto, there’s not much. And I couldn’t help feeling that the town itself is just kind of… tacky. The streets are lined with store after store selling Bernadette refrigerator magnets and Mary-shaped water bottles that people crowd in to buy. Last Lent I read Song of Bernadette by Frank Werful. The coolest part of the book may be that Werfel was a Jewish refugee in Lourdes during WWII and he decided to write about this little girl saint he heard so much about during his sanctuary. At the time of Mary’s apparitions in 1858, Bernadette was just 14 tears old, illiterate, and hadn’t even had her first communion. Completely humble, she was totally just dragged into this thing and faced so much criticism and suffering just because she wanted to listen to her “pretty lady.” Mary even told Bernadette, “I can’t promise you happiness in this life, only in the next.” After the apparitions Bernadette had such a hard go of it that the first part of that promise definitely came true (and I’m sure the latter part eventually did as well). I really admired Bernadette but I found that Lourdes’ animatronic nativity scene and holy wax museum distracted and kind of disappointed me.

I had these negative thoughts about Lourdes in my head when we visited the Cachot, where Bernadette lived with her family at the time of Mary’s apparitions. Formerly a prison, this tiny little two-room house literally takes about three minutes to tour. A display of the things Mary told Bernadette included her instructions to build the Basilica so that “people would come in procession.” This struck me, because I realized then that Mary had her wish, people definitely come in procession to Lourdes and so what if that procession leads past pink bedazzled Mary statues? It’s all to a good end I suppose. (Pictures of Lourdes are posted here!)

I enjoyed seeing the real grotto (and not just the imitation one at the University of Notre Dame) but I have no real comment or opinion on the healing powers of the spring. I touched the waters but didn’t drink them though I did fill a little bottle to bring home (but not a gas-tank sized one like I could have bought) just in case anyone might need it in the future.

We went to mass in Italian in the Basilica and said the rosary in French at the Grotto. Would that be enough to let me to say grace at dinner, Dad? Speaking of Italians, Lourdes seemed about as much Italian as it did French, between the language and the restaurants. You’d think the Spanish influence would dominate because of proximity, but I guess the Italian tourists outnumber. Anyway, good food! We ate two great dinners and do love Caroline’s style! A bottle of wine, courses, dessert – we definitely weren’t fasting.

The Pic du Jeu also makes its home in Lourdes. An old, steep train track leading up to the top of a mountain that marked the beginning of the Pyrenees, we rode up and walked a beautiful little mini-hike. I’m on a mission to see a French cave, any one would do, and the one at the top of the mountain had the highest elevation of any European cave. Unfortunately, the timing (and the coldness) just didn’t work out. Every summer vacation with my family involved some sort of a cave (thanks to my Aunt Marie we were big fans of National Parks) so I’m anxious to become a cross-continental cave crawler. There’s one near Besancon I have my eye on.

Successful Toussaint? Check! Now it’s time to plan Christmas season activities. So far on the agenda: Geneva, Strasbourg, and Lyon. Not to mention the grand European voyage I’ll be taking with my dear mother in less than two months. But I guess I should think a little bit about my job in the meantime…

Adventures #2 & #3: Dijon & Normandy

Dijon

I probably should just count these as Adventures 1.5 & 2 since Dijon was such a short trip and can be summed up in two words: mustard & churches. But it did get a butterfly sticker so I think it deserves some documentation. A big group of us went for the day and we spent a lot of time standing on corners, trying to figure out where to go. But we did manage to see some churches, as well as Les Halles, the big indoor market selling candies, mustard (duh), all kinds of game and poultry (still complete with their heads), fish, and produce. We saw three different churches in Dijon, bringing my church count to five so far. Not being very educated on gothic and/or renaissance architecture I have to confess that, though beautiful, they all look the same. But I do like the little patron saints chapels and the stained glass. We ate a very traditional French lunch, meaning it took three hours and involved innards. (For some reason I felt compelled to try andouille again, this time knowingly and it didn’t taste any better, even after pouring enough Dijon mustard on it to make my eyes water.) On the way back from Dijon, I visited Gray (another butterfly!), a tiny town outside Besançon. Here, I got to hang out with some fun peeps, I saw another church (six!) and I ate at a French McDonald’s in the name of cultural research. I liked the different fry sauce, but would have preferred more than 3 ice cubes in my Sprite and the McFlurrys definitely disappointed because you have to mix them yourself even though their McFlurry machine is just sitting right there. Click here for pics from Dijon!

Caen

Two days later, I left for Normandy with three other Besançon-area assistants: two from the UK (SO fun to have friends with cool accents) and one from Arkansas (less cool accent). We got along well (in my opinion) and had the same attitude and expectations. I’m SO lucky to have met them.

After meeting in Besançon Monday morning to game plan, we were on a train to Caen by 3:30 that afternoon (what did I tell you about whims?). We counted our little victories like successfully using the metro to change train stations in Paris or booking a tour we wanted or communicating absolutely anything in French. I failed at attempting a train manicure; you’d think it’d be a good way to use all that free time but you’d be disappointed. We celebrated our safe arrival that night with cider. Cider, a specialty of Normandy, is not the apple stuff I remember my brother liking at Christmastime, but a bubbly, dry, alcoholic drink. It’s very nice. Not having much of an idea of what we were going to do in Caen, the next morning we started wandering around. A very sweet town, we spent most of the day at the ducal chateau of William the Conqueror (who also pops up later in our trip). Not only was it free, it offered great views of the city, see for yourself. We could spy three church steeples but only went into one (seven!).

Our one casualty of going at the last minute was not being able to see Mont St. Michel, the island chateau about 2 hours away from Caen. I’ve heard it’s lovely but the D-Day tour and the experiences we had in Bayeux and Caen definitely made up for it. The weather even cooperated with us. France knows the Normandy region for its rainy and cloudy weather but gorgeous blue skies greeted us two out of our three Normandy days. The afternoon of the D-Day tour turned overcast, but we didn’t mind, as it seemed fitting and set the mood. At one point the sky was the exact same grayish blue as the water so the horizon seemed lost somewhere in the middle.

Bayeux

When we went to the tourist office in Caen, we booked a tour of the D-Day beaches that leaves from Bayeux, which meant we had to go to Bayeux (only 20 minutes by train and another sticker for my map). Bayeux, as in the Bayeux Tapestry. If you need a refresher as to what exactly the Bayeux Tapestry is like I did (OK, I honestly had no idea what it was), click here. Sounds a little boring, right? I went since I could get student prices with my expired ISIC card and old LSU I.D., but I actually enjoyed it. A super long stretch of embroidered cloth behind glass, you get an audio guide (price included!) to talk you through the depicted events. Since barely anyone could read at the time, the government commissioned the pictorial tapestry to convince citizens that William the Conqueror is awesome and that everyone should hate the British. So basically, it’s advertising! Yay for Mass Comm! (OK, technically it’s propaganda, but everyone always assumes that’s a bad thing because of Animal Farm.) Between seeing what may have been one of the first PR campaigns and living in the birthplace of the Lumière Brothers, I’m covering Mass Communication and French thus using BOTH my majors. Maybe my degrees aren’t all that worthless…

A needlepoint thing in the gift shop tempted me because then I could create my very own mini Bayeux tapestry! Just like the monks or whoever. But the 60€ price tag changed my mind. Probably for the best, because now I’m picturing myself needlepointing away the evenings in Besançon while watching Circle of Friends and Little Women. All I would need is Lizzie to ship me some of her cats. (Much love to Lizzie by the way for sending me my first letter in France not from my mom! Not that I don’t LOVE your cards too, Moma.)

Before catching our train out of Bayeux we found the cutest restaurant where I got my current answer to the “what was the best thing you ate?” question. Autumn Salad: Potatoes, mushrooms, and Camembert (a cheese of Normandy!) on top of lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers and a little ceramic pot of soft-boiled egg. And after lunch we learned from an ATM that we got our first paychecks! (My first thought was that I totally could have afforded that needlepoint thing, cats or no cats.) Click here to see some pics of Bayeux. There’s about 50 times more English floating around than Besançon and some of the restaurants and shops have signs: “Welcome to our Liberators!” Are they perfectly catering to their tourist clientele or what? I liked talking with the other Americans we saw, but I’m still waiting for my first LSU-apparel sighting. I can’t wait to “Geaux Tigers!” them and then become best friends. That’s just one of the many things I hope to accomplish in the next six months.

D-Day

We had an absolutely incredible tour of the D-Day beaches and you can see my pictures here. At first 40€ seemed expensive (even with my shameless claim to still be a student) but it was completely and utterly worth it. Our guide, Christophe, brought us to Point du Hoc, Omaha Beach, the American Cemetery, as well as some out of the way places I doubt we would have normally seen. He earned some more points when, at the cemetery, Christophe stopped his speech to say to himself “I love this one” when the bells played “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” The fact that he was so knowledgeable and appreciative and respectful made him that much better of a tour guide. I would have happily paid the full adult price I was probably supposed to pay in the first place.

I feel like anything I try to articulate about visiting these sites would seem trite and uninformed. All I know is that while you’re standing on this beach with its clear, clear water and beautiful views of bluffs and cliffs, it’s impossible to imagine what actually happened, impossible to imagine the water running red and the bluffs raining down bullets and shells, impossible to imagine the hell on earth. But even harder to imagine? This hell didn’t end right after June 6^th but lasted and lasted. So, as a soldier, even if you made it through D-Day itself, you couldn’t feel ease or relief because tout de suite, your next nightmare began.

In our little minibus (Ubaye flashback), we first stopped at Point du Hoc, a battered bluff near Omaha Beach. I love that the French left everything as it was and didn’t try to restore or move it. The German bunkers and pillboxes (built by French prisoners) still exist and you can walk and climb all over them. Bombings from ships and planes left the entire area, once flat farmland, completely cratered and treacherous. When I walked down into one of these craters the quiet down there struck me, but then I realized how incredibly not quiet it most definitely was the day the crater was made.

From the beach Christophe pointed out the American Cemetery as a group of pine trees atop one of the bluffs. Once I stood among the graves up there, I could smell those pines. Ascetically, seeing the similar grave markers lined up just so, by the hundreds, is powerful. Our guide made a point about the mélange of surnames and their represented ethnicities on the stones, a true example of the melting pot of America. I saw them lower a flag as taps played, I found a Louisiana soldier’s grave, and spent the time walking around by myself. I loved learning that American military cemeteries abroad must be positioned to face the US. So at Omaha, all the gravestones face west; the soldiers face home.

“To these we owe this high resolve, that the cause for which they died should live.”

A Whim-Win Situation.

So far, one of the things I’ve learned about France is how easily one can indulge in whims here. One day coming home from school I looked out the bus window and saw how pretty the day was and how nice the walk along the river looked, so I got off the bus and walked it. I was with a new friend talking about how much we liked gnocchi, so we made some. Four of us were talking about what to do over the break, decided to go to Dijon on Saturday, and that we should also go to Geneva soon, so we went and bought our tickets. All decisions made just like that.

Obviously the close proximity of these places and the train stations make traveling to Geneva easier here than back home, but I do think the lifestyle here encourages whims. From the way they do their shopping to the way they make friends, the French, and I suppose most Europeans, seem entirely whimsical to me. Not in the Disney or fairy-tale way, but the capricious and impulsive way (thank you, right-click-thesaurus). For example, the French enjoy eating seasonally and buying only what they want to eat that night or for the next few days, not a huge, twice-monthly haul at Sam’s. This allows them to indulge in their whims, depending on what looks good or their cravings.

However, I’ve always thought the word capricious tends to bring negative connotations. Like indecisive? Fickle? Sporadic? (Thanks again, thesaurus.) I’m a Capricorn so I assume that’s related, root-word wise. (I’ve never put much stock in astrology. Except, I share a birthday with Mary Tyler Moore, so I’ll believe anything that can make us more alike.) But even if the stars conspired for me to be capricious, this whimsy thing, like the language and the food, is foreign to me. I’ve gotten to like structure and limitations and I know how to effectively work with them. Here, I have to operate a little differently, because my new schedule and lifestyle opens up more options. Time to ditch the At-a-Glance Day Minder I’ve used since eighth grade and hop on a train. So, for the first vacation break, let the whims take me where they will!

FOOD.

Finally, the entry that you have been waiting for! (Or at least Nupe has.) Once again, I preferred to think in an outline organized by the most important topics.

Cheese:

• Luckily for me, the Franche-Comté region houses makes of its own artisan cheeses. So far, the Mont D’Or is my fav. It has a “sens” like a Camembert but a different soft… kind of granular? I don’t know, but it’s good and I served it at our first little apartment party on really stale bread I revived in the microwave. A seasonal cheese, it’s best to eat all you can right now! I’ve heard it makes GREAT fondue for bread and potatoes; you just bake it in its little wooden box. This might be the prompt I need to actually buy the required oven. The taste of the Swiss-like Comté becomes stronger as it ages and you choose from 8-, 10-, 12-, or 18-month old batches in the stores. I’ve also tried L’Edel de Cleron, a brie relative, and the wonderfully gooey Cancoillote on pizzas and galettes.

Beverages

• Bars are not the smoke and rap music-filled dens of uncomfortableness they can sometimes be back home. Think Chelsea’s or the Bulldog (when there’s not 1000 people there).
• I like wine, I know nothing about it, and am therefore quite easy to please. Preferring red, I’ve had my share of cheap Rhone-Alps and Bordeauxs here but the only local-ish wine I’ve gotten to try is one of the Jura whites. (FYI: French wine is named by the region in which it was made and not by the grapes like Italian wines.) I found it way more heady and nutty than the fruity and light white wines I’m used to (haha, listen to me pretending I can talk about wine…) and I can’t quite decide if I like it. I think I’ll wait to try the famed Vin Jaune of the region when Mom comes to visit because she can afford the 22€ a bottle.
• 
  Beer is good. They do serve it cold. (Daddy, we now know that it’s safe for you to come to France.) They also serve each type of beer in its own branded glasses that make very nice souvenirs if your purse is big enough. Last summer I accidently asked for a liter of Stella that cost 10€. My reluctance to try to order creatively and end up with something else ridiculous led me to try the easy-to-say demi-sirops. If you successfully ask the bartender for one, he mixes a pint of the cheaper beer with any of the variety of flavored syrups (peach, raspberry, strawberry, cherry, mint, etc.). All I have to remember is the fruit vocab I hopefully learned in French II at SJA. Totally appealing, but they border on being too sweet, so I’ve moved on to the demi-blanches or demi-blondes (whichever the bartender thinks I’ve said). Plus, one is called Edelweiss, a glass I definitely took home, with Kelly’s help. A genius invention, the giraffe, is like getting a mini-keg for your table, and turns out to be cheaper for everyone involved.

Everything Else

• Street stands sell cheap and quick sandwiches, you just have to find your own place to eat them. Church steps and benches near the river work nicely. Half a baguette stuffed with ham and cornichons, goat cheese and tomatoes (and sometimes salmon if you unknowingly ask for it), or chicken and boiled eggs. For about 3 euros. I’m a fan. Especially the ones with the local cheeses, and have I told you about French mayonnaise? It’s about a 100 times more delicious than Helman’s or Kraft or, God forbid, Miracle Whip.
• A kabob here is a Lebanese gyro. I like it even better than the ones from restaurants at home (sorry, Serop’s). You know that cucumber dressing that you can taste for days? The French have replaced it with the wonderful sauce blanche. Plus, they give you these tiny forks to eat with it. Fun!
• The hamburgers are as big as your face and they eat their fries with mayonnaise (just like we learned in Pulp Fiction). Seriously, given my past brushes with food poisoning, I never though I would be so pro-mayonnaise. But as far as I know they refrigerate it, unlike their eggs, which I know they don’t.
• Almost ordered stomach the other day at a restaurant (you think I would have learned after the andouille affair*) but I got a nice pork ribs plate instead. And the other day for lunch in centreville I got a beef roast/stew thing that was delicious. They know their meat… and their innards, apparently.
• The only thing that outnumbers the pizza places here are the lingerie stores, and the best one we’ve found so far is Macadam (for pizza, not lingerie). At lunchtime, the pizzas are half price and you can taste the fresh toppings and the crust lives up to being a French bread product. Plus, pizza=cheese so I’m happy.
• For some reason I’ve been oddly slow at trying pastries, but I’ve hit the basics: pain au chocolat (like a square croissant with chocolate down the middle), apple tart, and a crazy-difficult-to-eat crepe filled with bananas and Nutella. Three-for-three yummy.

As far as my own forays into French food, I’ve enjoyed being a semi-regular customer at the nearby bakery (where there’s like 6 kinds of baguettes) and have hit up the markets downtown and the one by my school. Every Tuesday during my numerous class breaks (I swear, these children only go four days a week and get two ½ hour recesses and a two-hour lunch break), I can go to the market and stock up. It's a really interesting one too, very multicultural because of the neighborhood and selling food, clothes, bolts of materials, all kinds of things. My first time I bought some tomatoes ( not that bad, they didn't have the supermarket taste for sure, but didn't have much other taste either, definitely not as good as Louisiana) and… artichokes!

A total impulse buy, they were huge and cheap. It wasn't until after I bought he artichokes that I realized I didn't really know how to cook them, or might not have a pot large enough. But I’ve cooked them twice in a little soup pot filled halfway with water with a plate weighted down by a book on top. And have I told you about the greatness of French mayonnaise? Perfect artichoke dip.

If you need some more visuals, please consult the photo album entirely devoted to food. Bon Appétit!

*The “andouille affair” refers to an unfortunate galette incident where I mistook (and led poor Christine with me) the French andouille of pork colon for the delicious, and typically internal organ-free, andouille sausage of South Louisiana. Same name, very different experience, though the etymology of the Cajun word makes sense...

"Hello Teacher!"

I am officially a teacher in France. Yesterday I “taught” (using that term quite loosely) five classes with varying degrees of success. All in all, it went better than I expected. I’m glad that I have a better idea of my work, and I’m ever gladder that I actually think I’m going to like it.

Quick lesson on French school system terminology (because I had to learn it too). Elementary (primaire) starts with CP (first), CE1 (second), CE2 (third), CM1 (fourth), and CM2 (fifth). Kindergarten is typically not part of école primaire, but housed with the pre-k aged children in an école maternelle. I teach about two classes of every grade, CP-CM2. 45 minutes twice a week for CE2-CM2 and half an hour twice a week for CP and CE1. So far, I’ve taught mostly the littlest ones and I think they’re going to be difficult, since they can’t read yet and all. Everyone was warning me about the CMs because of discipline problems but as a whole the older kids seem to be more responsive, either because the novelty of having an American there hasn’t worn off, or they’ve had a little bit of English before. Les petits are just hopeless, I see many songs and coloring sheets in their futures. But who knows, once I’ve had all my classes they could be my favorites BECAUSE of all the songs and coloring sheets.

The other teachers are generally nice and easy to work with. I spend my breaks at school in the teacher’s lounge trying to follow their conversations (not too much luck) but I’m learning some new school-specific vocab. They don’t seem to expect too much from my lessons, so that’s good, and they handle some of the discipline, which is even better. I’m totally going to take advantage of the “only speak English in English class” rule, that way the kids never have to know how bad my French is…

ALL French people have the exact same handwriting. Kind of creepy. I’ve watched the teachers have lessons on this and the students get really confused when they see mine, especially my numbers. I meet them halfway by putting the little lines through my sevens but I’m not changing my ones at all, and my twos apparently look like sixes, but I’m there to expose them to other cultures, right? They’ll have to get used to my loopy twos.

Another cultural difference, this one unexpected: Since most Europeans learn British English, (completely understandable due to proximity), my teaching materials are all frustratingly British and have lessons about lorries, Yorkshire puddings, and Guy Fawkes (thankfully I know of a few translators). Obviously, I’m not going to teach any of this “King’s English.” I feel as though I’d be less of an American if I didn’t take advantage of the little influence I have. Manifest Destiny! And what better way to start than giving all the French children American names? (I’m not just on a power trip, we were told that giving children English names is a enriching exercise as well as teaching them English sounds and pronunciations. Example: ever heard a French kid try to say “Heather?” “Th” doesn’t really appear in French.) My name inspirations came from friends and family, as well as pop culture (and by pop culture I mean the Babysitter’s Club, American Girl Dolls, the Gosselin sextuplets and Disney Channel stars). In hindsight, Felicity, Dawn and Stuart might have been too difficult, but Hank, Madison, Aidan, Jennifer, Tracy, Zach and Wendy were big hits. I have no intention of learning their French names but have little hope they can remember their own English names. Next week, we’ll have to play a game or something so Brittney, Sean, Katie, Connor, Kevin and their classmates won’t have identity crises. As for me, French students typically call their teachers “maîtresse” instead of "Madame Whoever." This just translates into “teacher” so that’s what they’re calling me. They shout "Hello Teacher!" when they see me in the halls. It’s cute and makes me feel like Annie Sullivan. However, I couldn’t even teach them “my name is” so I’m certainly not working any miracles. Halloween will take up a whole lesson next week (enter the coloring sheets) and then the week after is our first vacation. Pretty sweet gig, right?

p.s. I haven’t taken any pictures of the school yet, and I’m sure there’s some sort of law that prevents me from sharing pictures of children online so you’ll just have to use your imaginations! If you really need a visual, just substitute the kids from School of Rock (the diversity is actually pretty similar) except make them European and change the uniforms. I plan on teaching them songs, so who knows about their musical ability?

Misc. #1

Because stream-of-consciousness is easier to read in lists:

New things I’ve learned:

• How a radiator works (sort of).
• What an “electric kettle” is. It’s like a teapot with it’s own built-in stove. Do people own these in the US? Because it was total news to me.
• French children point their fingers in the air instead of raising their hands. Kind of adorable. They also use wheely-booksacks way more than American kids.
• Bises. The little kisses the French do on either cheek? Yeah, well they do that alot. I saw a newspaper article on how people should stop doing the bises to prevent the spread of the flu (la grippe!) and I’d totally be on board. I know I’m here is to learn and acclimate myself in a new culture, but there are some things about which I am decidedly American. Plus the cheek-to-cheek contact can’t be good for your complexion.
• Sephora’s “Beauty Insider” card cannot be used internationally.
• The weather’s been nice (sunny and cool), but it’s not all that less humid that back home. My smooth hair dreams have been crushed.
• I like hand-washing clothes. It’s kind of satisfying in a look-how-productive-I’ve-been kind of way. And machine-washing costs 4€ a load, which I’ll have to do eventually because it’s kind of hard to hand-wash towels and jeans.
• Turns out I don’t miss ice at all.
• Television however, whole other story. Hulu and Netflix don’t work in Europe and I haven’t really tapped into my collection of corny movies and SATC yet (want to make it last the whole seven months) so out of desperation, I have replaced television with websites that post funny pictures. THIS one is a favorite, as well as THIS, and oh, ONE MORE. Please don’t think less of me. Some other assistants watched French TV and though it sounds interesting, “Friends” in French just wouldn’t be the same.

This weekend Besançon hosted the Sonorama music festival. Some assistants came in from out of town and we made a little party out of it. The performance Friday night, a British brass band, with quite the varied repertoire, first playing “Thriller” and then “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.” The conductor was dancing and trying to rile up the crowd like, I don’t know, David Bowie or someone… It was kind of funny considering they were just a glorified seated marching band, but everyone loved them and started dancing. I just kept thinking that this could only happen in Europe…

Saturday night was another huge dance party in the one of the big squares in centreville. They hung a giant disco ball from a crane and had a DJ playing some interesting music, some sort of techno/electronic/”drum and bass”/euro whatever, but it was still fun. Another “only in Europe” moment. Plus I got a plastic souvenir cup that I’m going to use to hold my toothbrush. Exciting!

Other than the festival, I’ve had a few lazy days… guess I’m storing up my energy for teaching? I’ll be observing at the beginning of this week and then start teaching Thursday. Should have more interesting things to talk about then.

P.S. New site for posting all my pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/connie.boudreaux

On a mission.

Encouraged by the growing number of contacts in my little French phone, my mission lately has been to meet as many people as I can. Even more encouraging, I’ve met a handful of former assistants who have renewed their positions or found some other way to stay in Besançon for 2, even 3 years. If they liked this place enough to come back to, then I must be in for a decent year, right? And they couldn’t have been sweeter: showing us their favorite haunts, explaining the circus of French paperwork, giving teaching tips (which I heartedly welcomed), and introducing us to their real French friends.

I went on a little hike with a group of some of these newfound friends a few days ago. Less than 2 km and taking only about thirty minutes, the path didn’t get impossibly steep but was steep enough to feel like you’re really hiking, you know? Basically, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon outing; picnics would only ameliorate the situation. We got to the top and received our reward: a fantastic view of the whole town, even better than the one from the Citadelle (in fact, this view included the Citadelle). Click here to see a few pictures from the hike! (I’m using a new photo-sharing site so I’ll be able to put up more pics soon and will try to organize them a little better.) Also at the top near the Fort (forgot the name… Chauban?) stood a monument to a regiment of American soldiers that fought on the hill during World War II. Given the topic of my French senior seminar class, this was waayyy cool and also gave another mood to the hike. Imagining soldiers on their own missions, running around with guns, avoiding enemy fire, where we were just enjoying the trees... Favorite thing I’ve done so far and I hope to revisit it often, especially once the seasons start changing (but my goodness, it’s October, I’m sure they’ll be changing soon).

Good of an intro as any for a weather report: We’ve really lucked out because it has been GORGEOUS. In the sixties, clear blue skies, just perfect. However the nights have been cold and we couldn’t get our heater working. Turns out it wasn’t broken, we were just being Americans. Thankfully a more knowledgeable ami helped us out and we now have heat! So far I’ve heard that it doesn’t snow all that much in Besançon but hopefully some connections with assistants in smaller towns outside the city will get me to some real, real, snow. Not like the “snow” in Baton Rouge over finals week last December, but SNOW. Skiing may also be in my future, once my French health insurance kicks in.

OK, now about my teaching. Which is, as far as the French government is concerned, the reason I’m here. The department held a large meeting of all the assistants Monday, which basically consisted of eight hours of information and paperwork. Up until now, I’ve been so preoccupied with the move that I haven’t thought much about the actual job. I officially started my elementary school post last Thursday. I’m teaching all the classes, ages 6-10, and pretty much have all the lesson planning and teaching responsibility. The other teachers have warned me that discipline is a big problem, and since the children can already tell that I don’t speak awesome French (they laugh at my accent) I’m thinking commanding respect and attention is going to be difficult… but I’m just observing the first two weeks and I’ll be getting some help from the school and from a few workshops with the department so I’ll be able to put on a better game face soon. I find the French government a little crazy to give me this much responsibility with absolutely no experience. Teaching will definitely present a challenge, but it’s a mission I accepted and from which I now I’ll learn a ton about myself, and the language, and working in general. Hopefully, it will be a small price to pay for the experience of living in France.

Illuminating.

First of all, thanks to the few of you who gave me encouraging words about this “blog” thing. I guess I’ll keep going…

I’ve been here about five days so far and I feel like I’m doing a good job getting my bearings. Though Besançon compared to other French cities might not be as beautiful, or as big, or as quaint, I feel like it’s just as good as any place to get settled and learn. And hell, living in France is living in France. I’ve gotten to see some of the sights, eat some of the food (which I’ll cover in its own proper post later on), and meet some more of the people I’ll be sharing this next year with.

Last Saturday I went with a few other assistants (new friends?) to the Citadelle. It overlooks Besançon and is part of Vauban’s fortifications built during the early 1700s. Just expecting a tour of an old fort or whatever, seeing baboons hanging out in what used to be the moat definitely surprised me! The Citadelle now houses a couple of great museums and even a zoo complete with monkeys climbing around on the old stones (reminded me of the Jungle Book) and a tiger that I like to think of as Mike’s French cousin, Michel. Besançon is big on being “green” so I guess they even found a way to reduce, reuse, recycle their old monuments. Impressive. As were the views… click here to see!

Sunday there was a big flea market. Some of the items being “antiques” they were a bit expensive but I bought a lamp for 1€, as in, ONE EURO, so like $1.50? $1.70? AND it works! For some reason, this makes me more excited than anything so far, I’m like, seriously giddy about this lamp. It isn’t that cute, but it administers light! I wonder if this is what the cavemen felt like when they created fire…haha.

Unfortunately, as far as my job goes, I’m still in the dark. It looks like I might be at two schools now and I know a rough idea of the number of classes and students and their ages, but I know nothing of my schedule or my responsibilities or expectations. I meet my contact person tomorrow morning, she’s even picking me up! Hopefully then I’ll get a better idea of my job, you know the reason I’m here and all.

A runner-up to the greatness of the lamp purchase: For 7€, I bought the Advantages Jeunes, an ID card and coupon book for young people that got me into the Citadelle free and a 6€ coupon to the bookstore that I used to get a “Mini Anglais” dictionary. Not only will it help me save money but I also think that I’ll get out more and do more if I have these motivating coupons.

Last but not least, I am proud to say: I got my French bank account! After all my worrying and procrastinating it was so easy. The lady helping me at Banque Populaire was so sweet and helpful, walked me though everything and even complimented my French (on that part I’m sure she was lying, but still, very nice). In about two weeks I’ll have my debit card and then I’ll be in business. It was also nice to get at some of the money I made this summer that’s been in traveler’s cheques. Now I can buy a hairdryer… and some cheese.