Adventure #25: Getting Back

(First of all, how cool is it that my “adventures” made an even 25?)

Two months ago today I arrived back in the states. Just as the previous eight before it, they went by pretty quick. With the help of my brother, his fiancée, and a few friends back home, I managed to pull off my return as a surprise for my parents. Totally worth it. I’m so glad to be nestled once again in the comfort of my family and friends and am enjoying being back in South Louisiana.

So I caught a lot of flack in France for maybe talking a bit too much about Louisiana, my family (especially my dad) and LSU, but being away has made me look at my home with new eyes. And guess what? It IS something worth talking about. Obviously I am biased and I totally admit it, but in all seriousness, Louisiana has so many things about it that make it unique from all the places I’ve seen so far. I’m very proud to call it my home and even prouder to actually have the heritage to back it up too. It's like a bonus.

People have been asking me if I’ve had the time of my life, and to be honest, I have no idea. I’ve never really liked that term, just as I’ve always had problems with the whole “Carpe Diem” concept. (You just can’t carpe every diem...) I feel as though calling one part of your life “the time” of your life means the rest, what? Sucks? Don’t’ get me wrong, I know this was an amazing, incomparable opportunity for which I’m incredibly grateful but does that mean the rest of my life will pale in comparison?

Granted, coming home was a bit bittersweet. Just as I felt a bit homesick about missing people and things while I was in France, I’m now a bit heartsick about missing people and things from France. Throughout all the things I’ve done and experienced, whether it’s schools, camps, organizations, trips, etc. what I always enjoy most, remember most, and miss most are the people I met during the doing and experiencing. This was no different. I was blessed to have met so many amazing people and double blessed to have so many amazing people to come home to.

And then there’s the whole job thing. And by “thing” I mean not having one, at least a real, big-girl job. But still, I think (or at least hope) that my life will just increase exponentially from here on out (or at least remain constant). I’m choosing to believe that figuring out what to do next will be exciting… am I naïve? Probably.

In fact, I’m reminded of a scene in the fifth season of “The Hills” (thanks again, Elizabeth!). Like myself, our heroine Lauren Conrad was at a pivotal point in her life and wasn’t sure what her next step would be. During a heart-to-heart, her boss Kelly Cutrone told her that some of the most special times in her life was when she didn’t have laid-out plans. She then proffered a quote in French (connection!): “Je voudrais flâner avec toi.” According to Kelly, and verified by WordReference.com, “flâner” means to stroll or wander aimlessly. So I might be wandering aimlessly for awhile… but if it’s good enough for LC then who am I to complain?

Adventures #23 & 25: Northern Ireland and Wales

Lucky for me two of my fellow assistant friends are British and don’t mind houseguests (or at least tolerate them) so I got a quick sojourn into Northern Ireland and Wales after I said my “au revoirs” to France. Not only was this a nice transition back into English-speaking culture before hitting up the states, it was a nice transition back into family life. Laura’s and Ben’s families were so welcoming and fun, if they ever want to adopt an American girl with two bachelor’s degrees and no job prospects, I just might know someone…

First, a quick lesson (this might be “duh” to some of you, but it was novel to my American ignorance): The terms “United Kingdom” and “Great Britain” are NOT interchangeable. GB refers to the big island including Scotland, Wales and England. The United Kingdom includes those three PLUS Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland is a complete separate country from Ireland though they share a land mass. Northern Ireland is the Protestant part, the south is Catholic. With my flights alone I touched all these areas, except Scotland, since I flew in and out of Belfast (Northern Ireland), then into Bristol (England), out of Cardiff (Wales), through Dublin (Ireland). But with the time between these flights, I got to see some of the actual countries with my lovely native tour guides.

Laura lives in a small village called Loughgall that resides in what is known as the Orchard County. Lucky me, the apple trees were blossoming and gorgeous. Equally gorgeous was the road trip Miss Debra took us on to the North Coast, home to the Giant’s Causeway and spectacular views of Irish farmlands. We got to also take a day trip into Belfast, the capital, to check out Laura’s university and the mall (where she probably spends equal amounts of time) and drink milkshakes. Mine had Skittles in it. It’s better than it seems, promise. Other highlights include playing soccer and tennis with her little brother, getting to see her father’s antique tractor collection (wish he could hang out with my dad, they’d SO be besties), and a traditional breakfast spread known as an Ulster Fry.

So Wales has Welsh, its own language, who knew? It’s pretty cool to see all the signs in two languages and I got the chance to use a bit of what Ben had taught us over the previous months. (“Wedi blino” = I’m sleepy.) Ben’s Wales included tours of filming locations of Gavin and Stacey, a British television show he shared with us (it’s kind of hilarious, the parts an American unfamiliar with Welsh culture can understand anyway) filmed in Barry, Ben’s hometown. St. Fagan’s (or in Welsh, “Ffffffagans”) is similar to the Rural Life Museum in Baton Rouge but way bigger and, you know, Welsh. Ben hooked us up food-wise as well: fish and chips, curry, full English breakfast, Welsh beer, etc. And he dropped us off at the airport, being the last friend I saw in Europe before heading home…

But other than these little bits and bobs, really the best part was just seeing their hometowns and meeting their people. I’m indebted to them and their families for their hospitality. Hopefully I’ll get to return the favor someday in their visits to Louisiana. Consider it a standing invitation.

Adventures #21 & #22: Mont St. Michel and St. Malo

Brittany was one of the last areas I hadn’t seen of France and even though I just saw a speck of it, I can now leave the country feeling as thought I saw all of it, more or less. A change of plans left me plan-less so I decided to go solo. Never having travelled alone before, save a weekend in Boston to look at Emerson or that day by myself in New York, I was a bit apprehensive but it couldn’t have turned out better and it’s a life experience I’m glad to have under my belt.

Visiting Mont St. Michel technically brought me back to Normandy, but I couldn’t pass it up since we didn’t get the opportunity last time. I remember a poster of Mont St. Michel in Madame Davis’ French III class. Never dreamed that when I did visit it, it’d be after living in the country for seven months. Built over the centuries on a rock ff the coast, Mont St. Michel is a hodge-podge of architecture, stairs, and windows built on top of each other, crowned with an abbey St. Michael apparently told some monk to build a million years ago. I pretended to be British to get in for free, but when it worked I felt guilty about lying to enter a religious building so I bought the audio guide to even things out. Nice views from the Abbey, really nice cloister. Cloisters are the little interior courtyards in abbeys or monasteries that the monks or miscellaneous religious would use to walk or gather thoughts, and so far, I’ve yet to see a cloister I haven’t liked. Something about the columns and the green space appeal to me. Another highlight of the day were these shortbread cookies that are apparently famous coming from the island. Every store seemed to give out free samples, of which I happily took advantage, nibbling my way up and down the mont. Pictures? Here!

When I first got off the train at St. Malo, the true Brittany of my trip, the sky struck me. It seemed bigger here, perhaps this is the Montana of France? And the WIND! Made the huge clouds move crazy fast across the sky. The old city center is surrounded by ramparts that make a nice walking track, I took a few laps enjoying the views of the architecture and the water. Food-wise, St. Malo, and Brittany in general are all about the crepe and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that caramel made with the local sea salt is also a delicacy. Again I’m not the hugest art museum fan but history is something I can get behind, it was one of my minors after all. The Musee d’Histoire in St. Malo is especially enjoyable since the area’s history includes so much nautical! I went in near closing time and practically had the place to myself, was a bit creepy but pretty cool wandering around an old chateau, even climbing up tiny stone spiral staircases to the watch tower. Click here to see my pictures of St. Malo.

General side note: The French use the word “chateau” liberally, nearly every town seems to possess one (along with a carousel and a fountains) but though the English translation is “castle” I find that to be a bit too liberal. I wouldn’t call just every big house a castle. It’s either due to the lack of a proper translation in my native language, or the possibility that my American idea of castles, largely shaped by Disney, is too limited. To be fair, the chateau of St. Malo did have turrets and arches and seems to be a castle by any definition.

To travel to a nearby town I opted for a bike instead of a boat (shocking). For 12 euros at the hostel I got a cute little red cruiser for the day. Wanting to make it worth the money, I biked to the nearby St. Severan and Cité Alet. Rewarded with nice views of St. Malo, a WWII memorial and a rose garden. Spent a lot of time sitting and watching the tides, by which a lot of the area seems to keep time. A fitting end to my time in France.

"Goodbye Teacher!"

As expected, my last week of teaching proved bittersweet. I’m proud of the work I’ve done, especially considering my complete lack of qualification, and though I’m fairly certain it is not my future career path, I enjoyed it overall. The kids were a hoot and the teachers very kind and I think there’s something to be gained from working abroad that you can’t get from being a student or a tourist. Not to mention the injection of confidence the experience has given me. It’s in the same vein as the confidence I’d get from taking French classes alongside normal ones, as in: “Sure, I can write a 10-page history paper, I’ve written the same length but in French.” But now that application has broaden to be more like: “Sure, I can open a bank account or secure health insurance or start a new job, I’ve done the same thing but in French.”

My kids were absolutely adorable about my leaving, giving me cards and drawings and things (by “things” I mean shells and handkerchiefs and pens). One girl even brought me flowers and a mom made me cookies. They also very endearingly would use “I’m sad,” which I taught them earlier in the year as a response to “how are you?” So see? They learned! The teachers gave me this wonderful French cookbook that I hope to use out by cooking à la française for y’all back home. (OK, since I brought it up, you should all expect to receive your souvenirs in the form of food experiences. I’ve done badly on the whole buying presents for people thing… but I’ve learned firsthand from a coworker how to make genuine crêpes and I’ve got my new knowledge of cheeses and chocolates and wine. And partaking in this with me is better than some cheap key chain or refrigerator magnet, right?)

Not only did I have to say goodbye to my students and coworkers, but I had to start saying goodbye to the friends I’ve made here as well. Saying goodbye is always difficult and we all are saying goodbye at different times. It makes me think of all those high school retreats and summer camps when after a week or even just two days you have to write letters and affirmations to people to share how much they mean to you, blah, blah, blah. Here, I’ve met some FANTASTICALLY AMAZING people to hang out with and have shared incomparable experiences over a span of seven months and to part we just say “see ya” outside of a bar? I’m not a fan. Good thing I’m a terrific pen pal and take seriously all talks of future visits.

Pictures of my last weeks in Besancon can be found here. I officially am no longer a resident of Foyer Soleil and am now beginning my post-contract journeys throughout the European continent (or at least throughout the UK and a bit more of France). On doit profiter!

Mastering the Art of French Speaking.

Despite the fact that I’ve now lived in its country for seven months of my own free will, I’ve never exactly been a cheerleader for the French language. Honestly, I’ve always just thought of my French degree as an extension to my Mass Communication one since it enables me to communicate a little more massively (haha). I’m certainly no linguist, I’m lackadaisical about grammar (but who uses the subjunctive, really?), and I’m not in possession of a musical ear or whatever it is those adept at languages have. Becoming more proficient in another language was just a bonus to my living abroad, not a passion or an out-and-out goal. Also, it seems that the more French I learn, the more convinced I become of the elusiveness of fluency. After all my schooling and speaking I have realized the following: I will never become fluent in the French language. I have neither the talent nor the drive to do so. And I am fine with this. Happy even.

Obviously, I couldn’t help but improve my vocabulary and speaking ability over the past seven months and for that I am both thankful and proud. But mainly, I’ve learned to just have fun with the language. I love getting the chance to cry out “mais si!” to contradict a negative statement. (Hypothetical example: while teaching Christmas to little French kids who tell you Santa doesn’t exist, one replies with “mais si!”) I also have to check myself from automatically repeating things I hear in line at the grocery store or in the teacher’s lounge. I like the sound of them. I mean, how fun is it to go “baaaaahhh, ouais” and have it (kind of) mean something?

The French also sprinkle their conversations with plenty of overused phrases. “Par contre,” “c’est normal,” and “tout à fait” are among my favs, meaning (more or less) “on the contrary,” “it’s no big deal,” and… I don’t really know to translate “tout à fait,” but it’s fun to say. I guess you use it where in English you’d say “exactly” or ”that’s it!” Other French phrases seemingly have no meaning and are harder to grasp. “C’est déjà pas mal ça” literally translates as “that is already not bad, that” and one uses it to express some sort of apathy or slight disappointment with a situation. A coworker explained “c’est déjà pas mal” to exist somewhere between what you expected to happen and the worst that could have happened. Oh, French! You see why I never expect to become fluent?

But despite its stupid nuances, there are some things about that French expresses or describes better. Like using penible for an annoying and difficult person or situation, which consequently is a word one gets to use often in France. Also, to tell someone that you miss them you say, “Tu me manques.” that literally means, “You are missing from me.” I find that kind of sweet. And I love the verb profiter. Not really having a regular English conversation equivalent (at least with my limited skills) it means to take the best advantage of a situation or really exploit or profit from an experience. I like to think that I’ve “profited” from my experience here and enjoyed progressing a bit with my language skills, even if I wasn’t necessarily trying to do so.

Adventures #16-20: Spring Break wooooo!

While packing for the two weeks, I heeded advice from an InStyle article about packing with a color palette in mind to make mix and matching outfits easier. My color-coordinated vacay wardrobe turned out successful I think, but I was more pleased with the beautiful palettes of the places we visited. In general, I loved how Provence marries the colors (colours?) of the architecture with nature and more specifically, I really liked all the blue shutters.

Between the boats in Marseille, the beaches in Biarritz, the azaleas in Bayonne, and the bike ride in Bordeaux I’d say my spring vacation, and spring as a season in general, was more or less a success and boy, did I rack up on those butterflies. But despite all the things I discuss in the following paragraphs, the best part of the trip was definitely spending time with some of my fellow assistants… they are some OK people to hang out with. J

Adventure #16: Marseille

When I went to Marseille with an LSU group in 2008, a teacher compared it to New Orleans: kind of gritty, rebellious, and multicultural. And like New Orleans, I felt lukewarm towards it after my first visit. But this time around, I found it much more charming. The beaches, the boats (I rode on TWO. Chhhhheck!), the sun-bleached colors, the clothes strung on lines from windows, plus we splurged on a hotel overlooking the Mediterranean. (Unfortunately, I lacked my mother’s gene of taking pictures of the hotel rooms on this trip so no evidence exists…)

Highlight was the ride to the island of Chateau d’If of The Count of Monte Cristo fame (Apparently. I wouldn’t have known that if it weren’t for Donatellla). Just expecting an old castle or whatever, but I enjoyed the plants and views of Marseille’s coastline with the recognizable silhouette of huge Notre Dame de la Garde. Boat ride #2 was a success because the water was wonderfully blue with which the calanques contrasting wonderfully, though I wasn’t entirely certain as to what they are. I thought calanques were the white-gray cliff structures rising from the water but it turns out they are the inlets created by them. Or as Wikipedia calls them “Mediterranean fjords.” Whichever, they involved a boat.

Adventure #17: Aix-en-Provence

In post-trip discussions, Aix came out as the general favorite (favourite?). The town I most looked forward to revisiting, Aix just seems to embody everything you want in a French town: the food, the markets, the architecture, the fountains, plus the people were actually friendly. I thus hypothesize that Southern Hospitality must be applicable to all countries. Sud met South when we got a generous dinner invitation to the French home of some fellow Louisianans from the Boudreaux family’s Aloysius days. Another great at a place called Chez Grand-Mère, with a super nice server and such yummy food, it’s one of the few meals on the trip I can remember perfectly: a mushroom cassolette, lamb cooked with foie gras, and a taste of this caramel moeulleux thing that was served on a piece of slate.

Painters like Paul Cezanne, whose house we got to see, loved Aix and the Provence region in general for its light and colors. And I did see something different about it, the way the sun reflects the color palette of the area: wonderful orangey-warm yellows, the best blues you’ve ever seen in a window shutter, and the green green green. I find that most French town lack in the greenery (shrubbery?), especially in their centers (Besançon included), which I guess is understandable for the crowdedness of it but Aix works them in well, especially the plane trees lining the Cours Mirabeau.

Walking around Aix, you see market after market of vegetables, flowers, breads, olives, soaps, lavender, herbs, wood products, sausages… you also see fountain after fountain. France likes her fountains. They are even more ubiquitous than her carousels (I swear, every town has one). Aix apparently sits on a natural spring or something so the city took advantage of it and erected fountains everywhere.

Soft serve ice cream (whippy?) acquired: mango and strawberry.

Adventure #18: Toulouse

France likes its strikes and so far, I’ve actually found them more or less beneficial. Either my school was striking and I didn’t have to work or the buses were striking so there wasn’t a way to get to work. However, an SNCF train strike had the potential to really ruin our plans. Our train from Aix to Toulouse was cancelled and we had to choose between staying another night in Aix or trying to get a super late train to get into Toulouse the next morning. We ended up hopping on a train back to Marseille in hopes of having more options there. Proved to be a GREAT idea because we all got free hotel rooms out of it. As in, all six of us EACH got an individual 96 euro a night Hotel Ibis room for nothing. One less night we were planning on paying for! So as far as strikes go, I like ‘em… once I got used to sitting on the floor next to a trash can in the baggage car.

Color-wise I was disappointed in Toulouse. Hailed as being “La Ville en Rose” or “The Pink City” I was jazzed for seeing what that was all about. But either we missed the pink buildings entirely or whoever came up with that tagline suffered from some sort of colorblind. So. Not. Pink. But it made up for its lack of color in gardens. Plus, I made my sole souvenir purchase (other than the twenty, yes, TWENTY, postcards I managed to purchase and write from the trip, thankyouverymuch). A tapestry wall hanging thing… I’ve always wanted one and it will nicely fit the old lady image I have of myself, hanging on a wall in the guest bedroom to prove to my few visitors that I indeed had at least one year of excitement. The visit to Musée des Augustins cloister was the only time my expired ISIC card has failed to get me a student discount. I had to shell out the three euros to get in. Thankfully the garden and the architecture made it worth it. Really nice ceilings.

Highlight of Toulouse was actually leaving it for the day to go to Carcassonne, home of “La Cité” a castle on a hill with an entire little town, or “cité,” within its walls. Total legit castle. Moat and everything.

Ice cream acquired: passion fruit and lemon.

Adventure #19: Bayonne/Biarrtiz/Anglet

Though we were based in Bayonne, technically we stayed in Anglet, and did a day trip to Biarrtiz. Bayonne for the ham, Anglet for the hostel, Biarrtiz for the beach. Before French became the uber-centralized entity that it is, each area had its own language, Bayonne’s being Basque. Apparently, Basque is interesting linguistically (another informational tidbit courtesy of Donatella), but I just thought it was neat to see the signs in two different languages.

On the pebbled shores of Biarrtiz we engaged in your typical collegiate spring break activities (drinking on a beach) but we cultured it up a bit with having wine and having a few games of pétanque. Played all over the world under different names (bocci ball, boules), I’m just good enough at it to really hate it when I’m bad, much like I feel about badminton or foosball. But since I’m bad kind of often I guess that means I can’t really be good. But it turned out to be a great beach game.

On our last day in Bayonne before we caught our train we took turns sitting with the bags and sightseeing the super cute town, I’m always a fan of timbered houses and patterned cobblestoned streets. Food-wise, Bayonne is known for its chocolate and ham. We saw how the later was made and tasted the former in liquid form (liquid ham?). Not always on Team Chocolate, I thought it basically tasted like thinned out warm brownie batter. But I can see how that could be a selling point to many consumers. Also, turns out they never actually cook the famed Bayonne ham. They just hang it up and dry it out awhile with regional salt. Huh. Uncooked pork.

Pastry acquired: some regional thing with cherries.

Adventure #20: Bordeaux

Every time I glanced at the name “Bordeaux” I thought it was “Boudreaux.” Wonder if I’d get any special treatment if I somehow did share the same name as a town? Hasn’t ever worked back home at Boudreaux’s and Thibodeaux’s downtown…

Thanks to our Welsh friend (mate?), we had contact with some students and other assistants in Bordeaux, which came in handy when our hotel turned out to be inhospitable, as in no hot water. Not like the hot water’s broken or slow, but as in hot water wasn’t even an option. But this was the only flaw in the perfectly laid spring break plan (other than the million train strikes) and because of their unbelievable hospitality, we saved again on hotel nights and were able to experience Bordeaux from their point of view.

Bordeaux seemed to be more of an actual working city than most I’ve seen in France (if that even makes sense). I found the architecture to be very Parisian and it seemed to be much more urban and modern than Marseille or Toulouse mostly due to their tram system. Think Epcot monorail on rue level.

We spent a lazy afternoon in a beautiful park and I got to ride a bike along a river, the Garonne to be exact. And it being Bordeaux and all, we did the whole wine tasting thing. Other than enjoying the scenery on the bus ride, it wasn’t as much fun as the one in Beaune and we surprisingly tasted a majority of whites. But I did meet a woman from California whose friend is the owner of Corks and Canvas on Jefferson Highway in Baton Rouge… connection!

Ice cream acquired: Vanilla Bourbon.

Stay Tuned!

I'm having some tecnical difficulties with my internet and haven't be able to be very prudent with updating this or my pictures. But with stolen moments online at school, at wi-fi spots, and at friends' I'll slowly but surely get y'all informed of my spring vacation adventures. I have some pictures loaded already but check back in soon for the rest of them and for my oh-so-witty captions.
I'm in the middle of my last week of teaching and things are busy, getting prepared to leave and trying to spend time with everyone before we part. CRAZY that this is almost all over...

04/28 UPDATE!!! ALL SPRING BREAK PICTURES POSTED: http://picasaweb.google.fr/connie.boudreaux

Accompanying words to come soon...

SPRING!

I’ve found that hand motions make teaching French children more effective and definitely more entertaining (for me, not necessarily the kids). Feelings, weather, animals, and with help from another assistant, I even have “gestes” for the seasons. Winter you shiver and go “brrrr,” summer I have them fan themselves, they like to pretend like they’re falling for fall, but spring definitely is the favorite. I taught them to shout “SPRING!” and kind of jump up in the air and pop out their hands (similar to the second verse of “Hey Fightin’ Tigers,” but with both hands and only once). They get excited about it, and rightly so. Living through an actual winter makes the fairer season all the more welcome. Especially when accompanied by the occasional sunshine, me being shockingly pale. At the first opportunity to bask in its radiation I happily laid out my towel in the exact same spot where we had built a snowman a week before. If interested, you can find a small collection of seasonal pictures here.

Spring brought out the forsythia that I've come to consider as Besançon’s version of Baton Rouge’s azaleas. (Confession: despite having a florist mother and horticulture professor father I only knew the plant's name after asking three different people and spending 30 minutes on Google trying to spell what I thought I heard.) Ubiquitous they are; planting the bright yellow forsythia and daffodils (jonquilles) seems to be some sort of city-wide residency requirement. Their brightness makes them stand out so much in the grayness that they look Photoshopped. The nice contrast almost makes me appreciate the monotone buildings for once. Oh, I’ve finally gotten to a cave! The Gouffre de Poudrey, known not for its formations or number of chambers but for its volume. Definitely no Carlsbad but what can you do? The National Park Service has me spoiled. A decent St. Patrick’s Day,a few cultural dinners and a carnival have also contributed to my spring as well as planning for the upcoming (and final) vacation, set to include many exciting southern cities each hosting many exciting opportunities. But for me, all that’s left to make this season complete is some boats. Because I love boats. ALL boats.

So basically, spring is off to a decent start. Too bad they were predicting snow for later this week...

Misc. #3

Nothing huge or exciting happening lately, just kind of steadily truckin’ along through what remains of my normal “French” life. I'm enjoying spending as much time as possible with the friends I've made here, they're pretty cool. (The picture is a few of us at our own little carnaval-esque costume party. It's a shame you can't see more of me as a pirate, I totally channeled Captain Jack.) But it felt time again for some bullets… which I always enjoy, almost as much as tables. Thought I’d share a few interesting things (or at least I think they might be interesting):

• Recently a staff member at my school left so I got to experience the traditional “Pot de Depart.” After he invited me I worried about not having something to contribute, naively assuming that the “pot” part might hint at “pot luck.” But no, silly American, at this French farewell party the person leaving is the one responsible for ALL of the food. And this guy definitely brought his A-game. Started with little veggies, dips, nuts, dried fruits and things, followed by those savory hors d’oeuvres where the French excel. I enjoyed those little cheesy pastries and my first taste of pâté en croûte. And THEN there was cake and desserts, so much food I didn’t need dinner that night. Surely they can’t expect that from me when I leave because I think they’ll be disappointed…
• On the way back from Beaune we got to experience what was previously thought to be oxymoronic: French work ethic and emergency response. We happened to sit in a car that had a spill of red wine (what else would it be?) that made our whole compartment smell delicious. After seeing the mess, the conductor delayed the train and after a few minutes four grown men came on with huge yellow haz-matty looking jackets, armed with spray bottles and fistfuls of bathroom paper towels they tossed on the ground in clumps. One of them took charge while all of them complained and they left the floor, though perhaps dry, still badly stained. Everything about that just seemed so… French. I wonder what the yellow haz-mat emergency men do when there aren’t puddles of wine to clean up?
• While teaching Valentine’s Day (and by “teaching” I mean making them draw valentines because I had nothing else planned) the students reminded me that the French have their own version of “He loves me/He loves me not.” Except while pulling the petals off their marguerites, they qualify it a little more, of which I approve. I also think it’s culturally telling that they switch the subject from “he” to “I.” I mean, a girl likes to have options and the French deliver: Je t’aime (I love you), un peu (a little), beaucoup (a lot), passionément (passionately), à la folie (I’m crazy about you), and pas du tout (not at all).
• I have four different currencies in my wallet right now. Kind of jet-set, right? Will have to sort them out soon, though. At first glance a British penny looks the same as five centimes and, except for being shinier, that Swiss 20 cent piece looks like kind of like a nickel. In general, I find European currency to be very heavy on the change. I miss the lightness of American bills and the near frivolity with which we can treat our little pieces of metal. You can just toss them into your pocket or purse willy-nilly because here, that little coin could be worth two Euros and not just a few cents.

• 
  It’s still snowing… in March. And apparently this is normal. I just want to wear some skirts! But on the literal and figurative brightside the sun is making more appearances and I did finally build my first honest-to-goodness snowman. Life-sized, with a face and arms and everything! However, he did unfortunately live a rather sad and short and life…

Plans are in the works for Spring Break, Wooooo! I’m having almost as much fun planning it (since I decided to use tables) as I’m hoping to actually have on it.

Adventures #14 & #15: Day Tripping Colmar & Beaune

Colmar

OK, so Colmar was forever ago (pre-winter break) and I forgot to bring my camera, so there’s basically no reason to even write about it now. But I wanted to at least mention it on here since it got a butterfly and all. It was ADORABLE, timbered houses, cobblestoned streets, town squares, fountains, basically Belle’s town from Beauty and the Beast. And that’s Colmar. “A little town, just a quiet village” with sauerkraut and a museum with a display of altarpieces and sparkly bonnets…. and one of the best pastries I’ve had. The French version of a beignet, which is more like a big filled donut, I had chocolate. Also, the restaurant where we ate our lunch of the aforementioned sauerkraut played ABBA… exclusively.

Laura Rachal (our Lyon tour guide) had been in Besançon that weekend, which also happened to be when a friend of my fellow assistant Natalie visited. Made for a fun group and a fun day! Click here for Colmar’s tourism website to check out the sites I failed to capture pictorially.

Beaune

Fast-forward four weeks to this past Saturday for the second day trip of this post: the Burgundian town of Beaune. A cute town, not quite as cute as Colmar but there was wine to make up for that! We didn’t really think about planning our day until the train there, so mark another tally in the whim book. Lucking out, we got to walk around one of the prettiest French markets I’ve seen. Plenty of flowers, cheese, sausages, even strawberries are starting to make their appearance. We stocked up on some spoils for dinner, marveling at how very French it all was.

After walking around a bit more and eating some traditional French food served with traditional French attitude, we headed to taste some wine. For only 9,50€, we tried five different wines at Bouchard Ainé et Fils. Very fun and very different from the California wine tastings I did with mom on our San Francisco trip. At Bouchard, it was an entire interactive experience in which they attempted to connect each of the five senses to wine (I found “hearing” a bit of a stretch…) and talk you through the whole process of enjoying and evaluating your wine. Super enjoyable, though next time I’d really like to get outside see vineyards, maybe during spring break? I even ended up buying a bottle of a Burgundy Chardonnay (a white I actually really like) and will attempt to bring it home for a Boudreaux Sunday dinner. However, if suitcase space becomes too valuable I’ll just have to drink it myself and call it a packing party…

We chased the wine with a trip to Beaune’s most popular non-drinkable attraction, the Hotel de Dieu, a very old hospital known for its beautiful roofs. We complained a bit about the 4,80€ just to see some colored tiles but it was worth it, as was the entire enjoyable day. De plus, I even remembered my camera this time!

Love Train.

I like trains and as far as means of transportation, they are bested only by boats and driving my Ford Escape. (I miss driving and am worried that the five month absence has deteriorated the little talent I had for it.) Traveling France and Europe by train has been relatively easy and cheap, plus you get to appreciate the countryside, which I thought I'd share with you. Since the original background noise was just train talk, I took the liberty of breaking out my iMovie skills and laying down some tunes. Trying to avoid the obvious, I was torn between Beauty and the Beast or Josh Turner... eventually decided on this one though. Enjoy!

Top Ten Reasons Why I can Never be French.

I’ve never had the goal of completely assimilating into France. Nothing against them, I happen to think they do many things right, but I’m here to learn the language and appreciate the people, culture, and cheese (and I’m here because I didn’t have anything better to do and basically a seven-month vacation sounded good). I’ve very much enjoyed my time here so far and have been pleasantly surprised about many things. However, this sojourn also reinforces my suspicion that I’d never exactly feel or consider myself to “be” French and here’s why, David Letterman style:

1. Bises. OK, so I’m dealing with the kisses. I’ve gotten used to them and think it’s kind of cute and I don’t try to intercept them with a handshake anymore (though I still have my kids shake hands at the beginning of each class). I now expect and accept them and think it might even be a little strange to go back home and NOT get bised. But could I live without them? Most definitely.
2. I’m a registered Republican. But again, if anyone asks, I totally voted for Obama… or at least I let them assume I did.
3. I can never make it home from the bakery without tearing (literally) into my baguette. This is considered a bit of a faux-pas, to eat on the street outside of the sacred French ritual of the meal. Would be even worse if I just started gnawing on it; at least I break it off first.
4. I smile.
5. American television. I miss it and most on-line TV watching sites block international viewers. The King of Queens on YouTube and the shows that people have sent to me have been lifesavers. Special shout-outs to Drone for season five of The Hills and to mom for the DVR’d Project Runway! But popping a DVD into my laptop is just not the same as serendipitously catching an episode of The Golden Girls at midnight or an entire season of America’s Next Top Model on a Saturday.
6. I don’t like tiny, yippy dogs that the French carry around in their purses. They look like rats and I want to punt them.
7. I have naturally straight teeth (zing!). Actually, I haven’t met all that many French with bad teeth. Their healthcare is decent and I assume it includes dental. (Just realized how behind I am on my own professional teeth cleanings… might as well take advantage here!)
8. The French seem to have two extremes of thinking. In most situations they either respond with “c’est normal” or “ce n’est pas possible.” I tend to think things can exist in more categories than “normal/routine” or “impossible.” Because for Americans, NOTHING is impossible, right?
9. I don’t carry around a ruler… OK, this is probably one of the most hilarious things I’ve learned about the French. I first noticed it in my classes. The kids ALWAYS have a ruler… not for measuring, but for drawing lines. Even just to underline a one-word title, out come the rulers (when they aren’t using them as weapons or percussion instruments). A friend who works in a high school said her students whip them out for WORD SEARCHES. I’ve even heard that college-aged students can’t seem to take their notes without them. And GET THIS: while writing some prescriptions for a cold, my doctor pulled out his ruler to underline each medication… I about lost it.
10. I’m just too decidedly American. Plain and simple, no ex-patriot plans here, so like it not, I’m a-coming home in about 2 months. SEE YA!

Adventures #12 & #13: London & Lyon

So I’m being a bit lazy by combining these while also posting them kind of late, but I figure they can go together because I visited them one after the other and also because the city names have a little alliteration…

London

Hopping on a plane and meeting up with Caroline in London just sounded too fun and jet set to pass up! So glad she had the idea and included me in it. Though two-ish days proved to definitely not be enough to see and do everything, I think we did all right… we definitely SAW all we could even if we didn’t get the chance to necessarily DO it. There was a museum workers strike (guess the French aren’t the only Europeans good at striking) just on the day we wanted to do museums, which was a bummer because they looked pretty cool (as far as museums go) and were all free! But we saw the sights, from a bus AND from a boat: Big Ben (turns out, no so big), Westminster Abbey, Tower of London, Parliament, Tower Bridge, Shakespeare’s Globe, plus everything that an American would expect to see in London and thus delight in seeing: the double-decker buses, red telephone booths, palace guards with funny hats, black cabs, Top Shop (I missed out on Abbey Road though, whoops). See what I did manage to see here in my pictures.

However, after spending so many months surrounded by the French, London did not meet my hopeful expectation to bask in the capital of everything Anglophone. On my first tube ride (the London Underground whose branding you’ll definitely recognize, really genius for its consistency and versatility), I heard so many languages, including French (dammit) and all kinds of others for which I have no capacity to identify. Very international. And of the ones that did speak English, their accent kind of annoyed me… maybe I’m over the whole British-accents-are-awesome thing? At least I got a good fill of English-speaking television. Gilmore Girls, Friends, The Hills, but the icing had to be Ferris Bueller. London did definitely fulfill its stereotypes as far as weather goes. We got to experience the perfectly London-y clouds and rain.

I also found myself really loving the architecture and just walking around on the pavement (NOT sidewalk) and enjoying it. It’s kind of a “duh” moment, but I could really see how American cities like Boston, New York and even D.C. were influenced by “Old” England. The buildings actually varied, not like France’s one town, one look rule, and I like how they are prim and decorated, but not overly so. Usually, I evaluate cities I visit by whether or not I could or would live in them. For example, cities like Washington D.C., San Francisco and Boston all get “yeses,” whereas New York, Paris and Atlanta are more like “nos.” Obviously, two days are not enough to completely evaluate a city or its people, but London’s leaning towards a “yes.” I at least know I’d like to go back! Hopefully with someone else whose company is as lovely and enjoyable as Miss Caroline!

Lyon

I continued the SJA Class of 2005 Reunion by seeing Laura Rachal both before and after the London trip. She was so sweet to open up her apartment to not only me to catch my flight, but also three of my fellow Besançon assistants so we could tour Lyon, her current home. Her tour guiding skills and tips were fantastic and so above and beyond, if you read this, Laura, MERCI!

Lyon is either France’s second or third biggest city; they still seem to be arguing with Marseille about who gets the silver behind Paris (extra points for the timely Olympics reference?). But who cares, really? The buildings are so colorful! I know I’ve already complained about Besançon ’s monochromatic color scheme for awhile (or at least since November), but I never notice how much a difference it makes until I’m in a city with an actual color palette not involving 15 shades of gray. A small Lyon-Besançon connection? The Lumière Brothers, the inventors of movies, were born in my town and later made their cinematic success in Lyon. Another famous son of Besançon? Victor Hugo. So basically Besançon’s significance is birthing people who promptly left to make their successes elsewhere. Didn’t make it to the Lumière Brothers museum (not really my week for museums) but it worked out great that everything we did was free (except for eating and buying aviators at H&M). Mostly walking and sightseeing and searching for ice cream, all for which Lyon is a pretty good town. Including a National Tresure-esque walk through the traboules, passageways leftover from Lyon’s silk trading past. Pictures? Of course.

Other than the company, the food, and the colorful buildings, the best thing about Lyon was definitely the weather. I know the city and Laura Rachal didn’t actually bring the temperature up to a wonderful 15°C (about 60°F… basically perfect) or coax the sky into a gorgeously clear and perfect blue for most of the day, but I’ll always be very appreciative to them for it.

Adventure #11: Val d’Isère (SKIING!)

Even though it seems that Christmas vacation JUST happened (probably because it did) we had two weeks off in the middle of February for winter vacay. First on the agenda was seven days of skiing in the French Alps. I had NEVER skied before and I didn’t pick it up as quickly as I would have liked. I ended up taking six days of lessons and though I now feel comfortable on skis, I don’t exactly feel confident on them. For those of you familiar with skiing lingo I only skied greens and have progressed from snowplow into parallel, but I chicken out about going too fast to make parallel really work for me, but maybe with a bit more practice I can claim this as a new hobby? Either way, it was fun to try something active and new. In a marketing class with Dr. Karam at LSU we read a commencement speech (I so wish I could remember the speaker or at what college they spoke… it’s filed back in BR) that talked about the importance of being a “constant novice” and how to always be learning and living outside your comfort zone. I tried to remember that while I was falling through fences and struggling to take off my skis while perfect lines of 3 year olds were trailing past, like little ducklings behind their instructors.

My lessons were mostly in French but I totally lucked out because I was the only one in my class for four days. Pretty much got private lessons at a group rate, which was nice, since Val d’Isère is a bit expensive to begin with, mostly frequented by British holidaymakers. The weather worked in our favor, the mountains were beautiful, and the cold was manageable for the most part. Though one morning at the top of the mountain the ends of my braids were frozen white in the -20˚C weather (-4˚F… I know, right? COLD).

I went with three other assistants, one of whom found us the apartment and drove us down there (THANKS BEN!). It was a different sort of vacation, staying in one place, not feeling the pressure to have to see all these sights and museums and things, we could just hang out and goof off… fun times. Click here for visuals.

The Actual Job Thing.

I’m taking my first sick day today. This weekend I started getting a little sinusy… it’s been a long time coming but I want to make sure I’m healed for the winter break. Guess how much my prescriptions cost? 10 days of pills, 1 pack of effervescents, and a nasal spray. Easily over $50 back home, right? Well in France it’s 0.65€, that’s SIXTY-FIVE CENTS, in the US that’d be just under ONE DOLLAR. Merci, MGEN! I didn’t even need the medicine after that, the price alone made me feel instantly better! So now that I feel OK, I’ve started feeling guilty about missing school, so I’ll combat the feeling by writing about it and then watching some Project Runway and knitting.

So you’ve heard of Teach for America? Judging by my school you could say I’m Teaching for France. Ecole Élémentaire Champagne is in Planoise, a Besançon suburb mostly populated by low-income apartment buildings and not sporting the best reputation. At first I worried that this could be another challenge on top of the language barrier, but as it turns out kids are kids, no matter their backgrounds. Sure, there are some I could slap across the face with very little regret but others are just so sweet and adorable I just want to squeeze them. I try to remind myself that the nasty kids may not have the greatest home lives. Also, the area makes for a pretty diverse student body. You’ve got your regular French bien sûr, but there are also plenty whose families recently immigrated from North Africa or Eastern Europe. They provide bonus cultural experiences like learning how they celebrate their Muslim holidays or seeing how they dress differently.

In general, it’s not my ideal job (mostly because I have yet to figure out what is). I find it tiring and nerve-racking sometimes because I have so little experience but still have been given the responsibility of English language learning for an entire school. Not to mention getting lightheaded from singing “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” about 20 times a day. My best advice to any future assistants: pack a water bottle, stickers, and any book illustrated by Eric Carle.I find the younger classes are the most difficult. The first and second grade (CP & CE1) love songs and books and things and because of their level you can’t do much else. Games and worksheets are a little too above their heads. At the moment, Brown Bear, Brown Bear is going over HUGE. I made up motions to go along with each animal… I guess there’s a chance they could learn some colors and animals words, but if not, who cares? They LOVE it, especially Yellow Duck and Purple Cat. The older kids actually get interested in culture stuff and I’ve derailed a few classes to talk about the differences in American elementary schools, or Barrack Obama (by the way, if anyone in France asks, I totally voted for him). Otherwise, I just do the basics: colors, numbers, days of the week, months, ages, birthdays, etc. Throw in a little Thanksgiving, Mardi Gras, and “American Football” and you’ve got yourself lesson plans for a whole year! We also play a lot of bingo but I had to cut them off from Simon Says, they were getting way too addicted. Anything they can win a sticker from is a gold mine. Even the older kids in CM2 (10-11 years old) get serious over who gets a piece of my “autocollant” collection. It’s nice to have that easy of a power hold. Just wait until I bust out the fake dollars…

Defining Moments.

Being a bit more than half finished with my teaching assistant contract, I’ve become a bit… reflective (hazy screen and fade out). After applying in late November, I found out that I indeed got this position the following spring, specifically during spring break. In the middle of a drinking game I checked my Gmail on my iPhone (do I perfectly represent our generation or what?) and saw the acceptance letter. All I knew was that I had a job in France in some place called “Besançon.” My first reaction? To tell my friends and family, starting with my roommate whom I had to wake up because she goes to bed by like 9 p.m… even on spring break. My second reaction? To try to learn how to smoke a cigarette, since I was going to France and all. Katie mustered up some excitement before falling back asleep and the cigarette thankfully didn’t take.

The next morning walking along the beach (I can’t remember for the life of me where we were… Panama City? Orange Beach? Gulf Shores?), my friends went ahead to go look for shells or something and I sat in the sand just at the break of the waves. Burying and uncovering my sun burnt shins in the sand and meeting the water with my toes I looked out at the horizon of the pale sky meeting the gulf (how cinematic is THAT?). I thought about what this experience could mean and if I could really do this. I felt what you’d expect, the mixture of excitement and fear that comes with most new things, no way could I have anticipated this reality. I remember the morning so perfectly well that it seems like I just fast-forwarded here.

I thought of that moment tonight while I stood in the snow outside my apartment after walking a friend to the bus stop. I think I’ve gotten used to the inconveniences of snow: the extra clothes, the different consistencies of it under your feet, the weird bus schedules (if they run at all... as mom can now attest) but I still get taken aback by how pretty it is. I’ve said it before, but I swear… it sparkles. And when it’s falling it’s really something. So heavy and fast that its shadows underneath the streetlights look like swarming gnats… but in a pretty way, I promise. I stood there for a bit trying to capture it in my mind and had another one of my “whoa, I’m in France” revelations and thought about what this experience has meant to me so far. Two distinct moments, separated by nine months, an ocean, and about 60 degrees of temperature but I think I’ll always connect them in my mind. Tonight in the snow kind of felt like the answer to whatever question I had in the sand last April.

Nostalgia managed!

As I said before, this is the halfway point and I want to make damn sure I get the most out of it. Next vacation is coming up (haha, this is SUCH a cake job – a job I actually feel like I getting better at and will attempt to cover in the next post). Skiing and a visit to London are on the agenda. Since I’m a complete skiing debutante, this vacay could either be the beginnings of a fun new hobby or an opportunity to injure myself and take advantage of the socialist healthcare. Oh well, it’s a butterfly either way! And LONDON?! That’s a whole new country for me, which is great, but it’s a whole new country that actually speaks English! Will be traveling with sweet Caroline (whom you’ll recognize from Adventure #4) and I am SO excited! Let me know if you have any tips. Cheers!

Defining Normal.

2010 has been a bit busy so far, mom left and got home safe and I’ve been getting things back to normal… haha, normal. My definition of “normal” has changed in the last four months and how much it will continue to change at this time in my life, even once I get home. I suppose I now define “normal” as being the only American in my building, relying on buses and walking to get everywhere, teaching children mostly of North African descent, dealing with yet appreciating the snow, using Facebook chat almost daily, wearing leggings under my jeans, and a million other little things that I’ve accepted/embraced in my new little life here. Oh, and everything’s in French. I’m at the halfway point in my contract and if the past four months are a precursor, then the next four are going to fly by SO quickly, but hopefully be amazing. With every New Year comes resolutions and mine include saving money and traveling wisely as well as figuring my life post-France. Because this current brand of normalcy is only going to last until April, I’m going to have to find a new one. I guess I should consider this exciting, right? Since I’m on the brink of the rest of my life and all… scary though, too. The decisions I make now could possibility determine what my normal is for the next fifty or so years. A bit intense, no?

But in the meantime, I owe y’all some pictures and things. Click here for our last week of our vacation that includes Mom’s stay in Besançon bookended with some nights in Paris. I was kind of over the whole “taking pictures” thing at that point and we did Paris very slow and lazylike but I promise we saw all the big highlights anyway. You can Google image Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower if you really need to know what they look like. Also, I’d recommend checking out the Besançon at Christmastime folder to see some pictures of the Christmas Party at my school (that was indeed over a month away… sorry for the tardiness). More to come soon. PROMISE!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A little sneak-peak to our time in Paris... the Eiffel Tower from our viewpoint on the Passerelle Debilly (a pedestrian bridge) at midnight on New Year's Eve. In the words of the loud, screaming, drunk guy in the background: BONNE ANNÉE to you all!

Adventure #10: Lucerne

For Christmas, I got a little iPod shuffle that my brother Timmy loaded with songs for me. On the train to Lucerne I listened to Alan Jackson, Nickelback, and the LSU Pregame, a pretty unique soundtrack to the views of snow-capped mountains and tiny Swiss and Austrian villages. Haha, I LOVED it!

Lucerne was special. The inspiration of my mom’s whole trip out here was actually my grandmother, Mattie Ruth. She adored Switzerland and visited it eight or nine times just since I knew her. Mom and I never took the chance to go with her so we made this one in memory of her and tried to trace her footsteps a bit. We even stayed in the same Lucerne hotel she did and visited the same gift store (Casagrande) where she always bought her presents for us. It was nice to see those same bags Mat carted home full of Toblerone bars (even though we could buy them in Baton Rouge she swore they were “fresher” brought straight from Switzerland) and I even recognized some of the knick-knacks and jewelry as things I have back stashed home, gifts from her. I like to think that she’d be especially proud of me for being here and she would have definitely been the first to visit and we would sure have had some fun! She was some lady… and became an important influence in my life.

I think Lucerne has been my favorite. (Already, Salzburg seems like SO long ago…) I’m not sure if it was the mountains, the colorful and detailed architecture, or the connection with Mat, but I loved it. It turned out to be a nice place to pass my birthday, too! Have a look at the pictures… it was hard to not take pretty ones!