Connie in France

Adventure #25: Getting Back

2010-07-19T23:50:00.002+02:00

(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

2010-06-21T22:04:00.004+02:00

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

2010-05-17T14:32:00.004+02:00

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!"

2010-05-04T20:49:00.001+02:00

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.

2010-05-04T20:45:00.000+02:00

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!

2010-05-04T20:28:00.003+02:00

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!

2010-04-26T11:58:00.007+02:00

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!

2010-03-28T23:18:00.012+02:00

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

2010-03-14T21:39:00.012+01:00

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

2010-03-03T23:07:00.004+01:00

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.

2010-03-03T02:01:00.007+01:00

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.

2010-02-28T20:37:00.006+01:00

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:

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.
I’m a registered Republican. But again, if anyone asks, I totally voted for Obama… or at least I let them assume I did.
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.
I smile.
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.
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.
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!)
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?
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.
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

2010-02-24T23:10:00.008+01:00

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!)

2010-02-20T13:35:00.004+01:00

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.

2010-02-01T10:58:00.003+01:00

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.

2010-01-27T01:58:00.004+01:00

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.

2010-01-20T14:13:00.000+01:00

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!

2010-01-01T22:57:00.004+01:00

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

2010-01-01T22:41:00.003+01:00

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!

Adventure #9: Vienna

2009-12-26T17:53:00.005+01:00

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

2009-12-23T10:49:00.004+01:00

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.

2009-12-15T23:17:00.004+01:00

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

2009-12-06T14:46:00.006+01:00

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.

2009-12-02T20:40:00.003+01:00

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...

2009-11-26T22:51:00.002+01:00

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

2009-11-24T22:45:00.000+01:00

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

2009-11-18T20:38:00.000+01:00

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

2009-11-18T19:59:00.000+01:00

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

2009-11-06T13:03:00.000+01:00

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

2009-11-03T23:41:00.000+01:00

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.

2009-10-23T19:38:00.000+02:00

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.

2009-10-22T17:24:00.000+02:00

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!"

2009-10-16T22:22:00.000+02:00

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

2009-10-11T21:16:00.000+02:00

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.

2009-10-06T11:27:00.000+02:00

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.

2009-09-30T11:51:00.000+02:00

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.

Adventure #1: Getting There and Butterflies

2009-09-26T23:25:00.000+02:00

I’m here and, so far, so good. The trip made me nervous, but two planes, one bus, two trains and two cars later, it really couldn’t have gone smoother. But I did end up having to pay 0,50 Euros to use the bathroom at the train station. That was a bummer.

To be honest, I felt a little sad and overwhelmed during the first day and night. I kept asking myself, “why exactly am I here?” because the whole thing just seemed so daunting. But once I got settled into my room, seeing my things in their new places made me feel so much better. And finding the cards my mom hid in my suitcase was sweet too. It’s silly and SO like mom but I remembered when she did that in my trunk when I would leave for camp, back when I could only manage a week away from home.

To keep up my motivation I put a big AAA Europe map on the wall above my desk. I really just put it there to fill up the blank space but then I got the brilliant idea to start marking the places I’ve been. I look at it as a sort of answer to my “what am I doing here?” question. Plus, I have these really cute tiny butterfly stickers that cover the cities perfectly. To get a butterfly I must have an actual experience in the place, so train or plane stopovers don’t count. I think seeing this map will constantly remind me how blessed I am to have an experience like this and I should really make the most of it. Seeing those tiny butterflies may help quell some of the other butterflies in my stomach.

My roommate (another American assistant) didn’t come until Friday night so I had a whole day by myself. I think I did pretty well. I usually hate to “faire les courses,” or go grocery shopping, but it I liked walking around and seeing French products or recognizing the few American imports. Stuff was expensive but I bought the cheapest of everything and only got what I absolutely needed at the moment. I’m holding off on buying the bigger stuff (like a hairdryer) and things that I just really want (like a huge thing of Le Petit Marseillaise lotion) until I get a bank account.

I also got my first real glimpse of Besançon. The walk from my apartment into downtown takes about 30 minutes and doesn’t get very picturesque until it’s closer to Centreville. But the weather was pleasant and beautiful and I enjoyed getting my Besançon bearings. I also got a bus pass, a young person’s discount card, and a real French cell phone. Though I do feel empowered from accomplishing these errands in French, it was very clumsy and stupid French. I guess getting better is another reason I’m here. But I still have to get a bank account…

After my roommate arrived we met some other assistants and I realized that I’m not the only one that feels so unprepared and isn’t confident in their French. Hopefully, this will be a good start to a whole network of assistants who can empathize with me and help me quiet the butterflies in my stomach that come with this adventure.

p.s. With my camera I get an account to post pictures online. You can click here to see some pics of my apartment and a few shots of Besancon!

One Week.

2009-09-15T21:11:00.002+02:00

"...you will essentially be entering the “real world” this year, and this world will be French." -Carolyn Collins, the very kind and helpful French Embassy lady.

In seven days I leave the only place I've ever really lived to go to France for seven months. Though I like to think I have had a small taste of the real world, this move is the real clincher, an ocean away from my family, friends, and anything familiar. I have a place to live and supposedly a job, but everything else is up to me. I feel very much on the unprepared side right now, but I have faith that "everything happens for a reason," it's all part of the experience and this is an experience I can't pass up. Thousands have done this before (and probably 'blogged' about it too) so nothing can be all that scary or orginal, right?

I've had the whole summer to think about this and have come to a few conclusions about my expectations for the next year (beacause "year" sounds more impressive than "seven months"):

What I expect to enjoy the most:

Cheese. I just love cheese, and yogurt...most dairy products really.
The Weather. Less humidity=less frizzy hair; Rain and Snow=numerous outerwear opportunities.
Experiencing another culture and lifestyle, like, for real.
Cheese.
Being able to travel...alot. I have such plans for travel.
Sending mail to people back home. (Send me your address if you want something! I need an outlet for my ever-growing stationery collection.)

What I expect to miss (other than the obvious family, friends, my own bed, etc.):

Ice.
Television. Especially syndicated sitcoms...in what other country can you ALWAYS find an episode of Golden Girls on?
Everything Daddy cooks. Except squirrel.
Driving.
ALWAYS running into people I know (though I think this will also be something I enjoy...honestly, it's about 50/50).

What I expect to be challenging:

The language. You'd think I'd be practically fluent after eight years of classes and two immersion programs...but I'm so not.
Making friends. Especially French ones.
Paperwork. I'm not sure if the French invented bureaucracy, but they sure mastered making it difficult.
Being American. Though I don't put that much stock into the whole French-hate-Americans thing, I do expect some challenges rooted, however deeply, in my nationality.
Teaching. You know, the actual job I'm supposed to do over there for which I have no experience. (But I did just go ba-nanas at the Dollar Tree stocking up on flashcards, coloring pages, and stickers...so far teaching=fun.)

Wish me luck! I'm off to start this next part of my life...that will be in French.