I am writing to you all from my friend Ali's flat in Foix, France, a village nestled in the French Pyrenees, just north of the Spanish border. Ali and her boyfriend Flo invited me to spend Christmas and New Year's here with them, and everything has been so lovely so far!
I finished school last Friday and spent my Saturday and Sunday battling loneliness (everyone had pretty much cleared out of Les Cottages by then) and my nemesis: the laundry machine--let's call it Clyde. Clyde and I do not get along very well. He likes to get my coins jammed in the machine. He also likes to stop working mid-cycle so that my clothes are left soapy and water-logged. Sometimes Clyde doesn't like turning on at all. (Note: Clyde's behavior might also be due to operator error...) Whatever the case, Clyde is not a fan of doing my laundry, and thus I, too, am not a fan of doing my laundry. But as it's a necessary evil, especially when you're about to depart for a nearly two-week vacation, I decided to dedicate my two days of alone time to this chore. Clyde was busy all day in Saturday, despite the supposed lack of residents at Les Cottages, so I was forced to wait until Sunday morning to do my laundry. I got up super early because Charly and Edwige had invited me over for lunch and Christmas prep, and I needed to get all my laundry done by 9:30am. So I got up when it was still dark and waddled across the courtyard and up the stairs to the laundry room. I put all my laundry in Clyde and inserted my coin in the machine. And then I waited. And waited. And... nothing happened. No lights, no response whatsoever. Clyde--why do you hate me so? After several more attempts to get Clyde going (jostling, slamming, dial-turning, more jostling), I accepted defeat and took all my clothes back down the stairs and across the dark courtyard, packed them up in my backpack, and waited for it to be a suitable hour to call Charly and Edwige and beg them to let me use their washer. (Two things to know about laundry in France: 1. It's expensive as water is expensive. 2. No one uses the dryer--like ever. Air-drying is king.) They agreed and I trudged over to their house (the fog was still clearing the semi-illuminated streets).
My day got much better from there. We got my laundry washed, we chatted about cooking, my feud with Clyde, our upcoming Christmas plans, and I had the great pleasure of watching Edwige, master chef, prepare some of the elements of her Christmas dinner extravaganza. She glazed cookies with chocolate, made pâte à choux for salmon puff ball things, made fish paste for a shellfish dinner, and tested out some foie gras, all while Charly made homemade French fries and reheated a lovely slow-cooked beef concoction that gets better every time you reheat it. Once again, spoiled by the Laumoniers. Then I went home and hung my laundry all over my apartment and had Christmas with my parents. I rounded out my evening with a chat with my dear friend, Carmen Fifield, and a couple of episodes of Friends. Most excellent.
On Monday (Christmas Eve), I got up early again and began my long journey to Foix. I got held up in Toulouse thanks to some gold old French strikes, so I got delayed two hours and ended up fighting for my place on the last bus to Foix. Twelve hours after my departure from Blois, Ali and Flo met me at the train station at Foix and walked me to their cute attic flat in the centre ville. Foix has a cool castle with actual turrets and everything, plus it's illuminated purple for Christmas. There are mountains on all sides of the village, and there's a little mountain stream running through its center. It's got a much different feel from Blois that I can't quite find the words to describe beyond saying that it's more Spanish-feeling and there's more of a sport culture. Flo made us duck with fried potatoes and carrots which we ate enthusiastically with our fingers and topped off with a bûche de Noël (traditional French Christmas cake that looks like a little log and/or a huge Little Debbie cake roll) and half a box of red wine. We dubbed a red flower plant our Christmas tree, and Flo spent the evening trying to convince Ali to open the huge present her sister sent her on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day. He was unsuccessful, and we all passed out to the sounds of The Grinch. The next morning we slept late and lounged around all day. We opened presents and discovered that the big one was a TV (!). Flo set it up immediately. Ali and I took a walk around Foix and had a nice chat before another lovely dinner of lentils and sausage.
Today, Ali and I took a 45-minute train ride to Ax-les-Thermes, a mountain village known for its skiing and hot baths. We were there for the hot baths. We donned our bathing suits and joined the hot bath community, moving from indoor large heated pool to outdoor large heated pool, to hammam, to sauna, to small heated pool, in search of the perfect jet. It was wonderful and relaxing and oh so French. The best part: the people-watching. We came back on a late train to warm our hands on steaming bowls of chili (the glory!), plus I tried my first whole kiwi (tasted like a huge green grape). They've got me hooked on Sherlock, so I think an episode of that is next on the agenda. Tomorrow, Ali and I are headed to the medieval village of Carcassonne. Should be a good day full of a lot of old stuff, delicious food, and train travel. To sum up: I'm hanging out with some really cool people eating delicious food all the time and having awesome adventures. We leave for Barcelona on Sunday. Time to brush up on my non-existent Spanish...
Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! I sure missed being home with my loved ones, as well as a certain amount of American Christmas commercialism and a whole lot of Christmas carols (France sucks at Christmas carols), but all in all it's been a good time. Oh, I forgot to mention that my choir sang at the marché de Noël (Christmas market, and we sang non-Christmas-y songs like a Spanish one about coffee and a traditional French one about a girl who get deceived by a cute guy--see this link) in Blois last weekend and I got to meet the mayor! There was a band and speeches and little lit-up Christmas huts and lots of mulled wine for everyone! Pretty cool and very Christmas-spirited.
So, merry Christmas to all, and I will try to update you on more of my adventures in Foix before I head of to Spain for New Year's. Bonnes fêtes, tout le monde!
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Saturday, December 15, 2012
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...
My life continues to be busy here in Blois. The Orléans Christmas markets two weekends ago were a no-go. We misread the dates and were three days early, so we could see the cute little Christmas-y huts, but no merchants were there to sell us cute Christmas stuff. Alas.
Instead, we (that is, Harriet, Amy, and our British friend Suzie who is working in Romorantin, a little town 40 minutes away from Blois) went shopping in downtown Orléans. My British friends have turned me into quite the shopper (or perhaps it is just because I have disposable income all of a sudden and very few clothes). We then returned to Blois laden with our purchases and decided to have a full-out Anglophone evening by ordering pizza from Domino's. After an hour-long discussion about what to order, we finally decided on the three pizza deal (Hawaiian, vegetarian, chicken BBQ) with two appetizers (chicken fingers and potato wedges) and a bottle of Fanta. It proved to be an excellent decision. We chowed down while watching Magic Mike (oh lord), and then Suzie and I had a proper sleepover in my room and stayed up giggling until 3am. She got up at 7am to catch a bus, so all in all not much sleep was had.
Last weekend was Nancy's English Christmas party. Harriet, Amy, and I kicked off our day with an early bus to Vendôme and spent the day wandering around in the cold seeking shelter every once and a while in a warm-looking boutique. We went and got three massive hot chocolates and my favorite little coffee shop in Vendôme and watched the ducks being ducks in the Loir. Nancy's friend came and picked us up around 4:30pm, and we arrived at Nancy's ancient ramshackle abode right in time for egg nog and a game of "Who am I?" Though the majority of the attendees were French, we had a completely English evening. It was a small group--Nancy's two eldest daughters and their significant others and a few friends, plus Nancy and her husband Jean-Pierre. "Who am I?" was a blast. I was John Lennon, Harriet was Wonder Woman, and Amy was Britney Spears, though I think my favorite was Flipper the Dolphin, which was actually the first to be found. We had a light meal of quiche, homemade bread, fresh goat's cheese, homemade Earl Grey muffins (oh. my. god.), salads, and wine and then played Things (if you haven't heard of this game, go and buy it--it's amazing). After two hilarious rounds, Nancy's second-oldest Kim (the one who just got married) got out an old-fashioned street organ and we were treated to a private concert of traditional French tunes. Plus Nancy showed off her life-size puppets and we had a small gift exchange. What a great kick-off to the holiday season! It finally felt like Christmas.
School has been going okay. I've had a couple of rough days, mainly because of discipline issues that I don't have enough experience to handle properly. I had them work on dates and the calendar for the two weeks after Thanksgiving, and now we're onto Christmas. I've got Christmas flashcards and we sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" together. They have a ball playing Pictionary. I divide the class into teams and one person from each team comes up to the board. I show the two draw-ers one of my flashcards, and then they have to draw it. Then their teammates try to guess what it is before the other team does. Next week, I'm having my eleven-year-olds write letters to Santa, even though all of them have told me quite firmly that Santa doesn't exist. They'll just have to suck it up. Nancy has also helped me revolutionize my teaching style by giving me a toss toy, a small neon orange mouse whom I've dubbed Mr. Mouse. I use it to review previous lessons with my students. For example, I throw it to one student and they say "January," then that student throws it to another, "February," and so on. Or we count, or do the days of the week, or any number of things. They love it.
The Christmas markets have begun in Blois and all the lights have been illuminated, so the town is beautiful and festive. I've been performing with Edwige's choir. We sang for hospitalized children last Wednesday, and today we're singing in the centre ville. I'm really enjoying getting to know this group of women a lot. I'm also enjoying hanging out with Edwige, who gives me rides to rehearsal and who continues to invite me over for dinner. A few weekends ago she had me over for a family dinner, the culmination of a foie gras-making weekend with their kids and significant others. For those of you who don't know, foie gras is liver pâté, usually made from goose liver. Edwige and Charly bought whole ducks and made duck foie gras. It was delicious, as long as I didn't think too hard about what I was eating. The foie gras was followed by a roasted leg of lamb with potatoes, goat's cheese, and fresh fruit from their garden. I am so spoiled!
Today should be a lazy day. We're going shopping again (surprise, surprise), and I've got my eye on an elegant black dress that's only 25 euros (approx $33). I also need to go grocery shopping, but I have to be super careful as I only have one week left in Blois before I head to Foix to visit Ali and her boyfriend Florent. Yesterday we went ice skating, and none of us fell (!). Such a victory. Suzie is visiting again tomorrow night for another sleepover, and she has promised me a romantic dinner in Blois for letting her crash at my place. Of course, it is completely my pleasure to host her!
I'm obviously still loving France, but I know it's going to be hard to spend Christmas away from my family. Luckily, thanks to skype we'll be able to open Christmas presents together and have some family time. I'm looking forward to visiting Ali and Florent (from here on out known as "Flo") in Foix. We have booked a bus to Barcelona and a hotel, so I'll definitely be in Spain to ring in the New Year. Otherwise we're planning on hanging out, hiking in the Pyrenees, eating well, checking out the hot baths, and visiting some nearby towns/cities, including Toulouse and the medieval city of Carcassonne. I'm getting excited!
I will be uploading pictures soon, I hope, so stay posted for that. Okay, off to hit the centre ville shops with the Brits! À tout!
Instead, we (that is, Harriet, Amy, and our British friend Suzie who is working in Romorantin, a little town 40 minutes away from Blois) went shopping in downtown Orléans. My British friends have turned me into quite the shopper (or perhaps it is just because I have disposable income all of a sudden and very few clothes). We then returned to Blois laden with our purchases and decided to have a full-out Anglophone evening by ordering pizza from Domino's. After an hour-long discussion about what to order, we finally decided on the three pizza deal (Hawaiian, vegetarian, chicken BBQ) with two appetizers (chicken fingers and potato wedges) and a bottle of Fanta. It proved to be an excellent decision. We chowed down while watching Magic Mike (oh lord), and then Suzie and I had a proper sleepover in my room and stayed up giggling until 3am. She got up at 7am to catch a bus, so all in all not much sleep was had.
Last weekend was Nancy's English Christmas party. Harriet, Amy, and I kicked off our day with an early bus to Vendôme and spent the day wandering around in the cold seeking shelter every once and a while in a warm-looking boutique. We went and got three massive hot chocolates and my favorite little coffee shop in Vendôme and watched the ducks being ducks in the Loir. Nancy's friend came and picked us up around 4:30pm, and we arrived at Nancy's ancient ramshackle abode right in time for egg nog and a game of "Who am I?" Though the majority of the attendees were French, we had a completely English evening. It was a small group--Nancy's two eldest daughters and their significant others and a few friends, plus Nancy and her husband Jean-Pierre. "Who am I?" was a blast. I was John Lennon, Harriet was Wonder Woman, and Amy was Britney Spears, though I think my favorite was Flipper the Dolphin, which was actually the first to be found. We had a light meal of quiche, homemade bread, fresh goat's cheese, homemade Earl Grey muffins (oh. my. god.), salads, and wine and then played Things (if you haven't heard of this game, go and buy it--it's amazing). After two hilarious rounds, Nancy's second-oldest Kim (the one who just got married) got out an old-fashioned street organ and we were treated to a private concert of traditional French tunes. Plus Nancy showed off her life-size puppets and we had a small gift exchange. What a great kick-off to the holiday season! It finally felt like Christmas.
School has been going okay. I've had a couple of rough days, mainly because of discipline issues that I don't have enough experience to handle properly. I had them work on dates and the calendar for the two weeks after Thanksgiving, and now we're onto Christmas. I've got Christmas flashcards and we sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" together. They have a ball playing Pictionary. I divide the class into teams and one person from each team comes up to the board. I show the two draw-ers one of my flashcards, and then they have to draw it. Then their teammates try to guess what it is before the other team does. Next week, I'm having my eleven-year-olds write letters to Santa, even though all of them have told me quite firmly that Santa doesn't exist. They'll just have to suck it up. Nancy has also helped me revolutionize my teaching style by giving me a toss toy, a small neon orange mouse whom I've dubbed Mr. Mouse. I use it to review previous lessons with my students. For example, I throw it to one student and they say "January," then that student throws it to another, "February," and so on. Or we count, or do the days of the week, or any number of things. They love it.
The Christmas markets have begun in Blois and all the lights have been illuminated, so the town is beautiful and festive. I've been performing with Edwige's choir. We sang for hospitalized children last Wednesday, and today we're singing in the centre ville. I'm really enjoying getting to know this group of women a lot. I'm also enjoying hanging out with Edwige, who gives me rides to rehearsal and who continues to invite me over for dinner. A few weekends ago she had me over for a family dinner, the culmination of a foie gras-making weekend with their kids and significant others. For those of you who don't know, foie gras is liver pâté, usually made from goose liver. Edwige and Charly bought whole ducks and made duck foie gras. It was delicious, as long as I didn't think too hard about what I was eating. The foie gras was followed by a roasted leg of lamb with potatoes, goat's cheese, and fresh fruit from their garden. I am so spoiled!
Today should be a lazy day. We're going shopping again (surprise, surprise), and I've got my eye on an elegant black dress that's only 25 euros (approx $33). I also need to go grocery shopping, but I have to be super careful as I only have one week left in Blois before I head to Foix to visit Ali and her boyfriend Florent. Yesterday we went ice skating, and none of us fell (!). Such a victory. Suzie is visiting again tomorrow night for another sleepover, and she has promised me a romantic dinner in Blois for letting her crash at my place. Of course, it is completely my pleasure to host her!
I'm obviously still loving France, but I know it's going to be hard to spend Christmas away from my family. Luckily, thanks to skype we'll be able to open Christmas presents together and have some family time. I'm looking forward to visiting Ali and Florent (from here on out known as "Flo") in Foix. We have booked a bus to Barcelona and a hotel, so I'll definitely be in Spain to ring in the New Year. Otherwise we're planning on hanging out, hiking in the Pyrenees, eating well, checking out the hot baths, and visiting some nearby towns/cities, including Toulouse and the medieval city of Carcassonne. I'm getting excited!
I will be uploading pictures soon, I hope, so stay posted for that. Okay, off to hit the centre ville shops with the Brits! À tout!
Friday, November 30, 2012
My Life as a Pedestrain and Some Updates
One of the things I love about living in France is how easy it is to walk wherever you want to go. I walk for at least an hour everyday, through gardens, on paved sidewalks, up stairs, down stairs, across the bridge. Blois feels more alive when taken by foot, and I feel more alive, too. As a pedestrian in Blois, I feel like there is nowhere I can't go. If I want to get to the opposite side of Blois, all I have to do is walk there. It may take me an hour or two, but it is possible for me to get where I want to be with nothing but my own two feet (and for free!). This would be almost impossible in the United States, where cars reign supreme.
Two weeks ago, my belief in pedestrain-friendly France was shaken by a unsuccessful cinema outing. Harriet and I decided to go see the new Twilight movie dubbed in French, and with our faith in our ability to walk anywhere in Blois, we set off by foot toward the big cinéplex on the northern side of town. Google Maps said the walk would take about 40 minutes--no big deal. An hour later, we were still searching for the cinema. It turned out that the cinema in Blois is one of those rare places that you can't reach by foot. Two round-abouts and a highway stood between us and the ridiculous fifth installment of the Twilight series. I was tempted to take my chances crossing the round-about, but Harriet wisely advised that Twilight was simply not worth risking life and limb. We went shopping instead, as the cinema is close to the ugly outskirts of Blois where all the cheap, American-like French chains are located. We left with martini glasses, a shaker, and a resolution to go straight to the Intermarché (our nearest grocery store) to buy vodka, triple sec, and cranberry juice for cosmos. We also invested in a tub of pistachio ice cream that lasted us all of two evenings.
I am still muddling through my disappointment that the cinema is not accessible to pedestrians. The next Wednesday, we took a bus to the cinema (a very inconvenient one that only circulates every hour and that costs 1,10 euros) and still found ourselves in unfriendly pedestrian territory. There were no signs for the cinema, no sidewalks, and no pedestrian entrance. After I tripped on a piece of trash left in the parking lot, I had half a mind to tell CapCiné that they needed to provide some better transportation options for the 4,000+ students, predominantly pedestrians, living in Blois. But the other half of my mind preferred to keep quiet and escape into the darkness of the cinema. (Note: the French Kristin Stewart sounds twice as intelligent and three times as interesting.)
Other than wayward cinema trips, not much is going on here in Blois, at least not that belongs in this blog. The big gala at the university was fun. Everyone was much too drunk and no one sang along to the songs as they were all American pop hits in English (Harriet and I were screaming the lyrics at the tops of our lungs much to the surprise of everyone around us). I'm looking forward to the next one in December, a more intimate affair to ring in the end of the world (December 21, 2012, according to the Mayans). Thomas the Marseillais is helping to organize it, so it's sure to be a smash.
I am slowly getting more comfortable with the teaching, and sometimes I have really successful, invigorating classes. Other times my classes go so badly that I want to cry. The other teachers are being mostly helpful, and I've even had some legit conversations with a few of them. Some even seek me out to chat. I'm beginning to feel less and less like the unpopular weird girl mistakenly seated with a popular clique.
Edwige invited me to join her choir that rehearses at the hospital. It is made up of women between the ages of 30 and 70, and I am the only one under 30 and foreign in the group. They are all very welcoming and nice, and I am so enjoying being part of a choir again. I've missed singing a lot. We sing simple songs, usually in unison or in canon. We are preparing for a Christmas program for children who are sick in the hospital over the holidays. I also love having the extra time with Edwige. She invited me over this weekend to help make foie gras and countless other strange French delicacies out of the whole ducks she bought at the market.
As most of you know, my dad had a heart attack last Sunday. He is doing fine and came home from the hospital on Tuesday, but it definitely was hard being so far away when my family was in crisis. I was able to reach my parents by phone and talk to them Sunday night, which really helped ease my feelings of worry, powerlessness, and detachment.
It was also weird being far away for Thanksgiving, which I celebrated with some leftover couscous and a beer with a French guy at a nearby bar. Christmas is sure to be equally strange, but I'm hoping my trip to visit my friend Ali and her boyfriend in Foix (in the Pyrenees, south of Toulouse) will be fun and full of holiday cheer. We'll hopefully be ringing in the New Year in Barcelona if we can work out our transportation okay, so that should prove to be quite the party.
Tonight, Amy, Harriet, and I are having a Titanic night watching Titanic and eating ice cream. Tomorrow, our friend Suzie is coming to Blois and then we're all going to Orléans together to check out the Christmas markets (perhaps the subject of my next post). For the first time in my life, I have money to spend on Christmas presents and I'm excited about creating a Christmas package for my parents. I'm also ready to get into the Christmas spirit. Suzie is spending the night in my apartment and we're ordering pizza and watching another movie. I'm looking forward to a fun and relaxing weekend! France continues to be wonderful, and I'm feeling more and more comfortable. I think I may be applying for next year...
Two weeks ago, my belief in pedestrain-friendly France was shaken by a unsuccessful cinema outing. Harriet and I decided to go see the new Twilight movie dubbed in French, and with our faith in our ability to walk anywhere in Blois, we set off by foot toward the big cinéplex on the northern side of town. Google Maps said the walk would take about 40 minutes--no big deal. An hour later, we were still searching for the cinema. It turned out that the cinema in Blois is one of those rare places that you can't reach by foot. Two round-abouts and a highway stood between us and the ridiculous fifth installment of the Twilight series. I was tempted to take my chances crossing the round-about, but Harriet wisely advised that Twilight was simply not worth risking life and limb. We went shopping instead, as the cinema is close to the ugly outskirts of Blois where all the cheap, American-like French chains are located. We left with martini glasses, a shaker, and a resolution to go straight to the Intermarché (our nearest grocery store) to buy vodka, triple sec, and cranberry juice for cosmos. We also invested in a tub of pistachio ice cream that lasted us all of two evenings.
I am still muddling through my disappointment that the cinema is not accessible to pedestrians. The next Wednesday, we took a bus to the cinema (a very inconvenient one that only circulates every hour and that costs 1,10 euros) and still found ourselves in unfriendly pedestrian territory. There were no signs for the cinema, no sidewalks, and no pedestrian entrance. After I tripped on a piece of trash left in the parking lot, I had half a mind to tell CapCiné that they needed to provide some better transportation options for the 4,000+ students, predominantly pedestrians, living in Blois. But the other half of my mind preferred to keep quiet and escape into the darkness of the cinema. (Note: the French Kristin Stewart sounds twice as intelligent and three times as interesting.)
Other than wayward cinema trips, not much is going on here in Blois, at least not that belongs in this blog. The big gala at the university was fun. Everyone was much too drunk and no one sang along to the songs as they were all American pop hits in English (Harriet and I were screaming the lyrics at the tops of our lungs much to the surprise of everyone around us). I'm looking forward to the next one in December, a more intimate affair to ring in the end of the world (December 21, 2012, according to the Mayans). Thomas the Marseillais is helping to organize it, so it's sure to be a smash.
I am slowly getting more comfortable with the teaching, and sometimes I have really successful, invigorating classes. Other times my classes go so badly that I want to cry. The other teachers are being mostly helpful, and I've even had some legit conversations with a few of them. Some even seek me out to chat. I'm beginning to feel less and less like the unpopular weird girl mistakenly seated with a popular clique.
Edwige invited me to join her choir that rehearses at the hospital. It is made up of women between the ages of 30 and 70, and I am the only one under 30 and foreign in the group. They are all very welcoming and nice, and I am so enjoying being part of a choir again. I've missed singing a lot. We sing simple songs, usually in unison or in canon. We are preparing for a Christmas program for children who are sick in the hospital over the holidays. I also love having the extra time with Edwige. She invited me over this weekend to help make foie gras and countless other strange French delicacies out of the whole ducks she bought at the market.
As most of you know, my dad had a heart attack last Sunday. He is doing fine and came home from the hospital on Tuesday, but it definitely was hard being so far away when my family was in crisis. I was able to reach my parents by phone and talk to them Sunday night, which really helped ease my feelings of worry, powerlessness, and detachment.
It was also weird being far away for Thanksgiving, which I celebrated with some leftover couscous and a beer with a French guy at a nearby bar. Christmas is sure to be equally strange, but I'm hoping my trip to visit my friend Ali and her boyfriend in Foix (in the Pyrenees, south of Toulouse) will be fun and full of holiday cheer. We'll hopefully be ringing in the New Year in Barcelona if we can work out our transportation okay, so that should prove to be quite the party.
Tonight, Amy, Harriet, and I are having a Titanic night watching Titanic and eating ice cream. Tomorrow, our friend Suzie is coming to Blois and then we're all going to Orléans together to check out the Christmas markets (perhaps the subject of my next post). For the first time in my life, I have money to spend on Christmas presents and I'm excited about creating a Christmas package for my parents. I'm also ready to get into the Christmas spirit. Suzie is spending the night in my apartment and we're ordering pizza and watching another movie. I'm looking forward to a fun and relaxing weekend! France continues to be wonderful, and I'm feeling more and more comfortable. I think I may be applying for next year...
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Vacances de Toussaint: A Series of Successful Misadventures
Hello everybody! I'm finally done with my nice long vacation from my blog. It's time to end the denial phase, accept that vacation is over, and get back to work documenting my experiences in France. But first, a rather long note about my vacation.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I decided to spend my two-week vacation traveling northwestern France with my dear high school friend, Betsy Herlong (you can read her blog here). I kicked off our travels by meeting her in Nantes, a large city close to her home in a small town called Ancenis. After a day in Ancenis, we took a train to Rennes, where we spent only a couple of hours before setting off to Saint Malo. We stayed in Saint Malo for three days, and then headed back to Blois via Angers. She spent four days with me in Blois, which we used as a jumping-off-point to explore other places in my region, namely Vendôme, Amboise, and Tours.
Here's a map of our adventures. If you click on the pin, you can see some of the highlights of each city.
Like most vacations, ours was a series of successes and misadventures.
Successes:
We are masters of the French train system, and it never failed to impress us with its punctuality (except for that one time when the train was late in Angers). We also ate excellent food, ranging from French Mexican to Turkish kebabs, from giant desserts to homemade Italian soup, boeuf bourginon, ratatouille, and cube steak. We saw a great French rom com and understood nearly every word. We shared a wonderful evening of down-home Southern cooking with Mr. Gauben and his wife Dominique. We got touring cities down to a science: orient with a map or the friendly Office du Tourisme; beeline to château, cathedral, or ramparts, whichever comes first while scanning the restaurants for delicious, cheap food; warm up with coffee for Betsy and various drinks for me; find a park, river, or sea; take cool photos; get on train; repeat. As super-efficient tourists, we packed light, looked for deals (and found them!), and weren't afraid to try new things...which is probably why we got into some of our misadventures. (Note: Misadventures are not failures, but challenges met and overcome that enrich our experience.)
Misadventures:
Rennes
We were only in Rennes for seven or so hours, and we thought it would be a good idea to leave our heavy backpacks in the lockers at the Office du Tourisme while we explored the city. And it was a great idea, until we confused the closing time and our bags got locked in the Office du Tourisme over night. Whoops. We maintained our cool and sought Mexican food for solace. Luckily, it was not too time-consuming or expensive to go ahead and travel to Saint Malo where we had reservations at a fabulous hostel and return to Rennes the next day to claim our bags. We "roughed" it, going without shower or clean clothes until we were reunited with our backpacks the next day. We got more time in Rennes and delicious kebabs out of the deal, so all in all a successful misadventure.
Saint-Malo
We decided to go to a play on Saturday night, a musical comedy that was meant to make a statement of the superficiality of appearances in the modern world. After the woman at the front desk of our hostel nodded enthusiastically and encouraged us to go, we were sure it would be a tasteful, enjoyable evening, full of laughs, song, and deep thinking. What we found was a community theater production of a play still in production with a cast that could barely carry a tune. The play was set in the welcome office/ waiting room of a fitness center and centered around the development of a young Bretonne woman interning at the office. We enjoyed the first hour despite the off-key singing and ridiculous scenarios, but Hour 2 took its toll and we began to squirm, waiting for the end when everyone would come on stage and take their bows. We were sure when the pregnant woman attempted to shoot her non-committal, potentially gay boyfriend that it was over, but we still had 30 minutes to go, that included the little children dressing up as devils and stabbing aforementioned boyfriend with their spiked devil's forks. Finally, everyone got married, and we escaped into the night to get a much-needed glass of wine at a local night club.
Blois
When we returned to Blois, we came back to an apartment still infested with cockroaches. A ever-sympathetic Mr. Gauben (who will from now on be known as Henri per his request) gave me more cockroach spray, which I avoided using due to its toxicity that necessitates a quick exit from the premises. However, while I was cooking boeuf bourginon for our dinner, one of those sneaky little buggers decided that the knob of my stove would be an excellent place to chill out and wait for left-overs. After Betsy and I shared a good scream and some frantic prancing around with various hard objects to smash him with, I caught him in an empty tomato sauce jar and threw the whole thing away. We finished our meal and fumigated the apartment with the spray, electing to take a lovely evening stroll around Blois to avoid poisoning ourselves. We came back to a row of dead cockroaches. Victory is sweet.
Now I am back to work at the elementary schools and enjoying being a Blaisoise once more. Harriet and Amy are back from England, and we are determined to increase our adventuring between now and Christmas. We will try to see new things on the weekend and look for fun things to do and cool people to meet. Harriet and I have already begun our new challenge: yesterday, we had a great misadventure trying to go to the big cineplex on the outskirts of town to see (to our shame) Breaking Dawn Part 2 dubbed in French (according to the French previews, Kristen Stewart's French persona is both interesting and intelligent). Alas, we never made it as we couldn't find a way to cross the stupid highway, so instead we went shopping, found a cheap cocktail shaker and martini glasses, and opted for a night in with pistachio ice cream, cosmos, and a chick flick. Perfection. We'll be going out this weekend for the engineer university-sponsored blow-out party/ dance, so that should be exciting as well.
Cheers!
As I mentioned in my previous post, I decided to spend my two-week vacation traveling northwestern France with my dear high school friend, Betsy Herlong (you can read her blog here). I kicked off our travels by meeting her in Nantes, a large city close to her home in a small town called Ancenis. After a day in Ancenis, we took a train to Rennes, where we spent only a couple of hours before setting off to Saint Malo. We stayed in Saint Malo for three days, and then headed back to Blois via Angers. She spent four days with me in Blois, which we used as a jumping-off-point to explore other places in my region, namely Vendôme, Amboise, and Tours.
Here's a map of our adventures. If you click on the pin, you can see some of the highlights of each city.
Like most vacations, ours was a series of successes and misadventures.
Successes:
We are masters of the French train system, and it never failed to impress us with its punctuality (except for that one time when the train was late in Angers). We also ate excellent food, ranging from French Mexican to Turkish kebabs, from giant desserts to homemade Italian soup, boeuf bourginon, ratatouille, and cube steak. We saw a great French rom com and understood nearly every word. We shared a wonderful evening of down-home Southern cooking with Mr. Gauben and his wife Dominique. We got touring cities down to a science: orient with a map or the friendly Office du Tourisme; beeline to château, cathedral, or ramparts, whichever comes first while scanning the restaurants for delicious, cheap food; warm up with coffee for Betsy and various drinks for me; find a park, river, or sea; take cool photos; get on train; repeat. As super-efficient tourists, we packed light, looked for deals (and found them!), and weren't afraid to try new things...which is probably why we got into some of our misadventures. (Note: Misadventures are not failures, but challenges met and overcome that enrich our experience.)
Misadventures:
Rennes
We were only in Rennes for seven or so hours, and we thought it would be a good idea to leave our heavy backpacks in the lockers at the Office du Tourisme while we explored the city. And it was a great idea, until we confused the closing time and our bags got locked in the Office du Tourisme over night. Whoops. We maintained our cool and sought Mexican food for solace. Luckily, it was not too time-consuming or expensive to go ahead and travel to Saint Malo where we had reservations at a fabulous hostel and return to Rennes the next day to claim our bags. We "roughed" it, going without shower or clean clothes until we were reunited with our backpacks the next day. We got more time in Rennes and delicious kebabs out of the deal, so all in all a successful misadventure.
Saint-Malo
We decided to go to a play on Saturday night, a musical comedy that was meant to make a statement of the superficiality of appearances in the modern world. After the woman at the front desk of our hostel nodded enthusiastically and encouraged us to go, we were sure it would be a tasteful, enjoyable evening, full of laughs, song, and deep thinking. What we found was a community theater production of a play still in production with a cast that could barely carry a tune. The play was set in the welcome office/ waiting room of a fitness center and centered around the development of a young Bretonne woman interning at the office. We enjoyed the first hour despite the off-key singing and ridiculous scenarios, but Hour 2 took its toll and we began to squirm, waiting for the end when everyone would come on stage and take their bows. We were sure when the pregnant woman attempted to shoot her non-committal, potentially gay boyfriend that it was over, but we still had 30 minutes to go, that included the little children dressing up as devils and stabbing aforementioned boyfriend with their spiked devil's forks. Finally, everyone got married, and we escaped into the night to get a much-needed glass of wine at a local night club.
Blois
When we returned to Blois, we came back to an apartment still infested with cockroaches. A ever-sympathetic Mr. Gauben (who will from now on be known as Henri per his request) gave me more cockroach spray, which I avoided using due to its toxicity that necessitates a quick exit from the premises. However, while I was cooking boeuf bourginon for our dinner, one of those sneaky little buggers decided that the knob of my stove would be an excellent place to chill out and wait for left-overs. After Betsy and I shared a good scream and some frantic prancing around with various hard objects to smash him with, I caught him in an empty tomato sauce jar and threw the whole thing away. We finished our meal and fumigated the apartment with the spray, electing to take a lovely evening stroll around Blois to avoid poisoning ourselves. We came back to a row of dead cockroaches. Victory is sweet.
Now I am back to work at the elementary schools and enjoying being a Blaisoise once more. Harriet and Amy are back from England, and we are determined to increase our adventuring between now and Christmas. We will try to see new things on the weekend and look for fun things to do and cool people to meet. Harriet and I have already begun our new challenge: yesterday, we had a great misadventure trying to go to the big cineplex on the outskirts of town to see (to our shame) Breaking Dawn Part 2 dubbed in French (according to the French previews, Kristen Stewart's French persona is both interesting and intelligent). Alas, we never made it as we couldn't find a way to cross the stupid highway, so instead we went shopping, found a cheap cocktail shaker and martini glasses, and opted for a night in with pistachio ice cream, cosmos, and a chick flick. Perfection. We'll be going out this weekend for the engineer university-sponsored blow-out party/ dance, so that should be exciting as well.
Cheers!
Monday, October 29, 2012
Ma vie à Blois, or My Life in Blois
Well, I guess I'm really living in Blois now.
What, Erin? you may be wondering. Haven't you been living in Blois for the past month?
The simple answer to that is, yes, of course. (Don't worry, loved ones, I haven't been homeless or deceptive about my true whereabouts.) But a more complex answer accounts for the fact that there's a difference between being a tourist and being an inhabitant. And judging by my lack of blog posts over the past ten days, I'd say I've crossed that barrier and become a real resident here in France. In other words, I have established a rhythm and a social life. (I have also found a site where I can access all my favorite TV shows and have been enjoying that immensely much to my shame, but for the purposes of this blog, we'll just say that's part of my rhythm in Blois, as not watching TV would feel more touristy than inhabitant-y. I mean, girl's gotta watch her shows sometimes, even if girl's in France.)
So, here's what you've missed:
School
I work at two different schools. I go to École Buhler, located on the other side of the bridge (about a 12-minute walk from my apartment), on Mondays and Tuesdays. I have Wednesdays off, and then go to École Foch, about a 20-minute walk, on Thursdays and Fridays. The schools are very different, and I will regale you with an intense discussion of their characters in another post. Essentially, I spend the day teaching the same lesson over and over again, modified according to age-level (ages range from five to twelve years old), in 45-minute segments with large breaks built in for recess and lunch. For lunch, I have a 3-hour break, which I fill by sitting awkwardly alone in the lunch room before being joined by my rapid-French-speaking colleagues. Then I try my best to follow their fast-paced meandering conversations about their students, French educational bureaucracy, family life, and political goings-on before being abandoned once again while they all go take their smoke break. Alone, I prepare myself for my next lessons and read a bit. I avoid crossing the courtyard where the kids are as they have taken a liking to attacking me with hugs and "HEL-LOH!"s whenever I come into sight.
The kids tend to be rowdy in class, so I've started really laying down the law this week. This includes speaking harshly to them in rapid French, giving them my pissed-off scary face, and calmly asking them to describe what proper behavior in English class should be. Usually, these tactics work well. I have to establish my authority or be walked-over for the next six months.
Brazilian BBQ
I went to a barbeque thrown by the Brazilians last Saturday. They crammed about thirty people, mostly men, into an apartment about four times the size of my room. Yes, it's a big room, but let's remember that my miniscule apartment barely holds four people comfortably, so really it was pretty crowded. We were a multi-cultural group, hailing from France, Brazil, Colombia, and even the Czech Republic. Among us, we spoke six or so different languages. I was the only American and native English-speaker and spent most of the night switching between French and English with a variety of young men who came to perch beside me before going to grab another beer or succulently-grilled meat chunk. I was recovering from a head cold, so I didn't partake in much, but it was fun nonetheless.
Lunch with Charly and Edwige
Charly and Edwige, my brief hosts, invited me over for lunch on Thursday. Charly is the director of École Foch, so we walked over together after the bell rang, picking up a baguette and Charly's cigarettes on the way. Edwige went all out with a whole roasted chicken and spaghetti squash, fresh goat cheese, and fruit from their garden. Delicious! They are planning to paint their living room over the vacation, so may go over to help with that project.
Tutoring
Other fun social events include tutoring sessions with François, our tall, blond, bearded English tutee. He is super nice and speaks English very well. He comes to my room about twice a week for "English lessons," really just two-hour-long conversations in English. Harriet and Amy usually join us, though I think we overwhelm him with our multitude of accents (Harriet has the classic, "posh" British accent that you hear in Pride and Prejudice; Amy has the Liverpool northern accent--sounds like a British/Scottish twist on a Southern Appalachian accent; I have my mutt-like American accent). On Thursday, we moved our English conversation to a pizzeria off the Place Louis XII and had a great dinner out.
Drinks
On Friday night, Carlos the guitar player asked us out for drinks. All his Brazilian friends had already left on vacation and he was all alone. Carlos's native language is Portuguese but he can speak French and English. He is more comfortable talking about some things in French and others in English, so we pieced together our conversation by switching languages often.
The Halloween Party
Saturday night, we babysat for Nancy's grandchildren in a small village near Vendôme (about 40 minutes north of Blois). Nancy's second daughter just married an American, and due to the French and American red tape they had to saw through to marry, they were unable to hold a wedding reception. So, they decided instead to throw a massive American/French Halloween party in honor of their nuptials. Nancy asked us, her three assistants, to babysit for her grandchildren so the adults could party late into the night, but really we just got to be guests at the coolest Halloween party ever.
They rented what is called a "cave" (pronounced "kahv"), a system of interlocking caves built into the rock of the soft hills of the Loire valley that used to serve as dwellings for the people of this region hundreds of years ago. Now they're used as wine cellars, party halls, storage, and, in some cases, honest-to-goodness, state-of-the-art homes (think hobbit holes). This particular cave must have housed some bored soldiers in the Second World War; they decorated the walls of what is now the bar with a tribute to sex through the ages--bawdy images of knights, monks, gentleman, and soldiers molesting their curvy conquests, all dated 1945. The groom's mom brought two suitcases-worth of decorations and candy from America. They swathed the uneven stone walls of the cave with cobwebs and plastic spiders, placed Jack-O-Lanterns in all the crevices, and covered the tables with orange and black table cloths and Halloween candy.
Everyone came in costumes: Nancy was a mime, the bride and groom were the protagonists from Kill Bill, Nancy's husband was a Middle Eastern man bringing the couple a traditional wedding rug as a present. There were a lot of witches, a mummy, a geisha, a biker chick, a pirate; even the dog was dressed up as a clown. Nancy and her husband have converted the shop under their house into a functional theater, and Nancy invited us to dig around the costume closet for costumes to wear. Harriet was a flapper girl, Amy an adorable sailor, and I was the unsinkable Molly Brown per Harriet's suggestion, complete with evening gown, coat, and flowered hat.
Guests brought food to share, but the owner of the cave also roasted four legs of lamb over an open fire pit for the occasion. After the meal, they served a traditional French wedding cake made of a stack of choux pastry balls filled with chocolate cream and drizzled in caramel syrup. Nancy and her daughter performed a skit, and the groom (very American, very bro) played his guitar and sang. Dancing to American rap music closed out our evening, as we had to leave to put the kids to bed. The party continued well past 3am, or so we were told in the haze of the next morning over breakfast.
Amy cared for Nancy's eldest daughter's baby, while Harriet and I tucked in her step son's two little girls, aged four and nine, I believe. We stayed in Nancy's house, one of the oldest in the village. The central tower that acts as the staircase is the town's old watch tower, dating from the 12th century. It has a drawbridge and everything. The rest of the house is more recent, ranging from the 14th to the 17th century (though let's be real--that's still freakin' old). It was really cold and drafty, though not creepy. (Nancy assured us there were no spirits present.) We read the girls a story in French and tucked them in, then had a whispered sleepover in the room next door. The next morning, the girls woke up early and upset, so we welcomed them for a snuggle and more book reading in our bed until the rest of the house woke up. A great adventure!
Vacation
In case you hadn't picked up the subtle clues, it is vacation time in France. November 1st, All Saints Day (or Toussaint, as it is called here), is a major holiday here where families come together to remember loved ones that have passed away. School is out for two weeks around this holiday, so I am officially on my first paid vacation. Harriet and Amy are headed home to England, and I will be setting off on Halloween to meet up with my old high school friend, Betsy, who is an assistant in a small town near Nantes. Betsy also has a blog, which you can read here: http://briocheberets.blogspot.fr/
We will be exploring Betsy's area on the western coast of France, then heading up to Brittany, my old stomping grounds, for a quick peak at Rennes and three days' relaxing in St. Malo. Then she's coming back to Blois with me for a couple of days which we'll use to explore my area.
I will not be posting during the vacation, or at least not while I'm traveling, thus the extremely long post (thank you for reading if you've made it this far--that's true dedication!). So, Happy Halloween and you'll be hearing about my vacation adventures soon!
What, Erin? you may be wondering. Haven't you been living in Blois for the past month?
The simple answer to that is, yes, of course. (Don't worry, loved ones, I haven't been homeless or deceptive about my true whereabouts.) But a more complex answer accounts for the fact that there's a difference between being a tourist and being an inhabitant. And judging by my lack of blog posts over the past ten days, I'd say I've crossed that barrier and become a real resident here in France. In other words, I have established a rhythm and a social life. (I have also found a site where I can access all my favorite TV shows and have been enjoying that immensely much to my shame, but for the purposes of this blog, we'll just say that's part of my rhythm in Blois, as not watching TV would feel more touristy than inhabitant-y. I mean, girl's gotta watch her shows sometimes, even if girl's in France.)
So, here's what you've missed:
School
I work at two different schools. I go to École Buhler, located on the other side of the bridge (about a 12-minute walk from my apartment), on Mondays and Tuesdays. I have Wednesdays off, and then go to École Foch, about a 20-minute walk, on Thursdays and Fridays. The schools are very different, and I will regale you with an intense discussion of their characters in another post. Essentially, I spend the day teaching the same lesson over and over again, modified according to age-level (ages range from five to twelve years old), in 45-minute segments with large breaks built in for recess and lunch. For lunch, I have a 3-hour break, which I fill by sitting awkwardly alone in the lunch room before being joined by my rapid-French-speaking colleagues. Then I try my best to follow their fast-paced meandering conversations about their students, French educational bureaucracy, family life, and political goings-on before being abandoned once again while they all go take their smoke break. Alone, I prepare myself for my next lessons and read a bit. I avoid crossing the courtyard where the kids are as they have taken a liking to attacking me with hugs and "HEL-LOH!"s whenever I come into sight.
The kids tend to be rowdy in class, so I've started really laying down the law this week. This includes speaking harshly to them in rapid French, giving them my pissed-off scary face, and calmly asking them to describe what proper behavior in English class should be. Usually, these tactics work well. I have to establish my authority or be walked-over for the next six months.
Brazilian BBQ
I went to a barbeque thrown by the Brazilians last Saturday. They crammed about thirty people, mostly men, into an apartment about four times the size of my room. Yes, it's a big room, but let's remember that my miniscule apartment barely holds four people comfortably, so really it was pretty crowded. We were a multi-cultural group, hailing from France, Brazil, Colombia, and even the Czech Republic. Among us, we spoke six or so different languages. I was the only American and native English-speaker and spent most of the night switching between French and English with a variety of young men who came to perch beside me before going to grab another beer or succulently-grilled meat chunk. I was recovering from a head cold, so I didn't partake in much, but it was fun nonetheless.
Lunch with Charly and Edwige
Charly and Edwige, my brief hosts, invited me over for lunch on Thursday. Charly is the director of École Foch, so we walked over together after the bell rang, picking up a baguette and Charly's cigarettes on the way. Edwige went all out with a whole roasted chicken and spaghetti squash, fresh goat cheese, and fruit from their garden. Delicious! They are planning to paint their living room over the vacation, so may go over to help with that project.
Tutoring
Other fun social events include tutoring sessions with François, our tall, blond, bearded English tutee. He is super nice and speaks English very well. He comes to my room about twice a week for "English lessons," really just two-hour-long conversations in English. Harriet and Amy usually join us, though I think we overwhelm him with our multitude of accents (Harriet has the classic, "posh" British accent that you hear in Pride and Prejudice; Amy has the Liverpool northern accent--sounds like a British/Scottish twist on a Southern Appalachian accent; I have my mutt-like American accent). On Thursday, we moved our English conversation to a pizzeria off the Place Louis XII and had a great dinner out.
Drinks
On Friday night, Carlos the guitar player asked us out for drinks. All his Brazilian friends had already left on vacation and he was all alone. Carlos's native language is Portuguese but he can speak French and English. He is more comfortable talking about some things in French and others in English, so we pieced together our conversation by switching languages often.
The Halloween Party
Saturday night, we babysat for Nancy's grandchildren in a small village near Vendôme (about 40 minutes north of Blois). Nancy's second daughter just married an American, and due to the French and American red tape they had to saw through to marry, they were unable to hold a wedding reception. So, they decided instead to throw a massive American/French Halloween party in honor of their nuptials. Nancy asked us, her three assistants, to babysit for her grandchildren so the adults could party late into the night, but really we just got to be guests at the coolest Halloween party ever.
They rented what is called a "cave" (pronounced "kahv"), a system of interlocking caves built into the rock of the soft hills of the Loire valley that used to serve as dwellings for the people of this region hundreds of years ago. Now they're used as wine cellars, party halls, storage, and, in some cases, honest-to-goodness, state-of-the-art homes (think hobbit holes). This particular cave must have housed some bored soldiers in the Second World War; they decorated the walls of what is now the bar with a tribute to sex through the ages--bawdy images of knights, monks, gentleman, and soldiers molesting their curvy conquests, all dated 1945. The groom's mom brought two suitcases-worth of decorations and candy from America. They swathed the uneven stone walls of the cave with cobwebs and plastic spiders, placed Jack-O-Lanterns in all the crevices, and covered the tables with orange and black table cloths and Halloween candy.
Everyone came in costumes: Nancy was a mime, the bride and groom were the protagonists from Kill Bill, Nancy's husband was a Middle Eastern man bringing the couple a traditional wedding rug as a present. There were a lot of witches, a mummy, a geisha, a biker chick, a pirate; even the dog was dressed up as a clown. Nancy and her husband have converted the shop under their house into a functional theater, and Nancy invited us to dig around the costume closet for costumes to wear. Harriet was a flapper girl, Amy an adorable sailor, and I was the unsinkable Molly Brown per Harriet's suggestion, complete with evening gown, coat, and flowered hat.
Guests brought food to share, but the owner of the cave also roasted four legs of lamb over an open fire pit for the occasion. After the meal, they served a traditional French wedding cake made of a stack of choux pastry balls filled with chocolate cream and drizzled in caramel syrup. Nancy and her daughter performed a skit, and the groom (very American, very bro) played his guitar and sang. Dancing to American rap music closed out our evening, as we had to leave to put the kids to bed. The party continued well past 3am, or so we were told in the haze of the next morning over breakfast.
Amy cared for Nancy's eldest daughter's baby, while Harriet and I tucked in her step son's two little girls, aged four and nine, I believe. We stayed in Nancy's house, one of the oldest in the village. The central tower that acts as the staircase is the town's old watch tower, dating from the 12th century. It has a drawbridge and everything. The rest of the house is more recent, ranging from the 14th to the 17th century (though let's be real--that's still freakin' old). It was really cold and drafty, though not creepy. (Nancy assured us there were no spirits present.) We read the girls a story in French and tucked them in, then had a whispered sleepover in the room next door. The next morning, the girls woke up early and upset, so we welcomed them for a snuggle and more book reading in our bed until the rest of the house woke up. A great adventure!
Vacation
In case you hadn't picked up the subtle clues, it is vacation time in France. November 1st, All Saints Day (or Toussaint, as it is called here), is a major holiday here where families come together to remember loved ones that have passed away. School is out for two weeks around this holiday, so I am officially on my first paid vacation. Harriet and Amy are headed home to England, and I will be setting off on Halloween to meet up with my old high school friend, Betsy, who is an assistant in a small town near Nantes. Betsy also has a blog, which you can read here: http://briocheberets.blogspot.fr/
We will be exploring Betsy's area on the western coast of France, then heading up to Brittany, my old stomping grounds, for a quick peak at Rennes and three days' relaxing in St. Malo. Then she's coming back to Blois with me for a couple of days which we'll use to explore my area.
I will not be posting during the vacation, or at least not while I'm traveling, thus the extremely long post (thank you for reading if you've made it this far--that's true dedication!). So, Happy Halloween and you'll be hearing about my vacation adventures soon!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Post-Party Euphoria
Just wanted to let y'all know that the coming-out party was a total smash! At least half the building was there. At one point the male-to-female ratio was greater than 4 to 1. There was some awkwardness at the beginning, but Mr. Gauben plied us with alcohol, so it became quite a fête come 9:30 or so. And then Damien went to get his guitar, and Carlos, Brazilian and master acoustic guitar player, went to town playing a vast repertoire of songs, ranging from Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" (shout out to my uncles Dave and Darrik! Thanks to you, I could sing along.), "Hotel California," the Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "Hey Jude," Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours," some classic Brazilian dance tunes that made me want to get up and mamba, and, lastly, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," at which point I got the opportunity to sing in my actual first soprano range instead of Carlos's tenor, totally amazing everyone much to my own personal embarrassment. Having jam fests around a guitar is not common practice in France like it is in America, so I'm going to blame their total astonishment that I can sing on the novelty of the phenomenon.
I finally got to meet Madame Gauben, Monsieur Gauben's wife, and liked her equally as well as Monsieur Gauben himself and their daughter, Marie, whom I met during an impromptu soda at a café followed by a trip to McDonald's (McDo). Mr. Gauben tells me he is reading my blog (Salut, Monsieur Gauben!) and really enjoying my descriptions of his residents. Truly happy (and lucky!) to be at Les Cottages here in Blois. This weekend, the Brazilians have asked us over for a BBQ Brazilian-style--translation: lots of meat. It looks like we Anglophones may start having a social life beyond the Great British Bake-Off on YouTube (which is lucky since the series finale was posted today).
Bedtime! La vie est vraiment belle en France!
I finally got to meet Madame Gauben, Monsieur Gauben's wife, and liked her equally as well as Monsieur Gauben himself and their daughter, Marie, whom I met during an impromptu soda at a café followed by a trip to McDonald's (McDo). Mr. Gauben tells me he is reading my blog (Salut, Monsieur Gauben!) and really enjoying my descriptions of his residents. Truly happy (and lucky!) to be at Les Cottages here in Blois. This weekend, the Brazilians have asked us over for a BBQ Brazilian-style--translation: lots of meat. It looks like we Anglophones may start having a social life beyond the Great British Bake-Off on YouTube (which is lucky since the series finale was posted today).
Bedtime! La vie est vraiment belle en France!
Creative Couscous
In about an hour I will be heading to the salle de réunion (meeting room) of my apartment building to meet my fellow residents. Yes, the night of the Anglophone coming-out party has arrived. There are signs everywhere, and we have at least two attendees, Ajit our Indian neighbor, and François our English tutoring student. We, the Anglophones, are eating an "early" dinner tonight (in France eating dinner before 8pm in unheard of), opting to chow down at 7pm in order to not have awkward tummy grumbling while meeting our French (and Brazilian, Chinese, and Indian) neighbors. So, I wanted to take the opportunity, since my dinner is done 20 minutes before schedule, to make my first recipe post.
Inspired by one of my favorite stuffed pepper recipes and my favorite Indian restaurant in Northfield, MN, I have created Creative Coucous.
Here's the recipe that I'm making up as I type, based on what I just made up as I cooked:
Ingredients:
1 T olive oil
1 clove of garlic, smashed and chopped
half a white onion, chopped
half a red pepper, chopped
10 dried apricots, sliced
20 cashews
about 1.5 cups couscous, medium grain, prepared (should yield about 3 or so cups when prepared)
1. Heat up oil in frying pan over medium heat.
2. Chop garlic and onion and add to pan. Then add chopped pepper. Sautée until they smell really good.
3. In the meantime, make couscous.
4. Add sautée mixture to fluffed couscous, then stir in apricots and cashews.
5. Add salt and pepper to taste.
6. Enjoy while watching "The Great British Bake-Off" finale with your two English friends before going to your awkward coming-out party held by your jovial match-making landlord.
Cheers! I'll let you know if I lock eyes with my future French husband (aka my dad's worst nightmare).
Inspired by one of my favorite stuffed pepper recipes and my favorite Indian restaurant in Northfield, MN, I have created Creative Coucous.
Here's the recipe that I'm making up as I type, based on what I just made up as I cooked:
Ingredients:
1 T olive oil
1 clove of garlic, smashed and chopped
half a white onion, chopped
half a red pepper, chopped
10 dried apricots, sliced
20 cashews
about 1.5 cups couscous, medium grain, prepared (should yield about 3 or so cups when prepared)
1. Heat up oil in frying pan over medium heat.
2. Chop garlic and onion and add to pan. Then add chopped pepper. Sautée until they smell really good.
3. In the meantime, make couscous.
4. Add sautée mixture to fluffed couscous, then stir in apricots and cashews.
5. Add salt and pepper to taste.
6. Enjoy while watching "The Great British Bake-Off" finale with your two English friends before going to your awkward coming-out party held by your jovial match-making landlord.
Cheers! I'll let you know if I lock eyes with my future French husband (aka my dad's worst nightmare).
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Impressions
I'm almost done with my first week of teaching. Things are going well so far. This week was supposed to be observation, but as expected, I was thrown right into teaching. I have some 16 classes, most of them 12 pupils at a time for 45 minutes every other week. This means I have approximately 384 students, and I've only met about half of them so far. The kids are excited to have me in class, both because I'm an exotic American (though most assume I'm English) and because I offer a fun break in their normal routine. Most French teachers rule their classes with a smile and an iron fist, and I am working on this technique. I have been studying teachers' presence in class and noticed that they are intimidatingly calm. They speak softly with a kind, patient tone most of the time, but if a student steps one toe out of line, they transform into screaming French banshees who quickly frighten the misbehaving student into submission. It is quite something to see. When I'm teaching my half of the class, their normal teacher is usually in an adjoining classroom with the other half of the class. If the teacher hears the students being to loud or rowdy, she swoops in and yells at them, towering over them in such a fury that they immediately become as still and silent as stones. Frankly, they scare me a bit. Luckily, they only address me in their calm, friendly voice.
The little girls are especially excited to have me around. At École Buhler, which has a central outdoor courtyard where the kids play and which I have to walk across to get pretty much anywhere, the girls swarm me, touching my coat and asking me questions in French peppered with "HEL-LOH!"s and "OUW ARR YOU?"s. The boys aren't quite so pushy, but many have admitted to being in love with me, blushing bright red. When I introduce myself to the class and get them to introduce themselves, I shake their hands à l'American, something not done very often in France. Once the boys figure out that if they raise their hand to introduce themselves I'll come over and shake their hand, I have about ten boys jockeying for my attention.
I find the work fun but exhausting. Sometimes I feel like a babysitter, other times I feel like a real, full-blown teacher. Sometimes I feel like a twenty-two-year-old, unassertive Minnesotan in a class full of fast-speaking French monkeys. (I am working on my French teacher scary voice.) I have to think on my feet a lot. Next week, I hope to have a better lesson plan in place. I will be starting a unit on Halloween, a holiday not celebrated in France.
Nancy, actress and mime that she is, told us in training that teaching is a form of theater. As a teacher, you play a role. You get up in front of your "audience" of students and perform, and hopefully they will be engaged enough to pay attention and get something out of the lesson. I've been meditating on teaching as theater and find I love that interpretation. I'm not sure the metaphor always works, but in preparing myself for my role as a teacher, thinking of my work as performance helps me re-envision my task as a teacher. I find my greatest and most difficult task is engaging my students in the task at hand, something I hope to get better at as the year goes on.
In other news, Amy, Harriet, and I spent yet another hour in Monsieur Gauben's office this afternoon. Yesterday, we were in there for about thirty minutes shooting the breeze, though our original intention was securing my first "kit linge" or laundry kit (two washer and dryer tokens each and four soap disks). Mister Gauben, as we call him, is a portly gentleman in his sixties, very good-humored and self-proclaimed trickster. He likes teasing us and teaching us French slang. He is determined to find us all French boyfriends. He doesn't seem to be very daunted by this mission as he houses forty eligible bachelors at Les Cottages. He is a little perturbed by the fact that Amy already has a boyfriend in England ("He'zzz not allowed heerre.") He calls Amy's boyfriend her "fiancé" just to poke fun at her. Mr. Gauben is particularly interested in securing me a French man, though he's given me the go ahead to pursue the five Brazilian boys living at Les Cottages. They travel around in a pack speaking Portuguese, and he wants them to get French girl friends to improve their French. "You can speak French pretty well, so it's ok for you to be together. You can teach them French and a little English." According to Mr. Gauben, language-learning is a solid foundation for any relationship. Forget emotional fulfillment--a relationship is worthwhile only when you can gain a second or third language out of it.
I don't see much of my potential suitors; they pretty much keep to their rooms doing their engineering homework and playing video games, but here's a quick sketch of the ones I have met briefly (note: I don't usually publicly scope out the men folk, and I do so now merely for your entertainment):
Romain (Roh-mahn): We met him briefly in the hall when the lights short-circuited. He is tall, gangly, and shy, and would only speak to us in broken English. He impressed us with his bravery by flipping the scary switch in the electric box, restoring power to the floor. Then he darted into his room without another word.
Ajit (Ajet): He is earning his PhD at the engineering university. He's originally from India, though he earned his Masters degree in London, so he speaks English well. Poor thing has been terribly lonely in France, where he's struggled for the past two years to learn the language without classes or French friends. His interests include horoscopes, palmistry, and Canadian comedians. He also gallantly tried to fix my shower (to no avail) when I admitted to having been forced to take cold showers in the morning.
The Brazilians: I really want to get to know these guys better. They seem like a fun group, though they are intimidating in their huge Brazilian pack. They all seem very nice, and with their dark hair, soulful brown eyes, and cinnamon-tinged skin, they're not too bad to look at either. They seemed excited to meet someone else from the Americas. ("Mr. Gauben, it's ok if we have American girlfriend?")
Rémy (Ray-mie): Really cute guy at the end of my hall. That's all I know. Everytime I talk about my room, Mr. Gauben says, "Ah yes, the pretty boy ("joli gar") lives at the end of your hall."
François (Fran-swah): Tall, blond, French (shouldn't he be Norwegian?!) guy with a beard. He's looking for an English tutor. We haven't officially met, but Mr. Gauben insisted on giving us his number so we could set up an English tutoring session with him ("Only for studying, ladies," *wink*).
Thomas (Toh-mah): As Mr. Gauben says, Thomas is "cooool." He's from Marseille, which automatically means that he's a laid-back party-er. Take the outfit I first saw him in: board shorts and sandals, a pastel collared shirt, topped of with an enormous winter scarf slung casually around his neck. It was raining that day. We spotted Mr. Gauben helping him move a sleek red couch into his flat (being from Marseille, he's also loaded and has one of the large flats complete with a balcony where he's strung up a hammock). We asked Mr. Gauben about the couch and told him how much we liked Thomas's snappy outfit. Mr. Gauben communicated our compliments and told Thomas all three of the English ladies want to come have drinks on his new red couch. Evidently he's pretty thrilled. I can't wait for my invitation.
Mr. Gauben is arranging a welcome party for us English-speakers next Thursday, also known as our coming-out party. I hope to make some friends as Harriet and Amy will be leaving me for two weeks starting the end of October. It's fall break and they're ready to go home to England. They plan to stuff their suitcases with English delicacies like crumpets and mince pies for me to try. The lack of crumpets and mince pies in my life is evidently cause for great concern--I mean, what planet am I from? Luckily for me, they're here to make sure I get my fill of the Motherland. I don't know what I'd do without them.
The little girls are especially excited to have me around. At École Buhler, which has a central outdoor courtyard where the kids play and which I have to walk across to get pretty much anywhere, the girls swarm me, touching my coat and asking me questions in French peppered with "HEL-LOH!"s and "OUW ARR YOU?"s. The boys aren't quite so pushy, but many have admitted to being in love with me, blushing bright red. When I introduce myself to the class and get them to introduce themselves, I shake their hands à l'American, something not done very often in France. Once the boys figure out that if they raise their hand to introduce themselves I'll come over and shake their hand, I have about ten boys jockeying for my attention.
I find the work fun but exhausting. Sometimes I feel like a babysitter, other times I feel like a real, full-blown teacher. Sometimes I feel like a twenty-two-year-old, unassertive Minnesotan in a class full of fast-speaking French monkeys. (I am working on my French teacher scary voice.) I have to think on my feet a lot. Next week, I hope to have a better lesson plan in place. I will be starting a unit on Halloween, a holiday not celebrated in France.
Nancy, actress and mime that she is, told us in training that teaching is a form of theater. As a teacher, you play a role. You get up in front of your "audience" of students and perform, and hopefully they will be engaged enough to pay attention and get something out of the lesson. I've been meditating on teaching as theater and find I love that interpretation. I'm not sure the metaphor always works, but in preparing myself for my role as a teacher, thinking of my work as performance helps me re-envision my task as a teacher. I find my greatest and most difficult task is engaging my students in the task at hand, something I hope to get better at as the year goes on.
In other news, Amy, Harriet, and I spent yet another hour in Monsieur Gauben's office this afternoon. Yesterday, we were in there for about thirty minutes shooting the breeze, though our original intention was securing my first "kit linge" or laundry kit (two washer and dryer tokens each and four soap disks). Mister Gauben, as we call him, is a portly gentleman in his sixties, very good-humored and self-proclaimed trickster. He likes teasing us and teaching us French slang. He is determined to find us all French boyfriends. He doesn't seem to be very daunted by this mission as he houses forty eligible bachelors at Les Cottages. He is a little perturbed by the fact that Amy already has a boyfriend in England ("He'zzz not allowed heerre.") He calls Amy's boyfriend her "fiancé" just to poke fun at her. Mr. Gauben is particularly interested in securing me a French man, though he's given me the go ahead to pursue the five Brazilian boys living at Les Cottages. They travel around in a pack speaking Portuguese, and he wants them to get French girl friends to improve their French. "You can speak French pretty well, so it's ok for you to be together. You can teach them French and a little English." According to Mr. Gauben, language-learning is a solid foundation for any relationship. Forget emotional fulfillment--a relationship is worthwhile only when you can gain a second or third language out of it.
I don't see much of my potential suitors; they pretty much keep to their rooms doing their engineering homework and playing video games, but here's a quick sketch of the ones I have met briefly (note: I don't usually publicly scope out the men folk, and I do so now merely for your entertainment):
Romain (Roh-mahn): We met him briefly in the hall when the lights short-circuited. He is tall, gangly, and shy, and would only speak to us in broken English. He impressed us with his bravery by flipping the scary switch in the electric box, restoring power to the floor. Then he darted into his room without another word.
Ajit (Ajet): He is earning his PhD at the engineering university. He's originally from India, though he earned his Masters degree in London, so he speaks English well. Poor thing has been terribly lonely in France, where he's struggled for the past two years to learn the language without classes or French friends. His interests include horoscopes, palmistry, and Canadian comedians. He also gallantly tried to fix my shower (to no avail) when I admitted to having been forced to take cold showers in the morning.
The Brazilians: I really want to get to know these guys better. They seem like a fun group, though they are intimidating in their huge Brazilian pack. They all seem very nice, and with their dark hair, soulful brown eyes, and cinnamon-tinged skin, they're not too bad to look at either. They seemed excited to meet someone else from the Americas. ("Mr. Gauben, it's ok if we have American girlfriend?")
Rémy (Ray-mie): Really cute guy at the end of my hall. That's all I know. Everytime I talk about my room, Mr. Gauben says, "Ah yes, the pretty boy ("joli gar") lives at the end of your hall."
François (Fran-swah): Tall, blond, French (shouldn't he be Norwegian?!) guy with a beard. He's looking for an English tutor. We haven't officially met, but Mr. Gauben insisted on giving us his number so we could set up an English tutoring session with him ("Only for studying, ladies," *wink*).
Thomas (Toh-mah): As Mr. Gauben says, Thomas is "cooool." He's from Marseille, which automatically means that he's a laid-back party-er. Take the outfit I first saw him in: board shorts and sandals, a pastel collared shirt, topped of with an enormous winter scarf slung casually around his neck. It was raining that day. We spotted Mr. Gauben helping him move a sleek red couch into his flat (being from Marseille, he's also loaded and has one of the large flats complete with a balcony where he's strung up a hammock). We asked Mr. Gauben about the couch and told him how much we liked Thomas's snappy outfit. Mr. Gauben communicated our compliments and told Thomas all three of the English ladies want to come have drinks on his new red couch. Evidently he's pretty thrilled. I can't wait for my invitation.
Mr. Gauben is arranging a welcome party for us English-speakers next Thursday, also known as our coming-out party. I hope to make some friends as Harriet and Amy will be leaving me for two weeks starting the end of October. It's fall break and they're ready to go home to England. They plan to stuff their suitcases with English delicacies like crumpets and mince pies for me to try. The lack of crumpets and mince pies in my life is evidently cause for great concern--I mean, what planet am I from? Luckily for me, they're here to make sure I get my fill of the Motherland. I don't know what I'd do without them.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Cockroaches, Hippies, and Eight-Year-Olds, Oh My!
I have now been in my studio for a full week. It's a cute little room, and I have made it feel like home.
I would be completely at ease if it weren't for the cockroaches. My fellow English assistant, Amy, has them as well. When we told our landlord Monsieur Gauben, he didn't believe us at first (he's never had them here at Les Cottages; he thought we were being crazy English girls), so we stayed up until 1am hunting them one night. We caught an adult and a nymph (baby cockroach), and he then apologized profusely and hooked us up with some serious cockroach spray. That same evening, we made friends with Ajit, an English-speaking engineering PhD candidate from India. We asked him if he had cockroaches. His response: "Of course!" Our new suspicion: as Les Cottages houses mostly engineering (and predominantly male) students between the ages of 17 and 24 attending the university here in Blois, chances are their potentially poor cleaning habits and general apathy to all things that crawl have incited a secret cockroach infestation that only a couple of English girls and an American would care enough about to bring to Monsieur Gauben's attention. My room's not too badly infested (I see about one a day, usually dead thanks to the spray), and I'm being super careful about leaving food out to discourage them from hanging out in my room. Also, I have sprayed the merdre (excuse my French) out of my room, risking self-poisoning.
Besides cockroach hunting, I have spent the past week in training with Nancy, our coordinator here in Blois. I absolutely adore Nancy. She is an American who moved to France during her junior year of college to study abroad...and never came back. A theater and French major, she enrolled in Paris's famed miming academy (yes, she's a mime) and began a twenty-year career in theater and miming. She eventually married a French man and had three daughters, all very French and very bilingual. Eventually, she gave up her miming career and pursued a degree in elementary education and proceeded to become one of the best English teachers in France. Now she coordinates other English teachers. Imagine a 1970s American hippie and combine that image with a sophisticated French woman--this is Nancy. Her signature: she only has one ear pierced thanks to a failed attempt at self-piercing back in the day, so she frequently sports a large dangly earring from this ear (my favorite being a triangular piece of a record). She is quirky and can be a little scatterbrained sometimes as the French school system has her running all over the region doing EVERYTHING. She is also super nice. She took Harriet, Amy, and I shopping for the apartment essentials as well as holding an interactive training week for us (most assistants just get thrown in without training). I am so lucky to have her!
This weekend, a new friend and fellow assistant Suzie (also British--American accents are beginning to sound strange...) visited from a nearby town. We showed her the sights and took her to the Saturday open market, a huge weekly event hosting 100-200 vendors selling everything from apples to purses to freshly-caught oysters to mattresses. I successfully bought 5 euros worth of produce fresh from the farm. Next Saturday, I plan to attempt a cheese purchase.
Today, I went for a run along the Loire. I think it's one of my most favorite things I've done so far here in Blois. The river is wide and beautiful. Migratory birds were floating on its surface, and fishermen in waders were testing their luck along the bank. The leaves are starting to change color, so everything looks bright and crisp. I found a river-side park where a French couple was teaching their young daughter how to ride a real bike for the first time. So cute, and yet another reminder of those many things that cross the cultural divide.
Tomorrow I become Ms. Beaton, English teacher. I have already introduced myself to most of my classes (part of our training with Nancy) using a formula that went like this: "Hi everyone! My name is Erin. I come from the United States. I'm 22 years old. I'm going to come here and teach you English, and it's going to be really fun!" Most kids just stared at me blankly, a couple laughed, but when Nancy asked them what they understood, they were enthusiastic and actually able to understand quite a bit. My favorite moment was when an eight-year-old jumped out of his chair to announce I was 99 years old. I am excited to work with them, but I'm also a little nervous. This week's supposed to be just observation, but Nancy said some teachers may expect me to be prepared to take over. So we'll see how things turn out. In life and especially in France, I've found it's best to just go with the flow.
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| My studio |
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| Kitchenette, hopefully de-cockroached |
This weekend, a new friend and fellow assistant Suzie (also British--American accents are beginning to sound strange...) visited from a nearby town. We showed her the sights and took her to the Saturday open market, a huge weekly event hosting 100-200 vendors selling everything from apples to purses to freshly-caught oysters to mattresses. I successfully bought 5 euros worth of produce fresh from the farm. Next Saturday, I plan to attempt a cheese purchase.
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| Loire River |
Tomorrow I become Ms. Beaton, English teacher. I have already introduced myself to most of my classes (part of our training with Nancy) using a formula that went like this: "Hi everyone! My name is Erin. I come from the United States. I'm 22 years old. I'm going to come here and teach you English, and it's going to be really fun!" Most kids just stared at me blankly, a couple laughed, but when Nancy asked them what they understood, they were enthusiastic and actually able to understand quite a bit. My favorite moment was when an eight-year-old jumped out of his chair to announce I was 99 years old. I am excited to work with them, but I'm also a little nervous. This week's supposed to be just observation, but Nancy said some teachers may expect me to be prepared to take over. So we'll see how things turn out. In life and especially in France, I've found it's best to just go with the flow.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Officially moved in!
I am writing this from my sea foam green desk in my new (or rather very old) apartment in downtown Blois. Thanks to my awesome landlord who lugged my now 55 lb suitcase up a spiral staircase for me, it took all of two minutes to move into my new digs.
There are two other assistantes de langue in my building, both from England. Amy hails from Liverpool and Harriet is from a London suburb. We all moved in today and spent a good two hours going from one room to another comparing our apartments and offering decorating suggestions. We also went out for pizza (yum!). They don't speak as much French as I do, so we speak English together (though this proves difficult at times as they have quite heavy accents and have different slang terms for things like elevators (lifts) and mail (the post); we plan on teaching each other our dialects so we can all be "trilingual"). I am encouraging them to speak more French, though. It doesn't just enter your brain through osmosis; you have to use it everyday.
I've spent a good part of the evening (note that it is past 1am in Blois) making my small room feel more like home. My walls are now covered with my friends' and family's smiling faces, treasured cards, poems, maps, post cards, and brochures. My trusty college dorm comforter is on my bed, and my clothes are neatly put away in my armoir (yes, I have an armoir). Edwige, my temporary host mom for the past week and avid gardener, took me shopping yesterday for plants to make my room more cozy, so now I also have a small garden with small jars of lovely growing things. I have colorful flowers, of course, but my personal favorites are my little pepper plant about the size of my knuckle (peppers are my favorite vegetable) and a North African plant that closes its leaves when you touch them. My kitchenette is pretty, well, nasty. I will be bleaching it soon. And I have to go in search of the sauce pans and frying pans I was promised or give up cooked food for the next eight months. The bathroom is tiny but not unbearable. My greatest joy is the large, stereotypically-French window right over my bed that opens onto the courtyard. What a great place to read, write, and people-watch!
I have a big day tomorrow as October 1st is officially my first day as an assistante de langue. We are all going to a big orientation in Orléans to take care of important paper work and to begin learning how to teach our students English. All I feel like doing is nesting and doing some necessary shopping for food and essentials like toilet paper and a reading lamp, but alas, this must wait. Despite my desire to do otherwise, I am excited for what tomorrow will bring. After all, I love being a student, meeting new people, and getting cool handouts, so tomorrow should be a good day.
More info and pictures to come as soon as I'm settled.
If you care to write to me in Blois, here is the address. Note that I am no longer in Apartment 6 as planned but have moved across the courtyard to Apartment 17.
Erin BEATON
SCI LEXGAU
Résidence les Cottages
22, rue porte côté, Boîte 17
41000 Blois
FRANCE
There are two other assistantes de langue in my building, both from England. Amy hails from Liverpool and Harriet is from a London suburb. We all moved in today and spent a good two hours going from one room to another comparing our apartments and offering decorating suggestions. We also went out for pizza (yum!). They don't speak as much French as I do, so we speak English together (though this proves difficult at times as they have quite heavy accents and have different slang terms for things like elevators (lifts) and mail (the post); we plan on teaching each other our dialects so we can all be "trilingual"). I am encouraging them to speak more French, though. It doesn't just enter your brain through osmosis; you have to use it everyday.
I've spent a good part of the evening (note that it is past 1am in Blois) making my small room feel more like home. My walls are now covered with my friends' and family's smiling faces, treasured cards, poems, maps, post cards, and brochures. My trusty college dorm comforter is on my bed, and my clothes are neatly put away in my armoir (yes, I have an armoir). Edwige, my temporary host mom for the past week and avid gardener, took me shopping yesterday for plants to make my room more cozy, so now I also have a small garden with small jars of lovely growing things. I have colorful flowers, of course, but my personal favorites are my little pepper plant about the size of my knuckle (peppers are my favorite vegetable) and a North African plant that closes its leaves when you touch them. My kitchenette is pretty, well, nasty. I will be bleaching it soon. And I have to go in search of the sauce pans and frying pans I was promised or give up cooked food for the next eight months. The bathroom is tiny but not unbearable. My greatest joy is the large, stereotypically-French window right over my bed that opens onto the courtyard. What a great place to read, write, and people-watch!
I have a big day tomorrow as October 1st is officially my first day as an assistante de langue. We are all going to a big orientation in Orléans to take care of important paper work and to begin learning how to teach our students English. All I feel like doing is nesting and doing some necessary shopping for food and essentials like toilet paper and a reading lamp, but alas, this must wait. Despite my desire to do otherwise, I am excited for what tomorrow will bring. After all, I love being a student, meeting new people, and getting cool handouts, so tomorrow should be a good day.
More info and pictures to come as soon as I'm settled.
If you care to write to me in Blois, here is the address. Note that I am no longer in Apartment 6 as planned but have moved across the courtyard to Apartment 17.
Erin BEATON
SCI LEXGAU
Résidence les Cottages
22, rue porte côté, Boîte 17
41000 Blois
FRANCE
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Bonjour de France!
A short post as I'm on my host family's ancient French computer (and equally French key board) and internet activity is slow going: I made it to Blois and am staying with a wonderful temporary host family while I wait for my studio to open up. Everyone has been super nice, even the Parisians (!). I was up for 31 hours and then slept for 16 and am thus well on my way to beating jet lag. French communication successful so far.
I will tour Blois tomorrow. Sites to see/find include the chateau, the library, the Loire, the nearest grocery store, the centre-ville (old part of town--like 1100 years old), the pool (maybe I'll get a membership), a few churches, a second-hand bookstore, and cheap restaurants. Also getting a French bank account. Friday I will be in Orléans getting my birth certificate translated as well as touring France's old capitol. Sunday I move to my new home near Blois's centre-ville.
A plus, donc,
Erin
I will tour Blois tomorrow. Sites to see/find include the chateau, the library, the Loire, the nearest grocery store, the centre-ville (old part of town--like 1100 years old), the pool (maybe I'll get a membership), a few churches, a second-hand bookstore, and cheap restaurants. Also getting a French bank account. Friday I will be in Orléans getting my birth certificate translated as well as touring France's old capitol. Sunday I move to my new home near Blois's centre-ville.
A plus, donc,
Erin
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Leap
The big day has arrived. I have about nine hours left on US soil before I board an Air France mega jet for my nine-hour flight to Paris. I have eliminated a third of my clothes and streamlined the bulk of all three of my bags (suitcase, backpack, purse). I have packed and repacked about five times. Final count: I leave for France with five short-sleeve tops, five long-sleeve, two jeans, two slacks, a skirt, two dresses, five pairs of shoes, three sweater-like layers, and three bottles of contact solution (it's three times the US price in France). I also am taking most of the linens I will need there-- including my comforter-- all vacuum-sealed down to a third of their original size, to avoid having to shell out money for these essentials when I get there. I have no idea how much my suitcase weighs, but I'm praying for under 50.
I've had a lovely time with friends and family here in the cities, though my upcoming departure seems to have warped the time and sent me hurtling for this day faster than I was prepared for. I will be in Blois in less than 24 hours. It will be a long journey, but I'm comforted knowing that I've got my contact and coordinator Nancy Dutour and my wonderful landlord Henri Gauben waiting to welcome me in Blois. Monsieur Gauben is even meeting me at the train station to take me to meet my temporary host family for my first week in Blois. So far, I think I'm the only American assistant in Blois, but there will be two other English assistants living in my building, both from the UK. I'm hoping they'll become new friends.
So, I'm off to see and do new things and meet new people; to discover new favorite places, both humble and monumental; to speak and learn and teach; to touch lives and to be touched in return; to open a new chapter in my book; to grow and understand; to expand and deepen; to become. I gather my courage and my strength (I'll need it to haul my luggage around Paris), take a deep breath, and leap. I'll let you know when I land and what I find when I get there.
Until then, adieu. I'll miss you all!
I've had a lovely time with friends and family here in the cities, though my upcoming departure seems to have warped the time and sent me hurtling for this day faster than I was prepared for. I will be in Blois in less than 24 hours. It will be a long journey, but I'm comforted knowing that I've got my contact and coordinator Nancy Dutour and my wonderful landlord Henri Gauben waiting to welcome me in Blois. Monsieur Gauben is even meeting me at the train station to take me to meet my temporary host family for my first week in Blois. So far, I think I'm the only American assistant in Blois, but there will be two other English assistants living in my building, both from the UK. I'm hoping they'll become new friends.
So, I'm off to see and do new things and meet new people; to discover new favorite places, both humble and monumental; to speak and learn and teach; to touch lives and to be touched in return; to open a new chapter in my book; to grow and understand; to expand and deepen; to become. I gather my courage and my strength (I'll need it to haul my luggage around Paris), take a deep breath, and leap. I'll let you know when I land and what I find when I get there.
Until then, adieu. I'll miss you all!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The Breath Before the Plunge, or Le problème de la peur
Bonjour à tous! (Hello, everyone!)
I am currently sitting in my room, surrounded by clothing, shoes, children's books, flashcards, towels, pictures, my twin comforter from my college dorm days, European converters, maps, toiletries--I am drowning in France preparation. As expected, my deadline has snuck up on me. As many "to-do" lists as I've made, here I am, 32 hours from the time that I will begin my four-day sojourn to France, wondering where the time went and scrambling to get everything done in time.
Things checked off my "To-Do" list(s):
-All major clothing items, including shoes, present and accounted for, almost all washed, and ready to be vacuum-sealed
-Rainy day funds secure so I don't have to worry about running out of money the first month
-Super nice French landlord willing to work with me on my down-payment for my studio (went down from the first three months to only one month until I get paid at the end of October)--in other words, I can now afford to feed myself
-All living arrangements and important appointments (like setting up a French bank account) arranged by my contact in Blois, also super nice
-Official French translation of my birth certificate set up (though I'm still smarting from its 100 euro price tag--approx $130)
-SNCF (French transportation system, pronounced as one consonant sound morph: "essensayeff") youth discount card and train ticket from Paris to Blois bought (though not without some battling with the ever-vigilant Wells Fargo and the SNCF website crash fiesta)
-Exploring the magic of Google Maps that allows me to tour Blois before I even get there (check out the link in my previous post; simply move the little yellow man on the left-hand side of the map to a location on the map to walk the street of Blois yourself from the comfort of your favorite over-stuffed arm chair)
-iTunes discovery--I think I was the last person under 30 to get an iTunes account
-Teaching aids found and/or purchased; I've got phonics and vocab flashcards, coloring books, children's books (titles include Dr. Seuss's classic Green Eggs and Ham, the ever-popular If You Give a Moose a Muffin, and a Berenstein Bears fall double feature about Halloween and Thanksgiving, two holidays not celebrated in France), postcards, and a collection of photos of me doing American-y things
Things still lingering on my list(s):
-PACKING (as of now, there's still nothing in my suitcase). My pact to pack light may be a fading fantasy--I've doubled the amount of clothes I'm taking (I will be there for eight months and three seasons) and I'm bringing linens, bedding, and pillows so I don't have to spend the money when I get there--thank goodness for vacuum-seal bags!
-Replacing my computer battery that chose this week to die on me (some of you may remember that last time I went to France, my Dell met an untimely end two weeks before my departure--my computers evidently don't play well with European adventures)
-Downloading Christmas music on my new iTunes account to see me through my first holiday season away from my family
-Bidding my family and friends farewell. This hard process began tonight with a wonderful dinner with the Dave Iverson clan (my uncle, aunt, and cousins who live close by) and will continue with a two-day stint in Minneapolis saying goodbye to my family and friends in the cities before I board the plane on Monday.
Most recently checked item: Making this blog post!
On a serious note, I want to address a concern about my safety that many of my family members have raised due to the recent protests in the Middle East.
First and foremost, I want to remind everyone that I will be living in Blois, a small community miles away from Paris that would have a very small chance of being the target of any kind of violence. While there is conflict between the French state and its Arab immigrants, I doubt I will come into much contact with this cultural tension as most immigrants live in major cities where jobs and low-income housing abound. (However, I hope to have some contact with this cultural tension as I find it fascinating and yet another way to broaden my understanding of people and cultures different from my own.) I am also very good at blending in as a French person with my olive skin, dark hair, and purposefully French-looking wardrobe, so it is unlikely that an observer will be able to tell that I'm American. I am smart, vigilant, and careful. I walk with confidence and a straight face, and my dad the Boy Scout has armed me with a military-grade aluminum flashlight that can be used to blind and/or bludgeon an attacker. So yeah, I think I'm good on the safety front.
That being said, safety is a concern whenever you travel, whether that be to a US city or a foreign one. You can never know what will happen or prepare for every situation. I inherited the Iverson worry gene and suffer from anxiety. However, I decided a long time ago that if I allowed my fears control my life, I would never have any adventures or discover new things about myself and the world around me. That's what propelled me to move away for college at St. Olaf, and it's what drives me now to take this next step in my life journey.
When I tell people that I'm moving to France to teach for the year, the typical reaction involves tittering about how cool that is, swiftly followed by a comment like, "Wow, you're so brave." I have never thought of myself as brave, and I don't think what I'm doing is particularly courageous. Frankly, I am pretty nervous and terrified. The last time I flew the nine hours from Minneapolis to Paris, I threw up twice and was so exhausted I couldn't think straight. Getting from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the center of Paris is no picnic, and lugging your entire life (all 50 lbs of it) around in an over-sized suitcase through bustling streets and onto impatient trains is not particularly entertaining. Starting a life away from everything you know and everyone you love probably won't be a blast either. I will endure these things in order to gain something that I think is worthy of the sacrifice. I'm not sure what that something is yet, but I got a taste of it when I studied abroad last year, and I've been yearning to try it again ever since.
Maybe what I'm doing is brave, but the thing is, the more I do it, the less scary it becomes. I know Paris, having spent a month there last January. I've made the trip from the airport to Paris-centre and back a few times. I know how the train system works. I recognize French signs and understand the layout of French cities. And most importantly, I speak French--when I'm on my A-game (or slightly tipsy), a French person can't determine where I'm from or even that I'm a foreigner.
The scariest parts for me are not the France-specific challenges that await me, but rather the adult things that I would be doing in the US anyway if I wasn't going to be in France: getting an apartment, feeding myself, balancing a budget, finding friends in a new place, starting a new job, putting down roots in a community. These are the things that keep me up at night. But they are also the things that I am most excited about doing.
Returning to my original point before my rambling: yes, there is turmoil in the Middle East right now. But that's nothing new--in fact, it's a fact that out dates the United States, France, Europe at-large, several major world religions, and all of the world's greatest empires. The human condition is chaos, uncertainty, fear. And at this point, I feel that life is about accepting that chaos and overcoming that fear. Isn't this how one breaches that mysterious barrier between childhood and adulthood? We are never certain that we can handle something until we've handled it, and the human race being as resilient as it is, there are few situations that we can't handle. Life goes on, and we adapt accordingly. So, I can't control what's going on in the world, or be certain of what my experience in France will be like, but I can control what I do. And I choose to accept the chaos and take a risk. After all, if I waited for the world to be at peace, I would never go--and that's not a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
I am currently sitting in my room, surrounded by clothing, shoes, children's books, flashcards, towels, pictures, my twin comforter from my college dorm days, European converters, maps, toiletries--I am drowning in France preparation. As expected, my deadline has snuck up on me. As many "to-do" lists as I've made, here I am, 32 hours from the time that I will begin my four-day sojourn to France, wondering where the time went and scrambling to get everything done in time.
Things checked off my "To-Do" list(s):
-All major clothing items, including shoes, present and accounted for, almost all washed, and ready to be vacuum-sealed
-Rainy day funds secure so I don't have to worry about running out of money the first month
-Super nice French landlord willing to work with me on my down-payment for my studio (went down from the first three months to only one month until I get paid at the end of October)--in other words, I can now afford to feed myself
-All living arrangements and important appointments (like setting up a French bank account) arranged by my contact in Blois, also super nice
-Official French translation of my birth certificate set up (though I'm still smarting from its 100 euro price tag--approx $130)
-SNCF (French transportation system, pronounced as one consonant sound morph: "essensayeff") youth discount card and train ticket from Paris to Blois bought (though not without some battling with the ever-vigilant Wells Fargo and the SNCF website crash fiesta)
-Exploring the magic of Google Maps that allows me to tour Blois before I even get there (check out the link in my previous post; simply move the little yellow man on the left-hand side of the map to a location on the map to walk the street of Blois yourself from the comfort of your favorite over-stuffed arm chair)
-iTunes discovery--I think I was the last person under 30 to get an iTunes account
-Teaching aids found and/or purchased; I've got phonics and vocab flashcards, coloring books, children's books (titles include Dr. Seuss's classic Green Eggs and Ham, the ever-popular If You Give a Moose a Muffin, and a Berenstein Bears fall double feature about Halloween and Thanksgiving, two holidays not celebrated in France), postcards, and a collection of photos of me doing American-y things
Things still lingering on my list(s):
-PACKING (as of now, there's still nothing in my suitcase). My pact to pack light may be a fading fantasy--I've doubled the amount of clothes I'm taking (I will be there for eight months and three seasons) and I'm bringing linens, bedding, and pillows so I don't have to spend the money when I get there--thank goodness for vacuum-seal bags!
-Replacing my computer battery that chose this week to die on me (some of you may remember that last time I went to France, my Dell met an untimely end two weeks before my departure--my computers evidently don't play well with European adventures)
-Downloading Christmas music on my new iTunes account to see me through my first holiday season away from my family
-Bidding my family and friends farewell. This hard process began tonight with a wonderful dinner with the Dave Iverson clan (my uncle, aunt, and cousins who live close by) and will continue with a two-day stint in Minneapolis saying goodbye to my family and friends in the cities before I board the plane on Monday.
Most recently checked item: Making this blog post!
On a serious note, I want to address a concern about my safety that many of my family members have raised due to the recent protests in the Middle East.
First and foremost, I want to remind everyone that I will be living in Blois, a small community miles away from Paris that would have a very small chance of being the target of any kind of violence. While there is conflict between the French state and its Arab immigrants, I doubt I will come into much contact with this cultural tension as most immigrants live in major cities where jobs and low-income housing abound. (However, I hope to have some contact with this cultural tension as I find it fascinating and yet another way to broaden my understanding of people and cultures different from my own.) I am also very good at blending in as a French person with my olive skin, dark hair, and purposefully French-looking wardrobe, so it is unlikely that an observer will be able to tell that I'm American. I am smart, vigilant, and careful. I walk with confidence and a straight face, and my dad the Boy Scout has armed me with a military-grade aluminum flashlight that can be used to blind and/or bludgeon an attacker. So yeah, I think I'm good on the safety front.
That being said, safety is a concern whenever you travel, whether that be to a US city or a foreign one. You can never know what will happen or prepare for every situation. I inherited the Iverson worry gene and suffer from anxiety. However, I decided a long time ago that if I allowed my fears control my life, I would never have any adventures or discover new things about myself and the world around me. That's what propelled me to move away for college at St. Olaf, and it's what drives me now to take this next step in my life journey.
When I tell people that I'm moving to France to teach for the year, the typical reaction involves tittering about how cool that is, swiftly followed by a comment like, "Wow, you're so brave." I have never thought of myself as brave, and I don't think what I'm doing is particularly courageous. Frankly, I am pretty nervous and terrified. The last time I flew the nine hours from Minneapolis to Paris, I threw up twice and was so exhausted I couldn't think straight. Getting from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the center of Paris is no picnic, and lugging your entire life (all 50 lbs of it) around in an over-sized suitcase through bustling streets and onto impatient trains is not particularly entertaining. Starting a life away from everything you know and everyone you love probably won't be a blast either. I will endure these things in order to gain something that I think is worthy of the sacrifice. I'm not sure what that something is yet, but I got a taste of it when I studied abroad last year, and I've been yearning to try it again ever since.
Maybe what I'm doing is brave, but the thing is, the more I do it, the less scary it becomes. I know Paris, having spent a month there last January. I've made the trip from the airport to Paris-centre and back a few times. I know how the train system works. I recognize French signs and understand the layout of French cities. And most importantly, I speak French--when I'm on my A-game (or slightly tipsy), a French person can't determine where I'm from or even that I'm a foreigner.
The scariest parts for me are not the France-specific challenges that await me, but rather the adult things that I would be doing in the US anyway if I wasn't going to be in France: getting an apartment, feeding myself, balancing a budget, finding friends in a new place, starting a new job, putting down roots in a community. These are the things that keep me up at night. But they are also the things that I am most excited about doing.
Returning to my original point before my rambling: yes, there is turmoil in the Middle East right now. But that's nothing new--in fact, it's a fact that out dates the United States, France, Europe at-large, several major world religions, and all of the world's greatest empires. The human condition is chaos, uncertainty, fear. And at this point, I feel that life is about accepting that chaos and overcoming that fear. Isn't this how one breaches that mysterious barrier between childhood and adulthood? We are never certain that we can handle something until we've handled it, and the human race being as resilient as it is, there are few situations that we can't handle. Life goes on, and we adapt accordingly. So, I can't control what's going on in the world, or be certain of what my experience in France will be like, but I can control what I do. And I choose to accept the chaos and take a risk. After all, if I waited for the world to be at peace, I would never go--and that's not a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Blois Blog: Beginnings
Hello family and friends! Well, I'm off to France again. This time I'll be working as an English language assistant (assistante
de langue) in a French elementary school starting October 1 and ending
April 30. The Blois Blog will keep you updated on my adventures. I will use it as a space to share my experiences, post photos, recipes, and facts, practice my writing, indulge in some cultural and philosophical pondering, and, in general, touch base with you, the people who have empowered me to take this journey.
After an extensive application process and much waiting, I have been selected to teach in Blois (pronounced "Blwah"), a small city (approx. 50,000 residents) on the Loire River, in the heart of France's famed château (castle) country. In fact, my 15m² studio apartment is just a couple of blocks from the Château de Blois, which once hosted France's kings. Blois is about 30 minutes by train from Tours and Orléans, the big cities of the region, and less than two hours from both Paris and my beloved Rennes, where I studied abroad in 2011.
Here is a link to Blois's Wikipedia page, in case you're curious:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blois
And a map of Blois:
https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=202781485586169892264.0004c987103cccc5a00ed&msa=0&ll=47.587179,1.330998&spn=0.007656,0.021136
My countdown is well under way; I only have 12 days left until I board the plane to Paris on September 24th. I am, of course, excited, but there's no denying that this radical change in scenery is making me extremely nervous. I will be exercising many of my adult "firsts" across the pond--renting an apartment, setting up a grown-up bank account, seeking medical insurance, working in a professional environment, grocery shopping and cooking for myself, not to mention all the extra fun things I get to do as a foreigner to appease the French authorities--all in French and without the immediate support network of my friends and family. I know it will be challenging, but I am prepared for that and am encouraged by the fact that this will not be my first time to France.
As an exercise in new beginnings, I would like to create some goals for myself before I get over there and become overwhelmed and busy (and I'm counting on you guys to keep me honest!). So, here it goes:
1. Approach challenges confidently and calmly; things will work out.
2. Dedicate effort and energy into being a good teacher and encourager for my students. Learn all my students' names (I will have up to 300 total for as little as an hour per week, so this is no small task).
3. Participate in the community. Join a church choir, a yoga class, a dinner group--whatever gets me out of my apartment to meet new people.
4. Speak French as much as possible (a challenge when teaching English and living alone).
5. Become a regular somewhere: coffee shop, bakery, library--perhaps even a bar (!).
6. Explore Blois and know it well; go for a walk everyday.
7. Eat like a French person, and learn to cook like one--on a budget, of course. (I'll post some of my favorite new recipes here.)
8. Take risks; don't miss an opportunity to discover something unfamiliar.
9. Read and write. Profit from free time and alone time for intellectual development and personal reflection.
10. Keep up with this blog--at least one post per week.
Everything looks so simple when reduced to ten checklist items. But this simplicity is oh-so-misleading. I'll let you know how this list is holding up three weeks from now.
Just some final details to wrap up, and then it will be time to start packing. Going for one suitcase and a backpack... Wish me luck!
After an extensive application process and much waiting, I have been selected to teach in Blois (pronounced "Blwah"), a small city (approx. 50,000 residents) on the Loire River, in the heart of France's famed château (castle) country. In fact, my 15m² studio apartment is just a couple of blocks from the Château de Blois, which once hosted France's kings. Blois is about 30 minutes by train from Tours and Orléans, the big cities of the region, and less than two hours from both Paris and my beloved Rennes, where I studied abroad in 2011.
Here is a link to Blois's Wikipedia page, in case you're curious:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blois
And a map of Blois:
https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=202781485586169892264.0004c987103cccc5a00ed&msa=0&ll=47.587179,1.330998&spn=0.007656,0.021136
My countdown is well under way; I only have 12 days left until I board the plane to Paris on September 24th. I am, of course, excited, but there's no denying that this radical change in scenery is making me extremely nervous. I will be exercising many of my adult "firsts" across the pond--renting an apartment, setting up a grown-up bank account, seeking medical insurance, working in a professional environment, grocery shopping and cooking for myself, not to mention all the extra fun things I get to do as a foreigner to appease the French authorities--all in French and without the immediate support network of my friends and family. I know it will be challenging, but I am prepared for that and am encouraged by the fact that this will not be my first time to France.
As an exercise in new beginnings, I would like to create some goals for myself before I get over there and become overwhelmed and busy (and I'm counting on you guys to keep me honest!). So, here it goes:
1. Approach challenges confidently and calmly; things will work out.
2. Dedicate effort and energy into being a good teacher and encourager for my students. Learn all my students' names (I will have up to 300 total for as little as an hour per week, so this is no small task).
3. Participate in the community. Join a church choir, a yoga class, a dinner group--whatever gets me out of my apartment to meet new people.
4. Speak French as much as possible (a challenge when teaching English and living alone).
5. Become a regular somewhere: coffee shop, bakery, library--perhaps even a bar (!).
6. Explore Blois and know it well; go for a walk everyday.
7. Eat like a French person, and learn to cook like one--on a budget, of course. (I'll post some of my favorite new recipes here.)
8. Take risks; don't miss an opportunity to discover something unfamiliar.
9. Read and write. Profit from free time and alone time for intellectual development and personal reflection.
10. Keep up with this blog--at least one post per week.
Everything looks so simple when reduced to ten checklist items. But this simplicity is oh-so-misleading. I'll let you know how this list is holding up three weeks from now.
Just some final details to wrap up, and then it will be time to start packing. Going for one suitcase and a backpack... Wish me luck!
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