Another Sunday, another email. Not a whole lot going on at the moment: Michelle's friend Andrea is here so we stayed out late visiting the bars and the dance club we like to go to. Let me tell you, there's not much more entertaining than going to a dance bar, not drinking, and watching drunk French people dance. Plus, there were so many of us that we took over tables like Genghis Khan (by which I mean more reckless efficiency and less blood and smoke). It was fun, but now we're sleepy. But then we're always sleepy of a Sunday. It's a quiet day, aside from the church bells, and all the shops are closed. Today the weather is bad, so we won't even have much of a walk, I would think. So I'm listening to peaceful music from a mix Bristol made for me a couple of Christmases ago and writing this email and uploading photos from Christmas break and Mom's visit.
Yesterday we had a German dinner, since last Monday was the official Franco-Allemand Friendship day or something like that. Steffen and Ellen and Matthias invaded our little white house and took over the kitchen (not at all like Genghis Khan, unless he also needed help lighting the oven). There was apple streudel and weinerschnitzel (possibly) and some kind of potato salad and a couple of different veggie things for me and Katie, and it was nice to have a big group of people all around the table. I think there were more people than we've ever had at a dinner party, and only one glass was broken, so all sorts of records there. It was all of the assistants in Cambrai except for the mysterious Anne (including Sally, who only came in November and who teaches at primary school and whom we almost never see) plus Max, Ellen's boyfriend, and of course Andrea, and after dinner we split into teams and played Ticket to Ride, affectionately known as the train game. It's funny to play it with a load of Europeans, because it's set in the States and Canada, so there's a lot of "Where is Dull-uth?" "Doo-looth is there." "Oh. Where is Houston? Is that Chicago?"
It was a long week at school. I had my first bad class, as in really actually quantifiably bad class, involving a lot of shouting and a bunch of kids who wouldn't shut up. It was Thursday afternoon at five, so I understand that everyone's hungry and tired and just wants to go home (me too! me too!) but that's not an excuse. In high school here the students are grouped into classes of around twenty that study the same subjects, a kind of tracking program. I have those groups split into smaller groups of about five kids, and usually that's fine. Although technically I ought to have the kids during their English classes, I have them during their study hours instead, so sometimes I have some extra kids come to class. Again, usually that's fine. I had three or four extra girls stroll in and that would have been okay if they hadn't sat down at the end of the table and started chattering. The kids wouldn't shut up and listen to the lesson, which I was cranky about anyway because it was hastily prepared from old books since the printer was broken. One of the kids kept getting up and singing and dancing and the rest were just ignoring me.
The worst part (well, the part I felt worst about) was that they'd brought in some snacks to share, because I'd given a couple of them some pumpkin pie at the bus stop last week and they wanted to return the favor. First I had to take the snacks and put them out of sight to get them to pay attention, and then I got fed up and threw the stuff into the trash can (it was all pre-packaged, so I knew they'd be able to salvage it from the clean trash can, which only had a little paper in it, crumpled up handouts I'd just given them). I had to send the singing and dancing kid out of class, which made his little girlfriend threaten to walk out of class, and they complained every time I told them to sit down. But eventually, after moving kids around and a bunch of threatening glares and some fast loud English they couldn't understand (the power of language as a tool of intimidation!), they settled down. The sassy girl protested that she didn't want to read, but I bent her to my will after a little bit. It's tough some days, this teacher gig! I'm either sitting around for long hours doing nothing, trying to coax reluctant kids to talk, or trying to convince severely hyper kids to shut up and sit down.
But the rest of the classes this week were okay. I did a lot of stuff on river pollution, which is a bit difficult to explain when your handout is full of idioms (also, Not In My Back Yard doesn't make sense to people who don't have yards). But I had them write the words they didn't know on the board and then we all looked them up together (which means I now have some completely pointless French vocabulary, like the word for "slurry") and it was interesting to see which classes knew what words. Some kids wanted to look up "lakes" and "seas" and "farms" and the others just needed "sewage" and "nasty". Hopefully next week will be better, and there are only a few more weeks until vacation anyway. And really not very long at all until I get to go on the school trip to England on the 13th of February! We're going to Cambridge and London for four days with a group of about forty kids and I'm excited. Free travel! We get to go through the Chunnel! This is mostly because of the bad windy weather which might delay the ferry, but it'll be fun. Virginie told me about going through the Chunnel last year and how a couple of kids had their noses pressed to the windows, looking for fish. Oh, small town high schoolers. You've got charm of your own.
New photos up here from Mom's visit and my trip to Belgium with Dunkerque Dan (not a lot of photos from Belgium, given that my camera battery died and I was too lazy to charge it). I suppose I ought to trot off and help clean up now. The stupid sink got clogged against last night after dinner, and though I bailed a lot of the dirty dishwater out of a convenient window, we've now got to figure out how to fix it again. And the tub's a bit stopped up. And a cabinet's broken and a bit came out of the locking mechanism on the bathroom door (which oddly enough made it work better). A language assistant's work is never finished.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
you should see their faces when I talk about how much fast food we have in America
Another Sunday! I'm not sure where the weekend went, really. It's been rainy so we stayed in all of yesterday and put together a puzzle(thanks, Aunt Laura and Uncle Harold!) while Matthias scoffed at us and messed about with the wireless internet. We're quite domestic, unlike last year's assistants, who were apparently always throwing parties.
It was a good week at school. I've still got the seconde kids and I'm getting to meet more and more of them. They're generally bright and cheerful and talkative, which is more than I can say for the terminale last semester. They do like to goof off, though. I had one girl get out a massive box of makeup and open it up, and she got sassy when I made her put it away, but she obeyed. Oh yes, I'll take away phones, and I'll take away makeup boxes if I have to. Seriously though, all the students are way more fashionable and better dressedthan I am, even if I'm better dressed than most of the teachers, who wear jeans and t-shirts a lot of the time. French people always have really good shoes. Jackets, too, but they fail pretty utterly atpants. I'm not a fan of the skinny jeans trend, I have to say.
Anyway, this week we played a lot of Pictionary as a get-to-know-you sort of activity, and the kids really enjoyed it (and sure, why wouldn't they?). It's a good game because it reminds them of some basic vocabulary and works on their dictionary skills as well. They feel better about their English afterwards, which is good. I feel alternately good and bad about my French, but them I remind myself that speaking is always harder than reading or writing when you've had to do a lot more reading and writing than speaking, and I feel a bit better. I also got to talk a lot about India this week, which pleased me. My advanced kids were still learning about arranged marriages and the caste system and so I got to explain some things to them and be amused by their amazement at my descriptions of the sari and the rest of my photos. I have a little Tamil-to-French book on medical things as well, which boggles their minds.
Have I mentioned that I've started to play football with the people from Fenelon on Tuesday nights? Real proper football, not the American travesty (although I do now and again miss seeing all the tailgate parties and hearing the marching band's practice sessions drift across the field). I am, of course, fairly horrible at it, not having played properly since second grade, but I find myself getting better and better each week, which is pleasant. Last week I actually managed to pass the ball with my knee, and I almost had a goal, and the week before that I did five good things. I remain fairly horrible in comparision with the boys, but since I play defense, there are times Ican just stop and watch them dancing over the ball and passing it without looking. Such grace! Such nimbleness! Such teamwork! It is truly beautiful to watch.
This semester I'm only working Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, so I have a nice lie-in Tuesdays and Wednesdays. In fact, nobody works Wednesdays because it's only a half day (which they make up for with a half day on Saturday) and so we had an excellent time this last Wednesday. Michelle and I got up earlyish and went to the market for vegetables. We made a friend there: the woman who works at the big fruit and veg stand was so amused by us and the fact that I was buying pumpkin for a pie of all things (which I took to the teachers, who thought it was "special" and reasonably tasty) that she talked to us for a long time, and then gave us free parsley and celery to help us along in using up the stale ends of baguettes (I make a lot of stuffing these days). Later Steffen and Matthias came over to do laundry and we played Puerto Rico and made empanadas (by which I mean we watched Cata make empanadas, but they were tasty). It's times like this I'll really miss when I go back to the U.S. We watched a lot of Green Wing and movies this week all snuggled up on the couch and we cooked a bunch of things together and it's just so pleasant here in the little white house, even if I do get terribly Grinnellsick on occasion.
It will be strange to be back in the U.S., I think. I'll want to do all of my shopping in French. I'll walk right past the garlic looking for ail, and I'll never be able to find brown sugar when it isn't labeled "viergeoise". So it goes. There's always an adjustment period. I still wake up craving dosas with spicy tomato chutney.
That's enough for this week! There's a bit of house-cleaning to be done, after all, in our bit of a house.
It was a good week at school. I've still got the seconde kids and I'm getting to meet more and more of them. They're generally bright and cheerful and talkative, which is more than I can say for the terminale last semester. They do like to goof off, though. I had one girl get out a massive box of makeup and open it up, and she got sassy when I made her put it away, but she obeyed. Oh yes, I'll take away phones, and I'll take away makeup boxes if I have to. Seriously though, all the students are way more fashionable and better dressedthan I am, even if I'm better dressed than most of the teachers, who wear jeans and t-shirts a lot of the time. French people always have really good shoes. Jackets, too, but they fail pretty utterly atpants. I'm not a fan of the skinny jeans trend, I have to say.
Anyway, this week we played a lot of Pictionary as a get-to-know-you sort of activity, and the kids really enjoyed it (and sure, why wouldn't they?). It's a good game because it reminds them of some basic vocabulary and works on their dictionary skills as well. They feel better about their English afterwards, which is good. I feel alternately good and bad about my French, but them I remind myself that speaking is always harder than reading or writing when you've had to do a lot more reading and writing than speaking, and I feel a bit better. I also got to talk a lot about India this week, which pleased me. My advanced kids were still learning about arranged marriages and the caste system and so I got to explain some things to them and be amused by their amazement at my descriptions of the sari and the rest of my photos. I have a little Tamil-to-French book on medical things as well, which boggles their minds.
Have I mentioned that I've started to play football with the people from Fenelon on Tuesday nights? Real proper football, not the American travesty (although I do now and again miss seeing all the tailgate parties and hearing the marching band's practice sessions drift across the field). I am, of course, fairly horrible at it, not having played properly since second grade, but I find myself getting better and better each week, which is pleasant. Last week I actually managed to pass the ball with my knee, and I almost had a goal, and the week before that I did five good things. I remain fairly horrible in comparision with the boys, but since I play defense, there are times Ican just stop and watch them dancing over the ball and passing it without looking. Such grace! Such nimbleness! Such teamwork! It is truly beautiful to watch.
This semester I'm only working Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, so I have a nice lie-in Tuesdays and Wednesdays. In fact, nobody works Wednesdays because it's only a half day (which they make up for with a half day on Saturday) and so we had an excellent time this last Wednesday. Michelle and I got up earlyish and went to the market for vegetables. We made a friend there: the woman who works at the big fruit and veg stand was so amused by us and the fact that I was buying pumpkin for a pie of all things (which I took to the teachers, who thought it was "special" and reasonably tasty) that she talked to us for a long time, and then gave us free parsley and celery to help us along in using up the stale ends of baguettes (I make a lot of stuffing these days). Later Steffen and Matthias came over to do laundry and we played Puerto Rico and made empanadas (by which I mean we watched Cata make empanadas, but they were tasty). It's times like this I'll really miss when I go back to the U.S. We watched a lot of Green Wing and movies this week all snuggled up on the couch and we cooked a bunch of things together and it's just so pleasant here in the little white house, even if I do get terribly Grinnellsick on occasion.
It will be strange to be back in the U.S., I think. I'll want to do all of my shopping in French. I'll walk right past the garlic looking for ail, and I'll never be able to find brown sugar when it isn't labeled "viergeoise". So it goes. There's always an adjustment period. I still wake up craving dosas with spicy tomato chutney.
That's enough for this week! There's a bit of house-cleaning to be done, after all, in our bit of a house.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
meilleurs voeux!
Hello, everyone! It's Sunday again, so that means the weekly email. I'm sure you're all thrilled.
It was back to school this week, which was lovely. Lots of new years' wishes, lots of kissing on the cheek (extra kisses for the new year, apparently). It's so pleasant to see how much all the teachers I work with like each other. After a break of two weeks, they were all chatting happily and looking so glad to see each other. Sometimes the others complain about their teachers not really liking each other or not really talking to each other - at the teacher training days we heard horror stories about profs who won't speak to anyone else in their department - but my teachers are friendly and wonderful. My contact prof was stressed the other week and one of the others gave her a quick shoulder rub as a pep talk, and they all poke fun at each other and they're just comfortable and happy together. It's very nice. People will come and drop into the next chair when I'm sitting in the loung with my laptop doing nothing and advise me on how to play spider solitaire, or ask me to play some music.
I've got mostly new students this semester and so I get to do introductory classes all over again for a month, which is half boring and half entertaining - it's fun to see the new kids coming in, already perhaps knowing a little about me (like the students who belong to my contact teacher who came in and said, "You are Mary Parker!") but perhaps knowing nothing at all except my face. The seconde are really funny in general. I like this group: they're old enough to be fairly advanced in the language, but not old enough to be indifferent to school, so they talk a lot more than my terminale and premiere groups. They're a bit chatty in French, and some of them are a little shy, but overall I think it will be a good semester. I have a way to get the kids to come to class now, because I have proper lists of which ones are supposed to be with me when, and anyway, seconde aren't old enough to realize they can skip class. I have all of my students scheduled during their study hours, though I'm supposed to have them during their English classes, but the teachers and I agreed this was better: I don't want to take up half of their classtime doing pointless things (well, not pointless, but less valuable than their regular lessons except in terms of conversation) when they only have two hours of English a week anyway, some of them, and I'm certainly competent enough to take groups on their own.
It's been a funny week. The weather's alternately miserable (cold, windy, drizzly) and gorgeous (like today, all sunshine). The plants are all confused as to whether it's winter or not. I cut myself on a fish this week: Steffen caught a big pike and called us out to see it, and I got to put it back in the water, but it turns out they have spiky gills and both of us had little cuts. Friday night we went to a French party with actual French people: for Epiphany (or roughly around that time, apparently), everyone eats the galette des rois, the king cake, though it's a different recipe from what people eat for Mardi Gras. It was nice: lots of French grownups, people who aren't from Cambrai who've come to work in Cambrai, and they were all curious about us, so we got to do a lot of talking and explaining. Matthias got the lamb in his piece of cake, so he was the king, and there was a cat wandering around and a few kids. It's always nice to see kids we're not expected to teach, and very sweet how they all automatically come and kiss you. Plus, the party got us to speak a lot of French, which reminds me both that my French is much better than it used to be, and that it's still not perfect. We need to speak more French at home, but somehow it always slips into English. Dommage. At least now I have the grammar book I bought from the vending machine at Montparnasse.
Yesterday was pleasant. We went to Saint Quentin with Max and Ellen, because Max has a car. It wasn't really for any purpose; we just wandered around, looked at the church and the town hall (very intricately carved facade, quite lovely), did a bit of window shopping since the huge sales are on, picked up a tarte or two at the cafeteria in the mall. Highways are the same everywhere, I think, or at least they give the same feeling of suspension, of movement and non-movement. It's interesting to go in the car, since we take trains and buses everywhere generally. Last night we broke out some board games (thanks, Mom and Dad, for sending them on) and figured out the rather complicated (at first) rules of Puerto Rico (which Catalina doesn't mind, fortunately). It turned out to be an excellent game (perhaps because I won?) and a nice change from cards. We watched a couple of episodes of Green Wing as well: television doctors are the best entertainment we've found since Incroyable Talent stopped airing. Then this morning we got up and cleaned the house pretty thoroughly. You know it's bad when Steffen steps in the door and asks if a bomb has gone off (realistically, it was just the day's clutter of jackets and bags, but some sweeping and mopping were in order as well).
Off to take a bath, do some more cleaning, and minister to Cata's cold, I suppose. We've been remarkably healthy thus far in the white house, but hey, germs catch up with everyone sometime.
It was back to school this week, which was lovely. Lots of new years' wishes, lots of kissing on the cheek (extra kisses for the new year, apparently). It's so pleasant to see how much all the teachers I work with like each other. After a break of two weeks, they were all chatting happily and looking so glad to see each other. Sometimes the others complain about their teachers not really liking each other or not really talking to each other - at the teacher training days we heard horror stories about profs who won't speak to anyone else in their department - but my teachers are friendly and wonderful. My contact prof was stressed the other week and one of the others gave her a quick shoulder rub as a pep talk, and they all poke fun at each other and they're just comfortable and happy together. It's very nice. People will come and drop into the next chair when I'm sitting in the loung with my laptop doing nothing and advise me on how to play spider solitaire, or ask me to play some music.
I've got mostly new students this semester and so I get to do introductory classes all over again for a month, which is half boring and half entertaining - it's fun to see the new kids coming in, already perhaps knowing a little about me (like the students who belong to my contact teacher who came in and said, "You are Mary Parker!") but perhaps knowing nothing at all except my face. The seconde are really funny in general. I like this group: they're old enough to be fairly advanced in the language, but not old enough to be indifferent to school, so they talk a lot more than my terminale and premiere groups. They're a bit chatty in French, and some of them are a little shy, but overall I think it will be a good semester. I have a way to get the kids to come to class now, because I have proper lists of which ones are supposed to be with me when, and anyway, seconde aren't old enough to realize they can skip class. I have all of my students scheduled during their study hours, though I'm supposed to have them during their English classes, but the teachers and I agreed this was better: I don't want to take up half of their classtime doing pointless things (well, not pointless, but less valuable than their regular lessons except in terms of conversation) when they only have two hours of English a week anyway, some of them, and I'm certainly competent enough to take groups on their own.
It's been a funny week. The weather's alternately miserable (cold, windy, drizzly) and gorgeous (like today, all sunshine). The plants are all confused as to whether it's winter or not. I cut myself on a fish this week: Steffen caught a big pike and called us out to see it, and I got to put it back in the water, but it turns out they have spiky gills and both of us had little cuts. Friday night we went to a French party with actual French people: for Epiphany (or roughly around that time, apparently), everyone eats the galette des rois, the king cake, though it's a different recipe from what people eat for Mardi Gras. It was nice: lots of French grownups, people who aren't from Cambrai who've come to work in Cambrai, and they were all curious about us, so we got to do a lot of talking and explaining. Matthias got the lamb in his piece of cake, so he was the king, and there was a cat wandering around and a few kids. It's always nice to see kids we're not expected to teach, and very sweet how they all automatically come and kiss you. Plus, the party got us to speak a lot of French, which reminds me both that my French is much better than it used to be, and that it's still not perfect. We need to speak more French at home, but somehow it always slips into English. Dommage. At least now I have the grammar book I bought from the vending machine at Montparnasse.
Yesterday was pleasant. We went to Saint Quentin with Max and Ellen, because Max has a car. It wasn't really for any purpose; we just wandered around, looked at the church and the town hall (very intricately carved facade, quite lovely), did a bit of window shopping since the huge sales are on, picked up a tarte or two at the cafeteria in the mall. Highways are the same everywhere, I think, or at least they give the same feeling of suspension, of movement and non-movement. It's interesting to go in the car, since we take trains and buses everywhere generally. Last night we broke out some board games (thanks, Mom and Dad, for sending them on) and figured out the rather complicated (at first) rules of Puerto Rico (which Catalina doesn't mind, fortunately). It turned out to be an excellent game (perhaps because I won?) and a nice change from cards. We watched a couple of episodes of Green Wing as well: television doctors are the best entertainment we've found since Incroyable Talent stopped airing. Then this morning we got up and cleaned the house pretty thoroughly. You know it's bad when Steffen steps in the door and asks if a bomb has gone off (realistically, it was just the day's clutter of jackets and bags, but some sweeping and mopping were in order as well).
Off to take a bath, do some more cleaning, and minister to Cata's cold, I suppose. We've been remarkably healthy thus far in the white house, but hey, germs catch up with everyone sometime.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
home again, home again, jiggity jog
I'm home again from Belgium, Cata's home again from her trip around Europe with her brother, Michelle's home again from Egypt and England, and Steffen and Matthias are back from their German-speaking nations and the others should be home today sometime, so life is very very good. Somehow it just wasn't the same being in the White House without the other girls. It was funny last night how we all just kept saying, "Ah, we're home" in between rounds of cards and watching the last episode of Green Wing (my British doctor show, which I'm working to get everyone hooked on and so far everything's going according to plan). We had a nice quiet little party last night, played a lot of Uno and listened to some awful music (my life in France is soundtracked by bad pop, apparently) and it was just so good to see everyone. Pity we've only got four more months here.
I've been back from India for a year now, which has been on my mind a lot. There are some similiarities between France and India, odd as it may seem. I mean, clearly there are plenty of differences, but underneath the weather and the polish of France, you find that people have roots the same way. The bigger cities are surrounded by all sorts of little towns, each with their own particular customs and foods, and people love their villages. There are a lot of customs about politeness and family and how you act, too, more than in the U.S., and more attention to dress and diet. In the U.S. we have such a ridiculous diversity of food from all different sorts of places. All right, so in Lille you can get sushi and Indian food (and even in Cambrai you can get North African, but that's because of the staggering amount of immigrants from the Maghreb in France), but if you try to go for Mexican, you get a burrito full of asparagus and snow peas with no beans really at all. In general in Cambrai, you can't find black beans and you certainly can't find pinto beans or pecans, and cranberries are a tough search too. Now and again you can get moldy lychees, and sometimes you can find mangos, but overall the variety is just so much less. It's been interesting. I can say the first thing I'm going to want to eat when I get home is some proper Mexican food.
It's back to school tomorrow. I've got a new schedule, so I'll be working MThF from 8 to 6 (which means that three mornings a week, I'll have to catch the bus at 6.55 a.m. and I won't get home until nearly 7, and that's a lot of spider solitaire and Green Wing reruns in the teacher's lounge). I'll have mostly seconde this semester, which are like tenth graders, though I'll still have a class or two of terminale from last semester: the advanced kids I'll still see, and the kids from the professional side of the school, whom I've only seen once so far anyway. It should be fun. Another month of "What is your name? Do you has a boyfriend? Where does you live in the OooEss? Arkansass?" The students in seconde are much more likely to come to class, I think, and more likely to participate, and that outweighs the repetitious questions and the giggling anyday.
The weather's been good so far this year. Blue skies behind the bell towers, green fields, warm weather. It's nice to look out the window and see light gleaming on the old stones and old metal of the building behind my room, which has a little tower for some reason. And it's nice to go down newly discovered alleyways and see the rays of the sun filtering down between the buildings over the cobblestones. Europe really is made up of places where fairytales could happen. Everytime you think you know the town, you discover something new.
I spent a couple of days in Bruges with one of the other assistants and it's all canals and little stone bridges and old portcullises over the river and tall churches with Michelangelo sculptures (okay, just one sculpture, and my delight at seeing it didn't quite compare to seeing the Tamil sign up in Sacre Coeur and still being able to read some of it). There were waffles, of course, and fries with various mayonnaise-based sauces (the Belgians don't seem to understand the delights of vinegar, but since they invented fries I can forgive them) and a bar with three hundred different kinds of beer (of which we sampled only a few, including the Belgian trappist and sour beers and banana beer that tasted like juice) and a magic waiter who taught us a few words of Flemish when I accidentally asked for the bill in French. It was a good time. I met another assistant from Minnesota who's teaching in Alsace and told her about the assistant from the Lyon area that I met on the Metro in Paris. We're everywhere, apparently!
The point of this email is that it's good to be home, even when you've been so many place that you aren't quite sure where home is anymore.
I've been back from India for a year now, which has been on my mind a lot. There are some similiarities between France and India, odd as it may seem. I mean, clearly there are plenty of differences, but underneath the weather and the polish of France, you find that people have roots the same way. The bigger cities are surrounded by all sorts of little towns, each with their own particular customs and foods, and people love their villages. There are a lot of customs about politeness and family and how you act, too, more than in the U.S., and more attention to dress and diet. In the U.S. we have such a ridiculous diversity of food from all different sorts of places. All right, so in Lille you can get sushi and Indian food (and even in Cambrai you can get North African, but that's because of the staggering amount of immigrants from the Maghreb in France), but if you try to go for Mexican, you get a burrito full of asparagus and snow peas with no beans really at all. In general in Cambrai, you can't find black beans and you certainly can't find pinto beans or pecans, and cranberries are a tough search too. Now and again you can get moldy lychees, and sometimes you can find mangos, but overall the variety is just so much less. It's been interesting. I can say the first thing I'm going to want to eat when I get home is some proper Mexican food.
It's back to school tomorrow. I've got a new schedule, so I'll be working MThF from 8 to 6 (which means that three mornings a week, I'll have to catch the bus at 6.55 a.m. and I won't get home until nearly 7, and that's a lot of spider solitaire and Green Wing reruns in the teacher's lounge). I'll have mostly seconde this semester, which are like tenth graders, though I'll still have a class or two of terminale from last semester: the advanced kids I'll still see, and the kids from the professional side of the school, whom I've only seen once so far anyway. It should be fun. Another month of "What is your name? Do you has a boyfriend? Where does you live in the OooEss? Arkansass?" The students in seconde are much more likely to come to class, I think, and more likely to participate, and that outweighs the repetitious questions and the giggling anyday.
The weather's been good so far this year. Blue skies behind the bell towers, green fields, warm weather. It's nice to look out the window and see light gleaming on the old stones and old metal of the building behind my room, which has a little tower for some reason. And it's nice to go down newly discovered alleyways and see the rays of the sun filtering down between the buildings over the cobblestones. Europe really is made up of places where fairytales could happen. Everytime you think you know the town, you discover something new.
I spent a couple of days in Bruges with one of the other assistants and it's all canals and little stone bridges and old portcullises over the river and tall churches with Michelangelo sculptures (okay, just one sculpture, and my delight at seeing it didn't quite compare to seeing the Tamil sign up in Sacre Coeur and still being able to read some of it). There were waffles, of course, and fries with various mayonnaise-based sauces (the Belgians don't seem to understand the delights of vinegar, but since they invented fries I can forgive them) and a bar with three hundred different kinds of beer (of which we sampled only a few, including the Belgian trappist and sour beers and banana beer that tasted like juice) and a magic waiter who taught us a few words of Flemish when I accidentally asked for the bill in French. It was a good time. I met another assistant from Minnesota who's teaching in Alsace and told her about the assistant from the Lyon area that I met on the Metro in Paris. We're everywhere, apparently!
The point of this email is that it's good to be home, even when you've been so many place that you aren't quite sure where home is anymore.
Bonne année! Meilleurs voeux!
Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry for no email yesterday: I was sleeping and cleaning. What better way to spend a New Year's Eve, eh? The evening wasn't much more exciting. Matthias and I stayed in. I made lasagna with whatever was left in the fridge (spinach and brie and pepper sauce) and stuffing with the stale ends of baguettes that we keep collecting. We passed the hours watching Green Wing with a bottle of cheap fizzy wine (seriously, 93 cents and drinkable) and then tried to go out, but everything was closed. Lame. But that's what we get for living in a small town, I suppose.
The week was much more exciting! Mom and I went to Paris and did all the Paris things. Saw the Eiffel Tower, saw the Arc de Triomphe, walked the Champs-Elysées, climbed the million stairs to Sacre-Coeur, went to Notre Dame on Christmas. I ran through a flock of pigeons and a crazy man threw bread crumbs at me (though I suppose if he makes his living coaxing pigeons to land on tourists, my disturbing the pigeons is a crumb-worthy offense). We went to Let's Go restaurants. We became masters of the metro, particularly lines 4 and 9. I can now recite most of the mid-town metro stations on line 4 in order from Gare du Nord to Odéon (mostly, anyway, and I know there are Starbuckses at Odéon, Cluny, and St. Michel).
We didn't go to Brittany, by the way. The woman at the train station said they were out of Eurail seats and we weren't brave or motivated enough to just get on the train anyway, when there was a chance we'd be heavily fined or not able to come back in time for Mom to catch her plane. So that was that. More time in Cambrai and Paris anyway, and it's much easier to find your feet (I'm guessing) in a small town than a big city, so Mom could wander around and buy things and I think that was good. It was nice to have her here. It's a little lonely now, just me and Matthias, but I'm supposed to go to Belgium with Dunkerque Dan (one of the other assistants) tomorrow, so that ought to be fun.
The sun is out! So I think I'll go for a walk. I hope all of your new year's celebrations were bright and delightful, just as the year itself should be.
The week was much more exciting! Mom and I went to Paris and did all the Paris things. Saw the Eiffel Tower, saw the Arc de Triomphe, walked the Champs-Elysées, climbed the million stairs to Sacre-Coeur, went to Notre Dame on Christmas. I ran through a flock of pigeons and a crazy man threw bread crumbs at me (though I suppose if he makes his living coaxing pigeons to land on tourists, my disturbing the pigeons is a crumb-worthy offense). We went to Let's Go restaurants. We became masters of the metro, particularly lines 4 and 9. I can now recite most of the mid-town metro stations on line 4 in order from Gare du Nord to Odéon (mostly, anyway, and I know there are Starbuckses at Odéon, Cluny, and St. Michel).
We didn't go to Brittany, by the way. The woman at the train station said they were out of Eurail seats and we weren't brave or motivated enough to just get on the train anyway, when there was a chance we'd be heavily fined or not able to come back in time for Mom to catch her plane. So that was that. More time in Cambrai and Paris anyway, and it's much easier to find your feet (I'm guessing) in a small town than a big city, so Mom could wander around and buy things and I think that was good. It was nice to have her here. It's a little lonely now, just me and Matthias, but I'm supposed to go to Belgium with Dunkerque Dan (one of the other assistants) tomorrow, so that ought to be fun.
The sun is out! So I think I'll go for a walk. I hope all of your new year's celebrations were bright and delightful, just as the year itself should be.
'tis the season, I suppose
Merry Christmas! Frohe Weihnachten! Joyeux Noel! Buon Natale! Feliz Navidad!
Yeah. That's all the languages I've got. But you get the message, eh?
I am, in fact, all Christmassed out and have been for a couple of weeks, probably because I started listening to Christmas music in early November and we had our Cambrai Christmas two weeks ago and did presents and crackers and all that stuff. I even thought about taking down the decorations the other day and then realized, right, the 25th hadn't actually happened yet. But so that goes. Cambrai cranked up the Christmas to the highest notch. Lights everywhere. Hapless Peres Noel hanging on ladders from almost every window, or so it seemed. Gaufres in the main square. Paris is both more and less decorated: what they have is better and on a grander scale, but generally the people seem less concerned with Christmas.
Today on our magical mystery tour of Northern France, we caught the train to Paris, where we'll stay for a couple of days, and then we went to Chartres to see the cathedral, which was, of course, beautiful beyond description. We looked at the famous windows with their many tiny, tiny panes: it's amazing that they didn't get broken in the wars, but the townspeople would take them out pane by pane and hide them away when there were bombings. The carving is so intricate and lovely, and since it's Christmas, there were a lot of people there lighting candles and such. I had a laugh over the fact that the new steeple is taller and more ostentatious than the old steeple - yet another case of architects and builders saying, "Oh yeah? Watch this action!" in a kind of bit-too-late contest of (usually) masculinity. Of course, the new steeple was just built sometime after 1196, or possibly 1836. I wasn't really paying attention to the history of horrendous fires, what with all the obscure statues and tiny stairways to look at.
Anyway. Tomorrow we'll probably go see Sacre-Coeur and whatever else we can find open on Christmas. Maybe not the best timing in the world, but what can you do? At least our hotel is cute, if out in the 20th arrondissement, nearly out of Paris proper. Only a block or two from the metro though! Which is good, because it's too cold to walk too much. Other benefits include cheapness, an English speaking staff (though my French has improved remarkably, it's good for Mom), and free wireless. Hooray. I would recommend the Hotel Armstrong to you if you are in Paris.
On the 26th, we're off to Bretagne to see the standing stones at Carnac and possibly Mont St. Michel, which is supposed to be incredible. Or we were supposed to be, anyway, except that the woman told me they were out of seats for holders of Eurail passes, which sounded like a bunch of lies, but it was safer not to go than to be potentially stuck in Bretagne. So it was back to tiny Cambrai so that Mom can pack and we can head back to Paris for her to catch her flight and me to meet Matthias. Exciting!
Anyway. That's life. Spent a lot of time on trains today reading Jane Austen. Tell me that's not a vacation.
Yeah. That's all the languages I've got. But you get the message, eh?
I am, in fact, all Christmassed out and have been for a couple of weeks, probably because I started listening to Christmas music in early November and we had our Cambrai Christmas two weeks ago and did presents and crackers and all that stuff. I even thought about taking down the decorations the other day and then realized, right, the 25th hadn't actually happened yet. But so that goes. Cambrai cranked up the Christmas to the highest notch. Lights everywhere. Hapless Peres Noel hanging on ladders from almost every window, or so it seemed. Gaufres in the main square. Paris is both more and less decorated: what they have is better and on a grander scale, but generally the people seem less concerned with Christmas.
Today on our magical mystery tour of Northern France, we caught the train to Paris, where we'll stay for a couple of days, and then we went to Chartres to see the cathedral, which was, of course, beautiful beyond description. We looked at the famous windows with their many tiny, tiny panes: it's amazing that they didn't get broken in the wars, but the townspeople would take them out pane by pane and hide them away when there were bombings. The carving is so intricate and lovely, and since it's Christmas, there were a lot of people there lighting candles and such. I had a laugh over the fact that the new steeple is taller and more ostentatious than the old steeple - yet another case of architects and builders saying, "Oh yeah? Watch this action!" in a kind of bit-too-late contest of (usually) masculinity. Of course, the new steeple was just built sometime after 1196, or possibly 1836. I wasn't really paying attention to the history of horrendous fires, what with all the obscure statues and tiny stairways to look at.
Anyway. Tomorrow we'll probably go see Sacre-Coeur and whatever else we can find open on Christmas. Maybe not the best timing in the world, but what can you do? At least our hotel is cute, if out in the 20th arrondissement, nearly out of Paris proper. Only a block or two from the metro though! Which is good, because it's too cold to walk too much. Other benefits include cheapness, an English speaking staff (though my French has improved remarkably, it's good for Mom), and free wireless. Hooray. I would recommend the Hotel Armstrong to you if you are in Paris.
On the 26th, we're off to Bretagne to see the standing stones at Carnac and possibly Mont St. Michel, which is supposed to be incredible. Or we were supposed to be, anyway, except that the woman told me they were out of seats for holders of Eurail passes, which sounded like a bunch of lies, but it was safer not to go than to be potentially stuck in Bretagne. So it was back to tiny Cambrai so that Mom can pack and we can head back to Paris for her to catch her flight and me to meet Matthias. Exciting!
Anyway. That's life. Spent a lot of time on trains today reading Jane Austen. Tell me that's not a vacation.
Mom's visit and the Louvre
Mom's here! Which is one reason I didn't update this one time, but I have others. For one thing, we were in Paris. We spent a good three and something hours yesterday at the Louvre seeing art and art and art and artifacts until we really couldn't process any of it anymore. I swear, they have more paintings of Jesus as a muscular white guy at the Louvre than I've ever seen.
Anyway. We saw the Winged Victory (which is big!) and the Mona Lisa (which is little!) and innumerable tablets of heiroglyphics and ancient languages I've never heard of, and the capital of a column from some temple, which was so huge that we could barely imagine moving it with a crane. We saw the Venus De Milo and mocked her shapely backside. We saw about a hundred thousand representations of Mary, Jesus, and various saints. There were huge pieces of art and tiny tiny pieces of art and crown jewels from various rulers and what looked like playhouses from the ancient Middle East and toothpicks and sculptures of pharoahs and rulers and gods and goddesses and every so often we'd just stop and look out the window, because the Palace of the Louvre is beautiful all in itself, with lots of detailing on the windowframes and on the ceilings. It's huge. In three and a half hours, we barely saw half of it, I would say, and even then we were skimming, not spending too much time on anything. They have a couple of pieces in alabaster from the cathedral that used to be Cambrai, which was nice to see. Heard of a lot of American English, too. That was funny.
So now in Paris we've seen the Louvre, the Gare du Nord, and the Metro (i.e. almost nothing). Wednesday or this weekend we plan to go back to see Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur and of course the Tour Eiffel. Mom's jetlagged and it's the time of the semester that I'm tired, so we're not trying to pack everything in quite at once, and since I'm still at work this week, most of the traveling and sightseeing will be next week.
Cata's brother is here. They speak very quickly in Spanish, though he speaks good English. Today we took him ice skating while Mom wandered around the little stalls of the Christmas market drinking hot cider, and then we bought hot chestnuts and gaufres (a kind of sugary waffle) and considered the chocolate covered pears. I argued the railway clerks into giving me 45E back, which was an accomplishment and made me feel good about my French, and then we came home and made quiche (and stuffing, because we had two stale baguettes).
And now it's bedtime, because I've got to get up early and go to school tomorrow. Fortunately, living in Cambrai is worth the half hour commute.
Anyway. We saw the Winged Victory (which is big!) and the Mona Lisa (which is little!) and innumerable tablets of heiroglyphics and ancient languages I've never heard of, and the capital of a column from some temple, which was so huge that we could barely imagine moving it with a crane. We saw the Venus De Milo and mocked her shapely backside. We saw about a hundred thousand representations of Mary, Jesus, and various saints. There were huge pieces of art and tiny tiny pieces of art and crown jewels from various rulers and what looked like playhouses from the ancient Middle East and toothpicks and sculptures of pharoahs and rulers and gods and goddesses and every so often we'd just stop and look out the window, because the Palace of the Louvre is beautiful all in itself, with lots of detailing on the windowframes and on the ceilings. It's huge. In three and a half hours, we barely saw half of it, I would say, and even then we were skimming, not spending too much time on anything. They have a couple of pieces in alabaster from the cathedral that used to be Cambrai, which was nice to see. Heard of a lot of American English, too. That was funny.
So now in Paris we've seen the Louvre, the Gare du Nord, and the Metro (i.e. almost nothing). Wednesday or this weekend we plan to go back to see Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur and of course the Tour Eiffel. Mom's jetlagged and it's the time of the semester that I'm tired, so we're not trying to pack everything in quite at once, and since I'm still at work this week, most of the traveling and sightseeing will be next week.
Cata's brother is here. They speak very quickly in Spanish, though he speaks good English. Today we took him ice skating while Mom wandered around the little stalls of the Christmas market drinking hot cider, and then we bought hot chestnuts and gaufres (a kind of sugary waffle) and considered the chocolate covered pears. I argued the railway clerks into giving me 45E back, which was an accomplishment and made me feel good about my French, and then we came home and made quiche (and stuffing, because we had two stale baguettes).
And now it's bedtime, because I've got to get up early and go to school tomorrow. Fortunately, living in Cambrai is worth the half hour commute.
Merry fake Christmas!
I nearly forgot to write today, in all the excitement of cleaning la maison top to bottom (well, mostly just the bottom) and cooking mock Christmas dinner. We had a party last night to celebrate Cata's birthday early and so there was more cleaning than usual to be done, although our party did not nearly live up to what we've heard of last year's hijinks. Apparently les filles de la maison blanche of last year threw some swinging shindigs and the boys in the nearby bars remember them with great fondness and sometimes come to knock on our window (and they're always very disappointed when we're either asleep or playing Uno). But it went well: a few of Cata's students came and we got one of them to speak Ch'ti to us (well, nearly). Ch'ti or Chtimi is the local not-exactly-dialect, not-exactly-language: it's kind of like Flemish, except it's something mixed with French and Spanish instead of French and German, from the era in which the Spanish tried to conquer Cambrai (because, hey, it used to be important). My girls always refused to speak Ch'ti to me - they say it's vulgar or ugly - but I have one class to which only one student shows up, and last week we talked about Ch'ti, so I now know a few words. It's so fascinating to see the bits of Spanish, like "el" instead of "le", and the way to say "I love you", which I have no hope of spelling, sounds like "te quiero" (ej te kere, possibly).
Anyway! Christmas. Because Michelle is leaving for Egypt on Wednesday and most of the others are skivving off home eventually, we had our Christmas dinner early. We were busy girls and cooked all afternoon, and then sat around for a couple of hours letting everything get cold, because apparently with three of us, things go faster than we thought. We cooked two thirds of a Thanksgiving in less than four hours; Christmas dinner took about the same. We've learned how to cook whole chickens! And I made stuffing, and we had sprouts and mashed potatoes and stewed cranberries and a bunch of vegetables, and then for dessert there were very English things: trifle and mince pies and apple crumble and bread pudding and we did Christmas crackers and enforced the wearing of the stupid paper crowns. It was all very nice and we are all very full. Matthias is prone on the couch, and Michelle is doing dishes, and Cata is cleaning up, and I am writing this email, and Max and Ellen and Cary and Steffen and Anna have all gone home to presumably be prone in their own houses, given that they are generally either sick or have to get up early or both. We did an eight person secret Santa, which had the entertaining result of everyone pulling pairs. Cary and Matthias put their heads together and decided it was a one in forty eight chance of that happening.
Tomorrow I have off, just like every Monday, and Tuesday it will be back to the commute. I usually stay over at the other place the night before I catch the early bus (which I'll have to do now Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays) because it's nicer to have a three minute walk through the morning rain than a ten minute walk. I wait with the students: they all greet each other, or anyway the boys all shake hands, and none of them greet me (but then, they're not my students usually). The bus is supposed to leave at 6.55 but generally decides to pull up to the quai around seven. It is dark again when I get on the bus and pay my euro fifty, sometimes mostly in pennies and two cent pieces. The gains from turning back from Daylight Savings didn't last. In the morning dark, the fields don't look green: they roll off into shadows of towns and steeples and trees, and here and there you can see lights. The train full of commuters slides through the dark, just enough light from the windows to ease the passage. We pass a church which in daylight is old and dignified and in the dark has a clockface studded with tiny orange lights, very modern. The schoolchildren clamber on, flashing their student cards which let them ride the bus for free. They kiss their friends, or shake hands, and crowd into the seats, which are nicer than American school bus seats. Here the buses double for municipal and school transport, but they're still cushier than Chicago's public transport, or DC's or New York's.
In the mornings it is quiet. Here in some places the roads are dug down into the roll of the countryside and so we drive between earth banks so high they're almost a tunnel. Everyone just stares ahead. The radio plays bad pop music. The evening bus is noisier. Sometimes it's still light and then I can see the green fields (still green! And there are still roses in front of the school, and flowers in front of the town hall). Along the route there are a few lonely graves marked specially with large crosses, and cemetaries full of smaller stones, and there is a crumbling brick thing that I love. I'm not sure what it is: it's kind of like the base of a tower, just all alone on top of a little hill, half broken, half covered with ivy, and unbeliveably picturesque. Across the way there is another little tower, surrounded by trees and plants and other things. I always mean to take a photo, and I always forget. Someday.
I'm excited: this week I get a new group of students, and of course I'll be doing lots and lots of Christmas activities. I actually started my Christmas things last week. I had some of my terminale kids translate the lyrics to "The Christmas Song". We started by listening to the Michael Bublé version, but that made some of them want to dance. One boy actually got up and danced with me for a moment, and then I decided that was enough of that, and we switched to James Taylor and got some work done before we listened to a song some of the students had written for the Telethon fundraiser. The kids were surprisingly good: not all of them talk all the time, so I don't always know if they actually know things, but they did quite well, and the Portugese kid who flirts with me marshalled them on. It's interesting being not much older than my students. They're maybe a little sassier than they are with their regular profs (not that I can't outsass them and keep them in line) but they're also more willing to talk to me sometimes. We get along well.
Mom will be here this weekend, which means I have a good excuse to go to Paris. I just hope the trains aren't still on strike! There have been an irritating amount of strikes lately. I disapprove. But at least we have hot water again and hey, lots of Advent and Christmas chocolate. Excellent.
Anyway! Christmas. Because Michelle is leaving for Egypt on Wednesday and most of the others are skivving off home eventually, we had our Christmas dinner early. We were busy girls and cooked all afternoon, and then sat around for a couple of hours letting everything get cold, because apparently with three of us, things go faster than we thought. We cooked two thirds of a Thanksgiving in less than four hours; Christmas dinner took about the same. We've learned how to cook whole chickens! And I made stuffing, and we had sprouts and mashed potatoes and stewed cranberries and a bunch of vegetables, and then for dessert there were very English things: trifle and mince pies and apple crumble and bread pudding and we did Christmas crackers and enforced the wearing of the stupid paper crowns. It was all very nice and we are all very full. Matthias is prone on the couch, and Michelle is doing dishes, and Cata is cleaning up, and I am writing this email, and Max and Ellen and Cary and Steffen and Anna have all gone home to presumably be prone in their own houses, given that they are generally either sick or have to get up early or both. We did an eight person secret Santa, which had the entertaining result of everyone pulling pairs. Cary and Matthias put their heads together and decided it was a one in forty eight chance of that happening.
Tomorrow I have off, just like every Monday, and Tuesday it will be back to the commute. I usually stay over at the other place the night before I catch the early bus (which I'll have to do now Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays) because it's nicer to have a three minute walk through the morning rain than a ten minute walk. I wait with the students: they all greet each other, or anyway the boys all shake hands, and none of them greet me (but then, they're not my students usually). The bus is supposed to leave at 6.55 but generally decides to pull up to the quai around seven. It is dark again when I get on the bus and pay my euro fifty, sometimes mostly in pennies and two cent pieces. The gains from turning back from Daylight Savings didn't last. In the morning dark, the fields don't look green: they roll off into shadows of towns and steeples and trees, and here and there you can see lights. The train full of commuters slides through the dark, just enough light from the windows to ease the passage. We pass a church which in daylight is old and dignified and in the dark has a clockface studded with tiny orange lights, very modern. The schoolchildren clamber on, flashing their student cards which let them ride the bus for free. They kiss their friends, or shake hands, and crowd into the seats, which are nicer than American school bus seats. Here the buses double for municipal and school transport, but they're still cushier than Chicago's public transport, or DC's or New York's.
In the mornings it is quiet. Here in some places the roads are dug down into the roll of the countryside and so we drive between earth banks so high they're almost a tunnel. Everyone just stares ahead. The radio plays bad pop music. The evening bus is noisier. Sometimes it's still light and then I can see the green fields (still green! And there are still roses in front of the school, and flowers in front of the town hall). Along the route there are a few lonely graves marked specially with large crosses, and cemetaries full of smaller stones, and there is a crumbling brick thing that I love. I'm not sure what it is: it's kind of like the base of a tower, just all alone on top of a little hill, half broken, half covered with ivy, and unbeliveably picturesque. Across the way there is another little tower, surrounded by trees and plants and other things. I always mean to take a photo, and I always forget. Someday.
I'm excited: this week I get a new group of students, and of course I'll be doing lots and lots of Christmas activities. I actually started my Christmas things last week. I had some of my terminale kids translate the lyrics to "The Christmas Song". We started by listening to the Michael Bublé version, but that made some of them want to dance. One boy actually got up and danced with me for a moment, and then I decided that was enough of that, and we switched to James Taylor and got some work done before we listened to a song some of the students had written for the Telethon fundraiser. The kids were surprisingly good: not all of them talk all the time, so I don't always know if they actually know things, but they did quite well, and the Portugese kid who flirts with me marshalled them on. It's interesting being not much older than my students. They're maybe a little sassier than they are with their regular profs (not that I can't outsass them and keep them in line) but they're also more willing to talk to me sometimes. We get along well.
Mom will be here this weekend, which means I have a good excuse to go to Paris. I just hope the trains aren't still on strike! There have been an irritating amount of strikes lately. I disapprove. But at least we have hot water again and hey, lots of Advent and Christmas chocolate. Excellent.
The Christmas season has officially begun
It is the kind of rainy, windy, chilly day that makes us all want to go back to bed. So far we've resisted - barely. Cata is watching cooking shows lying on the couch (they are making shish kebab things inexplicably backed by Franz Ferdinand's "40 Feet", because French shows never ever ever have logical music). Michelle is doing jigsaw puzzles on the computer and reading internet polls about how few people understand their traditions. We are scandalized by the pathetic number of people who didn't understand the "30 pieces of silver" reference on House last week and who didn't even bother to look it up (according to the poll on fox.com), despite the fact that the episode was called "Finding Judas". Yes, we are vastly intellectually superior here at la maison, or at least willing to do research to make up for our faults. Lots and lots of research.
Yesterday the Christmas market opened in the center of town. There's a little Ferris wheel (30 m - much smaller than the one Cata and I went on in Lille, which was TERRIFYINGLY large). There's a little skating rink, so we went skating yesterday, and Cata showed us all up despite never having seen that much ice in one place before. There are a bunch of carnival rides and tiny little stalls that sell Christmas presents and various kinds of food: gauffres (hot sugary waffles) and churros and hot cider and all sorts of beautiful things. They set off fireworks over the town hall last night to announce the official opening, and they've turned all the Christmas lights on, and the town is gorgeous.
Christmas really is the perfect season in France. Even the music goes with the mood. There are all those minor key songs, slightly melancholy, a little lonely, a little dark, reminiscent of the people who aren't around during this season. And then there are the songs in crashingly major keys, so much joy it can't be contained, happiness on a grand and elaborate scale. Last night was like that. There were the fireworks, like "Joy to the World", and the cheerful drunk walking along with the little marching band - any sad Christmas song would describe the end of his night.
Paperwork here is mostly taken care of, despite France being a country of paperwork, as Jean-Max said last night. Cata and I both have the receipts for our cartes de séjour, so now we can travel out of the country if we want. It was surprisingly easy at the préfecture: we walked in, presented our passports, signed a few things, and skipped out of there. The only complication was the unannounced strike going on that made it difficult to get back to Cambrai. Always with the strikes! But now the strikes are over, and I will probably go to Lille again tomorrow, just because I can. Christmas shopping to do, after all. Next week we're celebrating Cata's birthday and Christmas, because Michelle is leaving for Egypt on the 13th. Then Mom will be here on the 16th, and break starts the 22nd. Busy busy busy! I have plans to go to Belgium with one of the other assistants in January, and that will be fun.
Actually, it's hard to say what isn't fun. Tonight we're going to go see Little Miss Sunshine in VOSTF (English with subtitles). Last night Cata went to a play with Ellen and Jean-Max and one of their friends, and Michelle and Matthias and I stayed home and made cranberry cake with an orange glaze and mulled wine, and then we all stayed up talking until two. Four languages at once! They made me and Michelle say English phrases in our various accents (my normal one, my vaguely British one, Michelle's polished British one, and her Liverpool Scouse) and talked about American and French slang phrases and the best way to improve one's language skills (apparently, get a significant other who's a native speaker).
As for teaching, it was a fun but short week because I had to go to Lille on Tuesday. Thursday I only had one student, which wasn't very productive, but we talked about rock music. Friday I did two classes (TSTi still don't show up, the lazy punks) and we watched a bit of The Maltese Falcon and then wrote detective stories, which turned out to be hilarious. Lots of references to American tv shows, actually: we had Homer Simpson and Kenny dying, and a murder mystery with the Teletubbies. But the students really got into it when I made them read the things aloud. Sometimes teaching really is rewarding.
Okay. Back to attempting to make the sink drain. We bemoan our lack of plumbing skills at times like this, when we are reduced to just pouring chemicals down the drain and hoping for good things to happen. New photos here to distract you from the grey weather outside.
Yesterday the Christmas market opened in the center of town. There's a little Ferris wheel (30 m - much smaller than the one Cata and I went on in Lille, which was TERRIFYINGLY large). There's a little skating rink, so we went skating yesterday, and Cata showed us all up despite never having seen that much ice in one place before. There are a bunch of carnival rides and tiny little stalls that sell Christmas presents and various kinds of food: gauffres (hot sugary waffles) and churros and hot cider and all sorts of beautiful things. They set off fireworks over the town hall last night to announce the official opening, and they've turned all the Christmas lights on, and the town is gorgeous.
Christmas really is the perfect season in France. Even the music goes with the mood. There are all those minor key songs, slightly melancholy, a little lonely, a little dark, reminiscent of the people who aren't around during this season. And then there are the songs in crashingly major keys, so much joy it can't be contained, happiness on a grand and elaborate scale. Last night was like that. There were the fireworks, like "Joy to the World", and the cheerful drunk walking along with the little marching band - any sad Christmas song would describe the end of his night.
Paperwork here is mostly taken care of, despite France being a country of paperwork, as Jean-Max said last night. Cata and I both have the receipts for our cartes de séjour, so now we can travel out of the country if we want. It was surprisingly easy at the préfecture: we walked in, presented our passports, signed a few things, and skipped out of there. The only complication was the unannounced strike going on that made it difficult to get back to Cambrai. Always with the strikes! But now the strikes are over, and I will probably go to Lille again tomorrow, just because I can. Christmas shopping to do, after all. Next week we're celebrating Cata's birthday and Christmas, because Michelle is leaving for Egypt on the 13th. Then Mom will be here on the 16th, and break starts the 22nd. Busy busy busy! I have plans to go to Belgium with one of the other assistants in January, and that will be fun.
Actually, it's hard to say what isn't fun. Tonight we're going to go see Little Miss Sunshine in VOSTF (English with subtitles). Last night Cata went to a play with Ellen and Jean-Max and one of their friends, and Michelle and Matthias and I stayed home and made cranberry cake with an orange glaze and mulled wine, and then we all stayed up talking until two. Four languages at once! They made me and Michelle say English phrases in our various accents (my normal one, my vaguely British one, Michelle's polished British one, and her Liverpool Scouse) and talked about American and French slang phrases and the best way to improve one's language skills (apparently, get a significant other who's a native speaker).
As for teaching, it was a fun but short week because I had to go to Lille on Tuesday. Thursday I only had one student, which wasn't very productive, but we talked about rock music. Friday I did two classes (TSTi still don't show up, the lazy punks) and we watched a bit of The Maltese Falcon and then wrote detective stories, which turned out to be hilarious. Lots of references to American tv shows, actually: we had Homer Simpson and Kenny dying, and a murder mystery with the Teletubbies. But the students really got into it when I made them read the things aloud. Sometimes teaching really is rewarding.
Okay. Back to attempting to make the sink drain. We bemoan our lack of plumbing skills at times like this, when we are reduced to just pouring chemicals down the drain and hoping for good things to happen. New photos here to distract you from the grey weather outside.
to be reconnaissante
First of all, I promised visual aids, so here they are. Not of the house, since they're Anna's photos that I stole from Facebook and they were all taken at 2bis (I forgot my camera last night), but at least you can see our Cambrai Thanksgiving. It was delightful. Out of the ten of us in Cambrai, five are American, and then we have two Germans, an Austrian, a Costa Rican, and a Brit, so it was the first Thanksgiving for more than half of the people last night, which was very endearing. We tried to do it up right, with a turkey and cranberry sauce and stuffing and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie and brussels sprouts and green bean casserole and stuffed mushrooms and all the things that go along with Thanksgiving, including a prayer, listening to "Alice's Restaurant" and that Adam Sandler song, and forcing the others to say what they were thankful for. It was fairly wonderful. Matthias carved the turkey under my supervision (which I thought was amusing, since I'm a vegetarian girl, but I was the one who knew how), and we all stuffed ourselves silly and then sat around playing cards and finishing off the Beaujolais Nouveau (and remembering why it's supposed to be chilled) and some Orangina made from blood oranges.
It was a good week. Out of the twelve hours I'm supposed to teach, I did around six. I'm not sure I've ever actually worked twelve hours in a week since I got here, actually. Well, I am at work for more than twelve hours, I'm just not doing anything most of the time. There are some organizational problems at the moment because one of the teachers is out sick and she just got a replacement. I think it will work itself out, though. We had to go to Lille this week for a second teacher training day, but now we're apparently fully fledged assistants and can handle anything! Always good to know.
Things are exciting in Cambrai! The faire last week for Ste. Catherine's day (even though it was what, yesterday?) was huge and fairly amazing. Anna and I bought a kitchen gadget that I later found cheaper somewhere else, but that's fine. We each paid less than one of us would have at the store. It was a huge market, basically, that stretched from the grande place up to the train station and back down almost to the office of tourism. I suppose that doesn't sound that big, but if you look at the map you can see that it goes from the Rue de Lille down the Rue d'Alsace-Lorraine, across the Place Aristide Briande, and down the Avenue de la Victoire to the Rue de Noyon or so, and then up and down all the little streets around the Place, of course. (Then if you want to learn more about Cambrai, here is the Wikipedia page - I am so amused that it's twinned with Houma, where Aunt Patty lives.)
So we had Ste. Catherine's, which is a feast day that celebrates unmarried women between the ages of about 18 and 25 (hurray! except that it's to try to inspire us to get husbands), and we had our Cambrai Thanksgiving, and soon enough the Christmas Market will open, which we're all really excited about because apparently there's going to be ice skating, and no matter how grownup we like to say we are these days (for instance, I cooked yesterday without spilling anything on myself), we're all really, really excited about ice skating, especially Cata, who wants to see all this snow and ice stuff that we've been talking about and she's never experienced. Michelle has promised us a proper English Christmas dinner, with mince pies and all - we'll be celebrating early, before everyone leaves for the holidays, and it will be wonderful.
Tonight we're going to see The Queen in English. Should be excellent. We saw Scoop the other day, since there's some special thing going on this week where they show movies in their original versions with subtitles. I didn't like it very much, thought it was choppy, but it was still good fun. When Cata and I have to go into Lille on Tuesday for more paperwork, we might see Borat if we can find it in English. French movies are fun, but English movies are a nice change of pace.
It was a good week. Out of the twelve hours I'm supposed to teach, I did around six. I'm not sure I've ever actually worked twelve hours in a week since I got here, actually. Well, I am at work for more than twelve hours, I'm just not doing anything most of the time. There are some organizational problems at the moment because one of the teachers is out sick and she just got a replacement. I think it will work itself out, though. We had to go to Lille this week for a second teacher training day, but now we're apparently fully fledged assistants and can handle anything! Always good to know.
Things are exciting in Cambrai! The faire last week for Ste. Catherine's day (even though it was what, yesterday?) was huge and fairly amazing. Anna and I bought a kitchen gadget that I later found cheaper somewhere else, but that's fine. We each paid less than one of us would have at the store. It was a huge market, basically, that stretched from the grande place up to the train station and back down almost to the office of tourism. I suppose that doesn't sound that big, but if you look at the map you can see that it goes from the Rue de Lille down the Rue d'Alsace-Lorraine, across the Place Aristide Briande, and down the Avenue de la Victoire to the Rue de Noyon or so, and then up and down all the little streets around the Place, of course. (Then if you want to learn more about Cambrai, here is the Wikipedia page - I am so amused that it's twinned with Houma, where Aunt Patty lives.)
So we had Ste. Catherine's, which is a feast day that celebrates unmarried women between the ages of about 18 and 25 (hurray! except that it's to try to inspire us to get husbands), and we had our Cambrai Thanksgiving, and soon enough the Christmas Market will open, which we're all really excited about because apparently there's going to be ice skating, and no matter how grownup we like to say we are these days (for instance, I cooked yesterday without spilling anything on myself), we're all really, really excited about ice skating, especially Cata, who wants to see all this snow and ice stuff that we've been talking about and she's never experienced. Michelle has promised us a proper English Christmas dinner, with mince pies and all - we'll be celebrating early, before everyone leaves for the holidays, and it will be wonderful.
Tonight we're going to see The Queen in English. Should be excellent. We saw Scoop the other day, since there's some special thing going on this week where they show movies in their original versions with subtitles. I didn't like it very much, thought it was choppy, but it was still good fun. When Cata and I have to go into Lille on Tuesday for more paperwork, we might see Borat if we can find it in English. French movies are fun, but English movies are a nice change of pace.
Ste. Catherine knows how to party
Today I was going to do photos of the house, but there's a faire going on in the middle of town for Ste. Catherine's day, so I think I won't instead, but expect photos next week. Big news! We bought a washing machine for la maison blanche! No more doing laundry in the tub (oh, it takes so long), no more hauling laundry to the lavamatic to do a small load for 4 Euro (especially tough after my bag broke), no more desperate wringing. No dryer, but that's fine: we have a couple of drying racks, and at least the washer spins the water out. We collectively decided that the purchase of a large appliance makes us feel like official grownups, even if the cost (split among eight people) was only about as much as a ticket to Paris with the youth discount.
I am entertained by my school schedule. Out of twelve classes that I was supposed to teach last week, I think I taught three. I was sick one of my busier days, but still, I end up teaching maybe seven out of twelve, due to classes having meetings to go to or the bad classes just outright skipping and the fact that the replacement teacher for the one who's out pregnant never remembers to send her kids to me. It's been okay lessons, though. We talked about politics a little more, about stereotypes, and about Thanksgiving. They don't really understand Thanksgiving, and it's difficult to explain. But no matter! It's really only the Americans who care. We've gotten the others excited by talking up what a fabulous dinner we're going to prepare on Saturday (given that we'll be in Lille on Thursday, and if we weren't, we'd have work). Thanks to various care packages (thanks!), we now have most of the tough-to-find ingredients for the construction of cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie and the like. I'll probably make my stuffed mushrooms again. We'll probably have a turkey. It'll be excellent. Alas, no football on in the background, but what can one do? (Tangentially, go Hogs.)
The funny thing about the fourth week angst/drama is that the drama didn't really go away, but we've all adjusted to it. So now we get cranky sometimes because we've all been around each other a little too long, but we're happy about it. I think it's because we now own two decks of regular cards and an Uno set. We've been thinking about buying Monopoly, but it's a little expensive. Things to pass the time!
It's so strange to think that this time last year I was getting ready to leave Madurai and my host family, and dreaming about home every night. It was hot and rainy and I had papers to finish and I was pining for my winter clothes. Now I have all my winter clothes and I miss my salwars and saris, and Jaya's chutney, and my bike ride home, and the SITA kids. In May, when I get home, I will have spent a year out of the past two years out of the country, and that's interesting to think about. But for now, I think I'll spend my brain power figuring out Mom's visit, potential visits to Belgium and the Netherlands and England, and various school-related things.
I am entertained by my school schedule. Out of twelve classes that I was supposed to teach last week, I think I taught three. I was sick one of my busier days, but still, I end up teaching maybe seven out of twelve, due to classes having meetings to go to or the bad classes just outright skipping and the fact that the replacement teacher for the one who's out pregnant never remembers to send her kids to me. It's been okay lessons, though. We talked about politics a little more, about stereotypes, and about Thanksgiving. They don't really understand Thanksgiving, and it's difficult to explain. But no matter! It's really only the Americans who care. We've gotten the others excited by talking up what a fabulous dinner we're going to prepare on Saturday (given that we'll be in Lille on Thursday, and if we weren't, we'd have work). Thanks to various care packages (thanks!), we now have most of the tough-to-find ingredients for the construction of cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie and the like. I'll probably make my stuffed mushrooms again. We'll probably have a turkey. It'll be excellent. Alas, no football on in the background, but what can one do? (Tangentially, go Hogs.)
The funny thing about the fourth week angst/drama is that the drama didn't really go away, but we've all adjusted to it. So now we get cranky sometimes because we've all been around each other a little too long, but we're happy about it. I think it's because we now own two decks of regular cards and an Uno set. We've been thinking about buying Monopoly, but it's a little expensive. Things to pass the time!
It's so strange to think that this time last year I was getting ready to leave Madurai and my host family, and dreaming about home every night. It was hot and rainy and I had papers to finish and I was pining for my winter clothes. Now I have all my winter clothes and I miss my salwars and saris, and Jaya's chutney, and my bike ride home, and the SITA kids. In May, when I get home, I will have spent a year out of the past two years out of the country, and that's interesting to think about. But for now, I think I'll spend my brain power figuring out Mom's visit, potential visits to Belgium and the Netherlands and England, and various school-related things.
Armistice is a good memory
I have now officially been in France long enough to acculturate a bit: the church bells no longer wake me. I barely notice them. They sort of blend into the holiday decorations that have been going up. If the Diwali lights in Lille are any indication, Cambrai is going to be gorgeous when they finally turn the Christmas lights on. Everything's gearing up for the Noel season. Apparently in Vienna, the Christmas markets open next week, and I've been listening to Christmas music all week. I listened at school on day in the teachers' lounge and the teachers were amused but wanted to listen to more.
It's been back to school this week. This is the time I appreciate the end of daylight savings. My walk across town is better lit, and the sun is actually up by the time I get to school, so it feels less like the middle of the night. The students were good this week, though I had significantly fewer classes than I expected. One of the English teachers is out on early maternity leave and has been for a couple of weeks, and they just found a replacement for her, so none of her students came to my classes. But everything was good: I tried to explain American politics to my students and coax them to talk about French politics. As it turns out, politics are difficult to explain in any language. So it goes. At least they know a little bit about the Congress now.
Our Germanophones have started teaching us German, and Cata's teaching us Spanish, so expect me to come back a bizarre polyglot. And soon I should have my titre de sejour and be able to leave the country! That means a delightful trip to Belgium, hopefully, and who knows where else? Everything in Europe is so much closer than anything in the U.S. That's been fun to explain - all my students are startled when I tell them France is about the size of Texas. Yes, it's small, this place, but it's the center of the world.
Yesterday was Armistice Day. They put blue, white, and red lights on the World War One memorial statue and a lot of the shops were closed. We watched The Sound of Music in celebration and ate cake. And there's already a train strike on (or was last week), so they didn't even have to close the SNCF station. So convenient, France, and so full of memories sometimes.
It's been back to school this week. This is the time I appreciate the end of daylight savings. My walk across town is better lit, and the sun is actually up by the time I get to school, so it feels less like the middle of the night. The students were good this week, though I had significantly fewer classes than I expected. One of the English teachers is out on early maternity leave and has been for a couple of weeks, and they just found a replacement for her, so none of her students came to my classes. But everything was good: I tried to explain American politics to my students and coax them to talk about French politics. As it turns out, politics are difficult to explain in any language. So it goes. At least they know a little bit about the Congress now.
Our Germanophones have started teaching us German, and Cata's teaching us Spanish, so expect me to come back a bizarre polyglot. And soon I should have my titre de sejour and be able to leave the country! That means a delightful trip to Belgium, hopefully, and who knows where else? Everything in Europe is so much closer than anything in the U.S. That's been fun to explain - all my students are startled when I tell them France is about the size of Texas. Yes, it's small, this place, but it's the center of the world.
Yesterday was Armistice Day. They put blue, white, and red lights on the World War One memorial statue and a lot of the shops were closed. We watched The Sound of Music in celebration and ate cake. And there's already a train strike on (or was last week), so they didn't even have to close the SNCF station. So convenient, France, and so full of memories sometimes.
a holiday mood
Now that we're off Daylight Savings, it gets dark here very early, and very quickly. At 6, it's black outside. It's getting chilly, too. I went to the stores the other day for a comforter and some new sweaters, and carrying all the bags home through the cold felt like Christmas shopping. We're having the end of October sales at the moment (I think they ended yesterday), so things were nicely priced. We're all getting holiday fever, I think. Anna and I are attempting to make a pumpkin pie today, though we have no evaporated milk and no real way to get any, as far as we know. If anyone would like to send Craisins so that we can make cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving, that would be very welcome.
School starts again tomorrow (not for me, since I don't work Mondays), and that will be a good thing. We've all been going through the sort of culture shock crash, when the high of being somewhere new has worn off, and that's lead to a little drama and some snappishness among the assistants. Life is complicated when you have nothing to occupy your mind! It will be good to have something else to do with our time than play endless rounds of cards (although that was fun, and we went through many bottles of water and bars of chocolate staying up until 4.30 a.m.). And hey, House is off hiatus, so that's good for me (except it's still the only show that isn't on French tv, so we're forced to watch Faith and Hope instead, which kills me).
Chez la maison blanche, we've been redecorating and rearranging and now our house is cuter and more girly than ever. I should take pictures of my redone room and the rest of it. There are new photos of Cambrai, the outside of the house, Julia's visit, Lille, and my first fishing trip in who knows how many years here on my new France-only photos page. Yes, I went fishing. Twice! I am a bloodthirsty vegetarian, apparently, except that we play catch and release, and it's mostly an excuse to be outside instead of spending the whole day in the house, because with the air getting chilly, it's tough to get motivated to move unless you've got a goal. It's quite nice by the canal, and the old fishermen think I'm funny, I think, as does Steffen, when he taps the end of the rod to make me think I've got a bite (but I am no longer fooled). We were out on Halloween, and groups of small children kept going by in costume, which was sweet.
It's a sunny day. We have a makeshift pie in the oven, and my hands smell like the ginger and nutmeg that I grated. I can already tell that my memories of France are going to be very scent oriented. The smell of bread wafting out of the boulangerie as I make my sad way across town in the dark, dark, cold early mornings to catch the bus, the flowers that they put up all over the centre-ville, the perfume that the teachers I share rides with wear, the cedar soap I bought, the smell of the fabric softener we use when we wash our clothes in the tub. France is a strange mix of expensive and cheap: you can get a bottle of very drinkable cider for 85 cents, or table wine for 1.15, but a little load of laundry is 4Euro to wash, and 1E for ten minutes of drying time. It's been interesting walking around Cambrai and Lille trying to find the little shops that have the good deals, and stumbling across the giant hypermarchés (sort of Wal-Martesque) that have okay prices on things. Kitchen utensils are expensive. DVDs are cheap(ish). But everything is fairly well furnished now, and we've just gotten paid, so life is good in terms of being able to buy things. The maison blanche has potholders to protect our hands from the things that we bake in our frightening gas oven, and towels so that we can dry our hands, and my new comforter is fabulous (especially in comparison to the ratty blankets I had in the first place).
It is funny: we are all in holiday moods because of all the Christmas lights, but it's still most of two months away. Or maybe it's just autumn and France that make life so good. Hard to say.
School starts again tomorrow (not for me, since I don't work Mondays), and that will be a good thing. We've all been going through the sort of culture shock crash, when the high of being somewhere new has worn off, and that's lead to a little drama and some snappishness among the assistants. Life is complicated when you have nothing to occupy your mind! It will be good to have something else to do with our time than play endless rounds of cards (although that was fun, and we went through many bottles of water and bars of chocolate staying up until 4.30 a.m.). And hey, House is off hiatus, so that's good for me (except it's still the only show that isn't on French tv, so we're forced to watch Faith and Hope instead, which kills me).
Chez la maison blanche, we've been redecorating and rearranging and now our house is cuter and more girly than ever. I should take pictures of my redone room and the rest of it. There are new photos of Cambrai, the outside of the house, Julia's visit, Lille, and my first fishing trip in who knows how many years here on my new France-only photos page. Yes, I went fishing. Twice! I am a bloodthirsty vegetarian, apparently, except that we play catch and release, and it's mostly an excuse to be outside instead of spending the whole day in the house, because with the air getting chilly, it's tough to get motivated to move unless you've got a goal. It's quite nice by the canal, and the old fishermen think I'm funny, I think, as does Steffen, when he taps the end of the rod to make me think I've got a bite (but I am no longer fooled). We were out on Halloween, and groups of small children kept going by in costume, which was sweet.
It's a sunny day. We have a makeshift pie in the oven, and my hands smell like the ginger and nutmeg that I grated. I can already tell that my memories of France are going to be very scent oriented. The smell of bread wafting out of the boulangerie as I make my sad way across town in the dark, dark, cold early mornings to catch the bus, the flowers that they put up all over the centre-ville, the perfume that the teachers I share rides with wear, the cedar soap I bought, the smell of the fabric softener we use when we wash our clothes in the tub. France is a strange mix of expensive and cheap: you can get a bottle of very drinkable cider for 85 cents, or table wine for 1.15, but a little load of laundry is 4Euro to wash, and 1E for ten minutes of drying time. It's been interesting walking around Cambrai and Lille trying to find the little shops that have the good deals, and stumbling across the giant hypermarchés (sort of Wal-Martesque) that have okay prices on things. Kitchen utensils are expensive. DVDs are cheap(ish). But everything is fairly well furnished now, and we've just gotten paid, so life is good in terms of being able to buy things. The maison blanche has potholders to protect our hands from the things that we bake in our frightening gas oven, and towels so that we can dry our hands, and my new comforter is fabulous (especially in comparison to the ratty blankets I had in the first place).
It is funny: we are all in holiday moods because of all the Christmas lights, but it's still most of two months away. Or maybe it's just autumn and France that make life so good. Hard to say.
Toussaints and a visit from an Aussie
This week the entire region (and some of the other regions) is on the Toussaints vacation, so it has been all soirées here, mostly at the apartment on Vauban instead of at the maison blanche, which is not at all logical, except that the kitchen and the dining room are so much larger at Vauban, and all my spices are there. We tend to get in trouble, though. It's not as if they're loud parties, usually just me cooking dinner and someone opening a bottle of wine or cheap cider. The people in the apartment below are fussy, though, and so we should change venues. At the tiny maison blanche, we have no neighbors! No one to keep us from playing Go Fish until all hours! And you only think I'm kidding about that. We really do play Go Fish (and other card games with less polite names). Such is the night life in Cambrai.
Julia is here! Julia from Australia whom I met on the internet four years ago, that is, and I should clarify given how many Julias I know. It's been nice to meet her. Yesterday we made a huge pot of soup with the leftover broth from the stuffed mushrooms I made the other night, and we watched The X-Files in French. Today we're going on a walk around Cambrai, though really we've already been around Cambrai, and we may go down to the canal and go fishing with Steffen. Tomorrow we're going to Lille to check out the Bollywood/Bombay festival (http://lille3000.com) and look around. I was planning to go to Brittany with Anna later in the break, but we haven't been paid yet and I'm fairly broke. So it goes. Europe is expensive. At least I finally have the last of the paperwork so that I can get my carte de sejour, which means that when I do get paid, I can go to Belgium.
School is good. I had most of my classes this week, although there are a few problems with people not coming because they don't know they ought to. One of the English teachers is sick and so her classes aren't getting any information. My little locker at school is stocked with tea and biscuits and a little box of chocolate bars for the days I work late (Tuesdays my day starts at eight a.m. and doesn't end until six p.m., which means I have to catch a bus at 6.55, and it's so dark here then that it feels like 4 a.m.). The students are mostly shy, but some of them will talk, which is not always a good thing, but usually. I have some very sassy boys who think they're a lot more clever than they are. But never fear: I will lay down some good old-fashioned American discipline and talk loud and fast and sarcastic until they get confused and shut up. Plenty of plans for great justice here, let me tell you.
They've started decorating for Christmas, putting up the frames for lights everywhere. There will be stars on the lampposts and scrollwork strung across the narrow streets. I suppose when you can skip Halloween and Thanksgiving, you get to start early, since there aren't any decorations for Toussaints. Well, they don't quite skip Halloween, but there aren't many decorations. There was a special meal at the school and I laughed so much in the teacher's room, because they tried so hard, and they served pumpkin. Just mashed pumpkin in a lump on the plate, which was somewhat tasty. Then there were all sorts of foods that were supposed to be spooky and just managed to be entertaining, and all the cantine workers were wearing witches' hats. Quite amusing.
Today I woke up expecting church bells, but it was Daylight Saving. Now I'm on Romance Standard Time, which I think is GMT, or what GMT was yesterday. So the bells rang as I was halfway through this, rang and rang, and the clouds are clearing up, and I think it will be a lovely Sunday.
Julia is here! Julia from Australia whom I met on the internet four years ago, that is, and I should clarify given how many Julias I know. It's been nice to meet her. Yesterday we made a huge pot of soup with the leftover broth from the stuffed mushrooms I made the other night, and we watched The X-Files in French. Today we're going on a walk around Cambrai, though really we've already been around Cambrai, and we may go down to the canal and go fishing with Steffen. Tomorrow we're going to Lille to check out the Bollywood/Bombay festival (http://lille3000.com) and look around. I was planning to go to Brittany with Anna later in the break, but we haven't been paid yet and I'm fairly broke. So it goes. Europe is expensive. At least I finally have the last of the paperwork so that I can get my carte de sejour, which means that when I do get paid, I can go to Belgium.
School is good. I had most of my classes this week, although there are a few problems with people not coming because they don't know they ought to. One of the English teachers is sick and so her classes aren't getting any information. My little locker at school is stocked with tea and biscuits and a little box of chocolate bars for the days I work late (Tuesdays my day starts at eight a.m. and doesn't end until six p.m., which means I have to catch a bus at 6.55, and it's so dark here then that it feels like 4 a.m.). The students are mostly shy, but some of them will talk, which is not always a good thing, but usually. I have some very sassy boys who think they're a lot more clever than they are. But never fear: I will lay down some good old-fashioned American discipline and talk loud and fast and sarcastic until they get confused and shut up. Plenty of plans for great justice here, let me tell you.
They've started decorating for Christmas, putting up the frames for lights everywhere. There will be stars on the lampposts and scrollwork strung across the narrow streets. I suppose when you can skip Halloween and Thanksgiving, you get to start early, since there aren't any decorations for Toussaints. Well, they don't quite skip Halloween, but there aren't many decorations. There was a special meal at the school and I laughed so much in the teacher's room, because they tried so hard, and they served pumpkin. Just mashed pumpkin in a lump on the plate, which was somewhat tasty. Then there were all sorts of foods that were supposed to be spooky and just managed to be entertaining, and all the cantine workers were wearing witches' hats. Quite amusing.
Today I woke up expecting church bells, but it was Daylight Saving. Now I'm on Romance Standard Time, which I think is GMT, or what GMT was yesterday. So the bells rang as I was halfway through this, rang and rang, and the clouds are clearing up, and I think it will be a lovely Sunday.
The weekly update, now with 172% more sass
Savith asked where the sass was in my updates about France, so I've tried to include a bit this week.
Things I have learned since I've been in France:
01. French people are very good at parallel parking their tiny cars on the sidewalk.
02. The book A Year In the Merde wasn't lying about the dogs and watching where you step.
03. Food is an art form.
04. Americans don't like old things.
05. Every American tv show is dubbed into French except for House, which is the only one I want to watch. Zut alors.
Things I have learned from French people in the last week:
01. French people aren't good at learning languages.
02. British people aren't good at learning languages.
03. Americans are good at learning languages, and that's a little strange since we don't really border much of anyone, but maybe it's part of our impulse to take over the world.
04. Politics are really important, nobody sane likes Sarkozy but they're not sure that the woman candidate can win, and Hillary Clinton would be the best candidate to elect in 2008 if we want to repair our relations with Europe.
05. Americans are more welcoming, but French people will write you letters for longer because they forge stronger relationships, just more slowly.
So yes, there's plenty of sass. Sass for my students, who like to pretend they don't speak English at all and they can't understand my fairly neutral accent. Sass for the random people who pass in the street and come up with the only English phrases they know ("Hello, how are you?" I swear it's like being back in India except the accents are different). Sass for the old people with their dogs taking up the entire sidewalk.
But then I get up in the morning and have a cup of tea in our little girly kitchen, and I watch the students coming to school, and I walk up the brick sidewalks to stand under the Porte de Notre Dame to wait for Christine to take me to Caudry. And I think, how lucky am I to be here, shivering in the morning cold under a piece of a medieval fortification, watching the sun come up over the roofs of the old, narrow houses packed together in the old, narrow streets that are still mostly cobblestone, and it's amazing. No doubt it will be even more amazing when they start paying us. The French bureaucracy is astoundingly complicated, much as the French grammar is, and it wouldn't be difficult to navigate except that everyone keeps giving us conflicting instructions. I have to get a couple more papers in order before I can apply for my carte de séjour and be officially allowed to stay beyond the term of my visa (which doesn't expire for another couple of months anyway), but after that, I'll be golden (and go to Belgium some weekend).
I should talk about the people I refer to collectively as my housemates/roommates, because really they aren't all my housemates, and I'm not sharing a room with any of them. I live at the Lycée Fénelon with Cata, who's from Costa Rica, and Michelle, an English girl from Liverpool. We share the petite maison blanche, which is rather famous for being a party zone, but we don't plan to make it quite so notorious this year. They both teach at Fénelon, although Michelle also teaches at the collège, or junior high, Catalina teaching Spanish and Michelle teaching English (though she knows Spanish). They're both very friendly and we enjoy dancing around in the living room. Cary, a rather interesting fellow from Georgia ( U.S.) is in our house all the time but technically lives in the lycée. He teaches English and speaks German, and he wants to go to law school, so he's caught up in that a lot of the time. But he's promised to give me piano lessons in exchange for cooking (lessons), so that's nice.
Despite the fact that I technically live with those people, I often refer to the people I formerly lived with as my housemates. Anna, Katie, and Steffen all teach at the Lycée and collège Paul Duez. Anna and Katie are American (Anna likes teaching and knows Italian and Katie lived in South Africa and Sweden and knows a lot of things even if she's a little spacy) and Steffen's German (and enjoys fishing and whistling), and we are one small happy family. I really spend most of my time with them, partly because I know them better (since I knew them first) and partly because we are always cooking together because I keep buying groceries with them. Anna and I threw a dinner party last Sunday and it was a delightful success. I have gotten them all hooked on House and we watch together, which is hilarious because they're all squeamish and start cringing at the least hint that there's going to be one of those internal animations, and because there are four of us squished together on the couch we made out of a spare mattress and three chairs.
There are a couple of other assistants around too. A German, Ellen, who was supposed to live in my room but who lives in Arras with her boyfriend. An Austrian, Matthias, who works at my school and barely speaks French. Anne, an American, whom no one really knows but whom Katie discovered at the train station one day. It's a fairly companionable situation, really. Quite pleasant.
It's getting coldish. The French don't turn on their heat until the middle of October, apparently, and it's freezing in the Lycée Jaquard and at the apartment of the Paul Duez assistants, though there's plenty of heat at my house. We have big plans to buy a washing machine; the school said they'd pay for the plumbing work if we bought the machine, and that saves a lot of hassle (though no dryers, just drying racks, but we have the heaters and we might buy a fan). All conveniences at home! Internet, phone service, and laundry. How delightful.
I've started teaching. The students are not very good, to put it politely, because all the best students go to the bigger, nicer schools in Cambrai. This school is half a professional high school and half for kids interested in science and math and such, which means they care less about English. But I will persevere! The kids have started talking to me, and it is true that some classes are much better than others. I started with a weak, shy group of girls, but the classes I've had since then have been a lot better. The profs are nice. I spend a lot of time in the teachers' lounge because I'm only teaching 12 hours a week anyway and they all come in and do the bises (the little kisses) and tease each other about things and pretend to have fights and make fun of their students. Christine, who's been taking me to and from school, offered to do my laundry and said she'd take me to the doctor if I felt sick, and that I could come over for Christmas if I were going to be alone. The cafeteria ladies knew I was vegetarian the second time I went in, and they always serve me big plates of vegetables. I like it here. I amused my colleagues by color-coding my picture lists of students (which for some bizarre reason are called "trombinoscopes"), and they have patience with my bad French (apparently I'm better at speaking than the England-English English assistant was last year, confirming their theories), and every day I kiss a lot of people whose names I don't know, but only on the cheek.
France (well, Europe really) remembers its history the way the US doesn't. On the tramways in Lille, passengers are asked to give up their seats for those with war wounds, and there are memorials and plaques for the World Wars everywhere. We don't make jokes about the wars around Steffen and Ellen. It's interesting to see. You can feel the time on your skin, almost, like something extra in the air. It makes my throat hurt when I go jogging on the slippery cobblestones (or maybe I'm catching catarrh, because that's a great word).
So. Life is good, and interesting, and I am well pleased with my general situation.
Things I have learned since I've been in France:
01. French people are very good at parallel parking their tiny cars on the sidewalk.
02. The book A Year In the Merde wasn't lying about the dogs and watching where you step.
03. Food is an art form.
04. Americans don't like old things.
05. Every American tv show is dubbed into French except for House, which is the only one I want to watch. Zut alors.
Things I have learned from French people in the last week:
01. French people aren't good at learning languages.
02. British people aren't good at learning languages.
03. Americans are good at learning languages, and that's a little strange since we don't really border much of anyone, but maybe it's part of our impulse to take over the world.
04. Politics are really important, nobody sane likes Sarkozy but they're not sure that the woman candidate can win, and Hillary Clinton would be the best candidate to elect in 2008 if we want to repair our relations with Europe.
05. Americans are more welcoming, but French people will write you letters for longer because they forge stronger relationships, just more slowly.
So yes, there's plenty of sass. Sass for my students, who like to pretend they don't speak English at all and they can't understand my fairly neutral accent. Sass for the random people who pass in the street and come up with the only English phrases they know ("Hello, how are you?" I swear it's like being back in India except the accents are different). Sass for the old people with their dogs taking up the entire sidewalk.
But then I get up in the morning and have a cup of tea in our little girly kitchen, and I watch the students coming to school, and I walk up the brick sidewalks to stand under the Porte de Notre Dame to wait for Christine to take me to Caudry. And I think, how lucky am I to be here, shivering in the morning cold under a piece of a medieval fortification, watching the sun come up over the roofs of the old, narrow houses packed together in the old, narrow streets that are still mostly cobblestone, and it's amazing. No doubt it will be even more amazing when they start paying us. The French bureaucracy is astoundingly complicated, much as the French grammar is, and it wouldn't be difficult to navigate except that everyone keeps giving us conflicting instructions. I have to get a couple more papers in order before I can apply for my carte de séjour and be officially allowed to stay beyond the term of my visa (which doesn't expire for another couple of months anyway), but after that, I'll be golden (and go to Belgium some weekend).
I should talk about the people I refer to collectively as my housemates/roommates, because really they aren't all my housemates, and I'm not sharing a room with any of them. I live at the Lycée Fénelon with Cata, who's from Costa Rica, and Michelle, an English girl from Liverpool. We share the petite maison blanche, which is rather famous for being a party zone, but we don't plan to make it quite so notorious this year. They both teach at Fénelon, although Michelle also teaches at the collège, or junior high, Catalina teaching Spanish and Michelle teaching English (though she knows Spanish). They're both very friendly and we enjoy dancing around in the living room. Cary, a rather interesting fellow from Georgia ( U.S.) is in our house all the time but technically lives in the lycée. He teaches English and speaks German, and he wants to go to law school, so he's caught up in that a lot of the time. But he's promised to give me piano lessons in exchange for cooking (lessons), so that's nice.
Despite the fact that I technically live with those people, I often refer to the people I formerly lived with as my housemates. Anna, Katie, and Steffen all teach at the Lycée and collège Paul Duez. Anna and Katie are American (Anna likes teaching and knows Italian and Katie lived in South Africa and Sweden and knows a lot of things even if she's a little spacy) and Steffen's German (and enjoys fishing and whistling), and we are one small happy family. I really spend most of my time with them, partly because I know them better (since I knew them first) and partly because we are always cooking together because I keep buying groceries with them. Anna and I threw a dinner party last Sunday and it was a delightful success. I have gotten them all hooked on House and we watch together, which is hilarious because they're all squeamish and start cringing at the least hint that there's going to be one of those internal animations, and because there are four of us squished together on the couch we made out of a spare mattress and three chairs.
There are a couple of other assistants around too. A German, Ellen, who was supposed to live in my room but who lives in Arras with her boyfriend. An Austrian, Matthias, who works at my school and barely speaks French. Anne, an American, whom no one really knows but whom Katie discovered at the train station one day. It's a fairly companionable situation, really. Quite pleasant.
It's getting coldish. The French don't turn on their heat until the middle of October, apparently, and it's freezing in the Lycée Jaquard and at the apartment of the Paul Duez assistants, though there's plenty of heat at my house. We have big plans to buy a washing machine; the school said they'd pay for the plumbing work if we bought the machine, and that saves a lot of hassle (though no dryers, just drying racks, but we have the heaters and we might buy a fan). All conveniences at home! Internet, phone service, and laundry. How delightful.
I've started teaching. The students are not very good, to put it politely, because all the best students go to the bigger, nicer schools in Cambrai. This school is half a professional high school and half for kids interested in science and math and such, which means they care less about English. But I will persevere! The kids have started talking to me, and it is true that some classes are much better than others. I started with a weak, shy group of girls, but the classes I've had since then have been a lot better. The profs are nice. I spend a lot of time in the teachers' lounge because I'm only teaching 12 hours a week anyway and they all come in and do the bises (the little kisses) and tease each other about things and pretend to have fights and make fun of their students. Christine, who's been taking me to and from school, offered to do my laundry and said she'd take me to the doctor if I felt sick, and that I could come over for Christmas if I were going to be alone. The cafeteria ladies knew I was vegetarian the second time I went in, and they always serve me big plates of vegetables. I like it here. I amused my colleagues by color-coding my picture lists of students (which for some bizarre reason are called "trombinoscopes"), and they have patience with my bad French (apparently I'm better at speaking than the England-English English assistant was last year, confirming their theories), and every day I kiss a lot of people whose names I don't know, but only on the cheek.
France (well, Europe really) remembers its history the way the US doesn't. On the tramways in Lille, passengers are asked to give up their seats for those with war wounds, and there are memorials and plaques for the World Wars everywhere. We don't make jokes about the wars around Steffen and Ellen. It's interesting to see. You can feel the time on your skin, almost, like something extra in the air. It makes my throat hurt when I go jogging on the slippery cobblestones (or maybe I'm catching catarrh, because that's a great word).
So. Life is good, and interesting, and I am well pleased with my general situation.
Patois and jet lag
It has been an interesting week in all ways. First of all, I now get confused when my keyboard (clavier) changes to English settings, which bodes ill for my eventual return to the States. I've begun thinking in a strange mixture of English and French, so please excuse this email if it is liberally sprinkled with French words - they're really just what comes to mind. We the assistants in Cambrai speak in an even stranger argot or patois that's Franglais mixed with generous helpings of German and Spanish and anything else we feel like throwing in. For instance, I've been teaching my ex-housemates (whom I still consider my housemates unofficially, as I spend most of my time with them) to watch and love the American program House M.D., and somehow it's come about that the words "Doctor House" must always be said with a German accent, and "Chalo" (Hindi) is an acceptable substitute for "allons-y!" when we want to go someplace. Now that I officially live at Fenelon in the petite maison blanche, my housemates are a Costa Rican girl and an English girl with a heavy Liverpudlian accent, so the mix is only going to get more complicated. It's nice, though. Steffen's been teaching me some German and I keep getting startled by the bits and pieces of it I already know.
Getting the hang of Cambrai now. I can find the library (hooray internet), the town hall, the post office, the yarn shop, the cell phone place - all the important things. There's a market on Wednesday and Saturday mornings and we went today. I bought rosemary, candied kumquats, and some little filled waffles that we'll have for tea, and we got veggies for a salad to go with the leek quiche we'd already made. It's easier and easier to get around. The other day I even gave directions to a couple of women who asked. It's a pretty little place when the sun is out, and nice enough when it's rainy, which has been pretty often lately. Northern France when it rains is all gloom and unfortunate chill, but the little white house at Fenelon has the heating turned on already, and it's almost too warm as I write this. I have the windows open and everything. The drunk people are shouting in the street below. Tomorrow they'll be woken by church bells. Welcome to France.
We had to go to Lille twice this week for assistant orientation and training, and the first time we got very, very lost. Apparently there are two Rues Jean Bart in Lille and one is in the middle of nowhere, and that was the one that Mapquest found for us. But then we found a number of other people who were lost as well, and eventually we got back to the middle of town and found the place, only an hour and a half or so late. It was fine, because getting lost in a foreign place is like an adventure as long as you always feel safe. It helps that we actually speak French, some of us very fluently (me, less fluently, but I'm improving pretty fast) and could therefore ask for directions. That was Monday, and then it rained when we were leaving, as we had to look for the translators to get our birth certificates done and the internet café and any place that sold maps of Lille. Thursday it rained as well, but that was all right because we had a lot of little shops to duck into while we were looking for a landline phone after all the hours of "your students may not be interested, but here are some activities". There's a Lush here, and they sell the most marvelous bath products. The assistants from across the Académie de Lille are very nice - two other Grinnellians and a good number of Brits and Canadians in the Anglophones, plus the Australian who came without a visa and who may be deported eventually. Lots of paperwork, lots of things to learn about French bureaucracy and schooling.
We're tired all the time because we walk everywhere and it's tough to think in another language. It'll get better with time. It feels like Lille was ages ago, but it was really only a couple of days. How strange. We seem to eat enormous amounts as well, probably again because of all the walking. Katie and I are still losing weight. It's a little tough to be vegetarian in France, but we found tofu today, and we're getting along with bread and cheese and eggs and the promise of beans and rice.
Getting the hang of Cambrai now. I can find the library (hooray internet), the town hall, the post office, the yarn shop, the cell phone place - all the important things. There's a market on Wednesday and Saturday mornings and we went today. I bought rosemary, candied kumquats, and some little filled waffles that we'll have for tea, and we got veggies for a salad to go with the leek quiche we'd already made. It's easier and easier to get around. The other day I even gave directions to a couple of women who asked. It's a pretty little place when the sun is out, and nice enough when it's rainy, which has been pretty often lately. Northern France when it rains is all gloom and unfortunate chill, but the little white house at Fenelon has the heating turned on already, and it's almost too warm as I write this. I have the windows open and everything. The drunk people are shouting in the street below. Tomorrow they'll be woken by church bells. Welcome to France.
We had to go to Lille twice this week for assistant orientation and training, and the first time we got very, very lost. Apparently there are two Rues Jean Bart in Lille and one is in the middle of nowhere, and that was the one that Mapquest found for us. But then we found a number of other people who were lost as well, and eventually we got back to the middle of town and found the place, only an hour and a half or so late. It was fine, because getting lost in a foreign place is like an adventure as long as you always feel safe. It helps that we actually speak French, some of us very fluently (me, less fluently, but I'm improving pretty fast) and could therefore ask for directions. That was Monday, and then it rained when we were leaving, as we had to look for the translators to get our birth certificates done and the internet café and any place that sold maps of Lille. Thursday it rained as well, but that was all right because we had a lot of little shops to duck into while we were looking for a landline phone after all the hours of "your students may not be interested, but here are some activities". There's a Lush here, and they sell the most marvelous bath products. The assistants from across the Académie de Lille are very nice - two other Grinnellians and a good number of Brits and Canadians in the Anglophones, plus the Australian who came without a visa and who may be deported eventually. Lots of paperwork, lots of things to learn about French bureaucracy and schooling.
We're tired all the time because we walk everywhere and it's tough to think in another language. It'll get better with time. It feels like Lille was ages ago, but it was really only a couple of days. How strange. We seem to eat enormous amounts as well, probably again because of all the walking. Katie and I are still losing weight. It's a little tough to be vegetarian in France, but we found tofu today, and we're getting along with bread and cheese and eggs and the promise of beans and rice.
House-mates
It's been a long week. I did a lot of observations, mostly of non-English classes for some reason, because the people want us to get to know the French student before we are actually teaching the French students. And it is different from America: the kids all stay together for all their classes, they stand when the teacher comes in, stuff like that. It's been really interesting to watch. I'm excited to start teaching on Tuesday. I get to talk about America all week! It'll be easy. I plan to make the kids listen to Simon and Garfunkel. Some of the sassier boys have started calling me "Mary Christmas" for some reason. They think they're quite clever, but I find it amusing. Unfortunately, I have my smartest kids during their classtime, so I won't be able to sit in and get asked over and over for my phone number and whether I have a boyfriend. But I'm sure it will be rewarding to work with the level twos, who actually want to learn English.
Otherwise, all is well. I went to Lille for my obligatory medical visit (for my staying-in-France permit) and now have a lovely souvenir x-ray that I plan to hang in the bathroom at the other assistants' apartment with their x-rays. We have taken over the bathroom with girliness and it is possibly the best decorated room in the house. Bathroom is misleading - what it is is a closet with a toilet and a sink, and the tub is is another room, but now it's a very cheery closet, full of colorful posters, some Mardi Gras type beads that were in there before that I rearranged to look better, and the back of the door is covered in x-rays. Oh, the things that amuse us.
It's getting a little chilly, and then it warms up, and then it gets chilly again. We're all waiting for our first paychecks so we can buy sweaters (I have sweaters, including the lovely one Granny just sent, but French sweater fashions are good this fall). I am overdressed at school compared to the teachers and underdressed compared to the students, which is amusing. Been cooking a lot. Last night I made stuffed mushrooms with chèvre, and they were really good. This morning we went on a tour of a buried castle in Cambrai and saw a lot of medieval graffiti.
I've gotten my housemates hooked on House, which seems to be the only American tv program not showing on French tv. And we have internet at the house now! So if you download Skype (http://www.skype.com), then you can call me for free as long as you've got a microphone for your computer. And that would be pleasant, because I like hearing from people.
More photos soon, but not today. I've got to start taking more pictures: I have a lot of the decorations for the Bollywood festival that's going on in Lille for the next couple of months (of all things! A Bollywood festival!) but I need to take photos of our little girly house.
Otherwise, all is well. I went to Lille for my obligatory medical visit (for my staying-in-France permit) and now have a lovely souvenir x-ray that I plan to hang in the bathroom at the other assistants' apartment with their x-rays. We have taken over the bathroom with girliness and it is possibly the best decorated room in the house. Bathroom is misleading - what it is is a closet with a toilet and a sink, and the tub is is another room, but now it's a very cheery closet, full of colorful posters, some Mardi Gras type beads that were in there before that I rearranged to look better, and the back of the door is covered in x-rays. Oh, the things that amuse us.
It's getting a little chilly, and then it warms up, and then it gets chilly again. We're all waiting for our first paychecks so we can buy sweaters (I have sweaters, including the lovely one Granny just sent, but French sweater fashions are good this fall). I am overdressed at school compared to the teachers and underdressed compared to the students, which is amusing. Been cooking a lot. Last night I made stuffed mushrooms with chèvre, and they were really good. This morning we went on a tour of a buried castle in Cambrai and saw a lot of medieval graffiti.
I've gotten my housemates hooked on House, which seems to be the only American tv program not showing on French tv. And we have internet at the house now! So if you download Skype (http://www.skype.com), then you can call me for free as long as you've got a microphone for your computer. And that would be pleasant, because I like hearing from people.
More photos soon, but not today. I've got to start taking more pictures: I have a lot of the decorations for the Bollywood festival that's going on in Lille for the next couple of months (of all things! A Bollywood festival!) but I need to take photos of our little girly house.
The way it all began: church bells and card games
It certainly is (or was when I wrote this) Sunday morning in France. My morning tea was accompanied by the clamor of church bells - the French remember that they're Catholic le dimanche, or at least the churches remember, all the little lofty churches with their bell towers and their old stones. They knoll for the faithful and the others roll over in their sleep and murmur.
As for me, I was knolled awake but not to church, having only ever been to Mass once, for Christmas in Calcutta, because I'm not Catholic but who can resist Midnight Mass? So I shook off my dreams of Grinnell and fixed my usual breakfast these days of toast and jam and strong milky tea with plenty of sugar. Last night we fixed a huge celebratory dinner of pasta with vegetables and a salad and the last of my good bread and Camembert and it was delicious, but I had to use the "American sandwich" bread for my toast this morning, and it's not very tasty. The dinner was because Katie, the other American, came home with her boyfriend (who left this morning for Scotland) and we'd not been all together for most of a week, and they'd not met Steffen, our German (tall and very funny and sweet). After that, we spent all night playing cards and drinking a bottle of cheap champagne, and how can you feel homesick then?
Not quite sure yet where I'm going to be living. I'd like to stay here with the others, but there's supposed to be one more assistant coming. Orientation is tomorrow, so if the Spaniard hasn't showed up by this evening, I'm going to call my résponsable and ask her if I can take the extra room, because I'm willing to pay rent for it if they don't want to give it to me (they should - I am an assistant in the same program, just in the next town). If not, there's a cute room on the Avenue Victor Hugo, not too far and not too expensive. Because I'll only be working twelve hours a week, I don't get paid a whole lot, but that means that I can get some money for rent from the French government. The degree to which the huge complicated bureaucracy actually supports its citizens is kind of astounding, compared to the U.S. I can't wait until I get free healthcare!
I don't miss home as much as I miss Grinnell, oddly enough. I think it's because this is more collegiate than home is, and according to the last few years, I should be in Grinnell. Plus, last night, the cards and the laughter and the beer and Madonna playing on the laptop were just so Grinnell. I dreamed of the college last night, and then of Alika and Abhinav and Sakshi in New York. It was comforting.
We've started decorating the apartment. Some of the profs left us cut roses the color of cream and they're still blooming a bit, and we found miniatures trees and tea roses at the cheap grocery store, so there's a tiny tree and a tea rose that's somewhere between peach and pink. We cobbled together almost-a-couch from a couple of chairs, a box, and a mattress. There's a market on Saturday mornings and we found flags there, so now the walls have Germany and the U.S. and of course la belle France represented. I also bought hand-milled soaps (three for five euro!) and we picked up the vegetables for yesterday's dinner. The courgettes (zucchini) came in a bag with a ridiculously suggestive graphic; I'm keeping it for a souvenir along with the wrapper from a packet of cigarettes that says in large bold letters "FUMER TUE" (smoking kills). Not very subtle.
I think I've lost a couple of pounds despite the fact that every meal is bread and cheese and the French butter everything. It's because we walk everywhere all the time, no car trips or convenient buses, and things in Cambrai are just far enough apart to be exercise. The internet café is about eight minutes walk, I suppose, or the internet room at the library (but that's open less often). I changed my keyboard to French settings so that I can learn to touchtype à la française and I've almost got it down. Just takes a little thinking.
Overall, adjusting well, but mostly because I'm pretending that I live at the appartement with the other assistants. I haven't been able to unpack, but at least I have a place that feels something like a home. It'll be exciting when Julia comes to visit (and then maybe in Februaryish, the other Julia!) and when I get to travel. I have so, so many breaks (seriously, the French go to school for a month and then have to take two weeks off) and I'm excited about living in Cambrai and about not missing autumn this year. It's entertaining: Cambrai has a sister-city program and one of the cities in it is Houma, which is where my aunt (on Dad's side) lives in Lousiana. Oh, odd coincidences.
Pictures soon.
As for me, I was knolled awake but not to church, having only ever been to Mass once, for Christmas in Calcutta, because I'm not Catholic but who can resist Midnight Mass? So I shook off my dreams of Grinnell and fixed my usual breakfast these days of toast and jam and strong milky tea with plenty of sugar. Last night we fixed a huge celebratory dinner of pasta with vegetables and a salad and the last of my good bread and Camembert and it was delicious, but I had to use the "American sandwich" bread for my toast this morning, and it's not very tasty. The dinner was because Katie, the other American, came home with her boyfriend (who left this morning for Scotland) and we'd not been all together for most of a week, and they'd not met Steffen, our German (tall and very funny and sweet). After that, we spent all night playing cards and drinking a bottle of cheap champagne, and how can you feel homesick then?
Not quite sure yet where I'm going to be living. I'd like to stay here with the others, but there's supposed to be one more assistant coming. Orientation is tomorrow, so if the Spaniard hasn't showed up by this evening, I'm going to call my résponsable and ask her if I can take the extra room, because I'm willing to pay rent for it if they don't want to give it to me (they should - I am an assistant in the same program, just in the next town). If not, there's a cute room on the Avenue Victor Hugo, not too far and not too expensive. Because I'll only be working twelve hours a week, I don't get paid a whole lot, but that means that I can get some money for rent from the French government. The degree to which the huge complicated bureaucracy actually supports its citizens is kind of astounding, compared to the U.S. I can't wait until I get free healthcare!
I don't miss home as much as I miss Grinnell, oddly enough. I think it's because this is more collegiate than home is, and according to the last few years, I should be in Grinnell. Plus, last night, the cards and the laughter and the beer and Madonna playing on the laptop were just so Grinnell. I dreamed of the college last night, and then of Alika and Abhinav and Sakshi in New York. It was comforting.
We've started decorating the apartment. Some of the profs left us cut roses the color of cream and they're still blooming a bit, and we found miniatures trees and tea roses at the cheap grocery store, so there's a tiny tree and a tea rose that's somewhere between peach and pink. We cobbled together almost-a-couch from a couple of chairs, a box, and a mattress. There's a market on Saturday mornings and we found flags there, so now the walls have Germany and the U.S. and of course la belle France represented. I also bought hand-milled soaps (three for five euro!) and we picked up the vegetables for yesterday's dinner. The courgettes (zucchini) came in a bag with a ridiculously suggestive graphic; I'm keeping it for a souvenir along with the wrapper from a packet of cigarettes that says in large bold letters "FUMER TUE" (smoking kills). Not very subtle.
I think I've lost a couple of pounds despite the fact that every meal is bread and cheese and the French butter everything. It's because we walk everywhere all the time, no car trips or convenient buses, and things in Cambrai are just far enough apart to be exercise. The internet café is about eight minutes walk, I suppose, or the internet room at the library (but that's open less often). I changed my keyboard to French settings so that I can learn to touchtype à la française and I've almost got it down. Just takes a little thinking.
Overall, adjusting well, but mostly because I'm pretending that I live at the appartement with the other assistants. I haven't been able to unpack, but at least I have a place that feels something like a home. It'll be exciting when Julia comes to visit (and then maybe in Februaryish, the other Julia!) and when I get to travel. I have so, so many breaks (seriously, the French go to school for a month and then have to take two weeks off) and I'm excited about living in Cambrai and about not missing autumn this year. It's entertaining: Cambrai has a sister-city program and one of the cities in it is Houma, which is where my aunt (on Dad's side) lives in Lousiana. Oh, odd coincidences.
Pictures soon.
First impressions of Cambrai
Bonjour, tout le monde! I have arrived in France all in one piece. In fact, after all the hassle about getting the flight in the first place, it was suprisingly easy. I had a middle seat, but right behind the bulkhead for the lavatories, so plenty of leg room, and the guy sitting next to me was nice and made sure the flight attendants gave me hot towels and things. I listened to Julia's plane mix until the tinyPod ran out of battery life and then I watched An Inconvenient Truth and part of X3. I didn't get a lot of sleep and it wasn't a whole lot of fun schlepping a hundred pounds or so of luggage all over Northern France, but hey, that's how these things go. Apparently I can ride trains in any language, and a couple of times people were really sweet and helped me with my bags when the stairs were particularly steep. I win.
Things I've learned: the TGV (train à grande vitesse) does in fact go really fast, as the name promises, and France is very beautiful. The weather is kind of grey and misty and cool, but I like it that way, and the countryside is gorgeous. The graffitti along the train routes is nice too; I'm not sure I've ever seen spraypainting that artistic before, especially in Paris. I thought I saw some Eurotrash, but they turned out to be American tourists. Big surprise. There are all these tall thin trees with leaves concentrated at the top that stand between the fields, and it's very green and all the buildings seem to be different colors of brick with tile roofs. Lots of moss on the roofs. That guy who wrote A Year In the Merde was right about the way people let their dogs do whatever they want on the sidewalks.
So now I'm in Cambrai at the auberge de jeunesse or youth hostel. My room has six beds in it in case anyone wants to come and visit, and I found a grocery store (and a MacDo's), so I have a big five-litre bottle of water and a loaf of bread and things to eat for dinner. I spent an unusual amount of money today, but it means that I have a phone again, which is great, and I can change more tomorrow. France is expensive, but I think it won't be difficult to live frugally, given that there are plenty of fresh fruit and vegetable stands with reasonable prices, and of course, bread is everywhere, delicious, and cheap. Cambrai itself is cheaper than most places, I suspect. It's Fayetteville-size, maybe, and lovely. Plenty of gardens, pretty buildings, a town square that's a mix of venerable and modern. There are lots of narrow streets and little shops full of pretty things and bits of walls and gates left over from the medieval fortifications, and tiny churches that are decorated within an inch of their lives. My hostel is off the Rue Saint Douan, and there's a little church along the way with "Saint Douan, Priez Pour Nous" engraved over the door. Everyone here either drives little cars or scooters or bikes everywhere. Just like in Darjeeling, the school children don't actually appear to attend classes, or maybe it's just that I keep being in the centre-ville over lunchtime.
My French is coming back pretty fast. I was able to communicate with the bureaucrates de tourisme who gave me a map of town, the cycliste who helped me find the hostel, the nearly cute pharmacist who sold me toothpaste, the proprietaire de l'auberge, and the guy who sold me a charger and a card for my beloved phone (hooray! I can have joybells as my ringtone again!) so that I can communicate with my contact and the other assistants. I managed to buy a sandwich, too. The French seem to put butter on everything.
Everyone's pretty friendly here. The other people in the hostel all filed in to breakfast this morning and said good morning (that one's easy), and someone whistled at me a little while ago. I spent a couple of hours walking around town (sore, sore, sore from carrying so much yesterday), and I blended in perfectly: I look just like a French girl, except for the part where it's completely clear that I'm American because of my distracted expression (among other things). All the people I asked for directions were nice and helpful and no one's sworn at me at all.
Yesterday was a little frustrating because so many things in France are closed on Monday and lunch hours are desperately long compared to American businesses', so I spent a lot of time sitting on my bags waiting for offices to reopen, but life started looking up as soon as I found a warm place to be. I'm still never sure what time it is (hooray, jet lag), but at least I've had some sleep, which means I'm not too tired to eat. This morning was my first meal in France, and I can tell I'm going to be looking forward to breakfasts.
Over the next few days, I plan to charge my camera battery and take a ridiculous number of photos. It'll be great. Hopefully I'll have an apartment soon and then life will be even better, because I won't be facing the prospect of lugging my huge bags across town anymore.
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