Paris in the springtime

We have just changed the clocks here in France, which suddenly meant that we all stayed up way too late last night, but people kept coming by for no apparent reason. And then they'd learn that it was my birthday and wish me happy birthday and ask all kinds of questions. But it was a good day despite the fact that we were all sick and/or lethargic. I made garlic mashed potatoes and fake meatballs for dinner and then later baked a cake from a plain mix to which we added cinnamon, nutmeg, and the maple syrup Aunt Mim sent. Tasty! We watched my birthday movie and then spent the rest of the evening listening to Disney music for reasons which are inexplicable.

Today is Sunday and it's after one, which means there's nowhere to go and nothing to do, but that's all right. We've all got books and more movies and things to eat and look at. Not nearly as exciting as Friday, when we took about a hundred students to Paris to go to a science museum (Palais de la Découverte) and the theatre. And of course, in my group were the only two students who have ever really given me a lot of trouble, but they actually behaved surprisingly well. They tried to escape the boring weather lecture, but everyone was trying to escape, and the girl was quite nice to me. It was the older boys who were worse behaved, and that was at the theatre. I can understand not really wanting to watch the play - it was baroque, and a bit odd - but be civilized, children. It was nice for me to get to hang out with the other teachers, as well: I know them all by sight, but I don't always know their names (because everyone knows me, so they forget to introduce themselves). We had a tasty dinner. Overall, it was still an excellent trip. We drove around the Arc de Triomphe, close enough to see the flame that marks the tomb of the unknown soldier, and we drove past the Eiffel Tower, close enough to see it from top to bottom (and the view from the theatre when it was lit up in the evening was gorgeous). Paris certainly is magical.

It's sad to think of how little time we've got left. Bit of stress in the maison blanche, but we try to work around it and not break into shouting or tears too often (only once so far, fortunately). I ought to start packing and tidying up, I suppose, or at least straightening up the things I'm going to leave for next year's assistant and writing my letter. Strange to think what I'll do without the beautiful tower of St. Gery to draw me home.