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.
Showing posts with label dec2006. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dec2006. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
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.
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