L'Absurde and Noel Festivities

L'absurde: that which escapes all logic, that which doesn't make sense. This was the title of Saturday's Philosophy Club discussion. Yes my friends, my nerdness has reached frightening heights. Let me just say that Marie-Francoise is completely taken with the fact that I study philosophy, and she's been rolling with it ever since. Her latest fun idea: take me to the philosophy club discussion in her out of the way little village. It was held in Eric's (her partner) art studio, which actually made me feel kind of cool. Anyway, the speaker was a philosophy teacher from Caen or Paris or something, and he was there to speak to us about the absurd. In attendance were random French folks from all walks of life, united by their common passion for debate and thoughtful discussion. Also in attendance, a cute little Madagascarian (?) woman--MF, and a bewildered young American. Any who, the discussion was supposed to be primarily about French existentialism (of the Camus and Sartre variety). I'm afraid to say that I've only read Camus' L'Etranger (though at least I can say I read it in french), and I really am quite unfamiliar with this particular subsection of philosophy. Lucky for me, it didn't really matter. The discussion hovered around what the meaning of the word "absurd," and it turned psychological with various people divulging their various problems in life. Let me pause to tell you about the young man behind me who told us many personal stories, my favorite being the time he was high on shrooms, I believe, and throwing plates at a window. He suddenly realized, mid plate toss, that his life up to that time was absurd (and no, not absurd during the drug induced vandalism). He worked at a butcher shop and suddenly discovered that eating animals was wrong. He loves them too much. He really likes horses in particular. I know this because he told us all in quite a bit of detail. Eric later told me that the club meeting turned into an AA meeting instead of a philosophy discussion. I didn't mind, though, because I was there to soak in their stories and their language. It was brilliant.

During the meeting I had things to say, but did I? Of course not. I didn't ever speak in any of my English speaking philo classes, so why would I in front of a bunch of random French people. I did, however, sneak a few comments over to MF, and she tried to get me to contribute. No. Not gonna happen. Later in the car we discussed my views on morality and how I don't think I can make sense of it without God. She was very interested. It was almost evangelizing, to tell you the truth, though I felt uncomfortable talking about it (not that I should have, I just did, cause I'm a wuss). Of course she kept asking me more and more questions, and I couldn't just lie. So I told her about how I don't think you can have an authoritative and objective moral standard without God and how if God's not real then I think morality is kind of shot, and since I refuse to give up on morality, I can't very well give up on God. Some of you know where I'm going with this, some don't, but I'll leave it at that for now. I'll grant that this needs clarification, and you can imagine how muddled it all came out in French, but out it came just the same. I think MF was shocked to hear me say I believed in God, like really believed. Though I did tell her that my belief doesn't mean I think I can prove that He's there, it just means that personally I'm convinced-- and that conviction really only carries weight with me and no one else. She was intrigued, if nothing else. Anyway, we ate at her house afterwards and this is all I'll add: I ate raw meat. Now some of you know that I am a carnivore if there ever was one, but even I have limits. She got impatient with the roast beef because it was late and we were hungry so we just ate it semi-cooked. She asked if I minded my meat a little pink. No, of course not. Then she served it: the middle was purple. Pink, fine. Purple? As Ron White would say, "Things that make you go... bleh." But I ate. I ate it all. I thought I was going to hurl, but I ate every bite of that beef. Etiquette trumps health, after all. I still shudder at the thought. (Note: it didn't taste that bad, but it looked so unappetizing.)

On Sunday, Ireland (the other Rachel) came to Church with me because one of her teachers goes to my little Church and has been trying to get Rach to come for weeks. Well this Sunday the teacher's daughter was in a little Christmas play, so Rach decided to come with me. She's catholic, but only culturally, and she wasn't looking forward to it. But I think she had a good time. We sang carols (loved it, I got teary eyed at Silent Night because it reminds me of Christmas Eve service at Elmbrook with the candles...). The play was interesting. This is what I understood: there was a family of Russians, a guy with a sword, and a fire. Whatever. Merry Christmas!

Monday I had a new class to teach to help Ann-Helen's students get caught up because AH has been sick and since I've missed so much, well I can't really complain about taking on an extra class. Yves promised that if we started this week all the students would be informed and would know when/where to go. Right. NO ONE came. Just like last Friday morning at 8am, no one. Oh and I said to Yves earlier that day, "Hey I have your kids at 5, I'm looking forward to seeing them." "Really? Oh, that's right, good good," he says. Anyway, his kids have missed because I've been gone and before that for 2 weeks they just didn't show. So did they come this Monday? No. No one. I'm feeling unloved. Speaking of missed classes, on Tuesday I arrived for my older kids and half the class was in some meeting that no one told me about. So instead of doing their projects I played Christmas music and we played pictionary. Oh and today I came to my other class of older kids to find a new teacher in there and them all taking a test. Oh, didn't I know they have testing today? No. No one tells me a bloody thing around here! I'm getting frustrated. Whatever. They're French.... I must keep telling myself that.

Last night was our Christmas Party! We made mussels and potatoes and chicken a la Normandie and real Champagne and a bouche de Noel (cake shaped like a log). It was fabulous. We needed it. We exchanged our Secret Santa gifts and there were smiles all around. I love these girls. Rach was my santa and she got me a french cook book along with a promise to help me learn (she's mortified at my lack of domestic skills). I'll keep you posted on how that goes. Oh and our upstairs neighbor (which I didn't know we had) came down and told us not to be so loud. That's when you know it's a good party. I suppose it was a Wednesday... Oh well. Joyeux Noel!

I love you all. I won't be reporting back until after the New Year. I'm heading up to London soon to see my family (!!!) and then to Paris and Caen with them. After they head back I get to see Dana (!!!) in Paris and then we're going to Belfast (where we're going to meet up with Irish Rach) and Edinburgh. I can't contain my excitement. I hope to have some good stories when I get back! Have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year. Cheers!

More Philosophy

So tonight I've prepared for tomorrow's "philosophy" class. Truth be told, this is one of the only classes I actually prepare for. And honestly, I don't have to prepare for it, but I want to. Sometimes you just want to work. It's strange. Anyway, the Capital Punishment thing has gone on for too long, so tomorrow they're going to start a discussion on abortion (cue gasps). Yes, this is not a friendly topic, and it wouldn't be allowed in many US high schools (least of all from a fake teacher like myself), but the French don't care. I can talk about whatever I want, because I'm a native English speaker. So, tomorrow I've come up with a plan to make this issue go a little smoother than CP did. The articles in the book on Social Ethics that I have (thanks again) are a bit too hard and technical, so I'm going a different route. Tomorrow they will get a worksheet with basic abortion vocab and some questions about what they already think in terms of the moral status of a fetus and the government's role in the whole thing.

This is certainly controversial, and many of the questions on the sheet are really hard (what makes a human a "person" ). They're not going to know what to say for some of them, but that's the point. I want them to be challenged. I want them to realize that there's more to think about than they thought. That's the whole point of all of this. Tomorrow will start with a partner activity, and I'll go around and discuss with the groups to see what they think. Towards the end we'll go over it as a class. Last time I started right away with an article, and it didn't go so well. This time I'm warming them up by having them think about what their opinion is to start with. At the end of class they'll be getting a seriously truncated version of Judith Thomson's famous "A Defense of Abortion" article. By truncated I mean: they will only read the story about the violinist. I chose that because a story will be easier to talk about than a straight up argument, and it's a good starting point for the "right to life" discussion (I thought about Marquis' personhood article, but I think these folks might struggle too much with that). Anyway, I have a class of Quakers, so we'll see if their life-loving sympathies extend to fetuses. I doubt it, but you never know.

Next week we'll talk about the story and whether or not it's analogous to pregnancy, and what it has to say about our intuitions when it comes to supporting the life of another person. Then we'll follow it up with a practical discussion of why people get abortions, what alternatives could be made available, and what problems might we run into if we actually outlawed it. I hope this gets them a bit more riled up than last week. If they are pro-choice, I'll push the pro-life side. If they're pro-life, I'll push the pro-choice side. I'll do anything to make them think outside their comfort zone.

In other news, the past few days have been rather lovely. It's been sunny (though cold, we had our first frost), and I've generally been enjoying life around these parts. No reason, really. I'm just a happy camper. Maybe it's because I get to see my family next Saturday! Or because I get to see Dana shortly? Or maybe it's just time things started looking up around here... Who knows. I miss you all though!

UPDATE: Taught the class this morning, and it went very well! The questionnaire beforehand helped a lot, so now they've all thought it through and will be ready to discuss next week. I went around and chatted with individual groups (less pressure, not in front of the class), and everyone talked to me at least once. Also, the discussion won't be dominated by the good English speakers because everyone has prepared their thoughts ahead of time, which is helpful. They struggled a lot with the issue of "personhood", but I expected that. I asked them at the end what they thought, and they were much more enthusiastic. One girl (a disengaged student last week) said she liked this better because it hits closer to home. She said, in French, "I like this subject because it could actually happen to me." She's more right than she knows. A girl who used to be in their class last year (and for some reason isn't this year) actually did have an abortion and is currently going through some serious mental issues related to it. MF gave me the heads up even though the girl wouldn't be in the class (because she probably has friends in the class). I started off by saying that we need to be respectful and sensitive because this is a hard subject (and so far, they all were). All opinions are welcome, so long as you can tell me why you hold them! Anyway, I snuck a peak at their questionnaires and most are pro-choice, though after reading through enough of their responses I discovered that most didn't have any good reason to be pro-choice (that's where I come in). I'm going to fight the pro-life battle (for the sake of balance), and get them to support their opinion with reasons. Should be fun! I'll keep you posted. (You can't imagine how much fun it was for me to see them actually engaged in this stuff. It brings a warm fuzzy feeling...)

Capital Punishment and the Quakers

So I've taught about capital punishment, CP, for about 3 weeks now. It's taken over a month (with the strikes), but I think we've made some progress. Let me tell you how it went. First thing: my students are, for all intensive purposes, Quakers (shaking, peace-loving folks). Right off the bat, a few key students were up in arms because CP is too violent. Being the most assertive students, everyone else soon followed their lead. The CP is wrong because it's mean, and because killing is ALWAYS wrong. This is what they told me. My work: harder than I thought. No, my goal is not to teach these kids that CP is a good thing, but rather it's to make them understand why it could be a good or bad thing. I want them to get past the initial emotional shock and try to reason it out. I laugh just writing that. What was I thinking?

The beginning was rough. We read an introductory text (about 1.5 pages) and they were completely lost. Wonderful. I tried to outline some basic arguments on either side, just roughly, so they'd be ready to read the texts (similar length, still introductory) about each side. Confusion all around. I had about one student "get it" the whole class period, and unfortunately she dominated the discussion (despite my attempts to rally the rest of the troops). A lot of them look disgruntled, and I couldn't tell if it's because the English was too hard or they didn't like the subject. I had one kid at the end of class tell me, "Zheeze 'ings are too 'ard to zink about. Is not zhe english, is too philosophie." Hmm. It's not the language, it's the philosophy that's the problem. What to do?

The next class they came, some what prepared, to discuss the retentionist arguments (pro side). Not everyone had read it, and of those that did, not many understood it. So I tried to ask them questions to evoke some level of understanding. I asked them about desert: do you deserve to die if you made someone else die? And, what are the problems with desert. For instance, can we rape rapists? Can we torture those who torture? I had the star student object that the executioner would be guilty of murder, and we'd have to kill 'im too. Okay we're thinking now. So I asked: does all killing equal murder?? I got a resounding yes from the classroom (hence the quaker-ness). So I asked: what if I accidentally cause your death? Okay, not the same, but still we're talking about intentional. I could not get them to see that killing could ever be justified. Finally I asked : if I was about to kill you and the only way you could survive was by killing me first, would you be justified in killing me? (Actually, I was more personal and asked would you actually kill me). Ohhh, now I see some minds change. I got quite a few people, a majority I believe, who would kill me first. There were several undecided's and two no's. My star player said no, killing is always wrong. Okay hun, I won't push it and ask: what if there was a classroom full of preschoolers and a terrorist was going to blow up the building and the only way to stop him was to kill him first, would it be okay? You may be willing to be a martyr, but should your view make a bunch of innocent children martyrs too? I could make the situation worse and worse until maybe she'd think it was okay, but I didn't try, not ready for that. My point here, and don't think I'm trying to be mean to the students, is to get them to think in unvisited territories, to challenge their preexisting beliefs. For some, it's starting to work. But others are still resisting.

The next week was abolitionist time, and things went better (namely because MF told the kids she was now going to grade them on participation). We discussed things like "sanctity of life" (and can it be forfeited), discrimination in the justice system, the innocence problem, etc. I think I got a little over eager when I tried to explain the difference between thinking about this issue in our world versus thinking about it in the ideal world. By ideal I mean: the principles of justice are perfectly applied (not that everyone is a saint). I wanted them to understand that many objections to CP, though not all, rely on "procedural" problems, or the problems we have when we put CP into practice today. They didn't get it. They were lost. I just wanted them to think about whether CP would be okay in a system where only the guilty got sentenced with CP and no discrimination was at play. If we could perfectly put it into practice, would it still be okay? Cue quizzical looks. Even MF was lost at that point. Oh well, I tried. I just wanted them to realize that the best arguments against CP must show that even in the ideal world CP is wrong. If it's wrong in the ideal, then it's wrong here. If you only show that it's wrong here, then you don't show it's wrong in other circumstances when justice might be better. That was the point. They didn't get it.

Anyway, even though not everyone got into it, there were a handful that really did (even if they didn't speak during class), and I loved watching them go from clueless to understanding when we walked through the arguments. I loved it. When you see someone who's been grappling with idea finally "get it," it's wonderful. I remember those moments for me, and they're awesome. The little mind epiphanies. Some refused to try, but those students will always be there. My job is to challenge the ones who are willing to open their minds for an hour a week and try out new ideas. I outlined the retribution, best bet, sanctity of life, discrimination, innocence and other arguments, and each one pushed them a little further towards understanding what's at stake. More importantly though, I asked them questions to get them to find the holes in the arguments, to show me where the arguments fail. What are the assumptions? What are the missteps? You don't agree with it? Good, now tell me why. I think I got through to some of them, and I think those students who have been trying are starting to marvel at their own capacity to think. They told me after class that it's hard, but they like it. I promised it would get easier as we went on. The more practice, the easier it becomes to understand these things. I'm not sure if they believed me, but they'll see it soon enough for themselves.

The hardest part of it all: getting them to find the answers themselves. I could stand up there and outline the arguments on my own and make them take notes, but I don't want to. I'm trying to get them to tell me the answer, and I have to ask questions to get them to realize it. That's hard. Really hard. The past few weeks have still be too much of me talking and explaining, but as we go, I hope it shifts to them. We'll see.

December creeps on in

This post is a bit of randomness, but then again, my week has been a bit of randomness, so it's not entirely my fault. Things are going, for better or worse. Work is back in gear (thankfully), and I'm starting to get back into the groove around here. So here's what's been happening:

Saturday night- This was concert night at the Liberties, our English pub, so naturally we went. Well, actually, I didn't really want to go (truth be told). It was raining, which isn't itself unusual or off-putting, but the music was advertised as hardcore rock/metal. Yeah. Not my style. But one of the girls really wanted to go, and another promised to go with, and I couldn't let them go it alone, so off we went. We even managed to rope in the girls from down the street, so we made a party of it. I saw my student Camille there and that was fun because I never see her anymore (after the England trip I realized she's not actually in any of my classes). I saw a few more students, which would normally be weird but in such a small town I didn't think much of it, and they were all very friendly and didn't treat me like an uncool teacher. Anyway, the music sucked. Well, the first band was okay because they used words. The other band, well they screamed, loudly. When no one sang the music was fine, but when the singer got going it was indiscernible screeches.... ehhh. Luckily we were upstairs and didn't have to really listen, and instead we focused on honing our pool-sharkness. Yes, we are awesome. I dare you to come and challenge us to a game.

Unfortunately, on the way home we ran into problems. As we walked by the elementary school where Irish Rach and Kate live, a man on the far side of the building was staring at us and started banging on the window to get our attention. Well, they thought they lived alone, and so the man was a surprise in and of himself, let alone the fact that he was banging on the window like a psycho. It was late, and they were freaked out, so we let them stay over at our house. From our flat they called the police to have the school checked out. The police were kind of mad, but they begrudgingly sent someone to check it out. They didn't find anything, but the girls weren't going back to the creepy school after they saw that guy. The police made them talk to the elementary headmaster about it, and all he could tell them was that another person may or may not live there. Helpful, those French. As of now, there have been no further sitings, but no updates on whether someone else actually lives there.

Sunday- Rhi and I trekked out to Church, this time with minimal rain. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Christmas season had begun. We even lit the advent candle! Though, it was a bit out of place because advent celebrations are typically German and English, not French, but these evangelicals decided to steal the tradition for themselves (having obviously abandoned the French-Catholic traditions, whatever those may be). So we lit the advent candle and sang Christmas carols. We sang one song that was awesome called "Comme une souffle fragile" (like a fragile breathe) and another that we actually sang in high school French called "Il est ne le divine enfant" (he is born the divine baby). I learned things. It was good. I'm feeling much more comfortable there. I haven't found fellowship, per se, but I am feeling more at home. I can go and know that everyone will be warm and welcoming. And most importantly, I can praise and honor the Lord. That reminds me of something I've been trying to learn. I used to look at Church and fellowship as things that I were made for me, not for God. Church should feed me, it should teach me things, it should suit my music/worship style tastes, etc. Notice the reoccurence of 'me' in there. It's that whole consumer-model religion. Religion is only worthwhile if it can serve me. That's wrong, obviously. But it's a hard attitude to get rid of. I'm trying now to get into the mindset that I'm here to serve, not be served. So yeah. Any-who, back to the church service.... After it was over they had lunch and we were invited. I didn't want to go, to be honest, but this 16yr old girl was taken with the 'foreigners' and wanted us to stay.... so we did. It was nice, but a little awkward. It was a 2 hour deal, and it was hard to stay interested for that long. But I'm glad we stayed, and I made a friend (who I think is named Sarah), so that was nice.

Sunday was the day of the big wind storm. I thought it was a hurricane or something. That night the power went out, several times, to the detriment of our now no longer working Christmas lights. Sadness.

Monday was less eventful (isn't this detailed play by play getting boring...sorry). I got McGyver (the French fix it man) to fix Rachel's light which neither of us could manage to change. How many anglophones does it take to unscrew a light bulb? More than 2, apparently. He came and unscrewed it with no problems, and then looked at me like I was some helpless american. But he didn't make fun of me. Then he fixed my heat so I no longer live in frigidness. My room feels like FL now, and I love it! On a bad note, Yves was mad at me. Apparently he didn't get my email or my note in his box or the message from the other teachers that I had to miss Monday's class 2 weeks ago to go to Paris early. Oops. He said the students showed up (the ones I still haven't seen yet for a variety of hit and miss incidents) and I wasn't there. Sorry. I left you 2 messages! What do you want? Whatever. I didn't really have a choice, and it's too late to fix it now. On a better note, I started debates with my other class, finally, and it went lovely. I'm finally excited to teach again. It's about time.

Tuesday- I used fill-in the lyrics with my BTS class (the 20 somethings). The rowdy class of footballers was really fun, actually, cause they sang along to Sean Kingston's Beautiful Girl. I had to listen to it about 20 times though. My 2nd group wasn't much fun because it was all the well behaved, but boring, girls. It's hard because I thought I'd like the well behaved students better, and I don't. They're just too dull. I'd rather they goof off and talk out of turn just so long as they look alive and interested. We'll see how next week goes. Maybe they just didn't care for music.

Wednesday- I went with Rachel to Rennes to pick up her boytoy Collin. It rained and rained and my feet were soaked. I gave in and bought some boots, but not French ones. I bought Wellies, yes, Wellies, the English rubber boots. It was either Cheetah or fake Burburry, and I went with the latter. I had to buy insoles too because they are literally just rubber. We'll see how they work out. At least my feet will stay dry. Oh and I randomly hurt my foot, and it hurts, sucky.

Okay I'm done. I felt like being long and boring today; don't ask me why. If you made it this far, well, props to you; you must be bored too. It's time for me to catch up on Laguna. Cheers.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Thursday night was interesting. After our assistant squabble, all four of us hung out, and everyone was on their best (most friendly) behavior. We went to our new favorite pub, Liberties (the english one), and had an interesting time as always. We were the only ones there for a good hour. I guess the French don't go to pubs on Thursday night before 11. Whatever, our apartment gets boring real fast, so we had no choice. We went and chilled for a bit, and then (as usual) got accosted by another french bloke. The pattern bears repeating for this reason: this was an older, less pushy, but still quite strange guy. I'd say he was in his late 30's / early 40's, and he came into the bar expecting to find someone with whom he could play pool (or, better, snooker which is not pool at all, and I don't think I spelled it right either). Since we were the only folks there, we were officially chosen. Rach and I figured, why not, it's his euro. So we played, and it was fine, but he was as strange as could be. It's hard to describe, but he was a little spazy. I think he has this obession with playing (though he's not very good, we were better, in fact) and he kept telling us how to make our shots by pointing at the place on the ball to hit or whatever. By spazy, I mean he was one of those nervous types that kind of jumps around and makes little sense when they speak. Anyway, Rhi and I won (ha!), so it didn't matter much. Before I hit the 8 in (which happened to be a direct shot), he said some bullocks about me having to hit the cue off three sides first. It's a rule. Yeah, whatever. Shush up while I school your team. You can try to extend the game all you want, but you and Rach have lost, so give it a rest. I hit the shot, game over. He wanted another, but our curtisy and politeness can only extend so far. We graciously declined and went back downstairs. It wasn't to be mean, but really, had we stayed, we wouldn't have been able to contain our laughter --and that would have been more mean. So there you have it. More french madness. Also, Danielle (another English barmaid) is our new friend. We talked to her a lot, and she is letting us name a new Christmas drink she made (which is delicious and has a glow stick!), so we have to brainstorm and come back with a good name. I'm thinking "Berry Christmas." Also, I had the girls watch Blue Collar Comedy, and they loved it. Irish Rachel really loved it because she couldn't get enough of their accents. She gets a kick out of mine, so you can imagine... Good times.

Now for the point of the post! I have declared it Christmas season in our flat, and daggumit we will celebrate. Now some of you know that I am usually the least spirited at school. I am toast, everyone else is whitebread (um check the madison comics section). But here, no one wants to get into it and so I feel almost obligated to spread the holiday cheer. We found a Christmas tree in the closet (if you can call it that), and it came pre-decorated with red star lights and red bulbs. Awesome. Then I went to the store and picked up some lights and more bobbles (as Rach calls them). We strung up the lights and hung the bobbles from the ceiling in our artistic fashion. It's awesome. The flat of boringness is now the Noel haven. I have some pictures if you don't believe me. Oh and of course, all of this was done with my Christmas music in the background (much to Rachel's dismay). Check out our tree and lights: (ps notice how the tree, when lit, looks like a burning bush....a sign??)

On and on and on

So the strike drags on, with this Friday marking a full week of no school. My students are crazy. I talked to the principal this week, who is super nice, and he said that technically he has the power to shut down the strike whenever he wants. He allows it for several reasons: 1. striking is ingrained in French culture and for lyceens it has become a rite of passage (almost like prom or something, I kid you not), 2. last time a principal shut down a strike it got ugly, and 3. it is teaching the kids to be politically involved, even if it's not very democratic (the law was voted in by a majority). So the strike goes on, and every few days they vote to continue it. Most people have doubts that it will carry into next week, but I wouldn't put it past them. They are, after all, French. I say that lovingly of course. I've come to expect and somewhat marvel at this French penchant for collective action. It is, after all, quite different from the extreme indifference of the the majority of American citizens (esp high school students). Show me an American who can tell me just one recent law that's been passed, and I'll show you a whole nation that keeps tabs religiously (almost like they get updates on their Facebook home pages or something). I don't know if I gave the reason for the strike yet, but it has to do with privatization of some universities so the the universities won't be so, well, sucky (they are way underfunded and overcroweded). That will lead to people not getting in, and that's just not okay with these folks. Welcome to America my friends, the home of wonderful universities that will cost you dearly, and may reject you anyways, but they're dang good if you can get in and pay your way through. Maybe I don't have sympathy because they don't realize just how these things work across the pond. Regardless, plenty of school furniture has now been wrecked, and I've had plenty of time to work on applications and (gasp) watch the Hills and American Dreams. I am getting stupider every day. This needs to stop.

On a low note, a few days ago there was a reality-tv-worthy blowup among several assistants. It's been a longtime in coming, so I was only surprised it took as long as it did to come out. I'll tell you this much, it had nothing to do with me or my flatmate (love her), but we got stuck in the middle anyway. I felt like a couple's therapist when it went down (in French), and I had to console both sides. Unlike a therapist, I'm not neutral (though I won't say that to the parties involved), and I understand why the one person was so upset. I will leave it at that, but just tell you that I had to witness the showdown, and it was the most painfully awkward turtle moment of my life. None of this would have happened if emotional/social intelligence was taught at school. So there you have it. Stressful!

On a high note, I don't work (for one)! And I will soon be receiving quite a few visitors for Christmas! The family is here in a little over 3 weeks, and then Dana. I love y'all. Oh and I'm almost done appyling to schools. Almost...

Back to Paris, highs and lows

So this week I returned to Paris to take the GRE. Of course the strike was still going strong, so I was unable to take the train. Eric, Marie-Francoise's hubby, drove me on Monday afternoon. It was a typically gloomy day in Normandy, and the rain was pouring down. It was actually rather frightening because the rain was pouring and Eric's car didn't defog so we were constantly wiping the windows and praying for the best. It literally took 7 hours to get to Paris because the traffic close to Paris was bumper to bumper. (view from Eric's car while stuck in traffic-- not bad, I'd say)

Tuesday: I explored because I had nothing better to do. It was cold and raining, unfortunately, and I thought I was going to freeze to death (having no winter coat at that point). I managed to take the metro (after quite a long wait because only 1 in 10 cars was running) up to Montmartre and saw Sacre Coeur and the likes. I popped into the Salvador Dali exhibit (think: melting clock and surrealism) while I was there. I hate to admit that my main reason for checking it out was that I really had to go to the bathroom and didn't want to patronize a restaurant just to use the toilette. So instead I paid to go see some Dali and Dali inspired art and used their restroom. It was cool, but creepy, because Dali must have been on crack (not meant as insult, but rather an admission of my inability to grasp the far reaching boundaries of his imagination). After that I literally walked for the next 6 or 7 hours, for lack of a better idea. I tried to explore areas I haven't yet seen, which led me to the famous cemetery Pere Lach(something). Jim Morrison, Moliere, Balzac and some other folks are buried there. Believe it or not, I walked all the way there and didn't manage to find a single famous grave. Yeah, I know. It was SO big, and I had no idea. It took me hours and hours to walk there, that I had no energy (or internal warmth) left to explore it properly. So I left and found the nearest metro to go back to the hostel. (below is a picture of a demonstration in the street for the transport strike)

Wednesday: I got up super early to get to my exam site (which is just outside the center city in the business district). I planned on a few hours because the metro was unpredictable. I waited for the first line for about an hour before a train came by. The next line was worse. Trains would pass and be filled to capacity and no one could get on. Finally people got annoyed and starting pushing onto the trains anyway. I got on the 4th one that came by only because the guy standing behind me pushed me and the people in front of me onto the train. Sardines doesn't even describe. It was hot, and you couldn't breath or move. People were yelling at each other. Someone could have easily been trampled. Frightening. I have never before felt claustrophobic, but I did that morning. It was a 45min trip, and I hated every second of it. Luckily, I made it, with plentiy of time to spare. I took the dang test and did fine, so all the worry and stress of the days leading up to it left. When I entered the building it was raining, when I left the sun was shining brightly and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Pathetic fallacy? God's simple blessing (which was most likely intended for many people that day, Paris needed it)... Anyway, I was pumped it was over and I spent the rest of the day enjoying the city (unlike my disappointing tour the day before). I walked from the Louvre to the Centre Pompedu (below) to the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame and back around again. I bought a crepe with nutella. All was good in the world. I was as content as could be. There was no better way to follow the test. I mean, it's Paris. (to the left is the Seine at night!)

Thursday: I woke up bright and early (5am!) to make my 7am train. The internet wasn't helpful in determining whether my train would actually be running so I had to book it down to the train station. I got there and the man at the window politefully informed me that my train wasn't running, and no other trains would be going to my city or its surroundings either. Lovely. Stupid strike, really annoying. So I called Eric and asked for a ride back (seriously, nicest teachers/people ever). I missed my Thursday classes, but what can you do? While I waited for my ride and I went shopping and found a winter coat (!!) and warm red scarf. I don't usually get that much pleasure from shopping, but I really needed a coat. It has a hood too, which is awesome because it rains all the time. Oh and it has toggles. Beat that. (Qualifier: it made me happy to actually find one for two reasons. The first is that all coast here are expensive and I'm poor. The second was that new French styles are quite bizarre and make everyone look like a bubble or 15th century aristocrat. I found a normal peacoat that was fairly heavy. That was an accomplishment).

Thursday night had its own adventures. It was Thanksgiving, so the other American assistant Kate made us all a mini thanksgiving feast (yeah she's awesome, there was stuffing). It was the first ever thanksgiving for my UK comrades and for the Chilian. We tried to explain why its such a big deal, but I think it's one of those things that you just have to grow up with to really appreciate. We followed it up with a trip to a random English bar in town. The barmaid was super cool, and English, and we chatted with her a bit. Then we got accosted by some dodgey french guys who didn't leave us alone. And the next night, another set of dodgey french guys did the same (pattern anyone?). Let's just say that the first thing one of the guys said to me last night was that his cousin flew an airplane into the twin towers. I yelled at him (in french, holler) for being rude and acting like a child, and that was the end of that. Let's just say he didn't say that again.

Friday: woke up bright and early. When I went to class, much to my delight, the entrance was barricaded. My students have gone on strike. Apparently these lyceens don't like Sarco's plan to privatize some universities. So what do they do? Strike of course. I'm getting really sick of this. At least I didn't have class all day. Oh wait, that means I didn't have class all week. Maybe I am becoming French.... (my students barricading the lycee in the early hours of the morning)

Believe it or not

Before I tell you about this week, I must tell you this. I woke up at 8am to go to class this morning (the first one all week because I was gone), and all of the students were on strike! They barricaded the school so no one could get past the welcome building where I live. So no class today, and no class Monday or Tuesday. Elodie told me at swim practice that they'll vote on Tuesday whether or not to strike for another 15 days! Don't get me wrong, I love the vacation, but seriously?? Go to school! I'll never understand the French. They are a strange breed. More later, I promise!

Strikes and nonsense

Well, it looks as though the SNCF strikes will carry well into next week. As for my trip to Paris to take the GRE, well it's been modified. I will no longer leave Tuesday night and return Thursday morning (which, fyi, meant I didn't miss a single class because I have some sweet planning skills). Instead, Marie-Francoise's boyfriend/husband (not sure?) will be driving me to Paris tomorrow afternoon because he commutes there for work. That means I'll miss all of Monday and Tuesday classes, and if the strike goes all week, I'll miss my Thursday classes too. Oh well. Thankfully I have a ride, so all is well, and the teachers have been really nice about it. Once I explained my situation, they all said it was fine if I missed those days. They all know what it's like to be inconvenienced by transport strikes, so they were really understanding. The upside: I get to spend an extra full day in Paris to explore. Well, actually I should be 'studying' but I don't know if I'll be able to. It's Paris. I will have to look for a coat while I'm there because temperatures are frigid and my light jacket is not cutting it (the rain is killer). On my way home from Church this morning I thought I was going to die of frost bite or get washed away in the impending flood. Seriously, these folks should invest in a town ark, just to be safe.

In other news, I have more random stories than I have time to write about, or that you probably even care to read. In sum, I've visited the Scriptorial and seen the old manuscripts and Chaval's cartoons, I've started teaching capital punishment to a bunch of quakers who think philosophy is too hard in any language, I've spread the love of prom and American football season to some eager frenchies who want to study abroad in the US now, I've seen the Remembrance Day celebrations in the city center, I've applied for my Carte de Sejour (long stay visa) so I can legally stay here, I've found God-fellowship with Irene, I've gotten my computer back but had to pay too much for it, I've paid tribute to General Patton for all of his hard work, I've had another laundry fiasco, and I've been hit on by a bunch of greasy haired 19yr olds at the local tavern. That was certainly a run-on if I've ever written one. Well, when I get back I'll try to elaborate on a few of these.

Overall, I'm no longer on a permanent high just from being in France. I'm starting to have my share of bad/down days. Notably, this weekend I've been quite down if only because this whole GRE/Paris/strike nonsense has been super stressful (well, sort of, not really though because God's been sorting it out all along, as usual). I miss everyone. Phone calls and emails are welcome! (Even when I'm in Paris!)

Funny Story

So I have a few minutes before class, so I thought Id share this incident with you. There's a hallway that cuts through one of the main buildings and takes you straight to the building with the teacher's lounge. The problem with this hallway is that it goes past the "hang out" rooms, where millions of smelly french lyceens loiter. My first few times through that hallway, I was terrified, because the kids just stare at you. But I've since mustered some pluck, and I haven't thought anything of it for some time now. However, this morning when I walked through that hallway I was actually hasseled by some punk student. The hallway was packed and I was trying to squeeze between students as best I could. Then I got to a pack of boys and they wouldn't let me through. I would step to one side, and one of the boys would step that way too and block me (with the others hooting and hollering). Let me pause to remind you that I look like a student to most of these kids. I don't look my age, don't dress like a teacher, and I don't don the typical teacher scowl. So I think they thought I was one of them (I don't think they'd have the gall to do this to a teacher). Anyway, he thought he was being hilarious and starting saying something completely incomprehensable to me (though I garnered he was hitting on me) and he leaned in to give me bisouses (okay the french plural is bisoux if you care). He actually managed to kiss me once before I stiff-armed him and gave him the evil glare. Yes, I am terrific at the glare (though I try to use it selectively). Then I rolled my eyes, said nothing (don't want him to think I'm not French, after all) to the now slightly embarresed and somewhat terrified punk, and walked away. What a tool. As I walked away I heard them laughing with each other, and probably talking about me, but heck if I knew what they said.

I tell you this story because I found it comical, if not a bit bizarre, but I in no way felt threatened or I would have stepped it up a notch. He was just a punk, and punks are obnoxious but harmless. I tell you this because I know now, after the way some events have played out this week, that this would have ended very differently had it been someone other than me. I'll leave it at this: americans can handle punks, and I'm not sure if other folks--the english-- can (another story about that to follow, possibly).

Quick update

I don't have much time, I just wanted to let you know that my computer is still in the hospital, waiting on a hard drive transplant. Oh, and France sucks. You want to know why? Let's just say there's a nationwide strike that starts tomorrow and will continue indefinitely. That means that all trains will be down until Lord only knows when. This sucks mainly because I'm scheduled to take a test in Paris next Wednesday, that I have to take, and that I may not be able to get to. Yeah. Lovely. And this is Sarzo's first chance to show he's a man, so he won't be backing down easily. If only I could drive... And you remember how in Montpellier the strike was fun because I got out of class for 3 months? Yeah, not fun this time. It gets old, fast. Just work. Seriously.

Oh and I had another class with no students. Well, I had two students show, but they couldn't account for the whereabouts of the others. The one girl said, with the most serious expression she could muster, "there's a rule that you cant have class without at least 3 students." Fine, whatever. I totally don't believe you, and I definitly saw you wave at some girl down the hallway to duck out of sight, but I don't care. If you don't want to be here, go home. I don't want to teach you. Grrr. Their teacher got a note, not that it matters much. Really, I sound mad about it, but I really didn't feel like teaching that afternoon, so whatever. I didn't appreciate their not showing up and her lying to me, but whatever. This is France. Things are different here. It's another planet.

By the way, plenty of good things have happened in the past few days, and I'm having an amazing time despite the cheeky students and obnoxious strikes (and minus a few stressful moments) but I dont have time to write about them. Soon, I promise! Later gators. Ha. I'm turning into a 'nutter' (as Rach would say).

Bisous Nation (kissing nation)

Well today is the last day of vacation, and I'm ill-prepared to go back to school. By that I mean, I haven't prepared for any of my classes, at all. BUT, I did find a few folders left here from old assistants, which is like a gold mine. For 4 of my 7 classes I can just pick something out of that each week... But anyway, back to what went down over break.


I have a room now, which is stellar, though my belongings are far from organized (clothes are still in a closet in the living room). I realized today that what I thought was part of the design on my far wall was really more mold, though of a lighter variety. So that will have to get cleaned up. Soon. Before the vicious mold spores attack my lungs. Also, I bought what I thought was cool lampshade for the light bulb that hangs from my celing, but that ended up as a failure too. Apparently, and I had no idea, a pink lantarn will, when the light is on, emit hot pink rays all over one's bedroom. Oops. When I turned the light on my room looked like a brothel. Happily, Irene liked it and traded it with me for the light peach lantarn in her hallway. Now her hallway is hot pink, but to each his own.

My computer officially died as well. I come to you know from Irenes computer, and probably will be relying on her hospitality for the next week or so. If you remember that time when the backlight to my screen went out and you could only see the screen with a flashlight, well that happened on Monday so I took it in. Of course when the dude turned it on the screen was fine, but the hard drive really did need to go. For the bargain price of about 150euros... yeah sucky. But luckily I made recovery disks last week, and he seems to think that's all I need (and I saved everything on a hard drive at home, so I'm not too worried). He claims I'll get it back by the end of this week, but this is France, so I wont get my hopes up.

Friday we met with an ex-spanish student who wanted to chat with Irene in spanish. He was nice, but super bizarre, and so were most of his friends. One of his friends was super nice though, and she and I swapped numbers to hang out later (she also, coincidently, met my flatmate already on a train to Rennes and swapped numbers with her then). The guys were nice enough, but I felt a little uncomfortable talking because when I did they would comment on my "american" accent. That would have been fine, I mean I know I have a strong accent, but they didn't leave it at that. They proceeded to tell me I should keep my accent because its charming, blah blah blah, and then they'd pick out words that were 'cute' when I said them. So yeah, awkward. But later some guy busted out a guitar, and another started singing, and guess who he sang? Johnny Cash my friends, and he was cute too (has a girlfriend though, I think). I was estatic when they played Walk the line and Ring of Fire. It was awesome, and I sang along. Of course no one else knew the songs, because its a rare french person indeed who knows and loves Cash. But there you have it.

Sunday Ann-Helene took us to Chateau de Carrouges, a cute little run down castle further north. Apparently every old family wanted to have their own legend, and this family had one about a fairy or something. Id tell you the story, but its not that great. If you're going to give your family a legend, you ought to make it more exciting than a fairy who randomly disappears. I would, anyway. We also went down to the beach and watched the sunset over the channel. Good times. I'm starting to really like this place.

Now for the title. As some of you may be aware, France has a peculiar custom when they greet one another. If you live in the north, you give the person two kisses, one on each cheek. In the south you get three. Americans, well we dont do that. It's weird, and awkward. In America, if they're a stranger you either shake hands or nod your head, no uncomfortable kissing. But, if you're friends, you get a nice warm hug. In France, strangers get kisses, which is wierd, but friends only get cheek kisses as well. As weird as it sounds, the 'bisoux' are a bit cold for good friends. I prefer a nice big hug. Anyway, the point is, I explained to the friends on Friday that we don't do that in the US and they didnt believe me. I guess for them it would be strange not too. I had to bisous my swim coach yesterday, that was wierd. I just can't get used to it. The worst part is that if you come to a large group of people, everyone has to bisous everyone else, no exceptions. A lot of time is wasted with this bisousing nonsense. Mindy says if people here stopped bisousing already then they'd finally get some work down. What do you think? Bisous = good or bad?

The good news and the bad news

The good news:

Two days ago they moved the computers out of my room, well except for the ones in the closet (which makes putting clothes away impossible). I was ecstatic. When I walked in I noticed the walls had gone French-cheese on me (moldy), so I cleaned that up with some bleach for good measure. Although, now parts of the wallpaper are whitish instead of the beige backgroud for the matronly flowers. Matters. I went to the supermarket that's far away and found some NEW sheets. Yes my friends, the prison-issued sheets of cardboard have been retired. I have real sheets. And my comforter cost me only 7euros; you can't get a coke for under 7euros in Paris! It's a cool red/pink/orange design. The funny part is that I ended up buying 2 fitted sheets on accident. I didn't think they even had fitted sheets here, but they do, and I have 2 of them. Apparently that's what "drape de housse" means. Remember that if you ever decide to buy sheets in France (not that I know the name of regular sheets). At least I managed to find the single bed ones! So I'd say I came out on top in this one. Oh and funny part: the not-that-friendly key keeper lady (who took away my key the first time) told Irene after I left that Rachel and I needed "to clean up" our apartment. Ha! You try keeping things organized when you live out of suitcases for a month. Neat piles are the best I can do. Though to be fair, the kitchen did need some work (though not all my fault...).

The bad news:

Well the first bit is that I'm on vacation with nothing to do. Paris and Caen with Irene got cut, so now I'm chillin in Avranches tout seul. But, I think I'm going to spend this time exploring my little city here. I haven't really done all the things there are to do here, and if I don't do it now I never will. So I guess it's not really bad news.

This is bad news: my computer is on the verge of death. If any of you remember 'the lark' (my Buick skylark circa '92), I'm in a similar situation. I have to treat my computer gently, know how to best run it, and it'll work. But, it could die any day now. The other day my computer froze up and I had to shut it down the bad way. Upon attempts to restart it, it came up with only a blank screen. Five restarts later, it came up to a screen where you select how you want to boot (smart mode, normal, etc). I tried choosing each one, and each time it froze after I selected it. So I left it frozen after an hour of trying, and asked God to please keep my computer alive. I came back to it in about 2 hours and it was alive. It had unfrozen itself, or something ;) , and was at the regular screen. Well how 'bout that. The obvious problem was that it ran super slow and after clicking on a folder or program it took about 2 mins to open, which obviously is a bad sign.

Now because I had so many problems trying to start it up, I was hesitant to shut it down, so I just let it hibernate. When I came back and started it I got this warning: SMART failure, hard disk failure imminent, back up data IMMEDIATELY. Well, shucks, that's great. I'm no computer whiz, but I'm fairly computer savvy, and of all the warnings I've encountered, that one seemed the most daunting. Thankfully, I backed up all my music/photos/files on my external hard drive before I left. I don't have it with me now, but no matter. All my new files are also on my USB key, so if I loose everything it won't be that big a deal. Of course I failed to bring any of my recovery disks or program (XP/office) disks with me... but as I write KC is searching my room for them. All signs point to buying a new hard drive, which isn't that expensive. But, I have yet to see a computer place in this city. I'm sure I need a car to get to one, so that's going to be a problem.

To draw out the slow death of my computer (which could die literally right now or 3 months from now), I've freed up some memory and defragged it. I was operating on less than 3% free memory, if you can believe it, and the only time I defragged it before was once and I only got half way through it because I was sick of waiting. The stupid part is I knew better than to let my computer get bogged down. It's just like I know my car needs an oil change every 3 months, but it's lucky if it gets 2 a year. So this may be too little too late. The service engine light has come on and it's only a matter of waiting. How long will it last? Maybe the whole time I'm here (though really really slow and skype isn't working great which is wonderful). Unlike my car, I can keep this sucker till it dies because I'm not jeopardizing anyone else's safety. The lark had to be retired, but this computer's going on life support. Here's to hoping it doesn't fail on me...

AND I am open to any and all computer advice I can get :) (big thanks already to Travis and Matt)

Return to Montpellier

This past weekend I set out to Montpellier to see my friend Elodie (you may remember her as the nicest French person I met last time I studied abroad). Anyway, my trip was off to a rocky when I went to the train station last Friday. Happily, Sylvie gave me a lift and saved me about an hours walking time, so that was fine. But when I went to buy the actual ticket I found out, much to my dismay, that they only remaining ticket to Montpellier would cost me, well a lot, because the last seat left was in 1st class (which totally isn't worth the extra money they charge). Whatever though, I wanted to see Elodie, so I'll bite it. My fault for not getting a ticket earlier (it is vacation time, after all). But then I asked what time the bus left in the morning to take me to the station (which is about a 1/2 hour away from Avranches by car), and to my surprise he told me that that particular bus line doesn't run on the weekends. Ever. Hmmm. Shoot. I looked up at Sylvie with a look that said "Uhh, what do I do now??" Without waiting a second she told me that she'd drive me there early the next morning. Wow. Her first day of vacation and what is she volunteering to do? Drive the silly assistant to a train station at the crack of dawn. I love her. Needless to say I brought her some reeses the next day (mom's package of US candy: love. Time for arrival: record setting 4 days). Anyway, thus began my trip that would tentatively include 3 days in Monty and then a few in Paris to chill with Irene, and then maybe a trip to Caen, though the most I had planned for all this was a train ticket to Monty and a hostel in Paris for afterwards...matters.

So Saturday I set off for my adventure. When I arrived in Paris from Villedieu, I had to take the Metro to get to the Gare de Lyon for my next train. No problem. The metro doesn't scare me. So I bought my ticket and made my way to the entrance. If you've ever taken the Paris Metro you may recall that you stick your little ticket in and then quickly shuffle through the open doors before they slam shut again. Well, unfortunately, although I made it through the door in time, my little rolly suitcase did not. It was stuck, and those doors shut hard. I grabbed the handle and pulled with all my might. Unfortunately that only managed to pull my handle of my bag but the rest of my suitcase was still stuck in the door-monster. Lovely. Now people are getting antsy wondering why this stupid American girl got her bag stuck. So I took one hand and pushed the door to the side with literally all my might (which isn't much, mind you) and with the other hand I grabbed the side handle and pulled. I flew back with suitcase in hand and the monster-grip doors slammed shut behind me. Goodbye to you too doors. Grrr. So yeah, the Metro ate my suitcase. It was wonderful.

Train station observation: there are funny looking soldiers everywhere. They walk around in camouflage fatigues (yeah, you'll really blend in the gare de Lyon forest...wait....), and they wear silly berets on their bald heads. While they really should look intimidating, with their big guns and all, the effect is rather lost on me. I laugh when I see them. Don't get me wrong, I realize they must serve some very important purpose, and I shouldn't take them lightly blah blah blah. But, come on. I really wanted a picture of some, but I thought that would be going too far...

Enough nonsense, back to the trip. When I arrived I saw Elodie on the platform waiting and it made me soooo happy. I haven't seen her since I left Montpellier two springs ago. She hasn't changed a bit! She's just as peppy and smiley as before, and we had a wonderful weekend. On Saturday I stayed with her family and got to meet her mom and 11 year old sister Margot. Justin, her younger brother, and Lola, the dog, I remembered from last time. Her mom made us this wonderful white-cheese cake with a hint of lemon in it. It was so good. I need to ask for the recipe (not that I could cook it if I tried...). Her brother came with us to the movies, and we watched one of the only French movies playing (though her brother went to see Resident Evil III). The movie we saw was Les Coeurs des Hommes 2 (the hearts of men). Um, it was okay, but all they talked about was sex and their various affairs and the whole bit. I understood the plot, and some of the jokes, but for the most part I was lost. They used a lot of colloquial expressions and innuendos, which they didn't teach us in French class. So there were many moments when the whole theatre was laughing and I was like...oh... that was funny, right, what did they say? Afterwards Elodie was a little mortified that the movie she picked for me to see as a the token "french" film turned out like that. She assured me that French people aren't really like the people in that movie. Sure, Elodie. Whatever you say... haha.

On Sunday I had the good fortune of going with Elodie and Jean (her currant fiance, who you may remember me telling you from last time, she started dating when I met her, and he was the subject of many of our secret notes during our history lectures) to his grandparents house for Sunday lunch. Let me start by saying that Jean is an amazing guy. He's been so great to Elodie, and I'm super happy she found a guy like him (because I have doubts about the French male population in general). He's had a rough life though, and it always seems to correspond with when I'm here. Last time, when I was first getting to know Elodie and she had just started dating him, we found out that his brother committed suicide. Jean took hard, because they were really close. It came out of the blue too because he had never outwardly struggled with depression. And now, just two weeks ago, his father passed away. His father had always been sort of sick since his brother died, and he never really got over it. But a few weeks ago he got a really bad cough and the doctors couldn't figure out what it was. Then they found out it was some sort of tumor, and it killed him before they could do anything for it. So yeah, his family has been through a lot. And yet, when I meet them all, I couldn't imagine them struggling with all that inside because they were so warm and friendly. I can't even imagine. Anyway, they were the nicest people ever, and lunch was wonderful. I had my first asparagus (they thought maybe we don't have it over here. No, we do, I've just never tried it) and cabbage. Both were surprisingly good. So all those people who think I don't eat veggies, it's not true. If someone else cooks them properly, I'll eat them. If you give them to me and say, here, do something with it, well then all bets are off. Of course when I was eating the asperagus I couldn't help hearing Junior Asparagus' voice in my head. Veggietales has made me a strict carnivore, I think. I can't bear to eat Junior, so bring me a hamburger or something :) . Oh and Elodie made me a chocolate cake for my bday. It was a great afternoon.

Sidenote: when chatting with the grandparents I learned that they lived in that very house during WWII. The grandad told me about how he and his father used to press olives to make oil in the horse trough in the middle of the night. They had to be sneaky because all vital supplies had to go to the Nazis. They also told me how grateful they were to the Americans (and they added, the British) for coming to the rescue. They were really heartfelt about it, and they said it to me like I was the representative of all the Americans who came over. I knew that I, of course, had done nothing. But it felt good to know that they were grateful. It made me wonder about what I would have thought if I'd had been around during that time. I wonder if I would have even supported us getting involved. Everyone now thinks that they would have, but it's much easier to say after the fact. I wonder.

On Monday we traveled to Montpellier (because before we were actually closer to Nimes). The sun was shining as I ventured back to my study abroad city. I really do miss it. Well, I mainly miss it for the people. Something about being in France makes me think that I should be seeing Elodie and Bhavana and Christina all the time. France isn't the same this time around. It's not bad, just different, and I miss them all. Oh and I miss the sun, which apparently only shines in the South of France. In the afternoon I had the good fortune of meeting up with Sophie (one of my friends in Madison last semester who actually goes to the Agricultural school in Mtp). Now even though Sophie (and Emilie who unfortunately wasn't in Mtp this weekend) is French, I never spoke French with her in Madison. She was there to practice English, and we always hung out with people who didn't speak French. So even though she and Emilie were there for a whole semester, I never once spoke French with them. So when I'm with Sophie I feel like I should be speaking English, but Elodie was with us, and with her I know I have to speak French. It was weird, because I kept forgetting what language I should be using. But it worked out fine, and Sophie and Elodie chatted it up effortlessly (I swear, their French is impeccable). In the picture Elodie is to the left and Sophie is on the right. For lunch we went to Aux 2 Fondues, which is that lovely fondue place where you drink out of baby bottles. Neither of them had ever gone, and I thought they should go at least once since they live there and all. It was fabulous, though I think they were quite surprised by the bottles (not typically French). I hope they become friends; I think they'd all really get along well. Oh and later that night I introduced Elodie to facebook. She doesn't get it at all, so it's up to Sophie to explain it to her in a way that a frenchie would understand. But hey, now I can write on her wall.

Montpellier was hard to leave. Elodie and I had some amazing conversations about the past year, and our plans for the future. All of our talks were affected by a touch of sadness because we knew that after this year it would get harder and harder to see each other. That's the problem with my travels. By traveling I make friends all over the place and then, well, I have to leave. It kinda sucks. But I'm glad I know her, and we'll stay friends even if I can't come visit that much. Maybe I'll end up fabulously rich and I can go see her all the time...doubtful... but maybe.

And now I'm back in Avranches. Paris was canceled because Irene ran out of money, but it was better not to go before I got paid (which I finally was today, sweetness). I don't know if I'll travel much more this break, even though I have a week left. I kind of want some time to myself, and this is the first day that I have some. Since I got here I haven't had much alone time, so I'm going to take advantage of it now. It's funny because normally I hate being alone; I have to have someone around. But now, I just want some time to think and read and be by myself. Strange. If I get some good alone time in, then it'll make me that much happy when my roomie returns and I start classes again. So yeah, it's me and Avranches this week. Maybe I'll get around to all those books I meant to read.

Worth a listen

If you have itunes you should check out one of the free songs that's up. It's When the Saints by Sara Groves. She's one of my favorite artists, and her new song is really good. She's a folk-Christian (maybe not folk, but that's what itunes calls her) singer. Anyway, this is one of those songs that you just sit and listen to on repeat and think about.

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I can’t let it go

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it all can overwhelm me
but I think of all who've gone before them and lived the faithful life
their courage compels me

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary at the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down that door

I see the man of sorrow and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Randomness

Good Old French Frustrations of the Week:

When I got back from England, it was about time to do laundry. The bad news is that there is one laundry mat in this town, and it’s about a mile and half away from our flat. That’s an easy enough walk on its own, but with laundry in tow it’s a little tougher. Add that to the simple fact that laundry mats in France charge an arm and a leg and you can see what choice I’m left with. It was time to fill up the tub with some hot water and soap and do some good old hand-washing. Ha! That’s fairly easy, right? You just fill up the tub, throw some clothes in, and they get clean… No. They don’t. It was a nightmare. My first mistake was waiting so long to do laundry in the first place. My second mistake was thinking I could still do it all in one swoop. My next mistake was thinking that the water couldn’t possibly be hot enough to need to separate lights and darks. Let’s just say that I had a tub full of purplish/black water after a few minutes and I frantically searched for my whites to save them from the evil dark dyes. Once I pulled out all the light clothes, my job should have been fairly straight forward. No. How do you get socks and stuff clean? I scrubbed them by hand with soap, but I guess my hands have nothing on the agitation cycle of a washing machine. They would not get clean. The shirts and stuff, fine, they weren’t even dirty really. But seriously, I think I needed one of those old scrub boards or something. It was a pain. My clothes also took about 2 days to dry because I hung them up on our rack outside, but it was friggin’ cold here and I think they froze more than they dried. I would have brought the rack inside, but I thought they’d be better off in the sun (for the few hours it showed its face around here). Let’s just say I’m taking some stuff to the laundry mat next time. I’m not going to even bother doing sheets myself; they’ll never dry. Lesson learned: I would *never* want to be a housewife before washers and dryers were invented. You spend half your days washing clothes (and I only had to do my own, not a whole family’s!). I guess that’s misleading though, because I wouldn’t want to be a housewife *now*. But you know what I mean.

Yesterday some men came in to get the computers out of my room. Yay! I asked if they were taking all of them and they said they were and that I should have my room back that night. So I skipped off to class and hoped they’d be finished when I returned. You can imagine my disappointment when Rachel told me that they only took ONE computer and never came back. And they locked the door again. Liars. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice having a bed in the living room. It’s more comfy when we hang out and watch movies. But, it’s cold here. They just switched on the heating in this building, and as you can probably guess the radiator in the living room does not work. Rachel’s room is cozy. The WC is toasty. But the living room is Antarctica. Well, that’s not true. My clock says it only gets down to about 57 degrees F. But that’s cold for being indoors. I sleep with two scratchy wool blankets and my Wisconsin sweats. It works, sort of, but if I move then I wake up because it’s freezing in here at night. Brrrr. And don’t even say I’m from Wisconsin so I shouldn’t mind the cold. Even Wisconsinites go home to warm cozy houses. I don’t mind it outside, it’s when it’s cold inside that I dont like it. At least Ive found the best way to warm up: hot chocolate. I use the French semi-ecreme milk (50%, they don’t do skim, and to be honest I think it’s better) and some cheap bars of dark chocolate. I throw the milk on a burner and bring the milk and chocolate to a boil. Soooo good. Oh and you have to add some sugar (well, a lot of sugar), but it’s wonderful. I average 2 cups a day to get warm. There’s no better way. It makes you think of Christmas.

Monday was pretty interesting. It was supposed to be my first day really teaching (it’s only taken 3 weeks). I didn’t have much prepared, to be honest. Well I went to my class with Liliane, and almost all of the kids were ones who went on the trip. It was great, because when I do the debates on Mondays I can make them talk because we’re already friends. They won’t be embarrassed to speak English with me there, because they’ve gotten used to me already. And I know their names! I also saw Bene and Camille in the hallway and they ran up to me and started gabbing away. I asked if they’d be interested in an English club of sorts and they said they’d definitely like something like that (otherwise I won’t see many of them anymore). So that was the good part. Then I had my BTS classes (20-something tech school kids- accounting, computers, etc), well I was supposed to have them. I went to B101 and no one was there. I waited awhile because the French are notoriously late, and still no one showed. Uh oh. I went up to B201 and B301 and checked the wings to see if I could find my class. Nothing. So I went to the staff room and hung out alone. When I caught the teacher I asked her where the room was supposed to be, and I guess I was in the right room she had just told the kids the wrong room (yay, not my fault). Oh and I had another class after that, but that teacher forgot to tell the kids that it started that day so no one showed. I guess I won’t see those kids until after vacation. Rachel swears that we’re actually here to bring some organization to these French teachers.

Highlights:
I’ve joined the swim team! Today I went to my first ‘trial’ practice, and it was wonderful. I’m not joking, it was glorious. By that I mean, I suck at swimming. I’m super out of shape, and my strokes are all wrong, but I don’t care. The first lap felt great, and after that my body ached. It hadn’t moved like that in a long time. The coach guy was really nice. I was there early so I had my own lane for warm up (about 900 meters, felt like the main set, esp the butterfly). He gave me stroke tips for fly/breast which he said slowly because he wasn’t sure if I’d understand. Little did he know that I knew exactly what he was trying to say because I could feel it myself when I swam. I was a coach too, after all. I need to stretch out my strokes and ‘profiter’ from my kicks with longer glides. Anyway, it felt amazing, and I even saw a student I had in class yesterday (one of the sophomores). She even recognized me, and seemed genuinely happy to see me there. I only stayed for an hour, because I wanted to start off slowly. I did about 2100 meters, which is a lot for not swimming in forever, but that only really amounted to a warm up and kick/swim set. The only down side was that about half way through more people came so I was with the 14-16 year olds who were just starting the work out from the beginning. I felt too old to be swimming with them, but the only ‘adults’ were the old ladies doing aqua aerobics. I guess there’s not many people my age around here (except my obnoxious BTS students). After practice, I felt wonderful, and tomorrow I go back again!

And in case you were worried that I'd lose my Americanness after being surronding by so many frenchies and brits, dont be. I showed Rachel one episode of American Dreams because I have the 1st season here (the show is about a family in the 60s stuggling with pretty much everything that happened back then). She loved it and we've gone on to watch the first 3 disks in 3 days. She's becoming an American; I'm so proud. She said the characters have become like a part of her family, cause she finds herself rooting for them. I love it. Just when you thought I came over here to get some culture...

Oh and vacation is coming up, so I may be out of touch for the next week or so (though I can still get phonecalls! sunday... hint hint). I just started and I have a 10 day vacation. I love France. This weekend I’m going to Montpellier to see Elodie for a few days (and I’ll just miss the other Monty girls I think, which is sad). After that I’m training up to Paris and maybe spending a few days there with Irene who has yet to properly see the city. And after that maybe we’ll go to Caen for kicks. Who knows? The great part is I should get paid on the 28th (hopefully), which is kind of like a really generous 22nd birthday present from the French government. The timing is beautiful. If I don’t get paid, it'll be a bday downer cause I’ll be broke and may have to nix some of the travel plans… So here’s to hoping the paperwork went through…

Long Live the Queen

No, I don’t really care much for Lizzy II, but I couldn’t think of a better title for this post. Most of you probably weren’t aware, but I had the very good fortune of accompanying the exchange trip to Southern England this week. Yves couldn’t make it, and I was the last minute substitute. So pretty much I got a free trip to the mother country and all I had to do was count off some kids every now and then. Here’s how it went…

The Trip:

5h45 departure from school. Early as it was, I was as wide awake as the students. Traveling does that to me. Unfortunately the trip didn’t start off too great because several students forgot their identity cards / permission slips. This resulted in our leader Anne-Helene’s breakdown and rant at Sylvie (the well-meaning English teacher) in front of all the students. I didn’t understand what all she said, but I know it was bad because Sylvie was quiet the whole way to Caen and I could see tears rolling down her face. Anne (the non-English speaking history teacher) and I were beside ourselves. Luckily things picked up after that. I happened to be sitting in front of some very outgoing students who promptly introduced themselves to me. I tried my best to learn their names, and I was pretty pumped that they didn’t treat me like the uncool teacher. When we divided up into groups (one for each of the 4 teachers) the kids from the bus quickly scribbled down their names on a sheet and claimed me as their chaperon. Sweet, they like me. Good start. Their group name: les 7 mervielleux du monde which translates best to the “Magnificent 7.” That may be their name, but I called them (in my head) my little bohemian rhapsodies, because most of them were hippies. Precious.




(In the picture from the left: Charlotte, Camille, Francois, Simon, Gaëlle, Laura, and Benedicte)

We arrived sometime in the afternoon at Ringwood Language School (posh much?). I met my host teacher, Hish. Hish is a physics teacher, and he’s not actually English. He’s Egyptian, which is pretty cool. The downside was that the whole weekend was kind of awkward because I wasn’t sure what to talk to him about. He’s an older Egyptian guy who lives by himself (his son lives with his ex-wife). So the first 2 or 3 days was kind of weird, even though he was super nice, but after that it was good and we got on really well.


The School:


Ringwood Language School is a middle-high school. I think containing middle school aged kids all in one building is a really bad idea, esp for the 8th graders. It’s best to keep them with everyone else, because they’re going through the most awkward age of their lives. Luckily for these kids clothes wouldn’t be a teasing issue because they all wore the same silly uniform. Now don’t get me wrong, I see the point of the uniform. It levels out kids so they can’t be singled out for not wearing something expensive and trendy, but do they really need to wear blazers with the school crest and striped ties?? No they don’t. A tee-shirt or sweatshirt with the Ringwood logo would suffice. I’d even settle for a collar shirt / sweater combo. But a blazer? Really? They looked like mini-adults. Although, I will admit, they managed to look pretty scruffy in spite of their blazers and ties. And I thought a tie was an automatic cleaner-upper… In fact, in the school meeting I sat in on, the head complained that the teachers weren’t making sure the kids looked “smart” enough. Give ‘em a break. They’re kids. You’re luckily they don’t have mud stains all over thier uniforms.

The good part about the uniform thing is that they don’t have to wear one when they hit their last 2-3 years of school. So when they’re old enough to be some-what mature, they can unleash their individuality. These kids are called the ‘sixth form’ kids, whatever that means. I still can’t figure out the English system. Overall, the kids there were pretty pleasant, and they’re super polite. There was one day when I was in line at a sandwich shop behind a ton of students and when they realized I was there one kid said, “hey, you can go to the front of the line ‘cause we’re just students.” I hesitated to skip them all, but they made me. I guess their in-town lunch privileges come with some rules, so as to keep the townsfolk happy. It wasn’t the rule that I thought was nice, it was the fact that they actually told me about it when I obviously had no idea I could do that. I feel like American kids would’ve just let me wait. But, I could be wrong.

Culture Lessons:

First and foremost, driving in England is terrifying, and it’s not just the wrong side of the road bit. Some roads are not big enough for two cars, but somehow two cars still pass each other on them (at a fairly fast clip too). Hish said there are A roads and B roads. I was scared of the A roads (the bigger ones) until I saw some B roads in the New Forest. They were seriously big enough for ONE car. And Hish was not a cautious driver. I was a nervous wreck as we drove through the winding roads. Somehow we made it through okay, but you better believe I’ll take the roads into consideration if I ever want to live over here…

TV is bizarre over here. First of all, the BBC has a monopoly over the news, and they do the same dang story over and over and over again all week. I got real sick of hearing about the obesity crisis, the postal strike (yes England is turning into France), and the rugby tournament (in which, if you care, France lost to England in the semifinals much to the dismay of all my students, but England in turn lost this Saturday to South Africa). I also watched Hollyoaks, which could give the OC a run for its money. In one episode half the cast almost died of CO2 poisoning and some girl’s sister was accused of sleeping with her sister’s husband. It was great in a trashy-pointless kind of way. The other show I briefly watched was show called Doc Martin, which was terrible. It was about this doctor in Cornwall and these really weird town people. I didn’t care for it much. And sadly, I saw Randall and Hopkirk on one channel all week that Hish’s tv didn’t pick up (yeah KC, it was a let down)! Oh and for a few seconds I watched the kids show called Stupid. Terrible. I didn’t get it at all. It had a king and some midget guy. The British sense of humour baffles me sometimes.

Alex, Hish’s 6 year son, spent the weekend with us. He was a doll, and I think we’re friends now. He taught me all about Bionicals, these cartoon things that you have to build on your own and they become these robot-monster thing. Oh and he showed me Dr. Who toys (some supersonic screwdriver/pen?). Whoever that is. Apparently Dr. Who is the British Star Trek as far as a sci-fi following goes (says Hish). Not sure if I think the Dr. Who fans come close to Trekies. Oh and Alex is a pretty deep kid. We were talking about infinity, for some reason, and I told him that it’s so big the numbers never stop. He said, “But numbers have to stop. If everyone died, who would be around to count?” The old lady behind us thought that was precious.

Pubs. Three students in my group were doing their project on English pubs. Apparently pubs are not the same as bars, according to the owner of the Crown tap. Bars are ‘smarter’ than pubs and serve fancier drinks like wine. Also, beer in England is not like beer in America. English beer is ‘real beer’ and American beer is what they call ‘lager.’ Whatever buddy. I’m from Wisconsin. We have real beer, or something. Not that I really know, but supposedly we brew some decent stuff.

And now for the food. I actually didn’t have that much authentic cuisine, cause Hish is Egyptian and doesn’t know how to cook (which I can’t blame him for, since I can’t either). I did have fish and chips, which were lovely but nothing special. New things I tried include plaice (flatfish), scampi (delicious), blackcurrant juice (do we have that in the US, because I’ve never heard of it but it tasted familiar), and a Cornish pasty. The pasty (pronounced with a long ahhh sound, fyi) was better than I anticipated. It was originally made in Cornwell for the miners because it’s an easily portable meal (an enclosed pastry-like thing with meat and veggies). The funny part is I faintly remember learning something about them in my online folklore class last semester, but for those who remember how that went you can probably guess just how much I did remember. Oh and I didn't have any tea.

The Sites:

Bournesmouth:

I went to this southern port with Hish over the weekend. It was a cute beach town with the whole pier-amusement ensemble of stuff to do. Unfortunately English weather was true to form that day, and the skies remained cloudy and gray so it was hard to imagine how bright the town must be during the summer.

New Forest:

This is a picture of Hish and the donkey roaming the streets of Burley, a town in New Forest. New Forest was supposedly made for some king who was bored with his usual hunting grounds, or some such nonsense, and so they planted him a 90 mile forest. It’s actually really pretty, and there are wild-previously-domesticated animals everywhere (donkeys, ponies, horses, cows, pigs, etc). If you live in New Forest then you have the right to let you animals graze anywhere, and even though the animals are ‘yours’ they kind of just roam free amongst the towns and forest. Everything in New Forest was ‘quaint’ and rather how I would imagine Elizabeth Bennett’s setting in Pride and Prejudice. But that’s just a thought. Check out this cabin, it cost close to a million pounds. Ridiculous. I guess this is a posh area, despite it’s country façade. All the property is crazy expensive.


Salisbury:

During the week we took day trips, and one of our destinations was Salisbury. Pictured here is the lovely cathedral that is home to one of the four surving Magna Cartas (yeah there was more than one, who knew?). It is rather pretty, but I suppose cathedrals tend to be. I get all quite and pensive when I’m in them, and I’m not sure if it’s because part of me feels like I should be or if it’s because they really do render a sense of awe. I’m undecided. Either way, it really is cool to see such a beautiful structure dedicated to God. When I was wondering around inside I ran into Simon, one of my 7, and I asked him what he thought. He shrugged his shoulders and said (in French of course), “It’s pretty, but you know, it’s not a big deal (or it’s not that great).” Of course I asked him for an explanation and he told me, “Well I guess if you’re a believer it’s important, because, you know, it means a lot more. But if you don’t, then it’s just pretty, and that’s it.” Imagine my surprise. Deep kid. I told him I think he’s probably right. Simon, by the way, is one of the best English speakers in the group because his dad is English (though Simon claims his dad doesn’t speak much English at home), but for the first half of the trip he refused to speak English with me. The others did, fumble as they may. But by the half way mark I think he decided I was friend and not foe, because I asked him a question in English and he responded in it. I was like, wow Simon, you spoke in English, and he nonchalantly replied, “Well you asked the question in English.” We’re friends now though, and even though the other teachers told me he’s a slacker and refuses to do work, I never had a problem with him. I think it’s because I respected him, so he respected me. Some of the teachers here should try that approach (I remember my mom telling me that before I left and it really does work). The same with the other kids in my group and the random others that I met, we’re friends but they still respect my authority as a teacher (surprisingly). On the trip home, actually, the ‘bad boys,’ as I affectionately call them, started singing loudly and it was close to midnight. The other teachers started looking pissed, so I turned around and yelled “Arrete!” and they started laughing and kept going. So I got up and went back there and said, “Hey, can you guys stop or sing softly because the other teachers have headaches and people are trying to sleep.” They tried to argue with me, and joke around, but when I turned around to go back to the front they immediately stopped and quieted down. It was amazing. Ha! I can do this. When I got back up to the front the other teachers looked at me like I was the kid-whisperer or something.

Back to the Magna Carta. Who doesn’t know what that is? No one, I hope. We Americans should have all learned about it way back when and should know that it was an important step towards human rights and limiting the power of government. But NONE of the French kids had even heard about it. Some came up to me and were like, “So what is this thing??” What? You’ve never heard of it? Are you joking? So I patiently explained how it was the first time the people limited the power of the king and claimed a variety of rights that were untouchable by the sovereign. I also explained how it was a big step in the direction of the Glorious Revolution in England, the American and French Revolutions, the Declaration of Human Rights, etc. “Oh,” they said. Oh. I did my best. I told them that it was a big deal for American school children. But, maybe I was wrong, maybe only I care. Maybe most Americans don’t even know what it is. How sad would that be? Well whatever, I saw it, and it was awesome. So there.

Stonehenge:

When we went to Stonehenge the weather was wonderfully gloomy, as one would hope for when seeing a pile of ancient rocks. Don’t get me wrong, it was cool to see it, but it really was just a bunch of rocks. They are really old, I guess, but no one knows what they were really for. Some people said the devil was taking rocks to Ireland and dropped them here, others say they were people turned to stone for dancing, but those are just legends. I don’t think it was worth the 6 pound entrance fee (that I didn’t have to pay, yay for being a teacher). I did take like 60 pictures though; I just couldn’t help it!


Bath:

This was a beautiful city, famous for the ancient Roman baths as shown here. The Romans were a cleanly bunch, unlike the uncivilized Britons… So we wandered around the baths, had a money fiasco with Anne-Helene, and spent some time exploring. This is where Jane Austen lived for a bit of her life, which is pretty cool. Jane’s pretty sweet. I even got a picture next to the plastic statue of her outside of the Jane Austen centre (which I won’t put here because, well, it’s slightly embarrassing). In fact, there was a dude with a top hat and all next to Jane and I wanted him in the picture but he asked if I planned on coming in and I said probably not so he walked away! In the circus, a circular apartment design thing, I saw the old house of David Livingstone, which was neat. And the street sweeper tried to convince me that Nicolas Cage lives there, and I don’t think I believe him. But it was hard to tell, oh well. Oh, and my group was lovely because they got me a gift. They bought me a hippy bracelet, and they all got one too, and we took a picture of all of our bracelets together. Such sweet kids.

And home :

By Friday I was ready to go home. In fact, the weird part was that I identified Avranches as home. I wanted to go back to my bed and my flat, but Avranches has only been my home for 2 weeks. It’s strange how quickly you adapt. So yeah, Avranches is home now. Check out this picture from the ferry. I got to watch the sunset over the English channel. It was pretty amazing. Now I’m back and it’s time to work for a week and then I have a week and a half vacation for Toussaint! French life is wonderful, let me tell you.