My French 12 Days of Christmas

On the __th/nd day of Christmas, my French life gave to me:

12 hours of travel
11 cows for neighbors
10 language assistants
9 days 'til Christmas
an 8 year old to babysit
7-minus-1 months left of practice
6 hours of time change
5 cards for Christmas
4 loads of laundry
3 pig's blood sausages
2 pieces of luggage
1 life filled with family, friends and love

For further explaination, see below:

12
It might be more, but between the bus, shuttle, taxi, train, and two planes, I think I can safely say it will be greater than or equal to the lovely number douze.
11
I might have made this up because I've never actually counted them all... but I am vachement heureuse to have such friendly voisines. (KB you'd better have caught that French pun or else we cannot be sisters anymore.)
10
From Oregon to Germany to Chile, Colombia and England, my Passeport of Friendship is filled with the world's finest :)
9
I love Christmas, but I'm in no rush for it to arrive... just for Friday.
8
Currently, E is playing with her friend Clem who has the funniest/most adorable little voice I've ever heard. This morning, I thought E and I were forever-friends again because she gave me a chocolate from her Advent calendar (!) and we watched tv together for a minute. But then Clem came over and I was instantaneously forgotten... oh how fickle 8-year-old friendship is. Haha but as for Clem, she's basically in the Hall of Fame for me because every time I see her, she says, "T'es tres belle!" and gives me a bisou so basically I love her.
7
I was getting desperate and trying to make this accurate... I have 6 months left when je reviendrai en France. Which is good because the function of my learning/improvement is just starting to move in the significantly positive direction.
6
Despite the incredibly insightful article that I found online, I have no useful strategy for combatting the inevitable jet lag that will come with trying to rewind my days backward by 6 hours. Haha by the time I am used to it, I'll be on a plane again, heading back to Froggie-a-Go-Go Land, as Georgia Nicholson would say.
5
Yesterday at school, my students learned "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and made Christmas cards. Much to my delight/surprise, at the end of class my student "David" came up to me and gave me his card. (I winked at him once in class -- I was desperate to get him to pay attention and stop distracting people, and THAT was my instinctive reaction! Quelle catastrophe! But miraculously, he's on my side now. Haha) Anyway, after a few other students saw him do that, they gave me their cards also! It made me probably the happiest person alive :)
4
A necessity & my Wednesday tradition.
3
Last night, I went to dinner with the teachers from one of my schools. It was interesting/ridiculous/dreamlike/painful all at once. Part of that was the champagne & red wine working together against me; the other part was being seated at the head of the table in an incredibly visible (and visibly awkward) place; en fin, there was also the fact that of the 13 people at the table, everyone else understood the conversation completely whereas I got probably 2/3 of it (which is truly improvement!)

Alas, the meal began with a salad with three strangely jelloid-looking dark brown cylinders (imagine dumping out a skinny can of beets and turning it the color of a walnut). They stared at me tauntingly, challenging me to wimp out but I decided to fight and eat it, regardless. A teacher at the other end of the table yelled to the teacher next to me to tell me what it was and I cried out, "Non! APRES!" before he could say anything, because I knew that if I knew what I was eating, I would immediately stop. But it tasted okay, so I continued.

However, the more that people asked, "Does she know what she's eating?" and even asked another teacher, "You ate that?!" the slower I was able to swallow, and ended up only eating about a half of one, leaving the other 2.5 abandoned. Afterward, I discovered it was boiled pigs' blood mixed with something else (after I heard sang du porc I basically stopped being able to HEAR).

The next course was quite good with salmon, and green beans wrapped with bacon. There was a strange orange sponge-like circle, and a mushy gray thing that I took two bites of and left, seeing that other people had not finished everything either.

This was followed by the cheese course, and luckily I avoided the fromage blanc (people will tell you it's like yogurt, but it's only like yogurt if you like yogurt with chunks and liquid) but then I was presented with this massive selection of yellow-and-green spotted cheeses and asked, "Qu'est-ce que vous voudriez?" I kind of stuttered and asked, "Quel est le meilleur?" looking desperately to the director of the school for some kind of help. He picked le fromage du pays, et le fromage nectar which were okay, but I am totally not une gourmande and I cannot appreciate the flavor of barn, with a hint of mold. Tant pis. I tried to wash away the flavor of the cheese with massive hunks of bread and huge swigs of wine, imagining the scene from "Ratatouille" where there are fireworks and magical music while he eats the things all together.

Dessert was quite good -- une tarte aux fruits, and the crust reminded me of a sugar cookie!

By that point in the evening, however, I realized that my metaphoric isolation was literally manifested as I sat at the head of this table of people laughing and talking a million km per hour, I couldn't understand ANYTHING because I had used up all of my linguistic reserves and the wine was having its way with me, no one was talking to me, yet there I was. In a little restaurant in France, surrounded by teachers, pig's blood sloshing around in my stomache, thinking about the concept of the non-person and how, without the sunshine of the wine, I might be sad and yet, I was simply just sleepy and observant, like a scientist in a lab full of French people, or like "The Last Action Hero" having lept unknowingly into a film, where the only person watching it happen instead of making it happen, was me.

2
Having already filled one suitcase with presents (and the occassional homeward-bound clothing item for packing purposes), I am going to load up my second this afternoon/evening. Once my laundry is done. Hooray for having a seche-linge, unlike most of the French people around here (or so I imagine because they hang their clothes outside in the snow sometimes, which I wouldn't do if I had a seche-linge... but what do I know about being French? Clearly, not much haha).

1
You are part of that if you're reading this now :) Merci beaucoup pour tous. Je vous aime et je suis tres contente que vouz ayez avec moi pendant ma grande aventure.

Snow Day

It seems that I bring the snow wherever I go.

Last year when I started my student teaching in GR, I was told specifically, "Don't expect to ever get a snow day -- GRPS never closes!" and then proceeded to have three very-needed snow days.

Similarly, when I first got here, everyone said that it hardly ever snows and definitely not before February or March. What do you know, last night they announced a snow day!

And I LOVE the way they announced it -- basically, they didn't. Randomly, The Host Mom called one of the neighbors to tell them that their chocolates from the "Children of the World" fundraiser had arrived and the neighbor told her there was no school. She called a few people from the newspaper who all confirmed it. One person said that the teacher from school had called one parent and asked them to start a phone tree, but how reliable is that? Not. It wasn't on the news AND my boss didn't even tell me -- I called her, and she was like, "Oh yeah, I was going to tell you..." Haha nice.

But alas, I spent the morning with the boys and it passed relatively well. Tt was playing the Harry Potter video game and I convinced T to help me with school stuff (in turn keeping him away from Tt, who he would inevitably annoy, and who would inevitably smack him, leading to tears/drama/headaches). I asked T to help me make some example Christmas Cards to use as models for my students this week, because only he could make a card beautiful enough to show. Then we started watching Spiderman 3 (en francais, bien sur) and had a weird puzzle war with a Lucky Luke puzzle that was missing 15 pieces exactly -- they counted 15 times to make sure haha.

This week is going to be easy-- I have 2 classes tomorrow morning, and then I'm going to finish my last-minute shopping in the afternoon. That night, I'm going to a Christmas Dinner w/ the teachers from one school, which should be interesting... I'm really intimidated by them, and they speak rapid-fire French which I don't often understand. So I feel like this might be the most awkward 4 hours of my life, but thank God for the diminishing effect of wine... Wednesday I don't have any classes, so I am going to pack everything & do my laundry. Then Thursday morning, I'm teaching for an hour and then going to Lyon, where I'll stay until Friday morning when I get on the plane and come home! Hooray!

Ridiculous Side Note

I also thought I would share this gem of uselessness with you.

On my daily homepage, I have all of these cool-but-random things that pop up, one of my favorites being the "Daily How-To" which often includes crafts, worst-case scenario survival, etc.

Well, yesterday I was delighted to see something quite useful -- I thought -- an article about avoiding jet lag! How perfect for me and my upcoming 6-hour time change! (I thought.)

http://www.wikihow.com/Avoid-Jet-Lag

Perhaps people would be understanding if I explained 6 weeks before leaving that I was readjusting my time schedule, and I was completely missing all of my classes simply as a result of "my" time schedule being 6 hours behind everyone else's.

Haha, yes, of course, they would understand.

Je suis vraiment contente! :)

"Happiness isn't something you seek -- it's something you do." I read this quote in a gorgeous book in one of the dangerous shops where I spent a ton of money today ("I will need this book for my classroom library!") Newly added to my collection are:

Entre les Murs -- a book that became a movie about a French teacher! (How could I resist??)
e.e. cummings 95 poems -- if you appreciate e.e. cummings in English, you can't imagine how romantic, ingenius and wonderful his writing is en francais! C'est tellement magnifique!
24 Histoires Merveilleuses pour Attendre Noel -- truly for my classroom (haha and me), this has Christmas stories with gorgeous illustrations that I plan on reading with my students in the countdown to the most wonderful time of the year

The day started out as somewhat of a disaster as I panicked at the prefecture, thinking I didn't have my passeport with me, meaning that my rendez-vous was for nothing. Alas, after leaving two frantic messages on unanswered cell phones, I realized that I did, in fact, have it along with all of the other necessary bureaucratic hula-hoops I spent a week negociating and neatly organizing. Haha but what fun is life without a bit of useless drama?

After the appointment, I spent the morning with a couple of assistants, shopping and drinking amazing caramel hot chocolate, then traded them for another assistant with whom I had lunch in my favorite Kebab shop. (The lady anticipates my order by saying, "sans oignons!" before I can say it.)

My classes were without extreme drama today, thankfully. After my few hours of school, I returned to the prefecture to pick up my new recipisee, which will allow me back into the country after I go home. I have yet another cool thing in my passeport! :)

On my way out of the prefecture I literally stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this giant black & brown dog standing right outside the door. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, but I literally could NOT make myself continue walking towards certain immediate death. The receptionist laughed and tried convincing me that it was okay, but I was like, "Oh, non merci" until I saw a guy literally PET the beast! So timidly, I asked, "Il est gentil?" and she assured me that he was and proceeded to invite him into the building.

Only in France!

At this point in the day, my useless-but-dry-and-warm boots were KILLING my feet so I crawled onto the bus to go home. But when I arrived chez moi, I was unhappily met by an un-shoveled walk & drive way. So, feeling strangely motivated - and blissfully unaware of my feet- I went in search of the shovel and decided to make myself useful to the family in a way that magically did not involve children. It was an awesome idea until I realized how huge the driveway was, and how heavy the wet snow was. Ugh. Alas, I definitely left some patches of snow where I felt like it wasn't really in the way... haha I amaze myself by how unambitious I am sometimes! But who's going to complain about free labor? Personne.

Now, I'm pathetically sore, but I can say that I've officially shoveled a French driveway! Who would have ever thought?! Life is so good!

AND... I'll be home in one week from tomorrow!! Hooray! Hooree! Hoorizzle!

SNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHhhhh how wonderful!

I woke up this morning to a world of white! Everything is covered in about an inch and a half of snow!!

Now, it really feels like Christmas :)

Genre Theory STRIKES AGAIN!

Random Aside of a Self-Indulgent/Philosophical (?) Nature

I am a person who loves organization, and hates, hates, hates this blog because of its constant unsystematic randomness.

To completely understand the struggle, you have to also understand that I didn't really want to have a blog in the first place. Because I don't know who my audience is, really, and I am not a good judge of what is interesting about my life and what is not. So any insecurity I have of being self-absorbed and completely unhinged (clearly, a great and deep-seeded one) is magnified when I present it all in print and it just lingers out in cyberspace. Yet, on the other hand, there is always the chance that something interesting could be found here that would actually interest someone. And also, perhaps most significantly, everyone who supports me financially or otherwise wants to know what I'm actually doing whilst living this life of leisure and not following the road most trampled on.

And there is the narcicisstic nature of the blog in general, which I have thought about in depth and discussed with my professor/friend about at length before actually commencing. (Before accepting the importance of genre theory, I admit, I MOCKED IT along with my other guilty classmates. But I learned! Our running joke was that we could incorporate genre theory into everything -- and it turns out the joke was actually on us, as we CAN! It rules the way the world works, and we were stupid to fight and mock rather than delight in and embrace. But that is a whole different story altogether...)

It's awesome to think every random thought, etc. is fascinating and worth reading about, but it's really not the case. And it is TEMPTING to abuse my captive & loyal audience because, without proper reflection and editing before posting, it would be oh-so-easy to just say n'importe quoi and let you deduce your own conclusions about me/my life/etc.

However, I care far too much about my persona so I hide a thing or two, and I exagere more often than less, and hopefully that makes this blog more art than trash. But who can say? And what can you do? Rien, bien sur. Clearly, I am the forest and I can't see the trees. Or something along those lines.

So now that I've come clean about all of that, I will indulge, but hopefully pas trop.

More on Life In France

The Host Family got a Christmas tree this afternoon! I was happy to see it decorated; surprised to learn that it is French tradition to use only red and gold ornaments, representing the forbbiden fruit (red apple) and potentially riches (? she wasn't sure); sad to know that there is really only one popular Christmas song here and the kids refused to sing the right words, for some reason so I'm none the wiser; AND astonished by the fact that only one person decorated the tree. It was not a family event! Unless you count the collective chaos as an event, which I, in fact, might.

Picture the scene: The beau sapin is in the corner of the living room, growing grander with every red and gold ornament carefully arranged on its limbs by The Host Mom. T is talking to his grandparents on the phone about his dent qui bouge (loose tooth), while E is singing an impromptu, self-composed Christmas song, while Tt is playing the RECORDER and The Host Dad is vacuuming the tile floor. And then there is me -- sitting somewhat stupified on the couch, watching it all unfold.

Alas, I am filled with Christmas cheer! People are hilarious and when I am not responsible for children, and I am not the one yelling at them without cease, I really like being around them. :)

School yesterday was a disaster, which was good because
1. it made me realize I HAVE to ask for help sometimes, no matter how much I want to be super teacher of the century
2. it made today's classes seem like something out of an education textbook (aka completely ideal, cookie-cutter kids who never do anything wrong, and lessons that go perfectly)

I think the host family was a bit afraid of me last night at dinner, because I was so emotionally drained that I could hardly get up the energy to converse. The Host Mom eventually asked me, very hesitantly, how classes went and basically all I could say was, "C'etait l'infer." There was one kid who LITERALLY drew on his own face with a blue marker. What kind of teacher doesn't notice that as it's happening?!

With another student, I asked him if he could behave himself and stay in the class, or if he needed to leave, to which he responded, "Ca m'est egal dans les deux cas" (I don't care either way) and I was like, "MOI NON PLUS!" (Me either) which I tried to shove back into my mouth even as the words were stampeding outward. Shame, shame, shame on me.

However, as I spent more and more time with the children of the corn (aka the front corner of my CE1 class) I realized that I just simply cannot do it alone.

There are some things I can practice and improve at until I succeed. But the way I have tried EVERYTHING I can think of to get those kids to listen at the expense of everyone else is absurd.

This whole system is completely absurd. I am expected to walk into these classes a month or more after the school year started, not having any sort of real power (can't give homework, can't give consequences because I'm not the "Real Teacher") and effectively teach these classes of 30 kids while the teacher is off doing n'importe quoi on his free time? It's so stupid, I can hardly even stand it. And what really makes me mad is that I get the sense that he doesn't really care if the kids learn or not. Because if he did, wouldn't he be in there watching me and making sure I wasn't just wasting 45 precious minutes? Or, maybe even -- I don't know -- helping me since he is an older teacher who probably knows a lot more than I do about how to actually teach.

Haha okay so when I started, I really did have Christmas cheer! But then I went off on that rant. Now I'm literally exhausted, so I'm going to read as much of "A Tout Jamais" (A Walk to Remember in French!) as I can before I fall asleep.

AND because I figured out the cause of my annoying inability to sleep through the night & fixed it -- my watch was beeping once every hour, and I think I would wake up but not realize what had woken me up -- I plan on sleeping comme j'etais morte ce soir.

Bon nuit! A bientot.

Missing: Everything

Captive audience, be warned. I don't want sympathy; I just want to say it.

The cold air here reaches inside of your throat, scraping your trachea, leaving your insides trembling.

"No Children, No Cry" & The Great Balloon Launch

I swear, every day I become less and less eager to have children.

Instead of beautiful accordion music echoing off of narrow city streets, the soundtrack to my life is strains of, "Je n'ai MARRE!" amongst sobs and wails, and the sharp sound of French frustration and exasperated sighs.

HOW DO PEOPLE KEEP THEIR SANITY WHILST RAISING KIDS? I do not have a clue. Supposely, it's easier if they're your own but yikes! This is craziness!

Luckily, my bus to the sweet sound of English-speaking friends & SILENCE arrives in 37 minutes. Hallelujah!

Despite my tiredness and "avoir marre" with being around crying children, I had a great week! The Christmas decorations up around town are amazing, and it makes me so excited for the approaching holidays! I spent quite a bit of time with the other assistants, which was great. School went pretty well, and I started researching/planning my rapidly-approaching February trip to PARIS with JB. (PARIS!!! And JB!!! Yay!)

Yesterday evening, I experienced probably the COOLEST thing I've seen in France yet. The whole town is raising money for the Telethon, a charity for children with degenerative diseases, so everywhere you go, there are different things happening. (I'd just like to clarify that I was completely confused, because I was thinking that a telethon was a set thing where you call in & donate money. But clearly, that is not what this is here. Although that may be part of it? I'm not sure... haha -- again, welcome to my life).

The school where I work on Tuesdays and Fridays was having a bake sale, where for 2 Euros the kids could buy une brioche and receive a white card in return that would be attached to a balloon and later released by all of the students at once. The school's address was written on one side of the card, and the students all decorated the other side... that way, if someone finds the balloon later, they can mail it back & the kids will know how far their balloons went! I guess last year one ended up in Germany! :)

The kids were all SO excited about it, and I loved being there to see it all! There was so much excitement in the air, and the kids were all bursting with anticipation before the director of the school gave them the OK to let the balloons go. It was BEAUTIFUL to see when the balloons -- yellow, pink, blue, orange, green, purple -- all floated up together against the greyblue sky. A wave of cheers burst out from the children, all standing in the school yard with their heads all tilted back, eyes fixed on their balloons, scurrying off into the great unknown.

The teacher from l'infer, and another funny day.

I officially have a favorite class, which I realized today as they were brightly singing "Once There was a Snowman" with such enthusiam and uninhibited gusto, it seriously made me laugh. It was wonderful. I was so happy I even winked at one of the students!

Then I somehow missed the bus. I read the schedule wrong and was waiting for about 10 minutes at the bus stop when I decided to just double check in case. And I was definitely 5 minutes early for when I thought the bus was leaving... and 15 minutes late for when it actually did leave. It was beautiful, though, so I decided to just walk.

Well, call me the connossieur of picking up rides from middle-aged ladies, wouldn't you know someone pulled over and offered me a ride! She was one of the neighbors, so I gladly accepted. Quelle chance encore!

The rest of the afternoon was sort of uneventful; I did laundry and bought a couple of books in French, one of which made me laugh like an insane person at the bus stop.

And then the kids came home. Dinner was crazy, as I tried pathetically to remove the skins from the boiled sausages (such a trick!) and then AFTERWARD -- oh my gosh. Tt wanted to play school, and quickly proved to be a teacher from l'infer. It was more like war than school, and his brother obviously didn't want to play, but every time he would try and quit Tt would try and "punish" him as the teacher. Clearly, this didn't last long. Luckily, this was the first time ever that T went to sleep without making me want to kill myself.

Faux.

Ahh! I was wrong! I had a very bad nightmare, and I didn't sleep well at all.

So much for my theory... haha

"Cultivate Your Garden" and whatnot.

I AM SO HAPPY, the kind of fleeting, all-consuming DELIGHT that seems to bubble through your veins and stretch the limits of your skin, like it wants OUT! You know that kind?

The best thing is, this fleeting bliss is going to last me until I fall asleep so I will have good dreams, maybe even French good dreams. And then I'll wake up tomorrow and it will be a good DAY. If I could bottle this, I would.

But here is the gist of it:

I feel CONTENT. It seems like the first of December is a really nice time for this sense of sanded-edges, and well-worn paths... like this is a good time for me to think, I am happy here, as I know I'm about to go home soon. I like it here.

It's so awesomely "Zen" if you will - the amount of temperance I am practicing... B.Franklin would be proud. I'm proud, actually. Who would have thought "France" = "Land of Temperance?" Not me. But alas, here I am, Miss (or should I say, Mademoiselle) Temperance. And happily so. The balance - the equilibrium. It's all so delicate and magical. Thank you, Mr. Francis, for Siddartha & refusing to attend the Mandatory Staff Meetings in defense of your class that was so inaccurately called a "blow-off class." I still have my numen, even though I never had it once on days when he would check for it. (Murphy operates in Zen & Zenless places, I guess).

Do you know in French it's still "tao?"

In other news, that might completely nullify all that I've just said, I am excited because I found T's Christmas present today (finally!) I've been looking all over for the Cars DVD en francais, and I couldn't find it anywhere. Today I found it, but it was in a 2-pack with Ratatouille, which we've watched 238497234 times already. So what did the Nuggets employee do? Oh, he opened the box & sold me the one DVD. I was astounded! Qu'est-ce qui s'est passe? I wondered. But apparently, this is normal. I still felt like it was my birthday, however.

I keep meaning to mention a little sidenote about my LEAST favorite thing about this town: the PocketRockIts are alive and well here, rather than safely burried in my distant memories of "La Bamba" and my basement when we were very young. It is as if everyone's secret (or not-so-secret) desire to be the star of their own movie with the perfect soundtrack playing in the background is realized here, DAILY, by the adolescents. It's horrifying.

If they had something meaningful, musical and/or interesting, I might feel differently. But there are some facons of life here that I can't grasp, nor do I have any desire to do so -- and this is numero un on my list. Ipods are cool because you can pretend to be in a movie, without annoying everyone else with your whiny/horrifying soundtrack. Just wait... one of these days, my temperance is going to evaporate and I am going to go crazy on some self-absorbed, musically-tasteless ado on the bus... haha with my awesome American accent, THIS would be a disastrous movie scene in itself. It is painful to imagine. Really, I know I'm way too timid with my French to really do that. But I am getting better at yelling in French at school. Haha I doubt that this makes me a better teacher, but it DOES help me get my point across clearly. C'est tres utile, I must say.

Alas. I cultivate my garden. I finished the fourth book today! Tomorrow, I begin Planning for Paris with my "Let's Go to France On a Budget" book.

Best Francegiving Ever!

So although I thought Thanksgiving had come and gone already, I was very wrong. Yesterday was the REAL Thanksgiving -- our "Francegiving."

Our celebration was truly traditional in that we met up at 2 in the afternoon and didn't leave until about 10, eating and drinking all day, watching "A Christmas Story" and fighting each other for space in the kitchen - either to cook, or to clean (collectively). Everyone made or brought something to contribute so our meal, in total, consisted of:

Boissons
Champagne + black currant sirop (un kir royale)
Stellas
Red wine + white wine
Aperatifs
Chip Dip
Brie + carmelized onions + baguette
Assorted raw vegetables + home-made Ranch dressing
Entree
Turkey
Stuffing
Home-made gravy
Mashed potatoes
Vegetables
Green bean casserole
Salad
Traditional English pudding
Dessert
Chocolate whiskey mousse
Pavalova

Basically, in Thanksgiving style, everyone was in food comas most of the day, and the walk home was very welcome after over-indulging to the extreme. We said the Robbie Burns toast (yay!) and then sporatically during dinner people would exclaim, "I'm thankful for...!" and we would all "hear, hear!" and feel happy to be together. :)

It was WONDERFUL! And I loved being part of the other assistants' First Thanksgiving ever!

The First (and Second) Thanksgiving

The first Thanksgiving (on actual Thanksgiving) was at a really nice restaurant in town, with 21 teachers from the high and middle schools and 10 assistants. I felt bad because we spoke English a lot, and I kept forgetting that no one else could understand us... weird that I could possibly forget that, when I am CONSTANTLY reminded every day in France. Haha I guess I will consider that what I was thankful for on Thursday: perspective.

The second Thanksgiving was this afternoon. As stupid as it is, I seriously think I haven't been sleeping very well the last few days because I was so worried about it. (Hello, Type A). I really wanted everything to turn out right and I felt like I had a million things working against me.

Exhibit A: I don't really like cooking, because I don't know what I'm doing.
Exhibit B: I'm not familiar with this particular kitchen, aside from knowing the general location of different food items, and my usual place at the table.
Exhibit C: The measurements (Centigrade instead of Fahrenheit; grams/liters/etc. instead of everything that my recipe asked for)
Exhibit D: The grocery store -- Gah, it was a nightmare trying to find what I needed, especially when some things just don't exist here. And I went twice.
Exhibit E: I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted everything to be perfect.

Alas, knowing all of that, I went into this almost expecting a complete nightmare. I had no back-up plan, so I had to have a bit of faith in this, but not much.

Overall, it went pretty well... I mean, the kids basically just didn't eat, and they literally cheered for T because he finished his plate. However, The Host Mom and Dad were beside themselves thanking me for doing that. Even if it didn't taste tres bon (because it really wasn't my finest, thanks to the weird and UNRELIABLE Kikomen soy sauce that I was counting on so much) they clearly appreciated the effort. The cake was pretty good except but I didn't add enough water or something because it was actually dry... ugh. The frosting was delectible, though, of course -- Betty Crocker always comes through!

However, despite my disappointment about the quality of the food, the whole thing was completely vaut la peine. I sort of faced my fears (though I definitely failed the Great Turkey Challenge of 2008) and now I can finally sleep again.

As Edith Piaf would say, non, je ne regrette rien.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Despite the serious absence of ubiquitous cartoon turkeys and shelves of pumpkin pie filling, it is starting to feel like Christmas here! I was officially IN the snowfall for the first time yesterday, and immediately wanted to go do some shopping, bake cookies & watch "White Christmas."

All of my classes were completely crazy, because we were all so ecstatic about the snow! Haha I encouraged the madness & delight, rather than try to fight it, and experienced the most intense games of Simon Says ever. (Here they play Jacques a dit... haha OF COURSE they do). I left a disastrous, uncontrollable blur of movement, laughter and chaos for the teacher to deal with... haha sucks to be a full-time responsible adult, doesn't it :p I wouldn't know.

All in all, my Thanksgiving plans are looking bright.

School: In an attempt to share the origins of Thanksgiving (and/or correct the incredibly sugar-coated ideas of What Really Happened when the Pilgrims first arrived in 1620) I spent practically all morning writing a one-page paper about The History of Thanksgiving, and then having The Host Mom hack it all apart with the precision and efficiency of a neurosurgeon. Aside from suffering massive damage to my "I'm Getting Better at French" ego, it was incredibly helpful and I learned alot. Plus, now I can actually do something educational before having the kids "Experience the American school tradition of doing a Thanksgiving Craft" (aka make "Happy Thanksgiving" cards). It makes my Educator Conscience feel a bit more at ease.

Actual Thanksgiving: While you are all still in food comas from massive consumption of Thanksgiving deliciousness, I will be having a French meal in town with all of the language assistants in Le Puy. The teachers at the high schools and middle schools (no one that I work with) have invited all of us, and it will be nice to see everyone! Plus, it IS Thanksgiving so regardless of what we eat, we can all be Thankful together. :)

Host Family Dinner: Perhaps you wished hard enough that I wouldn't find a turkey, or maybe I had already made up my mind, but I cut my losses and never actually went in search of another one after my first try. So, I'm making Adobe Chicken & Rice (my favorite meal!) and a chocolate/chocolate Betty Crocker cake (thanks to Jess who mailed it to me!!). I feel significantly less anxious about this than I would have if I had to actually -- ugh -- stick my hand inside of a turkey, and somehow magically turn it into something edible 5.5 hours later. Non, merci. Sorry, host family... maybe next year, part of the application process should be culinary-related.

Traditional Thanksgiving Dinner: Sunday night, all of the assistants are going to have a traditional Thanksgiving meal. Who knows what that means -- between the fact that no one has been brave enough to search for a turkey, and the fact that every family has their own traditions, I think this might be a circus of a meal, but I'm excited! I'm making the delicious B-Family Chip Dip, which will be hilariously interesting because when I got to the store I couldn't find cream cheese exactly, so I got something else that I think (hopefully) will work -- it's not goat or blue cheese so it might be edible -- then I couldn't find Hormel Chili. Did you KNOW that places existed where one cannot get a can of Hormel Chili?? I did not. So I bought a Geant Casino brand can of something called "Chili Con Carne" complete with sauce packet taped onto the lid... we'll see. THEN I went in search of the shredded cheese mix that is everywhere in American grocery stores, only to realize that there is only one kind of cheese that comes grated here and I don't like it. So... I bought "Hamburger Cheese" squares (literally, it is called that. IN ENGLISH) and supposedly it's a mix of cheddar & one other kind, but I figure I will tear it into strips & weave them in a nice criss-cross pattern across the top of the dip, as if it were a beautiful apple pie. Haha I WILL take pictures, especially of peoples' faces as they take their first hesitant bite. We'll see...!

In other news, T confessed to me yesterday that he really likes having "une cherie" at school, and that he KISSED her! I almost died laughing because just the day before, he had been dramatically insisting that he will never get married because girls are disgusting and love is repulsive, and complaining about 'Pauline' who kissed him on the cheek the day before. Oh, to be six years old. He has insisted that I not tell his mom, to which I said fine because je crois qu'il ne peut pas garder un secret, comme-meme.

At lunch today, we had a fascinating conversation about les enfants qui ne sont pas sages (kids who aren't well-behaved) at Christmas time. In France, if kids are bad then Pere Noel just doesn't come at all. I told them about how Santa Clause brings coal and puts in kids' stockings, and T started crying and saying Je ne suis pas sage! (which is often incredibly true). At which point, The Host Dad started laughing, Tt started mocking T for crying all of the time and The Host Mom made another effort to convince T that he CAN be well-behaved but it's his choice. I think it's kind of awesome that Santa Clause actually COMES to the house, and leaves a crappy present... it's more of a smack in the face than just forgetting the kid altogether, I think.

Anyways, the conversation led to more talk of Christmas, presents, etc. and E said something like, "Clemence only got two gifts last year" and the The Host Mom started talking about how maybe it is better to get only two gifts that you really want than 20 that you won't really appreciate. She went off about how there was a woman at the optomitrist today with three kids who couldn't pay for the appointment, and how if she couldn't pay 28 Euros for a doctor appointment, it was SURE that those kids weren't going to be visited by Pere Noel. (The Host Mom often gives these incredible but clearly unappreciated-by-everyone-but-me monologues about social problems in France, and how the family should be grateful for what they have, not waste anything, and not complain because so many people don't have half of what they have. It often make me really think.)

I was quite impressed by her hard-hitting points about how we all have complete meals every day, and the kids have rooms full of toys already, but there are people even in France who can't pay for food, or Christmas presents, often single mothers and retired people who have worked all their lives, and whose paychecks or social security only cover utilities, water and rent. I'm not always sure what kind of reaction she expects, but she often gets kind of stunned silence... I am pleased that she challenges her children to think about these huge things at such young ages.

As much as sometimes I feel like we clash, I really do admire how AWARE she is, how frustrated and non-complacent, and how responsible she feels for Making Things Better, starting with her own family. She buys practically all organic food, which is cool. It's very bohemian. And in France they call it "bio" which is very scientific and futuristic-sounding, which adds to the whole experience of eating.

Sorry this was kind of a scattered post... but also, welcome to my life. :)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Le Monopoly and the Little Cheating French Girl

This child makes me hate the game. Je te jure.

Best 39 Euros I've Ever Spent

Yesterday afternoon at exactly 4:10, I was on the bus when I saw, for the first time in FIVE DAYS, the glorious golden hue of afternoon sunshine. It lasted a brief but brilliant hour, during which time I willed myself to combat the cold and allow every possible particle of Vitamin D and well-being to seep into my pores, hoarding it like a solar panel or camel, willing it to last just a little bit longer. That heavenly sun might be the only bit we'll see in another week, so I'm glad to have seen it while it was here, melting across the wide expanse of hills, houses and roads as we sloughed out of town.

Earlier in the dreary day, after taking a completely subjective survey of beauty salons in town, and then trying to squeeze in time to eat a Kebab before class, there was a discussion about my impending Early Christmas Present -- une soiree au Centre Culturelle to see Celtic Legends, the Irish music & dance spectacle. Most prominent of the points of discussion was the fact that I was going alone. This led to point two: The pros and cons of taking a taxi vs. walking alone to the apartment at 10:30 at night. Which led to point three: The importance of making a friend at said event, but the necessity of this friend to be a middle-aged woman (they're supposedly the safest risk).

Strangely enough, elements of this haphazard discussion rattled around in my head all afternoon, and actually proved themselves useful later on. I brought a book with me, Special Topics in Calamity Physics, and read it while I waited in line for the doors to open. As everyone swarmed up the first staircase, I decided to take a seat on the opposite side of the room, where I would be conspicuously alone, reading my English book. I figured that since the concert wasn't even close to being sold out, and there were empty seats all around, the ONLY person who would sit directly next to me would be someone who wanted to make a friend.

And I was right! A lady wearing a burnt orange coat with a frilly scarf sat right next to me, with fluffs of sand-colored hair that reminded me of my first grade teacher. She had very kind blue eyes, with delicate laugh lines that appeared when she smiled. As soon as she sat down, I closed my book, drew in a breath for courage, and asked her, "Vous etes ici toute seule?" This sparked a long and detailed explanation of where everyone was (her friends, her mari, her kids) and why no one came with her, which led, ultimately, to a half-hour of fluid French pleasantries before the show started. She told me about her trip to Louisiana in 1995, explained with exact detail the different accents that exist in France, asked about what I was doing here, talked about how people here can't really speak English, right up until the lights dimmed and the show started.

The show itself was MAGNIFICENT! I don't know if it really is something about having Irish roots, or the fact that I always think of playing music with our own fearsome trio, or what, but I feel like I am OVERWHELMED with JOY as soon as I hear the melding of the inspired fiddle, jovial accordion, and fluid guitar. I laughed at the piper's incredible attempts at French (parlay-vooz frahncay?) and was astounded by the sheer speed and accuracy of the synchronous thumps, taps, and booms of the dancers' feet on the springy floor. Sometimes it seemed like they were literally floating, hair like their legs - tamed, toned and impossibly straight. The music seemed ALIVE, and I was inexplicably impressed by the ability of the guitarist to DRIVE the whole group, as there was no drummer. Au meme temps, the guitar was like honey flowing across all of the sounds, melting them all together as it went. It all was absolutely incredible, and I SWEAR at the very first note I heard, the particular smell of Dublin overwhelmed me -- the bitter smell of Guinness, and soap, and cologne, and cold. I think there was a smile permanently affixed to my face the entire two hours.

After it was over, I was wildly raving about it to My Neighbor when she suddenly asked me if I was going home alone. I said yes, and she quickly inquired if I was walking. Again, I said yes (having shamelessly already spent my cab money) when she asked if I wanted a ride home. Weighing the dangers (riding in a car with the nicest middle aged French lady ever OR walking half an hour home alone in the freezing cold), I decided to take her up on the offer. She told me more about her family, her retirement, her former job, her frequent bus rides -- basically the Reader's Digest version of her autobiography. I don't know if it was the high from the music, or the little bit of drowsiness I felt, or the way she reminded me of a grandmother/teacher/fairy godmother, but somehow I was able to effortlessly, cohesively construct questions and responses and it was like my first actual, NORMAL, real conversation in French! It was the greatest feeling ever -- I had actually made a French friend!

Partly out of cautiousness, and partly out of my cluelessness as to the names of roads around here, I had her drop me off a few blocks from the apartment. When she dropped me off in town, I thanked her a million times, adorned my best version of an intimidating scowl and then semi-ran home, with my keys stuck between my fingers so I could -- I don't know, stab someone if they tried to attack me? I think I felt my luck had been so good so far, I shouldn't chance it.

After a restless sleep, I awoke to the unwelcome sounds of a garbage truck at 5 am, followed by someone's alarm that literally sounded like it was next to my head. I gave up at 6 and watched the French version of Carebears (Les Bisounours).

The bus was supposed to arrive at 7h40 so I made sure to leave at 7h20 to make sure I was at the bus stop early. I was happy to see the first greyblue signs of daylight as I left the apartment and headed towards the city center. As I walked past the huge fountain, for the first time illuminated and not surrounded by temporary carnival things, I saw the beautiful moment when all of the city lights clicked off together.

I waited at the bus stop, but the bus never came.

I waited, anxiously, until 8h10 and took another bus, which goes near T and E's school. The Host Dad picked me up from there on his way to drop the kids off at school, which was really nice, but I felt kind of stupid... did the bus seriously just not come? Or did I somehow miss it while I was reading my book? I guess I will never know, but that is one thing I do not forgive easily -- when je me suis trompee by public transportation, I feel like I am wronged by the entire "civilized" world. In fact, I even said out loud today, je ne peux pas compter sur vous! as if I could hurt the absent bus's feelings.

Haha oh, absurd world.

I have a headache, am hungry, and just want to curl up and finish my book here where it's warm. But alas, I have no good stories to write about when I hide inside The Great Indoors.

So I'm going to face the bus system again in 36 minutes, and try my hand once more. Wish me luck!

Wednesday. Like "Whensday"

I helped Tt with his English homework and tried to explain Wednesday and its senseless spelling. Like Should. And why if you say "I have no sisters" it's plural, but if you say "I have one sister" it's singular. I don't know, why... it just is.

Wednesdays are the longest days ever here. Because they make me feel a bit on the outside of everything... or they give me the time to think about it all, and feel that way. When it's ugly like today - cold, damp, and grey - I feel a silly kind of sadness, a bit angsty, like a middle schooler. I realize that the townies all go out together, and I'm not always there, and when I am, it's like I am The New Girl, or like they say, The Responsible Teacher, which is a little less than The New Girl. I can understand all of it rationally, but still I feel like I don't really click with anyone, and maybe it's a thousand things like a chemical reaction where you can't extract the original elements since they've become something new, but it doesn't make me happy. It makes me feel lonely.

Would You Rather...

... get soaked in the rain, or stand in the bus hut next to someone who is smoking?

This was my dilemma this afternoon, and I decided the cigarette wasn't so bad.

I read more of "Special Topics in Calamity Physics," a book which I've wanted to read for quite a while, but finally picked up at the used book store in Cork. This is one of those novels that is a little bit too smart for me, filled with endless literary references that I'm obviously not understanding, but that also makes me feel like I'm getting smarter from reading it.

It reminds me of this kid Abe that was in a couple of my poetry classes at university... his poems were always fragmented lists of random references that I was aware of but never understood, and never made the effort to research. People in class either hailed him as a Poet God and ceaselessly flattered him for his talent rather than admitting that they didn't understand his cryptic references, or they admitted that they didn't get it, and identified themselves as laypeople.

Turkey Search, Useless Boots, Book Worm

Since I'm getting used to being here, and things are becoming a bit more routine, I don't always have that much to say. As exotic and exciting as it sounds to Live in France, it's strangely becoming usual.

But alas, I haven't written in almost a week and a few funny/unusual things have happened.

On Friday night, I stayed in town and went to a soiree with a bunch of other assistants and a few French people. It was amusing and I learned a bit of improper French (il ne faut pas le dire a vos eleves -- jamais!) but I had also started to get helplessly sucked into "Twilight" and couldn't wait to go back to read more (haha SUCH a nerd).

Saturday morning, I stumbled across an incredible open-air market that aparently happens every week. Even though it was quite frosty, there were some die-hard musicians playing some kind of French folk music, which made it seem just too perfect amongst les legumes et les fruits for sale. I also discovered a place that sells chickens... that are already cooked!! My Thanksgiving "turkey"?? Very possible. I had finished the 500 page book by the time I went to sleep, and ordered the next 3 books from Amazon.fr from the surprisingly huge English book selection -- free shipping included, very nice.

The rest of the weekend involved excessive reading, and hours of talking on Skype to my parents and mon amoureux. (And honing my Chinese Checkers skills.) I spent a lot of time contemplating my lesson plans, which was funny because I didn't spend that much time actually doing anything about that... I'm wondering if that makes me more of a teacher, or less (haha).

Today was one awkward thing after another. On the way to the bus stop, which is not far, and barely beyond the cows, my socks had come almost all the way off my feet inside of my boots. At school, I learned that on Thursday, all of the teachers except for one of my classes will be en greve -- on strike. So there will literally be only one class of kids in the WHOLE school. The teacher asked me if I could make it, and upon reflection (one hour of bus ride + one hour of walking + having to buy my lunch instead of eating for free at home) I said, "Oui" because I am here to teach English. I'm not sure at what point it happened, but when I started my trek back to town from the school, I had awful blisters all over my feet from my very warm & toasty & dry boots. It was so bad by the time I got off the bus that I was literally limping back to the house. Thank God the French have such advanced and effective bandaids, thanks to their crazy fashionable footwear.

Tomorrow, I'm going to make my final attempts at obtaining a turkey. Wish me luck/not really. I fear this turkey-making more than I originally realized; I just have this bad feeling that disaster awaits. Chicken Enchiladas are sounding better and better all the time...

A good day

I'm feeling so much better now, overall, about everything. My cold is almost gone, and my next vacation begins 5 weeks from today at 3:30 pm.

So in that spirit, here are some things that make me happy:

1. Coca-Cola. Delicious. And EXACTLY the same here as it is at home.
2. The Internet.
3. The fact that I just finished reading a French book, written in French, read in France. And yes, it might have been written for 8 year olds but it was incredibly entertaining. And I read the whole thing without a dictionary. Impressionant, hein?
4. Letters/Cards - I feel like it's my birthday everytime I come home and find something sitting on my bookshelf, like today (thank you!) :)
5. My coat. It makes me feel invincible.
6. The cold weather. Today it was that shocking kind of cold, where it almost feels too cold to snow. Crazy that yesterday I had my window open but today I had on every warm thing I could find. It reminds me of home!
7. Teaching. It makes me LAUGH!
8. The donkeys that live next to the cows next door. I was told when I first moved here that they existed, but I literally did not see them until I came back from Ireland. I have yet to welcome them to the 'hood. But soon!
9. Christmas music. The other day, I downloaded John Denver & The Muppets' Christmas album & have listened to nothing else since.
10. Being here, but knowing I will eventually be going home. I am finally feeling settled... when I come back to my room, I feel at ease. It is familiar; I have a place for my shoes, and my English Breakfast Tea. I know how to lock the doors that are hard to lock, and use the washing machine. The bus drivers are starting to recognize me. My French is better. I talked to a butcher about turkey today - in French - while thinking, how crazy that I am here now, having this conversation and trying not to throw up looking at the impossibly pink pigs' feet! And at school, I talked to the stagiaires in strangely confident language that if they heard at the IUFM about un desastre, it was, without doubt, my CE1 class and that I've only had them twice, as if that makes any difference at all.
11. Perfect moments. At the bus stop today, a whole line of kids with their arms out like stars walked across the street and passed in front of me. I recognized one of the teachers from the school and she said hello and then I realized they were all my students! So thirty little winter-coat-wearing stars said hello to me, one after another, before I got on the bus, feeling suddenly like I was exactly in the right place.

J'en sais rien.

I watched "Harry Potter et la coupe de feu" yesterday and it made me sooo excited for Christmas! So I immediately downloaded John Denver & The Muppets' Christmas album, and have been listening to nothing else since. I really hope the host family gets a real Christmas tree, because I LOVE doing that.

La Difficulte

I liked the thought, when I originally left, that this adventure would help me become a better, more real version of myself (and I thank Mrs. G-Unit for that nugget o' wisdom on the steps of her front porch). Of all the things that I heard, this one made me the most sure that whatever happened during this year abroad, I would eventually return somehow more Myself.

The hardest thing about this, though, is that while the world continues, I will return to a place that is a little different than it was when I left. And to people who have also become more Themselves while I was away. I keep picturing it like the roller coaster at Six Flags where one car goes backward, while the other goes forward, and even though they take different courses, they end up at the same place. Tu vois? It's a GOOD THING. But the hard thing is it requires a bit of distance, a bit of freedom. A bit of the hard kind of courage that allows the kite a bit more string, that trusts just a little more in the stuff of the kite, that it will fly like it must, and do all of its kite-things, and eventually the wind will die down, the kite will float back and re-plant itself on the ground. And the world will be a bit new, and there will be a little learning, and change, but that the kite is still the kite, and the ground is still the ground.

This is the hard thing.

But not so hard, all the same. I've learned most undeniably that life is a ride, and whether you want to or not, you get on and go where it takes you, regardless of your plans and maps and pinpointed futures. You get a bit of choice, but the rest is simply a matter of holding on and learning to let go, embracing the feel of weather on your face, the pulse of emotion in your veins, the sense of never knowing what will happen next. That is being alive -- knowing everything is a GIFT, and learning to feel it, every SECOND that you have it, for every little thing you get.

"Good luck exploring the infinite abyss."

Irish Rover

I am SO in love with Ireland. I literally cried on my train back to Le Puy.

Monday, 27 October
I got into Paris around 5 pm, navigated the Metro and met Jules at the hotel (L'Hotel Virginie). We headed toward La Tour Eiffel and had dinner at a restaurant just around the corner from it. Afterward, we took the elevator all the way to the top! The view was absolutely incredible! Aside from the ridiculously shaky elevator that I was sure was going to drop us from the very top, and the millions of LOUD Russian children surrounding us, it was an awesome!

Tuesday, 28 October
We took the Metro to the Paris Porte Maillot stop and caught the bus to the Paris Beauvais airport. This ended up being a trick as it was dark, there were no signs and we couldn't really understand the people we had asked, so we ended up walking in a huge square before finding it. (A delight at 6 am). The bus ride was about an hour and 15 minutes and we, of course, laughed basically the whole way while everyone else slept. The Beauvais airport is TINY and ridiculously unorganized for having only one airline that uses it.

We understood immediately why our tickets were so cheap! They give you literally nothing on the plane, and try to sell you EVERYTHING. We joked that they would sell us the cushions if we wanted. Also, they don't assign seats (is that even legal?) so you have to wait in a huge queue where people randomly push you aside... it's chaos. But we got our seats so it was okay. We played the "How do you say" game using mon dictionaire and the two French guys in front of us just laughed at our pathetic attempts at French. I really DO want to know what an ice man is, though... it's in the dictionary, so I guess it's something? They weren't nice enough to tell us, even though they were obviously listening in.

Once we got to Dublin we were horribly disappointed. It did NOT look at all like the Ireland we had imagined! There were no sheep, or rolling hills, or little cottages. It was very industrial, full of neighborhoods, and road construction, etc. Literally, when we were on the bus heading toward the city, I thought, "I'm never coming back here again."

But luckily, we were pleasantly surprised by the cuteness of Dublin's city center! Our hotel wasn't very far from the bus stop, so we left our stuff there and then had lunch at the Bloody Horse (a disgusting name, but it had good food). We decided to hop on the city bus and just see what there was to see. As soon as we neared the Guinness Storehouse, we decided it was time to descend and explore.

That was really interesting! I thought it was going to be a factory tour, but it was more of a museum explaining how Guinness is made and giving some interesting history about it. One incredible fact is that Arthur Guinness signed a 9,000 year lease on that property. We also learned the four key ingredients: water, barley, hops, and yeast. The best part, a mon avis, was the taste-testing Half-Stout Guinness, and the free beverage at the end which we got to pull ourselves. I learned that there is quite a skill to it... And we both officially finished our very first pints of Guinness! How very Irish of us. :)

Afterward, we meandered the streets looking for our correct bus and discovered that the Irish have NO IDEA how to make a map. (Nor do they feel the need to label the bus stops. I don't know why). Literally, one can memorize their maps but if you follow the directions from the map, you will get COMPLETELY LOST. And this was not just a one-time thing... this was always. On EVERY map. We learned to ask the natives, and use the maps for a general guideline.

At night, we had dinner at the restaurant above the Quay's Bar and had the most delicious fish and chips I've ever had! Afterward, we went to the bar below and listened to some excellent Irish music. Sadly, while enjoying our pints at the bar, we were approached by... oui, c'est vrai... two French men. It was amusing at first because the one guy was explaining how he can't go back to France because of "une probleme" and I kept asking him WHAT and all he said was, "Je n'ai pas tue personne" meaning, "I didn't kill anyone." I found it totally laughable, though, he was so full of crap. And he also kept trying to sell us men's shirts that cost over 100 Euros. (Why would we need them? I don't know.) We got tired of them very quickly, and moved to a different part of the bar where we could ecouter la musique in peace.

Feeling very Irish, we decided to attempt to drink another Guinness, making it two in one day. We were advised on the bus that if you ask for black currant sirop, the Guinness is much easier to drink. So I asked, and it probably would have been if the guy didn't just add one tiny drop in a huge pint of it. We could barely taste it in the disgustingly overpowering darkness of the Guinness. So we just drank it as fast as we could.

Consequently, when we went to leave, I opened the door and thought, "Jeez it's cold. I should have worn a coat!" and then remembered, "Oh, but I did" and had to squeeze back through the crowd to find my lovely jacket.

I slept well that night, for sure.

Wednesday, 29 October
It was a true Dublin day -- rainy and freezing cold. We had a nice traditional Irish breakfast at a restaurant called Sixty6 and met the nicest pink-tie-wearing Australian waiter. We got lost again (of course) while trying to find this dinner/dance show where we wanted to make reservations. We went to the Tourism Office which didn't really help, and then helplessly boarded a bus where the nicest bus driver ever quit his break early and literally drove us to where we needed to go! Love the Irish! :)

After we made our reservations, we went to Christ's Church and then to St. Patrick's Cathedrale. I really wanted to go see the place where St. Valentine was buried, so we went on a useless quest using -- what else-- our useless map, until both Jules and I were soaked, tired, hungry and irritated. So we gave up and went for dessert instead. We went back to the hotel afterward to rest up and watch some quality tv (IN ENGLISH!)

That night we headed into town to go to Legends for the 3-course meal, and then the traditional Irish music & dance show. The food was amazing, as was the 3-piece band and the dance show. From the night before, we had learned a few of the traditional Irish pub songs, and were so happy to hear them played again!

After the show ended, we were on our way back to the hotel when we passed by a pub with live music blasting through the door. We looked at each other and veered into the pub. We spent the rest of the night going from place to place, meeting tons of people and LOVING the fact that everyone was so friendly, and so good at speaking English!

Thursday, 30 October
We spent the day at Malahide Castle, after (once again) being misled by Irish directions. We took the wrong train, and ended up wasting almost an hour. Then when we got to Malahide, we looked at the MAP (WHY???) and went the wrong way, taking an entire group of people with us! Haha that was actually pretty funny... why they would follow us, I don't have a clue.

The castle was much smaller than we had imagined, but it was nice to get out of the city for a bit.

When we got back to Dublin, we had the most delicious Mexican food ever. We went to Temple Bar, and were lucky enough to get a pretty good seat thanks to the really nice Irish couple who guarded it for us as they were leaving. This was the night that we discovered the truly delicious Irish beer -- Smithwicks (pronounced Smith-icks). To that bar tender, we owe a million thanks.

The rest of the night was spent meeting more friends, and avoiding weird Brazilian guys, eating midnight pizza and then trudging home, completely exhausted.

Friday 31 October
We woke up semi-early to catch the bus to Cork, but had a really hard time finding it. By the time we got to the bus stop near one in the afternoon, we were already irritated, tired, and sort of feeling sick. However, our good spirits re-emerged on the bus ride and we annoyed everyone with our constant laughter and overall ridiculosity. (I have truly missed spending time with an old friend!)

It took almost forever to get there, and by the time we arrived in Cork it was already dark. Much to our chagrin, we saw our Bed & Breakfast whiz past as we were still on the ugly highway FAR from the city center. I started laughing as Jules became enraged -- she had booked all of the hotels online, having done quite a bit of research to make sure everything was good, and was under the impression that the Belvedere Lodge was in the city center.

When we got off the bus, I asked the driver if he knew how we could get to our hotel. I explained, "We booked it online, having no idea that it was so far away," to which he gave me The Look meaning, "Why?"

After going to the useless bus station in search of help, and calling the useless night worker at the B & B who said she didn't know which bus we could take, and she didn't have a schedule (only later to give us the schedule) we decided to just suck it up and take a taxi. This was a great idea until the previously-silent driver asked, "Do you believe in God?" and my heart started weeping, absolutely SURE that we were either going to get robbed, or get killed.

I was ready to jump out of that moving car and let all of my treasured possessions ride away with him, but luckily, I didn't need to. He turned out to just be a crazy religious man from Nigeria who only wants to take his 3 kids to EuroDisney.

The B & B was ADORABLE! After we unpacked our things, we were starving and wanted to go explore the town. We had dinner and then went in search of some good Irish music to warm our hearts.

Tragically, we discovered that there wasn't ONE place that had a live band on the weekend! Apparently, everyone goes "clubbing" on the weekends. Plus, it was Halloween so everyone wanted to have stupid Halloween parties instead of incredible Irish music parties.

We had one drink at a place called Charlie's where there was a crazy band playing instrumental music that belonged only in a Tim Burton film, consisting of an accordion, keyboard, drum, flute, and xylophone. The whole place was packed with high school friends who didn't want any new ones, so we left there in search of something better.

After attempting to squeeze into a sweltering and massively overcrowded club, we decided to just go home.

Saturday 1 November
We woke up and had a traditional Irish breakfast, of which neither of us was brave enough to eat the unknown puddings. There was so much MEAT on the plate, it was overwhelming!

Since it was such a beautiful day, we decided to walk into the center of town where I found and purchased my very own vintage Irish plaid coat, and was delightfully entertained by an adorable band of old Irish men playing music in the street.

We caught the bus to Blarney and visited, of course, the Blarney Castle! There was no question after mounting all of the impossibly narrow, twisty stairs that we were DEFINITELY going to kiss the stone. It tasted very metallic, which was slightly disconcerting. But we both felt instantaneously more eloquent (unfortunately, I don't think it is extending to my French... dommage). I bought the photo and will keep it forever to remind me that I have obtained the gift of gab, in case I ever forget.

We went into Rock Close afterward, and were enchanted by the myths surrounding the Blarney Castle. It was obligatory to perform the ritual of the Wishing Stairs... they say if you walk down and back up with your eyes closed, thinking of only ONE wish, it will come true within a year. We decided after lengthy discussion that, like a birthday wish, if we told anyone what we wished for, it definitely wouldn't come true. So I'll let you know next November.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a used book store where I bought a couple of books, which I plan to read slowly & savour. We were so tired by this time, that we just wanted to go back to the room and relax. We ate dinner at a nearby hotel ("burgers" aka meatloaf on a bun) and then watched "Pride and Prejudice."

Well, Jules watched that. Being me, ten minutes into the movie I was asleep.

Sunday 2 November
We woke up to yet another beautiful day in the south of Ireland. We got some excellent travel advice from an elderly gentleman who works at the B & B, and instead of going 2 hours by bus to Waterford, we took the bus into Cobh (pronounced "Cove") and saw a truly idyllic Irish port town. Unfortunately, on this day, I was completely, undeniably sick.

We went to the Queenstown Story, a museum about the history of Cobh including the Lucitania (the bombing of which is thought to have been the reason that the US joined the war) and the Titanic (Cobh was its last stop before sinking). We ate lunch at a cute cafe overlooking the water, and then went up to see St. Colman's Cathedrale at the top of the hill. The afternoon sun cast a beautiful golden hue over the whole city, but I was having the mirage-like phenomenon that used to indicate an upcoming migraine, so I wasn't very excited about much. I didn't want to be a killjoy, and Jules really wanted to go back to Dublin and ring the bells of Shandon, so I just tried not to complain.

We went on yet another wild goose chase, stupidly using the map as a guide. We eventually did find St. Anne's Church but it was, of course, closed. We took a picture and then went directly to the pharmacy. I started feeling a little better after taking the medecine, so we had a nice dinner and then went back to the room to watch "Love Actually" and miraculously heal.

Monday 3 November
I attempted to wake up at 7 so we could catch the 9 am bus back to Dublin, but that definitely didn't happen. When we finally did get up, it still seemed like we had enough time to make that bus so we just tried to rush like crazy.

While waiting for the taxi to come pick us up, the man working at the B & B called and cancelled the taxi, so we sat sipping our tea thinking we would just wait for the 11 am bus. But that was not the case.

He ran outside, threw the carseat out of the backseat, and rushed us inside. Officially the nicest man ever, he personally drove us right to the bus stop so we wouldn't have to wait an extra 2 hours. I fell asleep almost immediately, and slept all the way to Dublin (a good 4 hours). Being that it was our last day in Ireland, we really wanted to make the most of our time remaining.

So we dropped off our things at the hotel (The Dublin Citi Hotel right near Temple Bar) and then went in search of a good lunch. We ended up eating at the Hairy Lemon, which I was excited about after seeing a funny advertisement in the paper for it featuring a lemon wearing a gray toupee. The food was decent, but my macaroni and cheese had ONIONS in it (why did I not think to ask?) - berk.

Happily, I finished all of my Christmas shopping (a monumental feat!) and I think we officially visited every store in Dublin by that afternoon. Exhausted and still sick, we went back to the hotel to watch a few hours of crap tv that was, at least, in English.

We had fish and chips for dinner, and then went to O'Neils where there was supposed to be live music at 9. We enjoyed a delicious Smithwicks while waiting for the unprofessional-but-incredible band to finally show up and start playing. We stayed until the end of "Irish Rover" at 10, and then went back toward Temple Bar. SO HAPPILY, instead of staying there, we went back to Fitsimmons where we had made so many friends, and our friend Vincent was playing there again! So we enjoyed our final Smithwicks, and his rendition of "Ring of Fire" before heading back to the hotel to sleep.

Unfortunately, we discovered that the night club next to/below the hotel was so loud that it sounded like it was in our bathroom. For the first time during the whole trip, sleeping was difficult right up until we had to get up.

Tuesday November 4
The alarm went off at 3:30 am, which was way, way, way too soon. We caught a cab at 4:30 and got to the airport safely 2 hours before our flight. The Dublin airport is exponentially more organized and sensible than Beauvais, so we were relieved when we had checked in and gone through security within less than 30 minutes.

On the plane, we laughed at the nonsensical fascist flight attendant (don't buckle your seatbelts until I tell you! you have to put the armrest down between you!) and annoyed the people around us by how much fun we were having.

We took the bus back to Paris, and then a few Metros to get to the hotel where Jules' Austrian roommates were staying for the week. We left our stuff there, and headed toward La Tour Eiffel for lunch, a crepe nutella, and a stroll through the park. After picking up the rest of our stuff, we each went our separate ways.

I completely panicked and couldn't figure out the Metro map, but thanks to a very nice French girl, figured out how to get back to the Paris Gare de Lyon. When I arrived I was relieved, frustrated, anxious, lonely, tired, sick and sad, and I started crying. Senseless. So I finally found my place on the train, and just cried, missing the comfort of a good friend and a familiar language.

When that nonsense had subsided, I slept for a bit until they announced that the train was going to stop in Lyon, contrary to what I had planned on originally. I had to change trains at Lyon, go to St. Etienne, and then change trains once more to get back here. The wait at Lyon was so long that I had only 2 minutes upon arrival at St. Etienne to get to my last train. Luckily, I made it and had a very nice welcoming back in Le Puy.

I'm glad it's almost the weekend again. I need a vacation! :)

Back in France

Hello! I just wanted to let everyone know that I got back safely last night.

I left Dublin at 4:30 am by taxi, took a plane to Paris, took the metro to a restaurant, then again to the Paris Gare de Lyon to catch my train. There was a SCREAMING child sitting a few rows ahead of me who seriously did not stop during the entire 2 hour train ride to Lyon, which was delightful. At Lyon, for some reason I had to switch trains, and then it arrived seriously TWO MINUTES before my last train left! I was running through the train station with all of my stuff -- quite a sight, I'm sure. But I finally got in at 9:45 pm, and was met by The Host Mom and two of les enfants. It was a very nice reception :)

I have TONS to write about and I took almost 400 pictures in the past 8 days, so I'll try my best to share my adventures!

Along with the memories, I also brought an Irish cold with me. So I'm going to sleep now and try to get better.

Vacation!

Tomorrow, I will be in PARIS!
The next day, I will be in DUBLIN!

I can't believe this is my life. I am the luckiest.

Le Champion & La Pizza

I had talked to KB on Skype for five seconds online before the whole family came in to say "bonjour," and then The Host Dad said, "OK we're going on a bike ride with Jenn." I thought that was really funny because I wasn't sure if he thought I was wasting a beautiful day by being inside (which I was) or if he wanted some relief from the three little coquins who had been terrorizing him all day.

When I went outside, The Host Dad lent me his bike, and T and I went around the neighborhood just once before T started getting tired of it. He decided to start doing half-circles because he didn't like riding up the big hills. This was fine except that he would just suddenly decide to stop or turn around without giving me any warnings. In my eloquent French, I tried to explain to him that it's useful to say, "I'm stopping" or "I'm turning" instead of just swerving violently in the direction and hoping that I would magically stop. But alas, this did not interest him and I just had to pay very careful attention to his wild weaving and speed.

After a few half-circles, we made a stop at the neighbor's yard. He had been hanging the laundry on the line earlier, the first time we had seen him, when T yelled, "Salut, Jean-Paul!" and he waved like a cute old French man hanging out wet clothes would. When we arrived at his house this time, he was crouched down near the sidewalk, pulling weeds. T hopped off his bike and started walking on the half-wall surrounding the yard, miming a tight-rope walker or an intoxication test. All the while, T was singing, "Le lion est mort ce soir" and rapidly talking, while Jean-Paul just watched him bemusedly, holding his garden shears like an offering and looking like he was considering putting T to work.

This all seemed very possible, and amusing, but also awkward. I've never been formally introduced to any of the neighbors, and I felt shy and didn't want to just introduce myself. So we just kind of stood there, me anxioiusly waiting for T to get back on his bike, and Jean-Paul just amused by T, seemingly in absolutely no hurry at all.

When T got back on his bike, he instantly switched back to RaceCar Mode (because we were playing "Cars" and he was "Lightning" and I was "Sally") and zoomed off ahead of me. There were only probably 10 yards to the manhole cover that we count as the finish line, but T was really picking up speed. As we crossed over, he cheered and shouted, "Je suis le champion!" whipping his head to the left to see who had seen him.

Unfortunately, as he looked left, he swerved his handlebars right and veered off smack into a seafoam green Peugot parked across the street. BANG!

That sucker took the full impact of T's momentum, and the wheel got jammed under the back bumper near the muffler. T stopped immediately and fell straight over sideways, like a cartoon, wearing a very surprised expression on his face.

And it was solely sheer luck that stopped me from running over him after his collision -- he did not warn me of his sudden change in direction, as I had so kindly requested earlier.

In that same instant, Jean-Paul stopped gardening, The Host Dad came running, and I started laughing. The Host Dad was saying "Il faut que tu regardes ou tu va, T! C'est dangereux!" and inspecting the sizeable crack on the bumper. He asked me if T had done the damage, and luckily he hadn't (he's only 6). I swear I thought, "Oh God, I will have no place to live now. The neighbors have seen my negligence, and The Host Dad has not only witnessed his youngest son's near-death accident, but has seen my very grown-up reaction to all of it." But after the moment passed, he just picked up T's bike and said, "Regardes ou tu vas, T."

The rest of the afternoon passed without much excitement, until we all went out to dinner at 9:30 yesterday night. We went to this really nice restaurant called La Pizza which served, bien sur, pizza. The kids were exhausted by the time we even got there, and as the evening progressed it was like the Katie-on-Dramamine episode all over again (minus the actually falling in the food). E was slouching down in her chair (very remnant of PegLegPeggy's high school French class and That One Day with Steve and his detention - a story for later) and Tt was suspiciously regarding his creme caramel that truly resembled an oblong sponge with brown sauce on it, when The Host Dad brought up The Great Bicycle Crash of the day.

I seriously just started cracking up. I tried to recount the story but I was laughing too hard; I just couldn't explain it. The Host Dad told it, and everyone started laughing (thank God - this was the first The Host Mom had heard of it). T started crying! He kept saying, "Arretez de me moquer!" and The Host Mom was explaining that we weren't mocking him, it was just funny and that he should have a sense of humor. I don't know if I was really tired, or what, but it was one of those things that I kept thinking about and everything I thought of it, I started laughing all over again. I laughed basically the whole way home comme j'etais folle. It was a great evening.

Oh!

Hooray! Today marks my one-month anniversary of being in France!

I actually woke up at almost the exact time that my plane landed here (6h20) in accidental celibration. Haha apparently I party even when I sleep :)

What I Learned in Texas

1. It is humid even in January. Ugh.

2. There are no cacti in Dallas. Only rich people, big buildings, and a cool art musuem.

3. I had a lot of growing up to do.

I met Julie who, like her stepson, was such an outrageous personality that it was more like a week in a movie than a week in a life. I watched her and listened as she monologued so eloquently and poignantly, retelling her history and his, as she and Texas reacted, des chiens et chats as the French would say. And in the beginning, she said in an unending stream of language, Iwanttoknowyou!Whoareyou?Whatinterestsyou?Whatareyourpassionsinlife? and without half a breath I came up with only one answer: Texas.

It was one of those words that trips across your tongue and spills out your mouth, and as it falls, you regret it - you try to retract it, but it's heavy and suspended and all you can do is stare at it in its jagged and ugly honesty. And the silence afterward is perhaps even more significant than that one word alone, because it tells you like an X-ray or a blood test, the absolute truth. Something is incredibly wrong.

It's almost four years later, now, but I think about that day often.

I wish that I could see her again, if only to show how much I have grown since then. In a deluge of phonemes and punctuation I would say that I love language and writing, French culture and wine, discussing religion and reading, snow, fall and Halloween, meeting people and sending letters, dancing in the rain, chocolate cake, and Lucky Charms, family, adventures, teaching.

It's funny to remember how seriously I felt everything, how sure I was that the world existed in rigid dichotemy, that everything was forever or never, like a train that never stops, flying past chances and never coming back; yet, in all of that thinking, I never once considered if I had a true identity, if I knew what I really wanted out of life, and I spent time with people so complex and immense that I always fell away in their shadows, found myself swept up in the drama and difficulty of bad choices and never learning.

I love to think back on things like that and remember how impossible everything felt then, so final and sad. But what gratitude I have now, for all that I experienced and that maybe because of Julie, maybe because of Texas, I came to want to make my own happiness. To make my own life, be my own best self & do things for myself. Maybe it's because of them that I found the courage to take my own adventure, and now I am here. So much wiser and yet so much more naive; so anxious to take what the world has to give, to learn and grow, and give back all of the luck and love that I have had the fortune to receive.

Haha and Mom and Dad said that going to Texas was a bad decision... :)

Zero Hour & the Toussaint

The clocks begin at zero here. There is a giant leap from 23h59 all the way back to zero, and last night I spent that moment standing on a white paint stripe in the middle of a perfectly empty street, under the watchful eye of the cathedrale and La Vierge, all lit up in their lemon & lime glory.

We talked about religion walking home from the bar, and I finally thought to ask about the fake flowers and the week off school. For La Toussaint, people go with their families to visit the tombs of loved ones, to remember them and pay their respects.

We talked about the forgotten graves, or the ones too far to visit, suddenly noticeable by the lack of violet or yellow silk flowers.

What about those ones? It's so sad to think they are unvisited.
-Oui, c'est dommage.
"It's more than dommage... c'est tellement deprimant."

I like that we talk about these things, and we don't even know each other's last names.

The Dog Who Walked Me Home, The Irish Bar, The French Breakfast & The Art of Forgiveness

1. The Dog Who Walked Me Home
It was so weird yesterday, I was walking back from the St Germain library and this dog started walking in front of me. He literally led me back to the lotissement, and when I got to my street, he turned back and went back home. Just like that.

2. The Irish Bar
Last night was my first mardi soir soiree with the others. By a weird coincidence (or a really small town, more likely) JC brought his friend F that I had actually already kind of met a few weeks ago at a school. It was awesome awesome awesome to spend time speaking French with native speakers our own age. Every once in a while, I just felt this sense of awe at the fact that we could talk about all of these things, and it wasn't with one word of English. It makes everything else that's usually hard seem less so. It's so nice.

I stayed with KC and it was funny because I thought of all my home friends and how maybe all girls do this -- even though we were so tired and it was so late, we stayed up talking for almost another hour. And then I couldn't sleep at all, because I never can when it's not my own place, and I got up and watched "What I Like About You" in French and read her Family Fun Halloween magazine. (Which made me feel so nesty, and all I wanted to do was make Halloween cupcakes and carve a pumpkin while watching cool Halloween movies while it rained in a very French way).

3. The French Breakfast
I found my favorite place in this town. For 2,75 Euros I got the best cup of hot chocolate I've ever had, plus a flakey, buttery perfectly sculpted croissant. My god. The French know a lot about what matters in life. :)

4. The Art of Forgiveness
I don't know if it's the cold rain or the endless green, or the long walks in the fallen leaves or the smell of the pollen and pine of the hedges that remind me of the house in Durham. Maybe the feel of French words on my tonuge, the small hands of young friends, the sacred idea of the Toussaint or the tangible distance between the worlds that I know, but I have this feeling just now that forgiveness is perhaps the most profound art a person can perfect.

It is, I guess, sort of a religious concept or maybe I just think that now because there is Catholicism here like there are leaves. But its is profoundly hard to believe that maybe even the most unlikely forgiveness can be gifted, that even the worst possible parts of a person can be accepted, and that even the most desperate endings can be transformed into new beginnings. I don't know if forgiveness has anything to do with God unless God is the best and purest seed of humanity lodged inside the soul... but I think that the realization that people are able and WILLING to forgive is so overwhelming that one has only the language of religion to explain the profound lightness and goodness that exists in the world in stark and beautiful contrast to its opposition.

Vraiment l'enfer

Oh mon dieu, today I had the worst babysitting experience ever. It's not that interesting of a story, though.

The interesting part is what I learned after The Host Mom came home. It is amazing and so true what they always said in education classes; you never know what a kid is thinking, what a kid is going through (or has been through).

I also learned that I hate quiche, that despite the fact that French textbooks try and convince you that American lemonade is available in France as "citron pressee," if you order that, you will receive a very disgusting beverage slightly resembling Lemonade, and that finding a job teaching French in Michigan is going to require so much more than just posting a resume on Greatschooljobs.com.

Oh, I also learned that all but one of my English classes today were not actually happening, but I didn't find this out until I got to the school and one teacher flippantly said, "Oh sorry, I didn't have your e-mail..."

It was alright, though. I just went to a museum instead. It was free, but really freaky. I honestly think it's haunted. But maybe it was just the fact that no one was in there, it was freezing inside because it was all just stone floors, and the religious artwork of yore is scary! This museum worker said to me, "You aren't staying very long -- did this museum bore you?" but I was too embarrassed to explain that I was actually just scared, so I mumbled, "Beh, non! Au revoir!" and ran outside like any self-respecting foreigner would.

Haha every day is a new adventure. I honestly never know what awaits... :)

Oh la vache!

This weekend was absolutely beautiful! I really hope the weather stays nice a little longer... I got a little taste of the cold/rainy/cloudy Autumn weather a few weeks ago, and I don't like it at all. Especially since I just discovered a perfect hour-long walking route. And the "hills" are going to do fabulous things for my legs :) Haha THAT is definitely one French attribute I would love to have...

Of course, as I was walking, I took a bunch more pictures of the cows. They are such stars -- when I took pictures of them, they all stared right at me and even followed me as I walked along the road. Haha I was almost afraid that they were going to come through the fence... but the big scary guard dog on the other side of the road was more intimidating than the cows, and I figured death by cow was better than death by The Savage Dog attack. And, at least, I would get to pet a cow during my last minutes on earth haha.

One very impressive thing about The Savage Dog is that it traversed a great distance, crossed the street after (I kid you not) looking BOTH ways, and then it kindly greeted a nice-looking sheep dog.

Dogs and kids are both like small humans here. It's incroyable.

Vicky Christina Barcelona; the safety net

I will ruin the ending of "Vicky Christina Barcelona" if you read this post. So if you don't want to know what happens, don't read this.

Basically, these two girls who are complete opposites go on a trip together & end up having these life experiences that make them question what they really want out of life (and love). At the end of the film, I was confused on exactly what happened. So I just did a little Internet research (it's sad how people will tell you the endings to movies) and it literally said, "they end where they began" as an explanation. It explains everything, but I thought that was such an interesting way for the movie to go... The characters experience these things that you would think change them, and make them want something different out of life, but at the end they make their lives exactly as they were before.

It made me wonder how much people really change in life. For the average person, do "life-changing experiences" really re-direct the course of the future? Or is it just a perception, a new lens through which a person can view the world? A new framework upon which a person will construct his/her interpretations of reality? I don't know.

Becuase the film made me think that the person would definitely change her life, and she didn't. She met this person who made her see that what she thought she wanted wasn't all that she could have -- and, consequently, wasn't all that she really wanted. In the end, she stayed with her original person and followed her life plan exactly as she had mapped it out. Instead of pursuing what REALLY made her happy, and truly made her feel alive, she decided to spend a life with someone who made her sort of happy, in a life that she was content with.

In a way, I think it was a mistake for her... she made a decision based on fear of the unknown, fear of hurting someone, fear of taking chances, and although she thought it was the greater good (I guess) I don't think it really was. I think it was unfair to herself, and unfair to that person. Who wants to be the safety net? Who wants to know that they were chosen not because they were that je ne sais quoi, but because they were reliable? Because they fit the plan?

I don't know... maybe it's the fairytales talking, but I think it's a life half-lived.

It's a good movie, though. I hope someone has seen it so we can talk about this!