Groundhog Day

So for the past couple of mornings it has been like the movie “Groundhog Day,” except here in Lyon it's not Groundhog Day again and again and again, but rather the strike. Each night after cleaning up the kitchen, Katie and I have made plans for where we'd like to go. Two nights ago we decided to check out Pérouges - a medieval town with buildings dating back to the 1100s where the 1961 version of “The Three Musketeers” was filmed - because it's only a half hour away from Lyon. It seemed easy enough to get there, until we were waiting for more than an hour for a bus that never came, asking drivers and other hopeful passengers which bus was which and where each was going. No one knew a thing, so it wasn't just us. Finally, we had enough so we decided to forget it and Katie took me to see some of the sights of Vieux Lyon. We visited a bunch of different cathedrals and churches, each of which was a welcome relief from the cold and gusting wind. I thought Lyon would be warmer than Normandy because it's in the south, but apparently not. Once we got down into the center of town, we stopped at a pâtisserie where Katie got a praline tart and I got an apricot pistachio tart. We had hoped to stop at one of the boats along the river to get something hot to drink, but all of them were closed (at 3.00 PM on a Monday). 

View of Vieux Lyon coming down from the top of the hill.

Finally we headed back to the apartment, where we did our best to recreate a favorite from home – fajitas. Either the French don't like spicy foods or they really just have no idea what Mexican food is supposed to taste like because our Old El Paso seasoning tasted more like barbecue sauce than anything else, and the medium salsa was weaker than the most watery mild.

Today we were supposed to go to Grenoble, only to wake up and find that all of the trains to Grenoble had been canceled. It was the same story for Beaune and Annecy, two other towns where we really wanted to go. However, the old adage of “everything happens for a reason,” proved itself to be true today; only after we realized we weren't going anywhere did Katie decide to clean her room, during which she found her paperwork reminding her that she has her doctor's appointment tomorrow. If she had missed that (which she would have because we were planning to go to Marseille) she would have been kicked out of the country.

Hopefully there's an end in sight, no matter how far away it seems at the moment. At least the French are consistent in their rule of “tous pour un, un pour tous.”

Chokogou!

Well the Vacances de la Toussaint got off to a rough start. After I got out of classes on Friday it took me only 20 minutes to pack up my bag and get out the door. I made it to Gare de Lyon in plenty of time, successfully navigating the Paris metro, which is actually clean and doesn't have that pee and pollution smell. I was surprised how crowded the train station was, especially after making it through rush hour at Penn Station the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but I guess it's because they're much more reliant on public transportation here.

I didn't have enough money on my carte bleue (debit card) yet so I had to find a guichet to buy my ticket with cash. After I finally found the line, there was a guy blocking the entrance who asked me where I was going. Once I told him he said that half the trains were canceled and the other half were booked. I stared at him for at least 10 seconds while that sunk in, after which he told me that I could try and buy a ticket for tomorrow. Shocked and not having any idea what to do, I walked away, called my cousin to tell her the bad news and tried to decide whether I should just go back home or try and stay over in Paris. I opted for the former, since I am only an hour away from Paris, and left with my ticket for Saturday afternoon.

Round 2 was a success, and in two hours I was in Lyon. Katie and her roommate Tania met me at the train station and gave me a mini tour before we headed to their apartment so I could drop off my bag. After dinner we did some planning for what we want to do while I'm down her; we decided that Italy and paragliding in Switzerland will have to be postponed because 1) we haven't been paid yet and 2) the weather isn't supposed to be that great this week. Plus there's plenty of stuff to see around here, considering Lyon is in the heart of wine country and is the gastronomic capital of France.

This morning it was raining, so rather than walk around in the rain we decided to go to Chokogou, an annual chocolate exposition that they have at the convention center in Lyon. It was only 7€ to get in, and after one booth it was worth it. They mix some strange things into chocolate here – ginger, rose petals, red pepper, chili pepper, etc. – however, by far the best combination we tasted was lavender chocolate. I don't know if the bars I bought are going to make it home.

The display of one of the vendors.

C'est si bon.

After Chokogou we headed back into the center of town and went to the Musée des Beaux-Arts. While we didn't have a lot of time to spend there, it was free and we did manage to see a lot of stuff.

Ivory carving.

There are a couple of cities around Lyon that we're going to visit in the next couple of days (Beaune, Grenoble, Annecy) in addition to visiting some of Katie's French friends in Marseille...foutrement génial.

Welcome to France! Now try and leave…

Oh la la, the grève is getting out of hand. This morning, a quarter of the students in my high school classes were absent because they weren’t able to get to school because the buses have stopped running. Why? Because there’s no gas. Teachers from both of my schools have told me that they’ve had to drive to towns more than an hour and a half away to find gas, only to wait in line for two to three hours (if and) when they finally get there. On some streets, abandoned cars are lined up waiting for tow trucks that might not come for a while; else they risk breaking down on the side of the road as well.

My teachers have advised me to get out of Louviers while I can. They themselves are worried that their travel plans for the vacances might fall through, especially those flying on AirFrance. Planes coming into France have been advised to bring enough fuel to get back to where they came from because airports here can’t refill their tanks. On Monday, Charles de Gaulle only had enough fuel to last until Wednesday. Although the trains do not use gas, the SNCF still has to support those on strike, just in case something happens to them. What’s more, they’re not even affected by this proposed law; they can retire at 50! Marianne, one of my colleagues at the collège promised me that I’ll see at least three SNCF strikes before I leave. “Oh there’s a leaf on the track! Let’s go on strike,” she said. Or “oh it’s too windy today, let’s go on strike!” We laughed as if she was kidding, but part of me believes she wasn’t exaggerating that much.

This week marked my first “official” week of lessons. This past Monday, I had to laugh to myself as I finished my first day at 10.30 after only two hours of restaurant role-play. I get paid to talk to kids about what’s on a menu. Best job ever. Now I get to go on vacation for 12 days, during which I’ll also be paid. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I work with the younger kids at collège. My PowerPoint presentation was a hit, especially the section on pets and Philly foods. I’ve found that the 11 and 12 year-olds are better at English than a lot of the high schoolers, mostly because they participate and are excited to learn.

Tomorrow morning I have three classes, but I should hopefully be on my way to Lyon via Paris by 12.30. Southern France, Italy and Switzerland? Yeah, I think I can manage. Impeccable!

Dans grève il y a rêve

Just as I was starting to get used to daily life in France, la grève (strike) disrupted any trace of an established routine. People young and old throughout France are going on strike to voice their grievances against the government’s proposal to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62 by 2018. From an American perspective this is completely ridiculous considering how good the French have it. They have a 35 hour work week, social security pretty much covers any medical expense they could ever have and they’re able to enjoy 5 weeks of paid vacation. Conversely, my Mom will have to work well into her 60s and my Dad will essentially never be able to retire since he’s self-employed. Furthermore, my generation can pretty much kiss social security benefits goodbye. Here in France la grève is a normal part of French life. This particular strike, however, is different than most in that it is indefinite. Upheaval of both public and private transportation is the most widely felt impact of the strikes; trains and buses run less frequently and now a gas shortage has become so serious that President Sarkozy has sanctioned the use of the National Guard to control riots at gas stations.

Even here in Louviers I’ve experienced a taste of the grève. On Tuesday morning I got up at 8 only to get to class and be told it’s not worth observing because they’re not going to do anything today. There were only 4 kids in a class where normally there are about 20. Similarly, on Wednesday I was scheduled to be in classes from 8.00 to 12.00, yet the professor never showed. That afternoon, however, I was able to attend cuisine moleculaire again where I watched students use a nonconventional way of making Hollandaise sauce – the sauce, which would normally take around 30 minutes to make, took less than five because they use gas to whisk the mixture instead of doing it by hand. I helped make quenelles (used in haute cuisine as a garnish, but can be served by themselves) made of salmon, butter, crème fraîche, salt and pepper, and watched as students prepared a pear flan with a chocolate center, and a kiwi sorbet. Both the flan and the sorbet were unique in that the flan contained methylcellulose to help the flan hold its shape and eliminate the need for fat in the mixture. The sorbet was made using a machine similar to the one that makes Wawa milkshakes, which makes it possible to get 1-10 servings from a single container.

Salmon quenelle

This morning I finally went to the “typically French” open air market, held every Saturday morning. Simply put, it was amazing. They had everything, from fresh scallops and fish to all kinds of fruits and vegetables, cheeses, meats, and flowers. I had already been to the supermarket earlier in the week, but I bought some grapes and a half of a roasted chicken to eat for lunch. After lunch I did some serious cleaning in my room, which I’m sure will merit a comment from my Mom considering that when I left for France I still had not completely unpacked from college.

For the rest of the weekend I’ll be busy making collages and posters to deck out my classroom and planning for next week’s lessons and my upcoming vacation.

10/10/10

Yeah that’s the date, but it’s also the score I’d give this past weekend. The weather has been perfect these past couple of days (if anything it’s been pretty hot) and it’s supposed to continue into this coming week. The other English assistants and I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and headed to Rouen for the weekend.

On Saturday morning Alex, Liz and I navigated our way from Louviers to Rouen via the bus and the train. I don’t think any of us were aware of how simple it would be, and now that all is said and done pretty much all of France is open to us on the weekend. Rouen is only 20 minutes away, and Paris is just under an hour. We hadn’t booked a place to stay, so when we arrived that was our first goal. However, we were sidetracked as we made our way further into the center of Rouen in search of a map at the Bureau de Tourisme. After wandering around for a half hour or so following the signs that proved to point us in the wrong direction, I stumbled upon a group of older women who were just as lost as we were. Since English now a foreign language, their conversation caught my ear and I went to ask them if I could look at their map, or if by chance they might be able to point us in the right direction. Turns out one of them did grab and extra map before they left their ship and she gave it to us to use.

From there on out we pretty much covered all of Rouen’s points of interest including the Rue du Gros Horloge, a street that features one of Rouen’s best-known sights, the “Great Clock-Tower” built in 1527.

This street led us to the Place de Vieux-Marché where Joan of Arc was martyred, and now the spot where she was burned at the stake is marked by a 65-foot-high cross. We also checked out Rouen’s Notre Dame Cathedral, which features a 16th century spire 490 feet tall and a gothic edifice dating back to 1140.

Part of the ceiling of Notre Dame.

We did visit a few other churches whose names and significance I don’t remember, but I’m sure I’ll be in Rouen again soon to take more time to appreciate them.

Church of Saint Ouen, currently being used as an art gallery.

Once we had finished all of the touristy stuff we made our way across the Pont Corneille to the Rive Gauche (aka the left side of the city) where we found a hotel to spend the night in. After a power-nap we got up in search of food, which has proven to be the most difficult thing to get used to in France. Most cafés it seems, in spite of having prominently displayed menus out front, do not serve dinner. For the most part it’s pretty difficult to find a decent place to eat after 3.00 PM because the whole “restaurant” concept we have in America doesn’t exist. Eventually we did stumble upon a brasserie that served dinner, although not until after 7.00 PM and I had the most amazing piece of pork I’ve ever had in my life: “Filet mignon de porc” with caramelized apples on top covered in a cidre cream sauce. Wow…just wow. Although I seriously appreciated the deliciousness, it was kind of a shame because I was so hungry I finished the entire meal and sopped up the sauce with a roll in about 7 minutes; that and it didn’t even make a dent.

Afterwards, we headed to a bar in the Place de Vieux-Marché to have a couple of drinks before we met up with some other English assistants. In Louviers, the Americans outnumber the English so we enjoy making fun of the accent, but last night we were outnumbered 8:2 by kids from all over England and Ireland. While listening in on their accounts of “Uni” life and “Freshers week” I picked up some new vocabulary that might get mixed in here every now and then. We went our separate ways after getting booted from the bar at 2.00 AM and got back to the hotel around quarter of.

This morning we left Rouen and headed back to Louviers, after which I went to the Fête de Pomme (Apple Festival) in a neighboring town with Sylviane and Jean-François. There I had all things apple/cheese/honey/cidre-related including the incredible "beignets" or apple fritters. It’s nice to be able to eat whatever you want, because I had 15. Once we had made a couple of tours of the grounds, they took me on a tour of Normandy’s countryside. The fields reminded me of home, although here, with the exception of the plateau, everything is much hillier.

They explained the unique characteristics of Norman architecture and we stopped at a couple of medieval chateaus and homes that were built before the Americas were even discovered. Ridiculous.

" 'ello! What eez yo'r name? You 'ave a nize bee'ind"

Well I haven’t started teaching anything yet, but I guess I’ve already made some sort of impression. This week was spent observing classes, with the exception of Monday when I had orientation in Rouen. The 40 km (25 mi) drive usually only takes about 35 minutes from Louviers, but because of all the traffic it took an hour and 15 minutes. If the weather is anything but clear and sunny, the French have difficulty driving. It was barely raining and there were signs cautioning drivers to slow down because of dangerous conditions. I sat through introductions in Arabic, Chinese, German, English, Portuguese, Russian and Spanish before the meeting got underway in French. The Teaching Assistant Program in France this year is represented by 5,678 people from 51 countries speaking more than 15 languages. In the Académie de Rouen there are 163 assistants from 26 different countries, so basically I’m an honorary member of the UN.

During our break for lunch I met some other assistants, one of whom is from Voorhees and we bonded over South Jersey. Staff from the Office of Immigration and Integration collected our paperwork – which I didn’t know I was supposed to bring – after lunch. Luckily I had thrown everything in my backpack before I left and plenty of other people didn’t have photocopies of their visa or entry stamp either, so I was able to make copies and hand everything in. On my way back from the photocopier I walked with the “Inspecteur” for the Académie and found out that I have two of the best teachers that they’ve got, alors quelle chance!

On Tuesday I had my first day of shadowing, during which I sat in on an English class of 6èmes (11 year olds), 4èmes (13 year olds) and a history class of 4èmes. I also met some of the other teachers at the collège over lunch. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was when they started passing around wine and cidre; why drink water when you can have something alcoholic? Although I can’t blame them for needing a drink; there’s never complete silence in the classroom, if anything it’s always the exact opposite. The teachers were more or less yelling over their students for the entire lesson. The 4èmes in English class didn’t understand my introduction (where I only mentioned my name, age, where I’m from and what I’m doing at their school), but thankfully in the other classes I at least had a map to show them where Philadelphia is. Now, when I only get blank stares after I say I’m from Philadelphia, I ask them if they know Rocky and when they all come to life I just tell them that that’s where I’m from.

Overall, the kids seem to be much more behaved at the lycée (high school). I got to sit in on an “Économie Touristique” lesson during which students gave presentations on the different regions of France. It was pretty interesting, and I took some notes because they discussed some places I’d definitely like to visit. Earlier in the day on Wednesday I observed an English class of secondes (14-15 year olds) where I was asked a lot of questions about myself and what I think of France so far. They had a lot of questions for me, but a lot of them they didn’t know how to ask in English and I was told not to answer them in French. They were kind of annoyed about that, especially since I understood what they were saying, and complained to their teacher who ultimately ended up translating my answers for them anyway. English teachers here all learn British English and consequently have British accents and some difficulty understanding my American accent. A lot of the time in class I have to infer what the American equivalent of certain things are, i.e. “green grocer” = produce stand/market, “chemist's” = pharmacy, Z = Zed, etc.

Probably the most interesting class I saw all week was “cuisine moleculaire.” I’m not really sure what that would be in English, but basically it was a course where the students try to manipulate the chemistry of food and cooking to help improve nutrition and digestion. For instance, one of the professors was working with different kinds of flour to cut down on the amount of butter and sugar that they have to add to cakes to help people with dietary restrictions. It was a really awesome class, one in which the professor described everyone as being like a patient in a mental institution because everyone has these crazy ideas of things to do with food. Case in point: take a normal cheese soufflé, but rather than add herbs and spices to the mixture, why not make an “infusion,” mix it with agar, and make spheres with the liquid infusion inside to put in the soufflé. Not exactly how the average Phillipe would make a cheese soufflé. The infusion was the most interesting part of this experiment; Phillipe (the student I was working with) got basil, mint and parsley, put them in three different pots with some water and garlic and boiled them so that some of the oils would be released. Once he had the liquid he mixed it with agar (the stuff that they make the gel in Petri dishes out of), and using a tiny melon scooper he put it in a salt solution where “sphérification” occurred, forming spheres with a skin surrounding the infusion. These spheres went inside the soufflés, which we prepared from flour, egg whites, hazelnut oil, and three kinds of cheese. For fans of Muenster cheese in the US, it’s completely different here: it smells terrible (I can pinpoint exactly what it smells like, but I’ll spare you the details), but tastes amazing.

Speaking of smell, this week I must have self-checked myself at least a dozen times. I guess they’re immune to the smell of hoagies with extra oregano and vinegar, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it. Thank you Old Spice for doing what you were made to do.

"Oh! An American with taste!"

For anyone thinking of traveling in France for an extended period of time, I would highly recommend reading Stephen Clarke’s Talk to the Snail. I finished most of it while still in the US, and I admit that I found Clarke’s descriptions of both the French and the French lifestyle to be a bit far-fetched. In Talk to the Snail Clarke, an English journalist who has spent half of his adult life living in France, presents to his readers the 11 commandments for understanding the French.

Already, after less than a week in France, I’m glad that I read it as it has helped me realize that the French mindset is in many ways completely different from ours. For one, whereas Americans live to work, the French work to live. Case in point: most shops are open only 9 to 5 with at least an hour and a half break in the middle of the day for lunch and everything is closed on Sunday. Work overtime? Ha, c’est rigolo!

On Saturday, I experienced both the Second Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Work and the Tenth Commandment: Thou Shalt Be Polite (and simultaneously rude), while opening a bank account. After buzzing my way through a series of doors and waiting in line, I get to the counter and explain that I am the “assistant d’anglais” for Decrétot and that I would like to open up a bank account today if possible. As soon as I said “if possible” I realized that would immediately nullify my request. Sure enough, Madame looked at the other woman at the desk, who really wasn’t working but rather talking with some guy chatting her up, and asked her when she could help me. After a couple of sighs and eye rolls, Madame asked her again, didn’t she help another assistant on Tuesday already, to which she finally replied, “Bennn I can’t remember what I did on Tuesday. It’s not possible for me to help him today.” Awesome. Their only suggestion was that I come back Tuesday between 5.00 and 6.30. Now here’s where Clarke’s wisdom came into play; she asked if that would work for me and I told her no, that would be impossible for me as I’ll be in Rouen (which was a lie, I’ll be there tomorrow all day and observing classes on Tuesday).

She looked up at me, slightly annoyed because she had already started to write the date and time of my appointment on a card, sighed and asked if I had my carte d’identité with me so that she could make a copy. Already prepared, I pulled out a photocopy of my passport that I had made beforehand and she went back to see if anyone could help me. Thirty seconds later et voila! I wasn’t sitting down for more than a minute when a woman came out of her office and helped me set up my account.

It has been much warmer here than I thought it would be; in the mid to high 60s in the daytime, but it has rained for at least a couple of hours each day since I’ve been here. This weekend was the Foire Saint-Michel, basically a giant Cowtown/yard sale/carnival. This was the 199th year that they’ve done it, and supposedly there are more than 650 stalls that bring in more than 80,000 people. There were a lot of different rides and carnival style games (unfortunately most of them catered to little kids) and pretty much anything you could ever think of was on sale somewhere: from jackets and boots to fireplaces, sausages and cars. Today was the yard sale part of the weekend and I spent a good part of the day with Sylviane, Jean-François and their neighbors. I met the most awesome old French man, Tony, le corse. He not only makes his own sausage from Corsican pigs (which I was told are different from regular pigs because they are black and more delicious), but also makes his own wine, three kinds of which I was lucky enough to sample. If he was selling it I would have paid 30€ for his vin de noix in a heartbeat, mais alors he only brought one bottle with him and we drank it all. I was also treated to some other specialties from Normandie including two kinds of pâté, one made from duck, the other pork, pork with a mustard mayonnaise, and several “cakes” with a variety of meats, cheeses and vegetables baked into them. And of course, there was fromage. Sylviane wasn’t sure if I would like the one since it was strong, but it was delicious and she commented, “Oh! An American with taste!”

At the foire, people make a killing it seems selling all of their stuff. Last year Tony made over 500€ and this year Sylviane and Jean-François made more than 150€ in about four hours. Unfortunately, the party got cut short as it started to rain. I helped everyone pack up, performed the necessary bisous and headed out to do one final tour.

Tomorrow is orientation in Rouen, where all the assistants in the académie will come together for a giant meeting. Tuesday I'll start my week or two of observing classes and before I know it it'll be the Vacances de la Toussaint. C'est la vie, hein?