I’m not one to leave a task unfinished once I’ve begun, and I won’t let this blog be the exception. Even though it’s very unlikely that anyone is still following this, with the haphazard chance that someone stumbles across this they’ll have my last lecture before them. If anything – just like the decision to go to France in the first place – I’m doing this for me.
Looking back, I first have to think is there anything that would make me regret my decision to go to France, and the unambiguous answer is: no, not a chance. In asking myself, “is there anything that you didn’t like?” I’m hard pressed to come up with a response. The first week may have been a little daunting getting acclimated, but in all honesty the only negative experience I had while abroad was trying to get home at Christmas. That was one adventure that I’d never want to relive, even though I’m incredibly proud of myself for how I handled it. That event proved to me that there’s no stronger force than human will.
Yann Tiersen's Le matin came up on my iPod the other day, and upon hearing it I was overcome with both great joy and great sadness. Before going any further, I encourage you to have this song playing in the background as you read this and maybe you’ll get a better feel for where I’m coming from.
This past year I accomplished everything I could have wanted to and more. I never could have fathomed that I would visit nine countries and dozens of cities, go dune jumping in the Canary Islands or ski in the French Alps. I would never have thought that I’d become so proficient in a language that I love that native speakers would mistake me for one of their own. Meeting and befriending such incredible people and making such vivid memories with them were details I couldn’t have imagined. But most of all, I never thought that I would fall as hard as I have.
I learned so much while abroad, the most evident being that I found out what it truly means to be happy. As I’ve mentioned before, I was aware of how extraordinary my life was before this experience, and I was in no way remiss of that, but it has now extended into a completely different plane. I miss the high, the exhilaration, the bliss of being so content with life for so long. I guess you could say that I’m addicted to the life I had, and now coming off it is brutal.
I have to admit though that probably what I miss most isn’t the incredible food, the culture, the lifestyle, or the freedom, but the person I had become. I was who I wanted to be; not afraid of taking risks and living. I felt special, significant and important. I was noticed. I received more compliments in a week over there than I would otherwise in an entire year. Sure that may make me seem needy and ineffectual, but praise works wonders for self-esteem.
As I look at some of the notes I’d written before I left France that I had intended to put in this post, I can’t help but ask myself, “what happened to that person?” He is still in there somewhere; I’m reminded of his presence every time I look at pictures from the past year on Facebook or I get an irrepressible urge to go out. But for all the bounds forward I made, after coming back to America I picked up right where I left off last September.
I don’t know what path I’ll take in life, or where I’ll end up, but having the chance to have such a tremendous experience be part of it is something for which I will always be eternally grateful.
Fin.
20 September 2011
04 July 2011
La vie est belle
First off, Happy 4th to everyone at home! I'd much rather be at home enjoying the celebration than running around like a headless chicken trying to pack and clean my room, but I'll be there soon enough. This will be my last post from France, and as per the rest of this experience I've been spoiled right up until the end.
Sylviane and Jean-François took me on one last adventure to Château Harcourt, a spot we'd visited way back in October, but it was closed then. Yet this expidition was after they served me champagne, barbecue shrimp, zucchini flan and pear cake. Needless to say I was in coma mode on the drive over, but woke up once we got out of the car. Sections of this château date back to the year 911, and it was a noble family's residence until the early 20th century.
Once we'd toured the château and the arboretum, we headed back to their place where I said goodbye to Jean-François before Sylviane dropped me back off at my studette. They graciously sent me home with leftovers, which were greatly appreciated since I've got less than 30 € in my bank account. While I was in their bathroom, I noticed a sign that really struck me as being true/appropriate given the situation that read, "good friends are like angels, you don't need to see them to know that they are there."
After a quick nap, I headed to the home of another one of my teachers for dinner. She had lent me a bicycle about a month or two ago and I had to return it before leaving. When I got there I was met with a kir normand for the apéro, and a containter of honey from another one of my teachers who had shown up to eat with us. Dinner was a sort of chicken stew, whose name escapes me because I was exhausted at this point, but it was delicious as usual. For dessert, melon balls and strawberries.
Both of these teachers invited me to stay with them upon my eventual return, which means that so far I've racked up a list of 5 different houses that I can stay in (boosh!). At this point I'm too tired and stressed out over packing to get philosophical with you so I'll save the final reflection post for when I get home. Thanks to everyone who has followed me along this journey, I hope it was interesting for you having a peek at my adventures abroad. Bisous et à bientôt!
Sylviane and Jean-François took me on one last adventure to Château Harcourt, a spot we'd visited way back in October, but it was closed then. Yet this expidition was after they served me champagne, barbecue shrimp, zucchini flan and pear cake. Needless to say I was in coma mode on the drive over, but woke up once we got out of the car. Sections of this château date back to the year 911, and it was a noble family's residence until the early 20th century.
Once we'd toured the château and the arboretum, we headed back to their place where I said goodbye to Jean-François before Sylviane dropped me back off at my studette. They graciously sent me home with leftovers, which were greatly appreciated since I've got less than 30 € in my bank account. While I was in their bathroom, I noticed a sign that really struck me as being true/appropriate given the situation that read, "good friends are like angels, you don't need to see them to know that they are there."
After a quick nap, I headed to the home of another one of my teachers for dinner. She had lent me a bicycle about a month or two ago and I had to return it before leaving. When I got there I was met with a kir normand for the apéro, and a containter of honey from another one of my teachers who had shown up to eat with us. Dinner was a sort of chicken stew, whose name escapes me because I was exhausted at this point, but it was delicious as usual. For dessert, melon balls and strawberries.
Both of these teachers invited me to stay with them upon my eventual return, which means that so far I've racked up a list of 5 different houses that I can stay in (boosh!). At this point I'm too tired and stressed out over packing to get philosophical with you so I'll save the final reflection post for when I get home. Thanks to everyone who has followed me along this journey, I hope it was interesting for you having a peek at my adventures abroad. Bisous et à bientôt!
02 July 2011
The Lucky One
As the sun sets on my final weekend in France - at 10.45 nonetheless - I find myself reflecting on my experiences as I look at the hills surrounding Louviers. Today, for the first time I started to get worked up a bit while talking to my neighbor Corinne and later this evening to Jean-François, but I either quickly changed the subject or outwardly attempted to reassure myself that I would, in fact, be coming back relatively soon.
I just finished my second session of Région Langue here in Louviers, during which I worked alongside my friend Alex, and two others: Luci from Leicester and Aisling from Ireland. This past week has been filled with moments that convinced me that it is time to go. The first was unexpected; just being together with Alex and Liz again. The three of us were back where everything began, laughing and enjoying ourselves (a bit too much actually, as proven by a run in later that evening with some of the students, and 'ta mere!' being sent their way). Yet as much as I wanted to feel like nothing had changed, I couldn't. Yes we still get just the same as before, but this reunion was just different. In the two months since we were last together, so much had changed, we'd changed. I guess that's both a gift and a curse on the world - that nothing is static.
While I did appreciate the second session, and the money that it will be sending my way, I didn't enjoy myself nearly as much as I had during the first. The kids were all nice, but they made very little effort to speak English and when they did it wasn't very good. Also, for as well-structured as the schedule looked on paper, things didn't go nearly as smoothly as planned. Unfortunately, there was a lot of dead time where we just sat around. I was in charge of the cooking workshop again, alongside one of the teachers at Les Fontenelles, Christine. Together we made cookies, shortbread, butter tarts and toffee fudge.
During my presentation to the zombified students one evening my laptop charger decided it couldn't handle the 220V anymore and decided to crap out on me, leaving me without my computer for the remainder of my time in France (this is being typed in the salle des profs).
I'll miss the reputation I've earned here in France, hearing nice things about yourself said by people you've never even met doesn't hurt in the self-assurance department. Add that to the list of things I'll suffer withdrawl from along with haircuts. I had my last one this morning, during which I found out that my coiffeuse, Chloé, won't be in Louviers next year either. She's going to Toulouse to continue with her studies, but will start new courses in make-up and body painting. She gave me some sort of hair product that she always uses on my hair as I left too, which I thought was really nice.
As much as I would have loved to have stayed, I'll miss my relationships with the people that I've met too much to live here for another year without them. Life is all about meeting new people, but it would still be difficult not to compare then and now. In the mean time I need to take a step back and look at the big picture, and the lyrics to this song help me do it...
I just finished my second session of Région Langue here in Louviers, during which I worked alongside my friend Alex, and two others: Luci from Leicester and Aisling from Ireland. This past week has been filled with moments that convinced me that it is time to go. The first was unexpected; just being together with Alex and Liz again. The three of us were back where everything began, laughing and enjoying ourselves (a bit too much actually, as proven by a run in later that evening with some of the students, and 'ta mere!' being sent their way). Yet as much as I wanted to feel like nothing had changed, I couldn't. Yes we still get just the same as before, but this reunion was just different. In the two months since we were last together, so much had changed, we'd changed. I guess that's both a gift and a curse on the world - that nothing is static.
While I did appreciate the second session, and the money that it will be sending my way, I didn't enjoy myself nearly as much as I had during the first. The kids were all nice, but they made very little effort to speak English and when they did it wasn't very good. Also, for as well-structured as the schedule looked on paper, things didn't go nearly as smoothly as planned. Unfortunately, there was a lot of dead time where we just sat around. I was in charge of the cooking workshop again, alongside one of the teachers at Les Fontenelles, Christine. Together we made cookies, shortbread, butter tarts and toffee fudge.
During my presentation to the zombified students one evening my laptop charger decided it couldn't handle the 220V anymore and decided to crap out on me, leaving me without my computer for the remainder of my time in France (this is being typed in the salle des profs).
I'll miss the reputation I've earned here in France, hearing nice things about yourself said by people you've never even met doesn't hurt in the self-assurance department. Add that to the list of things I'll suffer withdrawl from along with haircuts. I had my last one this morning, during which I found out that my coiffeuse, Chloé, won't be in Louviers next year either. She's going to Toulouse to continue with her studies, but will start new courses in make-up and body painting. She gave me some sort of hair product that she always uses on my hair as I left too, which I thought was really nice.
As much as I would have loved to have stayed, I'll miss my relationships with the people that I've met too much to live here for another year without them. Life is all about meeting new people, but it would still be difficult not to compare then and now. In the mean time I need to take a step back and look at the big picture, and the lyrics to this song help me do it...
You're the lucky one
So I've been told
As free as the wind,
Blowin' down the road
Loved by many, hated by none
I'd say you're lucky 'cause I know what you've done
Not a care in the world
Not a worry in sight
Everything's gonna be alright
Cause you're the lucky one.
So I've been told
As free as the wind,
Blowin' down the road
Loved by many, hated by none
I'd say you're lucky 'cause I know what you've done
Not a care in the world
Not a worry in sight
Everything's gonna be alright
Cause you're the lucky one.
24 June 2011
Région Langue vol. 1
After the barbecue on Saturday night, I had Sunday and Monday to rest up for the next four days consumed by an English summer camp, Région Langue. I was told way back in November that these sessions would run you ragged, since you'd have to be up at 7.00 with the students and "work" until 8.00 PM, but honestly this was the most fun I've ever had making almost 800 €. Région Langue is an intensive week-long summer camp for secondes (high school students ages 15-16) that takes place during two sessions at different lycées throughout Haute Normandie. For this past week's session I was at Lycée Marcel Sembat in Sotteville-lès-Rouen where I worked with two other American assistants and a Pakistani PhD student from Paris. Since April the four of us had been communicating via email to try and organize everything for the students and it wasn't until the night before that things finally started to coalesce.
Tuesday morning started with a series of ice breakers, during which the four of us did our best to try and get the kids talking and memorize as many names as we could. After some games in smaller groups and lunch we had a relay race for them during which they had a series of legs to perform, all while answering questions in English. They did surprisingly well with all of the events, which included a three-legged race, a sack race, an eating contest, and a relay with a ping pong ball and a spoon (not exactly sure what you'd call it, but yeah). After the relay race, one of the other native speakers Sara and I were in charge of an acting workshop. Students were asked to audition for a movie role in front of a panel of judges (one of whom was a student), telling us who they were and why they thought they were good for the part all before presenting a short dialogue. Some of the characters included Forrest Gump and Bubba, Jack Sparrow, Jack and Rose from Titanic, Catwoman, and Sherlock Holmes, just to name a few. Again, the kids did really well with it, and because we had so much time left I had to go help the other group finish up their mock job interviews before dinner. Everyone was drained after dinner and we all turned in early to rest up for Paris in the morning.
The silence on the bus to Paris the next day was surprising; they must have still been tired from the day before because there was no noise whatsoever. Our first stop was Beaubourg and the Centre Pompidou for a tour of the museum and of the pop art exhibition. It had to be related to America in some way, and we thought you'd be hard-pressed to find something much more American that Warhol and pop art in a museum. During our tours, honestly I felt bad for the kids because we had the WORST guide ever. He was so boring, I had to applaud them for staying awake, let alone feigning interest. If you can imagine an older, more monotone Ben Stein, whose English has been influenced by French pronunciation (even though he was American), you might be somewhere in the ballpark of this guy. Apparently the French guide wasn't much better, but they at least got to see more than four pieces of artwork in an hour and a half!
After a quick café stop with Eric and Atif, we met up with the students and the other staff and went to a nearby park for lunch before we headed on to the Bateaux Mouches. And yes, I was getting paid for all of this - to cruise along the Seine on a sunny afternoon in Paris. I'm glad I'd done this before, because a herd (no joke there were literally +100) of Chinese tourists swarmed in on us and were taking pictures non-stop. They weren't even paying attention to what it was they were looking at just snapping away and peace-signing galore.
Once the boat ride was over we headed back up to Rouen and straight to the cantine for dinner. I proposed to the other natives that we try to do something with them that night so they don't think we're ignoring them, so we settled on a couple of games and a movie. Only problem was, no one had a movie, all I had was "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" on DVD. It was a hit though, and it had subtitles so they understood everything perfectly. We ended up watching all but two or three of the episodes from Season 4 between Wednesday and Thursday nights.
Thursday I did the first of my two cooking workshops with them, during which we made butter tarts and scones. Both turned out excellent in spite of some confusion with one group between, cup, tsp, and tbsp. Once everything was in the oven Atif and I took the groups to do a pop art workshop where they created pictures to be displayed later in the week. In the afternoon, Sara led a dance workshop where they learned Boot Scootin' Boogie, the Cupid Shuffle, and the Cha-cha slide. We had a good time jumping around to this classic while rearranging the classroom. After dinner and a couple more episodes of IASiP, we left the TV for the students so that they could have a dance party to celebrate their last night together. Rose, Sara, Atif and I however, headed into Rouen for some drinks with some of Roses' BTS students, Alvin, Maxime and Mathieu. The night at O'Kallagan's went too fast, and before I knew it I found myself feeling rough at getting out of bed Friday morning. We powered through like champs though; I had another cooking workshop where we tackled Gingerbread men and muffins, before doing another pop art workshop, finishing up a ping pong tournament and battling through a never-ending Jeopardy style quiz game.
Around four in the afternoon everyone got together for the goûter and an award ceremony. We gave out prizes to the team who won the relay race, scavenger hunt, and quiz (which just so happened to be the same team), but in the end everyone got a gift bag from the Académie in addition to some smaller prizes that the teachers had bought. It was sad watching them leave, several kids came up to us and thanked us and told us that they wished the week could have been longer. Once the hugs and bises were finished, I headed back to Louviers and passed out immediately.
In between then and now I've been lounging around. There was a music festival throughout France on the 21st, but thanks an inconvenient train schedule I wouldn't have been able to make it out of Rouen if I'd ventured in. I did, however, make it in yesterday for the Soldes, where I made some final purchases, convincing myself that it's now or never. La Fête du Cinéma starts this weekend and goes until the 1st, meaning that after you buy one ticket, every one afterwards is only 3 €, so I'll probably be seeing quite a few films in the next couple of days.
Session two of Région Langue starts on Monday here at Lycée les Fontenelles in Louviers, so I'll be busy with that. But after reading over some of my previous posts I realized that I’d forgotten to cover my trip to Roland Garros so I'll rehash it now. Better known to Americans as The French Open, I had a perfect day out at Paris’ famed tennis tournament, the only Grand Slam on the terre battu or the crushed red-brick clay. I got there as soon as the gates opened by way of following the tennis racquets on the sidewalk (otherwise I might have ended up in the Bois du Boulogne). After showing my e-ticket and passport at the gate, the attendant was surprised that I spoke to him in French, commenting to his colleague as I walked away, “Hum, il a un passeport américain mais il parle français.” He’s got an American passport, but he speaks French. I guess a lot of people just give up after botching hello. Even though I only had a ticket for Court 1 and the outside courts, I still saw some great tennis, and honestly was just excited to be there.
I also watched some junior matches that put me to shame, but the charged atmosphere as Nadal and Murray were playing in the nearby arenas was indescribable.
Less than two weeks to go here in France and a full spectrum of emotions has started to creep out. Part of me never wants to leave, but another part of me does because I realize that I'll never be able to recreate what was. In a strange way, I'm glad that's the case, and in a perfect world I would have been able to stay another year. Yet as we all know, we don't live in a perfect world, and student loans and the salaud Time are catching up to me. On a quick emo side note, I'd like to leave you with a quote from Dr. Seuss that pretty much sums up the sentiments perfectly, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."
Tuesday morning started with a series of ice breakers, during which the four of us did our best to try and get the kids talking and memorize as many names as we could. After some games in smaller groups and lunch we had a relay race for them during which they had a series of legs to perform, all while answering questions in English. They did surprisingly well with all of the events, which included a three-legged race, a sack race, an eating contest, and a relay with a ping pong ball and a spoon (not exactly sure what you'd call it, but yeah). After the relay race, one of the other native speakers Sara and I were in charge of an acting workshop. Students were asked to audition for a movie role in front of a panel of judges (one of whom was a student), telling us who they were and why they thought they were good for the part all before presenting a short dialogue. Some of the characters included Forrest Gump and Bubba, Jack Sparrow, Jack and Rose from Titanic, Catwoman, and Sherlock Holmes, just to name a few. Again, the kids did really well with it, and because we had so much time left I had to go help the other group finish up their mock job interviews before dinner. Everyone was drained after dinner and we all turned in early to rest up for Paris in the morning.
The silence on the bus to Paris the next day was surprising; they must have still been tired from the day before because there was no noise whatsoever. Our first stop was Beaubourg and the Centre Pompidou for a tour of the museum and of the pop art exhibition. It had to be related to America in some way, and we thought you'd be hard-pressed to find something much more American that Warhol and pop art in a museum. During our tours, honestly I felt bad for the kids because we had the WORST guide ever. He was so boring, I had to applaud them for staying awake, let alone feigning interest. If you can imagine an older, more monotone Ben Stein, whose English has been influenced by French pronunciation (even though he was American), you might be somewhere in the ballpark of this guy. Apparently the French guide wasn't much better, but they at least got to see more than four pieces of artwork in an hour and a half!
After a quick café stop with Eric and Atif, we met up with the students and the other staff and went to a nearby park for lunch before we headed on to the Bateaux Mouches. And yes, I was getting paid for all of this - to cruise along the Seine on a sunny afternoon in Paris. I'm glad I'd done this before, because a herd (no joke there were literally +100) of Chinese tourists swarmed in on us and were taking pictures non-stop. They weren't even paying attention to what it was they were looking at just snapping away and peace-signing galore.
 |
Thursday I did the first of my two cooking workshops with them, during which we made butter tarts and scones. Both turned out excellent in spite of some confusion with one group between, cup, tsp, and tbsp. Once everything was in the oven Atif and I took the groups to do a pop art workshop where they created pictures to be displayed later in the week. In the afternoon, Sara led a dance workshop where they learned Boot Scootin' Boogie, the Cupid Shuffle, and the Cha-cha slide. We had a good time jumping around to this classic while rearranging the classroom. After dinner and a couple more episodes of IASiP, we left the TV for the students so that they could have a dance party to celebrate their last night together. Rose, Sara, Atif and I however, headed into Rouen for some drinks with some of Roses' BTS students, Alvin, Maxime and Mathieu. The night at O'Kallagan's went too fast, and before I knew it I found myself feeling rough at getting out of bed Friday morning. We powered through like champs though; I had another cooking workshop where we tackled Gingerbread men and muffins, before doing another pop art workshop, finishing up a ping pong tournament and battling through a never-ending Jeopardy style quiz game.
Around four in the afternoon everyone got together for the goûter and an award ceremony. We gave out prizes to the team who won the relay race, scavenger hunt, and quiz (which just so happened to be the same team), but in the end everyone got a gift bag from the Académie in addition to some smaller prizes that the teachers had bought. It was sad watching them leave, several kids came up to us and thanked us and told us that they wished the week could have been longer. Once the hugs and bises were finished, I headed back to Louviers and passed out immediately.
In between then and now I've been lounging around. There was a music festival throughout France on the 21st, but thanks an inconvenient train schedule I wouldn't have been able to make it out of Rouen if I'd ventured in. I did, however, make it in yesterday for the Soldes, where I made some final purchases, convincing myself that it's now or never. La Fête du Cinéma starts this weekend and goes until the 1st, meaning that after you buy one ticket, every one afterwards is only 3 €, so I'll probably be seeing quite a few films in the next couple of days.
Session two of Région Langue starts on Monday here at Lycée les Fontenelles in Louviers, so I'll be busy with that. But after reading over some of my previous posts I realized that I’d forgotten to cover my trip to Roland Garros so I'll rehash it now. Better known to Americans as The French Open, I had a perfect day out at Paris’ famed tennis tournament, the only Grand Slam on the terre battu or the crushed red-brick clay. I got there as soon as the gates opened by way of following the tennis racquets on the sidewalk (otherwise I might have ended up in the Bois du Boulogne). After showing my e-ticket and passport at the gate, the attendant was surprised that I spoke to him in French, commenting to his colleague as I walked away, “Hum, il a un passeport américain mais il parle français.” He’s got an American passport, but he speaks French. I guess a lot of people just give up after botching hello. Even though I only had a ticket for Court 1 and the outside courts, I still saw some great tennis, and honestly was just excited to be there.
I also watched some junior matches that put me to shame, but the charged atmosphere as Nadal and Murray were playing in the nearby arenas was indescribable.
Less than two weeks to go here in France and a full spectrum of emotions has started to creep out. Part of me never wants to leave, but another part of me does because I realize that I'll never be able to recreate what was. In a strange way, I'm glad that's the case, and in a perfect world I would have been able to stay another year. Yet as we all know, we don't live in a perfect world, and student loans and the salaud Time are catching up to me. On a quick emo side note, I'd like to leave you with a quote from Dr. Seuss that pretty much sums up the sentiments perfectly, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."
19 June 2011
Il y a je t'aime et je t'aime
Well, the last grains of sand are running through the hourglass; I've only got a couple of weeks until I wake up from the dream and I'm back in the United States. Over the past couple of weeks I've been saying my goodbyes to the incredible people that I've met during my time in France. I think that more than the food and the culture and the overall lifestyle, it's the people that I'm going to miss the most. Just being able to interact with them, to understand their humor and play along to such an extent was something that I never imagined would have been possible when I got that acceptance email some 14 months ago.
Way back on June 4th, I went kayaking with 11 of my colleagues from the collège. I'd never even seen - let alone spoken to - a couple of them, but by the end of the day I felt like I was out with my family. This was also my first time kayaking, and honestly I have to give the people who do it in whitewater some serious credit. It isn't nearly as easy as you'd think. Fortunately for me, yet unfortunately for France, it hasn't rained in a while and there are water restrictions; meaning that the water level in the river wasn't as high as it should be. This definitely made things a bit easier for me, since navigating underneath 30 meter long bridges in the dark and over rapids while trying to go straight aren't exactly my strong suits. By the end of the day though, I'd finally gotten the hang of it, just in time to find out that the trip was over.
Afterwards we headed back to Gaël's for an apéro (yet another of the countless things I'm going to miss about France), where I had the chance to sample some of the wine and honey beer from his cave. After performing all the obligatory bises I hitched a ride back into Louviers with the Spanish teacher, Marina and the prof de sport, Antony.
The day before, I had a picnic with some of my students. On the last day that I had them in class, together with their teacher they tried to organize an outing for all of us so that we could celebrate the end of the year and have a going away party for me. The date, however, got changed twice, once because the kids had mock exams and then again because their teacher had a training day to go to. When I spoke to her earlier in the week, she had only one confirmation, which made me think it wasn't exactly going to be the sendoff that I'd imagined. On Friday though, five of them ended up showing, and honestly I have to give them a lot of credit for that. They didn't have to come to school Monday through Wednesday and they were off Thursday, so the fact that they were even there at all was really nice. In an effort to try and incorporate English into our picnic, we went to the tourist office to pick up some information to guide us through an English tour of Louviers. I actually did learn some things that I never knew about my tiny town, and discovered some new streets that I'd overlooked before. Once the teacher had left to go back to class, I stayed with the students for a bit and we continued to munch on the food that they'd prepared (one of the many perks of having students who train in the culinary arts).
In my post-picnic high I walked to the collège to clean out my classroom, hand in my keys, and say goodbye to the Administrators. On the way over, I was spotted by a group of my 6ème on their way back from a PE trip and was treated to a bevy of excited 10 year olds shouting my name and waving. I'm going to miss not having the same celebrity status back in America. Here in France, more times than I can count I've had students see me in the supermarket and they come up and say "hello." At home - and I'm sure everyone has done this - most of the time we're in too much of a hurry to start a conversation with someone we know so we just act like we didn't see them and go about our business.
Later that week, I took my final voyage down to Lyon to see some of the sights that I hadn't been able to see the first time around thanks to the grève way back in October. I'd planned to go out with a bang, but because of my bank account, that bang wasn't exactly what I wanted it to be. The fact, though, that I was working with less than 100 € reminded me of just how much I had done already. So after researching train ticket prices for day trips to Grenoble, Aix-en-Provence, Beaune, Dijon, Annecy, and Perouges, I ultimately decided that Annecy would be the place to embody my last hurrah for a bit here in southeastern France.
I certainly can't say that I didn't make a good choice; Annecy, home to Europe's purest body of water, was spectacular. After a picnic on the shore of the lake, I took a three hour walk around the lake (and didn't cover nearly as much ground as I thought). As I was walking and just looking around, I thought to myself, I genuinely can't understand why people would ever want to take drugs or how they could be depressed when things as beautiful as this place exist in the world. I realize that not everyone is as fortunate as me, and I've had weeks where I've seen more than some people will in an entire lifetime, but I feel that overall, a lot of people have lost the ability to appreciate the little things in life, which is certainly a gift that I've been given thanks to this experience.
The trip to Annecy was on a Thursday, and on my last night in town, Katie, Tania and I went out to eat at Aux Trois Gaules. I chose here because of a very reasonably priced Menu 15 €, but when we got there, said menu didn't exist. It didn't matter though because what was there was still reasonable, and after the starter and apéro I was already more than satisfied.
The next morning I headed back up to Normandy because I had a barbecue to go to chez one of my teachers later that evening. In typical French fashion, I made sure I was ready to get picked up 15 minutes later than when I was told (my ride finally arrived five minutes later than that), and headed to Marianne and her husband Fabien's house for the French version of an American summer favorite. Although they did have some trouble lighting the grill - a vacuum was out at one point for some reason, not sure what exactly for - the food that came off of it was amazing: merguez, kabobs, chicken, etc. I had to leave around 1.00, just as the party was getting started because my ride had an 18 month old that was ready for bed. I was exhausted as well, after traveling all day, so it was a welcomed exit.
Way back on June 4th, I went kayaking with 11 of my colleagues from the collège. I'd never even seen - let alone spoken to - a couple of them, but by the end of the day I felt like I was out with my family. This was also my first time kayaking, and honestly I have to give the people who do it in whitewater some serious credit. It isn't nearly as easy as you'd think. Fortunately for me, yet unfortunately for France, it hasn't rained in a while and there are water restrictions; meaning that the water level in the river wasn't as high as it should be. This definitely made things a bit easier for me, since navigating underneath 30 meter long bridges in the dark and over rapids while trying to go straight aren't exactly my strong suits. By the end of the day though, I'd finally gotten the hang of it, just in time to find out that the trip was over.
Afterwards we headed back to Gaël's for an apéro (yet another of the countless things I'm going to miss about France), where I had the chance to sample some of the wine and honey beer from his cave. After performing all the obligatory bises I hitched a ride back into Louviers with the Spanish teacher, Marina and the prof de sport, Antony.
The day before, I had a picnic with some of my students. On the last day that I had them in class, together with their teacher they tried to organize an outing for all of us so that we could celebrate the end of the year and have a going away party for me. The date, however, got changed twice, once because the kids had mock exams and then again because their teacher had a training day to go to. When I spoke to her earlier in the week, she had only one confirmation, which made me think it wasn't exactly going to be the sendoff that I'd imagined. On Friday though, five of them ended up showing, and honestly I have to give them a lot of credit for that. They didn't have to come to school Monday through Wednesday and they were off Thursday, so the fact that they were even there at all was really nice. In an effort to try and incorporate English into our picnic, we went to the tourist office to pick up some information to guide us through an English tour of Louviers. I actually did learn some things that I never knew about my tiny town, and discovered some new streets that I'd overlooked before. Once the teacher had left to go back to class, I stayed with the students for a bit and we continued to munch on the food that they'd prepared (one of the many perks of having students who train in the culinary arts).
In my post-picnic high I walked to the collège to clean out my classroom, hand in my keys, and say goodbye to the Administrators. On the way over, I was spotted by a group of my 6ème on their way back from a PE trip and was treated to a bevy of excited 10 year olds shouting my name and waving. I'm going to miss not having the same celebrity status back in America. Here in France, more times than I can count I've had students see me in the supermarket and they come up and say "hello." At home - and I'm sure everyone has done this - most of the time we're in too much of a hurry to start a conversation with someone we know so we just act like we didn't see them and go about our business.
Later that week, I took my final voyage down to Lyon to see some of the sights that I hadn't been able to see the first time around thanks to the grève way back in October. I'd planned to go out with a bang, but because of my bank account, that bang wasn't exactly what I wanted it to be. The fact, though, that I was working with less than 100 € reminded me of just how much I had done already. So after researching train ticket prices for day trips to Grenoble, Aix-en-Provence, Beaune, Dijon, Annecy, and Perouges, I ultimately decided that Annecy would be the place to embody my last hurrah for a bit here in southeastern France.
I certainly can't say that I didn't make a good choice; Annecy, home to Europe's purest body of water, was spectacular. After a picnic on the shore of the lake, I took a three hour walk around the lake (and didn't cover nearly as much ground as I thought). As I was walking and just looking around, I thought to myself, I genuinely can't understand why people would ever want to take drugs or how they could be depressed when things as beautiful as this place exist in the world. I realize that not everyone is as fortunate as me, and I've had weeks where I've seen more than some people will in an entire lifetime, but I feel that overall, a lot of people have lost the ability to appreciate the little things in life, which is certainly a gift that I've been given thanks to this experience.
 |
| Not a bad view for a picnic huh? |
The next morning I headed back up to Normandy because I had a barbecue to go to chez one of my teachers later that evening. In typical French fashion, I made sure I was ready to get picked up 15 minutes later than when I was told (my ride finally arrived five minutes later than that), and headed to Marianne and her husband Fabien's house for the French version of an American summer favorite. Although they did have some trouble lighting the grill - a vacuum was out at one point for some reason, not sure what exactly for - the food that came off of it was amazing: merguez, kabobs, chicken, etc. I had to leave around 1.00, just as the party was getting started because my ride had an 18 month old that was ready for bed. I was exhausted as well, after traveling all day, so it was a welcomed exit.
07 June 2011
V for Vendetta
I'm convinced that Italy has some sort of vendetta against me. After the first headache at Christmas, and now my most recent run-in with my pasta-loving neighbors, it's clear to me that there's something telling me that maybe we're not meant to be.
I left Paris at 12.35 PM Friday afternoon and arrived in Florence at 10.30 PM later that evening. You might be asking yourself, "why did it take him that long to get there?" and comme d'hab, there's a story behind it. So I made it to Rome in one piece, only to be greeted by a two hour layover. Not a problem, I'd come prepared with food and book. I boarded the plane to Florence, and besides it being a half hour late, everything went smoothly. That was until about 2 minutes before we were supposed to land. Wheels were out and 30 seconds later we would have been on the tarmac, when all of a sudden we shoot back up! All the passengers are nervously looking around at one another, asking questions in Italian, French, English, Japanese, because it wasn't until five minutes later that the captain gave us any news. "The airport is closed to us because of high winds. We are now en route to Bologna." Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!
Eavesdropping on my neighbors' conversations, one Italian woman said that Bologna is about an hour and a half bus ride away, without traffic, and that it's a difficult route because it goes through the mountains. Awesome. She then proceeds to say that "Well, I'd rather be alive in Bologna than burning in Florence. Let me tell you, the runway there is very short." Nice.
Once we landed in Bologna, I immediately headed up to the Alitalia office to see if and how Alitalia was going to make this right and if I'd be getting to Florence anytime in the near future. The woman at the Alitalia counter was very nice, but unfortunately her news wasn't. She called 40 minutes before we'd landed to try and get a bus to take us to Florence, and at the time no one had returned her call. Perfect. Next question: "Is there a train station nearby, and if so, how do I get there?"
Fortunately there is a train station in Bologna, conveniently linked to an airport shuttle (only problem being I had no idea what stop it would be). I got on the bus and heard nothing but Italian as I made my way to the back. When I sat down the girls behind me were speaking in French so I asked them if this was, in fact, the bus to the station and what stop I'd have to get off at. Yes, and the same one as us. Boom. Problem solved.
Merci Dieu that there's an English option on the ticket machines, because I had six minutes to buy a ticket and find my platform. Doing that awkward "gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now" speed walk, I made it with a minute to spare, only to be surrounded by a mass of Greek kids. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of train rides, mostly because I couldn't move and I had no idea where and when I'd be getting off, but finally almost three hours later I made it into Santa Maria Novella Stazione in Florence. Now the next trick was finding my cousin Allison's apartment. In the dark.
Usually I have no problems with Google Maps getting me where I have to go, but under these circumstances I needed some extra help. After successfully making my way out of the station and through the first three steps of my directions, I figured it'd be best if I stopped somewhere to ask. Nighttime in an unfamiliar country where I don't know the language and I've got a massive backpack...not exactly the best time to be wandering around. The receptionist at the hotel was very friendly and gave me a map, but unfortunately her "it's that way" hand gesture didn't cut it. After I walked down one street for 10 minutes with no luck, I backtracked to the hotel and took a different route. The right one.
Relieved, I made my way up to Allison's apartment and only after pressing most of the buttons next to the door did I realize that there was a note on the knocker. They'd gone for dinner and would be back afterwards. Merde. I had no choice but to wait, because if I went for food and they came back, I wouldn't know and then I might not get in, I'd get kidnapped by gypsys, be accosted by homeless people, etc.
Once they came back, Katie carried my bag up and I went and got a pizza and inhaled it. The next morning Katie and I got up early to see the sights before the rest of the Americans got to it. I feel like it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call Florence "Little America" because honestly I heard more Americans speaking than I did Italians. The Italians probably just try to avoid us at all costs. We walked along the Arno, across the Ponte Vecchio, and around Palazzo della Signoria before taking a tour of the Duomo. This tour was probably the best 15 € I ever spent, our guide was excellent and really made it an excellent visit. In addition to being able to visit the roped off areas of the cathedral, we were able to walk up and around the dome, as well as on the terraces. The views were spectacular; I said to Katie when we were on top of the dome, "is this real life?" Honestly, it was just so perfect that it felt like it couldn't possibly be real.
After trekking up all the steps we were pretty hungry so we sat down to an amazing lunch. Simple, but again, absolutely perfect. Seafood salad and pesto pasta.
Later that afternoon Katie and I walked up to the Piazza Michelangelo where we got a panoramic view of the city. Before we went back to Allison's we stopped off at a gelateria. Whoever said money can't buy happiness clearly never had gelato. Wow.
The next day, I went to Siena with one of Allison's friends from school, Masood. After some issues with an overbooked bus, we finally made it. I really enjoyed Siena, not only because I'd never been there before, but also because it felt so much more authentic than Florence. I feel like the strong American presence in Florence detracts from the Tuscan charm. We only had a couple hours to spend there, but we saw quite a bit.
When I was leaving, of course there were no problems, except that I had the weirdest take-off experience ever: the captain held the parking brake, and while the engines were going at full speed (like they'd be when you are shooting down the runway) we were just sitting there. Then all of a sudden he lets off the brake and we shot up! I guess the Italian lady from the beginning wasn't lying when she said that the runway is short, otherwise I can't think why else they would have done that.
There's still quite a bit left to tell until you're completely up to speed; picnics, kayaking, Roland Garros, etc., but I'm heading back down to Lyon to see what I couldn't last time I was there because of the strikes. Il faut qu'on profite!
I left Paris at 12.35 PM Friday afternoon and arrived in Florence at 10.30 PM later that evening. You might be asking yourself, "why did it take him that long to get there?" and comme d'hab, there's a story behind it. So I made it to Rome in one piece, only to be greeted by a two hour layover. Not a problem, I'd come prepared with food and book. I boarded the plane to Florence, and besides it being a half hour late, everything went smoothly. That was until about 2 minutes before we were supposed to land. Wheels were out and 30 seconds later we would have been on the tarmac, when all of a sudden we shoot back up! All the passengers are nervously looking around at one another, asking questions in Italian, French, English, Japanese, because it wasn't until five minutes later that the captain gave us any news. "The airport is closed to us because of high winds. We are now en route to Bologna." Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!
Eavesdropping on my neighbors' conversations, one Italian woman said that Bologna is about an hour and a half bus ride away, without traffic, and that it's a difficult route because it goes through the mountains. Awesome. She then proceeds to say that "Well, I'd rather be alive in Bologna than burning in Florence. Let me tell you, the runway there is very short." Nice.
Once we landed in Bologna, I immediately headed up to the Alitalia office to see if and how Alitalia was going to make this right and if I'd be getting to Florence anytime in the near future. The woman at the Alitalia counter was very nice, but unfortunately her news wasn't. She called 40 minutes before we'd landed to try and get a bus to take us to Florence, and at the time no one had returned her call. Perfect. Next question: "Is there a train station nearby, and if so, how do I get there?"
Fortunately there is a train station in Bologna, conveniently linked to an airport shuttle (only problem being I had no idea what stop it would be). I got on the bus and heard nothing but Italian as I made my way to the back. When I sat down the girls behind me were speaking in French so I asked them if this was, in fact, the bus to the station and what stop I'd have to get off at. Yes, and the same one as us. Boom. Problem solved.
Merci Dieu that there's an English option on the ticket machines, because I had six minutes to buy a ticket and find my platform. Doing that awkward "gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now" speed walk, I made it with a minute to spare, only to be surrounded by a mass of Greek kids. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of train rides, mostly because I couldn't move and I had no idea where and when I'd be getting off, but finally almost three hours later I made it into Santa Maria Novella Stazione in Florence. Now the next trick was finding my cousin Allison's apartment. In the dark.
Usually I have no problems with Google Maps getting me where I have to go, but under these circumstances I needed some extra help. After successfully making my way out of the station and through the first three steps of my directions, I figured it'd be best if I stopped somewhere to ask. Nighttime in an unfamiliar country where I don't know the language and I've got a massive backpack...not exactly the best time to be wandering around. The receptionist at the hotel was very friendly and gave me a map, but unfortunately her "it's that way" hand gesture didn't cut it. After I walked down one street for 10 minutes with no luck, I backtracked to the hotel and took a different route. The right one.
Relieved, I made my way up to Allison's apartment and only after pressing most of the buttons next to the door did I realize that there was a note on the knocker. They'd gone for dinner and would be back afterwards. Merde. I had no choice but to wait, because if I went for food and they came back, I wouldn't know and then I might not get in, I'd get kidnapped by gypsys, be accosted by homeless people, etc.
Once they came back, Katie carried my bag up and I went and got a pizza and inhaled it. The next morning Katie and I got up early to see the sights before the rest of the Americans got to it. I feel like it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call Florence "Little America" because honestly I heard more Americans speaking than I did Italians. The Italians probably just try to avoid us at all costs. We walked along the Arno, across the Ponte Vecchio, and around Palazzo della Signoria before taking a tour of the Duomo. This tour was probably the best 15 € I ever spent, our guide was excellent and really made it an excellent visit. In addition to being able to visit the roped off areas of the cathedral, we were able to walk up and around the dome, as well as on the terraces. The views were spectacular; I said to Katie when we were on top of the dome, "is this real life?" Honestly, it was just so perfect that it felt like it couldn't possibly be real.
After trekking up all the steps we were pretty hungry so we sat down to an amazing lunch. Simple, but again, absolutely perfect. Seafood salad and pesto pasta.
Later that afternoon Katie and I walked up to the Piazza Michelangelo where we got a panoramic view of the city. Before we went back to Allison's we stopped off at a gelateria. Whoever said money can't buy happiness clearly never had gelato. Wow.
The next day, I went to Siena with one of Allison's friends from school, Masood. After some issues with an overbooked bus, we finally made it. I really enjoyed Siena, not only because I'd never been there before, but also because it felt so much more authentic than Florence. I feel like the strong American presence in Florence detracts from the Tuscan charm. We only had a couple hours to spend there, but we saw quite a bit.
When I was leaving, of course there were no problems, except that I had the weirdest take-off experience ever: the captain held the parking brake, and while the engines were going at full speed (like they'd be when you are shooting down the runway) we were just sitting there. Then all of a sudden he lets off the brake and we shot up! I guess the Italian lady from the beginning wasn't lying when she said that the runway is short, otherwise I can't think why else they would have done that.
There's still quite a bit left to tell until you're completely up to speed; picnics, kayaking, Roland Garros, etc., but I'm heading back down to Lyon to see what I couldn't last time I was there because of the strikes. Il faut qu'on profite!
06 June 2011
The Fair Isles Part 2
Apologies once again for the delay, but I'll start by picking up where I left off. After our Ulster fry we said goodbye to the Burns family and headed to the airport for our 30-some minute flight to London. Once we arrived at the airport, Jackie and I spent a half hour or so trying to get in touch with James who arrived just as our restlessness was starting to get out of hand. He picked us up, took us back to his place to drop our things off and once that was all said and done we hopped on the overground and headed into central London.
Our first stop: Leicester Square, where all the major movie premiers are held in London. Unfortunately, it was undergoing some renovations for the 2012 Olympics, so most of it was fenced off due to construction, but we still had a chance to see most of the major cinemas. We met up with Fiona and Caoimhlin and headed to Nando's for a bite to eat. After dinner, we went through Piccadilly Circus - basically the Times Square of New York - which was a lot smaller than I'd imagined it. When you see it in movies, you always get the sense that it is as impressive as Times Square, but definitely not the case.
The next stop was Hamleys one of the world's largest toy shops. Maybe I'm growing up, or America has just set some really high standards for what a toy shop should have, but I wasn't that impressed. Just typing this I feel old, but the selection wasn't that great and everything was ridiculously overpriced. For instance, anyone remember those kits for make your own balloons? They sold them at the dollar store and you'd get three or four tubes of the plastic stuff and the straws to blow it up with, but in Hamleys they acted like it was this great new toy that could be yours for only 15 £ (roughly $25)!
After Hamleys we headed up Carnaby Street, one of the main shopping streets in London, before taking the tube to Camden Town. Camden Town pretty much embodies everything that you'd expect a kitsch neighborhood to be. If I had to think of an American equivalent, I would suggest that you think of Cowtown as an actually community with buildings rather than stalls, add a heavy dose of punks, pubs and tattoo shops, and maybe you'd have something kind of close. What was probably most interesting about this neighborhood though was the fact that you saw people from all walks of life: everything from homeless people to rahs. We wanted to go into a bar to get a drink, but couldn't because they were carding and Jackie didn't have her ID. So, we ended up in a pub instead. Just sitting there with everyone people watching, I decided that I could live in London too.
The next day we did all of the touristy stuff - the London Eye, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey (which unfortunately was closed to visitors since it was Sunday), Buckingham Palace (where we were treated to an impromptu parade), Trafalgar Square, 10 Downing Street, Harrods, and the Natural History Museum all followed by dinner at Garfunkels.
I can't forget to mention though, our amazing lunch at Wagamama. While I didn't sample any "typical" English food (besides fish and chips), from what I did taste, I'd honestly have to disagree with the stereotype that English people have terrible food. Case in point:
We spent our last full day in London walking alongside the Tower of London, across the Tower Bridge, over the Millennium Bridge, at Pizza Express and inside the Tate Modern. After a final round of drinks up in Camden Town, we said goodbye to Fiona and Caoimhlin and grabbed some sandwiches at Prêt-à-Manger and Marks & Spencer. When I finally returned to France, I went through some serious M & S withdraw, not only because of the amazing food, but also because of the convenience (doesn't close at 7.30 like every store in France).
The next afternoon, after a quick stop at Platform 9 3/4 (although not the same one used in the first Harry Potter movie because they're renovating that part of the station), Jackie and I boarded the Eurostar back to Paris. Strangely enough, while at the station I was more comfortable speaking in French to the people working there rather than in English, since American English would give me away instantly as being a foreigner.
Like I mentioned before, I had no expectations at all of what the UK would be like, but after such a memorable experience I can easily picture myself living there, even if it does rain all the time and they drive on the wrong side of the road.
Our first stop: Leicester Square, where all the major movie premiers are held in London. Unfortunately, it was undergoing some renovations for the 2012 Olympics, so most of it was fenced off due to construction, but we still had a chance to see most of the major cinemas. We met up with Fiona and Caoimhlin and headed to Nando's for a bite to eat. After dinner, we went through Piccadilly Circus - basically the Times Square of New York - which was a lot smaller than I'd imagined it. When you see it in movies, you always get the sense that it is as impressive as Times Square, but definitely not the case.
The next day we did all of the touristy stuff - the London Eye, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey (which unfortunately was closed to visitors since it was Sunday), Buckingham Palace (where we were treated to an impromptu parade), Trafalgar Square, 10 Downing Street, Harrods, and the Natural History Museum all followed by dinner at Garfunkels.
 |
| Westminster Abbey |
 |
| When the flag is raised the Queen is inside |
 |
| Trafalgar Square - 2012 Olympics countdown clock in the background |
 |
| Dinosaurs! |
We spent our last full day in London walking alongside the Tower of London, across the Tower Bridge, over the Millennium Bridge, at Pizza Express and inside the Tate Modern. After a final round of drinks up in Camden Town, we said goodbye to Fiona and Caoimhlin and grabbed some sandwiches at Prêt-à-Manger and Marks & Spencer. When I finally returned to France, I went through some serious M & S withdraw, not only because of the amazing food, but also because of the convenience (doesn't close at 7.30 like every store in France).
The next afternoon, after a quick stop at Platform 9 3/4 (although not the same one used in the first Harry Potter movie because they're renovating that part of the station), Jackie and I boarded the Eurostar back to Paris. Strangely enough, while at the station I was more comfortable speaking in French to the people working there rather than in English, since American English would give me away instantly as being a foreigner.
Like I mentioned before, I had no expectations at all of what the UK would be like, but after such a memorable experience I can easily picture myself living there, even if it does rain all the time and they drive on the wrong side of the road.
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