Bingo!

So today was great for two reasons. First, I got an email I've been anxiously awaiting for a couple of weeks now; one asking me to participate in the first session of Région Langues. What does that mean? Well it means that I no longer have to worry about living two months on April's salary, and rather than spending May watching every centime, I can be a little more lax when it comes to my expenses. And secondly, I made this for dinner:

Oriental taboulé with braised pork chops, caramelized mushrooms and shallots in a Benedictine and creme reduction.  
Good ideas: I'm full of them.

When life gives me lemons, I make limeade

Yeah, that's how I do it. One of many things about life in France that I really like is the fact that I'm never at a loss for things to do. Forget grass growing under my feet, not even dust has the chance to settle down over here. It's a much appreciated change of pace from home, one that I'm especially going to miss as the first of the final three weeks (!!!!!) of teaching gets underway.

So the sun has finally decided to return to Normandy. With warmer weather and sunny skies, I could think of only one place I'd like to be: the beach. So on Friday, after recruiting some of the other assistants to go with me, I'd decided that we'd be heading to Deauville. Unfortunately, on Saturday morning, after sprinting down the street to make the 8.55 bus, I got a text from Sam asking where I was because I missed it. Unbeknownst to me, the bus schedule had changed in February, and after taking another bus to the station hoping in vain that I'd make the 9.28 train, before I knew it I was on my way back to Louviers, deciding what to do next. Sure I had some errands that needed to be done, but I was jealous of the others going to Deauville sans moi.

As I was thinking about what to do, I got a call presenting me with an alternative that I'd overlooked: Paris. Durrr. Win. Problem solved. I met the others that I was supposed to go to the beach with and we spent the day in Paris. Our first stop was for some scrumtrulescent falafel in the Jewish quarter. Even though the Jewish Sabbath is Saturday (a fun fact I never knew), and the restaurant Fiona had originally intended us to go to was closed, I inhaled mine and was more than satisfied with my food baby.

After lunch, we decided to go for a walk along the Seine; can't get much more Parisian than that. Before we'd even made it to the more pedestrian-friendly side of the river, we saw the first of several Bateaux-Mouches cruise by and another light bulb started blazing.

 

After the boat ride was finished and we were walking along the Seine away from the Eiffel Tower, I had another "am I dreaming?" moment. It will never get old. Paris, Deauville, Louviers, it doesn't matter where I go, the feeling's the same: ma vie, c'est top!

Oh, a manor hunting we will go

While the adventures of last weekend revolved around significant historical sights in Normandy, this weekend we got up close and personal with the architectural and gastronomic grandeur of my corner of l'Hexagone. We were supposed to visit a Calvados distillery and a goat cheese farm, but unfortunately - unbeknownst to Sylviane - neither one of them are open for the season until April. So, our route changed a little bit, but now I know that I have another excursion awaiting me in April.

The first stop was Honfleur, a small town up on the coast that I visited way back in November. Although it was cloudy in Louviers, as we made our way up to Honfleur the skies cleared and we were treated to a beautiful day. We walked along the Vieux Bassin scoping out the overpriced restaurants and art galleries; we came at just the right time because once April and warmer weather rolls around, it'll be packed with tourists. Like in every other town in France, Saturday mornings means that there is an outdoor market. I've never seen such an array of fresh seafood - lobsters, flounder, scallops being cut from their shells and more types of fish and crabs than I could keep track of - all for cheap. I also learned how to distinguish between "authentic" merchandise grown by the vendors and produce bought in bulk to be sold at these outdoor markets.

From Honfleur, we continued up the coast to Deauville; famous for its film festival and its reputation as the summer getaway of Paris' elite. I'll have to go back on one of my days off since because of our tight schedule, we were only able to walk along the boardwalk and the beach. I've never seen so many razor clams in my life, they were everywhere.

View of Le Havre - France's biggest port.

The "boardwalk."

After all of our walking and the sea air, we were starving so we headed to a restaurant in Pont-l'Evêque for lunch. Since my arrival in France, Sylviane had been talking about this restaurant where I'd be eating in a giant barrel (Fr. tonneau), so when we pulled up to this normal building with no barrels in sight I was slightly disappointed. I found out though that I wasn't the only one who'd imagined us eating in a massive barrel-shaped restaurant because Qunxing asked where the barrel was. Once we were seated inside, I realized that Sylviane wasn't lying, we were eating in a barrel, just not one as big as I had imagined. Les Tonneaux serves Normand specialties highlighting ingredients that the region is famous for: apples and milk products. Jean-François told me that in France, they have so many different types of cheese that you could eat a different one every day of the year and still not have all of them. On the other hand, in the United States he said, "you only have two types of cheese: yellow and orange." I had to laugh at that because it's pretty accurate; our cheese selection in supermarkets is fairly limited since everything has to be pasteurized.While they weren't exactly sure why this was, they also told me that unpasteurized cheese is actually better for you because it leaves something in the milk that is destroyed during pasteurization.

For an apéritif we had pommeau - which those of you at Christmas will remember tasting - made from cidre, calvados and honey, with a plate of toasted bread and a sauce made from Pont-l'Evêque cheese, crème fraîche and chives. For the main course I had "la fondue aux trois fromages," the three cheeses being Livarot, Pont-l'Evêque and Camembert. For massive food envy, check out the picture below:

Dippings from L to R: some kind of tripe sausage, chicken, another kind of sausage, ham.

Once I'd finished and looked at this photo on my camera, I couldn't believe how much food I'd eaten. But it was so, so good. If you read the photo's caption you'll notice that I sampled some tripe sausage. For those of you who don't know what tripe is, I'll just tell you those tasty nibblets were made from stomach and intestine, smoked and then cased into deliciousness. Granted I didn't know what it was when I first ate it, I was only grossed out for five seconds after Sylviane told me what it was because it was too good stop eating once I'd already started. Lunch was relatively short by French standards - only two hours - and afterwords we continued on to find some Norman châteaux.

The first stop was Château de St Germain de Livet, now a private residence, but was built in the 16th century.

Our next stop was a "manoir" completely different in style "à colombages." Still used as a farm today, this manor had everything, even a moat and a drawbridge!

Our last stop in the Pays d'Auge was Lisieux and la basilique Sainte-Thérèse, the second largest pilgrimage site in France.

I'm not sure what I'll be getting up to this week since I'm still not 100%. My voice is slowly coming back, but the weather is supposed to be perfect, so I'll have to get out and do something. A+!

Le prix de la liberté

This post should have been written almost a week ago, while everything was still fresh, but I’ve been so busy between school, socializing and sightseeing I haven't had time to sit down and write it. Feel bad for me, won’t you? While I don’t think I’d ever want to pursue a career as a teacher, I’ve got to say that I really like this job. Thursdays in particular are always such great days because the kids are always so excited to work with me and really get into the activities. Last Thursday with one group of 6ème we worked on frequency (i.e. often, sometimes, rarely, never, etc.) and routines. I did a game with them where they had to mime the activity that I said – brush your teeth, wash your hands, sweep the floor, watch TV, etc. – and once I made it into a competition they really got into it. Even though they have them here, the winners got Silly Bandz, which made them even happier. At the end of the hour when I saw their teacher again, she told me that the group that I had before she took them for the second half hour was whining about how they weren’t getting to mime with her too. Maybe to these kids I’m the American Game-master, because with another group of 6ème I played a game called “Effacez” that I took from my high school French teacher. I wrote the words for certain foods on the board in French and then said the word in English, but they had to smack the right word before the person on the opposing team. Again they really got into it, running in place with hands at the ready, and just to mess with them a little I used some dramatic pauses like they do on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” The lycée kids make me feel old and young at the same time; old because for a couple of classes, I was in kindergarten or first grade when they were born and young because they look way older than me. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve seen kids in collège rocking full-on mustaches. I’m pretty sure I could not shave for a month and I still wouldn’t have a ‘stache. Not complaining at all though, let’s hope it stays this way. Must be the good genes *cough* yeah my nose is pretty tan.

Last Friday I went to a 22nd birthday party for Elsa, one of the students from my BTS classes. Benjamin, their ginger friend (no joke, they call him ‘le roux’) gave her a lap dance sporting a mankini from Borat, and the 30 or so of us there saw more of him than we needed to. I couldn’t stay very long because I knew that the next morning I had to get up early to travel with Jean-François and Sylviane, but I stayed long enough to get invited to go clubbing in Paris (they told me I can’t leave France without going out in Paris). Also they told me that they’re going to have a party for me before I leave. I have to say, either the stereotype about French people not letting outsiders into their group of friends is false, I’m really cool, or I was just lucky to meet a nice group of kids (it’s N°3).

Saturday morning came way too early. Qunxing and I were outside waiting for them before the sun was even up. Our first stop: Bayeux. Bayeux is most famous for the Bayeux Tapestry, sometimes called “La Tapisserie de la Reine Mathilde,” which depicts the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England. The tapestry dates back to the 11th century, and was supposedly made by Queen Matilda, the wife of William the Conqueror, and her ladies-in-waiting. It’s hard to fathom how long it must have taken them to make this when you see how big it is and how detailed the scenes are. I really like the story of William the Conqueror, not only because he was a BAMF, but also because his story shows you that with enough hard work you really can make a name for yourself. Before his conquest of England, he was called “William the Bastard”; quite an improvement, huh?

How you could cross the ocean in these, I'll never know.

After we’d finished at the museum for the tapestry, we headed over to the Bayeux Cathedral. The cathedral was consecrated in 1077 although the site was once occupied by Roman sanctuaries. While in the cathedral, with Jean-François as our tour guide, I learned how to distinguish Gothic from Roman and Greek architecture as well as the following fun facts: all cathedrals (and maybe churches in general, I forget the exact word he used) are built in the shape of a cross, and the altar faces Jerusalem. Essentially all of the cathedrals in Europe have crypts dating back to times when practicing any sort of religion was forbidden. There also used to be a divider that separated the public from the altar so that parishioners could hear, but not see, the members of the clergy (again I forget what the name of it was in French, I need to start putting a notebook in my pocket).

Bayeux Cathedral.

In the crypt. 

About 20 minutes after we left Bayeux, I was back on American soil at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial where some 9,387 American servicemen that died in World War II are honored. While I’m sure everyone has seen pictures of this place in their middle school and high school history books, nothing compares to actually being there. As soon as I got out of the car, I could immediately tell that we were back in America. Perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery, edged grass, and signs in English first and French second all confirmed that we weren’t in France anymore. The first thing I saw was the time capsule. To be opened on June 6, 2044, it contains news reports of the June 6, 1944 Normandy landings by the newsmen who were there. Jean-François commented that that will be a huge day for France and the United States, but it’s unlikely that he’ll make it to 94 to see it. As I processed that, I wondered what it’s going to be like for me on that day; who knows where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, the only thing that’s certain is that I’ll be 55. How will I feel and what will I remember when I flashback to March 12, 33 years before? It’s a scary thought.

Once we rounded the corner, I purposely avoided looking to my left at all of the headstones. I could see the flags waving in the breeze, but I didn’t want to look below the tree line until I had read about the invasion. War-related history never really interested me, sure I memorized the dates and some battles way back when, but I was unaffected by it – it happened way before my time and I hadn’t know anyone who’d been there, so what did it have to do with me? After I’d finished reading about D-day and the events leading up to it, I finally turned left and looked out onto the 172.5 acre cemetery and its rows upon rows of white marble headstones.

At the time I was feeling an emotion that I’ve never felt before, and I still don’t know exactly what it was; maybe a combination of awe, disgust, pride, remorse and anger, but none of them uniquely. As we wandered through the cemetery, no matter what direction you looked, the headstones formed a perfectly straight line. It was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from birds chirping, the wind and the sea. On our way back to the Visitors Center we walked along Omaha Beach. Again it was strange and hard to imagine such a beautiful place a little more than 66 years before as being the site of intense and brutal fighting. Sylviane pointed out the cliffs further up the beach and told me how the Allied forces had been decimated as they tried to scale them. Then, as we were looking at the map, she showed me a town famous for the story of one paratrooper who had landed on the church’s bell tower during a mission. He was up there for two days and had to watch in horror as the Germans killed all of his comrades on the ground (the Germans didn’t need to look up, so he went unnoticed). He also went deaf because of the bells in the tower.

Omaha Beach.

The Visitors Center was excellent. It was free, but I would have gladly paid 20€ to get in. You could easily spend the entire day there reading everything and watching all the different films. It was incredibly moving; I had goose bumps almost the entire time. The pictures you see in books and what you learn in school doesn’t do it justice. The feeling you get from being there, from walking amongst the graves, and from seeing the faces and learning the stories of the soldiers who fought there is indescribable. These were great men who gave up everything, crossed an ocean and fought to free people they’d never even met.

As improbable as it may seem to you readers at home, the two and a half hours spent on American soil in France have changed my life more than I ever would have expected. I’ve realized a newfound appreciation for everything that I have and just how much others have had to sacrifice so that I can have the life I have today.

By the time we left the Visitors Center, there was no hope of finding a restaurant that would still be serving lunch, so we stopped off at a small fishing town up the coast to get some sandwiches. Once we’d finished eating, we continued on to Longues-sur-Mer to see some of the German cannons. Although they’re all rusty now, when you’re behind one you can almost imagine what it must have been like to be in control of one. We also visited a small German blockhouse that looks out over the cliffs. Sylviane, who was raised nearby in Caen, told us that back in the ‘60s they converted some of the blockhouses into nightclubs (just to give you an idea of how big some of these are). Arromanches was our next stop, most famous for its “Mulberry Harbor” (a temporary harbor) developed to offload cargo to ships during the invasion. They used a series of massive concrete blocks called caissons, together with pontoons and steel frames to form temporary bridges. Jean-François and Sylviane thought that it was important that I see these because they say that in 10 or 15 years they won’t be there anymore grâce à erosion.

In the blockhouse.

You can see what's left of the ring of concrete blocks.

Our last and final stop of the trip was Caen – home to the Château de Caen, built circa 1060 by William the Conqueror. We also stopped off at the Abbaye aux Hommes, completed in 1063 and also the final resting place of William the Conqueror. By the time we left the Abbaye, it was getting dark and it was starting to rain, so we headed back to Louviers.

Château de Caen.

William the Conqueror's tomb.

The week flew by, and despite bad tennis on Monday, a terrible class of 6ème on Tuesday, and some sort of lingering sickness, it has been a pretty good one. Thursday I did Saint Patrick’s Day with a couple of my classes; riverdance was a hit, as was trying to get them to say “leprechaun” and “shamrock” (sounded like “leprocharrrran” and “sharrrharak”). Thursday evening I was treated to lamb and couscous at one of my teacher’s house. We started with a soup made of carrots, red lentils, leeks and celery root (which I’ve never seen in the United States), followed by the couscous with chick peas, zucchini, carrots, leeks, and some spices, and then finally the lamb. All of this was served with mint tea and a really nice nine year-old pinot noir from Alsace (cue wine snobbery). Top it off with an obligatory cheese plate and fresh mangos for dessert et voilà!

This weekend I’m traveling with Jean-François and Sylviane again, but I hope this time it won’t take me a week to get the recap up. The rest of the assistants went for a night out in Rouen, but you can’t do everything. It’s tough being in demand.

A new No. 1

Vacation is over and “work” starts again tomorrow morning, but I’m not sure that I could have dreamed up a better past two weeks. Sightseeing in Madrid, swimming in Grand Canaria and skiing in the French Alps, I mean really?

The trip didn’t start out on the most positive of notes, which was partly my fault and partly the fault of a connard airport security employee. I’d left a bottle of juice in my bag by accident, but the thing is after taking everything out of the main compartment of my backpack and searching through my toiletries, he still hadn’t found the juice. After about 10 minutes of searching in vain, he told me I had to throw out some of my “liquids.” There were certain essentials that I couldn’t throw away (i.e. sunscreen, contact solution, etc.), and then after ogling my deodorant, he decided that that should go in my “liquid” bag as well. Already annoyed that he was going through everything, I got into an argument with him about why he put that in with the liquids. His response: “c’est un liquide dur” or “it’s a hard liquid.” At this point I was so frustrated that what he said didn’t exactly sink in, but after I sacrificed shampoo for the sake of smelling fresh, I was mad at myself for letting that one get by me. A hard liquid…aka a solid.

Madrid has the coolest airport.

After some serious thought, I’ve decided that Madrid might just be my new favorite city. It reminded me of a cleaner, less smelly New York, and probably the strangest thing was that literally everyone, even the old people, was at least a 6 or better. I don’t understand how there can be so many good-looking people in one place, but it was crazy. Unlike France, stores were open past 8, so that was a nice change, and everyone goes out night. The streets were packed with people even at 2.00 AM, which is something you don’t even see in Paris.

We got in around 4.00 AM and spent the next day at two incredible museums, the Reina Sofia Museum and the Prado Museum. It was raining and both were free so it was an all-around win. Usually after walking around for a while, I get museum-ed out, but every room had at least one or two pieces that were genuinely interesting. For our last day in Madrid we walked around the city to see all the touristy sites, and I got to wear sunglasses for the first time this year!

Perfect.

I want this in my house one day.

The next morning we moved on to Grand Canaria, where sun, sand, and so many naked old people awaited. The temperature hovered between 70 and 80, and even though the ocean was still chilly, it was too hot on the beach not to go in.

Three days flew by, and before I knew it I had to head back to Paris to meet my brother. Greeted by cloudy skies and rain, after meeting up, Ned and I headed down to Lyon to spend the afternoon/night with our cousin Katie before continuing on to La Plagne. We saw some Roman ruins that I hadn’t seen the last time I was in Lyon in addition to all the standard favorites. After a few too many beers at this really cool pub, we went to an interesting tartiflette restaurant for dinner.

We left early the next morning, and were greeted by some more speed bumps once we got off the train, but things worked themselves out and in the end I couldn’t have asked for a better trip. With the gondola to the top of the mountain five minutes away and a nightclub downstairs, Caoimhlin’s chalet had an unbeatable location. Prices for rentals and lift tickets were ridiculously cheap compared to what you pay at home. It’s ridiculous to think that you pay 2x as much for a lift ticket in the Poconos than you do for the Alps. Highway robbery. Plus, we were treated to two days of fresh powder - the first they'd seen seen before Christmas!

Last night was spent out in Rouen with some of the assistants and their friends visiting from home. After dinner at an “American” restaurant we went out for drinks and then went to the outdoor market this morning. Even though these past two weeks were an “official” vacation, for the past several months I’ve been on vacation. I’m in the process of trying to extend my visa to take part in this English summer camp in June, during which I could make $2,000 for 7 days of work. Not too shabby huh? Only problem is I have to deal with French immigration officers…let’s hope my name can help me out again.