Adieu Novembre, Allo Decembre

I can't believe I've been here for 2 months already!! To recap: I've visited a ton of museums, parks, cultural centers, and expositions (but there's still so many more!!). I've become close with a lot of the other English and Spanish assistants in Toulouse who I see several times throughout the week around town. Some of us have formed a weekly dinner club called Mangesters Inc. that convenes Mondays and Thursdays. I've gotten to know my roommates, Gisele and Gabby, better. I've also managed to make some French friends, which I'm very happy about.  I've been lucky enough to be invited to several professors’ homes for meals and even weekends. October was a bit rough with the strikes disrupting school. Then, at the end of the month I took a trip up to Rennes over the Toussaint vacation and visited my old host family and my friend Emma from study abroad. In the beginning of November we celebrated Armistice Day and had another long weekend during which I stayed in Toulouse, went out quite a bit and met many more new people, and last week I had a lovely Thanksgiving with the other assistants at Lauren's house. Overall I would say I've been motivated and going out a lot, both during the day to explore the city and also of course at night.

However, all this being said, now I am feeling like some of the novelty is wearing off and I need a bit more stability in my life here. I've been meeting a ton of new people and doing new things all the time, which is wonderful, but now I need to change gears a bit and find more of a routine. 

I decided to start with injecting new motivation and organization into my job. Since I've arrived here I haven't had too much trouble planning lessons...first I did introductions where I talked about myself and my life in the states, which led to a lesson talking about the differences between American universities and European universities, then it was Halloween, With November came Election Day and we talked about that, and finally last week was Thanksgiving which gave me plenty of material. This weekend, upon realizing I was lacking an American cultural holiday to fall back on, I decided I wanted to get more organized with my classes. As I mentioned before this is a feat considering that I see my students very irregularly. Some classes operate on a week A/week B basis meaning I see the students every 2 weeks, and with some of those classes the teachers send me a different group out of their class each time so it can be a month before I see the same students! I also realized that I don't even have lists with my students’ names, or any way of really keeping track who I see and when I see them!

I decided to go in Monday to ask my teachers for more clear direction on what to do with the students and also for complete lists of the students in a last ditch effort to get organized before we break for Christmas. The first teacher I asked told me that this was a good idea and she understood why I would want a list of the students and she apologized for it being so confusing what with the strike messing up the usual order of the groups etc etc. Oh but wait, she told me, the groups would be changing anyway next week. OK. I still proposed my plan to my other professors and asked to set up “bilans,” or evaluations with them before for Christmas so that I could make sure I was doing what I'm supposed to. I left Monday feeling slightly more organized and ready to take on my Tuesday students and teachers with my renewed plan of organization. Au contraire. I came home to an email from the teacher I teach with Tuesdays saying she was sick and therefore I was relieved of my teaching duties. The other teacher I am supposed to teach with that day I met back in October and he told me he would contact me after the Toussaint vacations (around Halloween) but never did. I've since heard from other teachers that he is behind with his classes because of the strike. Now, I’m a bit sick and will be missing morning classes on Thursday. So, needless to say, I'm feeling slightly deflated in regards to my classes. I really want to teach my students something and feel like I have a handle on their language level and progress, but I just don't see that happening. Maybe I'm misinterpreting my role, and should just be happy with simple lessons and not seek out continuity or necessarily knowing who I will be seeing each week. I guess I just envisioned seeing the same students every week, and being able to build off previous lessons, but I'm not sure that will happen. I'm more a bonus for the students than a fixture in their English curriculum, whatever I do with them is something. Hm. Its hard sometimes always feeling like I don't quite know what's going on.

In other news, I spent way too much time at grocery store again on Tuesday. Specifically, in the dairy aisle. Can someone please tell me the difference between crème fraiche and fromage blanc? Fromage frais and petites suisse? I know it would be just as overwhelming for a foreigner trying to understand the difference between the plethora of American products we have in our grocery stores, but I swear the French have a good 8 more staple dairy products that we just don't work with in the US. As I've mentioned before, the grocery story is always an adventure, for me at least. About twice a week I go a very large store (called Auchan) slightly outside the city as its less expensive than buying from the mini-supermarkets in town. Other than that I buy my produce and bread from my local market and bakery a short walk from my house. I always spend at least an hour roaming around inside this place. When I have finally sifted through all the variations of products and have my cart assembled, the hard part comes: the checkout aisle. My palms begin to sweat as soon as I get in line, and I’ll explain why. You see, the concept of grocery-baggers never really took off in France. So forget having a leisurely conversation in line, or flipping through a trashy magazine while being rung-up.  As I inch forward in line I’m trying to figure out how to make the quickest moves to arrange my products into my backpack and bags the moment I pass Go at the cashier so as not to cause a pile up of disgruntled customers behind me. My first time I was not prepared at all as the accustomed French in front of me made it look so easy, carrying on a conversation with the cashier the entire time they deftly whisked things into their plastic bags they had brought from home, finishing grandly with a “Bonne journée” before leaving.  When it came to me,  I was completely unprepared for the speed at which cashiers operated and managed to break a sweat while holding up the line behind me as I unceremoniously stuffed things into my bags. I’ll tell you it wasn’t pretty.  So, here are some words of wisdom: as you approach the cashier, you must keep several things in mind: 1. You must have your aforementioned sacs en plastiques in hand, lest they charge you 3 cents per plastic bag they give you, thinking you didn’t come prepared, 2. You should also to have your credit card and store card on hand. You also don’t want to be rifling around wasting time looking for that as the groceries pile up. 3. Never forget to say “Bonjour” to the cashier, it isn’t polite, but don’t let this guise of conversation fool you, as soon as these words are exchanged the race is off.  Scuttle over to the other side of the cashier to start receiving the goods they’re scanning at rapid fire, bob up for a few seconds to have your card scanned, and its back to work while the receipt prints and if you’re lucky you’ve cleared out of the way for the next person. Phew.  I very much prefer my shopping experiences at the smaller outdoor markets in town.  The market in my neighborhood, St. Cyprien, is open every Tuesday-Sunday and the marchons know my name and slip me extra fruits and veggies once in a while. Picture Belle in the opening scene from Beauty and the Beast… “Bonjour, good day!” :) 

In some of my more trying moments here in France I’ve come to the realization that I don't think navigating life as a foreigner is so different from being old. I now understand why old people are so set in their ways, why they ask for the same bank teller or the same server at a restaurant, it's because, when you finally find someone who understands you, you are so relieved you just want to stick with that person, even if it defies logic and there are several other people who could help you just the same.  Funny.

There is a light at the end of my frustrations this week,  John is coming next Tuesday which I am very excited about. I’ve been trying to think of things we can do. I think we are going to go to Roquefort with my colleague Martine for the weekend (where I stayed back in October) and also try to get a day of skiing in Pyrenees in. I leave to come home 2 days after John leaves for the winter vacation and then when I come back on Dec. 26th I’m bringing my 2 cousins Dyan and Loren with me. They will be staying in Toulouse for a few nights then we are going to Paris for New Years!!

I know I’ll find a more regular routine here soon, I’m setting my sights to make some changes in January after the Christmas vacation.  Stay tuned.

A bientôt!


Lindsay 

Ex-Pat Thanksgiving

So, you may be wondering, loyal readers, how I celebrated that delicious American holiday of Thanksgiving so far from home? Well, Thursday night my good friend and fellow assistant Lauren opened her home to all us transient ex-pats on the condition that we all bring something besides the turkey* she was providing. We gladly obliged and had ourselves a surprisingly amazing showing of old traditions as well as some new ones. Thursday night I left my house with my friend Ana and on our way to Lauren's (who lives a bit out of the way) we kept meeting more and more assistants at metro and bus stops. We formed a sort of pilgrimage across the city with our tin-foiled dishes in hand and plastic sacks. I think we were quite a spectacle, and one French woman on the metro even wished us a "bonne fête" after asking us where we were from!  My friend Kettie, who celebrates a more "Hatian version" of Turkey Day brought fried plantains and 2 kinds of pasta salads (one veggie for me!), Ana who is a Spanish assistant made 2 lovely tortillas des patatas which are traditional nosh in Spain. There were brussel sprouts, glorious mashed potatoes, green beens with roasted almonds, and 2 kinds of stuffing. Brittany's mother even mailed her a can of Ocean Spray cranberry sauce which we thinly sliced into 15 pieces!! For dessert we had three varieties of pumpkin pie, one sweet potato-buttermilk pie, a chocolate mousse pie, homemade donuts, vanilla ice cream and whipped cream! 

*Kudos to Lauren for finding a whole turkey (not something that is common in France), after several personal visits and calls to a local butcher. 

I kind of overdid it and spent all day Wednesday cooking chez moi with Ana. Wednesday morning I dragged her to 2 different outdoor markets in addition to the grocery store and ended up preparing 4 separate dishes: creamed spinach (adapted from Smitten Kitchen), mashed sweet potatoes with marshmallows, an apple-pear-rasin-ginger compote, and a pumpkin pie. Phew. In retrospect I might have been better off making just one, but lets just say, I learned a lot, and everyone really appreciated everything I brought.

To sum up, here are some things I have learned from my very fist ex-pat Thanksgiving: 

- Do not attempt cooking 4 dishes to bring to the soiree, stick with 1. Especially when the kitchen you are working with is not equipped with a dishwasher

- Do not attempt baked goods (i.e. pumpkin pie) if the extent of one's oven's settings is a gauge going from 1 to 10

- On the same subject of our favorite dessert,  do not attempt when it is necessary to dismember half a pumpkin to achieve what we know in the US as Libby's canned pumpkin 

- You know the spinach you bought from the market is fresh when you take it home to wash and find multiple tiny slugs hidden inside

- It is hard, but not impossible, to enjoy Thanksgiving leftovers without a microwave

 I, along with the other assistants who showed up bearing pumpkin pies, managed to turn these gourds  into...

these rustic beauties. Apparently we American girls are masochists. I feel a lot closer to my pilgrim ancestors after such an authentic experience of taking a machete to an actual pumpkin. Mine is the 3rd up from the bottom!

Bienvenu a OFII

So I've had a minor blip in ma belle vie francais, and it's called the Office of Immigration. Actually, it's called OFII - Office Francais de L'Immigration et de L'Integration.

As if 2 trips (each lasting several hours) the the French embassy in New York before I left wasn't enough pain, the process of validating one's visa continues even after you cross the border of your destination. Who knew?

Well, to be fair, I knew what needed to be done once I arrived here in theory, but, if I have learned anything from being at the bottom of the bureaucratic food chain here, it is that the way things are supposed to be carried out in theory has nothing to do with how they are actualized.

Once I arrived in France and had my passport stamped at the border I was to send a copy of my visa, the stamped page, my teaching contract, and the immigration form the NY consulate had signed for me by registered mail to to the OFII office. I did all of this promptly once I arrived. Next, I was to receive a letter confirming that they received everything. Check. So far so good (often an ominous sign). Next I was supposed to receive a letter with an appointment to see a French doctor so they can do a routine check up and ensure I'm physically fit to mange and bois my croissant and café with the best of them. This medical visit is the key component to validating my long stay visa, thus allowing me to leave and re-enter the country freely. If you miss this medical appointment, we were told multiple times at orientation, it could be months before you are given another one and thus (further) prolong the validation of your visa.

Several weeks had passed since I received that first letter, and I began to wonder when this appointment might arrive. My friend Amy told me last week that she missed a phone call from OFII who left her a message saying her doctors appointment was a few hours later that same day. Kind of strange, but I didn't think too much about it. I then heard a similar story from another assistant who received a call on her mobile from OFII. I started to wonder...I didn't know OFII made personal calls? I thought of them more as an impersonal, all caps no greeting or sign off letter kind of operation. Maybe they were trying a new angle.

Then on Tuesday the Spanish assistant at my school recounted to me how she too almost missed her appointment. She said she spoke to the OFII office who told her that the whole batch of letters with the medical appointments on them had gotten lost in the mail during the strike, and that the office realized this when no one was showing up to their appointments so they started calling. The people who missed their appointments because of this were reassigned appointments for late December.

I tried not to freak out too much about this new piece of information as I sought out my contact person at the school during lunch.  Even though she has nothing to do with  my visa, she has been in charge of the English assistants for the past few years and, as a French person, might know what happens when something as sure as the post is sabotaged by strikes. She gave me a characteristic chuckle and told me that yes, it was prudent that I was looking into this now because a few years ago they had an English assistant who went home for Christmas without validating her visa and she was not allowed to come back into the country.  Well, now they had my attention. I told her I was going to call them toute suite. She said that was a good idea.

I went immediately to the teachers lounge where there is a phone so I could call the OFII office. According to their website they take a lunch break from 12:00-1:30. So I waited, playing over various scenes in my head of being stranded at JFK on December 26th with my 2 cousins who had already bought their plane tickets to visit me for the New Year. At 1:35 I called back, but was told by an unctuous automated woman's voice (accompanied by overly cheery music), that they in fact do not re-open until 2:00pm and would I kindly call within those hours, then I was promptly disconnected. Maybe the person who was supposed to change the hours of operation on the website was still on lunch break. I called back at 2:00 and received the same automated message. I guess lunch breaks are approximated. As I had to go though a secretary to dial out of the school, I felt bad asking her to call a 3rd time for me, so I decided to suppress my anxiety and try calling once I got home.

Once in the comfort of my own home, armed with a mug of tea, I felt ready and calm enough to take on the OFII. I dialed the number. I waited. I was welcomed with a new recording, which once again sounded like the introduction to a cheerful musical rendition of the Office of Immigration. I was systematically assured that my call was very important to them and that it would be answered in due time. I waited. And waited. And waited. And...then was disconnected. I called again. I was disconnected again. I was annoyed, but was not going to give up so easily. I've gone though my share of waiting in lines in France, virtual or otherwise, let the others more feeble contenders give up, my call was going get through. On my third try I finally got a hold of a human, who sounded nothing like the happy woman from the recording, and she didn't even welcome me to the Office of Immigration. In all my brain numbing waiting I had forgotten what I wanted to say. I scraped my brain for the vocabulary and came up with visa and medical visit. She hurriedly said something while I was mid-awkwardly-strung-sentence, and before I could even get a "Pardon?" in there I was on hold again. More waiting and I finally spoke to someone. I started to tell her my story and she cut in that I should now be waiting for my medical visit in a fashion that suggested I should have learned this around the time I learned fish swim in water. I explained that yes I knew that's what I was supposed to be doing, but that I had heard there was a problem with the post and some letters were lost. I couldn't be brushed off so easily. There was a brief silence, and I felt a fleeting moment of triumph, "oh you know about that," she seemed to be thinking, and then she said the magic words: Date of birth. Last name. First name.  I had broken the defense against any and all inquiries and was in.  They had asked for my information, as in, they were going to check on it for me.

The woman told me that my doctors appointment was in fact for December 1st at 9:00 and hung up before I could pose anymore questions.  I still do not know where my appointment is, or whether the letter informing me of the details is coming in the mail, but at least I know I did not miss my appointment.

It's the little victories.

A bientôt!
Linz

American not so Express.

Never, ever, take out traveler’s checks in dollars when traveling to Europe. I’m swallowing my shame in admitting that I fell prey to this seemingly obvious mandate. Before I left the US I took out a few hundred dollars in Amex Traveler’s Checks with the idea of either 1. Cashing them once I arrived in Paris to pay for the first few weeks’ expenses, or 2. Depositing them in my new French bank account once I opened it as a base amount. After running all over Paris in the first few days I arrived I gave up the idea of exchanging them for cash as I would loose such a larger percentage of the sum in the process. To find this out, I roved the city from bank to bank each one suggesting I (futilely) try another one for better rates. I nearly got kicked out of the Bank of France as if I were asking for a handout by suggesting that they would debase themselves by changing over traveler’s checks. Silly me to think the Bank of France was just another bank. Exchange bureaus were no better. With the rates I mean, they at least gave me the satisfaction that I had come to the right place.

So I pocketed the checks in a safe place and brought them here to Toulouse with me. After I opened up my bank account I asked the very nice woman who helped me if I could deposit these checks in my new account. She assured me that I could, with a small fee of course, only not at that  particular office. I must go across town to another branch where they actually handle money she said. OK. At least there's a light at the end of this tunnel and I have somewhere concrete to go to get rid of these things. A few days later I show up at this "other branch", checks in hand and requisite banking vocabulary memorized. When it was my turn in line I placed my checks on the counted and explained I would like to deposit them into my account. My worst fears came true as the teller looked back at me as if I had just presented him with Monopoly money. He turned to his colleague and asked for help with this preposterously unprecedented task. Maybe he was new. His colleague came over and swept up my checks and brought them into another room to examine with 3 other tellers. I could hear them talking in puzzled tones though the open door until I finally heard one exclaim, “Ah Ahmereeecan Exprez!” Voila. She came back out and gave me the necessary deposit slips, I signed my checks and walked out satisfied.

But that would have been way too easy if the story had ended there. After a week of no activity in my account I started to get worried that my precious checks had gotten lost in translation. So I returned to the bank across town. I was assured that everything was fine and that things like this often take almost a month to process, plus with the recent strike who knows how long these things could take. I tell you, these strikers are impressively effective at slowing things down.

Several days later I was awoken from my dream that my checks were en route to being safely deposited in my account, (literally and figuratively, it was 8am) by a teller who had called my portable to tell me, more or less, that my checks could not be deposited and I needed to come back and pick them up from the branch. As it was before 10am my French was even worse than usual and I misunderstood where I was supposed to pick up the checks, costing me a trip to the wrong branch, and looking like an idiot. But what would life abroad be without my daily piece of humble pie?

When I finally got to where I needed to be (the front of the line at the correct branch) I explained I was there to get my checks back. Blank stare. Oh crap. I stood there awkwardly for a while not wanting to leave sans cheques but not sure who else to talk to. Then I saw the woman who had taken them from me in the first place and after a few moments of my grammatically incorrect panicked explaining that they had seemingly misplaced a sizeable chunk of my savings account, she remembered who I was, smiled grandly, rifled around a filing cabinet, and presented me with an envelope with something French illegibly scribbled on the front (probably something like, “Silly American, who uses travelers checks anymore?”) with my checks inside.

So I walked out of there profusely thanking the people who had run me all over the city, told me they could complete a transaction they in fact could not, woke me up at the unheard of hour of 8am to tell me so, and then scared me to death that they had lost my signed travelers checks.

I can now say with certainty that travelers checks are a thing of the past that our parents (sorry readers of parental age) are convinced are a good idea to travel with and in fact never are, inside or outside of the US. 

La greve continue

So apparently the strike is not totally over for the students. I’d heard mutterings Monday this past Monday (Nov. 1st) that there might be another blockage of the school Tuesday, but I thought to myself, no way, they’re over that, plus the law has already been passed through both houses of Congress here (le Sénat et l’Assemblé Nationale). Wrong. So I had to once again take about a 10 minute longer route to find an entrance that wasn’t blocked by trash bins and students. Seriously, this is getting a bit old. At the cafeteria I heard some of the teachers who are more sympathetic to the cause grumbling about the police presence outside the school as if it were totally inappropriate. Maybe it’s the American in me but I don’t see what the big deal is having police outside the gates of the school making sure students and teachers are able to exercise their right to circulate and enter the school. Could it be that the extreme left of the country is bringing out some rightish sentiments…?

On the other hand, I understand a bit better why people in France are still resisting the reform. My Mom sent me some USA Today articles on the strikes which I was reading with Gisele today and we were remarking over the way the manifestations were being represented in the American media. For the most part, the press is leaving out the peaceful demonstrations, and only publishing sensational photographs from cities where the manifestations turn violent at the end when people who may not have necessarily been part of the protest, come in to stir up trouble (Lyon, Marseille). We both agreed that sensational photography was typically journalistic in any county however. The articles also left out how French people who strike during the week and not just on Saturdays are giving up a day’s work of their salary.

Gisele has worked her whole life as a teacher and has planned for some years now to have the upcoming years free to travel and immerse herself more fully in the languages she has been studying (English and Greek). While I don’t believe that if you retire at 62 rather than 60 you are going right from work to the tomb (as some people here have claimed), I understand that it is destabilizing to have years you had planned on having for yourself taken away in a sense. I am thinking right now of my Dad and many other people I know in the US whose retirements have been unexpectedly prolonged due to the economy, sending kids to college (another thing the French do not have to worry about as many of their universities cost a few hundred euros), taking care of aging relatives, etc. and how we kind of accept it as part of life that work might infringe more than we hoped/expected on our lives, so what is the big fuss about working 2 more years to the ripe old age of 62?

I guess to understand the strikes here you have to understand that, on a basic level (and please pardon my gross generalizations), people here work to live not live to work.  Evidence of this can be seen even in the languages, as in the US if someone asked you “What do you do?” you would understand the implied “for work?” and respond accordingly. In French, if you asked someone “que’est ce que vous faites?” They would most likely look at you blankly thinking you were asking them what they do in the most general terms, or what they are doing in that moment, and it is necessary to add the “comme travail?” to get the response you are looking for. 

To bring my diatribe to a close: I can understand why people like Gisele and some of the teachers at my school are striking against the reform and even how striking is very much a part of the culture here (I even heard someone call it a 4th branch of government), yet it still bothers me that high school students are making me walk an extra 10 minutes to get to work! Alas, my patience and understanding can only go so far…

Somewhat ironically, on Monday and Tuesday I did some lessons on Election Day in the US with my students. So that they understood the lesson more fully I tried to draw comparisons between our 2 political parties and some of the parties they have in France. We deduced that the Republicans are more like the UMP (Sarkozy) and the Front National (right party) in economic terms and that the Democrats share some beliefs with the Socialist and Communist parties. Roughly speaking. You should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them we in the US consider France to be a Socialist country. You see, my darling 15 year olds like to consider themselves true Socialists and think of Sarkozy and his administration as as far right as it gets. They were scandalized to hear the term Socialist applied to someone as undeserving as him. I then tried to explain that, relatively speaking, many of the social goods they receive in France (their health care, their Sécu Sociale) align more with Socialism than the Democracy we operate under, although many people in our country think this is changing. When I showed them some photos of Tea Party demonstrators bearing signs denouncing Obama as a Socialist, they said “But we don’t understand, in the US Socialism is considered bad?” I didn’t anticipate that it would take longer than once class period to get into ideological differences stemming from out nations’ founding. A lesson for another day.

Thursday was a jour férié as it is Armistice Day of WWI. Since I don’t work Wednesdays or Fridays, I was as of Tuesday, on a 5 day weekend. Seriously, who needs to strike with all these vacations?

I have been having very relaxing days and spending a lot of time hanging out around the house with Gisele and Gabriella and getting to know them better which I like very much. I am definitely learning how to slow down a bit here and not constantly feel like I need to be doing something besides getting to know my roommates more, practicing my French around the house, cooking, and writing in my blog. All things that make me very happy!

Wednesday night I attended a crémaillère, or a house warming party, at a French girls’ new studio which was very enjoyable and I got to practice my language skills and meet some more Frenchies. The past few days I have been speaking mostly in French, and switching over less from English and I have definitely noticed a difference in the facility that the words come to me in French. I make a lot more careless errors when I am speaking half the day in English.

OK well that’s all for now. A bientôt. Bises. TGIF.

Linz

Mangsters Inc.

Last night was my turn to host the dinner group chez moi. Gisele, my landlady/roommate helped me set up the living room and salon to accommodate everyone and it turned out really, really nice! I was SO excited to host people here and have my very first dinner soirée! I only wish my Mom could have been on the invite list!! We had 3 kinds of cheeses for appetizers - Cantal entre deux, brie, and a camembert. We ate the cheese in the American fashion, that is before the dinner and not after as the French do! Then I halved some avocados and filled the insides with a cold shrimp salad I had made using mustard and mayo with a lemon wedge. For the main dish I made a version of ratatouille (note: do not attempt any semblance of this dish without a mandolin, it makes a potentially simple dish take a lot more time) with whole grain rice on the side and, of course, fresh baguettes I bought from my neighborhood boulangerie that afternoon. I felt very French carrying my 2 loaves of bread under my arm walking home! Unfortunately I didn't have the opportunity to take any photos once people arrived but here are some photos of the food and the set-up!

At the dinner we also decided on a name for our group: Mangsters Inc. (Manger = to eat) like the Pixar film :)

Un weekend extraordinaire!

Excellent weekend! Friday I checked out the Musée de Vieux Toulouse, which is a museum which all kinds of maps, paintings and artifacts on the history of the city. I was really lucky because I went on Friday the 5^th and the museum was closing on the 6^th as it is in a very old building that cannot afford to put in heat, it closes for the season. I also arrived just in time for a guided tour, which made all the difference. The museum itself wasn’t very large or impressive in terms of what they had on display, but learning more about the history of the city was very cool. It’s so amazing to me that I’m living in a city that has been around since the Romans.

I have been giving private supplemental English lessons to a student named Nicholas from one of my classes at Bellevue who is in preparatory classes to enter a <<grande ecole>> or a kind of specialized university in Math and Physics. His exam is at the end of the year and has a considerable English section that I am helping him prepare for. His level of English is definitely low so we have started with relearning the basics. It’s new for me as I have never taught English as a foreign language before, and in fact am not very familiar with the structure of the language or how to explain it to someone as, duh, it’s my native language. Trying to explain the difference between the past continuous and the past perfect has given me a whole new appreciation for people who learn ESL! Fortunately the lessons seems to be working for him so far, so as of now we are going to continue working 2 sessions of 1.5 hours a week until the end of the year. He is incredible nice and polite, he asked my permission before using the formal address with me, and when I asked him about his weekend (in an effort to spark some English conversation) asked if it appropriate for me if he asked me about my weekend in return. Sheesh.

So Saturday morning I had a private lesson with Nicholas. Afterwards, I headed to the Jardins Royale in a part of Toulouse I had not yet explored to meet up with a bunch of assistants. On my way to meet everyone I stumbled upon this fabulous marche d’antiquites. It was 2 very long aisles of giant umbrellas set up all in a row creating a kind of continuous canopy. Underneath, all the venders had not just set out their wares for sale, but created sort of intallation or decorative art in the form of living rooms. They rolled out carpets, set up their dining room tables and chairs, coffee tables and armchairs, armoires and bookshelves. They hung lamps from the canopy, and set up pictures, books, silverware and everything else they had for said so that it seemed as though you were walking through a sea of people’s extraordinary living rooms. What’s more, it was about lunchtime when I arrived, and the venders had set up picnics at their living room tables and were eating their lunch amongst the fabulous antiques they were selling. I’m not talking PB and J’s or tuna salad here either. The fabulous surfaces were laden with massive slabs of artisan bread, tins and jars of caviar and fois gras and open bottles of champagne and wine. It was really incredible. Everything was very expensive, as I said more an antique market than a flea market, but because the vendors were more selective in their wares it was easier to walk through and admire the displays and you didn’t have to pick through it. More of an observable market than an interactive one.

When I finally met up with the assistants they were hanging out in a gorgeous park I had not discovered yet. Even though it wasn’t a bright and sunny day it was warm and the leaves were all yellow orange and red like at home and slowly falling onto the still plush lawns. It was a gathering of many English and Spanish assistants whoI already knew but also many new ones who live further outside Toulouse and had come into the city for the weekend. We spend a couple hours in the park, then broke up for a bit to meet up later for a soiree. Saturday evening I met up with a French girl who I met through the daughter of a professor at my school. We went out with 2 other assistants, Anna and Kettie, for beer at a cool Belgian beer bar in town. We then met up with all the assistants who were socializing along La Garonne river in the center of town. My French friend Ismahane remarked how it was both funny and refreshing how foreign visitors always partake in the activities that the native youth did when they were younger. Apparently drinking next to the river in plain fall is a somewhat juvenile activity reserved for high school students, but nevertheless is a lot of fun. We were an incredibly large group, probably around 30 so we ended up splitting up; some of us ended up in a nearby bar which my friends and I left shortly after and went to a dance club where we danced until 4am! It was an incredibly fun night, I’ve been waiting for a while to go out dancing in Toulouse which is apparently know for it’s night life.

The first Sunday of the month all museums in Toulouse are free so Ana, Kettie, Alberto, Lauren and I went to check out the Musee d’Histoire Naturelle. I had lunch at a professor’s house, one who had invited me for dinner a few weeks ago. It was very, very nice and a lot more casual than the dinner. I’m not sure if that was because it was the second time I was invited or because it was a lunch…Even though I live in a house here and am lucky enough to have more or less all the comforts of home and company, it is still so nice to be invited to someone’s house to share a meal with them on a Sunday. It ended up being me, her 15 year old daughter and 20 year old son. Sunday evening I saw The Social Network at an independent movie theater I hadn’t seen yet, bringing my cultural activity count up to 3 for the weekend. Not too bad.

Monday night was the first night of a sort of dinner club some of the assistants and I have started. It is 7 of us who either live in houses or apartments large enough to cook for and accommodate everyone. The idea is that someone different cooks every Monday and/or Thursday for everyone else in the group. That way you cook once a week but eat out the other 5 or 6. The invites bring the wine and something for desert. Monday’s are usually Meaty Mondays and Thursdays are Veggie, however, Lauren (who luckily for us works as a chef in the US) whipped me up a veggie option of her duck ragu! The whole soirée was really really wonderful, and we all joked that Lauren’s would be a very tough act to follow, as one of her roommate’s cats had just had kittens who came out to play at the end of the meal. Who can compete with a duck ragu and weeks old kittens?? I am up next this Thursday and keep going through menu options in my head…any ideas??

That’s all for now! A bientot!

Linz

Les Bisous

I have been meaning for some time now to bring to light one of the main cultural differences between the US and France: something known as “bisous,” or kisses. No, it is neither a myth nor only reserved for French films that for almost every single person in France this act is second nature. The French make “bisous” look so easy and so chic. However for some reason I have constant stress when it comes to this habitual greeting. Do I go left then right, or right then left? I’ve tried both, and it seems to be the wrong way. After much careful observation, I have deduced that, most unfortunately, this isn’t like conjugating verbs where study and practice make perfect, and there is no rhyme or reason to the  left-right or right-left conundrum. It’s a crapshoot, and I ALWAYS seem to go the wrong way, which results in this awkward situation where both parties' puckered lips are rapidly approaching each other. I’m sure they can see the fear in my eyes as I waver between left and right looking like a confused and terrified bobble head.

How often do you bisous? When you haven’t seen someone for a few hours, or a few days? Do you simply go with the cheek bump, or do you actually make contact lips to cheek? How loud do you make the kissy noise?  Women always seem to “faire les bisous”, men and women typically do as well (which is slightly off putting at times), while men and men only when they are family or are very close.

Believe it or not, sticking out you hand for a handshake, though simpler, would be much more awkward, “way too professional” they say, so I’ll keep trying with be bisous. 

Déjà les vacances...

When I exited the metro this morning at Bellevue on my first morning back after vacation I was relieved to not be greeted by angst-y high schoolers on strike, make-shift trash bin and duct tape obstacles or the French SWAT team as I was in the preceding weeks. While the national strike against the retirement reform isn’t officially over, I guess the kids have had their fun and dropped it like last season’s Benismons. Here, even striking goes out of style. I am still very much liking work but wish it was a bit more regular. When I made my introductions to all the classes in the first few weeks all the students seemed very excited and interested in coming to my classes, however my attendance has been way low and I’m not altogether sure they know what classrooms we meet in either. I tried explaining this to one of my colleagues today, and how I felt that it was difficult to get in the rhythm of teaching, knowing the students and their differing language levels and formulate productive lessons what with recent "irregularities." She waved her hand and rolled her eyes at that, as if having the school literally barricaded and half the staff and even less students show up for weeks on end, the French police surrounding the place at 7am, then everyone taking a 10 day vacation (for no apparent reason) was, though slightly disruptive, an otherwise normal October for them, and told me not to worry about it. Geez, I remember being stressed out about missing one period of high school. I can’t even imagine what would happen if this occured in the States, the Superintendent would probably declare some sort of Educational Marshall Law and hold 12 hour school days 7 days a week. I digress.

Vacation was really nice. I stayed in Toulouse for the first few days, (starting last Friday,) then my friend Emma (who I mentioned I studied abroad with in Rennes and who is now teaching there as well) came to Toulouse with her friend who she went to college with in Maine who happened to study abroad here in Toulouse. Got all that? So we spend Wednesday to Saturday in Toulouse and Emma’s friend Sarah introduced me to some French friends she had made when she studied here which was great as I’m always trying to expand my Froggie network. Saturday morning Emma and I took the TGV up to Rennes with relatively no problems, by French-on-strike living standards. As sad as it is, I never really believe a train is coming until I see it pull up. We took a really nice TGV to Nantes then changed to a sort of commuter rail that runs throughout Brittany. On that second train we were not guaranteed seats, and since some of the other trains had been cancelled because of the strike, it was also overpopulated; (As it is if you train here suddenly goes on strike, you can use your already paid for ticket to enter any other train,) there were people all over the aisles, stairs and doorways. Luckily this train was only an hour as the atmosphere was less than calm cool and collected. Mothers were climbing over appendages and suitcases, bouncing their babies up and down the aisles trying to keep them occupied and comfortable One particular lady got into a dispute (to put it nicely) with one of the conductors going around validating tickets. I didn’t start actively listening till it really started getting interesting and thus missed the point of contention. I’m pretty sure the woman was screaming (yes, screaming) about paying 50 euros for her ticket and having to sit on the floor without a seat. She had to have been in the wrong about something though because the conductor wrote her a citation at the end of the ordeal which by that time lasted a good ten minutes, and I’m pretty sure you can’t get a citation for arguing as that is something of the national sport here.  The kicker was that at then end once the conductor had left the train car, the woman exclaimed “Sorry to the nonsmokers, but I’m having a cigarette” and proceeded to light up in the train car. That at least cleared the mothers and children out. Only in France.

Rennes was a ton of fun, Emma and I went out to all the old bars and restaurants we hung out at when we studied there and it felt like no time had passed. Saturday night we sort of hit the ground running and went to our favorite bar on Rue de la Soif (literally “Street of Thirst,” a pedestrian road crammed full of bars which Rennes, who to be frank has a reputation as a city of alcoholics, is infamous for). After the bar closed, our friend who works there took Emma and I to this really cool concert venue where there was a battle of the DJ’s happening complete with lasers and strobe lights. Pretty cool. Halloween passed pretty uneventfully, there was a costume party thrown by one of the teaching assistants in Rennes which Emma and I went to for a bit. It just wasn’t the same as American Halloween although I still requisitely ate enough candy corn to make me want to be sick the next day and thus hold me over until next season.  Monday was Touissaint and therefore a jour fériér or holiday, and I spent the entire day with my old host family at their house.  Emma and I headed over at noon for “lunch” with my host parents, their 2 daughters Margaux and Mathilde, and the new student they’re hosting. I’m definitely getting the hang of these 7-hour lunches and didn’t plan anything else for the rest of the day. It was so wonderful to see them again and I definitely got a little choked up when they opened the door to my old house! I was extremely nervous for some reason walking over there up my old street from the metro stop. I didn’t know if my French was going to be good enough to keep conversation flowing, or if it would feel weird coming back, I was also hoping my language had improved since I had stayed with them. I quickly realized how ridiculous the worrying was because as soon as I saw them I felt immediately at home. The girls are obviously two years older but still have the same dynamic personalities and they weren’t shy at all with me. My host mom made an amazing meal that we ate outside (unheard of for Brittany in November). We then went for a walk and threw a Frisbee around a nearby park, then came back for tea and more chatting, it was dark by the time Emma and I left. 

I took the train back Wednesday bright and early and was not deprived of yet another conductor-customer dispute. I guess tensions are running high.

Last night one of the assistants in Toulouse threw a costume birthday party for Marie Antoinette whose actually birthday was on Election Day (ironic?), the 2^nd. It was funny and nice to get in touch with everyone again after vacation. A lot of the Spanish assistants had gone back home to Spain as it is so close, some people traveled in France, some farmed on local farms nearby through the organization WWOOF (something I really want to do), and some more adventurous assistants went to other countries. I have neither the funds or desire to leave so soon, not when there’s so much to see in Too-loose!

That’s all for now.  Bisous!

Hospitality a la Française

So the past few days I have been invited to two different people’s homes for a meal, and the experiences have been so enjoyable that I think they warrant a description here. Two nights ago I was invited to a professor’s house for dinner with some other teachers from the area to kick off our vacation (Yes, as of Friday I have started a 10 day vacation from a part time job that I have been at for less than a month, with irregular hours, at best). One of the teachers, Claire, is 25 and in her first year teaching. She’s very cool and picked me up from my place and we drove there together. Driving in France is a whole other experience that I will have to get into at a later time. The meal was a very nice affair, however, I forgot that French dinners last 5-6 hours and I consequently missed a Halloween house party at another assistant’s. Oh well. We started, as is traditional, sitting around the salon with aperos, which consist of some sort of alcohol, in this case red or white wine, and snacks like nuts, olives, chips, etc. Then the hostess started bringing out, one by one, various other little foods. First little tartines with shrimp and smoked salmon spreads. Then a little later came a kind of parmesan frittata that she served in tiny individual bowls. Then a mini parfait with cucumber, tzaziki, smoked salmon, and chives. THEN tartines with foie gras and fig jam. All of these things were served over a few hours time, and by 9:30 I was starting to wonder if that was the dinner, I was certainly full enough! However at 10:00 we moseyed over to the table to sit down for the plat: stir fried beef and rice, which as usual was served with a fresh baguette (fresh bread goes with everything here).  After dinner we had a moelleux au chocolate, which is like a chocolate cake that is liquid inside. I didn’t leave until midnight, and we were not the last to leave! Meals here generally take a lot longer, and when you invite people over for a meal, it is not at all usual for it to go on well into the night. It was very tiring by the end of 5 hours of listening and trying to understand French. It’s also difficult to not be able to express myself or contribute to the discussion as much as I would like to. The company understood however and were very nice about it. There were only a few times towards the end of the night that I let my mind wander during a conversation and then of course was asked my opinion on what has been discussed for the past 10 minutes. Oops.

I don’t really have anything planned for this vacation because I want to discover Toulouse more. I definitely don’t feel the same pull to travel every chance I get as I did when I was studying abroad. I think part of it is the budget I’m on as a teaching assistant, but also I don’t feel like I’m on a constant vacation here as I kind of did studying abroad. I feel like I’m truly living here and am perfectly happy staying in the area. Also, Toulouse continues to be wonderful place to spend time and explore. Everyday I discover a new neighborhood or square that is more charming than the last. I’m pretty sure Toulouse if known for having great architecture so I’ve been trying to take in more of that. There are also a ton of museums that I want to check out. I’ve been finding a lot of cute bars and cafés in my neighborhood that are a lot lower key than the ones in the center of town, which I like. Fun fact: a lot of bars here serve tapas because we are so close to Spain.

My friend Amy, who teaches and lives outside the city in a village called Muret, has been staying here with me in Toulouse for the past few days of vacation. Which brings me to my second story.  Today Amy and I were invited for lunch chez the cousin of her French advisor in the US. She had made plans to meet with this mysterious cousin, and when she told him she was staying with me in the city he invited me as well. So, at noon, Jean-Louis came to pick us up from my house to bring us to his house. Spoiler: We didn’t return until 10:00pm this evening. We arrived and were immediately greeted by his wife, and their 2 sons who are 14 and 11. I guess by this point it’s naïve of me to have thought we were going over for a 2-3 hour lunch, but I was still caught off guard by the pace and extent of the Sunday lunch. We once again started with aperos, and a bottle of rose champagne. When we sat down at the table we opened a red from Bourgogne and were served salads with grapefruit, shrimp and avocado mmm. Then Jean-Louis cooked fresh duck and salmon on a kind of propane grill outside (it didn’t have the grates it was just a flat surface), which we ate with a gratin, kind of like scalloped potatoes, and of course, baguette. After the meal a cheese platter was passed around, and then his wife came out with a gorgeous apple tart she had made a la mode. Somewhere in there we opened a Bordeaux as well. After lunch we had coffee then a digestif (congnac, cointreau, calvados etc.) It was such an enjoyable meal, we laughed and joked and had wonderful conversation. At 5:00 we were still there and discussing French cinema, so then we ended up watching a movie together. Then, even though we hadn’t done much, they wanted to feed us again before we left, so we had a salad with some leftover meat and potatoes, around 8. The time passed so quickly I couldn’t believe it was 9:30 when we were finally leaving. They were such an easy couple to get a long with, and I can’t get over how nice it was for them to spend their entire Sunday with us. At one point we were talking about the differences between typical French meals and meals we have at home. We were talking about how we never usually drink wine or any alcohol with lunch in the US even on the weekends. I was trying to explain that it is kind of stigmatized in the US, and JL and his wife were explaining that in France it is more a accessory to sharing a good meal together and facilitating discussion and is not at all unusual to open several bottles of wine during lunch if guests are over. That might explain why there is wine in the teacher’s cafeteria at my school….When we realized that the cuisine in the US isn’t THAT much different than in France (except for some of their more exotic dishes), I think they were kind of disappointed, so we were talking about how even though we eat the same vegetables, we prepare them different ways, I was trying to say that we sauté things in a pan, which is “a la poêle”, but instead I said, “a poil” which means naked. TO my credit sound the same except for the “la.” The 11 year old appreciated that. On the way home JL kept telling us that if we needed anything to just call him or his wife, if we wanted to come again for dinner or just a drink or if we had any problems at all. SO nice.

The strikes are continuing here in Toulouse but are not as bad as other cities in France. We don’t have rioting like Marseille or Lyon. We do however have a pretty serious fuel shortage. Almost all gas stations are on strike so no one can get gasoline. The trash pickup has also stopped so there are some areas where it is piling up in the streets. The TGV trains that run throughout France have also been unstable, which is part of the reason I didn’t want to plan anything big for this vacation and risk being stuck. The airport has also been blockaded I believe. The busses in town work some of the time and other times not. It’s all pretty random and I can’t tell if it just seems that way to me because I don’t understand everything or if it actually is just irregular.

My best friend Emma from my study abroad program in Rennes is hopefully coming to visit Wednesday to spend a few days here in Toulouse, and then if the trains are running we’ll head up to Rennes for Halloween, coming back on the 3^rd.

OK well that’s all for now! Bisous!

Linz

Roqefort (36 photos), by Lindsay Walter

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Les Pays Cathare

This past weekend I went away with a colleague from Bellevue, Martine, to her house in the country. Five years ago she bought this incredible, 200 year old (!!!) house in a small village called Roquefort in the middle of the Corbiere mountains about 2 hours outside of Toulouse and is in the process of renovating it. She, her 21 year old daughter Lolie, her daughter's boyfriend Baptiste, her dog Tiago, and I spent Friday and Saturday night there and left Sunday evening.

We spent the weekend going on amazing hikes in the mountains, along the Mediterranean Sea, and through vineyards, it was like something out of a dream. Some interesting history about the area is that it is known as the Pays Cathares, or Cathar Country. The Cathares were a religious group who in the 11th century parted ways with the Catholic church and built these incredible castles and chateaus in the Languedoc region of Southern France. The Catholic church eventually waged war against the Cathares and exterminated them from the region but ruins of their chateaus and trails remain.

More info on the Cathars :
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathar

Saturday morning Martine went out and brought us back fresh croissants and chocolatines from a bakery in town, then she and I went for a hike that started right from the end of her street and led immediately up into the mountains. The landscape is very wild, rugged, and windy. She told me it is a typical Mediterranean climate and landscape. After a while walking she bent down and picked a sprig of a plant we had been walking amongst for a while and told me to smell it, it was Thyme, then she picked some Rosemary. We had been walking in a sea of herbs the entire morning and I hadn't realized it. There were also olive trees and fig trees, it was gorgeous.  Then we descended into some vineyards that have begun to turn red and orange like the foliage in New England. The vendanges, or grape harvest, is in September, but there are still plenty of grapes left on the vines, which are much sweeter and full of sugar because they have been left on the vine past the traditional harvest. In France they make a sweet wine that people drink as an aperatif made from these grapes. The leftover grapes are also for the public to take, stemming (pun intended, hehe) from a tradition of letting the poor townspeople come pick the leftover grapes after the vendanges.

That afternoon the 4 of us drove around the area and stopped off at a town by the sea called Leucate. Martine and I then did an hour long hike along the cliffs by the sea and Lolie and Baptiste took the car and picked us up in the next town over. Toulouse in general is windy,  but I have never felt wind this strong along the water, it literally was pushing us along the path and forced us to jog at some points.

Saturday we also stopped at this house on the side of the road that is half house half museum. Outside there is a sign that says "Baleine," or whale. The man who lives there found a whale washed up along the shore, and dried out the skeleton (or however you do it) and has reconstructed the whole thing in his basement. I know, SO random, but really cool.

Sunday Martine and took the path of the Cathares through some vineyards and picked some more grapes. That afternoon the 4 of us, plus Martine's friend, went on my favorite hike of the weekend which took us through the mountains, vineyards, and to a little cave or grotte.

It was such an incredible weekend, hope you enjoy the pictures! I have created an album on Snapfish if you want to see more:


http://www2.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2898981023/a=870321023_870321023/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

Welcome to France, the country that strikes.

Last Tuesday there was a Greve Generale (national strike) against Sarkosy raising the retirement age in France from 60 to 62 to pay off the national debt. The teachers I work for were participating in the strike and therefore told me not to come into work either. Don’t have to tell me twice. Tuesday morning I woke up at 10am to horns, chants and cheering outside my window. I live right next to the river and the manifestation was traversing the bridge right next to my house. So, I got dresses and headed out to check out what was going on. Strikes here resemble a parade. There are people singing chants, playing music, carrying banners and signs, and generally socializing. From the manifestations I’ve seen in Rennes and now here, it is more a social event with a tag line than anything. If you did not speak the language and could not understand the words of the chants, or the slogans on the signs, there is nothing else to indicate that people are angry or protesting rather than celebrating. Although one might think that this issue touches only working adults, people of all ages come to “manifs;” – young children carry banners and signs alongside their parents, shouting disparaging songs about “Sarko” as we would a nursery rhyme.

I have spoken with several French people about the issue, both kids my age and adults I work with all sort of laugh, throw up their hands and say welcome to France, we’re known for our strikes. Well, at least they know… One kid told me that he supports the movement against raising the retirement age, but not to the extent that it impedes those who do not wish to protest against it. In France striking is legal, and indeed much a part of the culture here, but blockading public places, such as schools and universities is not. You cannot infringe on others right to circulate and work. However, it seems the two, striking and infringing on others rights, inadvertently go hand in hand here. For example, someone who operates the metro line, or drives a bus, or even a TGV train, has the right to strike just like the next person, but doesn’t their going on strike impede others’ right to circulate? Right now a lot of things are shut down such as pubic transportation and gas stations in order to “make the government listen.” People here accept this disruption in everyday life as normal and necessary for the movement. Personally, I’m getting a little frustrated from places being closed, you may be touching the government by shutting down business and transportation, but you are also hurting other citizens.

 I don’t work Wednesdays and Thursday I woke up at a o-dark-hundred to hustle to school 30 minutes away to print some lessons and make some photocopies before my class at 8:15. Au contraire. When I exited the metro and walked up to the school it became apparent that waking up half an hour early had been in vain – the front gates were blocked with trash bins, duct tape, and students. I continued walking around the entire campus (pretty large) until I finally found an opening. By then, I was almost late, I found a back entrance to the teachers lounge in the library where I could print out my lessons where I found tons of teachers congregated discussing the blockage, and whether they, the teachers, were going to continue to strike along with the students. They call a congregation called an “Assemblie Generale” and they formally vote, so the teachers have voted to return to work, the students however are continuing the strike.

The result is the teachers continue coming into work and if the students do not come, they are marked as absent. There have been about 1-2 students in each of my teachers’ classes. I was talking with one teacher who said that the students striking is part of their culture, part of their youth, and she recounted for me her first strike as a high school student. Seeing the solidarity is cool, because when in America have you ever seen a kid try to lock his teachers out of school? However, I think the adults who strike carry much more credence as they are giving up their salaries for the days they do not show up for work, and the issue is far more pertinent to them. I’m not sure if I believe that this 16 year old kids honestly care about the effects of putting retirement off 2 more years, something that is 40 years away for them, but I can clearly see it is part of their culture. From my perspective, it seems to be an excuse to skip school and smoke cigarettes out front.

So now it is Tuesday, a week from the first big greve and I woke up this Morning to another manifestation crossing the bridge outside my house, this time there are fireworks. This whole week I have turned up at school not knowing if I will have any students or not. There have been froggie SWATs stationed outside the high school to prevent the high school students from blocking out those who wish to enter the campus. It’s very interesting listening to my colleagues talk about what is going on because some are against the striking and don’t oppose Sarko raising the retirement age, and others are very much for the manifestations and striking and the student movement. The issue has also caused uncomfortable tension between some professors because of how intertwined politics here are with everyday life.

That’s all for now. Hope you find this as interesting as I do…

 

Le Vélo en Rose dans la Ville Rose

So this weekend I didn't end up going to the countryside because the weather there was supposed to be terrible, which it was, so we postponed the trip until next weekend. I think it worked out for the better because I was able to explore Toulouse a bit more this weekend and get some things done such as buying a bicycle! I found this one below at a flea market that takes place every Saturday at a cathedral in the center of town. It's pink (which I think is cute because Toulouse is known as the "ville en rose" since most of the buildings are made of brick with red roofs as well, which gives the city an illusion of being pink hued), it's used, it was 50 euros, and it works. Now I just need to buy a lock because bikes go like hotcakes here, Gisele, my landlady, is on her 8th one I believe. The day I  moved in with her her 8th one was stolen, I hope that's not an omen I'll have bad luck.

I also was able to go to one of the marchés with Gisele which was great because she told me which people she prefers to buy from, who is more expensive, etc. The level of appreciation people here have for food, and preparing meals is wonderful. I find going to the outdoor markets to be one of the most enjoyable parts about being here in Europe, but it is also overwhelming because everyone sells mostly the same thing, I'm not too good yet with the volumes in grams, and there is some food vocabulary that I don't know yet etc. There are a million kinds of breads and cheeses I want to try, but little by little it will come. Gisele and I bought a pumpkin (potimarron) at the market and made a pottage for dinner that night with carrots and onions and potatoes, it was delicious! I also like the idea of only buying a few things at once, and eating them for several consecutive days, then after buying something else, rather than buying a lot and risking wasting some. And because there are outdoor markets everyday one can have the luxury to do that. That manner of shopping, and the time it takes to prepare a fresh meal from scratch, makes you appreciate your meals more, I think.

 View of le Pont Neuf from le Pont St Pierre

 My friends, Bonnie, Michaela, Ketti, and me.

 Muscat grapes that we bought at the market.

Walnuts, Cepes (mushrooms that come from this region and are considered a delicacy), tomatoes and shallots.

 Bonnie, Amy and me out for a drink in town.

That's all for now. It is a rainy Sunday and Gabby, Gisele and I have all just been puttering around the house together. A bientôt!

Chez moi

OK, it’s about time I caught up with everything that’s been happening over the past week…

First big thing is that I moved (!!) to a new house much closer to town. I know I just gushed over the first place I found but this one is really it. It’s in a quartier called St. Cyprien and it is right on the edge of the river (called La Garonne) that runs in the middle of the city. A very pretty spot. When I walk out he front gate I truly feel like I’m living in the center Toulouse. There are lot of markets, parks and museums in this neighborhood (all big pluses for me) and then all you have to do is cross this one bridge (Pont St Pierre) and you are in a very cool area for going out/socializing etc in the center of town ! I am living with a woman named Gisele who is a French professor and one other girl, Gabriella, who is 28, from Venezuela and studying to become a French teacher as well. Gisele has taken in 2 different girls of two different languages each year for the past 23 years and the goal of living with her is to improve your French, not just to rent a room. It’s ALMOST like a host family (like I had in Rennes) but more independent. She says the point of opting into this arrangement is to improve your French and be exposed to French culture every day, but also to live a completely independent life. She said she modeled this arrangement after one she wished she had had when she was a student living abroad. So I thought that was cool. She is very passionate her “project” here with her 2 “students” about language and is currently studying English and Greek.

If you type my street in Googlemaps.com you can see my location: Rue Louis Joseph Gay-Lussac, 31300 Toulouse, France. Une addresse tres français, don't you think? ;)

 Usually we make our own meals every night, have our own plans and lives and what not. Our rooms are private obviously, but the kitchen dining room, and sitting room are all public spaces where you go if you want to hang out and talk. My room (pictures below) is actually a free-standing cabana a few steps from the main house. I like it a lot because it feels very private and I have more than enough space. It’s very charming.

Last night because it was my first night (Gabriella has actually been here for 2 consecutive years already as she is trying to perfect her French to become a teacher in Venezuela), Gisele and Gabriella cooked dinner for me and we all ate together. It was the first real French meal I’ve had so far. We started with a pottage of pureed vegetables – carrots, onions and potatoes with crème fraiche, then we had smoked salmon on slices of bread, then we had a truly fabulous (read smelly) camembert cheese that the moment we took it out the plastic wrap oozed all over the place in gooey deliciousness. For desert we had an apple tart that Gisele made herself. So wonderful. We ate and talked for about 2 hours. It definitely reminded me quite a bit of my first dinner with my host family in Rennes.

I’ve been at my school a lot this week and last week as well. I was told by people who have done this program and also by teachers at my school (Bellevue) that they don’t exactly know what to do with you at first once you get there. The English teacher in charge of me just finalized my schedule today and I will really start next week. Thus far I have been going in around 9 or 10 every morning and sitting in the language teachers lounge and offering to come into the teacher’s classes who I will be working with to introduce and talk about myself to the students and get a feel for what they are working on and what their language level is. It has been nice for me because I am more comfortable and ready for next week and I think the teachers have appreciated me being around as well.

It has been gratifying because there are some advanced classes from which students have the option of coming to voluntary, supplemental conversational classes with me in their off time and the sign up list has increased a lot after I have come in to talk to them. It’s cool to see that they are excited that I am there and are interested in me, so now I just have to think of interesting topics for us to talk about! I will also be working with some less advanced classes (there are three levels: Secondes, Primaires, and Terminales in order of least to most experience) where the teachers will give me more direction of the themes they want me to focus on. I get a little more information and meet more teachers and students everyday, which is enough to make me feel comfortable about starting next week. I am in the classroom 12 hours a week (not including lesson planning) and working for 5 different teachers.

One of the English teacher’s, Martine, who I worked with yesterday has invited me to her country house for the weekend with her 21 year old daughter and her boyfriend which I am very excited about. She says that the house is over 2 centuries old and is by the Pyrenees mountains and the Mediterranean ocean. I’m extremely excited to get to see more of this region and to spend time with a colleague and someone my age.  We leave of Friday after classes at 4pm.

Today I did my first big grocery shopping outing and had a very bizarre experience.  I heard that there is one cheaper grocery store a bit out of the way so I ventured there on the metro today since I had a lot of random things to buy to get started here (shampoo, scissors, olive oil, spices, etc) I thought it was worth it. It turned out to be the biggest grocery store of my life, no joke, bigger than Cosco, I was there for an hour and a half!! It was a great store but I definitely wasn’t ready for it. I thought I had the grocery shopping thing down pat from having an apartment in college but in another language, especially in a country where they eat all kinds of weird products , I felt verrry lost pushing around my little cart in this giant warehouse. But when you can buy a wheel of Camembert cheese for 1.50 euros and a bottle of red wine for 2 life is good.

On the subject of food…the other day I was at an open-air market (right by my new place actually!) just browsing around with my friend Amy and I stopped at this one butcher counter because it had the most enormous heart and liver on display that I have ever seen. We stopped and must have been obviously gawking because the butcher behind the counter chuckled and we started talking, turns out he was a boulanger du cheval…horse butcher. I’ve never seen anything like it – the heart was between the size of a football and basketball the liver was the size of a base. It was nuts. The sizes of the chunks of meat were enormous. Not to be graphic, I had just never seen that. 

Well, I don’t want to leave you on that morbid note. So instead, something I’ve gotten a chuckle out of over here are the ad campaigns and commercials American celebrities do overseas they would never air for in the US…