I see London, I see France...

It’s been awhile, but that’s because I’ve been traveling a bit. The title gives it away but read on if you’d like some details.

It’s February, and in France, for those who work in the academic system, that means yet another two week vacation. But I am no ordinary French employee… I am a language assistant with a lighter schedule than your average French teacher, who was also invited on a weeklong school trip to England before vacation started. The total of my working days spent in school this month is a whopping 3… and I’ve already worked one of those days.

This is not to say that the week I spent in England was not work. I’m sure you can imagine what chaperoning 42 French teenagers on the streets of London is like. Hint: it does not involve the enjoyment of English Pub Culture and Fish and Chips. But I got to see some wonderful sights, meet some wonderful people, and get just enough of a glimpse of England to make me eager to visit again someday.

Highlights included a short cruise on the Thames showcasing Big Ben and the London Eye, seeing the Rosetta Stone in The British Museum (a serious chunk of history and enough to make any language person gawk), visiting the Globe Theatre and the London Dungeon (kind of like an American Haunted House, but with some historical value and informational videos as well as some brief amusement-park style rides). I also got to visit Oxford, which truly made me feel like a Muggle who has never received an invitation to Hogwarts until then, and the Cotswalds, which had me glancing every which way for Mr. Darcy to appear out of a Jane Austen style cottage.



Oxford is magically beautiful



We visited a castle, Warwick Castle- which was a little too medieval times for my liking (although  I was deemed most magical of our group and chosen by a man in tights and medieval clothes to lead us on an adventure to speak with a dragon, booyah)… but back on track... I noticed some girls from our group had stopped and were looking into some surrounding trees, cooing about how “mignon” or cute this something was. Being an animal lover of all kinds, especially when I can see animals in natural environments, I asked the girls what they were looking at. It was a squirrel.Wait what? France, you need some wildlife… your people think that squirrels are cute and worth stopping to stare at.



Bourton on the Water, in the Cotswalds



The trend of many of my travels seems to be the enjoyment of connecting with different people, and relaxing at the dinner table with our host family was always a wonderful part of our day. The group of teachers was placed with a family whose hospitality and love of sharing and discovering new cultures seemed simply a way of life.

I was spoiled and got to speak English for four days… but the problem is that its second nature now, when speaking with strangers in restaurants, public places etc, to answer in French. Oh boy. So I said “Merci” in response to being told to mind my step when hopping onto the boat for our little cruise. I smiled and said “Bonjour” when a waiter appeared. I was listening and speaking French all day with the teachers and the students, but expected to speak English in public settings. It was mentally exhausting, but a delightful mélange.



All the coffee in France is little. You have no idea how wonderful it felt to actually hold a big cup of coffee again



 I took the greatest nap of my life when I finally returned home to my little room in the foyer.

Back in la France, my friends and I celebrated Love’s greatest holiday in style... crepes for lunch (pictured below is dessert- chestnut and whipped cream crepe) and later that evening some wine, heart shaped cheese and a French movie called “Les Petits Mouchoirs” literally translated: the little tissues.

And then I ventured to Paris. I’ve been to Paris… well, many times. I was invited to stay with a friend at her family friend’s apartment for a few days, making my only costs transportation and the cost of groceries instead of restaurants, so I figured why not? Plus, I live two hours away from Paris by train at the moment and I’m pretty sure that this will not be the case later on in life. And call me a snob, but I like to buy French perfume and what I like is sold in Paris… and I needed more of it.

 

It had to be done



Having visited Paris and many of the tourist sites multiple times, we decided that this time around we would focus on some of Paris’ lesser known gems. I finally got to see the Rodin Museum which has been on my list for quite awhile now. Unfortunately the permanent collection was closed, but the gardens were still open and we took advantage of the whole being under 26 free entry that was offered.

We also visited Pere LaChaise cemetery, historic, old, eerie, and beautiful in a quiet and odd kind of way. One can find the graves of many famous people here, ranging from Chopin to Jim Morrison. The cemetery features other graves with green ivy or moss covering the surfaces, making names unreadable, cracked and crumbling headstones… an interesting visual of the passing of time. I love the moss covered sculpture in the picture to your right.



One of the most striking monuments, for the Jews killed of Auschwitz III



Do we do this in America?

There is a beautiful area devoted to the victims of concentration camps, with not just one monument for the camps in general, but separate monuments for each camp, with signs mentioning that below the stones lies an urn of ashes collected from each particular site. We also saw a lawn that was meant for cremated ashes with roses strewn sporadically throughout, and a small sign asking us not to step on the grass out of respect. I’d never seen anything like that before in my life… do we do that in America? 



 

So much American goodness



The next day I spent on my own as my friend wasn’t feeling very well. I had my first Hamburger since September at dinner the night before (Paris… big city. Big options.) and I decided that a day walking around a park was just what I wanted/needed. I spent the majority of the day walking around the most romantic park I have ever visited, with waterfalls, a grotto, a lake, an island. Les Buttes Chaumont was seriously a beaut to see, and I was seriously missing my own  cheri by the end of the afternoon.

   I ended my day alone waiting in line for 30 minutes at a pastry shop on the Champs Elysées to get my weekly Macaron fix. I enjoyed the most delicious, delicate, perfect macarons (pistachio- always a staple, chestnut and pear- to die for, and the valentine’s special grapefruit and vanilla). While walking down one of the world’s famous and expensive avenues, shamelessly eating some treats, a man approached me and asked if he could walk with me and talk to me. I’m not sure why French men see women alone and assume they want some company (as this is not the first time something like this has happened), perhaps they have seen too many movies where American girls swoon over their accents… I politely told him that non, I did not want to talk, as I was hoping to “profiter” from my macaron experience. He left, I checked to make sure he somehow had not stolen my wallet from my purse, and then I did profiter from my macarons.





You know that song that goes something like "love the one you're with"? I am having a serious foreign  love affair with the baked goods here.



And alas, I find myself back in Nantes, with yet another week of vacation time. I bought a baguette on my way home from the train station, and when the woman handed it to me I was pleasantly surprised to find it was fresh from the oven and still warm. This is the life, my friends. Utter contentment.





I couldn't give you a Paris post without her non?



Bisous,

Steph

A Mélange of small thoughts

This week I was part of the French census. I don’t know why I thought this was awesome… it was really just another official form I had to fill out for the French government (I’m honestly surprised it didn’t require a passport sized photo and a copy of every piece of identity I have). But just like when I got my bank account, it made me truly feel like I’m a part of this. It’s just one of those times where I stopped and thought “whoa. Right now my home is France”.

As good as the census made me feel, two slightly awful things happened to me this past week…

1.     I lost my wine opener
2.     I used the last of my stash of peanut butter (deemed a necessity for the 50 pounds of luggage I was permitted to bring from the good  ol’ USA )

… It’s been a bit of a slow week. 

Let’s talk a little bit about wine in France. Just to let you know how I’ve been spoiled… the other day at the supermarket I picked out what I thought was a 2euros bottle of Bordeaux. I was appalled at the check-out to learn that this bottle was nearly 5euros instead. I bought it nonetheless because explaining to the cashier that I didn’t want it was more complicated than I wanted to get into a) this has to be done in French  b) it’s a little embarrassing that I am refusing a wine because it is priced at 5euros instead of my usual dirt cheap choice. 

I have recently been informed that if I splurge on a bottle of 3 euro wine, the quality difference is exceptional and I will not suffer from any sort of headache the next day.

3euros is less than $5. For a Bordeaux. How oh how will I ever return to the United States?

PS. I found my wine opener. I had left it in a friend’s room.

Mélange Point # 3

I have been told by multiple friends to wait to read “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” series, or to see the movie, until I am no longer living alone in a foreign country. In fact I was specifically directed not to read this story until I was living with Joe and we had a dog (that would no doubt love and protect me). These people know how out of control my imagination can get, and how just reading about or watching crime scary scenarios can mess with my head. 

Example 1: last summer my family rented a vacation house on Surfside Beach, South Carolina. Out on the balcony one night, looking out over the ocean we are fairly certain that we saw some UFOs. The national UFO hotline was called (Have I mentioned how much I love love love my family?). Later that night, everyone had gone to bed except my brother and me. We were chatting on the balcony when all of a sudden we noticed some movement near the stairs that connected our house to the beach. Oh… just a cat. Or was it? My over-active imagination convinced itself that this cat was an alien disguised as a cat and sent to observe us. It just kept looking at us like it knew that we knew it was truly an extraterrestrial. I had to go inside. 

Example 2: The one time I watched Dexter while living in Cincinnati I was so terrified I could not sleep, and when my roommate was walking around and getting ready for bed I was convinced he was an intruder outside my closed bedroom door. 

You can see why my friends worry about me reading scary books alone. 

Well I met up with a French friend for lunch and a movie on Saturday. She suggested we see the movie Millennium. Not knowing anything about the film, I agreed. Guess who saw “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” under a new sneaky French title? This girl. No worries, I so far have not been overly terrified in everyday general life, but fortunately I rarely have to go anywhere alone in the dark and my room is the shape of a box with no places for scary murderers to hide. 

Now here’s a bit of typical Ohhh Steph…

My friend and I were saying goodbye at the end of our day’s adventures… She went in for the “bises”, the endearing and here-normal double kiss on the cheek way of saying hello and goodbye to friends. I misread these signals and gave her a big American hug. You can take the girl out of the Midwest but I guess you can’t take the American Midwest out of the girl. It was awkward. Sometimes daily interactions here remind me of being that oh so odd high school girl who didn’t know how to act around boys. Except here I don’t discriminate against any gender, it’s just with everyone. 

 In my defense I haven’t had a hug in about a month now. Its one thing America has got right… hugs are great. The bises give the impression that you are closer to the person, kissing their cheek like that, but really it’s just two quick air kisses… a hug is for real human contact. Do any of you remember when I came home from study abroad and couldn’t stop hanging all over anyone and everyone who would stand next to me? Oh wait I can still be like that? It’s a side effect of living here…After living alone for however many months, in a country that doesn’t hug, one gets a little anxious for human physical contact.

Speaking of America stuffs, I bought a flight home. The decision has been made, the ticket purchased… and there’s no going back. It was not an easy one to make. But that’s right people, you can stop worrying that I will somehow find a way to live here forever. Which I could, honestly. Besides the people I love (which is a HUGE thing don’t get me wrong), there isn’t much more that I miss about living in the USA.

Ok, maybe I miss the hugs… 

 But now that I have a flight I have been dreaming a little bit of what I will do when I return home… besides the whole awful looming job search… I will drive in my cute little red car with the sunroof down singing as loud as I want without worrying that a neighbor will overhear. I cannot wait to go to the Beer Engine in Cleveland with le boy and devour a real, delicious hamburger and a giant craft beer. When I do my laundry I won’t have to scatter every article of clothing on every possible surface of my room to dry for two days.  Cars, hamburgers, a dryer… all things I could technically live without here forever, but it is nice to be positive about coming back stateside. Plus I get to see you. And that is a wonderful thought.

Ok maybe not all of you. I just recently figured out how to look at my blog stats… which I am pretty sure are quite low and when it comes to blog fame, I don’t have it yet. But Hey! There are more of you than I thought! And some of you are reading not only from the US, but from France, Kuwait (thanks Glue), the UK, Spain, Brazil & Morocco (merci loveshines), Latvia, the Netherlands, and Switzerland. Dear world… You are neat.

See you in May my American friends, family, my little red Focus, and the Beer Engine.

I can’t wait to give you all a hug.

Bisous (even better if they're awkward)

Steph

La Reine est trop Sportif

I had one reader mention that she was disappointed there was no blog post to read this past Monday, so I apologize for slacking a bit…

Sorry Mom :)

We’re back to the grind here in Rezé/Bouaye/Nantes… and as much as I felt like a small child whining about school starting back up again, it was good to get back on a routine. Of course, going back was made easier when I glanced at the calendar and realized I have 5 weeks of work before my “working” weeklong trip to London and the following two week “Winter Break”.  The French  know how to keep their teachers sane… just when the kiddos really start to drive you crazy, surprise! Two week break! Oui! Unfortunately most of my European friends will be returning home again for this February break to visit their chéries, but I hope to figure out some sort of travel for that time as well.

I've had some fun lessons since being back. I'm discussing the idea of an American roadtrip, the mentality of the idea, quotes from Jack Kerouac etc. with my "seniors" here. Today we talked about the importance of music on a roadtrip and I had them choose and explain a song to add to our own class roadtrip playlist. I lent out my ipod to some kids who forgot theirs, and my collection of Justin Bieber songs was questioned... if they scrolled down to the "O"s to see the number of "Original Broadway Cast" albums I have they chose not to say anything. I am obviously an insanely cool American in their eyes.

This blog post is going to be a little bit about sportz. You all know how athletic I am, and how much I love sportz. You are probably not surprised that this past week I went out and got a little exercise, and also attended a World Cup match. 

Did I pick up running? Tennis? No. I went and played LAZERGAMES. Curious as to whether there were any differences between American Laser Tag and French LAZERGAME, I celebrated the return of my foyer friends by donning all black and attempting to shoot them with lasers. French laser tag isn’t much different than what I remember from 13 year old American birthday parties of my past doing the same thing. Really, no big differences, including the language. It was a bit strange hearing “DANGER! DANGER! The base is under attack!” in English while playing. In fact, I am almost sure I paused and was subsequently killed the first time I heard it. Another thing I found bemusing was the list of players’ names… each laser vest & gun truc kept track of the players’ stats and you had to remember your assigned name to see how you performed. I was Batman. Some other random (mostly) American names included: Terminator, Pikachu, Chuck Norris, Yoda, Legolas, Frankenstein, Shrek… odd yes? 

I’m sure you’re all at the edge of your seat waiting to know just how well I compete in laser war. Round One I ranked 14/16. Yikes. I was consoled when I realized our little group of foreigners took places 13, 14, 15, 16. I picked up my game and dominated Round Two ranking 8/16.

The weekend brought on the second sports venture… the COUPE DU MONDE BABY-FOOT. What, you may ask, is Baby-Foot? It is the French’s adorable way of saying “Foosball”. In England they call this Table Soccer, in Spain they call this Futbolín, in Germany it’s probably something with a ridiculous amount of consonants… but I think France takes the cake for best word here. I figured: “When else will I ever get to personally watch a world cup event?” “When else will I get the chance to watch a serious foosball game?” “I brought all this left over 4th of July stuff with me, when else can I wear that sparkly star crown and the mini American flag in France?” I am not one to let an opportunity like this pass me by. And thankfully, despite having about 4 hours of sleep the night before, my friends thought the same. 

I was disappointed to find that America was no longer in the running (but that didn’t stop me from chanting USA USA, waving my tiny American flag, when I walked past the team sporting their uniform USA windbreaker jackets). Sometimes I think it’s the French that don’t know how to handle my at-times-overwhelming enthusiasm, but I got some weird looks from the American Foosball team as well. Sorry for supporting you when you are in a foreign country ‘Merica, geez. 

So the game I did get to watch, the women’s finals, I cheered for La France. France vs. Germany. A professional foosball game, by the way, takes 2+ hours. That’s a lot of sport for me… but the occasional camera shot of the crowd and the desperate attempts to get on some obscure EuroSports TV Channel pulled me through. One thing I found interesting was that they played one round of the match on a French made table (wood), and the next on a German made table (plastic). The rules were surprising more extensive than I imagined… and were upheld by two, that’s right TWO referees. Deutschland took the gold which made our German friend quite happy.

All in all an oddly positive experience. It was fun to spend a Sunday afternoon cheering “Allez Bleu!” while waving around those inflatable extendable-arm noisemakers. To top it off I got this poster…a little baby-foot guy, telling you to stop messing around. You better believe this will be framed if someday Joe wants a sports-themed room in our home.

On a non-sports related note, France celebrated the Epiphany with a tradition I was quite happy to take part in, and one that I will bring with me to the United States when I return home. KING CAKE. Mmm.  It’s a puff pastry cake filled with apple compote or frangipane with a tiny porcelain figurine baked in. Whoever gets the slice with the figurine is the king or queen, gets to wear a paper crown all night, and chooses his or her king/queen. I got to be the Queen (at the school cafeteria, and yeah, I wore the crown through the cafeteria as well as into the teachers’ lounge). Being named the Queen wasn’t too big of a surprise considering I had about 5 pieces of King Cake at different points throughout the week. 

My Spanish friend calls me “The Queen” often because of a long standing joke from a time she accused all Americans of thinking they are the “Kings or Queens  of the World” because of our expectancy to find English speakers throughout the world. This Queen idea was only reinforced after Joseph proposed, adding quite a bit of sparkle to my Miss America/Queen wave. Which I do quite often.

Seriously. Look at this Pastry Saturday Find.

Are you wondering how I am doing with my Resolutions? We’ve been hanging out with some French people from the foyer lately, even meeting up with them this past weekend at the bars… so while I don’t have a language tandem (this is proving more difficult than I imagined), I feel I am still integrating a bit more already. I didn’t start reading anything in French yet, but I did go see another movie (Les Lyonnais, a French “gangster” crime film with a lot of violence and a plot I am still not sure I really understand). I also researched and found a French-American organization in Cleveland. Once I make the big move home it will be easier to pretend I still live in the land of extensive vacations, grèves, and Macarons the size of your face, but with the added bonus of my own chérie located geographically closer. 

Bises and Love from this Queen

Steph

Almost forgot, if you happen to be looking for a great read, I recommend “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern. It’s a wonderfully magical book with a love story and a hint of darkness that is just perfect. 

Also, to those of you who have been lighting up my mailbox here with holiday mail and engagement congratulations... thank you. So much. 

Bonjour December!

It's December, which means Christmas, shopping, mulled wine, beautiful decorations, and a countdown to Joseph's visit. <3

A quick American moment: Did anyone else see Glee this week? I know that it’s been a little on the downer side, and definitely not as good as what it once was, but I am trying to keep up nonetheless. The Glee version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun has got to be one of my favorite Glee moments ever.  Mmmmmm. 

Onto the French world:

This week I stepped in dog poop on the sidewalk. This is a monumental move in becoming a vraie Française, because unlike in America, people let their dogs poo all over the place here without cleaning it up. Dealing with dog shit everywhere is truly a part of living in France. So, after two months, and after being declared legally an immigrant here with an official looking stamp in my passport, I feel like I’m really a French citizen because of dog poop on my boots.

I miss Mabel the Dog. 

I played a whole lot of celebrity in my classes this week. Celebrity is a game well known and loved to my 2240 friends, but for the rest of you real quick- The game involved the students writing down two places/people/things that everyone in the classroom knows. The class was divided into teams, and students took turns coming up to draw from a pile of papers and using ENGLISH and gestures, had to get the other kids to guess what was written. They had 40 seconds to get as many as possible before the other team took its turn. There are other rounds that involve only using gestures (still ok for language development because kids are guessing in English) and one round where the student could only speak one word to describe what is on the paper.

We did final projects and I have a lot of grading to do now… so I gave myself a break by letting the kids play this wonderful game after we had finished recording their presentations. It actually turned out to be a really good exercise that the kids loved, and they were screaming guesses, IN ENGLISH, because I told them if they spoke in French the point wouldn’t count. Fun in an English class? C’est possible! 

I saw my very first movie in France. Despite this being my 4^th time here, my 2^nd time truly making a home for myself here, I had never been to the movies in France. My friends and I went to see “Intouchables” which I heard about in many of the “Hollywood” themed class presentations. We laughed. We cried. We understood what was going on without subtitles. I can’t help but be a little proud that I saw a French movie, in France, in French, with no subtitles, and I not only understood (most of) it, but loved it. If you get the chance at all to see it… please do. It treats the very serious subjects of racial and handicapped discrimination with an incredible sense of humor. And it demonstrates the utter beauty in the simple act of friendship. There is love and friendship and bad luck all over the world… no matter where you come from. If you need more convincing… the movie had been out for a month when we went to see it, and we had a hard time finding 5 seats together. 

On Friday I went to the market with my English friend, and, feeling courageous bought something from one of the seafood stands. As my friend said “well… Let’s go make a fool of ourselves, shall we?”  It’s easier to buy vegetables from the market, because you can say I want one aubergine, or 4 tomatoes, or 2 potatoes quite easily. When it comes to cheese, to olives (both of which I have conquered), or to meat/seafood it’s all so fresh you must specify by the gram. Thankfully I was with an English guy because I am nul with the metric system (thanks America).  I purchased all my vegetables for the week and then braved it and bought 500grams of Mussels. Let me remind you now that I live 30 minutes from the ocean… the seafood part of the market often features living creatures, fish with heads still attached on a bed of ice… I had to “profiter” from this closeness to the ocean. So fresh.  So awesome. So nothing I get to have in Ohio. Mussels are step one. Someday I hope to buy actual fish. Friday night I cleaned and “de-bearded” all my own mussels, steamed them in a concoction of garlic, shallots, white wine, and crème fraiche, and enjoyed with some baguette from the market’s local bread man. Mmmmmmm 

While my mussels were cooking, I took the time to decorate my Christmas Tree. If you didn’t know, I am here for Christmas… I don’t know yet when I am coming home, but I know it has to be before July 20^th (because that is when that tiny paper in my passport tells me I have to leave). I feel really good about dedicating this year to myself, about truly figuring out what it’s like to do just about everything, even the holidays, on my own. It was really nice decorating my small Christmas Tree alone. I smile every time I look at it. I bought a beautifully ugly sparkly bird to go on the top, some French red toadstool ornaments, some feather baubles, and a lovebird ornament to celebrate Joseph and I’s first Christmas together, just us. It’s lovely. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, this adventure here. And while Thanksgiving was hard, and I know Christmas may be harder when it comes to homesickness, I am proud of my commitment to spend the year in France.

Chocolate Christmas Art

We have some really great activities at the foyer planned for the month- paired with Christmas shopping for family and new friends here, and the promise of the gift of Joseph’s presence in my favorite place in the world, I am anticipating un Joyeux Noel. 

Bises,

Steph