Les temps passent si vite

How fast the time has gone since the April vacations and my last blog post! I’ve tried to profiter bien of my final two weeks in Nantes, spending a significant amount of time hanging out with friends, or alone tacking off all the things I felt I needed to do before I moved from the city. 

Having ended work about a week and a half  before my departure date, I had to say goodbye to all the teachers that have given me rides to school, the English staff, my class of teachers, and of course all my students first. I baked about 200 peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies in my small toaster oven all week. My final teachers class took me out to lunch at our normal class time, and then to one of the teachers’ houses when the expresso given at the restaurant at the end of the meal just wasn’t strong enough to get us through the rest of the working day. I spent an evening at my reference teacher’s house, the same house I spent time at before I was able to move into my foyer… things come full circle. We naturally had a 4hour dinner complete with champagne, mussels for the appetizer, beef/potatoes/veggies, and a crumble dessert made from locally grown strawberries. 

In true French high school fashion, my last class of the year just didn’t show up. I wasn’t surprised… It was odd that I worked one full week and one Monday after the April  vacations. Knowing that it was my last week with all the other classes I think they just thought I wouldn’t be there the following Monday. Except I was. And I took the bus all that way just to clean out my little cubbie and give the cookies meant for the students out to anyone on the staff who didn’t get them the week before. 

Clisson, France

I visited the chateau again to dit au revoir, and to check out the museum there. If you want to know anything about Nantes the Chateau Museum is where to go. You could spend at least half the day learning about Nantes as a port city, Nantes’ huge role in the triangular trade and slavery, Nantes during the wars… I probably should have visited at the beginning of my time here, but better late then never. 

 

Short, solo day trip to Clisson. A pretty little city about a 10 minute train ride away, Clisson is nice to visit for about 3 hours. It’s a pretty sleepy little place but the chateau ruins are neat and they have some beautiful gardens. I ventured there alone and simply walked around, ate a picnic, and read a bit outside in the grass by the chateau. Honestly my morning in Nantes visiting the new baby goats at the Jardin de Plantes near the train station was more thrilling. But it’s always nice to get out of town and see what else the area has to offer.

 Spanish soirée at the foyer, complete with delicious paella, sangria, tapas and salsa dancing. It was one of those nights that was just so good, with good food and good company, that it made me sad to think that those nights here are limited. 

 

8 Mai Market. I visited my lovely local market, the one that makes my heart so happy, for final picnic supplies shopping. I ordered my tranche de mizotte cheese and a moldy goats cheese like a pro from my standard cheese lady. I didn’t have to think too hard about how many grams of prawns I wanted for my dinner that night. I splurged and bought a giant brioche. I will truly miss the market culture that seems to thrive in France. 

My haul from my final visit to the market

 

Strasbourg with the Assistants. My little group of friends originally consisted of 2 English, 1 German, 1 Spanish and myself (which then grew to include the French and another Spanish girl). This small original group, sans the German, decided to spend our last weekend adventuring together to Strasbourg, a city on the German border that historically has been both German and French territory. Our journey began far too early with a 7am train. We stamped our tickets and sleepily climbed aboard only to find 4 people sitting in what were our assigned seats. This happens from time to time and we decided to take the group of 4 seats across the aisle from them, until someone came to claim those seats, and we had to confront the people sitting in ours. The interaction went a little like this…

“Excuse me, but you are in our seats”

“Mais non! These are our seats”

“No. Look at our tickets. You are sitting in our seats”

*they give each other some smug looks, do not take out their own tickets, and do not move from our seats

*my friend happens to see one of their tickets and exclaims

“Excuse me, but those tickets are for yesterday’s train. You are indeed sitting in our seats”

“This must be some kind of confusion. We bought tickets for this train today.” “First come first serve”

*They don’t move from our seats, people whose seats we are sitting in awkwardly hover around until they realize we're not moving and then go to sit in someone else's seats.

It’s wonderful to speak both languages in this kind of situation. They heard our accents and thought we couldn’t understand them… uhm yes sir we can hear you, and no, these are reserved seats, so they are not first come first serve. And now we are going to talk about you as much as we want in our own language because you have no idea what we’re saying about you. Unfortunately my friend didn't get to use his prepared "Avec respect Monsieur!" phrase that he had prepared for what we thought would be an inevitable heated debate. The conductor eventually came and made them move from our seats, after some of the other clients rallied with us because they wanted us to move from their own seats.

Tired and in a silly mood, my two friends were reading in French with a dictionary between them to look up unknown vocabulary words. We had a few discussions about some of the words, and were enlightened by a French woman listening in on our conversation. Indeed the word cleavage in French does not mean the same thing as in English…

At this point my friend said “We can only ever be two things here: a novelty, or something that pisses people off. In the last ½ hour we have managed to be both.” That about sums up the train ride. 

Strasbourg is lovely. Really lovely. There are loads of half-timbered houses, cute cafés to grab an expresso (which we had to do often), a river boat cruise, the European Parliament Building, a massive cathedral with a tower you can climb, and German/French food .Some of my favorite foods being the choucroute (sauerkraut) with German sausages I had one night for dinner, loads of gingerbread, and some spaetzle. We also some WILD STORKS. Neat huh.

 

I had the great luck of being in France for the presidential election, which just so happened to pass on our final night in Strasbourg. While walking to dinner we heard the roar of a crowd and entered a large square to see people gathered around a small tower in the middle, dancing and waving flags to celebrate the election of France’s first socialist president in 30 years. We decided then and there to stay and find somewhere to eat within the square in order to enjoy this fun atmosphere… while we were waiting to order the thumping of bass and a large car/truck with balloons rolled up to the tunes of “le changement” which was happily greeted by the crowd in the square. The truck stayed there until about 11:30pm, where the crowd of people danced and sang along, waved their flags, climbed up onto the small tower (at one point we saw a man in just his underwear dancing up there). We of course joined this dance party after dinner. Hands down one of the neatest things I have experienced while living here… a spontaneous street party, complete with a conga line and air horns, to celebrate a presidential election. 

The following morning we had another early train ride home, the last time I was to be “coming home” to my home in Nantes.

I FEEL sLOVEnia

April travels with Megan Part 3: Slovenia 

We made a lot of jokes about Slovenia as the promised land… people will probably hug us as soon as we get off the train clucking “Oh I know where you’ve been”… we’ll cross the border and a Pegasus will fly across a rainbow in the sky etc etc. 

Triple Bridge, Ljubljana

But here’s the thing, it IS a wonderful magical land of happy friendly English speaking people, where you feel nothing but love and warm happy feelings about your life. Outside of my adopted “I wish” homeland of France, it may be my favorite country I have ever visited. In fact, Slovenia’s slogan is I FEEL sLOVEnia. How darling is that? It’s true! You DO feel love there! 

We had ½ day and 1 night in their capitol Ljubljana (pronounce the j’s like y’s and your life is a lot simpler). We walked through the old town and marveled at the pretty architecture. We were stopped outside an Argentinean restaurant where a young man attempted to persuade us to eat there. When we explained it was our first night and we wanted to eat traditional Slovenian he got his friend to translate “we are having a big party here later tonight, come back and you can eat and drink whatever you like!” Then, I kid you not, he gave us a hug and his friend gave us les bises, and they didn’t even try to steal anything from us during the whole exchange. Our joke “Slovenia is so lovely, people just hug strangers on the street to make them feel welcome” turned out to be reality. That evening we had our first hot meal in 3 days and a few glasses of wine. In the film version of our adventures, our mothers were cheering. 

Hungarian Goulash.

 Slovenia is a tiny little country, so if you situate yourself in Ljubljana (dead center) day trips are quite simple. The following morning we checked out of our campsite/hotel and when the man at the desk realized we would miss the complimentary breakfast, he pulled out two packed lunches and asked us if we wanted them. Uhm yes, kindest people on earth, we would love those lunches. Then his coworker, who had helped us out the night before when we had a bit of a problem, offered to take us into town to the train station. Uhm yes, kindest people on earth, thank you for the lift. 

Dragon Babies

We took a bus for about 1hour to Postojnska Jama and Predjama Castle. Postojnska Jama is a massive cave system, and while a bit touristy, thoroughly enjoyable. We felt it worth every penny of what we paid for the tour. You start out on this little train like you are entering Gringotts to get your wizard gold for Hogwarts. Then you have an hour walking tour of incredible awesome stalagmites and stalactites, ending with an exhibit of blind dragon spawn cave creatures, and a final train ride back to the surface. We then got a taxi the 11km to Predjama Castle (again, our mom’s were cheering for our decision not to hitchhike as is recommended by Rick Steves). 

Spaghetti Hall, because these baby stalactites look like pasta

 Predjama Castle makes my list of one of the Top 5 most Impressive Unbelievable Things I Have Ever Seen in the Entire World. It’s a castle built into a cliff with an extensive cave system underneath. The knight that once lived there was under siege for over a year… instead of dying from starvation as his castle was surrounded he simply used a route within the caves out to a neighboring town, and then returned. He was finally killed when a money-hungry servant signaled to the enemy as the knight went to an exterior portion of the castle to do his business. A cannon was fired into his bathroom and that was that. Now you can scramble all over the castle enjoying the juxtaposition of cliff/cave and living quarters. 

Photo Credit: Megan

 Back on a bus to Ljubljana, where we picked up our packs from the convenient and cheap luggage storage at the train station and hopped on a bus up to Lake Bled for two nights of blissful camping. 1½ hours later we are kindly dropped off at an Alpine Lake surrounded by snow capped mountains, swans, clear blue water, pletna boats… is this real life?

Photo Credit: Megan

 It started sprinkling when we arrived at our campsite and the ever so kind Slovenian working the front desk asked us if we needed a bigger umbrella to set up our site. At dinner that night, I not only got to eat trout with its head still on that I am almost certain came from the very lake I was currently looking at, but we were also treated to free blueberry mead “just to warm you girls up”. Slovenia is seriously home to the nicest people in the world. 

 

Our full day in Bled involved morning cappuccinos on the terrace near the lake, a leisurely stroll, a hike up to a viewpoint near the castle, traditional Slovenia desserts and savory lunchtime pastries, Cockta (the communist era version of Coca-Cola),a bottle of wine said to have healing properties, and a rowboat to an enchanted island where if you ring the church bell 3x it’s said that all your wishes will come true. Quite frankly I'm not sure the people of Slovenia even have any wishes, because they live in the greatest place in the world. We weren’t really ready to leave… ever. 

 

But back to Ljubljana we went for a day of exploration before catching an overnight train to Munich, Germany and then another train onto to Paris, where flights and trains back to the real world were awaiting us. We got rid of all our leftover Croatian Kuna coins making wishes in various fountains throughout the day. My favorite sites in Ljubljana were:

     1.       The Dragon Bridge (a dragon is said to have been slayed near the city so it’s the city mascot. I have no doubt that if magical creatures do/did exist, it was in Slovenia).

    2.       The Library, the only building damaged during WWII from a plane crash. The Slovenians didn’t want to lose their book collection and formed a human chain to save their precious books from the flames. The door handle to enter the library is shaped like a Pegasus head... to soar you into enlightenment. You enchanting little beautiful darling place Slovenia you.

Before our late night train we enjoyed a few communist-era Slovenian Beers and said Hvala for a truly wonderful end of our trip…

Which turned out wasn’t the end of our trip at all, since our overnight train didn’t arrive on time to Munich, making us miss our connection to Paris, making us miss our flights/trains home. It says a lot about a friendship when you can spend 2 straight weeks together, go through a mini transportation crisis, spend the night drinking beers from McDonalds in the Paris airport and pushing chairs together to make a “fort” to sleep in, but still be terribly sad to have to say goodbye the following morning. Nonstop adventures since the ages of Four and Five. 

Uhm I can’t even remember which school I go to on Mondays…

A few assistants work at multiple schools- especially those assistants working with little ones. The title of this blog post came straight out of the mouth of one of my friends, as we discussed the ending of the February vacations and the idea of heading back to work on Monday.

So what have I done with a week of zero responsibility in Nantes?

Bicloo

Nantes has this neat bike rental system. Bikes are stationed all throughout the city and Frenchies can choose to subscribe for a yearlong membership (29 euros for the year 20 euros if you have a public transportation pass, first 30 minutes of Biking free from any Bicloo station in the city) or one can subscribe for 1-7 days (cost 1-5 euros). The bikes have no locks, but when finished you simply click them into place at any Bicloo station, ready for another Nantais to use as they please.  We’ve obviously seen these Bicloo stations, commented on figuring out how to use them, and finally took advantage of one of our gorgeous February days to rent bikes for the day. 

I had a bike when I lived and studied in Grenoble, but biking in traffic is something to get re-accustomed to. I don’t know if I can speak for all Europeans but the French at least find it quite normal to share the road with cyclists. Bike lanes are all over Nantes, and I’m pretty sure we only broke a few minor traffic laws while determining our paths throughout the day (some terrifying large roundabouts were conquered). 

We are already discussing the endless opportunities these bikes can open up to us. Namely, on Saturday nights when we end up at Hangar Bananes we now won’t have to rush and make the long trek to catch the last tram home… we can instead rent our bikes at the Elephant, and after an uncomfortable ride home on cobblestone, click them into place at 8 Mai. I've suggested that we take a Sunday, when everything is closed and there is nothing to do, to bike to the neighboring town Clisson for a picnic- 1/2 hour train ride away. I have little to no faith that neither of these events will ever happen. But it’s nice to know the possibility is there. 

 

Day Trip: Rennes, France

Meet pretty pretty Rennes. I actually have been to the train station in this city before… two summers ago I had to transfer here as I traveled from Paris to camp, but my bags were too much for me to handle to do any kind of exploring. 

 

Rennes is a beautiful city to walk through. The capitol of Bretagne, it’s famous for galettes/crepes and medieval half-timbered houses. 

Fretting over the fate of my computer

I’ve spent a significant part of this week crying to my mother, worrying about my computer, and running countless scans only to come across a frozen screen. I’ve had some terrifying “failure is imminent” messages pop up. Yikes. The tech-savvy foyer employer took a look at it and it seems to be freezing less now… My computer is my biggest link to America while I’m here. I don’t love the idea of getting a new hard drive, inevitably a French one… although the technology vocabulary I would be forced to learn could greatly enhance my language development. I would prefer it not to crash at all, but if it must, it could do me a big favor and wait 11 weeks until I’m home in America. 

That’s right… 11 weeks. It seems so little when I think about it in weeks. I have mixed feelings about that number. Where has the time gone?  

Back to work on Monday... to wrap up my 3 day work-month.

Bisous, 

Steph

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

C’est quoi le problème?@!

I’ve heard that it was about 50 degrees in Ohio yesterday. You lucky ducks.

It is COLD in Nantes. I hate cold. I know hate is a strong word. But I hate cold. Je déteste absolument la froid. If I say it in both languages, I really mean it. 

We’ve had a mild winter here, and most of the days have been in the 50s. I laughed earlier in the season when people would say it is cold outside. I considered getting a bike now in February instead of waiting until March. I am no longer laughing at anyone. And thinking about even venturing to the bus stop is enough to make me cringe, let alone the idea of biking to the grocery store. 

So what can you do when it’s terribly cold outside? You eat! You drink! You are merry! All while avoiding the outdoors.

Some foodie news:

             I made my first ever Quiche this past week!  I have always known the deliciousness of a good quiche, but why have I never been informed how easy it is to make them? Eggs, Bacon, Onion, Crème Fraiche in a puff pastry? That’s it?!? Yum. 

            I also experienced everything that is a proper 3 course French dinner last Friday.

The language teachers at Lycée de Bouaye arranged an evening out for their three language assistants… myself, the German assistant and the Spanish assistant. And so instead of our normal “we’re too tired to go into town let’s go to the cinema or stay in and drink wine instead” Friday night, the three of us dressed for the occasion and enjoyed a proper three course meal with the French. 

The “Super Assistantes” were toasted by the teachers with an apératif (before dinner drink). My meal then consisted of cuisses de grenouille, canard et crème brulée (froglegs, duck, and… crème brulee). It was Wonderful. 

The teachers applauded when I ordered the froglegs. I had no idea how to eat them (you pick them up with your fingers, thankfully another teacher ordered them too!)They were delish, by the way. But so covered in garlic that the teachers joked it was good that my fiancée lives across the ocean. 

 In between courses the teachers switched spots so everyone had the opportunity to sit near the assistants and chat with us.  Darling.  

Our meal lasted about three hours. We conversed, we laughed, we enjoyed each other’s company and truly relished in the delicious food we were served. I love what the French eat, and how the French eat. The meal itself was truly an event. 

 

February is not only the only the month of LOVE, but also the month of Crepes, which I happen to LOVE, so this all makes perfect sense to me. The French eat crepes on February 2- nothing to do with the groundhog (they find our own tradition quite odd), but instead has to do with the Catholic “la Chandeleur, Fête de la Lumière” holiday celebrating the purification of Mary, presentation of baby Jesus etc etc. Even after upteen years of Catholic education, I was unaware of this holiday and how to celebrate it (Sorry mom and dad, St. Ursula Academy, UD…) However I had no problem learning to celebrate this holiday French style with a foyer Crepe Party!  The French don’t really celebrate the religious part, just the delicious dessert eating part. 

I even got to attempt to “flip” a crepe myself, tossing it from the pan into the air… but ended up having to eat that one  because I have not yet mastered my crepe flipping culinary skills.

Never had a crepe? They are wonderfully thin pancake-like treats. You slather your choice of nutella, honey, jam, sugar (they have a brand here called “Daddys” as in “Sugar Daddy”) onto this treat, fold it up, and save the pointed part for last because most often it has the most of whatever delicious filler you chose! I’ve also had for real French Grandma-made crepes from a girl in the foyer that were so buttery and delicious on their own I declined nutella for the first time in my life.

No worries American friends… I will bring all these traditions home and next year, when I am pining for my French life, I will bake for you a King Cake in January and crepes in February.

Unfortunately my first fairly negative experience this time around in France wheezled its way in between all this gourmet eating. But looking back on the whole evening, the series of events as a whole is ridiculously amusing.

In any of the classes I have taught about stereotypes, the students are always surprised and appalled to hear that Americans thinks the French are rude. They don’t see it. I usually don’t see it. I have written about the kindness of multiple French people in this very blog…

This stereotype reared its ugly head for the first time when I studied abroad.(My friends remember this event and my subsequent "I hate everyone in the world" freak out quite well). In retrospect I was with a group of people begging for attention- being blatantly foreign in clothing, screaming in English, and expressing general tourist mannerisms. All things I (as well as the people I associate myself with) put a lot of effort into trying to hide a bit nowadays.

So Saturday. The only night we ventured outdoors into the bitterly cold tundra that has become Nantes, was a mess. Expectations were high due to a disappointing weekend before at the Party Boat (seems awesome, it’s not. But I’m willing to give it a second chance.) Our night, in brief points:

  1. English male friend, not surprisingly, is late. We RUN the 10 minute walk to the tram stop… stopping only to politely attempt to give some Frenchies directions. In the midst of running for the tram this same polite friend runs into a small pole and falls over, which unfortunately I did not get to see with my own eyes.

2.   Deep breath, we made it onto the tram. So did a giant man who easily lost his balance as the tram jolted forward, and fell into my Spanish friend’s lap. I cannot emphasize enough how giant this man was. She is probably still “mal au jambe” at this very moment.

3.    Pre-Party at our friend’s foyer. Best part of the night by far.

4.     Venture to Hangar Bananes, the world’s worst located strip of clubs, inconveniently placed on an island with little to no access to public transportation. Last minute decisions and all of a sudden half our group is left behind on the now departing tram, and we are sprinting for a bus.

5.    We bravely continue on, arrive at Hangar, and find our French foyer friends smoking outside a bar (quelle surprise). They enter. We follow. We are stopped. Bouncer: “How old are you?”  English Friend “20” as she reaches for her id. *Note* Clubs and Alcohol can be enjoyed legally by 18+ in France. Bouncer glances at id (English), back up at group, and proclaims “Pas ce soir” (not tonight) while closing the door. The foreigners exchange glances and debate in French what now to do. The many French people standing in line behind us are granted entry into the club

6.       This behavior doesn’t fly with English friend, who insists on standing right outside the door, demanding “C’est quoi le problème? C’est parce que je suis ANGLAISE!” She then accuses the bouncer of racism… (more like nationalism) but the main idea of prejudice and discrimination came across all the same. When the bouncer realized we weren’t going away, we weren't going to stop screaming about his racist ways, and our French friends weren’t going to stop bothering him to let us in, he opened the door and without saying anything this group of motley foreigners marched right in.

7.       The club was listening to American music.

8.       We leave club, stand in line for another club, decide not to enter club because it costs 17euro, and instead start the long walk towards the nearest tram stop.

9.       Friends miss the tram that will take them home. In the process of figuring out what to do with that situation we are approached by a very drunk and/or drugged couple wanting to be friends. Our tram arrives. I hop on, with 2 others. The tram rolls away and the rest of our friends are left to call a taxi and deal with druggie/drunkies. I am later told that they politely told the couple to leave them alone or that they would call the police. Bahahah. The police station closes for lunch. I doubt they are concerned with foreigners at this hour.

10.   We’re almost home. So close. My shoes are untied. My Spanish friend steps on the lace. Broken.

To use one of my favorite French expressions, C’était la merde.

In conclusion: the past two weeks I've eaten more delicous treats than someone who has to someday look beautiful in a white dress should. And I learned the French word for bouncer. You should at least know the vocabulary word for the person you accused of racism.

Bisous, 

Steph


*Despite the light manner in which I address the subject here, I believe that racism is a serious and frustrating issue in our society. My feelings are similar for nationalism.