En Faite… Non.

We don’t work on Wednesdays, at least most of us. Primary schools are closed and the High Schools only have class until 12. I usually use Wednesdays for sleeping in, drowning out all light with the French “black out blinds” (you seriously have no idea that time of day it is when they are closed and could sleep foreverrrr/why didn’t we have those in college?), going for a run, and getting all my weekly errands done. 

This past week’s errand list involved trying to rent a bike, and I came across some of the customer service that is so notorious here, the kind that made my friend and I stop and say “How French was that!?” 

Armed with information from our lovely foyer “animatrice” about where we can rent bikes, we venture downtown and follow signs to a slightly sketchy looking staircase leading to an underground parking lot. There is a desk, a place to pay for parking, and thankfully a few brochures to tell us we are in the right place.  After pretending to read all the brochure information (because I read it all already online) we build up the confidence to speak with the man at the desk. Here is the conversation that followed:

Frenchie “Oh you want a bike… you have to make a request online for that… do you have internet?”

(Yes we have internet. We’re foreign, not 100).

Foreigners “So you don’t have bikes for rent right now?”

Frenchie “Yes you can rent them for a half day, for the day, for the month… you must fill out the form and make a request online”

Foreigners “It’s impossible to do it here? Where you rent the bikes?”

Frenchie “Let me write down the internet address for you”

Foreigners “So after we make our request, how long will it take to get a bike”

Frenchie “Oh… (Insert a lot of meaningless but often used French sound effects here. We do not have an equivalent for them) In fact, I cannot tell you a number of days. Sometimes it is fast. Sometimes it takes a long time”

*trails off into what I think is mutual, confused, silence

Foreigners “So you can’t tell us how long this process usually takes?”

Frenchie “In fact, No.”

This seems extreme, this complete lack of customer service, but in actuality it’s a part of the culture here that we’ve noticed in restaurants, at formal government offices, even at the French Consulate in Chicago. .. and it may be a big culprit for the ever-persistent “The French are rude” stereotype. They’re not necessarily rude; it’s more like they just don’t care. Unlike in America, where “the customer is always right”, here you should feel lucky that you were permitted into the building and that someone is talking to you.

The best part? I’ve scoured their website. There is nowhere to make a request online. I’m unsure as to whether we were talking to an actual employee.  

It was raining by the time this entire exchange was over, so I can only think I have excellent karma and the weather gods were just looking out for me. Who wants to cycle 20 minutes home in the rain? Not this girl. 

The only thing to do after an experience like this? March right over to your nearest pastry shop, enjoy a few macarons, and stop in a café for a cup of strong black coffee. And then try it all again next week, hoping someone else is working the desk. I’ll keep you posted. 

Bisous

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.

Angry in Angers

My friends and I took a day trip this weekend to Angers, France. We’re slightly upset that it took 3 months for us to pick up and go, well anywhere… although it honestly took awhile to lose the tourist mentality we may have had with Nantes itself. It’s been our home for a bit of time now- we know what creperies and kebab shops we like, what boulangeries have the best pastries, which bars are for dancing, and how long the walk to the tram really takes (learned after many sprints for a leaving tram and a cold ½ hour wait for the next one). It’s comfortable here. We were ready for something new. 

 

A 16euro roundtrip train ticket and 36 minutes later, we arrive in Angers. Not knowing much, but knowing that there is a castle and a good museum, we wandered. The museum did not make us angry. It was quite beautiful, we played in the garden, took a lot of photos, and the people were happy to see visiting young foreigners. Many museums in France are free for students or anyone 25 and under. It’s wonderful encouragement for young people to truly take advantage of access to some of the best art collections in the world. 26 is le worst age to turn in France, as one of my friends here has come to realize. You no longer get reductions on transportation, the amount of housing welfare you receive decreases, and all your free museum visits are history. Tant Pis. We told the man at the admissions desk that we needed six under 25 tickets, and one regular priced ticket. He looked us all over (no doubt trying to figure out which one of us was too old) and told us he was just not going to check our identification. This man is the only nice person we met in Angers.

Time ticks on and cries of “J’ai faim!” ring amongst our group. We visit about 3 creperies where we are curtly told there is no room before just picking one and waiting it out. At one point our French friend got angry and had to step outside because the old ladies behind us were complaining that the group of foreigners would get seated before them. Well duh. We were here first. My being foreign does not make me less worthy of enjoying a crepe in your lovely country, which I happen to adore. By the way, I understand what you’re saying because I speak your language. 

 

The crepes were delicious. I realized I have never given you a photo of the grand Bretagne food I get to enjoy on a regular basis. You eat a savory “galette” first, and then a sweet “crepe” for dessert. Traditionally they are enjoyed with alcoholic cider. I know sometimes I can be untraditional, but I always follow this one in France :P

Galette with cheese, tomato, and egg

Homemade Caramel Crepe

Onward to the castle! It’s gorgeous. Which makes up for the meanie mean staff that work there. Again, the ticket purchases. There is a small sign explaining the price ranges “Free for students” “Free for anyone 25 and under holding a European Union passport, or living as a legal resident in France” “6,50 for adults”. Boom baby- I’m legal and here is my passport and immigration stamp to prove it! She grudgingly lets me through on the free pass. Again, the problem with my friend who is 26. But alas! She is a student in Germany! Here is her student card! The lady gets a terrible attitude and informs her that the free pass is only for French students of art history and tourism. Your little sign says none of that. And your unfriendly tone of voice is not appreciated. I don’t believe you. But thanks for the warm welcome. 

The castle in Angers houses the Tapestry of the Apocalypse, completed in 1382 and measuring 100 meters (328 ft) long, 4.5 meters (about 15 ft) high. We were convinced it would never end. My favorite panel involved a prostitute riding on a dragon kind of like a queen would ride on a horse. Is that part really in the apocalypse story? I don’t think I misinterpreted the sign and the French word for a prostitute (une prostituée).

 

Here is a piece of art I also really liked as it told the dark story of the prisoners that were kept in the castle at times. It’s a bit of a couchemar, but interesting nonetheless.

 After about six hours we were ready to peace out of Angry Angers. We had heard that Angers is quite “bourgeois”, and perhaps the people there are just not accustomed to young people or foreigners. The city itself is much prettier than Nantes- beautiful half-timbered houses, decorative buildings, and the castle is more impressive than our own Château des Ducs de Bretagne. But I’ll take Nantes anyday.

 

Speaking of angry, I’m also quite angry at American Republicans at the moment (shocking I know). The campaign ad accompanied by accordion music and criticizing Mitt Romney’s ability to speak French is just awful.  Here’s a link to an article about the video and the video itself “The French Connection”

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-16549624

I know that the video and the mention of speaking French was meant to link Mitt Romney with John Kerry, and further support the notion that Romney leans more on the liberal side and should not be the Republican candidate. But I'm going to focus on how annoyed I was that speaking a foreign language was portrayed as a negative trait.

I’m not sure how speaking a foreign language can be deemed a negative aspect for anyone considering public office. My own travel experiences have given me a better understanding of the world and its people… have helped me better understand, appreciate, and respect our cultural differences. There is so much out there to learn, so many people to talk to.  How can we criticize this candidate for showing an interest in the world outside of America? America has forgotten that we are completely composed of different people who originally spoke different languages. When it comes to language we dismiss foreign language learning as unimportant, even criticizing it in this case. How can we truly connect with other countries if we are so stubbornly unable to grasp that we’re not all there is?

I asked my teachers class here what they would like to talk about in our upcoming sessions; they want to learn more about what is going on in the primary elections and how our political system functions. The world follows our news. It’s frustrating sometimes to read these kinds of articles and know that foreigners are trying to grasp these details and form an opinion on our people. To be honest, it can be a little embarrassing at times. 

Here’s another good article shared amongst many of the assistants here. It discusses some of Obama’s reforms and his “attempt to turn the USA into a European-style welfare state”. 

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/15/opinion/sunday/kristof-why-is-europe-a-dirty-word.html?_r=1

Sorry to get all political on you. Travel and language learning have done so much for me that I can’t help but feel strongly about the topic. The internet, Skype, couchsurfing, and the growing popularity of study abroad programs have opened up the world for my generation. I’m remaining optimistic in how Americans will be stereotyped in the future. 

Maybe the person who came up with this campaign video had only met one French person, and that French person was from Angers.

Bises

Steph

Bus Drivers and Beauty Queens and Sea Monsters OH MY!

I hate to use every Sunday as a simple recap of my week in France for you all, but since I don’t get to talk to you nearly as much as I wish, this is the closest thing I get to a conversation with most of you. You should get Skype. But continue to read please. 

I also am usually procrastinating on lesson planning each Sunday and quite enjoy updating the blog.

 I’ve been teaching French and American stereotypes in two of my classes. One of my students tried to tell me that one stereotype is that French people are hospitable. Well kiddo, either you have your vocab mixed up or you really have no idea that Americans think French people are snooty and rude. (My explanation of “snooty” as a vocabulary word usually involves me walking around the room, trying my best to look important, with my nose in the air). When I told people I was moving to France, the reaction was usually some sort of wrinkled nose and a “but aren’t they mean to Americans?” 

Let me take this time to talk about my favorite group of French people I have met thus far, a group who completely refutes this stereotype… the night service bus drivers. I have taken the night bus 3x now, with two positive experiences and one average unremarkable experience. I guess if you are driving a bus late night, sometimes on the club route, you’ve gotta have a good sense of humor. You do not, apparently, need to understand different accents though…My first experience the bus driver got on his microphone to tell the “Italians” that the stop we wanted was coming up… this was after we awkwardly pushed the stop-demand button too soon and no one got off the bus. We then proceeded to shout out our 4 different nationalities on repeat, none of which are Italian, and with a final “Bonsoir!” the doors closed behind us. Good night indeed. The next experience was far quirkier, on our way home from Miss Nantes (which was a far quirkier experience, which I will of course get into later). As a bored bus driver with now 5 people to entertain him, we hear over the microphone… you have accents, where are you from? Again, proud shouts of 4 different nationalities, 5 if you count my English friend who joke-insisted he was Japanese… which sparked comments from the driver such as “The world is living in harmony!” “Peace!” “There is hope for the world; there is friendship, not politics between you!” He then went on to sing a song that none of us knew, was upset that none of us knew it, took a request for “La Marseillase” and proudly and loudly did not sing it properly as he did not know any of the words. We got a little confused, missed our stop, and he let us off in the middle of the street near my beloved dog and now hedgehog sighting field. The French are battling the “we’re unfriendly” stereotype one night bus driver at a time, and I’m glad.

        

I love a good babyhat

                 I mentioned Miss Nantes, and I would hate to leave you hanging for details on that once in a lifetime cultural experience. Turns out beauty pageants are about the same everywhere… and I’m not sure I can call myself a feminist anymore after politely clapping for young girls in evening and swim wear as they paraded around on stage. It doesn’t take much to become Miss Nantes, you just have to be able to introduce yourself, wear a pretty dress (or an ugly one, there were some unfortunate clothes in the mix), and look good in a swimsuit and high heels. My favorite parts of the competition:  our decision that it was appropriate to eat pastries at this event (provoking a lot of incredulous stares), the “concert” involving performances of Jason Mraz’s “In Yours” and The Black Eyed Peas “I’ve gotta feeling” while the judges made their own big decision and we all applauded the singers ability to pronounce the h’s in these fine songs, and a fashion show that showcased some sexy lacy numbers and featured a few babyhats. We also got to see Miss Nationale, the Beauty Queen of France herself. Our general consensus about the entire thing is that we all have seen prettier French girls out and about in Nantes, we were sad that one of the contestants (one of the Spanish assistant’s students) was pronounced runner up, but pleased that we had gone out of our way to experience an odd little nugget of French culture.  

 

Continuing on in our cultural pilgrimage we visited the Machines, a Nantes tourist attraction, on Saturday afternoon. It’s a museum full of neat machines that humans get to operate, and it’s sea-themed. Science and Animals… I’m sold. Because I jumped up and down like a small child I was chosen to help operate the sea monster- given the task of operating the movement of the eyes, the gills, and also the steam that is meant to give the impression of an angry fire-breathing monster. We also saw the Giant Elephant walk by but all rides were sold out for the day. Heyo future visitors, I bought a yearlong access pass, so guess what we are doing when you are here? 

Earlier in the week my Foyer created a “Lipdub” the idea being that everyone lip-syncs a song and we film a type of music video for it, in one shot. I’m not sorry for polluting some of your inboxes with this video. And I’m not sorry for posting it again here.  Go ahead, click it.

Rock Stars, Foyer Style 

Believe it or not, this little gem took quite some time to create. If you do not find it amusing, you can at least see some features of the building I live in, like the small library, the elevator, and the laundry room. We had a few complications seeing as they chose an American song and there are 3 people in the video who speak English. That’s including myself. We also couldn’t hear the music all the time.I wore my silver moon-sneakers for the occasion, cause they are clearly party shoes.

Quick things about this week that are also worth noting:

I got a tv. And I figured out how to connect it to my tv/internet box all by myself. This is a huge feat considering that I am terrible with technology (I don’t know how to turn on the tv at Joseph’s because there are about 4 remotes), and that I did this in a different language. I was not desperate to have television but was offered one from a teacher and it will be good to hear more French. There is a show called “Questions to be a champion” which I think is a little like Jeopardy but with a more original name.

I used Kenny Chesney’s “She thinks my tractor’s sexy” to teach about American Country Music. Watch the music video and imagine that you are learning about country music for the first time. It was far too much fun.

Friday night we were at a bar that was serving a punch/jungle juice, which I thought nothing of until Joseph pointed out that this is a little strange for anything but a house party… but I guess one would also say that the idea of being approached by a man with a plate of crepes, followed by a man carrying a pot of honey and offered a free snack at this bar could be considered a little strange too. Is this real life?

I received a letter from Immigration and my final step to legalizing my presence here is scheduled for Wednesday morning. Yet another official-looking stamp in my passport is just an excused day off work and a quick medical visit away. It will be a relief to be done with this paperwork nightmare.

Enjoy your upcoming Thanksgivings. I am thankful for You! And that you read this. And for France.

Bisous,

Steph