What’s more sparkly than all the Christmas Lights in Nantes, The Twinkling Eiffel Tower, and the Spanish Sunshine?

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated, but that’s not because I’ve had nothing to update about. It’s been an eventful couple of weeks… Foyer Christmas celebrations, Joseph’s visit, our vacation to Spain, and our engagement! 

 So grab half a baguette to snack on and a glass (or maybe a bottle) of your favorite wine, and read on. This may will take awhile. 

I considered smoking a cigarette in this, just to fulfill all the stereotypes

I’ll start by wishing you all a Joyeux Noël, a Feliz Navidad, a Merry Christmas! I hope your holiday was as beautiful as mine was. Cheers to the upcoming New Year! I apologize if you didn’t get this in your mailbox, or your email inbox, (as things were a little hectic) but I wish you all the best for the holiday season…

I know. You’re dying to hear engagement details. But let’s go through things chronologically and start with Foyer Christmas Celebrations.

My friends and I did our best to get into the Christmas spirit in this foreign environment, away from our own country and family traditions. School had a great Christmas lunch; the sea-scallops and the wine were delicious and a little fancier than what the cafeteria usually serves up. I spent a night making and decorating Christmas Cookies and watching Elf with other Americans… a far cry from the 8 hour day my mom, sister, aunt and I usually devote to this task, but a nice little piece of home-like Christmas preparations all the same. My good friends here did a small gift exchange with a 5-10 euro limit… this is what I received. A witty mug and a bank… giant, gold, and slightly obnoxious… it suits me. How these friends of mine have come to know me so well within such a short time is a little wild. 

Our Foyer also had a Christmas Party, with a huge spread of food and WINE, going against its own no-alcohol in the building policy (although whenever I make the trek to recycle my glass, suspiciously clanking through the lobby, no one ever says anything). Pere Noel was there, made out of a stool, a mannequin head, and a Santa suit. The whole event was loads of fun, but also a little confusing, as we weren’t sure if all the food first laid on the table (appetizers) was all the food we would get… it was not an easy decision when exactly to stop returning for seconds/thirds etc, and was the topic of more than one whispered conversation amongst the foreigners. There was also a band, not your typical holiday music, but reggae type music instead. I’m not sure why the French love this style of music so much, and whether any of the band members have any idea what they are singing about in English, but I’ve danced to more reggae music here than anywhere else in my life. 

Joseph arrived on a Friday, despite a hurricane-like storm that hit the French coast and cancelled all flights and trains the night before and the morning of. I have never been so addicted to the computer, constantly refreshing flight statuses. He had his own travel drama that involved sprinting through JFK as he was accidently in the wrong part of the airport relaxing and watching some football game… but all was well and he made it. Stephanie 1, Sports 0. 

I won’t go into too much detail here, because my approximate 7 readers consisting of: my mother, my aunts, my sister in law, my mine as well be mother Kelly, and some of my best friends, already know how we got engaged.

If you are a mystery reader who doesn’t comment on the blog, I will tell you that we got engaged in a quiet local Creperie in downtown Nantes, in an old pedestrian-only part of the city with tiny winding streets near the castle, over a pitcher of wine and a delicious regionally-traditional meal. It was absolutely perfect. We are so excited. 

I of course had no idea. When I questioned the boxy square size of his travel man-bag, and why he was even bringing it out with him to dinner in Nantes when he could leave it in my apartment, I accepted his answer that both his phones were in there, and he just wanted to have everything with him. 

I am also very thankful that we didn’t go to the pizza place I suggested as a quick and easy meal, knowing how tired Joe must have been from traveling. (As delicious as it is, it just doesn’t have the same ambiance).

That night was spent calling our immediate families and packing for Paris. I am so thankful to our families for keeping things quiet and off the social media network, because coming back home to Nantes and calling our dear friends, sending emails to those we couldn’t reach, and telling everyone ourselves was too much fun to miss out on. 

So we started our second European vacation as an engaged couple. It was actually pretty nice to be away from everything… cell phones, constant internet access, and instead just take a week to focus on us, with no outside interruption. 

Our trip began a little crazily, as we left for the train station in Nantes at about 5:30 am… making the 10 minute walk to my tram stop with our luggage before I realized I didn’t have my passport with me. It’s not something I carry around for my every day living here, and in my defense my mind was a little preoccupied by the giant sparkle sitting on my left hand. We made our train with 5 minutes to spare. 

Our vacation began with a day in Paris-  Joseph and I have already been to Paris, having spent a few days there summer 2010, so we weren’t on a strict itinerary to see and do a million things. We went ice skating by City Hall, visited the Christmas market at the Eiffel Tower, saw the Christmas tree at Notre Dame, put a lock on a Parisian bridge, and visited the Champs Elysees to see Paris’ most famous street all lit up for the holiday. Quite a relaxing start to our vacation… until jet-lag kicked in and Joseph spent most of the night watching Lord of the Rings in French while I peacefully slept.

I have wanted to visit Spain for some time now, I really felt like it was one of those places I had to visit while I was young. Spain was delightful. The food, the drinks, the colors, the sunshine… really lovely.

One of my biggest surprises concerning Spain was its aversion to speaking English. As a language person, and a fairly experienced traveler, I like to think that I can get myself around fairly well in a foreign environment, and that I tend to respect the language and cultural barriers that travel brings. However, knowing we were visiting two large cities, Madrid and Barcelona, I was expecting little to no difficulty communicating despite my lack of Spanish. 

Had it not been for Joseph and his high school + 1 UD semester of Spanish, I'm not sure I would have known what most of the menu said, would not have been able to order my coffee at breakfast, ask for directions etc. I was quite impressed with his Spanish skills!  

We're not married yet... but he already knows coffee is the necessary start to my day, even if he has to order in Spanish

I am American. I am a King/Queen of the world. Speak my language.

 Most of Europe has truly embraced the dominance of English- sometimes in large cities in France I will speak French and because of my accent the response will come in English. My Spanish friend here mentioned that she thinks that the Spanish, including herself, have a “block” when it comes to speaking English. She took classes in school, even at the university level, but the only time I have heard her try to really communicate in English was when she met Joe in our foyer. After a beer or two she once asked me why Americans think they are the kings of the world and that everyone should speak our language- ironically we were with an English friend who was not blamed for his native language’s dominance in world culture. The world has an interesting opinion of us… and I can only hope that I do not fulfill every American stereotype out there. I’m not saying that Spain’s aversion to using English is a good or a bad thing- it’s not like America goes out of our way to learn world languages to welcome people to our country and make their travels easier- I’m just commenting on my surprise in finding that even in the large cities language truly was a barrier.  

As far as our other opinions of Spain, Joseph preferred Madrid and I preferred Barcelona… although both were wonderful. In Madrid we went to a soccer game- a huge part of European culture that I would have missed out on had it not been for Joseph’s interest. It was so fun to be there, to see the waving scarves and hear the whistling boos when the hometeam did not perform as hoped. We acted as the locals, taking large lunches (usually involving wine), going home for an afternoon siesta, and eating dinner late, around 9 or 10pm. We drank a lot of sangria, ate a lot of paella, had a lot of ham or seafood tapas, tried churros con chocolate (delish). 

We also walked through the old medieval part of town, visited the Royal Palace (included a visit to the armory and the pharmacy), the Cathedral, and visited a bull-fighting themed bar, complete with taxidermy Bull Heads on the walls and graphic photos of gory bullfights. 

We like sportz and we don't care who knows

 

Barcelona brought on long walks on La Rambla (the most important of which was when we saw a bulldog), morning visits to the market for fresh fruit juices, more tapas and sangria late night, and a day dedicated to the architecture of Gaudi… something I’ve been wanting to see in person for years. I found a “Free”/pay what you think is appropriate at the end Gaudi tour… Joseph was a good sport and agreed to this… and we spent one of our mornings learning about the greatness of Antoni Gaudi’s works with 15 Asian tourists, some of which were studying accounting. Despite it taking a bit of time to get there, I think Park Guell was my favorite. I just really enjoyed the coloring and the mosaic works there. But Sagrada Familia was also completely overwhelmingly amazing. There are things I wish we would have had more time to see in Barcelona, and I wasn’t quite ready to leave when we did… but I tend to feel that way about a lot of Europe.

 

 Coming home to Nantes brought the fun of calling our good friends and giving them our engagement news. It was a special treat to call my college roommate in Morocco- I haven’t heard her voice in almost a year and I am so thankful we got to actually talk with her. Of course it was a little hard to understand her, as well as some of my other college roommates, over their excited high-pitched congratulations. Another favorite involved trying relentlessly to get a hold of my best friend from high school, finally calling her boyfriend who thankfully answered, and who she was with at the time. I demanded why she had not been answering her phone, she asked me what was wrong and if I was ok, and when I reassured her everything was fine she screamed “well then you’re engaged!” 

Looking like a native Frenchman

Our four days in Nantes were very relaxing…we did some city specific things like visit the castle and the machines gallery, but we also spent a lot of time going to the market, watching movies, playing bananagrams/cards/pingpong. Our Christmas this year was probably the most relaxing one we will ever have, as we had no where to go, and not much to do but skype our families, eat delicious food, and drink a little too much wine :)

I’m looking at a few lonely days here at the foyer, seeing as my good friends are European and not coming back to Nantes until work starts up after the New Year. The day Joseph left I did what any normal recently engaged girl would do in my situation… cried in bed for half the day, then decided to cook myself one of my favorite meals (duck Mmm), bought a bridal magazine, and attempted to make cookies in my toaster oven. The cookies could have been better, but they have mysteriously dwindled in number since yesterday nonetheless… 

Féliciations on making it to the end of this long long post. Did you figure out what was more sparkly than the Nantes Christmas lights, the Eiffel Tower, and the Spanish Sunshine?

My ring, duh.

Bises Bises,

Steph

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

Merci

I am a lucky lucky girl, with a lot to be thankful for. So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, which left me just a tad homesick here in lovely France, I thought I’d dedicate this post to all the things I have to be thankful for at the moment.

Of course, the first, most important and probably gushiest I’ll get right now, I am thankful for my family. I think it was my greatest stroke of luck to be born a Wiezbenski, as I have wonderful parents, interesting and smart and unique siblings (and their significant others and children), extended family who send me texts and emails and cards and even have visited me over here… it was not easy to be away from everyone this past week. But I really need to give a shout out to my mother, who is a gem among gems, who mailed me Thanksgiving plates and napkins and surprise! the new Harry Potter DVD, who instinctively knew I would need a pick me up this past week, and who put up with a lot of complaining and a dramatic story & tears about my frustrations in finding a cookie sheet to fit my mini-oven here in France. Of course she realized that some of this frustration was certainly from France’s inability to provide me with this oven “truc”, but of course stemmed from other things, mainly homesickness. Thank you.

I am thankful for many many enthusiastic Americans who wanted to gather together and share this holiday with each other and with our many foreign friends. We had a turkey! I made green bean casserole, but couldn’t find canned Cream of Mushroom Soup or a bag of Fried Onions, so I did it all from scratch. God bless you Crème fraîche. I am really enjoying exploring cooking more, and getting creative when I don't have access to what I'm used to in America.  We had at least eight nationalities at our festivities… and that’s when I am just struck by how lucky I am to be here. To be living this experience. To be learning every day, from new people, from our world. It's hard for me to capture those kinds of feelings at home, isolated in our giant country.

I mentioned at the feast… I am so thankful to have great great people to share this with in France, but I am also thankful that I have so many really wonderful people at home to miss right now. You know who you are.

I am thankful that the process of legalizing my stay here is complete. I’m an immigrant! For the year. And to get away from all these emotional sentiments, I’ll share a bit of awkward with you. The process involved a lot of paperwork, some passport sized photos, and a medical appointment. The awkward parts were when they took a topless XRAY to test for Tuberculosis (I think it’s because they don’t want to deal with people coming back to their offices to get a skin test read), and they let you keep the XRAY to take with you on your tram ride home. This was only after the doctor analyzed it (no worries on the TB thing) and informed me that I need to eat a bigger breakfast because my stomach was looking a little empty. Medical Technology you are so weird. Language barriers can be interesting at the doctor’s office, and the one that made me blush the most was when the nurse said the standard “Condoms are the only protection against STDs” line except I did not understand her rapid-fire French, looked quite confused at this statement, and asked her to please repeat, like I had never heard this information before… once I got it, I awkwardly stated “Oh yea.. they teach us that in America too”.

I am thankful for The Hunger Games, which is the series of books I have been reading recently, and which is the cause of the delay in my normal Sunday blog posting. I am first to admit I am a giant book nerd and love reading in general… but these I cannot put down.

I am thankful for the interest of other teachers at school in who I am, and what I am doing here. I have rides organized for 2 of the 4 days of the week, when teachers go out of their way to bring me to and from school. This turns my hour long multiple public transport commute into a quick 15 minute car ride.  I have also been asked into and taught 2 geography classes, mainly just answering kids’ questions on the USA and showing pictures from my Roadtrip Vegas-Ohio last summer. The students had good and interesting questions and I took up their entire hour of class speaking with them. It was nice to have an entire class in French as well, as most of my classes are obviously in English. I am quite enjoying the majority of my students and teaching in general.

Because this is getting long, like normal, I am quickly but just as importantly thankful for:

the markets here (that constantly remind me of my sister in law, oh Hilary how you would enjoy shopping for food like this, actually making a relationship with your food and the people it comes from)

With the market comes Pastry Saturdays, my futile attempt to control my consumption of delicious French treats. This week,with nothing in my apartment for breakfast, I went for an apricot croissant from a baker at the market near médiathèque. I originally tried to photograph it for you, but it was so perfectly flaky and gooey at the same time that holding a camera and enjoying my weekly indulgence was just impossible.

that I live in Nantes, a big city with many social options each week. Like this past weekend, the national Festival de Bars Bars providing free local live music in almost every bar in the city and many other cities across the country. One of my English teachers at school is in a band that played and it was fun to go out and see her.

The Christmas market. And all that comes with it. Mulled wine, chis chis, carousels, beautiful Christmas trucs, and lights lights lights. Bliss. I’ll leave you with those beautiful images.

Mulled Wine. The only reason to like colder weather

 

Bises Bises 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

Faites-moi un MAX DE BRUIT!!!

Loosely translated « Make Some Noissssse ! »

It was no UD Timothy’s Bar & Grill, but it was a bizarrely wonderful evening at Hangars Bananes with DJ’s shouting this phrase.

Un Max de Bruit is what happened in some of my classrooms this past week.

My friend and I made a Max de Bruit when we saw a man with his finger stuck in the tram door.

… all in all a good theme for the week

What’s been going on in Nantes/Rezé/Bouaye you say? Well I’m officially out of my little “womp womp I’m homesick mood”.  And here’s what else:

This is a real life metro sign in Paris, not in Nantes

Let’s just start with the tram incident shall we? My friend I were walking through the tram looking for a place to sit, happened to glance at a door we were walking past, and saw a little finger attempting to wiggle its way free. The man outside the door with his finger stuck appeared quite calm, held books or something in his other hand, and was smoking. The tram started to leave the stop. The man ran next to the tram because he could not free his finger from the door! We pulled the emergency stop handle. The man freed himself and ran off. We then had to explain to the conductor that we were not just joking, that this event had really happened, and that the disappearance of this man was as big a mystery to us as it was to her. 

The alluring glowy rings of Hangar Bananes

German birthday celebrations were fantastic and took us to the elusive and mysterious Hangar Bananes. We walked for about 30 minutes to get there… which is good because earlier in the night we were eating birthday cake that looks like this …  The bar we wandered into was some sort of Reggae bar, and I think I recognized the Jamaican flag from Cool Runnings. Someone else said it was South Africa’s flag. We may never know what kind of music we were actually dancing to. Like I said… a bizarrely wonderful evening. 

I saw a wild hedgehog in the field next to my building. It. Was. Awesome.

The man at the kebab shop asked me if I wanted a rewards card. Perhaps I should lay off the kebabs for awhile.

I used the new Twilight movie trailer as an introduction in my “Hollywood” classes. The girls were fou for it. Who doesn’t love a good steamy vampire-human-werewolf love triangle? 15 year old French boys that’s who. They were quite displeased with my choice.

I told students to get into groups of three for an activity. When they stared at me blankly and did nothing I told them in French to get into “équipes (teams) de trois”. They giggled uncontrollably & there was an awful moment where I feared I had referenced a sexual threesome. (I know the expression is obviously ménage à trios… but there’s a lot of slang I don’t know as well). Upon asking French foyer residents they confirmed that I did not say anything inappropriate and that students were giggling because that is what 15 year olds do.

I threatened 3 different classes multiple times to stop class and do grammar exercises because of the noise level. (I also just embarrassed noisy kids by making them move to sit by me). I hate grammar. (my classes are meant to be primarily conversation classes, so the students can “profiter” from a native speaker). There is only one class I dislike enough for this grammar threat to perhaps become a reality.  But I hate grammar so much maybe I will just tell their teacher that they are noisy loud disruptive students.

My older kids took a “Are you a Democrat or Republican” quiz to start off our discussion of American politics. They were Democrats. Every one of them. I was not surprised. In a discussion of “hot political topics” the legalization of marijuana came up (of course it did, they are 18)… Amsterdam was mentioned as an example for legalization for what they call “space cakes”. I then had to teach them “special brownies” as a vocabulary word. I was happy they were speaking. A lot of them were. In English.

To teach a lesson about American & French Stereotypes, I dug up an episode of The Simpsons called “The Crepes of Wrath” (HA!) This is the episode where Bart goes to France on an exchange program and ends up having to work at a winery with terribly rude French people who smoke and wear stripey shirts (stereotypes!). My brother has mentioned that this is the first thing that pops into his mind every time I tell him I am going to France. I can assure you all- I am chain smoking right now, wearing a beret and eating baguette, and have plans to ride on a motorbike in order to stomp on some grapes for wine tomorrow. Vive la France!

Ironically, one of my favorite classes is the one that originally skipped my first week. Boy was I angry at them then. Boy do I now love that they are silly, fun, eager to talk, and laugh at all my jokes. One boy asked me where I studied because my accent is great! I am not sure he understood that I am American and that my American accent is so great because English is my first language.

Upon evaluating my week and discussing it with some friends, I am quite pleased I was placed in a high school. My friend in a primary school spent a significant amount of one day with two flashcards yelling “repeat after me… this is a horse! This is a dog!”

I am really enjoying teaching. Lesson planning is definitely a lot of work, but the discussions and antics of high schoolers make it worthwhile.

And now, a little dose of awkward, because it’s me…

I got a French haircut, really just my bangs. Good thing I knew the vocab word “fringe” and had a photo with me, because this was my conversation with the hairdresser.

Please excuse the MySpace style photo

*he examines my hair, picking at it and looking at it strangely, and then says something that means nothing to me.

Friend who came along for moral and linguistical support “I think he just said your hair is frizzy!”

Me “Oh the water is different in France. I just recently bought French shampoo to replace my worthless American shampoo. I think my hair is still adjusting to the change”

Hairdresser: “the water should have no effect on why your roots are lighter than the rest of your hair.” …Which is what he was commenting on in the first place.

Oh yah… I dye my hair a lot. Can you give me fringe now? Just like the picture. I promise I won’t try to talk to you anymore.

And drumroll please, for my final bit of news… I am going to London in February with school! I was just invited this week and will get to see all of London’s famous sites, Chaperone style, for 5 days, for FREE. Merci Beaucoup Lycée! 

Bises Bises,

Steph

PS. A quick note on strikes… one of my friends didn’t have to work on Monday because of a strike at her middle school… why were they striking? The heat had not been turned on in the building yet. Teachers refuse to teach in a cold building! Students refuse to learn in these barbaric conditions! No school on Monday! This has been my favorite strike reason to date.

Fall Funk

I’ve been in quite a little mood recently, and I am going to go ahead and blame it on the changing weather. There are few things I hate more than winter and being cold- unfortunately since my surgery in ‘09 I am ALWAYS cold, and in the winter I think the only time I am warm is in the shower.  It’s been a dreary, rainy couple days in Nantes and I’m sure Winter weather will be here in no time. In the whiny voices of my campers last summer… “Mais NON!” 

I’m sure that my fussiness also stemmed from the departure of my parents and aunt… good thing I at least have a wonderful Christmas visitor to look forward to now. 6 Weeks! 

It took me about an hour and a half to get home from the airport on public transport, the whole time during which I was very confused why everything was closed. Ahh All Saints Day- a holiday. Thankfully I had some cashews in my cupboard, some wine in the fridge, and some candy buckeyes that my Grandma had made and sent over with my parents. No meal is complete without the dessert course, so things felt pretty well balanced.

I was meant to return to work on Thursday… I caught my 6:50am bus #1 to hop on the tram, got to my final bus stop and someone I assumed was crazy informed me that my bus was on strike. Normally, even in a strike there is minimal service, and there is always an announcement on the screen near the bus stop. The Spanish Assistant and I chatted it up with some bus drivers who confirmed the greve, freaked out a little because there is literally no other mode of transportation to school (someone mentioned the train, but really, the train? To get to school?)  I emailed my teachers as soon as I got home and received a response along the lines of “Don’t worry, this is France!” 

Are strikes common in France? In the month since moving here there has been a teacher strike, a general transportation strike, an AirFrance strike, and then this particular bus company’s strike. 

Some good news, I received a confusing letter from CAF, the French housing welfare program that assistants qualify for. When I showed this letter to the directrice of the foyer she told me that I have been assigned a number and that this a good sign.  I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I don’t think I should uncork the champagne in welfare-reception celebrations quite yet. But perhaps those celebrations will happen sooner rather than later. I am also fairly certain I have medical insurance now, but those papers could be misleading as well.

After about 2 days (or was it 3?) spent lying in bed and watching more How I Met Your Mother than any normal human being should watch in one sitting, I emerged from my cave and into the social world again. Don’t feel too sorry for me, I live in a building of 100 people, 5 of which I consider quite good friends at this point, and I have two feet that could walk to their doors and one hand to knock. I just wasn’t up to it. 

I visited my bread man at the market, was disappointed that my normal cheese truck wasn’t there, and purchased a bouquet of flowers. At the flower shop I was asked if they were a gift or simply for my enjoyment, I sheepishly responded for myself… the cashier said “With Reason!”  and smiled when she wrapped them up.  Finally, someone who thinks like me (or wants to help me justify my purchase so I will return to the shop in the future).

At the bar last night I was asked how old I was, which is apparently very old in the opinion of these Frenchies. When I studied abroad the younger drinking age was fantastic… now that I have run into my students at a bar and have also been harassed by 19 year old carpenters for my age, I am reconsidering the benefits of bar access at 18. The night ended with shamelessly eating a Kebab on the tram on the way home (which I’m pretty sure is interdit, eating on the tram), after ordering “an Americain” that we thought was just a HUGE fry… but instead turned out to be a sandwich. Bon. 

Tonight we celebrate the birthday of the German Assistant, who is actually older than I am (whew). It's a good thing I live in the foyer and have people I like a lot who I can go out with, because this tiny little room (as much as I love it) is sucking all of my positive energy lately. 

Step One, create pizza

I’m quite excited to start work again on Monday… I could use a little more structure in my life these days.

The week will also bring the challenge of booking train reservations for my December trip, and also finding a cheap toaster oven. Hopefully today was the last time I fry a pizza on my hotplate… 

Step Two, Place Pot over Pizza to capture heat and melt cheese. 

Bises,

Steph

You are on a cultural pilgrimage!

… said the Greek man that led us to the Acropolis. Isn’t that a beautiful way to think about traveling?

The ancient Greeks also believed that as humans we were here not to attempt to attain god-like status, but instead to think, to create, and to manage all that the gods gave us.

I am now home in Nantes after a truly wonderful vacation with my parents and my aunt in Sicily, Athens, Ephesus (Turkey), Crete, Rome, and Paris. I’m not going to apologize for how long this post may be… it was all good and I should write about all of it. Read if you please. 

I met my family in Rome Saturday evening. One of the first things my airport taxi driver asked me was if I had a boyfriend. Gah I love the Italians… (but I really only love one Italian/American).

In Palermo, Sicily we ate connolis outside the Opera House that can be seen in the 3^rd Godfather movie (shooting and death of the daughter scene). Here is my dad’s best mafia pose outside this gorgeous building.  

The history of Sicily is incredible (and violent)… we visited some catacombs displaying the preserved bodies of monks and nobles (separate areas for holy men, for professionals, for nobles, for women, and for childrens’ bodies. Virgins were dressed in white, adorned with a crown, and locked behind a separate gate…) Some of the bodies still had hair and skin. It was bizarre and eerie and just altogether a little oddly amazing. 

Our day continued to the Palazzo Chiaramonte Steri which was used by the Spanish Inquisition… really a terrible part of history. Some of the artwork done on the wall was created by prisoners… the colors were created from their blood as they dug into the walls/earth… they created biblical scenes in the hopes that they would convince the Inquisition that they had converted to Catholicism.  The square where women/”witches” were burned at the stake is just outside and now a beautiful garden.

There is a beautiful wooden ceiling in this building that portrays many biblical scenes and also proves the existence of unicorns.

Onward to Athens, Greece, and perhaps my favorite day, perhaps so much so because of our tour guide. What I love so much about travel is the opportunity to interact with new people and hear different perspectives, and this man did not disappoint. He was clearly passionate about his country, upset with his government, but also extremely hopeful for the future of Greece. Our first stop was the Acropolis. I cannot give the Acropolis justice in words. It’s something you have to feel. I advise you to go feel it for yourself.

 

We entered through the exit because our tour guide said that is how the ancient Greeks designed it so it made more sense for us to break the rules. I love that rebellious spirit! We were greeted by dogs- a lot of dogs that call the Acropolis home. They just kind of weave in and out of the crowds making sure things are going as they should… guardians of the Acropolis, and most likely gods reincarnated to protect their temple.

The Acropolis is so mysterious. We still don’t know exactly how they made it. We cannot replicate it.  My best guess is that it was created by aliens. Live long and prosper friends.

Other highlights of Athens: visiting the first modern Olympic stadium (made completely of marble and used for the first time in 1896). We heard a lot of really neat stories about the Olympic Games held there- again our tour guide was incredible. As you can see I was simply overcome with a love of sports and athleticism.

As our bus tour continued, our guide expressed his opinion on the political scene in Greece at the moment. I admit I had been a little nervous about our visit after researching the recent riots. City workers had been on strike and garbage was not collected for 22 days… they were still playing catch-up when we were visiting. 

We were on one street full of gorgeous cultural buildings- Athens first university, the library etc on one side, and across the way many banks and political buildings. This street was the scene of the violent riots (that were actually started by police dressed as civilians in an attempt to ruin a peaceful protest… the media doesn’t tell you that part) but the only buildings that were affected, broken windows, red paint splattered etc were the political buildings and the banks. Even in riots, the Greeks respect all that is thought, culture, art, and history. The side of the street dedicated to what I mentioned earlier- to think, to create, to manage-was beautifully preserved while the other side demonstrated disgust with the government and banking. Really a poignant juxtaposition.  

Our ship next sailed to Kusadasi, Turkey. Go visit Turkey. Really.  The history and landscape is stunning. The people are friendly. Turkish men will make you feel like you are the most beautiful woman to ever step foot in their country. 

Here we visited what is believed to be the last place where Mary, Mother of Jesus, lived before her assumption into heaven. We visited the house and drank from a spring that has been flowing since the 1^st century AD… the water is revered as holy water with healing properties. The site is also home to a prayer wall where visitors leave their written prayers. 

From there we ventured into the ancient city of Ephesus… come on all you friends that have been through years of Catholic school teaching- Paul’s letters to the Ephesians? Incredible ruins… and they let you (and many cats) scamper all over them. Only 10% of the city is excavated, so someday when I get to return to Turkey, because I will, maybe I will see a completely different Ephesus. This city from the early centuries of AD had so many modern aspects- plumbing, bathrooms, a library, a medical university and facility, indoor heating...  How are some people still living without those things right now in our world today?

We lost my mom here. It was crowded and she couldn’t find the group and for about a half hour my dad and I ran around the ruins searching for her, while my aunt waited with the tour group with hopes that she would find them. Turkish security got involved. I cried.  Here we are in Turkey and the only thing I know about their culture is that bargaining in shops is a common practice. My mom thought we were ahead of her and was waiting by the bus so we couldn’t leave without her… it was all fine in the end. Knowing so little about the culture and knowing nothing of the language, we did the right thing by choosing to explore Turkey with a guided tour. You’ve got to respect differences and sometimes acknowledge your own ignorance to be a smart traveler… and even when you do that things can be confusing. 

After that emotional ordeal, we shared a traditional Turkish meal together. Here are the desserts. Because I love desserts. And you should always have something sweet after you have been through a stressful situation.

Finally it was time for shopping in Turkey! They take all forms of money, most people speak English, and they compliment women like it is their job.  We left a rug shop where one of the salesmen had spoken in French with me, and before I knew it he had followed us into the next shop to give me his email address. In a jewelry shop where I purchased some earrings I received a free bracelet. This particular man also said if we missed our ship that we should come back to his shop, stay with him, and then made a joke about Harem rings. Oy. The Turks were quite friendly, and we had a lot of fun making jokes with them, drinking traditional apple tea, and attempting to bargain with them for better prices.  

Moving onward to Crete. Crete has a really stark beauty with breathtaking views. When we visited Athens we saw a lot of the damage from the riots and learned a lot about the political scene in Greece. When we visited Crete we saw a lot of the effects of Greece’s struggling economy. Greece is beautiful. I hope the very best for their country. And I hope life for the people there improves greatly.

Some highlights of the cruiseship… I ate the most delicious duck ever, and also had escargots for the first time. I didn’t have to boil my own water to make my coffee (it was a harsh transition back to reality in Nantes).  My dad and I took a ballroom dance class. We all spent one entire day lying in the sun on the upper deck. We saw a lot of fun shows at night. And where else can you come home at night and find these towel animals wearing your sunglasses on your bed?

After spending a day in Rome- St. Peter’s Basilica, Coliseum, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, and a wonderful meal of spaghetti and wine- our plan was to fly Rome-Paris-Nantes so my family could see where I live. Our flight from Paris to Nantes was cancelled because of a French strike. Like any healthy relationship, I adore France most of the time… but sometimes it does something that greatly disappoints me or makes me quite angry. We flew Rome to Paris and instead spent the night in Paris. Paris is so so lovely… so if we had to be stuck somewhere Paris wasn’t so bad. But I was disappointed. We ended up having a really wonderful night there though, and although my mom and aunt had already seen Paris it was really wonderful to show off France’s famous city to my dad. 1 point to France because my dad liked Paris better than Rome!

 At our hotel the next morning I saw one of my campers from last summer.  Small world. Look at me, randomly running into people I know in Paris. Amvil friends- if you’re reading this it was Cornflakes, that sweet little girl who fell down the hill and hung out with Chocolate Milk all the time.

It was hard to say goodbye to my family that morning. I have a really great family. And I miss the people from my America life so much. I am a little confused why everyone I love hasn’t decided to move here to France and live this fabulous life with me! 

But coming back to my little studio here in Nantes really did feel like coming home.

Bravo if you made it to the end of this. Happy Adventuring.  As always, Bises!