Success!

Check out this beaut of a bike! 

This Wednesday we went to the company's offices to ask how to rent a bike. They directed us back to the underground parking area. We explained what happened last week there. They acted very confused, then smiled because maybe since we are foreign we were not understood. This was no language barrier... the man told us to make a request (un demande) on the internet (same word, just with a french accent). We both understood each other completely.

Leaving the office, my friend asked me "Do you think we will ever stop being a novelty here?" People just give us these looks of either sympathy, pity, or amusement that seem to say: Awww cute little foreign girls with accents, trying to rent a bike, muddling their way through life in France.

Fortunately, the man this week was happy to help, and excited to try to speak a bit of English with us (he proudly told me that he worked in Orlando at Disney for 3 months).  We went through the whole process in my favorite language- Franglais. The wonderful mixture of English and French.

Same place, different week, different outcome. How to explain this? My best guess is that last week the man working just didn't feel like going through the process of renting bikes to us. even though it's part of his job. There were about 40 bikes in that room, and I don't think they all become available just this week.

I'm looking forward to getting more comfortable on the road (I have a helmet and a child-sized glowy vest to protect me, so nerdy, so necessary), discovering new places, enjoying the sunshine, detaching myself from the limits of a public transportation schedule, and going on multiple picnics with my bike. A wonderful treat for the last 2 months of my stay here in France.

*I'm hoping to avoid at all costs the bike incident that occurred during my study abroad session. But if anything happens again, you can be sure you will get an email from me before I even secure my bike, clean my injuries, and take care of myself. Bahaha.

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

Nantes & Coldplay

Here's a promotional video for the Nantes Marathon and les Foulées de l'éléphant (a 9k held on the same day).

While I will not be taking part in the race (duh), this little video highlights so many wonderful parts of my city. It would be a shame not to share it with you. Enjoy my city...it's almost like you're visiting me!


http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xp5pyw_cold-play-paradise-parody-adventure-of-elephant_fun


Bises

Steph

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

Snow Much Fun

I've heard nothing but talk of snow for the last week. Salt has been strewn across every inch of pavement for 5 days now. Signs are posted in the foyer: Alerte de météo, la neige arrivera ce weekend!

And arrive it did. For one night, and one night only, Nantes was transformed into a gorgeous snow globe. And the population went wild. Late night snowball fights broke out everywhere, even on the tram. 

Turns out I only despise snow when I have to deal with it from November to March, when I have to drive in it, and when I have to shovel it. 

Here in France, this once a year event was quite a treat. 

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.