Thanksgiving in France!

Bonjour tout le monde!!
I hope this finds everyone well and I hope that everyone had a wonderful thanksgiving gorging themselves on Turkey and Pumpkin pie. I had a rather interesting "thanksgiving" and I'm sure that it will be one that I will always remember, if only for all the warm fuzzies I got in my heart this year.

I spent actual Thanksgiving day in a classroom, trying to teach my beautiful French middle schoolers about Thanksgiving. Honestly, the only thing that the French know about Thanksgiving is that we eat turkey (la dinde!) and when I explain pumpkin pie I get exclamations of "degueulasse!" (disgusting!) I did have one student ask me why the indians didn't scalp the pilgrims...at which I had such interesting scenarios in my head that I almost forgot to answer the question. Anyhoo, Gwenael invited me back to Rochefort to spend an American Thanksgiving with is family. I don't need an excuse to go visit his family...I love them!

I took the bus early Saturday morning to Rochefort where I met Gwenael at the market. We bought a few last minute things for the meal...stuff for stuffing...various autre choses (other things). We stopped in the town square for a moment so that I could watch the ice skaters on the skating rink that had opened for the holidays only the night before. It was so cold outside...I don't know how they didn't simply die out there on the ice! I then managed to have Gwenael take me to a sporting goods store (We have nothing of the sort in Bourcefranc...it's too small!) where I was finally able to buy some proper basketball shoes! No more blisters on my feet! We met Dominique and the girls at the store. From there we returned home where I played the wii with Emma and Angele. Once again, they kicked my butt. We had a light lunch (well, Dominique called it light, but I was stuffed afterwards!). During lunch, the two oldest girls were having an interesting conversation. It went something like this: Angele asked Emma if she remembered being born. Emma responded "of course not!" and then Angele said "moi non plus" which means "me neither." So of course I was laughing hysterically. Its so comforting to have these three girls crowd around me each time I go to visit...I get to hug them and its rare that I get to hug anyone. Like I said earlier...it fills my heart full of warm fuzzies. After lunch, I helped Dominique chop up stuff for the stuffing. Of course, the girls had to help too...which made me fearful for their little fingers. The way that Dominique made the stuffing was unlike anything I've ever tasted...but it was soo good! It definitely tasted French, but that's not bad at all because French cooking is exquisite. We put the turkey in (first Gwen had to cut off the head and the feet...they don't sell them sans head in France...at which the girls made extraordinary grimaces.) and then we set off for a local museum.

The museum was right up my alley. It was called the Musee des Commerces d'autrefois...roughly translated, the museum of commerce/business from other times. What they had done was set up an old warehouse with different rooms which were set up as they would have been in the beginning of the twentieth century. So, pretty much, I love the end of the 19th century/beginning of the 20th century, so this museum stuffed full of cultural history was eye candy for me. They had a bar, a chemist shop, a launderer...lots and lots of typical businesses from the turn of the century. It also had a gold mine in print advertising. You may recognize the following poster...I saw an original full length poster from 1922! It was spectacular! What I wouldn't do to have this poster in my home... Anyways, as it was a warehouse, it was pretty spectacularly cold...so we returned to a home that smelled of roasting turkey.

I helped Dom make mashed potatoes...they didn't turn out as well as mom's, but honestly, what does? I also attempted to make gravy...pas mal...but not fantastic. But it did the job. Also, Dom made galettes de mais...kind of like little cornbread pancakes. They were pretty good. Another math teacher and his wife joined us for dinner. For an apero, Gwen had bought cranberry juice, which most of them had never tasted. In fact, Ocean Spray is the only form in which you will find cranberries in France. We then sat down to the table for dinner. And I must say, it was pretty fantastic. The conversation of course turned to food...the French love to talk about food. Gwen remarked that it was ironic that the French always talk about food while they eat and he inquired as to what we talk about over dinner in America. I told him that my mom likes to watch Trauma: Life in the E.R. as we eat and Sarah enjoys sharing delightful stories from clinical. Well, that's not all I told him...but I seem to recall an extraordinary amount of inappropriate for the dinner table stories told at our house around the dinner table. The wife of Julien (the other math teacher) brought a pumpkin pie that she had made. It tasted nothing like an American pumpkin pie, but it was GOOD! It had almonds in it and it was very mellow and nutty...I liked it extrememly. Good conversation was had and I was overall very thanksful for the kindness of the Caurant family in taking in a lonely American like me for Thanksgiving dinner. We finally finished dinner at around 10 or so...normal for French people.

I was going to catch a ride back to Bourcefranc with Julien and his wife because they live on the island, but first Gwen proposed a game. So...we ended up playing poker. But first, I snuck upstairs to say goodbye to the girls. Angele was the only one still awake (she has more energy than her two sisters combined) and she was reading by flashlight. When she saw me, she pulled on my arm until my face was at her level and then she gave me a kiss on the cheek. After a wonderful meal and a goodnight kiss from an adorable little girl, the warm fuzzies were just overflowing. So, I rejoined them for poker where I didn't suck too bad...an accomplishment for me. Gwen showed us his gramophone from the 1930s that still works. You had to crank it to get the record spinning but the sound was just fantastically scratchy and old. He had some big band music in there and it sounded like something out of the movies...it was the sound of nostalgia. I loved it! After Julien and his wife had wiped the table with our faces, we were finally through with poker somewhere around midnight. I then returned to Bourcefranc where I promptly crashed, happy, content, and thankful, for my first French Thanksgiving.

A Very Good Day

Hello all!
So...the French teachers are on strike today meaning that there is hardly anyone here. But they kind of neglected to tell me that they were on strike, so I showed up to class this morning and there was no one there. Oh well. There are probably 10 teachers here today and scattered handfuls of students. My second class had 4 students. We ended up watching a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. I have two classes this afternoon and I hope they will be there, just so that today will not be a total waste. Anyways, the important part about today is that I got my carte de sejour!!! (my visa). I'm no longer an illegal alien...I'm a legal alien! But unfortunately it expires in February, so I have to renew it at the end of January. Grrr...French government... Anyhoo, that is one burden off my mind. So, praise God that I didn't have any problems during the visa process! I've been hearing horror stories from the other assistants. I also won two auctions on ebay!! I feel like such a cheater cuz I'm awake over here when the bidding closes while America is sleeping...so easy to swoop in and get something in the last 30 seconds...bwahahaha!!! Ebay is exciting...I should stay off of it for a while... That's all for now...I have class starting...

French Bowling Alleys

This entry was written sometime after midnight, so please forgive the incoherentness of it all. (I'm not even sure if incoherentness is a word...if it isn't, dibs on creating it.)

I just got back from bowling with my bball team. An interesting experience, let me tell you...this is my second time bowling with the team and I must say that I had more fun this time. Maybe because I knew everybody a bit better. I suck at bowling...completely and utterly. I didn't get dead last, but pretty close. Anyways, back to the beginning of the story. We all met at 9:30 pm outside of my apartment. If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...these French people start their evenings too late! Of course, when you arrive, you must greet everyone, so you go around kissing everyone you see. Its better if you get there early because you have less people to search out and kiss...the people who get there after you are the ones who have to hunt everyone down and kiss them all. But Holy Cow! The bigger the group gets, the more kissing and greeting until its like a mass orgy of kissing all around you. You're kissing people you don't know and greeting them like you've known them all your life. I rode with Fabrice, his wife, Roselyne, and Gladys. I really get along very well with Roselyne and Gladys. Now, if memory serves me well, I don't really remember alcoholic beverages being served at bowling alleys in the states. Maybe beer, but I don't ever recall them bringing alcohol right to your lane so that you can consume it as you bowl, as in France. So, it didn't take long for our party to become quite boisterous and intoxicated. I just had a limonade (which was nothing like lemonade...I think it may have been something like sprite), while everyone else had beer and God knows what else. However, this increased intoxication boded well for my bowling game. They played worse and worse as the alcohol set in, making me look better and better. Thierry is already a loud guy, but after a few drinks, he is twice what he is normally. He kept asking me how to say things in English, would run over to the guys, try to repeat it, and butcher it completely. It was kind of fun to try to teach drunk french guys how to pronounce my name correctly. All the french people put the accent on the second syllable, making my name sound something like lau-REN. I tried to get them to put the stress on the first syllable, LAU-ren. Also, American R's are hard for French people to pronounce. Anyhoo, I have a feeling that from now on, I will get many butchered mispronunciations of my name. While at the bowling alley, I saw one of the gym teachers, Marc. The bowling alley is a happening place to be in our tiny town. Actually, my town has no bowling alley...we had to drive to the island to find one. Anyways, Marc was consuming vast amounts of alcohol and appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. It was a little weird to see the profs outside of a school setting. When we had all finished ( I finished third to last), we all trooped outside for good-byes. Once again, we entered into the mass orgy of alcoholic kisses goodbye. Everyone was laughing hysterically, and since laughter is contagious, so was I. I was very thankful that Fabrice's wife had appointed herself designated driver so that we could all get home safely, because Fabrice was just a tad bit too intoxicated to take the wheel. Anyhoo, its now 1:30 am and I am not tired in the least having had a cappucino and some coca cola earlier today...not to mention I just scarfed some chips and wannabe guacamole sauce (I'm not really sure what guacamole sauce is, but the French think they are selling Mexican food...I'm gonna let them think that, because its better than nothing). Until we meet again!

A Very Long Day...

This is direct from my journal following my very long no good horrible, terrible very long day (Ok, so it wasn't that bad at all...but it was certainly interesting)
le 12 Novembre
Well, I had another day of orientation in Poitiers today. What a waste of time and money. At least I'm being reimbursed. The earliest bus out of Bourcefranc was at 6:20 am. But I had no money for the fare, so I rode my bike at 6 in the morning to get cash from the ATM. That was actually pretty exhilirating, being awake before the rest of the world, listening to the birds...even if it was dark and cold. I got on the bus, which arrived late. I was pretty positive that the bus was going to be so late that I would miss my train in Surgeres...actually, that was what I was secretly praying for...I really didn't want to go to Poitiers this morning. Magically, our bus driver made up lost time...not really sure how as I obsessively checked the schedule in my hands at every stop so I could note with satisfaction how late we were going to be. Anyways, we made it on time...much to my chagrin. I already had an excuse planned out and everything. From there I boarded the train to Poitiers only to discover that my ipod was dead. That, also, magically runs out of battery...especially when I don't listen to it with the intent of saving the battery. Go figure. Orientation started at 9 and my train arrived at 9:15, the earliest I could get to Poitiers without spending the night like last time. So, I climbed the stairs of doom into the city once more and literally flew across the city, arriving at the CRDP in a record 15 minutes. I arrived to hear Benoit explaining the differences between the grade levels in college (french middle school...not university). As if we hadn't all figured that out already in our first month of teaching. Basically, useless. I did manage to meet Amelia again, the one I had lunch with in La Rochelle. Ended up sitting next to a boy from Wyoming during lunch only to find out he was also practictioner of living history. So we talked history over lunch, which morphed into politics, which is where my attention span ran off a cliff and plunged to a dramatic death.

After lunch was the only interesting part for me. We split into groups and one of the Canadians promptly named us Team Awesome. I was pretty ok with the title. He also had a true canadian accent, where he pronounced "sorry" just like Gilbert Blythe in Anne of Green Gables ("I'm soory Anne"...I love it!), which quickly raised him in my esteem. We shared activities with one another that we had done with our classes and we had to pick one to then share with the entire group. I shared mafia. Yes...I've been playing Mafia with my students. I know that's not true teaching, but they love it! Canadian guy seemed to really like the idea of playing mafia as well. Canadian guy shared his experience of trying to get his students to write skits. I was laughing pretty hard. Even though his French sucks, he can do a dead-on impression of a French person trying to speak English. For example, they were supposed to write skits involving apologies. Here is one such example that he gave:
student1: "you kill my cat."
student2: "I kill your cat?"
1: "you KILL my cat!"
2: "I kill your cat?"
1: "YOU KILL MY CAT!!"
2: I'm sorry.
1: Go to your room!
2: I'm sorry!
1: Go to your room!
I love French people. After all the presentations, Canadian guy gave us all high fives and told us we had "won". I didn't realize it was a competition, but works for me. Come to think of it, he said he was from Halifax, which is close to Prince Edward Island...and Avonlea! Which is why he sounds like Gilbert!

Anyhoo, I cut out early to return home so that I could catch the last bus out of Surgeres, but first I stopped at Monoprix to buy some peanut M&Ms...they don't sell the regular ones very often in France...just the peanut ones. I got on the train and as I didn't have a specific seat, I was allowed to sit in any open space. Well, the seat I chose smelled rank, and when I realized that I was sitting in someone else's seat and had to move, I was only too glad to do so. Turns out the cause of the odor was on of those vile little yappy dogs that belong to older ladies. The owner probably bought her dog a ticket, because it was chilling on the seat, no cage or anything. I'm pretty sure that's not allowed. So, i sat on the other end of the car and what do you know? We are lucky enough to have our car sniffed by a drug sniffing golden retriever while in transit. The drug busters were patrolling all of the cars and the luggage racks. I kept thinking that the dog would smell the sandwich in my bag and then they would throw me in prison and I'd never see my family again. You might think I'm melodramatic, but it happened to Edmond Dantes...it could happen to anyone.

So, after an excruciatingly long day, complete with over 6 hours of public transportation and another 2 hours of waiting for said transportation to arrive, I finally made it home. One bonus was that we had a glorious sunset...the first day in weeks that I've been able to enjoy the sky swept free of clouds. And it was a beautiful full moon as well. The moon is very comforting, sitting up there in the sky, especially when it is full. It's nice to think that the moon is the same no matter where you go in the world. Anyways, I arrived home with just enough time to change into my bball clothes and catch a ride with sebastien to marennes for practice. I was an extremely long day. I was pooped after practice, but of course French people sit around drinking red wine and eating pate after bball practice. I had some pate, but I just sat there hoping they would notice how tired I was and take me home. Which they finally did. And then I slept and knew no more.

I've been having my students listen to the song "Sadie Hawkins Dance" by Relient K. They have to fill in the lyrics that I've removed. It's very satisfying to hear a room full of french high schoolers singing "Sadie Hawkins Dance, In my khaki pants, there's nothing better...oh oh oh!" Everytime I hear that song I think of Duane Arthur Simpfenderfer Jr. and the way he sings it. Duane, wherever you are, know that I am thinking of you...about 20 times a day...every time I play Sadie Hawkins Dance.

Random thoughts on France...

So...here I am...sitting at McDonalds, shamelessly abusing their free wifi. I feel slightly ashamed to be at McDonalds, but when you live in a town as small as I do and internet cafes do not exist, you'll do what you can. Of course, I get internet at the high school, but the majority of the sites I frequent are blocked...like facebook. I never realized how hopelessly addicted I was to facebook. So, I put my laptop in the basket on my bike and biked 3 miles to McDonalds, just so I could upload pics to facebook. That sounds slightly pathetic. But also, it was an excuse to get out, because this is the first day in many that it has not rained. And when it rains, I am absolutely stuck in Bourcefranc. I tried to ride my bike in the rain last week. Bad idea. I'm never doing that again. McDonalds in France has good music. Maybe I'll just come here to listen to the music. And eat peanut m&m mcflurries.

There are a couple of phrases that I hear continually being an english assistant. I've also started using these phrases and thought I should pass them on to all of you should you ever choose to visit France. The first one is "C'est quoi, ca?" Which roughly translates as "What's that?" Its not the most refined thing to say, but in a French high school, I hear it continually, and have even begun to adopt it myself. The other thing I hear probably 20 times a day is "J'ai pas compris." This means "I didn't understand". It is very useful. I try to get my students to they don't understand in english, but they just stare at me like deer caught in headlights. I had a small success in class with the BTS today. I taught them how to play mafia. It was a lot of fun, but it took several rounds of "Jean-baptiste, you opened your eyes again! Now you're dead!" for them to finally figure it out. I hope that we can play it more successfully in the future now that they understand it better. I think they call it "werewolf" or something like that in French.

The French love to swear. I mean, over the most mundane things. And I can't help but laugh. I know, I should be more disapproving, especially with my students, but it just strikes me as so funny. Playing bball last night with the boys, I heard my share of words. Especially "putain". Originally, it meant something like "whore", but the strength of it varies depending on the situation. It just strikes me as funny. I really need to stop laughing (or at least sniggering to myself) everytime someone swears. Anyhoo, those are just a few reflections for now. I've uploaded two new albums to facebook for your viewing pleasure. The first can be found at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030769&l=7d9c0&id=64300928 and the second can be found at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030768&l=d30ed&id=64300928 Enjoy!

Medieval Adventures in Carcassonne

Well, I’ve just returned from the magical land of Carcassonne (well, it was magical to me at least) and I’ve got quite a bit to say. So, go ahead and grab a mug of hot cocoa or whatever it is that you drink, and settle down…because this is gonna be a long one.
We left Bourcefranc on Wednesday morning. Beatrice and I were lucky enough to get a ride with Aurelie to Rochefort…otherwise we would have had to spend a wretched two hours on a bus versus getting there in 30 minutes by car. The first leg of our journey took us to Bordeaux where we would change trains. Beatrice and I watched “You Got Served” in French on the train. If you’ve never seen you got served, you need to. Not for the extraordinary acting or the impressive dialogue (actually, I have no idea what was being said, seeing as it was in French), but for the predictability and the dancing. Actually, the movie is only watchable because of the dancing. And I already knew what was going to happen before we were 20 minutes into the movie. You know when you watch a movie and there is that one character that is just so sweet and charming? Or it’s an adorable child? They are always marked for death in the movies. Anyways, back to the train. We changed trains in Bordeaux with no problems. The second leg of our journey took us to Toulouse. In my mind, I see Toulouse as the Houston of France. Not because there are any actual similarities, but because when I travel, I always get stuck in Houston, which is reason enough to make me hate it. The same thing happened in Toulouse. We were only an hour and a half from Carcassonne, but we were stuck in Toulouse…for over 3 hours. And we changed trains…3 times. I’m not even kidding. When we got all settled down into one train, we would hear an announcement, “Attention, voyageurs…blah blah blah…your new train is now on track 5”. When we finally squeezed on a train bound for Marseille which would pass through Carcassonne, there weren’t any seats left. So, Beatrice and I hung out and lounged around the luggage rack. Finally, I sat down and squeezed myself into a corner and tried to sleep so that I wouldn’t be in the aisle as people passed us. We finally made it to Carcassonne, where we met Laurent, who had been waiting for us for two hours. He was on vacation with his family in Toulon, and it was much easier for him to meet us in Carcassonne, then to return to Bourcefranc and then voyage south again.
Well, I managed to convince Beatrice and Laurent that our auberge was within walking distance. The map said 2.5 km from the train station, but I think we may have walked a bit more seeing as how we were lost. Mind you, it is already 9 o’clock by this time and we are hungry. So, we stopped at a Chinese restaurant, ate dinner, and continued to follow the maps I had gotten off of Google maps. I should have learned my lesson from my futile attempts to follow Google maps in Poitiers. And on top of all of that, it started to rain. We crossed the Canal du Midi, and stopped and asked for directions every so often. Finally, we crossed the Aude and saw the medieval city of Carcassonne in all her glory on the hill across the river. She was beautiful and I probably would have stopped and stared for an hour or so except that Beatrice and Laurent were cold and wet. Well, we couldn’t really figure out how to get into the city (seeing as how it is a fortress), so we climbed into a catapult and vaulted ourselves over the walls, landing safely in a pile of hay on the other side. Ok, not really, but it would have been fun. We finally found a way into the city, climbing a steep, wet, cobblestoned hill through the outer wall. We now found ourselves in the lists between the two walls. But luckily, we found some Spanish high schoolers who were out playing in the rain and knew where our hostel was. We followed them through winding medieval streets and finally found our auberge! The guy working the front desk was Canadian, so lucky for him; he naturally speaks French and English. Welp, I forgot my passport and Laurent forgot his ID, so the guy used a few special four letter words, and decided to just let us stay even though we forgot our important papers. We quickly found our rooms and went to sleep. Well, tried to go to sleep, but there was an older woman in our room who snored like Satan. But at last I found my way to dreamland.

The next morning, Beatrice took off for Marseille. She was going to try to get a picture and autographs of the Marseille football team for her boyfriend in Martinique for his birthday. Which meant that me and Laurent explored the city all day. We started by walking out of our hostel and discovering that the main chateau, the lord’s residence, was right outside our hostel. How I missed that the night before, I have no idea. Maybe because it was behind a portcullis, who knows? We walked out of the inner city and into the lists, the spaces between the two walls. We climbed all over the walls and I took a bzillion pictures. And I saw the Pyrenees for the first time! They were covered in snow and were absolutely beautiful! But unfortunately, the temperature began to drop. By midmorning, I could no longer feel my hands. I was colder than I’ve ever been…with the exception of Paris and Normandy. Laurent and I paid to visit the ramparts in the inner city. For just 5 Euros, I took a three hour tour of the ramparts and the lord’s manor. It was sublime. Something like that in America, they would charge you an arm and a leg to see. Carcassonne used to be a frontier town between France and Spain. Before that, it was a roman fortress. You can still see the Gallo-Roman walls in some places. While occupied by the count of Trencavel, the pope and the King of France decided to launch a crusade against the Cathar region ( the region in which Carcassonne is found) because their theology was just a little bit different than the official canon of the Catholic church. So, after a long siege, Carcassonne was added into the kingdom of France. It was then turned into the major fortress that you see today. Through the ages, Carcassonne fell into disrepair and ruin, but Viollet-le-duc undertook a huge restoration project in the 19th century to restore Carcassonne to her former glory. Viollet-le-duc is kind of a personal hero of mine. I saw the castle of Pierrefonds that he restored in Northern France, and I also believe that he has restored parts of Versailles. But he certainly had a penchant for gothic architecture, which is fine with me.
After finishing the tour of the ramparts, Laurent and I went and searched for lunch. We ended up eating in a Boulangerie, but since they are my favorite, it was ok with me. Afterwards, we searched for the museum of chevalerie, but we couldn’t find it. Stupid medieval streets and their lack of logic. So, we left the city so that we could take pictures from across the river in the daylight. By this time, it had stopped raining and we enjoyed a leisurely hike down the hill to the river. Also, the temperature had risen considerably, allowing my mood to rise considerably as well. After we had finished exploring, we set about looking for a place to eat…we finally found the museum of chevalerie…but by this time it was closed. And so were all the restaurants. So, we returned to the Boulangerie for dinner. We also met up with Beatrice who had returned from Marseille. Her efforts had not been in vain as she secured free tickets to the match in Marseille next week. We then all went back to the hostel where I took a shower for the first time in two days. (Go ahead and say it…ew.) We then played Uno in the lounge in front of a roaring fire and in the company of other travelers. I love hostels. I love Carcassonne.
The next day was Halloween, and as I didn’t have a chance to celebrate, I could remark to myself with satisfaction that I had at least spent Halloween in a medieval city. We then returned to the train station, by taxi this time, as Beatrice frankly refused to walk again. But it wasn’t expensive, so it was ok. We got on our train without any problems and we were bound for Bordeaux within the hour, skipping the horrible town of Toulouse. At Bordeaux, we had some time before our next train, so we left the station and enjoyed some couscous and kebabs. We then returned to the station where I promptly fell asleep on the train and didn’t stir until we reached Rochefort. Aurelie came and picked us up again (I love her). We were all slightly delirious with tiredness, but it was a most excellent trip. When I returned, I checked my email to discover that I had basketball practice in an hour and they were going to pick me up in half an hour…crap! So, I scarfed a pb&j sandwich and threw on my bball clothes to catch a ride to the local gym for practice. But it was all good, because I got to scrimmage with the boy’s team…yay! It was a lot of fun and I think the only thing that could have induced me to leave my apartment after Carcassonne was basketball. I did manage to take a knee to my inner thigh, however, and consequently am very sore today. But it was worth it. So all in all, a most wonderful trip. Lessons to be learned (I just felt like I should include a moral at the end of a long story such as this, so bear with me).
1. Always bring your passport with you.
2. When you pack for your trip, make sure to bring lots of patience
3. An iPod or earplugs are handy things to bring to hostels
4. Don’t forget your mittens/gloves. I did. I now have two less fingers. Frostbite.