(parenthetically speaking)

(big fish)

2010-11-09T19:45:00.003-05:00

So I have kind of sucked at updating the blog, despite good intentions.

Martin, who is three and one of my good friends in Osorno, has done some pretty cute things lately, and I thought I should share.

He doesn't technically know how to read, but he can do just about anything online--and apparently recognizes words. I discovered this when he climbed into bed with me Sunday morning and he looked at my email and proclaimed--almost all of these messages are from facebook (they way he pronounces "facebook" is adorable, by the way)--except for some of them like this one are just from people. He was totally correct. Kids pick up on SO much more than I think we realize.

Just a few minutes ago, he asked me "Bets, how do you say 'mono' in English?" (He calls me Bets--it went from Emilee to Emileebess (to avoid confusion with Emilee Paz) to Bess to Bets.) He didn't give me a chance to answer, and said, "I know how to say it, it's 'monkey.'" "Wow Martin, how did you know that?" As if I just asked him the most obvious question in the world he responds, "Well, I know it with my mouth, Bets." All he was missing was the "duh."

My favorite from the past few days happened this evening. Alvaro, the nine-year-old, went on a jog with me (I was impressed at how much he stood up to, the skinny little thing). Martin was jealous not to come, so when we arrived home again, he was waiting for us at the door, ready to do "abdominales" with us. He was jumping up and down, excited and said "Bets, bets, let's do the abdominales, the big fish ones!" I had no idea what he was talking about...when he finally showed me, it was push-ups--which in Spanish are called "tiburones" or "sharks." I totally cracked up and then we did some big fishes.

I'm gonna miss the kids when I go.

Which is coming up pretty soon, unbelievably.

(breakfast/dinner of chilean champions)

2010-08-07T12:26:00.005-05:00

roll

salted butter

hot hot instant coffee

Maybe it has everything to do with context and coziness--but this is by far one of my favorite parts of life in Chile. It gets me out of bed in the morning.

So good.

(a pact with winter)

2010-07-30T19:04:00.004-05:00

Tu as donc fait un pacte avec l'hiver: ce doit être ton destin.

My dear former French professor commented on a recent blog post. He said several lovely things in a homey language that seems far away to me these days, one of which was the observation "so you've made a pact with winter: it must be your destiny."

I think he's right, and I love the way he said it. I'm shivering in July for the second year in a row, on schedule to have another 7-month winter. I do get tired of rainy days and cold toes, and I'll have missed two Autumns, which is a bit sad I suppose. My skin misses out on the fresh air that my lungs enjoy and sometimes I'm just so over the hassle of layers. But my soul is much more at home in the winter, I've discovered.

Yes, I have always relished coziness. I get tired of layers but I love to have on a scarf. I miss wishing for a cup of hot tea when I'm dripping down another summer day; I'll often find myself just wanting to want to curl up under heavy blankets at night instead of keeping one leg on top of a thin sheet. In Chile, the coziness factor increases with the coldness--for an afternoon without central heating, there's the extra enjoyment that comes from standing near the fire in the evening. For the more frantic first chilly moments in the morning, there's a more extreme pleasure in holding a mug of instant coffee before starting the day.

I think that my "pact with winter" runs a bit deeper than just seasonal taste, though. I can't say why, but I feel more like myself when I know it's cold outside. If I have a heavy heart or serious matters to stew over, I'd rather it be winter around me--I feel more clear-minded, and more at peace about where I'm going. Sometimes just more at peace about having no earthly idea where I'm headed. Something about sharp, cool breaths and hard shivers makes me feel about as alive and ready as anything else.

You'll hear me complain about the cold, it's inevitable. But don't pay me much mind--it's good for me.

(address)

2010-07-30T10:35:00.001-05:00

Emilee Head

Simón Bolívar 2582

Osorno

CHILE

(let's try this again, shall we?)

2010-07-29T17:35:00.004-05:00

Blog's got a new look--to me it has quite the Chilean feel to it--green and wet and chilly and a little magical. This is especially appropriate since (for those of you who might not know, though I can't think who that would be...)--I'm back in Chile.

Last time here was pretty miserable, so naturally I'm back for more. Glutton for punishment? Nah, we all know me better than that. Though I'm pretty sure there are kernels of pessimism in my character that I like to think keep me grounded, I try to make plans with the optimistic bits. Optimistic planning, pessimistic expectations, and I usually come out decently pleased with how things are going.

So I'm back in Chile, figuring that it's GOT to be better this time around, having planned accordingly. I spent a lovely week in Santiago catching up with old gringo friends and skipping out on program orientation as I adjusted to the short days and shivers of winter in July, and then moved down South to Osorno. Osorno is about 40 minutes south of my previous Chilean location, and is a bigger town (there are traffic lights, for instance) with more friends. I live with a friend of friends named Maribel, and so far we've been getting along quite well. She is 30, studies English pedagogy (like most of my amigos here), and is a mother of three: Alvaro (9), Martin (3), and Emilee (2 months).

You read that right--Emilee is my tocaya--namesake. I didn't know Maribel before I moved in two weeks ago, but through the magic of facebook and mutual friends, she saw my name, liked it, and named her baby Emilee Paz. I get called Emilee Bess a lot in the house to differentiate, and I like that.

I spent last week helping run an English Immersion camp for high schoolers in a town called Angol, about 7 hours north of Osorno. I felt iffy about it going in, but it turned out to be a great experience--I bonded with my co-volunteers, thoroughly enjoyed our "campers," and lived to tell about experiencing my first temblores--little earthquakes. The kids thought camp was really great, and we were proud of the work they did. I'll meet my new students when classes start on Monday, but I have a good feeling about the teaching this time around, too--my co-teacher Gisela is sweet (and young), and so far it looks as if the other people at the school are glad I'm coming.

Well, my battery is about to expire, so I'll leave you with that brief overview of things here in Chile. I plan to be better about blogging than I was the past few months--so check back!

(where does the toilet paper go, again?)

2009-11-29T05:51:00.003-05:00

It's early morning, and I'm in Miami. Despite a severe lack of attention to this blog, the last four months have been more than eventful--I just didn't have the heart to post about it all. Life in Chile was quite the mixed bag, and so in many ways I'm glad to be in transit back to Atlanta today. I counted the days until my departure like I never did in France (so ready to escape the mean women in my host family and the fleas in my bed, among other trials), but in the end, I have to say that I'm glad I went.

I speak Spanish now.
I learned more about humility and patience.
I am even more laid-back than before.
I thoroughly enjoyed my middle school students, when we weren't on strike and I got to see them.
I feel that I was able to deeply engage Southern Chilean culture.
My host sister's baby, Josefa, was a consistent joy in a chilly (figuratively and literally) house.
I made more Chilean friends than I ever did French ones.
I saw breathtaking natural beauty on a daily basis--volcanoes, mountains, lakes, green everything and insanely blue water.

That's just a short list of what comes to my groggy travel brain in defense of my time in Chile. I have had totally new experiences and learned tons. Now I'm back, a bit nostalgic, and re-learning the things I forgot in my time down South. So far, that's remembering that toilet paper goes in the toilet in America, and not in the trash can ;)

(small town, parte dos)

2009-10-09T18:46:00.002-05:00

I didn't expect to have a follow up to the "small world" post of last night, but I should have known better.

On a related note (you'll see why soon)--I'm headed to Argentina in the morning! In the company of two program volunteers I have met twice, I'll be crossing the snowy Andes in a double-decker bus to arrive in Bariloche. It will be my first time heading out for a weekend (a long one, at that) and I can't wait to see what I see!

As we all know by now, Rio Bueno is quite small. It occurred to me last week, in fact, that there's not even a traffic light in town. However, despite my small-town celebrity and tranquil traffic patterns, I was still surprised by my small-town moment of the day. Eric works at a high school in town in the same capacity as I do, and since we both need to get to Osorno (about 30 minutes away, the location of the postcard tray from the most recent entry) to catch our bus tomorrow, he asked if I'd like to catch a ride with him and a colleague of his. I said yes, please. Then I asked where I should meet them to head out. His response?

"Oh, my colleague knows where you live. We'll stop by your house on the way out of town."

I have no idea who this mysterious high school teacher is, or why they know where I live. Something I've learned to do more readily in Chile is to shrug my shoulders and not ask questions. I'll just assume that they know my host family, and thank them for the ride.

(small world, parte dos)

2009-10-09T01:35:00.009-05:00

I chatted with a writer friend tonight, and I'm just as rebellious as I ever was about bedtime (even when I'm the authority), so I'm finally back, with a few new anecdotes in my ever-thickening file of "small world proofs " that I think you'll enjoy. There are three.

#1

Anne Kutzner has appeared in my blog accounts on several occasions. This time, she had something new to add in the way of crazy connections. Quick review of Anne as it relates to the encounter--we met when she studied abroad at Berry our Freshman year. Then she went back to Germany, continued her studies, and we've met up more than our share over the past 5 years. She recently caught a quick break from her studies and headed to Manchester, England to visit a friend who is studying there, Manu. I forget the details, but Anne ended up meeting a girl there who studied at Shorter College (the other college in the small, North Georgia Rome) while we were at Berry. I'm starting to start expecting these sorts of things...because they happen so much more often than I would have thought. Nevertheless, I'm still impressed that a German girl would go visit her friend in the UK and meet a girl who studied down the road from that college we went to that most people have never heard of.

#2

Charlie is a dear friend that I know from Berry. He was part of most things that I consider the best bits of college life, and some of the best bits of post-school life, as well. We've traveled in Europe together (with Anne from #1), and he's going to marry another dear college friend (Sarah) in June.

Kate is a newer friend, one I know from Rodez. We had tea and madeleines together often enough at my favorite café, Broussy. Most of our bonds were forged in common experiences of life in small-town France--fighting the paperwork wars, trying to wrest internet service from reluctant providers, and planning the occasional American holiday meal. Oh, and it turns out we lived a few blocks away from each other in Paris at the same time, too.

During my time in Rodez, Charlie and Kate both applied to graduate programs in English Lit. Charlie and Kate both got into the same program at Boston College. Charlie and Kate got the same scholarship for the same program (which Sarah had begun the year before). Charlie and Kate now have poetry class together and are/were "Scansion Buddies."

In short, Charlie and Kate (and Sarah) are going to be BFFs in no time (if all goes according to plan)--and it blows my mind that people from such different parts of my life would know each other in Boston, because of me. And be poetry partners, no less.

#3

This one comes with a picture! And in my opinion, it's the craziest small-world moment yet. As we all know, I'm living in the small town of Rio Bueno. About 30 minutes away is a slightly bigger town called Osorno, and it has a department store or two. One weekend, I went with my sweet host-cousin, Belén, and her mom to scout out a professional outfit--this was on our way to spend the weekend with her mom in the country. I was tired, and feeling bummed out under the florescent over-stimulation in a big store after spending more than a month in a town without a stoplight. After the clothes, we moved upstairs to browse home wares. I was in a bit of a fog, but while Belén's mom was cooing over some wooden mask decorations, I spied a set of trays, cups, and coasters with an old French postcard motif. You know the type--dramatic script, maybe a flower or two and some old stamps. I was feeling homesick for France and lingered over the semi-tacky home decor, and absently scanned the address on the postcard image.

"Hm, that's funny...that almost looks like it's addressed to Béteille...wait...I think it is...how strange, I wonder what other town (besides Rodez) would have a rue Béteille...HOLY COW this card is addressed to 22 rue Béteille RODEZ!!!"

Those were my thoughts, and once I processed them, I started babbling excitedly to Jana and Belén in broken Spanish, "Mi calle, mi calle!" "My street, my street!"

I finally made them understand the significance of this discovery. Wandering around a department store in Osorno, Chile, I just happened to find a postcard-themed set with the street that I lived on a couple months before. No, it wasn't just addressed to the relatively unknown town whose claim to fame is "Rodez was an important town in the middle ages." The address was on the street I lived on in that town. I guess it could have been closer to perfect. It could have been 59 rue Béteille.

All things considered, though, it was pretty damn impressive.

Courtesy of Jana's cell phone, here I am--flabbergasted by the address on this serving tray:

It's hard to make out, but if you know what you're looking for, you should be able to see it:

Oh, and to top that day off, Jana was excited to introduce me to her "panqueques." Turns out they were exactly the same food as a regional specialty (farçoux) that Kate (see #2) and I frequently enjoyed together during Saturday markets in Rodez.

That's all I've got for now. The way things have been going, though, I'm sure there will be a third installment. I hope so--keeps life amazing, and that's a great thing.

(awesome)

2009-09-07T20:44:00.002-05:00

You should all check out what Ann Jennings-Grisham and her neighbors have been up to in Bolivia:

http://cooperativaesperanza.weebly.com/

They're just getting off the ground--and I think it's pretty exciting!

(small town, small world)

2009-08-27T13:47:00.004-05:00

Baby Josefa has gone down for a rainy afternoon nap, and so have I (almost). I can just hear her mobile churning out the slowing melody of "It's a Small World" over the rain and wind, which has reminded me again that it is, in very fact, a small world. At least in some ways.

It's a small town, where I live, too. I forgot to mention in the last rushed post that I'm famous here--which should give you a better idea of the small town-ness of it all. One of my first days at school, right in the middle of meeting and smiling at and trying to communicate with the avalanche of new colleagues, students, and extended family of the host family, I was presented to yet another new guy. For all I knew, he was another teacher, and when my co-teacher made the presentations, they only went one way: "Oh, this is Emilee, our Norteamericana." This new man then kisses my cheek (it's how you greet women here), pulls out a voice recorder, and proceeds to ask me about the English Opens Doors program, how I like the School, what I think of the town...

"I am very happy to be there, in this town, to teach English for the students and for helping Miss Erna...etc."

That's a rough translation of how I must have sounded to him. And I was flustered, on top of it, because (as is the way of things here, it seems) I had no idea what was going on--and no one felt I needed to know. After the awkwardness of all that, the man takes his leave (another kiss on the cheek) and I turn to my co-teacher with a "What just happened?" and she laughs, puts her head on my shoulder, and informs me that I just gave a radio interview. Well, hurray. I guess that was that.

Turns out Rio Bueno-ians actually listen to the radio here, because not long after that, while out collecting things for my classroom (a classroom I still don't have yet...), I was "recognized." Thrice in one day. As I chatted a bit with the cashiers of different stores, my accent gave me away, a revelation that was followed up with "Oh, are you the American that has come to work in Escuela Rio Bueno? Hey, it's the English teacher!" When I asked how they knew who I was, the response was, "Heard you on the radio, duh." Ok, so they didn't say duh, but it was implied that OF COURSE they listen to the radio programs.

Today I went in to teach my fifth grade class, and was informed that that wouldn't be happening--I was going to give an interview for the local news station, instead. Alright, then. If anything, Chile is teaching me to shrug my shoulders and go with it, because I rarely have any control over or warning about the path any given day might take. So after oversleeping, rolling out of bed and into class (I hadn't even seen myself in the mirror before arriving), I shrugged and then did my best to not sound like an idiot, formulating answers in Spanish to questions I wasn't prepared for in the first place.

"What is your message for the people of the Ranco Province?"
"Umm... was I supposed to have a general message for the people of the Ranco Province?"

Ok, again--I didn't say that. But seriously. I don't have a message for the people of the Province. At least my Spanish is a bit better than it was for the radio program...I think.

We'll see if people watch the local news as much as they seem to listen to the radio.

Small town.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Back to the "It's a small world" vein, shall we? The more I travel, the more I feel like the world is a bigger place than I realized. Each time I encounter new customs or architecture or weather patterns or cuisines or table manners, I can't help but think about how many cultures, equally as rich, must exist completely off my radar--just like the current new experience was the week before. So what's up with the small world concept, anyway? We say it a lot, and I think it quite often, despite the previous few sentences.

For me, the smallness shock comes from surprising connections to fellow inhabitants in unlikely areas of this giant jumble of humanity.

During orientation in Santiago, I met up with a dear friend and travel companion--Amy--who arrived in Chile a couple of days after me, to teach English with her husband here. Small world, no? Well, that's not all. This friend is from school--but as it so happens, we never once hung out together during our time at Berry. Turned out we were going to Paris at the same time 4 years ago, and ended up having bonds created for us by common travel miseries we shared on an adventure to Italy. We know each other from Italy and Paris, and now Chile--not Berry or Chattanooga or Atlanta. Seems as if we have an easier time getting together when out of the country than in it.

I heard from Molly and Elizabeth (former roommates) last week that they had a "small world" experience of their own that week--on an annual camping trip, they met a new girl who turned out to be Amy's younger sister. I shook my head and immediately texted Amy when I heard it--while the two of us were hanging out in Santiago, her family and my close friends were happening upon each other in the woods of north Georgia.

Small world, no?

Well, get this. Anne Kutzner (you will remember her as a German friend whose family took me in over Christmas of last year) studied at Berry with me, as well--our Freshman year. Now she's finishing up her studies at the tippy top of Germany in a small(ish) University town, where she recently got a new flatmate--who happens to have lived in Chile and has been to Rio Bueno, the town small enough for me to be famous in, on the opposite side of the world. Huh? Really? But...seriously?

I'm impressed.

And today I feel like the world is small.

(por fin)

2009-08-15T07:31:00.003-05:00

Por fin means "finally."

After weeks of struggle to get my mac connected to the seemingly incompatible wifi at my host family's house, I now have the kind of internet access I am more accustomed to. For you guys, this means two things that had been too scarce since my arrival in Chile: blog posts and skype dates.

As I write, my host family is finalizing preparation to get on the road to Temuco for the weekend, so I only have a short moment to let you all know that I am, in fact, alive and thriving waaaaaaaaaay down South in Rio Bueno, Chile.

Get ready for some bullet points with the basics of my new life:

Río Bueno is a small town (about 15,000 inhabitants) on a low plateau, at the foot of which runs the "Good River"--Río Bueno. Nobody was feeling very creative on the days they named stuff here--The river is Río Bueno, the town next to it is Río Bueno, and I´m working at the oldest public school which is called--you guessed it--Escuela (school) Río Bueno. At least it´s not all called Río Malo (Bad River), right?
My host family is very nice and full of women. My host dad Tío Beño (short for Bernardo) is the only guy around and is a fantastic cook. He makes lunch for us (the main meal here) every day, with white bread and everything else from scratch. Last night he stayed up late making us empanadas for our trip. My host mom, Tía Adela, is a teacher at my school, as is her daughter, Caren (who's my age). They teach 2nd grade and special ed, respectively. Tía Adela is very motherly, which I almost always appreciate ;) It's an adjustment coming to live with a family after 6 years of living on my own with friends, that's for sure. During the school week, a cousin named Belén lives with us. She´s almost 18 and studies at the semi-private school in town, but her family lives in the country. She is completely precious and is probably the most patient with me and my cultural/linguistic deficiencies. I saved the best for last: la Josefa Emilia. Josefa is Caren's 6-month-old daughter, who livens up the house. She's a very happy baby, and a pleasure to come home to after school. We're teaching her English, and I swear she totally understands the term "happy feet."
The school has been a challenge, to say the least. I have to admit that I'm disappointed with my co-teacher (the full-time regular English teacher who is supposed to direct our course of study and "guide me along" in supporting with speaking and listening skills what she teaches). Suffice it to say that I am getting no leadership from her, and have to struggle to get her to even make lesson plans for me to work with. (She doesn't have time to make lesson plans, apparently). The classroom promised in order to receive a volunteer is still not ready, but they said Monday...hopefully so--I can't wait to get in there on my own with the students and start involving and encouraging them.

It's cold! Everyone tells me that Winter is on it's way out here, but I'm not totally convinced... Here, central heating is practically unheard of, and the heat for houses and stoves comes from wood burning. I'm getting more used to being chilly, but one of my favorite parts of the day is still climbing into my warm bed at night--it's got two thick blankets, a sheet, a fleece blanket, and a heavy down cover, as well! I'm looking forward to sunnier, warmer weather, and promises of cookouts in the country to celebrate the National Holiday on 18 September.

Well, that's all I've got time for, now. Pictures to come soon--promise! But for now I'm heading off with the hosties.

(full day)

2009-07-29T20:47:00.002-05:00

What did I do today?

1. I learned about how to teach from two very experienced and engaging women who work for the Chilean Ministry of Education.

Being taught how to teach, even before getting into the classroom, makes a surprising difference in my confidence level and readiness to tackle the job almost at hand. It's not that what they say necessarily seems revolutionary, but nine months of existing in survival mode in the French classrooms makes me very appreciative of the strategies they're sharing with us. Hearing their suggestions, most things sound pretty straightforward and intuitive--but as I learned outnumbered and in the heat of many moments, that just isn't always the case. I feel like these cursory workshops could completely transform my experience as a teacher. Hurray!

2. I was kissed by the Chilean Ministra of Education at the Chilean Presidential Palace.

The program I'm here with is an initiative of the Chilean government, and all the participants are volunteers, so as part of our orientation day today, we all went to the Palacio de la Moneda (there's a picture of it in the last post) for a picture with the Ministra, who wanted to thank us for coming. After the picture, we were allowed to go into the courtyards, and while looking around, I was suddenly embraced and kissed on the cheek by the Ministra who smiled and looked very moved, patted my arm with a "Gracias" and moved away towards the exit. I was completely caught off-guard by her warmth and genuine emotion. Chile has generally been far more welcoming than France was, and this bodes well for my time in Rio Bueno (where I'll be going). It's nice to feel wanted.

3. I enjoyed a free admittance to the Rapa Nui (Easter Island) Culture museum at the end of afternoon Spanish classes (my teacher was a language assistant in France last year--small world!).

4. I came to an opinion about the perros callejeros of Santiago.

Perros callejeros is the term for the ownerless dogs that live on the streets of Santiago. I like them just fine. They are everywhere, but they are calm and don't bother people or bark too often. They just share the city with everyone--accompanying you for a stretch, perhaps, or napping in corners. They even respect the traffic patterns--it's strange to watch dogs crossing at crosswalks and at the appropriate time. Additionally, there seems to be about 90% fewer dog turds on the sidewalks here than in France, where almost all of the dogs are personal pets with "responsible" owners.

5. Lastly, and most pleasantly, I enjoyed a reunion long in coming with a good friend who arrived here this morning with her husband. The friend is the famous Amy from the infamous "Getting to Italy" story that so many of you have heard in all its gory glory. Despite the fact that all three of us graduated from Berry, we seem only to see each other in foreign countries. It was a bit surreal that we were just meeting up in Santiago like it was the most normal thing in the world...but at the same time, the general pattern of my life seems to be ensuring that unlikely international rendez-vous become just that-- the most normal things in the world.

(a weekend's worth)

2009-07-27T18:44:00.018-05:00

In the interest of expediency, a selection of photos from the last couple of days in Santiago without much commentary:

Part of the Andes from the plane early Saturday morning. The mountains on the other side of the plane were more "majestic" so to speak, but I was more than impressed with my side of sunrise peaks.

First food in Chile, and first spending of Chilean Pesos. I went on a short walk Saturday evening before dark (which is early here, as it's winter) after 5 hours of blissful sleep under heavy blankets and all stretched out in a real bed. I went in the first place that looked warm and not too busy. I figured this way I could stumble through some rusty Spanish without feeling rushed. It was just the right place to stop--I had a chance to confess my green(go?)ness and ask for her suggestion. This is what she handed me--a hotdog buried in tomatoes and mashed avocado, with a little mayo on top. Oh, and that's pineapple juice she made for me right then--amazing juice seems par for the course here.

Obviously, if this is the land of fresh-squeezed juices and avocados as a standard condiment, I'm in the right place. :)

A couple of blocks from our hostel is the where the President (a lady named Michelle Bachelet) lives. It's the Palacio de la Moneda. Unlike the White House, there's access just up to and even into an inner court in the building--traffic runs just in front of the entrance.

Adjacent to the Palacio is this sign, reading, "Best justice, best country." Alright, then.

On the way up the cerro Santa Lucía, a hill peppered with interesting (and pretty European-looking) architecture, which affords some great views of the city and the surrounding mountains. There are peaceful sleeping dogs everywhere, too.

Another shot on the way up the hill. I love the Yellow so much I'm going to capitalize it.

Going directly from summer to mid-winter with no gradual autumn transition gave me an opportunity to appreciate the differences between summer and winter light in a new way. This sunny day had such a distinct atmosphere than a sunny day in July at home.

Challenge: find the Emilee!

No ordinary paint job.

Getting closer to one of Pablo Neruda's homes...

...with a Llama on the way! His house was right near another hill (that I haven't been up yet)--which has a zoo. There were, naturally, llamas to ride outside, face painters, and all sorts of kid-friendly vendors.

Mural outside Neruda's home. The text translates to, "...And it was at that age that poetry came looking for me. I don't know, don't know where it came from, from the winter or the river."

This residence is called "La Chascona," which is a Chilean term for "the messy-haired one." The property was designed as a secret hideaway for Neruda and his mistress/third wife, who had crazy hair. I really enjoyed the tour, and only regret that it seemed a bit rushed, since our otherwise-fantastic guide was ready to get home after the last tour. No other pictures, as they weren't allowed. But know that it was fascinating!

Well, that's it for now. Today was the beginning of orientation, which will last for the rest of the week. Not too much else to report, except that I'm happy to remember what it is I love about travel and the person that changes in context force me to be.

The Spanish is going well enough, and I'm eager to improve. On a funny note, the instructor for my Spanish course this week was a language assistant in France last year--it was fun to converse a bit with someone in Chile who recently returned from the same French school adventure as I did!

Buenas noches!

(chilly)

2009-07-25T10:34:00.002-05:00

Just a quick word from the hostel in Santiago--after a whirlwind 3 weeks, I´ve hit the third continent, and officially entered Winter #2 of 3 for this calendar year! All I know so far is that it is, in fact, Winter, but sunny, and that the Andes I saw from the plane and the trip into town are seriously breathtaking!

Wish me luck as I try not to accidentally speak French to everyone!

I´m off to a nap before I go exploring--this trip was about 27 hours, but easier with my luggage checked and no train-loading to speak of :)

Bisous, besos, schoene Gruesse and much love!

(america)

2009-07-07T08:22:00.003-05:00

Well, there you have it. After a 25 hour train ride, a happy weekend of parties in Berlin, and a 23 hour plane adventure, I've made it safe and sound at least as far as Atlanta. It's strange to be back, as expected, and I'm not even quite "back" yet--James is picking me up from Molly's apartment later this morning, which I'm at because my awesome old roommate came to get me when I didn't make my last flight. There will be more updates soon--there's even a play-by-play of my train ride that I'll be posting here soon, when I have my own computer up and running and am a bit more settled.

Coming home to a place that doesn't feel like home anymore is always strange, but a generally positive experience, all the same. Homesickness for a life in Europe that already seems so far away is setting in, but I'm enjoying the rediscovery of American pleasures I'd forgotten about: I could grab a sandwich at midnight, Molly poured me up a big glass of milk to drink with a Savannah pecan praline, there's air conditioning to combat the oppressive humidity, and I'm certainly excited about the series of giant reunion-hugs coming my way oh-so-soon.

On the neither up nor down side, however--I'm not sure how I feel about arriving home and finding out that the pennies look different. Even though it feels like I might never have left at all, there are those little elements that reassure me that a great year in Europe isn't a figment of my imagination, after all.

But seriously, what's up with changing the pennies?

(recess)

2009-06-18T08:39:00.002-05:00

It's recess, and I have a mission (given to me by Mathieu, age 8): When I go home to America, will I please say hello to Monsieur Obama for him?

Thomas doesn't ask me to do him favors for something he can do himself. He informed me he'll just say hi to Monsieur Obama in person, after I bring him to America with me in my carry-on.

I made no promises.

And apparently I'm famous in Rodez, at least in my students' eyes--Romain asked me today, "Are you also famous in your town in America?" Sorry to disappoint him, I said no. He looked bewildered by this revelation of my ordinariness.

Maybe I will bring a couple of them home in my carry-on, after all. Who doesn't need a travelling band of tiny French fans?

(au revoir & hola)

2009-06-16T09:17:00.003-05:00

It has been a VERY long time since my last post, and for that I suppose I can't complain if it turns out no one is checking up on my blog anymore...but for those who still have hope, I'm back! I've got pictures from a weekend in Provence to share later, silly student stories, and eventually some long-awaited Ireland pictures (I'm waiting to get my copies of the rest of them before deciding what to put up).

All of that, however, is for another time. As it turns out, and rather suddenly (doesn't it always?), my year in Rodez is speeding to an end. I leave for Berlin to fly home in just over two weeks, and my roommate, Sandra, is heading home to Colombia tomorrow. It's officially time to start feeling bittersweet about leaving the little impermanent life I built up in Rodez, and definitely a time to be looking towards the next thing with excitement and trepidation-- something that is becoming a bit of an annual ritual with me.

So--the next thing. Believe it or not (even I'm still getting my head wrapped around it), I'm moving to...

CHILE

...in 6 weeks.

I just found out that I've been accepted as a volunteer through English Opens Doors, a Chilean/UN program that gets English speakers in the classrooms, interacting with the students and getting them excited about (as well as more competent in) speaking English. Yes, it sounds familiar because it is very similar to what I've been doing in Rodez this year. There are a few differences, however:

--I am only going to be able to stay for 4 months--meaning I'll be Stateside by Christmas.

--I'll be speaking Spanish instead of French.

--I'll live with a host family (yay!).

--I'll be working a whole lot more (a full work-week, which should be a cultural adjustment of its own after this year of vacations in France). :-P

I don't know where I'll be in Chile. They'll tell me the general area about two weeks before I leave, and then I'll find out more when I arrive at orientation in Santiago.

So that's the update. It's going to be a crazy six weeks and then a crazy four months after that, but I can't wait to dive into something so totally different. Oh, and let me clarify "a crazy six weeks." I will wrap up life in Rodez and move out of my apartment, then begin a 4-week period that will in which I will spend time in 4 countries: France, Germany, the US, and Chile. Whew! But as insane as all that will be, and as nervous as I'm getting, I am flabbergastedly pleased with this next step. Hurray for adventures!

In conclusion: Ack!!

(ferocious!)

2009-04-25T06:29:00.003-05:00

As previously decided (see the post below), Thursday was a good day.

I love it when my lesson takes on a life of its own and connects that much more effectively with my little learners. I hadn't seen my CP class in about a month, what with their trips to the pool in late March and my 20-day Spring break (hey, now--I can see that eye-roll. Oh, fine, you're right--it is ridiculous.). The long hiatus plus the fact that six-year-olds don't tend to retain a whole lot when you only see them once per week freed me of any hesitation to hit the animal kingdom again with them.

Out came my animal picture cards. We'd just learned about "good," "bad," and "okay" talking about their vacations, and when I queried, "Are you ready to learn about animals?" I was met with a grinning and thumbs-upped "GOOD!" Well, I had to smile that at least they got the general idea of that one. So we moved on, but not before Maël urgently raised her hand (I expected her to ask if she could go to the bathroom) and announced, "Moi, j'aime tous les animaux sauf les plus féroces, parce qu'ils me font trop peur. Comment dit-on féroce en anglais?"

"I like all the animals except the most ferocious ones, because they're too scary. How do you say ferocious in English?"

I had planned to review the animal names and get the kids listening for words they recognized within more complex sentences by asking "Do you like lions/cows/etc?" But the kids were so electrified by this new word, ferocious! (pronounced with the exclamation point), that I went with that instead.

Is the BIRD ferocious?

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Is the LION ferocious?

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"

Is the CAT ferocious?

"OOKAAAY!" (Their best approximation of "sometimes")

Who knows how many of the animals they'll remember. I've long resigned myself to the fact that my job with them has to be getting them excited about English and getting their brains hearing and imitating its sounds in preparation for next year. Thus, vocabulary retention is more of a happy byproduct than a primary goal.

I have a feeling one of the few words that might stick, though, is "ferocious!" During recess most of that class could be heard yelling "ferocious!" at each other and miming the scary animals. Of all the words for six-year-olds to know in a foreign language... Sure, someone will painstakingly re-teach them how to introduce themselves and remind them of the colors next Fall. But I like to think that I gave them "ferocious!" and imagine next year's English teacher chuckling curiously to him/herself upon hearing it proffered as proof of Maël's passion for the English language.

:)

(plus belle la vie)

2009-04-23T03:03:00.002-05:00

I snatched the title of this post from a French soap opera that I've never seen and probably never will (it doesn't come on one of our three TV channels). I have, however, become familiar with the tones of passionate devotion in which most of my 11-year-old students pronounce it. These girls love this show, and it's rare to hear them talk about the most recent plot twist without at least one heavy, contagious sigh making its rounds among them. The show moves their souls.

This morning, I woke up before my alarm and feeling good--about the classes I'll teach soon, the tea I'm currently drinking, the sunshine brightening the apartment, the Skype date set for this afternoon... More than that, even, I'm up feeling chipper as I recall good conversations and reconnections from the last couple of weeks, excited about finding time to read good books, and yes, even feeling for the first time in a long while that I've got a couple of writing projects bumbling around up my sleeve.

There is, of course, plenty that could damper my morning spirit (what the hell I am going to do with my life after June, for example), but today it's not going to happen. I decided. To quote the illustrious George W., "I'm the decider" and I think I've made a very wise decision.

Nope, this morning I've decided to borrow the bright eyes and keen interest that my devoted students accord to the show whose title translates to "Life, more beautiful" with one adjustment--I'll appropriate their admirable fervor to my own life, more beautiful today for the good start it's off to.

(teaser)

2009-04-18T17:21:00.004-05:00

I've been in a strange fog of adjustment since arriving in Rodez from Dublin early this morning. My body is certainly back in Aveyron, but my mind and (dare I say it) my heart are still in Ireland.

Seeing something new is always invigorating. Throw in spectacular natural beauty, good company, excellent timing, a small car, adventurous spirits, a couple hundred baby lambs, several pints and a dash of poetry--there's not much more you can ask of a Spring break.

I'm still in the process of managing the photos. Looking through them, I can hardly believe the week I just wound up. I'm completely knackered at the moment, so it's not the time for a giant picture or adventure re-cap. It is, however, the time for me to avow my strengthening attachment to the Irish poet W.B. Yeats (a rediscovery that began the night of the last post, when I devoured a borrowed anthology of his poetry waiting for the sunrise).

I didn't realize it, but that spark of connection to the poet fell in perfectly with my approaching trip, and my Irish experience was far richer for it. Our very first real stop, in fact, was Coole Park (click here)-- the setting for Yeats' poem The Wild Swans at Coole. I wouldn't have thought of stopping there on our way to Galway, but I lucked out having an astute Yeats-lover for a driver who did think of it and got us there. The serenity of the park and lake under a bright, dripping sky quietly astounded me, and set the pace for a week of frequent, soul-soothing and soul-stirring beauty. That said, it's no wonder the Irish have such a rich cultural heritage.

The Wild Swans at Coole

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Under their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the aire;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away.

W.B. Yeats

(nuit blanche)

2009-03-29T09:19:00.003-05:00

I wrote a post a few years ago about Nuit Blanche--a night in Paris when the museums and cafés and metro stations stay open all night and the citizens stay out until dawn. The term literally means "white night," referring to the lack of darkness during the customarily universal down-time. It can also refer to what we know as an "all-nighter," that miserable institution of the remorseful college student scrambling to get that paper finished before morning.

Last night Sandra and I enjoyed a different, and my personal favorite, take on nuit blanche. After an unexpectedly lovely evening with a couple other assistants, we moseyed home and somehow just ended up never going to sleep. Instead, we colored pictures, listened to music, watched the daylight savings kick in on the computer clock, read some borrowed Yeats, laughed about the preceding evening and made ridiculous jokes that could only resonate with minds alert beyond their usual boundaries. Then somehow it was 4:30 and it seemed only reasonable to wait for sunrise. The last hour of consciousness, between 5:30 and 6:30, was a bit zombie-fying, but we made it and marched up to one of the lookout spots in town (obvious advantage to living in a town on a hill) to wait for the sun. Best idea yet. I'm sure we looked a bit ridiculous to the couple of cars that passed us--two girls with their backs to the road, palms to ears, doing aerobic steps back and forth to keep warm. We stood there for an hour, until all the streetlights had switched off and the birds had simmered down, until the sleeping cat in the flower pot below us stretched awake and cows appeared on a near hillside to graze. Eventually we headed back home, trying not to feel unsettled by the awareness that our morning escapade was made possible by the fact that we are, in fact, all hurtling through space and spinning. By 7:30 we were quite ready for a hot chocolate, if less ready for bed than we'd anticipated :)

(camus)

2009-03-21T16:20:00.004-05:00

"On voyage pendant des années sans trop savoir ce que l'on cherche, on erre dans le bruit, empêtré de désirs ou de repentirs et l'on parvient soudain dans l'un de ces deux ou trois lieux qui attendent chacun de nous en ce monde..." -- Albert Camus

"We travel for years without really knowing what we're looking for; we cast about in the noise, tangled up in desires or regrets and then suddenly, we find ourselves in one of the two or three places in this world that has been waiting for each of us..." --Albert Camus, my translation

I stumbled upon these lines by Camus today while walking up a street--isn't that lovely? To be met with written insight far from a library or even a book? A few friends and I took hold our Spring Saturday by piling into Gaston (the little Ford Fiesta) and heading off to traipse around the Tarn area, around an hour from Rodez. We started out with a really beautiful walk through Cordes sur Ciel, which is where we saw this quote of Camus' posted at the beginning of our ascent through the cluttered medieval town whose name means roughly, "Rocky Heights on the sky." Camus' words struck a "corde" with me (ahaha), and I couldn't wait to share them with my fellow traveling souls, so there they are. But of all the quotes and all the little French villages, this one was posted there because of the bit of quote that follows:

"...Le voyager qui, de la terasse de Cordes [sur Ciel], regarde la nuit d'été sait ainsi qu'il n'a pas besoin d'aller plus loin et que, s'il veut, la beauté ici, jour après jour, l'enlèvera à toute solitude."

"...The traveler who takes in the summer night from the terrace at Cordes [sur Ciel], knows then, that he need not go any further, and if he wants, the beauty here, day after day, will lift him out of all loneliness."

After that testimony, I don't suppose it's necessary for me to insist that it was certainly a spectacular place. But it was.

(oops)

2009-03-19T06:17:00.005-05:00

I forgot one last Bristol picture. However, to fully appreciate that picture, you must first understand the wonder of aligot, a traditional dish from my region in France, Aveyron. Outside of Aveyron, people don't really know about aligot, but within the region, it enjoys celebrity status. Think cheesy mashed potatoes. Think reeeeeeeally cheesy mashed potatoes. Then make sure the cheese is a special regional cheese that only comes from a special variety of local cows, and multiply the amount of cheese you were thinking by 10. Add garlic. That's aligot. It is delicious.

If you look it up on google images, you'll often see people with a giant vat of it, spooning huge quantities of it as high as possible to show off the smooth, very elastic texture. Like this guy:

Now you are ready to appreciate the following photo of me and the tiny tub of aligot I carted to Bristol with me from Rodez. You might also like to note PAB's super-English apron in the background. Or the fact that my scarf is wrapped around my head (I don't remember why). This picture is just all-around great.

(strike fruit)

2009-03-19T03:47:00.020-05:00

Guess who's on strike again today? You got it--the French teachers (and probably other professionals, but I can't keep up). What does this mean for me? It means a lovely sunny day off. What does this mean for you? It means the final installment of photos from my British adventures in February! Get ready for London and a couple moments from Bristol (the "home" base of the trip). Above is the only bit of sun I had during my whirlwind day trip to London. It happened as I arrived at Buckingham Palace, and had disappeared by the time I made my way into St. James' park. I can't complain, though--what with all the other sun we'd had for the rest of the trip, a rainy London day seemed fitting, even.

Buckingham Palace on a Wednesday in February when there wasn't even the changing of the Guard. I can't imagine how crowded it is under more tourist-friendly circumstances. I also think I'm glad I never had to live there. This was the first stop on my solo run-through of the capitol, which was squished into the few hours left open between the two three-hour bus rides from and to Bristol.

There is a lot of Queen Victoria all over the place. I think she looks especially intimidating here, with her back to the Palace and her face looking towards St. James' park.

St. James' park seemed like it must be really nice at times--and I did enjoy watching kids feed squirrels and teenagers bothering ducks. However, on a rainy day, with the pond drained, it left a bit to be desired, aesthetically speaking. For instance, there was an umbrella graveyard (and big pipes) where the pond normally is. I had to wonder, though, how on earth so many umbrellas get separated from their owners, and end up in a broken, silty pile. Do people not notice that their umbrellas are gone or something?

I spent the most time at Westminster Abbey--I am just such a sucker for an audio guide! This was also nearer the beginning of my day, so I had all sorts of illusions about having plenty of time to see everything I wanted (the list was already pretty pared down). It was worth the exorbitant time overage, though. I was fascinated by the strange melange of epochs in the small space. It reminded me of a very classy, historical flea-market table, crowded with artifacts and stories competing for visibility and and a spot in the collective memory.

Before seeing the sign that said no pictures, I got this guy chilling out on his elbow for eternity--I discovered that this was a fairly common position for these burial statues. Doesn't seem very comfortable to me, but maybe that ruffle under his chin helps out somehow.

Right after this photo, I saw the no photo sign. If you make it to London, I highly recommend checking the Abbey out so you can see the rest.

And here's Big Ben.

While scarfing down a hot dog along the Thames, I made my way to the reconstructed Globe Theatre and Shakespeare museum. It's only been there since the late 1990's, but I learned that it was reconstructed not only to the original specifications, but also using the original building methods. There are plays here during the summer, and the tour guide who showed it to us was an actress in the company that performs there. For some reason I can't upload my picture of the inside.

Practically next door to the Globe is the Tate Modern--it's an art museum in an old factory. Unfortunately, hitting up this fascinating collection coincided with the dreadful consciousness that I was running out of time before having to catch my bus. I limited myself to one exhibit on the surrealists, then had to rush back towards Victoria Station.

I did at least manage to plot a quick walk-through of Picadilly Circus on my way back to the station--it was quite bright, quite busy. That's about all I got to gather of it. All in all, the day in London was quite a success--I managed to cram in lots of sightseeing, but not so much that I couldn't enjoy the seeing of the sights (with the exception, perhaps, of Tate Modern). And, if I ever get back, there's still plenty I have left to see!

I don't have too many pictures from Bristol--D'yon and I did lots of wandering and visiting in what I have deemed the Baltimore of England. I enjoyed the town, but the main attraction there was definitely my hosts. D'yon and I generally have loads of fun together, as evidenced by this photo of us having fun with the Chinese masks in the children's corner of the Bristol Museum's exhibition.

This is looking up the street in down(up?)town Bristol. That's the university at the top, which is next to the museum where we found the masks and not far from D'yon's work, where we went for a lunchtime concert (curtesy of D'yon and PAB for my birthday!).

This is what you'll probably see if you google image Bristol--their suspension bridge. One day, while PAB was at work, D'yon and I took a long, winding walk along the river Avon to the base of the bridge, walked up and across, enjoyed views of the twilight city, and headed home for a homey dinner and Mario Kart Wii :)

Oh, and while in Bristol, I became acquainted with the pleasures of meat pies. Yum! Think chicken pot pie, but with all kinds of yummy fillings, on top of mashed potatoes and drowning in gravy. The English may have a reputation for bad food, but between meat pies and fish and chips, c'est pas mal. (That is a French compliment, meaning "it's not half bad.")

Not to mention that they've got the whole tea thing down. Tea is awesome, and scones with clotted cream are even more so. And yes, clotted cream sounds gross, but it is my theory that the grossness of the name is inversely proportional to its yumminess--which is good news for my scone!

So, in conclusion--England was great. Friends are great. Two-week vacations in February that allow you to combine the two: impeccable, as the French would say. Or perhaps, in the spirit of my vacation location, I should say: brilliant.

(cardiff)

2009-03-15T05:33:00.015-05:00

I am slowly, slowly catching up to my February break pictures! Today it's the documentation of my trip to Cardiff, the capitol of Wales. It was only about 40 minutes from Bristol and made for an excellent day excursion.

D'yon and I spent a good portion of our time touring around Cardiff Castle. It's a big complex of castleyness from several eras, walled in by ramparts that reminded me very much of the playmobile castle James and I used to play with.

On entering the compound from the street, "The Keep" is the first thing you see. It's built up for the safekeeping of prisoners, royalty, etc. Built up and surrounded by a moat, it was pretty secure. It's the oldest part of the castle that still exists (the first stronghold here was a Roman one). Note the benches--this is where D'yon and I enjoyed our picnics and sunshine, and where I took my coat off outside for the first time this year!

Inside the Keep. No longer the domain of the royals or their prisoners, on this day it was crawling with a very familiar specimen--black-clad, heavily-banged (hair) French high schoolers. I felt right at home ;)

Unlike home, however, the Keep's toilet system left a little something to be desired. Behold the hole that leads to the moat.

Behold D'yon, participating in one of our favorite activities--AUDIO GUIDES! As we observed that day, they're like a grown-up easter egg hung--where knowledge is your candy!

For instance, our trusty audio guides informed us that this building was transformed into a (and I quote) "Feudal Gothic Extravaganza!" Welsh Aristocracy used to live here, and made additions over the years--so you can see the combination of styles present in the architecture.

The inside of the "Feudal Gothic Extravaganza" lived up to its name. Re-done in the 19th century, it is insanely gaudy. Check out that fireplace.

Not yet convinced? This is the ceiling of one of the guest rooms.

More extravaganza--this is a giant "love spoon." We found it at the love spoon shop near the castle, where we learned about the Welsh tradition of young suitors carving symbolic spoons for their sweethearts. My favorite part is the dragon head.

On the other end of town is the Harbor, where we met these nice statue people and their dog. We also had a nice coffee and cake at a very French café to wind down before heading back under the bay to Bristol.

Oh, and one last discovery--I was born in the wrong epoch--castles have taught me that people used to be my height all the time! Check out the Emilee-sized door.

(sulyvain and lyme regis)

2009-03-08T08:35:00.014-05:00

Today you get a peep into the day trip that PAB, D'yon, and I took to Lyme Regis during my winter break. Before diving in, however, you also get the cute kid story of the week:

Sulyvain (a weird name even in France) is 6. He's not actually one of my students, but he looks longingly into the room where I take half of his class twice a week for English time, and always proffers a shy " 'ello" before Carine calls him back. This week I arrived at his school (Fabié) a bit miffed at the previous behavior of a few of my fifth graders, and just in time to walk upstairs with the students as they came in from lunch/recess. In the echoing foyer, amidst a chorus of eager 'ellos vying for my response, I felt an earnest tug on my sleeve and a pat on my tummy. Sulyvain was looking up at me through his thick glasses and pronounced with a rather concerned expression, "Emilee, tu sais, j'aime bien quand tu fais le sourire"-- "Emilee, you know, I really like it when you smile." Upon his declaration, Sulyvain immediately fell in with the rest of his class to march upstairs with his line buddy, and I couldn't help but smile on the brink of the challenging class already awaiting me.

And now, ladies and gents, Lyme Regis. It's a small coast town on the English channel chock full of fossily cliffs (the reason the trip had been planned) which, like Bath, also happened to figure in Austen's Persuasion. PAB (that stands for, and is much easier to say than, Pierre-Alexandre Bourbon), D'yon, and I enjoyed a nice drive down from Bristol at the weekend, ready for fossil-hunting, picnicking, and enjoying the coast. Lyme Regis did not disappoint on any of those counts. As with the rest of the trip, we had uncanny weather-luck, putting "Southern France" to shame ;)

Bundly picnic! My gracious hosts D'yon and PAB.

We picked our way around this area for hours, breaking "stones" with our bare hands and occasionally finding fossils. Mostly we found fossil imprints, though.

This was our first fossil encounter of the day--can you see the giant shell imprint on this stone? It's been smoothed over by the tides.

There were lots of slippery, smooth moss-covered areas to walk across, like this one. I only stepped in a puddle once, at the end--thankfully!

My first (and best) real fossil discovery! A vertebrate of some kind.

Old roommates reunited after a productive day of intense fun-making.

I've still got pictures from Cardiff, London, and Bristol on the way--hopefully I'll get them all posted before I bring home lots more pictures from the Spring Break adventures in the works (hint--Paris and Dublin!). I know, I know. I work too hard here. How I'm managing to survive life with a two-week vacation every month and a half or so is beyond me, too ;)

(two holiday tales)

2009-02-27T10:50:00.025-05:00

Last week I asked all my classes about how they spent their vacations. Here is a rough break-down of their responses:

Went to see Grandparents: 52%
Went skiing: 24%
Had sleepovers/went to birthday parties: 14%
Stayed home/played video games: 9%

The very astute among you will have noticed that 1% of my students is still unaccounted for. It's English class name is Homer (after the Simpsons character, of course), and his vacation-relation went like this:

Me: Did you have a GOOD vacation or a BAD vacation?
Homer: uhh...okay.
Me: What did you do?
Homer (pronounced with the cool nonchalance of an Aveyronnais hooligan-in-training): Behn....j'ai embêté des poules.

To which I react with un-masterable, if quiet laughter. In English, "Homer's" declaration was "Ehh... I bothered some chickens."

***

Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to bother any chickens over vacation, but I did manage to get into some great mischief of my own in England, and more specifically, in Bath. Here are some pictures to prove it.

There was a speed limit of 4 knots here, on the river Avon, just by the Parade Gardens. As there were no boats in sight, I assume it was a warning to the ducks.

Pulteney Bridge, and another view of the gray weather we started out with.

Outside the famous Pump Room. When Jane Austen was writing and Bath was the social center of the day, the Pump Room is where people to socialize and drink the mineral water from the spring over which the spa was built. (The Romans were the first ones to have baths here, thus the name of the town.) In a fun twist of coincidence, I read Austen's Persuasion for the first time on my way to England, and really enjoyed getting to experience the places where the story took place. Like the Pump Room.

And here we have the famous pump in it's room. It brings up warm mineral water (once renowned for its healing properties) so that people can "enjoy" drinking it while benefiting from the sophisticated atmosphere of the restaurant and its society.

"Enjoy" in that last caption was in quotation marks because it's not an especially delectable experience, drinking the Bath Spa waters. It's lukewarm and, well, you can definitely tell that there are plenty of minerals in it. For a video of the water bubbling away just on the other side of the window, scroll down. I don't know why the website won't let me put the video where I want.

D'yon and I rewarded ourselves for drinking our healthy water with my first Fish and Chips for lunch! It was totally delicious, and gleefully washed down with a Bath ale. British English lesson for the day: Chips = Fries, and Crisps = Chips.

On Gay Street, which is a steepish road that leads up towards the Royal Crescent, you can find the Jane Austen Centre, complete with costumed doorman. Austen lived here for a while, as did some of her Characters.

The Royal Crescent is uphill from Gay Street, and is a residential half-circle road. People still live here, in apartments and such. The houses look out across Royal Victoria Park, where D'yon and I got into all kinds of outdoor fun. Notice the sun coming out.

Peek-a-boo windows looking through a tree on the Royal Crescent.

One of the coolest trees ever. We found it on the way into the park where we ambled and played. If it wasn't on private property, we'd have totally been trying to walk the balance beam that is the bottom branch.

As it turns out, though, we weren't lacking for playground equipment. The sun came out in full force just as we discovered this amazing playground--complete with toys we'd never seen before like this spinning version of a see-saw. All D'yon and I needed was a daddy to push us in circles--but bouncing around was quite enough fun.

Look, I'm climbing! How cool is it that the toys on this playground were plenty big for grown-ups? And if you're thinking of a snide remark about me not really being grown-up-sized, it was all big enough for D'yon, too :P

I leave you with this photo of D'yon's and my "Titanic Pose" once we got to the top of the climbing web.

A day of sunshine, mineral water, fish and chips, Jane Austen, tea time, playgrounds and a long-lost Parisian roommate is a good one in anyone's book, I would venture to say. In mine, it's a spectacular one. Look for more posts with glimpses into our forays in Lyme Regis, Bristol, Cardiff, and London!

May you have many days as lovely as the one these pictures are from!

Oh, and don't forget to check out the video of the water we drank here. Appetizing, no? You can hear the music of the Pump Room, and there's a special cameo at the end!

(happy birthday ode)

2009-02-25T03:14:00.006-05:00

I have more than my fair share of amazing people in my life--a fact that, when remembered on one's birthday, ensures that said birthday will be a happy one. I am humbled by the presence and caring of the extraordinary individuals that love me and let me share their lives with them.

I can't help but think immediately of my parents. Starting today 23 years ago, they both began the intense labor of loving and raising a child who doesn't always appreciate the sacrifices they've made for her. It's a testament to the constancy of their love that I could ever take it for granted--but I'm slowly learning not to.

My grandparents and other dear extended family have supported my interests and dreams just because I belong to them. They've loved me since before I remember being a person, and always let me know how proud they were of me, whether I felt I deserved it or not. Their unquestioning support has given me courage to trust myself and pursue my own path even when it leads me far from home.

My little brother who's not so little any more is becoming a man to be depended on--and I do depend on him. Our years of rivalry have fizzled out over time and lots of distance, but knowing that this guy will always be part of my life, until we're really old, is one of the most comforting things I can think of. He's my ally.

My few but precious long-haul friends are pretty much--scratch that--just plain up there with family. We've had the reassuring pleasure of discovering by now that our friendships have a stronger base than common interests and circumstances, as we have all gone through several incarnations of both. We have the freedom to watch each other change without fearing alienation and we fall right back into easy interactions when we cross paths, even as adulthood ensures that those paths become increasingly divergent. They are my necessary anchors, who have taught me about constancy and unconditional love.

Roommates who are friends are one of the best things in my life, ever. I have to marvel at the great luck I've had, randomly falling in with people who have turned into near souls, as well as proximate bodies. These are the ones who have crawled over to hold my hand on the kitchen floor as I screamed and cried into the phone, the ones who would bring me a souvenir stick from the first day of Spring, who would set their alarm for 3:30 a.m. without being asked to make sure I really did get up to finish that term paper, who would help justify worthwhile procrastination, sing songs on repeat with me, and who have trusted me to occupy the same role in their own daily lives for a spell.

Smack in the middle of a second year in France, I have accumulated a few friends whom I suppose I could label the foreigners. Much like the roommate friends, we were thrown in together by random circumstance and usually bonded quickly through shared travel fiascos and a sense of co-adventuring and discovery. There's nothing like a facing a night-train horror or a pig foot in the Frenchies' refrigerator for a couple months to bring people together. They share parts of my life that none of the other people I've mentioned do, and make far-away places feel like home. Plus, they keep me on my toes--mentally, culturally, grammatically, and personally.

I have benefited enormously from the great teacher/mentors in my life. Unlike my family, these people have no real "obligation" to take an interest in providing for my development. They have made sacrifices of time, space, and energy to share their experience's wisdom with me, in addition to living lives that demand my respect and make me trust their advice. A few have been around for quite a while, sharing everything from guest bedrooms to recipes to advice and encouragement, and have lent sympathetic ears to often immature musings/perceived injustices on my part with patience.

For all of this and all of you, I am humbled and thankful. And had a happy birthday largely because I remembered to reflect on these extraordinary blessings.

Pictures and England tales to come very shortly.

(sheepish return)

2009-02-21T08:02:00.002-05:00

I can't believe it's been almost two months since my last update (ok, ok, a month and a half--but February is shorter)--and it's been far too long.

My life since New Years had been rather quiet up until last week, a fact on which I can place teensy bit of the blame for not having written. However, most of the blame for my "absence" rests on me and the fact that I just wasn't in the mood to write. I wasn't taking tons of pictures, and wasn't doing much out of the ordinary--just traipsing along, contentedly buried in routine and many layers of clothing.

There were a few moments of interest, however. Here's of them to bait you into remembering my blog, as the appetizer for the on-its-way post that will be full of pictures and stories from my trip to England (!!!). And yes, in case you weren't clear, I just took a 9-day trip in the middle of February because the French schools were quite naturally on holiday. Again.

Anyway, onto a short Rodez outtake:

This one is called (a southern soul grows up, sort of).

A couple of weeks ago, I had a totally foreign experience, which my northern friends will laugh at and my southern ones will struggle to fathom. I woke up on a Tuesday morning, dreading the chill that would too-soon succeed my exit from bed. I got out anyway, knowing that some of my most difficult classes were counting on me, and bumped down to the floor between my bed and radiator, heavy under that knowledge mingling with remnants of still-real dreams. Sitting with my back to the radiator in the mornings has become my ritual concession to the rough transition into the cold, waking world. As I sidled up against the heat, I struggled to focus on my surroundings and I soon noticed the roof across the street. I see it every morning, and it was usually black. This morning, though, it was white, and the fuzziness outside wasn't entirely due to my bleary eyes. No, it was snowing. And here's where the story gets worth telling: For the first time in my life, my spirits sank at this realization. No childlike glee for a pretty rarity anywhere. Can you imagine? Oh, don't be sad--I'm sure that there will be plenty of other gleeful snow-finds in my future. But the grown-up southern soul has realized what many of the colder climes have long known--that sometimes, snow just means dampness and slippery sidewalks on the way to a chilly school building. The funny thing about life that I remembered here is that it's really amazing, how our own insides can take us by surprise and buck a life-long attitude in an instant.

But I don't think that's a bad thing to realize. A malleable soul is an asset, I suppose--because it won't always go in the direction of a disappointment. :)

So, that's all for now, folks! Come look soon, for there will be many photos and more enchanting stories than this last one.

(frohes fest)

2009-01-05T05:06:00.008-05:00

Ferris wheel at a lingering Weihnachtsmarkt in Berlin (Alexanderplatz)

Well, I'm right where I left off--"home" in Rodez, gearing up for classes. Though, in typical, curious French fashion, I was informed this morning by my roommate that I didn't need to go into my first class today. Apparently when she called in sick, the principal very cheerily wished her Happy New Year and told her to tell me I didn't have to come in, either. Only God knows why, but you're getting a blog post out of my free hour, so no harm done (not that getting time off is ever really harmful...).

Though I'm exactly where I left you a few weeks ago, I wasn't here the entire time--thankfully. No, despite exercises in combat with the French bureaucracy, public transportation strikes, lost baggage and a broken-down train, I've been to Berlin and back. Anne's family was gracious enough to welcome me back to their home and into all of their Christmas/birthday/New Year's celebrations this year, and I'm terribly grateful to have had a family (if not mine) and friends to spend the holidays with. Rodez is great, but I was quite ready for a break and happy to reconnect with people who have known me longer than 3 months. Not to mention that I got to experience a totally new style of holidays in Germany--and let me say, from what I saw, they do it right. Anne's mom, Kerstin, had her 50th birthday on the 24th (the main celebration day in Europe), so before the extensive Christmas celebrations could even begin, we feted Kerstin's life with a giant party on the 23rd. By the time the party was cleaned up on the 24th, we had just enough time to celebrate Kerstin's real birthday with a coffee and then transition to the family room for the Heiligabend gift exchange. Then, naturally, there were guests over for games and then another party for the young'uns into the wee hours. By the time it arrived, we were all quite ready for the 25th, ie "Couch Day" at the Kutzner's. This involved watching movies that the Weihnachtsmann (Santa) had brought the night before and otherwise gathering energy for the continued celebrations and moving to come. We spent a day with Anne's aunt, uncle, and cousins on the 26th, re-celebrating with the new group of people, exchanging more gifts, drinking, and playing video games and then spent a few days moving people around--Anne's room in Greifswald and painting/assembling Ikea items at the new apartment of some friends of Anne's (and mine, by now :-). And suddenly, it was time for New Year's. I flew back to Toulouse on the morning of the 1st and have been here since, mostly napping and doing some intensive cleaning in the apartment.

My time in Germany was amazing, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend Christmas away from home. Especially since the invention of Skype. I have been continually astonished at and grateful for the warm, complete hospitality of the people I know in Berlin because of Anne. I'll be happy to see them again when I go back to fly to the States this summer...but I'm not going to think about that right now, because I have NO idea what I'll be doing with my life by then. Again. ;-)

Now, enjoy the pictures:

Happily seated in a sunset-side seat on my flight from Toulouse to Amsterdam.

Kerstin lighting the Christmas tree candles on Heiligabend.

They told me that someone is always Weihnachtsmann and hands out the gifts from a big sack. Naturally, it was my year to be him. Whether this is really tradition or they were enjoying the foreigner, I'm not quite sure...

My surrogate Christmas family--Anne, me, Kerstin, and Bernd. Anne's brother Robert took the picture.

*Trying* to sing along to 80's German pop on Sing Star with Anne's little cousin, Nick. The only one that went sort-of okay was 99 Luftballons.

Cathi, Conrad, Anne and I went to a Christmas market at Alexanderplatz one afternoon to eat 1/2 meter Bratwurst (in my hand), drink Glühwein (mulled wine), and ride carnival rides.

The Glühwein-drinking, this time out of little boot mugs. It's really amazing how much of the delicious stuff I'd had by the time I left.

Me, only half-way bundled up for the freezing bike ride (which didn't actually end up being very fast and windy, since I couldn't really reach the pedals on Anne's old bike) to the other Anne's house for New Year's Eve. The light on my head was for the bike, as well as fashion, natürlich. Anne's mom had to button me into my coat at the end, like a little over-bundled child.

Ok, if you think mulled wine is yummy, wait till I tell you about this drink. It's called Feuerzangenbowle and it's yummy, festive, and flammable! You basically make Glühwein in a pot and then put this sugar cone over it, douse the sugar in rum, and...

...set it on FIRE! The sugar burns and caramelizes, then drips into the wine. I don't know why on earth we don't do this in America. I think I'm going to start.

We had Cheese and Chocolate fondue for dinner as we waited for the 2009. Delicious.

Finally, we all bundled up again to watch the neighborhood fireworks at midnight. We lucked out, as Anne G's neighbors went all out with their firework purchases and provided a good show. You could see fireworks all over, since it's so flat there, and I also learned about Himmelslaterne, which are basically floating blimp-like lanterns. Quite a nice way to ring in the new year--Anne G and Jana even hummed along to Auld Lang Syne with me :)

(kids)

2008-12-18T12:42:00.005-05:00

I've had a nasty cold all week, but as I could breathe with at least one nostril today, I decided I should drag my weary, sad self to classes and do my best to dispense a bit of Christmas cheer to my students.

The morning was a bit of a rough go, but by the afternoon I had a few moments of sweetness that shone through what seemed to be a veritable swamp of crazed, almost-Christmas-vacation student behavior. I'm sure any teachers out there know what I'm talking about. Somehow, despite trying to yell over misbehaving voices with no real voice to speak of and watching the snow melt (sad), I came home enjoying the impression that the day had left on me, mainly due to two "breather" moments.

Moment number one:

I had the little CPs today (that's first graders), who generally always put me in a good mood. This day's sweet happening was the spontaneous and overwhelming desire of my kids to explain how Santa gets into each of their houses on Christmas eve. I went with it and let each kid share--it is, after all, almost Christmas, and I don't want to be a classtime scrooge, do I? I heard plenty of explanations:

"I don't have a chimney, so Santa just comes in the front door!"
"Well, at my house, he doesn't come in the front door--he just climbs up a big ladder to my balcony!"
"I hope Santa doesn't try to come down the chimney like the other years because this time there's glass in it!"
"We don't have a balcony or a chimney, so Mom says Santa has to climb in the window!"

My favorite one of all, though, was a little girl with big, believing eyes who explained quite matter-of-factly:

"Well, I think our windows are too small and since we live in an apartment he can't come in the front door (he doesn't know the code), so I just don't know how he does it but the best part is that he comes in and leaves the presents all the same!"

Moment number two:

Immediately following that class I had CE2s, the third graders. This is one of my most talkative classes, and they were in rare form today. I was doing oral evaluations in the hallway and trying to keep an eye on them while they bickered and complained and interrupted. They were really awful, and I was nothing short of pissed. Because of their behavior, we didn't have time for me to read 'Twas the night before Christmas' to them as I'd planned. (You may think it odd that I would read that poem to kids whose most recent challenging English lesson was on colors. It might be, but given that I'm sick, they're crazy, and they don't really hear the flow of English very often, I decided it was an acceptable part of a Christmas lesson.) With my other classes, I passed out coloring sheets, had them repeat and write "Merry Christmas," and then introduced the poem. I told them not to worry about understanding it, but encouraged them instead to listen to the pretty rhymes in English while they colored. In every class, I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went over. The students would settle in with their markers, and I would proceed with an expressive reading of the poem to a completely silent, enthralled audience. Again, those who have ever dealt with several kids at a time know how rare that can be. So back to my CE2s. Flustered at the end of class, I told them they could all go to recess, and as an afterthought threw out the option of staying in and listening to the poem if they wanted. I then went to their teacher to discuss the oral evals and got caught up in a bit of chit-chat. One student, Pablo, came and tugged at my sleeve. Now, you should know that Pablo was probably the most disruptive student of the day, and he'd gotten a special lecture from me already. I turned to him with an exasperated "oui?" I expected him to start explaining away his actions again, but was thrown off guard when he said, "Maîtresse, don't forget--we're waiting for the poem in the other room."

After 45 minutes of deplorable comportment, it was refreshing to smile at Pablo and find 6 of my students, pencil cases and notebooks in laps, waiting calmly for me to come back and read to them. During recess, no less! I happily picked up my sheet and began my hoarse recitation to an enraptured audience of kids who had no earthly idea what I was talking about. A couple kids even wandered in from the hallway to listen. By the time I was finished, I could hardly reconcile the recent classtime frustration with the sweet faces grinning at me. "You were right!" Cassandra exclaimed, and Mathieu and Valentin chimed in, saying "Yeah, I didn't understand it, but it sounded really nice!" and the quintessential French compliment "Pas mal (not bad)."

Sometimes I think there's an automatic emergency brake in the minds of all kids--just when they've done their worst and you're ready to swear off of them forever, their safety feature kicks in with something cute or curious or funny and keeps you on their side. This is very good for the welfare of mischievous children, as far as I'm concerned. I'll try to keep this in mind as I think about going to my more difficult schools tomorrow morning...

('tis the season)

2008-12-10T06:01:00.003-05:00

(feasts)

2008-12-07T09:38:00.009-05:00

Yesterday's belated Thanksgiving celebration was a total success : ) The food was every bit delicious, and (just as importantly) abundant. The smells, tastes, and company more than made up for the hassles of preparing for the day.

The giant feast of yesterday was the second fête in a series of three assistant get-togethers planned in the span of just a week! Tuesday, Simon hosted a celebration of St. Andrew's Day and treated us to some Scottish specialties--specifically haggis, neeps (turnips), tatties (potatoes), truffles, and some nice scotch (which the Scottish just call whiskey, as it turns out). My contribution was a caramel apple pie, below. Since the pie was so classically American for a Scottish dinner, I attempted to bring it into theme with a little Scottish flag. Can you find it?

Little cooking haggis balls. Click here to read about it--it's surprisingly tasty, and everyone enjoyed it! This kind was in plastic, rather than sheep stomach, though--I guess the owners of the British specialties shop weren't allowed to bring back the stomach-wrapped variety ;)

There's the spread--Haggis, neeps, tatties, and if you look carefully you can see an orange cream-like soda called Irn Bru which is typically Scottish and full of caffeine.

Moving on to yesterday's American Thanksgiving extravaganza! Check out that table--I was totally impressed with everyone's contributions. We had just about everything, which was no small accomplishment! The hardest-to-come-by items were probably the cranberry sauce and the turkey, but they made it! Also, since this is my blog and all, I'm going to go ahead and say that I was pretty proud of the turkey, homemade bread, and pumpkin pies I contributed. Totally worth all the time and effort--even the clean-up afterwards.

Desserts! The dessert "options" were as bountiful as the main dishes. Options is in quotation marks because I think everyone had some of every dessert--there was no need to make a choice! You can see pumpkin pie, haribo gummies, walnut tart, and two apple-plum crumbles in this picture, but there was also panna cotta with fresh raspberry sauce and chocolate coconut truffles. In line with tradition, everyone's entire afternoon was dedicated to slowly wearing through the copious food supply. What a great day's work!

The pictures of the food above this one are the before pictures, this one is the during picture...

...And here's after. Limited space resulted in us storing our plates under the coffee table. Why didn't we just take them to the kitchen, you ask? Let me respond with another question: What would we have done for seconds and thirds between game rounds if we did that?

And finally, the closest to a group shot we could get in the smallish room. Hard not to notice that our choice in pants was not nearly as distinctive as the dishes we all brought, though...

So--two feasts down, one proper English tea party to go. I'm sure it will be lovely.

(turkey toting)

2008-12-05T09:56:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is Thanksmas for the assistants in Rodez, and it's going to be amazing. It better be, anyway--after all the anticipation, planning, and turkey-related goose chases (ironic, I know).

Today I finally picked up the turkey--quite a victory in itself, considering all the butchers I went to and inquiries I made, and even a called-in favor from one of my teachers to procure it! It should be delicious-- unless something goes amiss, of course. But let's hope not--this is a fresh, never frozen turkey that should just fit in our oven. The idea of our apartment filled with friends and the scent of roasting turkey was what I had to think about on my way home (via a school on the other side of town where a teacher had a roasting pan for me to borrow) with the 3 kilo bird. The hour-long walk around town in the middle of a defeating hail/rain/thunder/lightening storm with a turkey in one hand and giant pans in the other, my teaching bag on one shoulder and my jeans soaked up to my knees... it was quite a journey we took, the elusive French turkey and me. I am finally drying out and chilling out for a bit before I start the Thanksmas preparations this evening. And OH so thankful for my warm bed :)

I'm sure there will be pictures soon.

('appy fahnksgeeveeng)

2008-11-27T17:52:00.003-05:00

Just pronounce the title phonetically, and you'll get an idea of the "Happy Thanksgivings" I've been getting from my students this week! (Or watch Capucine again and imagine her saying it.)

I have really enjoyed teaching my students about Thanksgiving--none of them had ever heard of it before, and it's refreshing to present such a nice part of American culture to everyone. (There was a brief interlude of guilt when one of my fifth graders asked me if Thanksgiving was to celebrate the European massacre of the Indians for their land...I'm always surprised by what my kids have heard about and don't always know how to respond in the context of the lesson.) The best moment so far was hearing the giggling, amazed 6-year-olds behind me as I put the finishing touches on the hand-turkey I drew on the board for them. I was surprised by how into turkey-drawing they got, energized by this totally foreign art form that American kids know practically from birth. Otherwise, it's been fun hearing what they're thankful for--from red fish to puppies to siblings to winning the race last week to birthday parties (and lots of nintendos).

I'm thankful for things, too--and here's a sample from my life since moving to Rodez:

-Skype
-Packages from home
-Good legs for Rodez transport
-A stranger-flatmate who turned out not to be crazy, mean, dirty or loud
-Mulled wine
-Radiators
-Helpful butchers (I finally found a turkey today!)
-Lots of sleep and free time
-Enthusiastic students (no--seriously, my littlest ones jumped up and cheered when I announced that we still had three minutes left today!)
-Scarves
-Dinner parties
-Did I mention radiators?

And for now, that's it. I've got to get to bed so I can be the best bright-eyed, bushy-tailed American possible for the last round of Thanksgiving classes tomorrow.

Hope you all had a great, grateful day! Think of me when you enjoy that leftover turkey sandwich tomorrow.

(brr)

2008-11-25T12:52:00.001-05:00

Here's something I love about winter (which has definitively arrived in Rodez): I love coming home at the end of the day and breaking free from layers. It's a furtive activity, and I usually go about it with as much urgency as the kid who starts taking their pants off en route to the bathroom. It's such a release to dial up the radiator and absorb heat in my hoodie and leggings, rather than bind up every part of me (especially the sad little toes) in a semi-successful attempt to trap the bits of heat I produce on my own.

Today, in addition to the excellent (near) disrobing after a frigid, productive day, I put on a pot of coffee just for me, cozied up on the clic-clac with my knitting (I know, I know), and have been contentedly wiggling my toes ever since; It's as delicious as a cup of mulled wine after hours at a drizzly winter rugby match. :-)

In honor of today's chilly weather, I'm posting some pictures from the first snow in Rodez. For a southerner and a Colombian, even this slight dusting was quite an event!

The town cathedral. It's almost at the summit of the hill/town, and a convenient way for newcomers to orient themselves.

Poor flower market. That vendor must have been a trooper!

Sandra (the roommate) touching the very first snow she ever saw. We had quite the gleeful time that morning as the rest of the ruthénois (people from Rodez) carried about their business with sour expressions and carefully-placed steps.

(infallible logic)

2008-11-24T15:31:00.003-05:00

Today I briefly apologized to my class of second graders for a couple of sub-par sentences--something that happens every once in a while as I try to teach in another language. Most of the time it's just a hesitation over article gender or a lazily pronounced "ue" sound (say eeee with your lips stretched apart and gradually bring the corners into a tiny "o" shape while continuing the sound). My philosophy is to be unashamed and up-front about these mistakes, taking the opportunity to remind the kids that I, too, am doing the frustrating work of making strange sounds and that we're all in the same, awkward boat during English class. Today was a bit different though, as I was offered a very simple explanation for my difficulties.

Simon, one of those kids who always has something very urgent and very off-topic to share, bounced up and down with his finger up (French kids raise their index fingers rather than their hands) until I called on him.

-Yes, Simon?
-I know why you couldn't find your word today, maîtresse.
-Is that so?
-Yes, it's because you have an accent.
-I think you're right. Thanks, now moving on...

You can't argue with that kind of logic!

However, one type of logic I would perhaps prefer to dispute was that of the woman at the bakery today. After I ordered my sandwich, she indicated the (I'm guessing) 10-year old boy behind me in line and followed up my order with:

-Et pour votre fils?

That means, "And for your son?" Now, it could just be vanity on my part, but I have always assumed I looked about my age, give or take. It was a shock, being mistaken for someone who could be the mother of a kid who's been around since I was 12!

(orange november market)

2008-11-15T10:30:00.003-05:00

Today was a beautiful, bright, and very chilly day, which I started off with my weekly trip to one of the highlights of Rodez life--the Saturday markets! I soaked up the sunlight and wandered from table to table, market to market, conducting pleasant inner debates about which yummy treats I should choose this week. By the end of the morning, I was headed home with far more than I intended to buy--but the produce is all so delicious and fresh and fallish that I don't even feel any buyer's remorse :) As I unloaded everything out onto the table at home, I was struck by the vibrant orange pervading this week's choices: a nice slice of pumpkin, clementines, carrots, sweet potatoes, and a fruit I'd never had before called kaki. And, though it was the orange produce stealing the visual show today chez moi, I'm equally excited about the fresh regional tome fraîche cheese, the "Mona Lisa" variety potatoes, celery stalks, and eggs (which are still in need of a good rinsing, as they've still got hay and feathers stuck to the shells).

I'm going to celebrate by having some friends over for some Pumpkin and Sweet Potato soup tonight...and provided the soup turns out well (new recipe), I think it will be the perfect way to wind up an exquisite Saturday.

(your daily cuteness)

2008-11-13T20:21:00.005-05:00

I came across this video of an unbearably cute French girl who's learned some English--and I'm posting it here so you can get an idea of the little accents I hear at school! Oh, and when she says "I'm a miss Capucine" that's her attempting to repeat "My name is Capucine." Trust me, they all say it that way. Until, of course, their extraordinary American teacher helps them out ;)

"I'm a miss Capucine !" from Capucha on Vimeo.

And as a bonus--check out the irresistible cuteness of this kid's story. Don't worry, there are subtitles, and they're worth reading!

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

So, now that your heart has officially melted, I would like to also remind you that today was a double-whammy, post-wise. That means scroll down and keep on reading!

(this is not a lesson plan)

2008-11-12T19:22:00.011-05:00

No, it certainly isn't a lesson plan, this blog post. Instead, it's a picture update. This is because, true to procrastinatory form, I'm avoiding my lesson plans just as effectively as I ever avoided churning out a research paper or a stack of French Lit journal entries. [Note to Dr. Gregoire, if you're reading this--that was merely an illustration point and should in no way be taken seriously... ;)] So enjoy the fruits of my misdirected labor, all!

*edit: This is a tiny picture update, because loading photos onto blogger is taking a ridiculously long time. I shall thus continue posting pictures, but probably little by little, rather than all in one go. So for now, dive in.

I put a letter in this post box, and to my slight and happy surprise, it did in fact reach it's destination! The French don't have the same drive for constant updates in every aspect of life that Americans seem to--which makes for much more quaintness, in general.

This is a view from a few minutes' walk downhill from our apartment--it's a steep, slippery descent, but once you get down there, there's a lovely park with a 5k footpath along the river. It's nice to have such an accessible outdoors space so close to the "city!" The post box from above was just across the bridge against one of the nearer buildings.

Following are just a few snapshots of some of the pleasures of the park.

As I mentioned before, this picture post is somewhat truncated by my current unwillingness to wait 20 minutes for 3 pictures to load at a time. However, keep checking back, there will be more!

And for those of you who have noticed a recent staunch in the flow of blog posts, I offer a peculiar excuse, something that may seem too strange to accept--but accept you must, because in foreign lands, one meets with very foreign novelties: too much vacation. That's right, I said it. No, perhaps not too much--but a very lot. Since starting classes the beginning of October I've had weekends, wednesdays, 10 days for Toussaints (all saints), a five-day weekend for Armistice day, and learned today that next Thursday the public school teachers will go on strike--so no school again. I don't think I've had a full week (and again, let me remind you that a "full week" is four days) of teaching in over a month. On a tight budget, with so much time off, there just hasn't been too much going on for blog posts. As a friend told me, it's almost like being retired. At 22.

But for those of you who are curious as to how I've filled my days, here's a taste:

I've restarted the same wool scarf four times and think I've finally settled on a pattern and dimensions I like. It should come in handy as soon as it's finished--Rodez can get cold and windy!

I've learned 3 card games, taught one, and a couple of dice games. Then played them a lot with Sandra my roommate and our most frequent friend, Maria (German primary assistant).

I've read A Year in Provence, finally. It had been recommended to me several times before, but I'm glad I waited to read it until I found a cheap used copy at the British specialties shop in town--I appreciated the author's insights into smalltown/southern French life far more than I would have, had I read it in Paris.

I invented a soup and spent an entire afternoon assembling it--because I needed a project!

I got enough sleep for three sleepy College students--which magically provided me with energy and enthusiasm for my classes the first day back after Toussaints despite having stayed up the entire night before following the American election.

I filled out a preliminary Grad school application for a translation program in Geneva. (Haven't decided whether I'll send it or not--it is interesting, however, to note that their entrance exam dates exactly correspond with my spring break...)

I made far fewer lesson plans than I intended. :(

I did more personal writing than I intended. :)

I went on lots of walks and collected chestnuts with friends for roasting back at home.

I hosted a successful, friendship-full dinner party and laughed hard for the first time since arriving in Rodez.

And finally, I struggled my way valiantly through a few rounds in the gladiator arena that is French bureaucracy--a battle that is nearly over, but not yet won. More on that later, though.

I suppose, now that it's 2 am, I should go ahead and post this, so I can turn in. I've got class (I know, shocking, right?) first thing in the morning. That's another thing I forgot to mention--over all of these days of leisure, I've reestablished some terribly unhealthy sleeping habits. Night Owl Emilee is officially back and in need of a good vanquishing.

On that note, good night! Expect more, and soon!

(already?)

2008-10-30T03:22:00.003-05:00

It's SNOWING enough for a Chattanoogan snow day! In October!

That's all for now.

:-)

(laugh out loud)

2008-10-16T10:38:00.002-05:00

Another amusing moment from a faraway classroom:

Today I surveyed a CE2 class (3rd graders) to see what they had already learned in English. It is their first year, but French kids in general hear a handful of English words through cartoons, advertisements, what-have-you, and in my brief experience, they love sharing those knowledge nuggets with me and their classmates. After hearing the standard "dogs and cats" and "hellos," Matthieu raised his hand and pronounced a word with which I was unfamiliar: "luhl" (imagine a French accent). I asked him to repeat it, and then finally asked him what it means in French. Matthieu responded succinctly, "Well, you say it when something is, you know, funny."

It then dawned on me that Matthieu was pronouncing "LOL" à la française. I LOLed in response, but quietly, and then took a short rabbit trail with the class where we discussed the difference between words you use in regular speech and words you use in "textos" (text messages).

Ah, the glories of the English language...

*For those of you who don't know what LOL means, it stands for Laugh Out Loud, and is often used in text messages and online chats.

(what i learned at school today)

2008-10-14T08:20:00.003-05:00

According to modest calculation, I have spent well over 18,000 hours of my life watching teachers teach. Between Fall 1991 and Spring 2008, it was, in fact, my principle responsibility in life to listen to them and appropriately appropriate the knowledge that they helped me to discover, understand, and apply.

So you can imagine my state of mind as I walked home from my first day ever as a bona fide teacher and mulled over the fact that, somehow—despite so much time logged in the presence of teachers—I found it so foreign (haha), overwhelming, and even intimidating to step into that position myself.

Don’t get me wrong—I expected exactly as much when I signed up to come teach in a foreign country. I don’t think I realized until today, though, after it was all said and done, just how much meticulous adjustment would be required of me. In a couple short months, I’ve gone from being the taught to the teacher (in theory, anyway). Not only that, I did it while giving myself a crash course in the workings of a school system I never went through and speaking a language that doesn’t always come naturally when I’m nervous before a class full of 20 expectant little French faces. Not to mention that I’ve got no training whatsoever about cognitive development, lesson planning, or classroom management. Even my handwriting is not up to par, as one of the teachers kindly informed me today.

So that’s the part of my new job that is (understandably, I think) quite daunting. HOWEVER, in the face of all the aforementioned scariness, I have a lot going for me, here, too. Such as:

1) I’m quite good at what I’m teaching, if not yet at how to teach it.

2) Experience is a master instructor, and that’s what I’m getting!

3) My students are completely enthusiastic and mostly fearless, and instantly resilient in the face of failure (qualities I’m relearning from them as I build confidence to be a good teacher).

4) Handwriting is an easy thing to practice.

And, as an additional perk, I get to smile at the funny things my students say and do, because they’re pretty damn cute, as it turns out. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of “monster” moments, too—but for now I’m enjoying reentering the world of the primary school student. Oh, and gaining new respect for my old teachers…Now in the course of my day, I frequently find myself thinking “Whoa…someone taught me how to do this. And they had to be creative about it, clear, and patient.” It’s so easy to forget as adults just how labor-intensive it was just to get us all functioning independently enough to navigate daily life.

For your enjoyment, a fun moment from the day:

Upon being asked “Can you guess what country I come from?” one exuberant 3^rd grader raised her hand and declared, “From Obama!”

Much more to come…

(first day of school)

2008-10-07T13:45:00.002-05:00

Monday was a big day, for sure--my first "first day of school" at a primary school in 12 years! And let me just say that it is quite bizarre to belong with the group of teachers surveying recess instead of the buzzing mass of students on the playground.

For this week, my job is to observe the classes I will start teaching on Monday. I've met tons of kids and teachers in the four schools I'll be working at, and while I feel overwhelmed by the newness and a bit frightened at my responsibilities, I'm very encouraged by the raw enthusiasm of the students whose faces light up as soon as they hear that the exotic American lady will be coming to teach them English. Hopefully, their enthusiasm will make up for the lack thereof I've already sensed in a few of their teachers...

So. Keep your fingers crossed (and your thumbs pressed) that all will go smoothly as I get my feet under me in the classrooms and with the lesson planning for all the different ages and levels--this is a completely new endeavor for me! Hopefully my eager 6-10 year-olds won't notice that I'm just a little terrified of them. I'm going to try my best not to let on, and to have some good, educational fun with them. Deep down, I think it will be great.

(playing catch-up with pictures)

2008-10-05T13:19:00.013-05:00

Alright, everyone. I promised myself I wouldn't just throw tons of pictures at you all at once anymore, but would instead post them in a timely fashion, little by little. However, as internet time is a bit scarce, here comes a barrage. I'm sure you won't really mind ;) This picture, by the way, is of part of where the Bishop of the cathedral used to live. Now I think it's the headquarters of the Episcopal church in Rodez, or something of the like.

This is at Place de la Cité, and behind those men chilling under the statue is my bank. That's right, I have a bank account now, which means I'll soon have internet!

Voilà the Foyer Sainte Thérèse, which I called home for my first eight days as a resident of Rodez. It was a very nice, inexpensive place to stay, but I'm ever so glad to have my own apartment now!

This is the view out of our kitchen window at 59 rue Béteille. We don't have access to the gardens, but they're nice to look at, and the sun sets this direction and lights up our kitchen and dining rooms quite nicely.

Look at our kitchen! It's big! It's fully equipped! It has a dishwasher! It has a washing machine! It even has a salad spinner, a meat grinder, a food processor, a tart pan, a pressure cooker, a cast-iron pot, a juicer, and a potato masher (among other appliances)! That's what I mean when I say fully equipped. I don't think I need to tell you that I'm pleased as punch about being able to really cook!

This is our salon (ie, living rom). It has a clic-clac, can you find it? Don't know what that is? Neither did I. It's the futon to the left. When you fold it into a bed, you push up (it makes the clic sound) on the seat area, and then let it down (it makes the clac sound). I love how the French never seem to hesitate to name something after the sounds it makes. The fact that we have this means that you should come visit, by the way--because there's somewhere for you to sleep!

This is my room! It's the smaller of the two bedrooms, and has a smaller bed, but I like it very much--it's quite comfy and I especially like the mini-cabinet going on to the side of the bed--perfect for storing books, stationary, small electronics, etc.

OMG KEBAB NEXT TO MY APARTMENT!!! I measured, it's exactly 32 Emilee steps (approximately 20 normal-person steps) from my door. And it's the best I've had so far in Rodez! Of course, if I get tired of kebab or cooking, I can also easily head across the street to the middle-eastern market, or one door down to the Indian restaurant. A couple doors down is a burger place (haven't been yet, but it's always interesting to find burgers in France), and if I'm feeling truly ambitious, I can head up to the end of the block and buy myself one of the nice, gigantic paella pans they have for sale in the window. I've heard that real estate is all about location, but having such a good location (also about 5 minutes on foot from the town center) has made me realize just how true that is.

We went to Toulouse on Wednesday for assistant orientation. This is all I saw of Toulouse (besides one of its high schools) the whole day. No, seriously. Two hours of driving, hours of lectures, then two tired hours back to Rodez as soon as orientation was over. But I shall return!

The night we moved into our apartment, we had all the Rodez language assistants over for dinner (Sandra wasn't there yet.)! It was a delicious extravaganza of salad, soup, wine, and company--the perfect way to break in the new apartment! The funniest part is, I only sent one text message of invitation in the afternoon, and by dinner time, I'd either run into assistants on the street, or they'd already heard about it and showed up! Rodez is not a big town, as I said.

I think the "kitchen-themed" tiles in our kitchen are funny. My favorite is the timer tile.

Today Sandra (the roommate) and I had a special treat--a road trip! We had a married couple of assistants over for dinner last night who live in a smaller town about 30 minutes from Rodez, and they invited us to come with them on a Sunday drive day trip to Conques--a beautiful medieval town in the hills north of Rodez. On the way there, we accidentally discovered the town of Salles la Source, and its awesome waterfall!

We climbed behind it!

This is Adrianne on top of Jacques, their little Renault who lugged five of us around the countryside today.

Look, it's Sandra (my Colombian roommate) and me at the waterfall!

There's a sign at the top of this cliff-like thing that only says "ICI MIEL," meaning "HERE HONEY." We were intrigued and climbed up to find it.

We never did find the honey, but we did find some delicious wild blackberries (as well as some very picturesque views).

Downhill was a little extension of the village, with an old Romanesque church and pretty changing viney leaves.

The sunlight was really beautiful.

In Conques, mimicking the pig. I can be such a ham. Aaaaahahahaha.

Conques!

Adrianne with a pilgrim. Conques is part of a famous pilgrimage to Spain whose name I don't know in English.

Reflection of the cathedral of Conques in a pool full of 20-centime coins.

New friends Adrianne and Jorge :)

The girls: Emily, Adrianne, Emilee, and Sandra.

More soon, I promise. For now, my café is closing! Hope all are well and enjoyed the pictures!

(blustery days)

2008-10-04T06:09:00.002-05:00

For those of you who hear "Southern France" and think "warm weather" (as I did), I would like to share some knowledge that I've recently come by as a resident of Rodez: Southern France is warm if you're not in the Massif Central.

The Massif Central is a region of South-Central France which is just generally elevated--some mountains, plateaus, etc.

Yesterday, it was so windy that I saw hail being blown up a steep hill at a high velocity as I tried to keep my balance and to keep my heavy computer bag from blowing off of my shoulders. Today the low temperature is below freezing--in the beginning of October, no less! Of course, tomorrow the high is, once again, in the comfortable range...so I'm learning that weather on the hill is fickle, to say the least. The trick, I've decided, is layers.

So, now you're all a bit more informed ;)

I'm going to venture back out into the wind with my produce from the market in hand, my beret (yes, my beret) on my head, and get to making some more soup!

(moving day)

2008-10-02T11:18:00.003-05:00

That's right, I said moving day!

Sandra and I (my as-of-today flatmate) met with the super-nice landlords of the perfect furnished tw0-bedroom apartment this morning, and...We've already moved in! After well over a month of living out of my suitcases, it is so invigorating to know that I have my own, real place to go home to tonight. I'm enjoying my chocolat chaud more than ever at my favorite internet haunt on this freezing, rainy day as I take a few moments to reconnect with the rest of the world and share my good news! Fortunately, the sun peeked out just long enough for Sandra and I to drag our luggage to 59 rue Béteille without getting soaked. And as Rodez is built on a big hill, I'm also quite thankful that the apartment is downhill from the foyer where we were staying.

I will post pictures soon (I already have them, but they take forever to load onto the blog). For now, I'm in a bit of a rush because we've got guests coming over for dinner and I have potato soup to make! I'm really excited to spend our first night in our new home having a dinner party! I invited the two American girls and their German flatmate by text, and then invited the other two assistants (English and Scottish) as I ran into them separately while "out on the town" setting up bank accounts and getting the internet ball rolling.

Hurray!

Oh, and look! I have real-person contact information again! Here it is:

Emilee Head

59 rue Béteille

12000 RODEZ

France

+33614923909

(market morning)

2008-09-27T15:24:00.003-05:00

I meandered through the Saturday market this morning, and thoroughly enjoyed taking in the sights, scents, and sounds it had to offer. The produce all looked delicious, and there was even paella at one booth! This is the sale and production of a local specialty from the Aveyron region--gâteau à la broche. After looking it up, I discovered that this is a dessert/cake/pastry made by turning a wooden cone on a spit before a wood fire, dousing it constantly with batter as it turns, building up layers until you have a christmas tree-shaped hollow cake.

So a few pictures from the market as a treat, which will hopefully entice you to read on about the unfolding of my life thus far in Rodez.

Since my arrival on Wednesday, I've enjoyed exploring the town on my own, and attempted to set some of my life in order. This has been a moderately successful endeavor, but there is still MUCH to take care of--most importantly, finding a permanent living situation. Everything here has been a bit last-minute so far--from changing towns to my housing arrangement falling through to getting transport from the Rodez train station--but thus far, all of the just-barely craziness has always worked out, so I'm trying to remain patient as I wonder what I'll be doing tomorrow and next week!

I met the woman who is "in charge" of the assistants in Rodez yesterday, and she seems quite sweet and helpful. She's new to the job as of this fall, so we're both getting our bearings, but upon meeting, she supplied me with the email of a Spanish assistant from Colombia who will be arriving this weekend (whose housing also fell through, so I'm hoping she will be open to apartment-hunting with me). Additionally, Nathalie (the contact person) offered to go to the bank with me, help me look for apartments, and even invited me to have lunch with her and her husband. It's nice to know there's someone here to advocate for me, if I need it!

As for the possible roommate, I haven't heard from her yet, and assume that she's in the throes of travel preparation. Hope of a flatmate is hindering me from really beginning the apartment search, as I'm not sure what I'm looking for at this point. I have a room reserved at the foyer until Tuesday, and hope that I can extend my stay there without any issues.

Wednesday, Nathalie will be driving me and another assistant or two to the orientation in Toulouse, which is about two hours away. There, I'll get to meet more assistants, hopefully find out what school(s) I will be at (another thing to wait for which impacts where I look for an apartment, since feet are my only transportation), etc. I don't know if we'll get to see much of the city, but I'm very thankful that Nathalie will drive us, and that I don't have to buy a train ticket!

So. I suppose that's the basic update. I'll be sure to keep you posted, so don't forget to check in!

*Teaser: I have a post planned, which will be entitled: "A tale of two drivers."

(picture update)

2008-09-27T06:13:00.018-05:00

Anne and me at Sanssouci. This and the next couple of pictures are from a bit earlier, from Anne's camera. Thus, I am in them, and decided they merit posting.

On top of the Dom (cathedral) in Greifswald.

We found a real, live hedgehog in Anne's yard one night on our way home!

Something I've done a good bit of, lately--sleeping on trains.

Hannah, Eric (The friends who showed up in Berlin and surprised me!), and I visiting the East Side Gallery in Berlin--basically a long stretch of the old Wall full of art and graffiti.

Hannah, ever the patriot, at Dunkin' Donuts in Potsdamer Platz (Berlin).

Hannah and Eric in the Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe.

Standing in East and West Berlin, looking short!

This is a Döner. It is one of the best inventions of all time.

See how happy it makes me?

This picture makes me giggle. Seriously, check out the faces.

Everyone seemed amused that I was the perfect height to blend in with the mini-bears of many nations.

Anne and I saw the Blue Man Group! It's a really incredible show.

The last after-school coffee with the Kutzners for a while. Really a very nice time of day.

After a flight from Berlin to Paris, and a night spent with my old host family, I set off for Rodez on an 8-hour train ride. I was prepared for the trip with the essentials: a window seat, music, pen, paper, and sudoku.

I also took pictures out the window on occasion to keep myself occupied.

My first jambon beurre since being back in France! Basically one of the most delicious sandwiches around--ham, butter, baguette. I had this one at the train station in Brive la Gaillarde, where I changed train stations via bus.

One of the little villages we drove through on the 30-minute bus ride. It was seriously a very picturesque day, in general.

The "giant" train station that the bus delivered us to. This is where we boarded the ONE CAR train that would carry me the last three hours to Rodez.

The parts of my life that I lugged around...and lugged around some more. And don't be deceived--they may be different sizes, but because of the weight limits on the flight from Berlin, they weigh pretty much the same. Around 20 kilos each...or 44 pounds. I was proud of myself for handling them up and down stairs, lifting them onto trains, into the luggage compartment on the plane, etc.

The train ride continued to provide me with beautiful views as I traveled farther south.

See?

My first picture of my new home! This was on my way to dinner from the foyer where I'm currently staying.

The view from my room is also not too shabby! You can see the valley/hills just beyond the rooftops.

The street near my foyer. You can see the tower of the cathedral as you walk towards the center of town. And yes, most streets look like this.

This is a picture of the cafe with wifi that I have been frequenting. It's where I am if I'm emailing, blog posting, browsing, searching for apartments, etc. It's where I am RIGHT NOW, actually.

A park I found on my first day of exploring.

More exploration.

I also found a lookout point (Rodez is on a big hill, if you hadn't figured that out yet) not far from my foyer.

Trying to get acquainted with my new home!

Groceries! I love eating in France. Wine is good and cheap, figs are big and yummy, clementines are everywhere, etc.

I hope you feel a little updated, now! I'll hopefully post something written soon, as there's plenty to tell! But for now, try to content yourselves with the pictures, ok?

(planes, trains, and automobiles + my feet)

2008-09-24T16:07:00.002-05:00

Just a short update from a French café.

I have finally arrived in Rodez, France, where I will be living for the next year or so. During the span of my approximately 24-hour trip, I was in Berlin, Paris, and Rodez--and I used all of the methods mentioned in the title of this post to get there. Anne dropped me off at Schönefeld, I flew to Paris and spent the night with my old host family, then I hopped a train to Rodez which arrived after 8 hours of beautiful countryside.

I'm tired, but pleased to be here. I already have a few good stories to share, but those will have to wait for another time in the very near future. I'm going to walk to the foyer de jeunes travailleurs (like a boarding house for young people), go to bed, and wake up ready to find out where I'm teaching, get my phone working, and find a place to live. A full day's work, most likely!

So here's to moving to strange places! I have a feeling it's going to be a great year.

So. Until later. Bis später. A bientôt. Hasta luego. That's all I've got.

(überraschung!)

2008-09-20T03:44:00.002-05:00

The word in the title is a new one I learned this week--and just in time, too. It's German for "surprise," which is exactly what I got on Thursday when Hannah (a friend from College) and her boyfriend Eric showed up in Berlin! There was a lot of good secret-keeping going on the last month, it seems.

It's been really great to spend time with them--sightseeing in Berlin, so far--which we'll be continuing today!

Genuine happy surprises are seriously awesome.

:)

(change of plans and pictures)

2008-09-18T11:22:00.024-05:00

First order of business: I'm not going to Villefranche-de-Rouergue after all. Rather, I found out today that I'll be working in the much more pronounceable town of Rodez, in the same area. Seems that it's a good thing I couldn't make any plans ahead of time, or else this switch might have been pretty inconvenient. As it stands now, however, the only changes I'll need to make are the ones of my vague mental picture of how my life will be. Rodez is larger than the teensy V-de-R, lines of transportation are a bit more direct, and it seems that I might even be able to stay in an apartment at one of the high schools for the year (ie, cheaply, I hope).

Another positive aspect of this change is that I won't be the only assistant in town. I feel like I just barely dodged an isolation-loneliness bullet, and am happy to have been in contact with two girls who are already living at the Lycee Foch (the aforementioned high school). They seem open and sweet, and I'm looking forward to meeting them. Additionally, they've assured me that Rodez is great, and that people there have been quite welcoming. I'll arrive there next Wednesday, the 24th.

In other news, I think it's time I finally rewarded my faithful readership with the ability to be my faithful viewership, too. So without further ado, PICTURES!

Watch out--there are lots!

*I can't seem to upload pictures to this post and keep the text normal--so I've posted the pics in a second post, which you will find below.

(pictures)

2008-09-18T11:22:00.022-05:00

And finally, some pictures:

A friend of my dad's was sweet enough to give me one of his buddy passes for my flight to Berlin. This makes the flight much cheaper, though you have to fly standby. This means that in exchange for a cheap ticket, you have a little anxiety in your life about making connections. Everything worked out for me, though I was amused (and anxious) when I took this picture of NYC as I flew over it to Providence, RI in order to fly BACK to NYC in time to catch my flight to Berlin. It was totally worth the extra leg of the journey, though, once I found out I was flying in an extra first class seat!

There's a new soft drink here in Germany, called "The Spirit of Georgia." Anne had a couple of them waiting for me when I got to their house from the Airport. They're yummy, but don't particularly taste like home. The Dr. Peppers that I brought Anne, however, do taste like life in Georgia, so we just put the Spirit of Georgia label on the Dr. Pepper bottle to get things right.

Anne's mom is really sweet, and has been taking great care of me. One day she brought me this little book to help me learn more German. It's called "Grover can be super nice." It's all about good manners--and, of course, when Anne found out her mom got me a book about manners, she gave me quite a hard time ;)

We went to Sanssouci! It's an old Prussian Palace that was Friedrich the Great's summer home. It's especially awesome because Rufus Wainwright sings about it.

This is Friedrich the Great's grave at Sanssouci. Why are there potatoes on it, you may ask? Why, it's because he introduced the staple to Germany! What a legacy.

This flower at Sanssouci will eventually turn into a pomegranate!

Ice cream in Potsdam after the pottery market, and despite the icky weather. Enjoying ice cream on a day like that is really more an act of defiance against nature than anything.

Later on in the week, however, the sun came back for a short visit. This is by the Teltow Kanal, where I went on a bike ride one day while Anne was working at her internship.

Another Anne! Try not to get too confused. This is Anne Graupner, Anne Kutzner's best friend. She lives in Pankow, which is an area in northern Berlin.

This is a pedestrian traffic light with one of the two Ampelmänchen ("little lamp-men") illuminated. You can tell you're in the former GDR (East Berlin) by these guys wearing hats on the lamps instead of more normal stick figures.

The first afternoon we were in Pankow with Anne G., we made a delicious pizza! There's even tuna on it--which is apparently par for the pizza course in Germany.

No surprise here--we play a lot of Uno (one of the "international" games I can play without speaking much German). Even though the games are easy for me to understand, I usually still lose.

Cookout in the Kutzners' back yard! The fire in the foreground was for warmth, since it is far from summery here.

The fancy new central train station of Berlin. This was part of our journey to Greifswald, where Anne studies. It's in the North, right next to the Baltic Sea.

I finally got to meet Anne's roommates! This is Antje, who is (if you can believe it) a little shorter than me! She's quite sweet, as you can tell. I only met the other roommate, Franka, for two minutes or so, at the train platform where we were arriving and from whence she was departing.

On Saturday we went to Bintz--a retiree beach town on the island of Rügen. We completely lucked out with the weather--we managed to catch the sunny hour or two of the day. The weather changes constantly with the strong winds from the sea.

My favorite part of the day was learning to fly Anne's steering kite. It has two strings so that once you get it airborne (and learn how), you can make the kite do spinny-exciting maneuvers. It was definitely the perfect day for kite-flying.

Just because we were at the beach doesn't mean that it was warm! We saw a few dedicated people wading in the waves while all bundled up on the top half!

Naturally, we had to stop for some Apple Strudel and a coffee! It was completely yummy.

This is part of Greifswald, during our Sunday stroll. That's a church spire in the background, and in the foreground are some non-tradtional (for Germany) buildings. Anne informed me that they look that way because they were build when Greifswald belonged to Sweden, between the 17th and 18th centuries.

When we got to the top of the church spire, this is what we could see--downtown Greifswald, in all it's orange glory. You can see the Marienkirche in the back, which you can see from Anne's balcony.

Not to be outdone by the bears in Berlin, Greifswald has fish scattered throughout the town.

We found a hedgehog last night on our way in from Pankow! He was terribly cute and quite scared of us. Apparently, you have to watch out that they won't make a mess of your outside trash.

(my name is king boy!) or, (me talk pretty one day)

2008-09-05T04:04:00.000-05:00

My first afternoon here in Kleinmachnow, Anne and I went on a pleasant walk around the neighborhood. It didn't take us long to find a woody area, where Anne explained that the Berlin city limit was. So we stepped right over into Berlin proper, and proceeded to a playground busy with after-school activity. Naturally, we made a beeline for the swing set, shoved our adult-sized hips into the rigid child-sized seats, and started pumping as we talked. Our exotic-sounding English soon drew a small crowd of little boys. They were bold in their anything-but-discreet fascination, and it wasn't long before one of them (Dennis) finally plucked up the courage to make contact with these linguistic aliens. "What's your name!" It was more declaration than inquiry, but we answered and thus broke the spell of silent interest that had captivated our audience. For the next few moments, a chorus of "What's your name"s filled the air as the other boys followed Dennis' lead and tried their tongues at the bizarre sounds they had been learning in English class. Anne and I interrupted them with our own questions every so often, which is how I know that the first boy was Dennis. This encouraged them to try out "My name is" combined with a few more familiar phrases that had made enough of an impression on the boys to stick:

"My name is KING BOY!"

(pleased snickers all around)

"My name is Castle king!"

(more giggling)

"My name is Cowboy!"

Etc.

Since then, I've thought often of the boys and their unmitigated amazement and enthusiasm upon realizing that silly sounds learned in a classroom could actually mean something to someone from far away. That feeling doesn't get old, and it's not just for kids--it's a unique experience that figures heavily in my own interest in the study and "mastery" foreign languages.

In my four days here, surrounded by German and Germans, I have had the opportunity to be reminded just how much I have in common with Dennis and the gang at the playground. It's why, despite knowing how slowly I speak with a heavy accent after only two semesters of beginning German, I feel totally in my element contributing my own "What's your name"s and the like into the conversations around me.

"Can you me please give the potatoes?"

"I have two suitcase. One suitcase came with me but one suitcase went to Dublin."

"We went to the airport but not a person was there for help us."

"Can I look the bottle, please?"

I like to think that my German hosts are as pleased to hear me enjoy trying to speak their language as I was to speak with the boys at the park. I suppose (at least with German), cuteness is a better fate than inertness--even though I know if I got better, I would soon begin to hate being seen as "cute"--the same way I hate it now when I'm speaking French, and Anne hates it when she's speaking English ;)

(air chance and haribo)

2008-09-02T08:21:00.003-05:00

Well, they have found my missing bag--naturally, it's sitting in a Dublin airport! But it will arrive by tomorrow and Anne and I can have a driving adventure to go and fetch it. When I told Frau Kutzner I was missing a bag, she helped me at the luggage lost and found desk, and commented that they had lost bags several times, and always with Air France. Which, of course, is the Delta partner I flew over with. It's not nicknamed Air Chance for nothing!

Now that my brief golden nap is over, my bag is located, and I've divvied out hugs, I'm going to go (continue) enjoy coffee on the balcony on a nice summer day. (They say it's summery, but I think it's more fallish ;) We'll see how much of the German conversation I can follow.

On another note, Frau Kutzner brought us Haribo from the grocery! I'm so pumped about rediscovering the parts of Europe that I had forgotten I missed!

(arrival)

2008-09-02T05:02:00.001-05:00

I'm here (in Kleinmachnow, that is)! Safe and sound, freshly showered, on my way to a nap and hoping to hear soon that they found my lost bag! That's all for now, but more to come, for sure.

(fortune cookie)

2008-08-30T16:11:00.002-05:00

It's 5:00 pm and I'm sitting on the couch wondering how I could possibly still be stuffed from lunch. Of course, as I wonder this, I immediately recall the parade of deliciousness that sauntered across my palate this afternoon at P.F. Chang's with my mom's family. I'll spare you the details, since I'd hate to incite lust or jealousy in the hearts of my innocent readers ;) Just know that it was interesting, tasty, and bountiful.

At the end of the feeding frenzy, I opened up a fortune cookie as an afterthought. I sighed customary relief to find that my future holds no "short stranger soon entering my life"--the fortune my mother received twice in her life just prior to discovering she was pregnant with me and just prior to finding out James was on the way. Short stranger danger averted, my fortune instead read:

"You are a lover of words; someday you should write a book."

Not a bad idea. Maybe I will.

Someday.

For now, I'm more than content to gather material.

(a tribute to my monkey boxers)

2008-08-29T00:00:00.007-05:00

In keeping with the recent theme of my posts, it seems August is just the month for goodbyes and moving on--so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that even my most favorite pajama boxers got in on all the farewell action the other day.

Yes, in the sad picture to your left is a ragged scrap of what was once the best pajama article to ever grace my drowsy body. You can see that the ubiquitous monkey boxers (rather, what's left of them) have a new home in my box of letters, papers, diplomas and keepsakes. It is a place they have certainly earned--hanging out on my rear end every night for the past two years! They were loose, stretchy, cool, completely unattractive and totally amazing. Many of you experienced just how happy these monkey boxers used to make me, especially, but certainly not limited to roommates. I think even the locksmith in Rome has seen them, since the one time I ever had to call a locksmith, I was of course locked out of the house in my pajamas. We've been through a lot together, my monkey boxers and me: from all-nighters to restless (leg) nights to dozy naps to lazy Saturday mornings. Lately I often find myself at a loss, reaching for my old standby in the evenings before remembering with a sigh that the monkeys met their match. That match was, incidentally, the Blacks' dog Maya, who snuck into my room one night while I was absorbed in my Cosby Show DVDs and had a toothy go at my beloved pajamas.

So now you know the sad story of why a swatch of cotton with a monkey on it is in my keepsake box.

Oh, and as a bonus: Voilà the culprit, Maya. Quite a sweet, if high maintenance, puppy dog (I probably would have been much angrier if her ears weren't so soft and cute.):

So all good things must come to an end, it seems. Even perfect monkey boxers. *Sigh*

(two hundred thousand million years)

2008-08-27T13:32:00.000-05:00

As promised, a brief post. This one is a transcription of a conversation I had last night, with almost-eight-year-old, very theatrical Michael Black:
...
Michael: Are you leaving today?

Emilee: Nope, I'm leaving your house tomorrow, but then I'll go to Germany on Monday--in 5 days.

Michael: Well, I wish it was in two hundred thousand million years.

Emilee: I'm gonna miss you, too, Michael.
...

(for all my roommates)

2008-08-24T19:07:00.008-05:00

Now, I’d hate to give the impression that I’ve been counting down to departure. But If I were, I’d be able to say that I have 8 days left, and that the anticipation is certainly mounting as my days left in the States continue to dwindle.

This post, however, isn’t about t-minus 8 days. It’s about t-minus 9 days—Saturday—and how I came home at the end of it somehow feeling more content after 3 important goodbyes than before them. It might take me a while to get back to it, but if you read patiently I promise I’ll get there.

My mom asked me the other day if saying so many goodbyes was getting to me. She asked because she had observed an absence of mopiness in my demeanor, which struck her as strange. Here’s the funny thing—what my mother noticed is an actually an accurate reflection of how I’ve responded to the big “moves” in my life lately.

And boy, have there been moves. Since starting college 4 years ago and counting the move I’ll make in a week or so, I’ve lived in no less than 8 locations, with even more people. For those interested the progression, it’s as follows: My Parents’-->Berry Dorm-->Paris-->Clara Apartment-->Honeycutts’-->5 Norwood Street-->Blacks’-->Villefranche-de-Rouergue. Not to mention the life stage shifts—from living with my parents to becoming a college student to navigating foreign lands and languages to finding my academic self to suddenly finding my general self out of school, hoping I’m ready for real adulthood in another country. Not surprisingly, I’ve gained a deep appreciation for nomads who somehow retain a sense of purpose and consistency in their travels despite constantly uprooting and transplanting their lives.

I don’t presume to consider my transience unique. I hardly know anyone my age who can’t match or exceed my tally of locations, life stages, and roommates. But if you’ll recall, this post isn’t about impressing you with how much I’ve moved and adjusted. That’s just prep work ;)

This post is about why my mom noticed I don’t mope after goodbyes, and how (rather paradoxically) I feel more content than I have in a long time immediately following such a quick succession of farewells yesterday evening.

Two of the goodbyes were to my roommates of the last two years. You read “roommates” and probably imagine three girls (women? nah.) who occupy the same living space and hopefully get along well. Who are even friends, if they’re lucky. What you don’t know about Molly, Elizabeth, and I is that we were more of an institution than peaceful co-existers. I take that back. I was lucky enough to get in on the Molly-Elizabeth roommate institution halfway through. I never imagined that I’d get two of my dearest friends out of a makeshift living arrangement—but I did. The other goodbye was to one of the few, the proud “Honorary Roommates”—and my longest “best friend,” Donnovin. 10 years of best-friendship shouldn’t need any more explanation than that.

Over the summer, I also saw my second-longest “best friend,” serial roommate, and pretty-much sister Ann off to a new life in Bolivia with her husband and my friend, too, Drew. Sure, I got a little teary, but nothing more serious than a little nostalgia that was quickly brushed aside.

I’m not finished with goodbyes, yet, either. Next week I’ll say goodbye to the Blacks, my “housemates” for this summer—a family I’ve known, learned from, enjoyed, and babysat for since middle school. Reconnecting with them and being part of their daily lives has been one of the joys of my summer, and I’ll certainly miss them. I’ll also say goodbye to the ultimate roommates—my parents and James.

So why am I not more sad? Sure, there’s the fact that I’m going on an adventure and have so much of the unknown to look forward to. I’ve missed Europe and speaking another language and am excited to try my hand at life as a bona fide grown-up. But if my only reason for not being sad were that I’ll be too distracted to notice it, that would be a bit sad in itself, don’t you think?

Here’s the thing: While I’m saying goodbye to home friends, I’m on my way to spending three weeks with our Senior Honorary Roommate, Anne, in Berlin. She lived with Molly, Elizabeth and I for seven weeks in the Spring, which is why she’s the Senior Honorary Roommate. While in Europe, I’ll get to visit my roommate from Paris, D’yon—the roommate with whom I spent and processed all that comes with a year abroad. No, I’m not so easily distracted that I’ll forget about missing my roommates (including the honorary ones). It’s just—how can I be pitiful or dramatic about these “goodbyes” when I’ve experienced over and over how my path continually crosses and recrosses those of people dear to me? My leaving is, in itself, confirmation of why these goodbyes are perhaps a bit sentimental, but not serious or lasting. And that tally of transitions? The larger that number gets, the more confirmation I have that changes in life stage, emotional state, and physical location are variable props on a stage floor constructed of significant relationships—NOT the other way around.

I couldn’t muster any real depression if I tried, not when there are so many “roommates” in my life ready to plan for our paths to cross again. My life is full of people who know my stories, and whose stories I know by heart. We have “our” songs, private jokes, common experiences, goals, and interests. We’ve lived together. So what if most of us aim to be global nomads? We’ll have more interesting stories to tell when we finally do get back together.

And do you know what my favorite part is? Almost everyone I’ve mentioned knows everyone I’ve mentioned. I don’t have “categories” of roommates. Anne knows D’yon from when she visited me in Paris. Molly and Elizabeth welcomed that Anne into our home for seven weeks, no questions asked. D’yon came to visit in Rome, and though she and Donnovin have never met, they both know all about each other, and even joke about things involving the other one they just heard about through me. Donnovin was an instant hit with M and E junior year, and we all spent the afternoon together yesterday. I’m friends with Drew because he married my best friend, and Molly and Elizabeth met Ashley and Bryant Black at the coolest wedding we’ve ever been to, which just happened to be Ann's and Drew’s.

I’ve often rejoiced in being able to declare that I’ve never had a bad roommate. The fact that my dearest friends are people I’ve lived with certainly bodes well for the future. I’ve realized I’m excited to find out who I can throw into the mix this year, since every addition to the roster has been a smashing success. I certainly hit the living arrangement jackpot.

And that’s why goodbyes don’t make me mopey.

See, I told you I’d eventually get to the point. And I promise—the next post will be short and pithy (I hope). Hell, maybe I’ll just post pictures ;)

(one sent letter, one unsent letter)

2008-07-16T23:15:00.004-05:00

Background and update about the job (or should I say, nonjob) situation: After several weeks nannying (40+hours/week) for a family here in Chattanooga who paid me $7 per hour to care for their 3 kids (3, 5, 13) I finally got up the nerve to request a (deserved) pay raise. I sent this email to them about 1:00am on Tuesday morning, which briefly explained my desire to have a conversation about a pay raise:

"Heather and Mark,

This is rather an awkward email for me to write, but I feel that it must be done. The rocky start to my fourth week of full-time with the kids has confirmed to me something that I have been mulling over the past couple of weeks--namely, that we need to revisit the subject of my pay. Before I go into details, I do want to say that I am committed to doing what's best for your children, which as we have discussed, involves consistency. I don't want to cause an upset in their lives/routines by leaving, but some adjustment does need to be made.

In order to be both brief and clear, I am going to list below my defense of this request.

1. Minimum wage is being raised to $6.55 this month, which means that I will soon be making $.45/hour more than the bare minimum.

2. I don't feel that the service I've provided your family is worth so little. I have committed an entire summer to your schedule, requesting only one day off. I arrive on time, and have been flexible to stay later than expected when necessary.

3. I not only provide security for you by being reliable, but am well-trained to supervise pool time, as well as drive the kids to their various "spots." Additionally, these driving responsibilities have gradually increased from the original agreement of pick-up and drop-off of your kids at school/practice. They have involved other children, as well as trips to the dentist and pediatrician, where I am responsible to advocate for your children and ensure that all directions are communicated to you.

4. Discipline issues. As I type this, I have a slightly bruised eye from a deliberate punch thrown by Aidan in the middle of what has been reported by Susan as "calm, consistent" discipline after he repeatedly refused to serve his time out, said "shit" several times, and became physically and verbally violent. As we are all aware, this is not nearly the first time I've had these problems--problems which do not fall under the "regular kid-like behavior" category. I have confirmed that this behavior is abnormally violent not only with my own experience, but with my mother (who specialized in special education and early childhood) and other fellow childcare givers. In the weeks with Aidan, I have had some of my hair pulled out, been scratched (to bleeding), kicked, punched, bitten and spit on. I feel I have been VERY patient with all this, and have never crossed any sort of disciplinary line. I believe that after knowing me for 6 weeks, Aidan is not just "testing" me because I'm new. I realize that Aidan has a lot going on and is anxious about starting school, etc. I want to help him by providing consistency in his day, and through constructive play. I have tried to be creative in my approach to him, and have even sought the advice of others and consulted with you for ways to connect with him and get things under control. As much as I enjoy him during good moments, It is physically and mentally exhausting to handle Aidan during the day, regardless of how available Emily is to help.

In addition to the above reasons for feeling that I am not being fairly compensated, I have spoken with others in the childcare industry who all (in various parts of the country, including Chattanooga) make on average $12-$15/hour, but at least $10/hour for providing similar, even lesser services. Even Baylor camp [which Aidan attended for a week], which does not provide individual attention and care, costs approximately $9.80 per hour per child.

I hope that you will not receive this message as a hardened solicitation for money, but will instead see it as a carefully considered, reasonable request from someone who cares about your family."

How did they respond? Mark unexpectedly came home while I was babysitting on Tuesday (about 10:00am), asked to speak to me in the den, and said "We've decided to give you the rest of the summer off. We have someone to replace you, and it's too bad that things didn't work out."

WHAT?!? I was completely caught off guard, and he said that my "vacation" was effective immediately. So I walked to the next room where the boys were doing puzzles, said I had to go home, and left. Fired from a full-time position which was providing income that I depended on to save for the move to France in six weeks. I was livid that they would do this, and without even an explanation. I do feel sure that I did the right thing by standing up for myself and requesting a raise. And I feel sure that I don't want to work for people with so little regard for others. However, it's been quite a blow. If anyone in the Chattanooga area hears of some work that needs to be done, please let me know!

This morning I had a voicemail from the mother, in which she said, "I'm sorry things didn't work out, but the child you described in your email is not the child that I know. This must just be the result of conflicting personalities. Good luck in France, Aidan has a fever today so know you've been exposed to something." The child she knows...the child that she is hardly ever around and who she rarely bothers to discipline. I was (once again) furious that this couple would behave so badly, and composed the following email--which I won't be sending to them because I don't think it would do any good, and because it gets rather aggressive at the end:

"Heather and Mark,

I got your phone call this morning, and wanted to respond.

I feel you both handled things very unfairly. Regardless of how you felt about the wage situation or the way I represented your son in my email, you owed me a conversation. I was your employee, and I was extremely disappointed that after six weeks of dedicated service, you would go to the extreme of firing me with no warning or discussion. I presented no ultimatum to you in my email. I repeated that I wanted to do what was best by your family. All I asked was that we at least discuss the issue of my pay.

In order to show you why I felt this conversation was a reasonable request, I presented several defenses--one of which was the discipline trouble that I had with Aidan. Heather, you said in your voicemail that the child described in my email was not the child you know, and excused your treatment of me as the unfortunate result of "personality issues." I'm not sure how this is possible, since I said nothing about Aidan that I had not reported to you daily during the past few weeks. You were even there on the couch one day when Aidan punched me in the face and called me names as I followed through on the consequence I warned him about if he refused to sit in time-out. You could see that I was in no way abusing Aidan, and had even heard from your friend Susan on Monday that my course of discipline was completely appropriate. No matter what the "personality issues" were, Aidan's reaction was empirically unacceptable. For you to blame your child's behavior on my personality is a disservice to me, but more importantly, to Aidan. If he pays attention, he will have learned that when he treats people badly, his parents will simply make them go away--and he will have learned that his bad behavior gets results. He will also have learned that there is no reason for him to take responsibility for his own actions. I think that's sad for him.

But all that said--I want to go back to the first part of this email. Though I don't expect to get one, you owe me an apology. It was insulting and hurtful to be fired from a job with no warning, and the snarky comment "we have someone to replace you." I have said it before, but it bears repeating--I find it hard to believe that after I did everything I could to provide your family with the best service possible, I would be confronted the way Mark confronted me, without even an apology for removing my very much-needed income--much less an apology for the way his child(ren) acted. All of the sudden, I find myself unemployed 6 weeks from my departure abroad, and panicking about what I'm going to do about money. It would be a difficult situation no matter what, but I could accept this event much more easily if I had at least been treated with the respect of a conversation.

It is your prerogative to hire and keep who you choose, but rashly firing me (and it must have been rash, since I was fired at 10:00am the morning you received my email) leads me to conclude that your actions were the result of having your egos bruised by someone (again, respectfully) speaking truth about your family. Maybe you felt angry because there was an implication that Aidan was a bad kid or you were bad parents. Though I didn't mean to communicate that then, I certainly feel that, in light of recent events, you might be just that--bad parents. No wonder I've had behavior issues with the kids--they are learning from parents that don't set a good example of how to treat people and don't expect them to accept responsibility for their actions.

You're sorry things "didn't work out." I'm sorry that you don't have the integrity to apologize to me. And I'm sorry that your kids are going to have to deal with even more topsy-turviness in their lives because you can't put their needs ahead of yours enough to deal fairly with their caregiver."

Whew. Felt nice to get that out there. I should, henceforward, feel no need to vent about this situation--which those closest to me will probably appreciate.

On to better things, right?

(fired and furious)

2008-07-15T10:40:00.002-05:00

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least. I was unceremoniously fired from my nanny job after very respectfully requesting a conversation about raising my pay.

More to come soon, once I've cooled off.

Some people should not be allowed to procreate.

(villefranche-de-rouergue)

2008-06-26T19:14:00.004-05:00

Take a look at the title. Ever heard of it? Can you pronounce it? Me neither.

Well, now I've heard of Villefranche-de-Rouergue, and hopefully soon I'll be able to pronounce it correctly (too many r's and in all the wrong places), because it's the name of the town I'll call home for a year starting in September. V-de-R is a pretty small, remote town of about 12,000 in Southwestern France. And from what I can tell from my "arreté de nomination" (the official notification of my post in France), I'll be responsible for teaching elementary school English, bouncing around among the four elementary schools and trying to develop sufficient classroom management skills to impart at least some basics of our language through lesson plans I'll be making with no teaching background. However it turns out, it will certainly be an adventure. But perhaps job adventures will be the perfect foil to what I assume will be the slower pace of smalltown life.

It's certainly a far cry from my imagined autumn plans. But that doesn't mean the idea isn't growing on me. In fact, I was pleased to have a facebook message from a complete stranger today who had seen my post about my post in the facebook group. Marika (that's her name) simply sent a message saying that yes, V-de-R is quite small, but she knew someone who had lived there a year and loved it. Which is a great sign, right? And whatever the situation, I'm just thankful to have some more concrete direction to give me outlets (apartment spotting, research, lesson material gathering, etc) through which to fuel the nervous anticipation that's been steadily building since April.

So. There I'll be soon enough.

Weird.

(fainting goat barbecue)

2008-06-21T22:14:00.008-05:00

After spending a day in domestic gear (laundry groceries baking brisket-rubbing cleaning), I trotted off to meet Ann and Drew (who else) for my very first pig roast. By now, I'm convinced that it's one of the very best ways to wind up the longest day of the year and the celebrate the official start of summer.

I'd never been to Crabtree Farms before, and didn't even know it existed before this summer. Ann and Drew are members of the community farming project, which is how I was acquainted with the venue/host of the pig roast. It seems like a really interesting, positive concept and practice, so it was no surprise that there were plenty of fascinating people to watch and meet. All the food (and even most of the beer) was local, fresh, and completely tasty.

On the menu and my plate:

fainting goat or pork with barbecue sauce

served on fresh bakery buns

accompanied by giant-chunk potato salad

spicy baked beans

and colorful not-too-mayonaisey cole slaw

The best part was dessert:

perfect barely sweet drop biscuit

topped with blueberry compote and

fresh heavy whipped cream

(...oh the biscuit!)

So now I can add goat to the list of meats I've tried, and "seek out unique community opportunities" to the list of life-enriching character adjustments to make.

All in all a good day's work (play).

---------------------

Don't know what a fainting goat is?

---------------------

(return)

2008-06-20T15:52:00.002-05:00

Same person. New phase. Same blog. New look.

That's what there is to know for now.

Having left college behind me and getting ready to leave the States, too, I figured it was time for a return to the blogging lifestyle. The plan is to update erratically, but interestingly. We'll see, and hopefully keep in touch.

So welcome (back).

back...

2006-07-15T21:54:00.000-05:00

I'm back in the good ol' US of A and what's even more unbelievable, I've been here nearly a month. I constantly oscillate between not being able to believe that I once lived in Paris to not being able to believe that I'm already gone.

Life back in Chattanooga has been surprisingly easy to slip back into--I tell myself that that is more a fruit of "cultural flexibility" than some discounting or forgetting of my time in France.
The actual trip home was rather uneventful, and after a few delays, a few cries, and a few in-flight movies, and a few too many goodbyes before all that, I was happy to see my family again, standing patiently at the top of the escalator in the Atlanta airport.

I thought I'd have a lot to say, to wind up this sometime chronicle of my year in Paris, but I'm finding as I write that there's not much to say. Just that the year was one of the best, and most impactful times of my life so far. It was incredible, and it's over for now. I'm back in the States, enjoying my time at home and eagerly looking forward to my return to Paris, planning new ways to get myself abroad. After I get that degree, of course ;)

So. Until the next foray à l'étranger,

emilee

winding down

2006-06-03T07:09:00.000-05:00

I have a plane ticket to Atlanta for the 21 of June and all I can say is y'all better hope I get on that flight. No, I'll be on that plane, because if I'm not, I'll be out of a living situtation, a degree, food, and plenty of other necessities. Needless to say, I am not quite feeling that whole "coming home vibe." Part of me is managing to get excited about seeing family and friends again, driving, knowing that there are stores open later than 7h, and enjoying summer heat (Paris is currently struggling with the longest "winter" most people can remember--yesterday I wore a jacket, pants, socks and shoes and my fingers got really cold on the way to the métro). I'm excited to be back and tell my stories in person, to feel like dressing in jeans and a t-shirt to run errands is acceptable, and to bask in the glory of that American value called customer service. But I'm also going to miss dearly being able to walk pretty much anywhere for anything, my little attic room, impromptu saturday lunches of salad, paté, baguette and red wine. I'll be sad to leave my host family and all the crazy meals and conversations, my friends and stupid times with my roommate. I'll miss the how intensely carefree my life is here and desperately trying to speak in french. Greeting people with a kiss on each cheek, and chatting with my crêpe man. Alright, if I continue in this vein, things will soon get boring--I will assume you all get the idea by now.

I'm posting pictures from this last month or so--since the last post. Some of them I took while on an extended mosey yesterday in the sunshine, and I wouldn't have them if things had gone as originally planned. A weekend in Stockholm was the plan, but things fell through, as they sometimes do. Disappointment? Of course. But when you step back and think about it, a weekend in Paris really isn't too shabby.

These pictures are all out of order, so hold on to your seats.

My host dad, Jean-Jacques, and host brother, Olivier. This was monday lunch on the french Labor Day. Please note the berets and the piece of paper rolled up to look like a cigar in Olivier's mouth. Craziness ensues chez Jean-Jacques anytime most of the family's over for a celebration. It's a shame I don't have a video of these two singing french drinking songs and playing with their berets.

Near where my friend Tiff lives, métro Odéon.

Muguets (lillies of the valley) that Chantal gave to my roommate and I for Labor Day. They're traditional "portes bonheurs," or good luck charms.

Fontaine de Medicis in the Jardins du Luxembourg, complete with nose, mouth, and chin. Every now and again, this fountain is used to exhibit modern art. The most recent installation.

One of my buses. Not too exciting, but something I see a lot.

Also in the Luxembourg Gardens, this guy hanging up in the branches.

Part of the same display as the previous picture. One of the entrances to the garden has been lined with bamboo, the ground covered in blue sand, and these fabric photos hung up. I don't exactly know what it's all about, but thought it was interesting.

Bibliothèque François Mitterand. It's the national library (kind of like the Library of Congress) near my house. It's four buildings that are supposed to look like open books.

Again (like the bus shot) not too exciting, but something I see all the time--the view from my bed out of my skylight.

On the sidewalk that I use to get to school. There's another little section that comes first which reads "Celia, je t'aime" (Celia, I love you), and it's followed by this set which translates to "You are the most beautiful."This repeats for a few feet, and it cheers me up on the way to class.

Meringues as big as your head.

Pique-nique on the Seine.

The cow parade has come to Paris. This one's an hommage to the famous french rooftops.

A few crumbly bits behind Notre Dame.

Crazy column, eh? It's in a little church called St. Severin.

Met up with my cousin Jason and his wife Anita Kay one night for dinner while they were in town for a couple of days. Note presence of uncontrolable chunk of bang hair. Oh, and don't be fooled by the summer dress--it was FREEZING. But worth it to have a fun dinner with some family I hadn't seen in a while.

From dinner with Jason and Anita Kay. I thoroughly enjoyed my steak tartar as well as the bewildered looks on my cousins' faces. Oh, the things you learn to eat. (By the way, steak tartar is raw ground beef, with lots of yummy seasonings.)

That's all you get for now, guys. Hopefully I'll at least get in one more update before I fly out!

picture attack! in reverse order...

2006-04-30T12:36:00.000-05:00

It's been a while, and plenty has been going on. So here's the picture update. Incidentally, in reverse order, since I somehow can't move my pictures around and well, that's just the way it is. So enjoy!

This is my silhouette at an exposition I went to today at the Palais de Tokyo. They had these cool lights moving around in the rather dark area, and my narcissistic side couldn't resist taking a few pics of my own shadow. There's another one a little lower down.

Oh, Paris. Cold and rainy the on the last day of April. At least there are different umbrellas to look at.

Fat Batman hanging from the ceiling in the Palais de Tokyo. Most likely a statement about American excess, but mostly just funny.

The other silhouette. You can kind of tell that my hair is all frizzy from the pouring rain...

The sign (at the train station near Giverny)--"Here rent Bicycles"

The roommate (D'yon) and myself in part of Monet's gardens at Giverny. Look how we love each other. Recognize the bridge in the background?

The pictures at Giverny weren't the best, since the weather was really grey...but there's that bridge you might've seen before again.

And here's where my nerdiness comes in. There were tons of beautiful flowers at Monet's digs, and most of them being my favorite flower (tulips) and amazing colors, I took way to many boring flower pictures. Then, to make things worse, I couldn't decide which ones to put on the blog, so put on way too many! I suppose there are those who will enjoy them!

This one's fuzzy (as are a few of them) but the colors are amazing so you have to look at them anyway.

Monet's House.

Gah--I love these colours together--they're so striking. And in the same flower in this case!

More of the red and yellow I like so much together.

A little street in Giverny--it's really like a small neighborhood, where Monet lived. Quaint would be the word.

My roommate (again) with her men on the train ride to Giverny. On the left is her boyfriend, Pierre-Alexandre, one of the guys we met in Prague. We're all buddies.

Just like this one. Window out onto paris rooftops from my friend Tiff's seventh-floor studio.

And Tiffy herself. A good friend of mine from class last semester. She's german (like most of my friends, it seems), from Munich. The wine's in the foreground because of the cork you can barely see that fell in. We thought we should commemorate her adorable klutziness with a photo.

I like to call these two my "Annes Allemandes" because they're both named Anne, and they're both German (that's what Allemand means in French). A great picture of two dear friends!

With my Annes, we did all of the major tourism for Paris over a long weekend. This is Place de la Bastille (where the prison used to be), where I introduced them to the joys of panini on the steps of the Opera.

The Louvre at sunset. With a bit of the pyramid.

The Cemetery in Montmartre. And tulips. I love springtime.

The Annes again, at the top of Sacre Coeur.

My friend Courtney doing Su-Doku to pass the night in the Madrid airport on the way back from Tenerife during Spring break.

Joanna shuffling cards...probably around 3 am in the Madrid airport--long night.

My first poker game. Still in the airport.

On the way to the airport-- the volcanic mountains of Tenerife--the one of the Canary Islands we stayed at.

Alright, same deal as the flowers. Too many pictures of the sunset on the beach. But whatever, you know you love it.

Dusk on the Beach with (l-r) Joanna and Courtney.

Beach feet!

Charles de Gaulle (called Roissy by the natives) waiting for the plane to take us to the SUN and the SAND and the FUN!

Hyacinths at the park near my house earlier this month.

The first real spring day of the year. D'yon's and my feet bare in the sunshine, a good book in my lap, and fresh fruit in a beautiful park.

Sorry all you got were captions...but that's just gonna have to do. Enjoy the pictures, at least!

"And the sun poured in like butterscotch...

2006-04-02T14:41:00.000-05:00

...and stuck to all my senses."

If you didn't catch it right off, that's a little Joni Mitchell for ya. I put it at the top of this entry because...you guessed it--I have FINALLY seen the sun in Paris. It had been quite a while, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not it was ever going to return. Don't get me wrong--I am in love with Paris, sun or no--but we were about to need another break from each other if the skies didn't clear up soon and stop raining on me.

When I woke up this "morning" (a few minutes before noon), I could tell immediately that it was a beautiful day--we have two massive skylights in our little attic room, so two squares of sky are the first things I always see, and what usually set the tone for my mornings. I knew it would be warm enough outside because it had warmed up the last week or so. The only problem had been the constant rain that the warmth had brought with it. But today, after struggling through that transitional week between winter and spring, the sunshine and the temperatures finally managed to get their act together. April in Paris is famous, you know. And after waiting for it so impatiently through February and March, I was thrilled to know I had the whole day to myself and could enjoy it however I pleased.

So I ate a relaxed breakfast of plain yogurt, a bowl of cereal, and some good (read strong) coffee, moseyed back upstairs, and changed clothes to go on a "run." Of course we all know that I'm not in great shape, but from time to time, even I want to go at it with all I've got, and today was one of those days. I even wore a t-shirt. I passed droves of Sunday amblers, still wearing their long coats and scarves, some even their hats and gloves. Parisians are funny like that--they don't seem to have that antsy eagerness for a new season that makes a lot of Americans wear our warm-weather clothes and sandals long before it's actually "appropriate." But having lived in Paris for the past six months, I've come to terms with certain aspects of my Americanness. There are some things, like wearing chacos in warm weather, or putting on a t-shirt (albeit while exercising) while the babies are still bundled in snowsuits that I just enjoy, and I've learned not to be uptight about looking like an "outsider." I'm never going to completely fit in here--even if I manage the look and attitude, everyone will know as soon as I open my mouth that I'm not Parisian. I'm perfectly satisfied being an American in Paris, so long as I'm one of the Americans that doesn't contribute to the negative stereotypes. I'm an international, and that's more interesting than assimilating completely, anyway--right? It's what I tell myself anyway ;)

I think I just got quite sidetracked, non? Oh, well. I figure I write so infrequently on the blog that you'll indulge me in a little bit of meandering. Revenons à nos moutons. That's French for "back to our sheep," which is a rough equivalent of "meanwhile back on the ranch." I ran around the south-eastern corner of Paris, which is my area (the 12e and 13e arrondissements). One of the two major parks (or woods) on the outskirts of the city is about a 25 minute jog from my house--Bois de Vincennes, which is where I went. It was really the perfect way to experience Paris on a spring afternoon--on the way to the park, I got to enjoy the streets of the city, teeming with people going who-knows-where (since almost EVERYTHING still closes on Sundays in Paris), the energy of the sidewalks and the classic "parisian look" of it all--which was followed by a beautiful foray through the park. For the first time in a long while, I breathed relatively clean air (ok, so it probably only seemed like that because I wasn't actually on a street, but you can let me pretend, right?), and just enjoyed that now-rare feeling of being outside among almost natural nature, big, blue skies. I circled the convoluted pond, passing lovers (surprise surprise), runners and bikers, parents with their kids, dogowners and older couples soaking up sun on the benches. In the pond itself (which is really pretty big), there were little rowboats everywhere, since you can rent them at the entrance. Once I'd thoroughly tuckered myself out, I settled in on a patch of grass and just breathed in the springtime with my eyes closed, face to the sun with my ipod turned up, and even rolled up my pants to let my legs see a glimpse of the outside world, which hasn't happened in ages.

So that was my day--or at least the part I figure is worth recounting. I came back home eventually, though I could've stayed for much longer. The thing is, it started clouding up after a couple of hours, followed by some more spring bursts of rain. Oh, I almost forgot! To top it all off, when I went to walk a DVD back to the rental store, I saw the most amazing rainbow I've ever seen! It was thick and bright and it touched the horizon at two points. Of course, by the time I ran back inside to grab my camera, it was really faded. But I saw it, and it was beautiful!

Alright. I haven't written in over a month, so I guess now that you've heard about today, I could give a quick overview of the last little bit, and a bit of what's to come. There's really not a whole lot to say about March--I loved it, of course, but it was just daily life, with nothing really spectacular to share. I'm definitely VERY attached to my life here, and hate the thought of it ending in such a short time--less than three months at this point. Sometimes I think it must be easier for people who only stay a semester, because by the end of three months, you have really experienced a city, a culture, but you leave before really settling in, and feeling so disconnected from life back at "home." I can't wait to see people when I get back, but other than that, I feel like I could spend at least another year or two here. Who needs to finish college, anyway? Ok, ok, I know. I do. Anyway. All that to say that Paris is amazing--better than I ever really expected it to be. My host family is still great (we cooked them a real southern dinner the other night, which was interesting, to say the least), school is the opposite of stressful, I've been enjoying the theater and cafés, meeting cool people and still enjoying old friends, making travel plans...you get the idea.

Oh, speaking of travel plans--next stop is the Canary Islands for Spring Break (leaving April 11)!!! Beach here we come! I can't wait for that! I'll be sure to update after that trip, although I'm not sure too much "eventful" will be happening. Hopefully it will just be a lot of soaking up the sun and enjoying the ocean.

Ok, it's time for me to wind this up--I really must do a bit of cleaning up before my roommate D'yon gets home from her trip tonight. I love you all!

Semester break continued!

2006-02-27T13:56:00.001-05:00

Potsdamer Platz in Berlin, still. This is the red carpet for the Berlin film festival (Berlinale), which was finishing up just as I got to Berlin. Of course, this is during the early afternoon, so nothing very exciting was going on--the most important part of this area was really the Starbuck's just to the left...hehe.
Still Potsdamer Platz, and still in frond of Berlinale Palast, with my favorite sculpture in Berlin. I look pretty nerdy, but doesn't the sculpture look like a giant balloon animal-type thingy?

One more bear...I think she looks really weird, but once again, the key is that I'm pointing at the sun on her belly and making a pouty face because I'm ready for SPRING! So you know how Berlin's thing is the bears? Well, we stumbled upon this temporary setup of life-sized foosball--Germany against the rest of the world. Too fun, really. Except, we didn't actually play. Anne (basically my favorite European ;) and her friend Manu. Well, I suppose I can say Manu's my friend now, too. They're both pretty darn cool, and this picture was taken by yours truly when we went out for a drink in the Dutch quarter of Potsdam, just out of Berlin. Note, if you will, the gate and towers out the window. Just goes to show...Europe is not America. But I guess we already knew this by now, eh? *winks*We've now switched over to Prague (where I went straight from Berlin). This is one of my favorite pictures from the trip, with D'yon (roommate) and Clément (new French friend) in the snow. If you look closely, you can see that the two of them look quite happy, but surprise of surprises, I look sullen. This was of course on accident, and it happened because I thought my camera wasn't working and was annoyed. Classic Emilee, no? Anyway, it makes me think of a family portrait...where I'm the insolent, angsty teen. Hehe.

Clément and Pierre-Alexandre (aka Pab), our new French buds that we met and hung out with in Prague. Crazy crazy boys, but they really made our trip. (Props to D'yon for making friends with them on her busride over to Prague.) Seriously, these guys were hilarious. So now you've been introduced to them and will know who I'm referring to in the pictures to follow.

Lunch at a pub on the first day in Prague. From left to right: Clément, Pab, Grizzly Czech man, me, and D'yon. We don't know who the bearded man is, but he felt that our picture wouldn't be complete without him, so there he is!

A church at the Old Town Square. It was pretty gray out that day.Trying to figure out how to get somewhere, ie looking unmistakably like turned-around tourists. This happened quite a bit, but we always managed to figure it out.

We went here for a Gypsy music concert one night with the boys and the Czech girl they were staying with, and one of her friends. It was quite the interesting location--everything, decorations, furniture, was all made from old rubbish. It had a very edgy/arty feel to it, and was definitely a place and a concert we never would have found on our own. Oh, and the music was so much fun!

Our guys again, this time in Hanka's apartment making us all a "real french meal." You can see the quiche-type thingy on the counter, which actually turned out ok, despite the fact that all the ingredients were bought without any knowledge of what the labels said (since we're all so fluent in Czech and all.) Oh, and Hanka is the girl they stayed with, who took us to the gypsy music and rubbish club.

D'yon and I with our new Czech friends Hanka and Matja (sp?) at Hanka's apartment after our "french" meal.

Insert lots of photos of the Palace and Cathedral and the Karluv Most (Charles Bridge) that never really got taken because my camera batteries died, and I'd forgotten my charger :( You'll just have to take my word for it that it was all quite nice.

Also insert pictures of the nice meal we had--the whole nine yards on my birthday eve. We're talking apératifs, soup, salad, bread, gooood wine (despite how silly the guys were, they definitely knew what they were doing when ordering/tasting the wine--how very French), dessert (with a sparkler and a song), amazing coffee...you get the picture. Oh, and then afterwards they told us it was their treat, which was really sweet!

We finished that dinner close to midnight, and of course, as soon as it turned midnight it became my birthday, and there was celebrating in the streets! Seriously, we're talking singing "Joyeux Anniversaire" loudly through the old Town Square in Prague at midnight, laughing and just being really silly. In the spirit of all this celebration, we quickly found our way into a kareoke bar...where Clément and Pierre-Alexandre insisted we should go so they could "sing" for us. And of course, in typical french fashion, they were terrible, but really enthusiastic--and I don't remember laughing that hard in a long time. Definitely one of my most memorable birthdays! Oh, and if you don't know how old I just turned, check out how many fingers they are holding up in the above picture...because that's how many!

Ok, I think you've been pretty well updated. A glimpse into my february break and travels, at least! I'm sure you'll hear lots more stories at some point...but probably in person, when I'm back home. So...à bientôt, tout le monde! Or, as I recently learned how to say in German: Tschüss!

Eastward!

2006-02-26T15:37:00.000-05:00

Alright, everyone! I've been off traveling again, this time east of France--to Berlin and Prague during my semester break. What can I say? It was really a wonderful trip, in so many ways! Just the fact of a change of scenery was so energizing, not to mention that this change of scenery involved spending time with a good friend I hadn't seen in a long time, and seeing beautiful new places! So, this is going to be mostly a picture entry, because it's so hard to try to sum up these experiences, and somehow communicate to you a good idea of what my time has been like. If I've learned one thing, it's that it is impossible to impart a good understanding of life here to others just through pictures and words. But I'll content myself with a few pics and a few lines, and that's better than nothing, right? So, on with the pictures!

The roof of the Sony building in Berlin. The key here is to notice how blue the sky is...a rarity these days, and quite the treat. Having a few hours of cloudless skys and sunshine will do wonders for your attitude, and it was just what I needed. And of course, there's just the fact that this is a pretty cool roof.

Brandenburg Gate. I'm realizing that I can't take a straight picture to save my life, but here it is nevertheless.

Look at that blue sky! Ok, and I suppose also look at the building. The German equivalent of the Capitol building, basically. Lots and lots of German flags. (This is notable in Europe--believe it or not, not every nation has it's flag on practically everyone's front porch, or on store fronts, etc.)

Me with one of the many "Berlin Bears." I mean, I was a tourist, after all...and what's tourism in Berlin without silly pictures with the bears?

Gr. I'm not sure what the deal is with blogspot, but it has, once again, stopped uploading my photos. So for now, this will have to do. I have every intention of carrying on, perhaps in a couple of hours or maybe tomorrow. Enjoy these, for now!

A couple more

2006-01-15T07:07:00.000-05:00

Me on New Years, just walkin' around in the streets.
The tracks of my Metro Station, from above. I live by the newest line, so it's super nice and all fancy looking!
The pyramid in front of the Louvre. It's hard to get a good picture of it w/o a tripod, but here it is nonetheless!
Some lights running the lenth of rue Mouffetard, where I rang in the New Year at a bar with my host sister and some of her friends.
The cake after Christmas dinner. It was humongous, and amazing! It was a rum cake with layers of jam, covered in cream cheese icing and walnuts!
You saw the empty table earlier, so here's a picture of part of it during the actual dinner, full of people!
This is one of my "host brothers" Olivier, who I never really see. He's got two kids, and is a Chef somewhere. He's in the middle of shaving pieces of dried ham (raw, of course) from a pig leg. There's a hoof underneath the towel he's using to grip the leg!

So blogspot is being funny, and I'm not sure why it loaded this picture twice. But for some reason, I can't delete this one without deleting all the pictures. I'll just leave it here, and use this opportunity to mention that that pig hoof (from the ankle down, anyway) is to this day still sitting in our refrigerator. Who knows why...

Mostly Christmas Pictures

2006-01-13T05:16:00.000-05:00

Christmas Eve: the table before the celebratory meal. To save you the trouble of counting, that's 27 place settings. On the menu (among other things): rivers of fine wines and champagne, dried pork (shaved from pig leg by Olivier), foie gras, turkey, raw salmon (not smoked), truffle salad, real caviar, nine types of cheese, bread, rum cake with jam layers, coffee, and fine chocolates.
Jean-Jacques telling Father Christmas that he'd been "wise enough" this year. (That's actually his brother-in-law under the suit.) Everybody (and I mean everyone) recieved a present from Santa upon sitting on his lap, declaring that they'd been wise (the equivalent of "good), and giving him a kiss. You can also see four-year-old Maxime right next to them--he's my buddy, grandson of my host parents.
Rue de Rivoli lit up before Christmas. Interesting hanging lights, I thought. They went on for quite a while. You can also see the BHV (a big department store) all decorated.
My favorite accordionist. He plays every night at this corner, at the start of a bridge just next to Notre Dame. You run into quite a few accordionists in Paris--but this one's really good.
Notre Dame with it's Christmas tree (sapin, in French).A different view.
Hotel de Ville and some lights on the Seine.
My friend Molly and I. Molly and I were in the same freshman seminar course at Berry last fall, and met up in Paris this holiday when she was on her way home from a semester in England.

A few more

2006-01-09T07:30:00.000-05:00

The table at one of my very favorite cafés in Paris--Café Jenny. It's got a semi-American name, but don't let that fool you--it's quite French.

The host dad, Jean-Jacques. He's quite the unique *crazy* man, and I love him. Note the monocle. Yes, he wears a monocle. Chantal, the host mom. What can I say? She's very maternal, and quite nice. She cooks me yummy dinners.
A piece of the Champs Elysées lit up before Christmas. If you look carefully to the back, you can see a little bit of the Arc de Triomphe.
La Sainte Chapelle--the windows in this place are amazing.
More pretty windows.
A little canal in Chartres, in November. (Chartres is a small town in northern France, known for it's cathedral.)

Pére Noël climbing up an old building, also in Chartres. Some of the very first Christmas decorations of the year.

Some more pictures...

2006-01-01T11:09:00.000-05:00

Omaha Beach? Or maybe Utah, I'm not exactly sure. Anyway, this is part of one of the D-Day beaches. And American soil now, technically--as this part and the American cemetery were given to the US by the French. I guess as close to home as I'll get for a while ;)
Where some German Soldiers used to hide out.

Cliffs near the Normandy Beaches. (This is actually Pont du Hoc, where there were lots of german bunkers and such.)

My good friend Amy and I. We're at a cidre tasting at a little place in the middle of this marshy field, and you can see Mont Saint Michel behind us. I love this picture!

For a change in location and theme, a few pictures of where I live. This, believe it or not is the entrance to where I live. The dark green. As you can see, it used to be a store, with an apartment behind. The family has since turned the store space into apartment-type areas for various members of the family, and then the actuall house starts pretty far back, and is three stories--with a really cool cave/basement to boot.

This is what you see as soon as you open that big green metal door. This hallway is open to the sky, and usually has lots of laundry drying in it. The house proper begins when you go through that blue door at the end. The ladder leads up to Anne and Manu's apartment, just above where I was standing, with the grandmother's and other daughter's living spaces to the left.

Once again, blogspot is acting up and not letting me put up any more pictures. I'll try again another day!

Joyeux Noël!

2005-12-25T17:26:00.000-05:00

Alright, everyone. I know it's been ages since I updated...in fact, it's been so long that I can only hope anyone still checks this thing... Anyway, plenty's been going on, it's just that I haven't been inspired to recount it all. Even now I'm feeling pretty lazy, so I'm going to post some pictures, and hope that that will do for now. Deal? Deal. Oh, and I have pictures from the actual Christmas Eve dinner (the big celebration here), but I can't find my camera cable at the moment. So, get ready to see everything just up to Christmas!

In November, our organization took us on a trip to Normandy, a region in France known for it's fromage (Camembert), apples and apple products, and the monastery/abbey of Mont St. Michel. This place is built on a big rock in the middle of a terribly marshy area--at low tide, it looks like this from the abbey--during high tide the water rushes in ridiculously fast and makes the place an island. It's one of the 8 wonders of the modern world, I hear.

A few of us at the foot of Mont St. Michel, in a parkinglot that will be flooded come high tide. Matt in the back, me, Yasmin, and Courtney. It was really windy, hence the clutching of scarves and blowing of hair.

And this is what we were facing when the other picture was taken. Marshy, eh? Oh, and kinda pretty, I think.

Ok, my computer is officially refusing to upload more pictures. For now, look at these, and be on the lookout for more!

It's been a while!

2005-11-18T15:38:00.000-05:00

Now that it's officially the second half of November (How did that happen?! *dumbfounded astonishment*), I suppose it's about time for an update. I haven't written too much lateley, I suppose because I've found myself settling into the dailiness of life, not being involved in too much outside of what has become my "ordinary." I will now proceed with the generic update of Emilee's vie Parisienne:

School is...just school. I know that sounds completely anticlimactic, since I am technically here to "study." But we all know that my learning experience this year is very loosely based on my formal studies. This is probably the easiest semester, academically, that I've had in a looooong time. I'm enrolled in nine hours of French Language, three hours of Oral French, and three hours of History of French Cinema--for those of you who were interested in my coursework. Technically a full-time student, but in reality, there is much less required of me by my professors here. I have a feeling this is partly due to the fact that they know each student is foreign, and is therefore quite consumed with trying to carry on some semblance of normal life while adapting to a new environment--a large part of which is putting into practice the concepts we learn in grammar class. Of course, I'm thankful that the academics are not demanding--because the rest of my "learning" experience (ie my entire life here) requires quite a bit of energy. Speaking and hearing French constantly, slowly assimilating my little American self into Parisian culture, etc--these things can be quite draining, but are nonetheless rewarding. I think that's enough about school.

This past week has brought winter to Paris. It's been a very unusually temperate/warm autumn here, but it is finally time for scarves and gloves and sore throats and rosy cheeks--for good. The change in season brings with it all the typical sensations and memories that a change in season does, with the exception that this year, it's happening in Paris, and I'm adding new "winter signs" to my reperatoire. Now, in addition to hot chocolate and fog and soup, winter smells like roasting chestnuts at my metro stop (yes, like in the song), feels like sweat dripping down my back on line 4 (half the population of Paris in one metro car + winter layers - air conditioning = HOT), tastes like hot crepes on the street (ok, so maybe every season so far has its share of crepes ;) well...I suppose you get the idea.

To be honest, I'm just not very much in a writing mood, so ideas are neither flowing nor presenting themselves in an interesting manner. Maybe someday soon. For now, you'll all just have to content yourselves with half-done descriptions of daily life.

Thanksgiving is coming up (as I'm sure I don't need to inform you), but the French, in general, do need informing of this fact. To help our host family appreciate this great holiday, D'yon, Matt, and I are preparing to cook a special meal for them. Well, as close as we can get, anyway. I'll have to let you know how it all turns out--at the very least, there should be some pumpkin pie!

I like French food. That's really all that needs to be said about that.

Quoi d'autre...? Speaking French is still hard, and quite the frustrating process. I feel like (as I've been told is completely normal) that I've hit a plateau in learning and improving my communication skills--but fortunately, there are people around me who attest to my progress, even though it's very hard for me to see at this point. And I suppose they're right. It's the same with anything one learns--when you start, things seem to be going along just smashingly, everything attainable, but there comes a point where the true education begins--when you start to realize just how much you don't know, after all. The more you learn, the more painfully aware you are of the mistakes you've been making all along, and it's easy not to see the improvement that comes along with recognizing those errors. The same thing happened when I played flute. To everyone else, you sound like you're improving, though somehow, to yourself, you sound worse than ever. So, all that to say I think it's a good thing that I'm constantly being confronted by my incompetence in this language. I think it's safe to bet that that means I'm learning.

Oh, I almost forgot! Last weekend we (meaning the ISA crew) went to Normandy. Did the Normandy stuff--Mont-St-Michel (one of the seven wonders of the modern world, I believe), D-Day beaches and American cemetery, cidre et fromage, saw lots and lots of cows, realized that the countryside of Normandy resembles very much the hills in Tennessee, etc. It was a good weekend, overall. I hope I'm not sounding blasée about all that, because that's certainly not the case. It's just that I'm tiring of writing, and hope to expand a little more on what we saw when I get some pictures up.

Alright, after quite a few lines of mundane updateness, I'm going to go to sleep. It has been long enough since the last update, that's for sure. So...

Bonne Nuit, tout le monde!

Bonnes Fêtes de Toussaints!

2005-11-01T12:51:00.000-05:00

To celebrate All Saints' Day (a national holiday in France, which means, once again, NO SCHOOL), I have decided to grace you all with some more random pictures. Sorry, don't have any from Barcelona, yet--but I do have quite a few sitting in little files from weeks gone by that need posting! So (in no particular order)...

A view of Paris from the Seine. What more do I need to say here? I could mention that if you look carefully to the left, you'll see a spire and a tower--that's Notre Dame, on the other end of the Ile de France.

On the side of the pathway leading to Chenonceau, one of the Chateaux we visited earlier this month on the trip to the Loire Valley. Nothing too special, just sweet and idyllic-looking. The biggest deal for me that day was that it wasn't asphalt or concrete! (I'm finding that I enjoy life in the city much more than I ever expected, but I still do miss the open outdoors from time to time.)

Notre Dame on Nuit Blanche (The night in October that I wrote about earlier--where everything stays open). The blue you see is a projection of Jesus, with outstretched arms, if you can't quite tell. This was just for Nuit Blanche...and I must admit we found it a bit bizarre.

I really enjoyed taking pictures of the flamethrowers who had situated themselves just in front of Notre Dame on Nuit Blanche. Nothing could have thrilled this little pyromaniac's heart more! If I let myself go crazy, you'd probably have quite a few pictures of the flamethrowers to look at, but I'm going to exert a little self control, and move onto something else! Oh, also--if you see the little blue blobs in the background, they're streetlamps whose bulbs had been replaced with blue ones for the festivities.

Ok, my computer has officially refused to upload any more pictures. I don't know why. I think I'll publish these, and see if it will cooperate if I start a new entry...

Let's try this one more time...

2005-11-01T07:50:00.000-05:00

Hopefully I'll be able to finish uploading pictured. *crosses fingers*

Yessssssssss...I'll pick back up with the Loire, I think.

Chateau Chambord. This place is massive--it even has a moat! Mostly constructed during the 16th century, I think, and built on a really marshy area, where the hunting was good for good ol' Roi Francois 1er.

This is a small chapel at another chateau, Amboise. This building is where Leonardo da Vinci lives. Or rather, where his bones live. just to the left of the picture, and in the floor, is the artist/inventor's grave.

Cathedral of St. Martin, in Tours. It's really a beautiful building, and was made that much more amazing by the fact that clear morning light was streaming in through all of the stained-glass and regular glass windows. And the choir was having practice while we were there, which was beautiful. Have I ever mentioned that I'm becoming somewhat of a cathedral junkie? I love being in them, especially when there is music echoing back and forth through the vaults and columns and domed ceilings...

A little part of the same cathedral. Just some columns and some morning!

Another "cathedral" of sorts--where faithful worshipers gather regularly...Stade de France. Suffice it to say--soccer is BIG here. Maybe even bigger than American football is in the States. Fun, fun night, though.

This is the courtyard at "La Catho"--ie, school. Somewhere that I haven't spent very much time, comparatively ;) This is where we usually meet up for lunch before heading around back for classes. Nothing really spectacular, but there it is.

And finally, just some fun pictures of friends!

Maureen in the wine cave in the Loire.

Emilee and Amy, also in the cave!

David and Joanna facing Notre Dame on Nuit Blanche. I really like this picture :)

Let's see...I know this will mean nothing to you, but...for my own satisfaction and entertainment, I'm going to name everybody in the picture who's standing on the Eiffel tower! Left to right: Joanna, Courtney, Amy, Matt, Emilee, D'yon, and Alexis.

A Sort of Homecoming...

2005-10-29T17:42:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me yesterday on the plane, how odd it seemed that I was experiencing the familiar feelings of peaceful anticipation that accompany a return "home" from vacation. The oddness didn't come from the feelings themselves, though-- it came instead from the realization that I was experiencing them on my way to Paris, France. I had spent a wonderful week in Barcelona, but was by no means upset at the idea of settling back in to the familiar--my own bed, streets and a metro system I know, a language that I'm at least basically functional in (I thought my Spanish was bad--Català was an entirely different issue)--you get the idea. Here's the point: somehow I'm making Paris my home. Leaving it was one of the first real indications of that, and I find this both wonderful and...bizarre. Since when does Emilee Head call some town in Europe home?

That said, I think it's time to backtrack and discuss the trip itself. This is where I start wishing I had some pictures to post--I think having them would aid me in the recap/explanation. But alas, I wasn't able to recharge my camera batteries, and have to wait until a couple of kind friends share theirs with me. Or perhaps I will find some pictures online, just to make do.

I left home for the aeroport fairly early on Sunday morning, thankful for the clear, relatively warm weather that made getting places nearly hassle-less. Loaded myself and my backpack (light packer!) onto a garish orange plane (cheap tickets!), and arrived in the outskirts of Barcelona a little after lunchtime. I had flown in on my own, so read and listened to my ipod in baggage claim until my friends' plane arrived. (I spent the trip with three friends who are here with the same organization--David, Courtney, and Joanna.) By the time we found our hostel a few hours later, we were excited to throw down our bags and stretch out for a late-afternoon nap.

Around eight, we ventured out to see what kind of food we could scrounge up at such an early hour (most places in Barcelona don't serve dinner until at least nine in the evening). We walked a couple of blocks onto La Rambla (a wide avenue running north to south towards the sea, full of outdoor dining at night and street perfomers, flower and bird markets, and tourists during the day). For dinner: TAPAS. I had never had tapas before, so it was quite fun (and yummy) to do it with my friends. In case you don't know what tapas is, it's basically ordering lots and lots of appetizers to share around the table as the main meal. In Barcelona, this means patatas bravas, calamari, olives, cheese, prawns, etc. And yes, I ate seafood and liked it. Who'dve ever thunk it? After our late dinner, we met up with a friend of Joanna's from the States, who took us to a very cool jazz club, where we spent our time listening, screaming at each other over the music, and dancing until around 3h30.

Ok, I'm starting to realize a couple of things about this play-by-play I'm providing for you. Number one, it's probably not a very fun way to read about my trip. Number two, I'm not in the mood to post a six-thousand word entry. So. I'm going to start consolidating!

In addition to Barcelona's inherent coolness (and probably due, in part, to) is its location. In case you didn't know, that location is in the south east of Spain, on the Mediterranean Sea. Barcelona has a very carefree, casual air about it. It seems to be more about fun than sophistication, and I attribute this, in part, to the fact that it's located at the Sea, and enjoys temperate weather all year. Yes, more than once, we went down to the beach (at the end of October!) and just enjoyed the sand (we also "enjoyed" the sand long after leaving the beach ;), breezes, and...what am I doing? You all know how cool the beach is. The water of the Mediterranean was a deep blue--not the opaque gray of the Atlantic. Beautiful. Did I mention all of this was within walking distance from our hostel?

I mentioned walking distance--and we did a lot of that. It was quite nice, though, to be able to get most places on foot, enjoying the beautiful weather, and having the opportunity to see the city from above ground. The buildings in Barcelona are nice, in general--many of them are quite ornate, with intricate cast-iron balconies, large shutters, and the like. Every once in a while on the Passeig de Gràcia, however, you stumble upon one of Gaudí's masterpieces--sinuous, organic façades both fantastic and strange. It's been said that he created architecture's version of Art Nouveau. His façades make up only a small part of Gaudí's extensive presence in the city, though. We also trekked up to the park he designed in the hills, Parc Guëll, and walked around the Sagrada Familia church, which he designed and began--but is still under construction. Maybe I'll get some pictures up eventually, but just in case I don't, and in case you don't know what all of this looks like--you should look up some pictures. I'm not even pretending to do a good job of describing this stuff to you, and even if I was--you'd need to see it, anyway.

I'm getting quite tired of typing this entry, to be honest. I hope I've managed to give some slight idea of my trip to Barcelona, even though I've done a bit of a shoddy job with my writing. Forgive me? I'm just finding it very frustrating to put my experience of this trip into writing at the moment. So. Bona Noche! (That's Catalàn.)

Just in from Barcelona

2005-10-28T22:05:00.000-05:00

Just arrived back home from Barcelona this morning! Due to crazy plane schedules and such, I haven't really slept in a while, and am getting ready to go to bed. But I did want to leave a quick "anouncement" of my whereabouts earlier this week. Until I have more energy/time, suffice it to say that Barcelona was an amazing place, full of incredible experiences enjoyed with friends! Five days of lazing, eating, sight-seeing, walking, beach-bumming (on the MEDITERRANEAN), and other choice activities. This vacation from school (which stretches until this coming Wednesday) was probably the least-deserved break I've ever had, and I've been relishing every moment of it! So... à très bientôt...

Bonne nuit!

Les titres m'embête...

2005-10-20T05:46:00.000-05:00

I've had some trouble lately, trying to edit the old entries by adding pictures. So. I've given up on my prefered system of organizing photos on this site, and have decided simply to make a new entry, with lots of pictures from all over. So...Enjoy!

Musée d'Orsay: This clock is a working clock on the top floor of this old train station-turned-art museum. From the street, you can't really tell that it also functions as a fancy "window." It looked very cool from the dim indoors, especially since it was so bright outside--lots of light and contrast. Oh, and those are my friends in front of it!

A view of the Musée d'Orsay from a top floor. You can see very well in this picture that this building was originally purposed as a train station--like a much cleaner, less confusing Milano Centrale, without the trains.

Le Grand Palais. This is its roof, as seen from the Seine (we went on one of those touristy Bateaux Mouches). Le Grand Palais is an exhibition building (steel and glass structure) built, I think, around the beginning of the 20th century. It's been closed for restoration since 1993, and won't be finished until 2007. They did, however, open it up for a week or so in September, the first time people could go in since I was 7. We thought it quite nice that things were timed that way, since the next time it's open to the public will be in a couple of years!

Inside the Grand Palais at night. this is the ceiling, and amazing and graceful structure. Entering this place was worth the long line--a very surreal atmosphere. The lights changing every so often, mirrors, and eerie arrangements of classical music echoing around us...Very cool.

Looking out over the gardens at Versailles. Probably the most manicured, cultivated area not inside a building that I've ever seen. Ridiculously expansive, too. Actually, all of Versailles seems that way. It's the gaudiest, most extravagant place I've ever been. The castle goes on forever, every doorway and every inch of wall covering, each painting and bedspread the result of gross amounts of money, and intricate artwork/craftsmanship. You wonder about the man who had it all commissioned...

All right, I've got to go to class, believe it or not. So I'll stop posting pictures here, and hopefully pick it back up soon!

ALLEZ LES BLEUS!

2005-10-13T13:48:00.000-05:00

The subject translates roughly to "Go Blue!" in English. It is the subject of my entry, because that is what I heard shouted almost manaically from the thousands of French soccer fans at the France v. Cyprus qualifying match last night. ISA got us cheaper tickets, and so I passed the evening caught up in the excitement of an international sporting event...So much fun! And I'm not even really a soccer fan. Sometimes it's fun to get involved in something like that just for the sake of having an excuse to scream your lungs out and be part of such a huge herd of loyal fans.

I will now be the lazy bum that I am, and copy what I wrote about the game yesterday.

~~~~~

A group of us all met at Fontaine St. Michel before heading out to Stade de France along with the rest of the city. Walking through the corridors of the metro felt more like swimming through brimming channels of tangible, drinkable excitement. Everyone was going the same way, for the same reason. There was a feeling of unity in that section of the RER--no matter how superficial. Unlike all the other trips one takes on the Paris underground, where no one knows another's business or destination, this trip simply had the feel of a herd of like-minded individuals. Last night, when I found myself pressed up against the bodies of strangers, enveloped by the intense heat of the train car, I felt not claustrophobic, but rather like a part of a huge celebration. I love the atmosphere created by spontaneous festivity. It's a similiar feeling to the one I have when I watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle on a warm evening. Everything around you seems unburdened somehow by the simple fact that something beautiful or exciting exists for no other reason than to bring pleasure, and it's happening on such a grand scale. The bigness of the event thus plays a major part in my enjoyment of it.

If the metro ride was a massive pool of festivity, it was ten times more so as we reached the top of the stadium (from outside) and saw the field, the thousands of spectators laid out before us. The lights were glaring, the last words of the French national anthem being shouted from every loyal fan and every recreating spectator. It was all just so big. I found myself caught up in the oscillations of emotion as France scored, as they lost the ball.. I'm not even a fan of many spectator sports, but something about the crowd was irresistable. It's a funny thing, how a crowd can impact one's experiences and reactions so profoundly.

Needless to say, a good time was had by all. It didn't hurt that France won, and that immediately following the game there was celebratory, driving American music projected throughout the stadium, accompanied by fireworks! I did, however, find it bizarre and entertaining when they began to play "Born in the USA." Regardless of how strange we found this (everyone knows the French as a whole love the USA), we American students sang along, unabashedly relishing a brief hiatus from the stresses of adapting to French life, and indulging fully in a bit of patriotism--while furiously waving our little French flags. Ah, the paradoxes of being an "American in Paris." Sometimes I think we're all just a little bit more homesick than we let ourselves believe...

~~~~~

Well, that's probably it for now. Maybe I'll grace you with some pictures later. If you're lucky. Muahahaha...

some pictures for ya

2005-10-12T17:40:00.000-05:00

posted some new pictures--check out the entries titled "home sweet home?" and "pictures pictures!"

After a weekend in the Loire...

2005-10-11T15:44:00.000-05:00

:::edit:::

Somehow I managed to not mention that while in the Loire, I also went to a wine tasting. Don't know how I skipped over that. Anyway, it was quite fun--standing around drinking wine and eating cheese in the actual cave where the wine was made. So, yeah. Life is good here. Yay for wine and cheese and caves!

:::

After being thwarted in my pre-class missions today (making a doctor's appointment for my residency card and changing my schedule), I have found myself with an unexpected window of time to occupy. I thought it a good use of this time before my Oral French class to give a quick update of my life in the past week or so.

I'm now beginning my second week of class, and find it...surprisingly normal. I have Monday off every week, and who could complain about that? Classes are going well, and I'm slowly adjusting to the three-hour long sessions, which are probably the hardest part of it all. I've decided I'm quite a fan of my old system, where to meet the requirements for a three hour class, one attends class two or three times a week for a shorter length of time. The students in my classes are quite diverse, as I mentioned briefly last week. This is because the part of the school I attend is a university specifically geared to international students. Lots of Americans and Japanese, quite a few Chinese, South-East Asians, other Europeans, people from the Middle-East, South America...Pretty much covering the spectrum. One thing that's funny to me is the fact that I am now part of the Diversity, rather than an observer of it. I am as much of a "foreigner" here as the next student--no matter how much more "exotic" they may seem to me. I think I like it.

This weekend was an excursion planned through the study abroad organization to the Loire Valley. For those of you who don't know, this area of France (about three hours southwest of Paris by bus) is known for its chateaux and its wines. We left early Saturday morning, and visited two of the chateaux, Chambord and Chenonceau. While the castles were beautiful, my favorite aspect of being there was the outside. After more than a week of chilly temperatures, rain, fog, and just general drear in the middle of the city, we got our first glimpse of the sun on the way out of town. It turned out to be a brilliant, breezy, crisp weekend. I don't think I need to explain the drastic effect that a change in weather like that can have on the spirits. And as if that wasn't enough, we were outside the city, walking around in the open, in wooded areas, in the sun with new friends and no cares. It's still beautiful here in Paris--walking to school from the metro this morning, I realized I was grinning to myself for no reason but that autumn is coming, and I could see the sun. Praise the Lord for beautiful weather!

Sunday, we spent the day in Tours, an old French city with lots of history. Thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful weather that day as we walked around, stopping into St. Martin's Cathedral, and meandering through the Sunday flea market. Have I ever mentioned that I love cathedrals? I'll have to expand on that at some point. Suffice it to say that though I was never really enthralled by them (that is to say, pictures of them) before I came here, I have found that being inside one far surpasses any picture. The spaces are simply amazing--vaults, stained glass, columns. And the acoustics. I think that's really why I love them so much. Every time I've wandered into Notre Dame, or any other cathedral here, there has been music. Listening to the sounds of old worship, of harmony and reverence echoing in a cathedral takes some deeper part of me captive, and I have no choice but to be awed, to be quiet.

That day we also saw the chateau at Amboise, where Kings of France lived during the transition from the Gothic age to the Renaissance. Leonardo da Vinci's grave was there. Sometimes you are arrested by how big the history is in these places. There's almost no category for me to process the significance/antiquity of the places I see here, because I've grown up in such a young country. The fact that the place I attend school at was built in the 16th century? Things like that are mind-boggling to me. Who knows how I'd react to seeing Greece or Israel or Egypt.

Well, I suppose this has been a bit of a spastic entry, but at least you're somewhat caught up now! I've got to run to class...let that dang French challenge and drain me. Did I mention speaking this language is hard?

On that note, I will make my customary promise of pictures, and bid you all good day!

em