The following is an e-mail I sent out... just like the five former have been... I promise original content in the future!
Greetings readers,
This is actually going to be a short entry for once! I know I don’t usually send out two in week, but with all that has happened this week, I figure you deserve another mailing.
Happy Turkey Day, all. The crazy British teacher that I adore so much is making me a Thanksgiving lunch today, so I won’t be without a feast. And of course I am making dinner with my friends Emily Ann and David in Paris on Saturday! I am covered for the holiday except I don’t get to see my loved ones or listen to Alice’s Restaurant.
I finally got to the bottom of my work visa. I redid all the stupid paperwork and made three copies of it all and killed a few trees doing it and bought new ID photos and went to the mayors office and sat down and said “look, I don’t want to bug you, but I have two weeks left on my American visa and I am getting worried that I won’t be able to come back into the country when I leave for Christmas and I can’t get my insurance or social security without the French work visa and…” and the woman stopped me in the middle of my run-on sentence and told me it was in the mail.
Figures.
But at least she was at work. I can’t say the same for scores of people across the country. Ah, la belle France et ses grèves… The whole country has been gripped by strikes. Seems to be the en vogue thing to do, eh? The Writers Guild in the States, the German train workers, French train workers, French teachers, French postal workers, French judges, French university students and now… French high school students. (French dogs are still at work, pooping on the sidewalk.)
Yes, right now it is 9:30AM and I am looking at a crush of students outside of the school gates. They refuse to come in. I do not know why as of yet, but I will get to the bottom of it. The gendarmerie is out there, keeping watch on things to make sure stuff doesn’t go all St. Dizier. (High school students in that town set fire to a bunch of trucks two months ago.) They’re out there cheering and demonstrating against something. THAT should give you an idea of the teen culture in France. I can’t imagine ever striking at school - refusing to go in and learn, yet still showing up to chant and cheer. (Who am I kidding, I would SO have been all about that in high school.) Anyway, I don’t even know if anyone will be in my classes today. Crazy, huh?
Ok. It is now a good nine hours later, around 6:15PM I got to the bottom of the strike - they were striking because Sarkozy is planning to privatize universities or something to that effect. So high school students decided to join the ranks of the university students... by standing outside of their high school and yelling. The closest university is 30 minutes away in Troyes. I don't think they heard them. I mean, I give the students credit for wanting to stand up for themselves and their future, but I have a feeling that most of them just felt like skipping school.
Thanksgiving dinner at Margaret's house wasn't HOME, but it was amazing nonetheless. It was also Margaret's husband, Francois', birthday. Their friends, Margaret (yes, another British woman named Margaret) and her boyfriend-type-husband-partner man, Jean-Pierre, joined us. Margaret 2 and Jean-Pierre used to be pen pals in grade school and visited each other from time to time, but then lost track of each other, grew up, got married, had kids, etc. But then their respective spouses died, they found each other again and are living out their days together. How cute is that? So I was entertained all night with stories about the war and kids and all sorts of goodies. Nothing like good conversation with some 70-yr-olds, haha.
Anyway, dinner. I gave Margaret 1 a menu that I made for my classes and a list of recipes, so she did her best, haha. We started with an aperitif of roasted pumpkin seeds (naturally I thought of Kevin and Kylefsmtih and your affinity for pumpkin seeds), rice wrapped in grape leaves and port. Then we moved on to a raw veggie tray with cauliflower, beets, red cabbage, fresh greens and leeks with a vinaigrette dressing or a sesame seed dressing that she hoped tasted a bit like peanut butter. (It didn't, but A for effort!) Then we had stuffed guinea fowl (the closest thing to a whole turkey that she could find) turkey legs, mashed potatoes and gravy, turnips and carrots, with champagne and red wine. (Naturally I went for seconds on the food. What is Thanksgiving without wanton gluttony?) This was followed by cheese and nuts, then by pumpkin pie and cherry pie. Then by chocolate and coffee. Ugggggg, so full!
All the vegetables came from that commune of formerly homeless organic farmers and they are quite possibly the best veggies on Earth. NEVER have I tasted a carrot so divine. Perfectly sweet with nary a bitter spot. The cherries for the cherry pie came from Margaret 1's orchard in their backyard. Margaret 2 made the pumpkin pie... she used chunks of pumpkin insead of a pureed mash and she covered it with a top layer of pastry, making it an enclosed pie like an apple pie instead of an open tarte like it is usually prepared. It was still good and I didn't have the heart to tell her she got it all wrong. After all, she is English and she is living in France, so pumpkin pie is a foreign notion to her no matter what. She DID apologize for her ancestors kicking the Pilgrims out of England though, so all was rectified haha. (Not that it matters. The Pilgrims aren't my ancestors... pretty sure my ancestors did the kicking, haha.)
Ok, I am going to go digest and call all of my family members.
Gros bisous,
Mere
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Chapitre 5 - Mon travail
Greetings all,
Mere here, your trusted source of all things Romilly-sur-Seine. A dog pooped on the sidewalk today. No other news.
Yea, such is my life. The train strike means it is nearly impossible to go anywhere. There are trains out of town in the morning and in the evening I am told, but really. If I were to go to Paris, I would be just as stranded with no metro lines. And trying to go to Troyes is risky - don't want to be stranded there and not be able to get back to work.
Speaking of work, I still don't know if I have to work next week or not. Are the teachers actually striking? Tune in next week…
As for this week (I am writing this Sunday afternoon, you are receiving it on Monday) not too much happened. I got a bike seat… but then promptly popped my back tire. Le sigh. Then I spent the morning on Friday with red marker on my pants and none of my students told me. I realized it at noon, changed my pants, and then sheepishly asked a teacher to take them home and wash them as I do not have access to the laundry on the weekends. Le sigh. Also, trying to track down my lost information for my work permit is proving impossible, ergo (ahem, yes, I am using ergo, Mr. Jones) I am going to start over this week. The problem is now I will be even two more months behind on all the paperwork, which means I will be two more months behind on my social security, rent refund and insurance paperwork. I should be all covered by March… le sigh. I am a little salty because I started all of this as soon as I got here. My attempt to be responsible and get all my bureaucratic stuff done has backfired. I think I am going to go back to being an unorganized wreck. My life was so much easier!
I've been teaching my students about Thanksgiving. They all think it is how we celebrate Christmas, poor dears. I put together a worksheet to read and answer questions and a powerpoint presentation for my terminales (seniors) a menu of what the Pilgrims ate and what I eat (including the Waldorf salad and Bongas prized peach pie.... aaaahhhhh I am going to miss that!!!) for my premieres (juniors) and a bunch of Thanksgiving jokes for both. They don't seem too interested. The premieres liked making their own Thanksgiving menu, but I think I am failing as a teacher over here. It is so hard to teach kids that have been labeled weak by their own teachers. They've slipped through their English classes for years and are just passed on. Weak at this level. Weak at this level. Weak at this level. Hopeless. Bad. Teachers tell me that I have a weak group and a less weak group. What kids wants to be called moins-faible? I wonder why teachers don't do anything to change that? Fine if they are weak, but don't pass that off as the students' fault, take some responsibility yourself. And they aren't bad kids! They're all just normal, middle class kids for lack of a better description. I was told this high school has the highest BAC scores in the region, so that at least proves something. They are intelligent students, but they aren't going to grow if you shade them in self-doubt.
*steps off soap box*
Mere here, your trusted source of all things Romilly-sur-Seine. A dog pooped on the sidewalk today. No other news.
Yea, such is my life. The train strike means it is nearly impossible to go anywhere. There are trains out of town in the morning and in the evening I am told, but really. If I were to go to Paris, I would be just as stranded with no metro lines. And trying to go to Troyes is risky - don't want to be stranded there and not be able to get back to work.
Speaking of work, I still don't know if I have to work next week or not. Are the teachers actually striking? Tune in next week…
As for this week (I am writing this Sunday afternoon, you are receiving it on Monday) not too much happened. I got a bike seat… but then promptly popped my back tire. Le sigh. Then I spent the morning on Friday with red marker on my pants and none of my students told me. I realized it at noon, changed my pants, and then sheepishly asked a teacher to take them home and wash them as I do not have access to the laundry on the weekends. Le sigh. Also, trying to track down my lost information for my work permit is proving impossible, ergo (ahem, yes, I am using ergo, Mr. Jones) I am going to start over this week. The problem is now I will be even two more months behind on all the paperwork, which means I will be two more months behind on my social security, rent refund and insurance paperwork. I should be all covered by March… le sigh. I am a little salty because I started all of this as soon as I got here. My attempt to be responsible and get all my bureaucratic stuff done has backfired. I think I am going to go back to being an unorganized wreck. My life was so much easier!
I've been teaching my students about Thanksgiving. They all think it is how we celebrate Christmas, poor dears. I put together a worksheet to read and answer questions and a powerpoint presentation for my terminales (seniors) a menu of what the Pilgrims ate and what I eat (including the Waldorf salad and Bongas prized peach pie.... aaaahhhhh I am going to miss that!!!) for my premieres (juniors) and a bunch of Thanksgiving jokes for both. They don't seem too interested. The premieres liked making their own Thanksgiving menu, but I think I am failing as a teacher over here. It is so hard to teach kids that have been labeled weak by their own teachers. They've slipped through their English classes for years and are just passed on. Weak at this level. Weak at this level. Weak at this level. Hopeless. Bad. Teachers tell me that I have a weak group and a less weak group. What kids wants to be called moins-faible? I wonder why teachers don't do anything to change that? Fine if they are weak, but don't pass that off as the students' fault, take some responsibility yourself. And they aren't bad kids! They're all just normal, middle class kids for lack of a better description. I was told this high school has the highest BAC scores in the region, so that at least proves something. They are intelligent students, but they aren't going to grow if you shade them in self-doubt.
*steps off soap box*
Le sigh. What is the key? The trick?
But my days aren't as bad as they seem. I don't remember if I have covered this before, but I teach at a public high school, ages 15-19 typically. I have 12 classes divided into 24 groups. I teach one half of the group one week and the other half the following week. Class sizes range from five students to 14, usually around 10.I don't really have to TEACH anything like grammar and sentence structure; I am just there for oral reinforcelent.
6AM: Wake up to French techno on the radio. Begin hating life right away, haha. Want to go back to bed, where is is warm. Shower, do hair, makeup, etc. Paw through limited wardrobe for something to wear.
7AM: Breakfast time. Flip on the news - either French news or CNNInternational news depending on my mood. Surf the internet for more news - IHT, Le Monde, NYTimes (even though that is basically IHT) etc. etc. Eat a bowl of granola and dried fruit, a hard boiled egg and some yogurt. Maybe bread and jam if I was feeling rich and bought a baguette. Glass of juice. Cup of coffee. Oh man, the coffee. For you coffee drinkers, stop reading. You don't want to know my sin… I don't have a coffeepot because I don't want to spend the money to buy one, so I boil water in a pot, pour it into a mug and add a spoonful of sugar, milk and… dissolvable coffee granuals. Someone send me a cup of Donkey dark roast with a hearty splash of cream and a packet of natural cane sugar, please… and a spiced chai with skim milk while you're at it.
7:45AM: Head to the teachers lounge. Greet everyone, bise the teachers that I am close with. Make photocopies if need to and if the photocopier is actually working.
8AM - 12PM: Engage young minds in intervals. Sometimes have an hour break between classes, sometimes not, sometimes more. Make my secondes (sophomores) work on their movie - a task that is increasingly impossible. Think maybe this was a bad idea… Do whatever random lesson plan I have made for my premieres, and something a bit more challenging for my terminales. If not met with blank stares, asked by the boys how to hit on girls in clubs… at least they are speaking. Le sigh.
12 - 1PM: Lunch. Hallelujah. Always a good time of the day. Eat an entree of some kind of protein and carb. Vegetables. Salad. Fruit. Bread and cheese. Natural yogurt. Field random questions about America or sit silent and listen to teachers complain about something wrong in the administration or complain about their weak students. Le sigh. Find it funny that we have the option of drinking beer and hard cider with lunch. I wonder if that helps any?
1 - 4PM: Maybe some more classes depending on the day. Stay in the teachers lounge to work on lesson plans, organize my life, talk to other teachers, etc.
4 - 7PM: Return chez moi. Unwind. Watch either more CNN or French game shows, German MTV-type channel, whatever tickles my fancy at the moment. Sometimes Hannah Montana, haha. Hop online and maybe stream episodes of American TV shows if I can find them online and get around the firewall. Work on lesson plans if I have to. Talk with friends, boyfriend and family via AIM and Skype.
6:58PM: Peel myself away from what has eventually morphed into a video chat or Skype conversation with Brandon. Promise him I will return after dinner. :D
7PM - 8PM: Dinner! Another time to chow on good food. Much of the same, only the natural yogurt is replaced with dessert. Meet Jerome and head down to the cafeteria. Greet favorite chef, FiFi (Jean-Phillipe), with a big smile. Laugh good-naturedly with him as he tries to explain in English what is on the menu for tonight. Eat with Jerome and whatever two surveillants are on duty that night (any combination of males Said, Ludo, Mohammed, Francois and females Sophie, Fanny, Sukayina… and one other woman who never says anything and I totally forget her name.) Say goodbye to the surveillants as they leave to go work at 7:30. Sit with Jerome and FiFi and talk about n'importe quoi. Greet Pascal at 7:45 as he pops in on his security rounds.
8PM - 10PM or midnight. Return home and talk to Brandon until bed. Go to sleep missing him terribly. :P Dream in French.
Exciting huh?
The weekends are all up in the air. Sometimes I go home with a teacher. Sometimes I go to Troyes. Sometimes I go to Paris. Most of the time, I stay home and watch American moves on the German movie channel. They are all dubbed in German, but I pretty much have "Hook" (such a classic!!!!!) and "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" memorized from childhood, so it all works out. This weekend I went OUTSIDE to the movies. There is a cinema in town, so I took in American Gangster. Buying snacks isn't really part of the French movie culture, nor are those annoying ads before the movie! Hooray! The theater was really nice, comfy seats, screen covered by a red velvet curtain. Charming. But I miss eating a huge bucket of popcorn and watching Brandon's face scrunch up when I throw pieces at him - not because I am hitting him with popcorn, but because I am wasting it, haha.
Sigh, I just miss popcorn. And peanut butter. Uggggg never move to France without a supply of JIF.
This turned out a little longer than I anticipated. Alas, dear readers, you must suffer the lengths of my keyboard. I know Aunt Lori had a question of the teen culture at my school; I shall tackle that subject later this week. I've decided that high school students are the same no matter what country, but teenagers are so different. I hope you understand what I mean.
A bientot,
Mere
Chapitre 4 - Toussaint
Greetings family, friends, boyfriend, in-laws, co-workers, former educators, and all-around cool people that I deem important:
In the spirit of Quentin Tarentino, let me start from the end.
When I got home from vacation, I was pleased to see that the school had bequeathed me with a new toilet... well actually they gave me a new seat and new flushing system, but I guess that is what the French call a new toilet. (I still don't have a lid... which is what I am 95% sure the lady told me they were going to come put on my original toilet seat...) All was fine and dandy - I had a meal of boiled potatoes and beef jerky (thanks, Marge!) because I had no food. I felt like a pioneer, congratulated myself on my hardiness, and went to bed. When I woke the next morning, *splish splish* my bathroom was a lake and my carpet was a soggy prairie. Pioneer indeed. Someone didn't seal the toilet correctly... but I got all of that fixed, no problem.
And now, back to the beginning.
French kids get so much vacation during the school year it should be considered a sin. But then again, they don't get snow days - ha! Because apparently it never snows here in this neck of the woods. (When I come home for Christmas, I demand some of the white stuff. MAKE IT HAPPEN, PEOPLE!) So, one month into teaching, I was given a paycheck and ten days of vacation. I would like to say I made that paycheck stretch as far as possible, but it isn't as easy as you think to live on the cheap when you are visiting tourist towns. (So no, Roger, I wasn't "doing Europe on the cheap... but I never made it into the red!) I met up with an assistant friend of mine named Jess and we went to Bruges, Belgium. Later in the week, I met up with Emily Ann and David, two friends of mine from OU who are also assistants here in La Belle France. I was supposed to go to Brussels in between there... but that didn't pan out... small catastrophe that was avoided thanks to the kindness of strangers.
BRUGES, BELGIUM
We spent a lot of time with the locals. All sorts of people from all walks of life. Jess and I struck up a conversation with an authentic Brugian and a girl from Alaska. We talked to them for nearly an hour before we even exchanged names, haha. The girl (woman? she's 30) Hilary is a nomad from Alaska. She used to work at the Bauhaus, but then left, and was back again for a visit. We also made friends with Callum, one of the employees. (It helped that he had/has a major crush on Jessica, haha) He, too, is a nomad. Was born in England, grew up in Australia, moved back to England, moved to Belgium, wants to move to Berlin... etc. etc. We spent our nights playing American and Dutch card games, American and Dutch word games, musing over life and culture, talking about American politics and Belgian politics, pondering how to best teach and raise children, discussing couch surfing and hostel living, what it means to be a global citizen, etc. Those conversations that you can only have in that moment in time with those kinds of people.
Anyway, Maarten the Brugian, took Jess and I on a tour to all his favorite secret local spots in Bruges. Way better than a horse carriage tour. Hilary also took me and Jess to Ghent, another big city in Belgium. We checked out an old castle (with a torture museum woo hoo!) and all sorts of cute little shops. When Jess left, Hilary took me to Inglemunster, a wee little town with a brewery and a castle and not much else. We went on the Day of the Dead though, so everything was closed save the cemetery. (Y'all know how much I LOVE cemeteries, so I didn't complain in the least.) All the graves are above-ground sepulchers. They were teeming with flowers left by the dozens of mourners wandering the yard. More like works of art than graves, really. Marble. Stone. Tile. Sculptures. Bronze. Glass. Incredible and unforgettable.
I spent Halloween at the hostel. It had a big party for the hostel-stayers and the local bar regulars. Full costume, full decoration, full fun. I was a witch and Jess went as a dead cowgirl. We didn't really have much to work with, haha, but at least I had a hat. A DJ was there to play "scary music," which is to say he played a lot of death metal... that eventually turned into techno because ALL music turns into techno in Europe.
It was a good thing that I had spent so much time running around with Maarten, Hilary and Callum, because on that Friday and Saturday night, I was homeless. I didn't want to tell any of you for fear that you would worry about me, but I was supposed to meet up with friends in Brussels, plans fell through and subsequently, I had no place to stay... so I crashed in the hostel staff apartment with Hilary... haha. She was staying there, too, couch surfing, so all was gravy. I panicked for about five minutes, but everything worked out in the end. (One of the people I was supposed to meet in Brussels ended up sleeping in the train station... so at least I had a soft, warm place to sleep!) Anyway, on my last day as I was waiting for the bus, mulling over my week with a cup of hot chocolate, one of the regular bar visitors asked me if I was a new worker at the hostel. I laughed and knew it was definitely time to move on to my next destination...
AMSTERDAM
I've already been there before and most of you have heard the stories (two of you were on that trip with me...) so I will spare you the details of the canals and the streets and the houses that are all impossibly narrow and tilt forward to save on property taxes. For all the talk of drugs and sex, Amsterdam really gets a bad rap. It is still an amazing city, probably the cleanest city I have ever been in in my entire life. Not even probably, but surely. Clean. No beggars. Chill. Historic. Good food. Good people. My kind of town.
I met Emily Ann and David in Brussels. They had missed two trains getting there, haha. Poor dears couldn't read their tickets. Sometimes I wonder how I, of all people, have become the travel-savvy one. Once we hit town in Amsterdam, we made our way to the hostel - Stayokay Vondelpark. Oh my gosh, it was flippin' amazing. Probably the pimpest hostel I've ever been in. I didn't like it much - I like my hostels more intimate and less corporate. But this place has something like 400 beds and a full kitchen. I couldn't begin to explore its four floors.
We stayed in a room with three Spanish dudes that spoke no English and spent their evenings baking out in the room and reading English phrase books... so we spent our evenings out on the town. One night we went to a bar and I was carded... you have to be 16 to drink in Amsterdam... so I must have looked 15. The bartender was surprised to find out that I was older than he was, haha. I couldn't believe it! Another night we went to the Hard Rock Cafe for an American meal. We'd had Mexican, Dutch (Pancake Bakery... slobber slobber I love stroop!) and Chinese (Wok to Walk!!!) so we were jonesin' for some Americana... after all, we hadn't had food from home in two months! And our last night we took a wine and cheese candlelit canal ride. THAT was cool.
During the day, I finally got to see the Rijnks Museum, which is just a general museum, but HUGE. Too bad 90% of it is closed for renovations... yeah... well anyway. We wandered around Vondelpark next to our hostel and took cheesy "wedding and senior picture" photos in the trees and on the bridge crossing the little creek. The fall colors were just starting to burn on the leaves, so it made for quite an enjoyable morning... makes me miss the trees of Athens... le sigh. I finally visited the Anne Frank House and bought her diary. I wish I would have read it back when I portrayed her in the play - she was so much more than I made her out to be. A lot like me in many ways - I plan on making my daughter (if I have one) read it when she turns 13 just to give her a little insight into what all girls go through, no matter when they lived or how they lived. We stumbled upon the Homomonument, which is exactly what it sounds like. A series of marble triangles erected in memoriam of all the homosexuals sentenced to death at the hands of the Nazis and at the hands of current society. And I revisited the Van Gogh museum because, well, he's awesome. I went and visited my old favorites and bought new magnets reminding me of his artistic and prose-etic (not poetic, but with prose?) genius. Basically we spent our time wandering around, eating good food and looking at art. Is there a better life?
It rained most of my vacation. I saw the sun for five hours one day and the other nine were complete clouds. That's ok though, because Emily Ann, David and I watched a rainbow form before our eyes. We didn't just look up and BOOM there it was, but really WATCHED it form. Astounding. THAT made the entire trip worthwhile.
Sigh. I think that is all. Finally, eh? I tried to keep it short, but you know me... I am sorry you guys have to read (or ignore) these long e-mails. Because I can't blog, y'all have become my outlet. :)
Send me questions! I only got one so far from Aunt Lori. I plan on another e-mail later this week addressing her inquiry.
And how crazy is it about Lily getting engaged!? I leave the country and the cousins start getting married off! :D :D :D
I can't wait for Christmas. I miss you all so much!
Gros bisous,
Meredith
P.S. I thought I had an adventurous vacation... a friend of mine (a Canadian English assistant in Troyes) was arrested in Germany for biking through a red light that "was red for longer than one second." He was just cruising behind a car, so in the time it took the car to pass through, he ran the light.
P.P.S. Transit workers and union workers are striking tomorrow (Tuesday, Nov. 13) so that means I will be stranded here without trains and maybe without electricity, depending if our power plant strikes, too. Oh and the teachers are planning a strike with the other civil servants on Nov. 20. So if you don't hear from me it is because I have no electricity and no job. :)
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601085&sid=a.SrFv.OthFc&refer=europe There is a news story if you'd like to read it. It is in English.
In the spirit of Quentin Tarentino, let me start from the end.
When I got home from vacation, I was pleased to see that the school had bequeathed me with a new toilet... well actually they gave me a new seat and new flushing system, but I guess that is what the French call a new toilet. (I still don't have a lid... which is what I am 95% sure the lady told me they were going to come put on my original toilet seat...) All was fine and dandy - I had a meal of boiled potatoes and beef jerky (thanks, Marge!) because I had no food. I felt like a pioneer, congratulated myself on my hardiness, and went to bed. When I woke the next morning, *splish splish* my bathroom was a lake and my carpet was a soggy prairie. Pioneer indeed. Someone didn't seal the toilet correctly... but I got all of that fixed, no problem.
And now, back to the beginning.
French kids get so much vacation during the school year it should be considered a sin. But then again, they don't get snow days - ha! Because apparently it never snows here in this neck of the woods. (When I come home for Christmas, I demand some of the white stuff. MAKE IT HAPPEN, PEOPLE!) So, one month into teaching, I was given a paycheck and ten days of vacation. I would like to say I made that paycheck stretch as far as possible, but it isn't as easy as you think to live on the cheap when you are visiting tourist towns. (So no, Roger, I wasn't "doing Europe on the cheap... but I never made it into the red!) I met up with an assistant friend of mine named Jess and we went to Bruges, Belgium. Later in the week, I met up with Emily Ann and David, two friends of mine from OU who are also assistants here in La Belle France. I was supposed to go to Brussels in between there... but that didn't pan out... small catastrophe that was avoided thanks to the kindness of strangers.
BRUGES, BELGIUM
When Jess and I arrived in Belgium, we came upon the stunning realization that we, in fact, did not speak Dutch. Reading the crazy Dutch train schedules was a job in itself, but somehow we managed to make our way to the hostel in one piece. St. Christopher's Bauhaus is pretty rad if you ask me. St. Christophers is a chain that I have come to trust, but the Bauhaus has a completely different vibe (it used to be independent, so it has a bit more flair.) It has a fantastic restaurant and bar, so there were always a lot of locals milling about.
We spent our days sight-seeing. Brugge (in Dutch/Flemish) or Bruges (in French) is a delightful medieval town full of ridiculously old buildings and statues. We saw Michelangelo's Madonna and Child, which was his only piece to leave Italy, among other things. Ornate churches, the old belfry (366 steps to the top, but you can see pretty much all of Belgium from up there, I swear), and endless storefronts full of chocolate and lace. Some of the chocolate is only fit for bachelor and bachelorette parties if you get my drift. (I would have bought some for Shley's wedding if I knew it would keep for a year!!!) Belgium specializes in chocolate, mussels, waffles, fries and lace. Mussels and fries? I died and ended up in Mere-food heaven. (But I admit the fries got old after the fifth time... blech.)
The streets themselves were pretty cool. Cobblestones older than my country kind of cool. The hostel was located near the Hello Street - a street the city set aside as the official street where you have to smile and wave at everyone to cut down on the high suicide rates. (I think it is working?) You can hire out horse-drawn carriages, but I don't believe in that sort of thing. The poor beasts never looked happy and I had to laugh at the tourists waiting in line, unknowing that they were standing in a puddle of horse pee.
Then of course there are countless museums (of art, heritage, chocolate and diamonds to name a few) and an old brewery that is still in operation. They've been making beer longer than Congress has been making laws. Astounding. I saw a painting of a man getting skinned alive - creepiest and coolest thing ever. And who can forget the Church of the Holy Blood. This church has a tube of petrified blood that they claim to be the blood of Christ. I read that DNA testing proved otherwise - it isn't that old. Still, the ceremony holds a palpable sense of reverence that is not to be denied. Chilling even for those of us who don't know the Catholic rituals. Plus the pulpit is a globe. How ingenious to literally preach from the world to the world?
Anyway, Maarten the Brugian, took Jess and I on a tour to all his favorite secret local spots in Bruges. Way better than a horse carriage tour. Hilary also took me and Jess to Ghent, another big city in Belgium. We checked out an old castle (with a torture museum woo hoo!) and all sorts of cute little shops. When Jess left, Hilary took me to Inglemunster, a wee little town with a brewery and a castle and not much else. We went on the Day of the Dead though, so everything was closed save the cemetery. (Y'all know how much I LOVE cemeteries, so I didn't complain in the least.) All the graves are above-ground sepulchers. They were teeming with flowers left by the dozens of mourners wandering the yard. More like works of art than graves, really. Marble. Stone. Tile. Sculptures. Bronze. Glass. Incredible and unforgettable.
I spent Halloween at the hostel. It had a big party for the hostel-stayers and the local bar regulars. Full costume, full decoration, full fun. I was a witch and Jess went as a dead cowgirl. We didn't really have much to work with, haha, but at least I had a hat. A DJ was there to play "scary music," which is to say he played a lot of death metal... that eventually turned into techno because ALL music turns into techno in Europe.
It was a good thing that I had spent so much time running around with Maarten, Hilary and Callum, because on that Friday and Saturday night, I was homeless. I didn't want to tell any of you for fear that you would worry about me, but I was supposed to meet up with friends in Brussels, plans fell through and subsequently, I had no place to stay... so I crashed in the hostel staff apartment with Hilary... haha. She was staying there, too, couch surfing, so all was gravy. I panicked for about five minutes, but everything worked out in the end. (One of the people I was supposed to meet in Brussels ended up sleeping in the train station... so at least I had a soft, warm place to sleep!) Anyway, on my last day as I was waiting for the bus, mulling over my week with a cup of hot chocolate, one of the regular bar visitors asked me if I was a new worker at the hostel. I laughed and knew it was definitely time to move on to my next destination...
AMSTERDAM
I've already been there before and most of you have heard the stories (two of you were on that trip with me...) so I will spare you the details of the canals and the streets and the houses that are all impossibly narrow and tilt forward to save on property taxes. For all the talk of drugs and sex, Amsterdam really gets a bad rap. It is still an amazing city, probably the cleanest city I have ever been in in my entire life. Not even probably, but surely. Clean. No beggars. Chill. Historic. Good food. Good people. My kind of town.
I met Emily Ann and David in Brussels. They had missed two trains getting there, haha. Poor dears couldn't read their tickets. Sometimes I wonder how I, of all people, have become the travel-savvy one. Once we hit town in Amsterdam, we made our way to the hostel - Stayokay Vondelpark. Oh my gosh, it was flippin' amazing. Probably the pimpest hostel I've ever been in. I didn't like it much - I like my hostels more intimate and less corporate. But this place has something like 400 beds and a full kitchen. I couldn't begin to explore its four floors.
We stayed in a room with three Spanish dudes that spoke no English and spent their evenings baking out in the room and reading English phrase books... so we spent our evenings out on the town. One night we went to a bar and I was carded... you have to be 16 to drink in Amsterdam... so I must have looked 15. The bartender was surprised to find out that I was older than he was, haha. I couldn't believe it! Another night we went to the Hard Rock Cafe for an American meal. We'd had Mexican, Dutch (Pancake Bakery... slobber slobber I love stroop!) and Chinese (Wok to Walk!!!) so we were jonesin' for some Americana... after all, we hadn't had food from home in two months! And our last night we took a wine and cheese candlelit canal ride. THAT was cool.
During the day, I finally got to see the Rijnks Museum, which is just a general museum, but HUGE. Too bad 90% of it is closed for renovations... yeah... well anyway. We wandered around Vondelpark next to our hostel and took cheesy "wedding and senior picture" photos in the trees and on the bridge crossing the little creek. The fall colors were just starting to burn on the leaves, so it made for quite an enjoyable morning... makes me miss the trees of Athens... le sigh. I finally visited the Anne Frank House and bought her diary. I wish I would have read it back when I portrayed her in the play - she was so much more than I made her out to be. A lot like me in many ways - I plan on making my daughter (if I have one) read it when she turns 13 just to give her a little insight into what all girls go through, no matter when they lived or how they lived. We stumbled upon the Homomonument, which is exactly what it sounds like. A series of marble triangles erected in memoriam of all the homosexuals sentenced to death at the hands of the Nazis and at the hands of current society. And I revisited the Van Gogh museum because, well, he's awesome. I went and visited my old favorites and bought new magnets reminding me of his artistic and prose-etic (not poetic, but with prose?) genius. Basically we spent our time wandering around, eating good food and looking at art. Is there a better life?
It rained most of my vacation. I saw the sun for five hours one day and the other nine were complete clouds. That's ok though, because Emily Ann, David and I watched a rainbow form before our eyes. We didn't just look up and BOOM there it was, but really WATCHED it form. Astounding. THAT made the entire trip worthwhile.
Sigh. I think that is all. Finally, eh? I tried to keep it short, but you know me... I am sorry you guys have to read (or ignore) these long e-mails. Because I can't blog, y'all have become my outlet. :)
Send me questions! I only got one so far from Aunt Lori. I plan on another e-mail later this week addressing her inquiry.
And how crazy is it about Lily getting engaged!? I leave the country and the cousins start getting married off! :D :D :D
I can't wait for Christmas. I miss you all so much!
Gros bisous,
Meredith
P.S. I thought I had an adventurous vacation... a friend of mine (a Canadian English assistant in Troyes) was arrested in Germany for biking through a red light that "was red for longer than one second." He was just cruising behind a car, so in the time it took the car to pass through, he ran the light.
P.P.S. Transit workers and union workers are striking tomorrow (Tuesday, Nov. 13) so that means I will be stranded here without trains and maybe without electricity, depending if our power plant strikes, too. Oh and the teachers are planning a strike with the other civil servants on Nov. 20. So if you don't hear from me it is because I have no electricity and no job. :)
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps
Chapitre 3 - La Vie en Rose
Hello guys and gals,
I am fairly positive that I have everyone successfully on this e-mail list now...
The blog didn't work as planned. The firewall on this server is pretty severe, so e-mail is all I have.
Anyway, so how the heck are y'all? I am so sorry it has been a whole month without a message from me, but every time I sat down the write the task just seemed too daunting... maybe that means I shouldn't be a writer? Ha ha.
Where to begin...
Travels: I've been running around on a shoestring budget. Aaahhhh there is SO much to talk about. I've been to a few teachers' homes. They like to take me home and shower me in home meals and show me off to their boyfriends or husbands or wives etc. etc. They all like to grill me about American politics and I am delighted to oblige. So I've seen some delightful little French homes. Ah, I don't think I can have a home without a gate and walled gardens. I also had proper tea with an English woman who had an authentic English garden that my grandmother would positively DIE for. European home life is just so different than America. I've yet to see stainless steel or a TV in the kitchen. It is just so homey. So different. Smells so weird, haha.
I spent a few days in Reims - an old old city in the north. Clovis, the first France king, was crowned there in, like 480 A.D. or something. (And as my past teachers know, I geek out on that history stuff, haha - plus all other French kings were coronated there) So when I mean old France, I mean OLD France. The cathedral there is world-famous and survived some serious bombing from WWII. That is the bad part of the North... so much stuff was just destroyed at the hands of silly men. Loss of life, loss of culture, lo the casualties of war. It rained the whole time I was there, but I was there to meet other assistants and get trained. Made some friends that I have visited since, so it was a good time. I think the best part of this trip is walking away with yet more international friendships. We visted a champagne cave, random spots around town and a cool basilica (with the tomb of St. Remy, the dude who baptized Clovis. He lived until he was 96 and there is a chandelier that has 96 candles to honor him. I didn't think anyone lived that long back then.)
Spent a night in Paris, too. And by a night, I mean stritcly one whole all-night affair called Nuit Blanche. It is an all-night cultural fete thrown around the world. Museums were open all night and there were bands, dancing, and outdoor art exhibits all over Paris. I was awake for 28 hours. It was... interesting. Nothing like buying a train ticket home at 6am. Ah, the follies of youth!
Troyes is the closest major city. Think an Akron-Canton. It is a 20 minute train ride and I have friends there that I visit when I can. I watched the France-England Rugby World Cup semifinal there with some Brits. When England won, they were pretty stoked. The French weren't too happy, haha, so we left the bar so they could revel in the streets. Troyes is pretty cool - an old city with pockets of modernism... but small pockets. Most of the time things are made to look old and fit in in Europe, you know? It is also the capital of my departement, so I go there for all my paperwork needs.
Mishaps: Well, after the money exchange, things didn't get any better. They call me Mlle Catastrophe or La Catastrophe Ambulant which just means I am a walking disaster, but I already knew that. I broke a teacup and saucer at a teacher's house and set off the school alarm. I fell flat on my face in the cathedral in Reims - crashing to the floor as they were preparing a funeral. I almost broke my hand and I busted open my knee and started bleeding through my pants. I twisted the same knee in Paris during Nuit Blanche and got blisters that were so bad that they STILL aren't healed (three weeks later!) I lost my voice for a week, got it back, then managed to destroy my esophagus with a wayward vitamin. I've had to fight a very long, hard battle to get Internet, managed to break the copier and wasn't prepared for my first three classes ever because of problems with a computer program. I've been back and forth with problems with my French bank and was given one day's notice that I had to head to Troyes for a medical exam, leading me to scramble last minute to find a teacher to shelter me for a night. I can't watch Heroes and I am so so sad. I am sure there has been more... Oh, I didn't know you had to bring you own shopping bags to the grocery store and basically had to put everything back... then I found out I could buy bags there, but was too proud to admit my flub, haha. Oh, aImost forgot the best news - the paperwork for my French work visa is lost somewhere between my mayors office and the capital office in Troyes and I will be deported in December if they can't find it. No. For real.
Teaching: It isn't too bad. I have the equivelant of sophomore, junior and senior classes ranging all sorts of studies. I have 12 classes split into 24 groups. I say I have close to 250 students. Lots of names that I do not remember, haha. Those who study marketing or science really don't care about English, so they are the hardest to make talk. Sigh. My sophomores are pretty cool - I am doing a film project with them. They have to write and make their own films in English. So with six groups, that means six films. They are competing for a prize at the end of the school period in January. They seem really excited and I am, too.
My juniors are fun because they know more than my sophomores but don't have the pressure of being a senior. !!!!!Hint hint hint Mme. Thorley!!!!! If you want to do a pen-pal exchange program, lets do it with them!
My seniors have their BAC, which is the test that determines if they graduate or not and it is huge and very hard, so I do activities that challenge them to think they way they have to for the BAC. Lots of reading texts and talking about them. Kind of boring, but I choose fun texts. Some also have the Cambridge Exam, which is an English specialty exam. I have some students that want extra help, so I am starting an English Club to discuss anything and everything about Anglophone culture and language.
Several of the students have noted that I have acting experience. Apparently I am THAT expressive, haha. I try to act out the word they don't know instead of telling it to them in French. It gets the point across, usually with a laugh. I taught a particular group of juniors how to say "Oh man." I said it and they thought I said "oh merde" (a swearing expression) and that caught them off guard that they thought I swore in front of them, haha. I explained and now they say it all the time. They all say hello to me in the hall. It is weird to have students, I think. I take every opportunity I can to go on field trips to the theater, so I have a little network of thesbians who greet me in the hall. Some of them aren't even my students and they keep begging to switch into my class, haha.
Well, I hope that is enough to hold you over for now. I know I should write more, but I am not so sure you want to read any more, haha. This letter got pretty long, eh? How about you send me some questions and I will collectively answer them. What do you want to know about French culture, my school, my life here, etc.?
ATTENTION, however: I will be on vacation for the next 10 days. I am going to Bruges, Belgium (an absolutely gorgeous medieval city) and Amsterdam (yes, again) with some friends. Both have canal networks, so I guess it is my little canal tour. Internet access is only possible when I can pay for it cheap, haha, but send your questions and responses please, so I have something to read!!
I hate to admit it, but I am terribly homesick. I don't want to come home, but I just miss home where I can get some Taco Bell and just ponder the sky with my friends. Ah, home. Speaking of which, I will be home for Christmas!! Yay! With Brandon in tow because even though we are 4,000 miles away from each other, we are making it work. :) So look forward to seeing his charming face - he's been boning up on Jeopardy, watch out Jensens!
Anyway, family, friends, educators... thanks for all your support. I know all the young kids know most of this stuff thanks to Facebook, so I am sorry you had to read all about it again, haha.
Someone work some magic and make the dollar stronger, please?
Ok, I love you all and will stop rambling now. Keep on keepin' on and Happy Halloween!
Gros bisous!
Meredith "La Catastrophe Ambulant" Jensen
I am fairly positive that I have everyone successfully on this e-mail list now...
The blog didn't work as planned. The firewall on this server is pretty severe, so e-mail is all I have.
Anyway, so how the heck are y'all? I am so sorry it has been a whole month without a message from me, but every time I sat down the write the task just seemed too daunting... maybe that means I shouldn't be a writer? Ha ha.
Where to begin...
Travels: I've been running around on a shoestring budget. Aaahhhh there is SO much to talk about. I've been to a few teachers' homes. They like to take me home and shower me in home meals and show me off to their boyfriends or husbands or wives etc. etc. They all like to grill me about American politics and I am delighted to oblige. So I've seen some delightful little French homes. Ah, I don't think I can have a home without a gate and walled gardens. I also had proper tea with an English woman who had an authentic English garden that my grandmother would positively DIE for. European home life is just so different than America. I've yet to see stainless steel or a TV in the kitchen. It is just so homey. So different. Smells so weird, haha.
I spent a few days in Reims - an old old city in the north. Clovis, the first France king, was crowned there in, like 480 A.D. or something. (And as my past teachers know, I geek out on that history stuff, haha - plus all other French kings were coronated there) So when I mean old France, I mean OLD France. The cathedral there is world-famous and survived some serious bombing from WWII. That is the bad part of the North... so much stuff was just destroyed at the hands of silly men. Loss of life, loss of culture, lo the casualties of war. It rained the whole time I was there, but I was there to meet other assistants and get trained. Made some friends that I have visited since, so it was a good time. I think the best part of this trip is walking away with yet more international friendships. We visted a champagne cave, random spots around town and a cool basilica (with the tomb of St. Remy, the dude who baptized Clovis. He lived until he was 96 and there is a chandelier that has 96 candles to honor him. I didn't think anyone lived that long back then.)
Spent a night in Paris, too. And by a night, I mean stritcly one whole all-night affair called Nuit Blanche. It is an all-night cultural fete thrown around the world. Museums were open all night and there were bands, dancing, and outdoor art exhibits all over Paris. I was awake for 28 hours. It was... interesting. Nothing like buying a train ticket home at 6am. Ah, the follies of youth!
Troyes is the closest major city. Think an Akron-Canton. It is a 20 minute train ride and I have friends there that I visit when I can. I watched the France-England Rugby World Cup semifinal there with some Brits. When England won, they were pretty stoked. The French weren't too happy, haha, so we left the bar so they could revel in the streets. Troyes is pretty cool - an old city with pockets of modernism... but small pockets. Most of the time things are made to look old and fit in in Europe, you know? It is also the capital of my departement, so I go there for all my paperwork needs.
Mishaps: Well, after the money exchange, things didn't get any better. They call me Mlle Catastrophe or La Catastrophe Ambulant which just means I am a walking disaster, but I already knew that. I broke a teacup and saucer at a teacher's house and set off the school alarm. I fell flat on my face in the cathedral in Reims - crashing to the floor as they were preparing a funeral. I almost broke my hand and I busted open my knee and started bleeding through my pants. I twisted the same knee in Paris during Nuit Blanche and got blisters that were so bad that they STILL aren't healed (three weeks later!) I lost my voice for a week, got it back, then managed to destroy my esophagus with a wayward vitamin. I've had to fight a very long, hard battle to get Internet, managed to break the copier and wasn't prepared for my first three classes ever because of problems with a computer program. I've been back and forth with problems with my French bank and was given one day's notice that I had to head to Troyes for a medical exam, leading me to scramble last minute to find a teacher to shelter me for a night. I can't watch Heroes and I am so so sad. I am sure there has been more... Oh, I didn't know you had to bring you own shopping bags to the grocery store and basically had to put everything back... then I found out I could buy bags there, but was too proud to admit my flub, haha. Oh, aImost forgot the best news - the paperwork for my French work visa is lost somewhere between my mayors office and the capital office in Troyes and I will be deported in December if they can't find it. No. For real.
Teaching: It isn't too bad. I have the equivelant of sophomore, junior and senior classes ranging all sorts of studies. I have 12 classes split into 24 groups. I say I have close to 250 students. Lots of names that I do not remember, haha. Those who study marketing or science really don't care about English, so they are the hardest to make talk. Sigh. My sophomores are pretty cool - I am doing a film project with them. They have to write and make their own films in English. So with six groups, that means six films. They are competing for a prize at the end of the school period in January. They seem really excited and I am, too.
My juniors are fun because they know more than my sophomores but don't have the pressure of being a senior. !!!!!Hint hint hint Mme. Thorley!!!!! If you want to do a pen-pal exchange program, lets do it with them!
My seniors have their BAC, which is the test that determines if they graduate or not and it is huge and very hard, so I do activities that challenge them to think they way they have to for the BAC. Lots of reading texts and talking about them. Kind of boring, but I choose fun texts. Some also have the Cambridge Exam, which is an English specialty exam. I have some students that want extra help, so I am starting an English Club to discuss anything and everything about Anglophone culture and language.
Several of the students have noted that I have acting experience. Apparently I am THAT expressive, haha. I try to act out the word they don't know instead of telling it to them in French. It gets the point across, usually with a laugh. I taught a particular group of juniors how to say "Oh man." I said it and they thought I said "oh merde" (a swearing expression) and that caught them off guard that they thought I swore in front of them, haha. I explained and now they say it all the time. They all say hello to me in the hall. It is weird to have students, I think. I take every opportunity I can to go on field trips to the theater, so I have a little network of thesbians who greet me in the hall. Some of them aren't even my students and they keep begging to switch into my class, haha.
Well, I hope that is enough to hold you over for now. I know I should write more, but I am not so sure you want to read any more, haha. This letter got pretty long, eh? How about you send me some questions and I will collectively answer them. What do you want to know about French culture, my school, my life here, etc.?
ATTENTION, however: I will be on vacation for the next 10 days. I am going to Bruges, Belgium (an absolutely gorgeous medieval city) and Amsterdam (yes, again) with some friends. Both have canal networks, so I guess it is my little canal tour. Internet access is only possible when I can pay for it cheap, haha, but send your questions and responses please, so I have something to read!!
I hate to admit it, but I am terribly homesick. I don't want to come home, but I just miss home where I can get some Taco Bell and just ponder the sky with my friends. Ah, home. Speaking of which, I will be home for Christmas!! Yay! With Brandon in tow because even though we are 4,000 miles away from each other, we are making it work. :) So look forward to seeing his charming face - he's been boning up on Jeopardy, watch out Jensens!
Anyway, family, friends, educators... thanks for all your support. I know all the young kids know most of this stuff thanks to Facebook, so I am sorry you had to read all about it again, haha.
Someone work some magic and make the dollar stronger, please?
Ok, I love you all and will stop rambling now. Keep on keepin' on and Happy Halloween!
Gros bisous!
Meredith "La Catastrophe Ambulant" Jensen
Chapitre 2 - Ayo Technologie
Hey gang! I don't have time to write a long e-mail, but will later. Some things to note:
I do not have access to the Internet on the weekends, so if you don't hear from me until Monday, do not worry.
My mailing address is
Meredith JENSEN
c/o Lycee Joliot Curie
1 rue Guy-Moquet - BP-6
10101 ROMILLY SUR SEINE CEDEX
write is just as I have indicated and there should be no problem.
also, the school's phone number is 33.03.25.24.99.34 (33 is the country code for France) but use that only in an emergency. you'll get the front desk. so if my parents or brandon are dying and i have to fly home asap or never see them again, give the school a call, ask for "l'assistante d'anglais Meredith Jensen" annnnd maybe they can understand you and find me. :)
gros bisous,
meredith
The phone number to the school is : 33.25.24.99.34 not the one I had previously written. The 33 is the country code for France fron the United States. But DO NOT CALL unless there is a death or serious illness or the Browns win the Super Bowl.
I just bought a modem for my computer, so in a few days I should be able to chat on AIM from my room. I don't know about Skype and video chat because it will be a slow dial-up connection, but we'll see. This should calm some of you. :) I spent what will probably amount to 80 bucks (after the exchange rate and foreign fees) on a stupid archaic piece of the tiniest plastic thing so A. it had better work and B. y'all had better appreciate it.
Also, plans are in the works for a cell phone. This also takes time because I don't understand French cell phone plans, don't know what they are saying, want to make sure I don't get screwed, make sure I can call the US, have to buy phone cards to call the US, have to find a place to buy both a cell phone and international calling cards, etc. etc. etc. Long process. Also remember that I live in the boonies. Its not like there are cell phone stores on every corner. I have to go into a city to find one and thus have to buy a train ticket blah blah blah. Please be patient!
I love you all, family and friends alike. I have lots of things to accomlish in the next few days, so communication may be spotty.
Gros bisous... or maybe it is bisoux... Rogera? Confirm for me?
LOVE YOU!!!
Meredith/MerMar/Mere/Mikki/Mouse/Pumpkin/Baby Girl/Poopface... uh, I think that is all
The phone number to the school is : 33.25.24.99.34 not the one I had previously written. The 33 is the country code for France fron the United States. But DO NOT CALL unless there is a death or serious illness or the Browns win the Super Bowl.
I just bought a modem for my computer, so in a few days I should be able to chat on AIM from my room. I don't know about Skype and video chat because it will be a slow dial-up connection, but we'll see. This should calm some of you. :) I spent what will probably amount to 80 bucks (after the exchange rate and foreign fees) on a stupid archaic piece of the tiniest plastic thing so A. it had better work and B. y'all had better appreciate it.
Also, plans are in the works for a cell phone. This also takes time because I don't understand French cell phone plans, don't know what they are saying, want to make sure I don't get screwed, make sure I can call the US, have to buy phone cards to call the US, have to find a place to buy both a cell phone and international calling cards, etc. etc. etc. Long process. Also remember that I live in the boonies. Its not like there are cell phone stores on every corner. I have to go into a city to find one and thus have to buy a train ticket blah blah blah. Please be patient!
I love you all, family and friends alike. I have lots of things to accomlish in the next few days, so communication may be spotty.
Gros bisous... or maybe it is bisoux... Rogera? Confirm for me?
LOVE YOU!!!
Meredith/MerMar/Mere/Mikki
Chapitre 1 - Le début
The following was written on my computer then transfered via jump drive to my email? I say this because in future emails that i may write directly on this school computer you may run into spelling and punctuation mistakes until i get used to the French keyboard.... P.S. right now it is almost 1pm
Well friends and family, I made it alive. For those of you who have been anxiously waiting for word from me (Mom, Dad, Brandon) I am really sorry I haven't contacted you sooner than this. Don't kill me. There is nowhere in this town with wireless Internet, the Internet here on campus only works half the time they tell me, and I ran into a bit of a crisis, so couldn't waste time looking for a place with international phone cards. I think I have a telephone line, so I may have to look into that... and buy a billion phone cards. (So much for Skype and iChat, eh?)
Anyway, I've been in France for 13 hours at the time of this writing (I am typing it on my computer, saving it, and then e-mailing it as soon as I get a password to access the school Internet.) I've learned a lot of German... yeah... my television...
I'll start from the top.
After leaving the security zone, waving goodbye to my loved ones (wow, I am crying again right now remembering how far away I am from you) I broke down into veritable sobs as I walked down the hallway. I made my last American purchase buying a bag of Sun Chips, a bottle of Naked Juice and two protein bars all for the low low price of ten freaking bucks. What a rip. I watched a bit of the Browns game before boarding to go to Philadelphia. The flight attendant had to yell at a pair of couples who were talking loudly during her safety presentation. I've never seen that happen before. Hilarious. I was stoked to fly over the Schuykill River, though. I peered down and saw the familiar shapes of crew shells and those wakeless launches following along. I recognized the bridges from Dad Vail and Boathouse Row right before the falls. It was pretty cool. Anyway, once we landed I had to catch a bus to terminal A... and wouldn't you know it, my gate was the very last one, A26. They were already boarding when I got there. Not a fan of the Philly airport. Too big.
On the plane from Philly to Paris, I sat next to a man and his wife. Technically, I was next to the window, he was next to me, then the aisle, then she was in the middle seats. The flight wasn't full, so the man stayed sitting next to me so his wife could stretch out on the middle seats...which was nice of him, but I wanted to sleep, too. Oh well. He was a nice man, on his way to visit his son who lives in Seville, Spain. He had a Spanish book and corresponding speaking tapes on his iPod. He muttered to himself in Spanish/Spanglish and I contented my self with watching a documentary about dolphins and an episode of King of Queens (which made me miss my boo.) I stared out the window a lot, too, trying to make myself sleepy with thoughts on time - what time is, what time does, what time tests etc. The next thing I knew, I was waking up with a crick in my neck and a hairy knuckle rapping my shoulder. I left in a sunset, woke in a sunrise, and only seven hours had elapsed between.
Picking up my baggage wasn't so bad except that is when it hit me full on that I was alone, alone, alone. This is the first time I've been so far from home for so long without people that I know. Add to that a language that I only know well enough to B.S. my way through small talk and the situation looks a bit daunting. Everything looked a lot different than it had in the winter, being a different terminal and all, I suppose, so it took me awhile to get my bearings. When I finally did, I headed for a bureau de change to exchange my money... but it was closed. So I headed for another one, got lost, but ended up where I needed to be to catch my train to Paris. [Classic Mere Moment Alert] Good, I thought, I'll just get on this and maybe there will be a bureau de change there. I mean, it is where everyone catches a train to Paris so... Alas, no. Nothing. So there I was, standing in the middle of the train station, carrying pretty much my weight in luggage and had to get back on the shuttle and go back to the airport. I hunted out the second bureau de change that I missed when I got lost... AND IT WAS CLOSED. Kill myself. I wandered and lugged around the part of the airport that I could still access and finally found an open one. I got ripped off, naturally, but didn't have the time nor the patience to wait for something better. Anyway, I got my money (which came with a free 2007 Rugby World Cup keychain because I changed so much, hahahaha), got back on the shuttle, went to the station, bought a ticket and caught my train to Paris.
And the fun continued.
Anyone who is my size should not carry a 40 lb. hiking pack, a 50 lb. suitcase and a 15 lb. handbag all at once. It defies logic and physics and human anatomy. I hauled it off the RER train into the Gare du Nord and played pack horse, clomping up three flights of stairs and down two more before arriving at my Metro stop, all the while gasping for breaths of warm, stinky, damp Paris Metro air. Gross. Hopped on my Metro line for a two minute joy ride, then hauled off at Gare de L'Est, my wintertime nemesis. It was another four flights up to the grande lignes train station, where they run the land trains. At the bottom of my last flight, a beggar woman helped me carry my bags. I gave her 70 cents, but wanted to give her more, but all I had was a 10, 20 and 50 euro bills. I don't know, maybe I should have given her a ten, but I had no idea what kind of money I would need. Anyway, if I run into her again at that station, I owe her, because I was ready to just sit down and cry.
I crossed the street to Gare de L'Est, filled with unpleasant but hilarious memories of being trapped there for 24 hours in December. I only had to wait for an hour or hour and a half this time. Woo hoo! But within that waiting period, nature called and I remembered why I just looooove Europe so much. You have to pay to pee! (Oh my kingdom for a "free pee.") As I fished around for my wallet, I realized that I may not have enough money because I gave my change to the beggar woman and thought karma was going to bite me for not giving her more. Luckily it gave me a break; I had exactly the 50 cents I needed. (Oh, and for the record, I tried to log on to the Internet while I waited in the station, but I needed to belong to a cellular network. I tried everything to try to send out a message, but no dice.) I snagged a sandwich and a warm Coke (stupid Europe!) at the sandwicherie, and waited.
My train to Romilly came on time and I got on it without any problems. A baby who was just learning to talk was in my cabin. She actually said "goo goo ga ga," which is the first time I have had that happen in the flesh. Pretty rad. I arrived in Romilly without any problems, too. I met an English teacher (the mole lady, Mom) who took me to her car. It had, uh, character. An old 1980s Peugeot... my door didn't shut all the way... yeah... She never drives it because she just walks everywhere. When she speaks in English, she sounds like she has Downs Syndrome or something. But she is super nice and talkative, if not a little eccentric. She took me to her home because she forgot to take her artichokes off the burner. It is a wee little place and really marks a stark difference between American life and French life (think the documentary on Parisian architecture you rented, Brandon.) I don't think I ever want to live here for too long. I like a house with a yard and a garage and all those comforts of expansive American life. Ah, I also met her 10 year old son. She also has two daughters, one who is 23 and one who is 29. I believe the 29-year-old has a new baby.
After that, things get blurry. She brought me back to the school and I met... uh... everyone possible, I think. There is no way my jet-lagged mind stored any information. I embarrassed myself in front of Annie while she was giving a French tutoring lesson to a Portuguese student here. Those of you who know me academically know that my French grammar is 100% horrible. Give me a book, I'll read it, and tell you the concepts, but my grammar will be horrific. Anyway, she told me that they are teaching English with a whole new method this year, so I am going to be making stuff up as I go just as they are. Who knows, maybe some things that I do will be worked into the actual curriculum.
Afterwards, one of the women I met walked me to a little grocery store so I could get some food. You have to take in your own bags (would have been nice to know before I got there...) so I could only get what I could fit in my big handbag. I have some apples, some dried mangos (I think) some dried apricots, juice, lettuce and some noodles. Yeah, uh huh, I am going to starve. (Wait until you see pics of the hot plate, my one pan, plates, one glass, and several knives and forks, but no spoons. Woooooo!!!) On my way back in, I stopped at the office to ask about my ID card which unlocks the main gate. Apparently this is the same card that I use for my meal plan and I got myself into a royal ordeal with the lady in charge of those. This language barrier thing sucks. I got flustered. Twenty euro later and I am still not really sure how many meals I bought.
I returned to my room and cried. I couldn't hold it in anymore, I just sat down and cried. Fell asleep with my head buried in my teddy bear, watching a German dubbed version of King of Queens, which just made me cry harder. I woke to a knock at my door and opened it to the assistant headmistress' secretary, Jerome, who had come to take me to dinner. He is a short, soft spoken man. Really... weird. But I think it is just the fact that I can't really understand what he says and he speaks no English that makes it so hard to communicate with him. He was telling me all sorts of stuff about the building and alarms and whatnot, but I caught maybe 10% of it. He lead the way to the cafeteria, but I don't think I'll be able to find it again. Anyway, Jerome is one of the teachers that lives here on campus during the week and goes home on the weekends. We met his friend Said (I am guessing on the spelling, pronounced Sa-eed) who I am pretty sure comes from a North African decent, just like Jerome, but I've yet to ask. He's a Spanish teacher here, I think, but wants to practice his English, so he asked me some questions in English and I responded in French. We also ate with a girl friend of theirs. I didn't catch her name (I actually don't think she ever told it to me,) but she speaks at a rapid pace and I had to stumble to keep up with her. She is super nice though, asked me a lot of questions, but didn't grill me. She ate a really stinky cheese though... eeehhhggggg. She and Said left, and Jerome and I just looked at each other awkwardly. I have a feeling that my English teacher contact, Valerie, put him to the task of being a nice neighbor to me. He came to check out the empty room across from mine because he needs to move into a vacant room, something about electricity and a burst pipe in his room. I don't know. The headmistress told me that they are going to do a renovation of this building, so sometime this year, I am going to be moving so they can do repairs (like my caving in ceiling) and repaint. Anyway, I mentioned that my television has a lot of German channels, so we spent an awkward two hours (it was probably more like one, but felt like two) trying to figure out why I get German channels and not the standard French ones. He thinks the TV used to belong to the German assistant who was here last year and the cable box is actually some weird German transistor or something. But he would flip a channel and stare. Like a total vacant shut down. It was weird, but I was totally grateful to have someone to go to dinner with. I am going to be short on friends here for the first few weeks, so even an assigned neighbor friend is a comfort.
If I did the math right, I've been awake for over 32 hours with only 3-4 hours worth of nap time thrown in there somewhere. Ew, that also means I've been in these same clothes for that amount of time... nor have I brushed my teeth... gross... and I just watched the French equivalent of Grey's Anatomy (as far as I can tell, having never worshipped the show like others that I love, haha... hot doctor men with wavy hair and sultry eyes, hot doctor women with big boobs, wavy hair and sultry eyes...) so that is a double gross. (But Crossing Jordan is on now, so that is a plus.) I am going to finish unpacking, shower and then go to bed in the smallest bed on the planet. The room isn't that bad, it just isn't home. I'll try to get some pictures out as soon as I can find an easy way to do it.
As for here, I already have my shrines to Brandon, friends and family set up, and put out all my Bon Voyage cards and letters. I suppose I should put away some clothes and shoes. Tomorrow I plan on wandering a little farther out from the gated school grounds and find somewhere that has clothes hangers and toilet paper. (I am living off my pack of tissues that I bought for the airport, so that is a pressing need.) 0o0o0o, and bath towels. Le sigh.
Don't worry about me, loved ones. I'll be ok. I am sorry the video chats and Internet calling may not work out, but we'll see. This really sucks and I have a feeling that I am not done crying, but I'll work something out.
Love you all,
Meredith
Family members: Check the addresses. If there are any more Jensens and Wonovs that I should add to this list, let me know or forward this on to them so they can let me know.
Friends: Je suis en France et je ne comprende rien. Je suis suck a big one.
Boo: I don't think I remembered to write it in your e-mail, but I finally broke my brown sunglasses. I figured that out after my money crisis. Karma? Anyway, I love you and miss you.
Addendum: The shower wasn't bad after I let the rust run out of the pipes and I executed some stellar Appalachian engineering with the shower head. I mean, there was the standing in ankle-deep water, but at least I have a shower, eh?
And I've already used the first-aid kit. Sliced my thumb on a suitcase buckle. Thankfully, God invented Tide pens for blood stains.
One last fun fact: They don't change class to a bell. They use the chorus of Outkast's "Hey Ya." I kid you not.
oh boy...
So this finally works now... interesting. For my first few months here, it didn't work.
P.S. Here is France. I live in France, now. I used to live in Ohio, but y'all know that. I had the intention of keeping this updated as I went through the process of moving to France... but I didn't.
The long and short of it...
I applied for a teaching assistant position.
I received my post at the beginning of the summer.
I accepted said post.
I applied for a visa.
I went to Chicago and picked up said visa.
I packed my life into two bags.
I moved away for seven months to Romilly-sur-Seine, France.
The blogs that follow are e-mails that I have been sending to a list of family and friends.
P.S. Here is France. I live in France, now. I used to live in Ohio, but y'all know that. I had the intention of keeping this updated as I went through the process of moving to France... but I didn't.
The long and short of it...
I applied for a teaching assistant position.
I received my post at the beginning of the summer.
I accepted said post.
I applied for a visa.
I went to Chicago and picked up said visa.
I packed my life into two bags.
I moved away for seven months to Romilly-sur-Seine, France.
The blogs that follow are e-mails that I have been sending to a list of family and friends.
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