Last night I went to a "Soirée Country" in Villers. It was hilarious and everybody wore cowboy hats that they handed out and a group from Belgium who wore awful American flag shirts taught us line dances. Haha! I will post pictures about it later, but right now I need to do my final preparations in order to leave for Paris soon!

La roue de la fortune

Someone loaned me a TV for my apartment. I only get three channels though, and one of them is in Flemish. But fortunately for me, one of the two channels that I get and can actually understand shows La roue de la fortune, aka French Wheel of Fortune. It’s basically the same thing as ours, but the differences make it hilarious. The girl who turns the letters over is young, ridiculously blonde, and wears dresses that look to be about two sizes too small for her. In the credits they only call her Victoria, no last name. She makes remarks throughout the show and makes faces when the contestants guess a wrong letter. Also, one time after a commercial break, the host definitely unzipped the top part of Victoria's dress...which zipped down the side. Since it was so tight, he couldn't get it zipped back up and some other guy who must have been a tech guy or something had to come on and help him. It was weird. The host is pretty entertaining as well. He has a dog that sits with him on the set. I haven’t figured out the reasoning behind that yet.

The people who come to compete are quite similar to the ones who go on Wheel of Fortune, c’est-à-dire usually overenthusiastic and not necessarily all that good at the game. It’s a little less frustrating to watch it here than back home because at least I’m at a disadvantage with the whole language thing and am less likely to solve the puzzles early on, but sometimes I still know the answer to a puzzle long before the contestants seem to. Really?

My favorite part about La roue de la fortune is that on the wheel there’s a removable slice called “caverne.” If the wheel lands on that, the contestant stops what he’s doing and goes with the host to another part of the stage where there are a bunch of expensive things—electronics and kitchen appliances and a scooter. The contestant has thirty seconds to grab as many things as he can, and then the total value of the things that he’s gotten is added to his overall score. It’s really bizarre.

I don't watch much more than that show. But I did catch an episode of Bob l'Eponge the other day, and the dubbed voice for Spongebob is way too deep instead of high-pitched and annoying. French children are not getting the full experience!

Today I went to the health food store here for the first time. It felt like home! It had that health food store smell and everything. I bought some tofu and some meatless deli slices and some rice cakes. I forgot to bring a bag with me, but the bag that they gave me is 100% biodegradable and compostable. And they didn't even charge me for it, which is pretty unusual here. On my way home I stopped in a bakery and the lady told me the baguettes were warm so I bought one. (I did not make it home with an entire baguette.) As soon as I stepped out of the bakery, a student saw me and got all excited and was all, "Ca va?" and came to give me bises. It was cute.

That's about all I have to say right now, but I do plan on writing about the hilarious French version of Wheel of Fortune, which has become one of my favorite things, soon!

France, land of bises

Yesterday I saw an outdoor jazz concert in Feignies, where Mme Carmalez lives. It was pretty entertaining. I went with Angèle and later Isabelle, a young teacher from the school in Villers, came. They both knew a lot of the musicians, and I was standing next to them afterwards, the musicians kept giving me bises (where you put your cheeks together and make kissing noises; it's the standard greeting). I think that's probably the weirdest thing about France.

They passed out free champagne, orange juice, and brioches at the concert. I asked Angèle and Isabelle if they ever make mimosas here, but they said no. They thought the idea of mixing orange juice and champagne was is crazy. I still think it's delicious.

After the concert Isabelle took me to eat at her parents' house, where she still lives. We stopped at a bakery first, where she bought a couple of loaves of bread. The lady who worked there put the bread through a machine that cut it. I told Isabelle that I'd never actually seen that before, and she said that at the grocery store up the road from her, you have to put your bread through the machine yourself. She said she'll take me there someday so I can do it...haha, exciting.

Lunch involved a cheese course. I think cheese courses are my favorite thing ever. I ate quite possibly the most delicious cheese I've ever tasted. It's a soft white cheese and I normally don't even like cheese like that, but this was amazing. I would have gone out and bought some today, but unfortunately just about everything in France is closed on Sundays because you have to pay lots of taxes in order to be open. (I learned today from the TV that there's some Best Buy-like store that pays its employees double to work on Sundays. Not even time and a half, but DOUBLE. That's crazy. I should probably work there.)

After lunch, it somehow came about that we should go to a glass museum fittingly called the Musée du Verre. It was a little bit of a drive to get to, but I do enjoy seeing the countryside and all the little villages. At the museum, you could watch people blowing glass. Isabelle's parents asked if I could try it because I'm American...so they let me. I clearly knew what I was doing:

Then one of the glassblowers made me stand in front of the oven to show me how hot it was. And then he gave me a flower made of glass as a souvenir. So I now have a handmade wooden mushroom and a handmade glass flower. I was then expected to do the whole bises thing again. People honestly don't understand how I'm not used to that sort of thing. Isabelle's dad caught the moment of my awkwardly not knowing I was supposed to give bises perfectly on camera:

We then saw the rest of the museum. There were lots of old bottles that used to be manufactured there, and in the basement there was a little installation of art made from glass. It doesn't sound very interesting, but it actually was. I think I just like museums.

There was something happening in Valenciennes last night, but I heard about it too late and couldn't go. But that's okay. After we got back from the museum, Isabelle's mom made us crêpes, which were really tasty. She asked if we make "pain perdu" back home, which as it turns out is what we call French toast. They call it "lost bread" because they only make it from bread that's slightly stale- if they don't eat it as French toast, they'd have to waste it and throw it out. Fun fact.

After the crêpes we played Rummikub, which I always see at people's houses but had never actually played. We also had a conversation about how we don't do the whole bises thing in America. "But what about your parents? What about with all your friends on New Year's?" Oh France.

I think it was by far the most random day I've had in France, but I really enjoyed it. I also acquired a whole bunch of apples yesterday. Mme Carmalez had asked if I wanted some apples from the garden and I said sure, but I did not realize she meant a whole bagful. I don't have an oven so I can't make a pie or anything. Does anybody have an idea as to what I can do with them? Applesauce?

Oh yes, and for your viewing pleasure...a glass menagerie and the people I spent most of the day with (in front of a glassblowing oven, what else?):

well that took a while

Okay, so obviously I wasn't very on top of my blog entries, but that wasn't my fault; I've been having major issues with internet access. However! I've managed to get online with my own computer in my landlords' house. It turns out that one letter of the wifi code they gave me was wrong, so I couldn't actually connect. I'm sitting approximately five feet away from the box right now, so hopefully I will be able to get some sort of signal downstairs in my apartment. We'll see. But maybe this can actually be a bit more of a regular thing now. I didn't postdate (predate? whatever) the entries, but I conveniently made the titles the dates that I actually wrote them. Please read!

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Yesterday I went on a field trip with one of my schools to Felleries, a little village that took about half an hour to get to. It was a fun day overall, though it seemed a little bit random. The class is CM2, which is basically like fifth grade, so the kids are pretty much all ten years old right now. They must be learning about birds right now in school, because half of the day was about that. They got into groups of four and made “nichois” (basically resting places) for birds out of plastic bowls covered with newspaper and glue. Then we went to another room and someone led a little class on different kinds of birds, which was educational for me since I don’t know the names of many birds even in English. We then went on a really short bird hike, but there weren’t many birds to be seen.

The second half of the day was devoted to learning about the old forestry industry in the region and the mill. There was a little five-room museum about all the forestry stuff, and all the kids were paired up to answer questions about the things in the museum. I got paired up with a little girl named Mathilda so that I’d have something to do. After that the guy who had taught us about birds took us out to tell us about the mill. I’d always thought that “moulin” only meant windmill, like Moulin Rouge, but it actually means any kind of mill. This moulin was “à eau,” so it was operated by water. It was kind of interesting to see how they controlled the flow of the water to turn the wheel (the kind that you’d find on a steamboat) and make mill work. The guy poured wheat into the mill and then we went downstairs to where the flour was coming out, at which point some of the kids found it appropriate to pick it up and then eat it. I thought it was funny with our whole stereotype about the French eating bread all the time. Obviously American kids will eat sugar plain out of their hands, but flour, and whole wheat flour at that?

After the mill demonstration, we went to a place where another guy, the one who’d made the nichois with us, showed us how he makes things out of wood. He put a block of wood on this machine that makes it spin really fast, and then he used some tools to carve it (or just make woodchips fly everywhere). He sanded it down a bit and by the time it stopped spinning, it was a perfect, smooth spinning top. It was pretty impressive. Then he made a mushroom out of part of short log. All the kids got a top at the end of the day, but a dad who was along as a chaperone and I both got mushrooms. Ooo.

After that demonstration, the kids got to play the various games, all made of wood, that were outside the museum. A group of girls who decided that I’m their new favorite person had me play with them. I think my favorite part was bowling. I think their favorite part was holding my bag and umbrella (I couldn’t put in my bag because it was all wet, so I had to hold it even after it wasn’t raining anymore) for me whenever I was taking my turn at whichever game. They also enjoyed playing Mary Poppins with my umbrella.

It was a fun day, but I was exhausted by the end of it. The same group of girls had me sit next to them in the back of the bus, since that’s the only place with five seats in a row, but it was hard to concentrate on what they were saying by that point. I think everything is more tiring when you really have to think about what you say and what people say to you since everything is in a different language.

Either way, at least I got a handmade wooden mushroom out of it.

Monday, October 06, 2008

Today I had my mandatory medical visit so that France could affirm that I’m healthy enough to live here. But since it’s France I couldn’t go to just any doctor’s office for this visit; I had to go to Marc-en-Baroeul, just outside of Lille…which is an hour and a half away by train. It wasn’t such a bad train ride though, and I met another American once I got there since our appointments were conveniently at the same time. She actually lives sort of near me in a town even smaller and uneventful than Maubeuge, but her boyfriend lives in Lille so she was already there from the weekend.

The medical visit was kind of silly. One person weighed and measured me, then asked if I was pregnant. Then another person asked me if I was pregnant and then X-rayed my chest (apparently they’re really paranoid about TB here?), which was slightly awkward because I had to take half of my clothes off and they didn’t even give me a smock. Then a doctor asked me if I took any medications, etc., took my blood pressure, listened to my heart and breathing, and then signed some papers that I have to turn in for my titre de séjour. It just seemed a little silly that I had to go all the way to Lille for such a simple procedure when I literally live across the street from a doctor.

This did, however, give me some time to explore Lille a little bit. I went there last week for our orientation, but that was a day full of rain and boring information, so that didn’t really count. Since the train station is right in the centre ville, I was really in a perfect spot for wandering. Since the other American more or less knows her way around, I didn’t have to worry too much about getting lost. We returned to the train station a little before noon so she could catch the metro to meet her boyfriend for lunch (you know my sense of direction; I was worried that if I didn’t at least go back to the train station with her first, I’d never find it again), and I wandered a bit more on my own.

Lille is cool. I definitely wasn’t there long enough to have a definitive opinion about it, and I can’t really see bothering to go back there unless I have a specific reason (a concert or some other opportunity), but I liked it. I went to Monoprix, the store that I used to shop at all the time in Montpellier but that we of course don’t have here, and I ate a panini that I bought from one of those little shops that looks like a stand because it’s open to the street—something else that I definitely associate with France but that you don’t find much of here.

I hate to be so negative about Maubeuge all the time, but I have to admit that it was really just nice to be in a real city. And I really shouldn’t complain so much; they tell you from the beginning that there’s a good chance that you’ll be in a smaller city or rural setting. It’s just frustrating that Valenciennes is so close, yet basically inaccessible at the times when I’d really want to be in a bigger city (mainly, any time after five o’ clock), and that I’m so solitary over here.

Tomorrow I’m going on a field trip with one of the classes from the school here. I don’t really know where we’re going, other than that it’s somewhere out in the country. The teacher just told me to pack a lunch and plan on walking a lot. Either way, I’m looking forward to it. These days I look forward to just about anything that means less time in my apartment. How sad is that?

Saturday, October 04, 2008

I am in an unfortunate situation. The situation is that Maubeuge, the small city where one of my schools is and where I am living right now, has recently proven to be the lamest city I’ve ever lived in. I’m talking way worse than Shreveport, even a little bit worse than Forest Lake. For while it’s cute and French and all, there is absolutely nothing to do here. At all. None of the other English assistants live here at all, but rather live in Valenciennes, which is about 40 minutes away by train (only due to stops and all that; it’s really not terribly far away). I was aware of Valenciennes before I came here, but my contact person told me not to look for housing there because of the commute time and because the trains between it and Maubeuge really aren’t all that frequent. Here’s the thing, though: I only work twelve hours a week. These twelve hours are spread out over three days. So while living in Valenciennes would mean that I’d have to spend about 4 hours on the train in a week, that’s really not so bad. I mean really, I did more than that on the bus when I lived in St. Paul. It’s not ideal, and it would be a pain to move, but at the same time, staying here is starting to seem more and more out of the question.

I was trying to be optimistic, I really was. And before tonight, I hadn’t exactly gone out and explored the Maubeuge nightlife. Well, let me tell you about my night. I got home at about 7:00 from lunch and other such things (including visiting Valenciennes briefly) with Mme Carmalez and Angèle. And I definitely didn’t want to be at home at 7:00 on a Saturday night in France, and as the weather was pretty nice, I decided it would be a perfect time to try and explore some. So I went upstairs around eight and asked Hind, the really nice Moroccan girl who lives there, if she wanted to go with me. She was only studying at the time, so she agreed. Well, Maubeuge. On a Saturday night. Around 8:00. Basically, nobody was in the streets. There were some older people in the little café/brasseries that are around, and there were a few people buying food of sorts from a friterie. Other than that…basically nothing. There was really nobody in the streets, to the point that we didn’t even feel very safe when we went to the train station to check the schedules. We ended up taking the free “navette” (a humorously small bus) from the train station back to near our house so that we could get away from the poorly lit station area.

I mentioned that I visited Valenciennes briefly today. We went there so I could get train tickets for Monday, since I have to go over near Lille for my obligatory medical visit. I was somehow under the impression that it wasn’t much bigger than Maubeuge. And maybe it’s not, but it definitely seems like it. There are actually things there. Multiple shops and a mall and a Monoprix and really cute houses. And people. There are so many people there. And that is where I belong, so much more than here. I wouldn’t mind not really knowing anybody, if only there were actually a prospect of meeting people. I’ll go and be an awkward foreigner, or whatever, but I can’t even do that if there is nowhere to go to do it.

I need to examine the train hours a bit more, but I am seriously considering moving. I’ve already signed a lease, but it was really informal and I’m hoping that somehow I can get out of it early. It’s not like I won’t give them fair warning, but I seriously don’t think I can live here for seven months. There is just absolutely nothing, and I’m kind of miserable at this point in time. I know that my relationship with my landlords is business first, but they’re really nice people and I’m just hoping that if they realize how truly awful it is for me to be in such a small city with no one I know and no prospects to meet anybody my age, they’ll be understanding. And I also don’t want to seem ungrateful as far as Mme Carmalez goes, because lodging was difficult to find here and all, but at the same time…I’m the ONLY person who ended up here. Clearly anybody else’s contact person had different ideas. I know she was trying to do what was best for me as far as my work was concerned, and even though I’m obviously here for my work, it takes up such a small part of my life that I feel like I shouldn’t be basing my living situation off of it.

I really wish I had realized all of this before, because changing is going to be a pain and probably kind of awkward, but I hate living here. I really do. If it turns out that I can’t move, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. Agh. I hate this.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Due to what’s going to be my rather sporadic access to the internet (kind of unfortunate, but what are you going to do, you know?), I think I’ll mostly have to resort to writing things at home and posting them when I can. This might sometimes result in my having to post multiple days’ worth of writing at the same time. Since I’m in France and haven’t really spoken English in a few days, I feel slightly less lame about saying: c’est la vie!

My first day of work is technically tomorrow, the 1^st of October, but that’s a Wednesday and I don’t actually work on Wednesdays. However, tomorrow I’ll be going to Lille, the biggest city in the Nord/Pas-de-Calais region, for my orientation. Someone is driving me and two other Americans I have yet to meet. I think they are the only other two in this area besides me and Ed, a guy who was going to meet me in the Brussels airport and get a ride down here with my contact person…until he missed his plane in Chicago and had to spend the night in the airport and not fly across the Atlantic until the next morning. When he finally got to Brussels, he was going to take a southbound train to Mons, then take a bus to Maubeuge. But then he accidentally took a northbound train and only realized this when all of the signs were in Flemish. He was practically in Ghent by this time. Poor Ed. I haven’t actually met him yet either.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to the orientation because I think it will give me a much better idea as to what’s going on. Not that people haven’t been extremely helpful, but I think that actually sitting in a room with people who are in the same boat as I am will be beneficial to my general peace of mind.

Yesterday I ended up going to the school in Villers anyway. After this week I’ll go there all day on Mondays, but yesterday I just took an afternoon bus to get there around one. It’s actually only about a ten-minute bus ride from here, which is nice. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons I’ll go to the school I’m assigned to that’s actually in Maubeuge, which is about a ten-minute walk from my apartment.

I should probably explain a little bit about the school in Villers. I mentioned before that Villers only has about 900 people in it. The school definitely reflects this. It reminds me a little bit of those one-room schools that you hear about from the pioneer days or whatnot, where all the kids are in the same room regardless of their age, except here there are three classes. In France you can start sending your kids to school when they’re two years old, and even though it’s not obligatory until a bit later, many parents start sending their kids that early because nurseries are expensive and school is free.

The school in Villers is both an “école maternelle” (for the 2- to 3-year-olds) and an “école primaire” (basically our elementary school, 4- to 10-year-olds). There are a couple of teachers who tend to the really little kids, of which there are maybe six or seven. Mme Carmalez teaches the 4- to 7-year-olds all in the same room, which seems difficult because she basically has one group of students who can’t read yet, one group who are learning to read, and one group who can already read. Altogether there are maybe sixteen of them.

A fairly young guy named Sylvain teaches the older kids. (I didn’t catch his last name, but I do know that he likes Nicole Kidman and eats kiwis with the skin still on them.) There are probably sixteen of them as well. They can at least all read, but again, he basically has three different grade levels in the same room. Mme Carmalez, who teaches English to Sylvain’s class while he takes her class outside for gym, had me go ahead and do introductions with the older class. The kids have all picked English names, and of the three 10-year-olds, one picked Homer and one picked Bart. (The third picked Owen, which is just as funny to me because I can only think of Danny DeVito in Throw Momma from the Train.) There was apparently also a Milhouse at one point (pronounced “Mee’-loos,” of course).

After we’d done introductions, Mme Carmalez had the kids ask me questions in French and I was to respond in English. She basically forbade me to speak any French to them in the classroom, which is reasonable. Some of the questions were pretty funny, like, “Do you have beaches with hot, white sand?” and my personal favorite, which a small boy with glasses whom Angèle calls “la crevette” (the shrimp) asked, “Do you like bones?” At first I thought I’d misunderstood, but I hadn’t. It seemed so random to both me and Mme Carmalez, but we later learned that Sylvain had done a lesson on bones earlier that day.

After the hour of English was up, everyone went outside for a little recess. Some of the girls from Sylvain’s class crowded around me and started talking about their cats; I’d told them that I have two after someone asked me if I liked animals. “I have two cats! Their names are Princesse and [something French I don’t remember]!” “I know a girl who has thirteen cats!” They’re all really cute, and I figured it was okay to speak French to them outside of the classroom.

After the recess was a music lesson. A lady taught Mme Carmalez’s and Sylvain’s classes separately about percussion instruments, and then at the very end the entire school, including the really little kids, got together and sang in preparation for their Christmas concert. This was all adorable beyond words.

Tonight I’ll meet Fabienne, the teacher I’ll be working with at my other school, when we all apparently go “boire un coup” at some place called Le Pot. This should be entertaining.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Salut tout le monde!

I don’t think I actually realized that I was doing this until the second my plane touched the ground in Copenhagen. I know it’s my second time to come to France for an extended period of time and all, but this time is a bit different. For example:

* Though I’m still young and Mme Carmalez, my contact person, sometimes refers to me as “l’étudiante américaine,” she and I both realize that I am not in fact a student as I was the last time I was here. This time I have actual responsibilities other than attending class à l’université, and people will realize if I don’t show up because I oversleep or something.

* I’m in an entirely different part of the country; instead of practically being in the Mediterranean, I am practically in Belgium. Also, instead of living in a fairly large metropolitan area, I’m in a small city of about 33,000 (Maubeuge). One day a week I’ll be commuting to a tiny town of about 900 (Villers-Sire-Nicole), where one of my schools is located. I met the mayor of that one yesterday morning.

* Instead of living in a three-bedroom apartment with another American and a completely absent landlord, I’m living in a little studio apartment that’s attached to my landlord’s house. (My landlord wasn’t here when I moved in, but she left me a note and a box of Belgian chocolates on the table. I love French people.) A French girl named Lind is renting the room upstairs from mine, but I haven’t met her yet.

* Instead of having a safety net of Americans automatically at my disposal, I have yet to meet any other Americans this time. There are only three others who are assigned to my town, as far as I know. (In theory I’ll be meeting them all soon.) This is a little intimidating, but at the same time I know it will be good for me.

However, my trip here started out exactly the same as my last one in that my suitcase got lost somewhere between Dallas and Brussels. I have finally been reunited with it, which is good since it had my power adapter in it. (I really don’t know why I found it appropriate to carry all my electronics with me but check my adapter. Lesson learned.)

Mme Carmalez and her daughter Angèle, who goes to college (la fac) in Mons, which is about twenty miles north from here in Belgium, have been incredibly helpful. So far they have: picked me up in the airport in Brussels, taken me shopping for food and other necessities (such as underwear, which was also in my suitcase), helped me set up a bank account, fed me…basically everything I could ask for and more. Pretty sure I’d be lost without them!

On Friday I ate lunch at the school in Villers (where Mme Carmalez is both a teacher and the director, basically the principal) so I could meet some of the teachers and kids. The kids are maybe the cutest things ever. Little kids are always much cuter when they speak French, I’ve realized. One of them asked Mme Carmalez if I understood French, and she answered, “Yes, but we’re not going to speak French with her, we’re going to speak English.” “That’s not fair!” the kid said. I thought it was funny. After lunch, the kids got to play outside and color before they started class again. Four of them drew me pictures. So cute!

After spending my first two nights in the presbytery (yes, really) of Villers, I have been able to “install myself” (to literally translate the French term) in mon petit appartement, which is exciting (…not in the French sense). It’s really kind of adorable; it’s small, but this works in my favor because I like small spaces and don’t really have all that much stuff. The shelves and the walls are quite bare, but the door and cabinets are tables are painted a pretty shade of periwinkle and the floor tiles are pretty. This is the first time I’ve truly lived by myself, with no roommate or anything, but I guess I’ll get used to that soon.