An addition to the last post

I was thinking more about what took place in the conversation between the German assistant, myself and the other teachers. And, it was fascinating to me because it seemed that was really going on was family stories intersecting in unique way and revoloving around a famous historical event. One of the teachers was Jewish. She said that it was always difficult for her to look at older German people because she was always asking heself, "what were they doing when the Nazi's killed off my people and my family?" She said this to the German assistant, which I was quite surprised, but the German assistant responded well and told the story she did about how it was that her family was involved with the Nazis. She didn't deny that there was involvement but she gave a fuller picture of her grand father's family's perspective. It was not denial or ignoring, but telling the full story. Although I was not able to share this with the other teachers, due to lack of time, but even my family intersected here as well. My grandfather served in WWII and went to the Normandy beaches. He helped set France free from German rule. The other French teachers could understand how important of an event that certainly was. It was curious that there were 4 of us standing there telling our family's stories and each one had a different familial involvement with one monumental historical event. That sort of interaction doesn't happen everyday, and it was a special moment for me and the rest of us.

Parler en Francais avec autre etrangers?

I have to say that the easiest time I have had in speaking French has been with foreigners. I think it is because I am not worried that they are going to correct my French or be insulted if I speak it well. Today, for instance, I spoke with a Chinese person and a Mexican person in French and I actually think I was gettin my point across.
Last night, Myriam, my responsable from the school, threw a party for me after classes were let out. There ended up being about 20 or so teachers and 2 other assistants at the party. It took a little bit to get going, but once people started showing up it became quite interesting. By the end, I was amused at the fact that when language teachers get together after hours, they are not much different then students. We are trying to figure out how to swear in every language represented, French, English, Spanish, Portugese and German.
The most interesting point in the night for me, was meeting the German assistant at my school. She speaks French pretty well and English pretty well, so we conversed in both. Yet, for about 20 minutes she talked to me and two other teachers about growing up in Eastern Germany and trying to learn to deal with the fact that her grand fathers were in the German military. She talked about how one left the Nazi party very young, but the other was required to fight because he was a young person living in Germany. It was amazing to watch as she told this tale and talked about how her grandfather had a picture of him laughing with his buddies, and she tried to understand how this was possible. In the end, it seemed to me a powerful picture of the humanity of even the German soldiers who were doing strictly what they were forced to do but to take their minds off of what was around them they sometimes had a good time. Her grandfather never shot anyone either. He was part of the military but spent a significant portion of the war in German prison camp. It was just fascinating to listen to her tell her tale and although she repeatedly said she hated talking about, she was willing to. And, I think it was quite effective in relating to those around her, that she is obviously not a Nazi and her family although German, were real flesh and blood humans. They were not simply some vague notion of evil Nazi killers. It is these kind of experiences why I love being in Europe.
Also, I got my recipisse and I am on my way to being official in France!

Bureaucracy

I knew that life in France would not just be all trips to the Louvre, evening dinner parties, wine and baguettes. Yet, that is really all you can think about when getting ready for the experience. You just look forward to those great experiences. You don't lay in bed at night and think about the the headaches of the French bureaucracy or how to call, in French, and ask to change appointments that are necessary to ensure your stay in France. I wasn't just hoping that I would have to go to several banks before I found one that take me on as a client.
These things are, as you might imagine, becoming a reality. Real life in France is setting in. And, my nervous and anxious tendencies had begun to take over. I was having trouble sleeping knowing all the places and papers I needed to have ready to make my stay official in France. Plus, I also had to cancel a tutoring session because I had forgotten that one of my coworkers had planned a party for me that evening. On top of all that, I was really excited that I was going to be able to go to Ireland at the end of week. A trip to Ireland is more than just a vacation. It is the first time that I will be leaving my new home in France to travel to another country. I am going to be there for 10 days, which is great, but I have to plan 10 days worth of things to do. Plus, like my most of my time here, I will be spending it alone. This is wonderful for day hikes in the mountains and being to act on your every whim but of course there are drawbacks to it to.
To make matters worse, I have a recurring mold problem on the back wall of my room. I don't have proper ventilation for my shower, so my room is extremely humid. In order to relieve some of that, I have to open a window. Not only are the highs here only 50 degrees, but I have lady bugs all over my windows so when I open them I get about 20 lady bugs buzzing around my room. It is a choice now, lady bugs or mold. I think I have a handle on the problem as of today because I cleaned my entire room with bleach and a magic eraser. Plus, I bought a dehumidifier. My mom should also be bringing me something for my ladybug problem.
All that to say, reality is setting in and holidays are over. This is a wonderful opportunity and I am glad I am taking it. I know these hardships are worth the experience but that only slightly makes them easier to work through. Plus, I have a lesson tomorrow for the first time with the smartest kids in school, I think I am prepared but how should I know I have never been a teacher!

Il est un fou!

I could not have possibly felt more like a teacher than I did this afternoon. I was standing in the front of the room, with words written all over the chalk board in my terrible penmenship. I was beginning to erase the board so there was chalk dust all over me, the board and the air around me. I was trying to explain what the verb cement meant in English to a bunch of native French speakers. In order to not make recourse to French, when I explain words I just list off synonyms. As I was listing off synonyms, I started laughing. The students started looking at me. I thought one even in said in French that I was crazy. I was thinking in my head that I was going to be a walking thesaurus by the time I am finished here. Then, I started laughing because I realized they wouldn't know what a thesaurus was and then I started lauhing even more because I thought of how funny it was that I was going to try and think of synonyms for thesaurus to explain to them what it was and then from there try to explain why I was laughing. All of these layers were just cracking me up and all the while I was getting chalk all over my face trying to cover it from laughing. Then the students just started chuckling to themselves about how strange it was watching this 23 year old American guy covered in chalk laughing at nothing they could possibly understand and not able to explain it them.

Rouen, Normandy

Saturday, I made my first trek outside of the Ile-de-France (basically Paris and its suburbs). I went to Rouen. It is in the province of Normandy. Although every region has its distinctness and its own character Normandy's was particularly charming and fascinating for me. The mark of Norman architecture is extensive use of wood (as well as stone). But, the use of wood as a primary piece of the composition in homes and other structures is unique in France. The rest of the culture follows suit in its charming uniqueness. This was the launching point of the Norman conquest of England in the middle of the 11th Century. And, until the end of the 100 years war, it would be disputed territory between the English and the French. Normandy's beaches are also, of course, famous as the site of the reconquest of France from Germany in WWII.
Rouen is home to many Churches, including the Notre Dame Cathedral, the Eglise St-Maclou and the Abbatiale St. Ouen. The Notre Dame de Rouen is most famous as the subject of many paintings by the impressionist Claude Monet. The Abby St. Ouen is famous as the spot where Joan of Arc was condemned as a heretic. However, realizing what a tragic mistake the Church had made, a Chapel was eventually made in Notre Dame Cathedral in remembrance of this most courageous of French Heroines. Oddly enough, King Richard I (Coeur de Lion) is also buried in the Notre Dame.
All this history is well preserved in this beautifully idyllic capital of Normandy. Even in the markets the people dress up in clothes from another era. Not being a usual attraction for visitors to France, in conjunction with joy seen on the booth owners faces, it would seem that the people dress up out of pure enjoyment and tradition. They sell the wares of their province--cider, sausages, canard, and caramel--with pride. One of my favorite scenes was a group of men ranging in age from 20 to 60 playing the French equivalent of Bocce ball in the garden next to the Abbey St. Ouen.
As you could probably tell, I was absolutely enthralled by this city. Most of the described above can be viewed in picture form by clicking the Rouen link on the right side of the blog.

Merci!

I am glad that people other than my mom and dad are reading this. I would probably do it anyway but I am glad that it serves more of a purpose than just helping me remember what I did. I didn't really quite know who to respond to Carl's comment so I just thought I would do it like this: Thanks for your comment Carl! Feel free to live vicariously through me as much as you like. I would love to have a pint of Fuller's London Pride with you. I really enjoy their Extra Special Bitter. I heard that it was the official beer of the Royal Navy. To answer your question, I have not gathered up any assistants to travel with me but I am going to Ireland at the end of the month for about 10 days so I am excited about that. I have a discount train card for France, Belgium, Switzerland and the Netherlands. So, I plan on making good use of it, even if it is just by myself! Well, I will probably put up a post about my trip Rouen tomorrow. It was amazing. Oh and I have a links section now on the right. You can live vicariously through me through pictures now too! You don't have to be a member of Facebook to view them but they are hosted there. Well that's it for now. A Bientot!

PERSONAL SPACE!

Random rant: There is no sense of personal space here. I had a family of 4, surround me in a 4 seat section in the train. There were places all over the train for the 4 of them to sit but they chose to trap in between them. 3 of them sat down and they moved the stroller across the isle so I couldn't get out even if I wanted to. It is that sort of thing that drives me nuts! I don't even have room to freaking leave if I wanted to! I would have had to climb all over them if I wanted out. Lucky for me they got off the train before I did so we didn't have to go through that hassle.
Also, when people beg here, they don't beg politely like in America. In America, bums just have a sign and sit on the ground and wait for money. Nobody comes up to you in your face shoves their hand into your chest and gives you this long drawn out sob story. The worst is when they shove their crying baby at you. Little do they know that crying babies are not the way to get to my heart!!
And, last but not least, at the Sacre Coeur, there are lines of black men blocking the entrances to the steps that lead up to the church. You must cross them to get to where you want to go. And when you do, they let you through but not without first literally grabbing your arm and trying to force some stupid string on your finger so they can make a dumb bracelet for you. When the guy grabbed me by the arm today, I almost turned to hit him. Then I thought better of it because he was about a 6 foot black man with a team of friends around him. But, seriously, what makes you think it is ok to freaking touch me! DON'T TOUCH ME IF I DON'T FREAKING KNOW YOU!! I am sick of it.

I need to learn french faster!

Today began a dreary and overcast. I also went to the Prefecture thinking I was going to start the process of getting my carte de sejour. As I walked up to the door, I noticed a sign saying that the only day it was closed was Wednesday. I had misunderstood the recording over the phone thinking that it said the only day it was open to get a carte de sejour was Wednesday. So, I had made a 30 minute trek in vain. Not wanting to waste the day, I decided to head to Paris to go in the Sacre Coeur and maybe another church. I was walked up to the base of the Sacre Coeur r, took out my camera, turned it on, and the error message came on saying that I didn't have my memory card. I had left it in my computer. Rather then go in the Sacre Coeur without my camera I just decided that I would look around the shops in Montmarte. It was not a totally useless trip as I did buy a sweater and a scarf. I also had a pretty good pizza in a little Italian place. As much as I love France and its cuisine, I still think my favorite country to visit for the food has been Italy. I returned to Massy and stopped at the fruit stand by the train station.
The last time I went to the fruit stand, I had a different guy from usual. The peaches the other guy picked out were terrible. Today, I went to the guy I usually go to, and I got much better peaches. He actually checks to make sure they are good peaches before he bags them up. Plus, I love it that he asks me how my days is and shakes my hand when I walk up. It is amazing how much I love the social niceities during the day. Then, I went to the boulangerie which I think has the best baguettes and order my baguette from this nice old lady, who also really friendly. Another guy in the store helped me as well with my pronunciation of baguette, in the most friendliest of ways. It is these types of things that really go along way during a day when things haven't really gone the best for you. Finally, on the bus, I was struck by the fact that I have already been in France for almost a month. As I looked outside and watched the sun go down, I noticed that I have been here long enough to really start to see summer turn into fall. All this combined to really make me feel in a small way like a part of this little village outside Paris that will be my home until May. It is that sort of an experience that I had never been able to have just traveling for a week or maybe two at a time in a place.

Mon Travail Commence

My work has begun. I sat in on several classes on Monday and Tuesday. In general, the topics of conversation between the classes and I centered on where I was from and who I was.
Digression: it is curious that the thought "where I was from" came first to my mind before "who I was". This is curious because these two topics seemed to be what I learned personally the most while being in the classroom with these French high schoolers. After reflecting on the second day with my mom on the phone, I realized that a change in mindset for me had happened at about lunch time but only became conscious while talking about it with my mother.
The story: I was walking out the front gates to go get an espresso and lunch, when two students who I had been in class with earlier asked if I wanted to go with them to the boulangerie. I said yes. These students where technically finished with high school and were sort of freshmen in college. As we were talking over our sandwich, the girl stated that she never wanted to go to America and hated all the people from there, except curiously me. I listened as she stated the obvious things that people hate about America. At one point she said, "if I do ever go, I will never go to Texas." Strangely enough for me, this is the point where I stopped her and said, "really why not Texas?" And, she said a few obvious things about cowboys and Bush etc. I then stopped her and told her that she would be considered normal in Austin, the capitol of Texas. She looked confused. I told her that some of the most interesting liberal, nonconformist people live in Austin. She was befuddled. I don't like Texas. But, I found myself defending it and America in a situation where I might normally have gladly agreed with her and would only added fuel to her fire. But, I have found myself in this position. I am a product of where I am from. I am American. I can hate America all I want but I am an American. I could have stood up in front of those classes and bashed America along with all the rest of the students. But, I decided (albeit somewhat unconciously at first) that the best option for me in this position was to show my lycee that not all Americans are the same and even though there are things that Americans do and say that I don't like, I am an American just the same. I can try to ignore it, but it will never leave me. Rather than be ashamed of America the rest of my life, I might as well do my part in changing the image of Americans in Europe and where ever I travel in the world.
That was my revelation. (Its weird that the most important things you learn in life, and sometimes the most important changes in mindsets happen almost without any volition. They are almost purely accidental. I am sounding a bit like Thomas Reed at this point and normally I am quite at odds with his philosophies. I am now ending this digression)

Dimanche

I visited one of the English speaking churches in Paris today, Emmanuel International Church. This is the church that Dan Morrow used to work at when he lived in Paris, so I thought I would give it a go. It took me a little over an hour and 30 minutes to get to Reuil-Malmaison, the suburb the church is in. The service started at 11:30 and lucky for me, I left well before it. I arrived just after it started to here about what I would expect at a Baptist Church. It was quasi contemporary worship with a woman leading the worship with overly dramatic hand gestures towards heaven, acting as if she could single handedly work the congregation into the most euphoric sense of worship they had ever felt. The congregation acted like a typical Baptist one, they watched. The pastor delivered a good message on Acts and it was over. I met the pastor who knew Dan and it was oddly comforting to be talking to someone who knew someone I knew. I usually scoff at these stupid social pleasantries, but I was actually quite glad to be talking to someone about a mutual friend. The pastor introduced me to another person about my age who asked me to go to lunch and then told me to wait for him. I stood out front of the church for almost 15 minutes waiting before I decided that was enough and took off for Massy.
Tonight, I tried my hand at cooking fish on a hot plate. I have never felt more like a single young adult male. I forgot the olive oil, and since everything is closed in Massy on Sunday, was forced to try something else. I tried wine. That was not a good idea. I poured nearly a half a bottle onto the skillet trying to keep the fish from sticking to the pan. The fish never even got close to cooking. I finally decided to call it quits and stick a premade dinner in the microwave. I was, however, able to steam some green beans.

Le Marche

Friday was a rather lazy day. I did some grocery shopping, setup the blog, and finished my application to Princeton. I did go to a gathering of teachers at someone's flat. However, this time, it included mostly older teachers. That being the case, the music in the background was light classical music and the highlight of the evening was probably quiche with "shevre" which it turns out is just the word for goat but is also a culinary term for goat cheese. The teachers and I sat around and talked about, well, nothing. So, I was relieved when Myriam said she was tired and we left.
Saturday, I got up early and went to what is said to be the largest flea market in the world. Mostly it is clothes and shoes but certain streets had some of the most amazing antiques I had ever seen. While wandering down one of the many sprawling side streets of booths, I saw what I thought was the perfect leather bag that I had been looking for. I asked the vendor (in French) what the cost was and he said 160 euros. I scoffed at the price although for a hand sewn leather bag that is probably a good deal to begin with. He showed me a couple of others but he could tell I was only interested in the first one. He asked me to name my price and I said 120 euros. He said absolutely not. Then, I started to walk off. He came back with 130 and said that was still too much. After several minutes of back and forth on prices, he asked me what I had in my wallet. I said 100 euro. Then, he started packaging it to give it to me and I got scared. I looked at him and he held out his hand for the money. I was so nervous because I wasn't ready to spend even that much money, I literally turned and ran down the street. I can't stand being pressured into buying something. Yet, this is how that sort of thing goes in a flea market and I know, but I just have a hard time dropping that much money for a bag I had only just seen. I know I will probably never see that bag again but there is another market next weekend where I can look again.
That evening, I went to dinner with Genevieve, her daughter and son in law, and another teacher. It was a nice dinner but I was a bit over dressed. Genevieve told me we were going to a restaurant which I thought implied my needing to wear a blazer. So, I got dressed up. I had my leather boots, my Juicy Couture blazer and this awesome button down shirt I bought a Nordstrom before I left. When I got to the restaurant, the waiter was in jeans and a tee shirt. The party I was with was only slightly more dressed than that. I looked pretty good, but felt pretty strange.