Thanks for the tip D.
"West Virginia Voting Machines Prefer McCain
This is the second West Virginia county where voters have reported this problem. Last week, three voters in Jackson County told The Charleston Gazette their electronic vote for "Barack Obama" kept flipping to "John McCain".
In both counties, Republicans are responsible for overseeing elections. Both county clerks said the problem is isolated."
Surprise, surprise, it seems that I can't find a major news outlet covering this. Hopefully something soon.
And I was worried about my vote not counting because I'm overseas. I'm not too worried about it anymore, considering I got my ballot and sent it out priority mail, and I live in Jersey.
Election day is close, and I'm feeling very uneasy. Rachel explained why in a fantastic post that, I'll admit, made me a little teary-eyed.
There's a lot of uncertainty right now about this election. The last thing we need is for machines to glitch and switch votes.
I won't be online again until election day. At this point, I just want it to be over. And I hope someone calls me right away to tell me who won.
31 October, 2008
Halloweeeeeeeeennnnnnnnn
I was being all mopey not too long ago about how holidays are gonna suck without all my best friends and family. And you know, everyone expects me to be sad about missing Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years, but they’re not the ones I’m upset about. There are two holidays I’m cringing about not being home for. My two favorite of the entire year. Let’s not talk about V-Day and the gaping hole I’m going to have in February. Let’s talk about Halloween.
It’s my second favorite holiday. Why? It’s something about being able to turn into someone else for one night. Whether you’re a little kid whose mom is helping you zip the back of your poofy Minnie Mouse dress, a college kid deciding which outfit would be better suited to play beer pong in, or a young woman in France trying to figure out how to possibly make a costume out of the seven outfits, three scarves, and one pair of sneakers you brought, Halloween is a time to be inventive and escape everyday life. “It’s come as you aren’t night.” And there’s also candy.
As you should have gathered by now, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to share this holiday with anyone here. That I would just sit in my apartment watching Little Monsters and munching candy corn. I didn’t count on making awesome friends who would be just as stoked about Halloween as I am.
Yesterday I got together with Tom, Cecil, Lizzi and Gary to have a pumpkin-carving fest, which was totally inspired by Maureen and John’s pumpkin. I went and bought two pumpkins, and was surprised at how different they were from the American pumpkins I’m used to. They were practically horizontal pumpkins, which gave our pumpkins a sort of squished look when they were all finished, as opposed to the typical round and robust look of the pumpkins in the US.
As we listened to a quite eclectic mix of music on my iTunes and enjoyed yummy blush wine, we carved some wicked awesome pumpkins. Mine is the one that kinda looks like a grumpy grandpa, and Cecil and Tom’s is the one with the wicked awesome cat eye and jagged mouth. I forgot how much fun it is to carve a pumpkin with friends. The inevitable smearing of pumpkin guts on each other’s arms and faces, the inevitable staining of the floor because the newspaper wasn’t enough to sop up all the nasty pumpkin juices, the way someone is going to leave some insides hanging from the carved mouth so it gives the appearance of an infant’s gums (me, of course). I had a really, really great time.
After pumpkins, we played a game of the French scrabble I found in my room! We were all a little imbued with wine, which made the game fun. And we decided to play English, American, French and Spanish words, which still doesn’t explain how such words as SEXO, FUNS, TRAMPE, VAGQE, AND CUEHU made their way onto the board.
It’s my second favorite holiday. Why? It’s something about being able to turn into someone else for one night. Whether you’re a little kid whose mom is helping you zip the back of your poofy Minnie Mouse dress, a college kid deciding which outfit would be better suited to play beer pong in, or a young woman in France trying to figure out how to possibly make a costume out of the seven outfits, three scarves, and one pair of sneakers you brought, Halloween is a time to be inventive and escape everyday life. “It’s come as you aren’t night.” And there’s also candy.
As you should have gathered by now, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to share this holiday with anyone here. That I would just sit in my apartment watching Little Monsters and munching candy corn. I didn’t count on making awesome friends who would be just as stoked about Halloween as I am.
Yesterday I got together with Tom, Cecil, Lizzi and Gary to have a pumpkin-carving fest, which was totally inspired by Maureen and John’s pumpkin. I went and bought two pumpkins, and was surprised at how different they were from the American pumpkins I’m used to. They were practically horizontal pumpkins, which gave our pumpkins a sort of squished look when they were all finished, as opposed to the typical round and robust look of the pumpkins in the US. 
As we listened to a quite eclectic mix of music on my iTunes and enjoyed yummy blush wine, we carved some wicked awesome pumpkins. Mine is the one that kinda looks like a grumpy grandpa, and Cecil and Tom’s is the one with the wicked awesome cat eye and jagged mouth. I forgot how much fun it is to carve a pumpkin with friends. The inevitable smearing of pumpkin guts on each other’s arms and faces, the inevitable staining of the floor because the newspaper wasn’t enough to sop up all the nasty pumpkin juices, the way someone is going to leave some insides hanging from the carved mouth so it gives the appearance of an infant’s gums (me, of course). I had a really, really great time. 
After pumpkins, we played a game of the French scrabble I found in my room! We were all a little imbued with wine, which made the game fun. And we decided to play English, American, French and Spanish words, which still doesn’t explain how such words as SEXO, FUNS, TRAMPE, VAGQE, AND CUEHU made their way onto the board.
30 October, 2008
Forgve Me
I know that that last entry about Deauville could have been a lot better. I had a really nice time, and I was so beyond happy that S and M remembered me during this lonely vacances.
But I am finding it hard to blog about my humble travels when shit like this is going down.
Yes, if you read the article, you saw that the USA has invaded Syria and Pakistan. Since I’m in France, I don’t know what kind of coverage this is getting on the news in the US. I don’t know if people are outraged about it. I don’t know if people are talking about it outside the internet. I haven’t seen anything about it on the news, but hey, I’m in France. I don’t understand why this happened, but I do understand that it’s pretty clear what it means for the USA. Our country, so focused on freeing the world from terrorism, has become the terrorist. Sigh.
I don’t have that much internet access to get into deep-research mode, but I found some decent conversation about it here (a discussion forum), here (from Progressive Magazine and here (article from the Huffington Post..
But I am finding it hard to blog about my humble travels when shit like this is going down.
Yes, if you read the article, you saw that the USA has invaded Syria and Pakistan. Since I’m in France, I don’t know what kind of coverage this is getting on the news in the US. I don’t know if people are outraged about it. I don’t know if people are talking about it outside the internet. I haven’t seen anything about it on the news, but hey, I’m in France. I don’t understand why this happened, but I do understand that it’s pretty clear what it means for the USA. Our country, so focused on freeing the world from terrorism, has become the terrorist. Sigh.
I don’t have that much internet access to get into deep-research mode, but I found some decent conversation about it here (a discussion forum), here (from Progressive Magazine and here (article from the Huffington Post..
Recapping
I had a dream the other night that I was in a supermarket here in France and there was an entire aisle of peanut butter. The creamy kind, the chunky kind; organic and processed; Peter Pan, Omega Balance, Jif, Skippy, all of them. It was like – well – it was like a dream.
This vacation period (vacances) has been really nice so far. I’ve spent some quality bonding time with some really important people. I watched Dracula: Dead and Loving It with the other assistants and explained to them (in French!) how I love this movie because it’s nostalgia for all the times my cousin Beenie and I watched it when we were younger. And of course, nostalgia for Thursday night movies at E03 my last semester at Stockton. I couldn’t help but laugh at rasper-babies and when the wig went flying at the end. It was nice to have a little get-together at chez moi. My studio is small, and the four of us pretty much filled it, but it felt comfy. I had some snacks and wine and soda and music. It was nice. And since the Spanish assistant Milena came and she doesn’t speak English, we had to speak French the whole time. Very cool.
The day after, I went to Deauville with two of my teachers from Laplace. Best Day Ever! S (one teacher) picked me up at Gambier (where I live) with her little puppy, who was the cutest thing ever, and whose name I couldn’t even begin to spell. Together we drove through the lovely countryside (and also through a hailstorm) to get to M’s house. M is another teacher at Laplace. And her house is friggin awesome! I would love to live somewhere just like it. It’s got a lovely inside complete with a real fireplace, and it sits on a lot of land. Also a big plus: her neighbors have ponies! M also has two sons who came with us to Deauville. They are lovely kids and very well-behaved.
We all drove to Deauville together, hoping it wouldn’t rain while we were there. I learned that Deauville is one of the most famous places here in Normandy. There is a festival every year in September with lots of music food and dancing, and many American celebrities come to visit. And I can see why. It’s a really lovely beach, and it almost reminded me of the Jersey Shore, except that the sand was a different color. And you know, I was happy that it was a cloudy, overcast day. The deep gray color of the sky was a very nice complement to the almost-orange of the sand. And as I was talking to M and S, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the color of their skin looked against this contrast. If I were a professional photographer I would have seized upon this opportunity.
Along the boardwalk there were several changing stations for tourists to use in the summer. And each changing booth was named for a celebrity. Tobey Maguire was there, and Francis Ford Coppola, and Adam Sandler and countless others. When it rained a little, we took shelter in Sean Connery. I’m so happy I can say that!
After the boardwalk my guides showed me the luxurious city of Deauville. The Hotel Normandy is huge and from what I was told very expensive. There is also a casino there that is really decadent inside. It was small, even compared to the ones in Atlantic City, which in turn are dwarfs compared to the ones in Las Vegas. I thought it was interesting to look at the names of the slot machines in this casino. There weren’t many French ones. I found they were mostly “Lucky Sevens” and “Star Wars” and “Try your Luck.” I guess the names on the machines don’t typically get translated. Maybe gambling has strong English or American roots?
Then we took me to the expensive shopping district. Hermès was there, and Vuitton, Dior and Chanel. I didn’t buy anything. Maybe next week. We also went to a toy store, where I found a whole aisle devoted to Babar, which I think made Donna very happy. Then we went to a café, and then our day was over. It was dark already at 6pm, since we just had our time change. In the car, I gave everyone some candy corn that I brought from home. I love giving candy corn to people here! I explained that it was an American candy, and that you can only find it on Halloween. And I think they liked it. Take that Chris Moore!
Driving back from Deauville we listened to the radio, and I knew two out of every three songs. I think it’s funny that everyone listens to American songs here, even people who don’t speak English. American culture is everywhere. The other night I watched The Incredbles followed by Terminator 2: Judgment Day (blog recap to come). Yesterday when I woke up The Bold and the Beautiful was on. In the supermarket the bath and body aisle is filled with American products. And as much as I want all the French culture I can get, I’m OK with this. It makes it a little harder to be homesick when I’m surrounded by reminders of home.
Win of the day: I solved a puzzle on French wheel of Fortune! Yeah! OK, to be fair, the answer was faire du tobaggin, and it looked like this:
_ _ _ _ _ D _ T O B _ G G _ N
But whatever. It was still French and I still solved it!
This vacation period (vacances) has been really nice so far. I’ve spent some quality bonding time with some really important people. I watched Dracula: Dead and Loving It with the other assistants and explained to them (in French!) how I love this movie because it’s nostalgia for all the times my cousin Beenie and I watched it when we were younger. And of course, nostalgia for Thursday night movies at E03 my last semester at Stockton. I couldn’t help but laugh at rasper-babies and when the wig went flying at the end. It was nice to have a little get-together at chez moi. My studio is small, and the four of us pretty much filled it, but it felt comfy. I had some snacks and wine and soda and music. It was nice. And since the Spanish assistant Milena came and she doesn’t speak English, we had to speak French the whole time. Very cool. The day after, I went to Deauville with two of my teachers from Laplace. Best Day Ever! S (one teacher) picked me up at Gambier (where I live) with her little puppy, who was the cutest thing ever, and whose name I couldn’t even begin to spell. Together we drove through the lovely countryside (and also through a hailstorm) to get to M’s house. M is another teacher at Laplace. And her house is friggin awesome! I would love to live somewhere just like it. It’s got a lovely inside complete with a real fireplace, and it sits on a lot of land. Also a big plus: her neighbors have ponies! M also has two sons who came with us to Deauville. They are lovely kids and very well-behaved.
We all drove to Deauville together, hoping it wouldn’t rain while we were there. I learned that Deauville is one of the most famous places here in Normandy. There is a festival every year in September with lots of music food and dancing, and many American celebrities come to visit. And I can see why. It’s a really lovely beach, and it almost reminded me of the Jersey Shore, except that the sand was a different color. And you know, I was happy that it was a cloudy, overcast day. The deep gray color of the sky was a very nice complement to the almost-orange of the sand. And as I was talking to M and S, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the color of their skin looked against this contrast. If I were a professional photographer I would have seized upon this opportunity. 
Along the boardwalk there were several changing stations for tourists to use in the summer. And each changing booth was named for a celebrity. Tobey Maguire was there, and Francis Ford Coppola, and Adam Sandler and countless others. When it rained a little, we took shelter in Sean Connery. I’m so happy I can say that! After the boardwalk my guides showed me the luxurious city of Deauville. The Hotel Normandy is huge and from what I was told very expensive. There is also a casino there that is really decadent inside. It was small, even compared to the ones in Atlantic City, which in turn are dwarfs compared to the ones in Las Vegas. I thought it was interesting to look at the names of the slot machines in this casino. There weren’t many French ones. I found they were mostly “Lucky Sevens” and “Star Wars” and “Try your Luck.” I guess the names on the machines don’t typically get translated. Maybe gambling has strong English or American roots?
Then we took me to the expensive shopping district. Hermès was there, and Vuitton, Dior and Chanel. I didn’t buy anything. Maybe next week. We also went to a toy store, where I found a whole aisle devoted to Babar, which I think made Donna very happy. Then we went to a café, and then our day was over. It was dark already at 6pm, since we just had our time change. In the car, I gave everyone some candy corn that I brought from home. I love giving candy corn to people here! I explained that it was an American candy, and that you can only find it on Halloween. And I think they liked it. Take that Chris Moore! Driving back from Deauville we listened to the radio, and I knew two out of every three songs. I think it’s funny that everyone listens to American songs here, even people who don’t speak English. American culture is everywhere. The other night I watched The Incredbles followed by Terminator 2: Judgment Day (blog recap to come). Yesterday when I woke up The Bold and the Beautiful was on. In the supermarket the bath and body aisle is filled with American products. And as much as I want all the French culture I can get, I’m OK with this. It makes it a little harder to be homesick when I’m surrounded by reminders of home.
Win of the day: I solved a puzzle on French wheel of Fortune! Yeah! OK, to be fair, the answer was faire du tobaggin, and it looked like this:
_ _ _ _ _ D _ T O B _ G G _ N
But whatever. It was still French and I still solved it!
Laundry Fail, The Second
I did laundry again. I went to the same Lavomatique and when I walked in, I heard a beeping noise. One of the machines was beeping, and the screen read “Porte” = door. I thought that was strange, because usually the doors are left open and it’s no problem. But I felt in a helping mood, so I closed the door. And then the cycle started. Nooooo! That was my laundry karma! So for the next 40 minutes, I watched my karma swoosh around – water in an otherwise empty washing machine.
29 October, 2008
Happy New Year
Today is Ankut, an Indian New Year. And my boyfriend says that it is my New Year too. He's going to temple right now where there are going to be 700 national dishes for him to eat.
700!
I think I'll celebrate too. I don't have 700 national dishes waiting for me at my studio, but Cecil did get the wine opener out of that bottle of blush. :)
700!
I think I'll celebrate too. I don't have 700 national dishes waiting for me at my studio, but Cecil did get the wine opener out of that bottle of blush. :)
Disclaimer
On Censorship: I'm not a fan.
I'm really glad that so many people are following my blog now. It feels like I have a reason to write. Like it's not just for me and my bored office friends to look at. So thanks for following. Thanks for caring how things are in France. Really, I'm glad you want to read about what I'm doing.
But I've had some requests to tone down my language. And this does not make me happy.
Two things:
One: I have toned down my language. You may not know it if you are a recent follower, but I have. I know that more people are reading now. I keep it in mind when I write the entries. This doesn't mean that I am never going to write an expletive.
Two: Listen people, language is one of the strongest means of communication we have as humans. Every single word carries meaning, right down to the thes ands and buts. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the words that make people the most uncomfortable are probably the ones that carry the most weight. It's always been that way, with more than just language. I don't know why people have to feel threatened when they hear a curse word. It's not going to ruin your life.
So I'm saying it now. Officially, on the record: You will see curses on this blog. You will see the wholesome family-friendly ones like screw and frick and you may see the really horrid ones too.
See, if a kid says to me "I wanna fuck you," then that's what he said. And if I'm recanting the story, I'm going to quote exactly what I heard. For shock value. I was shocked when he said it, and I want my readers to know how I feel. He did not say "I want to f star star star you." "He did not say "I want to make love to you." He said "I want to fuck you."
I know all of you readers are intelligent. And I know you all get the difference between make love and fuck. I also know that anyone who is able to use the internet, type, read and comprehend my blog has assuredly already heard everything I will say and things even I am too prudish to write.
So I'll say it again, I will not censor this any more than I already have. Don't ask again, k?
<3
I'm really glad that so many people are following my blog now. It feels like I have a reason to write. Like it's not just for me and my bored office friends to look at. So thanks for following. Thanks for caring how things are in France. Really, I'm glad you want to read about what I'm doing.
But I've had some requests to tone down my language. And this does not make me happy.
Two things:
One: I have toned down my language. You may not know it if you are a recent follower, but I have. I know that more people are reading now. I keep it in mind when I write the entries. This doesn't mean that I am never going to write an expletive.
Two: Listen people, language is one of the strongest means of communication we have as humans. Every single word carries meaning, right down to the thes ands and buts. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the words that make people the most uncomfortable are probably the ones that carry the most weight. It's always been that way, with more than just language. I don't know why people have to feel threatened when they hear a curse word. It's not going to ruin your life.
So I'm saying it now. Officially, on the record: You will see curses on this blog. You will see the wholesome family-friendly ones like screw and frick and you may see the really horrid ones too.
See, if a kid says to me "I wanna fuck you," then that's what he said. And if I'm recanting the story, I'm going to quote exactly what I heard. For shock value. I was shocked when he said it, and I want my readers to know how I feel. He did not say "I want to f star star star you." "He did not say "I want to make love to you." He said "I want to fuck you."
I know all of you readers are intelligent. And I know you all get the difference between make love and fuck. I also know that anyone who is able to use the internet, type, read and comprehend my blog has assuredly already heard everything I will say and things even I am too prudish to write.
So I'll say it again, I will not censor this any more than I already have. Don't ask again, k?
<3
25 October, 2008
You know what I can't find in any supermarkets here?
Peanut Butter
lots of jelly, lots of nutella, no peanut butter. :(
lots of jelly, lots of nutella, no peanut butter. :(
Vignettes
So it’s been quite an exciting few days. I'm doing it in Win/Fail form because I am exhausted.
Win: Does this look familiar to you?
Yes, it’s Aldi’s! Nostalgia of my thrifty childhood. My mom used to take us to Aldi’s, land of discount shastas and knock-off cereals, because we didn’t want to spend all that money shopping at Acme. And now I can go to Aldi’s and buy discount croissants, wine and chocolate because it’s wayyyy cheaper than Monoprix, which has been getting my money the past few weeks.
Fail: I came home and was prepped to open my bottle of 2Euro blush wine, but I broke the cork and now the corkscrew is stuck. Hmmm. Where’s a Houdini when you need one?
Win: I’ve been offered the chance to take French classes for free at Laplace (one of the colléges where I work). Not courses aimed at learning French as a second language, but real French classes for French students! I think this would be a wonderful way to learn the language, French literature, and everyday words that the students use!
Fail: When I was talking to the woman at Laplace about the French classes, I assumed she was a French teacher at the school. So I asked her if she was. Her response was, “No, I’m the principal.” My response: blush, smile, walk away, put foot in mouth…
Win: Look what I found at Aldi’s! Disco Biscuits. Remember when M&Ms and Snickers decided to make those long cookie bars? Yeahhh, these are like those. Yumm!
Fail: It would appear that the French also have unsolicited religious invaders, as proved by this document the "Is there a heaven" leaflet that someone jammed into my mailbox. I know it’s illegal in the USA to put anything except official mail into someone else’s box, but not so in France, clearly.
Win or Fail, you decide: As I was leaving Laplace today, a student hollered after me, “Hello!” I was walking home, but I turned back and waved over my shoulder and replied, “Hello!” Then I continued on my way. Then, I heard from the mouth of either this 12-ish year old or one of his friends, in a heavy French accent, “I – want to fuck you.”
Win for me going over to the group and chewing them out (in French!) Fail for him thinking it's cool to say that to a woman. I'm sure it's just one of the choice phrases he picked up from American rap music or movies.
Thanks again, misogynistic culture. You never stop coming through.
Win: It's vacances, the first vacation of my contract! I don't have any classes again until November 6th. Time to relax, work on translations, maybe go see the basilica.
Win: Does this look familiar to you?
Yes, it’s Aldi’s! Nostalgia of my thrifty childhood. My mom used to take us to Aldi’s, land of discount shastas and knock-off cereals, because we didn’t want to spend all that money shopping at Acme. And now I can go to Aldi’s and buy discount croissants, wine and chocolate because it’s wayyyy cheaper than Monoprix, which has been getting my money the past few weeks. Fail: I came home and was prepped to open my bottle of 2Euro blush wine, but I broke the cork and now the corkscrew is stuck. Hmmm. Where’s a Houdini when you need one?
Win: I’ve been offered the chance to take French classes for free at Laplace (one of the colléges where I work). Not courses aimed at learning French as a second language, but real French classes for French students! I think this would be a wonderful way to learn the language, French literature, and everyday words that the students use!
Fail: When I was talking to the woman at Laplace about the French classes, I assumed she was a French teacher at the school. So I asked her if she was. Her response was, “No, I’m the principal.” My response: blush, smile, walk away, put foot in mouth…
Win: Look what I found at Aldi’s! Disco Biscuits. Remember when M&Ms and Snickers decided to make those long cookie bars? Yeahhh, these are like those. Yumm!Fail: It would appear that the French also have unsolicited religious invaders, as proved by this document the "Is there a heaven" leaflet that someone jammed into my mailbox. I know it’s illegal in the USA to put anything except official mail into someone else’s box, but not so in France, clearly.
Win or Fail, you decide: As I was leaving Laplace today, a student hollered after me, “Hello!” I was walking home, but I turned back and waved over my shoulder and replied, “Hello!” Then I continued on my way. Then, I heard from the mouth of either this 12-ish year old or one of his friends, in a heavy French accent, “I – want to fuck you.”
Win for me going over to the group and chewing them out (in French!) Fail for him thinking it's cool to say that to a woman. I'm sure it's just one of the choice phrases he picked up from American rap music or movies.
Thanks again, misogynistic culture. You never stop coming through.
Win: It's vacances, the first vacation of my contract! I don't have any classes again until November 6th. Time to relax, work on translations, maybe go see the basilica.
23 October, 2008
I miss looking at this everyday
see more pwn and owned pictures
I can't believe I just filed failblog under nostalgia. It'll change when I'm back in the States.
Oh, Ashley...Overseas!
I was walking back into my studio from the toilet in the hallway this morning, and I walked full force into my bathroom door. My ear took most of the hit. It's really sore now, and there is dried emerald green stuff on my second earring. Hmm. Can you break your ear?
22 October, 2008
Best. Week(end). Ever!
Best Week(end) Ever, Intro
There are not words to describe just how awesome last weekend was. I went to Caen (the city next to Lisieux) with one of the English teachers, C. Between Thursday night and Sunday night, we did so many awesome things. I figured you wouldn’t want to read an 11-page blog entry, so I have separated the stories, as if I were blogging about them just as they happened. If you want to skip to a separate story, click on one of these links.
Thursday - Pizza Français
Friday – Lang Orientation
Friday Night – Of wine and crepes
Saturday - D-Day Beaches and Bayeux
Sunday - Chateau de Guillome (that’s Castle of William, as in William the Conqueror)
McDo’s
“Home”
Otherwise, feel free to read all about my weekend in the entries that follow. They should appear in chronological order, from the beginning of the weekend until the end. I know it was only four nights, but I think I may have learned more about France (and myself) during them than I had the whole month I had been here previously. Enjoy!
Win of the weekend: I got out of paying for my Lisieux-Caen and Caen-Lisieux transits just for being a clueless traveler.
Fail of the weekend: You know how everyone forgets something when they travel? I forgot face wash (which is no big deal) and socks. Imagine. Actually, don’t imagine. The smell of my feet when I got home is something I don’t want anyone to fathom.
There are not words to describe just how awesome last weekend was. I went to Caen (the city next to Lisieux) with one of the English teachers, C. Between Thursday night and Sunday night, we did so many awesome things. I figured you wouldn’t want to read an 11-page blog entry, so I have separated the stories, as if I were blogging about them just as they happened. If you want to skip to a separate story, click on one of these links.
Thursday - Pizza Français
Friday – Lang Orientation
Friday Night – Of wine and crepes
Saturday - D-Day Beaches and Bayeux
Sunday - Chateau de Guillome (that’s Castle of William, as in William the Conqueror)
McDo’s
“Home”
Otherwise, feel free to read all about my weekend in the entries that follow. They should appear in chronological order, from the beginning of the weekend until the end. I know it was only four nights, but I think I may have learned more about France (and myself) during them than I had the whole month I had been here previously. Enjoy!
Win of the weekend: I got out of paying for my Lisieux-Caen and Caen-Lisieux transits just for being a clueless traveler.
Fail of the weekend: You know how everyone forgets something when they travel? I forgot face wash (which is no big deal) and socks. Imagine. Actually, don’t imagine. The smell of my feet when I got home is something I don’t want anyone to fathom.
Pizza Français(e?)
Best Week(end) Ever, Part 2
After classes on Thursday, all four of my English teachers and I went out on the town. I had so much fun! We started by going to Le Moka, the internet café in Lisieux, for some socialization. It was established pretty early on that the dialogue that night would be mostly in French (though everyone is always good about speaking to me in English when I get totally lost). I was happy for the French though. What better way to learn?
Once Le Moka seemed to be closing, we decided to get some pizza for dinner. It was a decision based purely on necessity. As the daughter of two pizzeria-owners, it was my duty to do some research on the French art of pizza-making. We went to a very chic pizza restaurant, whose menu boasted of 60 pizzas! You could get anything you want on your pizza. Once again, I forget the name of what I ordered, but here is a picture of what it looked like. Check out the egg just chilling on top! That is something you would never see in the USA, but it was really frickin delicious! My pizza also had mushrooms, ham, garlic and basil. Oh wow, it was so good. I couldn’t even finish it all.
I thought I was full, with no more room for dessert, until I looked at the menu, at which point I declared, in French, “There is always room for dessert.” I ordered this delicious pear-brownie combination of wonder that was drizzled with chocolatey goodness sauce and cream. It was heaven.
I had an incredible time with the teachers. They are all really patient with me when I (attempt to) speak French, and Karen even said I have already improved. Rock! C is especially good at talking to me. She’s really good at taking note of when I start to zone out because the French all starts to sound foreign. At that point, she asks me a question so I am directly involved. Then, after I have been focused on for a while, she stops asking questions and lets me just listen to the conversation going on around me. I think it’s really a great way to learn.
After dinner, Philippe drove us to the station where I traveled with C and L back to Caen. It was late and everything was closed so I got the train for free!!! (knock on wood or throw salt or something) I would be staying with C for the weekend, so we went together to her house, which rocks hardcore. I really love it, and I wish that someday I can have a house like it. Hopefully with a pullout sofa as comfortable for guests. Cause man, is that a nice touch.
After classes on Thursday, all four of my English teachers and I went out on the town. I had so much fun! We started by going to Le Moka, the internet café in Lisieux, for some socialization. It was established pretty early on that the dialogue that night would be mostly in French (though everyone is always good about speaking to me in English when I get totally lost). I was happy for the French though. What better way to learn?
Once Le Moka seemed to be closing, we decided to get some pizza for dinner. It was a decision based purely on necessity. As the daughter of two pizzeria-owners, it was my duty to do some research on the French art of pizza-making. We went to a very chic pizza restaurant, whose menu boasted of 60 pizzas! You could get anything you want on your pizza. Once again, I forget the name of what I ordered, but here is a picture of what it looked like. Check out the egg just chilling on top! That is something you would never see in the USA, but it was really frickin delicious! My pizza also had mushrooms, ham, garlic and basil. Oh wow, it was so good. I couldn’t even finish it all. 
I thought I was full, with no more room for dessert, until I looked at the menu, at which point I declared, in French, “There is always room for dessert.” I ordered this delicious pear-brownie combination of wonder that was drizzled with chocolatey goodness sauce and cream. It was heaven. I had an incredible time with the teachers. They are all really patient with me when I (attempt to) speak French, and Karen even said I have already improved. Rock! C is especially good at talking to me. She’s really good at taking note of when I start to zone out because the French all starts to sound foreign. At that point, she asks me a question so I am directly involved. Then, after I have been focused on for a while, she stops asking questions and lets me just listen to the conversation going on around me. I think it’s really a great way to learn.
After dinner, Philippe drove us to the station where I traveled with C and L back to Caen. It was late and everything was closed so I got the train for free!!! (knock on wood or throw salt or something) I would be staying with C for the weekend, so we went together to her house, which rocks hardcore. I really love it, and I wish that someday I can have a house like it. Hopefully with a pullout sofa as comfortable for guests. Cause man, is that a nice touch.
Peine de Mort
Best Week(end) Ever, Part 3
I had an Orientation on Friday with all the other English assistants and one teacher from each school. And bonus for me – two of my teachers came! It was eight long hours of talking about the French system, our roles, what the kids should learn from us. Mostly boring stuff, I thought.
The most interesting thing that happened: we had a debate. It was to be conducted in French, so we could know how the kids would feel if they had one in English. The topic was the death penalty, and I was assigned to the “for” side. Which, you know, sucks for me because I happen to be totally against the death penalty.
But I know all about debates. I know I don’t have to really be the side I’m assigned, it’s all pretend, yada yada. I’m not surprised that my partner and I were able to come up with some really convincing arguments (even though I’m sure with some research I could confidently counter every single one). What shocks me is that we won. Yeah, two of the other assistants judged the debate, and we won.
Blech. I feel like I need to redeem myself or something. This is totally not cool.
The rest of the day was lovely. After the orientation we walked around the town (the name is escaping me right now). C has had a few meetings here before, so she knew the cool things to see. Among my favorites are this house:
And this:
It’s the inside of a store. I wish we had stores like that in Jersey. Can you imagine shopping inside an awesome centuries-old house?
I had an Orientation on Friday with all the other English assistants and one teacher from each school. And bonus for me – two of my teachers came! It was eight long hours of talking about the French system, our roles, what the kids should learn from us. Mostly boring stuff, I thought.
The most interesting thing that happened: we had a debate. It was to be conducted in French, so we could know how the kids would feel if they had one in English. The topic was the death penalty, and I was assigned to the “for” side. Which, you know, sucks for me because I happen to be totally against the death penalty.
But I know all about debates. I know I don’t have to really be the side I’m assigned, it’s all pretend, yada yada. I’m not surprised that my partner and I were able to come up with some really convincing arguments (even though I’m sure with some research I could confidently counter every single one). What shocks me is that we won. Yeah, two of the other assistants judged the debate, and we won.
Blech. I feel like I need to redeem myself or something. This is totally not cool.
The rest of the day was lovely. After the orientation we walked around the town (the name is escaping me right now). C has had a few meetings here before, so she knew the cool things to see. Among my favorites are this house:
And this:
It’s the inside of a store. I wish we had stores like that in Jersey. Can you imagine shopping inside an awesome centuries-old house?
On Crêperies and Bars
Best Week(end) Ever, Part Four
Friday night, after the orientation, I was ready to relaxxxxx. C took me to a bar just around the corner from her house where a bunch of her colleagues and friends were already gathered. I knew some of them already and the others I met for the first time. As usual, everyone was really nice. I learned something fun – karaoke sounds the same, usually bad, pretty much universally. About an hour in, L (one of my English teachers) and her friends invited me to dinner with them. Once they found out I hadn’t had a proper French crêpe yet it was clear where we were going.
There was a little crêperie nearby where I ordered the most delicious (and only) crêpe I have ever had. See, I always thought for some reason (maybe because the literal translation of crêpe is pancake) that crêpes were like dessert, or breakfast food. I thought they were sweet, which they can be, but they also have varieties for a meal. I forget the exact name of the one I ordered, but it had camembert (my fave!), ham, and lettuce. It was awesome. I also had a glass of blush wine and some of L’s Nutella crêpe for dessert.
I really enjoyed myself at the crêperie. It turns out everyone I was with could speak English really well, and the two men wanted to practice their English a little. We had a nice, long conversation in Franglais. We talked politics, stereotypes, languages, school, me, them, everything. It felt good to be able to say some sentences in French. I think I’ve come a long way so far.
After dinner we went back to the bar and most of the people were still there. There was a huge karaoke party going on in the back for someone’s birthday (woot woot), and it made me sad. At home, I have a specific title: liaison to pop culture. There is not a single popular karaoke song - from any decade - that could play in America that I would not know. It’s my job. And here, I don’t know any of them. And anyone who knows me understands the tragedy of this.
Well, our sojourn at the bar after dinner was cut a little short after some extreme flirting on the part of one drunk guy, who swore I had not seen Paris until I had seen Paris with him. It was getting late anyway, so C and I returned back to her home and got some rest, in preparation for the day to come.
Friday night, after the orientation, I was ready to relaxxxxx. C took me to a bar just around the corner from her house where a bunch of her colleagues and friends were already gathered. I knew some of them already and the others I met for the first time. As usual, everyone was really nice. I learned something fun – karaoke sounds the same, usually bad, pretty much universally. About an hour in, L (one of my English teachers) and her friends invited me to dinner with them. Once they found out I hadn’t had a proper French crêpe yet it was clear where we were going.
There was a little crêperie nearby where I ordered the most delicious (and only) crêpe I have ever had. See, I always thought for some reason (maybe because the literal translation of crêpe is pancake) that crêpes were like dessert, or breakfast food. I thought they were sweet, which they can be, but they also have varieties for a meal. I forget the exact name of the one I ordered, but it had camembert (my fave!), ham, and lettuce. It was awesome. I also had a glass of blush wine and some of L’s Nutella crêpe for dessert.
I really enjoyed myself at the crêperie. It turns out everyone I was with could speak English really well, and the two men wanted to practice their English a little. We had a nice, long conversation in Franglais. We talked politics, stereotypes, languages, school, me, them, everything. It felt good to be able to say some sentences in French. I think I’ve come a long way so far.
After dinner we went back to the bar and most of the people were still there. There was a huge karaoke party going on in the back for someone’s birthday (woot woot), and it made me sad. At home, I have a specific title: liaison to pop culture. There is not a single popular karaoke song - from any decade - that could play in America that I would not know. It’s my job. And here, I don’t know any of them. And anyone who knows me understands the tragedy of this.
Well, our sojourn at the bar after dinner was cut a little short after some extreme flirting on the part of one drunk guy, who swore I had not seen Paris until I had seen Paris with him. It was getting late anyway, so C and I returned back to her home and got some rest, in preparation for the day to come.
A better way to pay homage to my country
Disclaimer: Allan is an awesome photographer. Most of the photos I used in this entry are his, which is made obvious by how good they are. I'm really happy that he was there to capture the day, and I'm really hoping I don't get in trouble for using the pictures. Is copyright as serious in France as it is in the US?
Best Week(end) Ever part 5 – D-Day Beaches
In high school and college I wasn’t too into history. Now I wish I had been. That’s because I have seen the D-Day beaches, and I am embarrassed at how much I don’t know. Would you think I was totally lame if you found out that before last Saturday I had no idea why there was a battle on those beaches? If you found out I didn’t even know which countries were fighting? Yeah, I think it’s pretty lame too.
You know that scene in Saving Private Ryan where old Tom Hanks is standing in front of the white cross, and then the camera pans out and you see that this cemetery is just full of crosses and goes on for what seems like forever? Believe me when I say even that scene does not do justice to the feeling of being there yourself.
On Saturday I woke up early, and found out what a typical French breakfast would be. I think C may have been shocked when she found out that during my month here, I had yet to have a proper French croissant. Well, she certainly fixed that. When Allan (I hope I spelled that right) returned from the bakery we all enjoyed our croissants and pain au chocolat (chocolate bread – did I mention it’s delicious?) and big bowls of hot chocolate.
After watching some of Billy Elliot, which seems to be fantastic - I must finish it, and some of Eastenders, a British soap, and having a shower in which the hot water lasted for more than the minute and a half that is typical of my studio, the family got together to take me to the beaches, and a tour of the beautiful Normandy countryside. Look how beautiful the clouds were on Saturday. I was complaining about how photos can’t capture the texture and beauty of clouds, but I think this one really did.
I love the look of country life. I love the way red vegetation is allowed to crawl over the side of a house, I love the structure of the farm houses, I love the red geraniums that are sometimes popular outside windows. It’s all just really beautiful.
Before I knew it we arrived to the first beach of the day. Forgive me for not knowing the name. It was a very small beach with not much left, but you could still see the bunkers in the ocean where the Americans arrived. Even though it was small it was still powerful.
We drove on to a lookout point. I think it may have been called Arromanche, but I’m not sure. From a small tower you could look out over the seas and the parking lot, into which a tour bus was pulling. C pointed out to me that there was a veteran in that bus. As we pulled out, we saw the veteran exit the bus. He was wearing his suit with his medals, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so much respect for a person. Even from inside a car, without meeting him or even seeing him up close, I had to hold back tears. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to come back.
Our next stop was the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. That’s the one from Saving Private Ryan that I was talking about earlier. I noticed right away that all the signs were in English, and C and Allan explained to me that we were technically on American soil, since the USA bought the land. All of the employees there speak English, all the signs are in English first, and the grounds are kept just like any American military ceremony. In a strange way, it felt like returning home.
As we walked into the grounds, the National Anthem started to play. I never realized just how deeply that music is engrained in me. I knew it from the first chord. There was a ceremony happening around this statue for a tour group that had just arrived. Everyone was silent and collected around the statue. I joined them and just couldn’t help but cry.
I decided to walk over to a lookout over the beach first. I needed some time before the cemetery. And looking at the beach really hit me. The thing that affected me the most was how completely calm it was. Just a regular beach. Some people walking on it, the constant cycle of waves, but overall it was totally quiet. It’s hard to imagine how riotous it must have been on June 6th, 1944.
I felt like I was ready as I would ever be to head to the cemetery. And I’m telling you, there is no way to explain the gravity of all those crosses. I could tell you that there are 9300+ graves, but I’m not sure that that is a comprehensible number. I could muse about the impact of war and how behind every grave there is a whole grieving family, but I’m not sure that’s the right way to describe the feeling either. Maybe the experience is one that can’t be expressed at all.
So maybe I’ll just let you look at the pictures:
Like I said, I’m not a big history buff. I only studied WWII enough to pass the test on it in 11th grade. I don’t watch war movies. I don’t read war litt. Call it a defense mechanism. And I have been lucky enough not to lose anyone to war. Ever. And with all that considered, this experience was still the most overwhelming, heart wrenching one I have ever had. I can’t imagine how it must feel for people who have more invested to visit this cemetery. I just can not imagine.
Once I felt like I couldn’t take the cemetery any more, we went down to Omaha beach. Like I said, it was calm. I’m so so so happy that petite Alice was with us on this day. At 3, she doesn’t comprehend war or death; all she wants to do is run on the beach and play with her shadow. Running and playing with her really helped to relieve the tension I was feeling. Thank you, petite Alice!
After the beaches, we all went to Bayeux. It was too late to see the famous tapestry (tear) but I did see the cathedral. Cathedrals really astound me. The thought that someone – well actually, a lot of someones – would care about and have enough love for one deity to construct something like this leaves me speechless. This picture is just the base of the cathedral. There was no way to get a good picture of the whole thing. That you can find here.
We walked around Bauyeux for a while. C used to teach here so she’s an expert on the city. There were many beautiful buildings, of course. I’m jealous of the history that France has. Buildings this old just don’t exist in the USA.
For dinner we went to an Indian restaurant, which was awesome for two reasons: 1. I wanted to compare French Indian food to American Indian food. It’s the same but less spicy. 2. It reminded me of Tapan, who I miss every single day. And I felt so in-the-know. I didn’t order meat, I used only my right hand to pull the nan apart and pick up the Korma Taj Mahal (veggie dish). It was really nice. Conversation was, as usual, awesome, and petite Alice was just lovely.
Once we returned home, everyone was ready to crash. It had been a long day for everyone, but, excuse the cliché, an incredible learning experience.
Best Week(end) Ever part 5 – D-Day Beaches
In high school and college I wasn’t too into history. Now I wish I had been. That’s because I have seen the D-Day beaches, and I am embarrassed at how much I don’t know. Would you think I was totally lame if you found out that before last Saturday I had no idea why there was a battle on those beaches? If you found out I didn’t even know which countries were fighting? Yeah, I think it’s pretty lame too.
You know that scene in Saving Private Ryan where old Tom Hanks is standing in front of the white cross, and then the camera pans out and you see that this cemetery is just full of crosses and goes on for what seems like forever? Believe me when I say even that scene does not do justice to the feeling of being there yourself.
On Saturday I woke up early, and found out what a typical French breakfast would be. I think C may have been shocked when she found out that during my month here, I had yet to have a proper French croissant. Well, she certainly fixed that. When Allan (I hope I spelled that right) returned from the bakery we all enjoyed our croissants and pain au chocolat (chocolate bread – did I mention it’s delicious?) and big bowls of hot chocolate.
After watching some of Billy Elliot, which seems to be fantastic - I must finish it, and some of Eastenders, a British soap, and having a shower in which the hot water lasted for more than the minute and a half that is typical of my studio, the family got together to take me to the beaches, and a tour of the beautiful Normandy countryside. Look how beautiful the clouds were on Saturday. I was complaining about how photos can’t capture the texture and beauty of clouds, but I think this one really did. 
I love the look of country life. I love the way red vegetation is allowed to crawl over the side of a house, I love the structure of the farm houses, I love the red geraniums that are sometimes popular outside windows. It’s all just really beautiful. Before I knew it we arrived to the first beach of the day. Forgive me for not knowing the name. It was a very small beach with not much left, but you could still see the bunkers in the ocean where the Americans arrived. Even though it was small it was still powerful.
We drove on to a lookout point. I think it may have been called Arromanche, but I’m not sure. From a small tower you could look out over the seas and the parking lot, into which a tour bus was pulling. C pointed out to me that there was a veteran in that bus. As we pulled out, we saw the veteran exit the bus. He was wearing his suit with his medals, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so much respect for a person. Even from inside a car, without meeting him or even seeing him up close, I had to hold back tears. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to come back. Our next stop was the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial. That’s the one from Saving Private Ryan that I was talking about earlier. I noticed right away that all the signs were in English, and C and Allan explained to me that we were technically on American soil, since the USA bought the land. All of the employees there speak English, all the signs are in English first, and the grounds are kept just like any American military ceremony. In a strange way, it felt like returning home.
As we walked into the grounds, the National Anthem started to play. I never realized just how deeply that music is engrained in me. I knew it from the first chord. There was a ceremony happening around this statue for a tour group that had just arrived. Everyone was silent and collected around the statue. I joined them and just couldn’t help but cry. I decided to walk over to a lookout over the beach first. I needed some time before the cemetery. And looking at the beach really hit me. The thing that affected me the most was how completely calm it was. Just a regular beach. Some people walking on it, the constant cycle of waves, but overall it was totally quiet. It’s hard to imagine how riotous it must have been on June 6th, 1944.
I felt like I was ready as I would ever be to head to the cemetery. And I’m telling you, there is no way to explain the gravity of all those crosses. I could tell you that there are 9300+ graves, but I’m not sure that that is a comprehensible number. I could muse about the impact of war and how behind every grave there is a whole grieving family, but I’m not sure that’s the right way to describe the feeling either. Maybe the experience is one that can’t be expressed at all.
So maybe I’ll just let you look at the pictures:
Like I said, I’m not a big history buff. I only studied WWII enough to pass the test on it in 11th grade. I don’t watch war movies. I don’t read war litt. Call it a defense mechanism. And I have been lucky enough not to lose anyone to war. Ever. And with all that considered, this experience was still the most overwhelming, heart wrenching one I have ever had. I can’t imagine how it must feel for people who have more invested to visit this cemetery. I just can not imagine.
Once I felt like I couldn’t take the cemetery any more, we went down to Omaha beach. Like I said, it was calm. I’m so so so happy that petite Alice was with us on this day. At 3, she doesn’t comprehend war or death; all she wants to do is run on the beach and play with her shadow. Running and playing with her really helped to relieve the tension I was feeling. Thank you, petite Alice!
After the beaches, we all went to Bayeux. It was too late to see the famous tapestry (tear) but I did see the cathedral. Cathedrals really astound me. The thought that someone – well actually, a lot of someones – would care about and have enough love for one deity to construct something like this leaves me speechless. This picture is just the base of the cathedral. There was no way to get a good picture of the whole thing. That you can find here.
We walked around Bauyeux for a while. C used to teach here so she’s an expert on the city. There were many beautiful buildings, of course. I’m jealous of the history that France has. Buildings this old just don’t exist in the USA.
For dinner we went to an Indian restaurant, which was awesome for two reasons: 1. I wanted to compare French Indian food to American Indian food. It’s the same but less spicy. 2. It reminded me of Tapan, who I miss every single day. And I felt so in-the-know. I didn’t order meat, I used only my right hand to pull the nan apart and pick up the Korma Taj Mahal (veggie dish). It was really nice. Conversation was, as usual, awesome, and petite Alice was just lovely.
Once we returned home, everyone was ready to crash. It had been a long day for everyone, but, excuse the cliché, an incredible learning experience.
Chateau de Guillaume (that’s Castle of William, as in William the Conqueror)
Best Week(end) Ever, Part Six
I’ve made peace with the fact that I did so much on Sunday that I just won’t be able to remember everything. And some things might be out of order. But here’s the best recap I could manage:
I woke up on Sunday and little Alice, C’s 3-year-old daughter, was standing next to the pullout bed that I had been sleeping on. She is just the most adorable thing. She’s got a beautiful face with striking eyes and a full head of the curliest hair I’ve seen on a kid. When she came under the covers and relaxed with me, I could have melted. I really like speaking with her too, because her vocabulary doesn’t intimidate me quite as much as that of other French speakers who have had many more years to learn words and grammar. Still, at three years old, Alice has had double the experience with the language I have, so she wins!
The family and I started the day with some baguettes with butter, honey and jam – one was organic blueberry and the other was rhubarb, which will always remind me of Donna, Rach, and pie. The conversation over breakfast was awesome, as I think all conversation this weekend was. We talked a lot about stereotypes and where they come from. I think it’s really fascinating how many of the famous French stereotypes have no relevance at all in France today. No one that I’ve been in direct contact with has had horrible BO, and I’ve only seen one person in a beret the whole time. It turns out she was a tourist.
After breakfast, Allan (I hope I’m spelling that right) and petite Alice took me to the Sunday market. On the way, he pointed out this building, in which you can still see bullet holes from the war. Those tourist websites weren’t lying when they said you could see the effects of war on the city. Anyway, the Sunday market in Caen is huge compared to the Saturday market in Lisieux. There were rows upon rows of anything you would need to buy – produce, meats, cheeses, bread, ciders, clothes, bags, shoes, lots of jewelry, flowers, artwork…you name it and it was there. Except for books, which is actually a bit of a relief. See, I have this obsession with books. Especially very old books. And I’m very afraid of it. If I start buying old French books I won’t be able to stop, and then my luggage will be way too heavy, so it’s probably better that there were no books at the market.
After the market, A, Alice and I met with C and we decided what to do with the rest of the day. From the street we were on, we could see William the Conqueror’s Castle, so I voted we go there. And it was awesome. I have never actually been to a castle before and, even though this one was mostly just ramparts left, it was still awesome. Just standing in the center makes you think about how magnificent it must have been when it was first constructed. As the fam and I walked up the drawbridge, and later when C and I climbed the ramparts, I thought about how cool it was to be seeing this chateau. Not just because it was an awesome experience to walk around the remains of a castle, but because it was completely free. I couldn’t help but think about how much something like this would have cost in the USA. So I was grateful that I had the chance to see it gratuite.
After the castle C and I took a walk over to the Abbeye aux Dames, the church that William the Q’s wife Matilda demanded he build. Sorry, but it was just about this time that my camera decided to crap out on me, so I have no pictures to share. And you know, I’m OK with that. Sometimes I’m happy to just enjoy seeing the sights without feeling compelled to snap a photo every five seconds. The inside of the abbey was just gorgeous. Mathilde’s tomb was there; it has clearly been kept in immaculate condition since she died in
For the rest of the day, C showed me all the cool old buildings to be seen in Caen. She is truly an awesome tour guide. As someone who was born in the city (I know I said she was from England before but I was wrong) and raised in the city, she has massive amounts of knowledge that she shared with me. And she’s knowledgeable about way more than architecture and history – we had great conversation all day long about all kinds of topics. Sweet! My favorite piece of convo: I found out her mom met Seamus Heaney once. Win!
C knows I love books, so she took me on a tour of the bookstores in Caen. Rock! It was Sunday so they were closed, but it was fun to window-browse. I could see that some of the stores had lots of old books and they were so beautiful and I was so excited I could have peed my pants. Here’s an interesting segue: speaking of pee, I smelled some funny smells in the alleys in Caen, and I learned that it is still normal for men, when out late at night drinking, to just pee in the street. And Saturday night a lot of men must have done that, because some of the side streets really reeked. Oh well. For those books, I might wade through a piss-river. Please know that I exaggerate.
The last building (I think – it’s all jumbly in my head) was the abbey aux hommes, where William the Conqueror’s tomb is. We met a nice volunteer guide who asked if he could tell us a little about the building. He then talked to us for a loooong time about history and architecture, which I really wish I had understood completely because it seemed fascinating. He even had some binoculars so we could look at how intricate the sculptures on the arches were. It was awesome. Maybe some day when I have more time and am more versed in French I can return and have another tour.
After that I just had time to go back to C’s, collect the pictures from the D-Day beaches, and say goodbye. I could have stayed straight through until Monday, but my clothes were really starting to reek, and I forgot to pack socks. One more day without a fresh pair and I may have had to amputate.
If you’re reading this C, thanks for the awesome weekend! I had such a good time, and I hope we can have another one soon!
I’ve made peace with the fact that I did so much on Sunday that I just won’t be able to remember everything. And some things might be out of order. But here’s the best recap I could manage:
I woke up on Sunday and little Alice, C’s 3-year-old daughter, was standing next to the pullout bed that I had been sleeping on. She is just the most adorable thing. She’s got a beautiful face with striking eyes and a full head of the curliest hair I’ve seen on a kid. When she came under the covers and relaxed with me, I could have melted. I really like speaking with her too, because her vocabulary doesn’t intimidate me quite as much as that of other French speakers who have had many more years to learn words and grammar. Still, at three years old, Alice has had double the experience with the language I have, so she wins!
The family and I started the day with some baguettes with butter, honey and jam – one was organic blueberry and the other was rhubarb, which will always remind me of Donna, Rach, and pie. The conversation over breakfast was awesome, as I think all conversation this weekend was. We talked a lot about stereotypes and where they come from. I think it’s really fascinating how many of the famous French stereotypes have no relevance at all in France today. No one that I’ve been in direct contact with has had horrible BO, and I’ve only seen one person in a beret the whole time. It turns out she was a tourist.
After breakfast, Allan (I hope I’m spelling that right) and petite Alice took me to the Sunday market. On the way, he pointed out this building, in which you can still see bullet holes from the war. Those tourist websites weren’t lying when they said you could see the effects of war on the city. Anyway, the Sunday market in Caen is huge compared to the Saturday market in Lisieux. There were rows upon rows of anything you would need to buy – produce, meats, cheeses, bread, ciders, clothes, bags, shoes, lots of jewelry, flowers, artwork…you name it and it was there. Except for books, which is actually a bit of a relief. See, I have this obsession with books. Especially very old books. And I’m very afraid of it. If I start buying old French books I won’t be able to stop, and then my luggage will be way too heavy, so it’s probably better that there were no books at the market. 
After the market, A, Alice and I met with C and we decided what to do with the rest of the day. From the street we were on, we could see William the Conqueror’s Castle, so I voted we go there. And it was awesome. I have never actually been to a castle before and, even though this one was mostly just ramparts left, it was still awesome. Just standing in the center makes you think about how magnificent it must have been when it was first constructed. As the fam and I walked up the drawbridge, and later when C and I climbed the ramparts, I thought about how cool it was to be seeing this chateau. Not just because it was an awesome experience to walk around the remains of a castle, but because it was completely free. I couldn’t help but think about how much something like this would have cost in the USA. So I was grateful that I had the chance to see it gratuite.After the castle C and I took a walk over to the Abbeye aux Dames, the church that William the Q’s wife Matilda demanded he build. Sorry, but it was just about this time that my camera decided to crap out on me, so I have no pictures to share. And you know, I’m OK with that. Sometimes I’m happy to just enjoy seeing the sights without feeling compelled to snap a photo every five seconds. The inside of the abbey was just gorgeous. Mathilde’s tomb was there; it has clearly been kept in immaculate condition since she died in
For the rest of the day, C showed me all the cool old buildings to be seen in Caen. She is truly an awesome tour guide. As someone who was born in the city (I know I said she was from England before but I was wrong) and raised in the city, she has massive amounts of knowledge that she shared with me. And she’s knowledgeable about way more than architecture and history – we had great conversation all day long about all kinds of topics. Sweet! My favorite piece of convo: I found out her mom met Seamus Heaney once. Win!
C knows I love books, so she took me on a tour of the bookstores in Caen. Rock! It was Sunday so they were closed, but it was fun to window-browse. I could see that some of the stores had lots of old books and they were so beautiful and I was so excited I could have peed my pants. Here’s an interesting segue: speaking of pee, I smelled some funny smells in the alleys in Caen, and I learned that it is still normal for men, when out late at night drinking, to just pee in the street. And Saturday night a lot of men must have done that, because some of the side streets really reeked. Oh well. For those books, I might wade through a piss-river. Please know that I exaggerate.
The last building (I think – it’s all jumbly in my head) was the abbey aux hommes, where William the Conqueror’s tomb is. We met a nice volunteer guide who asked if he could tell us a little about the building. He then talked to us for a loooong time about history and architecture, which I really wish I had understood completely because it seemed fascinating. He even had some binoculars so we could look at how intricate the sculptures on the arches were. It was awesome. Maybe some day when I have more time and am more versed in French I can return and have another tour. After that I just had time to go back to C’s, collect the pictures from the D-Day beaches, and say goodbye. I could have stayed straight through until Monday, but my clothes were really starting to reek, and I forgot to pack socks. One more day without a fresh pair and I may have had to amputate.
If you’re reading this C, thanks for the awesome weekend! I had such a good time, and I hope we can have another one soon!
21 October, 2008
McDo's
Best Week(end) Ever Part Seven
I did it. I paid homage to my country. For the first and (I sincerely hope) only time, I visited the golden arches in France.
I’d been talking for some time about how I should visit a McDonald’s because everyone says it’s different in other countries. And it really was. For one thing, check out the interior. You can’t really appreciate it all in this picture, but the inside was all decked out in cherry wood. It was much chicer than any McDonald’s I have ever seen in the USA. It felt more like an upscale middle-class chain, if that makes any sense. I’m thinking Outback or Applebees.
Of course, Ronald McDonald was there, looking as creepy as ever (If you don't think Ronald is creepy, look at this). Another difference between this McDonald’s and the ones in the US was the speed! They were incredibly slow putting the orders together. And when I say slow I mean slow by our standards. It probably took five to ten minutes for our order to be ready, but you know, in the US it usually only takes about a minute, minute and a half, to be served. I’ve done well with adjusting to the pace here and I am much more patient than at home. But just being in a McDonald’s for more than two minutes made me really antsy and I wished they would move a little faster.
Here is my meal. I ordered the royale wit cheese as a shoutout to Tarantino and Pulp Fiction. I also got potatoes (wedges), and a coke. I don’t even drink coke, but in this case I felt it was go-big or go-home.
The verdict? Overall, I thought the food was pretty tasty. The potato wedges (you have the choice between these and regular french fries) were seasoned and tasted like the ones at KFC, which I was rather pleased about. The burger tasted more like a burger than is typical for an American McDonald’s, and the cheese was different. As for the coke, it pretty much tasted exactly like all fountain coke does.
I was actually pretty pleased with the food. It was much better than you would find in America. There are only two reasons I don’t think I will return. First, I found it kind of expensive. McDonald’s is usually much cheaper than other restaurants, but my meal cost as much as the other meals I have had here. There was certainly no “Euro Menu.” Second, and more importantly, I will not let myself be the American who goes to France and eats McDonald’s all the time. Because that would be ridiculous. Especially cause France is the land of chefs and all.
There are some similarities between US and French McDonald’s though. In my experience at least, the after-effects are the same. Nasty aftertaste, breath, and stomach feelings prove to be pretty standard. TMI? Deal with it.
I did it. I paid homage to my country. For the first and (I sincerely hope) only time, I visited the golden arches in France.
I’d been talking for some time about how I should visit a McDonald’s because everyone says it’s different in other countries. And it really was. For one thing, check out the interior. You can’t really appreciate it all in this picture, but the inside was all decked out in cherry wood. It was much chicer than any McDonald’s I have ever seen in the USA. It felt more like an upscale middle-class chain, if that makes any sense. I’m thinking Outback or Applebees. 
Of course, Ronald McDonald was there, looking as creepy as ever (If you don't think Ronald is creepy, look at this). Another difference between this McDonald’s and the ones in the US was the speed! They were incredibly slow putting the orders together. And when I say slow I mean slow by our standards. It probably took five to ten minutes for our order to be ready, but you know, in the US it usually only takes about a minute, minute and a half, to be served. I’ve done well with adjusting to the pace here and I am much more patient than at home. But just being in a McDonald’s for more than two minutes made me really antsy and I wished they would move a little faster. 
Here is my meal. I ordered the royale wit cheese as a shoutout to Tarantino and Pulp Fiction. I also got potatoes (wedges), and a coke. I don’t even drink coke, but in this case I felt it was go-big or go-home. The verdict? Overall, I thought the food was pretty tasty. The potato wedges (you have the choice between these and regular french fries) were seasoned and tasted like the ones at KFC, which I was rather pleased about. The burger tasted more like a burger than is typical for an American McDonald’s, and the cheese was different. As for the coke, it pretty much tasted exactly like all fountain coke does.
I was actually pretty pleased with the food. It was much better than you would find in America. There are only two reasons I don’t think I will return. First, I found it kind of expensive. McDonald’s is usually much cheaper than other restaurants, but my meal cost as much as the other meals I have had here. There was certainly no “Euro Menu.” Second, and more importantly, I will not let myself be the American who goes to France and eats McDonald’s all the time. Because that would be ridiculous. Especially cause France is the land of chefs and all.
There are some similarities between US and French McDonald’s though. In my experience at least, the after-effects are the same. Nasty aftertaste, breath, and stomach feelings prove to be pretty standard. TMI? Deal with it.
"Home"
Best Week(end) Ever - Epilogue
It feels both strange and perfectly normal to call Lisieux home. Hence the scare quotes. Returning “home” from Caen, though it would seem an insignificant part of my weekend, was almost adventurous. Allan (C’s husband) dropped me off at the Caen train station and I assured him that I would be able to figure out how to buy my ticket back to Lisieux. In truth, I’m not so capable. I know the words, but I followed the sign for billets and they did not lead me to a ticket window, as they should have. They led me back to the street instead. So I found a couple of billeteries automatique (ticket machines) but they had long lines of people and I had to get on the train. I figured that when the ticket-man came to me on the train I could explain that I hadn’t had the time and maybe I could buy one from him. And if not, then I could play up the idea that I am a dumb tourist who doesn’t speak much English. The whole time on the train I was dreading the ticket-man, but to my incredible luck, he did not come! The train was Paris-bound, and my stop was at the very beginning, so maybe he just hadn’t made it to my compartment yet. So I got out of paying entirely! I’m sure that karma is going to get me for that one at some point, but hopefully it waits until I have some money to spare.
Pulling into the Lisieux train station was the weirdest feeling, because it really felt like I was home. After spending a weekend in the next town and seeing foreign sites that I never thought I’d see, Lisieux was home. Here I am, back in the town I know. I know how to get to Lycee Gambier from the station. I don’t need a cab or directions. I know the landmarks I am going to see on the way: there will be a maison de la presse on my right, then a rapid’flore around the corner, then the medi@theque, place Mitterand, and then I will be home.
And this got me thinking about the moments, and how they only happen once. Never again will I step off a train in Lisieux and feel like a foreigner. That may happen in Falaise or Rennes, or San Francisco or even Trenton, but it will never again happen in Lisieux, France. I can remember stepping off the train one month ago. I was tired, and probably smelly, and reeling from Paris. And Lisieux felt so calm and peaceful compared to the whirlwind of travel I’d been through. At that moment, I took a deep breath and collected myself. I really, really appreciated the moment. And I’m glad I did because I will never have another exactly like it.
It feels both strange and perfectly normal to call Lisieux home. Hence the scare quotes. Returning “home” from Caen, though it would seem an insignificant part of my weekend, was almost adventurous. Allan (C’s husband) dropped me off at the Caen train station and I assured him that I would be able to figure out how to buy my ticket back to Lisieux. In truth, I’m not so capable. I know the words, but I followed the sign for billets and they did not lead me to a ticket window, as they should have. They led me back to the street instead. So I found a couple of billeteries automatique (ticket machines) but they had long lines of people and I had to get on the train. I figured that when the ticket-man came to me on the train I could explain that I hadn’t had the time and maybe I could buy one from him. And if not, then I could play up the idea that I am a dumb tourist who doesn’t speak much English. The whole time on the train I was dreading the ticket-man, but to my incredible luck, he did not come! The train was Paris-bound, and my stop was at the very beginning, so maybe he just hadn’t made it to my compartment yet. So I got out of paying entirely! I’m sure that karma is going to get me for that one at some point, but hopefully it waits until I have some money to spare.
Pulling into the Lisieux train station was the weirdest feeling, because it really felt like I was home. After spending a weekend in the next town and seeing foreign sites that I never thought I’d see, Lisieux was home. Here I am, back in the town I know. I know how to get to Lycee Gambier from the station. I don’t need a cab or directions. I know the landmarks I am going to see on the way: there will be a maison de la presse on my right, then a rapid’flore around the corner, then the medi@theque, place Mitterand, and then I will be home.
And this got me thinking about the moments, and how they only happen once. Never again will I step off a train in Lisieux and feel like a foreigner. That may happen in Falaise or Rennes, or San Francisco or even Trenton, but it will never again happen in Lisieux, France. I can remember stepping off the train one month ago. I was tired, and probably smelly, and reeling from Paris. And Lisieux felt so calm and peaceful compared to the whirlwind of travel I’d been through. At that moment, I took a deep breath and collected myself. I really, really appreciated the moment. And I’m glad I did because I will never have another exactly like it.
Heads-Up
I had the best weekend ever! So many things happened, and I have a lot to write about. So just to warn you, it's a work in progress. I'm separating the weekend into shorter entries, for your reading pleasure. Be patient, because I can't post it all in one day. And I'm writing in reverse chronological order, so it may appear out of order until it's all up.
Whoa. I have a lot of work to do. Good thing I have the day off.
Whoa. I have a lot of work to do. Good thing I have the day off.
15 October, 2008
Dejeuner!
Finally I dined with someone! Lizzi, the assistant from the school I am living at, came to get me and we came to the local internet cafe and ordered some lunch. I had a salad with chicken and gruyere and loads of corn (!) and Lizzie had a quiche and a tomato salad (pronounced in her lovely British as toe-mott-oh).
After that we thought we would indulge and order some ice cream. So we picked the best-looking one and we each took our first bites and don'tcha know it was like taking a shot. We didn't know when we ordered that it was going to be an alcoholic beverage with ice cream. Well, we hated to see it all those Euros go to waste, so we are now sitting in this internet cafe a little happier than we were before.
Hooray!
After that we thought we would indulge and order some ice cream. So we picked the best-looking one and we each took our first bites and don'tcha know it was like taking a shot. We didn't know when we ordered that it was going to be an alcoholic beverage with ice cream. Well, we hated to see it all those Euros go to waste, so we are now sitting in this internet cafe a little happier than we were before. Hooray!
Lonely Sneaks
Looking back, I wish that I had packed a mate for my black sneakers. They always look so lonely on the floor in my studio, and I don't know how well they are going to serve me if I ever want to go somewhere hip or trendy. I think with my first paycheck I will have to buy some boots.
Laundry Fail
On Sunday I decided I had to do laundry. OK, that’s not the whole truth. It wasn’t so much a decision as it was an act made mandatory by my fairly ripe smell. Laundry intimidates me and I tried to put it off as long as possible. But it had been almost three weeks, which means I’d worn every outfit more than once. And I’d say I trekked the hell-hill to work five or six times in those clothes. So it was desperate times for laundry.
Why does laundry intimidate me, you ask? I’ve never done it on my own. It’s always been mom and dad’s washer and dryer. I’ve known how to operate them since I was 11. Yeah, I did laundry once at the Ocean City Laundromat, but Chris Moore was there to help me. It’s easy when someone else tells you where the quarters go. Laundry in France? They don’t even have quarters. How was this going to work? And I was all alone. No one to help me. Humph.
So I walked to the nearest laverie (Laundromat) and took a look around. There were 8 washers and 4 huge dryers. And there was a pay center too, which was a big wall with lots of numbers, a place for money to go in, and a place that looked like it was where a card would come out. Of course, everything was written in French, and I doubted I would be able to read it. So I tried to figure it out with logic. It seemed to me that if I put money into this wall, a card would come out the slot, and the card would be good for one cycle. Or maybe some tokens would come out, like at Chuck E Cheese. I would then walk over to my washer and insert my shiny new card or tokens. OK, I thought, as I deposited my money into the machine. I win at laundry.
After I put my money in, I didn’t get anything. Then I realized I had to choose my washer. So I picked my lucky number 4. I heard something drop into the slot where I thought my card or my tokens would be, but it was just my change. I waited patiently until I heard water running. Yep, washer #4 had started, and my clothes were still in their laundry bag on top of the machine! I tried to open the door, but it was tightly closed until the end of the cycle. 4 Euros gone. Damn. I don’t want to grieve too much over 4 Euros, but it’s not like I have all that much right now.
So I loaded my clothes into washer 1 and repeated the process. I was worried I would screw up the dryer system too, because I was running out of money, and it would suck to return home with wet clothes. Luckily for me, all went well with that.
You know what the worst part was about the whole laundry fiasco? As I was waiting for my clothes to finish, I spent a lot of time looking at the signs. And you know what? I could read all of them. Maybe if I hadn’t been so worried about not speaking French I would have realized that the instructions were mostly pictures, and the process was so easy a caveman could do it.
Oh well, c’est la vie.
Why does laundry intimidate me, you ask? I’ve never done it on my own. It’s always been mom and dad’s washer and dryer. I’ve known how to operate them since I was 11. Yeah, I did laundry once at the Ocean City Laundromat, but Chris Moore was there to help me. It’s easy when someone else tells you where the quarters go. Laundry in France? They don’t even have quarters. How was this going to work? And I was all alone. No one to help me. Humph.
So I walked to the nearest laverie (Laundromat) and took a look around. There were 8 washers and 4 huge dryers. And there was a pay center too, which was a big wall with lots of numbers, a place for money to go in, and a place that looked like it was where a card would come out. Of course, everything was written in French, and I doubted I would be able to read it. So I tried to figure it out with logic. It seemed to me that if I put money into this wall, a card would come out the slot, and the card would be good for one cycle. Or maybe some tokens would come out, like at Chuck E Cheese. I would then walk over to my washer and insert my shiny new card or tokens. OK, I thought, as I deposited my money into the machine. I win at laundry. After I put my money in, I didn’t get anything. Then I realized I had to choose my washer. So I picked my lucky number 4. I heard something drop into the slot where I thought my card or my tokens would be, but it was just my change. I waited patiently until I heard water running. Yep, washer #4 had started, and my clothes were still in their laundry bag on top of the machine! I tried to open the door, but it was tightly closed until the end of the cycle. 4 Euros gone. Damn. I don’t want to grieve too much over 4 Euros, but it’s not like I have all that much right now.
So I loaded my clothes into washer 1 and repeated the process. I was worried I would screw up the dryer system too, because I was running out of money, and it would suck to return home with wet clothes. Luckily for me, all went well with that. You know what the worst part was about the whole laundry fiasco? As I was waiting for my clothes to finish, I spent a lot of time looking at the signs. And you know what? I could read all of them. Maybe if I hadn’t been so worried about not speaking French I would have realized that the instructions were mostly pictures, and the process was so easy a caveman could do it.
Oh well, c’est la vie.
14 October, 2008
Why I Love My Ville
It might be a little hard to see (I didn't want to be a total stalker with my camera out), but this is a picture of a flock of schoolchildren being led across a crosswalk to school. With a crossing guard and all. It's been a while since I've seen that in real life. I'm also happy to live in a town where the kids can walk to and from school alone.
10 October, 2008
La Vie Telephonique
Screw the accents. I can't do them on Blogger.
Thursday was an awesome day! I went to the library in the morning and prepared some info on American Breakfasts. I didn’t actually use it in class today, but getting started with a lesson really helped me get into teaching mode. I’ve never taught before, and this was really, really fun.
Catehrine’s class was funny today because the kids were so shocked about the size of British breakfasts. They thought, with all the food in the video, that it must have definitely been lunch. Wait until they see American breakfast!
In Latetia’a class today we were still working on stereotypes. The students had to pick a European country, then use the internet to find two stereotypes and then find out the corresponding truths. It was interesting. Sarah Laits is a smart girl that was curious about me from the beginning. She is a round girl with short brown hair who shines from within (I know that sounds silly but it’s true). She asked if she and her friend could work with me, so we did. We had Ireland. I learned that only ten percent of the Irish population is redheaded, and St. Patrick is not Irish, but he was born in Wales. Whoa!
After classes, I met with Karen in the salle des professeurs and we went to get me a cell phone. I am so happy that she was willing to come with me, because otherwise I would not have been able to understand everything. I got a nice little prepaid phone with lots of neat extras. I have an alarm clock and I can play sudoku! I can call only use the phone to call within France, but I am happy that I have it in case of an emergency. I also bought an international phone card. It was only 15Euros and I have 858 minutes to talk! I can call cell phones with it too! But it wasn’t working at all when I tried it in the phone booth. So I have to go back to the store tomorrow and see if I can get some help.
Karen was such a help to me and I am so grateful for it. The man that helped us in the store, Julien, asked if he could have an English lesson, and I thought it would be a great idea to do a free exchange of language type of thing. He agreed that we could do one hour of English conversation and then one hour of French conversation. So I have his number, and I can’t wait to get that started. What a way to learn!
I don't have much else to say right now...so here's a silly picture of me pretending to talk on my new phone!
Thursday was an awesome day! I went to the library in the morning and prepared some info on American Breakfasts. I didn’t actually use it in class today, but getting started with a lesson really helped me get into teaching mode. I’ve never taught before, and this was really, really fun.
Catehrine’s class was funny today because the kids were so shocked about the size of British breakfasts. They thought, with all the food in the video, that it must have definitely been lunch. Wait until they see American breakfast!
In Latetia’a class today we were still working on stereotypes. The students had to pick a European country, then use the internet to find two stereotypes and then find out the corresponding truths. It was interesting. Sarah Laits is a smart girl that was curious about me from the beginning. She is a round girl with short brown hair who shines from within (I know that sounds silly but it’s true). She asked if she and her friend could work with me, so we did. We had Ireland. I learned that only ten percent of the Irish population is redheaded, and St. Patrick is not Irish, but he was born in Wales. Whoa!
After classes, I met with Karen in the salle des professeurs and we went to get me a cell phone. I am so happy that she was willing to come with me, because otherwise I would not have been able to understand everything. I got a nice little prepaid phone with lots of neat extras. I have an alarm clock and I can play sudoku! I can call only use the phone to call within France, but I am happy that I have it in case of an emergency. I also bought an international phone card. It was only 15Euros and I have 858 minutes to talk! I can call cell phones with it too! But it wasn’t working at all when I tried it in the phone booth. So I have to go back to the store tomorrow and see if I can get some help. Karen was such a help to me and I am so grateful for it. The man that helped us in the store, Julien, asked if he could have an English lesson, and I thought it would be a great idea to do a free exchange of language type of thing. He agreed that we could do one hour of English conversation and then one hour of French conversation. So I have his number, and I can’t wait to get that started. What a way to learn!
I don't have much else to say right now...so here's a silly picture of me pretending to talk on my new phone!
Two Weeks In
I was gchatting Tapan Tuesday, telling him how much I miss him, and he said, “babe, you just have to hang in there for 6 ½ more months.”
Imagine this: I never before realized there would be a 6 ½ months in this process. Anytime I talked about France before it was always 7 months. And it’s hard to explain and probably makes no sense, but I thought the 7 months feeling would last all the way until May, when I got on the plane back home. But now it feels like I’m going to be here for 6 ½ more months. And at some point in the near future it’s going to feel like 5 more months. And so on, until one month, one week, three days.
Before Tapan said what he did I hadn’t thought about these milestones, hadn’t even consciously realized they would exist. Thinking about them makes the time go a little faster.
Imagine this: I never before realized there would be a 6 ½ months in this process. Anytime I talked about France before it was always 7 months. And it’s hard to explain and probably makes no sense, but I thought the 7 months feeling would last all the way until May, when I got on the plane back home. But now it feels like I’m going to be here for 6 ½ more months. And at some point in the near future it’s going to feel like 5 more months. And so on, until one month, one week, three days.
Before Tapan said what he did I hadn’t thought about these milestones, hadn’t even consciously realized they would exist. Thinking about them makes the time go a little faster.
Just thought I'd Share
One of the teachers warned me that lunches on Wednesday are not really that good. Still, school lunch is only 2Euro, so I figured I’d stick around. The main dish was something I’d never seen before. It was a big plate of mashed potatoes. And thrown inside the mess of potatoes were: a hot dog, an extremely fatty piece of a bacon-like meat, and an over-easy egg. I ate the potatoes.
Globetrotter
Not really (the globe is pretty damn big), but I would love to travel Europe while I am here. So I guess really that makes me a continenttrotter.
My lead teacher Catherine Hellegouarc’h is from England, and today she asked me if I would like to go to England with her. She will be going there for New Year’s, and she has already asked her family if I could come too. They seem thrilled at the idea, and I am too! I’m just so touched by how generous all of the professors are being. I’ve had invitations to go for walks along the Lisieux countryside or to go into the nearby city Caen, and now I’ve been invited to England! Karen came bowling the other night and has invited me to go swimming with her every Tuesday, or out for drinks. She's also going to help me get a phone. And on top of all that, I sometimes find e-mails in my inbox from teachers who are just curious about how I am finding France so far. It’s hard to describe how good it feels to know that these people are thinking about me. They really don’t have to care, but they do, and I kind of didn’t expect that. The way people stereotype the French in the USA, I expected everyone to ignore me. So it’s nice that they’re not.
Plans so far:
-Travel to Caen with Catherine and Latetiea (both English teachers) to see the exhibition there about September 11th
-Travel to the D-Day beaches with some of the English teachers and some of the more advanced students
-Travel to London for New Year’s Weekend! We’re probably gonna take the chunnel. How cool! We’ll also go to Jersey. Catherine wants to see it because she hasn’t been there yet, and I want to see it because, well, it’s technically my homeland.
My lead teacher Catherine Hellegouarc’h is from England, and today she asked me if I would like to go to England with her. She will be going there for New Year’s, and she has already asked her family if I could come too. They seem thrilled at the idea, and I am too! I’m just so touched by how generous all of the professors are being. I’ve had invitations to go for walks along the Lisieux countryside or to go into the nearby city Caen, and now I’ve been invited to England! Karen came bowling the other night and has invited me to go swimming with her every Tuesday, or out for drinks. She's also going to help me get a phone. And on top of all that, I sometimes find e-mails in my inbox from teachers who are just curious about how I am finding France so far. It’s hard to describe how good it feels to know that these people are thinking about me. They really don’t have to care, but they do, and I kind of didn’t expect that. The way people stereotype the French in the USA, I expected everyone to ignore me. So it’s nice that they’re not.
Plans so far:
-Travel to Caen with Catherine and Latetiea (both English teachers) to see the exhibition there about September 11th
-Travel to the D-Day beaches with some of the English teachers and some of the more advanced students
-Travel to London for New Year’s Weekend! We’re probably gonna take the chunnel. How cool! We’ll also go to Jersey. Catherine wants to see it because she hasn’t been there yet, and I want to see it because, well, it’s technically my homeland.
Faire du Bowling
I went bowling on Wednesday!
And what fun I had! It was the first time that I went out with anyone here in Lisieux. I’ve been keeping to myself because I don’t really know the area and I am a young girl, so I didn’t want to take any risks. But thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, some of the other English assistants at other schools contacted me and invited me bowling. I invited Karen, one of the incredibly warm and lovely English teachers at Collège Michelet, and she met me at Gambier (where I live). We were supposed to meet Tom and Cecil there but they were nowhere to be found. Hmmm. Karen and I decided to walk around to the front of the building. Little did we know that Cecil and Tom had been at the front and decided to check around the back at the same time. Classic sitcom shenanigans. Eventually, we found each other in the middle.
Tom is from Oregon, which is nice, because now I know how they prefer to say it, which is something I have wondered for a long time. It is or-uh-gun, not or-uh-gone, in case you were wondering. We also bonded over the fact that Oregon and New Jersey are the only two states in the US where you don’t pump your own gas. He thought it was funny that I made up my mind long ago that if I ever moved, it would be to Oregon. I have vowed never to pump my own gas. I almost did once, and almost pumped diesel into my car. It was traumatic.
Anyway, I also met Cecil, who is from the great state of Washington. He is really nice and seems to be pretty enthused about the job. He is teaching primary school. He is really good at French too, as I noticed when he and Karen started to have an interesting conversation about Crepes. It turns out Karen is from Brittany, land of the crepes, and she can make them herself. Yumm!
With the two guys was also Lizzi, a charming and beautiful girl from England. I have forgotten where exactly she is from, but she went to school at Portsmouth. She’s lively, loves the color pink, and likes to make fun of the way I and the American boys talk. She thinks the word pants is hilarious, because apparently if you walk into a store in England and ask for pants, they will hand you underwear. I’m thankful for the tidbit. I’m also happy to know that in England a rubber is an eraser.
Lizzi also brought a friend from where she is living, le foyeur de jeunes travailleurs (foyer for young workers). His name is Youseff, and he is a native Frenchman who speaks English. We didn’t talk too much but he seemed really nice.
Bowling was awesome! Our names on the screen were a pretty big hit. I told the man my name was Ash and when I got to the lane I saw that I was just h. “Ash” is the way you pronounce the letter here. I guess I should have said “Ashley.” And Lizzi, though she spelled her name quite clearly, was Laiz. I don’t know, I think it sounds pretty badass. I was proud to get the first spare of the game, even before anyone got a strike. I thank you. After that, I’m not sure I hit more than ten pins total for the rest of the game. Everyone had some pretty good moves, and there were quite a few strikes. The winner with 133 was Karen. She cleaned up! It was strike after strike after strike. Quite impressive! I asked her if it’s called le dinde (turkey) here also. Check out our scores! I lost big with 37.
I had a lot of fun, and I’m glad that we all went out together. They’re a pretty solid and inviting group, and they like to speak French too. I have to admit, I was a little scared to hang out with other assistants because I didn’t know if they would speak more English or French. I know how easy it is to get into the habit of just speaking English and not getting too into the language of the country you’re in. It happened all the time at Sea. But it seems that everyone really wants to practice French, and that I am the worst at the language of all! It’s a relief to know that we can hang out and practice our French at the same time.
We’ll be hanging out again soon, and I am just so happy to have friends!
Win of the day: I found the most perfect of all presents for Donna. I can’t say anymore, because it has to be a surprise.
Fail of the day: On the way home from bowling, I walked into a signpost. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. I was so focused on what Lizzi was talking to me about that I just collided with it head-on. Well, chest-on really, which is good because at least I don’t have a headache. Anyway, everyone had a good long laugh about it, so I guess it was really a win.
And what fun I had! It was the first time that I went out with anyone here in Lisieux. I’ve been keeping to myself because I don’t really know the area and I am a young girl, so I didn’t want to take any risks. But thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, some of the other English assistants at other schools contacted me and invited me bowling. I invited Karen, one of the incredibly warm and lovely English teachers at Collège Michelet, and she met me at Gambier (where I live). We were supposed to meet Tom and Cecil there but they were nowhere to be found. Hmmm. Karen and I decided to walk around to the front of the building. Little did we know that Cecil and Tom had been at the front and decided to check around the back at the same time. Classic sitcom shenanigans. Eventually, we found each other in the middle. 
Tom is from Oregon, which is nice, because now I know how they prefer to say it, which is something I have wondered for a long time. It is or-uh-gun, not or-uh-gone, in case you were wondering. We also bonded over the fact that Oregon and New Jersey are the only two states in the US where you don’t pump your own gas. He thought it was funny that I made up my mind long ago that if I ever moved, it would be to Oregon. I have vowed never to pump my own gas. I almost did once, and almost pumped diesel into my car. It was traumatic. Anyway, I also met Cecil, who is from the great state of Washington. He is really nice and seems to be pretty enthused about the job. He is teaching primary school. He is really good at French too, as I noticed when he and Karen started to have an interesting conversation about Crepes. It turns out Karen is from Brittany, land of the crepes, and she can make them herself. Yumm!
With the two guys was also Lizzi, a charming and beautiful girl from England. I have forgotten where exactly she is from, but she went to school at Portsmouth. She’s lively, loves the color pink, and likes to make fun of the way I and the American boys talk. She thinks the word pants is hilarious, because apparently if you walk into a store in England and ask for pants, they will hand you underwear. I’m thankful for the tidbit. I’m also happy to know that in England a rubber is an eraser. Lizzi also brought a friend from where she is living, le foyeur de jeunes travailleurs (foyer for young workers). His name is Youseff, and he is a native Frenchman who speaks English. We didn’t talk too much but he seemed really nice.
Bowling was awesome! Our names on the screen were a pretty big hit. I told the man my name was Ash and when I got to the lane I saw that I was just h. “Ash” is the way you pronounce the letter here. I guess I should have said “Ashley.” And Lizzi, though she spelled her name quite clearly, was Laiz. I don’t know, I think it sounds pretty badass. I was proud to get the first spare of the game, even before anyone got a strike. I thank you. After that, I’m not sure I hit more than ten pins total for the rest of the game. Everyone had some pretty good moves, and there were quite a few strikes. The winner with 133 was Karen. She cleaned up! It was strike after strike after strike. Quite impressive! I asked her if it’s called le dinde (turkey) here also. Check out our scores! I lost big with 37. I had a lot of fun, and I’m glad that we all went out together. They’re a pretty solid and inviting group, and they like to speak French too. I have to admit, I was a little scared to hang out with other assistants because I didn’t know if they would speak more English or French. I know how easy it is to get into the habit of just speaking English and not getting too into the language of the country you’re in. It happened all the time at Sea. But it seems that everyone really wants to practice French, and that I am the worst at the language of all! It’s a relief to know that we can hang out and practice our French at the same time.
We’ll be hanging out again soon, and I am just so happy to have friends!
Win of the day: I found the most perfect of all presents for Donna. I can’t say anymore, because it has to be a surprise.
Fail of the day: On the way home from bowling, I walked into a signpost. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. I was so focused on what Lizzi was talking to me about that I just collided with it head-on. Well, chest-on really, which is good because at least I don’t have a headache. Anyway, everyone had a good long laugh about it, so I guess it was really a win.
Along Came a Spider
It was the second day I was here in Lisieux. I was sitting in my apartment, watching season six of Buffy, when I saw something move behind my bed. I peeked behind my bed and saw this really huge spider with long, thin legs. It seemed way larger than a daddy-long-legger, but maybe that’s because of the massive fear it instilled in me.
I’ve never once trapped a spider. When I lived at home I would have my mom or dad take care of it, and when I lived in Ocean City Mike was the professional spider-remover. I know there were times that I saw spiders when no one was home, but I used to have this weird ability to forget about them. I would just close the door to whatever room I was in and think to myself, “OK, if it’s still in there later, someone else will get it.”
But I couldn’t do that here. This spider wasn’t going anywhere, and no one else was going to come to my rescue. What was I gonna do, go ask my landlord? I don’t even know the word for spider. Actually, wait, I think I do thanks to the last episode of Buffy I watched, but that’s hardly the point.
The spider was a hard one to trap because he got behind my bed. You saw the size of my bed though – it’s not like it’s hard to move. I saw his skinny body crawling toward my suitcases under the bed and that was enough to make me jump into grown-up mode. I had visions of his little body snuggling up in there all winter and waiting for me to start packing for home in May, when he and his army of spiders could finally attack me (cause, you know, in my vision he was commander-in-chief of the spider army). Anyway, I grabbed a plate and a glass and did this cool trick I saw Rachel do once at her apartment to get the spider out without killing it. My dad always told me never to kill a spider. I think I may have injured his leg though. Sorry.
I debated for a long time about whether or not this story was blog-worthy. And I have decided that it is. Maybe I don’t have a touristy picture of it, and maybe I didn’t have to practice any French, and maybe it’s something that could have happened anywhere in the world. But you know what? I think it marks a change in me. I can trap a spider now. Hooray for independence.
I’ve never once trapped a spider. When I lived at home I would have my mom or dad take care of it, and when I lived in Ocean City Mike was the professional spider-remover. I know there were times that I saw spiders when no one was home, but I used to have this weird ability to forget about them. I would just close the door to whatever room I was in and think to myself, “OK, if it’s still in there later, someone else will get it.”
But I couldn’t do that here. This spider wasn’t going anywhere, and no one else was going to come to my rescue. What was I gonna do, go ask my landlord? I don’t even know the word for spider. Actually, wait, I think I do thanks to the last episode of Buffy I watched, but that’s hardly the point.
The spider was a hard one to trap because he got behind my bed. You saw the size of my bed though – it’s not like it’s hard to move. I saw his skinny body crawling toward my suitcases under the bed and that was enough to make me jump into grown-up mode. I had visions of his little body snuggling up in there all winter and waiting for me to start packing for home in May, when he and his army of spiders could finally attack me (cause, you know, in my vision he was commander-in-chief of the spider army). Anyway, I grabbed a plate and a glass and did this cool trick I saw Rachel do once at her apartment to get the spider out without killing it. My dad always told me never to kill a spider. I think I may have injured his leg though. Sorry.
I debated for a long time about whether or not this story was blog-worthy. And I have decided that it is. Maybe I don’t have a touristy picture of it, and maybe I didn’t have to practice any French, and maybe it’s something that could have happened anywhere in the world. But you know what? I think it marks a change in me. I can trap a spider now. Hooray for independence.
07 October, 2008
On Eating
It occurred to me this weekend, as I was sitting in my teeny, tiny apartment, that I had not yet eaten French food. What the hell! I've been so preoccupied with getting settled in my apartment and teaching that the only food I've eaten has come from the local supermarket. Pathetic!
I am here in France, the land of the chefs, why have I not had any real food?
So I went to the first place I saw and bought this, crudites poulet. Not too original as far as sandwiches go - it was sliced chicken with lettuce, egg, and onions. And a lot of mayo too, which I am definitely not opposed to.
And for dessert, I bought myself this tasty little treat, a tarte fraises. I think you can tell by looking at it what that translates into. And it was absurdly delicious! Decadent, yes, but a good portion size, which is something I am not used to with the way portions in the US are out of control.
On Sunday I didn't do too much. I was grateful to have a veg-day. I wrote a lot in my journal, made a brand new poem, and just had time to think. It was nice. I also went out and bought this for dinner:
I didn't finish it because it was just slathered in mayo. Hey, I like mayo, but this was overboard. It's like a sea.
Then today I enjoyed my first meal in a restaurant. To hell with waiting for someone to dine with. I am independent. I came to Europe on my own; I can certainly walk into a restaurant by myself. So I did. I don't have pictures for you (didn't want to be a complete tourist) but I can tell you it was a delicious plate of meat, potatoes, rice, mushrooms and carrots. I'm not exactly sure what the meat was because it was the plate of the day, and the waitress recited it too quickly for my non-fluent ears. Then for dessert I got the most delicious brownie! I'm so happy that chocolate is universal.
The highlight of my day? I watched a nostalgia movie from home. Anyone who thinks Alyson Hannigan and Seth Green met on the set of Buffy forgot about My Stepmother is an Alien:
Hooray for nostalgic gems!
I am here in France, the land of the chefs, why have I not had any real food?
So I went to the first place I saw and bought this, crudites poulet. Not too original as far as sandwiches go - it was sliced chicken with lettuce, egg, and onions. And a lot of mayo too, which I am definitely not opposed to. 
And for dessert, I bought myself this tasty little treat, a tarte fraises. I think you can tell by looking at it what that translates into. And it was absurdly delicious! Decadent, yes, but a good portion size, which is something I am not used to with the way portions in the US are out of control.
On Sunday I didn't do too much. I was grateful to have a veg-day. I wrote a lot in my journal, made a brand new poem, and just had time to think. It was nice. I also went out and bought this for dinner:
I didn't finish it because it was just slathered in mayo. Hey, I like mayo, but this was overboard. It's like a sea. Then today I enjoyed my first meal in a restaurant. To hell with waiting for someone to dine with. I am independent. I came to Europe on my own; I can certainly walk into a restaurant by myself. So I did. I don't have pictures for you (didn't want to be a complete tourist) but I can tell you it was a delicious plate of meat, potatoes, rice, mushrooms and carrots. I'm not exactly sure what the meat was because it was the plate of the day, and the waitress recited it too quickly for my non-fluent ears. Then for dessert I got the most delicious brownie! I'm so happy that chocolate is universal.
The highlight of my day? I watched a nostalgia movie from home. Anyone who thinks Alyson Hannigan and Seth Green met on the set of Buffy forgot about My Stepmother is an Alien:
Hooray for nostalgic gems!
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