Notice how healthy my food selection is. I'm keeping up my end of a pact not to eat any junk food. The first person who does has to do something so ridiculous and embarrassing that I can't even blog it. I think that says a lot.
28 February, 2009
Reason Number 11
The Saturday Market.
Notice how healthy my food selection is. I'm keeping up my end of a pact not to eat any junk food. The first person who does has to do something so ridiculous and embarrassing that I can't even blog it. I think that says a lot.
Notice how healthy my food selection is. I'm keeping up my end of a pact not to eat any junk food. The first person who does has to do something so ridiculous and embarrassing that I can't even blog it. I think that says a lot.
First time for everything
including top ten lists
Top Ten Reasons I love being an English assistant in Lisieux
(in no particular order):
1.I feel like a celebrity – Everyone knows about America, and since I’m from so close to New York, I can use that as a reference point. The students love that, and constantly ask me if I know any celebrities. When I arrive at my schools, the kids are über excited to see me, especially at Michelet where I typically work but once a week. And when they see me on the street outside of school, it’s often like a celebrity sighting: “Oh mon dieu, est-ce que c’est Ashley? C’est Ashley! C’est Ashley!” they say in disbelief, and then when I talk to them they’re all flustered and don’t know how to act around me. It makes me feel super-cool. (Then I say things like super-cool and it resets the whole scale.)
2.The kids treat me with respect – I didn’t get that until Nathalie pointed it out to me, but they all call me vous as opposed to the familiar tu. I was worried the kids would think coming with me for a half hour would be a period to goof off and not study, but on the whole it’s the opposite.
3.The kids love me – and for a reason besides the sheer fact that I’m American. My role as assistant is to talk to them and to get them talking to me and each other. C’est tout. I don’t give them tests, and I don’t give them grades. Therefore, they have no reason to get mad at me every couple of weeks when exam time comes.
4.The English colleagues are awesome – they’re really my saving grace. I’d heard horror stories about how the French are uninviting not because they’re rude but because it takes a long time for them to consider someone their friend. So naturally, I was worried that I’d be hanging out with only the other English assistants. In fact, my time here has proved the opposite! The English assistant make their own plans for the vacations and weekends and usually, if it weren’t for my colleagues, I’d be doing things alone a whole lot of the time.
5.The non-English colleagues are almost as inviting – seriously. They talk to me, they come on excursions with us, they invite me to classes, they invite me on field trips. I’m so lucky.
6.It lets me live in France – Ain’t nothin wrong with that. I get to live in this great place with so much history it makes my head spin. And living here helps my French exponentially. I doubt many tourists have to open checking accounts, receive work instructions or apply for resident cards. All of that has its own specific language with plenty of new terms.
7.Instant Translations – Speaking of language, being an assistant is an awesome way to learn. Each time I say something to the kids that they get, they’re so excited to understand that they immediately translate it into French for the other students. Best way to learn.
8.I barely work – twelve hours a week, four vacations of about two weeks each. I have plenty of time to do all the things I wanted to do and never had the time for – I’m constantly reading classics, translating poetry, writing, collaging, painting. And, of course, traveling.
9.My region is awesome – I mean really. I’m not far from Paris or from the coast. I’ve got Caen, a lively university town, right next door. I’m within distance of Bretagne, which I adore, and Mont St. Michel. So hey, maybe Lisieux is not the best ville in the country, but I’ve got options pretty close by.
10.I don’t feel so far away from home – Much of the culture here is American culture. With the newest songs on the radio, popular Hollywood movies and TV series on the screen, and familiar products in the grocery store, I never feel removed from my culture. Celebrity gossip here is largely about Americans, so I’m never out of touch. It makes it easy to talk to the students about what I like and limits my homesickness to people and places, but not objects.
Top Ten Reasons I love being an English assistant in Lisieux
(in no particular order):
1.I feel like a celebrity – Everyone knows about America, and since I’m from so close to New York, I can use that as a reference point. The students love that, and constantly ask me if I know any celebrities. When I arrive at my schools, the kids are über excited to see me, especially at Michelet where I typically work but once a week. And when they see me on the street outside of school, it’s often like a celebrity sighting: “Oh mon dieu, est-ce que c’est Ashley? C’est Ashley! C’est Ashley!” they say in disbelief, and then when I talk to them they’re all flustered and don’t know how to act around me. It makes me feel super-cool. (Then I say things like super-cool and it resets the whole scale.)
2.The kids treat me with respect – I didn’t get that until Nathalie pointed it out to me, but they all call me vous as opposed to the familiar tu. I was worried the kids would think coming with me for a half hour would be a period to goof off and not study, but on the whole it’s the opposite.
3.The kids love me – and for a reason besides the sheer fact that I’m American. My role as assistant is to talk to them and to get them talking to me and each other. C’est tout. I don’t give them tests, and I don’t give them grades. Therefore, they have no reason to get mad at me every couple of weeks when exam time comes.
4.The English colleagues are awesome – they’re really my saving grace. I’d heard horror stories about how the French are uninviting not because they’re rude but because it takes a long time for them to consider someone their friend. So naturally, I was worried that I’d be hanging out with only the other English assistants. In fact, my time here has proved the opposite! The English assistant make their own plans for the vacations and weekends and usually, if it weren’t for my colleagues, I’d be doing things alone a whole lot of the time.
5.The non-English colleagues are almost as inviting – seriously. They talk to me, they come on excursions with us, they invite me to classes, they invite me on field trips. I’m so lucky.
6.It lets me live in France – Ain’t nothin wrong with that. I get to live in this great place with so much history it makes my head spin. And living here helps my French exponentially. I doubt many tourists have to open checking accounts, receive work instructions or apply for resident cards. All of that has its own specific language with plenty of new terms.
7.Instant Translations – Speaking of language, being an assistant is an awesome way to learn. Each time I say something to the kids that they get, they’re so excited to understand that they immediately translate it into French for the other students. Best way to learn.
8.I barely work – twelve hours a week, four vacations of about two weeks each. I have plenty of time to do all the things I wanted to do and never had the time for – I’m constantly reading classics, translating poetry, writing, collaging, painting. And, of course, traveling.
9.My region is awesome – I mean really. I’m not far from Paris or from the coast. I’ve got Caen, a lively university town, right next door. I’m within distance of Bretagne, which I adore, and Mont St. Michel. So hey, maybe Lisieux is not the best ville in the country, but I’ve got options pretty close by.
10.I don’t feel so far away from home – Much of the culture here is American culture. With the newest songs on the radio, popular Hollywood movies and TV series on the screen, and familiar products in the grocery store, I never feel removed from my culture. Celebrity gossip here is largely about Americans, so I’m never out of touch. It makes it easy to talk to the students about what I like and limits my homesickness to people and places, but not objects.
24 February, 2009
Best. Valentine. Ever.
It arrived yesterday, not because Tapan was late sending it, but because France decided I can't have mail while the nation is on vacay. Vacation is finally over, and I finally received this:
It says "I love you more than yesterday, less than tomorrow." Can I just clarify that I have been waiting for a good Valentine for incredibly long. In fact, I think the last one I got that was really creative was from Donna, my bestest amigo. In the guy department, nothing has ever been this good.
Also, he sent me his hat which I wore all day yesterday cause it smells like his shampooing.
It says "I love you more than yesterday, less than tomorrow." Can I just clarify that I have been waiting for a good Valentine for incredibly long. In fact, I think the last one I got that was really creative was from Donna, my bestest amigo. In the guy department, nothing has ever been this good.
Also, he sent me his hat which I wore all day yesterday cause it smells like his shampooing.
19 February, 2009
Workin on it
I'm working on some entries, that is. Long, thought-out, lots-of-research-required entries. In the meantime, have fun with my favorite pun sites.
toothpastefordinner.com
from Toothpaste for Dinner
see more pwn and owned pictures
from Failblog
more lol celebs!
from lolcelebs
toothpastefordinner.com
from Toothpaste for Dinner
see more pwn and owned pictures
from Failblog
more lol celebs!
from lolcelebs
17 February, 2009
my heart; or, partially-eaten cookie
Disclaimer: This blog entry is emo and may sound like something a high-schooler would write. I’m not ashamed, but I won’t be offended if you just skip it.
This is me on Valentine’s Day. I’m feeling pretty lonely, which is why I bought the heart-shaped cookie. I thought maybe I’d split it in half and send the other side to Tapan. But the woman at the bakery told me it would stay edible for a max of 5 days. I thought about the first time I sent Donna a package, and the 30-day shipping time, and decided against it. I want to see him when I get home, preferably not in a hospital bed sick with food poisoning.
So I went home and ate some of my cookie after dinner. When I was finished, my cookie looked like this. I think it looks exactly how my heart feels right now. You know, my Valentine-shaped heart, not the blood-pumping organ. My metaphor heart is still a heart. It still looks like a heart. It still does all the important heart-stuff. But it feels a little shriveled. I think the creature I like to call “five months away from everyone I love” got kinda peckish and nibbled away at the edges.
Miss you guys at home. <3
This is me on Valentine’s Day. I’m feeling pretty lonely, which is why I bought the heart-shaped cookie. I thought maybe I’d split it in half and send the other side to Tapan. But the woman at the bakery told me it would stay edible for a max of 5 days. I thought about the first time I sent Donna a package, and the 30-day shipping time, and decided against it. I want to see him when I get home, preferably not in a hospital bed sick with food poisoning. 
So I went home and ate some of my cookie after dinner. When I was finished, my cookie looked like this. I think it looks exactly how my heart feels right now. You know, my Valentine-shaped heart, not the blood-pumping organ. My metaphor heart is still a heart. It still looks like a heart. It still does all the important heart-stuff. But it feels a little shriveled. I think the creature I like to call “five months away from everyone I love” got kinda peckish and nibbled away at the edges. Miss you guys at home. <3
14 February, 2009
and V-Day has arrived
It's my favorite holiday of the year. And I have finally, FINALLY, found the perfect Valentine. He's in New Jersey.
But, despite that fail, it's turning out to be a pretty good day. List of wins:
-I got a heart-melting international call when I first woke up.
-Failblog made me laugh uproariously:
-My new vendor friend at the Saturday market gave me all of my groceries (2 avocados, 5 clementines, 1/4 kilo of litchis, a head of lettuce, one carrot, one tomato and three kiwis) for two euros!
And last, but most important, Tapan sincerely adored my present:
Bon jour de St. Valentin, everyone!
But, despite that fail, it's turning out to be a pretty good day. List of wins:
-I got a heart-melting international call when I first woke up.
-Failblog made me laugh uproariously:
-My new vendor friend at the Saturday market gave me all of my groceries (2 avocados, 5 clementines, 1/4 kilo of litchis, a head of lettuce, one carrot, one tomato and three kiwis) for two euros!
And last, but most important, Tapan sincerely adored my present:
Bon jour de St. Valentin, everyone!
08 February, 2009
Not looking forward to the next two weeks
On paper four two-week vacations look awesome. When you have nothing much to do and are trying to save your money for the pile of debt that is waiting for you at home, they're not all that appealing. I was bored out of my mind yesterday and today, and this vacation hasn't even officially started today. Thank god Tifenn and Murielle will be saving me with a tour of a cheese factory on Monday. After that, I don't know. You can probably expect a lot of entries. But I hope something better comes up. Wish me unexpensive travel opportunities.
In the meantime, here's something so cute you could die:
via, once again, Sociological Images, via New Scientist
In the meantime, here's something so cute you could die:
via, once again, Sociological Images, via New Scientist
07 February, 2009
You know, I will never understand why people can't just let other people be happy
The first e-mail I got today was from Rachel, telling me that "Ken Starr -- and the Prop 8 Legal Defense Fund -- filed legal briefs defending the constitutionality of Prop 8 and attempting to forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year." This alarms me, because I think if Prop 8 can pass, then tere is a chance that this ridiculousness can too.
Watch this:
"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.
Then, if you have any humanity at all, go here and sign the letter to the supreme court.
Watch this:
"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.
Then, if you have any humanity at all, go here and sign the letter to the supreme court.
03 February, 2009
Best Week(End) Ever, Paris Edition
As I told some people this weekend, I was traumatized after my first weekend in Paris. And I'm not just a sissy because my arms hurt from toting the luggage. Other things happen to young woman travelers who look lost and un-French. No one hurt me, but I was scared to go back underground alone. Instead, I waited for someone to invite me. Finally, Nathalie did and we had an awesome time!
Here's your video tour, as I'm feeling too lazy to write, too tired to post all the pics, and a little self-conscious of how long-winded I can get. Indulge in the highlights. Also, I'm really nul at history, and I won't be able to do these places justice with my meager knowledge. So if you're curious, follow the links to the Wiki entries, which have a lot more to say than I do.
First stop, of course, the Eiffel Tower:
Here we are at the second landing, after climbing 677 steps. It's as far as you can go without taking an elevator and paying some more money, which we all agreed wasn't worth it.
Here's a view of the Eiffel Tower from a little further away.
Here's a little diddy I like to call walking on the Champs-Élysées, or rather, a stop at a crosswalk on the Champs-Élysées. Toward the end I turn the camera and you can see L'arc de triomphe:
Listen closely to this one, Karen. Saturday night, we celebrated the Chandeleur, a French holiday of crepes. Did I mention how I love the holidays in this country? Here's me making a galette:
Sunday, on Rach's advice, we went to the Sacre-Coeur, which is absolutely magnificent. By the way, it's the highest point in the city. We climbed a huge hill and then another 235 steps to get to the top.
After seeing what we needed to see, we took a walk around Montmartre, stopping for a bite to eat and searching for the cafe in which Amelie was filmed. Sadly, we didn't find it. But here's what the area of Montmartre around the Sacre Coeur looks like:
Here's the obligatory nutella shot, from a creperie on the hill:
And because I'm too much of a ham not to post it:
Let me conclude this blog by telling you my calves have just recently started to heal. If you add the steps of the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre Coeur, they make 912. I'm pretty sure the metro and other random steps throughout the day put me over 1,000. Add to that the steep uphill huff to Montmartre, and the general walking for much of two days, and I'm pretty damn impressed with myself. I've also officially stopped eating meat and seriously increased my fruit and veggie intake. I think my health has never been better, mental and physical. :)
Here's your video tour, as I'm feeling too lazy to write, too tired to post all the pics, and a little self-conscious of how long-winded I can get. Indulge in the highlights. Also, I'm really nul at history, and I won't be able to do these places justice with my meager knowledge. So if you're curious, follow the links to the Wiki entries, which have a lot more to say than I do.
First stop, of course, the Eiffel Tower:
Here we are at the second landing, after climbing 677 steps. It's as far as you can go without taking an elevator and paying some more money, which we all agreed wasn't worth it.
Here's a view of the Eiffel Tower from a little further away.
Here's a little diddy I like to call walking on the Champs-Élysées, or rather, a stop at a crosswalk on the Champs-Élysées. Toward the end I turn the camera and you can see L'arc de triomphe:
Listen closely to this one, Karen. Saturday night, we celebrated the Chandeleur, a French holiday of crepes. Did I mention how I love the holidays in this country? Here's me making a galette:
Sunday, on Rach's advice, we went to the Sacre-Coeur, which is absolutely magnificent. By the way, it's the highest point in the city. We climbed a huge hill and then another 235 steps to get to the top.
After seeing what we needed to see, we took a walk around Montmartre, stopping for a bite to eat and searching for the cafe in which Amelie was filmed. Sadly, we didn't find it. But here's what the area of Montmartre around the Sacre Coeur looks like:
Here's the obligatory nutella shot, from a creperie on the hill:
And because I'm too much of a ham not to post it:
Let me conclude this blog by telling you my calves have just recently started to heal. If you add the steps of the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre Coeur, they make 912. I'm pretty sure the metro and other random steps throughout the day put me over 1,000. Add to that the steep uphill huff to Montmartre, and the general walking for much of two days, and I'm pretty damn impressed with myself. I've also officially stopped eating meat and seriously increased my fruit and veggie intake. I think my health has never been better, mental and physical. :)
30 January, 2009
Translating poetry is hard
Really, really hard. New translation up at Lines that Rock. I knew that when I started. But I also thought when I started that 4 months in I'd be fluent. Which is so not the case. The problem is nuance. I mean, Prevert writes with pretty basic language, but how do I know if he means here or there, when the same word is so often used for both? Just because the word derisory exists in English, is that the word he would have used? After I translated ths latest poem I thought I wouldn't even post it. I mean, what if Jacques doesn't approve?
But hey, you all know I'm an amateur, and a beginner at French. And if you have a major problem with my translation, you can correct me!
Sorry, I'm feeling insecure today. I'll put up a better post after the upcoming Best Weekend Ever.
But hey, you all know I'm an amateur, and a beginner at French. And if you have a major problem with my translation, you can correct me!
Sorry, I'm feeling insecure today. I'll put up a better post after the upcoming Best Weekend Ever.
27 January, 2009
Yes, We Can
That's what I hear surprisingly often from the kids at school. "Sit down please." "Yes, we can!" "Can you clean the board please?" "Yes we can!" "Follow me." "Yes, we can!" Always with the same upbeat and somehow hopeful tone as I would expect to hear from an Obama supporter after one of his speeches. I was just thinking the other day about how huge Obama is over here. This is a picture of the magazine section of my library taken just after the results of the US elections:
Clearly, Americans weren't the only ones celebrating. Headlines from left to right, roughly translated, are: "What the world is expecting of him," "The man who can change the world," and "An Obama Revolution." I forgot to take a picture at the time, but I even saw a headline at a station once that read, "The first president of the world." Wow. I mean, I'm not in any position to speak for citizens of the whole world or anything, but I can say that on the whole, the French are pretty damn happy that Obama won.
The hype has worn down a little. But I still do see signs of Obama everywhere. Some kids still shout "Obama" at me in the halls and wait for their high-fives. Kids who haven't met me and have the opportunity to ask me questions often ask if I love Obama. And then, as I was walking to the library today, I saw this poster promoting annual sales in a store window:
When I saw this, I immediately thought about this recent Sociological Images post about advertising with Obama's "brand." I don't know that I'm equipped enough to argue about what kind of ramifications this type of advertising might have. I'm just adding my example.
PS, I was going to use the Urban Dictionary definition of Obamania for this blog, but then was put off by the negative connotation I gathered from entries two and (most definitely) three. But it's still interesting. I'd say go take a look. And what got me were all the obama- entries on the left side bar. I wonder how many will stick?
PPS, Am I a terrible person because I want the Obama chia pet?
Clearly, Americans weren't the only ones celebrating. Headlines from left to right, roughly translated, are: "What the world is expecting of him," "The man who can change the world," and "An Obama Revolution." I forgot to take a picture at the time, but I even saw a headline at a station once that read, "The first president of the world." Wow. I mean, I'm not in any position to speak for citizens of the whole world or anything, but I can say that on the whole, the French are pretty damn happy that Obama won.
The hype has worn down a little. But I still do see signs of Obama everywhere. Some kids still shout "Obama" at me in the halls and wait for their high-fives. Kids who haven't met me and have the opportunity to ask me questions often ask if I love Obama. And then, as I was walking to the library today, I saw this poster promoting annual sales in a store window:
When I saw this, I immediately thought about this recent Sociological Images post about advertising with Obama's "brand." I don't know that I'm equipped enough to argue about what kind of ramifications this type of advertising might have. I'm just adding my example.
PS, I was going to use the Urban Dictionary definition of Obamania for this blog, but then was put off by the negative connotation I gathered from entries two and (most definitely) three. But it's still interesting. I'd say go take a look. And what got me were all the obama- entries on the left side bar. I wonder how many will stick?
PPS, Am I a terrible person because I want the Obama chia pet?
24 January, 2009
Best and Worst Week Ever
Let's start with the bad to get it out of my system.
To Lexobus, pretty much the only bus company I can take in Lisieux, here is my middle finger. I hope you like it. It hasn't been given to anyone since the last time I drove in New Jersey.
Lexobus was on strike this week. I've written before about the uphill nightmare that is the walk to Laplace, and since I discovered Lexobus I've pretty much gotten fat and lazy and taken the bus to get there. But this week on Tuesday and Friday I had no choice but to walk it. I impressed myself on Tuesday. I got to school in twenty minutes and, while my face was red red red, I wasn't exhausted or anything. Friday was a different story. It was raining, Normandy style. Which is to say a lot. It was also super windy, so it took me double the time to get to school. And when I arrived I was soaking and assuredly stinky. After classes and lunch were over I noticed that the sun was shining bright. I though I should leave ASAP to get home without a repeat of the morning. About five minutes into my walk it started to hail. That's right. It wasn't raining. It was hailing! I'd already been suffering windburn and now I was being pelted with rock-hard pieces of ice. And do you know what happens when hail lands? It turns into water! So I'm soaked and sore from small hail bruises and my umbrella has just proven that it can do gymnastics when the wind blows hard enough (it's so mangled I don't even think it will ever be usable again). I finally get within a block from home and do you know what I see? Can you guess what I see? A fucking Lexobus! Arg!
I thought that my rant would end there, but last night I started to smell something disgusting in my apartment. Like a wet dirty dog. And then I realized that my new bag, the one I bought at soldes, was made of wool. If you don't know what that means, ask Tara.
OK. Breathe. Everything was fine last night. I got home, took a shower, worked a little on a V-Day present, had a nice dinner. And realized that a lot of good happened this week too:
-I understood every single word in "I Robot, You Jane."
-I can now choose between synonyms in French. For example, whereas before I could only call someone a man, I can now choose between the French equivalents of guy, dude, and bro.
-I did walk to and home from Laplace twice this week, and I'm not sore at all.
-I have a new neighbor who is very friendly, talkative, and generous. He cooked dinner for the two of us the other day and we had an entire conversation in French. I never get tired of hearing my accent and vocabulary are impressive!
-I made pancakes from scratch! I was missing baking powder, so in the end they were crepes, but it was fun to try a recipe from home.
-We have a new English assistant at Michelet. She's from Ghana and super-sweet. We won't be working on the same days, but maybe we'll hang out on our own.
and finally,
-Nathalie invited me to Paris next weekend! So I am finally going to see it tourist-style. Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Notre Dame, Champs-Elysees. Though I am supposed to think of other things I'd like to see. But I don't know too much. Any ideas??
To Lexobus, pretty much the only bus company I can take in Lisieux, here is my middle finger. I hope you like it. It hasn't been given to anyone since the last time I drove in New Jersey.
Lexobus was on strike this week. I've written before about the uphill nightmare that is the walk to Laplace, and since I discovered Lexobus I've pretty much gotten fat and lazy and taken the bus to get there. But this week on Tuesday and Friday I had no choice but to walk it. I impressed myself on Tuesday. I got to school in twenty minutes and, while my face was red red red, I wasn't exhausted or anything. Friday was a different story. It was raining, Normandy style. Which is to say a lot. It was also super windy, so it took me double the time to get to school. And when I arrived I was soaking and assuredly stinky. After classes and lunch were over I noticed that the sun was shining bright. I though I should leave ASAP to get home without a repeat of the morning. About five minutes into my walk it started to hail. That's right. It wasn't raining. It was hailing! I'd already been suffering windburn and now I was being pelted with rock-hard pieces of ice. And do you know what happens when hail lands? It turns into water! So I'm soaked and sore from small hail bruises and my umbrella has just proven that it can do gymnastics when the wind blows hard enough (it's so mangled I don't even think it will ever be usable again). I finally get within a block from home and do you know what I see? Can you guess what I see? A fucking Lexobus! Arg!
I thought that my rant would end there, but last night I started to smell something disgusting in my apartment. Like a wet dirty dog. And then I realized that my new bag, the one I bought at soldes, was made of wool. If you don't know what that means, ask Tara.
OK. Breathe. Everything was fine last night. I got home, took a shower, worked a little on a V-Day present, had a nice dinner. And realized that a lot of good happened this week too:
-I understood every single word in "I Robot, You Jane."
-I can now choose between synonyms in French. For example, whereas before I could only call someone a man, I can now choose between the French equivalents of guy, dude, and bro.
-I did walk to and home from Laplace twice this week, and I'm not sore at all.
-I have a new neighbor who is very friendly, talkative, and generous. He cooked dinner for the two of us the other day and we had an entire conversation in French. I never get tired of hearing my accent and vocabulary are impressive!
-I made pancakes from scratch! I was missing baking powder, so in the end they were crepes, but it was fun to try a recipe from home.
-We have a new English assistant at Michelet. She's from Ghana and super-sweet. We won't be working on the same days, but maybe we'll hang out on our own.
and finally,
-Nathalie invited me to Paris next weekend! So I am finally going to see it tourist-style. Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Notre Dame, Champs-Elysees. Though I am supposed to think of other things I'd like to see. But I don't know too much. Any ideas??
17 January, 2009
L'Occitanienne
So Lizzi invited me to go to this special viewing of L'Occitanienne at the cinema in Lisieux last night. Rock. Then I found out that the director was going to be there and we would have the chance to meet him and ask questions. Double rock!
I was stoked because I have a slight silly obsession with Occitanie, a region in France. It all started when I discovered the store L'Occitane en Provence in New Jersey. It's a cosmetics shop with luscious perfumes, soaps and lotions. I loved it even before I had any interest in French, back when I used to butcher the pronunciation of the name something awful. When I first got here and saw one of these stores, I thought I was about to walk into heaven. I thought, if the L'Occitanes in America are as beautiful as they are, I can't imagine what they'll actually be like in France. To my disappointment (at the time), they are exactly the same. The owners like to keep the same authentic feel in all of their stores. As much as I wanted a super-store, I know I'll appreciate this when I go home. I'll know that I can go into any L'Occitane in the world and it will be just like the ones here.
Anyway, after Christmas I started reading this quite massive book about the French, and one of the chapters is on regional dialects. And there's one called Langue d'Oc that originated in this area. And I would love to hear this type of language spoken and compare it to French now that I can understand French.
So now that we all know how excited I was to see this movie, we can get to the good stuff! But not immediately, because the movie was not so good, in my opinion. It was the story of Chateaubriand, a famous writer in the 19th century, and his final love. Nice story, but boring for me. The movie lacked action. It was mostly just scenes from one room at one time. All conversation. How am I supposed to follow something like that? Yeah, I got the gist, but there were so many words I didn't get. Add to that the fact that there was some Langue d'Oc phrases, and that they spoke fast sometimes, and I'm actually surprised at how well I did understand.
The movie was not the best, but I was thrilled that I got to meet the director! Based on the search results I got, I don't think Jean Périssé is actually too well known here. But he did get to work with Bernard le Coq, who is apparently hot stuff in these parts, though I've never heard of any of the films on his imdb list. And you know, it was the same for Chateaubriand, the subject of the film. His wikipedia entry says he is considered the founder of French romanticism, yet I've never heard of him! When we asked the director why he's so important, he told us that to understand, we would have to imagine Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, and Johnny Hallyday all rolled into one. And that's how huge this guy was during his time. I don't know. I'm going to have to check out his work for myself.
I had fun last night. And I want to meet more artists. And Jean Périssé signed something for me. Triple rock.
I was stoked because I have a slight silly obsession with Occitanie, a region in France. It all started when I discovered the store L'Occitane en Provence in New Jersey. It's a cosmetics shop with luscious perfumes, soaps and lotions. I loved it even before I had any interest in French, back when I used to butcher the pronunciation of the name something awful. When I first got here and saw one of these stores, I thought I was about to walk into heaven. I thought, if the L'Occitanes in America are as beautiful as they are, I can't imagine what they'll actually be like in France. To my disappointment (at the time), they are exactly the same. The owners like to keep the same authentic feel in all of their stores. As much as I wanted a super-store, I know I'll appreciate this when I go home. I'll know that I can go into any L'Occitane in the world and it will be just like the ones here.
Anyway, after Christmas I started reading this quite massive book about the French, and one of the chapters is on regional dialects. And there's one called Langue d'Oc that originated in this area. And I would love to hear this type of language spoken and compare it to French now that I can understand French.
So now that we all know how excited I was to see this movie, we can get to the good stuff! But not immediately, because the movie was not so good, in my opinion. It was the story of Chateaubriand, a famous writer in the 19th century, and his final love. Nice story, but boring for me. The movie lacked action. It was mostly just scenes from one room at one time. All conversation. How am I supposed to follow something like that? Yeah, I got the gist, but there were so many words I didn't get. Add to that the fact that there was some Langue d'Oc phrases, and that they spoke fast sometimes, and I'm actually surprised at how well I did understand. The movie was not the best, but I was thrilled that I got to meet the director! Based on the search results I got, I don't think Jean Périssé is actually too well known here. But he did get to work with Bernard le Coq, who is apparently hot stuff in these parts, though I've never heard of any of the films on his imdb list. And you know, it was the same for Chateaubriand, the subject of the film. His wikipedia entry says he is considered the founder of French romanticism, yet I've never heard of him! When we asked the director why he's so important, he told us that to understand, we would have to imagine Victor Hugo, Baudelaire, and Johnny Hallyday all rolled into one. And that's how huge this guy was during his time. I don't know. I'm going to have to check out his work for myself.
I had fun last night. And I want to meet more artists. And Jean Périssé signed something for me. Triple rock.
SOLDES!
Do you know what they are? They're huge sales, the kind that are happening all over France right now. I went into Caen yesterday to make the most of these sales:
Black hat: 3 euros
Bright orange shirt: 4 euros
Bag: 5 euros
Looking this good: Pri -- well, actually it cost about $700 to get here
Feeling this good: Priceless
Win of the Lifetime
I was getting on a bus at the station and the driver was curious about me. He wanted to help me (must have thought I was a tourist, since I was at the station and all) by telling me the best way to get where I was going. But I told him I knew where I was going. Home. He then told me he could hear a bit of an accent and we got to talking. He almost keeled over when he found out I only studied French for a year and a half, and now the three months.
And then he gave me the best compliment ever. He told me that I have a perfect accent. I challenged him by reminding him that it was clear I was foreign. Then he told me that that was precisely why it was perfect. I had just enough accent to reveal that I wasn't from France, but not so much that he couldn't understand me. It was just enough to be interesting. Which pretty much rocked my world.
Black hat: 3 euros
Bright orange shirt: 4 euros
Bag: 5 euros
Feeling this good: Priceless
Win of the Lifetime
I was getting on a bus at the station and the driver was curious about me. He wanted to help me (must have thought I was a tourist, since I was at the station and all) by telling me the best way to get where I was going. But I told him I knew where I was going. Home. He then told me he could hear a bit of an accent and we got to talking. He almost keeled over when he found out I only studied French for a year and a half, and now the three months.
And then he gave me the best compliment ever. He told me that I have a perfect accent. I challenged him by reminding him that it was clear I was foreign. Then he told me that that was precisely why it was perfect. I had just enough accent to reveal that I wasn't from France, but not so much that he couldn't understand me. It was just enough to be interesting. Which pretty much rocked my world.
16 January, 2009
15 January, 2009
This Just In
Another english assistant is arriving at my school tomorrow! I hope she's awesome, and friendly...
13 January, 2009
I know I know I've been blogging all day
And I am leaving the library, right after I share this with you, which pretty much made my day:
from Sociological Images
from Sociological Images
Shoutout
To the best friends in the world. This is mad old, and I forgot to put it up. But back when Donna and Rach had their election-party, they invited me. I, of course, was in France. But this did not stop me from being there:
Best Week(End) Ever, Part 92748yt984t698
A short one, but full of fun none the less.
On Saturday, I went to Honfleur with all my colleagues from Laplace. It's this really nice port town filled with great little shops and cafes. We walked around a bit, took a crap-ton of photos, and then had a bit of hot chocolate at one of said cafes. Then, we headed back to chez Murielle to celebrate a French holiday called la fête de l’epiphanie, and I had so much fun! We started with the apéretif, which is where everyone sits around a table snacking, drinking, and chatting. I've come to really enjoy this part of the evening. At first, I found myself getting grumpy because it's basically an occasion for everyone to talk. I love to talk. But when I first got here, I really couldn't chat that way, so aperitifs seemed to be frustrating for me and really drag out. Now, I seize upon the opportunity to speak as much French as I want, ask questions that I've had (for example, Nathalie told me that Samantha Oups! doesn't really have a political message and I was probably thinking about it too much), and find out more about all the people I've come to know.
After the apéro, (and some awesome-ass Wii play with Colin where I won baseball and bowling but lost hardcore at tennis) we moved on to the dinner, which was delicious - way better than the spaghetti and corn dinners I've been eating for the past two weeks while I wait for my replacement bank card. Anyway, to get back to dinner, it was very nice, and the conversation was great. I can't stress enough how happy I am with the progress I’ve made in French. I was able to talk to the kids much more this time (I think they could notice the difference from Deauville!) and I could talk to all the boyfriends/husbands of the colleagues. And, for the most part, I could understand everything they said without having to ask to repeat or look to someone for a translation. It was awesome!
And then, we had our dessert, which was the whole reason we had this get together in the first place – to celebrate La fête de l’epiphanie! I so wish we had this holiday in Jersey. What happens is you buy a galette. Not the dinner-y type, but the dessert-y type. As you cut the galette, the youngest child (in our case Colin) goes under the table and calls out the name of who’s going to get the pieces. That way,
no one can cheat. Everyone gets a piece of the galette, and in one or two of the pieces, there will be a little toy! Whoever gets the toy is the king. The king then picks a queen who gets to wear the crown. In this case, Colin got both toys (so unjust!) He gave one of the kingdoms to his dad, who then picked me as his queen! So I got to sport the crown! And Colin did not pick a queen. He said no one was good enough. Ha! Gotta love candor!
After dinner we all moved to the fireplace again to have some coffee and some more little chocolates! I could barely fit any more inside because I was so full from all that dinner and dessert. But it was nice to just sit with everyone and talk and understand things. And you know what's the best part right now? Sometimes I speak in English with some people, but now I feel like that's OK. Before, when I just got here, I had to use English. I completely lacked the means to understand a conversation otherwise. Now, I can do it. I might be slow, and the convo might have to be modified a bit, but I can keep up. Now, if I'm speaking English with someone it's because I made the choice between French and English. That, my friends, feels pretty damn good.
By the time everyone finally left and I got home it was like 2 in the morning! I think dinner itself lasted until after midnight. My alarm went off during the meal and when I said, "Wow. It's already eleven o'clock," Sophie's copin replied with, "There is no o'clock." Which, you know, is true because I had off the next day. Bonus part of the night: when Tapan called me he was at Donna and Rach’s taco party! So I got to talk to all my buddies! Rock!
Then on Sunday, I moved!!! I was getting pretty fed up with the problems in my old-ass apartment. The water that never lasts, the broken cabinet door, the shower head that spurted water everywhere and soaked the bottom of the floor, the creaky bed that sometimes made me itchy. I don't even want to think about what the reason could have been. I just made sure to wash all my sheets before I switched them. Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore because I switched to this awesome piece:
In English:
In French:
As you can see, it is super way more modern, and there's a hell of a lot more space since there's no awkward sink in the middle of the room. I'm very happy with it. Right now the only thing missing are enough outlets and a cable wire for the TV. But these problems will be fixed within the week. I'm a little bit antsy about the TV. Not antsy, really, but debat-ey. Honesty, I'm OK with not having a TV right now. I can use the time to listen to music, write, read, whatever. But then again, the TV is a really useful tool in learning French. Not just language, but culture also. I know what you're thinking: Ashley, why don't you just watch the TV sometimes? My answer: I can't. I'm pretty much addicted to the background noise. If I'm home, it's on. And that's that. Not a good habit, but it's the truth. But I'm enjoying not having it. I have 5,000 songs on my computer. And it's really nice to, you know, listen to them.
Favorite song of yesterday:
Thanks, Rach, cause without you I never would have downloaded this!
On Saturday, I went to Honfleur with all my colleagues from Laplace. It's this really nice port town filled with great little shops and cafes. We walked around a bit, took a crap-ton of photos, and then had a bit of hot chocolate at one of said cafes. Then, we headed back to chez Murielle to celebrate a French holiday called la fête de l’epiphanie, and I had so much fun! We started with the apéretif, which is where everyone sits around a table snacking, drinking, and chatting. I've come to really enjoy this part of the evening. At first, I found myself getting grumpy because it's basically an occasion for everyone to talk. I love to talk. But when I first got here, I really couldn't chat that way, so aperitifs seemed to be frustrating for me and really drag out. Now, I seize upon the opportunity to speak as much French as I want, ask questions that I've had (for example, Nathalie told me that Samantha Oups! doesn't really have a political message and I was probably thinking about it too much), and find out more about all the people I've come to know. 
After the apéro, (and some awesome-ass Wii play with Colin where I won baseball and bowling but lost hardcore at tennis) we moved on to the dinner, which was delicious - way better than the spaghetti and corn dinners I've been eating for the past two weeks while I wait for my replacement bank card. Anyway, to get back to dinner, it was very nice, and the conversation was great. I can't stress enough how happy I am with the progress I’ve made in French. I was able to talk to the kids much more this time (I think they could notice the difference from Deauville!) and I could talk to all the boyfriends/husbands of the colleagues. And, for the most part, I could understand everything they said without having to ask to repeat or look to someone for a translation. It was awesome!And then, we had our dessert, which was the whole reason we had this get together in the first place – to celebrate La fête de l’epiphanie! I so wish we had this holiday in Jersey. What happens is you buy a galette. Not the dinner-y type, but the dessert-y type. As you cut the galette, the youngest child (in our case Colin) goes under the table and calls out the name of who’s going to get the pieces. That way,
no one can cheat. Everyone gets a piece of the galette, and in one or two of the pieces, there will be a little toy! Whoever gets the toy is the king. The king then picks a queen who gets to wear the crown. In this case, Colin got both toys (so unjust!) He gave one of the kingdoms to his dad, who then picked me as his queen! So I got to sport the crown! And Colin did not pick a queen. He said no one was good enough. Ha! Gotta love candor!After dinner we all moved to the fireplace again to have some coffee and some more little chocolates! I could barely fit any more inside because I was so full from all that dinner and dessert. But it was nice to just sit with everyone and talk and understand things. And you know what's the best part right now? Sometimes I speak in English with some people, but now I feel like that's OK. Before, when I just got here, I had to use English. I completely lacked the means to understand a conversation otherwise. Now, I can do it. I might be slow, and the convo might have to be modified a bit, but I can keep up. Now, if I'm speaking English with someone it's because I made the choice between French and English. That, my friends, feels pretty damn good.
By the time everyone finally left and I got home it was like 2 in the morning! I think dinner itself lasted until after midnight. My alarm went off during the meal and when I said, "Wow. It's already eleven o'clock," Sophie's copin replied with, "There is no o'clock." Which, you know, is true because I had off the next day. Bonus part of the night: when Tapan called me he was at Donna and Rach’s taco party! So I got to talk to all my buddies! Rock!
Then on Sunday, I moved!!! I was getting pretty fed up with the problems in my old-ass apartment. The water that never lasts, the broken cabinet door, the shower head that spurted water everywhere and soaked the bottom of the floor, the creaky bed that sometimes made me itchy. I don't even want to think about what the reason could have been. I just made sure to wash all my sheets before I switched them. Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore because I switched to this awesome piece:
In English:
In French:
As you can see, it is super way more modern, and there's a hell of a lot more space since there's no awkward sink in the middle of the room. I'm very happy with it. Right now the only thing missing are enough outlets and a cable wire for the TV. But these problems will be fixed within the week. I'm a little bit antsy about the TV. Not antsy, really, but debat-ey. Honesty, I'm OK with not having a TV right now. I can use the time to listen to music, write, read, whatever. But then again, the TV is a really useful tool in learning French. Not just language, but culture also. I know what you're thinking: Ashley, why don't you just watch the TV sometimes? My answer: I can't. I'm pretty much addicted to the background noise. If I'm home, it's on. And that's that. Not a good habit, but it's the truth. But I'm enjoying not having it. I have 5,000 songs on my computer. And it's really nice to, you know, listen to them.
Favorite song of yesterday:
Thanks, Rach, cause without you I never would have downloaded this!
Smelly and Loud
I'm not talking about [enter smelly and loud person, animal or character here]. I'm talking about how I like my memories.
We all know that the olfactory sense has super-strong ties to the memory. To me, the best memories are always the ones linked to a smell or sound. They’re like a happy surprise. Usually, when I have a memory of something it’s because I was talking about a time with someone else, or I was thinking about a specific epoch in my history. In those cases, the memories are good, but predictable. I know they’re coming.
But every once in a while, I hear a song or specific noise, or I smell or taste something and this huge wave of nostalgia washes over me. And I prefer these memories to any other type. They’re always so much stronger. When I hear a song from Mariah Carey’s CD Rainbow, I’m not just reminiscing about the Christmas of 7th grade. I’m there, sitting on the old couch, my mom is on the floor with my brother and we’re opening presents. When I smell Victoria’s Secret Heavenly lotion, I don’t just remember the time that I wore it; I’m there in my past, in my car driving to Williamstown for an interview with a vacuum-cleaner pyramid scheme, reaching into my new green purse, listening to the Legally Blonde the Musical soundtrack. Listening to any song by Avant takes me back to my BFF Jenn’s house in middle school; American Baby by DMB puts my in my car at 4:30 am driving to open the airport store; any song by the Books and I’m in the living room in Ocean City with all my best friends. I brought Tapan’s cologne with me here, and sometimes I spray it on the shirt he gave me so that when I miss him I can cuddle with it. And I’m not just with the shirt when I do that – I really am back in his arms.
I’m reminded of this whole phenomenon every time I walk home from or to Laplace. I pass a particularly stinky area on the way - I think it’s a sewage drain or something – and I have memories of sea. I know it doesn’t sound too nice, that the smell of sewage reminds me of one of the best summers of my life, but it’s the truth. The MS Explorer sometimes had its problems with stinky toilet smell. The first level especially, so sometimes when we arrived in port and had to pass through there to get on and off the ship, we’d be a little inconvenienced. It was never so bad that we’d have to cover our noses or anything, and I don’t think there was any sanitation problem involved. And it’s the same here on that road to Laplace. In fact sometimes I feel rather twisted that I smell that and a smile immediately comes across my face because I’m back at sea, about to have some adventures with McKenzie in Costa Rica, or on the brink of gaining some street cred in Callou, Peru with Jesse and Claire.
But that’s the power of the olfactory sense. And whenever a smell or sound triggers a memory I feel incredibly satisfied. Oh, there are so many things I wish I could share with you all that I just can’t. Sure, I can record a sound and post it here, but it’s just impossible to do that with smell. I wish I could send vials of the smell of pain chaud from La Mie Caline, or this new apple-vanilla artisan soap I bought, or the air last night right before it rained. It makes me at once sad that I can’t share it, and grateful that there are some things that will always be just mine.
And whenever I have one of these memories I wonder what will be the smells that remind me of France in the future. Will it be cranberries (my first shampoo)? Will it be the smell of warm brioche? The honey & milk hand soap that I use? The bitter smell of the scarf that I keep forgetting to wash? The deodorant I use here? And what will be the sounds that take me back? What tastes?
What do you guys think? Have you any smells or sounds that bring you back to a specific place or time, good or bad?
We all know that the olfactory sense has super-strong ties to the memory. To me, the best memories are always the ones linked to a smell or sound. They’re like a happy surprise. Usually, when I have a memory of something it’s because I was talking about a time with someone else, or I was thinking about a specific epoch in my history. In those cases, the memories are good, but predictable. I know they’re coming.
But every once in a while, I hear a song or specific noise, or I smell or taste something and this huge wave of nostalgia washes over me. And I prefer these memories to any other type. They’re always so much stronger. When I hear a song from Mariah Carey’s CD Rainbow, I’m not just reminiscing about the Christmas of 7th grade. I’m there, sitting on the old couch, my mom is on the floor with my brother and we’re opening presents. When I smell Victoria’s Secret Heavenly lotion, I don’t just remember the time that I wore it; I’m there in my past, in my car driving to Williamstown for an interview with a vacuum-cleaner pyramid scheme, reaching into my new green purse, listening to the Legally Blonde the Musical soundtrack. Listening to any song by Avant takes me back to my BFF Jenn’s house in middle school; American Baby by DMB puts my in my car at 4:30 am driving to open the airport store; any song by the Books and I’m in the living room in Ocean City with all my best friends. I brought Tapan’s cologne with me here, and sometimes I spray it on the shirt he gave me so that when I miss him I can cuddle with it. And I’m not just with the shirt when I do that – I really am back in his arms.
I’m reminded of this whole phenomenon every time I walk home from or to Laplace. I pass a particularly stinky area on the way - I think it’s a sewage drain or something – and I have memories of sea. I know it doesn’t sound too nice, that the smell of sewage reminds me of one of the best summers of my life, but it’s the truth. The MS Explorer sometimes had its problems with stinky toilet smell. The first level especially, so sometimes when we arrived in port and had to pass through there to get on and off the ship, we’d be a little inconvenienced. It was never so bad that we’d have to cover our noses or anything, and I don’t think there was any sanitation problem involved. And it’s the same here on that road to Laplace. In fact sometimes I feel rather twisted that I smell that and a smile immediately comes across my face because I’m back at sea, about to have some adventures with McKenzie in Costa Rica, or on the brink of gaining some street cred in Callou, Peru with Jesse and Claire.
But that’s the power of the olfactory sense. And whenever a smell or sound triggers a memory I feel incredibly satisfied. Oh, there are so many things I wish I could share with you all that I just can’t. Sure, I can record a sound and post it here, but it’s just impossible to do that with smell. I wish I could send vials of the smell of pain chaud from La Mie Caline, or this new apple-vanilla artisan soap I bought, or the air last night right before it rained. It makes me at once sad that I can’t share it, and grateful that there are some things that will always be just mine.
And whenever I have one of these memories I wonder what will be the smells that remind me of France in the future. Will it be cranberries (my first shampoo)? Will it be the smell of warm brioche? The honey & milk hand soap that I use? The bitter smell of the scarf that I keep forgetting to wash? The deodorant I use here? And what will be the sounds that take me back? What tastes?
What do you guys think? Have you any smells or sounds that bring you back to a specific place or time, good or bad?
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