Tweaking things

Ok, so before I launch into my fabulous Christmas stories, I want you to check out the recent changes to my blog.
1. Check out my sister's blog via the link...just this way, folks >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Now you can get stories from both sides of the region

2. If you look at the bottom of this post, you will see a place where you can mark your reactions to my posts (check all that apply).

Are you ready to hear how a church was closed for Christmas, how we navigated the metro with all odds against us, how Laura got locked inside a train, and how I was subjected to foie gras yet again?  Stayed tuned!
--Mary

P.S. More comments equals more stories

How do they find me?

The crazy people, I mean.  Not the ones who are actually mentally ill, just the ones who do obnoxious things in public.

The other night I went out with the other assistants.  We went to a crepe restaurant because we wanted dinner, but the waitress told us that the kitchen was closing in an hour and a half, so they could only serve desserts (which doesn't make sense, because they would have to heat up our dessert crepes anyway). So, we had dessert before dinner. The reason I mention this is because I ate a crepe with a filling called Speculoos, which is a delicious cookie, as well as a peanut butter/ nutella spread (it tastes like cinnamon). Yeah, it just might replace nutella in my life. :)

Then we went out for dinner. Let me remind you, however, that the assistants are very nice people and definitely not the people I was referring to at the beginning of this post.  There is more to come on that subject.

I TASTED HORSE MEAT!  Ok, I was a little nervous at first, but it just tastes like strong beef.  It's not bad, it just tugged at my conscience a little.

After dinner, we went to a little bar around the corner from the restaurant.  It was more like a pub, really.  I love the decor in this particular pub, because it makes me want to go there to have intellectual discussions.  You know, like the old French, philosophers.

Anyway, I tried a beer called pecheresse, which is like beer with peach syrup in it (so it isn't half bad). I must have been digging for an intellectual discussion, because we all starting talking about linguistics and the relationship between language and society.  It was just getting exciting when...

These three guys came up to our table.  In the background, there had previously been a party of Frenchmen who had been loudly singing and laughing.  The other assistants reasoned that I had become the object of a dare, because they all came up to me and asked if I spoke French.  Then they introduced themselves (only to me).  The first guy shook my hand, the second guy shook my hand, and the third guy gave me la bise, at which the first guy claimed to be jealous and gave me la bise as well (the third guy was luckily stuck behind a pillar, or else I would have been kissed again).

For all those who don't know what la bise is: In greeting , the French kiss each other on both cheeks. In this region, they start on the right and go to the left, but it varies (sometimes they do three!).  When you have been the victim of la bise as many times as I have, you start to get used to it.  Perfect strangers give it when they first meet.  Friends will greet each other every single day with la bise (coming and going)...and that's when it gets ridiculous. 

They asked me if they could come home with me and I gave a firm, but polite, no and sent them back to their table where they proceeded to start blowing kisses at us at intervals.  Finally, Laura called me and I had to leave. As I got up, they shouted at me to come to their table. ("Mary, VIENT!!") I shook my head and kept walking to the sound of them shouting my name throughout the pub. ("MARY MARY MARY MARY!") AWKWARD!  I have never been so targeted in my life.

How do they find me, these crazy people?!?!?

Stories and Lessons

So, the last bit of the last post was what you call "stringing the readers along."  The headline is usually better than the story, just so you know.

Anyway, last week we went to Strasbourg for the Christmas Markets.  They definitely have the best Christmas Markets I've seen outside of Germany.  Take a look at my pictures, and you'll see what I mean.

(Now that I've revisited these pictures, I think I didn't take any pictures of the actual Christmas Market, just the houses around it...oops!)

 I think it's safe to say that I want to live in a house like these (not that squished together, just the architectural style)

 There were a ton of musicians on the streets.  There was one band that had this guy playing the weirdest instrument I've ever seen:  it was like a guitar-harp-glockenspiel. When I find out what it was, I'll let you know.

 Ok, so I have one picture of a cool hut.  Witches are really big in Strasbourg, but we couldn't figure out why.

The chalets sold everything from decorations to the best kind of food.  Since we were sort of on a food mission, we tried vin chaud (I caved for the rouge because it was cheaper, not because I like it better than the blanc) and got these really cool boots to drink it in.  We also ate bretels, boules de mousse (which is a chocolate covered marshmellow).  When it came time for lunch, we went around trying to find out the price of the sausages (which is difficult, because they don't advertise it so you can't compare prices...which is what we were trying to do...).  We must have been standing too close to one of the booths (there is a space beyond which they cannot consider you a customer), because the sausage guy started shouting at us in English (he overheard us talking).  We told him we spoke French, but he waved us closer to talk to us (and sell us sausages).  He then noticed that Laura and I were twins (we were also with our lovely friend Sam, who is, unfortunately for the sausage man, very vegetarian).  He said "oh look, one for me and one for my friend here (the guy cooking the sausages).  Do you accept, do you accept?"  We both gave him a blank stare.  In between confirming our orders, he kept saying, "do you accept?"  even though we kept saying no.  Since Laura and I were keen on eating sausages anyway, we totally fell for his selling scheme.  Whatever, it was funny.  I didn't even really get a choice of sausage, he made me choose the white (which was ok, Laura really liked it) and he made Laura put a sauce on hers, even though she said no to sauce about three times.  Once they get you talking, they can sell you anything.  But, even when the sausage was safely in my possession, he still kept asking me if I accepted.  Sheesh! He wasn't too bad looking, so he'll probably have a girlfriend by the end of the Markets.

 The cathedral.  we couldn't go inside because they were in the middle of a live nativity which we didn't have time to see.  I still like the cathedral in Metz better...

Sleepy river...

Lessons: I've learned that...

 - I am not a duck.  When my feet get wet and cold, I get sick, like I did this weekend. Hrumphf!

That's all for now.  I have to get enough sleep and recover from this cold!
--Mary

Adorable moment of the day...

So, I was teaching a class on Christmas in the USA (something I think I'll be doing for the rest of my life it seems!).  As an icebreaker, I asked the students for their name, age, and what they wanted for Christmas.  The answers went something like this:

"Phone"
"Computer"
"book"
"hair straightener"

and then,

"I want an English dictionary."

I nearly choked. "Umm..." I said, holding back the laughter (this is one of the kids who is in love with me) "get the Oxford English dictionary!"  SO ADORABLE!

More to follow about my adventures in Strasbourg (and how the guy selling sausages tried to get me to go on a date with him).

I knew that would pique your interest.

--Mary

More Food Adventures and random thoughts...

I don't seem to have time to write about all of my adventures.  Here are some things from the past week:

On Monday evening, I attended another one of my English learning dinners with some of the locals.  This time, we had quiche lorraine made by one lady's 12-year-old daughter.  It was so good.  We started with (I can't remember the french word, but it's when they make wine with frozen grapes...I think it was an Alsatian word...) white wine, followed by smoked salmon on tzaziki sauce (even though they called it cheese.  I could see what it was on the label...ah the french!) followed by more of the white wine.  Then, we ate the quiche and a salad I brought.  And followed it with some Merlot.  Then we ate cheese: brie, reblouchon, comte, some smelly cheese that tasted good, and rochefort (which I had tasted earlier in the day with my students during a dégustation)

On Saturday, I went with Laura to Paris for the day (yeah...I live close enough to do that.)  The idea was to see the Christmas Markets, but they were just fried food and Parisian souvenirs, so we spent the day with our friend Jonathan. We had lunch in a French cafe, tasted some vin chaud blanc (which is better than the rouge in my opinion), and went to a very ritzy salon du the for some pastries.  The restaurant was called Angelina's on the Rue de Rivoli (near the Tulleries metro stop), and they are apparently world famous for their hot chocolate and a pastry called Mont Blanc (which also comes in chocolate, Daddy).  The prices were a bit steep for three penniless travelers, so we all opted for a pastry instead of the hot chocolate.  I had the Choc Africain, which is like...a thin brownie covered in a one-inch layer of soft chocolate with a dollop of whipped chocolate something-or-other on the top.  It was amazing.  Laura tried the Mont Blanc and Jonathan tried the Mont Blanc chocolate edition.  I tried both, and I have to say that there isn't much difference in taste--they are both amazing.  They make the Mont Blanc from a 100-year-old secret recipe.


Sadly, I didn't take any pictures.  I guess I'll have to go back some day.

The metro on the way back was atrocious.  It's really a good thing that I'm not claustrophobic, or I would have died.  The city was extra crowded because of tourists for the Christmas Markets. I'm really glad I don't live in Paris.

Last night, as we were walking home, we were given some guy's phone number that he shouted out the window at us.  I'm pretty sure he was either drunk, or one of my students.  The number ended in a six...


Today, I went to mass with one of the other assistants and then stayed with them for lunch.  It was one of those relaxing type days (even though I don't have time to do such a thing).  Now to lesson planning!  Why does school have to be in session tomorrow?  Christmas can't come soon enough.

Metz-ing around

This past weekend, I went with the other assistants from Verdun and my sister to Metz to see the Marché de Noël - which was all over the city.  We tasted churros, which the French pronounce as shehros (or chi-chi, which they pronounce as she-she).  According to my friend Chico, they were not very authentically Spanish.  Then we went to Flunch for lunch, which is this crazy cafeteria place where you choose your salad and stuff, then your meat.  You pay for that stuff, then collect your meat from any station and pick out your starches/veggies.  It was good, but not good enough for me to go back.

Feeling cold, we decided to spend the rest of the day indoors.  We went to the Centre Pompidou, which is a modern art museum (like the one in Paris).  They have three floors.  My favorite floor was the top floor.  It was a black and white photography exhibit, except the room was completely dark and they gave us flashlights to explore (that we had to crank up constantly, or they wouldn't have enough light to see anything).  Great idea, but poorly executed.  I think the fact that we got bored was part of the problem.  Laura, Steffi, and Chico had a flashlight war while Rosie and I tried to actually view the pictures.

On the second floor, they had a wall exhibit.  I kid you not.  They were these walls that were painted and had lines drawn on them.  When we first walked in, they had these square designs on the wall facing.  It looked like they used to have paintings on them, but they had been taken down.  That's what I thought, anyway, until I realized that all the walls were like that.  oops!

My roommate tells me that they change the exhibits all the time, so I might go back sometime.  It's worth more than one visit, according to the assistants who live in Metz.

 The walls exhibit.  Personally, the bottom picture reminds me of Ventures...

 --Ciao!
Mary

Snow! oh my!

Yesterday, we had our first major snow.  Luckily, I left for my school just as it was starting, so I was spared the "abominable snowman" look when I arrived at my lycée.

I've decided to learn how to say "hello" in obscure languages.  My students always say hi to me as I pass, but just saying hello like a CD recording is getting dull.  (My American accent sounds CD perfect next to theirs--even though it isn't).  I've decided to completely confuse them.  Maybe I should learn a sentence or two of Japanese, or some African language.  *cue evil laugh*

Funny story: Last week, one of my terminale students said "bonjour" instead of hello like all the other students do.  I responded with hello because I had just said it to the group of students right in front of him.  Later, I thought, I should have answered in French.  (I don't think that students should be forced to speak English outside of English class.)  Anyway, I felt bad about it.  "No wonder they're scared of me!" I thought.  (True story: I had 18 and 19-year-olds running away from me in the kitchen because they didn't want to speak English with me--even the ones who are twice my size.  Get a grip on it, people!).  Well, this week he said "now I'm going to say hello."  Progress in teaching?  I'd like to think that.  With all the "horrible teenagers" I have to deal with, I sometimes feel like I won't make a difference in their miserable lives (yeah, their English is that bad, even though they've studied it since primary school).

Plus, teenagers are just large children.  I don't find them to be as difficult to deal with as the teachers seem to, but I think that's because I'm young and new and interesting and they really don't have a good enough command of English to thoroughly insult me (but they try, believe me, they try.  They got very close to a tongue-lashing from me once, but I was too speechless to respond the the comment). My lycée students are just kids, really.  They are kind of cute and charming (as much as teenagers can be) and they remind me of larger versions of my collège students.  They do things in class that they think I can't see (but I TOTALLY can).  In case you can't tell, I'm liking my lycée experience a lot more than my other school.  It's not that the teachers are nicer in one than the other or the students are better, I just seem to get along with my lycée (plus, it's more interesting and I have some freedom in what I do). 

This is a rant; I'm sorry for that.  It's because I'm faced with my other school for the rest of the week and I'm not looking forward to it.  Sigh.