It's raining and I feel like staying in with a nice hot supper (hot sausages and yorkshire pudding anyone? Rosie gave me a crash course in toad in the hole a couple of weeks ago and I've been dying to try it ever since.)
Anyway, my brain feels like it is about to explode. I am getting a roommate tomorrow and I can't say I'm happy about it. We'll see. Both the Principal and the Gestionaire told me about it (only the gestionnaire told me twice...I think he's working too hard lately), for which I am extremely grateful. Their one consolation was that I will no longer be living alone. HA! I've been piecing all the bits together, but I guess I'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out the true story about the new surveillant. (Also, I can tell it's been bothering me all day because I've caught myself daydreaming and cleaning like a maniac at intervals.) What can I say, I like living alone (well, with a part-time roommate, anyway). Patience is a virtue. The last time I got a roommate, it was only ok (just barely).
*sigh* Just as I think life is going just nicely (meaning that our Verdun family as finally adjusted to our newest member), I get a curve ball.
Rain, rain go away, come again some other day (or preferably not at all).
The Life and Adventures of a Teaching Assistant in France
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Generalizations [stereotypes] about the French Part 1
This is an ongoing post series, I suppose. Laura and I have been commenting back and forth about certain things we've noticed about the French. Not that these are all true or always true. Perhaps they have some cultural explanation that escapes us.
Why do so many French people walk with a limp?
Casualties from the Tour de France? Too much foie gras? I really can't say.
French men.
Maybe it's because we're women, but the men seem a bit more, flirtatious than they are back home. They stare much more and are bolder in their speech.
They love to tease. They will say something if only to ruffle the feathers of the women nearby. They think nothing of bestowing lavish compliments on a lady if it will get them somewhere in life (they usually start by, you are the most beautiful...) This is a learned thing. Some of my students do it do me to get on my good side and I know they didn't think of it themselves.
They also do this weird walk where they strut with their hands in their pockets and their heads held high (not unlike a bunch of roosters). This is definitely learned. I saw a three-year-old doing it.
And you all know my story about me at the bar. Enough said about this subject.
The French are very proud to be French.
They all think that France is the best country in the world (and why shouldn't they?). A lot of people who live in Verdun are actually Italian, but they consider themselves to be just as French as the next man. They will only mention their origins if you press them.
The one problem with this is the"If France is the greatest country in the world, why should I ever leave?" attitude. Sadly, most of my students have never been outside France, some not even to Paris or outside La Meuse.
As one Frenchman once said to me, "I really love my country!" He had been all over the planet (to Mongolia, even), but he still has a fondness for his own country. Now that's true patriotism--when you know better and still support your country.
The French love babies and old people.
I have observed on several occasion, people going up to babies and making goo-goo eyes at them. The babies are delighted as are the parents. I have not really seen crying babies in public. I also have observed the younger generation assisting the elderly to walk around town and do their shopping. They seem to take good care of them.
Opinions Galore.
All the French people I know are very helpful, in fact, I don't know where I would be without their suggestions. They are so helpful, in fact, that I find them opinionated from time to time. I have never noted malice, just AHH! I wish they would get out of my hair sometimes. (this is not to say that I am not opinionated...because I am). A lot of advice stems from backhanded criticisms. (maybe this is just D, I don't know!). I think it might stem from language, actually. Suggestions in French hit me harder in the ear than in English. I think we tend to soften things with modals too much
Why do so many French people walk with a limp?
Casualties from the Tour de France? Too much foie gras? I really can't say.
French men.
Maybe it's because we're women, but the men seem a bit more, flirtatious than they are back home. They stare much more and are bolder in their speech.
They love to tease. They will say something if only to ruffle the feathers of the women nearby. They think nothing of bestowing lavish compliments on a lady if it will get them somewhere in life (they usually start by, you are the most beautiful...) This is a learned thing. Some of my students do it do me to get on my good side and I know they didn't think of it themselves.
They also do this weird walk where they strut with their hands in their pockets and their heads held high (not unlike a bunch of roosters). This is definitely learned. I saw a three-year-old doing it.
And you all know my story about me at the bar. Enough said about this subject.
The French are very proud to be French.
They all think that France is the best country in the world (and why shouldn't they?). A lot of people who live in Verdun are actually Italian, but they consider themselves to be just as French as the next man. They will only mention their origins if you press them.
The one problem with this is the"If France is the greatest country in the world, why should I ever leave?" attitude. Sadly, most of my students have never been outside France, some not even to Paris or outside La Meuse.
As one Frenchman once said to me, "I really love my country!" He had been all over the planet (to Mongolia, even), but he still has a fondness for his own country. Now that's true patriotism--when you know better and still support your country.
The French love babies and old people.
I have observed on several occasion, people going up to babies and making goo-goo eyes at them. The babies are delighted as are the parents. I have not really seen crying babies in public. I also have observed the younger generation assisting the elderly to walk around town and do their shopping. They seem to take good care of them.
Opinions Galore.
All the French people I know are very helpful, in fact, I don't know where I would be without their suggestions. They are so helpful, in fact, that I find them opinionated from time to time. I have never noted malice, just AHH! I wish they would get out of my hair sometimes. (this is not to say that I am not opinionated...because I am). A lot of advice stems from backhanded criticisms. (maybe this is just D, I don't know!). I think it might stem from language, actually. Suggestions in French hit me harder in the ear than in English. I think we tend to soften things with modals too much
Sunday, January 27, 2013
La femme en noir
Last night, after a lesson planning party (which included ordering pizza for the first time in France...a story all its own), we decided to watch The Woman in Black, the horror film with Daniel Radcliffe. I have quite a lot to say about it, so I thought I would rant a little here...
Now, before I start, I think I better say that the conditions for watching this particular horror film were not the greatest. It was on a laptop (much less scarier than on the big screen, I imagine), the internet connection kept going in and out (so we had to pause the movie a couple of times), and the fact that some of the other assistants were trying to relieve the tension a bit by burping at intervals, making jokes about Harry Potter, and playing the SNCF sound. (It is an inside joke with us, I'm afraid. It is certainly the most annoying noise you've ever heard. I found a music remix of the four notes they play in the station. Why do the people I hang around with set this noise as their ringtone?!?!? When you've heard it as many times as I have, it is quite amusing and annoying at the same time.) It also didn't help that Rosie was screaming and whimpering in my ear at intervals throughout the movie (which gave away some of the surprises, I'm afraid.)
After we decided what language to watch it in (English with Spanish subtitles...Chinese with Japanese subtitles was carefully considered, but vetoed in the end) we passed around the red wine and sparkling water (I had the water, just so you know) and settled down to watch the film.
The story takes place mostly in Cryphon Gifford in a haunted mansion inhabited by the woman in black. Daniel Radcliffe (who plays Mr. Kipps, I believe...again, not sure due to the chitchat and frequent burping). He is some sort of inheritance executor and must go through all of the papers in the house before it is sold.
He soon discovers that the house is haunted by the woman is black. Every time someone sees her, a child in the village dies by suicide (because her son died by a violent death as well?) Mr. Kipps tries to appease her ghost by finding the body of her son (who drowned in the mire), but it doesn't work.
The plot is very thin and there is almost no character development on the part of Mr. Kipps. Rosie assures me that the book is better, but I still don't see the ghost's vengeance tactics as logical. After all, why would ghost be visible if not to have people see them? It's not our fault if we can see, but entirely theirs. It's not like every time she comes in contact with an adult she hurts that person or that person's children--just some child from the village, completely at random.
Nevertheless, the film was superbly shot and directed. The tension just oozed out of every scene. I became interested in the next thrill or scary thing rather than the development of the main character. I still don't know what I was supposed to get out of the film. What was the message? Why did I waste my time watching it? What is my benefit, the lesson learned? I guess I'll have to read the book to find out.
UPDATE: After talking with Rosie, its clear that the book is better and makes more sense. Oh Hollywood!
Let me finish this story by saying that when I got home and was just getting ready for bed, I heard a loud thump in the stairway of death (which usually makes creepy noises at night anyway). Perhaps I did jump a bit, and perhaps I went to bed quite quickly, keeping the light on a bit longer than usual, considering it was in the wee hours of the morning. The imagination, my friends, is more powerful than the screen.
Now, before I start, I think I better say that the conditions for watching this particular horror film were not the greatest. It was on a laptop (much less scarier than on the big screen, I imagine), the internet connection kept going in and out (so we had to pause the movie a couple of times), and the fact that some of the other assistants were trying to relieve the tension a bit by burping at intervals, making jokes about Harry Potter, and playing the SNCF sound. (It is an inside joke with us, I'm afraid. It is certainly the most annoying noise you've ever heard. I found a music remix of the four notes they play in the station. Why do the people I hang around with set this noise as their ringtone?!?!? When you've heard it as many times as I have, it is quite amusing and annoying at the same time.) It also didn't help that Rosie was screaming and whimpering in my ear at intervals throughout the movie (which gave away some of the surprises, I'm afraid.)
After we decided what language to watch it in (English with Spanish subtitles...Chinese with Japanese subtitles was carefully considered, but vetoed in the end) we passed around the red wine and sparkling water (I had the water, just so you know) and settled down to watch the film.
The story takes place mostly in Cryphon Gifford in a haunted mansion inhabited by the woman in black. Daniel Radcliffe (who plays Mr. Kipps, I believe...again, not sure due to the chitchat and frequent burping). He is some sort of inheritance executor and must go through all of the papers in the house before it is sold.
He soon discovers that the house is haunted by the woman is black. Every time someone sees her, a child in the village dies by suicide (because her son died by a violent death as well?) Mr. Kipps tries to appease her ghost by finding the body of her son (who drowned in the mire), but it doesn't work.
The plot is very thin and there is almost no character development on the part of Mr. Kipps. Rosie assures me that the book is better, but I still don't see the ghost's vengeance tactics as logical. After all, why would ghost be visible if not to have people see them? It's not our fault if we can see, but entirely theirs. It's not like every time she comes in contact with an adult she hurts that person or that person's children--just some child from the village, completely at random.
Nevertheless, the film was superbly shot and directed. The tension just oozed out of every scene. I became interested in the next thrill or scary thing rather than the development of the main character. I still don't know what I was supposed to get out of the film. What was the message? Why did I waste my time watching it? What is my benefit, the lesson learned? I guess I'll have to read the book to find out.
UPDATE: After talking with Rosie, its clear that the book is better and makes more sense. Oh Hollywood!
Let me finish this story by saying that when I got home and was just getting ready for bed, I heard a loud thump in the stairway of death (which usually makes creepy noises at night anyway). Perhaps I did jump a bit, and perhaps I went to bed quite quickly, keeping the light on a bit longer than usual, considering it was in the wee hours of the morning. The imagination, my friends, is more powerful than the screen.
Friday, January 25, 2013
A day in a French school
There many things I didn't know about the French idea of education when I started working as an assistant (for instance, that they have coffee breaks in the middle of the day. At first, I thought it was completely random, but now, it's part of my routine).
The day starts in the collège at 8 o'clock. All the students are dropped off by their parents, walk to school, or take public transportation. They wait for their teachers in the main courtyard below the classrooms. The asphalt in the courtyard is marked with the numbers of the classrooms with little lines to separate groups from each other. After the bell rings, the teacher comes out whenever they feel like it (literally) and escorts the students up to their classroom, two by two. The students may not find the classroom themselves. Generally, the students make it there before the teacher and try to kill each other in the hallway in front of the classroom while waiting for the teacher.
When the teacher arrives at the back of the pack, he or she waits until all the students are quiet enough to go inside the classroom. Believe me, this method doesn't work; they are just as noisy when they take off their backpacks and settle in for class.
When they are all assembled, the teacher tells them when they may sit down and then takes the role (or yells at the kids for being too noisy). This is the point at which the students may ask for a tissue (and guess who they get it from?). "Madame, can I have a mouchoir?"
The teacher stands on a raised platform in front of the classroom to show authority and to make sure all the students can see. I usually stand to the side of this platform to avoid killing myself stepping up and down (as it is, I always nick the corner...ahhhh....).
Most teachers just stand at the front and teach. As the assistant, I like to walk around the classroom (the kids like it better that way...then they can talk to me one and one and I can hear them).
The classes last about 55 minutes. They have a 15 minute break right before 10 and again before 3:30 with an hour and a half for lunch (and only an hour on Fridays). I always know it's lunchtime when I hear the bell ring and hundreds of screaming students rush into the courtyard below my window. The day officially ends at 5:30 pm (or 5 on Fridays).
What I find annoying is that the students aren't allowed to find the classroom by themselves. After each break, the teacher goes down to the courtyard, collects the students, and comes back up again (waits for them to be quiet, yells at them when they're not), etc. The students are old enough to walk up stairs by themselves. It's not like they don't do that at the other hours of the day. *sigh* (I asked a teacher once why they do it, and she didn't know...my point exactly).
Today, a student proudly told me that he got the best "note", or grade, in his class. Grades are a big deal. I have a feeling that French parents are very hard on their children about this. Grades are calculated out of 20 (or sur vingt). Now, a dix sur vingt or 10 out of 20 is considered a good grade. Below that is pretty bad. As one of my French professors once told me : 20/20 is for God, 17-19 is for teachers, 10-16 is for good students, 10 is average, below 10 is failing. As far as I can tell, the grades are sometimes administered au pif, or however the teacher is feeling that day. For example, I went around with one teacher to the hotellerie while she was giving oral exams (kind of). She had me talk to the students while she graded them (out of 10). I remember she gave one student 7/10 at which he replied "Oh, thank you madame, that's very generous." --especially since he didn't do so well (partly owing to the fact that his neighbor kept interrupting and asking for my phone number).
Well, now it's Friday, the school day is over, and I am going celebrate by doing lesson planning :(
à bientôt,
Mary
The day starts in the collège at 8 o'clock. All the students are dropped off by their parents, walk to school, or take public transportation. They wait for their teachers in the main courtyard below the classrooms. The asphalt in the courtyard is marked with the numbers of the classrooms with little lines to separate groups from each other. After the bell rings, the teacher comes out whenever they feel like it (literally) and escorts the students up to their classroom, two by two. The students may not find the classroom themselves. Generally, the students make it there before the teacher and try to kill each other in the hallway in front of the classroom while waiting for the teacher.
When the teacher arrives at the back of the pack, he or she waits until all the students are quiet enough to go inside the classroom. Believe me, this method doesn't work; they are just as noisy when they take off their backpacks and settle in for class.
When they are all assembled, the teacher tells them when they may sit down and then takes the role (or yells at the kids for being too noisy). This is the point at which the students may ask for a tissue (and guess who they get it from?). "Madame, can I have a mouchoir?"
The teacher stands on a raised platform in front of the classroom to show authority and to make sure all the students can see. I usually stand to the side of this platform to avoid killing myself stepping up and down (as it is, I always nick the corner...ahhhh....).
Most teachers just stand at the front and teach. As the assistant, I like to walk around the classroom (the kids like it better that way...then they can talk to me one and one and I can hear them).
The classes last about 55 minutes. They have a 15 minute break right before 10 and again before 3:30 with an hour and a half for lunch (and only an hour on Fridays). I always know it's lunchtime when I hear the bell ring and hundreds of screaming students rush into the courtyard below my window. The day officially ends at 5:30 pm (or 5 on Fridays).
What I find annoying is that the students aren't allowed to find the classroom by themselves. After each break, the teacher goes down to the courtyard, collects the students, and comes back up again (waits for them to be quiet, yells at them when they're not), etc. The students are old enough to walk up stairs by themselves. It's not like they don't do that at the other hours of the day. *sigh* (I asked a teacher once why they do it, and she didn't know...my point exactly).
Today, a student proudly told me that he got the best "note", or grade, in his class. Grades are a big deal. I have a feeling that French parents are very hard on their children about this. Grades are calculated out of 20 (or sur vingt). Now, a dix sur vingt or 10 out of 20 is considered a good grade. Below that is pretty bad. As one of my French professors once told me : 20/20 is for God, 17-19 is for teachers, 10-16 is for good students, 10 is average, below 10 is failing. As far as I can tell, the grades are sometimes administered au pif, or however the teacher is feeling that day. For example, I went around with one teacher to the hotellerie while she was giving oral exams (kind of). She had me talk to the students while she graded them (out of 10). I remember she gave one student 7/10 at which he replied "Oh, thank you madame, that's very generous." --especially since he didn't do so well (partly owing to the fact that his neighbor kept interrupting and asking for my phone number).
Well, now it's Friday, the school day is over, and I am going celebrate by doing lesson planning :(
à bientôt,
Mary
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Sunshine and Snow
On my walk this afternoon, I simply drank in the rays of sunlight that hit my face through the trees. Today was the second of two partly-sunny days this year. And before that...I can't even remember, it's been so long. I wish I'd had my camera with me (it would sure make this blog more interesting). I think I may be in love...with sunshine! If you'd had non-stop grey skies for the past few weeks, I think you'd understand.
Life certainly has its ups and downs. I didn't work on Monday (yes!) because we had an ice storm on Sunday. (Check out Laura's saga here) I almost dawdled getting ready in the morning until I saw people slipping and sliding outside. Good thing I did, because I made sure I was extra careful on the way to the cathedral.
For those of you who don't know the layout of the town (which is most of you), the cathedral sits on a hill--a rather big one, in fact. It can be climbed by stairs, but when there's ice... I had a fun adventure ice skating :)
The next day, even though the ice was mostly gone thanks to a community effort (more on this in a minute), the students didn't show up at school, so I didn't have to go (whoopee for me!) the only annoying thing is that I spent all that time lesson planning. Grrr.
I think I have discovered a way to partially solve unemployment in France during the winter months--Hire people to put salt on the sidewalks and clean up the snow. I know, they don't do that here. Verdun was a giant ice rink. One of my profs told me that they have this snow thing down pat in the alps but not here (even though they get snow here pretty much every year). Whatever. I just hope I don't fall.
Now to more work!
Life certainly has its ups and downs. I didn't work on Monday (yes!) because we had an ice storm on Sunday. (Check out Laura's saga here) I almost dawdled getting ready in the morning until I saw people slipping and sliding outside. Good thing I did, because I made sure I was extra careful on the way to the cathedral.
For those of you who don't know the layout of the town (which is most of you), the cathedral sits on a hill--a rather big one, in fact. It can be climbed by stairs, but when there's ice... I had a fun adventure ice skating :)
The next day, even though the ice was mostly gone thanks to a community effort (more on this in a minute), the students didn't show up at school, so I didn't have to go (whoopee for me!) the only annoying thing is that I spent all that time lesson planning. Grrr.
I think I have discovered a way to partially solve unemployment in France during the winter months--Hire people to put salt on the sidewalks and clean up the snow. I know, they don't do that here. Verdun was a giant ice rink. One of my profs told me that they have this snow thing down pat in the alps but not here (even though they get snow here pretty much every year). Whatever. I just hope I don't fall.
Now to more work!
Friday, January 18, 2013
You know you're having a good day...
...when a teacher compliments you on your hat hair, believing it to be a new haircut. Yeah, it happened. It totally made my day. On the other hand, she could have been complimenting me on my hat, which is a lot better than the hat-hair.
...when you get the sweetest students in the world and you feel good after teaching :)
...when you have large upheavals in your life, but you feel like you acted like a responsible adult and everything is going smoothly, in adult-like fashion. (but believe me, my brain is screaming, this can't possibly go this smoothly.)
...when you think to yourself, "hey, I actually can speak french today!" ...a feeling which will probably disappear completely in a manner of minutes as you go to meet some french people. Ah, c'est la vie!
...when you get the sweetest students in the world and you feel good after teaching :)
...when you have large upheavals in your life, but you feel like you acted like a responsible adult and everything is going smoothly, in adult-like fashion. (but believe me, my brain is screaming, this can't possibly go this smoothly.)
...when you think to yourself, "hey, I actually can speak french today!" ...a feeling which will probably disappear completely in a manner of minutes as you go to meet some french people. Ah, c'est la vie!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Mirabelle
The symbol of this region is the little yellow plum known as Mirabelle. (et elle est belle!) You can make Mirabelle everything and they do (even Mirabelle schnapps, which is particularly strong. I think I've mentioned it in the past when they made me try it with a sugar cube. There are those who drink it straight...just so you know).
I've had Mirabelle preserves (very good...I'll have to see how much I can bring home), Mirabelle schnapps (with a sugar cube), Mirabelle nougat, Mirabelle madeleines, Mirabelle tarte, and now, last night, Mirabelle Galette des rois.
And today, I made Mirabelle bread pudding! I had to use up some baguette before it went rock-solid on me, as well as some milk and eggs. I found a simple recipe and made it au pif, or eye-balled it, as D would say. (D is the roommate of the other assistants--an older French lady. She is very nice and shares all of her cooking secrets with us young people--in fact I think she quite enjoys it. Sometimes, she is a bit opinionated and goes head to head with Steffi, but more on that later.) I just added a glop of Mirabelle preserves to the recipe (even though I had already added vanilla, which according to D "C'est pas terrible!" meaning it will taste terrible). Well, it doesn't taste terrible. I don't think it will last very long...hehe
Last night (and three other times this month) I have been invited to share La Galette des rois - the celebration of the feast of the three kings. As one of my teachers, Mme L says, "It's a Catholic tradition. I don't know why we do it, but I rather like it!" I rather like it myself.
It's a cake...well, more like a pie, actually, as I found out last night. You make a pie crust for the bottom and bake it while you make the filling or the frangipain. La frangipain is made out of almond meal, sugar, eggs, sometimes butter or sometimes creme fraiche so sometime both (if you're D and you don't like butter...you go for the butter-less option). You mix it all up(...I couldn't tell you the amounts exactly. She did it au pif and kept changing her mind....)and you put it in the pie. At this point, you can lay the Mirabelle plums inside (and maybe put a little of the syrup in the frangipain as well). Cover with the other crust, and paint with one egg (and a pinch of salt). Bake at 200 degrees Celcius for thirty minutes and voila!
Oh, I forgot one thing...you must add la fevre, or a little thing inside the cake. It could be a little statue, a piece of money. Ours was a cow last night. The person who finds it become the king (or queen) for the day. They take the paper crown and crown someone else to be their queen (or king).
Just so you know, I was four times unlucky. Perhaps next year...
And then I went off in the snow back to my own little home, my stomach warm with galette and my head warm with cidre and merlot (which is too strong, according to D it stays in your mouth too long, which is why Chico buys it--because it's strong, not because it annoys D).
Now back to lesson planning.
I've had Mirabelle preserves (very good...I'll have to see how much I can bring home), Mirabelle schnapps (with a sugar cube), Mirabelle nougat, Mirabelle madeleines, Mirabelle tarte, and now, last night, Mirabelle Galette des rois.
And today, I made Mirabelle bread pudding! I had to use up some baguette before it went rock-solid on me, as well as some milk and eggs. I found a simple recipe and made it au pif, or eye-balled it, as D would say. (D is the roommate of the other assistants--an older French lady. She is very nice and shares all of her cooking secrets with us young people--in fact I think she quite enjoys it. Sometimes, she is a bit opinionated and goes head to head with Steffi, but more on that later.) I just added a glop of Mirabelle preserves to the recipe (even though I had already added vanilla, which according to D "C'est pas terrible!" meaning it will taste terrible). Well, it doesn't taste terrible. I don't think it will last very long...hehe
Last night (and three other times this month) I have been invited to share La Galette des rois - the celebration of the feast of the three kings. As one of my teachers, Mme L says, "It's a Catholic tradition. I don't know why we do it, but I rather like it!" I rather like it myself.
It's a cake...well, more like a pie, actually, as I found out last night. You make a pie crust for the bottom and bake it while you make the filling or the frangipain. La frangipain is made out of almond meal, sugar, eggs, sometimes butter or sometimes creme fraiche so sometime both (if you're D and you don't like butter...you go for the butter-less option). You mix it all up(...I couldn't tell you the amounts exactly. She did it au pif and kept changing her mind....)and you put it in the pie. At this point, you can lay the Mirabelle plums inside (and maybe put a little of the syrup in the frangipain as well). Cover with the other crust, and paint with one egg (and a pinch of salt). Bake at 200 degrees Celcius for thirty minutes and voila!
Oh, I forgot one thing...you must add la fevre, or a little thing inside the cake. It could be a little statue, a piece of money. Ours was a cow last night. The person who finds it become the king (or queen) for the day. They take the paper crown and crown someone else to be their queen (or king).
Just so you know, I was four times unlucky. Perhaps next year...
And then I went off in the snow back to my own little home, my stomach warm with galette and my head warm with cidre and merlot (which is too strong, according to D it stays in your mouth too long, which is why Chico buys it--because it's strong, not because it annoys D).
Now back to lesson planning.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Snow Day
This morning I was awakened from my slumbers by a text message telling me I didn't have to go to work today! (well, actually first roused by my roommate who gets up excessively early. I am learning to sleep through that, though).
It snowed last night, although, from the glorious weather yesterday, you'd never have guessed it would. Yesterday the sun was shinning for the first time this year. Yeah, this place is that depressing. The sky is the same color all the time. It's fun when the precipitation is a different shape.
So I spent the day cooking, cleaning, and chatting with Rosie. I know so many wonderful people, I can't begin to express my gratitude.
Now the snowflakes have started falling again. Perhaps it will be a snow day again tomorrow.
It snowed last night, although, from the glorious weather yesterday, you'd never have guessed it would. Yesterday the sun was shinning for the first time this year. Yeah, this place is that depressing. The sky is the same color all the time. It's fun when the precipitation is a different shape.
So I spent the day cooking, cleaning, and chatting with Rosie. I know so many wonderful people, I can't begin to express my gratitude.
Now the snowflakes have started falling again. Perhaps it will be a snow day again tomorrow.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
There are two churches in Thierville...
Normally, this would be a good thing, but today, as we set out on our adventure to a local choral concert, it was most confusing.
Especially since the excursion was my idea (and I didn't really do that much research as to the location of the concert). It wasn't all my fault, however. Yeah, I was late (for the second time in my life!), but I did draw a map and hunt down a church-like building on google maps before setting out. As it turns out, they don't use that church anymore. They built a new one a few centuries ago with these fan-like radiator-structures they call "chauffage" or heating.
Anyway, the other assistants and I made friends with this German who works in town (Rosie and I met him at the dinners we go to). Yesterday when we all went out to see the Hobbit together (the third time for me! I'm not a fanatic, I just...yeah, whatever.), Rosie and I decided to go to this concert put on by the local paroisse. The other assistants couldn't make it, but the German offered to take us in his car (which was pretty nice of him, considering it was quite a distance).
This afternoon, we set off in the German's roadster ( he has a pretty sweet ride...it reminded me how much I miss driving. Ok, not driving, but having the choice to drive). Thierville is bigger than it looks. We went down the main street and found the church I had drawn on the map. But it was closed. Then we drove off in each direction from the round-about with no success. Finally, Philipp decided to go into the centre of town on a whim, and that's where we found the real church with the concert. (And we even asked people...they must not go to church that often).
The concert was charming. They even sang a French translation of White Christmas during hte second half. According to Philipp, they sang some German songs too. I was really happy we went. (The poster said eglise chauffee, which means heated church, but it was cold in there. When a sign says heated, it means you should be able to take your coat off. Rosie and I kept on not only our coats, but our hats, gloves, and scarves as well.)
We hung around for some tea and went out all together for dinner. It was altogether a charming day.
--Mary
Especially since the excursion was my idea (and I didn't really do that much research as to the location of the concert). It wasn't all my fault, however. Yeah, I was late (for the second time in my life!), but I did draw a map and hunt down a church-like building on google maps before setting out. As it turns out, they don't use that church anymore. They built a new one a few centuries ago with these fan-like radiator-structures they call "chauffage" or heating.
Anyway, the other assistants and I made friends with this German who works in town (Rosie and I met him at the dinners we go to). Yesterday when we all went out to see the Hobbit together (the third time for me! I'm not a fanatic, I just...yeah, whatever.), Rosie and I decided to go to this concert put on by the local paroisse. The other assistants couldn't make it, but the German offered to take us in his car (which was pretty nice of him, considering it was quite a distance).
This afternoon, we set off in the German's roadster ( he has a pretty sweet ride...it reminded me how much I miss driving. Ok, not driving, but having the choice to drive). Thierville is bigger than it looks. We went down the main street and found the church I had drawn on the map. But it was closed. Then we drove off in each direction from the round-about with no success. Finally, Philipp decided to go into the centre of town on a whim, and that's where we found the real church with the concert. (And we even asked people...they must not go to church that often).
The concert was charming. They even sang a French translation of White Christmas during hte second half. According to Philipp, they sang some German songs too. I was really happy we went. (The poster said eglise chauffee, which means heated church, but it was cold in there. When a sign says heated, it means you should be able to take your coat off. Rosie and I kept on not only our coats, but our hats, gloves, and scarves as well.)
We hung around for some tea and went out all together for dinner. It was altogether a charming day.
--Mary
La plus belle région de la France
Which is....? Anyone? Anyone? (translation, the most beautiful region of France)
Lorraine, of course! (a no-brainer if you live here).
Last week, some of my new friends took Laura and I to visit the northern part of the region--a tour which included a personal visit to the largest beer museum in Europe (no, I'm not joking), a French lunch, a French dinner, legends by firelight, and a tour of an ancient citadel.
I didn't take any pictures of the beer museum, but it was very cool. It was technically closed, but they opened it up for a special visit from the Americans (meaning us). We were the guests of honor and got a personal tour. Talk about nice people! I know so much about beer now (for instance, did you know that beer foams because it comes into contact with air, not because it is fizzing...it does fizz, but that's not the point.) We were with a teacher and her two sons (one of whom was ten). At the end of the visit, the ten-year-old gave us crayon rubbings of beer bottles from La Meuse...so cute!
According to the beer museum guide, Lorraine is the most beautiful region in France. After seeing Montmédy, I know he's right. You can see far across the valley (when it isn't raining.) Again, no pictures, sorry!
After a day of trekking around the region, we went to an American/British family's house for dinner (and we got some really cool stories by firelight.) We ate raclette, my favorite, and overall had a great time.
This is definitely my favorite region of France :)
--Mary
Lorraine, of course! (a no-brainer if you live here).
Last week, some of my new friends took Laura and I to visit the northern part of the region--a tour which included a personal visit to the largest beer museum in Europe (no, I'm not joking), a French lunch, a French dinner, legends by firelight, and a tour of an ancient citadel.
I didn't take any pictures of the beer museum, but it was very cool. It was technically closed, but they opened it up for a special visit from the Americans (meaning us). We were the guests of honor and got a personal tour. Talk about nice people! I know so much about beer now (for instance, did you know that beer foams because it comes into contact with air, not because it is fizzing...it does fizz, but that's not the point.) We were with a teacher and her two sons (one of whom was ten). At the end of the visit, the ten-year-old gave us crayon rubbings of beer bottles from La Meuse...so cute!
According to the beer museum guide, Lorraine is the most beautiful region in France. After seeing Montmédy, I know he's right. You can see far across the valley (when it isn't raining.) Again, no pictures, sorry!
After a day of trekking around the region, we went to an American/British family's house for dinner (and we got some really cool stories by firelight.) We ate raclette, my favorite, and overall had a great time.
This is definitely my favorite region of France :)
--Mary
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Paris in winter
Since you've already seen all my pictures of Paris, I won't bore you with a ton.
What can I say about Paris? I've been there about five or six times in my life (mostly recently) and I still get a different feel from the city every time I go. It's one of those cities that you can't really know in a matter of days. It takes a lifetime to really know Paris. You can visit one part and think you know it really well, and then turn a corner and be completely blown away by something completely different.
For example, I really love the fifth arrondissement, the Latin Quarter. I feel like its one of the most Parisian parts of Paris. It's right next to the river; you can hear the bells of Notre Dame and you aren't far from the touristy places. But then again, you are secluded because people actually live in the apartments there and it just feels so...lived in and charming.
But the Latin Quarter is very different from the places just across the river. Or from Place Monge, or Place d'Italie. (I really like Place Monge too. We went to this really fabulous restaurant there called the Atremis something or other. Because it's sort of off-season--although, tourists never take time off--it wasn't terribly crowded.) Yeah, there is also another great Moroccan restaurant not far from the Campo Formio metro stop on the fifth....and another one call Chez Prospero near the Place de la Nation...oh man, I'm still dreaming about that duck!
Paris is a little too touristy for my tastes--if you want to know the french, don't go to Paris, or at least not to the well-traveled parts that most Americans frequent.
Paris is not a big city...but then again, it is. All the buildings are the same height because (they're french and they like it that way.)
Ah! Their beloved Tour Eiffel.
Sacre Coeur on top of Montmartre where we ALMOST got scammed ...well, not really. Some advice: If you see a guy walking towards you with a string, run in the opposite direction. He'll tie it on your arm and make you pay to get it off. Not cool.
We spent the night at Sacre Coeur for their all-night adoration, which was REALLY cool. It was neat to hear Paris bustling at the bottom of the hill and be sitting very peacefully on the inside.
Ah Paris, what can I say? It will always surprise me.
What can I say about Paris? I've been there about five or six times in my life (mostly recently) and I still get a different feel from the city every time I go. It's one of those cities that you can't really know in a matter of days. It takes a lifetime to really know Paris. You can visit one part and think you know it really well, and then turn a corner and be completely blown away by something completely different.
For example, I really love the fifth arrondissement, the Latin Quarter. I feel like its one of the most Parisian parts of Paris. It's right next to the river; you can hear the bells of Notre Dame and you aren't far from the touristy places. But then again, you are secluded because people actually live in the apartments there and it just feels so...lived in and charming.
But the Latin Quarter is very different from the places just across the river. Or from Place Monge, or Place d'Italie. (I really like Place Monge too. We went to this really fabulous restaurant there called the Atremis something or other. Because it's sort of off-season--although, tourists never take time off--it wasn't terribly crowded.) Yeah, there is also another great Moroccan restaurant not far from the Campo Formio metro stop on the fifth....and another one call Chez Prospero near the Place de la Nation...oh man, I'm still dreaming about that duck!
Paris is a little too touristy for my tastes--if you want to know the french, don't go to Paris, or at least not to the well-traveled parts that most Americans frequent.
Paris is not a big city...but then again, it is. All the buildings are the same height because (they're french and they like it that way.)
We spent the night at Sacre Coeur for their all-night adoration, which was REALLY cool. It was neat to hear Paris bustling at the bottom of the hill and be sitting very peacefully on the inside.
Ah Paris, what can I say? It will always surprise me.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Noël Part 3: Christmas Day
Well, after spending Christmas Eve in Luxembourg and Metz (which was just sightseeing stuff and normal goofiness which I won't bother you with), we spent Christmas Day in Verdun.
The night before, one of the local people invited us to go and spend Christmas day with her family. We opted for the aperitif instead since we had our own dinner plans. They served us real champagne.
I think I've said it one hundred times if I've said it once: the French eat a lot!! I've not been to a single restaurant where the portions are not fully satisfying. Anyway, this lovely french family served us smoked salmon with a savoury madeleine, duck meat (it looked like a piece of bacon) with beets, comte (a type a cheese), apple and walnuts (my favorite thing of the afternoon) and also more foie gras (this time the way most people eat it. Still not a big fan, but the animal who so kindly donated his foie gras was raised by a relative of the family. They were just bringing out the oysters when we decided to call it quits. They had also been filling and re-filling our glasses the whole time. WOW!
I have to say that the people I've met are extremely hospitable and generous. I have a hard time imagining the average American putting themselves out quite like this.
After we left, we went home and had our own Christmas dinner (after all that! I know, right?) which included a homemade apple, courtesy of one of the seminarians (with a secret ingredient!). We played cards again 'til the wee hours and overall had a very pleasant time.
Picture time!
The creche in the Luxembourg Cathedral. I should have taken pictures of all the creches we came across. that would have been cool. Oh well!
Our raclette supper on Christmas Eve!
The famous apple pie. It was soooo good.
This is an italien pasta dish that we made one night. I don't remember what it's called, except that it has something to do with St. Benedict. It was also very good. (the sausage part didn't turn out the way we expected. That's french sausage for you!)
Our Christmas Tree: It was bigger than it looks in the picture. Laura and I bought it, lugged it up three flights of stairs to my apartment and decorated it with candy and some glittery snowflakes.
Merry Christmas everyone!
--Mary
The night before, one of the local people invited us to go and spend Christmas day with her family. We opted for the aperitif instead since we had our own dinner plans. They served us real champagne.
I think I've said it one hundred times if I've said it once: the French eat a lot!! I've not been to a single restaurant where the portions are not fully satisfying. Anyway, this lovely french family served us smoked salmon with a savoury madeleine, duck meat (it looked like a piece of bacon) with beets, comte (a type a cheese), apple and walnuts (my favorite thing of the afternoon) and also more foie gras (this time the way most people eat it. Still not a big fan, but the animal who so kindly donated his foie gras was raised by a relative of the family. They were just bringing out the oysters when we decided to call it quits. They had also been filling and re-filling our glasses the whole time. WOW!
I have to say that the people I've met are extremely hospitable and generous. I have a hard time imagining the average American putting themselves out quite like this.
After we left, we went home and had our own Christmas dinner (after all that! I know, right?) which included a homemade apple, courtesy of one of the seminarians (with a secret ingredient!). We played cards again 'til the wee hours and overall had a very pleasant time.
Picture time!
The creche in the Luxembourg Cathedral. I should have taken pictures of all the creches we came across. that would have been cool. Oh well!
--Mary
Monday, January 7, 2013
Noël part 2: The remnants of war
The next day we drove around the battlefields. Even though I had visited them before, I still found them interesting.
Tip: If you go to the village detruit of Douamont, you will see a little sign next to a footpath that leads to the fort. Unless you are part mountain goat, drive around by way of the road.
Guess which route we took? It was muddy and slippery (no pictures of this because I was trying not to fall on my face). As miserable as it was, I couldn't help but imagine what it must have been like for the thousands of men trudging in the very same mud on their way to almost certain death. Chilling.
Here are some photos from the trip:
Fleury: one of the 28 destroyed villages around Verdun.
The ground here is not normally that hilly. Those are the remnants of explosions.
The Douamont
The bayonet trench
This is a part of the fort, which is actually a large hill. The view from the top was very neat. (It was so inspiring, the seminarians whipped out their breviaries for a little impromptu daytime prayer).
Paris is yet to come!
Tip: If you go to the village detruit of Douamont, you will see a little sign next to a footpath that leads to the fort. Unless you are part mountain goat, drive around by way of the road.
Guess which route we took? It was muddy and slippery (no pictures of this because I was trying not to fall on my face). As miserable as it was, I couldn't help but imagine what it must have been like for the thousands of men trudging in the very same mud on their way to almost certain death. Chilling.
Here are some photos from the trip:
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Noël
Anyway, we are in the midst of enjoying our Christmas holidays with a few friends. Last week, we rented a car and drove to Domremy, the little village where St. Joan of Arc was born. It is so beautiful and non-touristy. I was planning to buy souvenirs there to bring home for all my friends (Joan of Arc fans), but there were none to be had (granted, we didin't look very hard, but the pilgrim center was not out to make a profit).
It was a very rainy day. We first visited the church where St. Joan was baptized and went to pray quite often. The church has changed a lot over the years (they've completely changed the orientation of it), but the statue of St. Margaret that she used to pray in front of is still there.
To hear more of this story, go to my sister's blog.
Afterward, we went to a local shrine to Our Lady called Benoite Vaux (it was still pouring rain and getting dark). Sadly, when we asked a nun, she said the church was closed for Christmas, so we didn't get to go inside. This incident became the fodder for many jokes of the following evenings.
Stay tuned for part 2!
--Mary
Thursday, January 3, 2013
New Year, New Oppportunities
Well, I haven't had time to write up my Christmas stories yet. I've been too busy spending time with awesome people :) Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about what I've done throughout 2012:
January: I went to the March for Life and met some awesome people as well as applied for this assistant job. As strange as it may seem, these two things are actually connected.
February: I believe it snowed...no, that was the year before. At any rate, I was in school, bored and exhausted. Nothing much happened...
March: I went with Laura to NOLA for an English Honor Society Convention. It was pretty sweet. Met some more nice people there and had a blast in the sultry weather before returning to misery aka the Chicago winter and finals.
April: I found out that I was accepted to the program. I was also really stressed about my thesis.
May: Again, really stressful (why is it that I can only remember the negative things?). I turned in my thesis (yay!) and presented it at another academic conference (as well as attended a very special dinner for people who turned in their theses early. Score for me!). The last bit was all parties and saying goodbye to my college days...parts of which I never really want to remember. I always tell myself that it's the people who count and make things worthwhile, not the places you visit. The more I travel, the more I find this to be true.
June: I graduated and turned 22 with my twin sister. We had the most fabulous family party (and got to play ultimate frisbee with my favorite people).
July: We had another party with friends...more of a bonfire, actually. I also helped out with a vacation bible school with more amazing people and tried to organize my life a little, knowing that I was leaving the country. I got my letter posting me to Verdun. At first I was upset, but I'm glad I'm here (I don't want to be mean, but some towns I pass through I think, boy am I glad they didn't send me here!).
August: I went to visit a friend in Kansas City, with a pause to see my darling great aunt Helen (going on 90 something, and still as youthful as the day she was married). I also vacationed with my family in St. Louis, where we visited City Museum (the coolest place ever!) and then took a trip to Mackinac Island and the Dunes National Lakeshore.
September: I left for France, laughed a lot, cried a lot, and was generally overwhelmed by the French.
October: I started my new job and again, made all sorts of amazing new friends. We went to see the royal wedding in Luxembourg and I fell in love with that little country.
November: I went to Luxembourg (again) and Dijon. Then, we celebrated Thanksgiving with the other assistants. Good times.
December: I spent a wonderful Christmas with my friends (and went back to Luxembourg, incidentally) and finished out the year with a trip to Paris. Let's just say the food was the highlight of the trip (art and architecture, no matter how famous, can never compare with excellent French cuisine). More on this later.
And now, I am looking forward to 2013. I think this is going to be a quirky year.
--Mary
January: I went to the March for Life and met some awesome people as well as applied for this assistant job. As strange as it may seem, these two things are actually connected.
February: I believe it snowed...no, that was the year before. At any rate, I was in school, bored and exhausted. Nothing much happened...
March: I went with Laura to NOLA for an English Honor Society Convention. It was pretty sweet. Met some more nice people there and had a blast in the sultry weather before returning to misery aka the Chicago winter and finals.
April: I found out that I was accepted to the program. I was also really stressed about my thesis.
May: Again, really stressful (why is it that I can only remember the negative things?). I turned in my thesis (yay!) and presented it at another academic conference (as well as attended a very special dinner for people who turned in their theses early. Score for me!). The last bit was all parties and saying goodbye to my college days...parts of which I never really want to remember. I always tell myself that it's the people who count and make things worthwhile, not the places you visit. The more I travel, the more I find this to be true.
June: I graduated and turned 22 with my twin sister. We had the most fabulous family party (and got to play ultimate frisbee with my favorite people).
July: We had another party with friends...more of a bonfire, actually. I also helped out with a vacation bible school with more amazing people and tried to organize my life a little, knowing that I was leaving the country. I got my letter posting me to Verdun. At first I was upset, but I'm glad I'm here (I don't want to be mean, but some towns I pass through I think, boy am I glad they didn't send me here!).
August: I went to visit a friend in Kansas City, with a pause to see my darling great aunt Helen (going on 90 something, and still as youthful as the day she was married). I also vacationed with my family in St. Louis, where we visited City Museum (the coolest place ever!) and then took a trip to Mackinac Island and the Dunes National Lakeshore.
September: I left for France, laughed a lot, cried a lot, and was generally overwhelmed by the French.
October: I started my new job and again, made all sorts of amazing new friends. We went to see the royal wedding in Luxembourg and I fell in love with that little country.
November: I went to Luxembourg (again) and Dijon. Then, we celebrated Thanksgiving with the other assistants. Good times.
December: I spent a wonderful Christmas with my friends (and went back to Luxembourg, incidentally) and finished out the year with a trip to Paris. Let's just say the food was the highlight of the trip (art and architecture, no matter how famous, can never compare with excellent French cuisine). More on this later.
And now, I am looking forward to 2013. I think this is going to be a quirky year.
--Mary
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