Backtracking: GO!
About three weeks ago, Amy, a fellow primary school English assistant, had a great idea. We went to Nice for "C'est pas Classique," a classical music festival taking place all over the city. Free concerts all over the city, from squares to churches to the big events inside the 'Acropolis' (DC folks: pretend the Kennedy Center was built in Nice in 1970s concrete). We saw all sorts of groups: little string quartets, choirs who were rehearsing, a 20+piece band, the Nice Philharmonic Orchestra accompanied by soprano Barbara Hendricks, a French gospel choir...
Yeah. American gospel music sung by French people. Complete with clapping. And robes. And thrown in pump-up ad-libs (in French), with "hallelujahs" (in... whatever the language is). Yeah. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised-- the festival had not advertised a comedy hour, and yet here we were.
I don't know much about classical music, but I liked what I heard. Seeing the Nice Philharmonic (and for free!) was a real treat. Amy and I had a great time touring around Nice stumbling onto the various bands. I should also note that that included a band on wheels (which included a piano on wheels) in Place Masséna and a chamber orchestra performance of Vivaldi's 'The Four Seasons' back at the Acropolis on the Sunday.
That's really about it. I only have two other details to add:
1.) Double-click on this sentence to see my photos from the weekend.
2.) The event name "C'est pas Classique" is, technically speaking, grammatically incorrect. To negate a verb in French, you put "ne" before (or "n'" in the event of a vowel) and "pas" after. The correct version would have been "Ce n'est pas Classique," but casual spoken French tends to do away with the "ne." I'm still not sure why they called the weekend that, since almost all the music we heard was classical, and I typically think of France as being very proud of its language, rules and all.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
History Lesson
I really wish there was a funicular (uphill/downhill tram) in Grasse.
In fact, before World War II, there was one. For a little while afterward, as well, but then cars came along and people modeled towns around them, and since the recent trend toward public transportation hasn't sunk in yet... But, back in WWII, the Nazis stormed Grasse and destroyed the funicular. My question: Why?
I mean, never mind that anyone occupying Grasse (be they hostiles or recently turned 23) would benefit from a way straight up the hill. No, no -- why would the Nazis bother with Grasse in the first place? If they wasted their time and forces trying to occupy this town, then it's no wonder they lost. I mean, it's cute and all, but if you're going to be a highly organized, thoroughly terrifying regime occupying a small, innocent town, wouldn't you at least pick one closer to the water and less hazy? All I'm saying is that I can't think of that many wars that have been won by cutting off the enemy's perfume supply.
But that got me wondering... Why did French people bother with Grasse? In the first place, I mean. It's not particularly strategic, the slope precludes fertile farmland, and my sources tell me the perfume industry didn't start up 'til the middle ages. Grasse predates the Roman Empire. Why?
The answer is water.
As I've mentioned on numerous occasions, Grasse is a distance from the sea, so this explanation doesn't make much sense. But I've also mentioned on numerous occasions that Grasse is where you start to get into the mountains. Higher up in these mountains are springs that trickle underground through the mountain, but rarely pop up anywhere. It pops up in Grasse, so in the time before acqueducts, fresh water was a big deal.
As for the perfume? By the middle ages, Grasse had become a tannery town (a tannery is where you turn animal hide into leather, etc.). Well-renowned for it, even - serving nobility and royalty - but with one big, blunt problem:
The leather smelled like shit.
That's not just a turn of phrase: made in a tannery, leather is treated with animal droppings. I actually saw and smelled (smelt?) smelt this firsthand in Marrakesh, so it's true, and it's not just Grasse. Anyway, at some point, the brilliant idea was had to treat the leather with perfume to cancel the odor. It continues to work out very well, even if the tanneries that originally inspired this industrial development didn't.
Anyway, I thought this was cool.
-Andy
In fact, before World War II, there was one. For a little while afterward, as well, but then cars came along and people modeled towns around them, and since the recent trend toward public transportation hasn't sunk in yet... But, back in WWII, the Nazis stormed Grasse and destroyed the funicular. My question: Why?
I mean, never mind that anyone occupying Grasse (be they hostiles or recently turned 23) would benefit from a way straight up the hill. No, no -- why would the Nazis bother with Grasse in the first place? If they wasted their time and forces trying to occupy this town, then it's no wonder they lost. I mean, it's cute and all, but if you're going to be a highly organized, thoroughly terrifying regime occupying a small, innocent town, wouldn't you at least pick one closer to the water and less hazy? All I'm saying is that I can't think of that many wars that have been won by cutting off the enemy's perfume supply.
But that got me wondering... Why did French people bother with Grasse? In the first place, I mean. It's not particularly strategic, the slope precludes fertile farmland, and my sources tell me the perfume industry didn't start up 'til the middle ages. Grasse predates the Roman Empire. Why?
The answer is water.
As I've mentioned on numerous occasions, Grasse is a distance from the sea, so this explanation doesn't make much sense. But I've also mentioned on numerous occasions that Grasse is where you start to get into the mountains. Higher up in these mountains are springs that trickle underground through the mountain, but rarely pop up anywhere. It pops up in Grasse, so in the time before acqueducts, fresh water was a big deal.
As for the perfume? By the middle ages, Grasse had become a tannery town (a tannery is where you turn animal hide into leather, etc.). Well-renowned for it, even - serving nobility and royalty - but with one big, blunt problem:
The leather smelled like shit.
That's not just a turn of phrase: made in a tannery, leather is treated with animal droppings. I actually saw and smelled (smelt?) smelt this firsthand in Marrakesh, so it's true, and it's not just Grasse. Anyway, at some point, the brilliant idea was had to treat the leather with perfume to cancel the odor. It continues to work out very well, even if the tanneries that originally inspired this industrial development didn't.
Anyway, I thought this was cool.
-Andy
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Close Enough For Government Work
Some of the kids call me "Teacher."
I would say that I don't know why, but that would mean I haven't noticed the very structured (this coming from me) and adult-revering educational system in which these children find themselves. Let me say it more sensationally.
I have discovered the source of French bureaucracy.
Until a week or two ago, my classes consisted almost entirely of oral exercises. We'd sing songs, drill words and structures, or play games. The procedure was clear and simple, they followed it, and nothing struck me as out-of-the-ordinary.
Then I added more written work. A sentence or two on the board for them to copy down in their notebooks. A direction to copy today's date and the days of the week on printer paper because that was the paper I found.
"Teacher? Teacher? What color pen should we use?"
"Teacher? Teacher? What page of the notebook do we write it on?"
And one from a kid in the class that got printer paper. This one's my favorite:
"Teacher? There are no lines on this paper."
Starting from a wee little age, French kids are taught to take notes and follow instructions just so. One color of pen(cil) for one sort of exercise/notes, another for the next, and a particular format to follow and style of cursive to be upheld. I can't tell you the number of times my 10-year-olds painstakingly write on the board in perfect cursive (boys included), only to even more painstakingly erase one or two letters to rewrite them the proper way, even though said letters were already perfectly legible (key word being "perfectly"). You should see how eager these kids are to hold up their copying and show me as I'm walking around just to make sure everyone's on task.
Erika corroborated this with her own observations from her high school exchange experience. When these kids grow up, their class notes are works of art. Paragraph form, color-coded by subject matter, impeccably formatted and indented. I take good notes, but even I use a little shorthand, and I know full well that a lone mechanical pencil is unsurpassed in utility: quick, eraseable, and fit for almost any handwritten task. But the trade-off is that my notes don't look professional. They're "close enough for government work," as my folks always say. Just, perhaps not close enough for this government's work.
It is little wonder, then, that an adult paperwork system with so many precise procedures thrives here... in a country where even 8-year-olds take notes just so, constantly checking with the teacher that they've got it exactly right.
...
So, what have I been doing with these kids, anyway? Most of them are still on basic stuff, but I've moved on to feelings ("I am happy," "I am thirsty," "I am angry," etc.) and days of the week. For my oldest class, I made up a worksheet to teach them directions (north, south, etc.), which doubled as a geography lesson about the United States. I've got a sheet about American money all ready to go for next week. That will be somewhat of a review: we've played "store" already with the American cash I had on me when I arrived and the various electronic devices I keep on me every day. Just to give you a better idea of what I'm up to, here's a peek inside my oldest class:
The kids are mostly getting it and they seem pretty enthusiastic still. I have the impression that my novelty is wearing off, as they're getting more comfortable (that's French for "rowdy") around me these days. I'm focusing now on varying the sorts of activities I do, so they don't write off English class as the place where they just do drills all the time. But even my most challenging class had a relatively good day on Tuesday. I'm content.
Let's see... other good moments recently...
Andy (the example question): "How old are you?"
Andy (the example answer): "I am 7 years old."
Student (to herself): "Uh... no."
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 1: "I am happy!"
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 2: "I am sleepy."
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 3: "I am slappy."
Let's end with a game of "Caption This Photo":
I would say that I don't know why, but that would mean I haven't noticed the very structured (this coming from me) and adult-revering educational system in which these children find themselves. Let me say it more sensationally.
I have discovered the source of French bureaucracy.
Until a week or two ago, my classes consisted almost entirely of oral exercises. We'd sing songs, drill words and structures, or play games. The procedure was clear and simple, they followed it, and nothing struck me as out-of-the-ordinary.
Then I added more written work. A sentence or two on the board for them to copy down in their notebooks. A direction to copy today's date and the days of the week on printer paper because that was the paper I found.
"Teacher? Teacher? What color pen should we use?"
"Teacher? Teacher? What page of the notebook do we write it on?"
And one from a kid in the class that got printer paper. This one's my favorite:
"Teacher? There are no lines on this paper."
Starting from a wee little age, French kids are taught to take notes and follow instructions just so. One color of pen(cil) for one sort of exercise/notes, another for the next, and a particular format to follow and style of cursive to be upheld. I can't tell you the number of times my 10-year-olds painstakingly write on the board in perfect cursive (boys included), only to even more painstakingly erase one or two letters to rewrite them the proper way, even though said letters were already perfectly legible (key word being "perfectly"). You should see how eager these kids are to hold up their copying and show me as I'm walking around just to make sure everyone's on task.
Erika corroborated this with her own observations from her high school exchange experience. When these kids grow up, their class notes are works of art. Paragraph form, color-coded by subject matter, impeccably formatted and indented. I take good notes, but even I use a little shorthand, and I know full well that a lone mechanical pencil is unsurpassed in utility: quick, eraseable, and fit for almost any handwritten task. But the trade-off is that my notes don't look professional. They're "close enough for government work," as my folks always say. Just, perhaps not close enough for this government's work.
It is little wonder, then, that an adult paperwork system with so many precise procedures thrives here... in a country where even 8-year-olds take notes just so, constantly checking with the teacher that they've got it exactly right.
...
So, what have I been doing with these kids, anyway? Most of them are still on basic stuff, but I've moved on to feelings ("I am happy," "I am thirsty," "I am angry," etc.) and days of the week. For my oldest class, I made up a worksheet to teach them directions (north, south, etc.), which doubled as a geography lesson about the United States. I've got a sheet about American money all ready to go for next week. That will be somewhat of a review: we've played "store" already with the American cash I had on me when I arrived and the various electronic devices I keep on me every day. Just to give you a better idea of what I'm up to, here's a peek inside my oldest class:
The kids are mostly getting it and they seem pretty enthusiastic still. I have the impression that my novelty is wearing off, as they're getting more comfortable (that's French for "rowdy") around me these days. I'm focusing now on varying the sorts of activities I do, so they don't write off English class as the place where they just do drills all the time. But even my most challenging class had a relatively good day on Tuesday. I'm content.
Let's see... other good moments recently...
Andy (the example question): "How old are you?"
Andy (the example answer): "I am 7 years old."
Student (to herself): "Uh... no."
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 1: "I am happy!"
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 2: "I am sleepy."
Andy: "How are you?"
Student 3: "I am slappy."
Let's end with a game of "Caption This Photo":
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
"Where You Going?" "Barcelona." "Oh."
Big points to anybody can spot the title without the use of the internet. Here are the photos for this entry. And, as usual, my recommendations are in bold, with a nearby link to the location on Google Maps.
So, another week, another French holiday - and by golly, I actually had somewhere to go this time. As sort of an early birthday present to myself, I made plans to see Barcelona and meet up with my friend Alanna, who's studying in Valencia this semester. I got in on Thursday, 10 November and left on Sunday, 13 November. Alanna and I had an incredible time, whose wonder is matched only by the awful pun at the end of this (very long) entry.
Thursday
After a delayed flight, I found the hostel... Garden House Barcelona. It's affordable, well-maintained, and secure, and the staff and people are friendly. It's way up in the northern (residential) part of the city, but at least it was on a great metro line. I was going to explore downtown a bit, but I got in around 9, I was exhausted, and they were making paella right there in the garden, so I bought some (and a glass of sangria) for dinner. I befriended two French university students on vacation, and made plans with them to tour the city the next day.
Friday
My new friends had spent Thursday seeing all the big attractions, which worked out really well. I was able to tour around with them and save the must-sees for when Alanna would be there all day Saturday.
We started with the Arc de Triomf (which is pretty much what it sounds like) and a cute little nearby park. These were right next to Barri Gotic, the 'medieval quarter' full of neat shops, pretty side streets, and two fairly impressive gothic cathedrals. Somewhere in here, we stumbled upon what must have been an architecture school, which had some very cool models of very cool buildings in its very museum-like lobby.
We also found the Cultural Museum (not fully sure... we only walked around a small, free part, but it was still neat). We then spotted and scoped out a nearby market with a very cool Gaudí-esque rooftop (photo in the album). We almost got lunch there, but I remembered a friend's recommendation that we eat at a different, bigger market that wasn't too far away. So, we walked over there.
Ever make a suggestion and regret it later?
I don't mean that I regret visiting the Mercat de la Boqueria (located here). On the contrary: don't miss it. It's a huge fresh vegetable/fruit/fish/meat/candy/wine/cheese/everything market: more like a bazaar, really. I mean I regretted spending too long tracking down a friend's recommendation for lunch (a sit-down counter, I realized) when we were more in the mood to picnic. Although I did succeed in finding - of all things - a crepe stand. It's run by this very friendly guy who made very stylish crepes with Spanish ham, mushrooms, sautéed onions, and all that sort of good stuff. Not exactly a traditional Spanish dish, but definitely the best crepe I've had in Europe this time around (possibly in life as well). After lunch, the three of us found our way to the harbor.
Now's a good opportunity to mention that Barcelona is in its own unique time zone: the future. Every time some movie takes place in a futuristic utopia where sleek, classy architecture runs free with sculpture (its true love), remember that you could be in that city tomorrow if you booked a plane ticket. The harbor has all sorts of cool sculptural flair, lots of pretty sailboats, and a big building that - although a shopping mall complete with Starbucks - looks very cool. If Sony has any taste, the PlayStation 4 will look quite a bit like it.
Next set of stops involved a giant park area set into a small mountain on the south end of town. Lots of pretty trails and gardens leading up to panoramic views of the city and sea from an old fortress. We timed it perfectly: sunset. Several photos later, we meandered back down to the city itself, where I parted ways with my French pals to meet Alanna at the train station. After finding our way back to the hostel and settling in, Alanna and I tried our hand at looking in the hostel area for food. It was too suburban. Downtown we go!
...And we get lost...
But we found a Gaudí building, and eventually picked a tapas place on La Rambla, the main drag. Despite my efforts to order exotic, I wound up with basically a plate of chicken fingers in mayo sauce (although they were crispy and delicious). I also got a tapa that was crab meat wrapped in smoked salmon that was also tasty and a bit more... grown-up-y? Second round was an effort to order more chicken fingers, as well as a ham and cheese something... the word "bikini" was involved.
Because I pointed to the wrong thing, the chicken came out as a potato salad minus the potatoes, plus mushrooms, pineapple, and chicken. I... I just didn't know what to do.
And apparently "bikini" is Spanish for "grilled ham and cheese sandwich."
And Alanna convinced the come-to-your-table rose vendors that I'm allergic to roses.
Saturday
Parc Güell was on more of an incline than we realized, but that's a small price to pay for all the super-cool-super-crazy Gaudí work. Quick summary: he's a famous abstract (I say surrealist, but what do I know) architect born and raised in Barcelona. His architecture is a big draw that adds a lot of flavor to the city. You'll just have to look at the pictures. You have to visit this park: architecture, walks, and a lovely panoramic view. If you're on the clock, pick this over the fortress.
The reason you should try to spend 3-4 days in Barcelona is this: it takes a few screw-ups getting to know the place before you start getting things right. The upside is that, since I'd fumbled around the Boqueria marketplace once already (and, once again, located here), Alanna and I easily found my other friend's fabulous recommendation from the day before. El Quim de la Bouqeria is a lunch counter the size of any of any other market stand, but make no mistake: it's a fully functioning restaurant. And oh, how beautifully it doth function...
If you don't care so much about the food talk, skip to the second paragraph after the photo. But for those of you who have been awaiting detailed reports, today is your day.
Appetizers: Alanna stuck to tapas. To start, an omelette/tortilla/awesomeness, baked bean croquettes (croquettes are basically chicken nuggets, but not necessarily with the "chicken" part... evidently), and olives in a sauce (I don't recall what). All very good. Around the same time, I ordered mussels. I expected just a few (tapas style), but I got an appetizer portion of the little guys in a vegetable-rich tomato broth. I don't normally like tomato things that much, but this was so sweet and so rich in flavor that I was completely happy with it.
They gave us some bread, but to make absolutely sure I didn't waste the sauce, I put all the mussels in before eating any, put the shells on the side, and took a spoon to the whole thing: like a soup. Great decision... just like my decision to order a San Miguel beer on tap. I don't normally drink beer, but I had watched other diners enjoying tall, attractive, golden glasses of the stuff, and I said "Sure, why not?" It was cold, crisp, tasty, and not too bitter: perfect.
Main course: Alanna was waiting for her last tapas to show up: lightly fried potato wedges in a mayonnaise-based sauce. In the meantime, I was presented with this:
A leg of lamb, incredibly tender, and those potato wedges... Spain understands how to fry things. Not excessively, like you often find in the U.S. (deep-fried Oreo, anyone?), but enough to give you a crispy, crunchy outside yet still maintain a tender, potatoey inside. And that sauce you see? I could see all the little spices, it was light and nimble on the taste buds, and yet it is beyond my understanding. It was simply magic. Alanna's order of potato wedges (she made me help her with half) was pretty magical, too.
I should also point out that, because of the French holiday, there were a bunch of French tourists in Barcelona. I chatted with a few as Alanna and I waited for seats to clear out at lunch. It paid off, since the pair who was sitting and needed my help with the menu gave us their seats when they were done. I think I spoke more French with French people in Barcelona than I've spoken with French people in France in the last month combined.
After lunch, Alanna and I strolled La Rambla a bit and tried to find a free walking tour of Gaudí buildings. We didn't find the meeting place in time, but decided to focus on some souvenir shopping and then just headed straight for Sagrada Família.
I have traveled a good amount. In my travels, I have often looked for buildings of particular interest, or enjoyed and photographed the ones I found by accident. I don't know a huge amount about architecture, but I appreciate it very much in many forms and locations. It is the reason I visit cathedrals and basilicas, and why I enjoy doing so.
So, when I say that the Basilica Sagrada Família is perhaps the single most impressive building I have ever seen, I want you to understand my full meaning.
Brief history of the place: started at the end of the 19th century, the exterior of the basilica is still under construction (expected completion date is sometime in the middle of this century). The interior was only finished in 2010, and they still haven't installed all of the stained glass windows. As if this wasn't already enough fun and challenge, Gaudí died in a tram accident in 1926, before the plans were finished. So for generations now, the big architects on this job have two jobs (instead of just one) that constitute a Big Deal. One is building a basilica in a major European city. The other is doing so by interpreting sparse materials in order to be faithful to the largely unknown vision of a brilliant and thoroughly weird artist who left no conclusive instructions.
And I actually like that the construction is going to take until at least the 2050s-- after all, Notre Dame took about 200 years to build. If you're building something this big and in any kind of Gothic style, you need the appropriate level of detail and painstaking engineering. In short, buildings on this scale are supposed to take this long.
Antoni Gaudí: brilliant surrealist architect, bouncer.
So, we made it away from crazy basilica land and found ourselves at the Magic Fountain. No, seriously-- that's actually what it's called. It's a big fountain near the park with the fortress where they do a big, flashy, colorful light show a few times every evening, first show at 7. It was cool, I guess... Alanna and I only watched for fifteen minutes because you kind of get the idea by that point. Basically, imagine if Disney directed the fountain scene at the end of Ocean's 11.
More food talk coming up, so feel free to skip ahead a bit. We got dinner at La Pepita, a little bistro just off the roundabout at Diagonal metro (or, more specifically, here). The metro is called that because the streets are a grid around there and the big avenue cutting through - Diagonal - goes on a diagonal to the grid. Personally, I find simplicity and brilliance often go hand-in-hand for things like this.
The restaurant is essentially everything I love about New York (except theater). That doesn't leave much, but what it does leave amounts to a particular experience I particularly love. La Pepita is a bistro sixteen feet wide and very long: cozy, classy, and smartly minimalist in a way that is chic, but not obnoxious. Its one flourish (apart from the food) is the panoramic mirror behind the bar with the daily menu and drink specials written all across it in pretty Spanish cursive in off-white paint. You can walk in with a friend and without a reservation, sit by a window to watch passersby, and eat a stylishly prepared meal -- all at 11:30 PM, and all just off the beaten path of a gloriously cosmopolitan city.
I ordered the appetizer for us to share: Grilled Cazon (it's fish) roquettes with lime mayonnaise sauce on fresh lettuce. Quite good. Main course was better. The "pepita," best I can tell, is basically an open-faced grilled flatbread sandwich with any possible combination of ingredients. Alanna's was a grilled salmon salad with some heart-breaking-ly good salmon. Mine was a heart-attacking-ly good combination of a fried egg, tender grilled beef, potato wedges, and a slice of foie gras. It is everything my own touted "Breakfast of Champions" has ever wanted to be. So, despite my delicious glass of Spanish red wine (Ceres Ribera del Duero 2009), I likely have a coronary on the way. But at least then I can say I literally gave my heart to Barcelona.
Also, it was called "The Golden Pepita." How could you possibly not order something called "The Golden Pepita"?
We then met up with Alanna's college pal studying in Barcelona, code name: "Cousin"... it's a rugby thing... While trying to find her, Alanna and I actually walked through Barcelona's 'Occupy Wall Street' franchise. I thought that was cool; not only is it history and all that, but as an American in Europe, it's generally much more difficult for me to get my 99% on.
Speaking of the economy - and I can't believe that this is a coherent transition - Cousin took us to a really cool bar for relaxed drinks. My final recommendation this entry is Dow Jones, located near La Pepita. This is a laid-back expat bar with a premise that is both ingenious and brilliantly executed. Instead of a drinks menu above the bar, there's a big Wall Street-style stock ticker in the back of the room with drink names and prices: "San Miguel, 3E20 (+2,47%)"... "Mojito, 6E40 (+16,4%)"... etc., and when the cycle finishes, all the prices go up or down in response to what people are ordering. And every once in a while, flashing alarm lights will go off when the market 'crashes' and all the prices briefly drop 20%. It was just the right amount of crowded to feel happening and not overwhelming, and a three-person table was magically open as soon as we walked in.
It was pricey, but I was in Spain, so I ordered a mojito. It was delicious.
Sunday
It's quickly becoming a tradition that I get churros early on my last morning of a trip to Spain. No real point in recommending the place, seeing as how churros are churros are awesome are churros.
After snacking on those, Alanna and I found a cafe where we could sit on La Rambla and enjoy having the city to ourselves in the early morning for an hour or so. We said goodbye on the metro.
After accidentally getting on the wrong commuter train, I made it to the airport (which, by the way, is pristine and beautiful). There had been a 30% chance of rain on Saturday, but drops didn't fall until I was seated on my flight back to Nice. I was sad that I had to leave.
I was glad, however, that the rain in Spain fell mainly when I was on the plane.
-Andy
So, another week, another French holiday - and by golly, I actually had somewhere to go this time. As sort of an early birthday present to myself, I made plans to see Barcelona and meet up with my friend Alanna, who's studying in Valencia this semester. I got in on Thursday, 10 November and left on Sunday, 13 November. Alanna and I had an incredible time, whose wonder is matched only by the awful pun at the end of this (very long) entry.
Thursday
After a delayed flight, I found the hostel... Garden House Barcelona. It's affordable, well-maintained, and secure, and the staff and people are friendly. It's way up in the northern (residential) part of the city, but at least it was on a great metro line. I was going to explore downtown a bit, but I got in around 9, I was exhausted, and they were making paella right there in the garden, so I bought some (and a glass of sangria) for dinner. I befriended two French university students on vacation, and made plans with them to tour the city the next day.
Friday
My new friends had spent Thursday seeing all the big attractions, which worked out really well. I was able to tour around with them and save the must-sees for when Alanna would be there all day Saturday.
We started with the Arc de Triomf (which is pretty much what it sounds like) and a cute little nearby park. These were right next to Barri Gotic, the 'medieval quarter' full of neat shops, pretty side streets, and two fairly impressive gothic cathedrals. Somewhere in here, we stumbled upon what must have been an architecture school, which had some very cool models of very cool buildings in its very museum-like lobby.
We also found the Cultural Museum (not fully sure... we only walked around a small, free part, but it was still neat). We then spotted and scoped out a nearby market with a very cool Gaudí-esque rooftop (photo in the album). We almost got lunch there, but I remembered a friend's recommendation that we eat at a different, bigger market that wasn't too far away. So, we walked over there.
Ever make a suggestion and regret it later?
I don't mean that I regret visiting the Mercat de la Boqueria (located here). On the contrary: don't miss it. It's a huge fresh vegetable/fruit/fish/meat/candy/wine/cheese/everything market: more like a bazaar, really. I mean I regretted spending too long tracking down a friend's recommendation for lunch (a sit-down counter, I realized) when we were more in the mood to picnic. Although I did succeed in finding - of all things - a crepe stand. It's run by this very friendly guy who made very stylish crepes with Spanish ham, mushrooms, sautéed onions, and all that sort of good stuff. Not exactly a traditional Spanish dish, but definitely the best crepe I've had in Europe this time around (possibly in life as well). After lunch, the three of us found our way to the harbor.
Now's a good opportunity to mention that Barcelona is in its own unique time zone: the future. Every time some movie takes place in a futuristic utopia where sleek, classy architecture runs free with sculpture (its true love), remember that you could be in that city tomorrow if you booked a plane ticket. The harbor has all sorts of cool sculptural flair, lots of pretty sailboats, and a big building that - although a shopping mall complete with Starbucks - looks very cool. If Sony has any taste, the PlayStation 4 will look quite a bit like it.
Next set of stops involved a giant park area set into a small mountain on the south end of town. Lots of pretty trails and gardens leading up to panoramic views of the city and sea from an old fortress. We timed it perfectly: sunset. Several photos later, we meandered back down to the city itself, where I parted ways with my French pals to meet Alanna at the train station. After finding our way back to the hostel and settling in, Alanna and I tried our hand at looking in the hostel area for food. It was too suburban. Downtown we go!
...And we get lost...
But we found a Gaudí building, and eventually picked a tapas place on La Rambla, the main drag. Despite my efforts to order exotic, I wound up with basically a plate of chicken fingers in mayo sauce (although they were crispy and delicious). I also got a tapa that was crab meat wrapped in smoked salmon that was also tasty and a bit more... grown-up-y? Second round was an effort to order more chicken fingers, as well as a ham and cheese something... the word "bikini" was involved.
Because I pointed to the wrong thing, the chicken came out as a potato salad minus the potatoes, plus mushrooms, pineapple, and chicken. I... I just didn't know what to do.
And apparently "bikini" is Spanish for "grilled ham and cheese sandwich."
And Alanna convinced the come-to-your-table rose vendors that I'm allergic to roses.
Saturday
Parc Güell was on more of an incline than we realized, but that's a small price to pay for all the super-cool-super-crazy Gaudí work. Quick summary: he's a famous abstract (I say surrealist, but what do I know) architect born and raised in Barcelona. His architecture is a big draw that adds a lot of flavor to the city. You'll just have to look at the pictures. You have to visit this park: architecture, walks, and a lovely panoramic view. If you're on the clock, pick this over the fortress.
The reason you should try to spend 3-4 days in Barcelona is this: it takes a few screw-ups getting to know the place before you start getting things right. The upside is that, since I'd fumbled around the Boqueria marketplace once already (and, once again, located here), Alanna and I easily found my other friend's fabulous recommendation from the day before. El Quim de la Bouqeria is a lunch counter the size of any of any other market stand, but make no mistake: it's a fully functioning restaurant. And oh, how beautifully it doth function...
If you don't care so much about the food talk, skip to the second paragraph after the photo. But for those of you who have been awaiting detailed reports, today is your day.
Appetizers: Alanna stuck to tapas. To start, an omelette/tortilla/awesomeness, baked bean croquettes (croquettes are basically chicken nuggets, but not necessarily with the "chicken" part... evidently), and olives in a sauce (I don't recall what). All very good. Around the same time, I ordered mussels. I expected just a few (tapas style), but I got an appetizer portion of the little guys in a vegetable-rich tomato broth. I don't normally like tomato things that much, but this was so sweet and so rich in flavor that I was completely happy with it.
They gave us some bread, but to make absolutely sure I didn't waste the sauce, I put all the mussels in before eating any, put the shells on the side, and took a spoon to the whole thing: like a soup. Great decision... just like my decision to order a San Miguel beer on tap. I don't normally drink beer, but I had watched other diners enjoying tall, attractive, golden glasses of the stuff, and I said "Sure, why not?" It was cold, crisp, tasty, and not too bitter: perfect.
Main course: Alanna was waiting for her last tapas to show up: lightly fried potato wedges in a mayonnaise-based sauce. In the meantime, I was presented with this:
A leg of lamb, incredibly tender, and those potato wedges... Spain understands how to fry things. Not excessively, like you often find in the U.S. (deep-fried Oreo, anyone?), but enough to give you a crispy, crunchy outside yet still maintain a tender, potatoey inside. And that sauce you see? I could see all the little spices, it was light and nimble on the taste buds, and yet it is beyond my understanding. It was simply magic. Alanna's order of potato wedges (she made me help her with half) was pretty magical, too.
I should also point out that, because of the French holiday, there were a bunch of French tourists in Barcelona. I chatted with a few as Alanna and I waited for seats to clear out at lunch. It paid off, since the pair who was sitting and needed my help with the menu gave us their seats when they were done. I think I spoke more French with French people in Barcelona than I've spoken with French people in France in the last month combined.
After lunch, Alanna and I strolled La Rambla a bit and tried to find a free walking tour of Gaudí buildings. We didn't find the meeting place in time, but decided to focus on some souvenir shopping and then just headed straight for Sagrada Família.
I have traveled a good amount. In my travels, I have often looked for buildings of particular interest, or enjoyed and photographed the ones I found by accident. I don't know a huge amount about architecture, but I appreciate it very much in many forms and locations. It is the reason I visit cathedrals and basilicas, and why I enjoy doing so.
So, when I say that the Basilica Sagrada Família is perhaps the single most impressive building I have ever seen, I want you to understand my full meaning.
Brief history of the place: started at the end of the 19th century, the exterior of the basilica is still under construction (expected completion date is sometime in the middle of this century). The interior was only finished in 2010, and they still haven't installed all of the stained glass windows. As if this wasn't already enough fun and challenge, Gaudí died in a tram accident in 1926, before the plans were finished. So for generations now, the big architects on this job have two jobs (instead of just one) that constitute a Big Deal. One is building a basilica in a major European city. The other is doing so by interpreting sparse materials in order to be faithful to the largely unknown vision of a brilliant and thoroughly weird artist who left no conclusive instructions.
And I actually like that the construction is going to take until at least the 2050s-- after all, Notre Dame took about 200 years to build. If you're building something this big and in any kind of Gothic style, you need the appropriate level of detail and painstaking engineering. In short, buildings on this scale are supposed to take this long.
So, we made it away from crazy basilica land and found ourselves at the Magic Fountain. No, seriously-- that's actually what it's called. It's a big fountain near the park with the fortress where they do a big, flashy, colorful light show a few times every evening, first show at 7. It was cool, I guess... Alanna and I only watched for fifteen minutes because you kind of get the idea by that point. Basically, imagine if Disney directed the fountain scene at the end of Ocean's 11.
More food talk coming up, so feel free to skip ahead a bit. We got dinner at La Pepita, a little bistro just off the roundabout at Diagonal metro (or, more specifically, here). The metro is called that because the streets are a grid around there and the big avenue cutting through - Diagonal - goes on a diagonal to the grid. Personally, I find simplicity and brilliance often go hand-in-hand for things like this.
The restaurant is essentially everything I love about New York (except theater). That doesn't leave much, but what it does leave amounts to a particular experience I particularly love. La Pepita is a bistro sixteen feet wide and very long: cozy, classy, and smartly minimalist in a way that is chic, but not obnoxious. Its one flourish (apart from the food) is the panoramic mirror behind the bar with the daily menu and drink specials written all across it in pretty Spanish cursive in off-white paint. You can walk in with a friend and without a reservation, sit by a window to watch passersby, and eat a stylishly prepared meal -- all at 11:30 PM, and all just off the beaten path of a gloriously cosmopolitan city.
I ordered the appetizer for us to share: Grilled Cazon (it's fish) roquettes with lime mayonnaise sauce on fresh lettuce. Quite good. Main course was better. The "pepita," best I can tell, is basically an open-faced grilled flatbread sandwich with any possible combination of ingredients. Alanna's was a grilled salmon salad with some heart-breaking-ly good salmon. Mine was a heart-attacking-ly good combination of a fried egg, tender grilled beef, potato wedges, and a slice of foie gras. It is everything my own touted "Breakfast of Champions" has ever wanted to be. So, despite my delicious glass of Spanish red wine (Ceres Ribera del Duero 2009), I likely have a coronary on the way. But at least then I can say I literally gave my heart to Barcelona.
Also, it was called "The Golden Pepita." How could you possibly not order something called "The Golden Pepita"?
We then met up with Alanna's college pal studying in Barcelona, code name: "Cousin"... it's a rugby thing... While trying to find her, Alanna and I actually walked through Barcelona's 'Occupy Wall Street' franchise. I thought that was cool; not only is it history and all that, but as an American in Europe, it's generally much more difficult for me to get my 99% on.
Speaking of the economy - and I can't believe that this is a coherent transition - Cousin took us to a really cool bar for relaxed drinks. My final recommendation this entry is Dow Jones, located near La Pepita. This is a laid-back expat bar with a premise that is both ingenious and brilliantly executed. Instead of a drinks menu above the bar, there's a big Wall Street-style stock ticker in the back of the room with drink names and prices: "San Miguel, 3E20 (+2,47%)"... "Mojito, 6E40 (+16,4%)"... etc., and when the cycle finishes, all the prices go up or down in response to what people are ordering. And every once in a while, flashing alarm lights will go off when the market 'crashes' and all the prices briefly drop 20%. It was just the right amount of crowded to feel happening and not overwhelming, and a three-person table was magically open as soon as we walked in.
It was pricey, but I was in Spain, so I ordered a mojito. It was delicious.
Sunday
It's quickly becoming a tradition that I get churros early on my last morning of a trip to Spain. No real point in recommending the place, seeing as how churros are churros are awesome are churros.
After snacking on those, Alanna and I found a cafe where we could sit on La Rambla and enjoy having the city to ourselves in the early morning for an hour or so. We said goodbye on the metro.
After accidentally getting on the wrong commuter train, I made it to the airport (which, by the way, is pristine and beautiful). There had been a 30% chance of rain on Saturday, but drops didn't fall until I was seated on my flight back to Nice. I was sad that I had to leave.
I was glad, however, that the rain in Spain fell mainly when I was on the plane.
-Andy
Friday, November 4, 2011
All Hallows
Forget Halloween as you experience it. Teenagers "trick-or-treating" without a costume and/or TP'ing your house (if you're Larry David and don't give them candy), adult parties where the costumes are basically polyester pick-up lines, or your and your friends' real costumes, which are variously clever, abstract, elaborate, inside jokes, gory, and/or downright genius. No, no - scratch all that. Think of all the most basic elements and images of Halloween. Ghost costumes, kids carrying cute little bags of candy, going door to door with smiles once a year...
That distilled version of Halloween? The one they (and I) teach in elementary school? That's Halloween in France.
I had asked a teacher (who was instrumental in the construction of my costume) at one of my schools if her kids were going trick-or-treating. Oh yes, she said (in French): a skeleton, a devil, a ghost, and she was going to be a witch. These were pretty much the same costumes I saw on kids who were running around the center of town on the afternoon of the Monday in question. It was pretty adorable. But it struck me that, as far as celebrating is concerned, they really don't spring for the theatrical over here. No Halloween specialty stores (perhaps for the better, but who knows), no fake blood on sale to complete your vampire costume, and unless you already dress like Jack Sparrow, good luck pulling off anything that ambitious. Over here on Halloween, it seems like they're grinning (or shrugging) and bearing it because everybody else in the world seems so into it.
As for Halloween At The Assistants'?
Well...
Creative? Perhaps not. Appropriate? Absolutely.
Ella and Katie joined us for dinner, which was a nice treat. Erika's delicious pumpkin soup and pie went nicely with a bottle of wine and my homemade... candy... I still can't cook.
...
I came back to work Thursday. Same as before, really. The kids all come running up shouting "Hello!" (often several times) and I say "Hello!" back in as many different voices as I can think of. They all pay oddly close attention during my largely repetition-based lessons on "How old are you?", "Where are you from?" - this week we added feelings and "How are you?"... Just like before the break, They seem to love it (and mostly get it), and just like before the break, I feel like things can't keep going this well without Karma getting steamed.
Before break, I mentioned my Halloween lessons, where I mini-mohawk-ed my hair to demonstrate my Tintin costume and gave out little caramel bars at the end of class when the kids would come up and say "Trick or Treat!" and "Happy Halloween!".
What I don't think I mentioned: one of my kids gave me a picture of a jack-o'-lantern he colored in (rather neatly). Just... for me to have. Another student left me with these exact words:
"Andy, you are my favorite teacher in English."
That distilled version of Halloween? The one they (and I) teach in elementary school? That's Halloween in France.
I had asked a teacher (who was instrumental in the construction of my costume) at one of my schools if her kids were going trick-or-treating. Oh yes, she said (in French): a skeleton, a devil, a ghost, and she was going to be a witch. These were pretty much the same costumes I saw on kids who were running around the center of town on the afternoon of the Monday in question. It was pretty adorable. But it struck me that, as far as celebrating is concerned, they really don't spring for the theatrical over here. No Halloween specialty stores (perhaps for the better, but who knows), no fake blood on sale to complete your vampire costume, and unless you already dress like Jack Sparrow, good luck pulling off anything that ambitious. Over here on Halloween, it seems like they're grinning (or shrugging) and bearing it because everybody else in the world seems so into it.
As for Halloween At The Assistants'?
Well...
Creative? Perhaps not. Appropriate? Absolutely.
Ella and Katie joined us for dinner, which was a nice treat. Erika's delicious pumpkin soup and pie went nicely with a bottle of wine and my homemade... candy... I still can't cook.
...
I came back to work Thursday. Same as before, really. The kids all come running up shouting "Hello!" (often several times) and I say "Hello!" back in as many different voices as I can think of. They all pay oddly close attention during my largely repetition-based lessons on "How old are you?", "Where are you from?" - this week we added feelings and "How are you?"... Just like before the break, They seem to love it (and mostly get it), and just like before the break, I feel like things can't keep going this well without Karma getting steamed.
Before break, I mentioned my Halloween lessons, where I mini-mohawk-ed my hair to demonstrate my Tintin costume and gave out little caramel bars at the end of class when the kids would come up and say "Trick or Treat!" and "Happy Halloween!".
What I don't think I mentioned: one of my kids gave me a picture of a jack-o'-lantern he colored in (rather neatly). Just... for me to have. Another student left me with these exact words:
"Andy, you are my favorite teacher in English."
Sunday, October 30, 2011
StayCation
So, here I sit on my balcony. It's October 30, 68 degrees, sunny, and clear. Erika and I made mimosas with French champagne. I don't go back to work until Thursday afternoon, I'm making plans to go to Barcelona in two weeks, I had several awesome day trips this week, there's internet in the apartment...
This is pretty much what I signed up for.
I spent this week exploring the region with pals in a series of day trips. This is cool for two reasons. One: I'm in a beautiful region of a beautiful country with nothing but time to explore it. Two: I actually got my act together and explored it, as opposed to not doing so, but saying I would as an empty justification for not having made fancier travel plans.
Here is the photo album for this week.
Monday, 24 October 2011
Erika and I got up really early to catch a bus to Nice and a connecting bus up to Saint-Etienne-de-Tinée. This was our route. We spent about half the day on a bus. But that's okay! Because the two hour ride from Nice to St-Etienne followed the Tinée river through an incredible valley that was stunning for every minute, even despite cloudy/drizzling weather.
We arrived around 11:30, walked a bit in the drizzle, and saw about 75% of this small ski resort town. It's adorable, and I'm certain that the mountain views are stunning on a clear (or snowy) day. We got lunch at pretty much the only restaurant that was open. I had a mushroom ravioli in this sauce that I could not figure out how to describe. It was good, but I was fighting a cold and probably wasn't tasting it properly. The cream sauce had this almost-bitter, dry kick to it that Erika decided was "astringent." I had never heard that word used for anything other than skin care products, but she volunteered the word, and I decided in a later conversation that it probably came from the wine used to make the sauce. We agreed, and we walked some more.
We explored a few trails, couldn't get into the tourist office for Erika's much-desired regional hiking maps, hiked some more, and finally found a cozy little cafe. We ordered coffee and hot chocolate, respectively, and Erika taught me Gin Rummy, which we played for an hour while waiting for the 4:15 bus back to Nice.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
I didn't do much on the 26th, either.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Today, I went over to Menton (geographic context), a charming little town right up next to the Italian border. I met up with Krisia, a fellow assistant placed in Cannes, and two assistants from up north for whom this region is a set of fancy travel plans. We had a three-hour lunch of pizza on the seaside while watching hilarious pigeon antics and wondering why the servers were willing to let us spend so much time taking up this great table on this beautiful day.
I had a thin-crust pizza with cheese, lettuce, parsley, and smoked salmon. It was very good. I could only finish half of it, though.
Afterward, we walked around, the ladies did some shopping,* and we got some gelato. There's basically one busy commercial street in Menton, and it has a few gelato stands, but I figured we should pick the one run by an Italian woman. I was right. One scoop of sweet, tart lemon and one of juicy strawberry for the win (it's my standby for a reason, and it was only 2euro50). We walked some more, snapped lots of pictures, and caught the train home.
The only thing I can't figure out: why does the limoncello flavor taste creamier than the lemon flavor?
Friday, 28 October 2011
Today's destination: St-Paul-de-Vence (everybody loves a link to Google Maps). 7 of us found our way to this very picturesque little town. I couldn't quite get a far shot, but it's a walled city on a hill, not unlike the famous Mont-Saint-Michel up in Normandy. This town is almost totally composed of cobblestone pedestrian paths and really cool shops.
...
...
...Sorry. I just praised a town for its shopping. I needed a minute to take that in.
A lot of artists have studios here, and there are lots of neat little gift shops, as well as little bistros and boutiques for food/wine/etc. All of this for sale in a bunch of charming, artsy shops. All very… not “down-to-earth,” because they are all rather upscale, but IF any of them were condescending (and I don’t think they were), then their classy factor easily overwhelmed it.
I had a pâté sandwich for lunch. It was awesome.
The Weekend
We finally got internet in the apartment (no thanks to SFR). So, U.S. folks, I am much freer to Skype/email/what-have-you.
Also, between now (Sunday) and November 6, our time difference is reduced by one hour (France ended daylight savings today, instead of next week). I hope everyone had a great Halloween weekend, and for those still celebrating (as you should be), Happy Halloween.
Pictures of my awesome (and rather appropriate) costume to follow.
-Andy
------------------------
*General Note: The gender ratio among assistants means that I am the only guy I hang out with.
This is pretty much what I signed up for.
I spent this week exploring the region with pals in a series of day trips. This is cool for two reasons. One: I'm in a beautiful region of a beautiful country with nothing but time to explore it. Two: I actually got my act together and explored it, as opposed to not doing so, but saying I would as an empty justification for not having made fancier travel plans.
Here is the photo album for this week.
Monday, 24 October 2011
Erika and I got up really early to catch a bus to Nice and a connecting bus up to Saint-Etienne-de-Tinée. This was our route. We spent about half the day on a bus. But that's okay! Because the two hour ride from Nice to St-Etienne followed the Tinée river through an incredible valley that was stunning for every minute, even despite cloudy/drizzling weather.
We arrived around 11:30, walked a bit in the drizzle, and saw about 75% of this small ski resort town. It's adorable, and I'm certain that the mountain views are stunning on a clear (or snowy) day. We got lunch at pretty much the only restaurant that was open. I had a mushroom ravioli in this sauce that I could not figure out how to describe. It was good, but I was fighting a cold and probably wasn't tasting it properly. The cream sauce had this almost-bitter, dry kick to it that Erika decided was "astringent." I had never heard that word used for anything other than skin care products, but she volunteered the word, and I decided in a later conversation that it probably came from the wine used to make the sauce. We agreed, and we walked some more.
We explored a few trails, couldn't get into the tourist office for Erika's much-desired regional hiking maps, hiked some more, and finally found a cozy little cafe. We ordered coffee and hot chocolate, respectively, and Erika taught me Gin Rummy, which we played for an hour while waiting for the 4:15 bus back to Nice.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
I didn't do much on the 26th, either.
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Today, I went over to Menton (geographic context), a charming little town right up next to the Italian border. I met up with Krisia, a fellow assistant placed in Cannes, and two assistants from up north for whom this region is a set of fancy travel plans. We had a three-hour lunch of pizza on the seaside while watching hilarious pigeon antics and wondering why the servers were willing to let us spend so much time taking up this great table on this beautiful day.
I had a thin-crust pizza with cheese, lettuce, parsley, and smoked salmon. It was very good. I could only finish half of it, though.
Afterward, we walked around, the ladies did some shopping,* and we got some gelato. There's basically one busy commercial street in Menton, and it has a few gelato stands, but I figured we should pick the one run by an Italian woman. I was right. One scoop of sweet, tart lemon and one of juicy strawberry for the win (it's my standby for a reason, and it was only 2euro50). We walked some more, snapped lots of pictures, and caught the train home.
The only thing I can't figure out: why does the limoncello flavor taste creamier than the lemon flavor?
Friday, 28 October 2011
Today's destination: St-Paul-de-Vence (everybody loves a link to Google Maps). 7 of us found our way to this very picturesque little town. I couldn't quite get a far shot, but it's a walled city on a hill, not unlike the famous Mont-Saint-Michel up in Normandy. This town is almost totally composed of cobblestone pedestrian paths and really cool shops.
...
...
...Sorry. I just praised a town for its shopping. I needed a minute to take that in.
A lot of artists have studios here, and there are lots of neat little gift shops, as well as little bistros and boutiques for food/wine/etc. All of this for sale in a bunch of charming, artsy shops. All very… not “down-to-earth,” because they are all rather upscale, but IF any of them were condescending (and I don’t think they were), then their classy factor easily overwhelmed it.
I had a pâté sandwich for lunch. It was awesome.
The Weekend
We finally got internet in the apartment (no thanks to SFR). So, U.S. folks, I am much freer to Skype/email/what-have-you.
Also, between now (Sunday) and November 6, our time difference is reduced by one hour (France ended daylight savings today, instead of next week). I hope everyone had a great Halloween weekend, and for those still celebrating (as you should be), Happy Halloween.
Pictures of my awesome (and rather appropriate) costume to follow.
-Andy
------------------------
*General Note: The gender ratio among assistants means that I am the only guy I hang out with.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Teach, Yo!
Observations... observations...
Kids love music.
Example of the day: I was working with my youngest ones (CE1) on Tuesday, trying to teach them the numbers 1-10. I did my standard bit, which seemed to work well enough with the other sections. I put flashcards on the board. I point to each number and have them repeat after me. I point to a few numbers and ask a few kids what each number is. I ask a few kids to come to the board and have them point to the number I say. Finally, I have them all cover their eyes, hide one number behind my back and have the kids tell me what number is missing. Occasionally, between exercises, I'll run through call-and-response again with all the numbers. This was working okay for the youngest ones. So, after 30 seconds of deliberation, I decided to teach them a song. 20 of those seconds were spent making that song up. I just put the numbers 1-10 to a catchy musical interval and had them repeat it bunches and bunches of times.
Andy loves improvising.
Firm hand
French teachers seem to come down a lot harder on kids who misbehave in class. While working with kids in the states, I've noticed that adults consistently try to be more reasonable with kids, avoiding yelling as much as possible. When I sat in on classes during orientation week, a teacher might raise her voice to the kids on the first or second offense. Naturally, the intensity varies by teacher, but in France, if you bother the teacher, the teacher doesn't have to show as much restraint. And I've noticed that, in some cases, use of that sudden sternness is the only time when some of these kids will respond. That's probably not uniquely French.
That's not fair!
There's a notion of "fairness" in the American childhood (as I've encountered it, anyway) that doesn't translate the same way here. It seems to me that, for kids, something is (often) "unfair" if the plaintiff hasn't gotten something they want. To an American kid - and perhaps, less consciously, to the adults who work with them - it means everybody gets treated just as well regardless of extenuating circumstances... so that nobody feels "left out."
On Tuesday, I had a lesson prepared about Halloween (vocab, mostly), since a two-week vacation starts this weekend and I won't see them again until November. My idea to end the class was to have the kids line up in front of me, say "Trick or treat!", I give them each a little piece of candy, and they say "Thank you! Happy Halloween!". My plan was to have that lesson waiting if they were good, otherwise keep working on more integral stuff (personal introduction, numbers, pronouns, etc.). One class didn't earn it, in my estimation, so they didn't do the Halloween activity or get any candy. I felt bad afterward for not at least letting them know in advance that good behavior might have a reward. Then, I had lunch with some of the teachers and expressed this to them. They said that if the kids didn't earn it, they didn't earn it and I shouldn't worry. Not a moment's hesitation.
It's a different definition of "fairness"... and I think I'm okay with it.
Internet
I learned this morning that my proposed internet provider cancelled my long-awaited appointment for Monday to install the phone/internet line. They're going to call me in the next few days to reschedule (I have no idea what that timetable will be). My in-home connection (and Skype capability) remains up-in-the-air for the time being. I am seriously considering changing providers.
The end of this entry
-Andy
Kids love music.
Example of the day: I was working with my youngest ones (CE1) on Tuesday, trying to teach them the numbers 1-10. I did my standard bit, which seemed to work well enough with the other sections. I put flashcards on the board. I point to each number and have them repeat after me. I point to a few numbers and ask a few kids what each number is. I ask a few kids to come to the board and have them point to the number I say. Finally, I have them all cover their eyes, hide one number behind my back and have the kids tell me what number is missing. Occasionally, between exercises, I'll run through call-and-response again with all the numbers. This was working okay for the youngest ones. So, after 30 seconds of deliberation, I decided to teach them a song. 20 of those seconds were spent making that song up. I just put the numbers 1-10 to a catchy musical interval and had them repeat it bunches and bunches of times.
Andy loves improvising.
Firm hand
French teachers seem to come down a lot harder on kids who misbehave in class. While working with kids in the states, I've noticed that adults consistently try to be more reasonable with kids, avoiding yelling as much as possible. When I sat in on classes during orientation week, a teacher might raise her voice to the kids on the first or second offense. Naturally, the intensity varies by teacher, but in France, if you bother the teacher, the teacher doesn't have to show as much restraint. And I've noticed that, in some cases, use of that sudden sternness is the only time when some of these kids will respond. That's probably not uniquely French.
That's not fair!
There's a notion of "fairness" in the American childhood (as I've encountered it, anyway) that doesn't translate the same way here. It seems to me that, for kids, something is (often) "unfair" if the plaintiff hasn't gotten something they want. To an American kid - and perhaps, less consciously, to the adults who work with them - it means everybody gets treated just as well regardless of extenuating circumstances... so that nobody feels "left out."
On Tuesday, I had a lesson prepared about Halloween (vocab, mostly), since a two-week vacation starts this weekend and I won't see them again until November. My idea to end the class was to have the kids line up in front of me, say "Trick or treat!", I give them each a little piece of candy, and they say "Thank you! Happy Halloween!". My plan was to have that lesson waiting if they were good, otherwise keep working on more integral stuff (personal introduction, numbers, pronouns, etc.). One class didn't earn it, in my estimation, so they didn't do the Halloween activity or get any candy. I felt bad afterward for not at least letting them know in advance that good behavior might have a reward. Then, I had lunch with some of the teachers and expressed this to them. They said that if the kids didn't earn it, they didn't earn it and I shouldn't worry. Not a moment's hesitation.
It's a different definition of "fairness"... and I think I'm okay with it.
Internet
I learned this morning that my proposed internet provider cancelled my long-awaited appointment for Monday to install the phone/internet line. They're going to call me in the next few days to reschedule (I have no idea what that timetable will be). My in-home connection (and Skype capability) remains up-in-the-air for the time being. I am seriously considering changing providers.
The end of this entry
-Andy
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
A Day in the Life
Since I'm finding my routine, it's getting a lot harder to tell what's worth blogging about and what isn't. So, I figured I'd play the odds and, well... blog about the routine. Here's a pretty typical Monday/Tuesday, my two busiest days of the week. Note: this is all in military time because that's the way it goes over here.
06h00: Wake up, shower, dress, pack backpack, leave the apartment.
06h30: Walk to bus station, stop for croissant and pain au chocolat along the way.
07h00: Wakin’ up in the mornin’, gotta’ be fresh gotta’ go downstairs. Gotta’ have my bowl, gotta’ have my cereal –
STOP THAT. 07h00: Meet one of the teachers, who drives me to St-Vallier as the sun rises. Have discussions of cultural differences, politics, and other enlightening conversations.
07h30: Arrive at Collet de Gasq elementary school, check email, and finalize lesson plans.
08h30: First class, with 8-9-year-olds... Tell them to be quiet upwards of 20 times, and consistently break my rule of 100% English because they only seem to shut up when I ask them to in French.
09h15: Second class, with 9-10-year-olds. Actually teach them "What is your name?", "Where are you from?", numbers, pronouns, etc.
10h00: Break. Further lesson prep if necessary, conversations with passing teachers.
10h30: Third class, with 10-11-year-olds whose English will one day be better than mine.
11h15: Kill fifteen minutes.
11h30: Lunch in cafeteria. The principal, who eats there every day, thinks the food is “insipid,” but I’m less picky, especially given how little I’m paying for a decent warm meal.
12h15ish: Walk to Emile Felix elementary school, admiring the clear mountain air and scenery.
13h30: Fourth class, with adorable 6-7-year-olds.
14h15: Fifth class, with 8-9-year-olds.
15h00: Walk around St-Vallier’s one non-residential street, sit on the green at the center of town enjoying the weather and free time, and/or go grocery shopping for the week (if it’s Tuesday).
16h30: Bus back to Grasse. Admire the view.
16h45: Walk home.
17h10: Stop at the government-sponsored internet café/space for adult classes. Check email.
17h25: I read the news today – oh, boy.
18h00: Get home, ask Martina and Erika about their days, laugh at French TV commercials, and wonder why all this particular channel shows is The Simpsons, dubbed in French.
19h00: Throw together dinner. Eat on the balcony if so inclined. More of what happened at 18h00.
20h00: Decide I should probably do my lesson planning for the next day.
20h05: Start my lesson planning for the next day.
20h15: Finish my lesson planning for the next week.
20h16: It varies.
21h45: Go to bed. Remember there are 7 more days until in-home wifi.
-Andy
06h00: Wake up, shower, dress, pack backpack, leave the apartment.
06h30: Walk to bus station, stop for croissant and pain au chocolat along the way.
07h00: Wakin’ up in the mornin’, gotta’ be fresh gotta’ go downstairs. Gotta’ have my bowl, gotta’ have my cereal –
STOP THAT. 07h00: Meet one of the teachers, who drives me to St-Vallier as the sun rises. Have discussions of cultural differences, politics, and other enlightening conversations.
07h30: Arrive at Collet de Gasq elementary school, check email, and finalize lesson plans.
08h30: First class, with 8-9-year-olds... Tell them to be quiet upwards of 20 times, and consistently break my rule of 100% English because they only seem to shut up when I ask them to in French.
09h15: Second class, with 9-10-year-olds. Actually teach them "What is your name?", "Where are you from?", numbers, pronouns, etc.
10h00: Break. Further lesson prep if necessary, conversations with passing teachers.
10h30: Third class, with 10-11-year-olds whose English will one day be better than mine.
11h15: Kill fifteen minutes.
11h30: Lunch in cafeteria. The principal, who eats there every day, thinks the food is “insipid,” but I’m less picky, especially given how little I’m paying for a decent warm meal.
12h15ish: Walk to Emile Felix elementary school, admiring the clear mountain air and scenery.
13h30: Fourth class, with adorable 6-7-year-olds.
14h15: Fifth class, with 8-9-year-olds.
15h00: Walk around St-Vallier’s one non-residential street, sit on the green at the center of town enjoying the weather and free time, and/or go grocery shopping for the week (if it’s Tuesday).
16h30: Bus back to Grasse. Admire the view.
16h45: Walk home.
17h10: Stop at the government-sponsored internet café/space for adult classes. Check email.
17h25: I read the news today – oh, boy.
18h00: Get home, ask Martina and Erika about their days, laugh at French TV commercials, and wonder why all this particular channel shows is The Simpsons, dubbed in French.
19h00: Throw together dinner. Eat on the balcony if so inclined. More of what happened at 18h00.
20h00: Decide I should probably do my lesson planning for the next day.
20h05: Start my lesson planning for the next day.
20h15: Finish my lesson planning for the next week.
20h16: It varies.
21h45: Go to bed. Remember there are 7 more days until in-home wifi.
-Andy
Thursday, October 13, 2011
It's Another To-Kill-For Sunrise.
Hi, folks-- not much to report today, except I'm finally posting some photos from the last month. You can find them by double-clicking here.
If that doesn't work (or if you want the link itself), copy and paste the following into the address bar of your browser:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150863681675179.754085.734690178&type=1&l=7b3eb7c686
This should work even if you're not on Facebook (or shouldn't be, in my parents' case). If you can't see it for whatever reason, let me know and I'll look into it.
First week's going pretty well. I have to run to class (it's in Grasse, so just running - no buses or carpools today), but my next post will be peppered with a few details about social goings-on.
This message brought to you by government-sponsored free internet even closer to my apartment than the McDonald's.
-Andy
If that doesn't work (or if you want the link itself), copy and paste the following into the address bar of your browser:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150863681675179.754085.734690178&type=1&l=7b3eb7c686
This should work even if you're not on Facebook (or shouldn't be, in my parents' case). If you can't see it for whatever reason, let me know and I'll look into it.
First week's going pretty well. I have to run to class (it's in Grasse, so just running - no buses or carpools today), but my next post will be peppered with a few details about social goings-on.
This message brought to you by government-sponsored free internet even closer to my apartment than the McDonald's.
-Andy
Monday, October 10, 2011
Day One
Okay, this is it - this is the day I actually write about the teaching I came to this country to do. I have to say that, as the person living it, I found today surprisingly uneventful (not that that stopped me from writing a bloody novel). Of course, considering the alternative, perhaps that's a good thing. Since I cover fairly basic stuff ("What is your name?", "Where are you from?", etc.), most of my commentary will be fairly general, and possibly a bit dry for it. If you find it that way, I do apologize.
In a bizarre miracle, I made it to school on time. I woke up at 6, which is altogether too early for France. I got ready, left a note for Martina and Erika wishing them good luck on our first day teaching, and walked to the boulangerie (bakery) to grab a croissant and pain au chocolat for breakfast. 1 euro 55 cents. First victory of the day. I made it to the bus station by 7:10 to catch my 7:30 bus.
So, now that I've truly earned the title of "my father's son," what do I do for 20 minutes?
Oh. That works.
This bus... full of surprises: 20 minutes late, broke down halfway to St-Vallier, and then - for no good reason - unexpectedly dropped me right in front of the school (instead of a sizable walk away) 5 minutes early. Also, sorry to keep pickin' on my father, but I've found the last untapped way to make him hate his commute more, which is by comparing it to mine:
So, for fear that I actually get to the point and talk about working with little French kids, I'm going to take a paragraph or three to explain how a French elementary school is set up. My students run the gamut from 6 to 11 years old (but damned if I'll be teaching them the word "gamut"). They're divided roughly as follows:
CE1: 6-8 years old
CE2: 8-9
CM1: 9-10
CM2: 10-11
Whereas grades in the U.S. are dictated mostly by age, these divisions are a bit more sensitive to skill level. Naturally, they're not going to put a 7-year-old in CM2, even if he is bloody brilliant, but you can think of these levels as school grades with a dash of meritocracy à la those reading groups you had in third grade.
Also, despite my title of "assistant," I run the show. Resources and staff are supposedly tighter in elementary schools than other levels... I can't vouch for other towns in the region, but it's definitely true up in Grasse and St-Vallier de Thiey. I was alone in the classroom for one or two of my groups today. The homeroom teachers split their classes, gave me half for my 45-minute class, and worked with the other half on something else in the meantime (which is actually how we did it in my elementary school). But I also worked with a few entire classes, meaning the teachers were in the classroom to help. In these cases, they did some crowd control and/or used their English to help me demonstrate question-and-answer routines.
"Which question and answer routines?" I hear you ask. Well, not really, because this is a one-sided conversation typed on the internet, but indulge my unwieldy attempt at a transition.
First up today: about 16 CE2 kids (8-9 years old) a bit on the talkative side. I opened with a very simple song whose title is "Hello, my friends, hello." It's an apt title for this song, because those are the only words in it. But it's a song, it's easy to pick up, and it's in English, so the kids loved it. The rest of the lesson was - and they're all going to be this way - pretty straightforward: I taught them to ask and answer two questions: "What is your name?" and "Where are you from?".
I stuck to oral activities: having them repeat the words after me and building up to the full expression, then me asking them their name, then them asking me my name, then them asking a partner, and finally a unified chain where one says "My name is Jean-Claude" and asks somebody else in the room "What is your name?" Then they answer and ask somebody else until we make it most (or all) of the way around. Same with "Where are you from?" During orientation, they discouraged us from doing too much written work, especially not with the younger ones, and I felt most confident relying on myself as an activity for the first day, rather than printing out tons of color-in worksheets (but those will have their day...s).
For sake of simplicity, I planned to teach pretty much the same thing to all five of my classes today. Of course, my second class (CM1, 9-10 years old) was a bit more advanced and required some improvisation. So, I did, taking the opportunity to explore what they knew and what they didn't. CM1 had the same drill, but when they mastered "What is your name?" and "Where are you from?" fairly quickly, I decided to move on to something a little more subtle.
Big difference between English and French: gendered nouns. In French, the "chair" you're sitting in is female. A "name" is male. Fellow English-speakers, I have to say, I don't think you're missing much. But the point is, French students using possessive pronouns ("his", "her", "its") are used to choosing "son" or "sa" based on the gender of the thing possessed, rather than its possessor. So, can I get a whole lesson - and ten minutes of review tomorrow - out of "What is his name" and "What is her name"?
You better believe it. And you better believe the kids did a rockin' awesome job with it.
After those back-to-back classes, it's now 10:00 AM, and I have a half-hour break. I chat with my very nice colleagues, get a request to tutor that I'll likely take, arrange a carpool, and explain for the fifth or sixth time in the last week that, thank you very much, but I don't drink coffee.
10:30 - time for CM2.
These kids blew me away. They knew "What is your name?" and everything in a 10-kilometer radius. I exhausted "do you prefer _____ or _____?", "What is your favorite color?", colors, "Where are you from," and "How old are you?" This was mostly me reviewing and getting a sense of what they've covered. If I had these kids stand in front of the class and do a fairly complicated introduction dialogue tomorrow morning, I have little dobut they'd all do fine. The best part was that they were still into it and understood basically all of my directions, which means I've got license to do something more complicated and fun with them tomorrow. I had dispensed with "Hello, my friends, hello" because I thought it would be too simple for them and that they might be too cool for singing, but a girl came up to me at the end and asked if we would sing a song tomorrow.
And then it hit me. Ladies and gentlemen, The Fabulous Beatles.
I had visited the school briefly last Tuesday as part of orientation week, and I had arranged to get school lunches for the duration of my contract. For a euro fifty, I got couscous with vegetables, tender turkey cutlets in good sauce, delicious oranges, and bread with brie. Victory count: 6.
That was all at Collet de Gasq, an intimate school whose building I rather like, architecturally speaking. My schedule was a bit tight today, so I didn't have time to get pictures. Those will come soon. (I'm also nearly ready to launch my photo album.) I walked over to Emile Felix for a CE1 class (the littlest ones in my domain), which was the bare basics of "What is your name?" Same drill as earlier, but these kids were so small and had glasses almost as big as their heads and they freaking loved it. It was adorable.
Also, I'm taking wifi off the street and one of the kids I taught today just walked by and said "bonjour". Umpteenth victory of the day.
Last class of the day was another CM1 (9-10)... this one was a little dicey, but mostly went well. "What's your name?" and "Where are you from?", pretty basic. The kids were slightly talkative, and though the teacher was there and helped quiet them down a bit, it didn't always help. I did score a few laughs by demonstrating a question/answer with the head from their model skeleton, Pascal.
One day, when these kids have grown up a bit, one of them is gonna' watch Hamlet, and during the Yorick scene, stand up and shout "That's my English teacher!"
That's pretty much it... Oh, parting thought: I'm in a pretty sweet position, teaching-wise, because I have two things going for me: I smile, and I'm American. Apparently, in the mind of the average French child, this is enough to make just about anything I do interesting. And if my lesson's kinda' lame? It doesn't matter to them, 'cause I'm interesting, and I don't sweat it because my speaking English to them is the most important part, anyway.
I'm fairly sure almost all of these kids learned today's material last year. But they're kids - they forget it from year to year. Which is fine, really - my French is good, and I may have started in kindergarten, but I didn't actually learn any of it until 7th grade. What's really key to teaching youngsters a foreign language - and what I can actually do - is presenting them with a native speaker's accent at a young age and (hopefully) making the language classes enough fun that they'll actually want to keep learning it in the coming years.
Of course, it's also a lot about making sure they want to keep learning it in the coming days. And an enthusiastic chorus of "Goodbye!" when I pass them on my way out the school's gate is victory enough for day one.
-Andy
-------------------------------
The link in the first paragraph is a clip from a classic French film, 'Zero de Conduite', which means "Zero for Conduct" (as in an elementary/middle school grade). We watched it in New Wave Cinema a few years back. I still have no idea why.
In a bizarre miracle, I made it to school on time. I woke up at 6, which is altogether too early for France. I got ready, left a note for Martina and Erika wishing them good luck on our first day teaching, and walked to the boulangerie (bakery) to grab a croissant and pain au chocolat for breakfast. 1 euro 55 cents. First victory of the day. I made it to the bus station by 7:10 to catch my 7:30 bus.
So, now that I've truly earned the title of "my father's son," what do I do for 20 minutes?
Oh. That works.
This bus... full of surprises: 20 minutes late, broke down halfway to St-Vallier, and then - for no good reason - unexpectedly dropped me right in front of the school (instead of a sizable walk away) 5 minutes early. Also, sorry to keep pickin' on my father, but I've found the last untapped way to make him hate his commute more, which is by comparing it to mine:
So, for fear that I actually get to the point and talk about working with little French kids, I'm going to take a paragraph or three to explain how a French elementary school is set up. My students run the gamut from 6 to 11 years old (but damned if I'll be teaching them the word "gamut"). They're divided roughly as follows:
CE1: 6-8 years old
CE2: 8-9
CM1: 9-10
CM2: 10-11
Whereas grades in the U.S. are dictated mostly by age, these divisions are a bit more sensitive to skill level. Naturally, they're not going to put a 7-year-old in CM2, even if he is bloody brilliant, but you can think of these levels as school grades with a dash of meritocracy à la those reading groups you had in third grade.
Also, despite my title of "assistant," I run the show. Resources and staff are supposedly tighter in elementary schools than other levels... I can't vouch for other towns in the region, but it's definitely true up in Grasse and St-Vallier de Thiey. I was alone in the classroom for one or two of my groups today. The homeroom teachers split their classes, gave me half for my 45-minute class, and worked with the other half on something else in the meantime (which is actually how we did it in my elementary school). But I also worked with a few entire classes, meaning the teachers were in the classroom to help. In these cases, they did some crowd control and/or used their English to help me demonstrate question-and-answer routines.
"Which question and answer routines?" I hear you ask. Well, not really, because this is a one-sided conversation typed on the internet, but indulge my unwieldy attempt at a transition.
First up today: about 16 CE2 kids (8-9 years old) a bit on the talkative side. I opened with a very simple song whose title is "Hello, my friends, hello." It's an apt title for this song, because those are the only words in it. But it's a song, it's easy to pick up, and it's in English, so the kids loved it. The rest of the lesson was - and they're all going to be this way - pretty straightforward: I taught them to ask and answer two questions: "What is your name?" and "Where are you from?".
I stuck to oral activities: having them repeat the words after me and building up to the full expression, then me asking them their name, then them asking me my name, then them asking a partner, and finally a unified chain where one says "My name is Jean-Claude" and asks somebody else in the room "What is your name?" Then they answer and ask somebody else until we make it most (or all) of the way around. Same with "Where are you from?" During orientation, they discouraged us from doing too much written work, especially not with the younger ones, and I felt most confident relying on myself as an activity for the first day, rather than printing out tons of color-in worksheets (but those will have their day...s).
For sake of simplicity, I planned to teach pretty much the same thing to all five of my classes today. Of course, my second class (CM1, 9-10 years old) was a bit more advanced and required some improvisation. So, I did, taking the opportunity to explore what they knew and what they didn't. CM1 had the same drill, but when they mastered "What is your name?" and "Where are you from?" fairly quickly, I decided to move on to something a little more subtle.
Big difference between English and French: gendered nouns. In French, the "chair" you're sitting in is female. A "name" is male. Fellow English-speakers, I have to say, I don't think you're missing much. But the point is, French students using possessive pronouns ("his", "her", "its") are used to choosing "son" or "sa" based on the gender of the thing possessed, rather than its possessor. So, can I get a whole lesson - and ten minutes of review tomorrow - out of "What is his name" and "What is her name"?
You better believe it. And you better believe the kids did a rockin' awesome job with it.
After those back-to-back classes, it's now 10:00 AM, and I have a half-hour break. I chat with my very nice colleagues, get a request to tutor that I'll likely take, arrange a carpool, and explain for the fifth or sixth time in the last week that, thank you very much, but I don't drink coffee.
10:30 - time for CM2.
These kids blew me away. They knew "What is your name?" and everything in a 10-kilometer radius. I exhausted "do you prefer _____ or _____?", "What is your favorite color?", colors, "Where are you from," and "How old are you?" This was mostly me reviewing and getting a sense of what they've covered. If I had these kids stand in front of the class and do a fairly complicated introduction dialogue tomorrow morning, I have little dobut they'd all do fine. The best part was that they were still into it and understood basically all of my directions, which means I've got license to do something more complicated and fun with them tomorrow. I had dispensed with "Hello, my friends, hello" because I thought it would be too simple for them and that they might be too cool for singing, but a girl came up to me at the end and asked if we would sing a song tomorrow.
And then it hit me. Ladies and gentlemen, The Fabulous Beatles.
I had visited the school briefly last Tuesday as part of orientation week, and I had arranged to get school lunches for the duration of my contract. For a euro fifty, I got couscous with vegetables, tender turkey cutlets in good sauce, delicious oranges, and bread with brie. Victory count: 6.
That was all at Collet de Gasq, an intimate school whose building I rather like, architecturally speaking. My schedule was a bit tight today, so I didn't have time to get pictures. Those will come soon. (I'm also nearly ready to launch my photo album.) I walked over to Emile Felix for a CE1 class (the littlest ones in my domain), which was the bare basics of "What is your name?" Same drill as earlier, but these kids were so small and had glasses almost as big as their heads and they freaking loved it. It was adorable.
Also, I'm taking wifi off the street and one of the kids I taught today just walked by and said "bonjour". Umpteenth victory of the day.
Last class of the day was another CM1 (9-10)... this one was a little dicey, but mostly went well. "What's your name?" and "Where are you from?", pretty basic. The kids were slightly talkative, and though the teacher was there and helped quiet them down a bit, it didn't always help. I did score a few laughs by demonstrating a question/answer with the head from their model skeleton, Pascal.
One day, when these kids have grown up a bit, one of them is gonna' watch Hamlet, and during the Yorick scene, stand up and shout "That's my English teacher!"
That's pretty much it... Oh, parting thought: I'm in a pretty sweet position, teaching-wise, because I have two things going for me: I smile, and I'm American. Apparently, in the mind of the average French child, this is enough to make just about anything I do interesting. And if my lesson's kinda' lame? It doesn't matter to them, 'cause I'm interesting, and I don't sweat it because my speaking English to them is the most important part, anyway.
I'm fairly sure almost all of these kids learned today's material last year. But they're kids - they forget it from year to year. Which is fine, really - my French is good, and I may have started in kindergarten, but I didn't actually learn any of it until 7th grade. What's really key to teaching youngsters a foreign language - and what I can actually do - is presenting them with a native speaker's accent at a young age and (hopefully) making the language classes enough fun that they'll actually want to keep learning it in the coming years.
Of course, it's also a lot about making sure they want to keep learning it in the coming days. And an enthusiastic chorus of "Goodbye!" when I pass them on my way out the school's gate is victory enough for day one.
-Andy
-------------------------------
The link in the first paragraph is a clip from a classic French film, 'Zero de Conduite', which means "Zero for Conduct" (as in an elementary/middle school grade). We watched it in New Wave Cinema a few years back. I still have no idea why.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Bloggers' Strike
Hi, everyone-- unfortunately, this will be my last entry for the foreseeable future. One of the big unions in France is on strike. Bloggers across the country aren't writing again until we all have working wi-fi and phone lines in our apartments. These strikes tend to last a little while, so it could be the end of the month before you hear from me here again.
I should probably clarify that I am the only person in that union. And it's not so much a strike as a phone/internet installation scheduled for October 26.
So, quick note brought to you by free wi-fi at a McDonald's two miles (on foot) from my apartment:
-I moved into my apartment this weekend.
-I'm going to orientation stuff all day every day next week.
-While I won't be posting, I will be keeping notes, so expect... well, whatever it is you expect from this blog... in back-issue at the end of the month.
Y'all are great. Internet service providers in France, on the other hand... not so much.
-Andy
I should probably clarify that I am the only person in that union. And it's not so much a strike as a phone/internet installation scheduled for October 26.
So, quick note brought to you by free wi-fi at a McDonald's two miles (on foot) from my apartment:
-I moved into my apartment this weekend.
-I'm going to orientation stuff all day every day next week.
-While I won't be posting, I will be keeping notes, so expect... well, whatever it is you expect from this blog... in back-issue at the end of the month.
Y'all are great. Internet service providers in France, on the other hand... not so much.
-Andy
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Some Pun-Based Title About 'School'...
I suppose I should say something more about the teaching side of my time here, seeing as how that is the premise as promised.
I managed to repeal my burn notice, which is to say that I got a straight answer about exactly where I'll be teaching (and even at what times!). I'm teaching at one elementary school in Grasse (where I'm living - the apartment is go! - but it's not the school they originally gave me). I've also been assigned to two elementary schools in Saint-Vallier-de-Thiey, a small town about 20 minutes inland (and upward, topographically speaking) by bus.
How often to people speak topographically, anyway?
Anyway, during my meeting with a local school administrator last Friday, I also got my teaching schedule, which works as follows (all classes with kids aged 6-10, variously):
MONDAY:
-7:30: Bus from Grasse to St-Vallier-de-Thiey
-8:30-11:15: 3 consecutive classes at one St-Vallier school
-11:15-1:30: 2-hour-and-fifteen-minute lunch break
-I'm not kidding.
-1:30-3:00: 2 consecutive classes at the other St-Vallier school
-4:30: Bus from St-Vallier to Grasse
TUESDAY:
-Identical to Monday, except my lunch break is three hours and I teach until 4:15
WEDNESDAY:
-No classes.
THURSDAY:
-1:30-4:15: 3 consecutive classes at school in Grasse
FRIDAY:
-8:30-11:15: 3 consecutive classes at school in Grasse
-I had to bargain pretty persuasively to get Friday afternoons off to travel.
So, after braving the slings and arrows of outrageous mis-communication, I successfully sorted this out. As the song goes, I fought the law and the law...
Well, our fight lasted until it was time for a two-hour lunch break, and then everyone was happy.
But it worked out. Given how spread-out Grasse is, the difficulty of reaching St-Vallier, and how many other little things have already gone awry, I am very happy with this schedule. I have also decided that the Official Mascot of Grasse is the mountain goat, given the town's frequent inclines, winding roads, and narrow sidewalks.
The other nice thing I found last weekend was that St-Vallier is way up in the mountains. I was a little peeved when I first found out that I was assigned even farther inland, but then I saw the place, courtesy of a driving tour from the woman running this wonderful B&B. It's up in the mountains! I love the mountains! As we drove back, it occurred to me that I'm within 30 minutes of both the beach and the mountains! Hemingway impression:
They were good mountains, and we were happy. We would have been overjoyed, only they were not great mountains, and as Gertrude observed, there were no bullfighters.
Last week, I also visited my elementary school that's actually in Grasse. Three things immediately set the tone for this place. One: the principal's office is more like a staff break room where all the staff gather. Two: the principal offered to take me around the classrooms and introduce me to the kids herself, in the middle of the day. Three: she explained right off the bat that, in this workplace, everybody refers to each other - not with the standard professional "vous" - but with the informal address, "tu."
It's hard to avoid a dull language lecture in explaining how open and laid-back that last one is.
But probably the most worthwhile thing for me in first seeing this school is that second item, the walk around to the classrooms themselves. Obviously, you can't ditch the formality entirely - kids all stand up and await the "at ease" when the principal shows up to class. The principal showed me each of the three classes where I'll come in and give my 45-minute lesson twice a week while the homeroom teacher basically hands out any materials (and does crowd control if need be).
I introduced myself - tried to be sunny and fun about it, you know - I said hello with a big smile, said was excited to work with them and learn some English together, and asked if they were excited to learn some English. (Some of the more fearless kids answered this pump-up question with "Yes!" instead of "Oui!" Precocious, adorable... same thing, really). Walking from the second classroom to the third, the principal told me that I was energetic and addressed the kids in ways normal teachers don't (and that the kids found fascinating), and that it was good that I was bringing that dynamic.
When she said that last part, I was so glad to be assigned there.
The principal and I did our shtick again in the final classroom. These were the 6- and 7-year-olds (my youngest kids):
PRINCIPAL: "Bonjour, tout le monde!" ["Hello, everyone!"]
STUDENTS: "Bonjour..."
PRINCIPAL: "Je vous présente Monsieur Andy Weiner. Il sera notre assistant d’anglais cette année." ["Allow me to introduce Mr. Andy Weiner. He's going to be our English assistant this year."]
ANDY: "Hello, everyone!"
Silence.
"We'll work on that."
I managed to repeal my burn notice, which is to say that I got a straight answer about exactly where I'll be teaching (and even at what times!). I'm teaching at one elementary school in Grasse (where I'm living - the apartment is go! - but it's not the school they originally gave me). I've also been assigned to two elementary schools in Saint-Vallier-de-Thiey, a small town about 20 minutes inland (and upward, topographically speaking) by bus.
How often to people speak topographically, anyway?
Anyway, during my meeting with a local school administrator last Friday, I also got my teaching schedule, which works as follows (all classes with kids aged 6-10, variously):
MONDAY:
-7:30: Bus from Grasse to St-Vallier-de-Thiey
-8:30-11:15: 3 consecutive classes at one St-Vallier school
-11:15-1:30: 2-hour-and-fifteen-minute lunch break
-I'm not kidding.
-1:30-3:00: 2 consecutive classes at the other St-Vallier school
-4:30: Bus from St-Vallier to Grasse
TUESDAY:
-Identical to Monday, except my lunch break is three hours and I teach until 4:15
WEDNESDAY:
-No classes.
THURSDAY:
-1:30-4:15: 3 consecutive classes at school in Grasse
FRIDAY:
-8:30-11:15: 3 consecutive classes at school in Grasse
-I had to bargain pretty persuasively to get Friday afternoons off to travel.
So, after braving the slings and arrows of outrageous mis-communication, I successfully sorted this out. As the song goes, I fought the law and the law...
Well, our fight lasted until it was time for a two-hour lunch break, and then everyone was happy.
But it worked out. Given how spread-out Grasse is, the difficulty of reaching St-Vallier, and how many other little things have already gone awry, I am very happy with this schedule. I have also decided that the Official Mascot of Grasse is the mountain goat, given the town's frequent inclines, winding roads, and narrow sidewalks.
The other nice thing I found last weekend was that St-Vallier is way up in the mountains. I was a little peeved when I first found out that I was assigned even farther inland, but then I saw the place, courtesy of a driving tour from the woman running this wonderful B&B. It's up in the mountains! I love the mountains! As we drove back, it occurred to me that I'm within 30 minutes of both the beach and the mountains! Hemingway impression:
They were good mountains, and we were happy. We would have been overjoyed, only they were not great mountains, and as Gertrude observed, there were no bullfighters.
Last week, I also visited my elementary school that's actually in Grasse. Three things immediately set the tone for this place. One: the principal's office is more like a staff break room where all the staff gather. Two: the principal offered to take me around the classrooms and introduce me to the kids herself, in the middle of the day. Three: she explained right off the bat that, in this workplace, everybody refers to each other - not with the standard professional "vous" - but with the informal address, "tu."
It's hard to avoid a dull language lecture in explaining how open and laid-back that last one is.
But probably the most worthwhile thing for me in first seeing this school is that second item, the walk around to the classrooms themselves. Obviously, you can't ditch the formality entirely - kids all stand up and await the "at ease" when the principal shows up to class. The principal showed me each of the three classes where I'll come in and give my 45-minute lesson twice a week while the homeroom teacher basically hands out any materials (and does crowd control if need be).
I introduced myself - tried to be sunny and fun about it, you know - I said hello with a big smile, said was excited to work with them and learn some English together, and asked if they were excited to learn some English. (Some of the more fearless kids answered this pump-up question with "Yes!" instead of "Oui!" Precocious, adorable... same thing, really). Walking from the second classroom to the third, the principal told me that I was energetic and addressed the kids in ways normal teachers don't (and that the kids found fascinating), and that it was good that I was bringing that dynamic.
When she said that last part, I was so glad to be assigned there.
The principal and I did our shtick again in the final classroom. These were the 6- and 7-year-olds (my youngest kids):
PRINCIPAL: "Bonjour, tout le monde!" ["Hello, everyone!"]
STUDENTS: "Bonjour..."
PRINCIPAL: "Je vous présente Monsieur Andy Weiner. Il sera notre assistant d’anglais cette année." ["Allow me to introduce Mr. Andy Weiner. He's going to be our English assistant this year."]
ANDY: "Hello, everyone!"
Silence.
"We'll work on that."
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Home on the Price Range
Mundane and not-specifically-European though they are, I would be remiss in not at least mentioning my recent efforts to find my first apartment. The following is basically my process of elimination:
1.) Don't spend more than 600 euro per month on anything, one-person or flatshare, because net monthly salary is about 780.
2.) Make plans to share a place with a fellow American teaching assistant from Idaho, who seems like a great future flatmate and helps you search for online listings from the U.S.
3.) Ignore anything connected to real estate agencies. They often insist on a fee equivalent to the first month's rent (that's before the equivalent deposit and rent itself through the landlord). They also want you to have a salary of at least three times the monthly rent (well, so do I, but...) and/or a French guarantor (which I can't get).
4.) Scan (hourly) a few trusty internet sites for listings direct from landlords, including BEP, the real estate agency for people who don't want to use real estate agencies. You pay them a one-time charge of 170 euros (which - in my token joke about how bad the exchange rate is - is about how much Obama proposes his new jobs plan will cost). In exchange, you get 5 months of access to regional ads from landlords who post on BEP's website about a week before they post anywhere else. After that, it's between you and the landlords BEP puts you in touch with.
5.) Through the various websites, arrange viewings for studios, because there are no 2- or 3-person apartments in Grasse. (Or, if there are, have fun wondering why the guy has time to re-post his ad every day to keep it on top of the list, but somehow can't manage to return a simple email requesting a visit.)
6.) Visit apartments, all of them one-person studios/multi-rooms. Decide that they could make okay backups, but are too expensive or don't come furnished, or have the inherent future problem of leaving you lonely in a small, quiet town after one month.
7.) After a week and a half of this, finally make contact with the Italian assistant assigned to a high school in Grasse. In addition to seeming very sweet and desirous to share a flat with other assistants (just like you, and by "you" I of course mean "me"), her high school has reserved for assistants the only 3-person apartment in all of southern France. It costs 400 euro per person per month. It is completely furnished (except sheets and plates), has a great big living room and kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big balcony, a pool and tennis courts, top-notch security, a decent location (remember, Grasse's geography forbids any location from being actually convenient). It also offers this view (enlarge by left-clicking the image once, then again when it appears by itself on the screen):
...Aaaannnnd YOU'RE the next contestant on THE PRICE IS RIGHT!
-Andy
1.) Don't spend more than 600 euro per month on anything, one-person or flatshare, because net monthly salary is about 780.
2.) Make plans to share a place with a fellow American teaching assistant from Idaho, who seems like a great future flatmate and helps you search for online listings from the U.S.
3.) Ignore anything connected to real estate agencies. They often insist on a fee equivalent to the first month's rent (that's before the equivalent deposit and rent itself through the landlord). They also want you to have a salary of at least three times the monthly rent (well, so do I, but...) and/or a French guarantor (which I can't get).
4.) Scan (hourly) a few trusty internet sites for listings direct from landlords, including BEP, the real estate agency for people who don't want to use real estate agencies. You pay them a one-time charge of 170 euros (which - in my token joke about how bad the exchange rate is - is about how much Obama proposes his new jobs plan will cost). In exchange, you get 5 months of access to regional ads from landlords who post on BEP's website about a week before they post anywhere else. After that, it's between you and the landlords BEP puts you in touch with.
5.) Through the various websites, arrange viewings for studios, because there are no 2- or 3-person apartments in Grasse. (Or, if there are, have fun wondering why the guy has time to re-post his ad every day to keep it on top of the list, but somehow can't manage to return a simple email requesting a visit.)
6.) Visit apartments, all of them one-person studios/multi-rooms. Decide that they could make okay backups, but are too expensive or don't come furnished, or have the inherent future problem of leaving you lonely in a small, quiet town after one month.
7.) After a week and a half of this, finally make contact with the Italian assistant assigned to a high school in Grasse. In addition to seeming very sweet and desirous to share a flat with other assistants (just like you, and by "you" I of course mean "me"), her high school has reserved for assistants the only 3-person apartment in all of southern France. It costs 400 euro per person per month. It is completely furnished (except sheets and plates), has a great big living room and kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big balcony, a pool and tennis courts, top-notch security, a decent location (remember, Grasse's geography forbids any location from being actually convenient). It also offers this view (enlarge by left-clicking the image once, then again when it appears by itself on the screen):
...Aaaannnnd YOU'RE the next contestant on THE PRICE IS RIGHT!
-Andy
Monday, September 19, 2011
Burn Notice
Theatrics aside, I'm okay. From what I've gathered following that Friday morning conversation, I've still got my job, and I'll be teaching at three schools instead of the one I was first assigned. I'm sorry if I freaked anybody out, but - me being me - I saw an opportunity for some nonlinear storytelling and a cliffhanger ending and I couldn't help myself.
Basically, I'm in the process of following every lead I've got to get in touch with local administrators and, through them, to my assigned schools. I've got one very nice regional administrator helping me out, and she keeps giving me numbers to call and names to ask for. Trouble is, bureaucracy that I'm dealing with, each name ends up being a lead to the next name. I'm secondarily hunting for apartments, but until I make sure I am actually working for those three schools, I hesitate to commit to anything. Basically, I feel like ex-spy Michael Westen running leads to the ground and tyring to resolve his burn notice.*
From what I understand at the moment, one of my schools is in Grasse, where I am, and the other two are in St-Valier-de-Thiey. Here's the map. St-Vallier-de-Thiey is very small, reachable either by car, or by a 20-minute bus ride from Grasse. So, when I signed up for this region and the Azure Coast, you can imagine that this isn't exactly what I had in mind.
But that's not to say I haven't made it to the coast anyway. I met up with two wonderful fellow assistants in the region and strolled around Cannes and Nice for several hours each. And now, my first recommendation. This one's in Nice: ice cream at Fennochio on the Place Rosetti, inside the charming winding streets of the old town. Everything you need to know to find it: right here.
And I shouldn't come down too hard on Grasse, because the center of town is fairly charming and has just about everything you could reasonably need. One such thing is a wonderful restaurant called La Grignote, on the Place Aux Aires, located here. I had a terrific dinner there Saturday night: Foie Gras Ravioli in a cream sauce, followed by a tarte-aux-pommes that they simply knocked out of the park. Service was very good, and the outdoor seating is on a nice little plaza with a fountain and old French buildings whose paint and stucco are crumbling in just the right-looking way. I will post pictures of these various places soon.
So, this afternoon brought some decent news. After some more bureaucratic run-around, I finally got in touch with one Mme. Leblanc, an administrator trying to get in touch with my three schools to make sure I'm still wanted. She's also investigating whether the schools have housing set aside for me, and she's working out my schedule (even keeping in mind the bus schedule from Grasse to St-Vallier). None of it's set yet, but I'm meeting with her at her office in Grasse on Friday morning.
"That's not much, Mikey."
"It's not much, Sam. But it's more than we had."
-----------
*Theatrics not aside, I considered starting the post like this:
My name is Andy Weiner. I used to be a teaching assistant. Until...
WOMAN ON PHONE [V.O.]: We don't need any teaching assistants this year.
When you're burned, you've got nothing. No work, no salary, nobody to validate your visa. You're stuck in whatever city they decided to assign you to.
Email from Dad onscreen: "Where are u???"
Andy types: "In Grasse"
You take whatever work comes your way.
Andy scrolls through Facebook, bored.
You rely on anybody who's still talking to you... A few fellow teaching assistants who happen to be in the same time zone.
Andy walks around promenades with Katie Hardy and Soraya. He Skypes with his friend Lauren.
A friendly French woman who's part of the system that changed your placement.
Andy reads email from Mme. Laboz.
Family, too...
RENEE (ON SKYPE): We miss you, kiddo!
...If you're desperate.
RENEE (CONTD.): At least they're not gonna' have a war over there, like when cousin Paul was in the Peace Corps in South America!
Bottom line, until you figure out who can un-burn you... you're not going anywhere.
...If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click here.
Basically, I'm in the process of following every lead I've got to get in touch with local administrators and, through them, to my assigned schools. I've got one very nice regional administrator helping me out, and she keeps giving me numbers to call and names to ask for. Trouble is, bureaucracy that I'm dealing with, each name ends up being a lead to the next name. I'm secondarily hunting for apartments, but until I make sure I am actually working for those three schools, I hesitate to commit to anything. Basically, I feel like ex-spy Michael Westen running leads to the ground and tyring to resolve his burn notice.*
From what I understand at the moment, one of my schools is in Grasse, where I am, and the other two are in St-Valier-de-Thiey. Here's the map. St-Vallier-de-Thiey is very small, reachable either by car, or by a 20-minute bus ride from Grasse. So, when I signed up for this region and the Azure Coast, you can imagine that this isn't exactly what I had in mind.
But that's not to say I haven't made it to the coast anyway. I met up with two wonderful fellow assistants in the region and strolled around Cannes and Nice for several hours each. And now, my first recommendation. This one's in Nice: ice cream at Fennochio on the Place Rosetti, inside the charming winding streets of the old town. Everything you need to know to find it: right here.
And I shouldn't come down too hard on Grasse, because the center of town is fairly charming and has just about everything you could reasonably need. One such thing is a wonderful restaurant called La Grignote, on the Place Aux Aires, located here. I had a terrific dinner there Saturday night: Foie Gras Ravioli in a cream sauce, followed by a tarte-aux-pommes that they simply knocked out of the park. Service was very good, and the outdoor seating is on a nice little plaza with a fountain and old French buildings whose paint and stucco are crumbling in just the right-looking way. I will post pictures of these various places soon.
So, this afternoon brought some decent news. After some more bureaucratic run-around, I finally got in touch with one Mme. Leblanc, an administrator trying to get in touch with my three schools to make sure I'm still wanted. She's also investigating whether the schools have housing set aside for me, and she's working out my schedule (even keeping in mind the bus schedule from Grasse to St-Vallier). None of it's set yet, but I'm meeting with her at her office in Grasse on Friday morning.
"That's not much, Mikey."
"It's not much, Sam. But it's more than we had."
-----------
*Theatrics not aside, I considered starting the post like this:
My name is Andy Weiner. I used to be a teaching assistant. Until...
WOMAN ON PHONE [V.O.]: We don't need any teaching assistants this year.
When you're burned, you've got nothing. No work, no salary, nobody to validate your visa. You're stuck in whatever city they decided to assign you to.
Email from Dad onscreen: "Where are u???"
Andy types: "In Grasse"
You take whatever work comes your way.
Andy scrolls through Facebook, bored.
You rely on anybody who's still talking to you... A few fellow teaching assistants who happen to be in the same time zone.
Andy walks around promenades with Katie Hardy and Soraya. He Skypes with his friend Lauren.
A friendly French woman who's part of the system that changed your placement.
Andy reads email from Mme. Laboz.
Family, too...
RENEE (ON SKYPE): We miss you, kiddo!
...If you're desperate.
RENEE (CONTD.): At least they're not gonna' have a war over there, like when cousin Paul was in the Peace Corps in South America!
Bottom line, until you figure out who can un-burn you... you're not going anywhere.
...If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click here.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Life's a Beach
Author's note: There's a link in the next paragraph. Usually, these are bonus material, but this entry will make a lot more sense if you watch the first 35 seconds (or more, if you like).
Andy sits speechless in front of his computer at a breakfast table. A woman's voice bids him "Au revoir" and the Skype call ends. As he sits there, he is reminded of the opening scene of the Firefly episode "Trash."
Three Days Earlier...
Planned Itinerary for Tuesday, 13 September 2011 - Wednesday, 14 September 2011:
--6:25 PM U.S. East Coast Time: Check two bags, fly from Washington Dulles to London Heathrow.
--6:25 AM London Time (12:25 AM Washington): Land at London Heathrow
--7:45 AM London Time: Fly from London Heathrow to Nice, France
--10:30 AM France Time (9:30 AM London Time): Land at Nice airport, collect bags, take bus to nearby train station
--11:45 AM France Time: Take train from Nice: St-Augustin train station (it's one of three in the city) to Grasse
--1:00 PM: B&B proprietor picks me up from the train station in their car, drives me to the B&B.
--3:00 PM: After settling in, see Grasse.
Actual Itinerary for Tuesday, 13 September 2011 - Wednesday, 14 September 2011:
--6:25 PM U.S. East Coast Time: fly from Washington Dulles to London Heathrow. Sit two rows behind a shrieking baby, but take zen approach and fall asleep intermittently while listening to jazz.
--6:25 AM London Time: Land at London Heathrow. Scramble through newly refurbished concrete labyrinth behind slowpoke fellow passengers, just to get to a surprise second security check. Smile, panicked, as the 7:10 gate closing for the flight to Nice draws closer.
--7:00 AM: clear security and blitz to gate A21.
--7:05 AM: Reach A21, board the plane.
--8:06 AM: The captain updates the cabin that something is still wrong with the plane engine.
--9:00 AM: The captain updates the cabin that this plane cannot fly and that another one is waiting for us at the other end of the tarmac.
--10:30 AM: We depart for Nice on the new plane.
--1:30 PM (France time): We land in Nice. I wait at the baggage claim for my bags.
--1:31 PM: My first bag passes into view, and I put it on my baggage cart.
--2:15 PM: I fill out a missing bag form at the baggage services desk. The pretty French woman kindly informs me that, due to the delay on my flight, my second bag wound up on the British Airways flight arriving at 2:40.
--2:20 PM: I use the terminal's free wi-fi (which is, adorably, pronounced "wee-fee" here in France) to check my email and realize the B&B owner was waiting for me at the train station. I send a quick apology email to explain. I will take the 3:45 train and be there at 5.
--2:40 PM: I check for my bag, deciding that if it doesn't show up by 3:10, I'm leaving for the train and letting baggage services drop it at the B&B sometime in the next few days.
--2:41 PM: I realize my clothes for the next two weeks are all in that missing suitcase, but stick to my decision anyway.
--3:06 PM: I pick up my second bag.
--3:20 PM: The bus to the train station arrives, and I board it.
--3:45 PM: As my train leaves for Grasse, I am stuck on the bus with two suitcases as the bus makes every single stop in Nice.
--4:10 PM: I get off the bus near a different Nice train station and find I have 30 minutes until the next train, which will start the 75-minute trip about 15 minutes before the B&B woman goes to pick me up again.
--5:55 PM: I arrive in Grasse, attempt to follow my carefully written walking directions but get confused by the side streets not mentioned on Google Maps, as well as quickly changing elevations of roads. After asking for directions, I pull all 120 pounds of stuff to my name over hills (just hills, sadly-- they don't have dales in France) about a mile and a half to the B&B.
--7:00 PM: I arrive at the B&B to a very nice, understanding French couple, who encourage me to (quite literally) take a load off.
--8:00 PM: I join the couple for dinner: tasty homemade pizza.
--8:45 PM: I tell the couple that I should be up for breakfast at 8:30, apologizing again for the mixup today and hoping they don't think my life is a total mess for it.
--9:47 AM: I wake up and see the clock, which did not sound the alarm I requested.
--9:47:02 AM: "Shit."
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Despite my concerns, I got breakfast no problem. Like I said, the couple running this B&B is very sweet and had the following waiting for me anyway: baguette, cheese and ham, croissant and pain au chocolat, as well as orange juice, hot chocolate (at my request), and jam for any of the above. I ate and then answered a few emails, several related to finding more permanent housing, almost all of them pertaining to actually running my own life.
To appease my uneasiness about, well, that, I took it slow that day and spent it simply getting a feel for the town where I'd be teaching. Much of this was putting what I'd seen last summer in a walking-around context. (Part of "what I'd seen" is - and I'm not making this up - 'The B.O. Cafe'.)
Grasse is a pretty cute town-- lots of little winding streets full of soap and perfume shops (not bad for a local souvenir industry). The town boasts three big-time perfume factories, many standard stores, a movie theater, a live theater, and a fairly steep hillside setting about 45 minutes inland from the beach. I was actually more productive than I thought I would be; I picked up a few things, got a working SIM card for my French cell phone, and even visited a few banks and got some information about opening accounts.
Fellow assistants: If you want a good introduction to opening a French bank account, I highly recommend going to an LCL branch for information. Even if you don't want an account there, ask them to go through their online simulation with you. It's free, and it gives you a good idea of the various options available (as well as their quote for monthly fees). I believe you can also find this feature on their website, although I haven't looked.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Pursuant to a suggestion from one of my very friendly contacts in the regional school system, I called my assigned elementary school to schedule a meeting with the principal this morning as I had my breakfast. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself, arrange a visit before I start working there, get a sense of my duties, and ask for advice about housing, banking, paperwork, etc. I have paraphrased and translated the exchange:
WOMAN: Hello?
ANDY: Hello, is this the Saint-Exupery Elementary School?
WOMAN: Yes, indeed!
ANDY: Oh, good! My name is Andrew Weiner, and I'm going to be the English Teaching Assistant this year.
WOMAN: Yes...!
ANDY: I'd like to schedule a meeting with the principal, if that's possible?
WOMAN: Will you hold, please?
I hold. Children are audible in the background. It sounds like a school! Oh, boy!
WOMAN: Hello?
ANDY: Yes?
WOMAN: We don't need an English teacher this year.
ANDY: Excuse me?
ANDY'S INNER MONOLOGUE: WHAT?!?!?!
ANDY: Madame, I was placed at this school as an assistant. I just want to schedule a meeting with the principal to ask a few questions -
WOMAN: I am the principal -
ANDY: Ah.
WOMAN: All of the teachers here teach English themselves.
ANDY: Right, but I'd be an assistant. I was assigned here by the French government as part of the TAPIF program -
WOMAN: I understand, sir, but we don't need an assistant this year. You should talk to someone else in the administration - I think that would be best.
ANDY: Okay, thank you.
WOMAN: Goodbye.
She hangs up. The Skype window on Andy's laptop closes. Andy sits at the breakfast table, pensive.
ANDY: Yep... That went well.
Andy sits speechless in front of his computer at a breakfast table. A woman's voice bids him "Au revoir" and the Skype call ends. As he sits there, he is reminded of the opening scene of the Firefly episode "Trash."
Three Days Earlier...
Planned Itinerary for Tuesday, 13 September 2011 - Wednesday, 14 September 2011:
--6:25 PM U.S. East Coast Time: Check two bags, fly from Washington Dulles to London Heathrow.
--6:25 AM London Time (12:25 AM Washington): Land at London Heathrow
--7:45 AM London Time: Fly from London Heathrow to Nice, France
--10:30 AM France Time (9:30 AM London Time): Land at Nice airport, collect bags, take bus to nearby train station
--11:45 AM France Time: Take train from Nice: St-Augustin train station (it's one of three in the city) to Grasse
--1:00 PM: B&B proprietor picks me up from the train station in their car, drives me to the B&B.
--3:00 PM: After settling in, see Grasse.
Actual Itinerary for Tuesday, 13 September 2011 - Wednesday, 14 September 2011:
--6:25 PM U.S. East Coast Time: fly from Washington Dulles to London Heathrow. Sit two rows behind a shrieking baby, but take zen approach and fall asleep intermittently while listening to jazz.
--6:25 AM London Time: Land at London Heathrow. Scramble through newly refurbished concrete labyrinth behind slowpoke fellow passengers, just to get to a surprise second security check. Smile, panicked, as the 7:10 gate closing for the flight to Nice draws closer.
--7:00 AM: clear security and blitz to gate A21.
--7:05 AM: Reach A21, board the plane.
--8:06 AM: The captain updates the cabin that something is still wrong with the plane engine.
--9:00 AM: The captain updates the cabin that this plane cannot fly and that another one is waiting for us at the other end of the tarmac.
--10:30 AM: We depart for Nice on the new plane.
--1:30 PM (France time): We land in Nice. I wait at the baggage claim for my bags.
--1:31 PM: My first bag passes into view, and I put it on my baggage cart.
--2:15 PM: I fill out a missing bag form at the baggage services desk. The pretty French woman kindly informs me that, due to the delay on my flight, my second bag wound up on the British Airways flight arriving at 2:40.
--2:20 PM: I use the terminal's free wi-fi (which is, adorably, pronounced "wee-fee" here in France) to check my email and realize the B&B owner was waiting for me at the train station. I send a quick apology email to explain. I will take the 3:45 train and be there at 5.
--2:40 PM: I check for my bag, deciding that if it doesn't show up by 3:10, I'm leaving for the train and letting baggage services drop it at the B&B sometime in the next few days.
--2:41 PM: I realize my clothes for the next two weeks are all in that missing suitcase, but stick to my decision anyway.
--3:06 PM: I pick up my second bag.
--3:20 PM: The bus to the train station arrives, and I board it.
--3:45 PM: As my train leaves for Grasse, I am stuck on the bus with two suitcases as the bus makes every single stop in Nice.
--4:10 PM: I get off the bus near a different Nice train station and find I have 30 minutes until the next train, which will start the 75-minute trip about 15 minutes before the B&B woman goes to pick me up again.
--5:55 PM: I arrive in Grasse, attempt to follow my carefully written walking directions but get confused by the side streets not mentioned on Google Maps, as well as quickly changing elevations of roads. After asking for directions, I pull all 120 pounds of stuff to my name over hills (just hills, sadly-- they don't have dales in France) about a mile and a half to the B&B.
--7:00 PM: I arrive at the B&B to a very nice, understanding French couple, who encourage me to (quite literally) take a load off.
--8:00 PM: I join the couple for dinner: tasty homemade pizza.
--8:45 PM: I tell the couple that I should be up for breakfast at 8:30, apologizing again for the mixup today and hoping they don't think my life is a total mess for it.
--9:47 AM: I wake up and see the clock, which did not sound the alarm I requested.
--9:47:02 AM: "Shit."
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Despite my concerns, I got breakfast no problem. Like I said, the couple running this B&B is very sweet and had the following waiting for me anyway: baguette, cheese and ham, croissant and pain au chocolat, as well as orange juice, hot chocolate (at my request), and jam for any of the above. I ate and then answered a few emails, several related to finding more permanent housing, almost all of them pertaining to actually running my own life.
To appease my uneasiness about, well, that, I took it slow that day and spent it simply getting a feel for the town where I'd be teaching. Much of this was putting what I'd seen last summer in a walking-around context. (Part of "what I'd seen" is - and I'm not making this up - 'The B.O. Cafe'.)
Grasse is a pretty cute town-- lots of little winding streets full of soap and perfume shops (not bad for a local souvenir industry). The town boasts three big-time perfume factories, many standard stores, a movie theater, a live theater, and a fairly steep hillside setting about 45 minutes inland from the beach. I was actually more productive than I thought I would be; I picked up a few things, got a working SIM card for my French cell phone, and even visited a few banks and got some information about opening accounts.
Fellow assistants: If you want a good introduction to opening a French bank account, I highly recommend going to an LCL branch for information. Even if you don't want an account there, ask them to go through their online simulation with you. It's free, and it gives you a good idea of the various options available (as well as their quote for monthly fees). I believe you can also find this feature on their website, although I haven't looked.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Pursuant to a suggestion from one of my very friendly contacts in the regional school system, I called my assigned elementary school to schedule a meeting with the principal this morning as I had my breakfast. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself, arrange a visit before I start working there, get a sense of my duties, and ask for advice about housing, banking, paperwork, etc. I have paraphrased and translated the exchange:
WOMAN: Hello?
ANDY: Hello, is this the Saint-Exupery Elementary School?
WOMAN: Yes, indeed!
ANDY: Oh, good! My name is Andrew Weiner, and I'm going to be the English Teaching Assistant this year.
WOMAN: Yes...!
ANDY: I'd like to schedule a meeting with the principal, if that's possible?
WOMAN: Will you hold, please?
I hold. Children are audible in the background. It sounds like a school! Oh, boy!
WOMAN: Hello?
ANDY: Yes?
WOMAN: We don't need an English teacher this year.
ANDY: Excuse me?
ANDY'S INNER MONOLOGUE: WHAT?!?!?!
ANDY: Madame, I was placed at this school as an assistant. I just want to schedule a meeting with the principal to ask a few questions -
WOMAN: I am the principal -
ANDY: Ah.
WOMAN: All of the teachers here teach English themselves.
ANDY: Right, but I'd be an assistant. I was assigned here by the French government as part of the TAPIF program -
WOMAN: I understand, sir, but we don't need an assistant this year. You should talk to someone else in the administration - I think that would be best.
ANDY: Okay, thank you.
WOMAN: Goodbye.
She hangs up. The Skype window on Andy's laptop closes. Andy sits at the breakfast table, pensive.
ANDY: Yep... That went well.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Re-Orientation
To those of you joining us again for season 2 of me blogging, welcome back. I hope that this provides you with something entertaining to read and a strong means for us to keep in touch. Well, then again, I suppose that's true whether you read the first one or not.
In any case, I might as well put everyone on the same page. Tonight, I begin travel from Washington, DC, USA to Grasse, France (located here). My job (yes, actual gainful employment) begins on October 1, and for it, I will help teach French elementary schoolers English, alongside their actual English teachers.* I should have about 9-12 hours per week of work, for which the French government has promised to compensate me fairly generously.
I should also note that this position is open to lots of people in lots of countries who speak many different languages: TAPIF (Teaching Assistantship Program in France) is a long-running, established, and quite successful French government program that brings in people about my age from around the world to do what I am doing at all levels of the French education system (you request age group and region when you apply, and yes, I did request the Azure Coast over Paris). This is a program I really think the U.S. should pick up.
As for this blog, you can expect more or less what came at the end of the last one, to wit:
--Intermittent (every few days...ly) postings about what I'm up to, what I've seen and done, and how work is going. There will be plenty of stories about funny little French kids.
--Recommendations. I probably recommended too much too soon last time, so I'll try to hold off this time around and save my suggestions for particularly great restaurants or things to do. I do this so that, if you're ever in this part of the world, I can give you a guide more easily. Recommendations will be in bold and I'll label the entry with the word "recommendations."
--Travel episodes. I will travel. I will travel fairly often, I will hopefully travel to a few terrific places, and I will write about it when (or, more likely, after) I do.
--Photos. I will post photos on Facebook and link to the albums here (and try to coordinate the two somehow). Don't worry if you don't have an account-- you should still be able to view them. If this gives anyone trouble, let me know and I'll try to fix it.
--Other random asides. If I see a good movie (like the new Cronenberg movie coming out in February), or if something big pops up in the news, I may give it a paragraph or two. Or six. But only if it's a movie.
--More concision. This entry may be a poor example, but I will try to ramble less this time, so that I can be every bit as offbeat and confusing, but in less space.
...So, just to get the plot rolling a bit, I'm landing in Grasse (the perfume capitol of the world-- and now you know) on Wednesday and staying in a B&B there for a week.** My objective will be to search for my first apartment, which was already going to be fun*** before I knew I'd have to do it in a foreign country. Since I spent about 4 hours in Grasse last summer (touring the Fragonard perfume factory), I didn't give the place much consideration. I'll check the place out and decide if I want to live in this cute, quiet, elevated town slightly off the coast, or whether I'm willing to commute 45 minutes each way by train and live in the lovely town of Antibes where I stayed for all of July in 2010. Also an option is nearby Cannes (home of the film festival, pronounced "con," not "can," and CERTAINLY not "cans").
Regardless of where I choose an apartment, chances are good I will make arrangements to share it with other teaching assistants (of various languages). We've all gotten in touch over Facebook over the last few months. It's like summer-pre-Vassar all over again.
For the record, all of France (and next-door neighbor Italy) is 6 hours ahead of East Coast time, so please keep this in mind when you're thinking about when we should Skype. And we should Skype. With that in mind, here's how else to keep in touch with me over the next academic year:
EMAIL: andy.j.weiner@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: facebook.com/andy.j.weiner
SKYPE: andy.j.weiner.17
I really do want to hear from you about you and what and how you're doing. I'm not sure what my internet capabilities will be right off the bat... could be several weeks until I get a stable situation, but I'll make it work. I'll also keep you posted on my schedule. Pretty sure that covers all the basics.
Well. I'm off.
-------------------
Footnotes
*I've been assigned to one school so far, but my predecessor tells me they surprised her with two more when she arrived.
**To those of you familiar with my screenplay thesis, I assure you that the irony is not lost on me, either.
***That's French for "Oh, bullocks."
****If you're curious, here's a link to my first blog, from JYA spring 2010: (199) Days of Europe
In any case, I might as well put everyone on the same page. Tonight, I begin travel from Washington, DC, USA to Grasse, France (located here). My job (yes, actual gainful employment) begins on October 1, and for it, I will help teach French elementary schoolers English, alongside their actual English teachers.* I should have about 9-12 hours per week of work, for which the French government has promised to compensate me fairly generously.
I should also note that this position is open to lots of people in lots of countries who speak many different languages: TAPIF (Teaching Assistantship Program in France) is a long-running, established, and quite successful French government program that brings in people about my age from around the world to do what I am doing at all levels of the French education system (you request age group and region when you apply, and yes, I did request the Azure Coast over Paris). This is a program I really think the U.S. should pick up.
As for this blog, you can expect more or less what came at the end of the last one, to wit:
--Intermittent (every few days...ly) postings about what I'm up to, what I've seen and done, and how work is going. There will be plenty of stories about funny little French kids.
--Recommendations. I probably recommended too much too soon last time, so I'll try to hold off this time around and save my suggestions for particularly great restaurants or things to do. I do this so that, if you're ever in this part of the world, I can give you a guide more easily. Recommendations will be in bold and I'll label the entry with the word "recommendations."
--Travel episodes. I will travel. I will travel fairly often, I will hopefully travel to a few terrific places, and I will write about it when (or, more likely, after) I do.
--Photos. I will post photos on Facebook and link to the albums here (and try to coordinate the two somehow). Don't worry if you don't have an account-- you should still be able to view them. If this gives anyone trouble, let me know and I'll try to fix it.
--Other random asides. If I see a good movie (like the new Cronenberg movie coming out in February), or if something big pops up in the news, I may give it a paragraph or two. Or six. But only if it's a movie.
--More concision. This entry may be a poor example, but I will try to ramble less this time, so that I can be every bit as offbeat and confusing, but in less space.
...So, just to get the plot rolling a bit, I'm landing in Grasse (the perfume capitol of the world-- and now you know) on Wednesday and staying in a B&B there for a week.** My objective will be to search for my first apartment, which was already going to be fun*** before I knew I'd have to do it in a foreign country. Since I spent about 4 hours in Grasse last summer (touring the Fragonard perfume factory), I didn't give the place much consideration. I'll check the place out and decide if I want to live in this cute, quiet, elevated town slightly off the coast, or whether I'm willing to commute 45 minutes each way by train and live in the lovely town of Antibes where I stayed for all of July in 2010. Also an option is nearby Cannes (home of the film festival, pronounced "con," not "can," and CERTAINLY not "cans").
Regardless of where I choose an apartment, chances are good I will make arrangements to share it with other teaching assistants (of various languages). We've all gotten in touch over Facebook over the last few months. It's like summer-pre-Vassar all over again.
For the record, all of France (and next-door neighbor Italy) is 6 hours ahead of East Coast time, so please keep this in mind when you're thinking about when we should Skype. And we should Skype. With that in mind, here's how else to keep in touch with me over the next academic year:
EMAIL: andy.j.weiner@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: facebook.com/andy.j.weiner
SKYPE: andy.j.weiner.17
I really do want to hear from you about you and what and how you're doing. I'm not sure what my internet capabilities will be right off the bat... could be several weeks until I get a stable situation, but I'll make it work. I'll also keep you posted on my schedule. Pretty sure that covers all the basics.
Well. I'm off.
-------------------
Footnotes
*I've been assigned to one school so far, but my predecessor tells me they surprised her with two more when she arrived.
**To those of you familiar with my screenplay thesis, I assure you that the irony is not lost on me, either.
***That's French for "Oh, bullocks."
****If you're curious, here's a link to my first blog, from JYA spring 2010: (199) Days of Europe
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