a bedtime story

Yesterday, my 3eme (around 8th grade, 13-14 years old) kids wrote a stories. Each student wrote a sentence per story, and after each student wrote their sentence, we folded the paper. They were only able to see one preceding sentence. This is one of their stories. It's a classic, or something.
There was man named Marty. He used to play the guitar. He has played since 2000. He used to make spectacle. Two months ago, he won the concert the music. So, he has drunk champagne every day since 3 years. He used to go to night club! :) (yes, they did write in a sideways smile) He has smoked for 5 years. He has taked a photo with nude girl. Now, he has an car accident and he died.

Another story included the word goodating. They were pronouncing it good-at-ing. Although I am not sure what they were trying to say, I like that word. I think the English language could really benefit from such a seemingly versatile word. I am going to write the folks at Webster about including it in their 2009 edition.

are these words on le bac? (sorry for the profanities!)

We spent a lot of time in college learning about what is and isn't acceptable material/behavior/student-teacher relationships regarding our high schoolers. But here, no one really seems too concerned with boundaries. I have had teachers call kids stupid pigs, worthless, waste of time, etc. They show kids any movie, regardless of ratings. They ask the Muslim students to tell stories about their favorite Christmas memory. And at our first stage back in September, one of the male teachers told all the female assistants "not to let your strings show when you bend over." I am still scarred as a result of that conversation.
I got to school Friday morning, and one of my teachers said he was working on typing out the lyrics for a rap song. He said he was having some trouble figuring out some of the words, and asked if I would take a listen and help him out. If I were in America, I would have directed the teacher to the internet. While France is worlds ahead of America in some regards (wine, bicycle baskets, having goat cheese flavored everything), France is not exactly at the forefront of technology. Most French computers look something like this,

and I am pretty sure the internet here is powered by two hamsters and a wheel.
So I agreed to help the teacher with the lyrics. I stupidly assumed that since this rap song would be used with 14 year olds, it would be pretty PG rated, maybe about getting caught passing notes in study hall, or staying up late on a school night. But no, these are the lyrics to the song. I also included for your viewing pleasure (courtesy of Youtube) the video for the song, so you can listen to it in all its glory.
I also had to explain to my teacher the meaning of certain words-diss, gear, cold, and caper, just to name a few. It is a good thing I am so hood and am down with the lingo.


Ya know that's why man I be telling you all the time man you know
LOVE
that word love is a very serious thing and if you don't watch out I
tell ya that (Love's gonna get you) because a lot of people out here say "i
love my car" or "i love my chain" or or "i'm i'm just in love with that girl
over there" so far all the people out there that fall in love with material
items we gonna bump the beat a lil' something like this
im in junior high with a b plus grade,
at the end of the day i don't hit the arcade,
I walk from school to my moms apartment,
I got to tell the sucaks everyday "don't start it",
cause where I'm at if your soft your lost,
to say on course means to roll with force,
a boy named Rob is chillin in a Benz,
in front of my building with the rest of his friends,
I give him a pound, oh i mean i shake his hand,
he's the neighborhood drug dealer, my man,
i go upstair and hug my mother,
kiss my sister, and punch my brother,
i sit down on my bed to watch some tv,
(machine gun fire) do my ears decieve me,
Nope, thats the fourth time this week,
another fast brother shot dead in the street,
the very next day while im off to class,
my moms goes to work cold busting her ass,
my sisters cute but she got no gear,
i got three pairs of pants and with my brother i share,
see there in school see i'm made a fool,
with one and a half pair of pant you aint cool,
but there's no dollars for nothing else,
i got beans, rice, and bread on my shelf,
every day i see my mother struggling,
now its time i've got to do something,
i look for work i get dissed like a jerk,
i do odd jobs and come home like a slob,
so here comes Rob hes cold and shivery,
he gives me two hundred for a quick delivery,
i do it once, i do it twice,
now theres steak with the beans and rice,
my mother's nervous but she knows the deal,
my sister's gear now has sex appeal,
my brothers my partner and we're getting paper,
three months later we run our own caper,
my family's happy everything is new,
now tell me what the fuck am i supposed to do,
CHORUS
thats why, (loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
you fall in love with your chain,
you fall in love with your car,
loves gonna sneak right up and snuff you from behind,
so i want you to check the story out as we go down the line,
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
money's flowing, everything is fine,
got myself an uzi and my brother a nine,
buisness is boomin' everything is cool,
i pull about a g a week fuck school,
a year goes by and i begin to grow,
not in height but juice and cash flow,
i pick up my feet and begin to watch tv,
cause now i got other people working for me,
i got a 55 inch television you know,
and every once in awhile i hear just say no,
or the other commercial i love,
is when they say, this is your brain on drugs,
i pick up my remote control and just turn,
cause with that bullshit im not concerned,
see me and my brother jump in the BM,
driving around our territory again,
i stop at the light like a superstar,
and automatic weapons cold sprayed my car,
i hit the accelerator scared as fuck,
and drove one block to find my brother was hit,
he wasn't dead but the blood was pouring,
and all i could think about was war and,
later i found that it was Rob and his crew,
now tell me what the fuck am i supposed to do,
ya know thats why, (loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
that word love is very very serious(loves gonna get you)
very addictive
my brothers out of it, but i'm still in it,
on top of that im in it to win it,
i can't believe that Rob would diss me,
that faggot, that punk, he's soft a sissy,
i'm driving around now with three of my guys,
the war is on and i'm on the rise,
we rolled right up to his favorite hang out,
said hello and then the bullets rang out,
some fired back so we took cover,
and all i could think about was my brother,
Rob jumped up and began to run,
busting shots hoping to hit someone,
so I just stopped, and let off three shots,
two hit him and one hit a cop,
I threw the gun down and began to shout,
come on I got him it's time to break out,
but as we ran there were the boys in blue,
pointing their guns at my four man crew,
they shot down one, they shot down two,
now tell me what the fuck am i supposed to do,
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you),
(loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
ya know a lot of people believe that that word Love is real soft, but
when you use it in your vocabulary like your addicted to it it sneaks right
up and takes you right out. out. out. out. out.
So, for future reference remember it's alright to like or want a
material item, but when you fall in love with it and you start scheming and
carrying on for it, just remember, it's gonna get'cha

Bordeaux has exploded Christmas

Thursday was frustrating. There was a mandatory stage for all the secondary English assistants. About half of the secondary English assistants are American, so you can imagine our disdain about having a stage on Thanksgiving. I am not exactly sure what the stage was about, since I spent the morning thinking about the word stage. Is there an American English equivalent? Meeting? Not exactly. Training session? Kind of. A giant waste of a day and way for the French powers that be to ensure that since the French fail to see the fantasticness that is Thanksgiving, the Americans’ holiday celebrations are lame as well? Precisely. I spent the afternoon making a list of what I need to bring home with me, what I want to bring back here, and thinking about what kind of wine I should bring home. Aside from being held on Thanksgiving, one of the most annoying things about the stage was that it was conducted by 3 English teachers- a French woman who refused to speak to us in English, a French woman who only spoke to us in English, and an English man who spoke to us in English. It is really difficult to switch back and forth between languages, especially when the French speaking woman kept interrupting her colleagues to throw in her two, usually worthless, cents, and ended every one of her sentences with the word “what”, like she was 13. We had to write an evaluation at the end of the stage. One of the other assistants wrote her review in French and English, every other sentence. It was passive aggressive, but hopefully got the point across.

Thursday evening my friend had a Thanksgiving potluck at her apartment. No one really had time to cook anything special, since most of us were at the stage all day. However, we had the 4 basic French food groups covered-wine, baguette, cheese, and nutella.



I made an interesting observation on Friday. For over a month now I have been watching as Bordeaux put up beaucoup de Christmas decorations, and I have been eagerly anticipating the lights being turned on. For many Americans, myself not included given that I carve my jack-o-lantern while enjoying the Now That’s What I Call Christmas CD, the Christmas season official starts the day after Thanksgiving. Since the French do not celebrate Thanksgiving, I have been curious as to when their Christmas season official begins. I now have my answer. Despite the forth Thursday in November being just another day to the French, the fourth Friday in November is used as their official start to the Christmas season as well. I was sitting in a cafe late afternoon on Friday, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of light. I got up and looked out the window, and much to my delight, saw the lights had been turned on.




On Friday evening, there was a fete outside the big cathedral in Bordeaux. From my understanding, there is a big competition among French cities to see who can have the biggest Buche de Noel. Currently, Bordeaux holds the record. In addition to the Buche de Noel, they had free vin chaud, a band dressed up in Santa suits, and ice skating.




Yesterday, another assistant had a Thanksgiving dinner at her house. She had found some turkey breasts at the grocery store. The food we had was a little more traditional Thanksgiving fare, despite the turkey not tasting at all like turkey. I provided the pumpkin pie, although that would have not been possible, had it not been for my fantastic mom, who gave me the gifts of canned pumpkin, evaporated milk, and pumpkin pie seasonings when she was here last month.


Our little family chez Maryse has grown. We got another housemate yesterday. His name is Robert. Robert is an interesting fellow. He is British, here for 2 months doing an internship. He is here through the same program that Catherine (my former housemate) was in. Catherine was 22, and just out of university. All of her colleagues were 22, just out of university, or 18 and here on their gap year. Robert is 39. I hope to befriend him, at least well enough to learn why he is 39 and just now doing an internship. He is 10 kinds of socially awkward though, so I may never know.

Happy (early) Thanksgiving!

Here are some pictures of my family because I love them and Thursday is going to be sad. But I do consider myself lucky because the reason I miss my family so much is because they are so wonderful.
I wish I had pictures of my extended family as well, but I don't. I will see you all in 3 weeks!

can I park my unicorn at the tram stop?

I would like to teach French, but right now I feel like my knowledge of the language is not up to par. I know enough to get by, but I am FAR from fluent. For example, a few weeks ago I had to meet with the headmistress of one of my schools to ask permission to leave early at Christmas. My eloquent speech went something like this (and it does lose a little something without my classy American accent)
Me: I am going to come to the United States for Christmas. I am going by… the airplane. I try buy a ticket last week. I can to leave on December 24 or December 17. I prefer to leave on December 17 because that day is not the day before Christmas. But I should work on Friday, December 19. Can I…I don’t know the French word.
Headmistress (a former English teacher, and speaks perfect English, but lets me struggle through my pathetic plea anyway, which is a rare quality in a French person. Most French people I have met usually interrupt me once they understand what I am trying to say, or else start speaking to me in English, which does nothing to improve my French): What is the English word you are trying to say?
Me: make up
Headmistress tells me the word, and I continue on pleading my case.

However, as demonstrated by my cooperating teachers on a daily basis, fluency is not necessary for lower level foreign language teachers.
In one of my classes on Wednesday, the kids were learning about routines or “time tables” as my teacher told me. At first I had no idea what he meant, and even after teaching two lessons on the subject, I am still unsure as to what exactly the kids were learning. Although a nice person, this particular man has, without question, the worst English of any of the 12 teaches that I work with. So I was teaching, and he was sitting at his desk, grading on pronunciation and participation. I was supposed to have each kid tell me their morning routine. I hate when the teachers do activities like this because we are supposed to interrupt the kids to correct grammar and pronunciation. I have no problem correcting the kids; I just don’t like interrupting them to do so. But if I don’t jump right in and interrupt, the teachers will, making me look incompetent. So I am learning, although I can’t bring myself to do it every time. After about 4 students had given their routines to me, I noticed they were all making the same mistake. They were saying “I get up at 7 o’clock. I have breakfast at 10 minutes past 7. At quarter past 7, I brush my teeth. Then at quarter TO 7, I leave for school”
So I said “Ok, I have noticed you were all making this mistake, so I want to make sure you understand something. When someone says a quarter to 7, that means 15 minutes before 7. If you are trying to say 7:45, you need to say a quarter to 8, or just 7:45”
Then my teacher jumped in “Yes, good. They have not learned until or before, so they say it this way. But that is correct, but they say it this way.”
So I said “I understand that, but they need to say they are leaving for school at a quarter to 8, not a quarter to 7, since that would be 15 minutes before they wake up”
Then the teacher replied “Yes, good. They have not learned until or before.”

At this point, I realize my teacher had absolutely no idea what I had just said. Like the majority of the wisdom that I have tried to bestow on the kids (and teachers), it was met with a vacant “I don’t understand” stare/smile combo. I consider myself a master of this look, since I use it in nearly all of the French conversations that I have had in the past 2 months. So then the rest of the class continued on, saying that they leave for school 15 minutes before waking up.
Then I had to tell my morning routine. I could have said “I use my powers of telekinesis to bring myself breakfast in bed at half past 48 (anything:30 is also a forbidden term). I get in the shower at quarter to twoteen. At this time, the gnomes come to make my bed and iron my clothes. At a quarter past eleventy, I ride the unicorn to the tram stop.” And my teacher would have seen nothing out of the ordinary about my morning, as long as I did not say before, until, or anything:30. Other changes I was told to make include “preparing dinner” instead of “fixing dinner”, “having breakfast” instead of “eating breakfast” and “jogging” instead of “running”

As promised, since last Saturday, I have not left the house without my camera. Here are a few pictures from this week.



These are the lights hanging above Rue St. Catherine. They are not on yet, but slowly the Christmas lights are being turned on around town. The Christmas Market opens Wednesday, so hopefully these lights will be on soon! Funny story though, as I stopped to take this picture, a bum rode by on his bike and offered to take a picture of me with my camera if I paid him 50 cents.



I saw this lovely sunrise while I was walking to the tram stop a few mornings ago. And the old saying “red sky in morning, sailors’ warning” proved to be true. It was raining about an hour after I took this picture.


Anya and I are both super sad about missing Thanksgiving. We are also trying to figure out how we can teach our students about the holiday. This led to our craft project a couple nights ago-hand turkeys. We were so pleased with our work that we decided to hang it up on the fridge.





Then I colored this picture cause I love Christmas more.


Yesterday there was a nationwide teacher strike. In Bordeaux alone there were over 30,000 teachers striking. The schools were closed. And for some reason when the teachers are on strike the public transportation operators are also on strike. There was no school and no public transportation. I don’t have school on Thursdays, so it made no difference to me. As I was walking around I saw a group of protesters marching. This is just the very end of group. I walked past them several blocks before I decided to take a picture.

Oh France

Yesterday I saw a large mob of people outside of St. Andre. They were kneeling, and singing. Then there was a line of police officers. On the other side of the line of police officers, was another mob of people, carrying banners that said things like "keep your prayers away from our ovaries" and they were chanting something. I could not understand what they were chanting. Then they starting fighting with the police officers. Gas and night sticks were used. It got ugly.
Then, an hour or so later, I saw a random band-3 trombones, 3 saxophones, 4 trumpets, a tuba, a snare drum, and a bass drum. They played classics such as Objection (Tango) by Shakira, the Mario Bros. theme, and a Thriller/Billy Jean Michael Jackson number, complete with the dance from the music video. It was probably the coolest thing that I have ever seen.
My only regret from yesterday is that my camera was laying on the kitchen table.

Tut tut, it looks like Christmas!

I love Christmas, a lot. I love everything about it, except for the criticism that I receive for starting my Christmas celebration what some people consider to be too early. And up until a month ago, I thought Eliza and I (and department stores) were the only ones who understood the importance of starting early. Then I came here, and to my delight realized Bordeaux starts putting up its Christmas decorations in October. I have only found one set of lights that are actually turned on, but that doesn't matter. The decorations are up.

a couple conversations

Walking through the courtyard at school yesterday a girl came running up to me.
Girl: Hello Laura!
Me: Hi. How are you?
Girl: blank stare
Me: How are you?
Girl: Oooh! I...am 10 years old.

In class yesterday I was showing a picture of some people celebrating Obama's victory.
Me: Why are these people happy?
Student A: They are excited because Obama is President.
Me: That is correct. Does anyone know why this election is so historic?
Student B: Obama...has victory, comme (French for "like" and most of my students also seem to think it is an English word as well) Martin Luther King's dream.
Me: That is really good. Can anyone tell me about Martin Luther King?
Student B again: He wanted black people and white people to be good friends.
Me: Yes, he wanted equality for black people. So why do you think he would be happy about this election?
Student C: Because 50 years ago, in America, black people are slaves.

This is actually a story from Randall, another assistant in a local high school, but I am sharing anyway because it is sadly representative of what French people think America is like.
Randall: Who can tell me what happens on Halloweeen?
Student: Little girls get raped.

This is probably the best/worst conversation that I have had here. It actually happened a few weeks ago, but I don't think I ever shared. The kids had to bring in items that they thought represented America, and then we were having a sort of show and tell. Items brought in included a (fake) hand gun, several cokes, several pictures of McD's, and a collection of poker chips. One girl wanted to show me her item before class.
Girl, holding a tiny jar of Skippy peanut butter and I have since looked everywhere for Skippy PB, couldn't find any: I brought this. Is this okay?
Me: Wow, you are very creative for thinking to bring that. Good job!
Girl: Ooh! Good. You like penis butter?

I know that I should not laugh at the French kids' English. I am learning French, and so I know how difficult it is to learn a language, and I reword most of the things I say to avoid using object pronouns or compound tenses other than just the basic past. But the things they say are just so funny. Plus they all laugh at my French, so it is really just one big circle.

Crazy old Maryse? Hmm...Crazy old Maryse.

Ok, so she is a little unusual, but not really that crazy or old. I saw the opportunity for a Beauty and the Beast reference, and I ran with it.
A few weeks ago, my housemates and I had a discussion about all of the random stuff Maryse has in the house. There are armoirs and closets in every room, and they are all full of stuff. My favorite is the one in our dining room that 3 rifles, or shot guns, or some type of gun in it.


Catherine was laughing that Maryse has a cabinet full of slippers in Catherine's extra room (both of the bedrooms downstairs have random little closet/changing rooms off of them, my extra room is bigger than my bedroom in my Chicago apt). So last night I was walking from my bedroom into the living/dining room, and Maryse stopped me. She said asked me if my feet were cold. I said no, they were fine. Then she pointed to my socks and said something that I didn't understand. So then she made me come with her into Catherine's (now actually Anya's since Catherine left) little extra room. She opened up the cabinet, and sure enough, it was FULL of slippers. She then asked me what shoe size I am, and I replied that I did not know my European shoe size. So then she grabbed my large American foot, and started cramming it into this little French slipper. And she continued rooting through all of the slippers in the cabinet until she found some that fit me. So now I feel like I have to wear these little slippers around the house or I will offend her. Or else I could put them in my closet with the leather coat, and three sweaters that Maryse has given me other times in the month and a half that she has thought that I have been underdressed.
And as I was sitting here writing she just came in and told me that I should go for a walk. I told her I would like to, but that I wanted to start preparing my lessons for tomorrow, to which she answered "That is not important"

pictures

My mom has been here the past week. Here are some pictures from her visit. They are from around Bordeaux, various vineyards outside of the city, and Arcachon. All of them, and the rest of the pictures from the week are on my shutterfly, and some of them are actually labeled. I will finish labeling them sometime...maybe.

It's no fun to talk about the ordinary ones, sooo...

Like America, France is home to a rather diverse population of males. I enjoy diversity. It keeps things interesting. However, I do wish that French guys would find a happy medium between completely uninterested and creepy obsessive follow random girls down the street saying things that I don't understand and it's probably better that way crazy.
Two nights ago, I was walking home with my housemates. One is English (Catherine), the other is American (Anya). So naturally we were speaking English. Walking slightly ahead of us were two French guys. One of them was wearing a mini skirt, and the other one was wearing a vampire costume, complete with black eye liner. These more than likely single because who in their right mind would go out with them guys heard us speaking English. Then the vampire asked in English "you are English?" and Catherine replied in French "Yes, but we speak French." Then the vampire said something that I am not even sure if it was French or English, and the guy in the mini skirt asked if we wanted him to lift his skirt up. We were all like "NO!" At this point, the vampire started walking next to us, and asked if we would like to go out, and again, our answer was no. He then started saying more things that I could not understand, but he kept dropping the F bomb. And for whatever reason, French people using English profanities is hilarious to me, and I could not stop laughing at him. And he replied with "What the f$#&? A crazy f$&@ing French vampire is walking next to you, and you are not f*$%ing scared?" And then the guy in the mini skirt (walking a couple steps ahead of us) decided to lift up his skirt, revealing a pair of red hot pants.

Luckily, crazies are not the only guy choice that France has to offer. My personal favorites are the French gangsters. These are the little hoodlums, spitting on the tram, yelling, acting tough, etc. Throughout history, we have had the Roman Army, the Spartans, the Huns, the Vikings, and the Nazis, just to name a few. Even today we have the Latin Kings, the Colombian drug Lords, mafias of various nationalities. But let’s get serious, French is not a threatening language. It’s the language of love. France is not a threatening place. Paris is the city of love, the city of lights. I laugh a little when I see the French gangsters because I imagine them sitting in a cafe, nibbling on a croissant, and then going out to cut someone, careful to avoid getting blood on their scarves.

I have heard, although I have yet to see one in person to confirm their existence, that there are French red necks. I am not leaving here until I see one. I don’t know much about their appearance, but apparently the Tour de France is the NASCAR of France. Think about it…

Of course we also have the stereotypical Frenchman. This is the guy riding around on his bicyclette, carrying two baguettes, wearing a scarf, and smoking a cigarette. They are usually pretty, like really really pretty, prettier than most of the girls here. I outweigh the stereotypical Frenchman by about 25 lbs. They look as if a strong breeze could snap them in half. I am not positive what the stereotypical Frenchman does for a living, but I think it has something to do with sitting in a cafe for hours on end, chain smoking and getting all fired up during a discussion about football.

This post would not be complete without the mention of a disproportionately high percentage of French males. I am of course talking about the drunks. This is good advice-if you are in the vicinity of a drunk Frenchman, do not try to drive or operate heavy machinery. Breathing the air around a drunk Frenchman will put most people over the BAC legal limit. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but there is a definite smell. It is always a mix of alcohol, cigarettes, garbage dumpsters, urine, and BO. Time of day is meaningless to them. They do not celebrate happy hour per se. From the time they are old enough to crack open their first 50 cl can of VanPur, their life is one continuous happy hour. I have seen men drinking beer on the tram at 7:30 on a weekday morning. The men at the market on Saturday mornings take swigs of beer in between weighing sacks of vegetables. Morning, noon, or night, weekday, weekend, it makes no difference. A seemingly shared trait these men have is a complete lack of personal hygiene-unshaven, missing teeth, dandruff speckled shoulders, and their aforementioned smell. After putting an embarrassing amount of thought into it, I have come up with a reason for good personal hygiene being somewhere between running for public office and getting a doctorate in classical languages on their list of priorities. If these guys stopped drinking long enough to shave, shower, and put on clean clothes, the alcohol would start to wear off. This would lead to a hangover, years in the making, which would be so severe that it would kill them. Survival of this subspecies depends on their lack of hygiene. The frequent potent urine smells and suspicious wet spots covering the sidewalks and corners of buildings are a just a little present from them to the rest of the world. A few weeks ago, I was at the Laundromat, and a drunk Frenchman made me help him fold his sheets. He probably could have folded them himself, if he would have put the can of VanPur down long enough to use both hands.

milk again

Going back to my issue with the horrible horrible milk here, I started thinking this morning that David Sedaris wrote something about milk in Me Talk Pretty One Day, which is an absolutely hilarious book that everyone should read if you haven't already. Lack of suitcase space forced me to leave that book at home, but I got online to try and find what he wrote about it. I laughed out loud when I found it, because it is oh so true.

“…nothing is more disgusting than a glass of milk, especially French milk, which comes in a box and can sit unrefrigerated for five months, at which point it simply turns into cheese and is moved to a different section of the grocery store.”

As American as groaty pudding

I am getting more in the swing of things here.

I have a semi regular schedule at both my schools. I have 19 different classes to prepare for. So much for learning names or bringing treats.

My French is getting better. I can now hear most of the words people are saying, I just usually have no idea what the words mean. I guess those years of cramming vocab the night before an exam and then forgetting it as soon as my pencil answered the question has finally come back to haunt me.

I got my debit card, and once you have a European debit card, you are golden. There is this little chip in it that lets you use the debit card for train tickets, tram passes, more cell phone minutes, and I a pretty sure it can be used as your ticket to the alternate universe, although the French are very tight lipped about that. Unfortunately, the magic chip in the card feeds on Euros, which my bank account currently is lacking.

We got the TV to work, and in the process turned the living room into an amazing jungle gym of extension cords, plug adapters, and Ethernet cables. I was told that TV is an excellent way to improve one's understanding of a foreign language, which may be true, but it is a painful method of learning. One night spent watching French TV shows will leave you crying to return to the country that gave us quality programs such as The Moment of Truth and Viva Laughlin.

Really though, things are good. One of the teachers was telling me that she is very excited to have an American assistant. She went on to say that they have never had an American assistant, they always get British ones, it will be good for the kids to hear an American accent, learn about American culture, etc. So I was feeling pretty good. Then, after her class she was explaining to me what she wanted me to do for this week. Here is the conversation. Please do enjoy.

Her: Do you celebrate Halloween?
Me: Yes. I went trick or treating when I was a kid [no need to tell her I trick or treated every year until I was 17]. And adults go to parties. It is very popular in the US.
Her: Well I hate Halloween. I want you to teach about Guy Fawkes Night instead. Do you celebrate Guy Fawkes Night in America?
Me: No...

I like this teacher. She is super nice, and I don't mind teaching about whatever. Thanks to my English housemate Catherine and Wikipedia, I now know all about Guy Fawkes Night. I have no clue what I'm going to do with it, but I know about it. And I think I'd choose door to door begging for candy over burning effigies of Catholics on bonfires any night.

pictures and not much else

I can't write anything. Not because I had a particularly exciting weekend. I think the reason is because there is nothing to do here on Sundays. Really, NOTHING. So by the time Sunday evening rolls around, my brain has forgotten how to work. So writing anything clever or interesting is out of the question. So here are some pictures instead.

First full week is done!

I worked a grueling 3 days this week. While I did not work my regular time table, I will only be working 3 days a week, so it is basically a fun week. I will be working Tuesday morning, and every other week one class in the afternoon, and Wednesday morning at College Jean Zay. And I work every Friday, from 8-3 at College Jean Jaures. This week, I was with 10 different classes. In every class all I did was answer questions about myself, America, etc. Today was funny though, the kids in my first class asked me if I had ever met any stars. I said that I met Rihanna. By the end of the day, I had random kids coming up to me and asking if I knew Rihanna. I kind of hope that is not my claim to fame for the next 7 months.
But the kids are really really cute. And all the teachers, except one, are very nice. Next week I start working with the kids, either co teaching, or working with small groups. One class wants to see some American money, which kind of sucks because I don't have any, and it costs money to exchange it. So I might ask around to some other assistants, to see if maybe one of them still has some. But I am glad to start actually doing stuff next week, because it was actually really tiring to answer the same questions ten times over. They all told me I have a bizarre accent, and they have less than flattering impressions of American accents. They also like to ask me to say things in French, and then laugh at my accent when I speak French. :)

schoolio!

Today I had my first day of school with the students. We didn't do a lot. I did two classes, one of 14-15 year olds, the other class was probably 11-12. In both classes, the kids freaked out when they found out I was an American, and then we spent the rest of the class period letting them ask me questions about myself, and then I got to ask them questions. They asked questions such as how old I am, how many siblings I have, what are their names, what my parents names are, who my favorite celebrity is, if i have ever been to Hollywood, what I like to do for fun, how many languages I speak, how France and American are different, if I liked France, what I have done in France, and on and on and on. They were off the walls spazzy, but they were cute. I had a pretty good day, and I know this is only the first day, and I am sure their will be bad days. But I am pretty optimistic about school right now.

I don't understand this, but I love it

France is weird. It's definitely a good weird, but weird just the same. Every time I leave the house, I see something that makes me say "wait...what?" And I love it. Last weekend we were just kind of hanging around, and we started hearing music. It was coming down the street. As it got closer, we could see that it was loosely organized marching band. I took a little video of it as the walked by. I don't get it either.

We all like food, let's discuss it

France is known for wine, cheese, baguettes, pastries, etc. I like all of this food a lot. It is one thing to eat like that for a week or two while vacationing here, but I am here for 8 months, and I can't do that to myself. While my regular diet at home is far from perfect, I am really more of a skim milk and vegetables kind of person.

My first week here I did not have a single fruit or vegetable. This was due largely to the fact that I was living in a hostel. My breakfast was half a baguette and some coffee. Lunch/dinner was usually a single meal I ate around 5 that consisted of a baguette sandwich. Needless to say, after a week of that, combined with no vitamin and no working out, I was feeling really crummy. So when I moved in with my host family, I was very excited to buy groceries and try to get my diet semi normal again. I am on a budget because I don't get paid until the end of October, and even then it is only 70% of my normal salary. And I use the term salary very loosely. It is more of a stipend/allowance than a normal salary. But I thought I could at least buy some broccoli. I love broccoli. Fresh, frozen, raw, cooked, it does not matter. I love it. So I went to the store, super excited to buy my broccoli and other good for me foods. I walked up and down every aisle, and the only broccoli that I could find was frozen pureed broccoli. I don't like any food enough to eat it frozen and pureed. So I got some romaine lettuce and canned green beans instead. It is not perfect, but it is better than what I have been eating. I also discovered a couple of other interesting things about French grocery stores and French food in general.

1. It is really hard to eat healthy when you don't know what you are buying. The majority of the food at the grocery store is mystery food. The morning that I went shopping, I had happened to be flipping through my textbook from last year, and I saw the word for "whole wheat" which I remembered when I was at the store. Then, as I was standing, staring at the different kinds of bread, I realized that i did not know the difference in brands. I don't know what the French versions of Wonder Bread and Sam's Choice are. So I picked a random loaf of bread. It is not the greatest. In fact, I think I might buy several loaves before I leave to bring home and reshingle the garage.

2. French store bought cookies are waaaaaaaay better than American store bought cookies. And unlike America, where the cookies are contained to one single, easily avoidable aisle, the French grocery stores put cookies in every single aisle. I came up with a theory for this. Baking powder (and I haven't been able to find soda either, although I am told that it is around) does not seem to exist here. Therefore, French people can't experience the joy that is a homemade cookie. So they have to overcompensate by putting the most delicious store cookies everywhere.

3. Pringles do not just come in regular flavors like sour cream and onion. They are a meal in chip form. The other day I saw steak and grilled onion flavored Pringles. The downfall of my diet has always been sugar, so I don't spend a lot of time in the chip aisle of American grocery stores. Maybe this variety of Pringles in available at home. I don't know, but I haven't ever seen it. I will probably have to try them before I leave, if for no other reason that to be able to say that I have eaten steak and grilled onion flavored Pringles.

4. Peanut butter does not exist here. A year or two ago, I discovered (courtesy of my mom) Smart Balance Peanut Butter. The flavor is not as good as Jif Extra Crunchy, but it helps me to avoid having to eat a spoonful of flax oil every morning. So it is well worth the trade. I am not surprised that I can't get Smart Balance here. No biggie. But I was hoping I would be able to at least find some sort of peanut butter, because peanut butter banana toast is a delicious breakfast. But no such luck. I met a British girl, Alice, last weekend. I saw her again at orientation yesterday. I asked her if they had peanut butter in Britain, and if she knew if I could get it anywhere here. She said they do have it in Britain, but that it was so wrong, and should not be allowed anywhere. Then she said she has never seen it in France. I guess the peanut butter banana toast breakfasts will have to wait until next summer. That is okay though, because come to think of it, I haven't seen a single toaster since I have been here.

5. French coffee-WHOA NELLIE! We have this in America as well, only it is sold in hardware stores under the name paint thinner.

6. The rent I am paying to my host mom includes breakfast. She asked me what I ate for breakfast. Usually my breakfasts are a mixture of fruit, flax oil, liquid vitamins, and water, blended together into a delicious smoothie (another courtesy of my mom), or else peanut butter banana toast, or Kashi Go Lean. I didn't think that any of these were an option, so I just said anything was good. After telling me why I should not drink milk, my host mom went out and bought me some milk, coffee, and cereal. The milk tasted a little odd, but I didn't know if it was whole milk, 2%, or what. I am a skim milk person all the way. I think it is delicious, cold, and refreshing, everything a person could ever want from milk. I will tolerate 1%, but I really don't like it, and I think that 2% and whole milk should be illegal. This milk was obviously not skim. I put some in my coffee, and just enough in the bowl to make my cereal not dry. Last night, my host mom was giving me my 5th tour of the kitchen, and she opened a cupboard under the counter, to tell me that this is where the extra milk is kept. Now I am really wondering what kind of milk can be left out for days on end. So I started reading the carton. I am still confused as to what kind of milk does not need refrigeration, but I did find the fat percentage. This "milk" is not milk at all. It is half and half. I will not be pouring myself a big refreshing glass of that to drink.

Yesterday I went to a local high school for my orientation. It was all day, but they fed us in the cafeteria. That was an experience all its own. And since I have already rambled way too much about food, and probably the only person who read this whole thing is my mom, I will save it for another time.

pictures, if I can figure this out

Here are some pictures, assuming I can figure out how to post them on here. If I can't do this, all my pictures are on my shutterfly page. Orientation all day tomorrow, all in French. I have a hard enough time understanding administrative talk when it's in English. I'm hoping to have a good song or something stuck in my head tomorrow because it's going to be a loooooooooonnnnnng day.



This is the outside of where I live




This is my bed. Yes, I am 26 years old and several articles of clothing did not make the cut into the suitcase in order for my bear Ted to come along with me. But I am really glad he's here.
One of three random living rooms in my 'apartment'


The kitchen



Hmmm...I thought I had another one, but I guess I don't. I should go work on my resume some more and quit playing pictures.

1 week down, 31 to go

I've been here a week already. Crazy. It was a pretty quick week, but at the same time I can't believe it's only been a week. I feel like I've been here forever.
Yesterday I moved in with my host family, which is actually just one older lady and her dog. There is a British girl living there also. She has a huge creepy house. She lives upstairs, and the British girl and I live downstairs. The bed I'm sleeping in is just two OLD mattresses. Its pretty comfy, except she doesn't have any sheets, just a really really thick comforter. She does have Wifi, but I don't have her password. She said I can use it though, so I'll have to figure that out soon, because I am sick of going to McDonalds (cheapest place with internet) to get online.
I was supposed to go to my first school yesterday, but first I got off the wrong stop on the tram, then when I finally got to the right stop, I looked at the map backwards and headed in the wrong direction. My teacher told me I should have gone into school anyways. I guess that is a difference between here and home. Schools at home are pretty much on lockdown all the time, and you can't just walk in, and aimlessly wander. I have to be at my other school in an hour. I am kind of nervous about it.
I put some pictures on my shutterfly. But they take FOREVER to load, so there are not a ton. If I figure out how to use the wifi at my host family's house, I'll put more on sometime.

better better better!!!!

The past day and a half have been amazing. We found a place to live. It is not available until Nov 1, so I am spending the next month with a host family. It is an older woman that speaks no English. I'm super excited because it will be an awesome chance to practice my French.
So...yeah. Now that the housing problem is over, I am sooo happy. This city is beautiful. I've met some really really interesting people from all over, I go to meet my teachers Monday, and things are just really good, aside from this stupid French keyboard that I can't type on to save my life.

my ukie village apartment seems like a palace!!!

So yesterday we went apartment hunting. It did not go so well. We did see one very cute apartment. But it was unfurnished, and in France, unfurnished means UNFURNISHED, not even a fridge. For the short time we will be here, we did not really think that was worth it. One apartment finding service told us that we should consider renting a room in someone else's apartment. Since we are all really desperate here, we decided to give it a try. After paying another 120 euros, they gave us a list of numbers to call, and told us this one guy's apartment was the nicest. So we went there first. It was across the river (the 'bad' part of town, also where I am teaching). The guy turned out to be a pot smoking middle aged Moraccan dancer. Anyone who has ever lived with me knows that I am not the cleanest person (sorry mom, dad, siblings, Jaime, Joni, Kim, etc), but seriously, this place was GROSS. First of all it smelled like a bad mix of dirty apartment, pot, and some sort of ethnic cuisine that I assume is Moraccan, but having never eaten Moraccan food, I am not sure. He had a marijuana plant in the bathroom, and these random basement rooms that he used for dance practice, or some such thing. The bedroom, which cost 500 euros a month, was unfurnished, and super depressing. Needless to say, none of us took the room, despite being the nicest on the list. Even if the apartment was perfect, there is something creepy about a middle aged man sharing a room with a 20 something female. We are meeting again today to continue looking. Hopefully it goes a little better!

stressed and stuff

I owe emails/facebook messages to lots of people, and I am sorry for that. My internet time is very limited right now, since I am still in the hostel, and there are only two computers here for everyone to share. But once I have my own place, and can use my own computer, with a normal keyboard (this French one is so annoying to use), I will reply to everyone's emails and Facebook messages. That is assuming I figure out how to use the voltage adapter, because I killed my computer battery last night watching Stand By Me. I was kind of bummed, and that movie usually makes me feel better. It didn't work so well last night.
I can only stay in the hostel one more night. So if I don't find a place to live today, I have no idea what do to tomorrow. Wish me luck, because I will definitely need it. This is stressful!!
But thank you sooooooo much for sending me the emails and messages. I really really appreciate it, and all the kind words and support mean more to me than I can possibly explain. Love you all!!

nothing to do but wait

I'm sitting at my gate. My bags are checked. My super sad couple of days of goodbyes are over. I board the plane in 40 minutes, then it takes off (hopefully!!) in an hour and 25 minutes.

I was crying a little when I went through security because I had just said bye to my parents. So I forgot to take out my little plastic bag of liquids. I feel like such a rebel. They are probably going to come after me now. I also forgot to take the bag of liquids out when I went to Maine a few months ago. Nothing happened then either. That is not super reassuring, as a passenger.

Peace out. My next entry will be from Bordeaux. I am going to land at like 2:30 in the morning, Illinois time. I hope I have a place to stay when I arrive in Bordeaux. I don't know about this hostel business.

the boys will not be watching playoffs from their living rooms!!!!!

So this has nothing to do with France, but I really don't sleep anymore, and I wanted to write this everywhere because I LOVE IT-Cubs are the NL Central CHAMPS for the second year in a row! I didn't see the game because I was at the football game this afternoon, but I taped it. So I'll probably go watch it now.
I'm so excited for the next couple weeks to get over. It's exhausting to think about one thing, and on thing only all of the time. I've been running a lot more, because it helps me deal with things. However, it has been killing my legs. Yesterday afternoon I ran 8 miles, then didn't stretch or ice anything because I had to go somewhere. So by last night my legs and knees hurt so much that I could barely drive. Ouch. :( It's super frustrating because I really want to try for the marathon next fall, but anytime I do anything over 5 miles, my knees are in so much pain that I can barely walk the next day. I've done everything the doctor told me to do, and they just don't get any better. Sad.


I started a shutterfly account for my pictures. I think I know how to use it, but my pictures will probably not be in any order because I'm lazy like that. But the address is pinkchickens.shutterfly.com

I need to fit 8 months of stuff into 2 suitcases

I hate packing. That is why I really haven't started, and I'm leaving in a little more than 48 hours. Maybe if I put it off enough, it will just go away, which is why I'm going to the ISU Football game today.

I haven't thrown up...yet

So this morning I received an email from the teacher at one of my schools, and he asked that i bring a whole lot of teaching supplies, including math, science, and geography textbooks for 10-13 year olds, children's movies and cds, flash cards, comic books, easy crossword puzzles, etc. I'm like cool. That is really good information to get 4 days before I leave. So I spent the better part of today running around trying to find that stuff. Because I was a social studies and French secondary education major, textbooks for 10-13 year olds are not something I have just laying around. I was able to find a few at the Closet. And I left a message with the jr high principal, but he never called me back. Then I ventured over to Lasalle, which is a little scary for me because I get lost literally every time I am in that town, so I try to avoid going there at all costs. During student teaching, it took me about 3 weeks before I could drive to LP High School without taking the scenic route. So anyways, I went to Lasalle to go to the teacher supply store. I was actually lucky because it's on First Street in Lasalle, which is also the street of the WORST place I've ever worked. So I didn't think getting there would be much of a problem for me, but my mom apparently did think getting there would be problem for me, so she volunteered to drive me. No complaints. I got a lot of pretty good stuff between all the stores I went too, PLUS I got lunch at Steak n Shake. Now I just have to figure out how to fit all these books and stuff in my suitcases. Hmmm...a suitcase full of books should be a lot of fun to carry through two airports, a taxi ride, a train station, a train ride, who knows how far on foot from the train station to where I'm staying the first night in a town about 80 miles south of Bordeaux, back to the train station the next day, another train ride, around Bordeaux the second day, and to wherever I end up staying the second night (and hopefully every night after that, until I find a permanent place to live because I really don't want to be a nomad for more than a night).
Also, Hall High School is in need of a French teacher for next year. Hmm...I am not a super competitive person. My high school spirit was definitely lacking during my 4 years at PHS. But could I really apply at Hall?? I've heard some scary things about that place.

pass the pepto

I leave a week from tomorrow. Today has been the first day that I have kind of a nervous feeling in my stomach. Sometimes I feel ridiculous getting nervous about this. At work few weeks ago I waited on a family whose son was leaving for Afghanistan the next day. I'm sure the guy was nervous, but outwardly he seemed totally chill. And I'm spazzing about going to Western Europe to teach a whole 12 hours a week.

here's an update on nothing, yo

SOOO...I got my visa. That involved a whole lot of waiting in a tiny little room on the 37th floor of a building I've walked by a million times but had no idea the French consulate was located there. But I got it, now tomorrow I need to mail a copy of it to my school, or something like that. I guess I should probably check on that.
Today at work a bar customer started telling me that I should be demanding legal representation from the French government while I'm there because it's hard telling what kind of trouble I'll get into because the culture is just entirely different over there. I kind of just had to hold back a laugh. Because while I know that it is a different culture, it's WESTERN EUROPE. It's not like I'm venturing into North Korea or something. She was like "I know you'll be fine, but I'm just trying to look out for you" And then she didn't leave me any tip. I kind of wanted to chase her out to the parking lot and tell her that if she really wanted to look out for me, she could contribute financially to the "Help Laura eat as she is going to be a poor expatriate in 7 short weeks fund"
7 weeks from right now I'll be on a plane probably over Canada or the Atlantic right now. Yikes a bee!

please make it be tomorrow night

Against my better judgement, I picked up a shift at work today. I figure every little bit helps. I have to be in downtown Chi at 11:00 am tomorrow to get my visa. I was planning on getting all of my paperwork in order this morning, going to get my extra passport pictures taken this afternoon, and going to see a play this evening. Instead, I worked this morning/afternoon, got home, showered, got my pictures taken in Peru, drove back to Pton, started printing off my forms to fill out, lost our internet connection because of a storm, went to the play, came home. And now its 10:45, and I am just now starting to fill out my forms, and I have to make a zillion copies of each one. So of course now I'm updating this thing instead of filling out my forms. I know it will be worth it, but I AM SO SICK OF FILLING OUT STUPID STINKING FORMS (en français, bien sûr). At least the Cubs won.

I will not be setting a record for swimming across the Atlantic with two suitcases and a backpack...this time

I am now the proud owner of a plane ticket, thanks to an extremely generous Christmas gift from mon père. MERCI MERCI MERCI MERCI BEAUCOUP Daddio!!!!! On the 30th I have to be at the Consulate in Chicago at 11am to get my visa. I leave in two months. Eek! But I WILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!!! I'm super excited because I love Christmas, and I can't imagine not spending it with my amazing family.

Aaron is helping me with the camera and computer issue Thanks Aaron! And I wish I could have gone to visit you on Sunday. :( Stupid work.

I keep getting asked what I will do if the Cubs make it to the World Series. Hmm, not sure. I think mlb.com has a subscription offer, making the games available online. I'm not sure if that is good for post season games, but it's definitely something I need to be looking in to, because (and I know I've said this every year since I learned how to speak, but this is the year) the Cubs are going ALL the way this year. Of course I'll be watching the games in the middle of the night, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I've always said I'm going to name my firstborn after whatever manager gets the Cubs a World Series victory. And since I don't want kids, by firstborn I mean friend for Wrigley and Ivy (my cats) in the form of a puppy. Hopefully I'll be getting Sweet Lou next summer after I return. But now I'm going to go focus my attention fully on the last inning and a half of the Cubs game, in hopes that they will not be helping Randy Johnson improve his record to 13-0 against the Cubs.

Thanks Google images! and other stuff

I have been asked by many people where Bordeaux is located. No worries, until a few months ago, I didn't know either. So here's a map of France.




















There is a gentleman who has recently become a regular bar customer at the place I where I work. This evening he told me that I should really consider getting married before I leave. Riiiiiiight. Because starting a new job, in a new country, with no place live isn't scary enough, let's throw a husband into the mix. I'm not sure I want one of those when I'm not starting a new job, in a new country, and have a place to live.


Here's why I am hopefully living in Bordeaux, not Cenon (where my schools are).



These are pictures of Bordeaux that come up when one Googles "Bordeaux"

This is one of the first pictures that comes up when one Googles "Cenon"

Yes, that is a car on fire.