The Joys of Teaching 10 year old French children

French children:

They begin school at 8:30 Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. No school on Wednesday. They finish school at 4:30.

They get three recesses. One at 10:00, a two hour lunch between 11:30-1:30, and one at 3:00.

That pretty much leaves one hour stints of class broken up by a half hour of running around in the courtyard screaming, jumping in sand, playing football, jumping around, and hiding behind columns.

These kids really get to know the meaning of "childhood."

I like my students. I have no problems with them. Some don't listen. Some chew on their glue. Some throw their rulers around like javelins, but they're just kids.

Sometimes I complain about teaching. Maybe because it's the knowledge that I'll have to be "on" for the entire day. But once I'm teaching, it's okay.

I like witnessing how they learn and handle a foreign language.

My favorite:

Me: "What's your name?"
Student: "What's your name Kevin."

By this particular student's logic, all you need to respond to someone is to repeat what they just said.

I can teach them that this is not right. And when I see them next time, sometimes they make the same mistake. But sometimes they don't. And this is what's great about teaching.

Le Mistral Provençal

A band of assistants decided to head south for the weekend, in search of Roman ruins and warmer weather. We got the ruins, but instead of delightful Indian summer breezes, we got caught in the path of Provence's notorious mistral, a strong, wind that sweeps down from the northwest through the Rhône Valley, particularly cold and biting in the winter.

Between sightseeing, we made frequent/emergency stops for chocolats chauds/hot chocolate, making sure to warm our hands with the mugs. We met in Orange and headed to the Ancient Roman Theatre, one of Orange's biggest claim to fame. One of the benefits of going to Orange at the end of November was the lack of crowds. Besides us, there was one other couple roaming around the theatre. It was peaceful. The wind howled down the aisles and the clouds glided through the bright blue sky like cars driving down the street.

The Ancient Roman Theatre of Orange is one of three in the world that still have its stage wall.

The wealthy sat up front, while the lower classes of society sat in back and were therefore more boisterous. The acoustics were important so that everyone could hear. Also, the costumes, masks, makeup and colors that the actors wore were exaggerated so that everyone could see. Just like we enjoy Seinfeld and The Office today, the ancient audiences also preferred performances that focused on the simple humor of everyday life.

The head of the Emperor was detachable, so it could be changed when there was a change of emperor.

Les Palais de Papes, Avignon

Evidence of the mistral's power. No one really bothered to fix these plants.

Roofs of Avignon and Le Pont d'Avignon in the distance.

View of Les Palais des Papes from our "Bates Motel" hostel on the opposite side of the Rhône.

View of Le Pont d'Avignon (Le Pont Bénézet) from a park. The other half was destroyed in a massive flood and never rebuilt. Not many people had ventured out onto the bridge that day. The risk of being blown off was probably too high.

Here's the chorus of the famous song, "Sur le Pont d'Avignon"

Sur le pont d’Avignon

L'on y danse,

l'on y danse

Sur le pont d’Avignon

L'on y danse tous en rond

On the bridge of Avignon

We all dance there,

we all dance there

On the bridge of Avignon

We all dance there in a ring

I had gone to Avignon six years ago when I was studying abroad in Grenoble during college and our group had walked out onto the bridge. Our 85 year old Armenian professor had made us make a chain, sing and dance. At the time, I was recovering from food poisoning, so I hadn't put forth my best effort, but still danced.

It was nice to go back to both Orange and Avignon years later. Six years ago, the July weather had made us sluggish, sweaty, and (because of my food poisoning) a little delirious. The crowds were huge and it was difficult to see the city. But this time, with the cold Provençal winds clearing out the majority of tourists, both Avignon and Orange had a more local, peaceful feel.

Beaujolais Nouveau: France's version of Thanksgiving?

Last night, on a train ride home from Lyon, I saw a black poster with the words, "Beaujolais Nouveau est arrivé!"

Practically salivating for a fall wine festival, I turned my head around as the train pulled away trying to get more details. Was it a festival? Was it a party? What was it??

Thanks to the Internet, I've learned that Beaujolais Nouveau is a wine that's allowed to be sold in France at 12:01 on the third Thursday of November each year. From what I read, the race to get a bottle first and throw a party during the earliest hours of Thursday has become huge. The wine itself is very young, sweet, and is as close to white wine as you can get for a red wine. It's known as a party wine, not something with which you'd spend minutes savoring the flavor.

Oh, and it was either sold out at Géant, or they just don't sell it at hypermarkets, because I couldn't find any.

Vienne (It's in France)

Cathédrale Primatiale Saint-Maurice/Saint Maurice Cathedral



Vienne, not to be confused with "Vienna, Austria."


Vienne is the second largest city in the department of Isère behind Grenoble and conveniently a nine minute train ride away from Chasse.


However, because the trains are not running regularly due to the strike, I hopped a bus, which took 20 minutes.


And just because it's the second largest city in the department, doesn't mean it's necessarily huge. Although I'd been there before for paperwork and to see a movie, this time I went by myself for an afternoon of solitary wandering and to discover the things that I briefly saw on my previous visits, but didn't really get to see.


Well, not too much was open or lively, because I was there at lunchtime on Saturday. It was peaceful, but cold and I was getting tired. I managed to take a few pictures. Here's what I saw:




Passerelle Pietonne/Pedestrian Pass
(This bridge reminds me of the Chain Bridge in Budapest,
and I was disappointed it has such a cop-out name in French).

View of the Rhône River

Distant view of Le Mont Pipet/Mount Pipet, home of ex-fortress
and present day place of Christian worship.

Boat along the river

Roman ruins in the Jardin Archéologique de Cybèle/
Cybele's Archaeological Garden.

Tiny tower windows

Had my lunch along the Quai du Rhône




View of Mont Salomon (the remains of
a chateau stand at the top)






Jardin Archéologique de Cybèle





I like to think of this as "tiki-guy," master of the pond




Steep street in Vienne with Mont Pipet in background

Oranges on a leaf-less tree in a Vienne park

I figured out that I missed a lot of sites, but then again I didn't refer to my map/guide until after I got home. I got up this morning wanting to walk around somewhere new and I knew the train schedules have been "dodgy" (for lack of a better word) lately. So, I had planned on going to whichever town popped up first on the train station screen. That's either Vienne or Lyon. Vienne won.

I like the idea of discovering things on my own without the help of a map, then figuring out later what it was. I know it's not the most logical thing to do, but I like to come up with an explanation for something on my own, guess what it is, what is was used for, then figure out the real deal later, and see how close I was.

I completely missed the famed Roman Theatre, Pyramid, and Augustus/Livia Temple, but had been pretty damn close to them at certain points on my wanderings. I just happened to turn a different corner.

On the bus back home, several people wanted to know if the bus went to another train station in Lyon, which it didn't, therefore making a lot of people do that clipped French sigh. One man found the humor in the situation saying, "Monsieur, vous faites Le Tour de France pour aller à Part-Dieu?"/"Sir, can you do the Tour de France to get to Lyon's Part-Dieu?" Everyone had a good laugh at that one and the tension lightened slightly.

I'll have to go back when it's a little warmer and when I'm a little less tired, now that I've read the guide.

Pas de soucis/No worries....Vienne's only 9 or 20 minutes away, depending on if there's a strike or not...

Les grèves partout

Sunset in Chasse from my kitchen window

Slowly but surely, I'm finding my way back into the loop (aka what's going on in the world) now that I have a television. Although I can't understand everything as perfectly as I would in my native English, I'm working on getting the gist for now.

At the moment, the gist has been strikes. Maybe I'm not used to the frequentness of strikes and demonstrations in France, but they seem to be everywhere right now. There was a strike at SNCF, France's train system, then another at Air France (giving starting and ending dates: how thoughtful), and to my genuine surprise, an upcoming strike at my school next Thursday.

I was making small talk with one of my colleagues at the copier, saying that it barely feels as though I've been working, what with all of the holidays we've been having. And she responded by summing up all our glorious days off, "first Toussaint, this week we had Armistice Day and next week, the strike." At first, I thought I hadn't understood, but when the colleague noticed my confusion and said, "ah you didn't know," with a giggle, I thought she was joking. This was getting to be too much. I haven't worked a full week (full week being 2 days of 12 teaching hours) since the middle of October. (Not that I'm complaining).

I also thought I heard her say that just a few people wanted to participate in the strike, but the whole school was going to go anyway. However, she advised me to sleep in, because the school would be closed. When I apparently made too big of a deal about it, she waved my shock away by saying that strikes are normal in France, in fact common.

The schoolyard (sans enfants) as seen from my kitchen window

Oh la la, ces histoires des filles...

View of Lyon


The flower tree

Usually, when I walk through a foreign city, I can't understand passing dialogues, the blips of conversation one catches while walking past several people down the street. In France, I don't always know the context, but I can finally eavesdrop a little.

Two teenage girls skitter by,

"....tu dis rien..."

A middle age couple talking with their hands,

"oui, c'est ça..."

Then, my favorite: two women my age, looking a little fed up,

"oh la la ces histoires des filles!" (something which I loosely took as girls being drama queens)

But then again, I could be completely off and lost in translation. Is that so bad though?

It was nice to walk around in the city and in the park where the trees were bright with fall and snowing leaves. And for half of my walk, I went iPod-less, and therefore able to catch the blips. Maybe I should do that more often. Maybe that's the way to catch the street slang, on the street.

After a weekend where "nous n'avons fait rien" (aka watched movies, ate tons of soup and truffles) AJ, Leslie, and Jamie left after a relaxing few days in Chasse. I decided to make a quick trip to Lyon in order to see about getting myself enrolled in French language classes.

My train timetable said there'd be a train at 11.14, so I hustled up the hill and back down to the train station only to read that there was no train going to Lyon, but a bus leaving fifteen minutes later. Ok, fine. I'm getting used to this.

Only, the bus took nearly an hour, whereas the train takes 20 minutes. The bus went through the back streets of Lyon's lovely outskirt towns like a giant lurching through a tiny maze. The bus ride actually felt awkward. The streets were too narrow, the other cars were micro machines and the huge bus still huffed on.

I couldn't get off the bus faster in Lyon. From there, I learned how to take the tram, use my new bank card, and found the language school I was looking for without a hitch. And to top it all off, it was a gorgeous autumn afternoon, with big pizza pie size leaves drifting down from the sky like November confetti.

Walking into the school, I felt like I was going to work. It reminded me of working in Spain last year. The same little classrooms with desks, teacher area scattered with paper, the reception area bustling, young teachers walking around with Cokes and coffees. Only, the French versions of me glanced over and walked away.

I was playing the role of student this time.

My visit was slightly pointless, but I'm still glad I went. The woman told me that I'd need to take an online test to gage my level and then she'd contact me by email. But, the good news was that I could start as soon as possible if things worked out.

And on the way back, I got a nice 20 minute train ride.

Some more pictures of Lyon:

Ham, mushroom, and cheese crêpe for lunch

The little red bridge

Leaving for Lille

Lille's Main Square

After a couple of frustrating incidents involving a five hour journey home from Chambery (three hours too many), neighborly laundry stealing (I got it all back in the end), and a fake-out move-in (oh you can move into your new apartment...wait, just kidding, it's raining, so we won't bring the furniture, therefore, you'll have to stay in "la petite chambre" for the night)...after all that, I was ready to just, leave Chasse.

So I packed my bag, and hopped a train to Lyon, met Leslie, and we boarded my first TGV to Paris. In Paris, we met AJ and completed our traveling trio. From Paris, it was onto Lille where we'd spend two nights in a two star hotel with an amazing shower (paradise compared to the shower head in "la petite chambre," its water spraying out in every which way like snakes from Medusa's head). The hotel also had a TV. We spent most of our time in Lille, well, shopping. It seemed bitterly cold, like the first cold day when you're not yet used to biting winds. Coming home early at night to a warm shower and episodes of Desperate Housewives and Nip/Tuck in French was our idea of heaven.

And so began our week long Toussaint/All Saint's Holiday. Next stops: Belgium and Luxembourg

Halloween in Luxembourg

While in Brussels, AJ, Leslie, and I hopped a train to Luxembourg City for the day. Why not? We thought. Brussels had been rainy, cold, windy, and we were metro dependent everywhere we went. An unorganized E.U. Parliament tour combined with the "ugliest square in Europe" (deemed so by a humorous map we found in the hostel) left us feeling a little down.

The train ride took close to three hours one way, with many stops, and many loud children, teenagers included. However, the city of Luxembourg made up for all the annoyances of getting there. The sun poked its rays through the clouds long enough for me to put my sunglasses on, then take them off five minutes later. Luckily, we spent a good chunk of our time scaring ourselves straight in the Casemates, a series of winding and sometimes narrow tunnels that protected over 35,000 people from attacks during World War II. A comment made by AJ got my heart beating a little faster and from there, my imagination got the best of me. "If I take a picture and there's a face, I'm going to scream," her voice wavered. She stayed brave enough to take a picture down a small dark cave carved out of one wall in the tunnel.

For the next twenty minutes, all of us were a little nervous, not wanting to be the one left behind or grabbed by a ghoul. AJ was convinced that someone would be playing pranks on the tourists in the tunnels on Halloween and local teenagers would jump out to scare us. To be honest, I was a little bit more scared of actual monsters.

We emerged soon after that, our bodies in flight or fight mode. I would have liked to see our faces upon exiting the Casemates. Outside, fall exploded all around us in the form of orange, red, and yellow leaves on trees, floating in the sky, and scattered on the ground. We found a park where I felt the urge to run up a huge green hill, only to be semi-chased back down by three vicious looking daschunds.

Although we didn't spend our Halloween night in Luxembourg City, we got our scare there.

Bridge reflection

Me at the bottom of the stairs in the Casemates.

Hillside garden

Monastery

Fairytale-like street

Luxembourg in full autumnal splendor

Church steeples

Raindrops

Park stream

Pieces of Belgium

We encountered mist, fog, rain, clouds, umbrella wind walks, chocolate hangovers, new Flemish vocabulary, weird hostel roommates, and plenty of boot shops. Doors opened, stairs were climbed (366 in the Brugge Belfry to be exact), umbrellas used, trains chased, feet blistered, chocolate devoured, sipped, and stewed. Another corner of Europe discovered..

Me biting off the arm of my complimentary chocolate from the Chocolate Museum in Brugge. I learned a lot of random facts about chocolate and also endured some blatant advertisement pushing. "Chocolate does not make you fat," cried the sign. "If you are slim and eat plain chocolate, you will not get fat." Does that mean I can't slather my plain chocolate with peanut butter? "If you are overweight, slim down first, then you can eat chocolate."

Chocolate dinosaur in Brugge chocolate shop window. There was also a skeleton head made of chocolate in honor of Halloween. Belgian chocolate is so good because it's refined more than ordinary chocolate, so that it tastes smoother (info courtesy of Chocolate Museum).


Brugge canal

Brugge Markt, main square

Brugge buildings in Markt

View from Brugge Belfry

My Costa Rica hot chocolate. The best one I've ever had.

Leslie, AJ, and I in Brugge

Here's the aftermath of the "morning rush" in Brugge. We were almost mowed down by biking commuters, cruising by expertly on their bike path located centimeters away from the actual sidewalk. I'd rather be hit by a bike than a car. Less dangerous and the culprit would undoubtedly be more environmentally saavy.

Me in Ghent. It was cold and rainy here for most of the day, so we hung out in shops and cafes, but did manage to catch this view on a bridge. I had to pose a little to punch up the dreary view.

Here's the view again. Looks like it did just fine without me.

The chocolate beef stew that AJ, Leslie, and I ordered for our last dinner. (This was the same place we went to for our hot chocolates). The stew actually had tiny little chocolate chips in it. Think of that the next time you don't think it's possible for two unlikely foods to merge. Not bad, not bad at all.

My not so permanent souvenirs

The E.U. building in Brussels

The entrance to Parc du Cinquantenaire Brussels

Main square of Brussels at night.