Yoga en France

After waiting for my cold to go away, come home from vacation, and get paid, I was finally ready to take on a yoga class in Chasse.

Without an idea of where exactly the class would be held, what I would need to bring, or even if the instructor would let me participate without paying, I walked through the silent alley next to the schoolyard to the building where I was told the classes would be held. Not a thing stirred in Chasse. It seemed as though everyone was asleep.

Wandering around the building, I found a door, walked in, and followed noise and light upstairs. People were waiting outside the door to a large room. Inside the dim lit room was a circle of red mats, mirrors and a sparkly mural of Paris scenery, Eiffel Tower and all.

The first thing I noticed is that everyone had blankets or towels that they put over the mats. Did they think the mats were dirty?

After introducing myself "je suis nouvelle", the instructor let me participate and hoped I'd be able to understand everything.

How hard could it be? If I couldn't understand, then I could just look at everyone else and copy their moves. This proved to be more difficult when lying down on your back or being face-down on the mat. Also, not being familiar with French yoga lingo, I could barely relax, while trying to concentrate on what things meant.

Did this disturb me? No. I went to yoga not only to relax, but to better my listening comprehension in French. Also, it was a great workout. Afterwards, I couldn't even lift my shaking arms. And although the instructor had to help me a lot, I felt like a part of the class within no time. The class consisted of two girls who looked about my age, two older couples, and another older woman. It's the first time I've ever seen men in a yoga class.

The move that made my arms shake was something another woman described as a "cauchemar" or nightmare. While I did struggle with the moves and the language, I came home feeling great that I'd accomplished something. Then completely sore the next day.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem

Chasse is my roost for 9-10 months in France. No matter how often I travel or for how long I'm gone, I come back to Chasse. It's where two suitcases of my stuff is. It's where my job is, but it isn't completely where my heart is.

Chasse and I have a rollercoaster relationship.

One day, I'm on a pleasant walk up the forest road that leads to farms that sit on the edge of small cliffs overlooking Chasse and I see a baby lamb looking at me curiously from behind a fence on a green hillside with a chateau-esque building in the distance. Someone might drive by thinking I might like a ride down into Chasse so I don't have to walk. The thought is very kind, but my purpose is to walk. On days like these, I'm content to be there.

View from the top of my walk up the forested road leading to the countryside in the hills above Chasse.

Another day or possibly that same day, someone will stop their car and ask for directions while I'm wandering around and when I don't know where something is, they shake their heads, maybe even giving me the hand and a sigh as if they've already wasted enough of their time. Then, the train that I've planned on taking to get out of there, has either been "deleted" or leaves later due to more railway construction. Two or more of these tiny little events can cause a downward spiral so steep and fast that I've completely forgotten about the baby lamb.

As a fairly patient and adaptable person, this comes as a surprise to me. I had one of those days today. A black and white day, one with sun and rain, one with so much positivity and so much negativity that today seemed like two days.

I woke up to chainsaws trimming the trees in the schoolyard. It was okay, they started at 9, not extremely early. I decided to get up. With not enough food for breakfast, I got dressed, grabbed my huge plastic bag and walked to the grocery store. As I was shopping, my stomach growling, I ran into a colleague from school. Caught off guard while admiring my cheese options, I was at a loss for what to say. One of the nicest of my colleagues, she seemed pleased to see me and started chattering away. Some people I find easier to speak to in French and for some reason unknown to me, she is not one of those people. It's almost as if she doesn't completely hear what I say and therefore, I'm more likely to put my verbs in the past rather than the present or vice versa.

After my debaucle of awful French conversation, I walked home with my groceries feeling a bit down on myself for not being able to hold a smoother dialogue. I kept telling myself, that I was having an off-couple of days. I could barely concentrate in French class the previous night either. By the time I got home, I'd fallen onto the couch, leaving my grocery bag by the fridge. Feeling a little down, I just lay there until forcing myself to get to the post office where I had to mail my rent money.

It was a refreshing January afternoon. Not warm at all, but certainly brisk. I wandered around slowly, not yet wanting to go home after the post office. Walking past a huge building on the way to the train station, I decided to walk up some stairs to see what it was exactly. It's not possible to see from the street. I stumbled upon a miniature park, then found a sign for a music school and the youth and culture house. Most every city, village, or town in France has a maison des jeunes et de la culture or M.J.C. These centers usually have programs for children, adolescents, and adults, like artistic and sporty activities.

I went into the building, but no one was there, so I took a brochure. Chasse's M.J.C. offers:

judo, modern dance, shooting, badminton, gymnastics, hiking, art and decoration, yoga, ftness classes, gym "douce" (I can't translate this) 'soft or easy gym', and aqua gym. I had no idea Chasse had a pool or a M.J.C. I was also excited to learn that I could sign up for yoga classes on Wednesday nights. Just the particular night I was looking for some kind of activity, something to do in this sleepy town of 4,000 people. I plan on heading back there after pay day to sign up.

A bit more cheerfully, I walked home and ran into one of my students and his family. He was really excited to see me and greeted me with a chipper hello, baguette under his 9 year old arm. Seeing my students on the street is a fresh reminder that I'm here to help them with their English. A reminder of my purpose for being where I am.

Just as I entered the parking lot of the school, I saw an old-ish map that I'd never really looked at before. It said, Pays Viennois: Balades et Promenades. I did a double-take. After scouring my tiny seeming desolate town for places to walk, trails leading into forests, I had given up on local hikes. This map had a list of at least ten hikes, their length, and what one would see (chateaus, rolling hills, ancient churches, wildlife). There was only one that seemed reachable by foot from Chasse. The others were scattered and would require taking a bus or train to get there, hence a hassle.

I could see that the one hike nearest Chasse appeared to stem from the forest road walk I generally take past the baby lamb. Immediately I began daydreaming of spring morning hikes. And I wouldn't even have to leave Chasse (like I've had to for the past four months to see anything 'seemingly' noteworthy).

It appears that I should have looked a little closer and not just quickly scan over the place I call home for my 9-10 months here.

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

Here's What Happened in October

While living in "la petite chambre" as my French colleagues referred to it, I wrote a little bit on Microsoft Word, hoping to post, but never did. Until now. Here are my candid thoughts from my first full month in France.

9/26 – 9/27/08 – Vendredi et Samedi

After two long days at our assistant program orientation in Autrans, a mountain village near Grenoble, I hopped a train to Lyon. From there, a woman from the school and her husband picked me and my nine month’s of luggage up from busy Part-Dieu station. We drove through downtown Lyon on a Friday night listening to Rihanna’s “Disturbia” on the radio. I saw cafes, monuments lit by blue light, and restaurants half wanting to remain there in civilization. While we drove, the woman and her husband did their best to speak to me in English, but as tired and shaky as I was, I still wanted to speak French.

Every time I spoke, I realized how much I needed to learn. We eventually arrived to Chasse-sur-Rhone in the dark driving by the train station and the school in which I’ll teach. I met the directrice of my school and was shuffled to my room, attached to an apartment building ten feet from the schoolyard. I was told it’d be temporary and I’d be moving into a bigger place in November.

As I entered my new living quarters for the final days of September and October, I felt very tired. Even though the bed didn’t have any sheets or pillows and sported a prison-like steel bar from underneath, I wanted to dive into it and fall into a deep slumber. The kitchen is two feet away from my bed. The toilet is one foot away from my refrigerator. The shower is inches away from where I lay my head to rest on a pillow. Water from a shower I took crept under my bed last night. There is a window, but the shutters won’t open, so it’s pitch black during the day. I can’t see outside which makes me slightly anxious.

The husband looked at me with an expression that matched my own apprehensive one and said, “isn’t it a little sad? It’s dark outside, you’re alone, and in a new place.” I still don’t know why people need to emphasize the negatives while in situations like these. At least he wouldn’t let me carry my luggage and helped me practice using my keys. All around me, French flew in the air and finally the husband said, “she needs to sleep.” They left, but I needed to unpack and so didn’t go to sleep until midnight.

The positives? The directrice showed me the school the next morning, told me I could use as much paper as I wanted, and showed me my large classroom with all the materials I could ever need. She spoke a lot, made me feel comfortable, and I could understand most of what she said. After seeing my “emploi du temps” or timetable, I was shocked. French children don’t go to school on Wednesday and because of Monsieur Sarkozy, they now have Saturdays off too. Even stranger, I teach on only two of the four days of school per week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. Comment?????? Before I could say that there was some mistake, the directrice asked me if I was interested in taking French classes in Lyon at a university there on my days off. Suddenly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I quipped, bien sûr!

From the school, we went to Géant, one of France’s hypermarkets. Slightly overwhelmed with the mustard and cheese aisles, the directrice helped me so much that I couldn’t believe how full the cart was with food for my little kitchen. She assumed things that I needed or things I might like and we threw them in the cart as though I was a regular there.
After the supermarket, I ate lunch and headed out into the town for a little walk. It was nice to finally be alone and walking after three days of being surrounded by hundreds of people and my luggage. I found the train station, the post office, a cemetery, and the Rhône River on foot. Brick houses with shutters, sometimes, bright purple created a distinct French feel throughout the town. I got the goose bumps while crossing the highway, seeing signs for Strasbourg, Lyon, Paris, Marseille. I’m in France and happy to be here.

9/28/08 - Dimanche

It’s hard not having the Internet. I keep wanting to check my email. All I can do is listen to music, look at pictures, watch DVD’s, or write, so I’ve decided to keep a journal on what happens each day here. Then I can post them in my blog later.

I slept in until about noon today. Part of me doesn’t want to get out of bed, because my living space feels filthy and I don’t want to live in it. Another part asks, “what am I going to do when I get up besides shower with the shower head that sprays water in all directions tres fort, so much so that it can actually scratch my back with its power?”

Did some Pimsleur and am waiting for Sylvie to get me. Apparently, we’re going to the mountains today for some kind of outing. What it is exactly, je ne sais pas. Who is going to be there? Je ne sais non plus. I’m a little nervous, but I need to put myself out there. I’d be angrier with myself for not trying to speak French and holing up in my hole of a room. Bring it on.


The mountain excursion wasn’t really an excursion, but more of an “escort” to a mountain center where the 5 and 6 year old kids would stay for a week. Almost all of them cried while the bus pulled away. They made the appropriate animal sounds when we passed them and I got a kick out of hearing “coco-ri-co” when we went by chickens. I had my first “Kir” from the bartender at the center and a great dinner of lasagna, salad composee, cheese plate (of course) and ice cream. The best part was talking to Sylvie the entire way home (2 hours) in French. She’s been so great and helpful and she understands my situation, as she too learned English in the U.S.

9/29/08 – Lundi

Met the other teachers at my school today. Seem nice, but some are hesitant to talk with me. Went on the Internet and got a tea/coffee kettle thing. Went back to Geant to get slippers, sticky tack for class, shampoo, and tissues. Started planning where I want to go for All Saint’s Holiday. Belgium? Germany?

9/30/08 – Mardi

Spent virtually the whole day with Corrine in both Chasse and Vienne dealing with paperwork/etc. She seemed concerned with Chasse. The teachers, she said, don’t seem very nice and/or willing to speak English. (which is fine with me BTW…the less English, the better). It was cool to practice speaking with her in French, but by the end of the day I was exhausted.

Some observations:

French bread is hurting my mouth. It’s ripping up the roof of my mouth and it’s a little worse each day.

I shouldn’t buy a whole slice of Brie. It’s going to put on extra pounds and I can’t eat it all before the expiration date.

The slippers and actual shower gel (non hotel kind) have made my day.

The Office has also been a savior.

10/01/08 – Mercredi – Dad’s Birthday!

Tried to get a bank account today at the post office of all places. Everything seemed to be going well until Sylvie and me received word that I can’t get one after all, because I’m not a citizen of the European Union. From there, we went to Geant where we set up an appointment with another bank for tomorrow. This all seems a bit too much. I keep telling myself that I have to make this year worth it.

I have been extremely tired (only in phases though) throughout the day and had to collapse into prime napping form at about 3pm. Sylvie talks so loud and so much that it’s kind of an effort for me to respond sometimes. She’s been the most helpful person to me here by far, so I guess that’s a small price to pay. As I was getting out of the car, she asked if I was going to come to the school tomorrow. I said, yes, imagining that’s what she would want to hear. She responded with, “good…last year the assistant didn’t come out of her classroom, never smiled, and didn’t say a word to anyone. That’s why her French didn’t progress at all.” On that hint, I think I’ll be putting on my friendly face tomorrow and trying to make friends with my colleagues.

Today, Sylvie told me that it’s obligatory for everyone in France to put those bright yellow safety vests on the seat of their car. She said it’s even more enforced in Spain. I always wondered why people put them on the seats of their car.

Trucs to note:

I now have an address 118 rue Jean Moulin and a boite de lettres.
And a fresh jar of Nutella.
Went for a short walk until I was too tired and too hot to go on. The scenery is beautiful here. There are vineyards, gardens, and stone houses with bright violet shutters.
My eyes teared up a little bit when I looked at the U.S. section of the International aisle and there was peanut butter, oreos, Pepperidge farm cookies, and marshmallows. Weird. I’ve only been here a week.

10/2 – 10/8

I’ve finally gotten my first day of teaching over with and feel better about having worked at least one day in the past three months. Time off is so much better when you’ve worked for it…that’s sure.

So, I’ve been to Grenoble this past weekend and had a great time with Lindsey, Leslie, Liza, Allison, Gearoid, Paul, AJ, and Rory. There were tons of people there, and we all intermingled at London Pub Sat. night. We went up in the Telepherique, or balls, walked around, had some kir and fromage blanc in a café, had kebabs, walked around, and went out.

Teaching was kind of uneventful. I woke up and didn’t feel the slightest bit nervous. I just wanted to be prepared because everyone’s been so helpful. Some of the kids were too noisy, but I tried to take care of that by establishing the sticker system right away. And then taking away their stickers. It seemed to work better with the younger kids. I’ve got a full day ahead of me tomorrow. We’ve just been doing name tags, English names, faces, and “What’s your name?” dialogues.

I was proud of my morning errand running today. I got up, took out the trash, went to the post office, then to the library (where everyone is incredibly nice) to get a card and some books. I got “A Year in Provence” by Peter Mayle and a book on Lyon and the countryside around it. I was going to go for a run as well, but it’s been raining since I got up this morning. And it’s coming down harder now.


Vendredi October 24, 2008

Long time no freaking write. I’ve not been in the greatest mind set to write lately. I’m a little frustrated with my living conditions and life in Chasse in general. I kind of expected people to be a bit more hospitable, but that really hasn’t been the case. I’m trying to be friendly, but it’s hard when I’m so not confident with my French.

On my walk a la poste, puis la gare, I noticed that people were cleaning the tombstones in the cemetery with mops and buckets. I mean, really scrubbing. For most European countries, the Fall Holiday encompasses visiting lost loved ones, lighting candles by their tombstones and remembering. Will be in Belgium over “Toussaint.” And Leslie and I are going to Chambery tomorrow to visit G and AJ.

Cemetery in Chasse