Cold cold cold cold

We have had a bit of a cold snap (today it didn't get above 32 degrees) here in Mayenne. This has had the effect of shutting my brain off and making me want to sleep all the time. Apparently, I'm not used to functioning in these kinds of conditions: who'd have thought?

Nevertheless, I will try and persevere and write something that you all find mildly interesting, but in case this post isn't particularly good, I am blaming it on the cold, just so everyone knows.

Teaching
Someone told me that I hadn't been talking enough about teaching. I'm not sure why I avoid talking about this. I think it is because it is an experience that is hard to explain. I find it at the same time mundane and fascinating and sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between the two. In any case, I will try to give a brief description, and a synthesis of my experiences up until this point.
I think the thing that I find the oddest is that for the most part students actually listen to me. I will explain whatever I have planned today and then say "Let's go..." and they'll actually do what I ask, usually without complaint or comment. It's bizarre having such power and authority. Although I never taught in the US, I sometimes get the impression that students here are even more brainwashed than students back home. I remember when I first started with the classes here I had each person say something that they found interesting and I asked them to say something that they would maybe like to learn about. They were clearly uncomfortable with the thought of having to say what they were interested in and even more so at the thought of mentioning something that they might like to learn about. They are very much used to sitting and receiving information, which can make my position as someone who is mostly supposed to do spoken English challenging.
It's interesting and surprising to see what works and what doesn't work. There were a lot of factors at the beginning that I didn't think about--even now, things will work better or worse than I thought because of something I didn't think of. The two biggest factors  I have encountered have to do with the level of the class and the attitude of the class in general. At the high school, I only take juniors and seniors, and I started off with the assumption that the seniors would naturally be more advanced than the juniors. This has not been the case at all. The level of any particular class seems to be fairly random.
On top of that, the willingness of students to make an effort play a huge role. I have some classes where I feel like I have to force them to say anything, and there are other where I feel like I am only just barely in control. All of this pretty much means that a lesson plan that goes really well in one class can go over a lot worse in another class.
The lesson plans that work the best have been those that are somewhat interactive: for example, the ones I have done that involves games and songs. Even then though, my most rambunctious class can be hard to control and I still feel like I have to drag my most apathetic class into participation.
All in all, the beginning few months have definitely been a learning experience. The first thing I learned was how to perform. The first thing I lost was my sense of dignity (no regrets, it had to go anyways).

Which brings me to...

The number of times I have accidentally written, said, or handed something out with some form of the word "penis" on it...
This has happened more often than I certainly though it would. The problem lies in the fact that seemingly innocuous words in English that translate to not so innocuous words in French.

The first time this happened, I walked right into it. I sometimes start lessons by asking the students an icebreaker question that everyone has to respond to. On this particular day the question was "What is the hardest habit you've ever had to (or that you have to) break?". One very common answer to this question was "biting my nails". Here is where it gets tricky. In French, one say "manger les ongles" or "to eat one's nails". I was explaining to the students that instead of saying "to eat" in English we say "to bite'. Most of the students did not know the verb "to bite".  I usually write new vocabulary on the board, so I went up to the board and wrote "to bite". As I was finishing the e, a little alarm bell went off in my head, but it was too late. "Bite" in French (pronounced "beet") is like saying "cock". I had written "cock" on the board. I heard a couple students giggle, and then before I knew the whole class had started laughing, including myself. After I got control of myself, I crossed out the word and kept going with the lesson feeling a little foolish.

The other time this has happened to me, I had no idea I was doing it. I was handing out a handout with Christmas words on it. One of the words was "pine" because I had put a couple of the species of Christmas tree on the handout. In the first couple classes I heard some giggling, and went I over the words, everyone seemed really interested to know what "pine" meant (I hadn't put the French translations on the worksheet). Finally after having done 4 classes, someone finally said emphatically "ah ça veut pas dire ça en français..." and I finally caught on. Needless to say, I once again felt pretty foolish, and I just started laughing.

I'm pretty sure this will happen to me again, so I guess it's good that I've gotten rid on any dignity that I had, but it's still pretty alarming how easy it was to make these mistakes.

Anyhow, those are my anecdotes about teaching. I am very much looking forward to having some time off. Hopefully I will have time to recharge and to think about lesson plans that don't have to do with accidentally saying synonyms for penis. We'll see though...

My life could handle more giant mechanical elephants...

Bam! Check this picture out! Do you know what that is?

If you, through some incredible feat of intellect and insight guessed "giant mechanical/robot elephant" (not that the title of this post would give that away at all), then you are indeed correct. Good job.

You may be wondering where in the world I had the good fortune to run into such a fabulous creature. Those of you who know me (I'm guessing this is all of you, because I'm pretty sure this is not the kind of blog complete strangers read for fun), or those of you have taken more than 2 seconds to look at this blog would probably be astute enough to guess that this probably happened in France. Those of you who know where Mayenne is (I'm guessing this is, in fact, very few of you), might even be able to guess that it is somewhere in western France.

The answer is that I got to see this incredible machine in Nantes, a city which is not that far from where I live and which I got to visit this past week. A French teacher at my high regularly drives down to Nantes on Wednesdays because she does some work for the Musée des Beaux Arts down there. When I first got here at the beginning of the year she told me that if I ever wanted to see Nantes, she would be happy to take me with her sometime. I stored this information in the back of my head, but I did not take advantage of such an opportunity until this week. I have two friends in Laval who also happen to have Wednesdays off, so I invited them to come along as well and we all went down to Nantes.

When we got there, it was, surprisingly, raining (gee! Rain in the winter in France? How peculiar!). Although we walked through the city a bit, we decided to stick to the museums and we settled on visiting the Musée d'Histoire Naturelle and something called "Les Machines de l'Île".

I love Natural History museums. I especially love natural history museums in France and here is why: French natural history museums always seem universally to be the result of over-zealous 19th century French Naturalists. I think the reason why most of the museums exist is that in the 19th century a bunch of naturalists traveled the world over collecting and labeling rocks, killing and stuffing all manner of small animal, and pickling whatever else they could get their hands on all in the name of science. The problem was, that once they got back they realized that there was no where to put all of their carefully caught and labeled "specimens", and a national system of natural history museums was established to resolve the problem. In these museums everything was carefully arranged by genus and by the region that the specimen came from, carefully labeled by hand and then was promptly forgotten by the rest of mankind. I'm serious, in many of these museums the specimens still have the original labeling:

And this is what I loved about them--they have a slighty dusty and forgotten air, like things hastily stuck in drawer and forgotten about. It is as if they were remanants of some obsessive collection that you had years ago and that got placed in a closet somewhere and that you rediscovered while trying to find something completely unrelated. I love them.

Les Machines de L'Île held yet a completely different kind of exciting thing although this place too had a strange sort of 19th century feel to it which probably had to with the design and workmanship of the structure found within. It is the workshop of a company that makes giant mechanical puppets that are used around the work in spectacles and shows (here is their website). The cool thing about these puppets is they are a fusion of high tech machinery with old-school craftsmanship and attention to detail--the elephant can lift its trunks, move its eyes and eyelids, ears, etc.

Unluckily for us, the elephants was not working the when we went to visit, but we did get to see the workshop and some of the puppets that they were preparing for an a sea them carousel. You can see some of the highlights of the exhibit to the right. The coolest things about these machines is how much the builders paid attention to detail. For example, the tentacles of the squid have so many different points of articulation that when the do move they really do resemble tentacles. It is amazing.

You may wondering how it is that I know how these machines look when they are moving. This is because we had the good luck to be there when they were giving demonstrations of the way the machines work, and so we got to see them in action. We even got the chance to ride a couple of them ourselves!

Liz, a good friend of mine got the courage to volunteer first and as a reward for her boldness got to ride in this sweet Angler fish (right). The thing is actually pretty awesome when it moves--the light at the end of its antenna lights up and it can blow mist. In fact, you should check out the video of Liz riding the thing (or "wrangling the angler", as I like to say).
I was, on the other hand, slightly less bold than Liz. This meant that I nearly missed an opportunity entirely to ride one of the fabulous contraptions. Lucky for me, they were giving a demonstration of one of the machines that was designed for kids only, but they didn't have enough kids in the audiences, and so they aske for some adults to fill in. I leapt on the opportunity and volunteered immediately, the result being that it was me and a bunch of terrified small children on a ride that was somewhat less exciting that Liz's. In the pictures I look like some sort of giant interloper. Still, I am happy to have had the experience.

Anyhow, those were probably the highlights of my Nantes trips. The machines are well worth the visit, and I would highly recommend them to anyone who is in the area.

The rest my week went pretty well as well--the highlights were one of student saying that my hour of teaching English went by so much faster than their hour with their regular teacher (I wanted to do an air fist-pump, but I resisted) and managing to hang out with some more French people this weekend. I even got to watch the Miss France Pageant on TV! (In case you were wondering, Miss Normandy won--or I guess I should say Meees Normandie.)

Peanuts for Thanksgiving

So last week was Thankgiving. I almost forgot this because it is a hoilday that doesn't exist in France (obviously), and the only reason I remembered was thanks to dear old Facebook. Being the only American (as far as I know) in Mayenne, I wasn't really looking forward to this holiday, because, well, I didn't really have anything to look forward to. My host mom was working that night and I had to teach all day long. On top of that weather in France has become the way weather in France is supposed to be at this time of year--gray, rainy, windy and generally miserable. This is as opposed to November in Tucson which is glorious and soft and warm. Anyhow, in general it didn't really feel like Thanksgiving at all; by the end of the day, I was feeling very very homesick and all I wanted was to be with my (real) family.
My host mom is really very sweet. She knew it was Thanksgiving, and, as I mentioned, she had to work, but she decided that we would at least do a little apératif in honor of Thanksgiving. For those of you who don't know, an apératif is what the French call it when you have a little drink with snacks before dinner. So for Thanksgiving, I had peanuts and a kir (white wine +crème de cassis=yummy), which is not exactly conventional per se, but it's the thought that counts, right? Also, after dinner, my wonderful family called me from good old Tucson and simultaneously made me feel very jealous and very happy. It was really nice to hear from them, and really painful to hear in detail what exactly they were preparing for the meal.
The next day my host mom's cousin and good friend was coming to visit and she was very excited for him to come down, so she had got out these enormous cuts from a side of beef from that came from one of the happy cows that live in the region (she has friends who have cattle). I found this fairly unremarkable until she later explained that Pascale was going to cooks the cuts on the fireplace. For some reason, I was a little dubious this prospect--I'm a fan of barbecue, but for some reason the though of roasting meat on an open flame in the interior of your house seems positively medieval. Anyhow, the cousin came over but it was late in the evening, so we didn't really end up eating until about 10:30 or 11 at night, and the meat turned out to be excellent. Although, in typical French fashion, we didn't actually eat anything of vegetable origin with the meat. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to handle not eating vegetables on a regular basis. This is driving me crazy.
My family did, however drink copiously with meat and it was really fun seeing everyone let loose, except that after a certain point I have a hard time understanding without concetrating very hard and so I actually went to bed the first of anyone, including my 9-year old host sister. This is how I represent the US while I am here (party hard and briefly and then sleep!)

The towns here take Christmas decorations here really seriously. Since about early November I have slowly been seeing the preparations for the town Christmas lights go up all around town. I had mentioned to several colleagues and to my family that I was very excited to see them be lit and they said "ah but you have to go down to Laval to see their Christmas lights and their lighting ceremony, it is much better". Anyhow, realizing that my colleagues have lived in this region for some time, I realized that their advice was probably good advice and that I should probably go. The lighting was this weekend and I dutifully headed down to Laval to go and take a look.

As I was on the bus down to Laval, I was looking out the window and listening to music, and I thought to myself "Jesus, that rain is coming down hard. Very hard. I hope it's not like that tonight". It was probably one of the rainiest days we have had here yet. I arrived in Laval, and battled my way against the rain and wind to the Foyer, where the other assistants lived, and went and hung out with some of the Columbian Spanish language assistants for the afternoon. I kept an eye on the window and the rain did not let up. At 6:30 we bundled up to go outside and see the lighting, and the rain was pouring and the wind was howling just as much as it had been when I arrived. Unfortunately for us, we were all in that stupidly determined frame of mind where you are going to do something no matter what because you have been hearing about it for ages and it has to be good--right? Anyhow, about 12 of us left to walk to the bridge where they would be setting off fireworks and about 10 and 1/2 people's umbrellas immediately turned inside out. 5 minutes late everyone's umbrella who hadn't flipped inside-out the first time had turned inside out and about 5 people had had near fatal accident involving sudden umbrella collapse and those pesky metal poles that umbrellas are made out of. At no point did anyone suggest going back.

We finally got to the bridge where we going to watch the fireworks and huddled together for warmth. We had gotten there early to make sure that we were in a good place to watch (because this was really necessary given the weather conditions) and to freeze for a full ten minutes before the fireworks started, during which interval whatever remaining umbrellas were succesfully destroyed. This is how we looked:

The fireworks themselves were actually pretty cool. For starters, in France, they are much less concerned about liability issues such as people getting burned or lit on fire or damage to surrounding property. This meant that the fireworks were launched of a boat on the river that was right next to a row of house and probably about 50 feet from the bridge we were standing on. It was cool being so close to the action and seeing the nearby apartments and wondering vaguely if they were going to sustain any sort of fire damage. On top of this, the wind was so bad that all the fireworks were being blown around quite a bit as soon as they were launched. This meant that gold one that leave the long trails left really cool trails that tracked across the sky. In all, the show lasted about 20 minutes, which would have been great if we weren't freezing our asses off.

With the show finally over, we miserably trekked to O'Regan's, the local Irish pub, and started drinking large quantities of vin chaud to warm up. The rest of the night was pretty much your average night out except for one event, which may have been the highlight of my life (ok, fine, maybe that is an overstatement, but it was very cool). We had gotten a deck of cards from the bar and started playing a game where you had to guess the card that was stuck to your forehead. Anyhow, it was my turn and I said "8 of clubs?" and the others just looked at me and said ".... euh, ben oui, en faite..." (uh... yeah actually) (!!!!). Anyhow, how cool is that? I thought I was pretty awesome.

Besides that, the rest of my weekend was fairly uneventful. I stayed in Laval the next night as well and we went for a walk around town and the illuminations were even prettier when it wasn't rainy and windy (surprising, right?). We also went for a walk earlier that day and saw an adorable goat and some roosters co-co-ri-coing (this is how you say "cock-a-doodle-do").

This week I am teaching a song in my classes. It is Taylor Swift's "You belong with me". I will be lucky if it ever becomes dislodged from playing incessantly in brain.

Le Gros Gateau Américain

Saturday was my most brother's 14th birthday. For his birthday, he asked my to make him "un gros gateau américain" I wasn't entirely sure what this meant, but I eventually figured out that he meant a layer cake. I was honored at this prospect, but also a little nervous because there seemed to be a lot of expectation riding on the whole thing and because, people seem to expect you'll be good at these sort of things just by virtue of being "American". On top of that, there was the whole problem that the U.S. likes to invent it own esoteric systems of measurement that the rest of the world refuses to follow.
Anyhow, I found a promising-looking recipe for a coconut layer cake that seemed to have ingredients that could be found in France (this is the other thing; there are lots of seemingly normal things--like cream cheese, which you just can't find) and I decided to go for it. I had some issues making conversions and whatnot, but for the most part things went pretty well until I came to the frosting. I have made buttercream frosting and watched my mother make buttercream frosting since I was a child. I know how to make it. And yet, when I tried to do it here it just became a sticky, thick mess. I have no idea what happened (I just looked up a recipe and I did pretty much what was described--maybe French butter is just weird, or it object to being treated in such a degrading manner). I was at a loss until I remember that the English teacher at the middle school had actually given a pot of icing that she had bought in the UK. She saved the day. Thank you Madame Bouttier, else I would have had to give them a cake that without any frosting on the outside. I don't think Théo would have been very happy.
Anyhow, despite that minor hang-up, the cake ended up being quite the success, and although to me it looked good but not great, they were all very impressed with how tall it was and how it had the coconut cream on the inside. I ended up being quite proud of myself.

This is a good thing because last week I did a lesson on Thanksgiving at the middle school and I made them a pumpkin pie and for the most part the students found it way too weird I spent the day listening to comment like "beeerrrk!' (French for yuck!) and "mais c'est quoi ça?"? It's good to know that when I cook something more "normal", it can be appreciated.

I have been letting my hair grow out and yesterday I finally got sick of how shaggy my bangs were getting and I decided that I had to get it cut (just a trim though--I decided that I'm trying to let it grow out). Nonetheless I was still nervous at the prospect of getting my hair cut in France. There are several reasons for this. First and foremost is that there is a whole set of vocabulary that goes along with hair-cutting that I do not know in French like "just a trim", "not too many layers", "bangs", and "dear GOD, STOP!" (just kidding, I know that last one.) I was a little nervous about accurately conveying what exactly I wanted done to my head.

 The second thing that made me nervous was the fact that, no matter what happened, I knew I was going to get a French hair cut. Some of you may not understand what I mean by this. This can be resolved simply by coming to visit me. You will immediately notice upon arrival that most French women have heavily layered hair that in some cases is so layered that they could be considered mullets. There is a girl on my handball team who looks like she got her hair cut by someone who is a little to into The Labyrinth-era David Bowie. I was nervous about the layers, but I knew it was inevitable.

So, fearing the worst, I went to the hair salon. The lady was very nice, but I think she thought I was a little odd because I had trouble talking because I was so nervous and for some reason I have been having a bad-French day. The end result isn't so bad. I didn't lose that much length, my bangs are even. I do have, however, a lot of layers. Sigh... I knew it was inevitable though and perhaps now I will blend in more with the native population and I will finally be able to convince them that I am one of them...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. This makes me a little sad--I miss you guys. Who wants to send me a full Thanksgiving meal in the mail? Who wants to mail themselves with it so I can have someone to eat it with?

Kitty Birth Control?

So the title of this blog is actually from a post I started to write a while ago, and then I got distracted for about a week and forgot to post anything. It's hard to stay updated when I still don't have internet in a my house (in typical French fashion, in order to get internet in your house in France you must go talk to a company and then wait till they mail you a mysterious internet "box" which may take any number of weeks to show up--in this case, many).

Anyhow, back to kitty birth control.
Did anyone else know that it existed? Because I sure didn't.
I found out about said birth control a week ago, when I was at a French Lingerie Party. For those of you who just got excited and imagine a bunch of people wandering around in lacey bras and panties, I am sorry to disappoint. I mean a party like a tupperware party, where someone comes to someone's house and shows you lots of different models and you get to buy one. In this case, I went to said FLP (french lingerie party) with my host mom--the party was being hosted by a co-worker of hers. I was probably the youngest person there by about 15 years. It was excellent--looking at a bunch lacey panties with a bunch of older women is a lot more fun than it sounds (unless you think it sounds really fun, in which case, you're exactly right).

Anyhow back to kitty birth control.
Does anyone else think it sounds absurd and superfluous? I just instinctively feel that most house pets should be fixed by default. Does this make me some sort of anti-kitty reproductive rights advocate?

On top of the kitty birth control, I went to another frisbee tournament this weekend. I feel pretty much the same about about the ultimate in France as I did before, so I won't bore you guys by repeating myself. I would like someone to come over here and explain the ho-stack and the dump. I can't do it because I am in this little backwater and not very good at explaining. But someone needs to do it. Nonetheless, I like ultimate, and running around and I managed not to be too irritable, so I'll chalk this weekend up as positive-ish.

I have had this stack of forms piling up on my desk for a while that are all requiring various missing, hard-to-locate, or mysterious documents that I don't really want to deal with, but on Monday I decided it was time. I bravely took what I thought was my securité sociale form to school with the thought of seeing if I could get the sécretariat to help me out. As I walked in to the teacher's lounge there was, as if by magic, a desk set up with 2 representatives from securité sociale sitting at it. As I walked in one of them walked up to me and started asking me questions, and I explained that I had a form that seemed impossible to fill out. I showed her the form and she promptly said "ahh!! but madame, this is the wrong form" (YES! Go French Bureaucracy!). What was uncanny though, was that because I had come to the school with the intent of trying to figure the whole mess with me, I had actually managed to bring a: copy of my password, visa, attestation de travail, and RIB. What is even more amazing was that these were the exact documents that she needed to complete my social security form. So in a strange alignment of fate, I actually managed to submit all the right documents to the right person without having to try at least three time beforehand. That is, I think that is what happened. It's entirely possible that I'll get a letter in a week asking for something like the birth and death certificates of all of my great grandparents.

I also decided to sign up for a mutuelle. In France, when you get just the basic health insurance they pay for 70% of health insurance costs but the don't cover other stuff like eye care. When you sign up for the mutelle, they pay for everything and you get a discount on contacts and glasses and you don't have to pay for birth control. Because I still have no idea what I am doing next year, I thought this might be a good idea so that I could get a year's worth of contacts while I still could. Also, now that I know I can do anything and not have to pay to be fixed, I feel like I have to have something drastic happen to me to make it worth it--NOW is my chance to have cancer! (ok maybe not--but at least a broken bone? come on!).

Anyhow, that is pretty much what has been happening to me. Teaching is going well, except that I think I have a class that hates my guts because I missed their class from 4-5 on Friday due to a miscommunication. I feel pretty stupid about that. Hopefully they'll forget sometime in the next month?

Did I mentioned how weird I find kitty birth control?

Greedy Crepes

This last week I went to Paris, where I saw this menu. It made me laugh--it's a bad translation of the word "gourmande", which refers to someone who appreciates food a lot. But I like the idea of greedy crepes that don't share their candy with you. Maybe I'll create a graphic novel.

Paris was fun. Probably too much fun because I still had to come back and teach classes on Friday and I wasn't in the mood to do lesson planning, and therefore didn't do it very well--mistake! Turns out having a good lesson plan and back up plans in case technology fails is essential. I had two of my worst class experiences so far. Oops. My bad. Looks like I'll be planning more seriously from now on...

Paris is a cool city. This is undeniable. Because I lived there for a year, I have seen most of the major sites, but going to the city is like visiting an old friend. There is always something new and exciting to see and wandering around and exploring is probably my favorite thing to do--and that never gets old. Anyhow, I didn't take the typical, 3-days-in-Paris tourist approach, but it was a nice change of pace and a fun trip nonetheless.

I stayed with a friend of mine named Gerry, who plays on the Paris ultimate team that I've been playing with--he had a little apartment in the 10th by Gare de L'Est that had a little inset wall bed (it was more of couch, because it was short, but I'm calling it a bed). It was a cozy little bed in a great location and he was a great host, so it worked out pretty well.

I don't want to write just a laundry list of what I did, so instead I think I'll just tell you the highlights of the trip and hopefully that will be interesting.

The first day, I arrived in Paris in the morning and made my way to Gerry's house to drop off my stuff. The 10th is a multiethnic district, and he happens to live near an Indian quarter. He mentioned this to me and I got very excited about having and Indian meal. I love French food, but it tends to severely lack vegetables and a spice, and Indian food has a lot of both. Anyhow, he took me to a local vegetarian Indian restaurant and I pigged out. It was amazing and it was a very good start to my visit, minus the fact that I got curry on the sleeve of my white shirt (this always happens when I am wearing white. Grrr)

I have a friend named Alan, who is one of the assistants from the Laval who also was in Paris at the same time, so I met up with him and we went for a walk around the Seine. We were by the Pompidou center, and the first thing we saw was one of those street performers that are always in public spaces. This guy probably had the greatest act I have ever seen. He was a dubious looking old man with a strange accent and crumpled clothing. And all he did was eat things. And by "things" I mean stuff that one should really not eat, such as razorblades, lit cigarettes, and lit matches. The entire time he was doing this, he was narrating the whole adventure in a crazy-old-man kind of way. It was probably the greatest thing I have ever seen.

After that, I remembered this great hot chocolate place that I used to go to when I lived there and I suggested that we get some hot chocolate, and we decided to go there and get a cup. The hot chocolate shop was in a district just north of the Tuileries, which is terribly fancy and chic. This means that you get to walk by all these incredibly expensive hotels and admire the interiors from the windows. We were walking by one such hotel and this group of people walked out--I didn't notice anything, but the Alan (who is Scottish), whispered to me "wait. That's Robbie Williams" (for those of you who don't know, because I only had a vague idea, Robbie Williams is a British pop singer who is incredibly popular in Britain and Europe and may have had a hit or two in the U.S., but is not as well known) and he yelled "Hey! Robbie!" to which Robbie turned around, and flashed us a dazzling smile before getting into a large black luxury vehicle. It's funny how chance encounters happen like that, although I think I would have been more excited about the whole thing if I had a better idea of who he was. If Alan hadn't been there, I wouldn't have recognized him. (This makes me believe that I have seen lots and lots of really famous people, and have failed to recognize them in my ignorance).

That evening, I went to ah Ah Ouh Puc mixed practice. European ultimate is different than US ultimate. And by "different" I mean "less organised and more cluster-fuck-y (yes, that is a word)", which is something I'm just going to have to get used to, but sometimes, I get frustrated and I want to just say to everyone "there is a place where only one person cuts at a time and no one cuts each other off, and the dump happens not at stall 9 and swings happen, and it is beautiful. This magical land is called the United States" (once again, sorry to you non-frisbee folk). Still, it is nice to be playing ultimate, and the knee is doing ok (still hurts a little occaisionally, but not in an alarming way). So that is nice.

The next day I went to the one big museum that I never managed to go to when I lived in Paris, the Musée Quai Branly. It is the non-Western art museum and it is pretty awesome. They had a special exhibit on Tenochticlan, which was really cool--it had frescoes from the site as well lots of sculptures and pottery and it was very well explained. My favorite thing was this chicken:It's just so stylish. Those Mixtecs (I think...) were pretty cool.

There is one very important very reason that I am glad that to be not actually living in Paris this time around and only just visiting it occasionally. It is phenomenally expensive, and there is constant temptation and too much to buy. Needless to say, I did go on a small shopping expedition, in which I managed to escape after only buying a skirt and shirt--this was incredibly hard, believe me.

When I was going back to Gerry's apartment that evening, he called to tell me that he wasn't in his apartment, but in that of a neighbor's because he is part of the equivalent of a CSA (community supported agriculture) in Paris, and he shares his share with a couple that lives on the first floor of his building. Anyhow, I went down to the couple's apartment to help with some translation (Gerry is somewhat new to French), and I got to see one of the coolest and most French apartments I have ever seen.
It was crammed full of newspapers and books and it was one of those apartments that is much bigger than it looks. It had a window that looked onto a lower rooftop and they had turned the rooftop into a glorious little garden. It was awesome. The guy who lived there (I didn't meet the woman), was pretty cool too. He was wonderfully warm and welcoming. We were chatting, and at one point he mentioned that he had a blog, and I asked him what it was about. It turns out that he does mail art, which is what it sounds like. It's a network of people who mail pieces of art (usually painted or collage postcards) to each other. The idea is that if you mail something to someone, they will mail you something back; it's an exchange. He showed cool stuff that he received and the stuff he sends and he gave us his address so that we could try and mail him something. Despite my lack of artistic skill, I think I'm going to try. If anyone is interested, here is his blog, and his address is:
Jacky Charmouan
7bis passage de la ferme Saint Lazare
75010 Paris
FRANCE
if you want to send him some art--it might be interesting (Sally, you should try)!

Besides these adventures, I spent my time walking around--I visited Monmartre, and the Rue St. Honoré, and various other districts. I also went to a women's practice on Wednesday--I had forgotten how much I like playing womens and it made me miss Scorch a little...

Paris is an awesome place. I will always love going there. For the moment though, I am happy to be in my little town in the middle of nowhere--I think I may be starting to make some French (!!) friends and as always, very much love my living situation. I will continue to miss peanut butter and burritos though (peanut butter burritos, not so much).

And to finish, here is an awesome shot of the Seine:

Les Vacances de Toussaint (Misadventures)

So, because this is France, I get a lot of this wonderful thing called paid vacation (well, in theory paid, but I'll get to that later...) This is what I have been up to.

The Politics of the French Swimming Pool
As some of you may know (ahem... Jodi), I hate swimming. Hate hate hate hate it. This is mainly because of two reasons: my inability to swim, and the fact that chlorine makes me itch all over, including the inside of my nose. But, because my family insists on feeding me a full three course meal for dinner and lunch and I can't run because I have a bum knee (although I did manage 20 minutes today--Yay!), I have braved the local public pool twice this week and have learned that, while still unpleasant, French pools have a lot to keep me distracted.

First off, this being a small town, the pool itself is not very big. What is more, I can only go during public hours--that is to say--when all family and small children are going as well. This means that the pool is very very crowded. In order to accommodate people who are at the pool to swim laps and people who are there to goof around they do the following. The lifeguards rope off the first lane, which is a little bit wider than all the other lanes. That is the lane for the lap swimmers. How does this work, do you ask? The answer is quite simple. Instead of doing the traditional back-and-forth flip-turn nonsense you would do in a regular pool, you do big rectangles, always making sure you stay to the right of the lane. This can sometime make for exciting developments.

Because of the aforementioned bum knee, I can currently only swim freestyle (actually, even when I don't have a bum knee watching me do breast stroke can be hilarious). This is a problem because French people seem to swim almost exclusively breast stroke and freestyle is naturally faster than breast stroke. If there are more than, say two people trying to swim laps at once and if we are all swimming in a rectangle that is a little bit more than one lane wide, and I am swimming a stroke that is faster than what everyone is swimming, it is suddenly like driving on a two lane highway. You have swim up right behind someone, and wait until whoever is coming the opposite direction has gone by and the accelerate like mad to get around the person before you end up in a head on collison with a innocuous-looking middle aged woman. On top of this, you get the added advantage of really getting a good look at the behind of whoever is in front you (usually a mild aged old lady) before you pass them. It's like being in a derby--you have to be strategic about when you pass somebody and how--I bet the lifeguards must get a kick out of it.

Bike-Riding

Another thing I did this weekend instead of running was a lovely bike ride along the ancien voie ferrée--the old railways.

My family had told me that they had a bike I could use, and that it was old. This is definitely true. It is also one of those bike that has fenders, and because it is old, they aren't really well held in place, and they bounce all over when I am riding and I sound like I am dragging a trash can lid behind me or something.

However, despite the racket, the bike seemed to work pretty well, so I set off along the trail, which was not paved. This made the bike clatter even more, and I spent a good portion of the ride calculating how long it would take me to walk back if the whole thing just collapsed on me without warning (it didn't).

I can't begin to explain how beautiful the countryside is here, especially because the last few days we have had a bit of an indian summer. The leaves are changing color but the haven't fallen yet and the autumn sun is glorious. People joke about there being more cows in Mayenne than people. This is probably the case, and the cows are pastured in large green fields. Happy cows don't come from California, they come from Mayenne. Anyhow, as I said, I don't really think I can explain, so here are some photos:There are still pedestrian walkways from when it was a railway. I love how overgrown this one is.

See what I mean? How could these cows not be happy?


This was my final destination: a little village. My mission once I got there was to procure a pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant); mission status: success.

The bike ride was truly lovely--I would love to make a longer trip out of it and visit multiple towns and buy a pain au chocolat in each one. Takers anyone?

And finally... The Fire Station
I have know since I first moved in with my family that my host father was a volunteer fireman. Since I have moved in my host father has also offered to show me around the fire station, and I had always though "yeah.. that might be interesting" in a vague sort of way...

The past two days I had two friend who are assistants in Laval visit, and my host-father offered to show us around the fire station. As there are not that many things to do in Mayenne, I thought it was a good idea.

It was awesome. He not only showed us around and explained the inner workings of a fairly rural firestation (a very interesting combination of high tech machinery married with good, old-fashioned French paper-oriented management), he let us dress up like firemen:

First of all, why are French firefighter helmets so much more awesome than American firefighter helmets? I mean, when I put on this thing I felt like I should have either been in some sort of Jedi training program, or have been the 3rd member of Daft Punk (coincidence that they also happen to be French? I think not).


Once we put on the costumes, a whole bunch of silly photo opportunities ensued. I think Pascale (host father) was bewilderedly amused by our antics. On top of that, we got to try on oxygen tanks, see all the emergency vehicles, and even climb in the big fire truck. I was so excited it was like I was 7 all over again. I want to be a firefighter when I grow up.

One of the most amusing stops on the tour (after we got all dressed up) was the obstacle course that the firefighters use to do training drills. We got to do the whole course in the dark. We had to crawl over things, step on uneven ground, jump down big steps. It was better than Disneyland.

I am really really lucky to be have the host family that I do. They are warm and open and welcoming and this experience was probably one of the most unexpectedly fun things I have done in a while.

Next week I am headed to Paris--I wonder what that will be like...

My love/hate relationship with French pharmacies

Side note: there will be photos soon, I have my camera and now must just remember to bring it with me somewhere and take photos and then there will be photos of my life here in France...

Ok now, with out further ado, I bring you:

My Love-Hate relationship with French pharmarcies

To start off with, I must explain that French pharmacies are nothing, and I mean nothing at all like American pharmacies. If you are imagining an American pharmacy you must stop immediately.

In an American pharmacy, you walk in and you have a pretty good idea of what is wrong with you so you walk over to appropriate aisle and spend 5 minutes look at 10 different varieties of near identical medication and end up picking the medicine that:
a) is the cheapest
b) has the most brightly colored box
c) has the best descriptive words on the outside (like gel-caps, why are gel caps always cooler than boring old tablets?)
based your personality type. Then on your way to the check out you pick up a cheap pair flip flops and a candy bar, and presto you have medication for and illness that approximates whatever illness you have with as minimal human interaction as possible.

Going to the pharmacy in France is like having a religious experience.

In order to understand how pharmacies work in France you must first understand how they regard medicine. When you go to a doctor in France they will give you at the very least three different prescriptions, even if nothing is wrong with you. One of them is always for tylenol.

When you enter in a French pharmacy, the last thing you will see is medicine all set out on counters for just anyone to take. There will be things like face wash and shampoo, but medicine? Absolutely not. Pharmacists in France act like devine intermediaries between you and the sacred potions that will cure whatever ails you. If you have, say a cold, like I did my first couple of weeks and would like somethings like sudafed so that you are not congested all the time, you have to go up to the pharmacy counter. Your interaction will go something like this:

Me: "Excuse me sir, I have a cold, could you please suggest me some medication for such an ailment?"
Pharmaticien: "But of course Madame, is your nose congested or runny?"
Me: "it is congested"
Pharmaticien: (looking thoughtful and politely concerned) "very good, very good, and what color is your snot? clear? yellow? green?"
Me: (looking alarmedly around at whoever is standing behind me, turning bright red, trying not to act completely caught off guard, and trying to pretend like I am thoughtfully considering the question) uhhh..... uhhh... yellow? maybe? or maybe it was green?(another furtive look at the mild manner old lady behind).
Pharmaticien: "very good, I will give you this" (hands me what is effectively a french version of dayquil and nyquil)

What is so fascinating is that the pharmacist seems so concerned about you while you are talking to him--like he is hanging on your every word. It's utterly disarming, and I always feel the urge to divulge more information than is absolutely necessary, and yet utter embarrasment at the fact that it was even asked. And then, after all that concern, he prescribes something like dayquil, which is probably what you or I would have picked out if we had been in the store ourselves. What I want to know is, if I had said "My snot is day-glo green (disregard the fact that I would have been unable to say this in French)" whether he would have given me a different medication.

I had a similar experience today when I went to buy a knee bracey-thing for my knee because I do a lot of walking and it hurts at night. I went to a pharmacy and told the lady and the desk that I needed a knee brace. She nodded solemnly and told me that the brace-specialist would be right with me. A couple minutes later a little old lady appeared and led me into a shuttered back room. "Which knee is it?" she asked. I pointed to my left one. A tape measure appeared in her hand. "I am going to need to measure it".
"uhhh..." (I was wearing tightish jeans). I took off my boot and attempted to role up the pant leg. It was obviously not going to go high enough.
"non, non, non, it's not going to work" said the mild mannered old lady.
I resign myself to the fact that I am going to have to remove my pants and start to take off my other boot. The little old lady says "non, non, non!." (I turn bright red) "You only have to take off one!" I look at her blankly and realize that she is talking about pant legs and then say "ohhh!" and only remove my left leg from the pant leg and leave my right one respectably covered (although if you've seen one leg, then you've seen the other, so I don't what exactly the problem with me dropping trou was, but apparently, it was innappropriate). She measure my leg and brings me a brace and I try it on. It fits, so then I get to put my pant (one leg=singular?) back on and get to head back out to the front and pay for the brace.

Every time, it's a slightly different humiliation. But they're so caring. After the embarrassment wears off, I just want to go back for more.

I now have an urge to come up with fabricated illnesses just so I can go in and ask for medication to see what they will ask me. For example, I want this to happen: "Excuse me, I have diarrhea, could you suggest a medicine?" "But of course madame, Could you please describe its consistency?".

Ahh, it's great, or maybe I've just developed a sick fascination. I wonder if the pharmacy can help with that?

Friz-bizzle

This weekend I played in my first French ultimate tournament! It also happened to be the first half of the co-ed national championships! Weird!

So anyhow, I'll try to post a recap of the weekend that doesn't bore the socks of you non-frisbee players (if I fail, sorry mom, dad, Sally, etc. and I hope that you get your socks back).

The team I played with is called Ah-ouh-puc (don't ask why, because I don't know--I was afraid to ask all weekend for fear of sounding like an idiot), which is often shortened to just "Puc". This is great because the "u" in "puc" is one of the hardest sounds for us yanks to pronounce, especially when trying to yell in an encouraging manner. Anyhow, this was a source of anxiety and stress for me all weekend (it makes cheering much harder when you are focusing on not saying "Poook"). The team itself is a very international group: there was me and 2 other Americans, an Austrian, an Italian, 2 Columbians, and, of course, a bunch of French people.
We ended up renting a giant house to stay at for the weekend, which was pretty awesome, because the entire team was in the same place which lead to some pretty entertaining evenings. It also made me feel as if I got to know everyone on the team a little better. We spent one evening telling bad jokes and the funny thing is that because there is such a difference between what languages people speak and at what levels you could pretty much tell a joke in whatever language you wanted and at least 3 people at the table would laugh (provided it was a good joke).

Tournament structure is also a lot more relaxed. Both days we only played 2 games, and on top of that, there was a break for lunch and even a place set up near the fields where you could buy delicious rillettes sandwiches (if you don't know what rillettes is, then I pity you, I really do). I had mixed feelings about this. My immediate reaction on finishing the first game was "great, we're done. Where do we play next?" and some looked at me like I was crazy was like "now, we eat lunch". Which of course means that you have to warm up all over again. Still, it seems alarmingly civilized.

I guess this would be a good time to add this detail about my weekend:
The reason for the stress about cheering was because I spent a lot of time this weekend cheering on the sidelines. This is because I sprained my knee at the end of the first game doing a classic awkward nell hesistation layout. Go me. It's a great way to introduce yourself to a team you haven't really played with before ("no, I swear I'm really good--remember that half hour you saw me play?").

The best thing about getting injured: learning how the French deal with injuries (at the time, this was not amusing but afterwards, yes). I pretty much called injury as soon as I hit the ground, because I knew something was not good with my knee. As soon as became clear to my teammates, I was immediately hoisted to the sideline by the male members of my team. When I got to sidelines I immediately asked for ice to put on my knee. I was met with a blank stare. At the time, I thought this was because in my stress I had accidentally asked for "glace" (which means "ice cream") as opposed to "glaçons" (ice cubes)--can you imagine "excuse me, could someone bring me ice cream for my knee?". After realizing my mistake, I corrected myself and asked for ice, only to be met with another blank stare. Apparently icing injuries is only for Americans, but after my insistence and much searching, someone appeared with the spray cold aerosol bottles you see used in soccer games, which helped a little.

After this fiasco, my teammates were all insisting that they take me to the hospital to see what was wrong (actually they first suggested calling the firemen). To me, this was crazy--go to the hospital?? for a twisted kneee?? are you insane?? But I got kind of strong armed into it and I discovered, to my surprise, that going to hospital in France is reserved for the grievously ill, it is also, in fact, for anyone who has a health issue that has to be taken care of quickly. So within a matter of hours I found out that rather than having a ACL tear, like I feared, I only had a sprain. It really takes the mental stress out of being injured at a tourney.

Anyhow, despite the injury, I had a good time this weekend. It was really cool group of people and I hope at the next one I'll actually be able to play more than a game.

Vignettes

Weekend

I'm really enjoying living with my family because this is a small town, and because they have a son my age it has been really nice to be able to meet his friends so that I have people to hang out with his friends. They are all boys, but hopefully I will meet some nice girls as well. I have started playing on a women's european handball team, so we will see!

Teaching… wow!

Well this has been my first couple days teaching, and let me tell you, it has been quite a mixed experience. In general, I haven’t had any flops yet. It is definitely hard to predict how students are going to act and it gives me sympathy for all the teachers I had in high school.

I had a rough start, because my first class had a scheduling conflict so there were only 3 students. I had a lesson plan that was for several more, so I had to improvise a little. Lucky for me, there was one boy in the class who liked to talk a lot in English, and so he was able to keep things rolling even though the other two students were looking at me like I was some sort of particularly odd looking alien that had just landed from Mars (they did answer the occasional question, but it felt a little like pulling teeth). It’s definitely going to take me a little while to figure out the rhythm and timing of a course.

I had a class today that went really well, but part of it was because it was a class that had chosen to take english and were therefore naturally interested in what I had to say. I think it was also because this week I have been giving a lesson on America high schools which is something that students seems to be naturally interested in. In this class, they were all raising their hands and asking questions... I felt like a real teacher!

My interesting talk with a French doctor about health care:

This weekend I am playing with the Paris club team in what I think are club regionals (this is a little unclear…). Anyhow, because it is France, I clearly need some form signed and stamped by someone professional before I can do anything. In this case, I need an official looking paper signed by a doctor saying that I can play. Today, I went to said doctor to get this paper signed, and we somehow got on the subject of health care. He was talking about how in France the healthcare is really restrictive of how doctors can operate their business—they are only allowed to charge certain amount for certain services. I then explained to him about how health care works in the US, and how there are many people who don’t have health care because they afford it and that these people often avoid seeing the doctor when they have a problem because it will cost them money and because they might establish a preexisting condition that will prevent them from getting health care in the future.

The doctor thought that this was odd, and admitted that although French people were spoiled, the alternative was much much worse. He also made an interesting point about the word equality. He said that “equality” is a word that allows the upper class to stay in power, because we can say that we are all born equal, but everything after that is based on merit. In other words, people can argue that people who aren’t well off deserve to be that way because they clearly didn’t use their opportunities as well as someone who does well. The doctor said that instead of equality, we should use the word solidarity, because this allowed us recognize that we are all human and that we should help each based on that fact, not try and show that some are innately better than other. I have to admit, it wasn’t what I expected from a country doctor, but it was an interesting and pleasant surprise.

Apparently I also have mild scoliosis that was never caught. Yay for healthcare!

When I don't post in a while it means I'm actually doing stuff!

First off, congrats to Barrio for winning regionals... not being there definitely gave me a few pangs of homesickness. You guys rock, and I hope you bring it at nationals.
To continue on the theme of ultimate, I'm pretty pumped because apparently my effort to make connections with ultimate people has payed off. I just got an email from the Paris team saying that they want me to play in the playoff for mixed club finals even though I live really far away. This not only means that I will get to play some ultimate on the weekends, it also means that if we qualify, I could go to worlds on an entirely different team (watch out Barrio! Ah ouh puc is going to be ... less than slightly intimidating). On top of that, this is a team that has a bid to Paganello, so I have also completed my goal of finding a team for that as well. Wooo! I'm pretty happy, because I've found a way to feed the addiction.

I have also picked a family to stay with! I haven't moved in yet, because they had to get the room ready and stuff, but I am still pretty excited. It is the family of a PE teacher who teaches at the middle school I am working at. He is very nice, and he has a big family that lives in a big, old classically French looking house with a big garden in the back. I will have my own room and my own bathroom, and I will be able to eat with the family as well as use the kitchen to cook if I want. They also have a bike I can borrow and they even said that I could use the car from time to time. The only downside is that I might be without internet for a month or two because they will be in the process of getting it. Hopefully, the room will be ready by tomorrow or the day after. I am looking forward to having my own space and moving out of this room at the high school.

This weekend, I went down to Laval, which is the biggest city in the département, because there are a bunch of language assistants down there and I wanted to meet them all. They were incredibly nice--it's really going to be great knowing that I can go down and visit them if I ever get a little lonely up here. As far as a city goes, Laval is just like a bigger Mayenne, with more shops and a more developed city center. I'm glad to know that the other assistants will be there, but I'm still happy to be up here because I won't have to commute every day and I like the idea of having to do things on my own.

I also went to something called "nuit blanche" on saturday with the social worker from my school. It was pretty cool; the town opened up all of the public buildings and spaces and had local artists display their work. A lot of the stuff was fun to look at or interactive. By far the coolest thing was this guy whose specialty was monumental architecture made out of cardboard boxes. The cool thing is that the structure are made by the people who are watching and he directs. It was really fun to help out. I don't have my camera yet, but here is an example of the guy's work from his website. It's pretty impressive how big these things can get. He has every tape together a level and the get everyone to lift it at once. Which is a nice feat of cooperation. Here is a video of it in action to, because I think it is hard to appreciate how awesome it was just from a still photograph.

I started introducing myself in classes today. It has been pretty fun, because it's interesting to see what the students are interested in. I think I am also a real curiosity to the students because most of them have never heard an American accent, let alone have been to the United States. I also get a lot of teenage boys asking whether I have a boyfriend or not... it's pretty amusing, and it making me less afraid of teaching, which is definitely a good thing...

Everything is harder in French except the food

On an unrelated note before I begin, this is how I feel about goodbyes:










I mean, I know it doesn't really apply, but that's mostly how I feel about goodbyes, so there you go--I guess the point of this little anecdote is that goodbyes aren't really forever, and that I'm sure I'm going to see a lot of the people I have met and care about again at some point in the future.

ANYWAYS,
I have gotten to meet all of the people I will be working with, and I am actually helping out with my first class tomorrow, which is all very exciting and whatnot and everyone is really helpful and everything, but this does not get around one essential point: I have to do all this in French. As many of you know, my French is pretty good, which does make my life a little easier; I can usually figure out what to ask and what to say to get by in most situations. The problem is that this does not get around the fact that speaking for many hours in a foreign language is tiring. I'll do pretty well for the first half of the day and my french will sound pretty good and I'll be constructing full, well thought out sentences, and then all of the sudden all of that will shut down. I feel like after a certain point the language centers of my brain are tired of being abused and they basically say "fuck this, I'm outta here" and all of the sudden all of french is gone and I'm stuck gasping for air like a fish (and doing stuff like forgetting the word for "exercise" in French, which is, surprisingly, "exercise"). It's quite an experience. On top of that, the experience of constantly expressing phonemes that your mouth is not used to it is physically exhausting on your mouth. If I've done a lot of talking I feel like I've been doing tongue push-ups or something. It's as if you've just spent a lot of time making out with someone only more tiring and a whole lot less enjoyable and exciting. So really not like making out with someone at all. (I'm sure that this explanation will be wonderfully helpful.)

Anyhow, the only thing that isn't hard to do in French is the food. This is because it is pretty awesome. For lunch I have been eating at the school cafeteria because it is close and relatively cheap (for me it's about 2.50 euros). Growing up in the states, the thought of eating at the cafeteria unless forced seems like a poor choice, but I will explain. For the said 2.50 euro, I get an entrée (which in French means appetizer); usually a salad or something, but it can also be charcuterie. I then also get a main dish--the last two times it was boeuf bourginion and paella, and some desert--usually a pudding or a yoghurt. I also get several pieces of baguette. Then, when I go into the staff eating room (which makes me feel really important), I can get some fancy cheese. AND, wait for it... WINE!! You can have wine at lunch in French high schools!! How awesome is that? I just love it. All of this for two euros and it's all pretty decent, and lightyears better than anything you would find in any American public high school. It's pretty awesome. Although, if you were Jewish, Muslim or vegetarian in this section of the country you would definitely be in trouble. There is a lot of meat, and on top of that, a lot of porc. They definitely love their ham and bacon here.

Anyhow, I start officially next week--although I won't actually start teaching until the week after that, because I'm going to spend the first week introducing myself in classes and observing. I have to go to Nantes on Monday to do the official orientation, so I might get to meet some more assistants there, which would be exciting. I haven't found a family yet, but I have had 5 people offer to house me, so I definitely have options. I met one of them today, and they were a very cool young couple. I have a feeling that this is going to be a hard decision...

Yay! I'm going to have a place to live! (Well, kind of)

I have arrived in Mayenne, which is the town that I am going to call home for the next year. It seems like a cool little town. It is not as small as I had expected, and it has a lovely mix of old and new buildings--there is even a castle that has parts of it that were built in the 10th century! There is also a river that runs through the center and there are lots of boats and things. I find both of these things exciting mainly because Tucson has neither a) old buildings and b) surface water.

On top of the prettiness, there seems to be lots of outdoors things to do. There used to be a rail system that connected all the small towns in this region, but they were take off the grid because they were losing money. The cool thing is that they covered over the tracks and now you can walk, run, or bike to any of the small villages that are nearby along these smooth shady pathways. There are also all sorts of small trails that go by the river and the resevoir that will provide excellent places to run. I even discovered on an exploratory walk that their is a climbing gym (not a great one, but it's a gym, so I'm not complaining)--if only there was an ultimate team I would be perfectly content (and if only I weren't so terrified of high school students). But as far as the town itself goes, it looks like are definitely activities to do. Mind you, I still have to make friends and meet people, but having potential activities is a step.

I have also made contact with the head English teacher at the high school, who has been immensely helpful with logistical stuff. He has even found me not one, but two families who would like me to rent a room in their house for the year, and now I must make a decision between the two. I am thinking of devising some sort of gameshow-like series of tasks that the two families must complete in order to determine who I will live with. I might base it off the episode of the Office where Michael tries to make everyone compete for his job. I am sure this will make me lots of friends very quickly.

Contrary to what is to be expected of French people, most of the people I have met here have been wonderfully helpful. We were lost in Carnac last week and a man literally walked from the hotel to the bike rental shop we were trying to find. When we checked into the hotel in Mayenne yesterday afternoon, the owner of the hotel told asked us where we were from and what we were doing in Mayenne and when I told him that I would be here all year long he told me that I had to meet his American friends. When we went down to the restaurant for dinner the friends were in the bar and we all ended up having dinner together with the owners of the hotel. It was actually quite entertaining and it was nice to know that I will have some people to call who are nearby if I am in a panic. It was also very kind of the owner of the hotel to arrange the whole thing.

Anyhow, right now things are looking up, but seeing as I haven't started actually working yet, I shouldn't get too optimistic. At the very least I know that even if I am a horrible teacher that there will be things to distract me...

La route ne tue pas toujours

So, probably one of the most awesome things I have seen on this trip so far has been this road sign, which says "la route ne tue pas toujours" and has a handicap symbol below it. It is so delightfully morbid that I have decided to name this blog after it. I'm also a little bit confused about what the purpose of the sign is really, besides to remind people that they can be forever condemned to a wheelchair after and auto accident, and also to imply (it seems to me) that this might be worse than death? The signs don't say anything else about drinking or speeding, they just seem to be there to remind you of all the spinal damage/loss of limbs/brain function that you might suffer every time you enter a car. Lovely. This is why I love France.

I've spent the last week getting over jetlag and traveling around Brittany with my mom, who came with me for the first two weeks because she is on vacation. As a result, I haven't actually gotten to Mayenne yet or seen the high school and middle school I will be teaching at (this happens tomorrow), but I have seen lots of other cool things...

Starting with the Techo Parade! The day we arrived in Paris we were wandering around the city and heard this booming bass line coming from somewhere around a corner. Naturally, we followed said bass line to the source and found a gigantic line of truck booming techno followed by thousand of drugged out teenagers. It was excellent. People even climbed up on to bus stops and public toilets to dance and rock out.

Besides that the only real highlight to Paris was me leaving my brand new cell phone in the hotel, which, although not surprising, was supremely irritating.

Other than that we have been all over Brittany, which is some of the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen. I have been in castles and churches and wandered around villages that still have buildings standing from the 1500s. We visited Carnac, which is known for having a lot of megatlithic sites--like Stonehenge--except there it was fields and fields of big-ass rocks (technical term: menhirs) standing in rows. There were also dolmens, which is where the "menhirs" are stacked on top of each other to make a hut-like things, and a tumulus (which sounds like a vaguely naughty word to me), which was a giant human constructed hill often used as a tomb and that was also made out of menhirs. It makes me wonder about early humans and their obsession with large rocks (there are so many examples: stonehenge, carnac, pyramids, there are probably more examples...)

Anyhow, things have been generally nice, but it will be a relief to get to Mayenne and finally settle in a little. Although I'm terrified at the thought of teaching...

Look! I made a blog!!

Yes I did. And here it is...

This is really so that people who want to can keep up with what I am doing in France. Seeing as I haven't actually left yet, this is just a test message to make myself feel comfortable with being one of those people who has a blog. Hopefully nobody actually reads this particular post.