Tradition

It snowed on Wednesday. This was the first time in a long time that I have been a place where it has snowed extensively for a long period of time. It was beautiful, and it was the first time I’ve noticed the magical silence that goes along with a snowfall—it’s a combination of the fact that a lot of snow means that people tend to stay indoors and watch rather than go outside and make noise and the fact that snow has a muffling effect on noise in general. I thought of it as the sound of watching.
The snow had lots of different effects on the second half of the week. A lot of students couldn’t get to the schools because they come from smaller villages further away, so I had several classes that were canceled or with only a few students. It made for a nice easy transition back to work.

We had snow before Christmas, but it didn’t really cover everything and was at most 2 or 3 inches. This time we had around 8 or 9 and it was absolutely gorgeous to see the way it covered everything in a blanket (those of you from the East coast are probably laughing at my awe, but to someone who isn’t accustomed to it, it really is magical). On top of that, we have continued to have below freezing temperatures all week so the for the most part the snow has stayed (except in town where it has been pounded into ice by people’s feet and now makes walking a fun will-you-break-your-face sort of game).

All of this means that when a colleague asked me if I would like to go running with me and his wife today, the ground in most places where people weren’t constantly walking was still covered in a blanket of snow. I was really excited to go running with them because they know a whole bunch of trails that I don’t and it would be nice to do something a little different. The run was beautiful—I’ve never run on snow before, and it was through a part of the countryside I hadn’t really explored before. There is something quietly spectacular about the skinny ragged skeletons of trees with a coating of snow. Brilliant white clinging impossibly to skinny so-dark-gray-it’s-almost-black spindly branches. Beautiful.

Another highlight is that we ran along a trail that the teacher explained could have well be around since the middle ages (he was probably exaggerating, but the thought is still fascinating fodder for imagination). The trails are called “sunken trails” because they actually are at lower levels than the surrounding farmland, ostensibly because they have been so well used over the last several hundred years.


This is one thing that does not cease to boggle my imagination here in France. The time depth of the place is simply on another level than that of Tucson, the Southwest, or quite frankly, anything barring Native American sites in the United States. So even if, the trail, instead of being from the middle ages was from the Renaissance or the Reformation, I am still impressed. Hell, even if it is only from the 1800s, I’m impressed.

You can see the effect of time depth on the adherence that people have to traditions and ways here. During Christmas, I was surprised to see decorations go up in all the towns that I went to, including small hamlets of only several hundred people. I was surprised by the overt Christianity of the decorations (them being town decorations after all) and by the fact that it was pretty much universally done. Only this last week I was surprised by another tradition that I had pretty much completely forgotten about.

It all happened on January 5th. January 5th is what is known in France as the “Fête des Rois” or the “King’s festival”—it celebrates something about the three kings which I don’t know anything about, having not ever read a bible. (feel free to explain if you do know). The tradition in France on this day is to ear something called the “Galette des Rois”, which is a flaky pastry cakey thing. Inside the cake is a porcelain figurine. Everyone gets a piece of cake and one person is lucky enough to get a piece of cake without breaking their teeth. As a reward, they get to keep the figurine, and they get to be king—meaning that they get a paper crown. I’m not clear on whether being king actually gives you any other rights besides these two things; the whole tradition is a little mysterious to me.
Besides the tradition itself, the thing that really surprised me was the fact that they made it into a little celebration for teachers at the school. I think one classes was shortened so that all the teachers could be there. We all assembled in the cafeteria and the Principal gave a little speech and then everyone got a piece of galette and—more surprisingly—a glass of hard cider.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because, as I think I have mentioned, you can have a glass of wine with your lunch in the cafeteria if you like. I think what surprised me is the respect the French give traditions, and, in this case, how often they are associated with food.

I don’t think I blogged about this, but a big event at the school right before Christmas was the Repas de Noel—the Christmas Dinner—the school pulled out all the stops and we had a three-course meal that included such delicacies as foie gras and scallops. My point in bringing this up was that it is another example of the way that food an tradition are tied together so strongly that you see them in even in such a sterile environment as French high school.

It is true, for the most part I have found French high school incredibly sterile—what I mean by this is devoid of anything but the tools for education. There are very few cultural activities, and almost nothing that can be described as extra-curricular. This is, of course, in comparison to American high school, which is so non-sterile that in a lot of ways it verges on kitsch.

In American high schools there are lots of activities and traditions that have nothing to do with education: sports, band, homecoming, student council, prom—I could go on. One may argue that these activities serve no real purpose (and in some ways they would be correct). What this tradition—this kitsch—does is keep students involved (even if they are very unwillingly involved). It serves as a way of tricking student into being a participant. In French school, I feel like I see a lot more exhausted, burned-out students who could really care less. Although there are also no jocks and no cheerleaders, which is also a welcome change.

The exception to this lack of enthusiasm is in the school cafeteria. The food is usually exceptional and completely incomparable to anything you would find in an American high school. I find it fascinating that France excels in the exact area that American high schools fail, and also that America takes so little interest in food that were are able to stomach what is available, when it is clearer possible to have school cafeterias that actually serve digestible food.