Home Sweet Homes

Today I am in Bordeaux, the place I've called home for the past seven months.  Tomorrow I'll be in New York, the place I've called home for the past twenty two years.  Though I am terribly excited to see my family and all things familiar in America, I am also feeling nostalgic at the thought of leaving Bordeaux.
There's a lot I could say about my time in France, but I'll keep it short: living in a foreign country can be hard sometimes, but there's no denying that I have been incredibly happy here.  I have had an amazing seven months, and I have spent them with people who have quickly become some of my favorite in the world.  I am leaving Bordeaux with nothing but the best memories, and really that's all I could ask for.  I'm sending huge amounts of love to everyone, in Bordeaux and New York and any of the places I've called home, who have kept up with my adventures over here.  The next adventure is right around the corner (adulthood?!) and who knows? Maybe I'll even keep a blog ;)

A Fantastic Final Weekend in Bordeaux

Seeing as how work has ended, and thus so have our contractual obligations to stay in France, the goodbyes have started trickling in.  Rather than being too upset about all of this ending so soon, for now I'll choose to instead acknowledge how lucky I am to have met people that I'll miss so much.  The friends I've made in Bordeaux are the perfect mix of hilarious, warm-hearted, and just the right kind of crazy, and they have become my home away from home.  I've spent the last seven months enjoying their company, and I'll continue to do the same for the time I have left here - which is surprisingly short.

I'll be away for the next two weekends and am flying back to New York the following Friday morning, so although I've got nearly three weeks left before coming home, this past weekend was my last in Bordeaux.  Happily, it was excellent.  On Friday we stayed out dancing and laughing until nearly 7am, then spent Saturday recovering all snuggled up in bed watching sitcoms.  Yesterday I celebrated the birthday of one of my favorite people here by tasting lots of wine in Blaye, then eating cake and heading to the pub for a very competitive quiz night.  A fabulous sort-of-end to seven fabulous months of adventuring through Bordeaux.  Next stop: Marseille!  And Nice!  And Ibiza!  And Geneva!  The good times keep on rolling.

Go Big, then Go Home

That's how that expression goes, right?

On Tuesday I'm heading out for one last two-week romp through Europe (this time hitting Marseille, Nice, Ibiza, and Geneva...!!) and then I've only got a couple days left in Bordeaux before heading back to New York on May 4.  Time flies.

Yesterday was my last day as a teacher.

Lots of mixed emotions.  Mostly, I've been feeling incredibly lucky to have spent the past seven months doing something I have truly enjoyed.

More of the usual.

Since the weather has been beautiful lately, I've taken to holding most of my classes outside. As I mentioned in an earlier post, this makes my students a little more comfortable speaking English, for which I am thankful - - usually.  Sometimes their newfound comfort means we have really good conversations about their favorite films, what they want to do when they "grow up," and what they would do if they won the lottery.  Sometimes their newfound comfort means they ask me what my favorite alcoholic beverage is, and I have to awkwardly try to steer the conversation back to something appropriate for an English class.  Nonetheless, I appreciate that with two weeks left of my contract, they're finally coming out of their shells.

In which I allow French teenagers to play contact sports during English class.

Today I brought an American football into school and, in what appears to have been a moment of insanity, actually brought them outside to play.  There's a lot I could say about how it went, but why not keep it simple?  All it really comes down to is this: they went absolutely apeshit.

An actual conversation with a student during one of my classes last week:

My student said something in French and I answered him in English.  Then this happened:

Student (in French): Wait. She understands French?
Me (in English): I live in France.  Of course I understand French.
Student (in French): But if she speaks French why is she making us speak in English?
Me (in English): ...Because this is English class.
Student (in French): Oh. Right.

Sometimes I wonder about these kids.

A serendipitous day at school

Today I ignored school rules and held class outside in the courtyard.  My students actually seemed way more comfortable trying their English outside the classroom setting, which was quite a happy accident since really I had just wanted to sit in the sun.  As it turns out, a win-win situation for all of us.

In France, Existing

A couple nights ago I went to see the movie Martha Marcy May Marlene with a few friends.  It was a really well done movie and I would recommend it even though I almost peed myself I was so scared.  In any case, there's one scene in which a character says: "I would love to go to France and just exist, but it's not possible."

Um.  I'm pretty sure that's EXACTLY what I've been doing for the past six months.

"I will kill you in the mountains and bury you in the snow."

...And so began my ski weekend with my dear sweet friend Masa, who threatened me with the brutally specific death described above before we had even left Bordeaux.  Still, we made it to the adorable village of Cauterets in the Pyrenees on Friday evening, and by Saturday morning we were tearing it up on the bunny slopes - - or were we getting torn up by them?  I fell twice (spectacularly, I might add) while actually skiing, but much more embarrassing were the two times I fell off the ski lift (how do you say tire-fesses in English?) as it was pulling me up the hill.  Masa, who is from Jordan and thus unaccustomed to winter sports, didn't fall so much as choose to sit and slide on her ass any time she came even remotely close to actually skiing.  Our friend Vicky also took a few solid spills, and I'm sure the three of us together put on quite a show.  Luckily, we were with more patient and experiences skiers than ourselves.  By mid-afternoon I could (mostly) stay on my feet, and I had even learned how to slow down, a lesson that took a surprisingly long time to stick, causing me to shout "Je peux pas m'arreter!*" more than a couple of times.  Happy with our efforts, Masa and I left the mountain in the late afternoon to take advantage of the spa pass we had purchased in combo with our ski tickets, and our companions went to the advanced slopes where they belonged.

At the spa there was a heated outdoor pool with views of the mountains all around, and inside a sauna and hammam.  It was...the best thing ever.  We stayed for two hours, but I could have stayed happily for an entire week.  Afterwards we returned to our lodgings for dinner with the group, and it became very clear who had been on the mountains based on the grimaces, bright red faces, and hilarious sunglass burn lines.  Unfortunately, I was no exception - and actually my face was among the most ridiculous.  If I ever go skiing again (and I hope I do) I'll be sure to remember sunblock.

The next day we forwent skiing and instead joined the group that rented sleds and took them to a national park located on another mountain.  We had an absolute blast sledding and getting into snowball fights with aggressive French teenagers, and it could not have been in a more beautiful location.

We left Sunday afternoon to come back to Bordeaux, sore and exhausted but all in agreement that it was an absolutely amazing weekend.  Here are some photos:

View from the bunny slope

Vicky, me, Masa

Oops.

Masa and I at the Pont d'Espagne.  If you look closely at my face you can see the marks from my sunglasses.

The sledding group

Isn't it wonderful??

This photo doesn't even really capture the full effect.  My students AND fellow teachers were making fun of me at school on Monday...

*"I can't stop!"

In a few hours, I'm leaving for a weekend ski trip.

Here's the catch: I don't know how to ski.

...wish me luck!

Get ready to be absolutely bombarded with photos.

Don't say I didn't warn you.  Here's just a SAMPLING of the millions of photos (maybe an exaggeration, maybe not) I took over the course of our vacation.  And actually, a couple of the group photos came from the other ladies.

Naturally, any morning in Italy must begin with cappuccino and a pastry.

For some reason, this Gladiator didn't appear to be very afraid of me.

Insert reference to The Hunger Games here.

Some ruins.

More ruins.  As it turns out, there are a lot of them in Rome.

My lovely traveling companions

All squished together at the Trevi Fountain

Where's the Pope? He didn't make an appearance although surely someone must have told him we were coming...?

A very old man. Could probably use a post-mortem pedicure.

Masa, Kristina and Magen relaxing outside the Vatican Museum

The best in the world.

Spanish steps!  One evening there was a group of raucous Spaniards doing the Macarena and it was spectacular.

In Milan, climbing to the top of the Duomo

More Duomo

The whole group, in our amazingly cool, rainbow-inspired sunglasses.

In Milan, Kate and I spent a whole lot of time crouched low to the ground, avoiding pigeon attacks.

Prague is so cool.

At the Prague Castle, this is the official Defenestration Window.  Thus Veronica and Magen are attempting to defenestrate Emily.

Last leg of our journey - asleep in the Lyon airport.

Getting cozy...a looooong night.

So there you have it, folks - now we're all back safe and sound in Bordeaux.  And like I've said a million times before, life here is pretty cool, too.

After 6 Days in Italy, Store-Brand Lasagna is Sort of a Letdown

Hello all!  Happy (and admittedly a little surprised) that the whole group of us made it back to Bordeaux safe and sound this morning after a wonderful 10 day adventure through Italy and the Czech Republic.  We saw, ate, walked and laughed a LOT.  Once I get my act together I'll put up some photos and tell you all about it.  For now, I'm going to catch up on some television and relax in bed - we "slept" in the Lyon airport last night, and today I feel and look like a zombie.  I need a good rest, so for now I'll just say this - it's pretty cool that when you live in France, you can go away for a couple weeks and when you come back home it still feels like you're on a pretty sweet vacation.

Les Vacances Commencent

Today I'm leaving for a 10 day trip to Rome, Milan, and Prague.  I am crazy excited.  Also crazy impressed that I managed to fit 10 days into the same sized backpack I used to carry for an average day in middle school.  Not sure how I'll be looking by day 10, but you can bet there will be plenty of pictures so we can all have a good laugh once I get back to Bordeaux.

Au revoir, mes chéris, et à bientôt !

A Pictorial Update

It's been a while since I've updated, and actually I've been up to quite a bit in the last week or so.  In recent news, I'm officially on "Winter Break" and my friend Lucy is in town for a visit.  Rather than explaining everything, here are a bunch of photos to liven things up:

Last week a few of the girls came to Blaye to meet me for lunch.  Here we are at the citadel, before we started climbing all over potentially unsafe stone walls/archways.

Yesterday (Saturday) we went to the Dune du Plya in Arcachon.  Probably one of the best days ever - here's the dune, which is the tallest in Europe. 

Pretty steep...

View from the top = totally worth the struggle

So pretty!

Luce and I at the top of the dune

The whole group - isn't this place SO COOL?

Emily had the good sense to stick to the recommended path on her way down the dune.  Kristina and I slid down on our asses/rolled in spirals/sprinted (you wouldn't even believe the amount of sand I found in my pants later) and ended up going towards the forest instead of the exit.  Oops.  

Today (Sunday) after a lovely brunch at my favorite cafe in Bordeaux, we climbed to the top of the Tour Pey-Berland, which is right in the center of town and has a pretty sweet view from the top.  Another beautiful day.  

It's starting to look like Spring here, and combined with the fact that I have the next two weeks off (and during those two weeks I'll be going to Rome, Milan, and Prague) my mood has been somewhere in the realm of "absolute bliss."  Can't complain.

My Students Never Cease to Amaze

School is back in full swing after Monday’s snow day, which is to say that after tomorrow I will have worked just three days this week.  Last week I worked only one.  I don’t know how I’ve not yet been hospitalized for exhaustion, what with this laborious schedule I’m forced to keep.  Thankfully, going “back” to work isn’t so bad when you actually like what you do.  Today I met a group of students for the first time, and as I always do I made them introduce themselves before we started the day’s lesson.  Usually I ask them to tell me their name, their age, and something about themselves or something they like to do.  Here are my top three favorite moments of the day:

-       When a student said “I am seventy years old,” instead of "I am seventeen years old," and only one other girl understood the mistake.

-       When a student began his introduction by shouting “Hello, girl!” at me, and concluded it by saying, “I like…drink.”

-       When a student said, “I am Damian, I have 16 years, and…I love you.”

It’s probably a good thing that my first inclination is to laugh at these moments, because it means I laugh a lot at work, which is incredibly lucky, and also because it means I can avoid some very awkward moments – a win-win.   

Il neige!

This morning it snowed in Bordeaux, which is fairly rare for Southern France.  A friend and I went out to frolic, and here's what we saw:

No tram service today

Hotel de Ville

The French love snowmen

At Jardin Public

No, really. They love snowmen.

That's me...inside an igloo.

Palm trees. WITH SNOW.

It was a pretty exciting day to be in Bordeaux.

Commuter Hell Hath Frozen Over

This morning at approximately 7am, the weather in Bordeaux was somewhere below freezing.  Considering that the temperature here for most of this "winter" has been hovering between 40 and 55 degrees, below freezing is a big jump down the thermometer.  This is Southern France, after all.  All bundled up, I headed for the tram before the sun was even up.  Usually I take the tram for about 20-25 minutes to the bus stop, and then the bus for another hour and 15 minutes.  About three stops into my tram ride, though, an announcement came on asking all passengers to exit the tram.  Uh....what?

Let's take this moment to throw in a little side note on public transportation announcements.  Even in English they are garbled and white noise-y and hard to understand.  In French, it is mostly impossible.  For instance, earlier this week a tram I was riding announced that there was a fire and we would have to wait a few minutes while the firemen came.  I was unclear on where exactly the fire was, but since no one else was running screaming from the tram I figured I wasn't in any immediate danger.  I took a seat and waited until we started moving.  It wasn't until I saw a car on the road next to us absolutely demolished and surrounded by firefighters that I really understood what the announcement had said - we were keeping out of the way for a few minutes while the firemen got things under control.  What I'm saying is, announcements are hit or miss comprehension-wise.  Okay, end side note.

Apparently I wasn't the only passenger confused.  There were no transportation workers to ask what do to.  Everyone was stuck at this stop, and there were no more trams coming.  Service between here and another stop on my route was cancelled.  People started walking.  As I said, my tram commute is around 20 minutes, and although I guess it's possible to walk, it would take ages - where I usually get on the tram is the direct center of Bordeaux; by the time I usually get off I am no longer even inside the city.   Still, I start walking across the bridge with the others, because tram service picks back up in a few stops.  As it turns out, just over the bridge is a bus I can take to the tram stop.  Perfect.  I get on the bus, and there are literally tears running down my face because I am so so cold.  At this point I have 10 minutes to make my bus to Blaye.  Doesn't seem super possible, but I continue on.  At the tram stop, dozens of people are jumping up and down to keep warm while they wait.  When the tram arrives, it's a scramble to get inside first.  Two stops into my ride, it's clear my bus has already left.  The next bus isn't for more than an hour, and I'd get to work late, anyway.  I decide to go home, which takes more walking and tears.  I have been up since 5:30am, but I have not made it to work.  About two hours after leaving my building, I am back and still shaking from shivers.  I cocoon myself in my covers and wonder if I'll ever be warm again.  And I come to the conclusion that Hell is not the fiery eternity we think it is.  Hell is 7am, somewhere below freezing, somewhere under 5 hours of sleep, trying to get to work while the Devil cancels tram service and laughs.  Lying in bed, I consider how feasible it might be to never go outside again.  I mean, at least definitely not until Spring.

In my usual fashion, a comically bad* 12 hours

*Since I am alive and well and living in France, let’s take my use of the word “bad” with a grain of salt, shall we?

It started last night around 7pm, when I threw my laundry into the washing machine.  At around 10pm, over two hours after the wash cycle had ended, I realized that it was still there.  Unfortunately, the dryers were already in use and the laundry room was due to close before I could use them.  I carried my cold wet clothes up to my room, defeated.  My mom was on the phone with me, nearly pissing herself laughing as I wailed that I might have to resort to using a big scarf as a towel, since mine were damp and freezing cold.  I hung my clothes around the room, draped on the radiator and over my wardrobe doors.  In the morning I realize that in addition to still being half wet, many of my clothes are streaked with dust thanks to my brilliant placement on places I can’t reach to clean properly.  Massive dilemma: what in the hell am I going to wear to work?

I settle hesitantly on tights with a 5-euro top from H&M that flirts the line between casual-but-short dress and beach cover-up.  Thankfully I have a clean long cardigan, which I wear over it to (I’m hoping) make it look less like I’m two months early for Spring break.  Dressed, I begin to pack my bag for work.  I have approximately 6 minutes before I absolutely have to leave.  And…my wallet is missing.  I look everywhere even though I know it could only be in my bag because I only took it out to – oh, right.  Laundry room.  I put on my coat and run downstairs – and there’s my wallet, mocking me from on top of the dryer that I never got to use.  Finally, I head out for the tram.

From about a block away, I see my tram pulling away from my stop.  “That’s okay,” I think, “because there’ll be another one in three minutes.”  And there was.  And about 45 seconds after I got onto it, it nearly got into an accident, pitching forward and screeching to a halt and causing everyone to stumble a bit and a few people to scream.  No matter though, we got right back on our way.  My bus was at 9am.  My tram pulled into the bus station at 9am.  The bus was already gone.  There’s another bus in 35 minutes, and it will get me to Blaye with exactly 6 minutes to spare before I’m due to begin teaching. 

Okay.  Coffee time.  There’s a man who recently opened a tiny coffee/breakfast trailer at the bus stop, and he makes me an extra-hot cappuccino after he hears that I have half an hour to wait in the cold.  He bids me “bon courage!” and I am off on my way.  The cappuccino was great.  Delightful, even.  Heavenly.  Until, 5 minutes into an hour-and-fifteen-minute long bus ride, it hit my bladder.  By the time we reached Blaye I practically sprinted to the school and burst through the doors of the teacher’s lounge looking like an overly-caffeinated-and-potentially-dangerous lunatic.  By some miracle I made it to class on time, where I was greeted by apathetic French teenagers in no mood to speak English.  By 5pm this had gotten pretty old, but I guess it should have been clear from approximately 10pm last night that today was not meant to be a raging success.  TGIF, eh? 

The Biggest Misunderstanding of All

Today I made the mistake of trying to teach my students a new word.

A mistake, you ask?  Surely an English teacher should be trying to teach her students as many new words as possible.  Oh, no no.  Without any shadow of a doubt, a mistake.

When I ask whether anyone knows what the word “egotistical” means, the only kid who (I thought) understood me replies, “…Someone who thinks with their penis?” 

“Uhhh….WHAT?!”

And this kid actually says, “What?  You said TESTICLE!”

Five minutes later I had stopped laughing enough to choke out “That is absolutely NOT what I said!”

I wrote the word on the board and everyone goes, “Aaaah ouaais, egoiste!” and I learned that next time maybe I should start by writing the new word on the board instead of frantically finishing that way.  Though to be fair, there’s really no way I could have predicted the word “egotistical” could be misconstrued to such an extent.

To add insult to injury, later in the class my students watched in delight as I tried to drink from my water bottle without first removing the cap. 

What a Monday.

A Week in Misunderstandings: The Highlights

I had a really good week at work.  Let's say it was because I saw almost all of my favorite classes and they actually participated.  Let's pretend that it's not also because I only worked two and a half days.  In any case, as always my students entertained and surprised me with their "English."  Here are a few of my favorites from this week:

- SEVERAL students said that a woman in their text "fell pregnant" instead of "got pregnant"
- one student created the expression "to fall into tears" instead of "to cry"
- one student correctly used the word "flabbergasted" in a sentence, much to my delight
- one student used the term "fight to the bitter end" no less than four times during one single conversation, which was in fact about the woman who had "fallen pregnant"
- when I didn't understand the movie title "Stuart Little" through my students' strong French accents, an entire class of seventeen year olds pretended to be mice until I figured it out
- while playing Hangman, one student's accent made him say what sounded like "Hey!" instead of "A!" and "Hi!" instead of "I!" so every time he guessed a letter it sounded like he was just greeting someone enthusiastically
- several students referred to quotation marks as "inverted commas," which leads me to believe that teachers actually tell them that's what they're called
- one student dropped his pen and reacted by saying "Oh, SUGAR!"
- one student beatboxed for nearly a full minute without provocation, for absolutely no apparent reason at all

Like I said, a really good week at work.

Somehow...

I have duped many of my students into thinking that I am an actual cool person.  Mostly this has to do with the fact that I am a New Yorker (the fact that I am not from the city has little to no importance in their eyes), which gets me instant cool points with any French adolescent.  But today we did a lesson on American music and I had them listen to a Kanye West song and try to write down the missing lyrics on the handout I gave them.  Apparently, massively cool.  Later, we discussed musical preferences - their tastes ranged from Pink Floyd to Sum 41 to Snoop Dog to Aretha Franklin.  An eclectic group.  They had me recommend my favorite bands, and they recommended some French music that doesn't suck.  We spent some time in each class bashing Katy Perry and wishing we could sing like Adele.  It was a fun day at work, and really what more can you ask for?

Last Night

A friend and I sprinted for the last bus so fast that I swear we could have qualified for the Olympics if only someone had a stopwatch.  Ah, well.  Next time.

In other news, I have a three-day weekend and then two days off next week.  A hectic and practically unmanageable schedule.  Since my last update, I've gone back to the sales to buy even MORE fabulous things for low, low prices, and I've seen a whole bunch of movies in English, French, AND Franglais (Hollywoooo!).  All is well in Bordeaux.

SOLDES.

Today I woke up at the crack of 7am (on my day off!) because sometimes the case can be made that I am an actual crazy person.  Most of Bordeaux woke up with me, though, because today was the start of the Soldes d'Hiver - Winter Sales - which means that pretty much every single store in France has massive discounts for the next week.  The whole country, on sale.  It's kind of like Black Friday at home except there's no WalMart and I'm pretty sure nobody ever dies.  I'm happy to report that I took full advantage of the sales and I'll be wearing my purchases with an extra little smile knowing that I saved approximately one billion euros.  I mean, I didn't do the math, but... I'm sure it was something like that.

Class-y

(That was a poor pun, you can ignore it.  I just didn't know what else to call this post. Why do they all need titles?)

Yesterday, approximately half of my classes stared at me blankly whenever I said something or asked a question.  I’m sure I’ve said this before, but an hour is a REALLY long time to be in front of a group of people who have no idea what you’re talking about.  It’s even longer when they also clearly don’t care, which was the case for a whole bunch of my students.  In general I don’t mind the students who don’t understand as long as they show that they’re still interested and/or trying.  I do mind the students who act like they’d rather be anywhere but in my classroom.  Luckily each group of shitty students was followed by a group who was genuinely interested in hearing what I had to say.  It was the first time I had met many of them and I was happy to answer their questions, which ranged from “Are you married?” to “What are your feelings on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?”  During my last class of the day, which was one of my favorite groups, we discussed which celebrities are Scientologists and whether or not we would still consider marrying them.  You know, the usual.  

Hangman is a dangerous game.

Today I let my first class play hangman because we were all exhausted and I like them, and also I hadn't planned a lesson (oops).  Imagine my surprise when the first kid gets up to the board and his word turns out to be WHORE.  For God only knows what reason, I let them continue playing after that (let's blame it on the jet lag), and luckily the other words were far more tame.  As class was ending, the whole class tried to convince me that I should do their next session in French.  I tried to explain to them that me speaking French during English class would defeat the whole purpose of English class.  They told me they didn't really care about that - they just want to know whether or not I suck at French.

Not a terrible day, but I'm glad it's almost over.

Back to Bordeaux, Back to the Blog

I've made it back to Bordeaux after two weeks chez moi in New York drinking iced coffee and spending good ol' quality time with the fam.  I left from JFK on Monday evening with my feet still tingling from the shoes I wore out on New Year's Eve and a solid 12 hours of travel ahead of me.  As with the last time I flew to France, I walked sadly past the first class bed-seats to my rightful place in Economy.  I was seated next to a family that smelled vaguely of salami and in front of a family still donning their shiny plastic New Year's party fedoras.  The flight was fine save for the fact that there was plenty of turbulence but only one movie option (it was about robots).  I tried to sleep, but only ended up dozing for about 20 minutes.  We landed in Madrid five minutes ahead of schedule, giving me just over an hour to get through customs and security before my next flight was due to begin boarding.  Sounds like plenty of time, but let me tell you something about the airport in Madrid: it's enormous.  It took ages for me to get from one terminal to the next.  Luckily I was the first person from my flight to get through passport control, and I got through security quickly enough once they decided that I'm not a terrorist.  I got to my gate with five minutes to spare, then promptly fell asleep as soon as I boarded my flight to Bordeaux.

When we landed I groggily gave up any hope of taking public transportation home, and instead got on line for a taxi.  When the taxi driver asked for my help lifting my suitcase into his trunk, I chalked it up to the fact that many French men have approximately the same body type as the Olsen twins, when I should have chalked it up to the fact that my suitcase was really fucking heavy.  No worries, though, I realized my mistake - as I was lugging said suitcase up the four flights of stairs to my room.  By the time I made it up, I had resolved to never leave again.  Sadly, my plan to live in bed for all eternity was foiled by pangs of hunger and the fact that my room was entirely food-free thanks to my two-week absence.  I went to the small grocery shop a block away and bought the absolute bare-minimum to get by, then returned (four flights of stairs! Again!) to bed and stayed there for the entire afternoon and all but 30 minutes of the evening.  So there you have it, folks.  I am back in Bordeaux, and I am finally conscious, which I take as a good sign that I may actually survive this jet lag.  It was touch-and-go for a day or so, but I have high hopes for a full recovery.