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.