Noirmoutier

After getting over my sinus infection in about 4 days I spent the first part of my vacation on an island named Noirmoutier off the west coast of France. The family of a friend from Paris have a “country home” there (because everyone has these cute little country homes, its normal), so off we headed from the snows of Paris to the ocean. A 5 + hour drive and we were there. The countryside that we drove through was absolutely breathtaking.

The further we got from Paris, the less snow there was on the ground, until finally there was none. We arrived at about 8pm and waited for the rest to get there to eat dinner. Cute little town with cute little houses and it smells of the ocean but in a different way. Spent four days sleeping until noon, eating nutella on rice cakes, lounging,  buying play mobiles, eating lunch between 2 and 4, napping, reading, watching movies, having guitar hero competitions, going to the beach day and night, eating, eating more and sleeping. Then repeating. Cutest little house. Heated floors. I will most definitely have heated floors when I grow up. Fires in the fireplace all day long. And so much food. The first day we woke up too late and all of the stores were closed (it was Sunday) and somehow ate delicious food all day. Roasted chicken bought at the convenience store and pan roasted potatoes for lunch. Pasta with a tomato sardine sauce. Delicious. Herb pan fried fish, raclette melted by the heat of the fire and a wonderful “Christmas” dinner of oysters, (I am now a oyster shucking master) lamb shoulder and green beans. Lots of POP! Champagne and wine with every meal but never getting drunk.

The beach was beautiful but in a different way than what I’m used to. The sand was different, coarser. The seaweed was amazing. It wasn’t green! It was pinky-red. And all over. A beautiful mix of colors. Covering the beach.

The smell was different. And the coastline. I think I’m finally used to looking out at the ocean and not seeing tree covered islands. We looked out at the ocean and saw the ‘continent’ aka France. And it glittered with lights. And the stars! I don’t think I’ve ever been able to see so many stars in my life. So far away from big cities, less than 1000 people live on this island year round. And the sky is just full! It is really breathtaking. I could picture my momma and poppa living there in the little white/cream colored house with a wall around it, a red tile roof and the doors and shutters painted this certain color of blue. All of the houses are like this. And all of the shutters are just about the same shade of blue. There is a rule as to what color you can paint! And the gardens are beautiful and the streets of the town are windy and narrow. There are boats in the port, and the people of the island raise oysters and take salt from the ocean.

laundry-mat

just at the laundry-mat, enjoying the free wi-fi and doin' my laundry. today is the start of les vaccances. i cant wait.

and a little dunkerque snow magic

why i love the french health care system

My body has finally given into the French germs and I’m sick. I went down to Paris this weekend and drove to Le Mans with to friends to help celebrate Matt’s birthday. However he had been sick all week, I wasn’t feeling very well either, and so it was a pretty laid-back evening. We visited the cathedral of Le Mans and they had it lit up with special lights for Christmas. It was absolutely beautiful.  It was hard to get pictures but here are some. The scene changed every few minutes: stars and the constallations, stained glass, jamming angels, trees, and beautiful blue designs.

But the point of this post is the French medical system. Man do they have it figured out. I’m sure that there are some downsides to it, but so far, so good. Despite my problems (and my bad luck) with the MGEN, which is a special section of the social security for those in the education system, I am very impressed. The MGEN lost my file. Of course. That I sent at the beginning of October. So I redid the whole thing complete with an official translation of my birth certificate (lovingly paid for by one of my schools) and I turned it all in on Wednesday just in time to get sick on Saturday.

I go to the doctor today. Which is completely different from the US. So different. No appointments. I think you can make them if you want, but it doesn’t seem like anyone does. Each doctor has his own office wherever with a little waiting room. No receptionist. No nurse. Mine is just around the corner from my home. Each day there are certain hours that are open for consultation. So I go this morning and wait. There are 4 people ahead of me and we each wait our turn. No false hopes of being seen by a nurse or going into the exam room to wait. It is al upfront and honest. Ten people ahead of you?  You’ve got a wait. Two people? You know exactly how long you have to wait to see the doctor. No lies about 10:15 appointments when really you aren’t seen until noon. It really works well. In my opinion.

It is my turn, and I’ve waited about an hour, not too long in the scheme of doctor waiting times. I tell him that it’s my first time seeing a doctor in France and he tells me that he’s honored. Another thing about doctors in France: they are good looking men. I mean I’m sure that my family doctor back home was once a good looking man, back in the day, but all the doctors I’ve seen in France (this one and the one at my immigration appointment) are all youngish, attractive men. Maybe its because they aren’t over 60? Or even 50 for that matter. And the two French men that I know that are going to school to become doctors are also very good looking. Maybe it’s a requirement here?  That’s silly. But it’s just an observation I’ve made.

In and out of his office in less that 10 minutes. Struggled a little with the medical vocabulary and tried to explain to him my tendency to have ear infections and sinus infections due to my malfunctioning “you know those things that drain your sinuses and your ears” /estuation tubes. He checks everything out, looks in my ears and says it’s his first time in an American ear. I say that I’m honored.  Then he fills out my prescription, and a sheet for the MGEN so I can be reimbursed for my 22 Euro doctor’s visit. 22 ERUOS! Seriously. So cheap. At home I would pay about that much for the co-pay, AND with insurance! He only takes cash or check, so I run down to the ATM to get his money and come back to hand it to him. Simple as that. Then I’m off to the pharmacy. They ask for my “carte vitale”  (which is like your little magic card to health care here. You swipe it; anything you have to pay is taken out of your bank account. Then you are reimbursed. I think.) and I explain to them the problem with the MGEN but that I have a temporary number. The pharmacist makes a comment on how expensive it will be without it, that I will have to pay upfront. I ask if the MGEN reimburses me as well, and she says yes. But still. It will be expensive. Grand total of 31.74 Euros. For three different prescriptions. Antibiotic, nose-spray, cortisone. Oh, by the way I have a sinus infection. But about 10 Euros each. I explain to her that to me, an American, that is very cheap. Even with insurance in the states, I would have paid about that much. And if the MGEN never reimburses me…well that would be terrible. But not a huge loss. Had I been in the same situation in the States I would have been out a couple hundred dollars. And the best thing is that EVERYONE gets this.  Come on America. Take a hint. Really.

Doctors Appointment: 22 Euros

Prescriptions: 31,74 Euros

Not being robbed by your medical system: Priceless.

Since arriving here in France more than two months ago I have:

1.     Seen 29 films-some in French, some in English, some American movies dubbed in French, some with subtitles some without. Sometimes the subtitles don’t line up with the dialogue, like when I watched an old Marilyn Monroe film and she said in French something along the lines of “this is good.” But the subtitle, also in French said, “this is bad.”

2.     Read thirteen books. Well 12.75 books. I’m almost done with the last. Two of these were comic books, but I think that it still counts. Some were in English, some in French. The one I’m reading now is by Sherman Alexie and is translated into French. It’s silly how they translate the names Builds-the-Fire and Warm-Water. Complete direct translations. I read Pygmalion in French then watched My Fair Lady. I finally read Eat, Pray, Love after trying many times and not getting through the first 50 pages. I read one by Virginia Wolf and thought of Alexis. One book was Exercises de Style by Raymond Queneau. He takes the same simple scenario: a man on a bus with a long neck and a silly hat who accuses the man standing next to him of purposefully stepping on his feet. He sits down elsewhere. Later, our narrator sees him again later talking to a friend who is telling him that he should put another button on his overcoat, and then he retells it 99 different times, each time in a different style of writing.

3.     I have forgotten to take pictures. Because now that I feel like I live here, and I’m not just a temporary tourist, I don’t really take my camera with me. And so I feel like maybe I’m forgetting to capture important things. I know that I will remember them, and that they will stay in my memory, but I forget about my family and friends back home. They can’t see into my mind. When I want to tell them about the trees that I can see outside of my window or the ugly storefronts with beautiful buildings towering above them, they won’t be able to picture it. So forgive me, and trust that I will try to take some more pictures to share.

4.     I have made some very good friends.

5.     I have probably listened to every song on my computer. Not that there is a lot. But never before have I done that before. I think I’m ready for some new ones.

6.     I have not been that home sick. I have a teacher that asks me all the time if I am so home sick and if I am so sad to be living by myself and aren’t I soooo lonely and want to be home all the time and I can’t believe that you aren’t going home for Christmas, aren’t you going to be so sad? But in reality I am not. Don’t get me wrong; I am very sad that I will not be able to spend the holidays with my family. And I do get homesick at times. But being here in France, living alone, and teaching is not the WORST thing that could happen to me. It was my choice to do this, and in making this choice, I knew very well what I was getting myself into. She makes it seem like being here is awful. It most definitely is not. Being far away from my family and friends has made me feel more grateful for them. I feel like am more grateful for things in my life. Like easy Internet access. Seedless grapes. Clothes dryers. 24 hour grocery stores-or anything that is open on Sundays. Being able to just call someone up to chat. Especially my Momma. Or take a walk down the street to see a friend. Or gluten-free pastries from Avellino. I do feel very far from home, because, well, I am.  But I know that it will not be forever. And I know that it was my choice to do this. And I know that being here is a wonderful experience that I may not get again.

Gobble, Gobble!

Happy Thanksgiving to all. I am very thankful for many things this year. Ok. Here they are:

I am thankful to be where I am and to be doing what I am doing.

I am thankful for the things that I have, even though I can probably carry all of my belongings in a backpack….

I am thankful that Iceland Air did not lose me.

I am thankful for a new beginning.

I am thankful for all of the wonderful Northern French people who welcomed me.

I am thankful for my loving family and my fabulous friends who send me love and packages from afar.

I am thankful for all of the other Dunkerque assistants. We are a good group.

I am thankful that I have not one, but two beds! That is a lot to be thankful for.

I am thankful that I have a job and I get paid to speak my native language.

I am thankful for a change of luck.

I had my 6eme and 5eme students make hand turkeys as a lesson. They loved it. I loved it. Here’s a good one. They were all good though. How can you resist the charm of a hand turkey? And does anyone actually know what that hang-y thing is called?

As much as I wish I were home right now, napping after a good turkey dinner, I am very happy to be where I am. I will make my own Thanksgiving and be thankful for all of the other times that I have celebrated with my family. Except all I want right now is some of my Dad’s deliciously good sausage/sage stuffing and some canned cranberry sauce. You know, the kind that looks like a can after you’ve taken it out? 

Send some leftovers please?

You remind me of hooooome

It is a little strange to me that even though I am so far away from home, I am able to find things here in France to connect me back to my home.  Not just the peanut butter and Nuthins. For example, one of the assistants here in Dunkerque is from Vancouver BC. Just a hop across the boarder!  But that’s not the amazing thing. Aside from the comfort of being able to talk to someone who has seen the San Juan Islands and who knows what a real mountain looks like and what its like to live somewhere that it is always green, I was surprised when he told me something. His family drives through Washington to go to Oregon (or anywhere in the States really) a few times a year. And every time they drive down the good ole I-5 corridor, his mom insists on taking a little side trip on I-405 and Bothell-Everett Highway to…..Country Village. Of all places to go. He has probably been to Country Village as many times as I have. For those of you who do not know what it is, here is a brief description. Your grandma would probably love it. Quilt shops, crafty, homemade soap and candles, pottery, wicker furniture, those wooden sculptures made with chain-saws=kitch. There is a big duck pond and you can feed the ducks and geese and other water fowl. There used to be a carousel that I loved to ride, then they moved it to another part. There is a little train that you can ride around on. Two English tea houses. A glass-blowing studio. And he has had to endure trip upon trip to Country Village, just like I did whenever relatives came to town. And all the way over here in France we can share a moment together when we talk about how you really only have to go once to know what its all about, but usually have to go many times and how its in country Village where Santa’s Sleigh arrives and “flies” down to light the official Bothell Christmas Tree. Amazing.

Then there is the “Bothell-ite” that I met. At my first “training day,” we were all walking to lunch and I overheard a friend of one of the Dunkerque assistants tell someone that she was from Seattle. Excited that someone was even from the same state, I asked her if I had heard her correctly.

Me: I’m from Seattle too!

Her: Seriously? Really?

Me: Well…………not really.            

(because no one actually says that they are from Bothell, no one knows it, and Grey’s Anatomy is the only reason the French have any idea what I’m talking about. )

Her: Me neither!

Me: Where are you actually from?

Her: Bothell…

Me: OMG!

At this point I was almost on the ground with shock and laughter. Come to find I know just about exactly where she lives, and although we went to different schools, we have many, many, many mutual friends. She went to High School with friends of mine from Jr. High who got married this summer. And of course I asked her if she had ever been to Spartas. Got the usual response: yes. And told her that it meant that she has met almost all of my family. Crazy.

            I could imagine having someone else from Washington state being in France at the same time as me (well, because I know for a fact that they are people from Washington here…) and I could imagine someone from the Seattle area and maybe Bothell being in France. But to have them be in my academie? And to meet them walking down the street?

            Dunkerque is blustery. And it reminds me of the great winds of Bellingham. I am grateful for double paned windows here. But as I sit here and listen to the howling wind shake my fairly new windows, I can’t help but think of home. My Bellingham window was put in somewhere around 1906. (If it was the original.) Paint chips peels off of the frame all the time and fell onto my bed. Most likely lead paint. The glass part of the window was not really attached to the frame anymore. So that every time the wind blew, it shook in its boots. There were many nights that I was afraid that I would wake up with broken window all over me. But she always held steady. When it rained and was windy, little bubbles of water blurped over the frame and into my room. And during the winter, even with towels securely placed over any cracks, a fairly thick sheet of ice crept up the inside of my window, making it feel like a winter wonderland. Thank you Jack Frost.

            Although its not exactly the same here, and I know that it will never be, I can still be comforted by these little things that remind me and pull images from the depths of my memory to the surface.

You spend 3 months of your life doing laundry

           

Today at the laundry mat I had the most interesting conversation in French thus far.  I have found “une laverie” down the street where I can get a Wi-Fi connection, so skipping over Mac Do’s today I washed my sheets and got quite a bit done. A man was there with his wife, doing the same and made a comment on my computer or my typing or something. (The French are generally very impressed by my fast typing. Thank you third grade.) I took my headphones out to explain to him how I got Internet there, but not at my house and he was very surprised. He told me how at his house he has one of those little USB Internet keys but I told him that this one program I have, Skype, doesn’t work with the Wi-Fi keys.  He didn’t know what Skype was so I explained it to him and told him how I use it to talk to my family, how cheap it was to call phones and how free it was to use computer to computer and it even had video! It was then that he realized that I was not French and asked me where I was from. I told him that yes, I was from the US and I was American.

            This man was in his 50’s or so and I had the honor of being the first American he’s ever met. “ A real American” he told his wife. He was very impressed with my French, told me that I spoke very well, which is an excellent boost to my confidence. I told him what I’m doing here and where I’m from and all of that jazz. And he was very interested. He asked what my opinion of France was and any differences that I noticed. If it was more expensive to live here or there and how and why? Then he asked my opinion on the social security reform and Obama and such and health care and we had a nice long conversation on that topic. He was shocked to hear how much my emergency room bill was AFTER insurance when I went last spring for what was probably food poisoning. Except that I was there for an hour, they did not give me any sure answers and I saw a doctor for a few minutes. Take out the insurance and I still owed over $700.

            We talked about where I’m from and like most St Polois or Dunkerquois, they think that their weather is soooo shocking to Americans. Then explain to him that I’m from the Northwest.  It’s rainy and windy and cold there too! We had a winter where it rained for more than 30 days! And the suicide rate in Seattle is the highest in the country. So no, your St Pol rain does not bother me. I am quite at home here. He said how him and his wife like to vacation in the summer in the south, and although it is nice down there and cold up here, there are no catastrophes in the North. I tried to explain the Ring of Fire and told him that we have earthquakes in our area. He was so shocked! “You’ve been in a earthquake before?” Well, yes, but not a big one.

            It was very nice to just sit and talk to someone in French about so many different things. And I felt like I was able to just talk for one of the first times. That I didn’t have to think a whole lot about what I said before I said it. And if I couldn’t think of a word in French, I was able to explain what it meant in French. Because it’s not like he would have been able to translate it from English. And it just seemed so easy for the first time. He was a very nice man, and it just cements my opinion on how wonderful the northern French people are. They are really very warm and welcoming to everyone!

            Just about two months in and I think I’m doing alright.

schooooool

A little about my students:

I had originally wanted to be placed in a primary school when I applied to the assistantship program. After having been placed in a collège, (age 10-15 or 6th-9th grade) I was a little bit disappointed. I had figured that in primary school, I would have to use a lot of French because the students would only know a little bit of English.  I knew that I could handle the basics, like colors and animals, etc. And i thought that in a collège, seeing how most of the students have had at least a few years of English, that they wouldn’t need any French, that we would be going over harder grammar things, etc.

What a disappointment. I have kids in 3eme who have all taken English for at least 3 years, with this year being their fourth, who do not understand a word of what I say. I briefly introduce myself: name, age, nationality, where I am from, hobbies, brothers and sisters, pets…and so on. And they barely understand when I tell them that I am from the United States of America. There are even students who have taken English for as long as I have taken French: 8 years. And those students don’t understand what I say either.

There is also the strangeness of the grammar that they have learned. They have all learned a British English grammar. So they talk differently, with different vocabulary. The one that gets me the most is when the teacher tells them to get out their « rubbers » or erasers. And I giggle. Because that does not mean eraser to me. Or to most Americans. Or the way that they have been taught to say « I’ve got. » For example « I’ve got two brothers and one sister. » But if they don’t have something they say « I haven’t (got). » Example: « I haven’t (got) a dog. » There are times when I say « I have a car. » And they don’t understand what I am saying until repeat myself with « I’ve got a car. » It is very frustrating to have to completely adapt my own style of speaking to British English so that these kids will understand me. I already speak sooooo slowly and enunciate like crazy. But they cannot make me British. There are again times when I say something and they don’t understand it until the teacher repeats it in their British English accent.

In each class there are one or two good students, students who actually care and are interested. I’ve noticed a big difference between students in the US and in France, especially concerning language. Since two additional languages are required in France, many times they are languages that students don’t want to take. They get a choice, but if they don’t want to learn any language, they are out of luck because they have to learn two! But in the US, a language is not obligatory (at least it wasn’t in my school.) however if I had plans of going on to a university, most require at least 3 or 4 years of a foreign language, so knowing that I wanted to continue my education, I took a language. Because language is not forced upon us, i feel like the students who take a language are taking it because they want to, because they have a passion and because they care!

I had some of my best and worst classes the past two days. Students that really understood what I was saying and then students who wrote a list of numbers 1 through 10 when I asked them to make a list of ten adjectives. Really? It makes me wonder if I am trying hard enough to let them understand me. I say at the beginning of each new class that it is VERY important that they let me know if they don’t understand and that they can do this by asking me to repeat slower or asking me “whats the French/English for…?” but sometimes they don’t even understand that. And I actually got mad at two students today for laughing, they were really only laughing because they didn’t understand but couldn’t tell me and didn’t understand me when I asked them what was funny and why they were laughing. And then I felt like a mean teacher.

lounging in the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris

It has been a while since I have updated. I have had some difficulty finding internet access lately. I have a computer account at one of the schools, but things such as my blog and facebook and whatever else someone would want to do on the computer are blocked. So I’ve been trying to keep up by writing in a word document, which I always plan on posting later. But I’ve found it hard to do that, and obviously I haven’t done that. So we will start fresh from here.

About two and a half weeks ago, my two lovely friends Becca and Meghan arrived. It was late one Sunday morning, I had just gone to the street market and had made brunch with a friend when we set out to go downtown. I grabbed my phone and noticed that I had a voice-mail. My very first one in France! In essence: “Katieeeee…..we are here. At a bar. By the train station. It is 11am and we are drinking beer. The bartender let us call you. I think you can call us back on this number. He is very nice. Pleeeease come find us.” And that was the beginning of their stay here. We have gone to the beach, poked at jelly fish, explored WWII bunkers, played lots of Phase-10, made delicious food, relaxed, gone on adventures, slept a lot, watched movies, bought crazy wigs, shopped at Babou, went on a Parisian Halloween adventure, stayed in bed for almost a whole day, got shaky in the worst club ever, laughed so much, reenacted SNL skits, eaten a lot of chaussons aux pommes, and so on and so on. This weekend will be Becca’s last, she is leaving us to go home! We will return to Paris again, this time to see Andrew Bird in concert. 

It has been really nice to have them here. I had been here exactly a month when they got here, and in that month I had spent a lot of time alone with myself. I have always enjoyed time alone, to some extent. And going into this I knew that there would be a lot of time alone. But with my bag getting lost and my arrival not being what I expected it to be, I was starting to get very lonely. They came at the perfect time! And now that they have been here, I will be so very sad to see them go. They have made it feel like home for me.

one month/

I have been here one whole month today and since it is the first time in a week that I have had real internet access you will be given a few blogs that i've been saving up. This first one is of my time here and the people that I have met.

I really enjoy the other assistants that live here in Dunkerque and the surrounding areas. In all i think that there are about 17 or 18 of us, the number keeps changing as people come out of the wood-work. There are a few canadians, germans, spaniards, dutchies, americans and one girl who is chinese. i think once a week i meet someone else new. out of all of us there is one lone man, joel, the canadian who is 2nd cousins with pamela anderson. and last night on his 24th birthday he had the most to drink in his life. but we still all had more than him. i feel like he has kind of become our brother, that we've all adopted each other and made this little family. We are all in the same boat, away from home in a foreign country. we have french in common, and for the most of us english too. right now, english seems to be what we speak the most. when the chinese girl is with us it is french, since she doesnt know english. but her french is far beyond any of ours. slowly we push each other to speak in french. sometimes it is just single words, and other times its every other sentence.

i feel that my french is slowly improving and i am getting more and more confident in using it. i talked completely in french today at the store with the woman who sold me boots. and i think for the most part she understood me. i was able to explain that i have small feet and short legs but that my calves are larger, proportionally and that had a hard time finding boots. people know right away that i am not a native speaker, because once a few words come out of my mouth they end up asking me where i am. I tell them that i am from the US and then i have to explain why i am where i am. They are all so shocked to see an american in Dunkerque. Like, why are you HERE? out of the whole country, why Dunkerque? It is a little frustrating to have the Dunkerquois constantly excusing and forgiving their city. they are pretty negative, but it really is not that bad. They have a beautiful beach, and as long as you don't look to the left (to the factories and nuclear plants...) it is still beautiful.

bienvenue chez moi

Les dunes de flandre. It is where I live. On sunday, I woke up early and made myself a little breakfast. I got my bike out to ride it to the St Pol sunday market, not knowing that it was on the next street over. As much as I love our bellingham saturday market, nothing really beats european markets. where else do you have produce and electronics spread on tables feet from eachother? :) I walked up and down the street and after an hour I had filled my little basket and spent only about 10 euro. I bought half of a roasted chicken, a delicious aged sausage with a delicious herb-y skin, potatoes, apples, banannas, spinach, pears, garlic, fresh pressed apple juice, zucchini and more! I brought my treasures home and hopped back on my bike to ride to the beach. Sunday happened to also be the day of the Dunkerque marathon, so parts of my ride to the beach were on the course of the marathon. I rode to the beach, and then rode along the beach for a long while. Finally the path ended, i locked up my bikey and walked the beach. I could see belgium in the distance, had I been more adventurous and not as hungry, i would have been able to walk all the way there. The beach was full of people doing everything you could imagine! walking, running, driving their cars, sailing, kite-surfing etc. there is "char a voile' which is like this little land sail boat with wheels. and people who put on wet suits, take kayak paddles and "walk in the sea" also people were out in the waves net fishing. I came upon ruins of a battery that once protected the coast. these huge concrete things, perched precariously in the sand, tipped sideways because of the sand that had eroded away. exploring these was very strange, climbing inside and looking through the windows that a soldier once looked through down the barrel of his gun. goose-bumpy.

I made my way home, had a little lunch and went back out again to see what I could see. Went to see Le Petit Nicholas (this french book that i read in highschool) at the movie theatre, because even I an understand french in a children's movie. Then came home to have a dinner of market chicken, fork mashed potatoes (you do what you can when your kitchen has nothing...) and sauteed spinach! a little reading and then i was in bed by 10....

I am definitely feeling the effects of all of this alone time, i think once im settled in a little better I will be ok.

grand bisous

"le bise"

it is the biggest thing to throw me off in france. you know, the kissing on the cheek thing. it presents many questions and many awkward moments. at least for me. when do you do it? every time you see someone? i've figured out that it is the first time you've seen someone for the day, and the last time you'll see them. when you say goodbye. who do you do it to? collegues? strangers when you've just met? the man next to you on the bus? which cheek do you start with? how many bises do you do? i have been bised x2 x3 and x4 and none of it makes sense. the 4 bise bise was from someone older. i was told that the older generation does it, people from the country. also, i made the mistake of starting with someone's left cheek first, i think your right cheeks are supposed to touch first? if that makes sense. and it the moving from one cheek to the other, in the back of my head i am scared to death that i will move forward too soon and end up getting lips. some people make big kissing smacks, some make no noise. some physically kiss you on the cheek while others barely touch you.

i will do more research and get back to you.

a few more observations....and my wednesday

man purses
lace curtains
the french have a knack for decorating with pastel colored and textured wall paper
no toilet seats in public restrooms
no hot water or soap either....
so much dog shit on the sidewalks

I moved into my apartment on tuesday night finally, and spent the night listening to someone do doughnuts in the school parking lot. Wednesday was our "formation day" for the assistants so I woke up nice and early and took the train to lille. Once i finally got to lille, i realized that I didnt have any directions to the school, or any idea as to where it was. After standing for a while, i noticed some other girls looking just about as lost as i was, they were also assistants. so we got together and made our way to the school with some incomplete instructions. the school was a highschool that is getting remodeled. The very vague signs pointed us in one direction. when in reality we were supposed to be going the other direction! finally made our way to a hallway with three classrooms. and sat down in one. but it apparently mattered as to how many lycee assistants and how many college assistants were in each room. sooooo after some shuffling around, we started about an hour late. didnt get any useful information. and the 300+ assistants then walked more than thirty minutes to a university cafeteria where we stood in line for what seemed like forever to receive the worst lunch i ever had. mystery fish with mystery neon yellow sauce (the french and their mustard...) chicken with grapes? celeriac root and peas. they really did not do the celeriac root justice. cold, however cooked broccoli and cauliflower. weird yogurt. terrible. then.....300+ students walked back to another school into an auditorium that was like a sauna, started 1.5 hours late and sat through an hour and a half of information that everyone already knew. things that you learned when you applied to the program. useless information. finished late, rushed to the metro to get to the train station to buy a ticket back home.

what follows is i think proof of why i have terrible luck. we take the train from lille to dunkerque, it has a few stops in between and a layover at hazebrouk. we stop there, and stay stopped for a while. they transfer us to the train ahead of us because of some disturbance on the line ahead. get on the new train, which was a great improvement to our plastic seat/bus/train from the 70's. it was swanky. if a train could be that. then we get a text from one of the other assistants who is still in lille, stuck in the train station because up ahead on the line, between lille and dunkerque a train has caught fire. we hear gossip from other train riders that we will be stuck there for 2 hours....it was about 1 or less. got to dunkerque and ran to the bus in the downpour, and got on the wrong bus....corrected ourselves and finally made it to the birthday dinner of one of the assistants.

i always thought i would enjoy living alone, but now im starting to think otherwise. it might just be because my apartment is an empty shell at the moment, and my neighbors are the administrative staff, and i have no internet. but it could be a lot worse. i think im finally starting to be home sick, just a little bit. but only for specific things. like peanutbutter. and a sink that actually drains. and a washing machine.

also, got a new bike! pictures to come soon.

la France

a few of my observations about france.

France, where you can put mayonaise on almost anything without shame.
you have a before dinner drink, drinks during dinner, and an after dinner drink.
Cheese. and potatoes.
Genie pants. i dont get it.
champagne with lunch
dessert with lunch AND dinner
walker texas ranger, the simpsons and charmed dubbed in french.
beaucoup de clopes. (lots of cigarettes)
people are late.
tiny cars.

thats all i have so far. i haven't really taken any pictures because it is hard to do so without feeling like a total and complete tourist.

la fin de la première semaine

One week here so far....still no bag. I am finding that i am more and more pessimistic about it. shoot.

Anyways, i have started some of my observation at one of the schools. Today i sat in on two classes, who, due to scheduling conflicts between the two schools, will not have the chance to see me again. So we spent the entire class period having them ask me questions, first in english, then in french when they ran out of things that they knew how to say. Out of every class that i've sat in on, these students asked the most questions. The others only got as far as my name and age and 'where was you borned?'

Do you speak french?
Have you seen any stars? (celebrities)
Do you celebrate thanksgiving/what is it.
This one led to a mini history lesson and my realization that thanksgiving makes absolutely no sense. My explanation was something along the lines of "you get together with all of your family and you eat a lot of food in order to give thanks for what you have" my pilgrims and indian first thanksgiving story left them looking sooo confused.
Where do you live/what is your address?
Why did you pick to come here?
How old are you?
This one also surprised them, because honestly, i look like i could be sitting in class with them. There are boys that are 14 who look 20+ and girls who dress super sexy time. And they are 12.
How did you get here, by a boat or a plane?
Do you like Michael Jackson?
I also tried to explain the grading system to one class. And drew a picture of me in my graduation gown and cap to show how awful it was.

They were very curious about life in the united states, and whenever i am on the school grounds all i get are stares. "qui est le fille?" i dont think ill ever get used to the stares. the wide open eyes, omg stares. i stick out like the sorest thumb ever.

This is Bridgett. She's a french cat. Her and Sheffield like to sleep on my pillow when im not there, sit in the sink when i brush my teeth and claw at my door like little monsters when im sleeping. She's named after bridgett jones.

Today is the start of my third day here in dunkerque and so far it is wonderful. I am down to no more clean clothes and will faire the linge later on today. I haven't had any good news about my bag yet, but am still trying to stay positive and keep my fingers crossed that they will find it. We can put a man on the moon and do tons of "impossible" things but we can't keep track of bags? oh merde.

Virginie is the teacher that Im staying with and she's absolutely great. Her and her friends have been so welcoming to me, it is very touching. I arrived with so little and even before I got here, she had found so much stuff for my apartment. Like a stove. and a fridge...because it didnt even have that. And through all the teachers and friends i am pretty much set. pillows blankets sofas tables chairs dishes towels moroccan poufs! for being so worried about having to furnish my own apartment, i really have yet to do anything for it. i did get to see it yesterday. and its huge. but old. the german assistants from a few years back completely covered the walls and ceiling of the bathroom (which is just the toilet in a little closet...the rest is separate) with pages ripped from fashion magazines. the kitchen is small, the living room huge, and i even have a spare room. for an office. or guests! because they found me a pull out couch. it is not the perfect situation, but it will be perfect for the next 9 months.

all the teachers are very nice, they have planned to help me move in on wednesday afternoon and want to make a little party out of it. they are going to clean it and help me move things and set up.

just in a few days here i feel like my french has improved immensely! i understand much more than i thought i would and can respond and talk just like a normal person for the most part. there are some times when i have no idea how to say it in french, and i just switch to english. They all understand why i am here, to learn french. So they try to speak to me in french as much as possible. but as much as i am a francophile, a lot of them are even bigger anglophiles. so they test out their english on me and we have an agreement to correct eachother if we say anything stupid or wrong. i already taught them about the meaning of the word "tipsy" and what SADD is. And puget sound.

oh la la

arrived in Paris after a long day of travel and open mouth sleeping on the plane. After yet another maybe mishap (no one to pick me up at the train station when i arrive in st pol, and no furniture in my appartment but half of that taken care of) we finally left yesterday afternoon. After a short lay-over in Iceland (im pretty sure I should learn icelandic) we arrived at l'aeroport Charles de Gaulle this afternoon. Waited for our baggage. Three of our bags came right in a row followed by....not my last bag. Waited around. No more bags came after a while. Went to the baggage counter. Waited for the "oversized" bag trolly to be brought around but it wasnt there either. So, we have concluded that my bag stayed in iceland, that it didnt make the connection and that i will have to wait until tomorrow afternoon when the next flight from iceland comes in. zut zut zut. If it doesn't, then i will have 4 pairs of undies to last me 8 months. and 5 shirts. and no socks.

trying to stay on the bright side of things, many people have assured me that my bag will catch up to me. i can only hope. for now, i am in paris. sitting by the canal on the deck of my hostel. the sun is setting and the bell is tolling 7:30. people are playing petanque along the canal. and i am in paris. our hostel smells like disinfectant and the street reeks of pee, but it is absolutely beautiful.

more prête than before

2 days away from my departure and I am almost ready. Bags are just about packed and I am working on fitting the past 22 years of my life into my childhood closet. Its like real-life tetris. A sample of things that I have packed: wine opener, two jars of peanutbutter, 40+ pairs of undies and my favorite tea mug. After a small wrench getting thrown into my plans (my travelling partner had a bag stolen, and therefore had no more passport or visa...) I am well on my way to France.

I will miss my family, my friends and my home. But know that it is not a permanent good-bye, but just a see you later.

So as the french say:

à bientôt! (that means see you later)
katie

presque prête

I have spent the day marking things off of my to-do list before I leave. Set up a bank account that will work in France, ordered copies of my birth certificate, made appointments, spent a lot of time on the phone, etc....

I figured that I would set this up before I forget, in order to give my friends and family a way of keeping updated with me without doing a huge mass email. I also have no other reason to type on the computer, and I need to practice typing with my keyboard set to French. because the A is where the Q is and the W and Z have traded spaces as well. The punctuation? It took me a bit of searching to find that question mark and i have no clue as to where to exclaimation point is.

So... countdown is 25 days until I depart.