noel / balader

street musicians in Montpellier

Well I kind of failed at celebrating Christmas in France, but it wasn't my fault...Scottie and I were both sick, so we spent it mostly in bed watching cheesy Christmas movies (if you ever get the urge to watch a film called Noel, don't because it is horrid and weird). I got the gastro, again. I was going to call this entry "gastro, part 2," but I didn't want to give it that much credit. By again I mean I got it the last time I lived in France 2 years ago.

But it was still nice, we had Christmas eve dinner with my host family, and Mamie came over and me and Scottie sang some tunes, and everyone had their fill of foie gras.

But before that, we were in Toulouse where Scottie and Julia were both getting non-American boys to fall in love with them, and I was, well, drinking vin chaud.

me and julia eating pastries in the cold while we wait for scottie to arrive

Then in Montpellier we did a lot of the same thing, except there were also boxes with animals in them. First a box with a goat in it, then two different boxes with piglets and kittens together. I'm not sure why, but I guess it's a winning combination.

piglet + kittens

The day after Christmas, Scottie and I headed to Rennes, and I was nervous about seeing my old host family and everyone, but it was really nice. It was really surreal to be there though. The night I got there, their newest grand-child (une petite fille!) was born literally right as I walked in the door. Chaos! And it was Marc's birthday, so they are birthday twins. Grandpa and babygirl. Patricia told me that me coming to visit them fait chaud au coeur, which was a nice thing to say. There were new teenagers living there, who I instantly bonded with, which made me wonder what went wrong with the ones who lived there while I lived there. I made them pancakes the morning before I left. The girl from Mongolia, who had only been there 3 days and didn't speak hardly any French, did know how to say c'est trop bon, which she said about most things that were edible, including my pancakes. Tant mieux.

I spent an afternoon/evening with Scottie and her host family, which includes three little girls who remembered me somehow from two years ago. Hanging out with kids makes me miss being 4 years old when driving around a parking garage is equally as fun as being on the carousel, both of which we did that afternoon. J'aime bien quand ca monte, said Brune, the littlest. About the parking garage, not about the carousel.

The morning I left, I walked outside to the crachin breton, the spit-rain. It even made me smile a little because it brought back so many memories of living there and walking outside to the sky spitting on my face nearly every single day.

The trip back was kind of a disaster, but it all worked out somehow. Always does. Scottie and I were in different cars on our first train, and she wasn't paying attention and didn't get off at our first connection. By the time I realized she hadn't gotten off, the train was rolling away as I was rapping on her window telling her to get the heck off that train. Trop tard. Bye, Scottie.

Then my long long train to Toulouse, which was already a 7-hour train ride, broke down about halfway through in the middle of nowhere. Un probleme locomotif. We were told that we would be sitting there for a  periode indeterminee. Super. The girl sitting next to me, who was French and reading a book in English (sitting next to me, an American reading a book in French) got up to smoke a cigarette and came back laughing saying they told her the train was too heavy. Well then. But about an hour later, we were on our way. Unfortunately, this meant that I would not make it to Toulouse in time to make the last train back to Albi. I spent a few hours (because I had plennnnty of time) racking my brain trying to figure out what I was going to do. When, all of a sudden, the man on the intercom miraculously announced that if anyone on the train happened to be going to Albi (only me, I'm pretty sure), they should get off at Montauban where they can take a bus that leaves at 21h40. Whew! So I got off at Montauban, where I have never been before, hoping I would be able to find said bus. Found it, started to get on with my giant water bottle in one hand and an instant coffee in the other, and the bus driver was like, "I'll take the coffee, I don't drink water." Huh? Oh, he's joking. French people are always joking. I smiled kind of and then offered to go get him a coffee from the machine if he wanted, he declined so I installed myself in the front seat and waited for the bus to take off. He didn't even look at my ticket, which was good because I hadn't actually paid to go all the way to Albi, only to Toulouse. I didn't really think too much of it, he didn't really seem like he would have minded anyway, and he kept joking with me, but I couldn't hardly understand a word he said because his accent was so thick. So I got a free ride from Montauban to Albi. I was so relieved to be off that train that a bus ride was a welcome change. I like sitting up front with the driver, who was listening to rugby announcers on the radio. I listened for a little, but quickly resorted to my headphones and Abigail Washburn and Bob Dylan. Speaking of whom, he was my age when this video was made http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nN88vWk8obo

I felt kind of like I was on the cat bus, come to save the day. Relic from my childhood . Also because the driver drove kinda crazy. Faut pas conduire comme ca, he said to me. Thanks for the advice?

Tonight there will be du monde in Toulouse for New Years and we are going to have a nuit blanche. Oh boy...

gourmand(e)

chocolate ginger cookies for micka

The other day some family friends came over for dinner and we had a feast. I've spent a few evenings with them already...their names are Marie-Noelle and Alain. Marie-Noelle's birthday is Christmas, which is why she's called Marie-Noelle. It was Alain's birthday, which is why we were having a feast. They look like movie stars. Marie-Noelle is 64, but she doesn't look a day older than 50. She has perfect skin. I don't think she has ever been in the sun. They both wear these hip, big glasses that sometimes match their outfits. It was a funny evening. We had dinner for four hours.

Another feast I had was yesterday. Well yesterday I had two feasts. One was with Dominique, who is my responsable I think, that is to say, she is the English teacher in charge of me. I think. Stephanie, the other English assistant at Bellevue, had to show me where her house was. She was confused about that fact that I didn't already know where it was. Dominique didn't invite you over at the beginning when you first got here? No.....awkward. It was a nice lunch though. Kind of odd, I guess. I thought it was going to be an assistants lunch, but it was just me, Steph, Dominique, her husband, and her mother. And a biology teacher. Her mother  has all metal teeth.

Anyway the other feast was a raclette at Brent/Samira/Domi's house with a bunch of masters students. It was pretty great.

this is a raclette. copyright bnm

copywrite bnm

I really talk about food a lot don't I. Well its one of the most tangible things I can share with you. You can imagine melty raclette cheese on top of potatoes, but it might be harder for you to imagine me riding my bike to school (work? what do I call it now?) or attempting to have a philosophical conversation in French. The attitude towards food here is completely different than in the States. No one in France would ever eat something because it's good for you. They eat things because they find them delicious. And they pay attention to how much they eat or how often they eat things that are definitely not good for you, but they don't think to themselves, tonight I'm going to eat quinoa because its fibrous and protein-rich and I'm going to put craisins in it for antioxidents or something, and also I'm going to eat an entire head of kale for vitamin A. They are more interested in eating in a way that is equilibre, that is to say, well-balanced. I'm not really convinced that they do eat equilibre when they think they do, but I guess it works for them. I could go on about how maybe the French attitude toward food is against my general philosophy, but then I wouldn't really have an excuse to eat cheese every day. In the States I would never eat cheese every day. Sometimes I think about Julia Child and her love affair with butter, which was totally merited. It doesn't matter what you tell yourself, butter is delicious. So I guess what I'm saying is, I'm conflicted. At home I only cook with butter once in a blue moon, but here it's like a staple. La base quoi. If you run out of butter, it's a catastrophe.


Today I was giving an English lesson to Francois after dinner, and by English lesson I mean we were chatting about music mostly. Anyway he was very distracted, dans la lune, as we say, staring into the fire and just smiling and smiling to himself. Corinne and I think he's in love.

rencontres

Rencontres. Encounters. I had many of them last night. A bunch of the assistants in Gaillac and Albi and a handful of teachers got together to have a drink and meet everybody (why didn't we do this two and a half months ago?). People from everywhere really. Well not everywhere, because that would be impossible. I met a guy from Yemen named Ammar who is getting a masters in linguistics in Toulouse. He teaches Arabic. He taught me some sounds. The sounds are so hard in Arabic. Some of them come from places in my throat that I didn't even know were there. He convinced me that I successfully imitated a few of his throat-noises after several tries. I don't know why, but the people I know who speak Arabic seem to love nothing more than hearing me try to make Arabic sounds. And failing, nearly always. They smile kindly and make me do it again. And again. A French man (who was he anyway?) suddenly started speaking Arabic with Ammar, then in French, to be polite, asked him why he chose French to study, of all languages. Ammar told us, translated from Arabic to French and now to English that they say that French is la langue des oiseaux, the language of the birds. I'm not sure why anyone would say that because French doesn't really sound like birds to me. Except when Edith Piaf makes her voice sound all gutteral and rolls her 'r's. Piaf is argot for sparrow. So its not very original of me to say that I guess.

Later we were at a weird bar where the German girls couldn't understand why no one wanted to dance and the DJ told us when we asked if he could play some dubstep that dubstep is "kind of out" in France, but that he could play a little. Never did, and his terrible pop-techno mashups are really in? Is that it? Anyway a French boy named Benoit came with us. Benoit never brings friends, he always comes alone wearing black pants black shoes black t-shirt black suitcoat and a knowing smile. He and I aren't very acquainted yet. Standing next to me in the bar, he leaned over and said, toi, t'es francaise, non ? I smiled and said no. Putting his hand on mine and smiling, tu parles vachement bien le francais ! Merci, I said. Ah. Alors, tu viens d'ou ? South Carolina, I said. Oh, now it all makes sense, he says and begins speaking English to me. Very suave, Benoit. Like he didn't hear my accent. Like he didn't make the connection that he always sees me with the other Americans he has recently made the acquaintance of. At least he made me laugh.

Today I dragged Brent with me to Castres, which is a town that's not Albi. It was a beautiful day! Sunny and cold, my favorite. Castres is very very Christmasy right about now. That's why we went I guess. There was a big 'ol Christmas market that we wandered around. I ate a crepe with nutella inside, which was a good idea. Oddly, I don't really like nutella that much. Its too sweet and people eat it way too much here. And for breakfast. But today the crepe-to-nutella ratio was perfect.

Brent and I are always on the lookout for a good used bookstore. Used bookstores are called bouquineries. Albi is severely lacking in bouquineries, so we search elsewhere for them. Today we found a great one. It smelled kind of like pickles but I didn't mind. I bought three books. One: Babar Patissier, in which Babar bakes a birthday cake. Two: a novel called Stupeur et tremblements that Brent recommended. Three: La Premiere Gorgee de Biere et autres plaisirs miniscules : The first sip of beer and other small pleasures. Probably I'm most excited about this one. They are tiny vignettes about the littlest things that give pleasure to life. The smell of apples, the newspaper at breakfast, a day when you can almost eat outside.
Speaking of smells, in France when you walk outside after being inside at about 4:00 in the afternoon, it smells like croissants. Because everyone is thinking to themselves, hm, I'd really go for a croissant right about now. Or a chocolatine, which is what they call chocolate croissants here in the Tarn. So all the bakeries are pulling a ton of croissants out of the oven I suppose right around 4:00 because its l'heure du gouter. It annoys me that I can't use accents on this blog because it makes the font all wonky. Just imagine a little circonflexe carrot on top of that 'u' in gouter, ok? Otherwise I feel inauthentic.

This is a thing I saw in the past few minutes, and it's really worth five minutes of your time. Just goes to show that there have always been people with an excellent sense of humor.
.http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/50-unexplainable-black-white-photos

The family I live with, I'm learning, thrives on laughter. I feel like we are joking always. Not an hour goes by without someone poking fun at someone else. All in good fun, of course.

Today I think for the first time since I got here, I had kind of a moment of panic about how little time I actually have here. All the times before when I would think about how much time I have left, I would think, seven months! Daunting! When in fact how could that be daunting? Such a minuscule amount of time. I will have days still to come where I will find it daunting, days when my students don't listen, when I can't explain to the lady at the bank that no, I don't owe them 70 euro, when I feel lonely. Its like in my new book, Babar patisser. All these things go wrong, like little Babar drops all the eggs on the ground, the milk boils over on the stove, the kids eat all the candied fruit that's supposed to go in it, etc. But he's still baking a cake, which is a pretty great thing to do I think.

it's december, put a feather in your hat

Oops it's December and it's getting away so fast. When I look back on my week sometimes I think, I didn't really do that much last week, but then I always feel so busy for some reason. But I did actually do things. For example I went to hear some garage rock at a dive bar. Sometimes when you live in France and everyone is all "hm! hm!" all the time, it's good to go to a tiny kind of grungy bar where the owner literally stands up on the bar to rock out with the band that's playing in the corner. And on Saturday I had a dinner party! Since I live in a real house with grownup things it's easier to pretend to be grownups. I did make rye bread, and it was real pretty but it didn't rise enough for some reason so it was kind of meh.

Have you ever roasted garlic? If you haven't, you should. I think it changed my life. You just cut off the top of a whole head, drizzle some olive oil on it, wrap it in foil, and stick it in the oven for like 25 minutes. Doing this simple thing turns sharp pointy garlic into a smooth buttery delight. You are laughing, but I'm serious. I put the whole dang head of garlic into a pot of soup, and voila, deliciousness. Also here in the Tarn we have this beautiful purple garlic that I bought a ton of when I first got here (never know when you'll need like 15 heads of purple garlic) and Corinne asked me if I was trying to keep out the vampires. Also the man who sells garlic at the market by my house is incredible. When he talks it sounds like there is a dying bird stuck in his throat, and he rolls all his 'r's. "mademoissshhheellle, vouzssch voulezcschhh un ptit essschchhhallot? Voussh n'avezzcssh pazz d'ail ! ! Tenezzsh, un peu d'ail. [throws a few heads of garlic into my basket] Mercchhhi, a la prrrrrroschhhhaine mademoissschhshheelle!"

The other day Brent and Neill and I went to Gaillac to a Christmas market. When I was riding my bike to the train station, it was raining and I discovered that my brakes don't work so much when the ground is wet. Wipeout! I was fine but the next day man that hurt. I was complaining about it to Micka in the kitchen saying, j'ai du mal partout, and he said, well it's not from playing sports. Laugh haha. "Today I played squash (whatever the hell squash is) and I did nine kilometers of 'marche nordique.'" I got sassy with him. Congratulations, I said. Tired of Micka always making comments about how I don't play sports. In the south of France if you don't play sports you're a loser. It's like high school, except I went to an arts high school so I never had to deal with it until the age of 22. One time a funny thing happened. Micka was again asking me why I don't play sports, I was getting tired of being apologetic about it. I'm not a couch potato, Micka. I eat less cheese than you. I also don't ever go anywhere in cars. Later that day, I was on a bike ride out in the country with Brent, and I saw Micka up ahead of us a ways walking the dogs. I hadn't really been paying attention to where we were going, and in fact we'd ridden bikes all the way out to where they take the dogs sometimes. MICKAAAAA I yelled at him, and he was thoroughly shocked indeed to see us all the way out there. Think I'm lazy now Micka, hmmmm???? That's right Micka, I'm gonna ride up that big hill in a minute when I'm done chatting with you so I can see the panoramic view of Albicountry. Hmph.

Anyway I was telling you about going to the Christmas market. There actually isn't much to say except Brent finally got his vin chaud (hot wine with spices, mm!) and we wandered around Gaillac in the rain. Neill is English and he says funny things sometimes, like "Gaillac is nice. I thought it was gonna be like two shops and a donkey or something." Then we stumbled upon an organic wine tasting. We peeked our heads in and a man standing in the doorway said, here is a list of all the wines that are here, here are some glasses, whites are in here, reds are in the other room, help yourselves. Yes we will, thank you. So we did. And a sweet little man came up to me and said, excuse me, where might you be coming from? The United States, I said. Oh, he said, you could be Spanish. Ha, I get that a lot, I said. That's partially true. I also get Turkish, Belgian, Italian, middle-eastern. I'm a mystery.

"for elves over 18" 

Gaillac: like Albi, only even tinier

have trouble sometimes resisting hot roasted chestnuts

draw me a sheep

As soon as I start to think no one reads this, people ask me when I'm going to post again. "I need reading material," they say. Well I'm glad this is entertaining you, whoever you are.

Our Thanksgiving dinner was a success! I mean, we didn't eat til probably 11pm, but we are in France after all. Sweet time with my eclectic, bizarre family here in Albi.

sweet potato pie. had to represent my roots.

we found a turkey. can you believe it???

I am slowly turning into a French creature of habit. Habits can make life monotonous, but they can also make you feel more at home. For example, I think this must be why I bake all the time. Today was the first day in a while that I didn't bake anything. And honestly the only reason I didn't was because I couldn't find rye flour. I asked Micka later though, so now I know where I can get it. Rye bread, you are my next baking challenge.

It turned into true November weather at last a few days ago: grey and cold. But today the sun came back out and it was nearly 60 out. So much for that. Not complaining! It's gonna be cooooolllldddddd soon.

I finally got paid today. Whew. 4 days late. I was starting to worry a bit.You would think it would be impossible for me to use up all the money I made last month, but I did somehow. Oh well.

So Christmas decorations are appearing bit by bit in the streets of Albi, and it is so very charming. Today I saw them putting up little Christmas trees at Place du Vigan. Can't wait til they turn all the lights on! And we are decorating the house this weekend...Francois is going to start hanging up lights outside tomorrow. I really despise the commercialization of Christmas, but I will never say no to Christmas decorations. Admittedly, I love them.


Anecdote: last weekend, Brent and I cooked Thai food for one of his teachers and her friends at her apartment. It was really fun, and they were so nice, but everyone was smoking inside and I was nearly sick because of it. Yikes, I've never reacted so badly to cigarette smoke. My eyes were burning so bad. People really do smoke a ton here...I understand folks who enjoy the occasional cigarette (I dunno, do I actually? I think it's foul) but to smoke nearly an entire pack in one evening? And kids start smoking really young...I see so many of my students standing outside their high school puffing away, and it's shocking when they're 15 or 16.

Anyway. I really like the people I live with. They're kind of nuts. One minute I think they are very formal and traditional, and the next minute Micka is acting like a crazy person, Francois is calling everyone "Maurice" for no reason, and Corinne is in the kitchen showing me how to belly dance. Because she knows how to do that. Things that happen when you grow up in Morocco. Also all of those things have happened in the past 24 hours.

They still think I'm crazy for eating oatmeal every morning. So I guess it goes both ways.

a perfect day for bananabread

coffee and bananabread :)

I guess I have to write a Thanksgiving post. It's more incidental than anything since all I did to celebrate Thanksgiving today was to make banana bread. This was also incidental; I just so happened to have three quickly deteriorating bananas in my room. There comes a time in every banana's life when it is ready to transcend to a state of banana bread.

But really, me and the other Americans (and one Englishman. And one Australian...I think) are having "Thanksgiving dinner" tomorrow night. It was more convenient. And we can do that, since we're in France. I brought it up a few times in my classes this week...which resulted in me explaining that no, Thanksgiving is not an extension of Christmas.

A few days ago, I made a pumpkin pie. I was not going to let this season pass without one. I bought fresh pumpkin from the market on Saturday morning. At first I thought there was no pumpkin here, but turns out French pumpkins just look weird. I had never made pumpkin pie from fresh pumpkin before. Shame on me!

The recipe I used claimed to be "the pumpkin pie the pilgrims ate on the first Thanksgiving." Really though, it was pretty killer. It's from a cookbook my momma gave me on pies. Southern pies, to be more precise.

Everyone was skeptical at first. Especially Micka. "But it's a vegetable. Why would you make dessert out of a vegetable?" I assured him it was a good idea. And indeed, he was converted! This is a huge accomplishment that I am very proud of. He doesn't even really like desserts, but he smacked his lips after the last bite of his slice of pumpkin pie...

In other news, the new wine is here! It's called primeur, and there is primeur from basically every wine region in France. It's the wine that was made this past summer, so really new! Well, for wine, at least. So everyone here is excited about the Gaillac Primeur, since Gaillac is right next to Albi and produces a ton of (very good, I think) wine. The most famous primeur is the Beaujolais Nouveau, but I haven't tried it yet. Anyway, the night it came out, everyone went out to celebrate. Brent, Neill and I went to our favorite cafe, and the guy who owns it knows us by now because we go there so often, and he gave us a free round. Sweet man!

Cheers!

failure cookies

Whew, had a rough start this week. I don't even want to get into details really, but basically the administration at Bellevue is completely unorganized, and my students at Rascol are impossible. The students are what really got to me in the end...they are 19-23 years old, yet they act like small children. I finally lost my temper with them, yelled at them in French, and they shut up finally. They seemed shocked, but they were being buffoons. I think I've gotta talk to their teacher about it, because it's really a problem. It doesn't help that they are all boys. Oh my.

Today was kind of better, but then I was supposed to meet up with this lady at her house so we could talk about me giving some English lessons to her two kids, but then I couldn't find their house! They live by the hospital, but from the address she gave me, it seems that they must live inside the hospital, which is just impossible. I walked all around the place but couldn't find it at all. Bahh! So I emailed her saying I was really sorry, but I just really couldn't find the house. So I'm going to try again tomorrow.

So after three days of many failures, feeling pretty run down and worn out, what did I do...? Well I baked cookies, of course.

I should have known better than to make snickerdoodles. They made the house smell like Christmas, and I immediately fell into serious nostalgia. But, needless to say, they were delicious. I have to say, I am proud of my baking feats here in spite of my lack of measuring things and certain crucial ingredients (ex. used apple cider vinegar instead of cream of tartar). They tasted just like mom's. I think Francois ate about ten. At least there's someone around here who will eat the things I bake. And boy does he love sweets. Works for me.

Today started out as a baddd French day. It got better though, by the end. I hung out with Micka in the kitchen while he made dinner. I was trying to explain to him what collard greens are and why it's sad they don't exist here. Sidenote: if you look on the wikipedia page for collard greens, it specifically lists South Carolina as one of five places in the world where people eat them. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Collard_greens
There's not even a word for them in French. Oh well.

I like hanging out with Micka. He is much more informal with me than Corinne. Concrete example: he uses the "tu", or informal form when talking to me, whereas Corinne still uses "vous." Come on Corinne, I've been living in your house for almost 2 months. Micka has a really bizarre sense of humor that I did not get at first, but now that I do, it's nice to have him around for comic relief. When I first got here, Corinne was explaining to me that it was no use to load the dishwasher because Micka would just move everything around anyway since he's very particular about it, and Micka responded by saying that women can't do anything in a way that is logical. I think I wrote about it on this blog actually. At the time I think I thought he was being serious. Obviously now I know he was joking. Not about the dishwasher though, he really is anal about it. And most things, actually. Sometimes I don't understand how he and Corinne work together as a couple, but I guess opposites attract. I wouldn't say that they are opposites either, really. And he makes her laugh, which is always important.

In other news, the other day, I learned (from Micka, of course) that the best time to buy a round of Camembert is 15 days before the expiration date. Now you know. Also I learned that getting your teeth cleaned is free here. Along with most things that have to do with your health. This is something that still blows my mind, just as it blows Samira's mind that a lot of people in the U.S. don't even have access to healthcare because it's too expensive. She wants to go back to the states, but that is the one thing she's worried about. Well yeah, what the heck? Get with it, USA.

Mi still loves me. This is incredible considering how many times I've kicked her out of my room before I go to sleep. I have to do this or she will sleep on my pillow/on my face. One time she even hissed at me for it. Well, sorry Mi but girl's gotta get some sleep.

on my windowsill, as usual

la ville rose

I need to follow up on my last entry by saying that I did indeed go on a bike ride, and it was great. Brent and I rode bikes to what we call the "America" of Albi, meaning this weird shopping center on the edge of town with various bizarre discount stores. They were all closed when we got there because it was the lunch hour(s), so we decided to keep riding, and we soon found ourselves in the countryside. And it was lovely.

we made some new friends

On Thursday I had to go to Toulouse for a medical visit thing for my visa. Pretty much all they did was take an x-ray of my lungs and then stamp a bunch of papers. So now I am the proud owner of an x-ray of my lungs and a titre de sejour (a little sticker thing in my passeport), which means I'm finally legal! Hooray!!
Since Friday was a holiday, I decided to stay a bit in Toulouse and take advantage of my little trip. I met up with my friend Julia who is an assistant in Toulouse, and we hung out with her French friends and had a great time. It was really nice to be in a big city that has a lot going on. They have a bike rental thing that's part of the public transportation system (like a lot of big cities in Europe), so we rented bikes (which cost 1.50 euro for 24 hours) and rode around Toulouse. So great!

we went to a book market 

I'm kind of sad the weekend is over, but I seriously can't complain. Also, I can't believe this weather. I feel like I keep talking about it, but it's incredible. It's nearly mid-November, and southern France boasts 69 degrees and plenty of sunshine. Il faut en profiter !

I am on the hunt for a pottery studio here. I will not lose hope yet! I will have to look outside Albi, but it's not too hard to get around the Tarn (that's the name of the department). There are plenty of buses and things. Also, I would like to say that I love getting around by bike. This is something I have never done on a regular basis, since I have a car in the U.S. and it is too easy to hop in a car and drive somewhere. It is a wonderful and beautiful thing to ride a bike every day.

perfect day for a bike ride

I would really like it if my positive feelings about my life here were more consistent. I'm not even really sure what exactly makes them vary...I woke up feeling kind of discouraged, but I think today is going to be a good day. For one, the sun is back. I knew that the grey misty weather wasn't the norm when Micka and Corinne were complaining about it and speculating about when it would be sunny again. That was a good sign. It's not even cold here yet. I think it's 70 out today. Like Charleston! Except France.

One thing that I am currently not thrilled about is my laundry. So, I need to do laundry. I have been designated the tiny washing machine (smallest I've ever seen in my life), which is fine. Except that: it is programmed to only work at night because electricity is less expensive at night. Fine, I'm cool with that. The problem right now is that they keep using it, so I haven't been able to do any laundry. I don't understand this, since there is a normal-sized washing machine right next to mine that they could use instead. You can only do one load a day, unless you just stay awake all night waiting for it to be done. And I really have to plan ahead because once I finally wash it, it usually takes a couple of days to dry....bah! The point is, I am out of clean socks. :(

I have to teach one more class this week. In like 30 minutes. It's Wednesday. The reason for this: I teach mostly on Mondays and Tuesdays, I don't teach on Thursdays, and Friday is a holiday. ANOTHER HOLIDAY. But I think after that there are no more til Christmas. Tomorrow I'm going to Toulouse for a thing for my visa. Yep, still doing that stuff. But it will be fun because I have a friend who lives there, and we are going to have ourselves a good time in the city. Oh yes.

i <3 trains

rain=baking

I should be planning my lessons for tomorrow, but I'm just not quite ready to do work yet. The tiny bit of work that I have to do, that is.

Early last week, Micka's cousin and his wife and three kids came to stay with us for a few days. They live near Grenoble and told me I could come stay with them if I ever wanted to go see that region. So nice! It was fun having kids around...I could tell that I was simply fascinating to them, and they weren't sure what to make of me. One afternoon we all went to this tiny village about 30 min outside Albi called Puycelsi. (By "we all" I mean everyone except Francois who had appendicitis and was in the hospital...he's fine now though). Corinne told me I probably couldn't get there by bus, so it was really cool that I got to see it. It's this super old medieval village on top of a big hill surrounded by vineyards and fields of sheep. Seriously. We took the dogs with us and hiked in the hills around the village, then explored a bit. Walks through the hills like that (in autumn!) make me so nostalgic for North Carolina. Fall is pretty beautiful here though...apparently the colors are especially vibrant this year. My favorite are the grapevines which turn all colors, particularly bright yellow. The village itself was so charming...I can't believe people actually live there. I think they speak Occitan, the regional language here. There was even a little pottery studio...why aren't there pottery studios in Albi??? I don't understand!

I am learning new things about the culture here every day. The other day, I discovered that my host family heartily disapproves of my nose ring. Ha, too bad! They think it's a shame. They are super judgemental when it comes to physical appearances, which I've found to be true about most French folks. It really frustrates me, but I guess there's nothing I can do about it besides act like I care more about the way I look. I have to kind of dress up when I teach because otherwise no one respects me. Oh well.

Last night I made dinner with Brent and Samira, which was great because I love Samira and it meant speaking French all night. We were making soup with butternut squash, and she was showing me this spice mix that they use a lot in Morocco...she told me the name of it, and it took me like 10 minutes to get the pronunciation right. I still can't really say it. Man some of the sounds in Arabic are so hard to make! Samira told me that soon she'll teach me the Arabic alphabet. I'm pumped! Speaking of Arabic, this morning I went downstairs and Corinne was just chatting away in Arabic on the phone. Her capacity for language astounds me. She speaks French and Arabic fluently, and also is really good at English and Spanish. Crazy. And she remembers every vocabulary word she's ever learned.

It is a grey day, which means I am probably going to bake cinnamon rolls. Mmm...

toussaint

Okay! Sorry for the lack of entries lately. As most of you probably know, I have been traveling for the past week...now I am back home in Albi, taking some deep breaths and celebrating my last day of vacation by not even leaving my house on this dreary day.

So, my adventures. We hopped on a train before the sun came up last Sunday to go to San Sebastian, in the Spanish Basque country. We stayed there three nights in a youth hostel. I love youth hostels because they are cheap, safe, and you get to meet all kinds of people from everywhere. I met a guy from the Netherlands named Joost...he seemed to know everything about everything. He's in the process of trying to get a job and live in Spain. He claimed to not really speak Spanish, yet he never hesitated to ask random people on the street if he had a question about directions or something. We climbed up to the highest part of San Sebastian with him (the big ol' hill with the giant statue of Jesus at the top). San Sebastian is absurdly beautiful. I was kind of worried it was going to be super touristy...and there are a lot of tourists, but it doesn't necessarily feel overwhelmingly full of them. It's also not exactly tourist season, I guess. But anyway.

new friend Joost

Probably the best thing about San Sebastian is the food. The city has more Michelin stars than Paris. That is dang impressive. Not that I could afford to go somewhere with any Michelin stars. Ha. But we mostly ate pintxos, which are the Basque version of tapas. Basically the way it works is you go to a bar and they have a bunch of pintxos on the bar, and you get a plate and take one or two, order a glass of wine, and when you're done you tell a bartender what you had and he'll add it up at the end. It's kind of an honor system, which is cool. Then you go to another bar and eat their pintxos. Etc. So delicious. And really fun. It's like snacking, for dinner. Or lunch, or whatever. 

pintxo bar

We took a day trip to Bilbao to go to the Guggenheim and explore a bit. It was kind of a dreary day and we almost didn't even find the cool part of town, but we figured it out (based on a bus map...ha, we were really prepared, as you can see). 

Then we headed to Pamplona! It was kind of random that we decided to go there...basically I was looking at a map and said to myself...why aren't we going to Pamplona? So we did. We couch surfed with this lady named Rachel (brief explanation of couch surfing: there is a website/network of folks who are willing to host people who are traveling...for example, on their couch, for free, with the idea that some neat cultural exchange will come of it). She is awesome! It was so nice to hang out with someone Spanish who could show us around and do a bit of translating. And, she lives in this old apartment on the 5th floor (9 flights of stairs...whew!) on the street where they do the running of the bulls. She rents out her balcony to people during the festival in July. That's how great her view is. 

view from Rachel's balcony

And there is this whole network of couch surfing folks in Pamplona who get together on Thursday nights, so I got to meet people from all over and even speak a bit of French with a super nice guy named Nico. And there are some bars on Thursday nights where you can get one pintxo and a glass of wine for 2 euro. So absurd. It is so frustrating how much cheaper everything is in Spain than in France. Even San Sebastian, which is supposedly the most expensive city in Spain, was cheaper than France. Oh well.

 On Thursday we were going to hike up this mountain, but it was raining so Rachel suggested that we go to this little town called Olite where there is a sweet castle. Well that was great, and we would have never thought to do that on our own. Also there was a bit of a hitch with our travel plans that I don't think we could have worked out without her. Our original plan was to take a bus to Bayonne and a train from Bayonne to Foix. We had looked up the bus times and figured it all out. But when we went to buy our bus tickets the day before leaving Pamplona, we found out that there are only buses to Bayonne in the summertime. Nice one, Spain. So we had a few minutes of panic, then realized we could take a bus back to San Sebastian and then another bus from there to Bayonne and still make it on time for our train.I can't believe how lucky we were in Pamplona...what an incredible experience. Absolutely the best part of the trip.

Olite

After saying our goodbyes (more like see you soon...) we headed to Foix. After a long day of traveling, we arrive in this little French town perched on the edge of the Pyrenees. I love mountains!!! There isn't much to do in Foix, but there is a really cool castle on a hill, and we hiked up a mountain, so that was great.

Foix 

day is a-breakin' in my soul

this is my life. sitting outside at cafes drinking tiny espressos

Another week has flown away since my last entry. Teaching gets a tiny bit easier every time, though many of my students reaaaally try my patience. Also I keep getting mistaken for a high school student. This only happens at Rascol, which I don't understand. For example, yesterday I was dropping of my attendance sheet in the "salle des professors," or teacher's lounge, and two teachers came up to me and were like, "what do you think you're doing in the teacher's room, mademoiselle?" And, since this has happened several times before, I'm pretty sure I gave them quite a steely look and told them that I was the English assistant, to which they apologized and said it's only because "you're just very young." Bah! I guess it's understandable because actually many of the students at Rascol are my age (some are even older) because of the weird French education system. But still, it annoys the heck out of me.

The other night, I went with Brent and his roommates to an "international dinner" at the university here. It was incredibly silly, but really cool because I met a lot of French folks my age, including a girl who plays folk music...I am going to try to twist her arm into trying to play some music with me. Gosh I hope that happens! There was a lot of karaoke (why do French people love karaoke so much?), and I felt pretty overwhelmed and intimidated and like my French wasn't very good, etc etc. But Brent is super at ease socially with French people our age since he spent a year at a French high school in Paris, so he breaks the ice most of the time. He also is always looking for a joke to make, which for some reason makes all of them (especially all the girls) just love him. Haha. I really like his roommates and their friends...Samira, who I told you is from Rennes, wants me to go there with her and meet her family and whatnot. She is a sweetheart!

I have two more classes to teach until vacation! I can't believe we already have a vacation. It is completely absurd. I am going to Spain, to the basque country. So excited! It's been a while since I've traveled like this, so I gotta put on my travelin' boots and try to remember how to thumb my way across Europe.

I am still discovering Albi...I find new sweet things every day. Thank goodness I have a bike...it makes my life so much easier. I love being able to get around on a bike and walk when I feel like walking. Kat and I decided that one day we want to try to walk from one end of Albi to the other...because it is entirely possible to do that. It would take a pretty long time, but it's just funny to me that we would even think of doing that in the first place. My students ask me sometimes if I think Albi is too small, but I really think it's just right for me right now. And we are not far from Toulouse, which is a huge city.

It's cold out today! Yesterday we had our first real rainy day here. I came downstairs wearing a scarf and my rain jacket and Mino (our resident grandma) asked me if it was cold out. I said that I thought so and that also it was raining. She looked outside and said, "oh! ca y est! c'est l'hiver maintenant." Translation: "well, that's it. it's winter now." I thought that was very funny of her to say that. But it was warm and beautiful until two days ago, so I can't complain at all. I've been spending my free time reading, knitting, and writing songs (or at least trying to). At this rate I'll go through a record number of books (for me) by the time I leave here. My brain is just buzzing with new things in French, melodies, and thoughts on spirituality. I wish I had this much time to be introspective in the States...

I have had my fair share of homesickness lately. I miss my beautiful community in Greensboro. (I miss you too, mom ;)  )
I still feel near to them though, even all the way in France. It has been nearly a month since I got here. Wild!

promenading

First real week of work. I still have two more classes to teach tomorrow, and then it will be over. It has been quite an interesting week. Turns out I don't know what I'm doing. Ha. My first day was absolutely ridiculous. I had my first class at Rascol at 8am. I was afraid because the students I had met before from Rascol were really rude etc (as I mentioned before), but this was a different group. They were all about my age and were studying accounting instead of high school...or after. I don't know, the system here is super confusing. Anyway, they were fairly pleasant to teach, so that was a nice surprise. After, I went to Bellevue and waited an hour for my next class, and when I got to the classroom there was no one there. Turns out there was a miscommunication between the teacher, the students, and me. Big surprise. My later students who were supposed to be good at English were very frustrating, lazy, and disrespectful. There were only 6 of them, but they kept just talking amongst themselves in French, and finally I got so frustrated with this one guy that I said, "I can understand you, you know." I think he was thoroughly embarrassed. Well, good. Then my last group of students was a group of girls, and we didn't have a classroom to use (they have changed my rooms about 5 times since I started) so we just had class outside. The next day I got to school and right before my class was supposed to start, I was told that my classroom was occupied, so I couldn't use it. Well, ok. Then there was a fire drill, so that took up about 20 minutes of my class time. And then, since I no longer had a classroom, I had to share with the other English assistant, Stephanie. So we just put our students in the same classroom and did a team class. It was fine, just bizarre. Every day so far has been equally weird. Some of my students are great, and some are extremely difficult. The boys that I wrote about before were actually probably my best group of students so far. They asked questions and participated and seemed genuinely interested, which was just very surprising to me.  In any case, I am going to have to be pretty creative with my students in order to get them to participate.Yesterday afternoon Brent and I went to Toulouse, just because we could. I love doing things like that. It only takes an hour to get there on a train, so we just went to explore.

It was fun, and I bought some cheap hiking shoes so I can do a bit of that on my vacations to come. The only thing about the trip that wasn't great was the fact that our train back was cancelled because of some problem in between Toulouse and Albi. So we had to wait around for two hours, then take a bus which took a lot longer. So I didn't get home til about 1 am. Good thing I didn't have classes to teach this morning.

It is so lovely here! The sun is still out, which surprises me, because this is France. But it is the south of France :)   Autumn is going to be just wonderful. It's not fall in North Carolina, but I guess it will do.