To the teachers and children of Sandy Hood Elementary

     As a follow-up to my previous post, which I wrote last week, I just wanted to write a little something about the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newton, CT this week. Even though my teaching assistantship did not end up going as I would've hoped, when I heard the news from a friend all I could think about were the over 120 kids that I've worked with. I saw their faces in my mind, along with the numerous others who run around the school yards of this world. It's been interesting to read coverage from the French perspective, since personal firearms are illegal in this country. I've found some of the French comments offensive because people are so focused on the firearms issue that they fail to see the human side of this tragedy. After working alongside dedicated teachers, in tough school situations, who still have their students' lives and interests at heart on the worst of teaching days, I can't help but think only of the children, teachers, and families affected by these past days' events. If you're writing Christmas cards and getting ready for the holidays and feel moved to write a letter of sympathy and/or support to the school, their address is listed below. I hope you will. 

Sandy Hook Elementary School
12 Dickenson Drive
Newtown, CT 06482

If we were having coffee (at La Fiancee of course)...

 
     If we were having coffee, I would need to dominate the conversation with some updates. Only a few, I promise.
   
     If we were having coffee, it would be in my coin- or neighborhood- at the best little cafe in Toulouse. La Fiancee, of course. Our coffee date may even be over Sunday brunch, which La Fiancee just started having three Sundays ago. So far we've been spoiled with black truffle ham and brie sandwiches, terrine de foie gras, and some pretty stellar fromage blanc a la vanille with raspberries on top. Let's not even mention their new muffins and simply delicious cookies. Oh, and they just happen to make the best cappuccino in town as you may recall. I've developed a love for their mocha lately, too. I adore the owners, Olivier and Arnaud, or "the boys"as I like to call them. The cafe is so close to my apartment that I go every day. Actually.

My favorite Frenchies.

     Other than cafe news, the first thing I have to tell you is that I left my job. My job within the French school system has been shaky, at best, from the start, and after much consideration I decided it was time to move on.  

     For personal and family-related reasons, I stopped working last week. Firstly, my students did not really see me as their teacher and thus treated me with little to no respect, depending on the day. Constant conversations and snide comments about American culture were constant, but an off-hand comment about the Cajun Night Before Christmas was the last straw for me. Don't mess with the Cajuns. In all fairness, an individual student may have seen me once or twice a month for an hour. Sure, we had fun talking about Halloween and Thanksgiving, but I worked with so many kids that I barely even knew their names. There was no hope for me giving any one student, class, or school enough attention to really affect their English level. 

     While I absolutely love Toulouse and cherish the connections and friends that I've made here, I cannot justify the means to the end. If the end goal was to live in France, on my own, and to practice my French while gaining valuable post-graduate life and work experience, all of those things have happened in spite of the real reason why I am here. Teaching. 

     On a more positive note, I had some great classes with kids who were truly interested in America and what I could tell them about life in the States. I was also warmly received in each of the three colleges where I worked, and I still enjoy teaching despite the myriad obstacles thrown in my path. I hope to do more in the future. 

     I will miss the friends that I've made here most of all. In the past month, I travelled to Paris with my two assistant friends to celebrate a birthday, and the three of us have added a Quebecoise into the mix since then. The four of us have recently had some great soirees making fondue and ravioli, trying out local wine bars, going to ballets and movies, taking a day trip to Lourdes, going shopping at the Sunday market, teaching each other French and English, and genuinely enjoying all that Toulouse has to offer. 

     Before we go you go, you may be interested in my plans now that I'm jobless in a foreign country. Mike is headed across the pond for Christmas in exactly one day. We have the pleasure of spending some time in Toulouse and Paris. We even have time to throw a day trip to Amsterdam in there. I can't wait to see him! We both fly back to America on January 1st, so I'll start the new year off in a new country, my country, with a new path. I am enrolled in a yoga teacher certification course in Lafayette, LA, and hopefully I'll have a job or two on the side. As for infinity and beyond? We may need more coffee. 

Here are some pictures from the last month, with more to come and posts to follow. 

Overlooking the city of Albi.

Statue of St. Bernadette in Lourdes.

Statue of Mary at the grotto in Lourdes.

Thanksgiving dinner! We even had a real turkey.

In front of Paris' Hotel de Ville.

Fondue night for Joanna's birthday.

La Fiancee's first ever brunch. Nom nom.

Paris' Tuileries Gardens pretty in pink.

Homemade ravioli with salmon and spinach.

Homemade ravioli layered into lasagna and topped with cheese? It happened.

Toulouse's marche de Noel (Christmas market) with Eugenie, our resident Quebecoise.

View from my window.

La Ville Rose at sunset. 

     

     

 

Mot du jour Monday

Link. 

   
     I hope you aren't grumpy with Christmas fast approaching, but grumpy- or grincheux, grognon- is in fact the first word my finger hit in the dictionary. Grincheux has the word 'Grinch' in it, so let's stay away from that and go for the joyeux- happy- part of Joyeux Noel.

Mot du jour...because it's Monday and I remembered.

     Today's word is estival, which means summer. Most of the time you would use ete for summer, but I like the way this word rolls of the tongue. It sounds kinds of Spanish, actually.

     It's starting to get pretty chilly in Toulouse. Even though Louisiana summers are intensely hot, this cold weather always gives me an envie for summer days in New Iberia filled with porch sitting, good books, prosecco, and bare feet. Have a lovely week!

Mot du jour...because I forgot one on Monday.

     Occupé(e) means busy, and I've been quite busy lately with my now full school schedule. Classes are going well as is life in Toulouse. This week alone I've gone to the ballet, made homemade ravioli, gotten my butt kicked at a French exercise class for the first time, and gone to see the Toulouse Christmas market and over 20km worth of lights! I have a few France/French-related posts coming your way soon!

Funny things that have happened in class...

     When you're working with new language learners, there are bound to be some pretty hilarious snafus. The kids that I teach are used to lecture-style learning and copying things down, so they struggle with an entire hour of nothing but me asking them questions.

     Often, these kids just say yes to whatever I ask because they think I will stop pestering them if they say something. Wrong. That's not my job. My job is to pull conversation out of each and every student in my small group, even if it's like pulling teeth. Maybe that's not written in the contract, but that's what I feel to be my purpose at the moment.

     Today, I asked one girl what she had eaten for breakfast. We were working on the preterite, and I wanted to be sure that they said ate- like the number, I told them- not hate. French people have trouble pronouncing "h" and "th" sounds, which can also be funny; try to get one to say "the thistle in the thornbush." Struggle fest. Anyway, the poor girl answered with her name. "What did you eat this morning?" "Louisa!" was her triumphant answer. The class erupted in laughter, and I had to explain cannibalism.

     In the first few classes I taught, I asked my students what stereotypes they have of Americans. My favorite answer: "Americans wake up in the morning, roll over, and there is a hamburger just waiting by their bedside."

In this case the hamburger may just be your bed. 

     My marital status and age are a frequent topic of discussion. Most of my classes thought I didn't speak French at first, so the snippets of conversation that I heard along the way were pretty great. Some young lads were even bold enough to ask for my hand. One fourteen year old asked if I was married, and I said non. He assured me that his mom had given him enough money for us to start a life together, I just had to say oui. He also told me that he plays rugby and is rather muscular for his age. Wow. Who can compete with that?

   

Recent Lesson Plans

      I am officially teaching for a full week for the first time, starting today. Let me just reiterate that my contract with the French government started on October 1st. France definitely works at a different pace than we do in America; if you work with them, eventually things get resolved. Eventually, just not quickly. After some communication snafus, I sorted out a schedule with the third college where I was contracted to work- College Nicolas Vauquelin.

College Nicolas Vauquelin.

     Nicolas Vauquelin (1763- 1829) was a French chemist and pharmacist who discovered Beryllium (Be, atomic number 4). The college is only a five minute walk from the University of Toulouse's Mirail campus. The university is a pretty dismal looking place compared to the beautiful old British universities and their convivial close-knight campus counterparts in America. The same goes for the college, actually. The outside looks more like a prison than a school.

The Universite de Toulouse II- le Mirail. This is an outside shot of one of the main classroom buildings. 

     The teachers at Vauquelin are welcoming, and the kids are pretty easy to work with. After telling the Spanish teacher that I'm from New Iberia, he got very excited and  talked about Cajun music. He sang some Zachary Richard for me to prove how much he loves the Cajun culture. 

     Since I haven't talked about what I've actually been teaching in a while, here are some recent lesson plans:

          -For Thanksgiving I showed most of the classes this video, per another English teacher's suggestion. After the video I reiterated the history of Thanksgiving with a map of Massachusetts and by making sure the students understood the buzz words in the video like pilgrim, Mayflower, Squanto, etc.

                *Next, I asked if anyone knew what Americans eat for Thanksgiving. Pretty much everyone knew about the turkey, but sweet potatoes covered in marshmallows was news to them. Our family doesn't do some of the more traditional Thanksgiving dishes, so I told them about turkducken and oyster dressing- in southern Louisiana we don't have stuffing we have dressing- which also blew their minds. 

                *I showed some short clips of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and with some of the younger classes we made hand turkeys and wrote what we were thankful for in each finger/feather. 

                *I brought along a children's book called a Turkey for Thanksgiving, which I asked the students to read. Middle schoolers hate it when you ask them to do something they consider to be babyish, so they didn't like the idea at first. However, their English level is not strong enough for them to get through more than a 6 sentence page in said children's book, so they stopped complaining pretty quickly.

          -The Presidential Elections proved to be an interesting topic. When I asked my students what had happened on November 6th in America, I got Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Obama! Only a handful of students even considered that anyone but Obama was running for election. They all asked me who I had voted for, to which I replied that not only is that something we Americans like to keep private, it's a matter that should never be discussed in school.

               *To help the kids understand how voting works in America, I showed them a map of the states from the Wall Street Journal with the country's electoral college breakdown and respective red or blue coloring. "Are there only 303 people in America?" I asked. They all looked a little closer at the map, and in each class someone would realize that there was something other than just a popular vote swaying the presidential race. 

               *After explaining that Republicans are red, elephants, and Romney versus the blue, donkey, Democratic Obama, I asked for two volunteers. One person would represent the Elephants and the other the Donkeys in our classroom campaign to decide what should be changed in the school. Non-candidate students each voiced at least one concern with the school- paint color, food quality, homework- and the candidates then picked two or three talking points from the list. With some nudging the students gave a mini-speech on how they would change the school and then waited in the hallway while the voters cast their ballots. For the older kids, I assigned everyone a state to make the electoral college idea more understandable. It was a hit! 

       - I tried to talk about advertising and word association with a couple of classes yesterday, hoping the kids would be able to build their own advertisement. The lesson I planned was a little too complicated, so I changed strategies. Today we played Scattergories, and I allowed the students to work in pairs. They really liked simple word associations, so I whipped out some pictures of football players getting tackled, players rejoicing, and a Snickers ad from Sports Illustrated and asked those same pairs to write down as many words as they knew in each picture with 1 minute on the clock. I explained the expression "a picture is worth a thousand words" too. Another hit! 

     All in all, things are going well. I finally have a set schedule in all three of my schools, and I'm getting better at crowd control. The kids still have private conversations in the middle of class and are generally rowdy, but the few groups that actually pay attention and work give me respite. I will post more about lesson plans and life in France soon!   

Roman baths, Sally Lunn's cinnamon buns, and Bennett Street in beautiful Bath

Roman Baths, the sacred pool, with a few Romans in the background.

     Bath is a difficult city name to explain to the French. "You went to take a bath during Toussaint?" asked one teacher I work with. "No, I went to a city called Bath. In England." Blank stares. "Les bains? (The baths?)" Yep, the old Roman ones in England. Bath, England. Semi-understanding looks. Good enough. 

     Bath was originally called Aquae Sulis and was established as a Roman Baths town due to the discovery of what the Romans deemed "sacred springs." Said springs spring from the ground and are heated from deep within the earth's core. They're still a comfy 90* F, but the bubbles are from a chemical reaction. They're not boiling. I wouldn't jump in though. You can taste these healing waters at the Baths Museum- the museum's content is really geared more towards kids but it's a very well preserved Roman Bath space worth visiting. The water tastes like the water from my high school's fountains. Cade, LA water was orange, tasted way too similar to blood, and may have caused an extra finger or two to sprout from unsuspecting middle schoolers' hands when they misbehaved.

Bath Abbey Church altar.

     In the same square as the Roman Baths Museum is the Abbey Church, pictured above. Three different churches have occupied this spot since 757. Abbey Church presently dates to 1499, and it is known as the last great medieval church built in England. The inside is beautifully adorned with fanned vaulting- a more modern renovation in Victorian Gothic style- and a rare altar backdrop of various scenes from Jesus' life set in stained glass. There was also a lovely exhibition of a woman's needlework and calligraphy in the lefthand ambulatory. Sue Symon's diptychs include hand-written passages from the New Testament in golden calligraphy paired with her artistic interpretations in needlework.

Abbey Church Diptychs. 

   
     My first stop in Bath was to neither the Abbey Church nor the Roman Baths. I went to Sally Lunn's for breakfast before I did anything else. My friend Sarah told me that it was imperative that I go to this famous tea room for the Jane Austen coffee and a cinnamon bun. I love a good cinnamon roll, so why not?

     Sally Lunn was a French Huguenot who sought sanctuary in Bath in 1680. She got a job baking at a Bath tearoom and began making a brioche-like delicacy called the bun. It's a light and airy hamburger bun-looking bread that can be accompanied with sweet or savory toppings. Cinnamon butter is pretty delicious. This Frenchie's bread became so popular, the house and bakery where Sally Lunn worked were renamed in her honor. It's a pretty touristy destination, but the house is adorable and extremely old; it's got a nice lean to it and there are Roman remains beneath the cellar.

The bun. 

The Sally Lunn House. 

     After a bun and some coffee, I toured the Abbey Church and Baths then wandered toward Bath's famous Circus and Crescent town-homes. To the Americans out there, the word "circus" may draw images of elephants and clowns balancing on podiums under a big top to mind. In England a "circus" is a roundabout or large circular/oval plaza. Construction of the Gregorian-style townhouses in the Royal Circus began in 1754 and ended in 1768. Jane Austen fans will be happy to find a Bennett street and a Jane Austen Center on the way to the Circus. Bath is a great destination for fans of this author's work because she not only lived and wrote in Bath, many of her characters pass part of "the season" in Bath seeing and being seen- which is exactly what these town-homes built in the round serve to do in this glamorous city and past retreat for Britain's elite.

Bennett Street letting onto the Circus.

The Circus town-homes.

The Crescent town-homes. 

     If you walk from the Royal Circus toward the royal Crescent you're met with the sweeping view above. The Crescent's town-homes look out over a grassy knoll and a park that was filled with fall foliage on my visit. John Wood the Younger constructed the thirty Gregorian-style town-homes soon after building the Circus, between 1767 and 1774.  Obviously the problems of taxation without representation in the colonies fell on deaf ears in Bath; Bath is a social town, politics are better left to London. 

     The cloudy sky that hung oppressively over my head all day finally opened up and released it's burden around lunchtime. It took it as a sign to seek cover, and the nearest restaurant touted a sign claiming they were voted the Best Lunch in Bath for this year. I didn't try any other restaurants in Bath, but I agree. The Circus Cafe and Restaurant is adorable. I perched myself in the window to do some good old fashioned people watching while eating my fresh fish with butter beans and carrots and drinking my organic cider. This is a locally-sourced eatery with tasty menus that change daily. The Circus Cafe was a great way to end a lovely day, and Bath was a much better alternative to a day in Heathrow.

Fall colors across from the Crescent. 

Mot du jour Monday

     After a wonderful weekend in Paris celebrating Joanna's birthday, it was tough getting back to the grind this morning. Post-Thanksgiving productivity is always a little more difficult than usual thanks to long family meals and tryptophan (even though that's a myth). In France, if you want to say that you ate well/ate a lot, you would say "J'ai bien mange!" I think it's safe to say that most of us ate quite well this weekend and can use this phrase without fault. Happy Monday! Go mange bien encore with those left-overs.

Happy Thanksgiving!! Joyeuse Action de Grace!

Happy Dinde Day!

I love Garfield. Citation.

     I've enjoyed teaching my classes about the history and meaning of Thanksgiving this week. Before I started my lessons, I asked each class why they thought Americans celebrate this particular holiday. Most of them said that we just like to eat turkey, so we decided to make it into a national thing. One student said that it was to celebrate Christopher Columbus' first colony in America. Nice try. Yet another said that it was to thank the Indians for letting Americans into their land. There was no mention of the fact that America was only a colony at that point, and when I first tried to explain pilgrims- by drawing the traditional hat and costume- the kids thought I was talking about a leprechaun.

     After some discussion, I taught them all about the pilgrims, the Mayflower, Plymouth Rock, and Squanto. Hopefully some of it sank in, but I'm not overly hopeful. I had some of the classes make hand turkeys and write four things they're thankful this year in each feather. Hand turkeys are ageless, as in they never get old and it doesn't matter how old you are when you make them. I also showed them some videos of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade- which was a new concept for most, but they especially liked this video of New Orleans' own 610 stompers- and we talked about American football. All components of a good Thanksgiving, in my opinion. 

     When you're abroad, you feel the most foreign on days like this. Election day, Thanksgiving, the 4th of July, etc. are holidays that feel like a necessary part of American life, and when everyone around you is going about their day as if nothing was different or special it's a little unnerving. Luckily, I've been able to share the Thanksgiving story with people other than just my students. 

     I just had lunch at a place called Little Mum down the street from my apartment. Since it's so close, I've been quite a few times for lunch. The owner and her son, the chef, are extremely friendly, and they make wonderful salads, soups, and fresh tartes. I'm not entirely sure why we started talking about Thanksgiving, but the little mum wanted to know what the fuss was all about. We talked history and then, more importantly in this case, we talked food. 

     Usually pumpkin is used in dishes that the French would call sale, meaning salty, like soups. When I told her that we eat pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top her eyes lit up. "Can I have the recipe?!" she asked excitedly. It just so happens that my friend found a France-friendly recipe, they don't do canned pumpkin or pumpkin spice, so I was more than happy to oblige. In return for my stories and recipe, I got a little lagniappe of chocolate cake that she hoped I would share with my friends during our feast. That I will, little mum, that I will.

     I didn't get to make a hand turkey of my own in class, so here is what I would have written:
-So far this year, I'm thankful to have graduated from a wonderful institution of higher education with my sanity, wonderful friends whom I miss dearly, connections with the town of Davidson and with Davidson College professors that I hope to maintain for a long time, a great cheerleading career with a great squad, and a diploma full of knowledge and good times. 
-I am also thankful for this whirlwind opportunity that I have to teach the Frenchies a thing or two about English and break some stereotypes they have about Americans. I also get to live in the amazing city of Toulouse, which isn't a bad trade off. 
-I'm thankful for my health and good fortune, and that of my family and friends, and for the many blessings in my life- like the ability to travel and write freely right now. 
-Most importantly, I cannot express how thankful I am for my parents and handsome beau who have seen me through many a trial and tribulation, victory, and small success in this past year. 

     Tonight, I have the pleasure of cooking an American, French, and French Canadian-style Thanksgiving feast with two of the other American assistants. We will also have a Quebecoise who is excited to join in on the fete, and she is actually the one who found a turkey (they're not really "in season" in France until Christmastime). On the menu we have foie gras, prunes with goat cheese and wine sauce, steamed green beans and carrots, aligot- this ridiculously good fondu looking cheesy mashed potato goodness, and pumpkin pie. There's definitely going to be some wine in there as well. I should be able to Skype into my family's Thanksgiving too, so I'll get a twofer. 

     I hope everyone has a wonderful day full of thanks and good eats! Geaux Saints!    

Mot du jour

     Un cerf (une biche) means deer (doe), which is what was served at the first Thanksgiving meal. Also, Benjamin Franklin was a big proponent for making the turkey America's official bird instead of the bald eagle. I just wanted to give you a few things to think on as Thanksgiving approaches. Happy Monday!

Happy Beaujolais-ing!

Campaign poster for this year's Beaujolais. Love the dress! 

     Yesterday, really every third Thursday of November since 1985, the Beaujolais Nouveau was released. Beaujolais is a type of wine- made in the Beaujolais region of France, near Lyon- that is meant to be tasted soon after the harvest (la recolte). In fact, the wine is bottled only 6-8 weeks after harvest. It's very young (nouveau means new), very purple if held against a white surface, kind of fruity, not too intense, and usually served slightly chilled.

     Summer may be over, but wine season has just begun. Thus, the French find occasion to celebrate. In Lyon, wine barrels are rolled into the street, and revelers/ tasters are give the first taste of Beaujolais. There is even a Beaujolais marathon. Some 8,000 runners will take to the small streets of villages and countryside chateaux Saturday morning. There are 13 towns along the route, 9 tasting rooms, and orchestras play in the background. Costumes are encouraged. And here I thought only New Orleans loved day drinking and running in costumes.

     Look for some Beaujolais wherever you may be, and toast to the start of a new season. Hopefully you don't feel as down as the man on the right afterward.

"The Beaujolais Nouveau is here. 'So, this Beaujolais? Does it taste like cherries?' 'No, it tastes like economic crisis.'" 

Cambridge for the day

     Sorry for my absence as of late. It took me a while to get over the jet lag, and I'm not entirely convinced that it's over yet. Here is the promised post on Cambridge with Bath coming soon.

The backside of King's College, Cambridge.

     802 years later, this grande dame of education still looks pretty spiffy. Quite, quite. I had visited Oxford in the past, so it was time to see what Cambridge is all about. Colleges are different in France, and the same goes for Britain. Chips are really French fries and crisps are chips. Colleges at Cambridge, and Oxford for that matter, are part of the larger university, but they also provide housing and other activities for students under their collective net. Brits say they are "going to university, or uni" in lieu of "going to college." So, when you visit Cambridge, you're really seeing multiple college campuses within the larger university system. There are 31 colleges that house and teach students at Cambridge. At trip to this uni is for lovers of architecture, science, history, waterways, well-manicured British gardens, and nature enthusiasts alike. 

     After a failed attempt at getting back to America post-Sandy, I decided to salvage the rest of my day with a day trip. A jaunt if you will. After some tears and a call home, I did what most self respecting Londoners wouldn't dare. I hailed a cabbie. It was therapeutic and probably cost about as much as a good hour of therapy would. My cabbie also let me know that the weather was projected to be sunny in Cambridge that day and rainy the next. Bath was the inverse. Not only did he bring me back to Marianne's flat, he unknowingly planned out my following two days in London.

     After schlepping my bags to Marianne's school to retrieve her key, I made my way to King's Cross. Did I stare longingly at Platform 9 and 3/4 as preteens and Asian tourists posed with their Hogwarts trolley? I did, but I didn't indulge. Britain's ability to embrace the magic is still fun to see. I digress.

     The train to Cambridge only takes about an hour an a half, and you pass through some lovely British countryside scenes along the way. There were lots of sheep. I lucked out with a seat mate who's daughter lives in Cambridge, so I asked for some suggestions. She told me to just get a pocket map of the city and wander. That I did. It's funny because people say the same thing about Venice, minus the map. They just tell you to wander around the waterways and bridges, away from San Marco, until you find a spot that catches your eye and your nose. 

     With my memories of Venetian wandering, I stashed the map in my pocket for the day and strolled the streets. I tried my best to look like a student, but I think my gawking gave me away. I'm a sucker for ancient architecture and revered learning all in one place. Add a river and a good meal and you have the recipe for a great afternoon. 

     My first stop was a gift shop with toys and trinkets designed with vintage flair like old folding maps, locally made scarves, and gloves. The gloves caught my eye. The store is right next to Auntie's Tea Shop, which looked like a good stop too. I bypassed the tea and went straight for lunch since I arrived around 1pm. I chose the Cambridge Chop House purely because I could people watch and study the King's College chapel as I ate my bangers, aka house-made sausage, and mash with creamy mustard sauce. For the bad reputation that traditional British cuisine usually gets, I have to say it was pretty good. 

   
     Davidson actually has a summer program in Cambridge, so it did feel a little like home. All of the hastily stashed bikes with wicker baskets and harried looking students made it really seem Davidson-esque. If you've had your fill of London, which some might say "tired of London, tired of life" to, Cambridge is a great place for a stroll amongst the fall foliage. Every turn was picturesque and bookishly romantic. 

Why go for a gondola ride on the Grand Canal when you can punt on the River Cam?

   

Mot dour jour Monday

     Since I'm back in France, and back in school, it's time for another word of the day. Today's word is... chamailler (se), which means to squabble. The kids at my schools like to se chamaillent from time to time. Then again, which middle schoolers don't, really?

Londontown for costumes, cider, and French things

     Marianne and I started our Saturday nice and lazy, the way you should. We were going to attempt a trip to Bath or Cambridge, but the London Underground had other plans. Half of the tube lines were completely shut down for the day for repairs, which was fine because it gave us an excuse to go to one of the most interesting museums in London.

     The Victoria and Albert museum was established in 1852 to take advantage of the Great Exhibition of 1851's tailwind of success. The museum acquired copious amounts of art from every medium with help from an enthusiastic Prince Albert, and later Queen Victoria, hence the name. The collection includes works from all over the world because its original goal was to educate Britain's working class. More importantly, manufacturers were asked to look to the museum for inspiration in the modern era.

     There are two big exhibitions at the V&A right now. We went for the collection of famous costumes- including Dorothy's dress and ruby slippers, Darth Vader, Marilyn Monroe's white dress, Batman, Spider-Man, Jack Sparrow, Scarlett O'Hara's drapery dress, and the Breakfast at Tiffany's little black number. It was very well curated, and the mannequins are to scale with the actors' bodies so you get a real sense of how tiny most of the women are and how short the men folk seem. There was a fashion through the ages exhibit too, which I recommend.

     We met up with some fellow Americans at an Australian bar afterward to watch the Patriots v. Rams game in London. Weird. There were actually some Brits dressed in NFL gear in front of Buckingham Palace earlier that day. I thought they were Storm Troopers at first, but either way it was a strange sight to see in front of the queen's abode.

     Sunday markets are super popular all over Europe; they're not just a new age hipster fad like farmers markets seem to be in America. London has food markets, but their trinket markets are funky fun. Camden Market is one of the more well known clothing/miscellany markets. We took a chance and the up and coming Brick Lane area. Crowds of yuppies and more discerning folk flooded the streets. Vintage stores, cozy cafes, and strange novelty shops complimented the pick-a-country food stalls. You could sample cuisine from literally anywhere in the world. The mixture of spices and savory meats made for a sensory overload. Marianne spotted arepas, corn cakes usually accompanied by a pulled pork filling and found in Venezuela, and we chowed down. We also had a few Strongbow ciders and blackened ciders- Marianne loves black currant so this kirish colored cider is her drink of choice- along the way.

     We also walked for a long long time that day. Our self-perpetuated tour started around Westminster Abbey and winded us through Kensington. It was a tour of London's swanky, whitewashed, stately homes mixed in with the occasional embassy. That night we kept going with our culinary world tour with some Indian cuisine. London does Indian right, and Guglee does too.

     Monday saw me at my groggiest as I prepared to trudge to Heathrow in case there was a way for me to get to the States. As you know, that didn't happen. I decided to take advantage of the day because how often do you get stuck in London with a full day at your disposal?

     I wrote my senior history thesis on the social life of the Free French Forces stationed in London during WWII. Naturally my first thought for the day's activities was an historical pilgrimage. One of the biggest watering holes for Free Frenchies in London during the war was none other than Soho's French House. The bar's origins harken back to the days of French Huguenots' exile in Protestant England- 17th century. It remained a place of refuge for the French, and still does, by serving more wine than beer and being "the only bar in London without pints." The door even asks you to poussez in lieu of pushing. The bar interests me because its rumored that Charles de Gaulle wrote his speech- the appeal of June 18th- rallying together any French willing to fight to free the motherland from Nazi tyranny. You could say that the bar's atmosphere gave flight to the Free French ideal that day and kept their spirits high with Cote du Rhone and pumpkin soup later on. One of the articles I used in my thesis hung on the wall, and gleaming Allied faces thanked me for the visit. I left felling full as a cup, or a verre of wine depending on which side of the door you're on.

The French House!

     I also did some research before heading to Soho to find the area's best coffee shop. Sometimes wine is best followed by a good cup of joe. According to Time Out London- a good reference for London's hotspots and events for the week- the clear choice was Flat White. It's a latte-esque drink from New Zealand that goes down quite smoothly. My flat white and I went for a walk toward Piccadilly Circus to see all of the pretty lights, and I stopped in some arcades to do some window shopping along the way. It was my personal rendition of Breakfast at Tiffany's for the day because I mostly googled at estate jewelry and tiaras.

     To finish off my afternoon I walked toward Buckingham Palace and veered off toward Green Park for some people watching and puppy patting. My theory on getting to know a city is this: don't go to the top ten tourist destinations if you want a good feel for the people who give life to a modern city, sit in a park. Watch the world go by. Talk to a family. I visited Green Park and Hyde Park because they're directly across the street from one another. Green is a simple park that lets the foliage do the talking, but Hyde Park has a nice lake, manicured flower formations, and in the summer you can rent a lounge chair for the day. You can also see the monument pictured to the right between the two. It was recently commissioned for Queen Elizabeth II's diamond jubilee to honor the brave bombardiers who fought in WWII. It was nice to pay my respects after a day of WWII tributes.

     London is a fascinating place, immediately, because Britain is so in tune with its past, but Brits are more willing to part with tradition and break molds than the French. Younger Brits experiment with fashion's funkier side, and young chefs are setting a new pace for London's culinary scene. There is a culinary scene, that is. Since I've been to London a few times, I felt comfortable exploring new neighborhoods and taking advantage of the time United Airlines and hurricane Sandy gave me to have adventures. I couldn't be happier that I did. Get ready for my two day trips in the near future!

Week 1 of my vacation, or why I dislike Heathrow and hurricanes

   
      I deemed October an adjustment month early on. Daily curveballs in France have kept me on my toes, and I think it was in preparation for the patience needed to finally make my way to Boston. Boston? Let me explain from the beginning.

     Break started off just fine. A coworker took me to get coffee at La Fiancée, and I said goodbye to the boys. I also had the pleasure of meeting Joanna's parents there as well. It's funny how small worlds converge. My bags were packed and ready to go. I made it to London Gatwick airport, successfully boarded the Gatwick express train to London's Victoria station (book express train tickets to London airports online to avoid overpaying on the train same day), and within minutes I would safely arrive at my friend's charming West Hamstead flat. Only, the tube closed just as I attempted to buy a ticket.

     For some reason there were no cute old British cabbies waiting 'neath the taxi sign at 12:30 am. So, I had to settle for a mini cab and haggle my way to my friend's doorstep. I'm pretty sure she was ready to alert my family members, and my dad may have gone all Liam Nielsen a la Taken in response. Crisis averted.

     Marianne, my ever gracious host and fellow French major from Davidson, is the best. She was expecting to have me couch surfing for a couple of days. Those days fast turned into a week all thanks to a certain  Frankenstorm named Sandy.

     I hate hurricanes. Everyone does, minus the fridge depleting hurricane parties we like to have down south, and my heart and prayers go out to everyone affected by Sandy. We've been through our fair share of hurricanes in Louisiana, and they never get easier. New York- and much of the upper east coast- has some long days ahead, but if ever there was a city that could band together and fight for survival it's New York.

     I am in full health, and I'm lucky to be living in France and on vacation at the moment. This is not a complaint against the storm or my situation thereto fore, just an update on more whirlwind adventures. I knew upon arriving in London that the chances of my getting to Boston this past Monday were dwindling fast. First my flight to Boston was cancelled, but the first leg of my journey to D.C. was still on. I went to Heathrow on Monday to talk to the airline personnel in person and sort out my flight change. The poor harrowed clerk worked with me and booked me through Chicago to Boston the next morning. Perfect. I have a dear friend in Chicago for grad school. I hope she's ready for a visitor.

     The next morning I packed my bags, took the tube to Paddington station, boarded the Heathrow express, and felt optimistic about the day of travel ahead. I approached the ticket counter to check in, handed over my passport, but I wasn't given a boarding pass I return. Instead, I was told that the computer had automatically rerouted my original flight for November 1st through Houston to Boston. My name wasn't on the fully-booked flight to Chicago's register. I may have unwillingly cried in public.

     I couldn't handle lugging my luggage through multiple forms of London's public transit for the third time in two days, so I broke down and hailed a cab. A real cab this time. After sorting things out with my parents and boyfriend, I was happy to have a couple more days in London after all. It's not a bad place to get stuck. The cabbie handed me his paper as I mulled the day's events. The weather man predicted sun in the east over Cambridge that day and clear skies over Bath in the west on Wednesday. Cheerio, pip pip, I love a good day trip.


     Look forward to detailed accounts of the good times I ended up having in London, Cambridge, and Bath. If you need detailed directions to and from Heathrow, I've got you covered there too.

La Toussaint

Citation.

 
   Halloween is synonymous with October 31st in most Americans' minds; to the French la Toussaint means November 1st. To the kids I'm teaching it means today is the Friday before break, so it's tough to pay attention. Unless there is candy involved. They're learning about Halloween, so as long as they play along and trick or treat they get some well traveled Reese's. Peanut butter is a strange food to French people; my students didn't complain, though.

     Toussaint is a contraction of the words tous and saint, which means "all saints." To start off my lessons this week I asked the kids why France celebrates Toussaint. Many of them had no idea. Since I grew up in southwest Louisiana, I'm quite familiar with All Saint's Day. It's a holy day of obligation in the Catholic church, and since France was once predominately Catholic the holiday is still a national day off.

     More traditional French families will gather at their family's cemetery to honor their ancestors and place chrysanthemums on their graves. Chrysanthemums signify death and remembrance in France. Usually when you go to a French person's home you bring flowers as a gift. You never bring wine, unless asked, because if you're going for dinner your host probably paired a special wine with the particular dishes being served. You should also avoid chrysanthemums it would seem.

Chrysanthemums, in case you weren't sure what they look like.  Don't buy these as a gift in France.

     In Louisiana's Cajun country many families go to cemeteries for All Saint's Day. Families leave flowers, but they will also repaint and clean the graves. In other countries, like Mexico, All Soul's Day is when you would visit the family cemetery. Since November 2nd isn't a national holiday in France, the French go with the 1st.

     La Toussaint is the first major break in the school calendar. The kiddos started school on September 4, and they now have a two week break starting today. We start school again on Monday, November 12. It's a long break! So I've worked for two weeks, and now I have two weeks off. Not a bad life.

     I'm headed to London tonight to stay with a Davidson friend who is teaching at an American school there. A day trip to bath and a Ravens v. Patriots pub session are in order this weekend. More on the rest of my break later, but until then happy Friday!

Emile Friant, La Toussaint, 1888, oil on canvas. A beautiful depiction of a family headed to the cemetery. Citation. 

Stravinsky et la danse...a little culture.

Poster from the original Stravinsky et la danse performance. Citation. 

     Last night, Elizabeth and I had our first Toulouse opera/ballet/orchestra experience. All at the same time. We watched Stravinsky et la danse on opening night, which was made more special because Elizabeth actually knew one of the dancers. Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) was an extremely influential Russian composer, and he also worked in both America and France, in the early twentieth century. His works transitioned from super modern to neoclassical, and the ballet last night was a combination of both.

     Stravinsky et la danse was performed by the various musical and artistic groups connected with the Toulouse Opera to inaugurate the new ballet director's first season. It was pretty amazing hearing the opera singers chime in with the bellowing violins and pianos of the symphony while the ballet dancers interpreted the sounds above on stage. Beautiful. Strange, but beautiful. If you're looking for those classical lovely lines you usually see in ballet, you won't find them here. Instead of pointed toes the dancers leap with flat feet, and pre-robot moves replace the gracefully uplifted arm.

     This particular interpretation of Stravinsky and the Ballet Ruses included three different ballet sets. First was Pulcinella, who is a member of the comedia dell'arte- the very specific masked character types of Italian Renaissance theatre (starting in the 16th century) that influenced the structure of theatrical performances throughout Europe for centuries- distinguished by his white outfit and long-nosed mask. His temperament is usually mean and crafty. In this version, the clown-like figure tricks his love by having various members of the community dress exactly like him. It's sad and heart-warming at the same time.

     Symphonie de Psaumes was written in 1930. Stravinsky started writing in Nice and finished in Switzerland. The piece is based on Oedipus Rex, and it was written for both a choir and orchestra. The dancers wore simple costumes and used various formation changes for emphasis. This piece was less light-hearted than the former piece; the dramatic choir voices made it sound like the start of a war scene in the Lord of the Rings. Sorry if that comparison offends anyone.

     Noces means "wedding," so this ballet is an interesting interpretation of a wedding ceremony. There are multiple brides and multiple grooms, and all of the brides are carried off stage in interesting body positions that make them look like confused mannequins. The ballet first premiered in 1923 in Paris.

     Stravinsky's musical groundbreaking followed on the heals of the Art Nouveau movement at the turn of the century in Paris. Art started going toward a less representative form of real life and leaning toward abstraction. The same happened with music and ballet.

     I first learned about Stravinsky my sophomore year in college during my two-year long Humanities program. His music is striking and strange, but I really enjoyed this performance. Toulouse has a really nice deal for anyone younger than 26, so the opera is very accessible. The cle jeune capitole and the chequier jeune allow you to access museums, the AirBus factory, cinemas, and the opera in Toulouse for 18 euros a year. The cle capitole is an additional 10 euros, but you get access to three performances in the Capitole whether they be ballet, orchestra, or theatre. If you're young and living in Toulouse, do like the brochure says and "free your couch." Buy the chequier. You won't regret it.

A view of the beautiful Theatre du Capitole from the inside. Elizabeth and I got last minute student tickets 15 minutes before the show for 10 euros. We were on the second row in the Orchestra section. Not too shabby. Citation.

   

Week 2...I'm actually teaching!

     It is the week of October 22nd. My contract with the French government began on October 1st. It only took 22 days for me to lead a class on my own. Success! What did we talk about? Halloween and the presidential elections! Both are pretty scary subjects in France in my book.

     Here's my lesson plan for the week:

- I start every class off with a volunteer. One person writes the day as we would in America. In France the date is written day/month/year, and it is said, "le 23 octobre." Another volunteer draws the weather, le meteo, and everyone says something they did the day before or over the weekend. It's a warm up to get everyone in English mode and allows them to use both present and past tenses within the first five minutes.

- Halloween- I wanted to incorporate an introduction and description element to my Halloween lesson plan. I also wanted to talk about Halloween with each class, and because the levels of English are quite varied I made the lesson general and fairly simple.

Citation.

     * First, I asked the class what holiday was fast approaching in both France and America. Halloween! La Toussaint- All Saint's Day- is the French holiday, which falls on November 1st. Traditionally people visit cemeteries to lay flowers on loved ones' graves, and they pray to their patron saint. It's a Catholic tradition that is also celebrated in Mexico and other Latino countries, Dia de las Muertas. Louisianians paint tombs, clean cemeteries, and lay flowers to pay their respects as well. 

     * Next I described the history of trick or treating in America. Do you know why we wear funny costumes and ask people we don't know for candy? Halloween is actually a tradition brought to us from Ireland with the wave of Irish immigration in the 1840s. It was a pagan holiday celebrated around harvest time and the changing of the seasons, and people believed that at this particular time of year spirits roamed the Earth. All Hallow's Eve, Hallow E'en/Hallow Evening, is that witching hour of midnight on October 31st when the dead rise and grim grimmy ghosts come out to socialize. The religious holiday eventually replaced the pagan ritual, but people continued to leave offerings of food and drink outside their doors to appease the spirits. Everyone caught on to this and many decided to disguise themselves in an attempt to get some free food. Trick or treat.

     * I had to teach the kids the trick or treat poem, but I taught the non-"I'll pull down your underwear version." It goes:

Trick or treat. Trick or treat. Give me something good to eat. Give me candy, give me cake, give me something good to take.

     * Once everyone had that down, I passed out slips of paper with traditional costume names- black cat, bat, witch, ghost, vampire, werewolf, mummy, etc. We played a little game where each student had to visit "my house," recite the poem above, and then describe their costume. If I guessed what they were then in theory they got a treat. I brought Reese's along from the States, but I decided not to give them out for fear of peanut allergies. 

     * Halloween was popular in France for about ten years in the 90s, but it's lost popularity. Most of the kids had never dressed up, but I asked them to think of a costume idea anyway. A blue chicken was the most interesting response I heard.  

-Presidential Elections- We had a little time at the end of my first class to discuss the elections. Everyone knew Obama's name, but Mitt Romney was a little harder to pull from them. The French, adults, are super interested in the elections. I've read fully translated transcripts of each debate in French the morning after all three. I have yet to meet anyone who isn't a fan of Obama. They also want to know who I'll be voting for, but that I'll never tell. 

     

     As a lagniappe, in browsing for lesson plan ideas I found this gem. Scared Canadians, grown men and teenage boys for the most part, caught on hidden camera. Click here immediately. I especially like 11, 13, 20, and 28 (date night gone wrong?). Made me laugh out loud in my apartment.

Mot du Jour...and the Saints Go Marching In Part 2

     I have many words of the day for today. Attraper means to catch. Lancer means to throw. "Tu cours trop vite" means you run to fast...for me to catch you and tear of your flag football flag belt.

     Joanna went to a French flag football practice last week and graciously invited me along for tonight's practice. I wore my New Orleans Saints football shirt just to look official. The moment I arrived someone took notice of the Saints emblem, a fleur de lys, and told me how much they like the saints. They liked the Cowboys better, though. Seriously, what is it with Texas. It's a great state, but I don't get the French-Texas connection. In any case, the Saints are still number one in my heart. Coach-less season aside. It was great to hear some American football banter, and everyone loved Drew Brees which is reason enough for me to like them already.

     My brother taught me how to play football, and my dad helped out too, so I felt comfortable just jumping right in. I thought it would be pretty low key, but these guys- and one other girl who was French but definitely showed us Americans up- mean business. We ran drills, then plays, then we scrimmaged. Luckily there is no tackling because I think some of them may have once played rugby. Huge. Scary. So not what I would expect from a French person. I'm still not the best at actually catching the ball, but the coach was confident that after a few more practices I would be ready for the Super Bowl.

     The team name is Ours Toulouse (oohrs), which means the Toulouse Bears. They practice on Mondays and Thursdays, so it looks like I've found myself a hobby and a team to belong to. After doing sports for so long it feels strange to not have that team atmosphere. One of the players heard I was once a cheerleader, and he put me in contact with Toulouse's own pom pom girl squad. Apparently they're pretty new, cheerleading only just caught on in France in the last ten years, so he thought I might enjoy coaching or even participating. Cheerleading year 9. Bring it on!

     I hope this week brings you a new hobby or new friends as it has for me. A plus...