Voting from afar

One of the main reasons for my starting this blog was an earnest attempt, on my part, to keep in contact with as many people as possible as I venture across the pond to Toulouse, France for 8 months. I'm notoriously bad at answering my phone/e-mail on the first try, but I'm doing better all the time. Plus, I do get back to you eventually, so that has to be worth something. 

During my time abroad I'll work as an employee of the French government in the Tarn academie of the Midi-Pyrenees region. I'm teaching baby Frenchies English, or at least that's what my Visa says. Most "assistants," as we're called, work in either the primary or secondary education sector. France hires over 1,200 assistants each year to give French children exposure to native English, Spanish, and German speakers. You can even teach in the Caribbean! The public school system is still confusing to me, so I won't try to compare it to our system just yet.  

So, for today's little something extra, I decided to go through a bullet on my to-do list. Amongst other things, a visit to New Iberia's voter registration office was in order. I figured getting a mail-in ballot for France would be a huge ordeal. I pictured the OMV, but the people at the courthouse were super nice and helpful. If ever you're abroad during an election, you can have a ballot faxed to your address. You vote. You fax the ballot back. You've successfully exercised your rights as an American all while drinking a glass of wine and eating a crepe. At least that's hope how my presidential election season will play out. 

What's lagniappe?

Lagniappe is a little Cajun word we use in south Louisiana. Have you ever been to a cafe at the end of the day, and your heart sinks because the place looks closed? All you want is that afternoon coffee. Instead, the owner taps on the window to motion you in, greets you with a smile, serves up a latte with a heart, and throws in a little something extra to your order. A cookie? For me? You're surprised, delighted even, because it was an unnecessary gesture of kindness, and it's a small reminder of the golden rule. If you pay it forward and treat others as you would like to be treated, eventually the world gives you a little gift. That, my friends, is lagniappe; a little something extra.

Growing up, Lagniappe Cafe Too was my family's favorite restaurant. My first visit to Lagniappe was in a carrier at the ripe age of 6 months, and my last was at their closing dinner 21 years later. The owners/chefs, Mr. Al and Mrs. Elaine, produced some of the best Cajun cuisine in southwestern Louisiana, definitely the best gumbo by far. Mrs. Elaine could make soup from stones, even though she was a piano teacher and doll maker from Chicago in a past life. Mr. Al tried his best to talk to everyone in the place, but his tales and toddies kept him at our table for hours. His love of all things French, painting, architecture, and that warm feeling you get from good company and great food made lagniappe not only a word, but more of a lifestyle, a philosophy.

So, if this blog had a mission statement it would be to propagate the lagniappe lifestyle. New Iberia, Louisiana is home for me, but I love to travel and explore. I just graduated from Davidson College with a B.A. in History and French, and my next adventure will be in Toulouse, France as an assistant English teacher in a French elementary. Wherever the wind takes me, I hope you'll join in for some discussions of history, language, Louisiana, food, travel, mind, body, and soul.

Take each day to give a little something extra, say a little something extra, and maybe you'll receive a little something extra in return.