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.