Hello dearly beloved,
This will hopefully be kept a bit more concise, as things are sort of busy at the moment. I'm gearing up for supertrip 2008-09, which will be my first trip spanning two different years. I'm sure I've described this already on here, but what's the harm in a little redundancy? It's good for the memory, and besides, the trip has been expanded a bit:
Dec 19-22: Visiting Marta in Madrid
22-26: Hanging out with Scott VIII, Kevin XXIII, and Benedict XVI in Rome.
26-30: Damage control in Athens (tentative)...staying alive with Scottistotle and Kevinopoulos
Dec 30-Jan 3: Le Retour a Paris- Touring with Thomas and greeting Robby as he gets off the plane in a new year!
Jan 3-4: The Beginning is the End, in St. Etienne...a revisit/goodbye to Leila before she goes to Brazil
Eighteen days, over 5800 km (3600 miles), 4 planes and 2 trains, crossing the Pyrenees and the Alps twice over, 3 of the 5 largest cities in Europe, capital cities of 4 different countries (If I continue listing useless facts like this, it makes it seem impressive and interesting, yes?). I am extremely excited for this trip...I have seen all of these places but Athens before, but it's moreso seeing the friends that has me pumped. It will be a sweet mixture of time spent with my American and European friends.
We were worried about Athens and riots and whatnot, but I think at the moment things seem good enough there. We'll keep an eye out on the situation, but for now it seems acceptable. Scott promised to come draped in a US flag, and Kevin's tattooed Texas Tech logos all over his face and body, so we should be good. Drink of choice for this party: Molotov cocktail.
Returning to the boring details of everyday life: As it turned out, I once again did not work my reguarly scheduled 12 hours this week. After last week's 7 hour marathon, I followed it up with a hefty time-and-a-half-worthy 5 hour work week. Not my doing, of course. Two teachers weren't going to be there for some of their courses, so I didn't have those. This morning I went to the middle school only to find out that the teacher with whom I was supposed to work 4 hours was not there. Thus, no worky. As I'd seen transpiring in the morning, students at the adjacent high school where I work were in the process of blocking the entrance in protest of next year's reforms, as has become the trend in France over the past week. Way to catch on late, guys. Seeing a few of my students as I left the premises, I made note to tell them that this was a display of laziness. Because I clearly have the right to talk.
The other day, I walked into one of those stores that's a combo department/grocery store, and I was browsing around looking for travel-size toiletries. I, being a rather gauche person, had one of those typical moments that I think a lot of men have in this type of store...where you're strolling, mindlessly looking for deodorant or body wash when suddenly you come to and realize you weren't paying close enough attention, and you have the misfortune of finding yourself in some sort of women's hygiene aisle. Of course, you are the only male in this aisle. After a brief shock-and-stop, if the expression on your face isn't enough, you have to visibly show your discomfort by your body language to let those around you understand the regret caused by your error. After all, what creepster wants to be the one snooping around in these foreign territories of the grocery store?
Shortly after said uncomfortable experience, I was looking at simple, white T-shirts, as made famous by idols of mine such as T.I. and Andy Pasternak. these, of course, are usually located next to the boxers and such. At this point, I was reminded of the discomfort forced upon me and, I am sure other men as well, when even nearing the boxer section...a specific type of clothing aimed at US. If this is the case, why is there always that stupid picture of some dude flexing for all he's worth while wearing nothing but boxers? And idiotically grinning either at the camera or at some "unseen person"? This is not impressing or seducing us, nor is it encouraging us to buy the product. Put some damn clothes on and quit looking like an idiot. Who in the marketing department of Hanes thinks this is a good idea?
Continuing on the topic of unidentifiable people who are no good at everything: I would not trust the French postal service with mailing a postcard...let alone the bank code to access my account on line. Unfortunately, banks in France feel that the latter should be IMPOSSIBLE to obtain in person, thinking it more secure to send this little code through the unreliable mail so that it ends up in the hands of whoever may find it at whatever address it was wrongly sent to. After all, being present in person is not enough to prove that you exist and are the holder of an account. This was a problem last time I was here (when the bank was literally 5 minutes walking from my residence), and after 2 or 3 demands this time, it continues to be a problem. Today, after noticing my account balance was 150 euros lower than expected (surprising because I've been carefully noting my expenditures this month), I asked at the nearest branch to see my account transactions for the past few weeks. Of course, this was unavailable unless I go to the branch at which I started the account, and I can't access it online. I proceeded to express my disgust to a teller at my bank today (Societe Generale) by saying that the French postal service resembled something from a Third World nation. This is, of course, impolite and disrespectful- to the Third World. The irony of this is that La Poste not only serves as the postal service, but also a bank...a mind-boggling conundrum that one must conclude forms the ultimate black hole of lost bank materials.
Finally, I've noticed lately that there are still bits and pieces of the French language that can be difficult to adapt to. For example, when someone offers a "grosse pizza," the natural response is "Ewww, you can keep that one yourself." In reality, however, a large pizza might be nice to share. Other phrases, such as saying "Coucou!" to greet someone, just sound too goofy to be used seriously. Finally, sometimes the blatant use of English words is a bit laughable. I can't help but chuckle when I hear someone refer to a before or after party as a "beforrrhh" or an "afterrhh," and I still find it amusing that they love to say "bon weekend!" and call things "cool" or "top." Yes, we use quite a few French words in English, but their choice of words to use seems to be...less than the best. As a means of amusing oneself, however, it is fun to jokingly use these in daily conversation.
That's all the rant I've got for now..."Concise" got lost along the way, but whatever. It'll probably be at least 18 days before this gets updated again, so I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. In the mean time, I'll be eating some of the "grossest" pizzas you could imagine over the holidays in Italia.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Jettez l'ancre
Salut, hola, hallo, hello, what it is and what it ain't? I apologize for the long span between entries, but, after the uselessness of the last one, and the length of the one before that, we were due for a break, non?
Shoutout today to Dan G., who's turning 22. Also to Mr. Robert Cenzon, turning 23 on Thursday. These are probably my two American friends that I share the most in common with in terms of our France interest(s). As a result of said interest, Mr. Bert will soon be returning to France for quite a while, and we will likely be celebrating the New Year together...but, like, not kissing and stuff at midnight. Probably just singing with French people.
La vie hasn't been that entertaining lately. In the last week or so I briefly entered panic mode about improving my French, but I guess it's coming along more steadily now. The problem is that my forum of expertise within the language (verlan and gros mots) is not (usually) one that can be interspersed with great ease during the course of a normal conversation. I'll just have to learn some technical engineering language. That way, when people talk about things I don't really care about, and they refuse to stop talking in spite of the fact that no one else is participating in the conversation (this happens somewhat frequently in French culture, by the way), I can turn the conversation to an even more boring topic, of which they will have little knowledge. Although I am not there yet, this dawned on me today in, roughly, the following context (translated, of course, for your amusement):
There is a really nice teacher at the high school, but she talks more than anyone I know, and when you're trying to get something done before a class, this can be difficult. Today, the question was posed to me, "Greg, what is your favorite aspect of French literature?"
Well, to be honest, I would like to know about this topic a bit more, but I will readily admit that my knowledge is lacking in American and English literature, let alone that of the French.
"Well, I am not really familiar with French lit."
"Do you like poesie?" (I'm leaving that word untranslated because it's funnier to me for some reason)
"Hmm, probably mathematics."
Game, set, math. Conversation: OVER. One could say I threw a zero into the denominator of that exchange.
In other news, I'm excited for traveling over the Christmas break, during which I'll see Marta in Madrid and then meet my friends Scott and Kevin to see Rome, Athens, and (briefly) Paris. Right now, as you may know, there are some riots taking place in Athens. I have an unfounded certainty that this will be settled before our Dec. 26 arrival. Although this occurrence is somewhat of a scary thought at this date, the bright side could be that we three Dallasites finally get to experience the kind of mayhem and looting that we were too young for during the 1993 Dallas Cowboys championship parade. Nostalgia, no?
On that note, the Cowboys, as is the case with all Dallas franchises, recently provided us with another last-minute, heartbreaking meltdown. This should be expected. In fact, I feel there would be reason for disappointment if this weren't the case. However, always looking on the bright side, there has been a lot of media attention directed lately toward Plaxico Burress's recent shooting of Plaxico Burress in a nightclub. As it turns out, Plaxico Burress has been suspended for the season by his team and could be facing jail time for this act of aggression, and Plaxico Burress had to be rushed to the hospital by Plaxico Burress's teammate. Plaxico Burress was already rehabbing a hamstring problem before this cruel and uncalled-for attack resulted in another minor injury. Athletes these days. I say bright side, by the way, because this story is nothing less than hilarious and awesome, and I've brought it up at least twice to French people.
Recently, I was extremely disappointed to read a rather conciliatory-sounding public statement by Lance Armstrong regarding his return to the Tour, in which he said he would try to support the best rider on the team. This is not the kind of "We're gonna win, baby!" comment I like to hear, but as long as Lance doesn't shoot Lance in the leg, maybe he's got a chance. I was asked last week what I thought about the return. I responded to my French colleague by loosely referencing the words of French swimmer Alain Bernard, who this summer made a statement in reference to the American relay team with Jason Lezak and Michael Phelps saying, "We will explode them. We came here for that." Of course, after the team anchor's stupid statement and historic collapse, I feel the need to bring him up at critical moments (jettez l'ancre, France). This was a critical moment because it was in anticipation of the irritating response that is guaranteed in France regarding Lance: "You want him to win, even if he's doping?" Holding my tongue, I had to explain how he was never found guilty of any doping, and 8 years later some agency decides to start retesting old urine samples that were not found to be problematic before. I don't even like what Lance Armstrong has done in his personal life, but the people here are clearly jealous of his success. Additionally, they ignore what a joke the Tour has become the past few years, with large numbers of riders being expelled from the race for doping. When the topic was extended to American athletes who have been found guilty of doping, and the valor of Americans then questioned, I was tempted to demand whether they thought doping was necessary on our nation's part in helping overcome the Germans in World War 2. In spite of the choice words I wanted to offer, that's not fair to do to them, but it must be pointed out that there are intelligent and stupid athletes (see above) everywhere. Putain.
On a less bitter note, one professor at the high school is not having her courses this week, meaning that my workload has been cut to a more bearable 7 hours. I used some of my free time yesterday to make one of my most exciting purchases in recent memory: 3 euros for 25 of these creme-filled chocolate things that are rather indescribable.
As you may be able to see, some of them have coconut. I just read that coconut oil is likely to be beneficial in the prevention of heart disease. I don't even know what coconut oil by itself is like, but tell me no more. In the ultimate effort to combat heart disease, I could soon begin a diet consisting of no more than coconut oil and red wine. Unless, of course, 8 years later this is going to present problems with my urine samples.
Shoutout today to Dan G., who's turning 22. Also to Mr. Robert Cenzon, turning 23 on Thursday. These are probably my two American friends that I share the most in common with in terms of our France interest(s). As a result of said interest, Mr. Bert will soon be returning to France for quite a while, and we will likely be celebrating the New Year together...but, like, not kissing and stuff at midnight. Probably just singing with French people.
La vie hasn't been that entertaining lately. In the last week or so I briefly entered panic mode about improving my French, but I guess it's coming along more steadily now. The problem is that my forum of expertise within the language (verlan and gros mots) is not (usually) one that can be interspersed with great ease during the course of a normal conversation. I'll just have to learn some technical engineering language. That way, when people talk about things I don't really care about, and they refuse to stop talking in spite of the fact that no one else is participating in the conversation (this happens somewhat frequently in French culture, by the way), I can turn the conversation to an even more boring topic, of which they will have little knowledge. Although I am not there yet, this dawned on me today in, roughly, the following context (translated, of course, for your amusement):
There is a really nice teacher at the high school, but she talks more than anyone I know, and when you're trying to get something done before a class, this can be difficult. Today, the question was posed to me, "Greg, what is your favorite aspect of French literature?"
Well, to be honest, I would like to know about this topic a bit more, but I will readily admit that my knowledge is lacking in American and English literature, let alone that of the French.
"Well, I am not really familiar with French lit."
"Do you like poesie?" (I'm leaving that word untranslated because it's funnier to me for some reason)
"Hmm, probably mathematics."
Game, set, math. Conversation: OVER. One could say I threw a zero into the denominator of that exchange.
In other news, I'm excited for traveling over the Christmas break, during which I'll see Marta in Madrid and then meet my friends Scott and Kevin to see Rome, Athens, and (briefly) Paris. Right now, as you may know, there are some riots taking place in Athens. I have an unfounded certainty that this will be settled before our Dec. 26 arrival. Although this occurrence is somewhat of a scary thought at this date, the bright side could be that we three Dallasites finally get to experience the kind of mayhem and looting that we were too young for during the 1993 Dallas Cowboys championship parade. Nostalgia, no?
On that note, the Cowboys, as is the case with all Dallas franchises, recently provided us with another last-minute, heartbreaking meltdown. This should be expected. In fact, I feel there would be reason for disappointment if this weren't the case. However, always looking on the bright side, there has been a lot of media attention directed lately toward Plaxico Burress's recent shooting of Plaxico Burress in a nightclub. As it turns out, Plaxico Burress has been suspended for the season by his team and could be facing jail time for this act of aggression, and Plaxico Burress had to be rushed to the hospital by Plaxico Burress's teammate. Plaxico Burress was already rehabbing a hamstring problem before this cruel and uncalled-for attack resulted in another minor injury. Athletes these days. I say bright side, by the way, because this story is nothing less than hilarious and awesome, and I've brought it up at least twice to French people.
Recently, I was extremely disappointed to read a rather conciliatory-sounding public statement by Lance Armstrong regarding his return to the Tour, in which he said he would try to support the best rider on the team. This is not the kind of "We're gonna win, baby!" comment I like to hear, but as long as Lance doesn't shoot Lance in the leg, maybe he's got a chance. I was asked last week what I thought about the return. I responded to my French colleague by loosely referencing the words of French swimmer Alain Bernard, who this summer made a statement in reference to the American relay team with Jason Lezak and Michael Phelps saying, "We will explode them. We came here for that." Of course, after the team anchor's stupid statement and historic collapse, I feel the need to bring him up at critical moments (jettez l'ancre, France). This was a critical moment because it was in anticipation of the irritating response that is guaranteed in France regarding Lance: "You want him to win, even if he's doping?" Holding my tongue, I had to explain how he was never found guilty of any doping, and 8 years later some agency decides to start retesting old urine samples that were not found to be problematic before. I don't even like what Lance Armstrong has done in his personal life, but the people here are clearly jealous of his success. Additionally, they ignore what a joke the Tour has become the past few years, with large numbers of riders being expelled from the race for doping. When the topic was extended to American athletes who have been found guilty of doping, and the valor of Americans then questioned, I was tempted to demand whether they thought doping was necessary on our nation's part in helping overcome the Germans in World War 2. In spite of the choice words I wanted to offer, that's not fair to do to them, but it must be pointed out that there are intelligent and stupid athletes (see above) everywhere. Putain.
On a less bitter note, one professor at the high school is not having her courses this week, meaning that my workload has been cut to a more bearable 7 hours. I used some of my free time yesterday to make one of my most exciting purchases in recent memory: 3 euros for 25 of these creme-filled chocolate things that are rather indescribable.
As you may be able to see, some of them have coconut. I just read that coconut oil is likely to be beneficial in the prevention of heart disease. I don't even know what coconut oil by itself is like, but tell me no more. In the ultimate effort to combat heart disease, I could soon begin a diet consisting of no more than coconut oil and red wine. Unless, of course, 8 years later this is going to present problems with my urine samples.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
How the hell can I make my teammates better by practicin?!
So I waste lots of time on ESPN.com these days, but I blame it on the lack of sports availability. In my daily reading today, I noticed that Allen Iverson missed practice and is expected to receive a "hefty" fine. Really? For missing practice? I mean, it wasn't a game. Of course, we all remember his infamous press conference, where he know he 'sposed to lead by example and ain't shovin' it aside like it don't mean anything. I'm glad to see that he hasn't changed his ways 9 years later...I mean, why should he? Ain't the game, man? Ain't no thang, man.
Also, what in the world has happened to Chad Ocho Cinco this year? He changes his name in what appears to be a publicity stunt after trying to get traded from a sorry franchise that won't let him leave, all the while proclaiming that he's not going to be a distraction this year. Well, he lived up to that promise....but this is no fun for anybody. Without the desire to be a distraction, it seems like he's lost the desire to be good. Maybe he should change his name back to Johnson? Or maybe this mediocrity is actually a really clever ploy on his part to be expendable to the team. Regardless, I just want more stupid antics from him, as he never delivered on what could have been the singlest greatest sports celebration ever:
"You know there are a lot of deer in the area. Don't laugh. There are a lot of deer in the area of Cincinnati, so if you see a deer come out there, don t say I didn't tell you. I'm serious. I hit him. He's bandaged up, but he's going to come out. Don't laugh. Y'all think I'm playing. Trust me, I've got Rudolph. His nose is red. ...
No, on the highway I hit a deer. I kept him. He's at home in the garage. I'm going to use him for the celebration this weekend. He's a prop. They might suspend me for the last game, but I think this one is worth it.
He's limping, but he's alive. He's all right. This is going to be the greatest celebration of all-time, man. I actually use an animal. I'll probably get in trouble with the Humane Society, everybody. It wasn't my fault: He ran in the road."
Please, Chad, return to these glory days. I'm not laughing.
Also, what in the world has happened to Chad Ocho Cinco this year? He changes his name in what appears to be a publicity stunt after trying to get traded from a sorry franchise that won't let him leave, all the while proclaiming that he's not going to be a distraction this year. Well, he lived up to that promise....but this is no fun for anybody. Without the desire to be a distraction, it seems like he's lost the desire to be good. Maybe he should change his name back to Johnson? Or maybe this mediocrity is actually a really clever ploy on his part to be expendable to the team. Regardless, I just want more stupid antics from him, as he never delivered on what could have been the singlest greatest sports celebration ever:
"You know there are a lot of deer in the area. Don't laugh. There are a lot of deer in the area of Cincinnati, so if you see a deer come out there, don t say I didn't tell you. I'm serious. I hit him. He's bandaged up, but he's going to come out. Don't laugh. Y'all think I'm playing. Trust me, I've got Rudolph. His nose is red. ...
No, on the highway I hit a deer. I kept him. He's at home in the garage. I'm going to use him for the celebration this weekend. He's a prop. They might suspend me for the last game, but I think this one is worth it.
He's limping, but he's alive. He's all right. This is going to be the greatest celebration of all-time, man. I actually use an animal. I'll probably get in trouble with the Humane Society, everybody. It wasn't my fault: He ran in the road."
Please, Chad, return to these glory days. I'm not laughing.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A fistful of ideals
I've returned from my weekend in Barcelona, during which I had a great time. I enjoyed the city much more this time around, as my friend Jenna proved to be a good tour guide (although our visit may have caused some strained relations with her host mother).
I must say that Barcelona might be one of the coolest cities I've ever visited, but, after 2 visits, there are just some things that I can't get past. The first is the number of people involved in "unofficial" businesses of sorts. Perhaps it's not prevalent throughout the entire city, but, in various areas, the number of pickpockets is incredible...so much so that the locals will tap you on the shoulder if you're simply wearing a backpack to tell you to be careful. Marta and I had a few brief encounters with said persons, but no real problems occurred.
Posing less serious risks are other shady people such as prostitutes and the infamous beer sellers. The prostitutes of Barcelona dress more like normal people than ladies of the night (or putes, if you will), but they give away their intentions when they grab the bosoms of poor, unsuspecting American boys. However, I think mine was a separate incident and that this particular female was, in a rather symbolic gesture, actually reaching for my heart, as she was experiencing a dearth of true human love in her life and occupation. Or at least that's what I'm taking from it. In the midst of my disgust and overwhelming desire to shower with a scrubbing rock and a bar of well-aged horse fat, I couldn't help but express my incredulousness to Marta and Jenna that a female had actually hit on me.
Existing for the dual purpose of providing humor and quenching thirst in the city are everyone's favorite sellers of the cheapest local beer available. Entrance to the city comes with the guarantee of experiencing an onslaught on any given night of men whose vocabularies consist of the words "cerveza" and "beer," although, for maximum efficacy in reaching their international clientele, these words have been combined into the phrase "Cerveza-beer." Hmm, no, thank you. Well, actually, since you're still standing there, looking at me like it's only a matter of time before I change my mind, I've changed my mind. "One Cerveza-beer, por favor." There are some, however, who demonstrate greater word-combination abilities, sometimes adding "marijuana-coca?" onto the end of the phrase. I can only assume that these are the ones who have been voted "Most Likely to Succeed" at the Cerveza-Beer Escuela de Cerveza-Beer. Escuela.
The final grievance to be aired is the language situation. The people in Barcelona and the surrounding areas speak Catalan, which is a strange mixture of Spanish and French (not that a native speaker of either could really comprehend it). Spanish is moreso the second language, but this occasionally presents problems. Marta, who comes from the Basque region in the north of Spain (and speaks Basque and Spanish) pointed out that the people continually responded to her in Catalan, ignoring the fact that she was speaking Spanish. Apparently in the Basque region the people understand that most people don't speak their language, and they will speak Spanish unless someone responds to them in Basque. I think the way the people of Catalunya take pride in their language is great for the preservation of the culture, but I think they take it a bit far in their often stubborn refusal to more fully embrace Spanish. Thus, in spite of my amazement at the history and beauty of the city, I feel that I would not want to live there for an extended period of time. However, I would recommend anyone to visit it at least one time, because it is definitely worth seeing.
Leaving Barcelona was very sad because it was the last time Marta, Jenna, and I will be together for some time. Jenna will be returning to the States just before Christmas, and although I am sure I will see her again there, it may be
more
difficult for Marta, who studies in Madrid. Hopefully a reunion with at least the 3 of us will happen, though, as I've become close friends with the two of them since our summer internship in Paris. They're guaranteed to provide hilarity, funny stories and experiences, and caring friendship every time we're together, and I really enjoy spending time with them.
In other news, I've already not had 4 classes this week. Two were canceled because the students were on special internship programs, one canceled because the students needed to catch up after missing class during last week's teacher's strike, and one I arrived late to because of a metro problem, only to find no students. Thus, it's a rigorous 8 hour work week for me. However, it is Thanksgiving week, and, all things considered, I probably deserve time off to celebrate my culture's holidays.
Lately I've been enjoying coconut far too much, using it to cook and pouring it unnecessarily on pudding, bread with nutella, and pretty much whatever else I can feasibly use it with. I'm waiting to hear soon that too much of this delightful fruit causes some sort of cancer. People seem to think that everything somehow causes cancer, ignoring the possibility that, as life expectancies grow, everyone still has to die of something, and maybe cancer just comes more frequently in old age. Cure cancer and something else is going to kill us anyway. In the meantime, I'm going to continue eating coconut and perhaps begin lobbying for a name change to "cancernut," that way the name will turn other people off, cause decreased demand, and thus lower prices throughout the world, all for my convenience.
Today I bought cancernut ice cream, but I don't expect that it will last for too long. I arrived in Europe with some sort of cancernut-scented body wash, and I'm hoping that this idea can be extended so that I can brush my teeth with cancernut toothpaste and coat my underarms with cancernut deodorant. Perhaps they could even develop cancernut-scented toilet paper. Maybe this product already exists in the dog world, and we just don't know about it, thus explaining their tendency to shove their noses into each other's rears. Please, dogs of the world, share your secret! For you humans out there, I apologize if I've turned you away from ever eating coconut again. Not.
I must say that Barcelona might be one of the coolest cities I've ever visited, but, after 2 visits, there are just some things that I can't get past. The first is the number of people involved in "unofficial" businesses of sorts. Perhaps it's not prevalent throughout the entire city, but, in various areas, the number of pickpockets is incredible...so much so that the locals will tap you on the shoulder if you're simply wearing a backpack to tell you to be careful. Marta and I had a few brief encounters with said persons, but no real problems occurred.
Posing less serious risks are other shady people such as prostitutes and the infamous beer sellers. The prostitutes of Barcelona dress more like normal people than ladies of the night (or putes, if you will), but they give away their intentions when they grab the bosoms of poor, unsuspecting American boys. However, I think mine was a separate incident and that this particular female was, in a rather symbolic gesture, actually reaching for my heart, as she was experiencing a dearth of true human love in her life and occupation. Or at least that's what I'm taking from it. In the midst of my disgust and overwhelming desire to shower with a scrubbing rock and a bar of well-aged horse fat, I couldn't help but express my incredulousness to Marta and Jenna that a female had actually hit on me.
Existing for the dual purpose of providing humor and quenching thirst in the city are everyone's favorite sellers of the cheapest local beer available. Entrance to the city comes with the guarantee of experiencing an onslaught on any given night of men whose vocabularies consist of the words "cerveza" and "beer," although, for maximum efficacy in reaching their international clientele, these words have been combined into the phrase "Cerveza-beer." Hmm, no, thank you. Well, actually, since you're still standing there, looking at me like it's only a matter of time before I change my mind, I've changed my mind. "One Cerveza-beer, por favor." There are some, however, who demonstrate greater word-combination abilities, sometimes adding "marijuana-coca?" onto the end of the phrase. I can only assume that these are the ones who have been voted "Most Likely to Succeed" at the Cerveza-Beer Escuela de Cerveza-Beer. Escuela.
The final grievance to be aired is the language situation. The people in Barcelona and the surrounding areas speak Catalan, which is a strange mixture of Spanish and French (not that a native speaker of either could really comprehend it). Spanish is moreso the second language, but this occasionally presents problems. Marta, who comes from the Basque region in the north of Spain (and speaks Basque and Spanish) pointed out that the people continually responded to her in Catalan, ignoring the fact that she was speaking Spanish. Apparently in the Basque region the people understand that most people don't speak their language, and they will speak Spanish unless someone responds to them in Basque. I think the way the people of Catalunya take pride in their language is great for the preservation of the culture, but I think they take it a bit far in their often stubborn refusal to more fully embrace Spanish. Thus, in spite of my amazement at the history and beauty of the city, I feel that I would not want to live there for an extended period of time. However, I would recommend anyone to visit it at least one time, because it is definitely worth seeing.
Leaving Barcelona was very sad because it was the last time Marta, Jenna, and I will be together for some time. Jenna will be returning to the States just before Christmas, and although I am sure I will see her again there, it may be
more difficult for Marta, who studies in Madrid. Hopefully a reunion with at least the 3 of us will happen, though, as I've become close friends with the two of them since our summer internship in Paris. They're guaranteed to provide hilarity, funny stories and experiences, and caring friendship every time we're together, and I really enjoy spending time with them.
In other news, I've already not had 4 classes this week. Two were canceled because the students were on special internship programs, one canceled because the students needed to catch up after missing class during last week's teacher's strike, and one I arrived late to because of a metro problem, only to find no students. Thus, it's a rigorous 8 hour work week for me. However, it is Thanksgiving week, and, all things considered, I probably deserve time off to celebrate my culture's holidays.
Lately I've been enjoying coconut far too much, using it to cook and pouring it unnecessarily on pudding, bread with nutella, and pretty much whatever else I can feasibly use it with. I'm waiting to hear soon that too much of this delightful fruit causes some sort of cancer. People seem to think that everything somehow causes cancer, ignoring the possibility that, as life expectancies grow, everyone still has to die of something, and maybe cancer just comes more frequently in old age. Cure cancer and something else is going to kill us anyway. In the meantime, I'm going to continue eating coconut and perhaps begin lobbying for a name change to "cancernut," that way the name will turn other people off, cause decreased demand, and thus lower prices throughout the world, all for my convenience.
Today I bought cancernut ice cream, but I don't expect that it will last for too long. I arrived in Europe with some sort of cancernut-scented body wash, and I'm hoping that this idea can be extended so that I can brush my teeth with cancernut toothpaste and coat my underarms with cancernut deodorant. Perhaps they could even develop cancernut-scented toilet paper. Maybe this product already exists in the dog world, and we just don't know about it, thus explaining their tendency to shove their noses into each other's rears. Please, dogs of the world, share your secret! For you humans out there, I apologize if I've turned you away from ever eating coconut again. Not.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
What do terse mean?
Trying new terse writing style- your pleasure, my convenience.
Housing found- host family, downtown, sweet apartment, pictures soon. Relieved.
Carte de sejour- en route.
Lost weight while eating excessively. Eat-aholic? How I get so good?
France, things I love:
1.5L water: $0.20
Spices: $0.45
14 croissants: $2.50 -ate 5 in under 1.5 hours. Eat-aholic.
1.1 lbs cookies: ~$0.90
1L pineapple juice: $0.67
Things I don't love:
-People who talk too much, bicker amongst themselves. Don't respect rules- ex: Debates are for ******* politicians, but they respect rules. French? no.
Marta and I visit Jenna, Barcelona, this weekend. Excited. Hope bus ride is sketchy/chelou. Sleep: Beach > bed. Teachers strike-Thurs. Didn't know before. Could go on strike, go to Barcelona earlier. Too late.
Spent Nov. 8 weekend with teachers, high school- Roquefort des Corbieres, near Mediterranean. Was only young person. Fun, pictures soon.
Marquis Daniels more playing time, more points. Skillz 'n Grillz.
Billy Pilgrim, still unstuck in time. Ciao.
Housing found- host family, downtown, sweet apartment, pictures soon. Relieved.
Carte de sejour- en route.
Lost weight while eating excessively. Eat-aholic? How I get so good?
France, things I love:
1.5L water: $0.20
Spices: $0.45
14 croissants: $2.50 -ate 5 in under 1.5 hours. Eat-aholic.
1.1 lbs cookies: ~$0.90
1L pineapple juice: $0.67
Things I don't love:
-People who talk too much, bicker amongst themselves. Don't respect rules- ex: Debates are for ******* politicians, but they respect rules. French? no.
Marta and I visit Jenna, Barcelona, this weekend. Excited. Hope bus ride is sketchy/chelou. Sleep: Beach > bed. Teachers strike-Thurs. Didn't know before. Could go on strike, go to Barcelona earlier. Too late.
Spent Nov. 8 weekend with teachers, high school- Roquefort des Corbieres, near Mediterranean. Was only young person. Fun, pictures soon.
Marquis Daniels more playing time, more points. Skillz 'n Grillz.
Billy Pilgrim, still unstuck in time. Ciao.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
We talkin' bout practice!
What it is, and what it ain't, kids? Well, I can tell you right now that things in this country ain't like the US.
So I haven't worked in two weeks, save today. Oh, and I won't be working for the next 5 days- a schouette combo of my schedule, the weekend, and the Nov. 11 armistice. I like you, France.
Regarding the last 2 weeks, I took a petit voyage to the east/NE of la belle France. I think I mentioned it before, but I visited my friend in Firminy/Lyon, and she and her family were incredibly welcoming and generous. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't so welcoming, with cold and rain and cold rain...but it wasn't a big problem. Other than the weather, I really liked Lyon, although there appear to be more strange people there than in most cities. Example? Okay:
One mysterious man was attempting to sell newspapers right in front of an ATM that I was in line for, but a shake of the head wasn't enough to deter him. He waited for a verbal response, which I gave in the form of "Das tut mir Leid, Ich spriche kein Franzosisch." Unfortunately, the confusion that resulted from this was more uncomfortable than the anger that might have ensued had I thrown down my preferred "Merci bien d'aller vous faire foutre" (don't translate that). He continued to look at me for a minute before leaning in real close to me. Awkward, I tell you. I know the French like to do the bisous, but please, not with strangers in front of the ATM.
Well, as it turned out, he wasn't trying to kiss my cheek, but rather he was leaning in so that he could begin tugging on my ear and saying loudly "FRANCAIS! FRANCAIS!" Oh, okay. Well that makes more sense. When someone doesn't appear able to speak your language (whether they're lying or not), the natural response is to try to separate their ear from their head so that you can loudly let them know what language you speak. Duly noted for future purposes, my friend. Needless to say, I found another ATM.
When I got to Strasbourg, I was warmly welcomed by my friend's friend and her friends. A bit confusing, yes. Regardless, total strangers took me into their homes and treated me far too well. I made a few new friends out of the experience, which was quite nice...I hung out the first night with a cool dude named Steven (coincidentally, a fellow engineer). He and his family were extremely friendly, and his German father and French mother had a beer in my hand no more than 3 minutes after entering. Awesome. I got to hang out later that evening with some of his friends, which was quite entertaining.
The second night I stayed with my friend's friend's cousin and her boyfriend. Kim and Pierre were also really nice, and they took me to a restaurant with an Alsace (the region of France) specialty: Tarte Flambée. Yumm. It's like a really thin crusted pizza, and it was all you can eat- a mistake with Americans present.
Bref, the trip was awesome, and I hope to visit my friend once more before she leaves in January. Added bonus: her little half-brother lets me swing him around in a game we call "Balancoir" (swingset), and his French is somewhat on par with mine. A few photos from the cities:
Lyon: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2555635&l=02894&id=7900792
Strasbourg: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2556201&l=257ea&id=7900792
So now I'm back in Toulouse, whistling with my Madagascan friends and speaking a bizarre mixture of languages. I've been searching more for apartments with my Chilean friend, but I received a call tonight about living with a family who already houses 1 american. I'm going to meet them tomorrow night, and I guess they'll see if they can tolerate me enough to house me for 6 months. Wish me luck.
In other news, I'm looking at going to Barcelona in 2 weeks to reunite with FakeSpain and fake Fakespain (Marta and Jenna), and I'm going this weekend with some teachers from the high school to one of their properties near the Mediterranean. After all, no one needs a vacation more than the person who just had one.
The French have been ecstatic about Barack Obama winning the election (although jokes about "the Black House" are not lacking this side of the sea). Fortunately, it becomes la mode again to like Americans for the next 4 years. I think he'll be a decent change of pace for the country, and I'm quite happy we showed some open mindedness by electing a minority. As for the great change he promises? I still think it's the usual crap that politicians spew to get elected, but we'll give him a chance, as I think he genuinely has high hopes.
Finally, UT lost to Texas Tech. As has been pointed out by several people, this means that Kevin and Scott's Christmas-time visit will be a week of red-and-black propaganda to convince me that theirs is the greatest college football program that has never been more than, simply, good. Different from usual? No. Doesn't bother me anyway...I've given up on the Cowboys, Mavericks, UT, and sports in general. My new love? An oldie: Food.
So I haven't worked in two weeks, save today. Oh, and I won't be working for the next 5 days- a schouette combo of my schedule, the weekend, and the Nov. 11 armistice. I like you, France.
Regarding the last 2 weeks, I took a petit voyage to the east/NE of la belle France. I think I mentioned it before, but I visited my friend in Firminy/Lyon, and she and her family were incredibly welcoming and generous. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't so welcoming, with cold and rain and cold rain...but it wasn't a big problem. Other than the weather, I really liked Lyon, although there appear to be more strange people there than in most cities. Example? Okay:
One mysterious man was attempting to sell newspapers right in front of an ATM that I was in line for, but a shake of the head wasn't enough to deter him. He waited for a verbal response, which I gave in the form of "Das tut mir Leid, Ich spriche kein Franzosisch." Unfortunately, the confusion that resulted from this was more uncomfortable than the anger that might have ensued had I thrown down my preferred "Merci bien d'aller vous faire foutre" (don't translate that). He continued to look at me for a minute before leaning in real close to me. Awkward, I tell you. I know the French like to do the bisous, but please, not with strangers in front of the ATM.
Well, as it turned out, he wasn't trying to kiss my cheek, but rather he was leaning in so that he could begin tugging on my ear and saying loudly "FRANCAIS! FRANCAIS!" Oh, okay. Well that makes more sense. When someone doesn't appear able to speak your language (whether they're lying or not), the natural response is to try to separate their ear from their head so that you can loudly let them know what language you speak. Duly noted for future purposes, my friend. Needless to say, I found another ATM.
When I got to Strasbourg, I was warmly welcomed by my friend's friend and her friends. A bit confusing, yes. Regardless, total strangers took me into their homes and treated me far too well. I made a few new friends out of the experience, which was quite nice...I hung out the first night with a cool dude named Steven (coincidentally, a fellow engineer). He and his family were extremely friendly, and his German father and French mother had a beer in my hand no more than 3 minutes after entering. Awesome. I got to hang out later that evening with some of his friends, which was quite entertaining.
The second night I stayed with my friend's friend's cousin and her boyfriend. Kim and Pierre were also really nice, and they took me to a restaurant with an Alsace (the region of France) specialty: Tarte Flambée. Yumm. It's like a really thin crusted pizza, and it was all you can eat- a mistake with Americans present.
Bref, the trip was awesome, and I hope to visit my friend once more before she leaves in January. Added bonus: her little half-brother lets me swing him around in a game we call "Balancoir" (swingset), and his French is somewhat on par with mine. A few photos from the cities:
Lyon: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2555635&l=02894&id=7900792
Strasbourg: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2556201&l=257ea&id=7900792
So now I'm back in Toulouse, whistling with my Madagascan friends and speaking a bizarre mixture of languages. I've been searching more for apartments with my Chilean friend, but I received a call tonight about living with a family who already houses 1 american. I'm going to meet them tomorrow night, and I guess they'll see if they can tolerate me enough to house me for 6 months. Wish me luck.
In other news, I'm looking at going to Barcelona in 2 weeks to reunite with FakeSpain and fake Fakespain (Marta and Jenna), and I'm going this weekend with some teachers from the high school to one of their properties near the Mediterranean. After all, no one needs a vacation more than the person who just had one.
The French have been ecstatic about Barack Obama winning the election (although jokes about "the Black House" are not lacking this side of the sea). Fortunately, it becomes la mode again to like Americans for the next 4 years. I think he'll be a decent change of pace for the country, and I'm quite happy we showed some open mindedness by electing a minority. As for the great change he promises? I still think it's the usual crap that politicians spew to get elected, but we'll give him a chance, as I think he genuinely has high hopes.
Finally, UT lost to Texas Tech. As has been pointed out by several people, this means that Kevin and Scott's Christmas-time visit will be a week of red-and-black propaganda to convince me that theirs is the greatest college football program that has never been more than, simply, good. Different from usual? No. Doesn't bother me anyway...I've given up on the Cowboys, Mavericks, UT, and sports in general. My new love? An oldie: Food.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Learning Quincy Carter's Three C's
Hola, como estas?
Me, estoy bien. I finished another week of teaching at the high school, and I've come to realize that the hs's organization (or lack thereof) and my lack of organizational skills can sometimes make for a difficult combination. However, I'm not often confused for that long, because I apparently just don't have to work that much. I was supposed to work 4 days, but we had an orientation pt. deux for the assistants one day, and then on Friday my class was canceled because the students had a day of sporting. Thus, 2 days of work during the week, and now I'm on vacation till November 5 (France, je t'aime).
My friends Marta (Madrid) and Jenna (Barcelona, originally New Braunfels) visited this weekend, and we had a heck of a time hanging out in Toulouse. I felt bad because I still don't have a place to live, and they had to get a hotel, but it was alot of fun. We had a little party at my friend Livan's apartment with a crazy mixture of nationalities (Madagascar, Tunisia, Tahiti, Norway, Italy, Spain, and the US were all represented).
Photos from the weekend, for those of you not on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2555573&l=491a2&id=7900792
As Martaquita and J-Bone pointed out, I was discovering Toulouse almost as much as they were (apparently my première fois here I didn't go downtown all that much, spending lots of time on the INSA campus). We walked around quite a bit and hung out by the river and learned about how Toulouse is the aerospace capital of France, Europe, Earth, and Mars, or something like that. It was quite sad to see them go, as I've often talked to the two of them since our summer internship in Paris, but we're making plans for another petite reunion in Barcelona at the end of November.
Tonight I'm leaving for Lyon (actually, St. Etienne) to visit my friend Leila, whom I also met over summer in Paris. I'm looking forward to seeing her, and she's actually arranged for me to stay with one of her friends in Strasbourg after a couple of days of staying in Lyon. How awesome. We'd once discussed visiting Morocco (she's got family there), but unfortunately plans have changed and she's going to Brazil for a 6 month period beginning in January. However, this should be a fun time, and I'm looking forward to meeting her family.
In the US, elections are coming up, and of course the people here are curious to know for whom I will be voting. It's too difficult to explain that Tony Romo is my write-in, but good grief, Brad Johnson is terrible. We may as well have Tavaris Jackson, Quincy Carter, or Matt Nordgren. The latter practiced against the best players in the country, you know.
Also in the states, apparently I'm missing good concert after good concert...this will hopefully be mitigated by finding stupid electro events where one can dancefight, as Monsieur le Cbass has trained me to do. I guarantee America will demonstrate it's mad skill at such an event.
On the topic of America and mad, at times France can be infuriating for an outsider. As I learned this past weekend, when this country wants to make things inconvenient, it can succeed like no other. Sometimes laundry can prove to be one of the most difficult things known to mankind. It is near IMPOSSIBLE to get change in France, but machines never accept bills. A good combination. Subtlety out the window, swearing ensues in front of people in both French and English (the latter because I feel it doesn't mean much to them, the former because it doesn't mean much to me). Today I listened to a Polish man air his grievances at the train station, which he described as an "organized mess." While I felt for him, I noticed I was also tempted to do the Parisian shoulder shrug to basically say "Yeah, but what can you do about it?" I mean, somehow it will get figured out, right? Sort of like my housing situation. Eventually.
Me, estoy bien. I finished another week of teaching at the high school, and I've come to realize that the hs's organization (or lack thereof) and my lack of organizational skills can sometimes make for a difficult combination. However, I'm not often confused for that long, because I apparently just don't have to work that much. I was supposed to work 4 days, but we had an orientation pt. deux for the assistants one day, and then on Friday my class was canceled because the students had a day of sporting. Thus, 2 days of work during the week, and now I'm on vacation till November 5 (France, je t'aime).
My friends Marta (Madrid) and Jenna (Barcelona, originally New Braunfels) visited this weekend, and we had a heck of a time hanging out in Toulouse. I felt bad because I still don't have a place to live, and they had to get a hotel, but it was alot of fun. We had a little party at my friend Livan's apartment with a crazy mixture of nationalities (Madagascar, Tunisia, Tahiti, Norway, Italy, Spain, and the US were all represented).
Photos from the weekend, for those of you not on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2555573&l=491a2&id=7900792
As Martaquita and J-Bone pointed out, I was discovering Toulouse almost as much as they were (apparently my première fois here I didn't go downtown all that much, spending lots of time on the INSA campus). We walked around quite a bit and hung out by the river and learned about how Toulouse is the aerospace capital of France, Europe, Earth, and Mars, or something like that. It was quite sad to see them go, as I've often talked to the two of them since our summer internship in Paris, but we're making plans for another petite reunion in Barcelona at the end of November.
Tonight I'm leaving for Lyon (actually, St. Etienne) to visit my friend Leila, whom I also met over summer in Paris. I'm looking forward to seeing her, and she's actually arranged for me to stay with one of her friends in Strasbourg after a couple of days of staying in Lyon. How awesome. We'd once discussed visiting Morocco (she's got family there), but unfortunately plans have changed and she's going to Brazil for a 6 month period beginning in January. However, this should be a fun time, and I'm looking forward to meeting her family.
In the US, elections are coming up, and of course the people here are curious to know for whom I will be voting. It's too difficult to explain that Tony Romo is my write-in, but good grief, Brad Johnson is terrible. We may as well have Tavaris Jackson, Quincy Carter, or Matt Nordgren. The latter practiced against the best players in the country, you know.
Also in the states, apparently I'm missing good concert after good concert...this will hopefully be mitigated by finding stupid electro events where one can dancefight, as Monsieur le Cbass has trained me to do. I guarantee America will demonstrate it's mad skill at such an event.
On the topic of America and mad, at times France can be infuriating for an outsider. As I learned this past weekend, when this country wants to make things inconvenient, it can succeed like no other. Sometimes laundry can prove to be one of the most difficult things known to mankind. It is near IMPOSSIBLE to get change in France, but machines never accept bills. A good combination. Subtlety out the window, swearing ensues in front of people in both French and English (the latter because I feel it doesn't mean much to them, the former because it doesn't mean much to me). Today I listened to a Polish man air his grievances at the train station, which he described as an "organized mess." While I felt for him, I noticed I was also tempted to do the Parisian shoulder shrug to basically say "Yeah, but what can you do about it?" I mean, somehow it will get figured out, right? Sort of like my housing situation. Eventually.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Living it up at the hotel Livantsoa
Hola, wie geht's? Oy, so I finished my first week teaching at the Collège (which, confusingly enough, is the word for middle school). Overall, things went relatively well, with the usual uncomfortable question here and there. Do you have any children? Yes, but I don't know how many.
There was, however, one class that was complètement painful for me, however. I'd seen this group before, and they were friendly, but this time the teacher asked me to try to teach them about NYC for some questionaire/faux interview they had to do. I, unfortunately, went in thinking the assignment had already been discussed and the kids had direction. Alas, after an hour of me talking about a city I have never visited, with almost no one responding, I was glad to be finished for the day.
A propos de logement: I've been searching for housing with a Spanish lang. assistant from Chile who is very nice. However, luck seems to have it that the only apartments available often fit into one of 3 categories, with some forcing their way into several of the categories: 1) too expensive, 2) too far, 3) too small. In spite of the steady stream of letdowns, there is a potentially promising possibility for housing that might could maybe, given the proper alignment of stars, work- and that is living with a family in Toulouse. I did some application for this program, and the lady got back to me within a day, saying she knows of a family, but just needs to confirm that they still want to house a Burger-Eating Invasion Monkey (i.e. me).
On other fronts: The long march toward legal residence is closer to being completed! I have a medical appointment tomorrow, which should be no problem to pass, unless, of course, my Blood Cheese Level is too low. Speaking of long marches, the once-supremely-confident Cowboys crossed the Volga and fell at Stalingrad...err, St. Louis...maybe we should just play for draft picks now? Or just forget the season and anxiously await the promise-to-disappoint Mavericks. Regardless, Dallas sports as a whole: NO FUNERAL!
Oh, I'm getting my birth-certificate translation tomorrow...wooohoo! I mean, I already did this myself and gave it to the school for salary purposes, but technically they aren't satisfied until I've paid 35 euros for this worthless document. Why does it not suffice that my passport shows my date of birth (and has all of the information in French)? Merde, quoi, France.
Finally, I've got this week of oh-so-grueling work before our 2 week vacation, which I feel I've earned. I mean, 2.5 weeks of work justifies 2 weeks of vacation, right? I have no plans at the moment because booking travel this late appears to be rather expensive, but my friends Marta and Jenna are coming from Spain this weekend, which should be fun. Guaranteed dance contests, moments lost in translation, and "Greg, I can't eat all of this, do you want to finish it?" Of course I do.
There was, however, one class that was complètement painful for me, however. I'd seen this group before, and they were friendly, but this time the teacher asked me to try to teach them about NYC for some questionaire/faux interview they had to do. I, unfortunately, went in thinking the assignment had already been discussed and the kids had direction. Alas, after an hour of me talking about a city I have never visited, with almost no one responding, I was glad to be finished for the day.
A propos de logement: I've been searching for housing with a Spanish lang. assistant from Chile who is very nice. However, luck seems to have it that the only apartments available often fit into one of 3 categories, with some forcing their way into several of the categories: 1) too expensive, 2) too far, 3) too small. In spite of the steady stream of letdowns, there is a potentially promising possibility for housing that might could maybe, given the proper alignment of stars, work- and that is living with a family in Toulouse. I did some application for this program, and the lady got back to me within a day, saying she knows of a family, but just needs to confirm that they still want to house a Burger-Eating Invasion Monkey (i.e. me).
On other fronts: The long march toward legal residence is closer to being completed! I have a medical appointment tomorrow, which should be no problem to pass, unless, of course, my Blood Cheese Level is too low. Speaking of long marches, the once-supremely-confident Cowboys crossed the Volga and fell at Stalingrad...err, St. Louis...maybe we should just play for draft picks now? Or just forget the season and anxiously await the promise-to-disappoint Mavericks. Regardless, Dallas sports as a whole: NO FUNERAL!
Oh, I'm getting my birth-certificate translation tomorrow...wooohoo! I mean, I already did this myself and gave it to the school for salary purposes, but technically they aren't satisfied until I've paid 35 euros for this worthless document. Why does it not suffice that my passport shows my date of birth (and has all of the information in French)? Merde, quoi, France.
Finally, I've got this week of oh-so-grueling work before our 2 week vacation, which I feel I've earned. I mean, 2.5 weeks of work justifies 2 weeks of vacation, right? I have no plans at the moment because booking travel this late appears to be rather expensive, but my friends Marta and Jenna are coming from Spain this weekend, which should be fun. Guaranteed dance contests, moments lost in translation, and "Greg, I can't eat all of this, do you want to finish it?" Of course I do.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
A Cat named Stevens found a faith he could believe in
So the first few days of work went pretty well. I say this really having worked only 2 days, thanks to strike and some strange scheduling. Some of the kids in the classes seemed interested in learning English, and particularly in knowing more about the United States. Maybe next week I will just put Mellancamp's "This is our Country" on a loop, that way the students can experience the sweet soundwaves of freedom, and I can relive the irritation of watching incessant Chevrolet commercials.
I'm thankful to be from Texas and not from one of the lame states (see: the other 49), because people love to hate (and love) Texans. Questions about NYC, Miami, and LA are of course abundant, but everybody knows (or thinks they know) something about Texas, so it's always a good conversation starter. Plus, they really like it when I tell them I have a picture of George Bush that I keep under my pillow, and that I go huntin' in Crawford all the time.
In my first few classes, things were, for the most part acceptable, but there were of course the awkward high schooler questions...a few of the most notable:
1) "do you think American or French girls are prettier?" - I can't answer that honestly in class.
2) "have you ever French kissed?" - No, only Freedom kissed.
3) "do you have a girlfriend?" - No, but you're too young.
It's funny how forward they can be with questions. It's uncomfortable having to dance around with answers at times, but as long as they're talking and participating, I can deal with it. Furthermore, it's fun to answer the usual "are you voting for McCain or Obama?" question by saying "whoever will continue to do exactly as Mr. Bush has done," just to see the looks on their faces.
On other fronts, I still have not found lodging in my effort to find something with roommates. I visited 2 apartments this week, but I'm waiting to hear back from both pairs of roommates on whether or not I am good enough to be cohabitant numero trois. If this doesn't work out, I've spoken briefly with a Spanish assistant at the same high school about possibly rooming together.
More productively, yesterday I finally obtained my French debit card, and as a result, a phone and my metro card...Hello, Win column. Unfortunately, the debit card gave me the power to utilize the public bike system in Toulouse. I apparently thought I knew the city a bit better than I actually do, which became apparent when I had to navigate myself off of a local highway. Not as bad as it sounds, but there was that feeling of "Alive!" at the end of it. Malheureusement, there was no copilot to eat, like in the book.
Also, today I saw a concert of three "jazz-electro" bands from Norway. Overall, pretty interesting, with a wide variety, believe it or not, ranging from jazz to electro. The tektonik dance (for those unfamiliar with the brilliance, voila, tektonik: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqRR10Xy3GU) made an extremely brief appearance during some of the electro, but of course it couldn't last....one should never be foolish enough to try to tektonik to electronique. After all, you don't ride bikes on highways, do you?
I'm thankful to be from Texas and not from one of the lame states (see: the other 49), because people love to hate (and love) Texans. Questions about NYC, Miami, and LA are of course abundant, but everybody knows (or thinks they know) something about Texas, so it's always a good conversation starter. Plus, they really like it when I tell them I have a picture of George Bush that I keep under my pillow, and that I go huntin' in Crawford all the time.
In my first few classes, things were, for the most part acceptable, but there were of course the awkward high schooler questions...a few of the most notable:
1) "do you think American or French girls are prettier?" - I can't answer that honestly in class.
2) "have you ever French kissed?" - No, only Freedom kissed.
3) "do you have a girlfriend?" - No, but you're too young.
It's funny how forward they can be with questions. It's uncomfortable having to dance around with answers at times, but as long as they're talking and participating, I can deal with it. Furthermore, it's fun to answer the usual "are you voting for McCain or Obama?" question by saying "whoever will continue to do exactly as Mr. Bush has done," just to see the looks on their faces.
On other fronts, I still have not found lodging in my effort to find something with roommates. I visited 2 apartments this week, but I'm waiting to hear back from both pairs of roommates on whether or not I am good enough to be cohabitant numero trois. If this doesn't work out, I've spoken briefly with a Spanish assistant at the same high school about possibly rooming together.
More productively, yesterday I finally obtained my French debit card, and as a result, a phone and my metro card...Hello, Win column. Unfortunately, the debit card gave me the power to utilize the public bike system in Toulouse. I apparently thought I knew the city a bit better than I actually do, which became apparent when I had to navigate myself off of a local highway. Not as bad as it sounds, but there was that feeling of "Alive!" at the end of it. Malheureusement, there was no copilot to eat, like in the book.
Also, today I saw a concert of three "jazz-electro" bands from Norway. Overall, pretty interesting, with a wide variety, believe it or not, ranging from jazz to electro. The tektonik dance (for those unfamiliar with the brilliance, voila, tektonik: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqRR10Xy3GU) made an extremely brief appearance during some of the electro, but of course it couldn't last....one should never be foolish enough to try to tektonik to electronique. After all, you don't ride bikes on highways, do you?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
So I've decided to create a blog to document my 7 months teaching English in Toulouse. Who knows how long this thing will last? I detest sitting in front of a computer all the time, but somehow find myself doing it anyway. Anywho, I've been in France almost two weeks now, so here's a brief recap of what's happened thus far:
I spent two days in Paris, staying at the apartment of my friend Thomas Roborel de Climens, whom I met while working at Air Liquide over summer. He was extremely generous in housing me, and we had a good time hanging out with his friends. While there, I also got to see my friend Sofia, une portueguese whom I met while living at the Maison du Portugal in Paris during summer- in spite of how much she makes fun of me, she's one of the nicest people you could meet, and it was great to see her again.
Since I arrived in Toulouse, I've been staying with my friend Livan from Madagascar, un homme I knew from when I studied at INSA here in 2007. He, as well, has been incredibly accommodating (a word that just lost meaning to me after a long deliberation on the correct spelling...) while I search for an apartment...
And now let's gather around the aluminum pole for a brief airing of grievances regarding the happenings thus far:
First of all, you can't do anything without an address, so Liv's made an Attestation for me to say I'm staying with him. This allowed the opening of a bank account at Societe General. For those of you familiar with my running joke from the last stay in Toulouse, it appears that Societe General girl no longer works there :( However, there is a new young lady who could enter the pool of possible future wife prospects if the bank would hurry up and get me my stinking Carte Bleue- a key to open all doors in France, where Visa appears to have a monopoly, and American cards don't work because they don't have that cursed little chip in them. Bref, I can't start a phone contract until I have this magique debit card. Furthermore, I've been making calls about apartments from skype, which can be frustrating because everyone misses the call, but can't return it. Plus, there's all the trudging through the merde of French bureaucracy in order to get my residence card (carte magique numero 2), which I hope will be doled out in a grand ceremony in which I'm lead to the guillotine (to the sound of Axl Rose screaming "You're in the jungle, baby!"), only, instead of a guillotine blade, my Carte de Séjour gently slides down and presents me with legal residence.
On a more positive note, it's quite good to be back in Toulouse again, and it really feels like I wasn't gone for that long. Some things have changed with the city, as there's now a north-south metro line and some renovated areas downtown, but nothing too significant. It is a bit different, I must say, not having the crew of American and Erasmus (international student org.) kids here. There's a new group that I haven't really encountered yet, and although I'm wondering a bit who I'll be hanging out with, I guess this could be another opportunity for new friends.
Language-wise, I've been speaking a bit more French, and I'm a bit more comfortable on the phone now, but I have a rather goofy American accent, and I need alot of vocabulary work. Additionally, my language remains littered with unnecessary swearing that I don't use in English....fun in the short term, but really not helpful in most communication. Also, I've confirmed (after several communication problems both abroad and at home) that I have some sort of speech impediment- people have difficulty understanding when I say words that contain a consonant followed by an L, mistaking it instead for R. Ex: glass vs. grass. Apparently a problem for me in English as well as French, and I don't know whether to try to fix this or just let it slide and work on other issues. Whatever, if the kids I teach get confused, I'll just say I'm Amerkan and that I command respect....or I'll just get them to say "rural purple squirrel"- sure to induce enough laughter on my behalf that they'll forget what they asked me anyway.
Tomorrow is Wednesday the 8th of October. The first day of work. I was actually supposed to work today, but, in typical French fashion, the teachers were 'en grève,' and so thus I was sort of on strike as well. Score.
Finally, I must point out that I've had an unusual number of nightmares since arriving. This happened when I was in Paris, too, and I'm not sure if it's the result of being away from home or too much baguette. However, there have been some pretty funny dreams, too, where I've been singing along to Yelle (my favorite French pop singer) in random environments. It makes me wonder if I dance in my sleep (Tektonik, of course).
I spent two days in Paris, staying at the apartment of my friend Thomas Roborel de Climens, whom I met while working at Air Liquide over summer. He was extremely generous in housing me, and we had a good time hanging out with his friends. While there, I also got to see my friend Sofia, une portueguese whom I met while living at the Maison du Portugal in Paris during summer- in spite of how much she makes fun of me, she's one of the nicest people you could meet, and it was great to see her again.
Since I arrived in Toulouse, I've been staying with my friend Livan from Madagascar, un homme I knew from when I studied at INSA here in 2007. He, as well, has been incredibly accommodating (a word that just lost meaning to me after a long deliberation on the correct spelling...) while I search for an apartment...
And now let's gather around the aluminum pole for a brief airing of grievances regarding the happenings thus far:
First of all, you can't do anything without an address, so Liv's made an Attestation for me to say I'm staying with him. This allowed the opening of a bank account at Societe General. For those of you familiar with my running joke from the last stay in Toulouse, it appears that Societe General girl no longer works there :( However, there is a new young lady who could enter the pool of possible future wife prospects if the bank would hurry up and get me my stinking Carte Bleue- a key to open all doors in France, where Visa appears to have a monopoly, and American cards don't work because they don't have that cursed little chip in them. Bref, I can't start a phone contract until I have this magique debit card. Furthermore, I've been making calls about apartments from skype, which can be frustrating because everyone misses the call, but can't return it. Plus, there's all the trudging through the merde of French bureaucracy in order to get my residence card (carte magique numero 2), which I hope will be doled out in a grand ceremony in which I'm lead to the guillotine (to the sound of Axl Rose screaming "You're in the jungle, baby!"), only, instead of a guillotine blade, my Carte de Séjour gently slides down and presents me with legal residence.
On a more positive note, it's quite good to be back in Toulouse again, and it really feels like I wasn't gone for that long. Some things have changed with the city, as there's now a north-south metro line and some renovated areas downtown, but nothing too significant. It is a bit different, I must say, not having the crew of American and Erasmus (international student org.) kids here. There's a new group that I haven't really encountered yet, and although I'm wondering a bit who I'll be hanging out with, I guess this could be another opportunity for new friends.
Language-wise, I've been speaking a bit more French, and I'm a bit more comfortable on the phone now, but I have a rather goofy American accent, and I need alot of vocabulary work. Additionally, my language remains littered with unnecessary swearing that I don't use in English....fun in the short term, but really not helpful in most communication. Also, I've confirmed (after several communication problems both abroad and at home) that I have some sort of speech impediment- people have difficulty understanding when I say words that contain a consonant followed by an L, mistaking it instead for R. Ex: glass vs. grass. Apparently a problem for me in English as well as French, and I don't know whether to try to fix this or just let it slide and work on other issues. Whatever, if the kids I teach get confused, I'll just say I'm Amerkan and that I command respect....or I'll just get them to say "rural purple squirrel"- sure to induce enough laughter on my behalf that they'll forget what they asked me anyway.
Tomorrow is Wednesday the 8th of October. The first day of work. I was actually supposed to work today, but, in typical French fashion, the teachers were 'en grève,' and so thus I was sort of on strike as well. Score.
Finally, I must point out that I've had an unusual number of nightmares since arriving. This happened when I was in Paris, too, and I'm not sure if it's the result of being away from home or too much baguette. However, there have been some pretty funny dreams, too, where I've been singing along to Yelle (my favorite French pop singer) in random environments. It makes me wonder if I dance in my sleep (Tektonik, of course).
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