"So how's it goin', Sarah?" : a response.

this is the giant screen for the International Animation Film Festival





Well...

I love my life here in Annecy. I'm on permanent vacation here. My job is over in Aix-les-Old people and I've moved to Annecy to hang out with people I know here (including, of course, my cheri Max). I'm living in an apartment in the center of the old town with 2 French people (sometimes more) and 2 Irish people. We eat breakfast together, usually around noon and then, if it's warm, we go to the lake to swim and bask in the sun. No mosquitoes + very little humidity + 88 degree weather + clear blue lake + stunning mountains around the clear blue lake = permanent bliss. We eat dinner around 9 or 10. Eat, sleep, go to the beach. Some days I take my bike and ride along the bike path beside the lake until I get too tired. Other days I stay in and teach myself how to play the guitar. And when Max is not catering at the Imperial Palace (oh la la) we go kayaking or swimming or music playing somewhere. Oh yes, and I've also babysat a bit to make a little money. And by "a little money" I mean 7 Euros per hour. and SIX EUROS AFTER 9 pm. It's slave labor, I tell you. Three crazy kids for the equivalent of 9 dollars an hour? Is that right? Anyway, I'm living very modestly, to say the least.

HA! I crashed my bike into a moving car yesterday. I was turning right when suddenly my Lance Armstrong skinny tire caught the curb, and I went flying into the driver's side window of a car that was approaching. I can only imagine the driver's horror as he sees this girl on a man's blue bike, face contorted into denial, come careening into his window before rebounding in slow motion to the ground. In fact, after I hit the car I was almost able to stand up properly, but I couldn't quite get my balance and just sort of tipped over slowly to the ground. My ego was hurt worse than my scratched foot. The guy rolled down his window to ask if I was ok. No damage was done to his crap car. I had just collapsed the collapsible side mirror that he easily popped back into place. After we exchanged words, I hobbled the remaining 30 feet to my front door and waited for the adrenaline to wear off so I would shop shaking.

This week Annecy hosted an International Animation Film Festival. Animators from all over the world brought their creations to be judged and watched by thousands of people. Every night in the big park beside the lake, an animated film was played on a giant screen. I saw Lady and the Tramp (in French..weird) and Hoodwinked-The Real Story of Little Red Riding Hood (also in French, less weird). It was nice. I went to see a competition of short films that were between 3 and 40 min long. It was excellent! The films were like moving art. Beautiful. I never knew, however, that animators/animation students liked to dress and act so strangely. I mean, is it really necessary to shave your entire head except for one long dread that you tuck in front of your ear? Anyway, this week has been filled with artsy tourists with their artsy admission badges hooked securely around their necks.

In the past week I've been to 3 barbecue. First, for a Frenchman, a barbecue means neither hamburgers, nor juicy steak, nor tender roasted chicken breasts. Instead we take they roast a saucission, a sausage/hot dog like thing that is 5 thousand times better than any hot dog I've ever tasted, and put it into a piece of baguette like a little sandwich. So good. Also they roast kebabs. But never the meat alone. It's always on a kebab. No big deal though. It's delicious. So, the first bbq I went to last week was at max's house, and it poured the rain. Bummer. The next bbq was the following night at a giant house in the mountains about 1.5 hours away. We went to the birthday party of a friend of Max's. This house had 20 some beds in it, people. Insane. Anyway, there were about 25 people there and we stuffed ourselves with saussion and bread. The night went ok. I was a bit of an outsider, which is never too fun. The people that were there had all been friends for 10 odd years or something ridiculous like that, and it can be difficult to force yourself into a group. In addition, I was awake until past 5 am because some creative boys thought it would be fun to go "mountain climbing" up and down the wooden stairs in the center of the house. Equipped with ski poles for banging on the stairs and heavy boots for "climbing" they succeeded in waking up the entire house with their racket. Eventually I cracked and, in an angry, sleep-deprived daze, I made them turn over their ski poles and threw them in the kitchen. I don't know why I thought that would be effective, but luckily it was. Of course they all make fun of me the next day. But it was worth it; I would have exploded otherwise. These people are all around 21-23 years old! Amazing. I guess I can say I enjoyed the experience of celebrating some girls birthday in a chalet in the mountains overlooking Mount Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe.

The last bbq I went to was yesterday night, again celebrating the birthday of a friend of a friend. But this guy was turning 30 instead of 22. HA the difference. We were about 15 people from all over France and the EU. It was really nice. Lots of good food and plenty of pushing people into the pool in the backyard. I sort of pushed myself in charge of starting and maintaing the bbq itself, because, well, I really like fires. So I successfully lit the fire (despite critique from a rather large, self-confident guy who very UNsuccessfully lit his side of the fire, HA) and cooked the saucissions. We had couscous and chocolate cake, olives and raspberry tarte. I talked to many people and had a nice time.

I feel like I'm at an awkward time or awkward age right now, though. I don't really fit in with other French people my age, because they are all still in school, and somehow I feel more mature than them. But I don't fit in with people slightly older than me because they all have jobs and are seem more mature than me. I'm jobless and don't know what I'm doing. I feel in the middle.

Speaking of feeling in the middle, I am having a lot of difficulty with this "leaving France" situation that's soon approaching. I know now that I am on a waiting list for next year (to repeat this program as a teacher), just like all Americans, and must wait for someone to decline the position before I'm offered a position. So I could find out as late as the end of September. It makes me crazy knowing I could leave France not knowing if or when I'll return. Not to mention Maxime. I'm going to really hate being separated from him, not knowing when we'll see each other again. GRR. I love this city and my life here and I don't really want to leave. I do, on the other hand, want to see my family and friends, but I want to know I'm coming back to continue relationships and things here. I'm leaving in one month now, and will be home sometime in the third week of July. I need to come home though because I need to make money before I come back. I can't work here sufficiently enough to support myself. It's so obnoxious. So I guess I'll just wait and see what happens and try not to worry about it too much. There's not much I can do but wait around and enjoy my time here.

Oh yeah, babysitting French kids is a riot. I think I've forgotten about kids. I don't know what to do with them or what they are capable of. I just kind of stared at them for awhile at first, the three of them, and then started making faces and showing off my muscles. They cracked up. It's so weird though because I don't know how to talk in French to little kids. The kids loved it when I would make a grammatical mistake. They thought it was hilarious and pointed it out every time. Ha ha, so funny. And then the worst: I had to read them kiddy stories before bed! Quel horror! I could never tell if the words were invented words or if they were just words I weren't familiar with yet. Plus, when I read aloud in French I don't always immediately follow the story, because I'm concentrating too hard on the words themselves. Then, I lose the main ideas of the story and have to pretend to understand and encourage comprehension of it. It's tragic. I guess I need more practice.

Photos of my students

(fyi - after these posts I will no longer have regular access to the internet)



The 4 women in the center are the english profs that I worked most closely with. From left to right: Patricia Guinoise, Claude Monniot, Collette Bajard, and Françoise. I played badminton with Françoise and some other random teachers. Collette invited me to her house for dinner (as did Claude). That photo was taken at a golf club restaurant where they took me for lunch on Wednesday this week. I appreciated it.




This is one half of one BTS class. They study sales stuff. They are between 19-21 years old.



This is another half of a different BTS class. Just a group of girls. They study banking and how to be a personal assistant.



This is half a class of 11th graders. They were really silly all year. They liked to ask me about gangster vocabulary, since I clearly look like a gangster and should know these things.




Another BTS class. Some of them spoke english really well. Some not at all. One guy told me loved me. (That's nice and all, buddy, but the word you're looking for is "like"...ooohhh, right).



danger.

Feeling neutral

I was feeling rather neutral about my last week at Lycée Marlioz. After all, I see most of the students once every two weeks, and I hadn't exactly made the effort to memorize any of their names. I don't mean to say that I didn't like the kids. I just never felt a particular attachment to them. Some of the kids drove me crazy. Some of them never spoke a word. Some of them constantly overflowed with ridiculous comments. But at the end of it all, when they started thanking me for a fun year and telling me how much they enjoyed my class, I felt a little surge of -- reciprocity perhaps. These kids have been object of my late night lesson planning, and I realized that I felt grateful to them for playing this role. They laughed at my dumb jokes, and they participated in the silly games. They turned me into a teacher. And for that I am grateful.

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This is my last full week of classes before, yes, another 2 week vacation. After vacation I am going on a 10-day field trip to Holland with a group of 33 10th graders that I have never met. We're traveling overnight on a bus to the north of Holland where we are splitting up to stay with families. I will be staying with some woman. OK. Otherwise, during the day we will be visiting windmills, riding bikes, and visiting flower markets. There is some international student conference in which the students will participate. I am one of 3 "adults" who is supposed to encourage the students to speak English and not to do drugs, etc. I feel both excited and slightly panicked about the trip. What do I know about being a chaperon?

Anyway, after the trip, I will move out of my apartment in Aix and into Tessa Lynch's (another assistant) apartment in the city of Annecy, where I have spend many weekends this year. Tessa is leaving to go back to the states, so I am finishing her lease which runs through June. For May and June then I will be living in Annecy, doing odd jobs to make some money. Hopefully I can make money tutoring. I am excited about leaving Aix-les-OLD. That's OLD as in OLD people. I think I've aged about 25 years since moving to Aix. It's really worn me down...

My sister Joy is coming to France on May 6th, the day after she graduates! I am excited. We're going to spend a few days in Paris, absorbing the touristic and not so touristic sights, before heading to my apartment in Annecy. Annecy is home to some stunning mountain scenery and a crystal clear lake. Hopefully it will be warm enough to take a dip. Joy will stay for about 10 days. I can't wait to spend time with my little sis.

Next year. I have applied to be an assistant again. This time, however, I chose to teach at a school that teaches teachers. The type of school is called IUFM. I would teach adults who are preparing to teach or who need to take some additional English credits. I would be placed somewhere in this same region and would have similar responsibilites to the job I have now. But I would be teaching adults. The positions for this program are given to first-time applicants, however, and I am not guarenteed a spot. I will find out mid-May if I have the position. If I don't get the position, I will probably send my CV to other private schools and see what happens. I'm just not quite ready to leave France.

So that leaves July, August, and part of September open. I don't know where I'll be but I need to be making some money for the fall.

Spain

Spain. I left Aix the morning of the 26th of December on a 12 hour train ride to Barcelona, Spain where I met Lisa Cantrell the afternoon of the 27th. We spent the first day sleeping/riding on a bus around the city, mainly because we took the wrong bus into the city, and it was an hour before we realized it. In the evening we wondered around the north of Barcelona looking for our host Jaume’s apartment. When planning our trip, Lisa discovered this website called Couchsurfing.com. The website provides a medium through which travelers and hosts can find each other. Basically, people create an account on the site, posting information about themselves and about their extra couch or place to stay. Then, if you are traveling to a city, you search for people who have a couch, and you write an e-mail asking if you can stay with them. For free. Yes, free. The idea is to promote cultural exchange and to provide travelers with an insider’s perspective of a city. You stay with someone for free with the intention that one day you will host someone for free in your city. You are not obliged to provide food for your guest, just a place to sleep and maybe some interesting conversation and a little information about the city. People of all ages all over the world participate. I believe there are about 130,000 participants. I think it’s a fantastic program. http://www.couchsurfing.com

With that said, we had not prepared ourselves the unusual sleeping conditions of our first couchsurfing experience at Jaume’s tiny studio apartment. Jaume is a divorced, 45-year old man who is extremely active in the couchsurfing community, hosting several travelers every night and organizing events for couchsurfers and hosts in Barcelona. To our surprise, the first night Jaume was hosting three other guys from three different countries, along with Lisa and me. That makes six cozy friends sleeping in the same room. His apartment was also home to hundreds of DVS, books, papers, gadgets and single-man smells stacked haphazardly on or under tall shelves lining the walls or strewn around the floor. Lisa and I were given two mattresses to sleep on in the “living room.” We cleared away some three-year old receipts and CDs and made our beds with the blankets that Jaume had, shrugging and giving each other that what-the-hell-are-we-doing-here-sleeping-on-the-floor-of-some-guy’s-apartment-but-hey-at-least-it’s-free look.

Our nights at Jaume’s passed rather uneventfully in this manor, Lisa and I on our respective mattresses with other random travelers on other cots or mattresses nearby, until the last night. Our 4th night, Jaume’s four children all under the age of 15 came to visit daddy Jaume. Lisa and I attempted to repack our bags with Jaume’s 10-year old daughter begging us to play and with the TV, computer games, and lights blaring full force at 2 am as we tried to sleep. Needless to say, I am not having children when I grow up. Haha just kidding. I mean, we were quite grateful to be leaving the next morning.



This is me and Lisa with 2 of Jaume's children. Right.

Barcelona is a beautiful city on the coast in the northeast of Spain. Lisa and I spent most of our time wandering around the city, lost in it’s tiny streets, shops, and cafés. We walked up and down the Ramblas, a street lined with merchants and bizarre street performers that do a trick if you give them a coin. We ate plump Spanish olives and drank sweet sangria. We made picnics with spicy chorizo (like pepperoni) and fresh cheeses. It was delightful. We visited the Picasso museum and listened as street musicians filled the parks with captivating Spanish saxophone and guitar, giving in and buying their CD. We spent time admiring the strange, incomplete cathedral started by Gualdi in 18something. One of the famous artists in Barcelona, Gaudi designed a park and several apartment buildings and houses, along with his cathedral. He wanted people to live in art. His designs are colorful and eccentric and remind me of Dr. Seuss. I wish I could show you my pictures but…

My camera was stolen the second day we were in Barcelona. Actually my backpack was stolen from beside my feet while we were having a drink in a bar before dinner. Apparently, Barcelona is one of the worst places for robberies in Europe. It was pretty strange because the bar wasn’t crowded at all, but we saw nothing of the incident. Luckily, only my small digital camera and my cell phone were in the bag. My important documents and money were in Lisa’s more secure bag. Sigh of relief. This means, however, that instead of nice digital pictures of our trip, I have three rolls of ghetto speckled pictures. Such is life.

But here are some picts from Google:







We left Barcelona on the 31st for Madrid, the capital of Spain. We spent the first part of our New Year’s Eve in the bar of the hostel partying, dancing, and drinking Sangria with other travelers. Later we merged with the enormous, pulsating crowd at the Place del Sol, the center of the city where everyone had come to bring in the new year. The air was electric. We found a small ledge against a construction barricade from which we could see both the clock tower and the swarms of people underneath. Although there was no countdown, Madrid gave birth to the new year with a glorious explosion of fireworks and cries that temporarily lingered above the crowd like last years regrets. Shortly afterward, we randomly ran into some friends from the hostel and danced our way into the first few hours of the new year.

Aside from the new year’s bash, however, Madrid was one of those cities that you are likely to forget you were ever there...we spent the rest of our time in Madrid recovering from new year's, drinking small coffees in various cafés, making a running commentary on the local fashions, and watching children play in the park. We danced near a drum circle and ate delicious tapas in a smoky crowded bar. We did visit the Reina Sofia museum to see the contemporary art exhibits, which was cool. But to me, Madrid had no surprises, no delights, no pull. I enjoyed living the lazy, contemplative life for those few days.

I'm baaack

yeah that's me with short short hair in the teacher's lounge at school. I FINALLY figured out how to connect my computer to the internet at school, which means I can flood you with photos more often. in the background there is a newspaper article of some of my teachers who were on strike in December. Way to be proactive, teachers.



me and my new do, in my pjs, not really rockin' it out on the bass at Max's parent's house in Annecy oohh yeah Max is the one who plays the bass.

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OK, folks I’m back. Get ready.

As it WAS freakishly warm here, on Saturday we thought it would be fun to get a little fresh air with a nice bike ride around the deceivingly small-looking lake in Annecy. Max, Delphine and I packed some smoked meat and cheese sandwiches and headed out on our journey. The first half of the trip combined magnificent mountain views with several steady, annoying uphill climbs. My legs protested loudly. Later, we saw a group of paragliders shooting themselves off the mountain in bursts of color, making me insanely jealous of their dangeling legs. The second half of the trip, after our sandwiches, was on a flat, bike-only path that was much more agreeable. Four hours and 25 miles later, we arrived back at Max’s house, where I had to take some aspirin and beat the life back into my shriveled legs.

Needless to say, we spent the whole day Sunday at Max’s parents house, in pajamas, laying on the couch, eating, sleeping, and playing music on a crusty keyboard, and coddling our whining legs.



the paragliders



me and max after our ride
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Back it up.

Christmas 2006.

A few days before Christmas I ate dinner with Max and his parents at Max’s aunt’s house in Annecy. We had escargot bathed in a basil sauce, which I loved so much that I don’t remember much of anything else we ate. In France, it’s traditional during Christmas to have a cake in the shape of a Yule log, and the one we had for dessert was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner with their family, as it gave me a home to claim during the holiday.

Christmas Eve day, Kerri and I went to Annecy to stay with Tessa Lynch. We made ourselves a nice dinner and sang every Christmas song in the paperback, sing-a-long Christmas song books that came with the Yule Log Christmas Pack my mom sent me. What’s that, you say to yourself, a Yule Log Christmas Pack? That’s right. A Yule Log Christmas Pack, complete with a DVD of 90-minutes of a burning Yule log, with or without Christmas music in the background, and 4 song books. I don’t want to give away the plot of the movie, but I’m afraid the action, and characters for that matter, were quite lacking. What we do get, however, is a captivating, head-on shot of a fireplace, fully decorated in its tacky Christmas glory. Sometimes the camera zooms in on the fire alone, sometimes it pans the dollied mantel and the dusty nutcracker, zooming back out again to the whole fireplace. We were addicted.



me, Kerri, and Tessa in Tessa's kitchen

After tiring our voices with Christmas cheer, I ran into town to catch part of a Christmas Eve mass. I had the urge to be briefly surrounded by a large group of people, as is usually the norm on Christmas Eve. When I arrived, I stood in the back with the other 50 late people and looked over the congregation of a few hundred people catching their yearly dose of religion. I stayed just long enough to hear a gag-inducing, sweet Christmas story about a poor boy, his mother, and a pair of shiny shoes that made all the adults roll their eyes at each other while glancing at their watches. I listed to one Christmas carol afterward and went back to Tessa’s.

That night I got to see my extended family (dad’s side) through the web cam with Skype. Everyone was at my Granny’s house in Greenville eating weenies, forgotten cookies, dates, and olives. Did someone remember to spike the eggnog this year? It was really great to see and say hello to everyone. Honestly, I think Christmas Eve was more difficult away from family than Christmas day. I missed participating in the anticipation that excites and energizes everyone on Christmas Eve. Late Christmas Eve near midnight, we took a walk to the park beside the lake in Annecy and happened to come across a temporary petting zoo which, to our surprise, housed 6 tiny reindeer. We tried to pet them, but they were too clever and avoided our outstretched hands. We then walked to the lake’s edge and shot some fireworks. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

Christmas day I slept until 10 or so, the latest I have ever slept in my life on Christmas day. We made french toast and watched 4 movies during the day. It was an extremely lazy day. I also watched my family celebrate Christmas through Skype, which was fun.

The following day I left for Barcelona, Spain on a 13 hour train ride. I met up with Lisa Cantrell, a friend from Furman, and we traveled for 10 days or so together. More adventures next time...

I played a little badminton today

Badminton seems to be the game of choice for some of the teachers here, and today I decided to join them. It's been probably 6 years or so since I've played, but I felt my way back to the game with ease. Badminton is like tennis except the 'ball' flys and hovers in the air for a lot longer. You can hit the birdy (I think it's called) as hard as you want but it doesn't influence the distance too much. It felt good to release my aggression on that little foam ball with wings.

Time to complain: My kids have been driving me nuts lately. Have you ever taught a class before? I don't understand how I am supposed to teach if: 1. The kids don't speak or understand English 2. The kids are perpetually facing each other chatting and being obnoxious or 3. If they kids could care less and don't smile or say anything. It's the kids that glare at me and just talk over me that drive me the most crazy. I tried to talk about interesting things, like food (everybody likes to talk about food, right?), but I got no response. It's probably every other class that drives me nuts. This morning I had a group of 8 girls that just chatted to each other. I ask them to be quiet. I shhh them. I wait silently and watch them, waiting for them to finish. Nothing works. Yesterday a punkish looking girl just listened to her headphones the whole time I was talking. What the hell.

I am, however, about to teach my favorite class. This is the class to whom I teach Frankenstein. I always enjoy this class.

OH and something else that drives me crazy: I do not understand why my BTS students are going to school to learn about being a secretary or sales assistant! Why?? I thought this kind of stuff was learned on the job. Why does the government support those types of classes? I feel like someone has told these kids that this is the only option for their lives. Don't get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with being a secretary or sales assistant. I just think that while in school, kids should be learning other ideas about life and the world. Does this make sense to someone else?

One interesting thing: strikes, though troublesome, are effective. The transportation system goes on strike about once a month. They strike because they work too hard, they want more money, they don't have enough vacation etc. etc. During a strike, about half the trains and half the buses run on schedule. It causes quite the ruckus. I was stuck in Chambéry for 3 extra hours the other day because my normal train was canceled, and I was 15 minutes late to class because the bus didn't run on time. But they get at least a part of what they want. The teachers in this region are going on strike on Monday. Most students won't come to school that day. The teachers, especially the English teachers, are tired of the media and the parents complaining that teachers don't work hard enough and get too much vacation. The kids don't speak English well enough, they say. The English teachers are angry because it's the kids who don't do their work or don't practice or whatever. There are other reasons they are going on strike as well, but I don't know them. The teacher's don't get paid on the days they strike, so it's significant when a strike happens and teachers choose to participate. Maybe I should go on strike, too. I want to get paid more! I want to rid of BTS classes! I want a new car! I wonder what Monday will be like.

This weekend I am going to Annecy to finish Christmas shopping and to try cross-country skiing for the first time, if there is enough snow. Hopefully I can take some pictures to show you.

And lastly, I am missing my home during this season. I miss hearing Chrismas music on the radio and in stores. It's just not as big here. It's kind of nice because Christmas isn't in your face everywhere you turn, but I do miss the music. It's depressing sometimes. Between my crazy kids, the cold, and the lack of Christmas spirit, I'm feeling kind of blue. And I can't always discuss Christmas with my the BTS kids because half of them are Muslim and don't celebrate Christmas. Tonight, however, I am going to a restaurant with about 50 other teachers for the end of the year Christmas party thing. I hope that is nice. Sigh.

Happy weekend!

me and my tree

lights!

Some of the lights in Aix