Spring Vacation Adventures

Bonjour! I'm running around Europe for this vacation so just a quick update: So far, I've :

--walked around Salzburg in the rain
--crossed three country lines in four hours!
--had Wiener schnitzel --enjoyed the special beer from Salzburg
--experienced a Mozart dinner concert featuring a five piece ensemble and two opera singers
 --went to Mass in the Salzburg cathedral
 --heard Palastina's Mass for Pope Marcelius with a surrounding choir (ancient surround sound)

 Catch up with you later!

Of bees, crickets, and leaving...

I don't know what to say. All this time that I've been here I never thought I could start to miss France even before I left it. Yesterday I said goodbye to some friends that I will probably never see again (like the adorable Africans!) I have loved and have been loved-and I've discovered that is the best thing and ranks far above all the places i've seen and things I've done.  I just wish I didn't have to be oceans away from the community over here.  As le prêtre told me, I have options: I can work in France, join the Dominicans or marry a Frenchman.  *blush* Indeed, I have met some of the sweetest, most charming people here in Nancy and I don't want to leave them-but I must.  Some of the sweetest things I have ever heard were said to me in farewell yesterday and that became the slowest walk home I have ever experienced.   I don't think my friends even know how comforting they have been to me in all my troubles and challenges-if it wasn't for them, I'm sure I would have lost the spirit to continue. I dread going home, but only because I dread leaving.  The more you travel, the more you begin to realize that it's the friends you make and the people that you meet, not the places, sticks and stones that you visit. I will end this post with another story: The bees were all busy in their hives, going about their daily work cheerfully. The littlest bee had planned a voyage to a certain rose patch to collect pollen, but a strong west wind blew her to quite another part of the garden.  This part was much wilder than the rest of the garden, but beautiful all the same. The littlest bee recognized it immediately from her other trips around the garden, so she was not frightened. There was a family of sparrows that she decided to visit. They were very generous to her, but when it came time for her to leave, she was put on the charge of the sparrows neighbors-the crickets-who were to take her home.  Mother cricket was very kind. She gave the littlest bee honeysuckle wine and mirabelle tea and told the littlest bee all about her big and wonderful family, showing her the waterspout drawings of her sons, singing the praises of each one in his turn. There seemed to be no end to her marvelous family.  Dare I add that the sons were searching for brides to share their cricket holes and the mother cricket was most anxious to assist them. It was during a story of the third son's intelligence and prowess that he had in a fight with a fire ant that the third son actually appeared in person.  He was tall-that is, for a cricket, and his accent wasn't at all how the littlest bee had imagined. But he was civil all the same asking about the hive and what work she did there.  When at last it was time to go, she knew that they would meet again.   And that not how it was at all. I happened to speak with this particular bee, and I can tell you quite frankly that she never was so pleased or confused in all her life.  For one thing, she offers this piece of advice--if you are working for a dragonfly, and that dragonfly's incredibly handsome son walks into the room right when you are in the middle of working and are covered in pollen dust...well, nothing prepares you for that. And I have not even begun to tell the stories that happen around the hive!

This week...

...is filled with fun and embarrassing things.

--working with a bunch of giggling toddlers trying to make them speak English when all they do is yell the few words they know in Spanish and Italian (as you might sense, I disagree with someone's pedagogy...)

--trying to lead a circle game and getting my hair stuck on one of their low-hanging-not-so-cute art projects

--having the directrice (no less) disentangle me from the aforesaid predicament

--going to the chrism Mass at the cathedral (the first chrism Mass I've ever been to in English or French), hearing the excellent homily on the new evangelization and seeing my friends

--keeping a smile on my face even though my computer is dead and gone for good (here's hoping the next one lasts a bit longer and that I can still get all my files off)

Things I will miss...
--la bise...but you all already know that :) I just can't believe how much I like it
--the French and their truly awesome selves...there really isn't a better way to put that
--speaking french with my roommate, dictionary in hand
--little kids speaking French and their amazement that I can understand them (even after they've been speaking to me only in french for two whole days)


Since life is incredibly busy with the Germans leaving, holy week, école maternelle and computer problems, I shall wish you a joyeux pâques :)

SNCF and opinions

Being abroad is all about changing your opinions.

Mine just did.

SNCF is the company that runs all the trains in France--and sometimes they can be your bitter enemy (actually, most of the time).  I once saw a guy getting slapped with a huge fine because his ticket had "traces of falsification," and even if he applied for a refund, let's face it, this is France, they're super slow about paperwork.

Dum-dah-dee-dum*

Today I purchased some complicated tickets, and let me tell you, the guys at the guichet were super helpful and nice.  Even though it took a long time to get the tickets, the guy who was helping me was patient and courteous and even gave me extra sleeves to hold all the tickets :)

France might be disorganized in some areas, but I think they make up for it with gentility.  Americans could learn from that.

*Anyone who has ever been in a train station in France knows that little jingle. Here's what I mean.

Les Misérables

I finally saw Les Mis--not what I expected, but it was a fun outing.  Did I love it or hate it?  Let's just say that I purchased a few songs from the second half of the film :P  The French people I was with were absolutely appalled at the American pronunciation of French names, and I think the constant singing got to us (in addition to the inaccuracies and botched ending).  Overall, I still had fun!

Other news:  I'm finally on vacation!  WOOT!  This one is going to be a whirlwind and ridiculously expensive--so stay tuned for some awesomeness.

Things are starting to wrap up over here, which is kind of scary and depressing--and I would totally be in deep depression if the sun hadn't finally decided to show his face this entire week!  Believe it or not, we had a sunny/snowy day yesterday... kind of like the scene in Les Mis where Javert gets his report back from Paris.  I didn't think snow and sun was a possibility.

Have a marvelous weekend!

A monumental moment

Friends, I have been living in France for five months.  And before we start breaking out the champagne and heating up the raclette machines, I just want to document what makes this day so monumental:

5 months is...

- the longest I've ever lived away from home

- the longest I've ever lived entirely by myself

- the longest I've ever lived in a foreign country

- the longest I've ever spent without seeing my parents or my brother (even my roommate noticed this one)

- the longest I've ever been completely self-sufficient (and before you get all high and mighty, remember that I'm only 22)

- the longest I've ever lived speaking another language as a primary means of communication

I could also say it's the longest I've ever gone without sunlight, but that would be ignoring the glorious weather we had today--I was almost dizzy with happiness when Mr. Sunshine finally decided to show his face!

I have friends from all over the world--something I wouldn't trade for all of Dixie.  I often surprise myself with how good my French is getting (ok, everyone has their days, even in English...) I sometimes tense up, thinking I have no idea what to say or how to say it and then come out with a new friend and an hour long conversation.

And then there are some things that can't be bought for time nor money...

À bientôt!

~Laura

People are so nice!

As I was making my way to Verdun this past weekend, so was an ice storm.

The train part of the ride went along quite smoothly, but when it came time for the bus, the driver flatly informed me (and the other passenger--yeah, there were only two of us) that we might not be able to make it to Verdun because of the verglas (black ice) that was all over the hilly country roads.

Getting stuck in Conflans is everyone's idea of a nightmare--there is NOTHING there.

Finally, he decided to make some calls to see if the autoroute was better.  Sweet man, he agreed to take us as long as we didn't mind going the long way.  At first the road didn't seem too bad, but as we got on the highway, the driver pointed out a truck that had turned over--which freaked us into buckling up.

Because the driver had to get back to Metz that evening (that's where he lived) he asked if he could leave us at the shopping center just outside of town.  Of course, this meant that I would be stuck out in the middle of the countryside without a car or any way to get into town.

The other girl who was with me graciously called a friend and asked if he could pick the both of us up--which he did, and they dropped me off even closer than the bus would have normally!

They could tell immediately by my accent that I wasn't French.

"Assistant?" Yeah... everyone here knows about the assistants and they were more than happy to help me out :)

People are so nice!

Marco the Melancholic

Personalities fascinate me.  Before I left the good ol' US of A I was halfway through reading The Temperament God Gave You (a fabulous book about the four temperaments: choleric, sanguine, melancholic and phlegmatic).  Knowing the temperaments can help you understand other people--and keep you from getting frustrated at why people do things they way they do them.

I have a story to share.

Melancholics are introverted, thoughtful people who are usually concerned with rules, justice, and doing things correctly--no matter how long it takes.  They are often thought of as sad--though that's not quite part of the temperament--and deeply focused individuals.

Meet Marco--The. Cutest. Kid. Ever.

He is eight years old and a strong melancholic--when I ask feelings questions, he's apt to reply that he's sad (until the other kids laugh at him).

He also is the same kid who dared to contradict my point giving system when two kids answered a question at the same time and I gave both teams a point-- "c'est pas juste!"  Half the time I can't tell if he's participating because he sits in the corner staring at his desk (not wildly raising his hand like the other kids when we play games)--but he usually knows the answer.

One day we were all walking up to class together:

"Laura, can I ask you a question?" he said carefully.  Mind you, most kids just come right out and ask the question.

"Bien sûr!"

"As-tu un mari?" (do you have a husband?)

What a question!  This was cuteness incarnate.  I melted.

I feel like this conversation ranks highest, followed closely by: how many kids do you have? and how many of your friends have asked to be your "petit ami?"

Bon week end!

À bientôt!

Internet problems

Once again, hailing from Macdo.

After spending a lovely weekend with my sister, I returned to find the apartment once again void of internet access.

This has happened so many times, I think I'm over it...done, just done. 

On the positive side, I have another job interview on Tuesday (prayers appreciated) and it is actually sunny today!

À bientôt!

A Night at the Opera!

Last night I went to the Opera National de Lorraine in Nancy to see Verdi's Macbeth!

It was quite an elegant affair--first we stopped at one of the lovely cafes around the Place Stanislas for some drinks (and desserts!)  I had pêche kir and profiteroles:

We were able to purchase tickets for the opera for only 5 euros a piece--what a deal!  That is what we thought until we got to our seats:

This was the view from my seat--with a big light fixture and balcony blocking the entire view--BUT we had an amazing view of the projected titles :)  My roommate, who is always trying to improve her French, wrote down all the words that she didn't understand :)

I spent the entirety of the opera kneeling beside the balcony and laying on my chest, craning my neck over the edge to catch a glimpse of the actors as they passed by my small window of vision.  I did get to see a couple of the murders, so it wasn't a total loss.

At the beginning, I consoled myself with the fact that I had an absolutely gorgeous view of the orchestra pit and the harpist:

But, I soon realized that the harpist didn't have a big part at all--only one easy-ish exposed section and a bunch of stuff that we couldn't hear anyway  How disappointing!  Though I now know an easy opera gig without having to know too much :) To be fair, there was another section that reminded me of the overture to La Forza del Destino which is hard--but still, not a bad gig!

À bientôt!

Housekeeping!

While I'm in between classes and rapidly consuming my lunch in a very non-french like manner, I thought I'd do some housekeeping for the blog.

You may have noticed (though I doubt it) that I have taken down comments--I feel like blogging has moved out of the age of the comment, and no one was using the comment function anyway.

INSTEAD

I added/added more reaction checkboxes at the bottom of every post.  They're anonymous, fast, and help me decipher what people actually like to read--as opposed to comments which are laborious because of scammers and passwords, etc.

In short: read a post, check the box and send me some love :)

Macdo, WiFi, and the Aquarium of Nancy

Bonjour!

Today, I'm hailing from Macdo because the wireless internet service at my residence is of the disposition to crash and not function twice per month for two days.

This is not the first time, nor will it be, alas, the last time.

Nancy does not have a Starbuck's, so the next best thing is Macdonalds...which everyone calls Macdo.  It's clean, non-expensive and has free wifi :)  The assistants tend to gather here during the breakdowns in technology...

Not to keep fuming, but this situation again reminds me of a question one of my students asked me when I first came to France--is France more modern than America?

One thing that I can say, is if you pay a monthly fee for internet at an apartment building, and that internet for some reason decides to fail, your residence will do its utmost to ensure that you do not go without internet for more than a few hours, let alone days.  That, my friends, is the difference--I shan't answer the question now, but you can just imagine what I'm thinking at this moment...

To better things: I visited the aquarium in Nancy this weekend in an attempt to get beyond the four dreary walls of my apartment.  Take a look:

La femme du menage...

I have to give the cleaning ladies a lot of credit around here--they're made of tough stuff!

Today I went to Macdo (Macdonald's to you Americans) and was sitting quietly enjoying my coffee, flan nature (an awesome pastry that is reminiscent of cheesecake) and reading my book, when I was suddenly surrounded by "horrible teenagers."  They were all eating McFlurries and making a general racket, when a cleaning lady stormed up to them.  Apparently one of them had made a mess in the bathroom that she had just cleaned--so she made them go back and clean it!

Culture clarification: Macdo over here is actually nice.  They have this thing called a McCafe where you can get cheap pastries and coffee (just like in a salon du thé).  Not the best quality, but hey, I'm cool with cheap and still tasty!  Macaroons are still a euro a piece for the small ones...sheesh!

Anyway, I guess what surprised me the most about the scenario is that the kids actually went back with the cleaning lady and did what she told them to do...granted it might have just been mopping the floor and throwing out some paper towels, but still!  In America, I'm pretty sure the kid would have just bad-mouthed her and left to avoid further confrontation.

À bientôt!

Visits and Verglas

Sunday was a horrible day.

I woke up as usual to go to Mass (I love the Basilica for morning Mass!) but as I set foot outside my residence, I began to slip and slide.  The entire sidewalk was covered in a thick sheet of ice from the rain during the night.  It was worse than an ice rink.  

Did I fall?  Yes... heels over head in front of some neighbor of mine clearing away the ice--it was an otherwise empty street thank goodness--but thanks to the slanty way the French build their sidewalks, I slid right down into the street.  Go ahead, picture it... I was not amused at the time. I knew I couldn't make it as far as the basilica, so I decided to try the local parish around the corner (it's a much smaller parish without as many young people...let me clarify, no young people).  I pulled myself up the ramp (no footwork involved) and skated past some old ladies who were trying to decide if Mass had been cancelled.

After some other people who were gathered outside telephoned the priest, it became clear that the priest couldn't get to that church...so we had to look for other options.  Getting home was even more fun--that ramp is more amusing that it seems!  I literally skated home...

I went for my second choice with was the evening Mass at the Cathedral--apparently I wasn't the only one who had a change of plans because some older lady asked me what time Mass was when I arrived in the evening.  (Note of pride: I can actually give people directions and information in French...and they trust me).

On the plus side, I stayed indoors most of the day, made tea and rice pudding and watched my neighbors hacking away at the sidewalks in front of their houses all afternoon.  By nightfall, my prayers had been answered and the path was clear to Mass.

On Friday, I visited one of my visioconference schools--I was Miss Celebrity.

I received questions such as:

-"How many kids do you have?"  I'm not even married.  To which they replied, "then you must not be an adult yet."  LOL.

-"Do you like us?"

-"Can you read French?" Yes.... and they handed me an enormous stack of cards, drawings and messages... 

Afterwards, we had Galette des Trois Rois (for my fourth time!)  Basically, it's a pastry/tart with an almond paste in the middle, and a ceramic statue hidden somewhere in it.  The youngest hides under the table and tells the person serving the tart which piece goes to whom around the table so they don't cheat to get the statue.  I won...again... The first time, I almost broke a tooth. If this keeps up, I'll have a whole Nativity scene...

Afterwards, we had our picture taken in front of the school by a journalist... though I think he was a journalist for the school... doesn't hurt to imagine :)

And today?

Despite having to get up super early, two classes were cancelled this afternoon!  Two more are cancelled this week due to some of the kids doing a snow study/activity.  Score!

Cheers!

~Laura

Getting hit on by a French guy can be a pleasant experience

Now that you're actually reading this post, I'll need to clarify, because as we all know, word choice matters: young French guy, non-creepy French guy, sweet conversation.

Armed with that vocabulary, I have a story to tell.  Two stories, actually.

When I first came to Nancy--my first day here, in fact-- I got stuck talking to some old French dude.  It wasn't a bad conversation--I did mostly listening because my french wasn't that great (ok, almost non-existent) and I was just pleased that someone actually wanted to talk with me.  Until he wanted to make it a regular thing.  *shudder*

Brave as I may sound, I have only just now developed the courage (and vocabulary) to venture back into that park.

I've had other experiences since then to improve my opinion of Frenchmen (like the terribly awesome 18-30 young adult Bible study that I found), but the one from this week takes the cake.

For some reason, my residence decided that they needed to exterminate all the non-existent bed bugs--and so all of the assistants from my building were left out in the cold (yes, it is very cold with ice and snow right now!) while we waited for the poison to clear.  I, luckily, found the apartment of the assistants in the other building and we hung out for a while.  One of them had a conversation exchange (one hour English, one hour French) with some French guy who had responded to her internet ad, and since she hadn't ever met him before and didn't want to get stuck with a creep I decided to tag along.  I totally understand the creep thing, as do most of the other female assistants by now.

Perhaps this would go over better in fairytale form:

Once upon a time there were two bees who went out for dew drops with a dragonfly.  Neither of the bee had met the dragonfly before, so it was best that the littlest bee went along for good company.  As it turned out, the dragonfly was not as much of a dragon as they had pictured him to be--in fact, he was rather nice and pleasant.

They flew around the garden and came to rest by the pond in the center of the garden to sip dew drops and practice speaking.  The dragonfly was very impressive in his speaking abilities, as well as the other bee; so much so that the littlest bee began to doubt her abilities when it came time to switch languages she said she would just sit and listen... which was the farthest thing from what actually occurred.  She got so involved the conversation that she almost didn't notice how much the dragonfly was smiling at her and inching closer across the lilypad.  The other bee did notice, and stopped participating in the conversation altogether; when it was time to go, she discretely tapped the littlest bee on the wing, which was immediately noticed by the dragonfly, who got up to pay for the dew drops before anyone could protest.

The other bee and the dragonfly had had an agreement to go to the pond every week for a similar exchange, but when it came time to decide the specifics for next week, he didn't ask her; he asked the littlest bee.  By then she was more acutely aware of his apparent happiness in talking to her, she didn't quite know what to do without offending the other bee (whose rendez-vous it was in the first place).  In the end, they agreed to meet in the evening sometimes so the littlest bee wouldn't have to miss her other obligations that she normally had at that time (even though the littlest bee hadn't--and still doesn't have--any intention of coming back to the conversations).

And the moral of the story is: don't be so wrapped up in have a decent and intelligent and non-creepy conversation that it takes the other bee to tell you on the way home how much a dragonfly likes you!

That, my friends, is how it really happened--the "happily ever after"is not how they lived, but rather how the littlest bee had her mind changed about dragonflies in general.

The end :)

La baguette is not French bread!

Ah, the French and their obsession with bread.  Don't laugh, it's real--and I'm totally with them on this one!

They have special flours for different types of bread--more than just white flour, or cake flour--it depends on the region where it is grown and all sorts of stuff.

There is a rumor going around that a true baguette cannot be made outside of France--and they're serious.  You haven't had good bread until you've ripped off the end of a warm baguette and sunk your teeth into the crunchy, yet chewy crust and soft interior.  Baguettes don't keep very well--but they're not intended to.  Get a couple of loaves fresh every morning.

They eat bread with every meal, no joke.  Apparently you can spot a tourist miles away if they do any of the following:
-keep their bread on the plate and not on the table beside the plate (there is no such thing as a bread plate over here)
-eat the bread before tasting the other food
--or don't tear it up with their fingers (to dip in the sauces of the plate)

Don't go to the grocery store and pick up a baguette (ironically named French bread when it couln't even be classified as pigeon food over here).  It just isn't worth it--you need the real experience, my friends, and then you will see what you are missing.

And I could give you a speech about chocolate, but let's face it, when all we've got is Hershey's, how can we compete?

Baguettes, chocolate, mirabelles, quiches, duck, wine, cheese--ahhh!  It's all too much!

Let me leave you with the wise words of my Parisian friend: You cannot use words to describe food, only feelings...

Time for dinner...

Cheers!
~Laura

Hat tip to my little guardian angel over here!

To the cute blond guy who is always around when I need help carrying up my suitcases, I just want to say thank you.

Seriously, he appears out of nowhere, doesn't say much, and carries my suitcase all the way up to what Americans would term the fourth floor and then leaves with just a "de rien!"

What I find particularly noble is that I always meet him coming outside the building, which means that he must have just descended the stairs before offering to help me go all the way back up.

Good manners (particularly to total strangers) will never cease to impress me.

Cheers!
~Laura

When gentlemen are gentlemen, ladies notice...

In some ways, the Europeans are more well-mannered than the Americans.

French ladies tend to wear skirts and very few people walk outside in their pajamas or sports clothes.  All the teachers instruct the students to say hello to me (individually) before class because it's a sign of politeness.  I have never seen a French child running through a store screaming (or screaming in public period).

The French teach their kids well: the other day I saw a daddy and his cute little girl (probably around 4-5) crossing a big intersection (with the tram) and like a typical French person, he started to cross the street while the light was still red.  The little girl didn't move and told him they couldn't cross yet--so. adorable.

On Thursday I went to visit a preschool (école maternelle) for a special one week project I'm doing (AHHH those babies are so cute!  They are babies too--ages 2.5 to 6 years old).  The other two assistants that are participating in the project are dudes from Italy and Spain--and they're super gentlemanly.  For instance, as we were touring the school, they would open all the doors for me and the other teachers and stand to the side so that we could pass in front of them going through doors and sitting down.  Not much, but to a girl who has had countless doors slammed in front of her face by American jocks, it felt really quite civilized.

La bise.  At first it creeped me out, but now I think it's quite sweet.   For those of you who do not have a French vocabulary, la bise is that kissing thing the French do when they greet each other: you do right cheeks first then left, lightly touching cheek to cheek and making a kissing sound--though some people actually smooch each cheek which can get a bit slobbery with a whole group.  I prefer the delicate, more elegant method.  When my teachers give me la bise I feel like I'm more integrated into society (they shook my hands at first).  Too bad it doesn't fly in America--I'm going to miss going to a social gathering and getting smooched by half a dozen cute French guys in rapid succession.  Ok, it doesn't happen that often...but it does happen :)

Living life in Lorraine...ça vous plaît?

Cheers!
~Laura

La Maison de Jeanne d' Arc

We arrived in Domremy-la-Pucelle around noon--and since everything in France is generally closed until 2 or 3pm we decided to check out the parish church.  And since a picture is worth a thousand words and since I don't put enough of them on this poor blog:

 

This is the statue of St. Margaret that St. Joan of Arc prayed  in front of when she was a little girl...awesome, right?

2012 was the 600th anniversary of her birth in Domremy-la-Pucelle.

We later found out that the replica of her house was closed for Christmas, but we saw the outside, and later found out that what we were standing in was actually her house:

Then we hiked over (ok, we drove because of the rain) to the Basilique du Bois Chenu--built on the site where St. Jeanne first heard the voices:

This last picture is of the sweet restaurant/pilgrim welcome center where we had lunch.  Ok, Domremy is a small town, and given our collective Parisian, Roman, and general American attitudes, we spent so much time in the parish church that we had forgotten that restaurants close at 2pm around here.  At about 2:30pm we arrived at this restaurant and were relieved to discover that they were open until 3pm.  So we knocked.  It was locked and there was no one in sight.  Going around the back we found someone to let us in... and yes, we were the only people in the restaurant.

They gave us a menu with just sandwiches and cold drinks...ham or cheese or ham and cheese...that sort of thing.  Mary and I were about ready to accept whatever food we could get, but Jonathan spoke up and asked the lady for their menu--which they didn't have because they stopped serving lunch at 2 (like everyone else!)  He must have looked really crestfallen because she took pity on us and offered us some roast chicken, salad and fried potatoes.  It was the best, most amazing country meal that we had ever had!  So warm, so delectable--quite the respite from the rain and the cold!  Besides, they had mayonnaise with mustard in it which was super tasty.  All five of us followed up the chicken with some warm mirabelle tart--the likes of which you've never had before!

It was a fine day!

Then, of course, we tried stopping at another small shrine which the sister told us was closed for Christmas...whatevs!  We drank the spring water, took pictures in the rain and went back to Verdun to eat a simple meal of sausage, bread, cheese and wine and to play Euchre until the wee hours of the morning--yes, we are all fanatics about that game...the wine didn't help either...  It was really quite splendid.

Cheers!