First Break

Today marked the beginning of our first 2-week break from school. Yes, I have been teaching for less than a month and we already have a break. The Toussaint break gives students a week and a half off from school at the end of October each year, something equivalent to a Fall Break and a combination of all the Jewish holidays we have off in September back in the States. To celebrate, several of the English assistants threw a Halloween costume party since many will not be in town on October 31 and since France chooses not to embrace all that Halloween can offer. We invited some of our French friends from around town and had typical fall/Halloween food, candy and drinks including cider, an assortment of chocolates, etc. “Thriller,” “Monster Mash” and other Halloween gems were added to the evening’s playlist to ensure proper celebration.

Tonight we all went to the free, outdoor Joan Baez concert put on by the city of Montpellier as the headlining concert of a month long International Guitar Festival. Despite never seen her perform live before and not knowing a lot about her music, the concert was awesome and she is definitely a great performer. Throughout the 2+ hour concert, the 60-something musician sang songs both old and new from throughout her career, and in 4 different languages at that (French, English, Spanish, and Arabic).

Tomorrow I leave for Spain with a few friends for the rest of our break. We will be going to Madrid, Granada, and Barcelona for 3 days each, so I will be taking lots of pictures and will be back to update on our travels in the first week of November. Happy Halloween!

Miscellaneous observations

-While waiting for the tram one day, I happened to glance over and see a woman and a man running side by side. Both were wearing typical running gear and were fairly sweaty, but I soon realized that the woman, obviously mid-run, was carrying a baguette with her. Apparently when you need a baguette, nothing will stand in your way. Dually noted.

-Since I was assigned my own mailbox at school, I’ve been getting various flyers from the teacher’s union. One talked about their opposition to a law aiming to make more use of Masters students in education and Foreign Language Assistants (like myself), thus reducing the amount of time teachers would spend in the classroom. Point of irony #1: I received a mass invitation to a meeting about petitioning this issue. Point of irony #2: I considered attending just for the heck of it until there were reports of a train strike the day of the meeting. Unfortunate planning on the part of all striking parties involved.

First Days with Students

I made the rounds of my classes, introducing myself during our first meetings and having them do the same. I allowed them all to ask me any questions they wanted to ask, so here is the “Best of” compilation of what my French high schoolers had on their minds. And yes, these were all things students actually asked:

-The ever-present “Obama Factor”- What do you think of him? Do you know him? You are from Washington DC- were you at the inauguration?

-Who do you think is the most beautiful woman in the world?

-Do you have a gun?

-Is your house like “Desperate Housewives”?

-Do you like “hip hop culture”? (I’m still trying to figure out what exactly that means or if it was a loaded question…)

-Is it true that America is a “big” country? (Insert student making a gesture to signal obesity)

-Student: Do you prefer French women or American women?

Me: (realizing I am in a room filled with French girls, including my teacher, and trying to be diplomatic) Well, they are both very different. Which do you prefer?

Student: American women.

Teacher: Why?

Student: Because I like black women.

Teacher: (slightly perplexed) …There are black women in France. Nevermind, let’s move on.

And possibly my personal favorite:

-Do you think Tupac is still alive?

French Bureaucracy in Action

The first bit of merde I encountered upon my arrival in France was the innate catch-22 nature of much of French bureaucracy. Once in Montpellier, all English language assistants set out to complete the essential administrative tasks at hand, namely finding housing and opening a bank account. Here’s where the merde comes in: to get a bank account, you need proof that you have a permanent residence, but in order to obtain a permanent residence, you need to have proof of a bank account. This left us wondering for some time how to tackle this minor dilemma, until we took it upon ourselves to tell the banks we were currently living at our schools and were searching for other accommodations. Yes, we may have defrauded the banking system. This let us get the two week process of opening a bank account rolling, so that we could focus on moving out of our imaginary current residences and into real apartments. The catch there was that we all arrived after every student in Montpellier, which thrives largely on the several universities around town.

Fast forward a week and a half of living in a hotel and various reports about this year’s housing situation being the most dire in years, and most of us have found places to our liking. For me, I am living in the centre historique (historic district) about an 8 minute walk from the train station I travel from every day. Rent is affordable and there are enough boulangeries and patisseries on my street to keep my mouth watering all day. My colocataire (person I share the apartment with) is a man who lived in Africa for 25 years doing humanitarian work, was a professional photographer, and is a handyman. That being said, I noticed a photo he had in the apartment one day of a cottage in the Alps, which he proceeded to tell me he built and goes to each year. No electricity, no heating, no roads in or out during the winter. Needless to say, he’s quite an interesting person to chat with.

All in all, the first dose of merde made for a character building experience, to say the least. Luckily, we all made it out alive, and can now move onto the “living” part of our year here.

The Meaning of Merde

For those of you wondering about the title of this blog, it references Stephen Clarke’s A Year in the Merde, the story of a British man who is relocated to work in Paris for one year. Merde in French literally means, well, poo. As in what you might step in while walking down any given French street. It’s also used quite commonly in everyday French interactions, between friends, colleagues, and even strangers. However, the merde in this book, as well as my blog, references both the ups and downs of living la vie française, things (like the merde in the street) that you can’t avoid but inevitably come to appreciate as quintessentially French. Here, I’ll mix my daily observations with experiences from everyday life and my travels to paint a picture of all the merde out there. And there’s plenty to go around.

At long last...

Well, here we are. Just over one month to the day since my return to the land of cheese and baguettes. This time, the target destination: Montpellier, deep in the south of France. For those of you who do not know (but I'm pretty sure word has spread by this point), I will be living here until May 2010 teaching English to French high school students. The program is run through the French Ministry of Education, so I am, for the next 7 months, in the employ of French bureaucracy. God help me (stories of my first few encounters with said system to follow).

A note on the unfortunate delay of these postings: upon my arrival in Montpellier, my previous laptop decided that France was not its cup of tea (or glass of wine, if you will), and stopped working. This means that I have been mostly disconnected from the outside world, save for the help of a few very generous friends who let me commandeer their computers from time to time. Thanks to the expert coordination of my parents back in the States, I am now armed with a brand new laptop and ready to share my comings and goings with all who are interested.

The next few posts will mostly be me catching up on everything I've been taking note of, from first impressions on my return to Europe to funny, humorous, or otherwise unavoidably French encounters I've had. Check back to see updates on the daily occurrences on this side of the pond, and feel free to leave comments.

Merci, and welcome to "My Year in the Merde."