Final Thoughts- Things I Will/Won’t Miss About Being an English Assistant

As my time in France has come to a close, I’ve started looking back on the last 8 months of my life, reliving, rehashing, remembering, and reminiscing. As any stay in France is bound to unfold, I’ve had a large portion of amazing memories and experiences, a dash of utterly ridiculous encounters with the French way of life, and a few helpings of cultural exchange that have left me with a new perspective in many cases. As I’ve pondered the time passed, I’ve compiled a list of things I will and won’t miss from my time in France. The following are the won’ts, followed by the wills of the Assistant experience:

Won’t Miss-

-The school administration. Self-explanatory, especially if you have ever taught in or worked with a school.

-Navigating through grève days on my way to work. The French national sport is, of course, going on strike. Having worked in a town that was a train ride away from Montpellier, figuring out which trains I would have to take, arriving at the train station and finding out they were cancelled anyways, and dodging ticket-takers while riding without a ticket is something I won’t miss, but also won’t look back on without laughing.

-Seeing the “Ass Anglais” label on my cubby in the teacher’s lounge. This one might require a little explanation. My official title while in France is “English Assistant” or in French, “Assistant Anglais.” The day I received my cubby from the school secretary, he decided to use the abbreviated version, which may not be the friendliest thing to greet a native English speaker each morning.

Will Miss-

-Eating lunch in Les Jardins de la Fontaine. Up the avenue from my school is a large garden with a natural spring that dates back to the time of the Roman occupation. There are stone ruins that cover the entire park, as well as trees, flowers, and paths to follow all around. If I ever had a long lunch and it was nice out, I would bring my food up to the garden, eat it while people watching, and sometimes take a nap on one of the benches.

-The kids. Whether for the ridiculous things they say (see “Lessons from Scattergories” post) or for the unexpected, awesome things they do (baking me desserts “because it was Thanksgiving yesterday” or staying up all night to watch the Superbowl because I taught them the rules to American football), the kids I taught this year were great. With the number of students I worked with, sometimes up to 15 alone with me, I rarely ever had trouble with them.

-Traveling. Being able to travel to another country, see a different culture, and experience a different way of life all at a moment's notice is one of the most exciting parts about having lived abroad for the year. No matter how much I saw, there was always something else out there to see and I definitely can't wait to make my next trip.

-Meeting people from all over. No matter what new nationalities I came across, meeting people from around the world never got old. Talking with them and finding out how similar we actually all were was great, and I'm sure I've made lasting friendships with some great people from around the globe.

That just about wraps up My Year in the Merde. I hope everyone reading this will someday have their own experience in the merde, be it in France, another foreign country, or even right here in the United States. Traveling can be some of the best, or at the very least most memorable times, so never stop exploring because as Russell so wisely declared in Up, "Adventure is out there."

Final Travels

So it seems that moving home from a foreign country, moving to a new city, and starting a job all take some amount of time. As such, I've completely neglected posting my last few entries. Shameful, I know. Without further ado, here are the highlights of my final travels during April break and the month of May:

-The Paris Marathon, as seen by the previous post, was a total success. Katrina and I finished under our goal time of 4 hours, and got to celebrate with Mom and Dad who were finishing up their visit to me in France the next day. It was great to have the whole family together, albeit on another continent.

-For April break, Katrina, who stayed for 2 weeks following the marathon, and I planned to visit Belgium, Amsterdam and London. In Belgium, we traveled to Brussels (not our favorite, but easiest for traveling purposes), Bruge (tiny and touristy, but charming with delicious chocolate and beautiful sights), and Ghent (larger university with great medieval sights including a castle in the center of the city). Amsterdam was unique from every other place I've visited. It's architecture, layout amongst the many canals, attractions, and variety of inhabitants make it a nice change from many other European cities. A favorite of ours was definitely the Anne Frank House- a must see for anyone visiting or passing through Amsterdam.

-As I said, we also planned to go to London. The Icelandic volcano had other plans. What with the eruption of the volcano whose name no one can pronounce and the ensuing ash cloud, our flight to Gatwick was canceled and tickets on the Eurostar were going for about $350 one way. Preferring not to bankrupt ourselves, we decided to return to Paris and spend the remaining 4 days where we had started off (I know, how unfortunate for us). Once we returned to Paris, we made our rounds of some of the sights more off the beaten path, the best of which was visiting the Rue Mouffetard for the best crêpes you'll ever have. Period.

-Once my contract ended in April, Darcy (aka Darce Dawg) and I planned an adventure around Scotland as our last big trip before leaving France. Flying from Marseille, we visited Edinburgh, Inverness, the Isle of Skye, and Glasgow. Edinburgh was definitely my favorite of the cities we visited, with its well-preserved and far-reaching history around every turn, beautiful sights like the Edinburgh Castle and Arthur's Seat, and delicious food (haggis and whiskey, anyone?) The Isle of Skye was possibly the most beautiful place I've ever scene and definitely made for some adventures as Darcy and I drove our rental car around the island seeing all the peaks, valleys, ruins, and towns there were to see. We even got to drive alongside Loch Ness on our way to the island, although Nessie was MIA that day. The day of driving on the left side of the road almost came to a close without any major incidents...almost. (It's not my fault roads on Skye are one lane for two way traffic.) Overall, Scotland was without a doubt one of my favorite places I traveled to during the entire year.

Paris Marathon

Check out this blog post co-written by Katrina and I about our experience doing the Paris Marathon during April break:

http://ulmanfund.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-where-katrina-runs-for-team-fight.html

La’Chaim

A few weeks ago, a group of Assistants decided to accompany our Jewish Assistant friend (shalom, Lisa) to the Seder dinner hosted by the Liberal Jewish Community Center for Passover. Most of us had never been to Seder before (the extent of my Jewish experience is a few Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and one night of Hannukah dinner), but figured it would be a cool thing to check out.

So the 5 Americans showed up with our “family” dish to contribute to the buffet (a sort of matzah casserole) and a few bottles of wine, all kosher of course. From the second we walked through the door, everyone we met was more than welcoming, coming up to introduce themselves and find out who these newcomers were, where we were from, and if we were single. After a serious attempt to engage me to a Jewish girl about my age down the table (“Her mother really wants her to marry an American…”) the Seder started. The ceremony was done both in Hebrew and in French, with certain repeats done in English. Luckily we had a book to follow along with so that we could read a little more about what the chants and actions represented.

We soon realized that we were also supposed to have brought a plate with various vegetables and Matzah, but as soon as they were needed in the ceremony and the others realized we didn’t have any, shout rang out across the room: “Help the poor Americans! They don’t have anything. Does someone have any extra to give the Americans?” After some shuffling around the room to supply us with the essentials, the ceremony continued with our 4 glasses of wine being raised and then drunk, until finally the feast came. With the ceremony starting out slow and including only celery leaves, radishes, and Matzah, I had no idea what I was in store for. 2 plates of every kind of kosher dish and 2 helpings of dessert later, I was bursting at the seams and walking out with leftovers that had been offered freely to us. Jewish experience win. Sign me up for another.

Lessons from Scattergories

As a fun, vocab-boosting activity, I decided to play Scattergories with a few of my classes this past week. For those unfamiliar, Scattergories is basically a list of different categories (i.e. vegetable, American city, movie title). For each round, players are given a letter and have to find a word for each listed category starting with that letter. The kids certainly enjoyed this activity, but I had no idea that it would turn into some of the most ridiculous classroom moments I’ve had yet. Here are the highlights:

The “B” Round:

-A beverage: the entire class says “beer.” They’re sophomores. One student also decided to follow up with “Blue Ice,” which he explained is a cocktail with ice and blue alcohol. Classy.

-Something that scares you: This one requires a bit of explanation. In French, the word for “darkness” is “le noir,” which literally means “the black.” As such, one girl replied to this category with, “I am scared by the black…like when I’m in my bed…(other students start to giggle)…no, not a human black!” Dear God.

The “S” Round:

-Something that is bad for you: sex.

-A movie title: I still haven’t figured out what the exact title of this movie was, but it sounded like the student said something along the lines of “Sex Intentions,” thus making me think along the lines of the French version of “Cruel Intentions.” When I asked the student to explain it he promised me it wasn’t a “sex movie” and was backed up by another girl in the class. If you say so…

The “M” Round:

-Something your parents would make you eat: marshmellows and marijuana. Luckily, I think both of these were just them writing words they knew. Otherwise, I may need to call a social worker, if those exist in France.

The Baguette: France’s Life Blood

Whenever you think of France, most people’s mind eventually cycles through the stereotypical things we’ve been conditioned to associate it with: cheese, castles, Socialism, fast trains, wine and, of course, baguettes. I knew from my semester in Paris that baguettes were an essential part of everyday French life, with millions sold each day, but I have only recently come to realize just how important they are and how they can pop up in the most unexpected times.

A few of my favorite baguette sightings:

-While waiting for a tram, I saw a woman and man running down the street. That’s great, I thought to myself, I love seeing people going for runs. Then it hit me: what is that thing she’s carrying? Is that…yup, that’s a baguette. She’s running with a baguette. I guess when the craving strikes…

-A popular way for some of the poorer inhabitants of Montpellier to earn some money is to wash the windows of cars that stop at traffic lights. One day while walking by an intersection where this happens frequently, I noticed a woman telling some of the window washers that she wasn’t interested, but instead of just shooing them off she told them to wait while she searched for some change. Not finding any handy, she nonchalantly reached into her back seat and pulled out- you guessed it- a baguette. In France, baguettes are as good as cash.

-Americans aren’t the only people that buy in bulk. Multiple times I’ve seen people walking out of bakeries with brown paper bags the size of a small child filled with at least a dozen baguettes. Where are they taking them? To an office-wide meal? To a catered affair? Stocking up for the apocalypse? Your guess is as good as mine.

Adventure is out there! (Part 2)

After leaving Malta, myself and two others that were in Malta flew to Madrid and caught an early flight to the Canary Islands the next day. The Canaries are group of 7 Spanish-owned islands just to the west of Morocco. Created by volcanic activity over the years, the islands are still active. One such volcano is Mount Teide, the highest mountain in Spain and the dominant feature of the island of Tenerife, our destination.

The best description I can give of Tenerife is Jurassic Park. The green-covered mountainsides, exotic vegetation, and sporadic threat of imminent death (stay tuned for details) reminded us all of the island home of the dinosaurs. (What? No, I didn’t keep singing the Jurassic Park theme song as we walked around. I don’t know what you’re talking about…)

Highlights from the Canaries:

-The looming active volcano towering above us. Being able to look up from wherever we were on the island and see a snowcapped volcanic peak was cool, but also a bit bizarre when we made our way down to the beach a few of the days.

-The incredibly different climates and landscapes. On the island of Tenerife alone, you can find snow and ice atop the volcano, black sand volcanic beaches, and tropical vegetation and jungle-like areas. Climb the island a few hundred meters and you’ll find yourself surrounded by clouds in the late afternoon, but come down closer to the shore and it’s nothing but sun (or sunny rain, like on the first day we arrived).

-Seeing the island of La Palma. If anyone has ever watched the Discovery Channel, La Palma is the Canary Island that may or may not cause mass destruction in the future. Scientists think that if there is another volcanic eruption, part of the island may dislodge and slide into the Atlantic, creating a massive tidal wave that heads toward the Eastern seaboard and South America. Naturally, I have wanted to visit this island since I saw the documentary, not only because of this story but because of its incredible natural beauty found all over the island. The local Canarians call La Palma “La Isla Bonita,” or “The Beautiful Island.” So, together with another one of my friends, I hopped a local flight to the island and set out on the day-long hike to the top of the caldera, or crater. A few hours of trail hiking later and we arrived at the top to stunning scenery: a massive crater plunging straight down in front of us, green valleys covering the rest of the island, and the bright blue Atlantic stretching out as far as you could see. With nothing west of La Palma, the first piece of land you would hit would be the US. Continuing with the Jurassic Park theme of the vacation, this island truly seemed like a lost world.

Looking back on Malta and the Canary Islands, this vacation definitely turned out to be my favorite thus far. With everything said and done, I like to describe it with simple reminder and battle cry from my favorite Disney/Pixar film, Up: “Adventure is out there!” Go get it.

Adventure is out there! (Part 1)

For our February vacation, I made it my mission to find crazy places to go and crazy things to do. Museums and art exhibits would be replaced by extreme outdoor pursuits and seeking out incredible sights. What was the Holy Grail of this quest? Malta and the Canary Islands.

Right now, most of you are probably saying, “Hmm, Malta. What country is that in?” Answer: It is its own country, a full-fledged member of the European Union located to the southwest of Sicily in the Mediterranean Sea. Due to various periods of colonial occupation, Malta has a very unique culture that combines influences from many others, such as Britain, Italy, and North Africa. The Maltese language is actually a mixture of words from English, Italian, and Arabic, with its own alphabet and set of rules.

Malta first appeared on our radar when we met Krista and Stefan, the Maltese pharmacy students studying in Montpellier for the semester. I met them the first weekend I was in Montpellier, and little did I know that in a few months we would be visiting them in their home country, something I had only seen on maps and in geography trivia games (Sporcle.com anyone?). Myself and 7 other friends from Montpellier hopped a plane, train, and bus (literally) from our town and arrived on “The Rock,” as the Maltese like to refer to it, greeted by our two friends who had returned before Christmas. They gave us an incredible grand tour of their country, showing us everything from the most popular sights to the most far-flung to the ones they had come to consider personal favorites.

Highlights of our stay on the Maltese Islands:

-Renting and getting to drive a car. This is one of the things I miss most about being in France this year, so this was a welcome change. Plus, having been a former British colony they drive on the left side of the road, something that proved to be much less difficult than I had imagined. What did prove difficult was navigating our way around the island, despite the fact that we have some natives on board. The icing on the cake was when we turned down what ended up being a one-way street and found ourselves face to face with a line of angry cars and a charter tour bus flashing his headlights. Oops.

-Going to Carnival on the smaller island of Gozo. In order to get an adequate picture of what the Carnival experience is, imagine the mass partying atmosphere of the Preakness infield, in a city, at night, where everyone dons a crazy costume, and dances around floats to blasting music. Throw in a few cans of Cisk, the amazing local beer, and you’ve got yourself Carnival, Maltese style.

-Seeing some of the oldest manmade structures in the world. Malta is home to a complex of stone buildings that have been excavated dating back to 5,000BC. Different rooms and cuts of the stone are still visible, with some blocks weighing several tons.

-Scaling a variety of mountains, cliffs, and rocky precipices. Malta, being a country set on a rock in the middle of the sea, is full of places to go climbing or even sliding down, as it were. Beautiful views of the landscape or the sea were to be had around every turn, and it never got old. We even got to climb down into the cave where legend holds that Odysseus met Calypso in The Odyssey.

-The food. One word: pastizzi. This delicacy is either peas or ricotta wrapped in flaky pasty dough and baked in the oven. Incredible. Krista and Stefan were also awesome enough to invite us to their homes during the course of the week to share their favorite Maltese dishes with us. Krista’s was baked pasta with tomato sauce and meat, and Stefan’s was baked rabbit. Excuse me while I go book a ticket back to Malta as my mouth waters.

-Everything is SO. CHEAP. Malta is on the Euro, but somehow their prices have remained incredibly low and are some of the lowest in the European Union. To give you an example, we went to the bakery/grocery store for one day’s lunch and dinner shopping and got the following for our group of 10: 30 pastizzi, 10 pigs-in-a-blanket-esque creations, a few other assorted baked goods to share, pasta, cheese, vegetables, olive oil, bread, 2 dozen beers, and other assorted beverages. Total per person: 7 euros.

-Spending time with the Maltese. The entire country of Malta is one of the most welcoming and friendly I’ve ever travelled to. Our friends basically dedicated their weeks to making sure we had an awesome time. Fast forward several skipped university classes, 5 trips to the airport for the different outbound flights we had, and coordinating a weeklong itinerary and they never once complained. Here’s a big thanks to Krista and Stefan for being the sweetest times this side of the Atlantic.

One of These Things Doesn’t Belong…

For anyone who has been to France between the months of November and April, you know very well that the typical attire of a French person consists of dark jeans and some shade of black or gray sweater/jacket/shirt. I’ve noticed this as the winter weather continues to roll on, but didn’t realize how true it was until I had a fire drill during class two days ago.

Of course this fire drill (which the administration neglected to inform me of) happened during a rainy day, so I stopped in the teacher’s lounge before exiting the school grounds to grab my rain coat. As I filed out the front gates with the students and other teachers, I suddenly realized that I could quite easily be picked out of the crowd as the English Assistant from the States. Stuck in the middle of a group of black and gray, there I was with my bright blue running jacket, complete with areas of reflective silver. This jacket made it easy for all of my students to find me while we waited so I was soon surrounded by a circle of high schoolers all giggling and saying, “Hello! ‘Ow are you?”

Side note: I’m not really sure how fire drills in France work, but comme d’habitude (per usual) the efficiency was questionable. At schools in the States, administrators receive word from teachers that their class has exited the building, and once all personnel and students have evacuated, they see how long the entire process took. During said fire drill, students wandered outside in a leisurely and unorganized mob, lingered for a few minutes just outside the gates (with some still relaxing at the benches in the courtyard), and bit by bit began filing back inside at an unannounced moment. I saw one member of the administration during all of this, and he was talking with a group of students the entire time. I pray there is never a real fire at school.

A Day in the Merde

Even in France, or maybe I should say especially in France, you come across one of those days from time to time where you wonder why you even got out of bed. Productivity is nearly impossible and you cannot help by avoid a series of bizarre encounters. My Monday was definitely one of those days. It went a little something like this:

-Go to bed at 5am after watching the Super Bowl, wake up at 7 to catch my train and arrive at school for my 9 o’clock class to find out that the teacher is absent and neglected to tell me.

-While using a public service announcement about guns to practice conversation with a student, she proceeds to tell me how there are five major gypsy tribes that roam France and are the major gun owners, how some of her friends have guns, and how the police are usually too afraid of them to try and take their guns.

-Upon my return to Montpellier at the end of the day, I arrive at the train station to find out that there are delays of up to 3 hours for a nondescript “problem” with the trains, or the train tracks, or the French train system. One of those things (probably). Since my 4:54 train was cancelled, I hopped on a high-speed train that was supposed to leave at 2:20 but was still stuck in the station, praying that they didn’t check tickets before I had to get off.

-After getting off in Montpellier without any problems, I was greeted by a nice rain for my walk home.

Happy Monday. Or rather, Happy Merde-day.

America, On the Rest of the World

Continuing my love for Stephen Clarke’s Merde series that gave its name to this blog, I started reading Merde Happens, another of Englishman Paul West’s adventures. In this installment, he travels across America with his French girlfriend in a Mini emblazoned with a Union Jack. In one part Paul talks about the way Europeans think Americans view them, thanks to movie and TV depictions. In a strictly stereotypical sense (because no American would ever be this ignorant….), the following descriptions are right on and are worth a shout out.

“The way the Brits think the Americans view them:

-Stonehenge-1776: A time of castles, kings ‘n’ shit.

-1776-1945: Crushed by the loss of its American colonies, Britain gradually shrivels up until it is so powerless that it almost loses a war to a vegetarian with a silly mustache.

-1945-present: Saved from destruction by the USA, Britain becomes a trusted ally, as vital to the balance of world power as, say, Bermuda.”

“The way the French think Americans view them:

-Jurassic Period-1940: An area of the planet devoted solely to the production of wine, cheese, prostitutes, and body odor.

-1940-present: Supposedly a friend, but in truth as reliable as the wedding guest who sleeps with the bride.”

Mass media: doing wonders for the world’s perception of Americans. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to grab my gun and my cowboy hat, hop in my Hummer, and go to McDonald’s…

Marvejols: A Land Lost in Time

A few weekends ago, 4 friends and I visited a fellow English assistant who had the great fortune of being placed in Marvejols, France. Marvejols, for those who aren’t familiar with it (and I don’t know why you would be) is located in the department of La Lozère. This area has the distinction of being the least populous in France. Accordingly, some French people have nicknamed it “le trou du cul du monde,” something that roughly translates to the “Boondocks,” or something like that…

The Marvejols Crew: Lisa, Susanna, Darcy, Me, and Alissa (the local). Thanks to Tom (our 6th) for the photography skills.

Despite this grim description, Marvejols has all the charm of a quaint town of 5,000 in the French countryside: medieval-looking houses, mountains surrounding it on all sides, and a calm feeling you can’t find in the larger cities. Not paying for lodging for the weekend was a big plus, made possible because Alissa lives in the boarding section of the middle school where she teaches. A few sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows later and the recreation room had become our very own dormitory. We hiked up the “mountain” that looks down on the town and ventured around the plateau on top for a while.

Once we felt like we had seen the town, we hopped in the car and drove 20 minutes to a lake nearby, stopping by a castle we found signs for on the way back. Yes, castles are found in the wild of La Lozère. The area is also known for its wolf population back in the day, but unfortunately the Wolf Park (a kind of zoo dedicated only to wolves) was closed in January.

On our way to Marvejols, we also stopped by the town of Roquefort, birthplace of the smelly cheese. Being off-season (if a cheese town in France ever has an off-season) and a Saturday, we saw maybe 6 people during our 4 hours there, 2 of which gave us a tour and tasting of the cheese caves. I’ve got to say that I agree with the old say: the smellier the cheese, the better.

Getting away for the weekend was great and the French countryside is beautiful no matter where you stop. Marvejols- definitely one of my favorite towns with a population under 5,000. Check it out if you’re ever in the neighborhood.

The Return Odyssey, Part 2

The next day, I woke up with the intentions of figuring out how I was going to make it home (after my complimentary breakfast, of course). I met up with a couple from San Diego who was trying to get home from a vacation in Europe, so together we all attempted calling the British Airways hotline. All BA passengers were advised not to come back to Heathrow unless we had confirmed a flight reservation with our airline, so naturally the BA hotline was down. I figured that avoiding the airport may be a good decision, so I booked myself on a Eurostar train from London to Paris via the Chunnel (the tunnel that goes underneath the English Channel). After my booking was completed, I received a message from Eurostar saying that there were problems with some of the trains due to the weather and that certain trips may be disrupted. Thanks for the advance warning.

I checked out of the hotel and hopped on the Tube to St. Pancras International train station. What was to be found there? All Eurostar services had been suspended following the failure of several trains entering the Chunnel and passengers were being advised to postpone their travel if it was "non-essential." Back to the drawing board. I sat down on the metal benches in the station (open air station in England I should add- a certain region of my body was numb by the time I was finished) and tried to Skype British Airways to rebook myself. After about 20 minutes I was put through to an operator and booked on a flight later that day. I packed up my things and hopped on the Tube once again for an hour long journey back to the Lion's Den, better know as Heathrow.

Once in Heathrow, everything went (mostly) as planned with only a small delay to my flight. I arrived in Paris around 11pm, finally in my destination country but with no more trains leaving the city for the night. Thankfully, my incredible former boss from my semester abroad in 2007 told me I could spend the night at her house (I am forever grateful, Carrie!). The upside? I got to spend all of the next day walking around Paris. So unfortunate...

Friday night rolls around after a day in Paris and lo-and-behold, there's snow in the south of France. Trains are being delayed in departure and slowed during the journey adding 1-3 hours to the journey. Or so I thought. My train left at 10pm, and throughout the night the conductors kept making announcements pushing the arrival times back. 2:30am in Montpellier. 3:30am. 5am. In the end, we pulled into the train station at 6am, just as Saturday's early travelers were arriving to find their trains.

And so concludes the 1 day journey that turned into 4 days spread over 3 countries. Unexpected? Yes. Ridiculous? A bit. Worth the travel story? Definitely.

The Return Odyssey, Part 1

Now that I've made it back from the holidays at home and settled back into this side of the pond, I would like to submit for your reading pleasure The Return Odyssey of 2010:

Rewind to the night of January 5. Location: Ellicott City, MD. I was booked on a British Airways flight direct from Baltimore to London Heathrow Airport, with a connecting flight to Paris. After this, I had timed my arrival perfectly so that I could catch a train direct to my town and arrive by dinnertime. I logged onto the BA website before leaving the house to make everything was in place for my flight when I saw a message at the top of the screen: "Attention- UK flight disruptions due to severe winter weather. Check the status of your flight here." I proceeded to check my flight and as luck would have it I had no delays or cancellations.

I arrive at BWI, went through security (with my extra carry on I was hoping wouldn't cause any problems in tow), and made it to the gate with plenty of time. Fast forward to 7 hours later when we're landing in London to the double-edged news that the UK is currently experiencing the worst snow storm in a decade, but that Heathrow is one of the only airports still open so we would be landing without a problem at 9am local time. Not worried in the slightest, I gathered my bags, went down the moveable staircase, and got bussed into the terminal. Enter chaos.

With the winter weather wreaking havoc up and down the UK, flights were being cancelled left and right. I found out my Paris connection was cancelled (when I confidently tried to stroll through security to my next gate), so I did an about-face to find the hour and a half long line I had to wait in to rebook. As the British would say, I queued for the better part of two hours until I was finally rebooked on a later flight that day. Still unworried, I went through security and found a place in the Terminal 5 waiting area (about the size of a moderate sized airplane hangar) where I could eat lunch and relax. Next flight time comes....and goes. We sit at the gate for about 45 minutes before they finally put us on buses and get us out to the plane. Add another 2 hours of waiting inside the plane to be deiced and the final announcement that Heathrow Airport has been closed and all flights are cancelled. So close.

We waited a bit more for the arrival of the moving stairs and bus to return us to the terminal and finally made it back inside. I later found out that we were among the lucky ones, since some planes arriving throughout the day had waits of up to 6 hours before crews could come to unload them. Back inside the terminal, I've now realized that I have missed my non-refundable train from Paris, will not be leaving London tonight, and have to stand again in a line for hotel vouchers that now stretches at least a quarter of a mile. After that 2 hour wait, I then had the great fortune of having to stand in the "Other Passports" line (all non-UK and EU citizens) to go through customs. An educated guess would tell me that there were around 1000 people in this line.

Almost 3 hours later, I was allowed through to go downstairs and find the bus to my hotel. On the way, I passed the battlefield of unclaimed bags that covered the floor after airport officials stopped letting passengers reclaim their bags.

I arrived at the Ibis Heathrow around 1:30am. Mind you, I first arrived in Heathrow at 9am. Myself and a few other stranded flyers enter the hotel to find that they have been inundated and are booked, but have called a taxi service to take us to the Ibis Earl's Court in central London. We finally arrive there and get into our rooms around 2:30am, where I checked in with my parents stateside and passed out in bed.

Home for the Holidays

Between snow across Europe and the Blizzard of '09 over here, I somehow dodged a huge bullet coming home from France and didn't have any problems in transit. We had to wait at the departure gate in Paris for a few minutes as the passengers from a connecting flight from Nice ran to the plane, but other than that all was well.

I had my first "welcome to America" moment when I got off the plane and was going through customs. There were three televisions mounted on the wall next to the line: 1) baggage claim information for arriving flights, 2) customs procedures and information, and 3) Sportscenter. God bless America.

I hope I can see you all while I'm back. I'll be here till January 5 so give me a ring on my old cell phone. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!

I'll Be Home for Christmas (I Hope)

I’m currently sitting on the TGV (high speed train) on my way from Montpellier to Paris where I’ll fly out tomorrow morning for the US. Weather the past few days has been a bit precarious in northern France with snow causing some travel problems in Paris, a city not quite used to winter weather. We’ve even had an arctic blast of weather down in the South of France where daytime temps went from 12ºC (54ºF) to around -5ºC (23ºF) on some days. Apparently the South isn’t all beaches and palm trees as you might think. I’ve also been tracking the surprise blizzard I had not anticipated that just roared into DC and up the East Coast. I’m hoping I won’t face any flight problems with this since I leave about 24 hours after the snow will stop, but I’ll keep you posted on that one.

Unexpected as it is, this bit of winter weather is making for a nice journey northward as I look out the train windows: Christmas music playing on my computer, snow covered French countryside, and Christmastime at home getting closer and closer. Can’t beat it. See you all stateside.

A new 2012 Democratic ticket, à la française

In order to get my kids practicing their spoken English and learning important American figures, I’ve put together an activity I call “Who Are You?” In the game, each student receives a piece of paper with an answer followed by an unrelated clue. I start by reading my clue and whichever student has the answer to it on their paper stands up, reads it, and continues with their own clue. The game goes full circle throughout the entire class so that everyone identifies himself or herself until it comes back to me again as the last answer. These clues can range from historical figures to athletes to pop stars and other celebrities. I’ve also thrown in some important cities and events in the later, more difficult rounds.

My class and I got a pretty good laugh one day during this game when a student threw in their guess to a clue that was being read. The clue was “You were a former senator from the state of Delaware and are now the Vice President under Barack Obama.” Most students knew that it was “the other old, white-haired guy besides John McCain” but couldn’t remember his name. One brave and slightly misinformed student decided to volunteer her answer by responding, “I am Steven Spielberg.” I think they might be on to something. Money, popularity, diversity, and Oscar statuettes in the White House. Sounds like a recipe for success.

Le système français

With about half of the school year finished, all of the Language Assistants have come to realize just how different the French education system is from our own, especially education in America. This post goes out to all the teachers and people working with young kids reading my blog- Mom, Jennifer, Wake professors, and L Rob to name a few.

The most noticeable difference in the French system is that it is very, well, systematic. The entire primary, middle, and high school experience is geared toward preparing the students for the Baccalaureate exam. The Bac is similar to our SATs, but way more intense and carrying much more weight on your future. One thing I do often with my students is to discuss texts on a variety of topics ranging from consumerism to fashion design to marketing, depending on their concentration. Without fail, every time I ask a student to present an article to me, their Bac training kicks in and their first words, as if scripted and ingrained into their minds, are “This is a news article from (insert source) written by (insert writer) published on (insert date). The title of the article is (insert title) and the subtitle is (insert subtitle).” While this may seem like nails on a chalkboard to many of us in the States, this is the preferred method of presentation when discussing an article in France.

Another major difference is how the teachers are allowed to treat students. While I haven’t experience this firsthand, several friends of mine in primary school have told stories of teachers telling their kids to shut up or even picking them up out of their chair and tossing them in the corner for punishment. Be reminded that this is public school. If that happened in America, teachers would find themselves in court faster than they could say “I am not a crook.”

One difference that I just came across this past week at our Fête de Noël (Christmas party) for all the teachers was that they do not shy away from bringing wine to school. The party was at noon on Thursday, and there were about 10 bottles of red, white, and rosé being passed around the teacher’s lounge. At 1pm, about half of the teachers cleared out to go to their classes while the rest stayed to continue the fête. Let’s try to introduce this to American schools and see what happens...

Different as it may be, each day is an adventure as I walk through the gates of Lycée Ernest Hemingway to see what awaits me . Ah, la France.

It's Christmastime in the City

Each year, Lyon, the second largest city in France, hosts the largest Festival of Lights in France. Known by the natives as the Fête des Lumières, the entire city is decked out in light displays as well as “animations,” or live, interactive projections based around different themes. Originally, the Fête was started as a way to thank the Virgin Mary for appearing in Lyon and saving the city from being ravaged by the Plague. Each year after this vision, the inhabitants of Lyon would put a candle in each window as a show of thanks, so that the tiny fires lighted the entire city. They even wrote the words “Merci Marie” in light on the hill overlooking the city (think Hollywood sign but more medieval and less glitz-and-glam). Naturally, the commercialization of such a tradition was inevitable; so a few years ago the entire thing became a spectacle of technology and tourism, attracting visitors from across the country for this one weekend in December but still maintaining its festive and charming roots.

Being a Christmas buff and not able to put up many of my own decorations this year, it was a given that I had to make it to the Fête. As most travels in France begin, I found myself at the train station one Saturday morning with a few friends, bags packed and tickets in hand. We arrived in Lyon around noon only to find that, surprise surprise, there was a grève. For those of you who don’t remember, that means a strike. For those of you who do remember, you might be worrying. Don’t. Just another day in France. As we would say here, “pas de soucis” (no worries). Of course the only metro line that was on strike was the one we needed, so we found a combo of buses to get us to the apartment of the French friend we were staying with. Once there, we were off to explore.

Lyon is split into three quartiers by its two rivers: the Rhône and the Saône. The eastern most section is the more modern area known as Part-Dieu. Between the two rivers lies the Presque-Île, or the “Almost Island”. To the west sits Vieux Lyon (Old Lyon) and the Fourvière hill that overlooks the rest of the city (in this case, my “highest point”). I can’t do the Fête justice by describing it with words, so I’ll highlight some of my favorite parts and direct everyone to the pictures below and my Picasa photo account to check out the full experience.

Le Marché de Noël (Christmas Market)- an essential of any French city’s Christmas celebrations.

La Fourvière- seeing the city from above was amazing, especially on the first night of the Fête. Here, you can see the giant Ferris wheel, two rivers, and various other light displays below.

The light buoys in the Rhône- these flickered the entire night after dark and lit up one of the prettiest parts of the river.

The food and drink- From the mulled wine to the baked potatoes stuffed with goat cheese and peppers to the bouchon Lyonnais with typical Lyonnais dishes, we were without a doubt well fed on this trip.

To check out the rest of my Fête de Lumbers pictures, go to www.picasaweb.google.com/johncmcgowan.

Joyeux Noël et très bonnes fêtes à tout le monde! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!

Work mode

For anyone who's been around me when I work, I almost always have a pen behind my ear. Don't know when I started doing it, but I'm not cool enough to pull off the pen-in-front-pocket look and know that if I put it in my pocket it would explode everywhere, so behind the ear it goes. Twice now today I have been asked by people at my school, half smirking, why I had a pen behind my ear. When I told the second person that it's just a habit, she told me that it was "quelques chose de vieux," aka something you do if you're older... Merci, la France.

No matter, I'm sticking with it.