Les Vacances

Two months into the 2011 and I get a lovely two weeks off again. Life is beautiful right around now. And it's not just a result of this amazing vacation spot I'm going to tomorrow; it's also the day to day events that make me smile.

On Wednesday I went with Molly and Magda to another free at noon concert at the Opera. This week? Traditional Arabian Poetry turned into music. Can you say perfect timing to get me pumped?

Thursday's event had more mixed emotions. Melanie (who helped me get situated in this apartment) hosted a going away party for herself. She has a little more than a month left before her baby comes into the world. Her and Hassum's apartment is so modern and perfectly organized it should be interesting what happens when the little one starts to take over. Most of the teachers came over for the aperitif and what hit me the most that night was: A) I can now understand EVERYTHING (including your average dirty French joke) B) I am now as consumed as they are with how their students act, think, work (or lack of) C) I am so happy and lucky to have such a wonderful mixture of people to work with and I'm bummed I already have to say goodbye to one of the most helpful ones. What worries her and the rest of the teachers the most is the substitute teacher dilemma. She was supposed to meet and know who was taking over her class this week; the Academy never sent anyone over but claims they have found someone. Talk about stressful, leaving your class to an unknown person.

Friday was a win-win day. First, at school we celebrated Carnivale and had a crêpe party. As much as I want to explain what this holiday is, I really can't understand it myself. It consists of dressing up (much like Halloween) but there is no candy involved. I figured it was similar to Mardi Gras but it actually occurs before the day of Beads, boobs, and King Cake. The theme for our school this year was: Le Voyage. Regardez les déguisements!

 All of the teachers

 Audrey's class- CE1

 Nawel's class- CM1/CM2

 No words needed ;p

 Marjorie's Class- CM1/CM2

 

Nathalie's Class- CE1

 

 Mélanie's Class- CE2/ CM1

 Elodie's Class- CE2

Béatrice's Class- CM1/CM2

Second win? My cousins Matt and Ned came for a quick-less-than-24-hours visit. We took Ned on a little tour but due to jet lag it wasn't the whole shebang. We decided to get a beer at this lovely bar in Vieux Lyon and Ned's connaissance with beer convinced us to get another and another. By the time we made it over to my tartine place, Ned was staring at his red checkered napkin to stay awake. Their visit was brief but it definitely soaked up any homesickness I have had lately.

Yesterday I went on a hunt to find some warm clothing for my week long excursion to Northern Africa. Yeah, failure 100%. What I did run into again was the African/Asian food market: Madras. I now have a large supply of paprika for any recipes I may acquire this week :) Sydney struck the jackpot as well when we were exploring; she finally found a Black hair salon and by one I actually mean we found two or three side streets full of them. We celebrated our findings the American way with burgers from Ninkasi.

Up early in the morning to catch the metro to catch the TGV to catch a plane. Talk to you when I return from Aladdin's side of the world :)

The Will To Live

Hello out there,
There's not too much to report about the past week. We were all a little spacey with the gray sky above our heads. Yet, what really woke me up and shook my brain a little was the first American movie I've seen since I've moved to this side of the world (actually that's a lie, I saw Blue Valentine but it was in English and way too depressing to discuss). Anyways, my friend Cedric had free movie passes to see 127 Hours. While I was in no way interested, I'm glad I went because it wasn't at all what I expected. I had heard rumors about this film but since I'm so out of the American loop, I thought it was a horror film. Once I was told that James Franco stared as the main character, I was ready to go. (Spoiler Alert: If you don't want me to ruin the film for you, skip over the following paragraph.)

Let's begin with saying how amazing the cinematography was; that was the first thing that caught my eye (besides James Franco's beautiful smile, sigh). Let's just say the man knows how to use cameras; he was able to keep my attention by continuously switching between angles, thoughts, and reality/imagination. Now that I've researched the director a bit, I can see the resemblance to Slumdog Millionaire ( another favorite of mine).  Danny Boyle is the name I was looking for and now am interested in researching more of his work. Moving on, the colors were bright and bold, the music perfectly set, and the portrayal of delusion really played with my mind (especially for the following few days/nights). I'll just explain one repeated scene that was really beautifully done. Every time Aron (James Franco) took a sip out of his Camelback, the camera (or whatever they use nowadays with this technology business), went inside and followed the route of the water, from the bottom of the container, up the straw, and into his mouth. The bubbles, the sounds, the sharpness of the camera lined up so nicely. The most amazing thing of all though is the fact that the film was based on a true story (aren't we all suckers for those types?)  Aron still lives and continues to do crazy hikes, climbs, and jumps after cutting off his own arm (spoiler, wamp wamp). It really puts into prospective the will to live, the appreciation of life,  and the want to do more in the future. And, he also teaches anyone who ever wants to climb anything to always have a knife just in case.

On Friday I traveled back into time, back to high school, back to the age of babysitting. My first French babysitting experience really made me miss my family: namely because the two girls really remind me of my sister and I when we were little and also because the first story that the younger sister, Jade, told me made me think of my little brother ( he would definitely say this to someone he first met). It goes something like this: My friend Manon, she was taking a bath with her little brother, Adrien, and they were having a farting contest and he was trying to beat Manon's and he pooped in the tub! It was this big brown turd and he was so embarrassed he just sat there and Manon started to scream but she was laughing too because he pooped and it was floating in the tub. To give you a glimpse into her facial expressions, she reminded me a lot of this famous storyteller. Yeah, and to top that off, they asked me to read them a story in French. Best part? Having to ask an 8 year old how to say a French word (which yet again had to do with poop.)

On Saturday the old roommates of this adobe came to pay a visit. The one I replaced, Camille, brought her boyfriend from Marseille. The first accomplishment: understanding his Southern accent. I now understand when people complain when my sister and I mumble quickly in English. The second accomplishment (well sorta): teaching French people how to play baseball with a wiffle ball set. Just getting them to hold the bat with two hands was a challenge, let alone explaining that you want to throw the ball to the basemen not at the hitter. They enjoyed themselves though, I was told the rest of the night how exhausting but funny it was.

And on behalf of President's Day, I taught my after-school group about our 43 men; some true heroes, others not so much. Whatever your political party may be, you have to admit that most of them were not lookers and that's exactly what I heard yesterday. "Ewww, comme il est moche; lui, ça va mais uhhh, Kate est-ce que tu peut faire montrer encore une fois le dernier? Ouaiii, il est le plus moche." (Ew, he's ugly; He's okay but, um, Kate, can you show us that last one again? Yeah, he's the ugliest.) I gave one or two facts for each, not really thinking about omitting the fact that a bunch were assassinated. Hence came repetitive question, "Why would anyone want to kill the President?" Good question kid. The best part of all though was when I came to Andrew Jackson. "AHHH, c'est l'arrière, arrière, arrière, arrière grand-père de Michael Jackson."


I will never escape MJ! And in case you're all getting hungry over there waiting for lunchtime, check out my latest cooking accomplishment! Granola bars made with Bulgarian honey :)

Tootles y'all!

Al Salam Alaykum

Hello there! So, I guess we can make it official that I was Arabian in a past life. My roommate Tania has claimed for a while now that I was born in the wrong country. She can't get over my secret obsession with Middle Eastern music, especially when all the music played here is American. I didn't take the comment seriously until two of my co-workers, Kenza and Loubna, couldn't believe that I wanted more and more sauce on my couscous.  Apparently, that's how they eat it over there. The more sauce, the better! Here's hoping I can get my belly dance moves down for the end of the year recital at my gym! Then I'd be on my way!

Continuing with the Middle Eastern theme, on Thursday I went to Nawel's apartment to learn how to make Algerian tajine (three variations-two chicken recipes and one lamb). Everything was absolutely delicious!
 

 Chicken tajine with olives, lemons, and lots of herbs!

It does help knowing a bit of Arabic considering I work in a school with tons of Arabic speaking kids. While I'm by no means fluent, I can pick up on phrases and verb tenses when I hear people speak on the bus.

Now, et me paint you a picture here. Yesterday, I was walking out of the boulangerie with my sandwich in my hand and a few of my CM1 kids came up to me. After a few minutes of "How do you say this in English," we parted ways for the two hour lunch break. It was then that one of the boys (who always gives me trouble in class), Fayad, said See you later, Baby.  I turned around and responded in French, "Good try, but I speak Arabic." His jaw dropped and his friends proceeded to laugh hysterically. I now know what Wendy Peffercorn felt like in The Sandlot. I got hit on by a 10 year old and I didn't like it. Perfect timing for Valentine's Day.

"Health, Life, and Fire"

So my American immune system can't seem to completely fight off all the French germs. I've had a cold for about a week now, hence the lack of energy and lack of thoughts coming your way. Now that I'm feeling a lot better the only thing I have to worry about is finding my voice. I currently sound like your 58 year old neighbor who still smokes two packs a day despite her husband getting diagnosed with lung cancer (but has nothing better to do with her life then watch the Nebraskan sunsets, puff on a Camel Light, leaving fuchsia lipstick residue on the end, and talk on the phone, subconsciously getting the cord wrapped tightly around her bright yellow spandex pants as she walks from room to room.) Yeah, I'm taking it a little too far, and the French had no idea what I meant when I joked about sounding like a heavy smoker, namely because they all smoke. So let's just say you are lucky that you can read this and not listen to it because I have a lot to say.

So, I'll forewarn you that because I've experienced so much in the past week, had some really mind-boggling dreams, and experienced a bunch of new firsts, this is going to be a mélange of thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head these past few days.

So let's begin with how I started a fire in my oven Sunday night trying to make homemade French Fries. To top that, we have no smoke alarm, nor fire extinguisher, and I have no idea what the emergency number is (definitely not 911), so you can imagine what a girl's to do when her precious potatoes are ablaze.

Follow that with a side order of grève. Yep, that's right la grève (strike) isn't over. Never, muhahaha. This time I'm not talking about transportation. I'm saying that I am striking along with the whole school. Quite hypocritical after my long rant about the TCL/SNCF grèves in October, but I think I'm sorta, kinda, maybe starting to get this French mentality (I say that a lot I know, but the French brain is quite the 1,000 piece puzzle). So, why are we striking, you ask? Well the past two weeks or so, many of the teachers have been out sick with what our little rascal students bring into the classrooms. What happens when the economy isn't that great? Oh, they cut random jobs, one being substitute teachers. (I have more to rant about in terms of how they give my school the last straw as many other high population, high poverty schools get treated everywhere, but I'll save it for next time.) So when three teachers are out with the flu what happens to the kids? They get split up and are put into other classrooms and distract the other kids around them and are loud and do absolutely NOTHING for days. And if we're lucky, the secretary, Kenza, will get the OK to go ahead and call every single parent to see if they can keep their kid at home for the next few days because there won't be a substitute teacher the next day either. So there you have it, on fait la grève demain (We're striking tomorrow).

Going back in time, last Thursday was the much awaited three class show, "Flash Dingues." When I first arrived here, the teachers got together to watch old videos of musical. After watching the kids practice before English hour, during recess, and after school, I braved my snotty nose and hack-a-lung-up cough and went to the theater. They were brilliant, despite the pause in the middle of the show because ALL of the boys forgot their cue and the pianist kept playing. I teared up a little because at this point, five months in, I feel as if these are my kiddies too and I was a proud Momma Bear. And I absolutely loved how one of my smiley little CP students, Jessy, was the only one not to turn around at the end of one of the songs. He stood there smiling into the crowd. PRECIOUS.

 Marc made a special appearance

 Where not in France anymore, Toto. It's CHINA!

In terms of new recipes, I cooked one, and ate two. I've been craving my family's homemade asparagus soup and decided on a whim to cook it up. Let's just say that crème fraiche makes all the difference (sorry USA but you can't beat it). Then for Tania's 21st we made a Moroccan chicken dinner.**And tonight, I made zucchini soup!

Friday night we celebrated Tania's 21st and on Saturday night I joined the Ronzière family for Baptiste's 20th birthday. Before arriving, I was told to bring sports clothes. To me this means we are doing some sort of athletic activity and I immediately thought maybe another game of laser tag. I blame my clogged ears. I arrived and it was a costume party. Had I understood the French I claim I speak, I would've gone all clad in my Phillies gear. Nonetheless, what was so spectacular about this night was watching a family celebrate. You're probably thinking, it was a birthday party: You eat cake, you give presents, and you drink like everywhere else. Well sorta, but not really. You see first you have to do the traditional aperitif drinking during which I was introduced to the rest of the family I never met. We proceeded to the restaurant which was reserved just for us. The food was, of course, delicious and the dessert impeccable (chocolate ice cream within a chocolate hard coating covered with a teensy bit of vanilla sauce). Yet, all in all, the best part was just watching these people interact. Sure they're just like you and me but it's so interesting to watch how families interact in comparison to a) your own b) your country's stereotypical family c) other French families d) French families in Films e) etc. They were absolutely all in love with each other. Every family member made some sort of skit, game, or video to share and watching the creativity come out of their mouths was unbelievable. And, let's not forget the stereotypical dancing to Michael Jackson. I'm still unsure about this puzzle piece: the French obsession with Michael Jackson. The best thing is that they think we too are all obsessed with him and they were quite amazed that I wouldn't dance along.

Earlier that day, I went on a hunt for my belly-dancing scarf. Success in five minutes. What I didn't expect to do was watch the skateboarders and DMX bikers for two hours. Nor did I expect to brave the Guillotière area, walking in and out of African, Chinese, Indian, and Arabian markets. I found spices I've never heard of, bought a Guava juice, and made my cooking goal for next week after seeing all of these foreign ingredients and new cooking opportunities I never dared to think about back home.

One of a few skate parks on the Rhône

Finally, on Sunday, I ventured back to the wine festival to grab a second bottle of some of the wine I took home for Christmas. I know you should try new things and all but I absolutely LOVE these two vignerons independents (independent wine makers) from Alsace: Gerard and Serge Hartmann. The one, older man reminds me of what I would think my great-grandfather would have been like if I had ever met him (hearing from stories as a kid). After testing a few white and red wines, we headed to the free wine connoisseur class. Guillame, a professional from Paris, taught us what to look for when doing the three steps of wine tasting. He also established the difference between vin copain, vin de table, and vin des moment exceptionnels. Unfortunately, all of the wine I bought needs to be kept for those special occasions and age a bit.

And now that you're sick of reading, you can listen to some awesome music. The first, Kareyce Fotso, I went to see today at the free at noon concert at the Opera House. She was a wonderful performer, was happy to be there and tell her stories, and she had an incredibly contagious smile. She played a various amount of instruments I have never seen before in my life, many of which are only supposed to be played by men. The one reminded me of a rain stick but was horizontal. The whole audience definitely got lost in its sounds; we all spaced out a little bit after she finished that song because it sounded so much like the ocean. This song is about the earth (Mayolé) and how we are not taking care of her; neither in Cameroon nor the rest of the world.  

The second I can't seem to stop playing. The mesmerizing Alexander from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sings Truth. I always love songs with whistling but this is just over the top incredible with the addition of the tambourine and horns. While the lyrics have nothing to do with Spring, it somehow gives me this feeling that the warm weather is going to make Lyon an even more beautiful home than it is right now.

Out and Over.