Paris: The Return to Feudalism

Vlog 2

2009-09-17T15:26:00.000-07:00

Dessert recipe + updates + deep thoughts

Vlog 1

2009-09-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

First video blog is posted on YouTube! I'm hoping to post Vlog #2 in a few days.

Thank you to all my family and friends who helped me make the best of my summer while I was vacationing in the States. I miss you all already.

epic...like the bottle i'm posed with

2009-05-17T12:59:00.000-07:00

I'm surprised an entire month has gone by since I last blogged about any of my mischief in France and thereabouts. I've been busy (which explains lack of blogging I suppose) and this month seems to have lasted an eternity. Perhaps because the days are longer (the sun sets at almost 9:30pm now) or the languid days of summer and their accompanying habits seem to establish themselves in a more eventual way in French society. This is also the first Spring since 1986 when I haven't been able to define the passing of the season with a final report card or occassional diploma. Instead, I find myself dragging my feet about writing my final exams for my students in a way similar to how I always approached end-of-the-year school projects. But I don't have to take the tests this time. Ha!

This blog will explain what's been going on with me in Paris in a rather anachornistic way since all the events of the past month are now a gentle blur in my mind. Let's start with the picture on your left. This is me with a Balthazar bottle of G.H. Mumm's Cordon Rouge Champagne. They really do make this size for purchase which is the equivalent of 12L or 16 bottles of wine. And no, I didn't drink it after taking the photo. A and I did do some champagne tasting after the tour of the champagne caves, but only two glasses each. We also visited Le Chateau Pommery and the incredibly large, Gothic cathedral in Reims. I bought a bottle from Pommery and it's safe and sound in my bedroom, waiting to be opened for my going away party in late June.

As spring break began with champagne tasting, it was only fitting that I go to Amsterdam, finishing it out with a visit to one of the many "coffeeshops" and participating in all the vices Europe has to offer. Luckily, I was able to stay for free with two good friends L and E. Though I didn't make it out to the colorful tulip fields to inhale their sweet perfume, I did make the rounds to the Rijksmuseum (saw original Rembrandts and Vermeers), the Van Gogh Museum which happened to have a special exhibit featuring both Starry Nights, and Anne Frank's House:

Amsterdam was a short and much needed break from the madness that is Paris and my budding professional life. Since moving to Paris, I've adopted the classic Parisienne look of tall boots, skinny jeans, a black jacket, and a colored scarf -- at first, an attempt to hide my Americanness and blend in; now, my preferred outift. This was the gear I wore on the train up to Amsterdam and as soon as I stepped off the platform into Centraal Station, I felt overdressed for the occassion. Much to my astonishment, no one was there with judging eyes leering over their Gucci eyewear. I'm pretty sure I saw more than one person wearing socks with sandals, a style phenomenon which just doesn't exist in the fashion capital of the world. Besides for the discrepancies in outward appearances, it also turned out people were much more calm and I was delighted to see bikes in use as a prominent mode of transportation. I've never seen such an array of gadgets and accessoires in bike stores designed to maximize transport capacity, whether you are toting groceries for a party to make Dutch 'pancakes' or your three small children and the family dog. These things need to exist in America. They need to exist everywhere for that matter. Somehow, I managed to have never ridden with more than one person on my bike, even during the more rambuncious years of my childhood, until I went to Amsterdam. I 'rode' and was 'ridden', as the local students succinctly described it, and would have to say it was almost the highlight of my trip since I felt the same initial terror and gradual giddyness as an 8-year-old trying it for the first time. There was a lot of giggling while bike riding which may or may not have had to do with the "coffeeshops".

L and E as well as their two friends E and M came back to Paris with me the following weekend so I could repay the favor of hosting and the Servant Quarters were once again temporarily converted into a youth hostel. I was a little stressed to return to Paris where half a book awaited my translation skills and an unorganized semester at Marne required a strategy to wrap up the end of the school year in a semi-coherent way, at least enough to warrant a fair evaluation of my students. At this point, Marne professors were still holding weekly meetings to debate whether the entire semester ought to be cancelled due to the possible unfair evaluation of the students so I had a hard time even perceiving teaching a real responsibility (Just last week, they finally decided the semester would conclude with finals after all).

Nevertheless, we went to the Eiffel Tower, I got robbed of my crepe, celebrated E's birthday, took a fantastic stroll to my favorite Jardin de Luxuembourg, ate escargot (I think I make everyone try it who comes to visit me), stopped into the Louvre, caught a free jazz show at Duc de Lombards and had a picnic + crafternoon in a local park. This particular week was also hectic because my new flatmate B was in the process of moving in. At this point, she's officially been here for just over two weeks and it's been fantastic. After J left, I really felt the apartment was too big and as B was having a bit of a housing crisis, living together was the best solution for both of us. Besides, living in Central Paris for the same price as a loft in downtown Lincoln is a bargain that you just cannot pass up. If we agree to extend the flatmate situation through next year (it's only temporary through September at the moment), this means I would be able to afford travelling to Iceland next Winter or Spring. :)

I have finished the first draft of the 160-page book translation and have to work on revisions for the next month, but I don't mind doing this type of editing as I can print the pages and make my red edits in a park. Probably at Luxuembourg. The last week I spent crouched over my computer, trying to complete the final third portion of the book translation, almost drove me insane. I seldom slept, got paranoid about possible radiation from my ancient computer, and felt as if someone had sucked the life right out of my bones. I really am not made for computer work (What human being is?), but I never seem to consider this factor when a generous paycheck may be involved. The current plan is to have an initial version ready at the end of June to send to publishers, but both Nicolas and I feel the writing is too dense and not accessible enough for a wide audience so he will work on a second version this summer and we'll meet up again in September to write a new contract, discuss changes to the book, and hopefully submit to and find a publisher before the new year.

Y otra noticia: Nicolas introduced me to a professor in ENPC's English Department about a month ago and this man, John, sent me an email recently suggesting I apply for the next academic school year. So I did. Went for an informal interview over coffee (or hot chocolate on my side of the table). The best thing is that it's only a few hours a week and the building is on the same campus as Marne, though the universities are officially unaffiliated as Marne is public and ENPC falls into the category of being a private grande ecole. Other best thing (if it's possible to have two best things though the English teacher in me says it's not) and only upside to disorganized French education systems is that you can start from scratch and run with an idea for a class if you really want. Example: at ENPC I will teach a class about multicultural perspectives and travel writing, at Marne I will teach a class about American culture through current sitcoms. I'm excited about preparing both courses, besides, I have a hard time fathoming the idea of not working this summer.

What I have an easy time fathoming about this summer is going roller skating, seeing Neko Case at Slowdown on my birthday, road tripping to Chicago, visiting Joel and Ericka in Portland, eating spicy Mexican food, reinstating crafternoons, and spending quality time with all my friends and family who I've missed dearly. I'll need to soak up as much of this last item as possible in order to make it through Year 2 before I am able to reclaim my roots in Nebraska, though I am already taking bets on how long I will stay before the restless need to travel the world takes hold again. Any bets? Reward to the winner is a souvenir of your choosing.

Last book read: "Last Night in Paradise: Sex and Morals at the Century's End" by Katie Roiphe.

Last movies watched: "Je l'aimais" and "Wolverine: X-Men Origins" (both were fantastic; I hope they make more X-Men movies, though the preview for the first doesn't to justice to the heartbreaking film)

Weirdest dinner this week: deviled eggs, assorted berries on oatmeal, samosa and white wine.

I just realized I didn't even cover half of the other exciting things going on, so I will have to write the second installment of this epic blog tomorrow as it's late in Franceland and I have to administer final exams tomorrow. Bonne nuit!

this morning...

2009-05-16T00:49:00.000-07:00

...I woke up with an overwhelming urge to listen to Paul Revere & The Raiders' "Indian Reservation" as well as Leslie Gore's "You Don't Own Me". I think this is perhaps another manifestation of homesickness as I remember listening to KGOR "oldies" on breezy May weekends either in the car with my parents on the way to visit my grandparents in Council Bluffs, and later to visit their final resting places in Soldier Valley, or occassionally blaring it from the living room speakers in an attempt to motivate the dreaded, but always revitalizing, ritual of Spring cleaning. Thank goodness for Youtube.

already april

2009-04-05T15:35:00.000-07:00

And I started the month so well with daily blogging posts. I suppose there was good reason for the deterioration of my effort as the month progressed, but the good news is that things are no longer falling apart. Surprising to find that although one part of my foundation completely crumbled away, there is a more solid base underneath which will always be there, at least for as long as I exist.

Last week, put off translation due to surprise (not-really, because I knew she was coming, I just forgot) visit from good friend E. She needed to go to the Embassy of Ghana in the 16th to apply for a tourist visa to prepare for her second voyage to Africa. Reminded me that I ought to consider Africa as a travel destination while I'm in Europe, not that I'm short of this type of thing. We metro'ed to the 16th, on the other side of Paris, then walked to the Eiffel Tower and along La Seine, all the way to Notre Dame. There was fantastic weather to be had by all which invovled me getting sunburnt. We found some dejeuner a emporter and picnicked in the cute garden behind Notre Dame.

E is fun to be with in Paris because she has a fresh way of looking at things which I'm either used to or have grown used to ignoring since I sometimes live in my own little 1m wide bubble. For example, I've ceased making most any generalizations about Parisians or the French or their respective cultures. Perhaps this means I'm really at "home" here, perhaps this means I've adopted said customs and can no longer distinguish myself. E made fun of the way I added a "quoi" to the end of many French sentences and we discussed the habit of "faisant la bise". I do miss hugs, but my reaction upon meeting someone or greeting friends is to kiss them on both cheeks. So here is my formal apology to anyone Stateside who I come across this summer and accidentally greet in this manner.

We headed south from Notre Dame to wander into the 5th, witnessing yet another demonstration near La Sorbonne University (shrug, no big deal I say), and found our way into my favorite Jardin de Luxuembourg where we proceeded to sit for four, maybe five hours. I broke in my new journal (finally splurged on a sleek Moleskin, without lines), E shared her KinderBueno stash with me and we discussed my current read "The Feminine Mystique". E will be back in two weeks before her flight to Ghana and I'm looking forward to more park bumming, perhaps at vertical Parc de Buttes Chaumont.

So translation got postponed to Friday and Saturday...which then got postponed to late Sunday night and I'll have to get the rest of it done tomorrow. It really is too darn nice out to stay inside in front of the computer screen. I find a bit of random dancing and wiggling to be helpful while translating for hours at a time. As well as wearin slippers.

What did I do this weekend then if I didn't translate? Good question. Perfected cooking fried rice (even with chicken! and it's spicy!) on the hot plate, watched more Six Feet Under, moved things from living/kitchen room to bedroom in preparation for new roommate B who will help save my spot in Paris for next fall, went to the Opera Bastille with G to see Macbeth sung in Italian by Russian singers, subtitled in French which was later discussed with G in Spanish. All of these things are a hundred times more pleasurable than translating about the difference between mathematical and philosophical probabilities and their respective histories hence my procrastination.

Bref, en fin de compte, I don't remember the last time I felt so grounded and generally happy (despite translation woes). It's certainly nice to find my own two feet again.

the physical manifestation of homesickness

2009-03-23T05:47:00.001-07:00

From St. Malo trip in February with Anne. Photographed from on top of the ramparts surrounding Intramuros area of the city.

Well, I've seen this pattern of getting sick once a month before -- last year when I studied in Besancon. Obviously, this hasn't been the easiest year as Jacob will be flying back to the U.S. this Thursday and given all the stressful moments leading up to said departure. Really, it's no fun being sick and alone in the first place; even worse when abroad. This of course begs the question be asked if living in Paris is worth the difficulties. I have to believe it's worth it. Also, I've always believed the most difficult things are the ones most worth doing. On the bright side, I purchased a Lufthansa ticket to return to the U.S. on June 29th. I'll spend a few touristy days with John in D.C. then fly back to Nebraska on July 3rd. I can't wait to see everyone.

Last Friday, I met with Nicolas to review the first part of the book translation I'd finished for him. I wasn't particularly looking forward to the meeting because I didn't feel the most confident about my work, but he thought I did a good job and wants to keep paying me to continue the rest of the translation. The main mistakes were with some specific mathematical and philosophical vocabulary.

Went to La Comedie Francaise on Saturday for the first time with Anne. We had 5euro, reduced visibility seats for one of the last performances of Cyrano de Bergerac. Despite the peasant seating, and not getting all the clever quips, I had a great time. I ought to go more often.

Last movie watched: "Jesus Christ Superstar". This is my favorite movie to watch when I'm sick. Always makes me feel better, if just temporarily. Watched it with Spanish subtitles (Jesucristo Superestrella) in preparation to meet a new Spanish conversation partner tonight.

book finks love eminem

2009-03-19T09:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, I saw "8 Mile", though I waited for it to go to the Super Saver Cinema for $2.00. And I sing-a-long when the occassional Eminem passes within listening range: Mosh is a pretty cool video.

Today was my first full day off work (either teaching or private tutoring) in over a week, so I spent the afternoon at the Jardin de Luxembourg. I also was getting frustrated with my apartment as the hot water heater has stopped working and the spring gnats have woken from hibernation. Instead of chashing them away from my kitchen all afternoon, I opted for trading books in the 5th at San Francisco Book Company and baking in the sun.

I traded three books for 12euro credit. I found Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and James Baldwin's "Giovanni's Room". One of the chapters I translated for Nicolas described Kundera's philosophy as described by his characters. I'd also been meaning to read it since watching the film courtesy of Jeremy. Often, I feel inadequate as a Parisian (if only temporarily) for not knowing my spatial geography of the city so I was determined to doing some walking as well given the lovely weather to remedy this.

Jardin de Luxembourg was packed, as in I had to walk around for about ten minutes before finding a free metal lounge chair. I was feeling pretty scrubby having not showered in three days due to lack of hot water and the head-to-toe glances at my wardrobe by the Parisians affirmed so. I still don't quite understand the non-chalant yet meticulous brand-name obession most French people display. I don't know if I'll ever be able to jump onto that band wagon.

I munched on a baguette and finished reading a Thomas Kuhn article about paradigms in preparation for some more translation work this evening. It was tough to concentrate on with all the people watching, or people judging, happening. Also, went through a Pariscope and highlighted plays and concerts I'd like to see. Two concerts I am missing as they were already sold out before I realized they were here: P.J. Harvey and Antony and the Johnsons. Very, very disappointing.

After about three hours of sun, it was time to head back home to see if the gnats had completely taken over the apartment. I took my time, opting to walk from the 5th to Republique in the 10th. I certainly didn't mean to, but I stumbled on a sidewalk book sale at a store in the 6th called Epicea, just to the south of St. Michel Metro stop (6 Rue Danton). First, the 1,80euro bilingual poetry books caught my eye: "Primera Soledad/Premiere solitude" by Luis de Gongora and "El Cristo de Velazquez/Le Christ de Velaquez" by Miguel de Unamuno. I figured, "For 3,20euro, why not read some bilingual Spanish/French poetry books and add to the linguistic spaghetti known as my brain?" Then I saw they also had English classics for 2,50euro. Initially wanting to be an English major at UNL, I'm making up for lost time. Found: "Dubliners" James Joyce, "Lord Jim" Joseph Conrad, "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and "Women in Love" D.H. Lawrence. Also found the only short novel ever written by Proust for 3euro "La confessions d'une jeune fille".

Moseying my way across and along the Seine, I couldn't help but browse the bouquinist stands on the quay. Found for 3euro each Marcel Pagnol's duo novels "Jean de Florette" and "Manon des sources" which were later turned into quintessential French films as well as "Les enfants terribles" by Jean Cocteau. A few blocks later, I found myself in the 4th, trotting in the direction of Republique and then it hits me: I've got a serious problem. I should not be allowed to go book shopping unsupervised. I'm liable to spend my grocery money, though I'd be willing to eat soup and oatmeal everyday to support this addiction. At least half the books are in French.

Upon returning home, I find the hot water still out, nine gnats beating themselves senselessly on the inside of my window, and a significant, uneven drip from the shower faucet. At least I've got my books.

the end

2009-03-08T13:41:00.000-07:00

http://uncivillitigator.blogspot.com/2005/02/french-and-infidelity.html

lonely duck

2009-03-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

I found this little guy hanging around in the snow outside of one of the caves in Frontenay during La Percee du Vin Jaune. At the time (probably due to my tipsy photographing), I thought it was the cutest most lonely duck in the world. Interesting photos show up on my hard drive after voyages involving wine: exhibit A.

blogorrhea

2009-03-05T13:52:00.000-08:00

New news: I'm temporarily finished with translation work! Hooray! I have another 60 pages or so to translate before April 2nd, but as far as this weekend is concerned, I am going to take a break.

Last movie watched: "Watchmen". It was spectacular; mostly because it followed the graphic novel so well, often using the same frames. But I found the ending more devastating in the novel than the film. I suppose it's because the people got vaporized in the movie instead of human goop covering all of Manhattan. Also, it's a shame Snyder chose to leave out the man who runs the newspaper kiosk and the dude who always hangs around it. Addendum: watched second half of 'Sleeper' by Woody Allen. He is a nut, but his movies are becoming more coherent as I progress through the 1970s.

Professor Olds came to give a conference at Marne this week and we caught up on things over un aperitif at a swank restaurant near Bastille: Bofinger. It was nice to have one of those 'future' chats with someone who knows the ropes. At times, it has been difficult to be away and I find myself wondering if living in Paris is worth being away from my dear friends and family, especially when Jacob and I have hit rough spots. But tonight, I feel reassured that I'm not an idiot for coming (and planning to stay for that matter). As long as I keep my Spanish up, I can do my Masters at UNL in French with a Spanish specialization and have teaching experience in both languages. Good motivation to keep reading Cortazar. There's a Salon du Livre coming up featuring Mexican Literature which I'd like to go to. Carlos Fuentes and Elena Poniatowski are speaking among others. Also, that grotesque Our Body exhibit is currently in Paris (Corps ouvert) and I hope to see it. Can't be any worse than las momias in Guanajuato. I had some pretty disturbing dreams and some existensial identity problems after that museum. How nice of me to post a tour link so you can partake in the fun!

trois

2009-03-03T07:47:00.000-08:00

New news: It's my sister's birthday today! Hooray! Here's a pic of me yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Dara is the best big sister anyone could have. She would punch annoying boys in the face for me as well as house me if I were feeling particularly vagrant. This is why I love her.

That which I shouldn't do but I'm going to anyway: go to Anne's apartment after a grueling day of trying to convince my stony-faced students that English is interesting and watch a French comedy film, Les Bronzés. Some type of take-out food will probably be involved which also falls under this category.

Sometimes I feel I've won a small victory if I successfully sleep-in longer than Jacob. Today was not one of those days. Nevertheless, I was rewarded with hot water for a shower.

le 2 mars

2009-03-02T14:50:00.000-08:00

Highlight of the day: Our local bakery, St. Preux, closed up shop about a week ago. We observed gruff, but able-handed construction workers tear out the innards of the 20 square meter store while our bellies growled for baguettes. Then, today I noticed the bakery was up and running. I stopped on in on my way home from tutoring to see what all the hoopla had been about. As well as changing the color scheme to an intelligent forest green and creme, they added a two whole new shelves in the pastry cases which means twice as many pastries to be baked, bought, and eaten. :) I splurged on a donut with chocolate icing and sprinkles, splitting it with Jacob. Didn't come anywhere near the delightful doughnuts of the Donut Stop, but still worth 80 centiemes.

That which I did but shouldn't have done: called in sicky to Marne, missing yet another Phonetics class. I did not feel too well after a restless night for sleeping and felt weighed down from "procrastination translation" stress anyway. So I stayed home and translated.

For any of you comic book dorks out there, "Watchmen" is coming to a theater near you (or maybe it's already come and gone in the US of A). Films are released on Wednesdays in France (don't ask me why) and lucky for me, I don't work Thursday morning and my translation will be done so as soon as I come back from work, Jacob and I will head up the canal to La Bassin de la Villette to the movie theaters on the lake and get tickets for a late show. It ought to be awesome. This will be one of the first superhero films for which I've actually read the corresponding graphic novel.

Despite my excitement for warmer weather in Paris, the funky smell coming from the sewage connection pipe in the bathroom is reminding me of the time I gagged last July stepping outside my front door after a whiff of the sun-warmed St. Martin Canal. Oof. Our bathroom will grow more damp and stinky no doubt. Perhaps I have some Petri dishes around for experiments.

Note: The picture is not the bakery, it is my front door taken from the stinky, yet charming canal.

le premier mars

2009-03-01T13:19:00.000-08:00

January and February I appear to have been M.I.A. from the blogosphere, but I've decided to make a come back in March with a new blogging strategy...shorter, less epic though hopefully equally entertaining posts.

New news: Given no natural catastrophes occur to myself or family, I plan to return to teach next year in the same teaching position at Marne. The catch was also giving my word to UNL to return to Nebraska in Fall 2010 to begin the Masters Program. Done and done. Also, housing is covered for next year as well as Woody has recently informed me I'm welcome to stay next year too. It would be fantastic to not have to move. I quite like my neighborhood in the Xeme. So...those of you who have not visited this year have another chance to check out Paris. :)

Highlight of the day: fresh (well, frozen then thawed) berries in my oatmeal for breakfast. Also trying a perle de coco (coconut pearl?) dessert after dinner of Chinese food. I wasn't sure what it would taste like since Jacob joked the warm, white ball had the same weight and consistency as a used diaper, but it was a delightful gooey sweet rice cake, with coconut of course. Made me think of the rice cakes Haewon, a former LLC student of mine, used to make for me. I have a hunch that most of my 'highlights' will focus on food. Eating is always an adventure in France.

That which I wished I didn't have to do: translate. It's great being paid for skills I went to school for, but my procrastination + lack of proper desk = me slightly stressed out with a sore bottom and wrists. However, I am glad for each day my eldery laptop continues to process.

Current book: "The End of Oil". I know I ought to be reading more in French (or even Spanish for that matter), but I really can't get enough English non-fiction crammed into my brain these last few months.

Last movie watched: "Bridget Jones's Diary" avec les filles (a.k.a. Blythe and Anne). Anne tried driving into Paris on Saturday night for a film and later, a karaoke bar but she couldn't find a single parking spot anywhere...not even in Vincennes, just on the outskirts of Paris proper. She had spent over 2 hours on the road, sending frustrated text messages, then we finally decided to meet back at her place for drinks, pizza, and the best video the automatic rental machine at Videofutur had to offer. Next weekend, we will try for karaoke again.

Current music: Damien Rice "O". I left it on repeat while translating and listened to the whole album almost 3 times over. Darn good, a little heart-wrenching, but good. I bet he does good live shows.

Oh yes! Something else I forgot to mention in "New news": I am the proud recipient of an authentic carte de sejour as issued by La Republique Francaise. I floated out of the prefecture de police with a stupid grin of relief. It's nice to be legal, especially after all the loops I've jumped through for it. I'm even content with my ID photo. This means I can go get some of that universal health care without a hitch as well as vote if I deem either necessary.

I'm tenatively planning on flying into Washington D.C. on July 1st to visit my friend John, celebrate the 4th with Obama over tea, then Amtrak/Greyhound/carpool my way back to Nebraska, stopping at other various cities to see old friends who I miss dearly. Possibly in Philadelphia, Chicago, and somewhere in Iowa. If anyone is interested in "road-tripping" early/mid July, let me know. I'll bring snacks.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

2009-01-03T04:44:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas! Feliz Navidad! Joyeux Noel!

I hope you enjoyed your holidays with friends and family, no matter where you found yourself this holiday season. Best wishes for a happy new year from Paris!

a hard rain's gonna fall

2008-12-05T01:53:00.000-08:00

As today is my first day off for about a week from teaching at the university, giving private English lessons, and translating articles, I told myself I wouldn't spend the day at the computer. Mostly because I may be developing carpal tunnel's syndrome. Good thing holiday break will be getting under way in two weeks.

Thanksgiving was successfully celebrated thanks to my French work colleague and good friend, Anne. I don't own an oven, nor is my apartment large enough to invite more than two people for dinner comfortably. Anne offered to host, providing the full kitchen and an actual dining table. Jacob and I provided the main dishes, turkey (legs, not a whole one), mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy and an apple crumble. We also ate broccoli, green beans. Dessert was complimented by raspberry tart and homemade brownies courtesy of Blythe.

Dinner reminded me of eating chez Les Bardinet, my host family in Besancon, as a handful of countries were always represented at the dinner table, though for Thanksgiving, the common language was English instead of French. Blythe, another work colleague and friend who is British/American, brought three friends: Alessandro from Italy, Evelyn from the Netherlands, and Takaki from Japan. I was very pleased to see that everyone throughly enjoyed their first Thanksgiving meal. They were so eager to try the food that my attempt to have everyone say what they were thankful for failed and we all just said "Bon appetit!" and dug in. Quite American. Jacob and I returned to Anne's apartment the following night for dinner to help finish the leftovers.

This past week, I met two more students who responded to my advertisement for cours d'anglais. One student, Daniel, works for CNRS, the French National Scientific Research Center. He wants to learn English so when he returns to India during the summers, he can speak with his family and handle everyday situations. Though the part of India where his family lives was once a French colony, English has become the mainstream language alongside Hindi. India has the second largest population of English speakers who speak it as a second language. We met for coffee to arrange a schedule and discuss his specific goals. I tried to suggest we begin speaking English at the beginning of the conversation, but he seemed nervous to start and didn't want to be charged for a lesson. So we stayed in French.

Yesterday, I met Brigette, a woman who teaches art therapy, for introductions. As English is spoken in the home with Jacob, I asked Brigette if I could do a lesson exchange instead of charging. Though I'm technically more intergrated into the French system now than compared to when I was a student in Besancon, my French is not where I'd like it to be. I need more food and cooking terms and basic conversation time. It's impossible to describe what fresh herb I'm looking for at the market without the proper vocabulary and bundles upon bundles of green leafy things. We ended up chatting for about three hours, first in French, then in English. We have a lot of common points despite difference in age. I explained the concept of Crafternoon to her as she is in art therapy and we decided to go to some art exhibitions together later in the year. I'm looking forward to meeting with her again in about a week.

An update on the possibility of staying another year: My supervisor at Marne has invited and encouraged me to stay next year, however, I essentially need permission from UNL as it could affect my enrollment as a Masters student at UNL later. I wrote a formal letter to the Modern Languages Department to be considered for next year, mentioning the possibility of two Nebraskan students at Marne and offering to act as a mentor for the incoming exchange student. Heaven knows I would be lost without advice and I could have used more of it, even now occassionally. As I wrote this letter, I realized if I stayed another year in France, I would not enroll for the Masters Program until 2010. Weird. Sounds like the future to me. That means I wouldn't get into the Peace Corps until 2012. Time may have run out by then according to the Mayans.

Since I've arrived in Paris, it's been my intention to get involved in my local quartier via classes at one of the four community centers in the 10th. Hooray for governmentally funded social organizations. After much internet browsing, I decided to sign up for yoga and flamenco classes once a week. The little spot in my heart reserved for the Hispanic language and culture has been neglected, thus the flamenco classes. I only hope I can be as awesome as the many flamenco dancers I've seen: You Tube Flamenco - Alegrias Those dresses are just amazing.

Last read book: A Year in the Merde by Stephen Clark. The amusing story of a young British businessman who spends the year working and living in France. I found it to be a little sexist, but decent metro reading material nonetheless.
Current music: The Killers (they are coming to Paris in March) and The Gaslight Tapes 1962, Bob Dylan.

vers l'avenir

2008-11-21T11:21:00.000-08:00

Alas, near a month has passed since I last blogged. I am terribly apologetic for this. Jacob and I are both thirving on my antique laptop which is often senile, trying to sound like a tiny NASA shuttle about to take off into the atmosphere. Jacob's laptop is hors de service until a Windows XP CD is sent to restore his system. Forewarning: try to avoid downloading and installing Windows Service Pack 3 as it has brought a good reported amount of PC users to their knees. This is my explanation for having not written in so long.

A week ago, I received a call from the Accounting Office at UMLV. The woman on the other end of the line informed me I was incorrectly paid for the last month and I should stop by their office to pick up a check for the missing 400 euros. This was a nice surprise, of course. However, I certainly hope this kind of 'forgetting' won't happen in the future in regards to my salary. The reason I hadn't realized my salary check was significantly off from the amount it should have been is because I am a fonctionnaire, i.e. a civil servant paid by the French Government, therefore, my contract doesn't actually detail anything regarding pay. It only assigns me a number which corresponds to le indice brut (mine is 304). This index is a government scale for all fonctionnaire jobs. Anyone who is a lectrice like me has the same number, even if they have more training or education according to discussions with my co-workers. For future French foncitionnaires, I recommend using this website to calculate how much you'll actually get paid because heaven knows no one will directly tell you. It even calculates your pay after taxes. http://www.snesup.fr/docs/memo/traitements_calcul.html

I attended The 26th International Film Festival of the Environment earlier today. I watched two movies: "Addicted to Plastic" and "Bigger, Stronger, Faster". Luckily for me, there were both in VO (version originale) with French subtitles. They were both poignant, well-researched films, however, the latter portrayed many things about America which made me red with embarrassment. I slid a bit further down into my seat when the writer/director Chris Bell had conversations with steroid-taking gym rats who could only repeat "dedication to God, country, and the fame of body-building" to any of his questions. Or the scene when he interviews his Californian Senator, who continues to look past the camera and ask the same questions to his aide, who then responds, informing him at one point that the legal drinking age is 21, not 18.

The days after the election, I announced Obama as the president-elect to each section of my students which was met with a hearty applause each time. After the best organized, most grassroots based (and one of the most costly) presidential campaigns, I'm feeling the post-victory depression which The Onion spoke about, though perhaps not to such a severe degree. America voted and Obama won. Despite all hopeful imaginings of change, I did not wake up the next day to a world lacking of disparities between the classes nor racism between people. What's next? I suppose I ought to be patient until January 20th, but I do hope the idea of renewed citizenship and hope which elected Obama in the first place does not cloud over the fact that participating in the government does not mean following an ideologue. It means continuing to keep a watcful eye on our leaders. I also would like to see all the grassroots organizations which sprang up out of American soil be maintained as organizations to empower people and keep them involved in the ongoing grassroots politics of which the United States is in such need.

I found the recent news articles talking about the 63 question application for future federal employees in the coming Obama administration rather unsettling. Take a moment to read through it and you'll find you basically have to state everything about you, even include diaries you may have kept. Would my diaries I kept during high school, full of rampant hormones, cause embarrassment to myself, my family, or the president-elect? You betcha! Most controversial activities? Perhaps canvassing in South Dakota against the abortion ban among other seemingly socialist clothing and banners made at Crafternoons. According to the questionnaire, it seems a good idea to apply before you have a mortgage or a spouse, so on that account I'm fine. I understand the reason for such a detailed application is to eradicate as much self-interest from politics as possible, but it still rubs me the wrong way somehow. Good luck to anyone who submits such an application.

Current reading: "A People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn
Most recently watched films: "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" (surprisingly, the first Woody Allen film I've ever seen), "Jean de Florette", "Manon de Sources" (amazing duology that is pure French cinema), and "No Country for Old Men"
Current music: The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust by Saul Williams. I couldn't believe he released this album over a year ago, Radiohead 'In Rainbows' style, and no one told me. I serendipitously happened upon it.

baby, it's cold outside

2008-10-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

Much to my surprise, someone actually responded to a flyer I put up, offering private English courses. I made the sign while waiting in line with Jacob for another attempt to secure his carte de sejour at the préfecture de la police. This particular entity is located in the basement of the International House of Paris' South University. Just before you go downstairs, there's about 15 feet of bulletin board, full of various announcements in varying languages. This was how we originally found Jacob work, editing academic economic papers. Each time we went to la préfecture, I'd stop by and read most of the ads about language teaching because I didn't know any of the vocabulary in French to offer my services. My ad was a summation of others I'd seen and I tried to use my fancy handmade fonts to catch someone's eye. And it did! Someone actually replied the same evening! Things never happen this quick in France, thus my surprise. The best thing about finding private tutoring (aside from seeing the student progress) is that it should cover the cost of groceries and restauranting each month since I'm able to charge 'professeur d'anglais' rates. Hooray!

Our good friend (and my favorite translation partner) Jen stayed with us for two days this week. She was hoping to find some english poetry while in Paris so we ventured out to hunt down the second-hand english book stores. For some reason, most are located in the VIeme arrondissement. We found the San Francisco Book Company, Berkeley Books of Paris, and Tea & Tattered Pages (which was indefinitely closed for the afternoon though the sign said the owner would be back at 2 p.m. and it was 2:30). The latter made me miss Novel Idea and 14th Street stores in Lincoln as there was a round orange tabby cat meowing at us as we peered into the darkened windows. There is a tiny tea house in the back for customers to enjoy their books; I will most definitely go back when they are open. Most of the stores have a trade-for-credit deal which is good news to us servants. I had to make the difficult decision between Obama's "The Audacity of Hope" and Barbara Ehrenreich's newest book, "This Land Is Their Land: Reports from a Divided Nation". I've become a groupie of each author, but the former won out this time since it was 2 euros cheaper. If I'm going to elect the man, I ought to read his books.

Fall is almost officially over in Paris. It was short, but sweet. There's still some green leaves hanging on for dear life, but it gets cold enough now to frost overnight and in the morning. The day we hunted for second-hand books, we stumbled through les Jardins de Luxembourg which was a spectacular sight: meticulously manicured lawns and flower beds, out of which sprung huge flowers displaying an array of brilliant colors. The chill seemed to make them sparkle. The cold, of course, is nothing compared to what I've heard has recently been dumped over Eastern Nebraska. It will be much more mild here the entire session though I've taken to wearing a layer of thermals and leaving the radiators on in both rooms.

French phrase of the day (courtesy of FUSAC, the best newsletter an anglophone could have in Paris): Copains quoi qu'il arrive = Friends through thick and thin.

tu et vous = you

2008-10-27T05:08:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was a day full of miracles in the land of French bureaucracy.

First, I marched into a local branch of HSBC and secured a bank account within a matter of hours. There was a lot of paper work to sign to open it and I felt a little suspicious at the time, but felt better about the decision after getting home and re-reading the fine print. This is awesome because it means I can get paid for being a professor and have a debit card which has a Carte Bleue (CB) chip in it. The really spiffy automatic train ticket machines at SNCF use CB system. I'm looking forward to being able to use it on my next trip.

Second miracle involved the glorious Madame Alamichel (my "boss") at Marne who instantly registered Jacob in the English Master's program at Marne. This was an extremely helpful step for helping Jacob get his carte de sejour which makes him legal to live in France for the year. It also makes him eligible for securite sociale, covering basically all health insurance costs. As a student in Europe, one is eligible for tons of discounts too which never hurts.

Third miracle was performed by Madame Machet. Upon inquiring about my missing official Marne I.D. card, she scrambled from office to office until she found someone to print a new one instead of sending me away empty-handed. I used the card today to purchase "Dreams from My Father" by Barack Obama and got a 10% discount. I figured I ought to read up on my candidate before he is sworn into office. Madame Machet also mentioned she has heard word from the ANAEM concerning the mysterious missing paperwork and should call later this week when she receives it.

So, after lamenting my undefined position and difficult situation in the midst of French bureaucracy, things are looking up. I must reiterate how much I am in awe every time something gets accomplished here despite the laissez-faire attitude.

One recent theme in my Oral Comprehesion and Expression class was family. It's better to bring in controversial articles about which the students may actually have an opinion, inciting them to express themselves in English than talking about family trees and rehashing grammar class vocabulary, so I made a bold move. I brought in articles about gay adoption. Arguments for and against were represented in the articles so I thought they'd work well. I had two sections of this class (three as of last week, which I'll adress a bit later) where I taught the material on gay adoption. In the first class, the students seemed fairly surprised at my chosen topic and even more surprised when I began to ask their personal opinions on the matter. I could tell from the discussion happening amongst the students that they were interested, but didn't know where to begin so I put it to a vote. I asked the class to raise their hands in support of gay adoption and then against. From there, practically the entire class participated in the discussion and helped deconstruct the arguments in the article and those of their classmates.

As I usually swap ideas with other professors about how to get the students involved, I recounted this story to another English professor, Ethan, who was surprised first at the topic, then at the fact that I had asked the class to 'vote'. Evidently, professors in France may be rather severely disciplined for bringing politics into the classroom, especially in asking students to 'vote'. Ethan informed me it is against French law for a professor to instigate discussion of political opinions much less, ask the entire class to voice their personal political opinion. Oops. I haven't found any sources which indicate how true this is though I am inclined to believe Ethan since he has worked and lived in France for a number of years.

In other, more legal news, after many hunts in the local neighborhood to find a decent street market, Jacob and I have found two large markets which are only a ten minute walk from our apartment. They are held on alternating days so fresh food is available practically everyday. Going to the market has become my favorite pastime. The food is less expensive than the grocery store and much, much fresher. Two tricks: go to the market during the last hour in order to buy bulk for cheap and don't shy away from bartering. There's no reason you shouldn't be able to convince someone to give you a crate of delicious mushrooms for 5,33 euros rather than pay 9,00 euros. Though you may have to eat mushrooms with every meal for an entire week, it's well worth it.

aujourd'hui il pleut

2008-10-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Nothing makes you feel more Parisian than to have your French students remind you to speak in English, finally master the apathetic, exhausted look of fellow suburban metro commuters, bavarder un peu (chat it up) with the local baker, and trudge home wielding a baguette.

Toots Sweet

2008-10-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

Happy First Birthday Seth Carson Waters!

Hope you've finally gotten through "Happy, Baby Animals" in one sitting. Enjoy your cake and ice cream on your special day! Love, Aunt Nené

The third week of ma vie à Paris is drawing to a close, though at times, it has felt as if I've been perpetually living here. Could be due to living in Besançon last semester and the fact that I will have soon successfully avoided two notoriously horrendous winters in Nebraska. In any case, it is a relief to realize it's only been three weeks so I can occassionally admit how little I know about Paris and France and know that there is plenty of learning left to be done.

First item of business: Teaching.

Despite previous statistics I cited about freshmen dropping out during the first semester in the French public university system, the majority of my students seem to be motivated and earnestly interested in being in class. They have also been quite candid on the whole. In reponse to "What's your name and what do you want to do after your license?", one student said, "I'm not sure if I want to do my license, or even this semester." I replied, "Well, I hope I can change your mind about that."

As this has been my first time being responsable for entire classes, I didn't fully acknowledge myself as a teacher until a student said, "Bye, Mrs. Oglesby! See you next week!" I've never been called Mrs. Oglesby, much less Madame, which often is the way my students address me. I felt the first two weeks were spent establishing myself as a teacher, not a student as I appear to be due to my young age. I am teaching a few students who are only a year or so younger than I.

Thus far, I am enjoying my teaching experience, on the whole. Though the negative aspects of living in Paris (which I'll address later on) are beginning to show, I am certainly glad to be teaching university freshmen who are better disciplined than les étudiants terminals, high-school seniors. Had I accepted the teaching position in Besançon, this would have been my lot.

Second item: Complaints.

Teaching is great, especially when you get paid for it. Unfortunately, I cannot attest to this truism. I've been gathering paperwork to apply for my aforementioned carte de séjour, however, the two remaining pieces are floating somewhere in the Parisian ether of bureaucracy. Any bank in France requires a carte de séjour to open an account through which UMLV could pay me, but the waiting period to receive my carte de séjour could take up to two months. I do have one available weapon the ether does not: Madame Machet, the most helpful, patient secretary I've ever met. This woman kept in contact throughout the mystery of my missing visa paperwork last summer and has been helping me navigate form after form. As it turns out, the ANAEM is once again the culprit. They will supposedly send the two remaining documents via mail which would allow me to complete my application for the carte de séjour. When this might happen, no one can tell. So, this wonderful secretary has side-stepped the rules, will cut me a check next week, which we hope will enable me to convince a bank to open an account, or I can at least ask a friend to cash it for me. In the mean time, I wait for these missing, crucial documents to find their way to me. That was gripe number one.

Gripe number two involves the realization by myself and Jacob that we may not be cut out for the big city life. If you don't jump out of the way in time, the local Parisian foot traffic will plow you down, or at least run into your shoulders often enough that you have a scowl on your face by the time you walk six blocks. I can barely recall a time when someone stepped out of the way for me. You really have to have your game face on. Some people explain this phenomenon by calling the French rude or selfish. I can see where the stereotype comes from, but I think they are just used to the crowds and have decided that many of them are tourists anyway, so plowing is a-okay in order to get where you're going. Possible solutions: a) wider sidewalks, b) changing my personal style to goth, wearing pointy objects to persuade people to move out of the way, or c) retiring as quickly as possible to apartment after work and developing my misanthropy.

Speaking of misanthropy, nothing will make you imagine what eternal damnation can be like more than standing in terribly long lines with screaming children in an overheated grocery store. Or a line for a state organization whose sole business is bureaucracy. A funny thing about lines and the French: if you aren't standing directly behind the person you are in line after, someone will cut in and not apologize, not give up the place which is rightfully yours. I find that I dislike everyone a whole lot more in these conditions. The local supermarket chain is called Monoprix. Jacob and I find ourselves there often for orange juice, oatmeal, or whichever type of wine happens to be on sale that week. A recommendation for future vistors: avoid shopping for anything anywhere during peak hours. We often end up going when I get off of work which is a bad idea. We have better strategies now. This may explain why there are so many tiny marchés, boulangeries, and boucheries. That way, if you happen to just need a jar of salt or some bread, you can bop in and buy it for a few extra centièmes. But your sanity is worth that price.

Just so you know, it's not all gripes here. I believe I fell into this same pattern in Besançon. About a month in, after the shiny romantic idea of living in France has lost some of its sheen, you being to criticize pretty much anything which trips your trigger. Another month or so, you realize perhaps your criticism is the first symptom of homesickness in disguise. In yet another month, you find yourself praising many aspects of the United States which you formerly doubted or at least you realize their function in comparison with other forms of freedom and demo/bureaucracy. The fourth month, after a serious bout of homesickness which may manifest itself physically, you realize you're stuck for at least another several months and must make the best of it. Once the analytical, cultural anthropologist within you has had its fill of de-bunking myths (cultural and personal), you may finally enjoy the rest of your time in France. This, of course, is only a projection, but I'm a creature of habit and will most likely follow the same pattern as before.

As promised here is a tour of the Servant's Quarters along with video of the miracle of hydrolics which takes places outside of the Quarter's everyday, hyperlinked to Youtube.

A clatch of boffins

2008-09-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

It's officially been a week here living in the tenth arrondissement. Turns out the apartment, which Jacob and I refer fondly to as 'The Servant Quarter's', remains despairingly chilly and damp throughout the entire day, despite the few rays that are caught in the courtyard. Trouble is we're the ground floor out of about five stories, so I suppose there is enough time for all the warmth to escape before it manages to tease us in the dungeon.

Okay. It's not as terrible as I describe it; we do have running, hot water, privacy, and a mini-fridge. If anyone has good receipes for microwave or hot plate cooking, we'd be much obliged. :) The ambiance of living in 'The Servant Quarter's' is exaggerated by grocery shopping and living in Paris on a rather tight budget. A few days ago, we calculated that it's plausible to eat a balanced meal for 1,25euros, provided one shops wisely at the local supermarché. We did manage to spring for the best strawberries I've eaten in years and my favorite: a bottle of cidre (carbonated apple juice, 2% alcohol). A whole bottle only costs a euro!

Last Tuesday, I met with my supervisor on Marne-la-vallee's campus. Madame Alamichel was extremely helpful. Everyone knew about my visa mishap with the ANAEM and offered their support in catching me up. It's comforting to know that I have a small support-base of French English teachers, but the bureaucratic hoops continue to line up.

Though classes start on Monday (I only have classes Tuesday and Wednesday, lucky me), I still haven't received a copy of my contract, nor an employee identification card from the university. This poses me several problems: one must prove (with a copy of one's contract) that you have a job in order to open a bank account, receive my carte de sejour (an extension of my visa which makes me legal in France), get a metro pass to go to work in the first place, and sign up for health insurance.

BUT, this seems to be nothing new to the French. They expect delays, long-lines, yet seem to have an surprising amount of faith that things will (eventually) get done. And to my utter amazement, they do. For those who know me well, you know I color code my classes, make constant 'To Do' lists, fight against procrastination, and may be generally O.C.D. about various things. This is not French, nor does this mindset function well in a French system.

I will have an estimated 100-150 students total amongst seven classes this semester. I've been told there is no attendance list for any of them, only rough estimates. Students may come and go as they please. Many (according to les anglicistes, the other English teachers as they like to be called) will attend the first two or three weeks, then decide they don't want to be in class, drop out, and perhaps show up for the final, which I am obliged to administer to them. In France, everyone has a right to a test. Anyone who shows up to my finals must be given a test and be graded, even if they never attended a single class. In an odd way, this makes me feel less nervous about my first experience teaching because myself and the students are possibly on par as far as how prepared we may be for the semester. The figure has also been tossed about that I shouldn't be surprised if 70% of my students fail their first semester. Seems like a disheartening figure, but the French see it as a way to weed out the bad students. Public universities in France are inexpensive and basically open to all, so everyone goes after high-school though they won't end up staying for the 3-4 years to get their license (bachelor's).

So, with what little time I have to impress some education, English and inspiration on these students I hope to use wisely. There are minimal guidelines for classes. Just general themes to follow to make the students speak English and expand vocabulary. I'd like to incorporate the American Presidential Race in my classes, but I'm not sure how I will work it into the syllabus.

After a week in 'The Servant Quarter's', Jacob and I are going a wee stir crazy, but I try to avoid it by reading outside by the canal and hunting down local flea markets. If you are keeping up on reading this, congrats on coming this far. I promise to post a tour soon of 'The Servant Quarter's'.

Fourth Time's a Charm

2008-09-24T02:23:00.000-07:00

The much anticipated trek to Paris finally began last Thursday morning at the Omaha Amtrak station. The California Zephyr was three hours late due to railroad repairs, but no one complained much as the delay allowed more time to spend with Mom and Dad. Over Donut Stop pasteries, Mom conferred wise advice to me: "This teaching experience may not go well and I want you to not discount teaching in the future because of this single experience."

9 a.m. approached and we walked down the platform together. I didn't cry until I actually had to get on the train and watch Mom and Dad walk away into the arriving eastern sun.

This is the fourth time my parents have sent me abroad and it seems the goodbyes get a little bit easier each time.

The Zephyr took 9 hours to reach Union Station in Downtown Chicago. Jacob and I opted for Amtrak because planes are costly and buses are uncomfortable, to say the least. Just East of the mighty Mississippi, massive flooding from over a month ago turned farmlands into a type of everglade. Houses had been carried right off their foundations by the current. We were told by a fellow Amtrak'er that parts of the railroad had been washed clean away by the storms.

Once we arrived to Union Station, we navigated the Chicago Transit Authority system to Logan Square. Allen and Stacy fed us amazing delivery Chinese and housed us on their couches for the night. To my delight, I got to sleep on the couch from Goodwill which Allen and I had bought together for the Pagoda as a Christmas present to each other.

The following day, Jacob and I headed downtown to claim our visas and marvel Chicago's architecture. Jacob received his student visa in the morning, having encountered no problems. However, my appointment was scheduled for 3:30 p.m. and our flight from O'Hare was to depart at 6:27 p.m. We couldn't afford to change our tickets, so we devised a "Get from Downtown Chicago to O'Hare Incredibly Fast" Plan.

I went to the French Consulate Downtown for my appointment while Allen and Jacob got the luggage from the apartment and hauled it down to Logan Square Station. The woman at the Consulate told me to return at 4:30 p.m. to pick up my completed work visa. I paced around the lobby, called Jacob to give him last minute details in case he left for the airport without me. At 4:15, I went back up to the 37th floor, graciously thanked the woman for having it done early, then made a mad dash for the Blue Line at Clark/Lake. I was on the phone with Allen most of this time, giving him the play by play. He directed me to get into the last car and to call when I was a stop away from Logan Square.

At Logan Square, the train doors slid open, Jacob dashed in with his luggage and I leaned out to grab mine from Allen, give him a hug, and pass off my CTA card. The doors closed, it was 4:40 p.m. and I began laughing due to the simultaneous stress and relief. So, here's a big THANKS to Allen for helping us out and taking us to the most delicious vegan restaurant in Boys Town. I hope you enjoyed those chocolate chip cookies.