Sunday, October 10th 2010
Living in France for me is like a buying and wearing a brand new pair of shoes...sort of.
Imagine you've been waiting for your shoes to come in the mail, as you bought them off Ebay, of course, and every day you wonder what they'll look like in real life, how they'll match your outfits, who will notice them, and so on. You are very excited and anxious to wear them.
They arrive, and you are overwhelmed with their shoe-beauty, and put them on right away. For a brief period, all is well and you go out to strut your stuff, only to find several minutes is all is takes for them to cause you extreme discomfort, and you go through phases of wanting to return them to hoping they break in soon so you can stop being in so much pain. You wonder if they're worth it sometimes.
Shoe analogy!
Regardless of where I go or for how long, the first week is always the most difficult, no matter how great things can be, and I did indeed have a great first week. But, just like the shoes, you have to wear in the new life (or lifestyle) you've chosen so that it's a bit more comfortable, so that every time you move, you're not wishing to just go back to the old pair of loafers you're used to, because those loafers are great and comfortable for around the house, but they sure aren't going to get you far once you leave home. For me, sticking to what is comfortable will not allow me to get to where I want to be nor have the kind of experiences that I want.
It's a dangerous thing, comfort. As nice as it is, it can hold you back if you let it. Of course this depends entirely on who we are, what we want and where we are in our life, but as for me, I want to punch comfort in the face and get past it. Sure, I'd like it eventually, and I will apologize most sincerely to it later on when I want it back. But for now, craving the comfort of familiarity and for what I'm used to will get me nowhere.
That's not to say that 12 days into my life in France that I don't still feel the pull of it when I don't know where to buy hangers or when I don't know how to use kilograms. That's not to say that when I'm lost downtown that I don't wish for the the familiarity of my hometown streets, or when I don't know how the bus system works that I don't wish for the comfort of my car. But, it's my choice to let this bring me down or not as it has in the past, and this time, I'm doing better, and will be much better for it.
These small details are individually no great matters, yet when virtually every detail like this changes and you have to re-learn them all, it can feel like spikes have been places on the inside of your shoes and sometimes we want to stop walking.
I may have run a bit far with this one (haha, get it?) but the point is that I feel as though I've walked far enough to where this life is starting to feel more comfortable, albeit some blisters, and I'm starting to feel at home here. I've re-learned many of the little details that we take for granted, and I've made some great friends to help me along the way. Things are coming together little by little, and I'd say I'm wearing in this life pretty good so far.
Besides, can't return this pair of shoes.
- -
Tuesday, October 12th
I guess I should talk about some real events in this post.
I started working at my high school yesterday, which was like a cocktail of disaster and tequila...if there's really a difference between the two.
Slight exaggeration aside, it was truly just 1 out of 5 classes that was terrible, the other 4 consisted mostly of politely bored French teenagers. There were a handful of exceptions, consisting mostly of the students who came to my new English Club and enthusiastically asked about McDonald's and fat people in the United States.
Anyway, my schedule is fairly complicated, but I teach 12 individual classes a week, which alternate; there's week A and week B, so I'm meeting quite a lot of new students (there are typically 10-12 in each class of mine). However, after this first month, my entire schedule changes again, though it goes until the end of my work here, which is in mid-April. I still don't entirely understand why...
Well, once again, nothing worthwhile comes easily, and I repeat this to myself when I'm wondering why people even bother trying to teach teenagers at all. It's like locking a hundred angry bees into a small room with a good-intended human who would like to make them stop buzzing. Basically you just end up stung, but if you're lucky, you get some honey to take home.
Turns out, a combination of English slang and PowerPoint presentation's with interesting pictures can distract them long enough so that you're just occasionally swatting at them distractedly as you teach all the others “What's up?” because that, apparently, is much cooler than, “How are you?” I'm learning.
I'm only onto day 2 now and I think that not only will every day be incredibly different, but every class will vary hour to hour. One bad bee and you're stung and swollen which can affect you for the rest of the day, causing you to not to give your best to the other bees. Of course, having a good attitude and not letting this happen is like having an epipen, or whatever they're called...need to buy one of those...
The staff in general are friendly, and the English teachers are especially great and wonderfully helpful. Les Haberges is a rather small school, with about 800 students, in a rather small city of about 20,000, but it's pleasant and I'm learning the ropes and hoping to establish good rapports with everyone, especially with the students. It's one of the reasons why I offered to do an English Club, in order to know them better, as well as to have a bit more of a presence in the school. Yesterday was the first meeting, and 5 amazing girls attended, and we talked about stereotypes and I shared some pictures of my life.
The one thing that I frankly cannot get used to though is the hours: I finish at either 5 or 6pm every day I work, and it's about 45-50 minutes to get back, with an additional 15-30 minute walk (depending on who drives me back) or probably a 10 minute bus ride, if I could only learn how those work...
Basically, I get back, exhausted, and it's too late to really do much except have dinner with Erwan and Lucie (or Simon and Benjamin if they're here...most everyone here is working or doing some kind of internship which requires them to spend some time here and some time in another city).
After dinner, we either go out downtown to walk around and have a drink, or sometimes we stay in and have tea and chat (just taught “Erwan” how to play “Speed” the card game!) or we all just slump back to our rooms, exhausted from day, going to bed "as early as a grandmother," as Clara says (my flatmate, remember?)
So in this way, I'm wearing in my shoes. All of us are sort of establishing a routine, and with that brings familiarity, which brings a new kind of comfort.
However...
NOBODY HUGS HERE. I'm starving for affection. These bisous just don't cut it.
Hugs,
Katie
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The first week...
(The first few days)
Thursday, September 31st 2010
“So, when you're sad, you can just go smell some garbage.”
We're driving to Besancon from Vesoul, about a 45 minute trip, and Jerome (Aurelie's husband) has just replied to my comment on how the smell of air pollution and garbage sometimes makes me fondly remember Senegal (due to the pollution from heavy traffic and litter in certain areas).
I'm jet-lagged, disoriented, but perfectly content to stare soundlessly out the window at the green and hilly French countryside. I'll have this 45 minute or so commute to make a few days a week to work, but I wanted to live in Besancon since it's a fair amount bigger and I figured there might be a bit more to see and do, as well as more people to meet.
We arrive in Besancon, and it is indeed quite huge-feeling compared to the teeny town of Vesoul we briefly toured, though still small by comparison to most other major cities in France. I vaguely wonder how many times I'll get lost my first few days as we make our way to the Foyer de Jeunes Travailleurs, where I'll be living for the next 7 months. It serves as a youth hostel as well as long-term housing, typically for young French people working, looking for work, or doing internships, though there are some foreigners. It's very convenient, as it offers furnished individual rooms or apartments, as well as having a small restaurant attached that is similar to a college cafeteria, but the food is actually good here, and cheap! They even have a bar and lounge area, where there are some games and lots of places to sit and drink and/or socialize. The foyer also puts on a lot of activities and shows movies frequently. Not gonna lie though, it's very pastel-colored...
Anyway, I have no idea what would have happened if it wasn't for Aurelie and Jerome – they were able to help me with virtually every detail that evening, from explaining my deposit to the way the canteen/restaurant works, to taking me shopping for some essentials I'd be needing right away.
All too soon, I'm being talked to in a very sweet and parental way by Aurelie, as she can tell I'm quite overwhelmed with everything, including having just been told I'd be living in an apartment with someone, and not in an individual room as I was told I'd have. Despite the initial typical worries of everything that could go wrong, I was kind of excited about the opportunity to live with someone and be able to speak French more and possibly have more social opportunities; if we didn't hate each other, that is.
Turns out, Clara is wonderful. My new apartment-mate is from Spain and studying French here until April, and right away I got a wonderful feeling from her. It was late and we didn't have much time to talk, but she was very open from the beginning about hopefully getting a chance to talk more soon and do things together.
With 3 suitcases spread across my pastel-colored room, I'm utterly exhausted and sleep like a log until morning, telling myself there's plenty of time tomorrow to realize I'm in France and get appropriately excited about it.
-
Sunday, October 3rd 2010
"KATIE, I LOVE YOU! SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, THANK YOU, PLEASE!!”
bursts out Barbara, a new French friend who decided to semi-scream out all of the English she knew in one breath over dinner, side-tracked from our original conversation about what each language steals from another (We snatched “rendez-vous,” for example).
I can't believe how quickly and easily I've made friends here so far, and I know it's entirely due to my previous experiences in both France and Senegal; everything from actually being able to speak enough French to knowing better than to not cloister myself up when I'm feeling sad, overwhelmed, or just too tired.
Barbara and I hit it off from the beginning. Within just a couple hours, it feels like we've been friends for years, acting goofy in ways that I haven't since I was at the playground in elementary school. She's gorgeous, and has an internship/works at a chocolate shop, and has a quirky personality to match mine. My third night here, Friday night, consisted of running/climbing around the FJT imitating James Bond with our hands pressed together like guns, as the place was nearly empty as everyone had basically left for the weekend. We continued from there to the balcony outside, and with arms outstretched we belted our, “My heart will go on,” from Titanic, and I practically died from laughter from Barbara's chorus of “ZAIRS NUUUH-SING TO FEEEERUH...!” But her favorite part was when I tried to hide behind a very scanty bush from the one other person in the foyer, who could obviously see me, but I was a secret agent so of course he couldn't.
Anyway, to go back a couple days...
My first day at FJT I met Erwan; I was trying to figure out where to put my tray, and once again, looking lost and confused has its advantages. He showed me where to put it, and that was enough to strike up a conversation, as he was able to tell right away that I must be new.
Erwan is from the other side of France, as I soon found out, working as an apprentice in Besancon as an electrician and hoping that his girlfriend can soon move from Paris so that they can find an apartment here together. He was very easy to talk to, and almost right away offered to help with anything he could do to help me adjust to life here. We spent the next hour or so talking, and it was through him that I was able to meet a handful of people the next day at dinner, all French, which is fantastic, as my biggest goal was to meet and talk to French people as much as possible, and it has happened much quicker (and more easily) than I expected. They're all around my age, and incredibly friendly.
Wednesday, October 6th, 2010
I forgot how hard blogging is.
I could not have asked for a better week. Besides semi-drowning in paperwork that France throws at you from all sides, I've had nothing but support and help from new friends and Aurelie and the rest of the staff at Les Haberges, the high school I'll be working at in Vesoul, who have all been incredibly helpful.
I had my first day of observation at the school, which consists of just about 800 students (close to how many people in my graduating class alone!) It went well, there are 6 English teachers (all women) who seem amazing, and it looks like I'll rarely have to take the bus as there are several who live in and commute from Besancon with whom I can carpool. Right on.
The kids seem like typical high schoolers, and I'm excited to work with them. When I introduced myself to each class (around 5 I think) I asked them all what questions or stereotypes did they have of the US, and the first question in every class was, "Do zey all eeat Meek-dohnalds in zee US?" This is going to be fun. I offered to do a little English club too, so I hope that works out as well.
I'm also very happy with choosing to live at the FJT. Had I not, I would not have woken up to a beautiful Clara, who was in the kitchen cutting up fresh banana's and mangos, telling me to have a seat and eat. We chatted in our accented French, as the fresh air blew in from the open door to our petite balcony, just big enough to stand on to enjoy the view and feel the breeze.
Also, had I not chosen this place, I would not have found myself in an Irish Pub downtown with some friends, feeling right at home in the bar that not only looked just like an Irish Pub in America, but with American tunes to boot. I was with Erwan, as well as Simon and Benjamin from the FJT. Both Erwan and Benjamin work with an electric company, and Simon works for a gas company, so the conversation was thrilling, to say the least. And, on the way home, I even got a special presentation from Benjamin, who stopped in the middle of the road to inspect a pothole-thing, whatever they're called, and then he proceeded to show and explain to me a tiny plaque near the sidewalk with lots of arrows and numbers explaining stuff and things, while a very tipsy Simon was trying to enter a very closed bank to get money from an ATM, while Erwan shook his head in dismay that one Guiness could make them both so goofy. It was their first time ever trying it! Needless to say, it was an amusing evening, and we were back before 10pm.
Welcome to my new life in France.
Love,
Katie
Thursday, September 31st 2010
“So, when you're sad, you can just go smell some garbage.”
We're driving to Besancon from Vesoul, about a 45 minute trip, and Jerome (Aurelie's husband) has just replied to my comment on how the smell of air pollution and garbage sometimes makes me fondly remember Senegal (due to the pollution from heavy traffic and litter in certain areas).
I'm jet-lagged, disoriented, but perfectly content to stare soundlessly out the window at the green and hilly French countryside. I'll have this 45 minute or so commute to make a few days a week to work, but I wanted to live in Besancon since it's a fair amount bigger and I figured there might be a bit more to see and do, as well as more people to meet.
We arrive in Besancon, and it is indeed quite huge-feeling compared to the teeny town of Vesoul we briefly toured, though still small by comparison to most other major cities in France. I vaguely wonder how many times I'll get lost my first few days as we make our way to the Foyer de Jeunes Travailleurs, where I'll be living for the next 7 months. It serves as a youth hostel as well as long-term housing, typically for young French people working, looking for work, or doing internships, though there are some foreigners. It's very convenient, as it offers furnished individual rooms or apartments, as well as having a small restaurant attached that is similar to a college cafeteria, but the food is actually good here, and cheap! They even have a bar and lounge area, where there are some games and lots of places to sit and drink and/or socialize. The foyer also puts on a lot of activities and shows movies frequently. Not gonna lie though, it's very pastel-colored...
Anyway, I have no idea what would have happened if it wasn't for Aurelie and Jerome – they were able to help me with virtually every detail that evening, from explaining my deposit to the way the canteen/restaurant works, to taking me shopping for some essentials I'd be needing right away.
All too soon, I'm being talked to in a very sweet and parental way by Aurelie, as she can tell I'm quite overwhelmed with everything, including having just been told I'd be living in an apartment with someone, and not in an individual room as I was told I'd have. Despite the initial typical worries of everything that could go wrong, I was kind of excited about the opportunity to live with someone and be able to speak French more and possibly have more social opportunities; if we didn't hate each other, that is.
Turns out, Clara is wonderful. My new apartment-mate is from Spain and studying French here until April, and right away I got a wonderful feeling from her. It was late and we didn't have much time to talk, but she was very open from the beginning about hopefully getting a chance to talk more soon and do things together.
With 3 suitcases spread across my pastel-colored room, I'm utterly exhausted and sleep like a log until morning, telling myself there's plenty of time tomorrow to realize I'm in France and get appropriately excited about it.
-
Sunday, October 3rd 2010
"KATIE, I LOVE YOU! SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, THANK YOU, PLEASE!!”
bursts out Barbara, a new French friend who decided to semi-scream out all of the English she knew in one breath over dinner, side-tracked from our original conversation about what each language steals from another (We snatched “rendez-vous,” for example).
I can't believe how quickly and easily I've made friends here so far, and I know it's entirely due to my previous experiences in both France and Senegal; everything from actually being able to speak enough French to knowing better than to not cloister myself up when I'm feeling sad, overwhelmed, or just too tired.
Barbara and I hit it off from the beginning. Within just a couple hours, it feels like we've been friends for years, acting goofy in ways that I haven't since I was at the playground in elementary school. She's gorgeous, and has an internship/works at a chocolate shop, and has a quirky personality to match mine. My third night here, Friday night, consisted of running/climbing around the FJT imitating James Bond with our hands pressed together like guns, as the place was nearly empty as everyone had basically left for the weekend. We continued from there to the balcony outside, and with arms outstretched we belted our, “My heart will go on,” from Titanic, and I practically died from laughter from Barbara's chorus of “ZAIRS NUUUH-SING TO FEEEERUH...!” But her favorite part was when I tried to hide behind a very scanty bush from the one other person in the foyer, who could obviously see me, but I was a secret agent so of course he couldn't.
Anyway, to go back a couple days...
My first day at FJT I met Erwan; I was trying to figure out where to put my tray, and once again, looking lost and confused has its advantages. He showed me where to put it, and that was enough to strike up a conversation, as he was able to tell right away that I must be new.
Erwan is from the other side of France, as I soon found out, working as an apprentice in Besancon as an electrician and hoping that his girlfriend can soon move from Paris so that they can find an apartment here together. He was very easy to talk to, and almost right away offered to help with anything he could do to help me adjust to life here. We spent the next hour or so talking, and it was through him that I was able to meet a handful of people the next day at dinner, all French, which is fantastic, as my biggest goal was to meet and talk to French people as much as possible, and it has happened much quicker (and more easily) than I expected. They're all around my age, and incredibly friendly.
Wednesday, October 6th, 2010
I forgot how hard blogging is.
I could not have asked for a better week. Besides semi-drowning in paperwork that France throws at you from all sides, I've had nothing but support and help from new friends and Aurelie and the rest of the staff at Les Haberges, the high school I'll be working at in Vesoul, who have all been incredibly helpful.
I had my first day of observation at the school, which consists of just about 800 students (close to how many people in my graduating class alone!) It went well, there are 6 English teachers (all women) who seem amazing, and it looks like I'll rarely have to take the bus as there are several who live in and commute from Besancon with whom I can carpool. Right on.
The kids seem like typical high schoolers, and I'm excited to work with them. When I introduced myself to each class (around 5 I think) I asked them all what questions or stereotypes did they have of the US, and the first question in every class was, "Do zey all eeat Meek-dohnalds in zee US?" This is going to be fun. I offered to do a little English club too, so I hope that works out as well.
I'm also very happy with choosing to live at the FJT. Had I not, I would not have woken up to a beautiful Clara, who was in the kitchen cutting up fresh banana's and mangos, telling me to have a seat and eat. We chatted in our accented French, as the fresh air blew in from the open door to our petite balcony, just big enough to stand on to enjoy the view and feel the breeze.
Also, had I not chosen this place, I would not have found myself in an Irish Pub downtown with some friends, feeling right at home in the bar that not only looked just like an Irish Pub in America, but with American tunes to boot. I was with Erwan, as well as Simon and Benjamin from the FJT. Both Erwan and Benjamin work with an electric company, and Simon works for a gas company, so the conversation was thrilling, to say the least. And, on the way home, I even got a special presentation from Benjamin, who stopped in the middle of the road to inspect a pothole-thing, whatever they're called, and then he proceeded to show and explain to me a tiny plaque near the sidewalk with lots of arrows and numbers explaining stuff and things, while a very tipsy Simon was trying to enter a very closed bank to get money from an ATM, while Erwan shook his head in dismay that one Guiness could make them both so goofy. It was their first time ever trying it! Needless to say, it was an amusing evening, and we were back before 10pm.
Welcome to my new life in France.
Love,
Katie
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