Real Quick

I know I talk a lot about food on this blog, but I have to inform my followers of what I ate for dinner tonight in the cafeteria: a hotdog, cut open with melted cheese and wrapped in bacon. I'll let you think about that heart attack while pondering if French people really are that healthy.

Things I Love About France.

Okay, okay. It's very easy to complain about France and the cultural and social differences between France and the US, but it's not half bad, really! Before I discuss why I love France, let me point out a few French stereotypes that I have found to be true.

1. French people smoke, a lot. When I take my train to and from Montpellier, people get off the train for the 3 minute stops just to smoke a half of a cigarette. When they have twenty minutes, they smoke two. When the train doesn't stop, they smoke on the train.
2. French people love wine, and why not?? Yes, they can be wine snobs, but honestly, what's better than '90 Chateau Margaux? Not much. Well, what is amusing is the fact that wine is served at lunch in our cafeteria. Mind you, it's only the men who drink it, but it is still strange to see.
3. French people complain, a lot. We all complain, it's true, but myyy goddd. Quote from my orientation made by one of the region's teachers "Yeah, it's crazy because we only get paid for 18 hours of work, but we work at least 25!" Pause. QUOI? Teachers in America work far more than that, get paid less (in general) and have fewer benefits, not to mention a fraction of the vacation time! Oh la la, 25 hours, I can't even imagine!
4. French bread is the most delicious bread on earth. Deal with it. Same goes for the cheese.
5. French people really like to go on strike. This is not true for my school, fortunately. For example, there is a strike on Thursday for the teachers of the Montpellier region, all the teachers at my school laughed and said they had nothing to strike for. As for my other assistant friends elsewhere? Either half of their classes are cancelled or their entire day. I once got caught in a wine makers strike... they had flare guns. I once thought I saw a Santa strike, but fortunately it was just a parade of Santas. Anyway, the word "greve" means strike, and on any given day someone or some group is "en greve" some where in France. Go google "greve" and see what I mean.

Okay, now for why I love France.
1. The food. France is really protective of its agriculture and its national products. Everything is controlled by the government and has to meet a certain standard. Wine is A.O.C. (Appellation d'Origine Controllee), cheese and meat are similar. Walking down the aisles of the supermarket, everything is either "bio" (organic) or without added colors or preservatives, and it's still pretty cheap! My new favorite obsession is this boxed soup I found. All natural, "bio" and sans anything added like the crap we have in the US. All this for 2,50€, I throw in a little Cantal jeune fromage (2€), I have three amazing meals. Alright, the cafeteria food I eat is beyond disgusting, but if I had my own kitchen, oh I'd be a happy little clam.
2. The transportation. Though transportation is pretty minimal in Lozere, I get around just fine. When I lived in Aix, the transportation was beyond amazing. I could get a bus to Marseille every 5 minutes! Montpellier is a little off of the main train lines, but I can still get to Paris is 3.5 hours for about 30 euros. Not to mention Ryanair, the most amazing invention of all time. Though this airline may cause me more than a few headaches, the fact that I'm flying from London to Dublin in February for £2 is absurd.
3. The cities. America is, obviously, a pretty new country so the oldest structures are maximum, what 350 years old? I look out my window in Marvejols and I can see a church that was built in the 13th century. In Aix, I went to school in the same square as a church built in the 5th century. Everything is just so old and extraordinary. The cities are so bright, filled with marble and cleaned meticulously (minus Marseille). There is nothing more wonderful than getting lost in the tiny winding streets of Montpellier.
4. My vacation time. Though it is more than excessive (two weeks off for every six weeks worked), who wouldn't love tons of vacation! I find it strange that pretty much everyone is on vacation in August and the country practically shuts down; however a solid two weeks off for the winter holidays is a must. What is frustrating is many people don't realize how good they've got it here in France. Most workers automatically get 6 weeks paid vacation, can you imagine?!? Plus most only work at 35 hour work week... and yet there are continuous strikes, curious people, the French.
5. The wine, obviously. The fact that I can spend 2,50€ on a bottle of red wine and it doesn't taste like lighter fluid makes France automatically an amazing country.
6. The butter.

There are obviously hundreds of more things I love about this country, but I'll leave it at that for now.

The Dam.

Amsterdam, how to describe this city. I will say it's definitely in my top five cities I've ever been to (London and Paris being two others, I'm leaving the other two spots open for good measure.) Our first real night there, we spent it in a "hostel." I emphasize the quotations on that because it really was an attic with five beds, a "bathroom" and a window. I think the rest of the building was a hotel, but honestly, none of us could figure out what was going on. We were on at least the fifth floor of this building and the floor was extremely slanted. The next morning we decided to find another place to house ourselves. After frantic searching for cheap hostels, which were unfindable due to the New Year's celebration coming up, I minorly scammed a woman into telling us where we could find the cheapest hotel without paying her 25 euros for finding it for us. The Tourist Inn was located very close to both the center of Amsterdam (Dam Square), the train station and its own little private red light district. Oh Amsterdam.

After finding our hostel, we set out to find bikes to rent. We formed our little bike gang and were off to surely terrorize the residents and tourists of Amsterdam. Many people may know, I'm not the strongest biker... a certain friend (Allison...) may or may not have a huge scar on her leg from when I crashed into her. Needless to say, I was nervous. I stayed toward the back of our pack at first and eventually got used to it. We busted around Amsterdam all afternoon on those bikes. We went through a huge park (which was also covered in snow and ice, tricky), went to a market and eventually ended up at the Heineken Brewery. The brewery was really cool, we learned how the beer was made, got to see all the vintage bottles and learned how to properly drink a beer (the foam is there for a reason, apparently!)

After dinner, we decided to check out the infamous Red Light District. Interesting. I was well protected by the boys and to be honest, it was more touristy than anything. Strange place Amsterdam. But just to be careful, if at any point someone got uncomfortable or there was sketchy situation, we had a code word: Christmas Tree. It was said more than once.
The next day was our day for the Van Gogh museum. I love Van Gogh especially because he lived in Southern France and painted many things I have seen before while studying abroad in Aix. His paintings look like Provence (if a little trippy) and it made me so happy to see them again! I put on my iPod and listened to some tunes as I ventured through the four story museum. After the museum we walked around a little more but were pretty tired. The next day I had an early flight to Liverpool... the boys' flight was 6 hours later... so it was often to a new city and country all together! Next stop, Altrincham?

The Big D.

Dusseldorf. What did we know about the double deuce? Not a whole lot. Our guide book said there was good nightlife and we knew it was on the Rhine. Now that I've seen this little city, what can I say? It was an interesting place.

After getting off the train, we set out... to do what? I don't remember, but I think we were looking for a hostel. Certain members of our entourage decided we didn't need a map, they wanted to just "feel" the city. Have I mentioned my bag yet? Being on vacation for three weeks and being a girl, I had a lot of stuff. Not to mention my boots got a hole in them so I had to lug them around with me for two weeks. My bag couldn't weigh more than 10kg (22 lbs) in order to fly on Ryanair and Easyjet (discount airlines), so I cut it close with my 9.8 kg bag. I threw this sucker over my shoulder for two weeks while the smart boys had backpacks and far fewer clothes. Anyway, after wandering for 2 hours, we decided to go back to the train station to find our bearings. Certain members of the group (me included) were ready to give up and just go back to Amsterdam, however, we decided to give finding our hostel one more shot.

Five hours after arriving in Dusseldorf, we find our hostel. Immediate nap. In our wanderings we were able to see really cool parts of the city, so it was a nice tour, just a heavy tour. After our crucial nap, we set out for dinner and to discover some good local beer. We went to this brewery where the waiters don't let you have an empty glass and they tally your count on a coaster. The beer was poured from huge wooden barrels, very cool. After this, we passed by an Irish pub, blasting karaoke. After our success in karaoke in Cologne, we ventured inside. The boys sang "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" (like the scene from Top Gun), and after that performance, it was time for us to leave.

We met three German students who showed us around to the best local spots and we hung out by the Rhine. Dusseldorf was turning out to be a cool place! Then on our walk home, we had a little hiccup. An extremely intoxicated German man thought one of my friends spit on him, false accusation. A minor scuffle ensued that was quickly stopped by the police. The intoxicated man was immediately arrested and we were asked if we wanted to press charges, thank you German police! We didn't want to be held up so we declined and headed on our way. Oh Dusseldorf. (P.S. no one was hurt!)

The next morning we lugged our bags back to the train station and were on our way back to Amsterdam until the 30th. We had tons to do in only three days and we really needed some rest! But rest is for the weak and we trudged on.

Where to begin... Cologne!

Yesterday, I got back from my Christmas vacation. With all my visa mishaps plus my actual vacation time, I have not worked in three weeks; needless to say, I was glad to be home. I really missed my kids! Not to mention access to showers and laundry whenever I please. But, it was amazing and now where to start in summarizing my holiday break...

The night before I left to meet up with my friends in Amsterdam, those of us who were still in Montpellier went to the weekly quiz night at one of the English pubs. We were not the strongest of the usual group when it comes to this quiz, so we were expecting maybe an 8th out of 12. After they announced the 12 through 2, we figured they must have left us out, because honestly, we did not do very well. But no, "The Team Formally Known as Maltese Magic" won the pub quiz! It goes with out saying, but we were shocked, and thrilled! However, the prize is a bottle of whiskey... not so thrilling. After the quiz, I trekked back to Lisa's and finally got in touch with my friends I was meeting up with. Three hours of sleep later, I was off to the train station to go to Marseille, then a bus to the airport, a plane to Eindhoven, Holland and a bus to Amsterdam (where I met the most beautiful Dutch boy that exists... I digress).

I wandered the city for a while as I had three hours to kill before my friends would arrive. I got back to the train station at the time we had agreed on to find no friends. Two hours later, many frantic texts to friends in France and one angry voicemail to Justin, the four boys arrived. We found a hostel, really an appartment, and headed out to walk around the city. Let me pause here. This trip was organized by these boys who live in England and it was difficult to find out what exactly we were doing, so if these next few posts seem scattered and like we were all over the place, it's because we were.

The next morning, we were off to the train station again. Destination: anywhere in Germany. We decided to get into Germany first before we decided which city we wanted to go to. After looking through a five pound book, we decided on Cologne for Christmas Eve and Day. Cologne has a huge Cathedral and one of Europe's biggest Christmas markets; also apparently the Gay capital of Europe, great for the boys (joking), though we didn't find this out till after we left. We went to Christmas mass at a beautiful church down the street from our hostel. Mass was, obviously, in German, thus impossible to understand, but it was really cool to be there. They sang the same songs we sing in America, slightly modified, but we were able to participate anyway. After, we had the traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Chinese food. Exhausted from our travels, we decided on a quick nap for heading out for the night. 14 hours later, it was Christmas and our nap turned into the whole night.

The next morning was Christmas and we ventured off into the city for our unofficial walking tour, led by our mapman, John. We were led all around the city, through churches and the huge commercial center. I got Dunkin Donuts real coffee and a bagel, Merry Christmas to me! Cologne is Germany's fourth biggest city, but it was pretty desserted due to the holiday. We decided to venture down towards the Rhine where we found part of the Christmas market open! We got hot wine and some German food and celebrated. We attempted ice skating, though Ricky was the only person who could do it successfully, my ankles kept turning in, I swear.

We had pizza for dinner, were directed to a shady bar by the pizza lady and eventually found ourselves at a karaoke bar. Merry Christmas!! Cologne was an awesome city, but it was time to move on. A little city called Dusseldorf was calling our names and we were off the next day for another adventure...

Visa Crap.

As a temporary worker in France, there are many tedious and insanely annoying processes to go through, even though we're only here for seven months. I'm sure it's worse in the United States, mais quand-meme. So, I have a French bank account, social security number, health insurance, etc. The last step in the process was getting my visa validated which involved a medical visit at the immigration and integration center in Montpellier... on a Wednesday. I live in Lozere, so I had to take a train down the night before, and this is where the saga begins.

Being the nice daughter I am, I sent a package of French goodies to my family back in the States and I decided to do this right before my train left. I brought my package up, not taped and the lady behind the desk looked at me confused. Apparently the post office in Marvejols does not have tape. So, sorry Howards and Shaws if the package arrives busted open and broken as we taped it together with normal scotch tape. Anyway, because of this minor catastrophe, I end up running full speed up the mountain to the train station. I am two minutes late and decide to spring the last 200 feet. I run into the station to see the train was late and I had 2 minutes to buy my ticket, get a water from the vending machine and jump on the train. This train is never, ever, ever late. So, I'm thinking good kharma! Exactly. And that's where all my luck dried up.

The next day, I drag myself down to the immigration office for my appointment at 3pm. There are a bunch of other assistants I know there as well, so time went by relatively quickly, however the process didn't. After x-rays of my lungs (awkward experience) and meeting two other people, I was brought back to validate my visa... at 5:30pm. So, I ended up missing the only transportation to bring me back up to Lozere and home. Not being too upset about this, I decided to celebrate with a Kebab with a fellow assistant (be jealous Scott).

The next morning, this is Thursday now, I had a train at 8:20am that would bring me to Beziers where I would then take a train to Marvejols. It has turned into winter in Southern France and I'm none too please. Yes, 30 degrees isn't terrible but it's still not pleasant, especially because I have zero winter clothes with me. So, I have layers of clothes on and I am chilled to the bone.... and I look absurd wearing all my clothes. But anyway, I digress. As my train was pulling into Beziers, we stop. Curious. I look to see why. It was letting another train pass. What train? My connection train. So now I'm stuck in Beziers and there are no other trains up to Lozere that day. I rage over to the ticket counter and they could do nothing for me. I call my English teacher in Marvejols, she's incredibly understanding, as always, and we decide I should come up the next day. I then spend two hours in Beziers waiting for a train to Montpellier. In the mean time, these teenagers are having fights with old people about their loud music and throwing newspapers at me and this other dude. I finally got to Montpellier, asked the ticket agent if I could use my ticket the next day: no. Enraged, I take the tram out to the new mall in Montpellier and buy myself proper warm clothes and wandered around in an annoyed, exhausted stuper. Eventually headed back to my friend Lisa's appartment, Lisa the fantastic girl who takes care of me every weekend. We complain about the French for a while and take naps.

Well in the end I wasn't too upset to miss my train because I was able to go out to fondue with my friends to celebrate the last nights of our Maltese friends in Montpellier. The fondue was delicious, wine was in baby bottles and the ice cream was scandalously arranged. I loved this restaurant. Someone visit me in Montpellier please?

Finally. FINALLY. This morning (FRIDAY) I head back to Marvejols. I slept through my alarm and had to run to the train in high heeled boots. Why heels? Because I thought I was going to be in Montpellier for 24 hours, not 60. I make it on the train with 3 minutes to spare. The connection in Beziers was still there when I arrived and in fact waited 10 extra minutes for other train connections to come in. SERIOUSLY. I was able to sneak my expired ticket as a legitmate one and I was relatively happy. So, I found myself a nice compartment to myself with eight seats and private heating control. I put the heat on maximum, closed the doors and the curtains and slept. I awoke to a text from a friend in Paris about snow, I looked out the window to see myself in winter wonderland, corny I know. The mountains were covered in a couple inches of snow and it was still falling. It was gorgeous, I felt like I was on the Hogwarts express (Harry Potter reference) minus the candy car and magic.

Back in Marvejols, I slept the entire afternoon and have now commenced packing for my Christmas vacation that started today, or really Tuesday for me... Anyway, I'm off to Montpellier for a couple days, then to Amsterdam, Edinburgh, Manchester and London. Talk about cold!!

The Train I Take.

As I am often in Montpellier, meaning every weekend, I am often on the train. I've mentioned said train in past posts, but I feel I need to pay special attention to this part of my weekly life. As many of you probably know, Europe, France especially, is known for its train travel. There are high speed trains (TGV), overnight trains(iDTGV) and the normal trains (TER, Corrail, etc). Since I live in the middle of no where in the mountains, there are no wonderful TGVs, only the TER, this is why it takes me over four hours to and from Montpellier. As if four hours on a train isn't bad enough, it does, in fact, get worse.

Since Lozere is so isolated, many students board at their school, like mine in Marvejols. This means that every weekend, these students go home and since we're all in the Montpellier academie, all these students come from Montpellier up to Lozere. This "trajet," (I can't think of the word in English) is a straight shot from Montpellier to St. Chely d'Apcher, the third biggest "city" in Lozere, population 4,000? Now imagine: me and about 200 middle and high schoolers packed on a little, low speed train for four hours. C'est la guerre.

My afternoon down to Montpellier is spent attempting to drown out screaming, swearing, music and movies. All the kids set up their computers and watch movies, blasting the sounds but then those who want to listen to music have to compete with the sound, so they blast their music (as no one has headphones? This is still unclear to me.) And then, heaven forbid, a boy touches a girls head as he walks by her, she will SCREAM at the top of her lungs and scream some French obsenity. Then she will run after him and tackle him in the aisle and they will both scream. This happens every... 10 minutes. Meanwhile, food is being thrown, things are being broken and we're only 2 hours into the trip.

So the train ride down to Montpellier is bad enough, but when I get to the city, I'm with my friends and it's my weekend, so I'm happy! On the way back to Marvejols? Totally different story. It's like my ride south, times 100. The kids are even rowdier, I'm even more tired and things get much crazier. Apparently, this train that goes from Montpellier to St Chely on Sundays is notorious and no train controller will take that working shift. I was unaware of this. So, half way through the train ride, apparently all the of train staff gets off in the city of Millau and leaves the train unmanned until St Chely, about two hours. The mayhem that insues, dear lord. Kids are smoking cigarettes in every train car, other kids are smoking... other things. Kids are drinking and wrestling. Here I am. The 22 year old American assistant among crazy teenagers. Have I mentioned a lot of my kids take this train? This makes things extra awkward. By the time I reach Marvejols at 10:30 pm on Sunday, I am so drained and frustrated simply from the train, but then I have a 30 minute walk home.

All in all, I hate the train.

Festival of Meats

My roommate when I was in Aix used to tell me about her family's "Festival of Meats" which they celebrated whenever a family member returned from a long sejour away. I would like to call what happened last night a festival of meats. Susanna, our resident Austrian, had everyone over for dinner last night to consume the Austrian food and beer her mother brought her last week. Walking into her apartment I was welcomed by at least eight different kinds of smoked and cured meats being cut up for consumption. She brought me to her room to dispose of my jacket where she showed me two crates of Austrian beer. She then poured us each a small glass of liquor she called "welcome schnappes," plum schnappes her family makes themselves. We then proceeded to eat deer meat, white bacon (fat) and endless other types of AMAZING meats. Fortunately, our vegetarian friend could not make it to the dinner, or else she would have been horrified by our carnivorous nature. This meal, along with the amazingness that is Susanna, convinced me and others to spend our April vacation in Austria. Pictures will be posted soon. All in all, a very successful festival of meats, and you all know how much I love meat.

Yesterday was also the opening of the Christmas market in Montpellier. It's huge and gorgeous. I found a number of presents for my family and we're going back today. There were cheese stands, dried fruit stands, chocolate and crepes places and hot wine was being served everywhere. Hot wine? Yes, it's amazing and made with cinnamon among other spices. Today, I'm going to try the hot white wine made with honey. I love France.

Five Course Meal.

What I ate last night:
1. Crepes stuffed with shrimp and baked in Emmenthal and Guyere
2. Frogs Legs
3. Cassoulet de canard... duck, my favorite food.
4. Camembert cheese
5. Tarte au citron (lemon)

I'm still full and I can't wait to go back.

Flip Out.

After two long months of teaching English to young middle schoolers, I finally had my first freak out. My classes can get a little unruly, but it's usually because everyone is speaking at the same time because they're super excited to be in the presence of an American, no joke. I often have to hush my classes or yell for a second, but they are, in general, very good.

Fast forward to Monday afternoon. Not only was this my last class of the day, it was my fifth, I have a pretty bad cold and I'm still exhausted from the weekend. It was the 3eme class, usually my favorite to teach because they are the oldest, 15 to 16, and know the most English, so it's fun and I can joke around with them, etc. This class is always a little rowdy and there is this one kid who literally. never. stops. talking. Then there are these three OBNOXIOUS girls who sit in the back talking the whole time. There are two boys who are great and always answer my question, though they often tell me about how interested they are in Hitler and the Nazi movement... you get the picture. So, in order to practice the past tense, I had them create a story together as a class and I would write it on the board. I had done this is a class earlier in the day with much younger students and they did it perfectly... little did I know what would unfold.

I have never seen such a simple exercise be so complicated for people. Everyone was yelling and screaming and saying the dumbest things I have ever heard. I stopped the class and said calmly, "I am sick, I cannot yell and I don't feel well, please be nice to me and let's do this activity quietly." I repeated in French. I guess it was mess with Alissa day because things got worse. Finally, I had it. The kid that didn't stop talking was, obviously, talking. What transpired next will be written in English, but when it happened it was a mixture of French and English... and in a very loud tone of voice.
Me: I'm sorry, honestly, do you EVER stop talking????
Loud mouth: What? I'm not talking, I'm not even talking now, I didn't do anything....
Me: Oh my god, you're still talking... for the rest of the class I don't to hear your voice
Loud mouth: I don't understand, I didn't do anything, I'm not talking, I'm just sitting here...
Me: STOP TALKINGGGGGGG! (mutter things under my breath in English)
Me to the whole class: I do not understand what is so difficult about this exercise. It is the simplest thing we can do with the past tense and I know you know how to do this!! The 12 year olds did this activity earlier and they did it perfectly, you kids can't even form one sentence. Do you think you're dumber than they are??? It looks like you are. When I say stop talking, I mean stop talking. When I say stop hitting, I swear to God you better not lay one more finger on anyone. When I say give me a phrase in the past tense, DO IT!! (By the way, this is how French teachers talk to their classes all the time...)
Girl in the back mocks my accent, I whip around at her
Me: EXCUSE ME??? Do I mock your English?? Dooo I moqu-e yourrr engggleeesh w-hen zooo speeeek like deees? Izzz deees bet-tear w-hen I speak-e like deees? I do not mock your English when you speak with your awful accent, never mock my accent, I am not French and I never will be. I am your teacher, pay attention or leave now.

Class goes silent. Awkward. I bring them back to their teacher.

I get the other half of the class and try to do the same activity. Instead we start talking about drugs and swears. Fail, but they were much better than the first half. The bell rings, I book it upstairs to my room and pass out for 3 hours.

So there you go, my first official flip out in France. Don't judge me.