The Absent Blogger

That's me! In case you hadn't noticed.
I'm good at being absent, especially while living Camp Life. (capital letters totally necessary)
It's been one heck of a crazy summer (expletive carefully removed), and I've met some amazing people, done some crazy things, had some wonderful days, and a meltdown or two. It's been an emotional ride, and I think some of it I will have to re-live with you all.

First, let me begin with a shout-out to the Hometown USA team, you all MAKE MY LIFE. In so many ways. You rock, I miss you, and I cannot believe how lucky I was to get to work with such an excellent team. I hit it off with most of you sort of stupidly well, and I think we ran a pretty damn good camp. (expletive remains, because it's appropriate. And you all know I can swear like a sailor when necessary. Yes Stewie, I'm looking at you. Face down in the grass during Grocery Run.)

Hometown, for those (most) of you I haven't been able to chat with this summer (and I do apologize for promising letters and not delivering. The busy that I was, just cannot be described), is the English Language camp that I worked at for four weeks this summer. We did a week of training and two, two week sessions with foreign kids who came over to learn/speak/improve/be immersed in English.

It is quite a program. I have great respect for these kids; they come so very far from home, we get them fresh off the plane, tired, jet-lagged, home-sick, and culture-shocked. And proceed to throw them, willy-nilly, into American Camp. They have activities twice a day, and Brain Train (a small language learning group) twice a day as well. I was a Brain Train instructor, and I loved it. Even when I didn't love the BT...but that's another story.

These kids eat food they've never had before, we take away their coffee (the Italian girl was a bit sad at this), we have them swim in a lake (natural body of water oh my!), we even field trip with them to a real American Mall! Oh you can all imagine my joy at that outing... (pause for blatant sarcasm to sink in) And generally do our best to make sure they have a fun, educational, and hopefully exhausting (so they sleep!) time.

Most of the kids that we get are from Asia, so even the smallest things are different for them. Meals are a time to learn how best to efficiently use a knife and fork, rather than chopsticks. Something that most of them struggle with. Think about it, your family has a set way of eating, what is polite what isn't. So do the Chinese, but their manners are different from ours. We try to get them more acquainted with the general American niceties, so that they won't be totally out of place when they arrive at their host families.

That's right. By and large, all of the kids we get go on to a host family and a year in an American high school. This was true of our second session where all but ONE of our seventy plus kids went on to stay somewhere in the US. (We only had two Europeans that second session. I've never been in a minority before, that was new.) Our first session was much smaller, and more diverse. We had kids from all over Europe as well as the Asians. So about 10 kids stayed and went on to host families there. Like I said, brave kids!

Right. So that's a brief rundown of Hometown. Now for the fun bits, the bits about actually being a counselor, part of a team, and clearly totally insane.

I made a joke part way through the second session, that "Of course I'm crazy, it's why they hired me!" But then I sort of thought about it, and it a way it's true. You have to be a little crazy to be a good counselor. You have to be creative, flexible, think on your toes, and capable of working with other crazy people. I think the "normal" people are the ones who have a harder time with this job.

And it's not an easy job. No sir! It's 24/7, pedal-to-the-metal, knock down, drag out, work. Every hour I had off was spent in planning for my next lesson, planning for an evening activity if I was in charge of one, being the Hometown blogger and uploading videos and photos to the site, or trying to catch forty winks. Ask my family, I think they heard from me once each parent. In a month. I spent a lot of time being tired. But you learn, the hard way or the easy way, that napping is sometimes much more important than planning.

But oh gosh, if you enjoy the work, every thing is so worth it. I worked so hard, but it was amazingly rewarding. To watch kids learning new vocabulary in leaps and bounds. Pick up new concepts, be able to express opinions, get involved, get excited! It is so, so worth it! And when one of your lesson ideas pays off, it's even better. (Thank you Mrs. Ippolitti, for middle school Jeopardy! It was a smash hit in my Brain Trains! Amazing what ideas stick with you years later...) Getting a tearful hug goodbye from an excellent student, or from a surprise student you didn't realize cared... there really isn't anything quite like it.

I also got to be part of a team. Helping other Brain Train teachers with their lessons, getting suggestions from them, we were such a good unit! Alice gave me great games, Laura took my suggestion of a press conference and ran with it into such a good lesson I intend to steal it someday for my own purposes. Isaak created the idea of a full High School simulation, and dang but it worked! (Still too bad we didn't have an obnoxious bell though, everyone's favorite part of school...)

Basically it was bonkers, and exhausting, but fantastic. I loved it. And oh the stories I have! Did you know I can actually catch a football? I was amazed too!

Part of being a camp counselor means being more than just a teacher. Some of the roles I played include (but are not limited too):
-a waitress
-a screaming Justin Beiber fan
-choir teacher (I had to SING, on my OWN, in FRONT of PEOPLE. What.)
-Vanna White
-a Banshee
-a voodoo witch (which, by the way guys who packed up the costumes, did you dismantle my stick? I meant to do that for you... sorry!)
- Rose from the titanic (twice. Because Patrick and I rock it. And Scott is the perfect iceberg.)
-Water and Milk
-A husband on safari
-Iron chef announcer
-mom
-mistress manners
-English Mastery Diva
-bellowing grumpy person (not any fun, but often necessary- oh the two minute showers...)
-a person who litters
-Spy Guy
-a sobbing person in reaction to litter
-a judge for a talent show
-cleaning lady
-blogger (so I was actually blogging! Ha! Just... not... here... totally counts for my two a month right?)
-photographer
and so much more!

Some of these stories I will share with you, because they are too much fun not to. And my goodness I got to have a lot of fun.

So more updates will come in the next couple of days. I'm back from Camp-Land, and about to begin the journey back west in search of a "real job"... but I'm doing it the slow way, by TRAIN! Yes, my love affair with trains continues. I'm sure you will hear more about it. I wonder if I should blame Agatha Christie for my love of trains... or if it just comes naturally?

Questions about camp life? Requests for particular stories? You know how I love your feedback! I hope some of my readers made it through the drought of updates. Thanks for sticking with me through all my ramblings!

~L



 

Full Speed Ahead!

(this was originally titled: Touchdown in Minnesota! Keep reading to find out why the title had to change.)

So, originally I had all these grand plans of getting posts up, finishing Berlin, doing London and Istanbul, on and on.

But life jumped in the way. As it so often does. I've been busy like the proverbial bee. So, fewer updates for you my faithful few.

And in the hiatus I've relocated again!

I got into Minnesota early last night.

It's funny, I had to fly for something like nearly six hours between two flights (a transfer in Pheonix of all places), but it didn't seem too bad. I guess I expect everything to be as excruciating as a trans-Atlanic flight, and was pleasanly surprised when it wasn't that bad.

I met a lovely lady on my first flight, who had been a teacher and was married to an airforce pilot. She'd lived and travelled and taught all over. Talk about inspiration! She made me believe that I will be able to keep moving, and working, and maybe even make a difference in somebody's life. It was really lovely to talk to her!

....

One week later...

...

So I got distracted. On the day I started to write this blog, I was distracted by the sudden onset of an awesome thunder and rain storm. I watched the rain-line rush across the lawn, danced in it outisde till the thunder started, then snuggled up in-doors to watch it thrash.

Then there was family fun.

Then a bus ride to Bimidji, and training training training.

I like the people I am working with. (There have already been hijinks. There will absolutely be more!)

I have things to say about "camp types"

I am excited and terrified to start with my kids on Monday.

They feed us really well here.

It is HOT and MUGGY oh gosh.

And I leave tomorrow for our campsite further south. I will be SUPERBUSYOHGOD so I don't know if I will be able to update. (but I'll try!)
I will also have no cell reception. |So email me! Or let me know your address and I"ll send you a letter, if you promise me one back!

Whee summer jobs, new experiences, and interesting people!

Reflections on Ramblings

So, this isn't actually a continuation of my Berlin blogs. But I have words that need saying today.

My beautiful little sister left early this morning for China. She is interning for an NGO in Southern China, and then spending a semester in a University "South of the Clouds." She will be gone for six months. This is her "year abroad." (You can check out her blog Mind the Hilly Road and read her lovely writing!)

Yes, she's been abroad before. She's been to China before, as a youngster in high school she picked herself up and was gone for three months. But, this is university, this is an internship, this is the product of her research, she found these programs on her own made them work, and off she goes. She is not a kid anymore, she is off on her own, to travel and work and be a student.

I am so proud of her, so happy for her, and I will miss her so much.

She was, reasonably, nervous yesterday. Asking "why would I want to leave all this",  family, friends, dogs, home. And it has made me think about my first time leaving.

I was running away. Away from college, away from life in the same city, and away from myself. I needed to go, to be somewhere else. But it's true. I am lucky enough to live a beautiful life where I am. I remember walking through security for that first flight on my own, away to foreign lands, away to the unexpected. I was terrified. Knee knocking, bone deep, petrified.

And I am SO PROUD that I did it.

It wasn't easy. Let no one tell you that it was. I was homesick, sick-sick, scared, away from everything I knew. There were times that I thought about giving up and going home.

But because I knew I could go home, because I knew that I was loved and supported no matter what my choices were, I was able to fight my demons, and stick it out. I learned a lot about myself that first year abroad, far more than I ever expected. I learned what I need, what I want, how I travel, my own little ticks and quirks that only come clear in strange and unexpected circumstances.

Going abroad, be it for two weeks or a year, it teaches you about the world, about different cultures and peoples, but most of all it teaches you about yourself.

I encourage everyone to go spend time abroad. Go study somewhere that isn't home. Leave your comfort zone even a little. Spend a month in London, six weeks in Tibet, a year in Ecuador, it doesn't matter. But GO.

I can only hope that my sister has as wonderful an experience as possible. I hope that she makes good friends, sees amazing things, learns pointless trivia about old statues, and remembers to call home every once in a while. I won't say I hope she has a perfect trip... things always go wrong. It is perfectly inevitable. She will get lost. She will get homesick. This is natural and normal. But I hope she learns how to deal with obstacles, how to be safe and strong, in spite of anything.

So, there you are. A bit rambly, but that's to be expected from me. I ramble, I roam, I wander.

Travel has made me who I am today.

So, who are you?

Being in Berlin: an arrival and a departure

"I'm currently in Berlin with the lovely Alicia. I've known her amongst the longest of my friends, and so we have quite a history of hilarity, madness, and merry-making behind us."

The above was all I managed to get written about Berlin while I was actually in Berlin. I was very busy running around, seeing sites (or sights), eating good food, and getting into decorous hijinks with Alicia. Oh the fun we had.

But really, that's not where I'm going to start on Berlin. I'm going to start with another love song to trains. I could, probably shouldn't, and maybe someday will, write a book about my adventures and musings on trains.

The trip to Berlin started out with what I like to think of as a bang. I hopped the train from Flers to Paris, metro'd from Gare Montparnasse to Gare du Nord, and purchased myself a ticket on the night train to Berlin.

Did that sink in?

The night train!

Oh so exciting! So I spent about three hours killing time in the train station and at 7:00 that evening I boarded a train. We had a full sleeping car. Six of us, folded into one little car. There are six board-like slats, three on each side of the car, that march up the walls as make-shift cots. Everybody gets a pillow, a sleeping bag style sheet and a blanket.

Did I enjoy it? Oh yes I did!

Something about sleeping on a train appeals to me. Perhaps mostly because I've read too much romanticized fiction... but it also just seems so practical:
-Step one: Get on train. Consume dinner if you wish (I brough my own sandwich and cookie and was very happy)

-Step two: Brush your teeth and prepare for bed.
(Lucy Travel Tip: I ended up changing from my jeans into leggings and was very comfortable. Others didn't change. Were I to Night Train again, I might wear leggings under a skirt for ease of changing, but it depends on what makes you happiest.
Second Lucy Travel Tip: Bring water! I got a bit dehydrated on the train, and was glad for my bottle of water. I brought a bigger one for the return trip because I didn't like the water in the sinks for brushing my teeth. It tasted funny.)

-Step three: Sleep.

-Step four: Wake up and  you are at your destination!

Bam.
Wasn't that easy?

I slept remarkably well on the way there, and even better on the return voyage four days later. It's really sort of a soothing motion, and I usually pass out on trains as it is... so actually getting regular sleep on one wasn't that much of a leap for me to make.

My cabin on the way east was full. It was a Friday night and everyone seemed to be headed to Berlin for a holiday.

I was the only girl in the cabin that night. There were two German-Arabs who had immigrated to Berlin when they were children. The chatty one was a friendly taxi driver who spoke Arabic, German, English, and a smattering of French. (That'll take a you a notch or two down when you are so proud of a University degree in a second language...) The skinny one was a cigarette addict and spent much of the waking hours of the trip sneaking off for a smoke in the lavratories.

We also had a father and his two young boys. They were headed off to meet friends in Berlin. The boys swarmed like monkeys up and down the ladders and happily took the uppermost bunks (which none of the adults had wanted in particular-- they are suuuper tall!). I got the impression that the father didn't do lots of active parenting, as he seemed slightly befuddled as to how to get the boys to eat their dinner. The older boy was about in 6th grade, bemused by the idea that I liked living in a little village (they lived in Paris, oh city children), and addicted to the iphone. It was a nice family.

Coming back west I ended up on a nearly empty train. I shared a cabin with a girl from Colombia who had come to Paris to study French and then art. She wants to be an illustrator, hopfeully a science illustrator- diagrams, text books, the beautiful and fiddly images that I grew up seeing in all my father's books. She had been in Berlin with friends for a music festival.
She is far cooler than I will ever even dream of being, wrapped up in pleather leggings, colorful hoodie and a leather bomber jacket. We talked about books, art, and travel; how important it is, and how hard it is, to leave everything you know and love behind to see the world and follow a dream. She impressed the hell out of me, and I really hope she does well! I think she will.

So I'm basically totally sold on the Night Train. It's comfortable, inexpensive, and certainly less stressful than flying.

Lucy Travel Tip: Flying to Berlin from Paris was about the same price as the night train. Excluding the cost of a hotel in Paris for the night (as all cheap flights out are EARLY), cost of the train to the airport, and the cost of having to be at the airport at 5am. Bascially, the train "takes longer" but only if you look at just travel time and not the full picture. With the train I went from city-center to city-center non-stop, with no hotels or complex security checkpoints to endure. Basically it boils down to: consider the whole journey, not just price and air time when you are plotting a journey.

This further underlines my burning desire to take the Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul one day. It's happening people. It is.

So, this isn't really about being in Berlin. It's an ode to Night Trains and the people you meet on them.

Next up: Being in Berlin part two: or why I love to travel with a friend!

Broken resolutions and long plane flights

To all and sundry, and those to bother to read (Hi Susan!),  I am not dead. I’m even very much alive, and (be amazed!) back in the States.

Yes, I managed to break my resolution, you all only got one update in May. Any ideas for how best I can give penance? I will accept any and all ideas. And I will make it up to you, however you see fit. There may be a vote, if I get more than one suggestion. 

However, I do fully intend to keep updating here. Before, on my return from Europe-land, I let the blog go. I didn’t update at all. In my defence I was being very busy and graduating from University. But, I’m very much in a wondering, wandering, rambly phase of my life right now. I barely know what I’ll be doing in two months, and the four-month mark is lost in the uncertainty fog. I cannot tell you where I will be or what I will be doing. And if that doesn’t sound like it won’t make for some good blog posts… well. 

So then. There will be (as promised) at least two posts a month for the future from me. Some of them I think will be back-dated. Stories about Domfront, France, my travels and the people I met. The things I wanted to share with you but never had the time to get down. I have tales of skiing, of mums in France, of packing, of strange men in airplanes, of Huston-style culture shock, a trip to Seattle, and many things to say about trains (on TWO continents). I still haven’t shared my tales of Istanbul (I repeat, the foooooood), or London and the harrowing drive home (you can put cars in trains now. Did you know?). Nor did I ever tell you about my weekend in Paris with Caro, or about JP and his mum and how she loves to stuff me full of good food (oh the fondu... I can't even...). Or Berlin! I went to Berlin. I have photos to share (yes, multi-media...oooooh), and some fairly hilarious quotes that are the product of putting Alicia and I in one room for any length of time.

There will also be posts about my present. And no time like the present to get started on that is there? 

I am back in lovely Oregon, which is slightly surreal. Coming home after a long trip away is always strange. Half of the time Domfront feels like it was just a dream. The other half of the time, it’s Oregon that feels like the dream. Really though, I can’t complain too much, as my “reverse” culture shock hasn’t been too strong this time around. Though the reality show about troubled cats did make me want to weep, and I actually did do some hysterical giggling to keep that undercontrol.

My amazing and lovely sister moves home soon, and then nearly immediately moves away again. To China. Yup, I’m the sister that travels to “normal” places for long periods of time believe it or not. 

And then mid-July, I’m off east. I’m headed to Minnesota, where I will be spending a month teaching at a summer camp. It’s a language camp. Two weeks of intensive English for foreign kids. I’m terribly nervous, and terribly excited all at the same time. I wish it was more than a month of employment, but eh. I won’t complain. I get to spend a month in the middle of nowhere MN, which is just as good as the middle of nowhere France, only probably with much higher humidity and much bigger mosquitoes. (I will be sure to faithfully report if they are actually as big as helicopters, I promise!)

And then the end of August, I can’t yet tell you where I will be, or what I will be doing. I’m in the joyfully terrifying land of the post-college, unemployed twenty-something’s’. Such fun. 

So adventures and rambles await! I hope you faithful few keep on reading. I will certainly keep on rambling. 

And seriously, how are you supposed to make up for the breaking of a resolution? I've got no clues people.

Belated post has announcements!

For those of you who actually check my blog, last tuesday I put up a video with an announcement. Bruce Willis also makes a guest appearance.
I have been too busy to actually get the dratted thing linked here until now. So I will embed the video here now as well!






My room is a mostly-packed-disaster-area, and I have the coming home nervous flutters in the stomach. I am super not prepared for this whole "leaving France" thing.

Nicknames in France-land

What do they call a Lucy in France?

I've put together a video blog for you all! (I'm totally keeping up with my New Years resolution...) It's rather short, and not particularly riveting, but until later this week I'm not going to have time to write anything meaningful. (It was my last official teaching week and things were a bit crazy.)
So you get this! Whee!
And I think I've managed to fix embedding, so you don't even have to go anywhere to watch it!



And I didn't mention in the video the spelling. Unless told, French people never spell my name witha  "y". It is always "ie" which makes more sense when you consider how Lucille is actually spelled. (Though I spell it the non-french way with two l's at the end instead of just one. Language is fun!)

As always, I do like feedback. Was this painfully dull, or actually semi-interesting?

Things I learned this week:

15 hours (one way) in a bus, 156 students,  just 8 of us chaperones, on-duty 24/7, and many hours and days of skiing later, I have learned:

- This is apparently the "year of Lucy on skis".

- I do not fear speed so much as I fear steep inclines. (<-- main lesson of a week on skis)

- 11-year olds are capable of being very loud.

- 11-year olds on a ski trip always have a problem:
            "Somebody stole my thus-and-such"
            "I have a head-ache/stomach-ache/pain in my [insert any body part here]"
            "So-and-so said/did [insert pretty much anything that we might consider even vaguely annoying]."

- 11-year olds have a very quick learning curve when it comes to skiing, but a very long curve when it comes to being punished for making great amounts of noise after hours.

- Many little girls cannot recognize the Star Wars theme song within the first 10 seconds.

- How to play "Tarot" (a card game with a specific deck).

-That I have a long way to go before I actually understand Tarot.

-That it is apparently very possible for a card game to be "Very French."

- The French Alps are gorgeous.

- More ski vocabulary in french then I think I possess in english...

- Weather in the mountains can change drastically over the course of 3 days. From soup-snow on the ground, to raining, to snowing, to almost too frozen icy-grainy snow on the slopes.

- It costs about 300 euros if you have an accident on the slopes and have to be stretcher-ski'd down. (Don't worry. It wasn't me, and there was no permanent injury. A student did sprain her knee rather badly though.)

- As an "adult" I must know all the answers to all the questions. Including:
            >Where any other teacher is at any given moment (I did actually tell a kid "I haven't got a GPS tracking device programmed into my head" at one point.)
            >Where any article of clothing/equipment is, even if the student doesn't remember where they left it... the night before.
            >Any other piece of information that anyone might want at any time regardless of what my job is, where I work, or how long I have been in any one room/part of any situation/etc.

- One shouldn't get in a prank war with a French gym teacher, but if one does, be prepared.

- Double-decker buses are not fun.

- I can now sleep in buses.

- Soupy snow is no fun to ski in.

- Ski goggles should be carried at all times. (Only need to be caught on a ski lift in the snow once...)

- You never know what chaperones are up to after students have been put to bed. I am questioning all my Outdoor School chaperone memories now.

- Ski boots are heavy.

- The word virages in French. It means turns. I know it very well now.

- I need a better "authority" voice.

- How to use a télésiège and a tire-fesse. And not even fall down getting off them.

- About a dozen new french words for "kid."

- Ski instructors from France are quite similar to ski instructors from the States. Leading me to hypothesize that "ski bum" may be it's own, hitherto non-genetically recognized, race.

- How to (nearly) turn with parallel skis.

- How to stop efficiently on an incline with skis on.

- How to avoid small children on the slopes.

- How to fall down a lot on skis. Associated: How to get up, quickly and efficiently, while wearing skis on a slope, in snow of a wide range of qualities.

- How to ski down a very steep run when both feet are asleep inside the ski boots. (This is not a recommended activity.)

- That views from the télésièges (ski lifts) are stunning. Even in questionable ski weather.

-How to re-stock helmets. And how to judge a helmet size by eye.

- New respect for all teachers and chaperones.

I am hoping to get an actual written post up soon, but I wanted to jot these down so I don't forget the major things. And then I figured I'd share the list with you all. I don't know if I'll leave it up once I have a "real" post for you... we'll see.

(Was it interesting? Or should I just stick to my written posts and keep the lists to myself?)

Catching up with my life a bit

Good lord and my gracious and all sorts of other similar exclamations! I don't know where the last month has gone...
Well no, that's a lie. I do know where it went.
It went away.
Very quickly.
I was quite ill for a lovely chunk of time, and thus (now restored to full health) have spent the last week and a half being SO PLEASED I'm not ill that I haven't really had blogging time.

I've also been genuinely busy. I do work, and I've been doing it. Which means I haven't been blogging.
I also have been doing fun things! Fun things which also take away from blogging time.

So this is not the update about my February run to Istanbul, Eu, and London. That will still happen, I do indeed promise, just not today. Today is just more of a general update on my life.
Fascinating?
Probably not.
Entertaining?
I shall endeavor to be at least mildly so.

Right. We shall gloss over the two weeks of non-fun, and enter into the part where Normandy suddenly decides that it is SPRING.
Spring has officially sprung here people. We've had more than a week of truly gorgeous weather! Sunshine, no sweaters, t-shirts, a sudden need to re-evaluate my footwear situation in favor of something more summery. It's been lovely!
Accompanying this has been a general state of restlessness in my students. Which, I admit, I do understand. Nobody wants to be inside learning when you could be outside basking.

The weather started taking an upswing when Lydia and Alex came to visit for a couple of days. I got to walk them round my streets, introduce them to what France is really about (countryside, food, and being leisurely), and stuff them ful of pastries.

I've also gotten to explore another little town near Domfront. I've made friends with another English Assistant who lives in the town of La Flerté-Macé about half an hour away from Domfront. And I finally made it over to visit her. La Flerté is super cute. It's a bit bigger than Domfront, and has a pretty spectacular church in the center of it. It also has a lake, which we went down to and explored last Wednesday.
The lake is actually really fantastic looking. There is even a little beach along one edge of it. We've got another school break coming up, and I think I might go back over there to hang out. I miss bodies of water, and this one is easy to get to. It's also got a walking path all around it that I think would be lovely to wander along.
While we were down at the lake I actually ran into someone I work with. The man is a serveillant, basically a playground monitor/attendance office worker. We have about four of them in the collège and they keep everything running smoothly. This guy I've actually chatted with before. He spent seven years living in Ireland, has excellent english, and is a generally neat individual. He's in a band that plays  pretty regularly in the (only) bar in Domfront.
Well he and Dearbhla got along like a house-aflame. She's Irish herself, and so they chatted about "hurling," "celtic football," and made jokes about different regions of Ireland. I was a bit lost at sea, but came away with the distinct impression that I should go and visit Ireland sometime in the very near future. As they are both lovely people, and if they are any representation of the general population, it'll be a pretty great place.
Dearbhla has also taught me a bit of Irish. I would write some phrases out for you, but it isn't pronounced like it is spelled, so it wouldn't help at all. But it's a really pretty sounding language. I find that I have to sort of sing it to get the pronunciation right. So that's a new one on my "to learn" list of languages.
Pity that it's becoming a rather long list, with very few "practical" languages on it... ah well.

Another thing that is in La Flerté is a cinema! Gasp. Domfront has a theatre that shows two films every 15 days. But in La Flerté they have a cinema that shows films nearly every day. Sometimes more than one film a day! Gosh.
So I've been twice in the last two weeks. I saw La Taupe, which is Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy, dubbed in French. I was quite proud of how well I followed it actually. That is not a simple movie, and I managed to get along in French! Whee! And then this week we saw The Hunger Games, also dubbed in French. I read the book, and was quite pleased to find I enjoyed the movie! They did a really decent job of adapting the book. You don't get as much of the emotional background, so if you saw the movie and haven't read the book, I suggest putting it on your list. (Provided of course you enjoyed the film. If you didn't like the film, I doubt you'll enjoy the book.) But really, I think it was great! Even dubbed, Stanley Tucci made me laugh!

And then last weekend...oh! Last weekend!
Geh.
So, basically, I have the best roommates ever.
JP and Véro surprised me last week with an early birthday gift: a ticket to see the ballet at the Opéra Garnier in Paris!

....

....

!!!!

EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


^^ was pretty much my reaction to that.

This is the Opera House of Paris. You know the Phantom of the Opera? Yeah, it's that Opera. It's the Opera of Paris that was, for several hundred years, the premiere Opera house of Europe. It was where western Europe created ballet (yes I know, Russia is the home of ballet, but in the west this is where ballet started and became what it is today), it was home to one of the top corpse de ballet for nearly as long, and is still home to one of the best ballet companies and schools.
I'd never been inside, but, like most dutiful tourists, I'd seen the outside. Which is quite large, impressive, and covered in things like arches, gargoyles, and general architectural features. It's quite pretty.
My excitement was basically fully of bubbly goodness!

So, on Saturday JP and I drove to Paris. JP's sister lives in a suburb of Paris, and we were to spend the night with her. That way JP could see his sister while I was in the show.
I got all pretty, in the classic little black dress and heels, and we went on into Paris.
Somehow we got a bit turned around arriving to the Opera house, so I didn't end up going in the main entrance. This should have been a bit of a disappointment. In actual fact, it was the complete opposite!

Because now... now I get it.

I read the Phantom of the Opera in high school, I've seen the movie, and I've heard all the music. And I was just never on board with the whole thing. I couldn't picture the Phantom swooping in and out without being seen. I couldn't picture the decadence of the Opera house, I couldn't picture the twists and turns, and nooks and corners that they describe. I just sort of saw a regular theatre.

Nope.

Nope nope.

I totally get it now.
This Opera House is huge. And it is not what you might call straightforward.
I ended up going in a side entrance, though I didn't know it at the time.
I walk in down a sort of open foyer, and up to a guard. He points me further into what appears to be a very open sort of maze of corners, pillars, and marble. He says I have to go down, to the right and up the stairs. So I do.
Oh gosh. I had no clue where I was. But it was gorgeous! Marble pillars, stone columns lining a circular sort of room that I walked through, with mirrors between the columns, so you keep catching little glimpses of yourself sliding between them.
And quiet. Nothing but your echoing footsteps on marble floors.
It was passing through that circular room of mirrors that I believed in the Phantom. There was light and shadows, and the echos, and more than one entrance and exit to that room. You could haunt those lower floors so very easily.

Well, subdued, slightly nervous I'm going to get lost and miss the start of the show, and still terribly excited, I find the door that leads through another open room to some stairs.
I was still a bit confused, but walking up these stairs was what made me realize what was up. I wasn't walking to the entrances to the seats, I was walking to the main entrance to the opera, which would then lead me to the seats. The quiet of the lower levels then made much more sense.

So I'm walking up some shallow marble staircase that is curving slightly, and suddenly I'm in the main entranceway, right next to the main doors and the Grand Stairs.
*BAM* I'm back in time 200 years, feeling a sudden need for elbow-length gloves, a satin gown, and to be dripping in diamonds.
Holy goodness.
The marble stairs, pale cream.
The marble pillars, russet red.
The marble statues, curvy muses marking the entrance to the Orchestra seats.
The chandeliers, the lights, the balconies at each level of the theatre with people leaning over the (you guessed it) marble rails taking in the crowds below.
Dazzled might be a good word to describe how I felt.
Really glad I'd put on heels would be a more superficial take.

And then I got to my seat. And inside the theatre was just as decadent as outside.
Huge arched and painted ceiling murals. Gold painted balconies and box seats that were carved and deliciously ornate. Even the chairs were luxurious- in crushed red with gilt painted feet and arms.
Wow.

And what a seat! I was right down low, really close to the stage and about five rows behind the live pianist.

Wait. Rewind.

Yes, I said live pianist.

The first half of the show was classical ballet, all to live Chopin.

Heeheheeheeheee....

Time to talk some dance! If you are not a dancer, or do not wish to read my rambles about ballet and dance, feel free to skip on forward. I'll make it clear when I'm done being excited about dance. Right? On we go!

You all know, or most of you do, that I am a modern dancer. That is what I do, it's what I love, and it's what I have seen. I had never seen real ballet before. Not real, GOOD, ballet before. And boy it does make a difference.
Pointe shoes. I didn't hear them. And I was close enough that if the landing wasn't just on I would have. But I didn't. Nope. No noise. No clunking. No shuffling.
I mean, most of these ballerinas probably weigh about 75 pounds when soaking wet, but still. It takes great control and real power to land some of those jumps and not have your very solid pointe shoes make noise. I was quite impressed.
Male ballet dancers... hmmmm tights. But they definitely tend to get the better moves. Big powerful jumps, great extensions, and some of the more interesting footwork.

The first piece was very classical. All to Chopin music. And I admit, I was slightly apprehensive. I love Chopin, but he is very pastoral and cheery. I wasn't sure if I could handle an hour long piece composed only of his music. There is really only one tone...
But it was lovely! It was a bit slow in the middle, but they managed to pull out a flirty number that brought the energy back up from "look aren't we happy couples skipping about in pastel colors in a field dancing together and being happy with life in general hooray" to something a little more vivacious and interesting.
And, as I said, the dancers were superbe.

The second half was much more modern. Modern costuming, a lack of pointe shoes, and some very modern messages. It was a series of vignettes describing daily life activities. It started "in the bathroom" and moved through things like "television" and "pedestrian crossing" to a piece that had all the women angrily wielding vacuum cleaners like spears and swords.
What I loved in this piece was the really dynamic use of the stage. They took up the whole stage, and it was HUGE. But they kept coming way downstage... and I was really close to the edge. I got a really close up view of these dancers moving.
And getting that close to a high-calibure professional while they are in motion... it's more than a treat, it's a special glimpse into the motion of a body, and the mind of a dancer. I could see every expression... oh gosh! (And as this is a company that does full ballets, they have to be trained to give emotion when they dance! I love that! Getting to see the face of a committed dancer... committed to motion and emotion in every way.)
And I got more live music! There was a four man electronic-string quartet on the stage. I really enjoyed the music. Some of it was traditional strings, but there was an edge to it. At one point one of the not-violins sounded like bagpipes. I found it to be very exciting and interesting music. I will actually be looking up the composer.

I did enjoy the piece. But you could certainly still tell they were ballet dancers doing a more modern piece. Ballet dancers do ballet. I'm not passing judgment for or against this. But I can tell, even when they are the highest caliber dancer, that they are classically trained. There are just certain things a ballerina and a modern dancer do differently.
The dancing was (obviously) lovely. Powerful, well executed, clean and controlled. I think some of that "control" might be the dividing line between ballet and modern. Both, especially at such a high level of dance, must have control. But different styles of dance define control differently. I found it both beautiful and fascinating to watch.

Basically it was an amazing amazing night. I could, and still might, do a more detailed review and discussion of the pieces, but for now I'll leave it at:

The dancers were magnificent.
The pieces were lovely.
I love it when there are live musicians on the stage!



---okay those of you who wanted to skip the dancing chatter pick up again here---

So, that's been me for the last few weeks.
I will be getting up last vacation at some point. And I do want to tell you more about my classes.

I'm leaving in a bit over a day to chaperone a trip to the French Alps with 156 sixth graders. They are going to ski for a week, and I am one of 8 chaperones going along.
We get to leave at the ungodly hour of 3:30AM Sunday morning, and drive in a bus for 16 hours. Whee?
If the trip doesn't kill me, it will be totally awesome! One is as possible as the other I think.

And then it's the Easter Vacation. Two weeks off. Then my last week of teaching, and my contract is over. How the year went so fast... I just don't know.

But you all will be getting more updates in the weeks to come. I promise!

Anything you are dying to know? I love questions, feedback, whatever! Did you enjoy rambly post about my life? Is it better when I just stick to big events? Do you want to know little details? Is my writing too jumpy and I should really try to stream-line it more? Just let me know!

Until the next ramble!

Good news: I don't think it's La Grippe!

Sick people shouldn't write blog posts.

Or at least, they shouldn't if they are me.

So we are just going to have to be patient until this nasty cold goes away. Then there will be more updates. Unfortunately, if I tried to do the writing thing now, I rather fancy that it would be even more uselessly rambly than usual. So we aren't going there.

In the meantime, I'm plugging along. It's been a cold and rainy Sunday here. So I'm holed up in the apartment, just hanging out. One of my roommates and I watched and discussed a series of trailers and a dubbed 90s sitcom. I've been drinking lots of tea and generally things are just a pretty typical quiet weekend afternoon.

I put up on my youtube account earlier this week a rant about France and Snow Days. The clip was made in the early stages of my current cold, meaning it is quite rambly and a bit rant-y. If you feel so inclined you can watch it here. Quality and Content were not run through the "healthy person quality control" meter. You have been warned.
...
Also the audio is wonky.
...
Yup. Sick Ramblers shouldn't try to update their blogs with actual content.

Lesson learned.

I hope you are all in good health, or at least nice and cozy warm, wherever you are today!

A preview of sorts

Well, the time has come to write to you all again about my travel exploits. Yes, I just had another two week holiday. (France is lovely isn't it?) Thank goodness I'd finally finished my Christmas holiday blogs right? That could have got confusing.

ANYHOW.

More blogs in the near future. But as I am now back at work any long updates will have to wait until at very least this weekend. So, to tide you over, as I'm sure you are all just champing at the bit to read more of my somewhat silly ramblings, I have put together a little preview of what will be the first installment of my trip. (Yes, there will be more than one installment again... save us all.)

And, as with most of my quickly put together blogs it is in video form and can be seen by clicking on this phrase here which is actually a finely crafted link. (Embedding is still grumpy with me.)

Did you click the link?

Very good.

So, I, as ever, aim to entertain. Let me know if you were or weren't, if you have any questions, etc. You know the shpeal.

Also Lydia (who you met in the video if you clicked the link) also has a blog which, if you are so inclined, can be found here.

Christmas 2012 (part 3/3) New Year's and the end!

Germany! That's my next and final stop on this whirlwind of Holiday fun times. So off we trot.

Hopping the train was relatively easy. I mean, apart from one moment of blatant terror when I had to switch trains at a "station" that was basically three platforms in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately I worked out that trains were posted on a... waitforit... poster. So I did work out which platform I needed to be on before my train came rattling through.
That's a Lucy Travel Tip (patent pending) for you: when in a panic read EVERYTHING, not just the crappy monitors. Chances are in civilized countries, like Germany, trains will run on such a regular schedule that there will be a poster with departures and arrivals on it, by time. This poster will be very reliable. I didn't even need to know my direction/terminus, I just checked what time my train was supposed to leave the station, cross-referenced with the departure times on the poster and voilá! Sorted.

So I wash up in Garmisch. Lydia picked me up at the station. Lydia is lovely! (We met at the UO, bonded over dance, and haven't looked back. You can check out her blog here, should you wish.)

She works teaching ski for an American Army base vacation resort. She lives in a dorm on part of the base. I had to be signed in. Every time I wanted to come in. By guards with guns. "Golly" was my general feeling about that.

Though, honestly, the weirdest part about staying in the American Dorm in Garmisch Germany? The vending machines that only took dollars. Bizarre.

Lyds and I went out for a quiet dinner, and my first (of many) German beer. It came in a glass taller than my face. For realsies.

The next day, new years eve day, Lydia took me up to the resort. Both her and her charming boy Alex had work all day. But she managed to sneak me in a Beginning Adults ski lesson for the day.

Wait.

Whut?

"Lucy on skis?" you ask?

Oh yes.

I've never skied before. Not a day in my life. Honestly, strapping bits of wood to my feet and shooting down slippery and steep inclines has never really seemed like a good idea... or well, not a good idea for me I should say. As most of you know already I'm not exactly "sporty" or "athletic" or "co-ordinated". Like, at all.

But Lydia was very persuasive.

So we suited me up (those ski boots are freaking heavy), and sent me out into the sunny sunshine.

To my great surprise, I didn't suck!

I had lots of speed, much less fear than I expected, and very little control.

By lunch we were going up the rope tow, and skiing on down the back-yard hill. It was quite a large hill (to me anyway, not to a real skier, but I'm very much NOT that), and I think I did acceptably well.

The rope tow didn't thwart me too badly, I failed to balk at going down a slope that was longer and steeper than a snow drift, and (best of all) I didn't run anybody over! Though I did have to do a strategic  collapse at one point. It was me or the five year old. So I was nice and purposely fell over, rather than colliding with the small child in the pink snowsuit.

I even went back after lunch. Though by then I was tired and everything was a lot harder. At one point I lost both poles going up the rope tow, tipped over, slid partway down the edge/embankment thing, and spent a reflective minute upside-down (boots uphill, head downhill) contemplating the clouds. It was very peaceful, and floundering out of the snow just seemed to be far too much bother. I wasn't even obstructing rope-tow traffic.

Well, eventually I got out of that, put the reflections to one side, and soldiered on. I threw in the towel about 20 minutes later when my knee started to get grumpy at me after a second fight (which I lost) with the rope-tow.

But all in all, I would call my first ski experience a success.

That night was New Years Eve. Everybody in Garmisch was headed to the Marionplaz (the center square) for music, fireworks, and drinking. Alex and Lydia had to work a late event, and so they left me in the dorm, with plans to meet me in the Marionplaz at 11:30.

I should, at this point, pause briefly to talk about the weather. It is relevant later, I promise. The day had been cold, with really lovely snow in the morning. By about 3 in the afternoon, it had warmed up just enough that it was now raining. With a vengeance.

I joined up with a group of the Dormers and headed into town a bit after 10:00. It's a ten to fifteen minute walk, 20 when you are with drunken Americans. Once there, we wandered down the street to get close to the music. And it was at this point that I started to work some things out...

1) Germans love a good party. And New Year's is the perfect excuse to let go and get wild. There were tons of people everywhere.

2) Americans love to party too. So everybody was there to party. In spite of the rain. Which hadn't bothered to stop.

3) Germany has no open liquor laws. Drinking in the streets is perfectly legal and, on a night like New Years, expected. So, as you can imagine, if you were there and not totally sozzled, you were working like mad to catch up with every one else.

4) Germany apparently has few to no restrictions on Fireworks.
And this, my friends, is the clincher.
The fireworks.

Let me pause, collect myself, and attempt to proceed in a rational and organized (HA!) fashion.

So, pre-midnight, things were bedlam. But a manageable level of bedlam. Ish.

Um, so in the streets people can just set off the fireworks. Whatever fireworks. For example fireworks that, in the States, would certainly not be permitted out of Fort Knox.

And they just weren't lighting.

You know how I mentioned it was raining? (See I told you it was relevant!) Well, this meant that everything was soggy. Including lighters and fireworks.

So, what do you do when your lighter doesn't work?
Answer: borrow one of a tipsy German teen.

What do you do when your firework hasn't gone off, but you've burned off all of the lighting wick trying to get damp wick to catch and burn?
Answer: Obviously, you pry open the firework, stick in your hand, and light it from the inside. Duh.

Yup.

But nobody got burned. So that was good...

Fireworks, from simple sparklers to shooting star rockets, were going off at fairly regular intervals. In all directions.
I watched one go powering right into a tree, and another skitter along an apartment building across the little square we were in. (Luckily all the windows were closed. I guess residents know what to expect.)
Fireworks were also being pitched into the street, one of the few areas with no slushy piles of damp snow... so the best place for them to burn out. This street however, was not closed. Mostly cars driving by were avoided.

...more or less...

So, yeah. Bedlam.

And then it struck midnight.

...

And suddenly I was having to re-think my definition of madness.

...

It was a freaking war zone.

All those fireworks that I had gone "Wow, those totally wouldn't be allowed in the hands of the public back home"?
Yeah, those were just the warm-ups. The opening act.

See, in Germany, as far as I can tell, cities don't put on fireworks displays. Not like at home. In Germany they basically just let the people put on their own show. I swear, the displays of fireworks put out by the good people of Garmisch put to SHAME the displays we have in Oregon. And they aren't even funded by the state. Holy cow.

However... this also means that the people in the street, the people standing right next to you, are shooting off massive fireworks. The NOISE. The SMOKE. Whooof.

And then... there were the slightly smaller ones, the less impressive massive boomers, that were being shot in all directions. 


Wait, let me re-emphasize that: Fireworks were being shot in ALL directions.

The big, expensive, awesome ones were too valuable to be shot anywhere but up, where they were displayed to great and impressive advantage.

The rest went everywhere.

And I was very, very glad that I was sopping wet. Because I didn't catch fire when a firework exploded at my feet and trailed sparks up and down my legs. I didn't even get singes in my jeans.
I did smoulder a bit on my right shoulder when some jerk (nationality unknown) balanced a sparkler on my shoulder. It rolled off quite quickly, being round and all, so there was no harm. Aside from a light bit of smoking.

At this point I was in full "DUCK AND COVER LADS" mode. And I hid behind the very tall Lydia. Which didn't work because, as I have previously pointed out, the fireworks were coming from all directions. And we were in the middle of the very crowded street.

But then there was Beer-liqueur (spelling questionable here), and lots of cheering, and more really spectacular fireworks.

What it boils down to: it was a really really excellent New Years!


The rest of the trip was no less awesome, but much calmer.

Lydia and Alex had the 1st off. So we did some lounging, and then went to a German bath-house. We hung out in the warm pool and I slid down an awesomely steep water slide of death. There was also an amazing sauna that felt so good I didn't want to leave. And we closed it off with a hot-tub outside over-looking the gorgeous German Alps.

Oh!
Fun story: to get to the Bath-house, and really just to get from the Dorms to anywhere in a timely fashion, we used bikes! (the American dorms were way out on one end of town)
That's right! We borrowed me a bike, and I biked through snow, ice, and slush. And I didn't die! I only even tipped over once, and that was plowing along through a very crusty-ice-snow path.
Yes, I think that's another bad-ass badge earned. Thankyouverymuch.

We went out to dinner at a really nice Bavarian restaurant. Bavarian food is amazing. That is all I have to say about that. Go. Eat things. You won't regret it.
(Also: Thank you to both Alex and Lydia for being my interpreters. I would have been so lost and confused without you explaining the menus to me!)

So yeah, that's some of the highlights. Lydia and Alex were amazingly good hosts, and it was more than a treat to get to spend some time with Lydia again!
I got to hang out some more in the lodge the next day, and listen to American Army families on their vacations. Weird.
I did some shopping, bought lots of chocolate, and generally really enjoyed myself.

I also got to raid the Take-a-book-leave-a-book shelf in the American dorm. I took three. One of which I want to use with my students here, one was a book of Agatha Christie short stories about Tommy and Tuppence that I don't think I'd read before (!!! big deal that! Finding a Christie mystery I haven't read is now very rare for me), and a Regency Romance novel (turned out not to be a bodice-ripper, tragic sigh,  but was quite funny).
(I finished the Agatha Christie on the train and passed it off to the American woman who was riding next to me. She had a very small baby and lives with her husband in Germany. I think they must be doing some sort of sabbatical, as they'd been there 2 years, and are going back to the States soon. I love the people you meet on the train!)

So, after three days of fun, food, sights, and general awesome-ness, I said goodbye to Lydia and Alex early one morning and stumbled off to catch an early train.

I had about 4 train changes, and everything went really smoothly. I even had time in Stuttgart to get lunch.
Which was actually hilarious! I think I met a throw-back to the 40s while I was there.
I was nestled in a café, reading my book, having mostly finished my sandwich, when a man and an elderly lady came and sat at the table adjoining mine.

She was in furs and diamonds.
He was in a reasonably nice suit, a snazzy hat and overcoat and carrying all the bags.
He got her settled, and then went to fetch coffee.
They spoke in French together.
The man clearly had an accent, I think he was either English or (more probably) German. The woman might have been Italian? I'm not sure. But I do think French was their common language.

Right before they left they had a brief exchange:
-Man: Tu termines le café? (You will finish your coffee?)

-Dowager Duchess type woman: Non, jamais. (no, never)

The man sort of laughed incredulously (yes, fancy word, but it fits the best I swear!) and goes: "Jamais."

And then off they went.

Whut.

Clearly some sort of fabulously wealthy woman, or at least a very old title with heirlooms and little money left (they were taking the train after all, though I have no doubt in my mind they were in first class all the way), and her escort.
But he had to be a new escort, as he didn't know that a lady never finishes her coffee. How very gauche!
I wish I knew their full story!

I love train stations.



And that was sort of the end.

I made it back home that day, and was back at work the day after. And I've been working ever since.

(Except for last weekend when I was in Paris.)

And this coming weekend I'm off again!
I'm meeting up with Lydia in Istanbul for 5 days. (I am still sort of in shock over that... really excited, but a little bit disbelieving.) And then back to Paris, up to Eu, and then quite possibly over to England. Good old France and regular 2 week vacations for schools. I'm so very spoiled!



There you are my faithful followers. You are all nicely caught up. (Finally) I hope you've enjoyed reading of my holiday rambles. If you liked reading about them even a fraction as much as I enjoyed having them, then my work is accomplished!

I might get something else up this week about the snow and French school systems and how they do not mix well... but we'll see. Would you be interested in that?

Remember, I love questions, comments, feedback, anything!

Bisous from Domfront.

Christmas 2012 part 2 of 3 (will it never end?!?)

Wow, it's been longer than I planned to get the rest of this up and out to you all. I think sometimes writing about fun is hard. I could probably sum up this entire entry with: "I went to fun places with really fun people. We also ate really good food." But that just isn't that interesting for you all. So, I'll give you a bit more information.

The 23rd of December I picked up nice and early, and hopped on a train (shout out thanks to JP for getting me to the train station before 8 am). Trains in France over the holiday season are super busy. So there was lots of people watching and baggage negotiating en route.
Everybody had suitcases, including me, and baggage holding racks filled up fast. My TGV from Paris to Strasbourg was... cozy? There was a hispanic family of some origin travelling with about 3 adults, and at least 2 small children, and about 7 massive suitcases... But we eventually got everything sorted out and nobody had to sit on top of their luggage. So that was super nice.

So after some number of hours of travel I arrive in Strasbourg. Ready for a brief history lesson? Here we go!
Strasbourg is in Lorraine, a region of France that is right on the border of Germany. Alsace (the neighboring region) and Lorraine have long been flip-flopping regions. They really have only "belonged" to France since the reign of Louis XIV, meaning they have been French for about 200 years. Which, in France-time, really isn't that long. Before Louis XIV made things official, the regions had been flipping back and forth between France (the Gauls) and various pre-German principalities.
Then Alsace-Lorraine was re-taken over by the Germans during at least one of the World Wars. Furthermore, Strasbourg really is close to the border... like 20 minutes by train.
What all of this means, is that Strasbourg is a really interesting city. For all that it's in France, the German influence is omni-present: All street signs are in both French and German. The architecture is clearly German-influenced, both in style and in construction (the Germans, especially in southern Germany and Bavaria tend to have more red colored stone that they use to construct important buildings and cathedrals. It's a very distinctive color, and this stone is not found anywhere in the rest of France as far as I'm aware). I was very aware, very quickly, that this was, is, and has been for as long as it's been a city, a border-town. A meeting place, a trading post, a strategic point. Strasbourg was (and is) all of these things. Pretty neat huh?

Right. That's that. Now, where was I? Oh yes, onna tram. I'm on a tram from the train station to try and find my hotel, where I would be joining Katt and her family for Christmas week.

Oh wait... more background? I think yes!
Katt is a very dear friend of mine from UO; we dance, and talk, and drink tea, and hang out and she's generally a lot of fun. And her family is also lovely. They are based near SF and I've actually stayed with them when I had to go to the French Consulate to get my visa. So I'd previously met her mum, dad, and two of her sisters.
Well, Katt and her family have extended family in Europe. And this year, by a stroke of luck (the universe loves me sometimes) they had decided to celebrate together... in Europe! And they actually picked Strasbourg, France to do it! (This is actually quite logical, Strasbourg has a reputation as one of the most festive European cities ever. It's Christmas Market is one of the best, if not the best, in Europe.)
So, Katt and her family, being truly wonderful people, invited me to join them for some festivities! How lucky can a girl get?
Now, when I say "the family got together for Christmas" I mean maybe six people? When the T clan gets together for a family Christmas... it's a whole different story. There was thirteen of them. Plus me. Oh holy cow. I actually asked Katt to send me names in advance, so she very kindly sent me a little bio. Which, of course, I didn't get around to reading before I showed up in Strasbourg... whoops.
So you'll get to meet them as I did.

I show up around 2:00 in the afternoon at the hotel. T's were arriving all across the course of the day at various times from various locations. So I had no clue who was already there or how I was supposed to check in. So I go wandering up to the main desk, and explain. Luckily the T's were a known entity... I think that's what happens when you book a gazillion rooms under the same family name. Anyhow, the desk clerk very kindly called up to Control Central (Katt's parents' room), and Dana came down to sort everything out, and tell me which room I was supposed to be in.
Dana is a matriarch. She's got six kids, a very bright and energetic husband, and she runs the house. She is always wonderfully kind to me, and I have great respect for her. So she comes sweeping out of the elevator, gives me a lovely hug and a room key, and sends me off with great efficiency.
Up I ride to the fourth floor. I was to be sharing a room with Katt and her two younger sisters, both of whom I'd met before.
I find the room, open the door, and ask "Has anybody ordered an American?"--BAMKatthug. What a welcome! She had to let go eventually so that I could breathe, otherwise I suspect we might have spent the week in the entry hall hugging.
I spent the next couple of hours meeting everyone else. I took to calling them the T Clan. With love.
There is Dana and Lloyd. Katt's mum and dad.
Katt's younger sisters: Vicki and Cindy.
Katt's older sisters: Meredith and Sam.
Katt's paternal grandmother (a lovelier woman is hard to meet.)
Katt's  "          grandfather (very smart... he knows about black holes!), (His wife joined us later in the week. Also a lovely woman, a sort of hippie with a wicked sense of humor.)
Katt's dad's sister: Chris. She is the one who lives in Europe, in Holland actually, with her family-- her Dutch husband (a very nice man, with a lovely accent), and her adopted son. Chris reminded me a lot of my aunt.
Everyone was ridiculously to me and extremely welcoming. I loved getting to know all of them.
And watching 5 sisters interact was hilarious! I've just got the one (who I love to bits), and I think I'm glad...? They sort of dog-pile all over each other, and everyone of them knows exactly how to drive the others batty. But it's clear that there is love in the provocation. Most of the time.

So yeah, there was a ton of them. And me. The T Clan all have quite strong family resemblances. it's pretty clear they are a family, and a striking one at that! Lloyd is very tall, as are most of his daughters. Even Chris' husband is tall. So it was quite impressive when all fourteen of us went anywhere to do anything. (I was vaguely reminded of a mongol horde invasion... only with much better fashion, and in a very polite way... so the analogy isn't that good, but it's my brain so there.) This could be something as small as meeting in the lobby, to walking down the street, to going into a restaurant to entering a fashion boutique.
(Segue: the T women have excellent taste in clothes, and going shopping with them as a family was amazing! Lloyd sits and observes, the six women [and me by association] sweep through the shop, take over the dressing rooms, giving frank opinions to each other, swapping out clothes and sizes, "try this on you'll like it" "it doesn't fit me, Vicki you try it" "not your color" "yes that's lovely!" etc. It's a general scene. And so. much. fun.)

I think we gave a couple of waitresses heart-attacks in all honesty. Having a party of 14 in France, even in a big city, basically means that you take over the entire restaurant. And worse! They are Americans. Stereotypical American tourists don't know how to behave politely in a nice restaurant, let alone speak any French, hence instant waiter/waitress panic.
But, of course, this is not at all true with the T's. The T's have lovely European manners. They are also aware that a party of 14 is... well... extra work, and are therefore willing to make appropriate allowances. As far as the French went... they had me!

I got to play translater, backed up by Chris who also spoke some French, and her food vocab tended to be better than mine, so that was excellent! It's always good to know what you are ordering.
Translating menus, relaying orders to the waiters, talking with the desk clerk in the hotel, I even called AirFrance for them at one point (and I was super proud of myself there- phone conversations are tough!).
I actually really enjoyed it. It's work, but once you get a flow going, you just sort of have to step back and just let the language take over. Though it did mean that I tended to forget which language I was speaking. Poor Katt had to remind me once or twice that she couldn't necessarily follow me when I chatted at her in French.
I did threaten at one point to put this on my CV with Katt's dad as a reference. I may still do!

And all of this, without actually telling you what I did... but this was so much a part of it. Katt and her family made the holiday for me. It was so much fun running around with all of them. I think I got to spend some time with each of them, and I would have spent more!

But, enough gushing. Time for some touristing!

Christmas eve we all went trucking out to the Christmas market. The holiday market in Strasbourg is, as previously mentioned, kind of a big deal. There were actually lots of tourists, foreign and French, running around the market. And it was a huge market!
The center of the market is based around the Strasbourg Cathedral, a massive and beautiful piece of construction. Talk about a location! Wow. But the market is spread out all over. We spent the course of the next week stumbling across new little pockets of stands. It was such a treat. They have everything; carved houses, ornaments, scarves, jewelry, art, candles, and pretty much anything you can think of.
Of course, my favorite thing about any Christmas market is food! Be that chocolates, crepes, waffles, pretzels (a German staple, and all over in Strasbourg as well), or hot drinks.
I think my favorite would probably the vin chaud. Literally, "hot wine," though a more appropriate translation is probably mulled wine, as the french love to add spices, oranges, and liqueur to the wine to enrich the flavor. Vin chaud is a seasonal thing, and it works! France can be bitterly cold, especially during December, and vin chaud warms you right up. Most cafés and bars will serve it, but it can also be found (served piping hot) at the markets! Yum.
Traditionally vin chaud is made with red wine. Strasbourg however, is in a region known for white wine. So a bit of a local speciality is White mulled wine. I tried it, obviously, and enjoyed it. Interestingly enough, I preferred the more traditional red vin chaud (even though I tend to prefer white wine).  This is a tradition well worth bringing with me back to the States.

Then for Christmas eve dinner everybody got all dressed to the nines and we went out to a very nice restaurant and ate lots and lots of very good French food. So much food. So... much... hmmmm. So good.
The only downer of the night was the "stockings incident." Once again proving my life is hilarious and awkward. I had one pair of lovely black stockings. And somehow... they decided to hate me.
I put them on with my dress, and didn't notice until we were leaving the hotel that the elastic at my waist was busted. So the stockings were migrating. In a southerly direction. Bit not good.
Then we got lost, and did walking around trying to find the restaurant. And I had to keep trying to subtly yank up my panty-hoes. This, as most girls know, is not a subtle motion.
Luckily we found our restaurant before they had slid to my knees. Dinner was seated, no problems there.
Walking home was bad.
They made it to my knees.
Katt had to be my human shield while I attempted to pull them back up. In retrospect it would have been much more subtle to just kick off my shoes, remove the tights, and move on. Now you know ladies: when your stockings bust, don't try to preserve your outfit. Just take the dratted things off!

Christmas day was very chill. We hung out in the hotel room, opened gifts (They even had gifts for me! Thank you Chris for including me in your gift exchange! It meant a lot to me!), made food, and generally just took it easy.
Hilariously enough, our Christmas dinner/lunch was tuna fish sandwiches and soup. This is eerily similar to what my family traditionally eats for Christmas eve. So I got to uphold a personal tradition too!

The rest of the week was more being a tourist, some shopping, more really good food, and general awesomeness.

A group of us went to Haut Koenicsbourg, a really really cool castle on top of a REALLY tall mountain. We even had sunshine, and an incredible view over the valley. Castles are fun! This castle in particular has a really interesting history (like the region it flip-flopped often between rulers), which I will not bore you with the details. But should you ever be in the area, it's well worth the price of admission.

We also got to go to the local modern art museum. They had a special exhibit on about Spirits and the Occult in art through the ages. I loved this exhibit. Some of the pieces were truly breathtaking, and some of them truly creepy. It's so interesting to see how representations of spirits and the unknown has changed (or stayed the same) through the ages.
I would honestly have walked through the entire exhibit a second time. As it was I went really slowly through. And then went down and checked out a special exhibit they had on occult books from the Strasbourg University library. Old books and magic? It doesn't get any better than that!
This exhibit might get an entry of it's own someday. I do have that much to say about it. But I won't gush here. Just... yeah. Some artists have it right. Wow.

I do have to mention: Katt is awesome. She and I did an "Irish reel" (with neither of us really knowing how technically to do one. Details, details.) to live street musicians in front of the Cathedral. And we rocked it. Katt is very good at getting me over my inherent hesitation of making a loon of myself in public. (Not that I don't do that anyway, so really, I might as well do it while dancing.) It was a TON of fun. Dancing to street music is great fun. Go out and try it!

On our last full day, the entire family took a day trip to Colmar. Colmar is a small town about an hour and change south of Strasbourg. It has another famous Christmas market there. I almost preferred this market to Strasbourg, it was a few days after Christmas and things weren't so crushingly crowded. We wandered around, bought chocolate, traditional holiday buiscuts, and such. It was a lovely treat. Katt and I split a pretzel covered in cheese. It was very good.
I got the impression that Colmar is quite touristy, but with the Holiday Market running it felt much more like a real town, with interesting things. It also has a lovely old Cathedral, and perfectly medieval cobbled streets and row houses. Europe is pretty!

Our last night in Strasbourg we decided to get take-out and eat in the hotel. We actually found a thai food place two doors down, and Katt and I went, got menus came back, worked out a massive order and went back. It seemed easier to order in person than trying to call in a massive order with complex requests regarding sauce, peanuts, spice, etc.
The poor little waitress didn't know what hit her. I think the restaurant itself would have seated maybe 15 people.... and here we were ordering for fifteen (Edwins wife had now joined us) to go. But like a champ, she took our order, gave us a deal on rice, and told us to come back in half an hour.
I think she went and helped the cook to make all that food, but it was really good! So that was awesome. And so came to a close my last night in Strasbourg with the T's.
A more generous family you will not find, nor more welcoming. Thank you a thousand times for letting me celebrate with you all! It was a truly special holiday for me.

The next day we all packed up. People left in various stages. The older sibs left early to catch a flight, Chris and her family drove out a few hours later, and the rest of the T's piled into a rental car to head to Switzerland.
Me, I packed up, and caught the tram back to the train station. I was headed to Germany, to meet up with Lydia for New Years!
And I think Germany is going to have to get an entry all of it's own.
So tune in again, for Germany, New Years, and my great skiing adventure!

Christmas 2011 Part 1: Pre-Christmas festivities!

Well gosh my lovely followers. Here we are at last, the beginnings of an epic post.

Way back in December, I had a two week break for Christmas (have I mentioned there are serious benefits to being a teacher?) and I spent it doing fun, and festive, things! I really cannot even believe how lucky I was, and am, to have so much wonderfulness in my life. Good golly gosh. Okay. Moving forward.

So, my vacation was two weeks, but I didn't spend all of it traveling. I chose to hang out in Domfront for most of the first week. And I was very decidedly Not Bored.
The French celebrate Christmas... not like we do with loud music and lights, but with my favorite version of celebration: Food! And that means that I got invited to dinner with a true passel of people over the week.
We also had house-guests, 4 friends of Vero's from Salvador (also assistants), came up for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.
And I invaded one of my teachers kitchens in an attempt to re-create the Christmas Cookie Party (oh my).
And then there was the holiday hike... I was busy! So let us do this in proper order, shall we?

Friday, December 16th: The last day of school.
The first wave of Salvadorians arrive.
I have my last dance class before a two-week hiatus. This is mostly notable for the truly wonderful invitation I received from one of the women in my class--  I've been in this dance class for a bit over a month, it meets once a week. I have, therefore, met all of the women in my class 4 or 5 times total.
Well, one of the wonderful, wonderful women in this class (which, they will all at some point get a post all to themselves, they are so wild) comes up to me at the end of the evening. She asks me if I have plans for the holidays, and says that if I don't, I am more than welcome to come and celebrate with her family.
Wow.
She goes on about how it's all her family, quite a massive clan, that comes together at her mothers for Christmas, and that she wanted to make sure I wasn't alone for the holiday. On ne laisse pas les gens tout seule! She assured me. Donc, tu est bienvenue chez nous si tu veux. I have never been quite so touched. After barely a month's acquaintance, 5 dance classes, she wants to be sure I am not alone for Christmas. I did have plans, but the gesture, the fact that she thought of me at all, and then went one step further and invited me... Well I was truly touched. Anyone who says the French are a cold people... needs to get themselves set straight.
I thanked her profusely, obviously. And walked home with the warm and fuzzy feeling of general Good Will Towards Men.
This taught me something. It means so much to be invited, to be welcomed somewhere. Even though I already had plans, was already taken care of, knowing that someone took the time to think of me... that is amazing. Even just making the gesture was truly touching. I hope someday I can pay that thoughtfulness forward. Being alone (and a foreigner at that) in a new place... it's tough. And having someone recognize that, recognize that I might need a place to go and be with people at Christmas... it's amazing. It's important. It's wonderful. People can be so kind.

Saturday, December 17th: Fiesta chez Bar Odin. 
Saturday evening, the second wave of Salvadorians arrived. And Vero had her party at Bar Odin.
Odin is the only bar in Domfront.
Yes, Odin... like the norse god.
It's run by a French-Hungarian man named Christian.
Yup. I live here.
Anyway!
Vero and Christian are best buds. Vero goes out most Fridays, and has made friends with the regulars at the bar. So Christian agreed to let her have a sort of party there. We brought over some hors-d'oeurves and munchies, the Salvadorians took over the sound system and general good times ensued.
I got to chat with some of the girls who showed up to the party, find out more about them as people, which was nice. But the best part of the evening? The dancing!
There was some salsa, some bacchata, and some merengue! Not really any of the complex partner dances that I am used to, but still! Dancing and movement!
The Salvadorians seem to dance more as a group thing, sort of like Americans at a night club, only it's all salsa music and basic salsa steps. I can DO that! And I got the truly excellent compliment of a latino asking me if I had latino roots. Yes, I can, in actual fact, move my hips like a latina. I have great pride.

Sunday, December 18th: I go for a walk in the rain. 
Things were pretty quiet Sunday morning.
Sunday at noon I was invited to one of the teachers houses for lunch with her family. The lady works in the collège, and her husband in the lycée. Two of their kids were home for the holidays.
They treated me to an excellent meal and interesting conversation. Then the husband, a history teacher (and a bit of a fanatical intellectual if I'm being honest. He knows a ton about a lot of things, it's totally impressive!) showed me his collection of historical army medals (which was quite cool... I like the Napoleonic pin he had. And a lot of the medals from the first world war were quite pretty actually), and took me on a quick tour of the old castle of Domfront. He used to work with the archeological society, so he was able to give me a much more detailed tour then I had previously had. And that was quite a treat.
Then I went for a walk and got rained on.
But not alone!
I am a part of the Association des Rondonneurs Domfrontais, the Domfront Hiking Club! Wheeee! I'm the youngest one in the group by a good 30 years, but I love the club. They go out one Sunday a month and walk in the region. It's a treat for me because I get to see some more rural locations that I'd never get to on my own. And rural Normandy is breathtaking!
This was my second time out with them. They've all sort of adopted me, the young American girl, into their ranks. I'm almost a sort of mascot I think.
They are all wonderfully nice to me, and teach me words, and explain the history of the trails we hike, and are generally lovely.
For Christmas they drove out to a little town nearby. We did the 10 kilometer walk in the countryside and looped back through the village after dark. This particular village was know for its illuminations... or light displays! Beautiful light displays organized and put up by the town. This particular village has a Noah's Ark theme, including a MASSIVE whale in blue and silver lights.
It was really pretty... if totally sopping wet. Thank goodness for wool socks!

Monday, December 19th: I learn that translating recipe ingredients is not easy. 
Monday I went over to Perrine's house. Perrine is a teacher I work with in the collège. She is terribly sweet, and a very energetic teacher. We also are becoming really nice friends.
Anyway, about a month prior I had been explaining to her about how my family does a traditional Christmas Cookie party every year, and how I miss doing it when I'm in France. So she suggested that we try it at her place! Which was super nice of her.
I went over and we baked all afternoon. She had friends come over that evening to eat cookies, and other little munchies. And I spent the night at her place so that everyone could indulge in Vin Chaud (a truly excellent French holiday tradition. More on that later.) without having to worry about driving me back to Domfront later.

So my mom had sent me our recipes, and I did my best to translate ingredients and convert measurements...
hmmm...
Well..
Yes.
So.
It is, apparently, not that easy.
My ginger crinkles came out exactly as I wanted.
The other two cookies went a bit... off book, shall we say?
The Orange Cut-outs (my favorites), just went a bit wrong. I'm not sure what we did... or what I did, I should say... but the dough was not set to be rolled. So the Orange Cut-outs, just became Orange cookies. They still tasted really good... they were just large and fluffy circles rather than the cut-out cookies they are supposed to be. So that was fine.
But then... then we had the Melting Moments.
Oh my.
Melting Moments are the easy cookie. They have very few ingredients, you roll them into a ball, you bake them, you frost, you eat. Bam.
Wrong.
So very wrong.
My Melting Moments... melted. But not in your mouth, as they are supposed to. Oh no. They melted in the oven. And I don't mean flattening out a bit... I mean dissolving into a puddle of semi-cooked dough that spreads all over and begins to look vaguely like lace, rather than like a small round cookie.
And I couldn't save them.
I tried.
But it didn't work.
I couldn't save them! (Picture the dramatic actor going for Guilt with full fervor here. That's me. Or my mental picture of me.)
I think the trouble came with the cornstarch. I though I had worked out the French equivalent. But I don't think I did... it's my only valid guess. Because butter and sugar are really quite easy to translate. So apparently Mizena is not Cornstarch.
So we salvaged what we good, and gave up on the rest.
All in all though I labeled the First ever International Christmas Cookie Party a success. After all, at the end of the day, we still had lots and lots of lovely cookies.

Tuesday, December 20th: Vero's actual birthday.
We stayed in.
There was more drinking, more dancing, and a very quiet afternoon before the drinking and the dancing.

Wednesday, December 21st: The departure of the Salvadorian Contingent. 
Vero and her friends left quite early wednesday morning. They were headed north for Christmas.
JP and I just sort of hung out and took it easy. Then we both went to Cathrine's for dinner.
Cathrine is another of the teachers I work with. And a really really wonderful cook. They fed us excessive amounts of absurdly good food.
And then we got into a discussion about religion over after-dinner drinks. I managed it... somehow. Considering this was after an apéritif, huge amounts of wonderful food (including sweet potatoes!), two glasses of wine, and the after-dinner drink... and we were chatting in French... I was super proud of not making too much of an idiot of myself. Whew.

Thursday, December 22nd: I go out to dinner again. I begin to suspect I may actually have a semblance of a social life. 
This was my last day in Domfront before beginning my holiday travels. I spent the day running errands, cleaning house, and packing.
Then that evening I was invited to dinner. Again.
Marie-Ange and Claude are a married couple I met through the Association des Rondonneurs. They are wonderful, interesting people. Claude works part time for France-Ouest, the largest regional newspaper. He actually wrote an article on Vero and I (yes, I had my picture in the paper! I'm news here. It's a bit weird.). They had invited me to join them in a "second-family" dinner.
They only have sons...biologically. But they do have three "honorary" daughters. (We don't know anything about honorary family do we? Yes, I'm looking at a fair number of you...) So they had invited their girls to a Pre-Christmas Christmas dinner, and they were kind enough to extend the invitation to me as well.
This was really nice, as these girls are close to my age. So I got to chat with some people in my age groups, and I got a couple of phone numbers for if I want to travel around the region. Which I do. So that was really lovely.
And once again... the food. I could fill a second blog post just raving about all the food  ate during the course of this week, and Marie-Ange was a great way to close it out. Homemade soup, all vegetables fresh from her garden, shrimp, salad, and a tower, a literal tower, of chocolate for dessert. Yum.

Then off back home, and up early the next morning to head to Strasbourg!

Still to come:

-Holiday travel!
- Strasbourg!
- Castles
- Christmas markets
- MORE FOOD
- The joys of vin chaud
- Katt and her associated clan of a family. (hint: fun, hijinks, hilarity! And a really awesome group of people.)
- I learn to be a translator. On the fly.
- Chocolate
- Jigging in public
- More travel
- Germany!
- Lydia and Alex!
- I skied. Did I die? Stay tuned to find out.
- Biking on ice.
- Germans and their fireworks. A harrowing tale of fire, rain, and the battle field... aka the Marionplatz at midnight.
- German food.
- Americans abroad...
- German bath house.
- Did I mention food yet?

Also: I've had this blog up for about two and a half years now (only one year of posting though really...), and I've just passed 1000 page views. Whee! Thank you so much for reading and supporting me and my crazy bloggage~
Keep reading and leaving feedback! You know I love it.

Expect Part 2 of a Very Lucy Christmas within the week!

Galette des Rois

Why would Lucy sit under the table?

What is so important about the first sunday in January?

Click the link to find out! That last phrase? Was the link! Click it.

(I apologize for the low quality of the video... youtube was being really impossibly slow to upload the better quality... and I gave up. Hopefully you'll survive. Just this once.)