La Vie Quotidienne (Everyday Life)

As the date for my chorale concert approaches, our rehearsals are increasing in both frequency and intensity. This is wonderful for me because working with my fellow choristes allows me to learn more of the nuances of the songs and have a more enjoyable learning experience. We’ve had some interesting répètes, like trying to learn an entire church program in one hour before the service, but things are coming together quite well. I’ve finished the 80% « easy ground work » and am wandering through the 20% « nitpicky » phase. Oh well, the rewards for personal growth don’t come with challenges.

This past Sunday, I ran a 10K race with my friend L. She wasn’t going to because her hip hurt, but at the last minute she decided to join the race and helped me keep my pace. We finished in a respectable time of 50 minutes for 6 miles. It’s hard to believe that this would’ve been impossible for me 7 years ago. In other health news, I’ve been stocking up on vegetables for soups and salads. Hopefully all of those vitamins and minerals will keep me from getting ill this winter !

Stay tuned for more updates about my recent trips to Metz, differences between blogging in Senegal and in France, and the holiday activities in Europe !

Luxembourg

The German assistant S who lives in my building was going home last weekend and offered to give anyone headed to Metz or Luxembourg a ride. Since my American friends spread out through France were sick or busy that weekend, I decided « Why not ? » and hopped in the car. We had some very pleasant conversation in French for 1.5 hours – though S speaks English, she prefers French and it helps to maintain some semblance of immersion. She had too much faith in my multilingual abilities and asked me to read some directions in German – I could only pick out the words which were English and French cognates. Parking was rather difficult to find in Luxembourg City (the national capital and largest city). All of the signs were in French, though people were speaking German and Luxembourgish (a German dialect which has diverged from High German).

I left S at a jewelry shop and walked to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame. It is a lovely well-used church with some beautiful gold artwork (sculpture, paintings ?) and gorgeous vitrines (stained-glass windows). Then, I strolled along the main shopping boulevard and marveled at the wide variety of shops : home furnishings, health food stores, fashion from Milan and Paris, exotic curiosity shops from the « Third World. » Ensuite, I bought a pizza which was assez chère, which I expected. According to S, many Germans and French work in Luxembourg but live on the frontiers of their respective countries because the cost of living and wages are quite high. My waiter said « S’il vous plait » instead of the more commonly used « De rien » or « Je vous en prie » for « You’re welcome. »

The highlight of my visit was a tour of the Musée National d’Histoire et d’Art. The first floor was an interactive exhibit which told the story of how Siegfriend, the city’s founder, supposedly married Mélusine , a mermaid who lived in the nearby river. At the end of the presentation, the narrator added that the story didn’t exist until the late 1800. My Medieval French Literature course had discussed the appropriation and renewal of medievalism as a cultural movement in the 19th century, so it was quite exciting to see another example. Other notable parts of the exhibition included the Royal Throne and a retrospective on the 1960s in Luxembourg and the rise of consumerism. I took a few photos, but was stopped by a security guard before I got too far.

In addition to the permanent exhibition the Musée had also curated a special exposition on Questions of Life and Death. Small partitions were placed on the upper two floors to create little rooms, each of which focused on a theme. The Glorificatio of Serial Killers in Popular Culture, War Criminal or National Hero, Is Your Neighbor Capable of Genocide ? are some examples. By far, the creepiest part of my visit occured in a chamber dedicated to tracking criminal activity. I looked around and saw a TV in the corner. Glancing a tit, I saw a man in a sweatsuit and sunglasses who was carrying a knife follow me around the chamber. Thankfully, it turned out to be a prerecorded scene which played for every visitor, but it still freaked me out. The top level hosted some chambers dedicated to more personal issues such as abortions and euthansia and asked guests to drop a card in bins to see for what they would be willing to kill. Most cards ended up in the « To protect myself and/or my loved ones, » but « For money » or « For fame » had some representation as well. The entrance/exit of the musuem is guarded by the last guillotine to be used in Luxembourg in 1821.

I walked 20 minutes to the central gare, crossing the more modern part of the city and seeing the same major shops as throughout all of Europe. My ticket back to Nancy cost a mere 12 euros (20 bucks) and the trip lasted only half an hour. I was asked to show my passport 10 minutes from home but otherwise it wasn’t necessary in the open borders of the Union Européenne. Small day trips, such as to Metz this weekend, are nice little chances for tranquil exploration in between the hectic « must see everything TODAY » pace of international voyages.

Rentrée de Genève

On Sunday, we got up bright and (not too) early for a ride up the mountain. After a lovely continental breakfast of bread, jam, butter, yogurt, OJ, and cereal, we took a bus out of the city into a nice rural area. At least it looked rural in 10 am mists, but after a quick jaunt through a lovely forest, we stumbled upon more homes and businesses. We spoke French during the 20 minute walk from our bus stop to the French/Swiss border, where there were no border guards. After walking for about 15 minutes into Savoie, we found the téléphérique(cable car) station. J had been worried that it would be closed on Sunday, but it turned out to be a popular activity for local families. A mere 12 euros later, we hopped on the next car and were lifted high above the ground to the top of Mt. Salève in the span of 4 minutes. In contrast to the cloudy weather on the ground, the sunshine was gloriously warm on the summit. We walked around a bit, ate some decent sandwiches at the snack stand, and had our picture taken by a nice French woman who pointed out that Mt. Blanc was in the background.

Returning to Geneva, we took the bus to LaPlaine which according to the guidebooks was chock full of rustic Swiss villages. Our first challenge was finding transportation – due to construction issues, the bus was on the other side of the gare near the post office and we waited about 30 minutes for it. LaPlaine was small, but looked more like small-town Kansas than un beau paysage (a beautiful landscape) de « Heidi. » Making the most of the situation, we hiked around in some vineyards for an hour before taking the train back to Geneva. A quick Internet session later, we ate a nice, reasonable dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant. There, we noticed the EFL (English as a Foreign Language) couple phénomène – two people from different parts of the world using English as a way to communicate. A man with a German accent and his date with a hint of East Asian flair were having a wonderful time using broken English and hand gestures. We finished the night with drinks at Les Brasseurs. Instead of ordering 10 pintes of beer in succession, one can buy a 10L column of beer. Watching some high schoolers get wasted on Sunday night made for good people-watching (and silent vows of « I would NEVER let my children do that ! »



Our last day in the fair city started with a good breakfast and the search for one last attraction. Most of the museums were closed on Monday, so we headed for an art complex where we were sure to find something to do. When my very poor navigational skills led us to another neighborhood, we decided to keep walking and explore the suburbs. Caroulage was a lovely petit village with a temple, church, artisanal shops, and fountains. We took several trains to pick up our bags and go to the airport. We were able to chat for an hour before J had to catch her TGV train, after which I rushed to mine. I ‘ll spare you the details, but a) the train from the airport takes a LONG time to wind through the suburbs and b) you can exchange any TGV ticket one time for a later departure. I made it home safe and sound.

Next up – Luxembourg and more details about everyday life in Nancy. Happy Thanksgiving!

Je suis là!

Sorry about the blog silence lately – I haven’t disappeared, I’ve just been busy. Our choir concert is less than one month away and the répètes are becoming more intense each week. Thus, I’ve spent a lot of time listening to my Playlist and trying not to sound like Scuttle. En outre (Moreover), I’ve been training for a 10K race that will be held on the Day of St. Nicholas. I have no grand hopes for glory in either singing or running – they’re just nice pursuits which allow me to explore different sides of myself (and to get out of my room). Finally, work prep is picking up as the school year continues. No longer content with introduction activities, I’ve been spending more time crafting lesson plans that will be fun and informative for the students. The nicer weather has certainly helped in that respect. Sunny days motivate me to work harder so I can go outside and enjoy le beau temps, whereas cloudy days make me want to curl up with my laptop and watch Planet Earth while eating crackers. Part of the block is also due to my own perfectionism. One of the nicest characteristics of blog writing is its spontaneity. Not everything has to be perfected or clarified- just there. Wishing you sunny days ahead.

PS I’ll finish the Geneva updates this weekend !

Gèneve II – Halloween/Tourisme

Our second day in Geneva was packed with activities, as it was our only full day in the city when the musuems were open. The hostel we stayed at offered a complimentary day locker service where, for a 10 franc deposit, you could leave your belongings in a secured locker on your checkout day. We ate our petit déjeuner (breakfast) at the local Internet café and hit the road to get to the United Nations Headquarters before a crowd formed. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize how large the complex was, and helpful directions from passerby were all in meters. Wandering around, we came across the permanent US mission to Geneva and J almost embroiled us in an international scandal. Near the outer wall, a small painted square proclaimed, “Take picture here.” J snapped a photo of the wall, then pivoted (staying always inside the square) to take a picture of the garden. A concerned security guard came out of the office and said, “Only the wall, please!” His friends with guns became more alert and we walked off.

Gazing up a hill, we saw the International Red Cross Museum and decided to visit it first. This was the highlight of the trip for me – not only did we get to read about the founding spirit of the movement, but we also got to see medical instruments, letters, and other artifacts from its earlier days. My favorite exhibit was the timeline which tracked wars, disasters, and Red Cross activities for over one hundred years. Looking down the line, one could see that until about 1890 and even afterwards, there wasn’t a large divide between the East and West, rich and poor in terms of destruction of human life. J’s favorite vocabulary term was “raz-de-marée,” which translates to “tidal wave.” The exhibit also provided information on criticisms of the movement, such as those which prompted the recognition of the Red Crescent in Muslim nations and critics who denounced the movement’s silence during the Holocaust (the official answer is that since the people in concentration camps weren’t POWs, there was no international treaty in place allowing intervention). We ate lunch at the fancy, but reasonably priced restaurant, and explored the “Modestes” photography exhibition which explored the lives of women in several Muslim countries. One striking theme was the number of transgendered people (women to men and men to women) from certain countries, where this transformation is seen as more acceptable by authorities than cross-dressing or slow transitions.

After asking the friendly receptionist where the UN (Organisation des Nations Unies in French) tour entrance was, we queued up and waited for about 20 minutes to enter. Since it has been one of J’s lifelong dreams to have a UN badge, I let her enter her information in the database and have her picture taken for our joint ID card. A nice German woman named Christine led our tour in English – the other members of our party were from Germany, while the French-language tour was full of Spaniards and Italians. Since it was a Saturday, we were able to go into many of the conference rooms normally occupied during the week. I’m not sure what Christine’s title was, but I’m sure that she outranks some US diplomats. Every room had a story for her – who signed this treaty, who she ran into at the Christmas party, where the world-famous artist had installed his work. The artwork at the UN HQ comes from the member nations. We didn’t ask to see Senegal’s gift, but did see large murals, intricately-painted vases, and gorgeous tapestries from Finland, Japan, Nepal, and Botswana. Since they shoo you out of the compound pretty quickly after your tour ends, we collected our belongings and moved to hostel number 2. For dinner, we ate Ali Baba’s Kebab Shop. To celebrate Halloween, we strolled around in the cold before coming across the Alhambra dining complex and went to Alhambar. The Swiss aren’t huge fans of credit cards, but they are more than willing to take euros so we were fine. Stay tuned for more updates!

Gèneve I – Arrivée

Note: Sorry about large gap between updates. I’ve been giving English lessons, chatting with people, going to a conversation table and making tacos.

One concern that I had before leaving for the French-speaking part of Switzerland is that I wouldn’t be able to learn what it’s like to travel where one doesn’t speak any of the official/national languages. That turned out to be a non-issue, as most of the people who heard our French switched quite quickly into English. This phenomenon began at the airport, where we also noted for the first time the Swiss love for wise use of sign space (i.e. no exact directions). After asking three people how to get to the town center from the airport, the nice man at the ticket counter said, “Get on ANY train leaving the airport – the first stop is always the central gare.” Following his instructions, we arrived at the gare and walked a few blocks to our swank hostel. We had sprung for a private room, allowing us to spread our stuff out a bit and rest for awhile before heading out to see the sights. J and I decided that it would Dressing Up Night and that we would chercher (look for) a fancy restaurant for dinner. The weather in Geneva didn’t quite cooperate with our plans – il faisait gris (it was cloudy and gray). J had read a lot about the Jet d’Eau (water jet), which is somewhat impressive in pictures but doesn’t quite stand up to the dancing Bellagio fountains in real life. We walked along a small pont (bridge) to the Ile Rousseau, named for one of the city’s most famous citizens. Scientists from the local university had built a pavilion explaining the Human Genome on the island – right in front of Jean-Jacques’ nose. Peeking inside, we were guided by lighted displays and oddly-dressed mannequins. It reminded me of a former coworker who drinks several cups of coffee a day and has his best ideas on a caffeine high (hey D!). Once we were through with the information overload, we continued along the bridge to the other side of the city. Ducks, swans, and other sorts of waterfowl called out for food and attention along the shores of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva). On an old cobblestone walkway near a historic church, J noticed some lighted bricks. Each contained a message of unity and peace (i.e. “I love you,” “We are all one people,” etc.) written in several different languages and scripts. Looking up, we saw a fancy Italian restaurant and decided to manger (eat) there. Our delicious pizza devoured, we headed back to the hostel, stopping at Lord Jim’s Irish Pub for some beer and conversation.

De Tours À Genève: From Tours to Geneva Part III

Le lendemain (the next day), we took a TGV train from Tours to Paris. The train guichets (distribution machines) don’t like working with American credit cards, so I usually have to pick my tickets up at the SNCF counter. There was a very upset gentleman trying to book a trip for next week in front of me, and I watched nervously as the clock ticked closer to our departure time. The customer service representative must have seen my panicked face because he called me to the front and processed my request in 3 minutes. It would’ve taken 1.5, but he had problems reading J’s perfectly legible American handwriting. At Aéroport Charles DeGaulle, our boarding passes and security check took 10 minutes. While they may be faster than their American counterparts, French security officers are just as unfriendly and kept shouting “Allez-y!” (Go on!). We ate delicious foccacias in an airport café, and then filled out a survey about the airport being distributed by a nice young man who spoke flawless English. Our flight was delayed by 30 minutes, but we just continued catching up and all was well. During the 50 minute AirFrance flight from Paris to Geneva, I took a nap, read my book, and enjoyed the complimentary coffee and snack package. Stay tuned for more tales about our arrival in the world’s leading center for human rights awareness.

De Tours À Genève: From Tours to Geneva Part II

J’s program is run at a university-affiliated institute which does not observe normal educational breaks so she had class on Thursday. I amused myself with a trip to the Musée de Beaux-Arts (Fine Arts Museum) a few blocks away. The collection was quite nice, but the museum was pretty empty except for volunteer docents. Every few minutes I heard some footsteps and a restrained “Bonjour,” which only served to chase me into other rooms to contemplate the art work in private. Tours is somewhat smaller than Nancy, though more famous thanks to its location in the chateaux-crammed Loire Valley. Things were also hopping in the Moyen Âge (Middle Ages) when Tours was first the capital of France and later a permanent residence for nobles. One advantage of this similarity is that I realized how alike many French towns are: near a river, a few cultural museums, some nice fountains and statues, a decent public transportation system. J and I met for lunch at a nice Middle Eastern café near her house before she headed back to the institute for afternoon classes. I spent an hour walking along the banks of the shallow Loire, observing small fish darting between the rocks and floating debris. A wrong turn landed me on the Île Simon, which has lovely beaches, picturesque paths, and reasonably-priced boat tours on weekend afternoons. Afterwards, I ducked into the cathedral for a quick peek around. I didn’t feel the same visceral emotions that I had in Paris (see below: Notre Dame – commercial, Sacre-Coeur – magnificent). Rather, this seemed to be a case of truth in advertising: a nice active cathedral trying to showcase its long history. The cathedral is famous for its numerous vitraux (stained-glass windows) and several information placards explained the significance of the scenes. Some were unintentionally hilarious in their bluntness: “Denis a la tête tranchée. Denis had his head cut off.” J and I strolled back to the house, pausing only to buy some pain aux raisins (raisinbread). She had an important dinner for her scholarship foundation so, left to my own devices, I ordered a large and satisfying assiette de kebab (kebab plate with meat, salad, bread, and French fries). I responded to some emails at an Internet café, read some of Milan Kundera’s “La vie est ailleurs” (French translation of the original Czech; English version is “Life is elsewhere), and crashed.

De Tours À Genève: From Tours to Geneva Part I

Since I know that you’ve all been dying to read about me doing something as opposed to meditating on fish and religion, and seeing as how this blog is entitled “Traveling À La Française,” I give you the first of several entries detailing my recent trip to Geneva, Switzerland via Tours, France.

My vacances de Toussaint (Vacation of All Saints’ Day) began with a trip to Tours to hang out with my friend J for a few days before our journey to Geneva. J makes an ideal traveling partner: we usually like the same mix of museums and social time, head to bed about the same time, and don’t feel like we need to see EVERY SINGLE THING in each town we visit. The train rides to Tours were uneventful, except that I didn’t know there are two stations and I got off at the suburban one instead of the central gare (station). Thankfully, I caught a bus and was there in about 15 minutes. We stopped by J’s house to visit for a few minutes with her host mom (more about her later), then went out to La Brioche Dorée for coffee and sandwiches. Several hours of catching-up later, we went back to the house for a lovely spaghetti dinner. J’s host mom started the conversation off with “Tout le monde est pareil” (Everyone is the same), then moved on to discuss why industry could never succeed in Africa because the people aren’t used to working. J and I smiled and tried not to choke on our food before heading out for some delicious drinks. I had a Bailey’s Irish coffee and a few glasses of wine at some nice restaurants, but was glad to call it an early night.

RBOC (Random Bullets of Crap) Jotted Down Before Vacation

First, I didn't make RBOC up - it's a commonly used acronym in the blogging world. I’m packing today, but before I leave, I wanted to jot down some interesting notes about my week. Some may become full-fledged blog posts, others are just creamy little îles flottantes (http://images.google.fr/images?hl=fr&source=hp&q=ile%20flottante&safe=active&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wi).

- This week, I went to a vernissage (exhibition opening) held at my school. The lycée evidently has a large art gallery between the janitor’s closet and the broiler room (I couldn’t make this up if I tried). The exposition’s title was “Femmes En Exil” (“Women in Exile”). The artist had interviewed several women from Africa, Eastern Europe, and other regions of the world who had requested refuge in France. Though they are known as sans-papiers (literally “without papers”), each has binders full of forms and empty promises of case reviews. I’m still filling out some forms of my own and this exhibition caused me to pause and ponder the differences between a white, middle-class American male with a job and a poor black Senegalese woman fleeing an oppressive regime.

- One thing I’m looking forward to doing in Geneva is sampling more French-inspired cuisine. My favorite dining options in Nancy include Ali Baba, the Turkish family-owned and operated kebab stand across the street from the train, and the Veng Hour Chinese buffet in the mall. Both provide affordable, delicious meals and I usually stand in a long line of French people to get a seat. Cooking for oneself is great, though it does necessarily inspire one to try new feats of culinary exploration. I’ve branched out in terms of wine and cheese selection, but I don’t cook a boeuf bourgignon every night for myself.

- I’m glad that I have plans to enter the Peace Corps after my stay in France since I can relax, enjoy the European experience, and wait to receive confirmation emails in the US. Some of the other assistants are preparing to take their GREs in Paris, putting together grad school applications, and otherwise trying to prepare for the next stage of their lives. I read at least 2 critical articles a day related to my future research interests and potential advisors and at least one chapter from a French novel.

- A few weeks ago, I stopped by the American library to check it out. While the collection is in arrested development at 1991, they do have a wide selection of British and American fiction, social science, biography, and literary criticism books. I overheard one of the librarians talking to a university student about conversation partners. “The assistants will soon be coming. I heard that they usually land in October and stay until May. We’re trying to attract a few for conversation groups, but it usually takes awhile.” Paris may be full of expatriates and celebrities, but in Nancy, Americans are evidently a rare mythical bird to be trapped.

The Real World Nancy

Living with a few other people away from one’s home in a cooperative living environment with lots of time – the recipe for winning reality shows and an accurate description of our lifestyle here. The extra temps libre allows us to discuss things with one another and to pursue hobbies we may not have had time to do back in our home countries. It also means that some traits become exaggerated in this new context. For example, I am part of the “running” group. While I jog in the United States, I don’t think of it as a particularly salient part of my overall identity because other aspects like “student” and “worker” are higher priorities. But running is one of my primary activities here, so its importance becomes magnified in the vacuum. Similarly, I am one of the more religiously observant members of the community, though back in the States I don’t necessarily identify that way. Some completely new parts of my identity have emerged – my interest in singing for instance. Who knows where/what I’ll be in May?

I do, however, know where I will be next week. J and I will be visiting the lovely town of Geneva, Switzerland for a few days, so expect more pictures soon!

Sociolinguistics in Action

Since finishing my thesis on créolité in May (still need to work on revisions!), I’ve been reading a lot more articles about how language functions in given societies. In multi- or plurilingual communities in the US and abroad, languages often serve different functions. One may be the “prestige” dialect for news broadcasts and business, while the other is a “vernacular” used primarily with friends and family. Alternatively, one language can be used for communication within a group and the other for communication with other communities (a very common phenomenon for language minorities). Here at the lycée, we have 7 French speakers, 6 English speakers, 5 Spanish speakers, 2 German speakers, and 1 speaker each for Russian, Lithuanian, Arabic and Wolof. Obviously, a range of abilities is represented within each of these groups for the purposes of this post I’ll loosely define “speaker” as “able to understand and participate in a casual conversation.” (The difficulty in ascribing linguistic identities to people is the subject for another post entirely).

One of the fun aspects of living abroad is that every experience can be somewhat educational – including Friday night card games. We have regular games of Pitch and Blackjack (British version) with drinks and ice cream. Since some of the housemates don’t speak English that well, we use French. However, this weekend, we began using some Spanish at one point in the game. All of the non-Spanish speakers had stepped out of the room and A, the assistant from Nicaragua, encouraged us to communicate in her native language. It was a nice break before the others returned and the card game resumed. We didn’t completely switch out of Spanish, but used it amongst ourselves and French if we were addressing the larger group. Without consciously realizing it, we had established a separate language community within our own little group. This has been happening since Day One with the English speakers, but we have all made concentrated efforts to use French in group settings in order NOT to exclude others.

As for the card games, I came out in the bottom half each round. No Monte Carlo trips for me!

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Living with British people has inspired some of us to take on fake accents or remember stereotypical images from movies. Who doesn’t love Julie Andrews?

My favorite French word is “éclaircie.” It’s a feminine noun that, according to www.wordreference.com, refers to “a sunny spell.” I think of it as the few rays of sunshine that pierce the clouds on a gloomy day. Thinking metaphorically, one of my personal éclaircies is to visit the small aquarium located at the side entrance to a nearby shopping mall. I love to watch the fish and their behavior – some hide in the fake shipwrecks, others dart out from rocky outcroppings to defend small territories. One particular purple specimen is fascinated by me, though I can’t tell if it’s out of curiosity or defense, admiration or revulsion (talk about projecting emotions!). It doesn’t go along with the follow-the-finger trick like the sheep at petting zoos, but it will approach the tank and give me a long sideways look before exploring another area of the tank. Watching the fish reminds me of why I became interested in science in the first place, and how some struggles aren’t that unique.

What are some of your favorite things?

Reflections Part II

My faith is a very private affair for me, and the ritual of going to church is only one manifestation of it. The diversity of religious experiences I encountered at college showed me different ways in which religions and societies can interact. For example, while my denomination has been associated with various immigrant groups, I don’t think of it as an ethnic affiliation. I learned that being “Jewish” was an ethnic as well as religious term and that while several media outlets refer to “Muslims,” followers of Islam are highly ethnically diverse. During my semester abroad in Senegal, where many religions are accepted but atheism is not, I saw how social forces such as feminism worked in the context of a religiously-oriented society. I highly recommend Mariama Ba’s wonderful novel “So Long A Letter,” which tells the stories of how two friends chose very different paths when confronted with the same issue in polygamous marriages. Some characters see Islam as a patriarchal burden to be abolished; others believe that the practice is flawed and wish to change their religion from the inside out.

My current group of friends includes committed atheists, observant Muslims, spiritual sojourners looking for connections outside of organized religion, lapsed Catholics, and many others. None has reproached me for going to Church, just as I have not tried to drag them to Church or engage them in long meditations on theological issues. If it works for you, fine – I just ask to be allowed to practice my faith in peace. My American Sociology course in college gave me data and theories that allow me to contextualize my observations. I had never heard the term “culture wars” until I got to college, but these first few interactions during my freshman year introduced me to some serious divides in American society. We discussed that in general, as the evangelical movement grew stronger in the Sunbelt states and became associated with the Republican Party, so too did the rejection of religion develop. The best argument in an excellent book, On Toleration, that I read for the course is that toleration is not about forming some sort of Kumbaya-chanting, completely melded society. I don’t have to absolutely agree with everything else others do, but I do have to accept differences. The argument isn’t foolproof – there are many things done in the name of religion that I believe are human rights violations and that I will not tolerate.

As I said before, religion and society is a complicated issue that takes a lot of time and thinking to unravel. Moreover, while I am quite content with my religious life today, things may change in the future. Who knows if my future spouse will have a religious life, and if so, what? How would raise our children? I am also interested in the intersection of different forms of belief. Do folktales resist organized religion, transform to conform to it, or adapt to changes in the popular culture? Hopefully I will be a bit closer to answering some of these questions at the end of my time in France.

Reflections: First in a Series

First, an update. Thanks to S, the German assistant, we have successfully figured out how to circumvent the block on Skype. No more worries about expensive phone calls or running out of credit!

On my way to church on Sunday, I began thinking about the complex relationships between church, state, and society in the various nations I’ve lived in. While France is quite a secular nation, the policy of laïcité (laity) has not solved all church-state conflicts (cf the continuing struggles over Muslim headscarves in public places). As I will have been in France for a grand total of one month on Tuesday, I would like this post to serve as the first in an ongoing series about my perception of these relationships. I will not generalize to “societies” in general, but rather speak from my own personal experience and let the reader take it from there.

I have participated in the same religious tradition since I was born. Growing up in my Midwestern hometown, this was nothing so unusual. Most of my friends went to the same church or other Christian denominations, and the rest belonged to families who had some sort of religious worship experience. As you can imagine, going to college with people of many different belief backgrounds (from atheist to very pious) was quite an eye-opening experience. I encountered three distinct reactions at my university upon uttering the simple phrase: “I’m going to church on Sunday.” Most people replied, “Oh, OK. We’ll meet for dinner at 6 pm instead of 5 pm.” Some responded with: “What church? Are you sure that it’s leading you to Truth? Would you like to develop a deeper bond with God?” The third reaction: “Oooooh, you’re religious. I walked away from that brainwashing and social control years ago.”

What We Have Here Is A Failure To Communicate

Keeping up with people after a move is easy at first, when others want to know details of your new life and you long to hear stories about the one you left behind. This usually lasts for awhile, but inevitably people move on with their routines and, especially after summer, get busier nearer the holiday/exam seasons. E-mail and blogging are nice alternatives to phone calls, but I still crave the sound and immediate sharing nature of a phone conversation. While email is generally more efficient for administrative tasks (especially if you can’t remember directions and need maps), I treasure the unknown twists and turns that phone conversations take. Over the years, I’ve noticed that I tend to talk more about certain subjects with certain friends. International and social matters with R, literature and academic/college life with P, relationships and entertainment with K, and traveling with J (hi all!). These are not strict categories, but rather reflect how interactions with my friends satisfy different needs. Thankfully, they have all adapted to the no video messaging (no Gchat, no Skype, zip!) restrictions and have obliged with phone calls and instant messaging chats. Though I can’t see their faces, I know them each well enough that I can imagine their gestures after each phrase. My family is also great about making time to listen to my phone calls, though I did once mistakenly call at 6:45 am one Saturday! My academic research is based on strategies of communication: when do people use Language A vs. Language B, how does oral tradition reflect different values than the written record. I’m in the right place to study communication, as the French speak more than anyone I’ve ever heard in my life! I can be quite the chatterbox, but even I find myself fatigued after speaking to some of them. Stay in touch!

Across Six Octobers

2004 – A bored high school senior, I dreamed of something more in the mysterious world outside of my own town. Much of the year felt like going through the motions, but there were plenty of good times mixed in.

2005 –A new college freshman, I was adjusting to community living for the first time. I was also exploring a larger social circle since I was living and studying in close proximity to others who shared my interests.

2006 – A settled sophomore, I was starting to forge meaningful personal and professional connections. At the same time, however, I could sense that my future plans might be changing.

2007 – Studying abroad as a junior, I was navigating a new country with both close and far-flung friends. Everything was intense: the cultural experiences, the adventure of each day, the relationships forming amidst like-minded peers.

2008 – Growing restless as a senior, filling out applications and visiting my friend R in Boston got me thinking about the next stage of my life. Writing a thesis, working as a TA, going to class, and enjoying time with friends didn’t leave me a lot of time for reflection.

2009 – A launched graduate, I’m on another foreign adventure. This time, I’m more secure in my own hopes, dreams, opinions, and desires.

Welcome To The Job You Started Weeks Ago

On Monday, all of the Anglophone (English-speaking) assistants had an orientation in Nancy. I live with four others (2 other Americans, 2 Brits) so we showed up in force to a meeting of 24 assistants. We did brief introductions and then a woman from the Social Security organization for educators (MGEN) came to visit us. She didn’t speak English, so our facilitators tried to provide translations after every three sentences. This became quite annoying after awhile and they finally let her speak with clarification only on really important things. The afternoon was more productive as we did sample lesson plans for lycée and collège using political cartoons, news articles, and songs. Basically, we are supposed to do many different things in the course of an hour to make learning fun (what a concept!). Moreover, the head English inspector for our département came to speak with us for a few minutes to officially explain our mission: get the kids to speak English!

After the official the orientation, most of went to a nice café near the Place Stanislas, the Most Beautiful Place in Europe^TM. Many were having similar adjustment issues and several either lived alone at more rural schools or shared apartments with other Americans. I came away from the orientation grateful for the presence S and A, the German and Nicaraguan assistants, who keep the floor from turning into All English All The Time.

Frustrations

The stress from my job is actually decreasing as I hand in paperwork, figure out my schedule, and becoming more acquainted with the teachers. I am realizing how much English grammar I wasn’t formally taught (simple past, the exact rules for more vs. –er suffix) in contrast to the rigorous French educational system. Some of the kids (and teachers) are a bit nutty, but still nice. The living situation is fine from a social perspective, but could use some changes. We can’t access YouTube, Skype, or Gchat because we’re plugged into the lycée’s network and they don’t want students watching inappropriate material or chatting with predators. There are three stalls in the bathroom for 7 people. Normally, this would work but one has been Out of Service since May and the other is still marked as Private. Finally, I’ve been having issues with my cell phone. I misunderstood the feminine robot voice on the other end of the line during a recharge attempt and forgot to press diese (#) too many times. Thus, my phone is locked until I deal with a representative. But quand même (all the same), I know that these are small struggles and I feel thankful that I have the means to fix most of them.

Run, Run As Fast As You Can

Last Sunday, I “competed” in the Semi-Marathon du Grand Nancy (The Greater Nancy Half-Marathon). I had never run such a long distance (13 miles, 21.1 km) before so I didn’t really have high hopes. My three goals were to a) finish b) not seriously risk my health and c) not be the last person across the finish line. From this point of view, it was a big success.

The departure and arrival had lots of crowds, but otherwise the race wasn’t too dramatic. As I expected, my normal 5 mile runs hadn’t quite prepared me for this, so I just jogged as fast as I could at the time. The nice thing with large races is that if you get tired, you will eventually find a new pace group to motivate you. I thought that 17 km would be the turning point, and in a way it was. However, instead of motivating me to run to the end, I decided that I would be satisfied to walk across the finish line if only I could stop jogging. I actually only walked for about 10 minutes of the race and finished in 2 hours, 10 minutes and change.

Overall, it was a really good experience. My hallmate E and I went into town the day before to pick up our registration forms and stock up on rice and cookies. He knew a teacher whose sister was running and she picked us up at the top of our hill and took us back after the race. One interesting difference between US and French racing is that EVERYONE must get a brief physical before they compete. The doctor that we went to didn’t charge us because we don’t have Social Security yet (more on that later), but it still seemed a strange requirement. Then again, in the US, we’re just happy that people are moving!

Hallelujah!

When V first picked me up from the train station, she offered to take me to “gospel choir” the following Thursday if I was interested. It slipped my mind until last Thursday morning when she reminded me. I hesitated for a moment because I didn’t know if “gospel choir” meant a concert by a traveling group, a church service, or a rehearsal with us participating. I decided that any bad night could at least be made into a good story!

I’m very glad that I did, because I had a wonderful time. As I expected, the choir was predominately composed of younger French people looking for a way to spend some time away from the family and enjoy their love of music. One of the benefits of the organization is that three people with strong musical backgrounds lead the choir, giving it direction and depth (as opposed to “Hey, let’s all have a Sing-A-Long!”) On the other hand, the other participants were relative amateurs so I didn’t have to worry about my lack of perfect pitch. The repertoire was a mix of African and African-American spirituals sung in languages such as Xhosa, Zulu, and English. Furthermore, I discovered that the choir only performs locally 3 times a year so I would have plenty of travel time. Finally, it is actually attached to the church I’ve been attending in Nancy. It is quite rare to find a Catholic diocese with an associated gospel choir, but I’ll go for it!

I would write more about the nice people, but my ride is picking me up soon for the next rehearsal!

School Days (Part II)

I spoke to some of my new colleagues and learned that at the end of collège (middle school), students apply to several lycées throughout the city. Most ended up at mine because it was their only offer for high school. Many of the students have disciplinary issues and absenteeism isn’t uncommon. There are no sports teams or other rallying points for school pride. All of this is in contrast to the posh public lycée located a few blocks away, where the city’s top students attend. They are preparing to enter the most prestigious universities in France and take a very rigorous curriculum. There are, however, some students with wider worldviews than I imagined. While most of the questions about America center on celebrities (“Do you know Chris Brown?” “Have you ever been to Hollywood?”) or my personal life (“Are you married?” “Would like a French girlfriend?”), some have focused on broader issues. “What is your opinion on the continued US involvement in Iraq?” “Does your state have the death penalty? When was the last time it was used?” I try to present not only my own personal views, but also include other opinions that may exist so students can see that these are not one-sided debates for the US.

School Days (Part I)

Aside: From now on, the posts will be more thematic rather than directly chronological in nature. I want this to be a place for updates and reflection, not necessarily a day-to-day diary.

Since my time in Nancy, I’ve met a lot of students at my lycée by observing some of the English teachers. One striking division is between genders. The school’s secretarial and accountancy training programs are primarily (>80%) female, while the printing press program is overwhelmingly male. Some of the courses I’ve observed have been single-gender female courses with the rest being a mixed group, always with more female students. The young women at this school seem to be quite passive about their educations – it takes a lot of encouragement and prodding from the teachers to get a simple answer out of them. In contrast to this environment, most of the young men shout out several answers in rapid-fire succession. While it may take them awhile to hit upon the correct response, the energy level is completely different.

Another interesting bit of demographic data is that these students are very diverse with respect to ethnicity and national origin. Several have parents who come from North or Western Africa or other member nations of the European Union. When I asked if any had relatives living outside of the département (administrative district of France: check out Wikipedia!), many replied that they had aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family that had chosen to emigrate to the United States or Canada.

Their English skills, for the most part, are not that great. A lycée professionel (vocational school) tends to attract students weaker in foreign languages (and possibly other academic subjects) than a lycée general (general high school). But they are all very nice and have made me feel very welcome. The teachers have also been wonderful. Part of my luck is that V is a young, dynamique teacher who likes to interact with her colleagues in the break room. It’s still a bit strange to suddenly be a “Monsieur” after years of being a student!

Livin La Vida Dorm Room

I’ll take a few pics of the room this weekend when I have some downtime to clean, but in general it is very nice. It’s larger than the room I lived at for most of my college education and comes equipped with a bed, an armoire, a desk, a sink, and some extra storage space. We have a common bathroom for over 9 people: 3 urinals, 3 stalls, and 1 long sink. One of the stalls is marked “Hors de service” (Out of service) and another is declared “Privé” (Private). All of the other assistants from America, England, Germany, Nicaraugua, and France are very nice. I’ve become good friends with E, a laid-back Nebraskan, and K, a polite Tennessean who studied German linguistics. E lives across the hall from me, and we make the journey to K’s apartment in town where she makes delicious meals (we bring wine and bread). Right outside of my window is a gorgeous lawn, which is usually occupied by one of two groups. First are the lycéens (high schoolers) smoking and making out on the grass. We also have a flock of corbeaux (ravens) that hunt for dead things in the grass and glare at passerby. Two people have already said that they’ll be teaching “The Raven” this year…

Technical Difficulties

I'm still having trouble getting my pictures from Picasa to appear on my Blogger blog, even though both are Google tie-ins. Until then, feel free to browse the following photo album: http://picasaweb.google.com/steven.groene/Paris2009# This contains all of my pictures from Paris.

De Paris À Nancy

More insomnia – I didn’t get up until 9:30 am today. Normally, this would be fine on vacation, but I was leaving the city at 12:15 and wanted to see the Cluny Museum of Medieval History. By the time I ate and was on the metro, it was already 10:20 and I decided to turn around at 10:50. Good decision – I made it back to the hotel at 11:35, dragged my luggage down to the metro, and rode the subway to the Gare de l’Est (Station of the East). With 4 minutes to spare, I made it onto the train bound for Nancy but could not find the correct car of seat. A nice woman informed me that no one really cared about seating until after the first stop and that I would be fine as long as I had a ticket. One wonderful program that the French national rail service SNCF has is the Carte 12-25, a discount card for 12-25 year olds. It cost me a one-time fee of 45€ and I bought my ticket for 40€ instead of 70€.

At the station, I drank an Orangina soda and looked around for V, the English teacher was coming to pick me up. She was indeed there with 15 high school girls – her class for that hour. After the short walk to the lycée (high school), they tried to ask my questions like “Where are you from?” “How tall are you?” “Do you know any celebrities?” Though they had been taking English for at least 4 years, many could not manage with these simple questions. It will be quite an interesting year!

Then, V showed me around the school and took me to a local shopping mall so that I could buy a sandwich. She was very welcoming and willing to share any information that I asked of her. When we returned to the lycée, she had a French class to teach, so I hung out with the assistant principal. She is hilarious and loves to pepper her conversation with well-placed sarcasm. We had an hour-long discussion in French about the different solutions to social problems our two countries had implemented. A very interesting conversation, but a tiring one.

Since my room at the other lycée was not ready, I spent the night at the secretary’s home with her and her husband, a primary school teacher. They live in a country home which is more Sleeping Beauty’s castle (complete with spinning wheel) than the cute cottage I was expecting. We had a delicious meal of veal , potatoes, and carrots with a yummy sauce. They and their adult son were very chatty and asked my opinion of many things. I’m afraid my explanations began to become less clear as the night wore on and more wine was drunk by all. My first real day at work is tomorrow, as is the move to my new place.

Paris Day 2

Thanks to jetlag-induced insomnia, I went to bed at 10 pm, woke up at 2 am, went back to sleep at 4 am and actually woke up at 10:00 am. Oh well, most of the sights I wanted to see on this Paris excursion did not really come alive until the evening anyway.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel (baguette with butter, cereal, orange, and milk), I set off for the Musée d’Orsay. The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays and frankly I’m sure I’ll go there with family and friends before I leave. Anyways, I only waited in line for 10 minutes, even though it was noon when I arrived. The museum contains a stunning array of sculptures, painting, and other media. In the impressionist gallery, I took photos that reflected the theme of work. For example, in the following selections, you can see that sometimes women did laundry and took care of the children (Photo 1), but they made plenty of time for just sitting around too (Photos 2 and 3). Men, on the other hand, tried to look busy (Photo 4), but usually just gave up pretending and settled down for a good chat over liquor (Photo 5). I ate a late lunch at a nice overpriced café near the museum – my waiter was very glad that I could order a grilled cheese and ham sandwich (un croque monsieur) in French as most of the tourists could only speak English.
I took the metro home and took an hour and a half nap and Internet break. Paris will still be there in a few months and I would rather savor the experience rather than run around like a madman to make sure that I saw EVERY! SINGLE! SIGHT! before I left.

I went from the metro to Montmartre, Paris’ version of Sin City. The steps were not too hard to ascend for a fit twentysomething (Your Mileage May Vary), and it was fun to see all of the people from the city and abroad enjoying picnics on the hillside. Inside the Sacré-Coeur Cathedral at the top of the hill, the nuns were quite strict. No provocative dress, no talking. While restrictive, these policies led to a better experience for me than at Notre Dame. Furthermore, the nuns had a continuous prayer service going whose meditative prayers and chanting added to the building’s reflective ambiance. I felt much more spiritually connected here and stayed for part of the service.

Back outside, I went down the hill and bought a pizza marguerite (cheese pizza) and an apple to eat at a little park just below the cathedral. Several couples were also there, enjoying the romantic views until a guard chased us out at 8:00 pm when the park closed. Since dusk was falling, I took the metro to the Place Concorde stop and saw the famous sites of Paris illuminated against the night sky. The Place, the Champs-Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower were all great, but large crowds at night are not really my thing so I went home before 10 pm.

Notre Dame and the Jardins de Luxembourg

My first stop on the Paris tour was Notre Dame Cathedral. The metro stop is just across the street, so you walk out of the dark underground into the light of day facing the gorgeous church. Overall, however, Notre Dame was a bit of a letdown. First, there was tons of tourists – old women who had spent their whole lives saving to make the pilgrimage, couples out on a stroll in Paris who decided to duck in, and many who were determined to go because, well, that’s what one sees in Paris. Signs were plastered everywhere talking about the devotional candles for sale. Moreover, boxes of said candles littered the chapels carved into the sides of the cathedral. Still nominally in use as a Catholic church, Notre Dame still has services, but not does not demand silence inside. It was a nice sight, but it did not seem very authentic. For a contrast with another Cathedral, read my review of Sacré Coeur (soon to appear).

I took a quick stroll to the Jardins de Luxembourg and was overwhelmed with its natural beauty and tranquility (as opposed to Notre Dame’s artifice). Many Parisians were walking along the paths, playing with their children, jogging by the chateau, and above all making out on park benches. If a man and woman sit down at a bench together, chances are they won’t be going anywhere soon. City of Love, indeed. I drank a beer by the lovely pool and strolled along taking pictures of the statues, many of which celebrated Bacchus (Roman god of wine). Whenever I travel, I like to take time to sit in a park and collect my thoughts, especially after a long journey.
By the time I returned to my own neighborhood, everything had closed except the hotel restaurant. I ate a lovely ham and cheese omelet, salad, and chocolate ice cream, with a glass of wine, for 11.50€. Stay tuned for more Paris highlights!

Departure Day Continued

I made it safely to Paris, but before I launch into a description of the City of Lights, I’ll write about some highlights from the rest of the trip. British Airways has wonderful service and friendly crew members. They also serve actual meals and drinks (including alcohol) without the extra charges you find on many other airlines. My favorite part about transatlantic flights is the movie screens on the seatbacks. The selection wasn’t very good, so I chose a movie that several of my friends had recommended: “The Hangover.” It was a good comedy and a nice way to spend 90 minutes of an 8 hour flight. After dinner, I started to watch “Notes On A Scandal.” Wonderful acting by both Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett. Unfortunately, I fell asleep after an hour and didn’t wake up until breakfast time.

In London, I had to go through British security and run to my next gate for my 45 minute flight to Paris. One young American woman threw a fit when she was told that in the United Kingdom her kind of foundation was indeed considered “liquid” enough to be a safety hazard. Rather than moving it from one bag to another, she argued with the agent for 10 minutes. Then, she proceeded to improperly load her bags on the spinning track, causing further delays. A security officer eventually confronted her and told her that she had no right to be upset and waste people’s time by acting like a brat. I got through with 8 minutes to spare and just made it onto my plane.

The Paris metro system is also efficient, but confusing, especially when you don’t have a great sense of direction to begin with. Furthermore, I was carrying a 20 pound backpack, a 30 pound suitcase, and a 70 pound monstrosity. Thanks to the help of friendly information agents, I got to the correct stop only to spend 20 minutes walking uphill on cobblestones and sweating profusely. I reached my hotel, took a shower, and rested for 45 minutes before heading out again to see the sights.

Departure Day

Today’s the big day, but I’m not too enthusiastic. I’m very excited to be spending 8 months in France, but I have at least 24 hours of travel before I get there. While Wichita Midcontinent Airport isn’t very glamorous, it is quite efficient – I was able to go through security at 12:20 for my 12:45 boarding time. In Chicago, I had to go through security again since I was changing from a domestic flight to an international one. To make sure that I had enough time, I went through right away – and walked past all of the delicious restaurants in the terminal. On the other side of security, there was nothing but the normal snack stands. I read the New York Times, wrote out a list of goals for my stay in France, and leafed through a sociology book I’m reading.

Introduction

Hi all ! This blog will serve as a mixture of online journal and mode of communication during my stay in Nancy, France. I hope that it will serve as not only as a nice souvenir of the trip, but also as a medium in which I can explore the geographic and culture differences around me. Please feel free to comment – it would be nice to know that I’m not talking into a vacuum! If you’re interested, also check out my Senegal blog: senegalesesteve.blogspot.com