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.