Magnification

I’ve been reflecting about some of the things that are magnified about my identity in France which weren’t terribly central to my identity in America. Some of these changes are cultural, while others are based on the life cycle (college student versus college graduate). In talking with some of the other assistants who have graduated, I find that we’ve all noticed some of the same differences.
- Foreign languages: how many you speak, what they are, how well you speak them
- Most of my friends back home are familiar with the basic outlines of my academic work (language use within social hierarchies) but few of them could read my foundational texts in the original French.
- In college, everyone had exams/papers to prepare for and to show off their intellect but now we just have lots of free time to indulge our personal interests.
- Rather than being the seeker thirsting for knowledge, I’m expected to be part of the fountain providing relief to parched travelers on the road to wisdom (only a slight exaggeration).
- Pleasure activities instead of work-related ones: most of us don’t have homework in addition to our day-jobs, so we’re defined by what we do for pleasure – surfing the internet, reading books, watching films, drinking wine
- Friendship background: traveling with friends in Europe is different than grabbing a drink at your favorite local bar. Excitement, drama, tension and anticipation all play out amongst the backdrop of gorgeous European cities. For friends back in the US, comparing monthly plans brings home the disconnect between our different worlds. They’re studying for exams, I’m planning trips to aforementioned gorgeous European cities.
- While I’ll be more integrated in Burkina Faso, I will be moving from a nation of high prestige and importance to one of low prestige and importance. The language that I’ll learn to speak will have far less cultural capital than French and few if any people wake up deciding to tour Burkina Faso. On the other hand, my participation in the Peace Corps carries a lot of cultural cachet, notably amongst academics.
I’ll be away this week in England with the students. Look for updates soon!

Les Lycéens

My students have, for the most part, stopped acting up as much as they did in the fall. Part of this is due to my improvement as an assistant, part of it’s due to our better rapport, and part of it is due to maturity. I had forgotten how much 15 year olds can change within a few months, how in flux their personalities are. Nonetheless, I still have some disciplinary issues. There are a few boys who act like hyperactive Labrador retrievers: they always to play with their friends and can never seem to calm down. However, one “Tais-toi!” (Be quiet) from me is enough to elicit a, “Pardon, Monsieur” and then we go on with the lesson. Some of my female students are very quiet, and some are very loud. Most of them don’t realize just how loud their voices are and I keep having to remind them that high school students should be able to express themselves without screaming. But then there are the select few male and female students who have respect issues. I usually just ask the teachers to have a discussion with the loud students who apologize, but I’ve sent a few kids back to their teachers with a note to give them detention. One in particular is quite intelligent, but is used to breezing through life on charm that she can be a bit touchy when corrected. Overall, though, the students are making lots of progress and I can see that having discussion time in a small group helps some of them to put things in context. It’s much easier for me to speak in French or Spanish in blocks rather than in discrete words because my brain hates switching between them and English. My colleagues are also wonderful – they support me inside and outside of the classroom.

Splish-Splash: Aquarium de Nancy

This morning I had some time before classes and decided to explore the patrimoine de la ville (patrimony/cultural heritage of the city) a bit instead of sleeping in. My first visit to the Aquarium de Nancy was on a rainy Saturday afternoon in November. It was a free admission day and the place was packed with kids running around and their desperate parents frantically trying to keep up with them. This time, I was presque (almost) the only visitor at 10 am and I got the reduced student price of €1.50. I quietly strolled amongst the exhibits and took pictures with my new camera (thanks Mom and Dad!). I love watching fish glide through the water and studying how they compete for territory in an enclosed space. As part of the aquarium’s collaboration with Université Nancy Henri Poincaré, one of the exhibits is equipped with sensory devices to measure the electrical output generated by certain species of fish. A monitor at the reception desk shows the time interval between spikes in voltage. While the Aquarium won’t win international recognition any time soon, it serves an important educational function in the community through its detailed exhibits and accessible prices. As I mentioned in my blog posts about Marseille, I think that municipal aquaria and museums are often underfunded and overlooked resources. Perhaps I’ll mosey on down to my own local history museum back in America.

La Vie Provençal: Aix-en-Provence

Wednesday morning, I went jogging along the corniche, scarfed down some pain au chocolat, and caught the bus from Marseille to Aix-en-Provence for €4.50. I was able to leave my luggage at the only auberge de jeunesse in town, though I couldn’t formally check in until 5:00 pm that evening. Walking back to the city center, I bought a delicious piece of goat-cheese pizza for 3 euros and basked in the warm sunlight (sensing a theme here?). I then promptly threw frugality to the wind and bought a 4 euro gaufre au chocolat near the tourist office. As punishment for my hedonism, I now have chocolate stains on my jeans due to overeager eating. I walked along the picturesque Cours Mirabeau with its several fountains, overpriced cafés and shops, and Monoprix. It started raining, so I went to the Musée Granet and discovered that every artist in 19th century Provence painted the same theme: peasants frolicking amongst ruins in southern France or Italy. Every single one. Oh, and Cézanne painted Mont St. Victoire more times than I care to count. Regardless, I felt inspired to write some of my own thoughts down and enjoyed seeing how the region presented its cultural patrimony. I stopped on the way back to take a picture at the Four Dolphins fountain and stumbled into a small international bookstore. Aix-en-Provence is a big university town so they have wonderful foreign language options, unlike the rest of France where trying to find a book in anything other than French is excruciatingly difficult (but still probably easier than in the States). I picked up a Spanish novel “La familia de Pascul Duarte” and “The Turn of the Screw” for some good English-language fiction. My shopping complete, I set off to find the Atelier Cézanne. I had better luck in Aix than in Marseille as this time I arrived 10 minutes before the workshop closed. Since you aren’t allowed to take pictures and it’s one room, I was able to get a good impression of the exhibit pretty quickly and asked a few questions of the helpful tour guide. While I was out, I figured that I’d hit up the Cézanne Trail which led to some other sights. They failed to mention a distance so I gave up after walking for 45 minutes, but enjoyed some spectacular views of the gorgeous campagne. Dinner was a quiche purchased for 3 euros in another bakery and then I headed back to the hostel to relax for the night.

As it turned out, the receptionist took a dinner break from 7:30-8:15 every night, a fact that I learned upon arriving at 7:40 pm. I read my book, checked into my room, and was ready for a peaceful night before I met my roommate. “Youth” in this instance meant “young at heart,” as he was a very nice fortysomething man from Dunkirk who complemented me on my French and asked if I minded that he had brought a TV set to watch. Breakfast the next morning was rather subpar (stale baguettes and butter), but that was only the beginning. Due to confusion about the shuttle schedule, I missed my train out of Aix to Paris. I bought a new one and had to fork out some cash since it was during “peak travel times.” I was OK since I would still have 45 minutes to get from Paris Gare de Lyon to Paris Gare de l’Est. I found out that it takes 49 minutes to get between the gares and missed my second train. Since I had already changed my itinerary once, I was obliged to buy a new ticket. To take my mind off this mishap, I walked around the neighborhood taking photos until my camera was stolen by a pickpocket. Suffice it to say, I eventually made it back to Nancy in one piece and am thankful for my earlier frugality.

On The Edge: Marseille Day 2

My second day in Marseille was less fraught with danger and rain than my first. After a lovely job along la Corniche John F. Kennedy which runs along the Mediterranean Sea, I went to the Musée des Arts Africains, Océaniens, et Amérindiens. Like all municipal museums in the city, it was 2 euros for entry (and the clerk gave me the student discount with no prompting!). An overarching theme to my visit was the reliance of museums on the generosity of individual donors. How else to explain how an ethnographic museum had devoted three rooms to shrunken heads from around the world?! The exhibits made it seem like every South American has been occupied since time immemorial with the collection of têtes réduites. I did, however, appreciate the statement in the African Arts room about how important it is to guard against primitive essentialism. The museum had a small, yet varied collection that demonstrated its donor’s preference for Côte d’Ivoire. I saw a rare female mask-helmet and sculpture designed to evoke les esprits de la brousse (bush spirits). Stepping into the Mexican exhibition room made me feel like I had just gotten off a plane in Las Vegas after having taken a powerful cocktail of hallucinogenic drugs. The fluorescent colors of the masks, trees of life, and other sculptures filled the room with their Day-Glo Hi-Lighter bright reflections. Due to space constraints, the curator had been forced to jam many obras de arte into a few display cases. While this choice certainly permitted the museum to display the most art possible, it also led to the erasure of the identities of the individual artists.

Later, I went to a large church located right near the coast. On the way, I stumbled by the charming Place des Moulins and heard elementary school children singing in their courtyard. The place was a site of urban renewal intended to promote both historical restoration and community pride in a neighborhood (and city) often characterized by the rest of France as a den of foreign criminals and thieves. While the church’s exterior was stunning, the inside was quite plain and didn’t differ too much from the other cathedrals I’ve seen in Europe. After a quick kebab lunch (when the waiter tried to ask me things in broken English before realizing that I was more bilingual than he was), I set off for the ferry dock. Les îles du Frioul are located right off the coast and can be reached by a 15 minute, 10 euro round-trip ferry ride. Due to weather conditions, we weren’t allowed to go to the Château d’If on a neighboring island. The chateau is famous as the inspiration behind Alexandre Dumas, père’s masterpiece “The Count of Monte Cristo.” The islands were primarily a nesting ground for seagulls and served as the anchors for a large marine wildlife preserve in the harbor. On their peaceful boulevards, I sat down and read some more Salammbô and reveled in the beauty of nature. While waiting for my ferry back, I peered into the water neared the dock and spotted several shoals of small fish hiding amongst the boats.

Before turning in for the night, I went to Notre Dame de la Garde, a magnificent church located high above the city. You can walk 30 minutes up a glorious path, or take a bus straight to the top. Tired from hiking, I chose the latter option. Unfortunately, I arrived 20 minutes after the special seasonal closing time went into effect and wasn’t allowed in. Still, I took some amazing photos and walked along the rocky hillside, gazing down at the city. Waiting in the metro station, I noticed a small dark fish tank built into one of the pillars. The few fish inside wanly swam back and forth and I wondered how a city so proud of its maritime heritage could be so careless about some of its installations.

On The Edge: Marseille

After traveling around Germany with my colocataires, I was ready for some personal rest and relaxation and headed off to the South of France. Having grown up in Kansas, I’m still amazed that you can cross a country and be at the beach in six hours. My stay in Marseille got off to a great start: we weren’t allowed to get off the train for twenty minutes due to a “colis suspect” (suspicious package) that had been found on a platform. As I left the gare, I wandered around some rather interesting neighborhoods before finding my hotel, the Vertigo. I felt quite safe during my entire stay there: 24 hour reception, locks on the doors, keys left at the desk so no chance of losing them. Both nights, I shared a 4 person dortoir with two Germans and a Belgian who were also on vacation from their political science program in Bordeaux. I went to Marseille to see the sights and was gone from 7-7; they had come to party and were gone the other twelve hours. Since it was too cold to go to the beach, I spent the first afternoon wandering around in the sunlight, taking pictures and seeing how France’s third-largest city (after Paris and Lyon) functioned. Life moved at a faster pace than in most of the South, but then Marseille is hardly typical of le Midi – its population is composed of immigrants from Greece, Italy, Algeria and their descendants. I popped into le Musée de l’Histoire de Marseille which was mentioned in E’s Lonely Planet Guide. Clue number one that this was to be a different experience: the museum was located in a shopping center next to a Galeries Lafeyette. As I later learned, the museum is constructed around an ancient ship found when they were building the mall. Rather than move the ship, they preserved it in wax and arranged the rest of the museum around it. Marseille was originally a Phocean city known as Marsalas which had a very Greek-inspired culture and economy for several centuries. Most of the museum dealt with ancient pottery and ship-building techniques, which I found to be less than stimulating. After leaving the museum, I walked right out into a rainstorm and fled to Monoprix to faire des courses. My hotel had provided neither complimentary breakfast nor soap so I got some pain au chocolat and savon de Marseille, a famous product of the city whose appellation is still controlled. I retired to my hotel room and finished “Randonée Mortelle,” an Isabelle Adjani flick in which she becomes a mistress to rich young people before killing them for money and sport. Such a comforting thought in a strange city!

Communities

Since I received my placement notice from the Peace Corps nearly a month ago, I’ve been thinking a lot about communities. Specifically, about how hard it is to maintain ties when you move around every few months. One of the nice aspects of the position is that I’ll be in one community for two years after forming strong bonds with my fellow volunteers during a two and half month training period. The Peace Corps places a high priority on community integration – how else can volunteers promote meaningful cultural exchange and truly help their host communities? My family has been very accommodating in dealing with the time difference and it’s not as big of an issue in France as it was in Senegal since a) we’re all more used to the process and b) I have Internet at my residence. My close friends from college have made great efforts as well, but our conversations aren’t as regular because they are at very busy stages in their academic careers: K and R are in their first year of medical school and P is getting ready to graduate and head off to some fabulous to be announced law school. I’ve found a nice group of friends here in Nancy, but we’ve all been a bit reluctant to get too close since we’ll be leaving so soon. An unexpected benefit of my job is that I’ve been able to meet up with several friends from my study abroad program in Senegal. J and I went to Geneva in October, I’ll see K in a few weeks in Strasbourg, and M and I will catch up in Paris for a few days before flying back to the United States. Several of my former classmates are/will be serving in Africa in the Peace Corps in Niger, Togo, and Rwanda as well as in other destinations like Mongolia. I’ll only have a few weeks back in the United States to catch up with people, and while I’m always ready to make new friends, I want to maintain the ties that I already have. Who’s in your community?

Auf Wiedersehen Deutschland!

Our last two days in Germany went splendidly well. On Friday morning, we were able to ascend to the top of the Reichstag, headquarters of the German Parliament. Not only was entrance free, but since we arrived at 8 am, there was no line (or “queue” in British parlance). We received free audioguides, though far more information was provided on the ascent up the cupola than on the descent. The cone has an opening at the top and acts as a heating/cooling system for the building by funneling air and precipitation into specially-constructed chambers. Later, we went to the Story of Berlin. After spending Thursday engrossed in WWII and occupied Berlin, I appreciated the eight centuries of context the museum provided. We were able to visit a bunker (that was never used) and learn about the crowded and basic living conditions that people would have lived through for up to fourteen days. Friday night, we ate a nice Southeast Asian restaurant in the neighborhood of our hostel and I was able to indulge my love of seafood by ordering shrimp. Saturday was spent souvenir shopping and visiting the Stasi Museum in East Berlin. The Stasi were the state security service in East Germany and monitored the lives of many citizens as portrayed in the film The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen). There were two translations in the entire museum, so my German-English dictionary came in quite handy! I saw some official documents, including a New Year’s one that said, “Best wishes from the Stasi.” On the top floor, the curators had prepared a jail cell to look like the ones that had been used for prisoners of the Stasi. Looking at the spy exhibits showed how far Big Brother technology and public knowledge has advanced – in one birdhouse the Stasi had installed a camera whose lens took up the entire entry. In the age of web- and nanny-cams, most of us would easily be able to spot such an “obvious” camera. Due to high demand for the Berlin-Paris line, only my housemate S and I were able to go back on the Saturday night train since we were leaving on other trips on Monday morning. We all ate dinner at the Hbf (Hauptbahnhof) station – I ordered a currywurst with fries in German!

Ice, Ice Baby

Our time in Berlin has been characterized by cold weather, but today’s tour also focused on the coldness of the human heart. Our first stop of the morning was the DDR Museum along the banks of the Spree River. Inside you can see/touch/listen to lots of memorabilia from the German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Demokratische Republik in German). We got to see school supplies, work clothes, nudist beach scenes, recreated the ‘Lipsi’ dance, listened to music from the 1970s, and watched a film about planned communities. Then, we walked to the Checkpoint Charlie Museum near our hostel. They had an amazing exhibition of artwork produced by Berliners from 1961-1989 to complement the rich textual explanations. Moreover, the museum displayed artifacts from successful and failed escape attempts including tunnel-digging equipments and a home-made hot air balloon. The museum’s top floor was dedicated to World Religions, Ethics, and the International Struggle for Human Rights. Resistance movements in India, Poland, Hungary, and the United States demonstrated the various guiding principles of nonviolent movements. A quick coffee break later, we headed off to the Topographie des Terrors exhibition on the site of the old SS/Gestapo HQ. It was an open-air exhibition crowded with students so we didn’t stay too long. On the way back to the hostel, we stopped off at the Holocaust Memorial. The site is well-known for its innovative architecture and field of stelae which leaves the visitor to discover his/her own meaning. I found the most touching statements to be those made by children. J’s haunting message to her father: “I shall die soon. I don’t want to die, but they won’t let us live. I’ll never see you again.” Death marches, extermination camps, forced separations, a terrible legacy.