Sarah's Fulbright Adventure

The Two-Month Mark

2009-07-04T23:21:00.001-07:00

I've officially been back from France for two months. It hardly seems possible that time could go by so quickly. But still, I've had so many changes since coming back home. For one, I've already moved three times. And instead of taking a teaching job in Salem, I'm holding out for a different teaching job in central Oregon and working at Starbucks in the meantime. Instead of being in the city, as I'd planned, I moved out to the high desert in what many consider to be the middle of nowhere.

But I absolutely love it.

I'm happier now than I've been in many years, and I feel like I have direction and a clear purpose. There are things that I miss about France, of course, but for the most part, I am so very glad to be home.

I'd kill for some good wine on most days, I'd love some moldy goat cheese, and I sure miss the sound of the roaring TGV. But on a crisp Central Oregon morning, when the sun is just rising above the rimrock, and I know that the only thing between me and the border to Idaho is the desert and a few random farms, I just have to smile and remember that, in the end, I love Oregon.

Nothing Gold Can Stay, and other timeless clichés

2009-04-30T12:31:00.000-07:00

Well, as things tend to do, my time in France has officially come to an end. I had my last day of class on Tuesday, and later that day filled out the Fulbright Final Report. So I am indeed done with my time as a Fulbrighter to France. It's been an exciting time.

Now, I'm at a hotel near the airport in Barcelona. Tomorrow morning, I'll take the shuttle over to the airport, probably get scanned for the swine/H1N1/Mexican flu, and then be on my way home...in about 20 hours. I'm very excited to get home, of course, but sad about the many things that I'll leave behind. There is, after all, so many wonderful aspects about living in Europe. I'll miss the sidewalk cafes, the slow pace of life, shopping in general, and all the rest that comes from the exoticism of living abroad.

Looking back, I see so much that I wish that I had done, or done more often. But I also see a year spent meeting new people, making new friends, trying new foods, seeing new movies, going new places, learning new things, speaking new languages, and making memories that will last forever. It's been an up and down ride for sure...

But totally, absolutely, and completely worth it.

Good News! More Videos!

2009-04-23T14:31:00.001-07:00

Even though my camera cord never returned to me after its trip from Paris via the French Postal Service, I have managed to find an adapter that works with my camera. And voilà! More pictures have been uploaded onto YouTube. Look for them to be finished tomorrow.

You'll find videos from Christmas in Paris, from Rome, from around town in Perpignan, and one short clip from Belgium.

You may access these videos at: http://www.youtube.com/user/leenielou_who

I hope you enjoy these new videos! I certainly am glad to finally have them uploaded!

One Thing I Will NOT Miss: French Bureaucrazy

2009-04-21T06:18:00.001-07:00

If there's one thing I hate in France, it's putting up with any sort of paperwork. I don't have a clue why, but the ALL of the French (and yes, that's a generalization because in 16 months of living here, I've yet to see it contradicted!) are slow, inefficient, and frustrating in producing any sort of documentation.

For example, here's a run-down of what I've had to deal with this year alone (my year in Poitiers had its own fair share of frustrations:

- Getting my carte de sejour (long-term visa): I had to wait in October until I was assigned a medical visit that I HAD to have in order to get my visa. I ended up not ever showing this document to another living soul while I was here. On seven separate occasions, I had to wake up early and stand in the freezing cold in line for over two hours; I only made it in twice. By the time that I should have had my document, I was past due in needing it. And the required more documents that I HAD ALREADY GIVEN THEM!! Exasperated, I contacted the head of education in Montpellier (1 1/2 hrs away), and demanded that she help me get my visa. I finally got it...at the end of February.

- Getting my "Carte Vitale": I sent off the request for my carte vitale about two months ago. It came back to me, saying that I had forgotten to attach a photocopy of my identity card. Would have been nice if they had instructed me to include it, don't you think? So I sent them a copy of my passport, and just got a letter yesterday saying that it was not "receivable." What does that even MEAN??

- Getting housing assistance: I've been living in my apartment since December, but I was only allowed to qualify for a program called the CAF once I got my carte de sejour. Although I got my visa in February, I wrongly waited until March to submit my claim. The man at the counter looked over my documents, and told me that everything looked fine, and that I should be hearing from them within 10-15 days. It sounded too good to be true! And, it was. They took two weeks to let me know they had received my claim, and another two weeks to let me know that I hadn't checked two of the boxes (why didn't the man at the counter tell me to check those boxes, hmmmm??). So I resubmitted my claim, included a copy of my visa, and today I get two more letters: one asking me if my apartment has been my primary residence (again, why didn't the man at the counter ask me this a month and a half ago?!), and another saying that my visa will soon no longer be valid, and that I need to wait until it has been renewed. Augh!

- Getting my pay for working extra hours in November: This is the one that frustrates me the most. Back in November, I gave up a week of my two-week vacation so that I could work at school and make some extra euros. I was told that the payment process would take a while, and that I needed to be patient. Only in January did I get a letter saying, "In order to complete your payment, we need..." So I submitted the required documents, and waited a while longer. By March, I realized that I was the only one who hadn't been paid for working in November. I started asking around. My contact lady generously agreed to talk to both the Vice-Principal and the secretary on my behalf. When that didn't help, I went directly to the secretary and re-sent my documents to the head of education in Montpellier. That still hasn't worked. I still haven't been paid for working five months ago. And I am nearly to the point of no forgiveness. I am livid. In my American mindset, that is unacceptable -- waiting five months to be paid?! That would never happen at home!!

I love France, but these little things have turned into bigger things that grate on my nerves. I don't understand why they complicate things and make life so difficult!

Makes me so glad to be going home soon. I know the U.S. is far from perfect, but at least we process our documents in a timely manner.

And I'll salute my flag for that.

11 More Days!!

2009-04-20T06:36:00.000-07:00

The time till going home is getting closer and closer, and every day I count the days, thinking "What was I doing 11 days ago? Let's see...that would have been April 9, the day Gabrielle and I went to Monaco and Nice and drove back to Perpignan. That's not so far away!" I can't help but get excited, and knowing that everyone from back home is getting excited to have me home makes me even MORE excited!! (Can you tell I'm excited here?)

This week at school, I'm seeing each group for the last time. They're asking me questions about life in the U.S., what I think about France, and when they can come visit. Some of them seem genuinely sad that I'm leaving. Some have asked for my email address, and others still vow to track me down on Facebook.

What I find funny is that the majority of my students don't see me as going home. For them, I'm simply going to the U.S. "You're soooooo lucky," one of my female students told me today. I think I saw a reflection of an "I (heart) NY" tee-shirt in her eyes. They don't see me as returning to my normal life -- with my family, my friends, and my beloved Central Oregon pine trees -- but they see me as temporarily traveling to an exotic place littered with celebrities, where it rains money, and people drive shiny new SUVs.

Although I cannot wait to get back home, I know that I have many loose ends to tie before I leave. I have administrative things to take care of (STILL!), people to say goodbye to, and a whole apartment full of stuff to pack up.

I also know that I'll miss it here. I'll miss the freedom that comes with living abroad. I'll miss the 12-hour work weeks, and the laid-back attitude of the French. And I'll miss my apartment, which I've come to love so very much. I'll probably cry a little bit when I leave because, for better and for worse, this place has been my home for the past seven months.

And I'll certainly miss that part.

Ouch, that hurts...the economy, that is

2009-04-07T00:45:00.001-07:00

All year long, I've been hearing stories about how bad the economy is in the U.S. And, all year long, I haven't really had a clue about how bad it is. Because here in France, the economy has been relatively untouched. Nobody is losing their job, nobody is scrounging for extra cash, and nobody is particularly worried. Despite the fact that some of our neighbors (Ireland and Iceland, to name only a few) have been hurting for months, France hasn't experienced any of the economic pain that the U.S. has. So I haven't really seen the impact that this has made. Sure, I've been keeping up via telephone calls and the New York Times, but I haven't really felt the impact.

Until now.

About two months ago, I started looking for jobs upon my return to the U.S. I looked for teaching jobs, of course, and applied for two full-time writing positions. Both jobs, unfortunately, sent me a letter saying that, due to budget cuts, the position had been canceled. I looked for adjunct positions, and looks like I'll have one for sure (yay!), but adjunct work isn't enough to live off of. So I applied for administrative jobs, only to discover that they want people with actual administrative experience -- not teachers. Go figure.

And now, as I'm back to square one, I realize how bleak the job market is back at home. No one seems to be hiring in my field, or if any, there is only part-time jobs everywhere. I might end up working part-time at several different schools. And if it's a job that pays, I'll take it!

I've been in denial the whole time I've been here about how bad the economy really is at home. And now, with only 24 days left till I return, it's starting to finally settle in. And that hurts.

Dear Diary, today I punched the vice-principal in the face...

2009-03-23T07:55:00.000-07:00

I arrived at school today to find the staff room crowded with teachers, discussing something seemingly-important. I then spotted my friend Carlos, the Spanish assistant, and asked him what all the fuss was about. "Some kid punched the vice-principal in the face," he told me. WHAT?! I listened to the discussion and got more of the details: Mr. Poite, one of the two vice-principals at our school, had arranged a meeting with this student, who had been missing a lot of school lately. Everyone who worked with this student knew that he had anger management issues...and that he was trained in boxing. Students feared him in the halls. Teachers couldn't control him in class.

Then Mr. Poite holds a meeting to talk with this student about his behavior. I'm fuzzy on the details here, but another teacher came into his office, and somehow the student pinned that second teacher to the wall. Mr. Poite came to help the other teacher, and in doing so, got a swift blow to the ear by the "delinquent" student.

What followed was a lengthy and complicated argument about what should be done next. (I should add in parentheses that the French are lousy at debates. They know this, and I know this. So the "lengthy and complicated argument" was really more like a ridiculous and strung-out series of accusations that really went nowhere.)

By this time, it was 10:20, already 10 minutes into the scheduled class session. The students were gathered outside, wondering what was going on and when their teachers would show up (I'm sure they were hoping to have an extra hour off). Ten minutes later, one of the teachers decided that the conversation couldn't be finished then and there. So he suggested that we all reconvene in the amphitheatre in a few minutes to drag the conversation out until noon.

And thus, just like that, classes from 10 to 12 were canceled.

I decided to sit in on the meeting, just to see what it was like. The second vice-principal came in to make remarks about the incident and to announce, as we already knew, that the student had been expelled from school. He then opened the floor for suggestions on how to proceed with other students who might be considered "dangerous."

Between accusations ("Must be the Inspector's fault! He knew this was a dangerous student, and let him back in to the school! HE should be held responsible!") and victimizations ("He was in my Spanish class, and wouldn't turn off his cell phone! He's a disrespectful student!"), I had to sit back and wonder: was this kid REALLY dangerous? Now, granted, punching a vice-principal in the face is unacceptable and he merited the consequences he received. But really now...no one's life was in danger. He didn't have a gun. He didn't have a knife. He wasn't out to pummel someone into the ground. And because of that, I'm hesitant to call him truly "dangerous" (as school shooting perpetrators are typically the ones we DON'T expect), and much more likely to suggest therapy...and maybe yoga.

An hour into the second discussion, the teachers were still getting nowhere in terms of where to go in the aftermath of this event. A few more diplomatic teachers came to the rescue, saying something to the effect of: "What we need to do is have consequences that students can see. If we can all agree on..." or "This is what I hear everyone saying...., so let's decide what we should do next." And then that hopeful moment would be lost to whomever had the floor (or "the right of the word" as they say in French) next -- someone who felt the need to change topic completely, or talk about their own victimization by the student.

In the final ten minutes, the teachers finally came to a vote about where to go next. Not discussing any sort of protocol, they decided that they needed to get the word out: first to parents, then to the local media, then to the Inspector of the Academy. That was it. No next steps, no further consequences, no future plans.

Meaning that the next time someone gets punched in the face, they're going to be right back where they started.

Now Accepting Donations!

2009-03-20T08:26:00.001-07:00

My goal for the end of my year here has been to go on a cruise. I had a dream last night that I was on a cruise headed for Barcelona, Tunis, and Naples (not a bad dream, eh?). I've found a few that I would LOVE to go on (one is for France, Italy, Greece, and Croatia -- the PERFECT cruise itinerary!!), but the problem still is the $$ (imagine those as Euro symbols) factor. So. I am officially accepting donations. :) Think of it as a birthday present. Or a birthday/Christmas present. Or a birthday/Christmas/next year's birthday/next year's Christmas present. I mean...you'd want to do it if you were here, right? :)

The Countdown Begins: 44 More Days

2009-03-18T11:19:00.000-07:00

All year long, I've looked forward to several benchmark events: Christmas in Paris, moving into my new apartment, Mom coming to visit, my April vacation. Everything seemed so far in the future and suddenly, without any warning, here I am at the end of my time in France! How did that possibly happen?

I have mixed feelings about the end of my time here. On the one hand, I'm so excited to get back home to Oregon -- to see my friends and family, to feel "normal" again, and to see what is coming next in my life. There's so much to look forward to! Oh, and did I mention Starbucks? Definitely can't wait for some good coffee a la USA.

On the other hand, I still feel like there's so much for me to do here. I feel like I have business at my school that I haven't finished -- people I haven't reached out to yet. Friends I haven't met. I have travels ideas that I don't have time or money for. There's a lot that I haven't done here, but then again, I knew from the beginning that I'd only be here for seven months. And I knew they'd go quickly.

Looking back, I see that my year has been marked into two distinct sections: BA and AD -- Before Apartment and After Dorm. My time living at the school seems so far away, and I cringe thinking of when I had to go to McDonald's to get my internet access and all those microwave dinners I ate because I didn't have a refrigerator. I sure do love my apartment, and my mother can certainly vouch why.

Looking forward, I still have a month and a half. And just so I can take advantage of all the time I have left, here is a list of some of the things I'm planning to do before I leave:

- Visit Cavaques, a coastal village in northern Spain where Dali used to live
- Go to Corsica for a week
- Visit a high school friend in Switzerland
- Take the Little Yellow Train through the foothills of the Pyrenees
- Go back to the Riviera, even though I was there four years ago
- Visit Andorra
- Try Catalan food

I know it sounds ambitious, but hey...isn't that the point? Guess I'd better get started.

A Refresher Course in Coolness

2009-02-24T00:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I started teaching again at school after my looooong and wonderful break. I have a new schedule now, even though there isn't a new semester. I see a few new classes, but mostly the same faces each week. There are good things about my new schedule: no class on Friday every other week, one shorter week, and fewer obnoxious students. There are, however, bad things about my new schedule: the new class at 8 am on Tuesdays, and the 4 hour gap between classes on both Tuesdays and Thursdays. But still, all things considered, it will be good to change things up a bit halfway through my year.

I had my first new class this morning, where I went through the motions again of introducing myself, telling where I am from, and explaining that I don't know any celebrities, no matter how much they want that to be true. "I'm Sarah," I told them, "and I'm the new English assistant." And one of the boys in the back yelled out (in French), "And a good-looking assistant, too!" "What's your phone number?" I totally blushed. Reminded me of the beginning of the year, when I had a lot of embarrassing questions asked.

After seeing the same classes for the past four months, I'll admit that it is nice to have fresh students who are excited to have an American in the classroom with them. The others have gotten used to seeing me every other week, so it's nice to have a little anticipation for the day's lesson. Feels nice to be appreciated. I'm sure every teacher loves that.

I have other new classes for the rest of the week, and I'm both looking forward to and dreading the same ol' questions: "Do you know Brad Pitt?" "Califoooooornia! Yeah! Do you know San Fransisco?" and "You like McDonald's?"

Oh well. At least I'm cool again.

Fun with Mom, and Other Adventures

2009-02-23T06:31:00.000-08:00

Well, I am back to school now, after two weeks of vacation. Have I mentioned that, in the 7 months I am here, I have 2 entire months of paid vacation time? I know, I know...you're jealous. Just as you should be. :)

My mother arrived on Friday, February 6, in Barcelona. I went to pick her up, and we came directly back to Perpignan so that she could rest and see my little town. We went out to my favorite little crêpe place in town, and Mother fell in love with the ice cream concoctions they had there! It's ice cream like you've never imagined it before. She took pictures.

It wasn't until Sunday evening that I told Mom about the Big Surprise that I had been keeping from her since November. Maybe some of you knew about it, too, although I tried not to tell TOO many people. The news was...we were going to POLAND!! Since Mom's father's side is Polish, she has always dreamed of visiting the land of her ancestors. So I planned a trip to Krakow for three days while she was here. She couldn't stop crying when I told her, and I wasn't sure if she was happy or just plain mad at me!

Two days later, we were heading down to Barcelona (our train sat in a tunnel for about a half an hour undergoing some minor mechanical work), and the next day we were in the air en route to Krakow. The city was glorious. It was snowing, of course, and colder than all get-out, but it felt like being in a snowglobe. It was the most perfect snow I've ever seen!

On the 12th, we went to the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps. That alone was a memorable experience, to see all the horrors that I had read about right in front of me. We had an excellent tour guide -- a Polish woman whose uncle was executed for treason at Auschwitz I. Perhaps you know that there were three Auschwitz camps: Auschwitz I (the one we call Auschwitz), Auschwitz II-Birkenau, and Auschwitz III-Monowitz. We zere able to visit camps I and II, but the Monowitz camp was almost entirely destroyed by the fleeing Nazis, so tours generally do not go there. It was a humbling and sobering experience that will haunt both of us.

The next day, we went to the Wieliczka (veal-itch-ka) Salt Mines, where we descended into a huge cavern dug over many centuries by salt miners in the area. There were big rooms and chapels and statues made entirely out of the salt rock. It was quite an amazing place -- like it's own little city!

While in Krakow, we definitely ate well. We didn't have any typical Polish food, but booooy, did we eat good food anyway! Mother was particularly impressed that they served bread with butter everywhere we went, and that they gave her a BIG soup spoon with every meal. This was definitely her type of place -- definitely her people.

On Valentine's Day, we left Krakow and headed for Paris. We settled into our hotel, grabbed a special Valentine's dinner, and the prepared for our big adventure the next day. On Sunday, we began our day by visiting Notre Dame during mass, then we waited in line to ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower (NOT recommended for people afraid of heights!!), and then descended to go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa (agaaaaain) and the Napoleon III apartments (agaaaaain). It was a full, fun day, topped by dinner with my friend Vicky. Then, we got on a night train headed back to Perpignan.

In Perpignan, we relaxed in my little apartment, went out for dinner, and walked around town. It sure was fun to have "down days" after our busy week flying around Europe. :)

We went back down to Barcelona the day before Mom left to see the Sagrada Familia (Mom accidentally dubbed it the "Sangria Familia") and other Gaudi architecture. What a fun city! Wish I spoke a little more Catalan, though...

Now, I am back at school, and can continue my posts about academic life. If you'd like to see pictures from any of our trips, let me know (sgallup@pacificu.edu), and I can try to make that happen!

Sarah's Tale of Two Cites

2009-02-03T07:32:00.000-08:00

My apologies for the delay since my last blog. I left the cord to my camera (the one with the USB plug on the other end) at my friend Vicky's house in Paris after Christmas, so I haven't been able to upload pictures. Vicky was kind enough to mail the cord back to me, but the French postal service was so kind as to lose it for me (*insert much hatred here*). I'm still in denial, thinking that my package could arrive any day now. But really, it's been almost a month since she sent it to me from Paris. I should accept that it is gone forever and move on. But there are pictures waiting to be uploaded and to be shared with the world. Thus, my hatred for La Poste, as it is known, shall endure through the ages. In the meantime, I do have some fantastic stories to share (the pictures will have to come later). So here they are...

ROME:

On January 23, I got on a plane in Girona, Spain, and left to go to Rome! Some of my friends from Oregon were planning a weekend layover in Rome on their way to Tanzania, and I decided to join them. Never having been to Rome before, I was finally given a good excuse to go! It was so good to be around familiar faces again, and to feel a little less of the "Token American." We were everything that I hate about tourists: speaking loudly in English, poorly navigating the host language, bothering locals about which bus line to take to such-and-such tourist destination, stopping every five seconds to check the map... It was great. And I loved every minute of it.

On Friday, we took advantage of the lack of rain, and walked up Palantine Hill after walking around the Coliseum, breathless, saying things like, "Ooooh...Ahhh..." "Woooow", and "Can you believe all the stuff that went on there?" Our walking tour led us to what we believed to be a back entrance into another one of Rome's many hills...instead, it led us straight into the private property of someone's backyard. Oops. Finally recognizing our mistake, we apologized and quickly backed out.

We then ventured to the ancient ruins of a Byzantine-era chapel, now buried underneath a Catholic church. Our tour guide told us that they were the oldest ruins in all of Rome...although our tip might have influenced that extra tidbit.

On Saturday, we set out for our real touristy activities, despite the heavy rain. We were all poorly dressed for our sight-seeing (they, after all, had packed for African weather!). We signed up for a tour of the Coliseum, and learned all about the gladiatorial "games" there and the many people and animals that were slaughtered within the walls where we were standing.

By the time our tour of the Coliseum was over, we were all soaked and ready to go back to the hotel. We changed into dry clothes, warmed up a bit, donned our umbrellas, and began heading for Vatican City. Since we arrived there late in the day, we had to rush through in order to see everything and get our 14 euros worth (although my student card got me in for 8 euros...tee hee hee!).

Although we followed the signs for the Sistine Chapel, we were led through a maze of other rooms first. Each room was filled from floor to ceiling with piece after piece of artwork. Even the ceilings in most cases were covered in frescos! We saw everything, from original artwork of the Renaissance to modern artwork to sculptures and mosaics. It was stunning all of it, but exhausting at the same time. My mind could hardly focus! And then we got to the Sistine Chapel...and it was nothing what I expected it to be. There was art all over! And the famous work by Michelangelo was stunning. Some of the paintings were disturbing, and some were hopeful. My friend Wayne and I stood in the middle of the room, with both of our chins up in the air, staring at all the pictures. If we could have taken pictures in the room, I'm sure it would have been a funny shot.

After the Sistine Chapel, we went through St. Peter's Basilica -- a massive church filled with relics and sculptures and Latin engravings.

On Sunday morning, we visited the catacombs a long-ish bus ride on the outskirts of Rome. Here is where members of the early Christian church would hide underground during times of persecution -- where they would bury their dead in shallow graves in the wall, and where they would also worship. It was an amazing place (and, quite literally, a maze).

I left on Sunday afternoon, but the rest of the group stayed until Monday. I had a hurricane -- I mean, work -- to get back to. Well, actually, we did have a near-hurricane while I was gone (184 km/hour in my town!). What a perfect weekend to be out of town!

PARIS:

Just three days after getting back from Rome, I packed up again and went to Paris, this time for business. We had our required Fulbright mid-year meeting, and I was scheduled to speak with the other four Fulbright ETAs about teaching in priority-level schools. The other Fulbright scholars were there, too, and shared about the progress they were making on their individual projects. I'm sure it is like this every year, but everyone's projects were so varied and interesting that it was easy to get enraptured with each presentation. There was everything, from studying a museum in the Louvre to studying hip-hop music in the French banlieues to studying the color-changing powers of carbon nanotubes to studying addiction disorders. The weekend reminded me of why I love higher education so much, and how I love being challenged by colleagues.

The best part was WHERE we gave our presentations. You may have never heard of the Ecole Normale Supérieure in Paris, but you can bet that the French have. It's the most prestigious university in the country -- akin, let's say, to the graduate schools at Harvard or Princeton or Yale. A big deal, nonetheless. And I got to give my presentation there!

The bad part about Paris was that I brought a cold back with me. I haven't been too sick, but it's been the first case of the sniffles that I've had since I've been here. And that's good, considering that I was sick the whole time I lived in Poitiers. I've been drinking lots of tea and watching movies in bed, so I feel a lot better now.

And that's good, considering what is next: Mom's visit in only three days!!

Omelette, the Crowned Prince of Denmark, and Other Tales

2009-01-17T09:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday in class, while trying to work with a group of unruly 15-year-old boys, I gave my students a crossword puzzle that I had created to give them something fun to do. It was an easy puzzle where all the answers were names of countries in the EU. For the clue, "it is shaped like a boot," the obvious answer is Italy. For the clue, "the concentration camp, Auschwitz-Birkenau, is located in this country," the answer was NOT Austria, as many of my students guessed. And for "Dracula's castle is located in this country," I had to tell my students that we do not spell it "Roumanie."

The best for me, though, was the student who suddenly yelled out, "Sarah, where was Omelette from?" Omelette? "Yeah, it says, 'According to Shakespeare, Omelette is the prince of this country'." Oh, Hamlet! I couldn't help myself, and I started to giggle a little bit, realizing a moment too late that this boy hadn't intentionally mispronounced Hamlet's name. I caught myself and said, "Ahem. I'll give you a hint: it's in northern Europe." Someone yelled out Denmark in French, and we translated it together.

The Omelette story has reminded me of all the funny things that Europeans (not just the French) have said to me during my time here. Although Americans are typically pegged as the blubbering idiots of the human race, I'll admit that some of the funniest (and most ridiculous) questions I've ever been asked has been while I was overseas. Here are just a few...read them while anticipating the sigh that comes as my response:

- What's the most popular type of car in the States? Citroen?

- Well, that [heart attacks] is normal, what with everyone eating hamburgers all the time...

- (when a package didn't arrive) Could the post office in the States be on strike?

- You know what Africa is, don't you?

Me: How many states are there in the U.S.?
Student A: 12!
Student B: 72!!

- So, you all drive big cars?

- Why don't you have a gun? I thought all Americans had one!

Me: What is the capital of the U.S.?
Student A: Hollywood!
Student B: New York!!

But my favorite of all time is this:

- You use the Euro in the States, don't you?

Sigh. Sigh. And sigh.

You know you've been abroad too long when...

2009-01-13T04:35:00.000-08:00

- You start referring to the French as "us" and Americans as "they"

- You have to translate dollars into Euros

- You allow extra time at the grocery store or bank because you know there will be a wait

- The bus is five minutes late, and you think, "oh, they must be on strike"

- You realize that you can indeed live without a car

- You hear complaints that it might be 15 degrees on Inauguration Day, and you think, "that's practically summer!"...until you realize it's NOT 15 degrees Celcius

- People stop asking where you are from in England

- You have more frequent member cards in Europe than in the States

- You check Le Monde before you check the New York Times

- You realize that you cannot go without eating 3- or 4-course meals

- You cry at the thought of the sad cheese aisle in American grocery markets

- You refuse to call yourself "American," but rather Etats-unisien(ne) (from the US)

- You forget that you're abroad, and are just having fun living your life!

Christmas in Paris!

2009-01-08T01:17:00.001-08:00

Honestly, I never thought I would be able to say that I spent Christmas in Paris, but now I can. If I couldn't go home to be with my family (because of high airplane prices and the closure of the PDX airport), then at least this was the next best thing.

The weekend before Christmas, I was in Perpignan, and stayed back to go on a hike in the Pyrenees with Graham, an English teacher from my school (who now I know is reading my blog, so "Hi, Graham!"), and DouDou, a philosophy teacher from another school in town. The weather was nice the day we went, but windy. We had to stop our first hike because the wind was too violent to continue, and we had really only begun.

We drove quite a ways to the hilltop village of Montferrar, near the Spanish border. We had a view of the Mediterranean from the village and ate lunch there. It was splendid. Then we started hiking further up the mountain, which was difficult for me because of my brand new, unbroken-in shoes that I was wearing. Ouch and ouch! But alas, I made it back down alive, with only some damage to my ankles, but that view...was fantastic!

On the 23rd, I went up to Paris to spend Christmas with my friend Vicky and her boyfriend, Mike. On Christmas Eve, we all went to the Jules Verne restaurant on the Eiffel Tower for lunch/dinner. I had booked reservations over a month in advance, and it was a good thing, as we were the last table to be seated. Amazingly, we had a table for three right by the window, with a superb view of the Arc de Triomphe and the 16e arrondissement, which included the Ecole Militaire (you'd probably recognize it if you saw it). And yes, I took lots of pictures and videos!!

Our meal was incredible, to say the least. We were all enamored by every new plate and couldn't stop saying, "wow...oh yum, wow..." I was careful to take pictures of everything we ate, too! The waiters even helped Vicky and me push in our chairs. What service!

The bill is another story. Let's just say I took a picture of that, too. Hopefully, I'll never pay so much for another meal for the rest of my life!! But, when comparing it to the price of a plane ticket back to Oregon (that I probably wouldn't have been able to make because of the snow there), it was much, much less.

For Christmas, we had a good, relaxing day. We slept in, opened presents, watched movies, and Vicky's Chilean roommate Victoria made us an excellent Christmas dinner. We had two of Victoria's friends come over, both Chilean, and it was a wonderful, multilingual Christmas dinner. Victoria and her friend Patti only spoke French and Spanish, whereas Patti's cousin Andés only spoke English and Spanish. So we went back and forth between languages, and it was so much fun.

After Paris, I went down to Poitiers to visit my host family. It was so good to see them, and felt so strange to be back in the town where I lived after four years. Some things had changed (a new theater was built, a building in the center of town had burned down), but most had not. The saddest for me was that my beloved Greek restaurant, where my friends and I dined each Thursday at noon, was gone. I was looking forward to a good chicken pita, but no.

I stayed in Poitiers for two days, and then came back to Perpignan. It had snowed in Perpignan while I was gone, and had already melted. By the time I got back home, it had started snowing in Paris. So no snow for me this year. And I'm pretty glad about that.

On the other hand, however, Perpignan is supposedly having its coldest winter weather spell this week since WWII. At least, that's what one of the teachers told me. It's perfectly beautiful outside -- the sun is shining, there isn't a cloud in sight, but the air is frigid. Realistically, it's probably freezing (can't be much colder), but everyone is panicking by this "winter weather." What a perfect time, then, for the heating to go out in my new apartment. Let's just say that last night was extreeeeeemely cold and unpleasant. Should be fixed today.

Now, I am back to school, back to the grind, with a new year ahead of me. I have a lot to look forward to: my mother's visit in less than a month!, my tentative trip to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day, and my planned trip to the Greek Isles in April. I am certainly looking forward to all this year will bring.

Forget FERPA

2009-01-06T23:37:00.000-08:00

For the past five years, for different reasons, I have had FERPA (the Family and Education Rights and Privacy Act) drilled into my head. “And what do you say,” I can still hear the Dean of Students from Pacific University saying, “when a parent calls saying that she desperately needs to get in contact with her son?” And I can hear myself as part of a chorus, repeating: “I can neither confirm nor deny that your son is even a student at this institution.” In other words, you need to get in contact with your son? Call him. Don’t call the school. We are not the middle man.

This is what I practiced for years – from being a House Tutor/Academic Resident Assistant at Pacific to being a writing instructor at Oregon State. I learned these rules well. You don’t share information about your students with other faculty members. You don’t tell outsiders about your students’ progress. And you certainly don’t let other people’s parents know how well other parents’ children are doing in class. That’s just wrong.

Not so in France. At the beginning of December, I attended what is called a “conseil de classe,” or “class council meeting.” You see, French high school classrooms are constructed much like American elementary classes, where each year students have the same classmates for every class. They do not change individually from class to class like American high schools, but rather the class as a whole moves from subject to subject. As a result, the “conseil de classe” can evaluate the entire class on its behavior and academic progress.

Yesterday’s meeting discussed a class of Terminale STG – in other words, these are high school seniors who have not chosen to specialize in the sciences, humanities, or business, but rather more hands-on subjects (sometimes the STG are stereotyped as the kids who take shop class instead of AP European History). I work with these students once every week, so I was allowed to sit in on the meeting. Here are some of my notes:

In attendance: 2 student delegates, 1 parent delegate, about 10 teachers (all the teachers who work with this particular class), the Vice Principal, and me.

Without the delegates: The vice principal has projected a screen with an Excel document of every student’s individual file, as well as statistics for the class as a whole. From a FERPA perspective, this is dangerous information. There is everything on every student, from personal information to their class rank to their individual grades and comments. Wow.

I was shocked by the opening remarks: “Let’s start with so-and-so. His father is handicapped and lives in Paris.” Inserts “ohs” and “now, I get its” here. (?!) Another girl’s record of absences was discussed. It was suspect, was the general opinion. “She’s, ummm…particular, that one,” one teacher said. Particular.

Enter the delegates, 2 students from the class and a mother of another student.

One teacher gives a long interlude on his opinions on the class as a whole. Their work is too mediocre, he announces. Not sufficient to sustain them through the BAC exam. “Oh, and have we mentioned that they had a total of 251 absences in one trimester?” Insert more disturbed “ohs” and “now, I get its” here.

The vice principal continues the speech, turning to the student delegates and warning them about the dangers of failing the BAC. “You must work hard this year,” he tells them. “This is serious. If you don’t pass the BAC, there isn’t any guarantee that you will have a place in the class next year.”

The vice principal allows the parent to speak. She first begins with benign comments: “oh yes, I agree with what you have said. I have heard similar comments from other parents…” etc. Then she got a little defensive: “My son was really lost at times this trimester. He didn’t know what to do to prepare for the BAC.” Was she pointing fingers at the teachers present? Or simply reiterating what she had perceived?

The vice principal allowed the students to speak. One said that he agreed with the comments, but had no idea that there were so many absences. Were the numbers correct? Really, he said. I had no idea there were that many.

The rest of the session focused on individual critiques. What the teachers did was evaluate each student, looking at his or her grades and teachers’ comments, and write global comments and suggestions on their report cards. For one student, all the teachers agreed that she was fragile. She needed encouragement. So, on her global commentary, the vice principal wrote, “Keep going! Keep pressing on.” And to the teachers, he instructed that they encourage her more, both in her studies and in regards to her behavior in class.

Other commentaries were not so nice. “Student A has an attitude,” one teacher explained. “I mean, wow…look at her grades. Insufficient.”

And another: “Student B was held back (“She’s getting better!” someone yells out). If she’s a 5th year senior, she needs to work a little harder. And seriously, she’s getting a 9 [out of 20; approximately a C] in gym class? What is she doing there?”

But even the best student in the class could not escape criticism. His grades were unspeakably good – all high As, except for in philosophy (might I add that the highest grade the philosophy teacher gave was a 10/20 – in other words, a C?). The vice principal and teachers were ready to write, “Way to go! Congratulations!” when the philosophy teacher raised his hand and said, “I don’t think his work is good enough for a “Congratulations!”. Can’t you tone it down to a simple “good work”? The vice principal looked disappointed, but relented to the request. “Good work,” he wrote.

It’s a pretty bleak world when the best student in the class is reduced to a simple “good work” instead of a “congratulations!” But that is the strict nature of the French education system. Everything is noticed. No one gets out unscathed.

And everyone knows about it.

Guestbook Sign In: Please Reply

2008-12-18T07:14:00.001-08:00

Rumor has it that there are quite a few people reading my blog these days. I have no idea if that is actually true, as my mother started that rumor, so it could just be her reading my endless ramblings. To satisfy my curiosity, can you please reply to this post? I'd like to know who I have been writing to all these months. If you'd rather not, you may email me at sgallup@pacificu.edu, but I'd love to know who is out there. Consider this your Christmas present to me. I would love it.

Thanks!

The strike, the wind, and the beat go on...

2008-12-18T07:01:00.000-08:00

Today is Day Five of the students' strike, and Day Three of having no school. I heard this morning through the grapevine that the administration is still hesitant to let the mob of students in because of events elsewhere in southern France that have turned violent. In Carcassonne, the tourist town about 1 1/2 hours from Perpignan, a school administrator was attacked and hospitalized by the outraged students. In Prades, a village just to the west of Perpignan, a window in the school building was broken by protestors. In light of these events, the school has stayed closed...for the security of everyone involved.

In other news, the famous Perpignan Wind has come back with a vengance. Today we are having winds up to 120 kl/hr (75 mph), I heard -- and I believe it! Walking to the teachers' lounge just a few minutes ago nearly knocked me right off my feet! The Perpignan natives don't seem to be bothered by it. "Oh that," they'll tell me. "You just have to get used to it." Ha!

And, as teachers are disappearing for the holiday season, I bidding them a quick adieu before I, too, head out. I am leaving for Paris on the 23rd, where I'll spend Christmas Eve with my friend Vicky (another Fulbrighter) and her boyfriend at the restaurant on the Eiffel Tower. Should be a lovely time. After Christmas, I will be heading down to Poitiers to see my two host families. I am very much looking forward to going back to My Little Town. And afterward, I will return to Perpignan and (hopefully!) spend New Year's in Barcelona. Still waiting to hear about that one.

And, what's more important, tomorrow I move into my apartment! I am very, very excited about that!! Not excited about the cost of living there (anyone have a money tree growing in their back yard??), but I am looking forward to having a place of my own in the city. Especially since it has internet access.

Sorry, Teacher, but the Mob ate my Homework

2008-12-16T04:46:00.000-08:00

On Friday morning, I woke up to the sound of yelling and chanting outside my window. I looked outside to see a mob of students walking down the road around the school, holding picket signs and screaming in unison. There were hundreds of them, lining the streets and circling the school.

Upon leaving my room, the cleaning ladies filled me in on the details: the older students were on strike, opposed to Sarkozy’s new school reform laws, and, according to them, it was “really bad” when the students went on strike.

I went to class as usual, but there were only 12 out of 30 students there. The others were either a part of the protest or were unable to get in because the mob outside had barricaded the school entrance. Once class started, the teacher had to stop for a few minutes to allow his students to peer out the window and wave to their friends. Halfway through the class, the students on strike flooded the hallways, yelling and screaming, and throwing things at the doors as they passed by. But don’t be worried – when the French are on strike, they are rarely violent; more often than not, they just like to be loud and obnoxious in order to get their point across. This became even more evident when one of the protesters pulled the fire alarm, and our class (by law, of course) had to evacuate and wait outside until we were called back in.

So why, you ask, are these students on strike in the first place? First, French President Nicholas Sarkozy and his Minister of Education have proposed new high school reform laws, and students (and some teachers) are against these reforms, hence the protest. But every time I ask what the reforms entail (and, believe me, I’ve asked many times), I get this answer: “Well, Sarkozy is reforming the high schools, and the students don’t like it.” This, to me, is the pinnacle of French logic. I ask what reforms are being made, and they respond with the obvious: the students don’t like the reforms, so they are on strike. I asked a classroom of French students on Friday what the reforms were, and none of them could tell me, which begs the question: do these students even know what they are striking against?

Yesterday, the strike seemed to be a half-hearted effort – at least, from my view. The mob had diminished to around two dozen students or so, but they were still able to barricade a few people outside and not allow them to come in. Apparently, there were trash cans strewn about in front of the school. This is all that I noticed, but according to one of the teachers, threats had been made.

And now today there is no school.

It’s a little like a snow day, only without the snow. The students who live in the dorms with me are required to stay inside, so at 11 am, they are still in their pajamas, watching TV downstairs. The teachers, however, have the more unfortunate day: even though their students are not coming, they are required to be here, since they are being paid to teach today. I, being a mere non-tenured language assistant, have the advantage over everyone in the situation. Not only may I leave the dorm (because I am not a student), I am also not required to stay at the school. So I’m thinking of going into town to watch a movie. Maybe I’ll buy some stuff to make Christmas cards. In either case, I’m the only one free to do whatever I want today. And I like that feeling.

Who am I?: And Other Experimental Classroom Activities

2008-12-11T08:20:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I tried something new and it ended up failing miserably. I guess that’s one of the fun things about teaching: experimenting with new ideas. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t. And something those new ideas surprise you in ways you’d never expect.

But anyway, yesterday I wanted my students to write out a long skit. I broke the class into six sets of pairs, and each group wrote a very short section of the skit (I had written their section out on a piece of paper: “You are a bank robber. You suddenly regret your actions. Why? What do you do next?”) The scenes were supposed to flow together with a semi-coherence that could have been funny. But one group didn’t prepare anything. Another group couldn’t stop laughing. One group spoke too quietly.

I left class disappointed in my activity, so I set out to revise it. And in doing so, I came up with something completely different that turned out to be a huge success when I tried it out in class on Friday.

I wrote names of famous people in U.S. culture (not all from the U.S., though) on a piece of paper. I made sure they were people my students would know: Barack Obama, J.K. Rowling, Angelina Jolie, Steven Spielberg, Michael Jordan, Rihanna, etc. I tried to get people from many aspects of culture: music, movies, politics, literature, sports, etc.

Sadly, I couldn’t pick many people that I consider important: Jon Krakauer, Jane Goodall, Dave Bartholomae. As much as I would choose these people as important, my students certainly would not know who they are…unless they happen to appear on French radio. And last I heard, DB hasn’t recorded any pop songs. But who knows? It has been a while since I read CCCs.

On each piece of paper, I wrote basic information about that particular person. About Tiger Woods, I wrote “Professional golfer, born in California, married to Elin Nordegren.” For Hillary Clinton, I wrote “Politician, future Secretary of State under Barack Obama, former senator of New York, married to former president Bill Clinton.”

What I did was tape a person’s name to each student’s back. The other students would giggle when they saw that it was Britney Spears, or say “I have no idea who that is!” when one girl got Oprah Winfrey’s name. The students then mingled with their classmates, asking only “yes” or “no” questions about their character.

“Am I a woman?” They would ask. “Am I a singer? Do I sing rock music?”

“Am I an actor? Did I play in westerns? Do I direct movies now? Was ‘The Changeling’ an amazing movie?” (in other words, “Am I Sarah’s favorite actor?”)

“Am I a politician? Am I a man? Was I ever vice-president of the U.S.?”

What is important to note here is that they were speaking in English. Not French. By the end of class, two students had not figured out who they were (Sarah Palin and Eva Longoria Parker), so the whole class huddled around, sticking firm to the rule of only answering “yes” or “no” and not divulging any extra information.

The bell rung just as the two guessed who they were. And on their way out, one girl said, “C’est cool, ça” (that was cool)!

And I beamed.

In the Land of Many Paradoxes

2008-12-11T08:19:00.001-08:00

It’s amazing to me (and to other foreigners, as well) how much I can simultaneously love and hate the French. I love their culture – their way of looking at life, the way they pay such strong attention to detail, and how strong their relational bonds are – and yet I seem to ask myself “why do they do x or y?” every day.

Some things they do make absolutely no sense to me. For example, Carlos, the Spanish assistant from Colombia, and I were talking the other day about registering at the local university. Enrolling in a French university is much easier said than done. For one, there is no online course catalog. If you want to search for classes, you must look at the paper registry plastered to the walls outside of each department’s building. Want to take an English class? You must go to the Language and Literature building, and scan through the long wall of possible choices. Want to take a Biology class? You must go to the Biology building, and so on. It’s impossible! And then, to enroll, everything is done via paper. Yes, paper. Does the internet exist here? Yes. But apparently, the French didn’t get the memo. Carlos said, “I come from Colombia. Colombia. And we register online. I mean, who do these people think they are?” At least I’m not alone.

But what confuses me the most has only become visible to me now during the holiday seasons. I was told before coming to France about the “no hat” rule. In the past few years, France expanded their secular rules in Academia by passing a law which says that students may not wear anything deemed “religious.” In other words, no necklaces with crosses on it, no WWJD bracelets, no veils for Muslim girls. I was told that this was primarily because girls would come to school in burqas, and it was (and I quote) “distracting.” So, no hats, no veils, no scarves, no headbands. Nothing on anyone’s head.

And yet, despite this strict law, there is a large Christmas tree in the school cafeteria. Colorful garland hangs on the walls. And the staff room welcomes faculty with a hearty “Joyeux Noel” (Merry Christmas) sign. I have nothing against these symbols, of course, but I mean…where’s the consistency? Seriously. It’s odd.

I love being in a country as rich and complex as France. I am constantly learning, constantly being challenged in many areas of my life, and, of course…constantly, completely, and hopelessly confused.

“Whoever Smelt it Dealt it”: Or, the Story of the Worst Class Ever

2008-12-04T08:43:00.000-08:00

Before each class period begins, students line up outside their classrooms and wait for the teacher to arrive. When he or she does, the teacher keys into the class, and the students enter by twos, each greeting the teacher with a “bonjour” or “hello, good afternoon” if it’s English class.

They all file to their own seats but remain standing until the teacher has sufficiently arranged homework, lesson plans, etc. The teacher might rattle off a set of announcements or ask for questions, but the students remain standing. When the teacher is ready (no matter how long that may take), he or she then tells the students that they may sit down, and the lesson begins. This is how the students learn to respect their teachers.

For some, however, the standing has become a mere formality, as invisible as tying their shoes in the morning or bringing pencils to class. They remain standing, but talk back to their teachers or hit the student next to them. It is unfathomable the things I have seen here. And makes me grateful that I have chosen to teach in a university setting.

Further evidence of this came on Tuesday, when I was asked to begin working with a class I had not yet seen. It was a class of 30 boys and 7 girls. Yes, you read that correctly. 30 boys and 7 girls. They entered the class not by twos but by clumps of boys hitting each other and jumping on each other’s backs and slamming into the walls. “N’ayez pas peur,” one of the kids said to me. Don’t be afraid. Yeah right, I wanted to say back in French. Too late for that.

It took the teacher ten minutes to calm down the whooping and hollering 30 boys and 7 girls. Then she let them sit down. I was allowed to take half of the class, and somehow, as luck would have it, I got to take the wretched half of the class. “The other half is better,” the teacher would tell me later, “but it was this group’s turn.”

The hour couldn’t go by fast enough, and it dragged on forever. First, the students wouldn’t shut up, then they were running around the classroom, then someone was calling a boy names, then someone’s nose started bleeding…

And then that smell.

“Ewwwwwwwww!” Somebody yelled. “What do they feed you at the cafeteria?” I had to go run and open a window, and several other students did the same. It was wretched. And I was appalled that a student would actually do that in my classroom. The culprit was named, and as much as I wanted to giggle along with my students (okay, so I’m mentally still back in junior high), I had to stand at the front of the class, hands on my hips, with a stern face. “That’s not funny,” I managed to say with a straight face. “Sit down. And don’t talk.”

My students don’t often see Angry Sarah – they are more likely to meet Tired Sarah, Disappointed Sarah, or Oops-I-Need-to-Quickly-Rewrite-My-Lesson-Plans Sarah – but this class got to see the angry version very quickly. Still, since they are immune to yelling (seems teachers here do it often), it didn’t frighten them. So I resorted to my preferred method of discipline: a little something I like to call “distraction therapy.”

Douille housse pic n’glisse? I wrote on the board.

The students stared at the board, their mouths clamped shut, and their heads tilted a little to one side. Everyone was silent. They all knew it was French, but didn’t make any sense. I could see their lips moving, trying to figure it out in their head. Finally, one of them shouted, “DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH??” And they all figured out my game.

Marie qui se masse, I wrote. “Madame,” one said, “Marie who gathers what?”

“No, no,” another said. “Merry Christmas! It says, Merry Christmas! You have to say it out loud.”

Pretty soon, they were all shouting, “More! More!” and answering my riddles. They loved it when I wrote “Guy vomit sous mon nez” (literally: Guy vomits under my nose), which sounds like, “give me some money.” And they especially liked “Ame coquine” (literally: flirtatious soul), which sounds like, “I’m cooking.” Seems that distraction therapy wins, after all.

Too bad I didn’t think of that before someone farted.

Most Embarrassing English Class Moments

2008-11-29T09:09:00.000-08:00

Today I worked with one of the other English teachers, and he had me read a series of diary entries from a young Irish immigrant girl named Shannon Ryan. The students in the class are sophomores, so they struggled to understand the text when I read aloud.

The text began: "March 2, 1892. My name is Shannon Ryan, and I'll be sixteen next May..." It then continued on to say that her father had recently died and she was going to American on the HMS Shamrock, hoping to find work, but that she would be heartbroken to "kiss Ma goodbye."

The teacher then asked a series of questions about what the students understood in the text. Apparently, they had more difficulties than either the teacher or I had anticipated. Here are some of the more, ummm...entertaining...answers:

PROF: What will Shannon Ryan do before she leaves for America?
STUDENT A: She'll do Mardi Gras?
PROF: Mardi Gras? How did you get Mardi Gras? Sarah, will you read the passage again?
ME: "I dread having to kiss Ma goodbye."
PROF: Ma goodbye. Not Mardi Gras.

PROF: Where is Shannon Ryan when she leaves for America?
STUDENT B: At the airport!
PROF: It's 1892!

PROF: What's the name of the ship?
STUDENT C: The Titanic!
ME: It's 1892!!

But it's not only the students who embarrass themselves; it's also the teachers (*ahem, me*). Nothing has been as bad as Tuesday's nightmare class session. I was with the same teacher, and he was starting a unit on art throughout history. Now, I've always been bad at art -- always. I enrolled in an Art History class in college, hoping that I might improve, but if anything, I've become worse because I now have too many names and time periods to remember. But still, that does not excuse what I said on Tuesday.

First, the teacher showed an ancient South American sculpture, and I was able to quasi-identify it. Then he showed a picture of a Renaissance painting, and I was able to talk about it intelligently (it's the awe-inspiring command I have over the English language). Then he showed a picture of the Mona Lisa. Oh man, I thought, if these students don't know what this is, they're in trouble!

Pride goes before what again?

"And Sarah, who painted this picture?" The teacher asked me. An all too easy answer, but I couldn't believe the words that actually came out of my mouth: "Van Gogh." What did I just say?

"What did you just say?" The teacher asked me.

"Well, I said Van Gogh..." The students were starting to giggle.

"Wait," the professor said. "How do you pronounce it?"

"Van Gogh. How do you pronounce it?"

"Da Vinci." Oops.

The whole class was giving me this awkward look, like I'd just said with absolute confidence that I was afraid of falling off the face of the earth.

At the end of the lesson, the teacher recapped everything that the students had learned during the session. He put up the picture of the Mona Lisa, and asked his students, "Sarah said something wrong about this picture. What did she say?" (*insert long, exhaustive sigh here*)

The mocking didn't end there, but carried on after class and into the teachers' lounge. Even the teachers giggled, and I stopped defending myself. How can one defend a moment of total mental vacancy? Of course, I knew it was Leonardo da Vinci! I knew that. I've seen the darned thing! Oh well. Life goes on.

At least I didn't say it was Leonardo DiCaprio.

Let Them Play Pictionary!

2008-11-27T08:04:00.001-08:00

Ever since the elections have been over, I have struggled to find something “fun” for my students to do in class. My main struggle? Getting them to speak English instead of French. Since the juniors and seniors have an oral exam at the end of the year, I have been trying to imitate what the exam will look like. Because the exam will either have a picture or a written document, I usually bring in either a cartoon or an interesting newspaper article, and we discuss it as they would during the exam. Seems like a novel idea, except for the fact that they tend to drift back to French after the first sentence or two. And that would be fine, I suppose, if the exam were in French. But it’s not.

Despite my attempts to tell them that they will not pass the exam if they only speak in French (and, if they don’t pass, they may be held back a year), they still continue to avoid English as much as possible. This frustrated me, so I decided that I needed to give them a break and do something fun.

Hence the introduction of Pictionary into the classroom.

I chose words that they would know but that would be funny to see them draw – words like, “sports car,” “lion,” “dinosaur,” “ear,” and “sunglasses.” Sure enough, the game was a hit. The first class that played was standing on top of chairs and desks within a matter of minutes, yelling the words in English so loud that I worried another teacher would come in and tell us all to settle down.

Of course, the competing teams would yell at each other in French (“That’s not what that is!” “Look! We’re ahead of you!”), but their answers were all in English. I had finally succeeded in a) getting them to speak (mostly) in English, and b) getting them to have fun in class.

Next, I’m going to try Family Feud, and see how that works out. Then maybe Scattergories.

When France Feels Like a Third-World Country

2008-11-27T08:02:00.000-08:00

First of all, my apologies to anyone who is French and happens to be reading this…

If there is one thing that I despise about France, it is dealing with anything bureaucratic. To put it lightly, they are slow and inefficient with any sort of paperwork. And that is putting it lightly.

One of the requirements of my stay in France is that I obtain a carte de séjour, a long-term visa that allows me to stay in the country for a period longer than six months (which kinda stinks for me because I’m only staying 7 months, but oh well). I must go to the Prefecture to get this done, and it is usually a long and grueling process.

The initial problem comes because there are only 30 tickets granted per day for “foreigners” (read: anyone outside of the EU) and the office is only open Monday to Thursday, from 9-12. Since there are a surprising amount of non-European citizens living in Perpignan (most of which come from Morocco, Algeria, or Tunisia), there are always many people who need to go to the Prefecture each day. The lines are long and filled with people from every corner of the world: the Americas, Asia, Africa, and “Arabia” as the French call it.

I have now been to the Prefecture five times – only once with success. Every other time, I have waited and waited and waited, only to find out that the 30 tickets have already been used up, and that I’ll have to come back another day.

The problem comes on days like today, when the air is so biting cold that even a few minutes outside is hazardous. I bundled up and arrived early, around 7:50 (remember that it opens at 9 am), only to find an already long, long line of people. I saw elderly women in winter coats and felt hats sniffling and coughing in the cold wind. I saw shivering young mothers taking their scarves off to wrap yet another layer around their babies. A woman in front of me told me in French that she was worried about being outside for so long. We were all cold and waiting for the doors to open. Outrageous.

The woman in front of me said that there were people waiting in line who had been there since 6 am. They had already been waiting for two hours in the cold, and had another hour to go! “They can’t do this to us,” she told me, and pulled out a Kleenex. “It isn’t right. We’re all going to get sick or worse.”

I knew that I was already too late to get one of the 30 tickets, but I decided to wait anyway – just in case I got a chance. I hung around and talked to a man next to me who said he was Persian. He told me an incredible story about being in the Air Force in his home country and being kicked out for “dissenting” from the state religion (“more of a philosophy than a religion,” he told me). He then asked if I was a political refugee, and I said no, that I am a language assistant from the States. “Then what are you doing here?” He asked me. “You’re American; the world belongs to you.”

He then continued his story: how he was an interior decorator – an artist, really – and fluent in Persian, French, English, Greek, and Turkish so he could communicate with international vendors in his trade. He was in France because of he was no longer allowed in his home country. “And if I go back, I’m dead,” he said. “The government doesn’t allow dissenters.”

Everyone waiting in that line had a story. Some were from former French colonies, applying for French citizenship. Some were renewing a visa to allow them to stay in France. Some were begging the government to be allowed to stay. And some, like me, are blessed beyond words.

I waited until 8:30, till I could no longer feel my toes and my ears, and I had money in my wallet that wanted to be spent on a hot cup of coffee in a warm café nearby. I had only waited for thirty or forty minutes – certainly not three hours like some of the others. I’ll get up early another day and put on a second pair of socks and another sweater. After all, I have till January to get my visa, so I can wait. And even then, I’m sure I could get by better than the others waiting in line.

Because I’m American, and the world belongs to me. Or something.

New Videos! New Pictures soon to come!

2008-11-18T08:37:00.000-08:00

I have added several new videos to my You Tube page. Go check them out!

http://www.youtube.com/user/leenielouwho

At http://www.flickr.com my user name is sarah.gallup

I have more pictures to add, but I will get to those later. As always, you may email me directly if you'd like a copy of anything or if you'd like me to address something in particular in my blogs: sgallup@pacificu.edu

By Request: A Day in the Life of Lycée Aristide Maillol

2008-11-18T07:17:00.000-08:00

A view of the Pyrenees from my school.

Apparently, the fame of my blog has been spreading, and it’s being translated into 19 different languages (just kidding). But, by my readers’ request, here is an insight into the more pedagogical aspects of my time abroad. And here, I thought you all just wanted to know the differences between the American and French versions of McDonald’s. Seriously, what kind of Americans are you?

To respond to one of my earlier posts about peer pressure in France, I must say that there is (of course) more than that one difference between American and French students. For starters, the French education system is nearly impossible to understand. Instead of the basic four-year, get all your requirements out of the way, and play sports on the side mentality that we have in the States, for French students, school is genuinely hard work – much like the American university system. They must choose their “track,” whether it is “S” (Sciences), “ES” (Economics, Business, and Social Sciences), or “L” (Language, Literature, Humanities).

From there, they spend their four years working towards the difficult Baccalauréat (the BAC) exam that is a week-long intensive exam of every subject they have taken. Yikes. Some fail and have to re-take their senior year (called a “belle année,” or beautiful year…heh). If they pass that exam, they have several choices: a) leaving school and getting a job; b) going to the university; c) staying at the high school and getting their BTS degree (not really sure what an American equivalent would be – it’s higher than an AA/AS degree, but…different somehow); d) staying at the high school and working towards entering the Grandes Ecoles (we don’t have an equivalent, but it’s a specialized school for certain subjects that was started by Napoleon).

The students I am teaching are the equivalent of high school sophomores, juniors, seniors, and I do have some of the BTS students who have already passed the BAC. They are students from all tracks; some are studying science, many are studying business, and (sadly) few are studying in the humanities.

In a typical class session, I take half of a regular class. I’ll have anywhere between six and sixteen rambunctious high school kids for about 45 minutes. Luckily, I don’t have to grade anything that they produce, so my job is just to have fun with them and get them speaking English.

For the older students who are working towards the BAC, I am more serious. I’ll bring in documents similar to what they will have on their exam at the end of the year, and we work with it just as they will for the test. Not as much fun, but they are serious students and take it seriously.

For the younger students, I typically share cultural aspects with them. Since, like most teenagers, they love music, I’ll bring in lyrics to songs. We’ll go through the lyrics line-by-line so that they understand what is going on, and then I play the song at the end. They really like that activity.

Other times, I’ll bring in fun news articles I find. I found one on a soup kitchen that opened for dogs in Germany, and we read that as a class and discussed it. I think they had fun talking about how silly a soup kitchen for dogs was during a time of financial difficulty. Each class that worked with that article spent the hour with crinkled up foreheads, and saying “Je ne comprends pas…” (I just don’t understand).

One of my favorite activities began as an impromptu idea. I have pictures with me of Oregon and the Pacific Northwest, so I handed out a picture to each student with the instruction not to let anyone else see it. They then had five minutes or so to write sentences describing the picture. Then, when they were finished, they stood up and read their sentences one by one. After each sentence, the class had to draw what was said. We’d then share our pictures (I’m a lousy artist, which makes them feel better) and laugh and giggle. It turns out to be a lot of fun!

So that’s a brief idea of what I have been doing in the classroom and the history that the students bring to each class session. They are really a fun set of kids, but they have an incredible responsibility regarding their studies that is hard for Americans to understand. Suffice it to say that I’m glad I didn’t have to go through it, and I applaud them for the diligent work they do every day.

The Elections...à la française

2008-11-04T06:50:00.000-08:00

In the time that I have been in France, obviously the most important subject matter has been today's elections. Everyone I have met has asked me my opinion, and who I think will win (as if I have some supernatural ability to discern the future). That question is usually answered by me with another question: "You mean, who do I WANT to win?"

I've also heard students, from middle school to high school, discuss the elections in their classes. Some of their ideas of today's elections, as well as American politics in general, have made me giggle. Some excerpts from what I have heard (complete with French pronunciation). My apologies to any of my students who might be reading:

"The job of the president of the US is hard. The president is in charge of the Army, Navy, and Hair Force."

"I take 270 electoral votes to be elected president."

Me: In which country does a person need to be born to be President of the USA?"
Student: Washington, D.C.?
Me: No. In which country?
Student: Virginia?
Me: *sigh*

"I don't know anything about John McCain, but that's okay. Obama will win anyway. But it doesn't matter. Nothing will change anyway."

And my favorite: "PAS DE FRITES DE MCCAIN! PAS DE FRITES DE MCCAIN!!" (No McCain Fries, No McCain Fries!) = apparently, there is a brand of French fries in Europe called "McCain." Match that with the whole "Freedom Fries" thing, and...yeah. Oy.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly...minus the Eastwood

2008-10-27T07:53:00.000-07:00

Living in the south of France certainly has its incredible benefits. Yesterday, my new friend Gabrielle and I went to the beach and just sat next to the water for hours, making fun of French men wearing Speedos and watching little French children playing in the sea. I still can't get over how beautiful the weather is; even at the end of October, the sun is shining brightly, it's an easy 80 degrees outside, and there is a light wind. It definitely feels like fall, but it's warm! That is lovely.

The bad part of living in France is the inconveniences that come up unannounced. Yesterday, Gabrielle and I were waiting for a bus for an hour that never came. We had practically given up on it, thinking it was some sort of French conspiracy against us, when we learned that yesterday was the end of Daylights Savings Time in France. Guess we didn't get the memo. No one told either of us! You'd think, at least, that our teachers would tell us so that we'd come to class on time. Oh, but wait...it's vacation. Their minds are checked out, just like their students' are.

But the worst part of living in France is the lack of respect for certain groups. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but there are ingrained cultural aspects that I cannot seem to forgive. There seems to be an overall lack of respect for people in positions of authority. France, for example, is the only place where I have seen an ambulance stuck in traffic. I mean, seriously, people...in what universe is that okay?

There is an overwhelming lack of respect for teachers. In class, students sometimes "tutoie" their teachers (using the informal "you" rather than the formal "you" -- a concept that is hard to grasp for Anglophones), which used to be seen as unacceptable. It still is, but sometimes they don't care. They don't stop talking, even after a teacher has yelled at and threatened them -- and even when they are taking a test.

But what gets me the most is how women are treated. When walking down the street, I have had the most vulgar things said to me. I have no fear about anything happening to me, but men take advantage of harassing women when they feel like it. I mentioned this to one of the English professors at my school, and he said that men (sometimes Frenchmen, but more often, men of Arab descent) won't respect women, but they'll respect the man behind a woman. So he advised me to say that I'm married and wear a ring on my left hand. Heh. I'm not quite used to that.

So, in light of all this, I want to say a big THANK YOU to all the men in my life who have ever held a door open for me, walked me home late at night, paid for a meal, driven me somewhere, given me flowers, given me a hug, laughed with me, encouraged me, or challenged me to become a better thinker, learner, scholar, or person. You did this not because you had to (I can take care of myself, thankyouverymuch), but because you have respect for me as a woman, a friend, and a human being. And I appreciate that more than you know -- especially because I don't have it here.

Seriously...where is Clint Eastwood when I need him??

Just FYI: Pictures and Videos Posted

2008-10-23T11:26:00.001-07:00

I am busy creating a space to post my pictures and videos that I have taken. If you go to http://www.youtube.com and search for videos under my name, leenielouwho, you will find several videos that I have posted online of my travels thus far and of my dorm room.

I am also working on a space on http://www.flickr.com My name there is sarah.gallup, and as you can tell by my sideways pictures, I'm still trying to figure things out on that site. But feel free to check out what I have already posted! I hope to get more online soon!

D & G or not D & G...That is the Real Question Here

2008-10-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

One of the questions that my students like to ask me is “what are some of the differences between American and French high schools?” An excellent question. I usually lie, though, offering an answer along the lines of, “well, in the States, we don’t have that awful BAC exam at the end of our four years of high school.” While that is true, I don’t see that as the primary difference between the two cultures. I don’t dare tell them that the main difference is openly evident: peer pressure.

In the States, we throw around the phrase “peer pressure” so often that it becomes this unbearable cliché that is inevitably linked to smoking or drugs or sex. But I don’t think our culture understands the extent to which French high school students are exposed to peer pressure. Their form reaches beyond smoking and drugs and sex, and into the realms of classroom performance, fashion sense, and even spending money. In short, the French version of “peer pressure” is expensive. Period.

Because it is the fashion capital of the world, France and its people is inextricably linked to dressing well. But more than that is the pressure to wear designer-label clothes, shoes, and glasses. I have yet to pass a spectacle-wearing French person whose frames didn’t read (in large letters, mind you), “Prada,” “Diesel,” “Armani,” or “D &G” (for Dolce and Gabbana). At school, I see teenagers wearing these same designer clothes. There is the boy who wears his black “Prada” shirt several times a week. Or the girl I saw yesterday wearing Christian Louboutin stilettos. When was the last time you saw an American teenager wearing $1,000 dollar shoes? I mean, seriously. Designer-label clothing isn’t a splurge; it’s a must. If the name isn’t clearly displayed, then obviously you don’t have the money (or the fashion sense) to afford the “cool clothes.”

This pressure often transfers into other aspects of my students’ lives. They are encouraged by their classmates to act out in class, each one of them trying to outdo themselves by being annoying. This, as I’m sure you can imagine, turns out to be great fun for teachers (ahem, me). Never in my life have I seen such unruly kids in a classroom. They are genuinely good kids, and I love talking to them after class, but class time is usually terrible. Augh. I leave class, wondering if they got anything at all from the lesson, and then a girl will come up to me and say, “thank you, Sarah. Can I ask you some questions about x or y that you said in class?” So at least I know they are paying attention. And I love talking to them.

As long as they are wearing Dolce and Gabbana.

And the Award for the Most Exotic Teacher goes to....Me?

2008-10-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

I've never thought of myself as "exotic." Far from, in fact. I'm more likely to compare myself to "Sarah, Plain and Tall" than Sarah Palin. Growing up in Dallas, Oregon, doesn't exactly rate high on the list of "Cool Places to Say You've Lived." And yet, somehow, I've suddenly found myself as the "cool" one -- the person who has not only been to the United States, but who has actually lived there. On top of that, I speak English, meaning that I can understand the obnoxious music being played in every French store and watch American films in their original language. AND, to top it all off, I have actually been to Hollywood and seen Grauman's Chinese Theatre. That right there makes me the coolest person on the planet in the eyes of my French students.

From the "oohs" and "aaahs" they elicit when they hear me easily speak my native language, one might think that I am one of the celebrities they claim I know so well. "You are from the United States," they say. "Don't you know Fifty Cent? Don't you love his music?" (*insert gagging noise here*)

I was beginning to think that I was completely and totally alone here at my school -- that only the English professors knew my name, and I was doomed to walk around the campus as "that weird girl wearing flip-flops outside." After teaching a half a dozen classes already, I am starting to recognize faces, and I wave to students I know. Still, nothing prepared me for the initiation of the post-lunch Sarah Gallup Fan Club.

It started with the 10th grade boy from one of my classes the day before. Yesterday, he asked me how old I was ("'ow ould aaah yoo?"), and then quickly added, "Yoo aaah veddy bee-oo-tiful!" (*insert uncontrollable blushing here*). When I saw him in the hall today, I heard him say, "It's Sarah, the American!" Then he gave me a little shy smile and a wave, so I waved back and winked at him. Hee hee.

I walked past the boy, and into the next hallway, where a girl I recognized said, "Hello, Madame." I waved hi, and walked past her, where another girl said, "Hi, Sarah!" That was followed by, "It's Sarah!!" That remark made the rest of the hall turn their heads and look at me as I walked by. Lined on both sides of the hallway, the students broke out in cries of, "Helloooo, Sarah Gallup!!" "It's Sarah Gallup!!!" "Helloooooo!" "Sarah, hi! Hi, Sarah, hello!!" I felt not unlike a movie star basking in the glow of her fans.

It's funny, too, because it's my students that I see as exotic. I mean, seriously, to an American growing up in the boondocks of Oregon, anyone who speaks French, lives along the Mediterranean, and has fashion and style embedded into their genes is the one who is exotic -- not me! But here it is the contrary. I tell my stories about men in cowboy hats in Central Oregon, who talk on their cell phones as they ride a horse into town, and I watch as their eyes widen in disbelief. I tell them that I have been to Beverly Hills and, although I cannot recall seeing any movie stars, that's where many of them live.

They seem confused by the fact that I don't listen to rap or eat at McDonald's. They don't understand why I don't own a gun (because apparently, all Americans are supposed to own one) or why I don't hang out in East Harlem. They are surprised that I have never been to New York, but most of them have never even been to Paris!! I consider that a weekend trip (and am doing so this weekend, in fact).

I didn't expect to be this "famous" in Perpignan, as the token American in their school. But I'll certainly take advantage of it, and bask in its glory...as long as no paparazzi show up.

"Do you know Brad Pitt?" "Do you have a boyfriend?" and other questions I will be asked daily from here on out

2008-10-09T08:00:00.001-07:00

Today was my first day of teaching, and I worked with two English classes. The students spent a few minutes writing down questions they had about me, and the rest of the class time was spent with them asking me those questions. Funny thing was, many of the questions I had already anticipated. They have odd misconceptions about the States -- heightened, of course, by Hollywood and the media in general. Rather than ask about my family (or even the upcoming elections!!), they asked questions like these:

- Do you know Brad Pitt?
- Do you now Chris Brown or Rihanna?
- Do you know Maroon 5?
- Have you ever been to a famous concert? (still not sure what that means -- does the Point of Grace concert I went to count??)
- Do you loooooove Los Angeles? (Answer: NO)
- Do you watch One Tree Hill? (That one made me giggle)
- Do you watch Grey's Anatomy?
- Do you have a boyfriend? (No, then) What's your phone number?

Sigh. It will be an interesting year. I hope that we will all benefit from it.

Fire in the Hole!...I mean, in the 15th century home

2008-10-07T05:05:00.000-07:00

Today has given me something to talk about for weeks to come, at least. I was on my way into town to go to the Préfécture (can't think of an English equivalent), where I would get my card to stay in France. While on the bus, I noticed dark smoke in the distance. When we turned the corner, I saw a LOT of smoke coming out from behind the Castillet, one of the historic landmarks in Perpignan. There were firetrucks everywhere, and police officers and fire fighters blocking off streets. I'll admit that I feared it was the Castillet burning down, but silently hoped (as horrible as it sounds) that it was the Préfécture, so I could delay getting my carte de séjour for a while longer.

According to Le Figaro online, the fire started early this morning, around 5 am, in the perfum shop on the first floor of an apartment complex. The buildings in this part of town date back to the Middle Ages (I'd like Natasha to note that I didn't say "the Dark Ages") and are located in the oldest part of the town. Thus, any type of fire in them (and in a perfum shop, nonetheless!) is disastrous. The people living above the perfume shop were evacuated, but the fire was really, really bad. According to the report, one firefighter is in critical condition in the local hospital and another has been treated for smoke intoxication.

When I arrived at the fire, I noticed that it was next door to the Préfécture. Two police officers were blocking off the road where I needed to be. When I told them where I was going, I was surprised that they let me pass. There were already about 30+ people in line for the Préfécture that morning, and we were all standing next to the burning building. I couldn't believe it! The smoke was right over all of us, shielded only by the side of the old building. There was ash falling around us, and our shoes were getting soaked by the water coming from the firefighters' hoses. Frankly, I still can't believe they let us get that close! Later, there were journalists who showed up, asking questions and taking pictures.

The Préfécture opened late today because of the fire, and by the time we got in, I felt like I was in a refugee camp. A line of about 60 at least had formed (all different nationalities, of course), and we were all a little wet, grouchy, and tired. Babies were crying, old women were coughing, and young men were demanding to get in to the Préfécture. When I got up to the gate, a policeman blocked my entry and said, "pas d'étrangers!" (No foreigners) He let a few French people in to get their drivers' licenses renewed, but I stood outside, still getting a little wet from the hoses. That was, perhaps, the first time I felt discriminated against.

Don't worry, though; I finally got let in, dried off, and waited...for four more hours. But I left with the documents I had come for. And a good story of the Fire of the Year.

I'd like to thank the Academy, and, surprisingly, McDonald's

2008-10-06T06:33:00.001-07:00

It's true that McDonald's is the true American Embassy. With familiar food, free bathrooms, and free internet, it is a little piece of home. Still, even though there is one right across from the high school where I am teaching, I only come here for the internet (I don't have WiFi yet installed in my room). It's funny, though, to see rail-thin women both working at and buying food from McDonald's (called Macdo here). For all the hoopla that France has made about McDonald's taking over their country, I must admit that it is much more healthy than our American version. They have smaller portions, much more fruit to choose from, strawberry milkshakes that actually taste like strawberries, unsalted fries, and fresh salads. Amazing. Still, I am only here for the internet.

Thanks to Macdo, I was able to reconnect myself with civilization. I now have Skype, for those of you who also have it. My Skype name is sarah.e.gallup, so please feel free to give me a "call"!!

If you would like my address or phone number here in France, please send me an email at sgallup@pacificu.edu, and I will happily give it to you! Hope to hear from you soon!

Fitted Sheets, 3-prong outlets, and other things from home I already miss

2008-09-29T04:16:00.000-07:00

Just a quick list of things I jotted down yesterday while walking around town:

I almost forgot how much I LOVE:
- French food in general
- unpasteurized goat cheese
- aisles of yogurt and chocolate at the grocery store (really, itùs unfathomable!)
- open-air markets (fresh and good for you!)
- walking everywhere
- the train system (especially the TGV) (love, love, love!!!)
- the way people dress (so classy!)
- Carte d'Or caramel ice cream (*droooooool*)
- LU cookies (you can buy them in the States, too)
- old Renault cars (so cute and stereotypical)
- the French countryside (so calm)

New things to love:
- wind energy (this area relies primarily on wind energy; it is so efficient! Love it!)
- Palm trees and sunshine
- being close to the beach
- Rousquilles fondantes de Roussillion (like powdered donuts, but much, much better!)

Then again, there are things that I would have rather forgotten. Things that I DON'T love:
- doggie doo on every corner
- porn shops on every corner
- dirty, smelly streets (sometimes I wonder if I'm not in a third-world country!)
- no recycling
- beggars everywhere in the center of town (they are never violent, but can really get in your face)
- Sundays (everything is closed; it's like a ghost town!)
- "me first" attitude (a kindly-looking older gentleman stormed in front of me at the grocery store the other day. I couldn't believe it!)
- everything is expensive (yikes!!)
- anything bureaucratic (and therefore complicated and slow)
- graffiti everywhere
- round pillows (they give me a headache)

New things to hate:
- the alarm system at my school (it woke me up at 7 am this morning)
- foot pain
- weekends at my school (everyone leaves)
- no WiFi in my room (yet)
- having to use a converter
- no kitchen in my room (I would like to be able to cook. *sigh*)

So there is my list of things I love and hate about France. HOPEFULLY, I will be able to upload pictures, at least, so you can see my town. Maybe that will inspire you to come visit me! :)

A très bientot!

Dorm Sweet Dorm: Enfin à Perpignan!

2008-09-29T04:05:00.000-07:00

(First of all, I want to apologize in advance for what could be a post full of errors. I am typing on a European keyboard, and it is a bit different from the ones back home. So bear with me...)

On Friday, I took the slooooow train from Paris Austerlitz to Perpignan. NINE HOURS LATER, I pulled into the station that I will get to know very well this year. Because I arrived at night, I wasn't able to see the city at all, so on Saturday, I got a nice tour of the ville. It really is a very pretty city (I think), with palm trees all over and a nice mixture of very Parisian- and very Catalan-influenced buildings. The Parisian buildings are large and square, with ornate window decorations and long, lean windows themselves; the Catalan buildings are narrow and tall, painted in bright yellows, oranges, and reds, with red and blue shutters. It's quite a striking contrast.

In the middle of town, there is a canal that is really quite something else. It is set below the city streets, and has gardens surrounding it on either side. Palm trees line the canals through the center of town. I can't wait to show you pictures!

My school is nice, too. Right now, I have a lot of bureaucratic issues to take care of; today, I've already jumped through more than a few hoops to get keys fixed, get a food card, etc. Later on, I have to *gulp* open a bank account. Le pire (the worst), as we would say in French.

The people here are very nice. I have a nice little room where I get to stay for free -- I don't yet know if I'll stay there all year or not. I have the option of moving into the apartment across town; yesterday, I got to see the area, and it is beautiful! There is a nice, family-oriented park at the end of the road that is lined with palm trees. So we'll see about that.

This afternoon, after I open my bank account, one of the English professors (who is British) is going to take me to Canet-Plage, the nearest Mediterranean beach. Should be fun!

Bienvenue à Paris!

2008-09-22T02:35:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it! I had a very easy, very quick plane ride from Portland (even got some sleep!), and made a few friends along the way. Right now, I am sitting at one of the Starbucks in Paris, waiting for one of the other Fulbright girls to show up. I am so glad to meet someone before orientation begins.

But first, a bit of some true-to-France information: when I got off the plane in Paris, I went over to one of the buses to take me into town, bought a ticket, and waited. Then the guy in front of me says, "Y a des grèves aujourd'hui" (there are strikes going on today). Oh great, I thought. And hello back to you, Paris! So it was a slow trip into Paris, since most of the trains and buses were on strike (and thus everyone was driving their car). But I am here, I am wide awake (thank you, Starbucks), and I really, really miss my cell phone. I am a little too dependent on certain technologies!

After I meet up with the other Fulbright girl, I plan on checking in to my hotel, freshening up a bit (because I am sure that I look looovely after a long flight!), and then getting some things in order before orientation begins tomorrow.

One last thing: I guess I had forgotten (or willed myself to forget) how expensive everything is in Paris! From the 15 Euro bus ticket to the 10 Euro locker rental in Montparnasse to the 3 Euro shotglass of coffee at Starbucks, I can already feel my bank account screaming at me! Luckily, I have everything (and more!) that I could need, so all I must buy for now is food and some other essentials. Well. I say that now...

Waiting at the Airport!

2008-09-21T08:08:00.000-07:00

Well, I am now waiting at the Portland airport for my flight to Philadelphia (then to Paris). I can hardly believe that this day has come already -- it sure got here quickly! I'll get into Charles-de-Gaulle around 11 pm (Pacific Time)/8 am (Paris Time) tonight. It's strange to think that in just a few hours I will be hearing more French than English. I haven't quite prepared my mind for that.

We are boarding! More later when I arrive in Paris!

Thanksgiving in September

2008-09-15T11:48:00.000-07:00

Hotel des Invalides

Paris,
France

With only six days left until I leave, I have been keeping busy with things to do: packing, cleaning out my room, giving stuff away, throwing stuff out, and saying good-byes (or rather, "see you laters") that I would just rather not say at all.

But one thing has me very excited: I am having Thanksgiving this Saturday! Yes, that is right: Thanksgiving. My mother asked what one thing I wanted to do before I leave, and I decided that I wanted to have a big dinner, with family and friends over, in order to say good-bye to them all at once. And I added to that when I decided to make that a Thanksgiving dinner, since I won't be here in November to celebrate (and I'll probably be teaching that day, too!). So, on the menu is the traditional turkey, stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, etc. etc etc -- but with the added bonus of having it earlier in the year, and with family and friends who ordinarily wouldn't be able to come! I am certainly looking forward to it!!

Here are the details of the week to come:

Sunday, September 21: Leave for Paris (Portland --> Philadelphia --> Paris) at 9 am.

Monday, September 22: Arrive in Paris

Tuesday, September 23: Begin orientation in Paris

Wednesday, Sept. 24: Attend party for the 60th Anniversary of the Franco-American Education Commission at the Hotel des Invalides (the big, gold-domed building where Napoleon is buried)

Friday, September 26: Take the train to Perpignan

I am very excited to leave, but also getting nervous. I still have a lot of things to do, and I am quickly running out of time! But I am certainly looking forward to the adventures that are yet to come.

And, of course, the Thanksgiving dinner.

Two Weeks Left!

2008-09-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

(<-- Yes, this is Perpignan! Please feel free to drool)

The countdown is on: I have two weeks left until I leave for France! Part of me is oh-so-excited; part of me knows that reality hasn't quite settled in. And in either case, I definitely haven't started packing...

Today at my store, something unbelievably coincidental happened: a lady came in, and I talked to her for a minute, noticing her strong British accent. I asked where she was from, and she said, "France" (I was convinced she was English!). We began speaking in French, and she told me that she was from Lyons, in eastern France. I told her that I was moving to France in two weeks, to Perpignan. "C'est pas vrai!" (No way!) She said. She is going to Perpignan next week! It was totally bizarre. So we started talking about the town (still in French, mind you) and her impressions of it. What fun to be able to talk to someone who has been there and who knows the culture. She warned me of the strong southern accents. "You won't understand them at first," she warned me. "Or at least I don't." Great. But the best part was that she told me my accent was perfect -- that I didn't sound American at all, but close to a true Poitevin (someone from the Poitiers region). Awesome.

With the limited time I have left, I've started making a list of all the things I am looking forward to when I arrive in France. I thought I would share some of them with you:

- Going to FNAC (my favorite store in France; like a Virgin Megastore meets Best Buy meets Borders)

- Taking a train everywhere and not having to drive (yay, Carte 12-25!)

- Carte d'Or caramel ice cream (oh, if only you knew...)

- Red wine. Oh, the red wine!

- Saturday markets (so wonderful and cheap -- I love it all, except for the skinned rabbits)

- The relaxed culture, so laid-back and at ease (it's great until you need something done RIGHT NOW)

- The food. Oh my. Meat with fruit. Exquisite desserts. Delectable pastries. Fois gras (yeah, I'm inhumane like that). Bread. Cheese. Wine. Have I mentioned the wine? (Need I go on?)

- My apartment. Granted, I won't be moving in until late October, but that won't stop me from being excited. I can't wait to be there! It looks soooooo cute!

As you can tell, I am really looking forward to going back "home." I will keep you updated as the time gets closer! And if you are interested in coming to visit, please let me know! I'd love to have visitors.

Visa Application Completed!

2008-08-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

One of the requirements for teaching abroad is getting a long-term visa. I will admit that I was pretty nervous about this, because the French Consulate is very specific about what documents they require and how everything is to be filled out. Worst of all, I had to go down to San Francisco in person to get my visa - a $300 dollar trip for what I thought would be a 15-minute meeting.

The good news is that my mother came with me, and we stayed with my great-aunt in San Jose. So we turned our trip into a mini-family reunion. That part was so much fun. I am so glad that we went and visited her.

As for the meeting at the French Consulate in SF, it went well, too. I thought I would be the only one with an 11 am meeting, but no...there were about five of us. That meant that I got to wait in line for almost a half an hour before anyone would see me. I had way more paperwork than I needed, but I had it all organized, so I was able to give them just what they needed. My application was approved faster than everyone else's in line (thanks to my obsessive double-checking of required documents!!), and all I had to do was wait. And wait. And wait.

Over an hour later, my passport was returned to me with my visa in it. Yay! They say that this is valid for three months after I enter France, but in a way, it'll only last me one month, as I'll need to apply for a carte de séjour during my first week in France. That won't be easy, since I'll be in Paris for the first four or five days of my stay. But it'll get done. I know it will.

In the meantime, the countdown begins: I leave one month from today!

Making Time for Vacations

2008-07-01T18:31:00.000-07:00

I haven't arrived in France, and already I am planning vacations. My last "brown package" (as my mother calls them) from the Fulbright had my official, stamped contract from the Ministère de l'Education Nationale de Montpellier. In it, I learned that my lycée was part of Zone A for vacations. (France, you may know, is split into three "zones" and are on completely different vacation schedules; this works out quite well) So, here are my vacation times (if you'd like to come visit):

Vacances de Toussaint: Saturday, October 25 - Thursday, November 6
Vacances de Noel: Saturday, December 23 - Monday, January 5
Vacances d'Hiver: Saturday, February 7 - Monday, February 23
Vacances de Printemps: Saturday, April 4 - Monday, April 20

Yes, the French really know how to vacation!! So, here are some ideas for trips that I am thinking of already:

Trip Idea #1: Basque Country
- Toulouse – Lourdes – Pau – Biarritz – Bayonne

Trip Idea #2: Absolute Mediterranean Paradise
- Aix-en-Provence – St. Tropez – Nice – Corsica

Trip Idea #3: Going North
- Paris – Brussels – Bruges – Luxembourg

Trip Idea #4: Return to the Familiar
- Bordeaux – Poitiers – Futuroscope – La Rochelle – Ile de Re

Other places I'd like to visit:

Eastern France: Colmar, Dijon, Lyon, Grenoble

Outside of France (to the South and East): Andorra, Barcelona, Florence and Venice, Corsica, Greek Isles

Outside of France (to the North and East): Brussels and Bruges, Luxembourg, Switzerland, London (by Eurostar)

We'll see how many of these trips actually happen. Until then, I will have fun daydreaming!

So Much Uncertainty

2008-06-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

Right now, I feel very vulnerable about everything that relates to the Fulbright. There is still so much unknown, and I keep waiting to hear from somebody -- anybody! -- about what I do next. I remember before I went to Poitiers, I got so many handouts and how-tos and whatnot about every step of the process in getting to France.

Step One: Walk to the Post Office.
Step Two: Pick up a Passport application (if you do not know where it is, ask someone).
Step Three: Fill out Passport application.
Step Four: Send Passport application.

At least, that's what it felt like. Now, I have a feeling I will be on my own. It is MY responsibility to contact the French Embassy and find out what immunizations or medical examinations I need before leaving the country. It is MY responsibility to find out when Visa applications are due. And it is MY responsibility to set up a French bank account. Thankfully, I've done all these before...then again, that was almost five years ago. I've forgotten what I did to get my Visa, and I'm pretty sure I remember signing my life away to Crédit Agricole when I signed up for a checking account.

But the French Embassy? They aren't listed in the Corvallis Yellow Pages. Sure, I've called them before, but I was calling one specific person for one specific purpose (that purpose being returning her phone call). Now I don't know who to call! "Oui, bonjour. Is there, ummm...any medical tests I need to take before going to France?...Who do I talk to, then?...Oh, I need to call THAT number?...Got it." (*insert embarrassed look here*)

I like to be prepared about everything, and right now I just feel so unprepared that it's unnerving. I still have plenty of time to get everything done, but...I just want to know what I should be thinking about doing?

Is that really so much to ask?

Apartment (Not) For Rent

2008-06-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's too early to be looking for a place to live in Perpignan, but I simply cannot help myself. My list of Google searches is littered with bilingual phrases, like "apartments for rent in Perpignan," "louer une chambre perpignan," and "apartment rent perpignan -holiday -vacation." Apparently, to "rent an apartment" in British English is akin to finding a vacation rental for the summer. I don't want that.

I did find one place that, despite being a vacation rental, can also be rented out long-term. It's right in the center of town, nicely furnished, and has a terrace. I talked to the propriétaire (the landlord), and they would be willing to give me a discounted price for the 7 months that I would be there: intead of paying 4 weeks of rent per month, they would give me the 4th week for free. How very nice! But still, it would be 950 euros (almost $1,500 -- yikes!!) month. Granted, the Fulbright Commission would take care of most of that, but I don't want to blow my whole paycheck on my apartment! So I'll keep looking. Still, I thought I would include the link here, just so you could see (I'm looking at the "top floor" apartment):

http://myperpignan.com/Perpignan-accommodation.html

The thing is, I'm in love with the kitchen. But is the kitchen worth 950 euros a month??

Health Center To-Do List

2008-06-04T12:50:00.000-07:00

When I got the letter announcing that I had won the Fulbright, I was also sent a lengthy medical form to fill out within three weeks. Not thinking that I had a problem with the deadline, I waited a few days and then scheduled my appointment. Yesterday I met with a clinician on campus to talk about all the tests that had to be done in order for my paperwork to be sent in.

Then the lights went out.

That's right -- all the electricity on campus went out, and I wasn't able to get any of my tests done, except for a TB skin test. But the bad news is that one of my tests takes a bit longer than the rest for the results to come back. So I made a quick phone call to the French Embassy in Washington, D.C., and got the deadline for my medical results extended. Yay!

I remember having a bunch of tests before my last trip to France, but not nearly this many! I suppose that most of these examinations are for those who are going to malarial areas and places in the middle of nowhere.

Still, one thing is for sure: Fulbrighters must be pretty darn healthy!

Catalan For Beginners

2008-06-02T13:20:00.000-07:00

For the past few days, I have been googling Perpignan like mad. Maps, Google Earth, tourist websites, school websites -- I've pretty much seen them all. And one thing I have found is this: Perpignan is a bilingual city, speaking both French and Catalan. In fact, many of the students at the high school where I will teach speak Catalan.

This means that I get to learn a new language! Only this time, I am on my own. So, on Saturday I went up to Powell's and bought myself a "Teach Yourself Catalan" guide -- complete with a 2-disk CD set and a how-to book. So I'm learning. Only I'm limited to the basic conversation skills that remind me of my first year of high school. "Hola, bon dia! Com va? Bé, gràcies" and "Jo sóc la Sarah. Com es diu?"

For many people, I assume, it would seem like a hassle to have to learn a new language over a summer -- but for me, I am stoked! How fun will it be to come back to the States and say, "yeah, I'm fluent in both French and Catalan..." Nice.

The region of Catalonia itself (just FYI) extends from just south of Barcelona to just north of Perpignan, and is isolated along the coastline. It's apparently a beautiful area (the Spanish man I ran into at Powell's told me so). You just can't beat mountains and blue waters side by side. I cannot wait to go!

A City by any Other Name

2008-05-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

I got a package from Paris in the mail today. That's always exciting, of course, but when I opened this one, I just saw another "congratulations" from the commision d'echanges franco-americains and a bunch of forms to fill out. Sure, I got to find out my pay for the year and transportation reimbursements, but nothing too interesting, right?

Wrong.

As I was looking over the papers one final time, I realized that I had overlooked one important line: "Institution of Affiliation in France: Lycée Aristide Maillol, Perpignan." Perpignan?! That's the city I was hoping for! It's the city in SOUTHERN FRANCE!!!!! No Paris for me! Yippeeeeeeee!!!

Let me tell you a bit about Perpignan (pronounced "Pair-peen-yon"...kind of): not only is it in southern France, it's along the Mediterranean, and close to Andorra and Spain. I'll actually be (much) closer to Barcelona than I will be to Paris. Because of that, Perpignan has retained much of its Catalan culture (and language), so there are Spanish and Catalan festivals throughout the year.

There are about 120,000 people living in Perpignan proper; about 300,000 in the metropolitan area (thanks to Wikipedia for that convenient information). And, because I'm sure you're wondering about the weather (like I was!), it stays sunny most of the year in Perpignan, with some light rain and moderate winds from the Pyrenees in the winter.

I am excited to go Google the Lycée Aristide Maillol (high school) after I finish this post!! Of course, I will tell more about the school and the city as I get more information. For now, this is really exciting! I know where I will be next year!

http://www.bnbfinder.com/innImages/myperpignan_com_Perpignan_France_18201.jpg

(Copy + Paste the link above for a pretty picture of Perpignan; if you want to see where Perpignan is on the map, it is on the farthest southern point on the map below. As you can see, it is no where close to Poitiers, where I lived three years ago.)

The "Congratulations!" Letter

2008-05-26T15:04:00.000-07:00

Although I've never had a "formal" blog of my own before (unless MySpace counts), I am excited to begin this one. This is meant to serve as a space where family, friends, and (I hope) future Fulbrighters will be able to track my adventures in France from beginning to end. What I noticed when I first went to France was that I wanted as much information about the process I was going through and where I was going -- but I simply could not find it! This blog, I hope, will partially answer those questions for similarly-curious minds.

And thus the blog begins...

I found out on February 1st that I was being considered for a Fulbright, and that I would hear before mid-May. Most people, the notice told me, would hear in April. And so I waited. And waited. And waited.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love France, but they're slow. There's just no getting around that. So when mid-May passed, and I still hadn't heard from them, that's when I started to get worried. Then I got The Big Envelope (it's a good sign when you get that one; when I applied two years ago, I got the little envelope with the rejection letter...sad day), which began:

"Dear Miss Gallup, on behalf of the J. William Fulbright Foreign Scholarship Board, I am pleased to congratulate you on your selection for a Fulbright award to France..."

My roommates were there, and I'm sure they remember how loud I screamed after I saw that. Of course, I was excited!

But, like everything French, there are still many unknowns. For instance, I have no idea where I will be placed! And I have no idea when I find that out. Past Fulbrighters have been placed in the Parisian suburbs (gross!), in Paris proper (gross, but slightly less gross), and Perpignan (in southern France -- oh please, oh please, send me there!!!). Of course, I have been researching the cities like mad, but I still don't know if the Fulbright Commission chooses my location, or if I have any say in where I am placed.

Also, I have a REALLY long medical form to fill out in the next two weeks. I have to have a super-comprehensive medical exam. Seriously, why do I have to be checked for sickle cell anemia? I guess I'll know how healthy I am after all these tests!

That's a long entry to begin with. When I write, I'm long-winded -- be prepared for that. I'll keep you updated as soon as I can. I look forward to keeping in touch with you this way.

SG.