Friday, October 2, 2009
Où est la Bibliothèque?
I found the library!!! In case you can't tell, I'm thrilled. I love libraries. Also, now I have a place to access the Internet that's a little more peaceful than the teachers' room at school. The library here has a really impressive collection of CDs and films, which I'm also very excited about. The book selection (and graphic novels-- great for learners! France youth culture seems to be going through a major Japanophilic phase right now) will help give me a lot of much-needed practice. The building is really nice and new and cozy, and will be a great place to get away from the lyceé when things get crazy. And the people here are even nice! It's supposed to only be free for students (16 EUR subscription otherwise!) but they looked at my age and the fact that I live at a high school and gave it to me free anyhow. Thanks, very kind and grandmotherly quimpéroise librarian!
First Day of Work
Yesterday was my first day of work! I’m going to be obnoxious and cut straight to current time in order to catch up. Hopefully I’ll be able to go back and fill in the rest in time. This might not make a ton of sense without any context but hopefully it’ll eventually all come together. I was a bit nervewracked for my first day of classes. For the first period, it was pretty simple. The class was divided up into groups of three (sent in turns to see me in another classroom), and the topic was introductions. I would introduce myself, have them say their names and a fact about themselves, and then the floor would be open to any questions about me…or something. It went pretty well, and I was usually ready for the next group by the time the conversation really began to dry up. These kids were not very strong in English at all. For the next period, the teacher just left me in a room alone with about fifteen kids and told me to make them talk for an hour. These students were slightly better at English but damn, an hour? With no prep? Eventually I was really grasping: “so…foods? Does anyone like any specific ones? Your thoughts on foods and their relative merits are sought, particularly in mumbled, broken English.” The kids were very nice but may have thought I was an idiot. For the third class, most of my responsibilities were, thankfully, lessened and all I had to do was stand in front of the class while the teacher squeezed them for as many possible questions about me as possible. They must have thought I was either a serious egomaniac, or, once they heard my answers, really boring. Actually, in two different classes I was asked if I had seen any stars in New York. Also, most of the students were seriously perplexed that someone from New York (apparently) would come live in Quimper. I think they’re under the illusion, from movies, that everywhere else is super-exciting and fun. Well the joke’s on you, kiddos—everywhere sucks! Just kidding…I think.
The students were overall really nice and generally assuaged my fears that they would realize I was pretty uncool and throw French things at me. I am looking forward to future classes, because they’re going to have a lot more structure and a lot less of me blushing and generally feeling like an idiot.
Then, in the afternoon, a miracle! I had received a piece of paperwork from the school secretary about a French class for foreign assistants (information here only comes in the form of paperwork. Instead of newspapers, they actually read tax forms). It had a phone number on it, and I tried to call (with my new French cellphone!) but nobody picked up. So I figured I would just go to this place and hope that, a) I would be able to find it, b) they would be willing to add me, and c) the class had even started. So I took the bus (with my new monthly bus pass!) and then somehow managed to navigate my way to the university where the class was, IUT (which somehow reminds me both of UTI and IUD at the same time…lovely). I was able to find the classroom just in time, and the class was great! The teacher is American but fluent in French, and the makeup is very across-the-board—aside from me, there are two people from China, one from the Ukraine, one from Germany, and one from Finland. The class was just at my level of ability, and it was the most people around my age I had met since coming to Quimper. At the end, we all decided to meet on Friday night—wow, real social interaction! I’ll have a reason to venture outside of my cavernous abandoned high school where I live (more on that in later flashbacks), which is nice. The class is a fairly big time commitment (three hours a week spread out over two days) but it seems like it will really be worth it.
Communication is still difficult but I think my French is already improving a bit. Not having real Internet access is forcing me to read my French young adult novels (oy) a lot more. If this blog post isn’t eloquent, you can blame it on the imminent atrophy of my English. gfvjhgrfiojgrdijg
The students were overall really nice and generally assuaged my fears that they would realize I was pretty uncool and throw French things at me. I am looking forward to future classes, because they’re going to have a lot more structure and a lot less of me blushing and generally feeling like an idiot.
Then, in the afternoon, a miracle! I had received a piece of paperwork from the school secretary about a French class for foreign assistants (information here only comes in the form of paperwork. Instead of newspapers, they actually read tax forms). It had a phone number on it, and I tried to call (with my new French cellphone!) but nobody picked up. So I figured I would just go to this place and hope that, a) I would be able to find it, b) they would be willing to add me, and c) the class had even started. So I took the bus (with my new monthly bus pass!) and then somehow managed to navigate my way to the university where the class was, IUT (which somehow reminds me both of UTI and IUD at the same time…lovely). I was able to find the classroom just in time, and the class was great! The teacher is American but fluent in French, and the makeup is very across-the-board—aside from me, there are two people from China, one from the Ukraine, one from Germany, and one from Finland. The class was just at my level of ability, and it was the most people around my age I had met since coming to Quimper. At the end, we all decided to meet on Friday night—wow, real social interaction! I’ll have a reason to venture outside of my cavernous abandoned high school where I live (more on that in later flashbacks), which is nice. The class is a fairly big time commitment (three hours a week spread out over two days) but it seems like it will really be worth it.
Communication is still difficult but I think my French is already improving a bit. Not having real Internet access is forcing me to read my French young adult novels (oy) a lot more. If this blog post isn’t eloquent, you can blame it on the imminent atrophy of my English. gfvjhgrfiojgrdijg
Leaving
Well, the day I left seems like a major blur now. My mom and I had lunch, and we came across a surprise neighborhood festival in Allston Center, with marching bands and everything! It was a pretty cool note to leave on. On the way back, our car got hit by a girl reading a map. Don’t read and drive, folks. Unless it’s a street sign. Then my dad picked me up for the airport and I was off.
The flight was great. I know, right? Who says that, ever? But it really was. Most importantly, the person next to me never showed up. Also, I remembered to pre-request a vegetarian meal. Also also, they had those nifty TV screens on every seat where you can choose between a bunch of movies, music, games, etc. Neat. The music selection really cracked me up because it seemed to have no rhyme or reason whatsoever. It would be something like, Pink Floyd, Hannah Montana, some actual obscure indie band from the UK, an album of folk songs from Syria, and 3LW (that band always confused me—are you trying to make it as an R&B group or as a geometry formula? You can’t have it both ways.) Of course, with all this entertainment (“Crossing Over” was a pretty good movie) I forgot to sleep. I think you’re supposed to sleep on a red-eye. So naturally, when I got to Dublin to switch planes, I was wicked tired. And my abundant goodwill towards Aer Lingus dissolved into general grumpiness towards my fellow man.
Getting off the plane at Charles de Gaulle (I was about to write “in Paris”, but that really seems too charitable to the considerable distances involved), I just wanted to pass out somewhere. But no! First I had to find my way to the RER (commuter rail) station within the airport. Which seemed really damn far away. At that moment I reflected how happy I was to have packed lightly—one big internal frame pack, one day pack, and a guitar case (not that I wouldn’t have sold my guitar for a five-minute nap). Upon arriving at the station, I was really thirsty. If you know me well, you probably know I’m always thirsty. So you’d think I would be able to presage these things. But no; and unfortunately, the first step towards getting a beverage was getting Euros. I wandered around aimlessly with all my crap looking for an ATM—what the heck, do Europeans not use money or what? I’ll spare you the fascinating details of the passionfruit juice transaction; long story short, eventually I was on the train to Paris.
The flight was great. I know, right? Who says that, ever? But it really was. Most importantly, the person next to me never showed up. Also, I remembered to pre-request a vegetarian meal. Also also, they had those nifty TV screens on every seat where you can choose between a bunch of movies, music, games, etc. Neat. The music selection really cracked me up because it seemed to have no rhyme or reason whatsoever. It would be something like, Pink Floyd, Hannah Montana, some actual obscure indie band from the UK, an album of folk songs from Syria, and 3LW (that band always confused me—are you trying to make it as an R&B group or as a geometry formula? You can’t have it both ways.) Of course, with all this entertainment (“Crossing Over” was a pretty good movie) I forgot to sleep. I think you’re supposed to sleep on a red-eye. So naturally, when I got to Dublin to switch planes, I was wicked tired. And my abundant goodwill towards Aer Lingus dissolved into general grumpiness towards my fellow man.
Getting off the plane at Charles de Gaulle (I was about to write “in Paris”, but that really seems too charitable to the considerable distances involved), I just wanted to pass out somewhere. But no! First I had to find my way to the RER (commuter rail) station within the airport. Which seemed really damn far away. At that moment I reflected how happy I was to have packed lightly—one big internal frame pack, one day pack, and a guitar case (not that I wouldn’t have sold my guitar for a five-minute nap). Upon arriving at the station, I was really thirsty. If you know me well, you probably know I’m always thirsty. So you’d think I would be able to presage these things. But no; and unfortunately, the first step towards getting a beverage was getting Euros. I wandered around aimlessly with all my crap looking for an ATM—what the heck, do Europeans not use money or what? I’ll spare you the fascinating details of the passionfruit juice transaction; long story short, eventually I was on the train to Paris.
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