écoles, élèves, et écriture

well after spending all of two weeks in the schools i have some (very deep i'm sure) insights and observations on the french school system.

first, the teachers are all addressed as 'teacher' (maître or maîtresse, which incidentally also means 'mistress'). kind of endearing, but it can get a little confusing. also, many of the rooms do not have clocks. the teachers tend to rely on students with watches, which seems like it could be a dangerous policy.

as you probably already know, the french take their relaxation very seriously. the french calendar, and school day, are no exception. the students have a half-hour recess in the morning and afternoon as well as a two-hour lunch break during which the students all go home and eat with their mothers. who are apparently all at home. what year is this?

it would be a long two hours if the teachers' lounges weren't so nice. there always seems to be tea and fresh coffee. several were also well-stocked with wine. go figure.

the final hurdle in bridging the american-french school system gap was communication. obviously the language barrier (read: my pitiable french) poses a problem. what i did not expect to pose a problem, however, was my handwriting. i feel obliged to mention that my handwriting, on the chalkboard or otherwise, has never been a problem in the US. but when i wrote in print on the board, i got blank stares and puzzled expressions. when i looked at their notebooks, i realized why. first of all, their notebook paper is actually paper that's probably designed for quantum physicists or architects; it's graph paper that's divided into millimeters (or something equally tiny), which is then grouped into lines. their handwriting (which they begin learning in cursive) is impeccable. (not an easy task considering they all write with fountain pens.) i tried to find a font it most resembled, but i couldn't find one fancy enough. i actually had to learn how to write in 'french' cursive.

not only are their notes impeccably well-written but they're incredibly well-organized. students always have a ruler at their desk (you know, for underlining, connecting the dots..) and several types of pens (fountain or ballpoint?) at their immediate disposal. when i ask them to write the date, i inevitably get 10 students who ask me where it should be in relation to the margin and another 10 who want to know "is this okay?"

i've yet to discover the ultimate goal of this extreme anal-retentiveness but the french have certainly got them well-trained.

pictures!!

pictures are up.

israel

jordan

lyon

miscellaneous france

this post was made possible by our newfound internet. that's right. no more borrowing mcdonalds wifi (here, pronounced like 'beefy' except much less masculine)

in theory, this would mean that posts and emails would be more frequent. in theory.

tout neuf

just some observations and new experiences since i've been here..

food.

naturally, groceries are generally more expensive. the one exception is wine, which can run from as little as 1.96 € for a bottle. and it's french, so i figure it must be pretty good. (but then, who knows. i mean, i saw bottle shock) also hard cider (or, here, just cider), made from real bretagne apples. delightfully cheap.

the outdoor markets are more fun but the prices (as compared to the supermarché) seem to vary pretty widely. a nice gentleman also taught us about french milk. should you ever desire un-pasteurized milk, i can tell you where to go.

toilet paper.

for some reason toilet paper here comes in both white and pink varieties. they seem to be the same in every other respect, including price. yet for some reason everyone seems to opt for the pink. even young single men. i've yet to figure this one out.

music.

as you may imagine, only the worst american music gets imported here (currently topping the charts: that pink song and katy perry's delightful musings). and they apparently take only the worst from other countries as well. i've heard some pretty abysmal german and brit pop too. adding to the annoyance, the music videos seem to run in cycles of about 6, so you're sure to hear the songs again and again.

hospitality.

i couchsurfed! finally! this made the prospect of mundane errands in the very sleepy town of st. étienne all the more exciting. after a long day in the rain and cold we found mary paul's apartment. her apartment was very cozy and full of trinkets from her travels. she gave us slippers and fed us fish soup and pasta. it was heavenly! she topped herself by offering us spanish chocolates and tolerating our silly questions and broken french. (we spent about 10 minutes trying to pronounce 'chirurgie'). perhaps a 50 year old nurse from st. étienne was not the most dramatic of ways to begin my couchsurfing career. but she was very sweet. she probably didn't even know she was my first.

lyong update

well, this promises be quite a post.

actually i’ve been in lyon for about a week now. i’m getting by on my decent, if broken, french and there have been small victories…getting a cell phone, buying train passes, opening a bank account, and most importantly securing an apartment. there were a few days in limbo, one of which i spent with fellow assistants at the hostel who were/are also homeless for the time being. it’s a strange sensation, not having a place to go back to or just to put all your belongings. i don’t think i’ve ever felt quite so accomplished as when i removed my luggage from the train station locker and unpacked/arranged all my stuff (with its 3-week old wrinkles and faint smell of salt).

view from the window over my desk

the apartment i ended up in (the first one we looked at, in fact) is actually a student residence so it’s mostly filled with students at the university of lyon. it’s a two-room studio with a little kitchenette and a surprisingly nice view of the city (9th floor..). the location is pretty fabulous, right in front of metro and tram stops, one block from the river and a 10 minute walk from place bellecour, the central meeting spot/commercial center of the city. from there it’s only another 10 minutes to vieux lyon, the historic/touristy section, which happens to be where a lot of the bars are. handy when the metro stops running at midnight. there are also a lot of north african men who just seem to mill around the building selling things on blankets (yard sale??) during the day, so hopefully I’ll pick up some arabic along the way. i counted two arabic bookstores and two indian clothing stores. also a ton of “kebap” places and a few hookah bars.

i don’t actually start teaching until.. well, actually i don’t begin teaching in earnest until november. the area i’m working in (st. etienne, tiny little town renowned for its complete boring-ness) seems way behind the curve.. most other assistants have already begun teaching or have at least been to their schools. we have two meetings next week (where we will likely at least find out what/how many schools we’re at) followed by observations the next week, followed by a week and a half of vacation. ha! so.. no teaching until november.

in the meantime i’ve been exploring the city a bit (i got a nice tour yesterday from a french woman my roommate knows) and marveling that i get to live here. it’s really very pretty. and it has not one, but TWO rivers. which are not only charming but make it nearly impossible to get lost. if you find one, you know exactly where you are. for being a ‘big city’ lyon is actually very small. the rest of my time has been spent with other assistants at irish pubs (i know, i know). we don’t meet many french, but we have gathered a nice assortment of english, scottish, canadian and various others (polish? german?). i hear there’s another canadian who’s fluent in french and arabic…

(by the way my blogger account is still in hebrew and i can't figure out how to change it.. anyone..?)

speaking of death..

i can now die a little bit happier. after years of anticipation, i finally visited the dome of the rock. it was quite a process, winding through the old city, getting in through the western wall (security check), finding the bridge to the temple mount (security check), and then there it was, big shiny gold dome and all. honestly, what would the jerusalem skyline be without it? i ask you.
what can i say? it was exquisite. the tiles were all beautiful (blues, yellows, and teals). i took many pictures in attempts of proving just that (see above) but i know they can only do so much. the one disappointment was that we could not go inside. we knew this was a possibility yet it was still upsetting. (really, how can you have a monopoly on a site that's integral to all three abrahamic religions?) however, i managed to linger around and look pitiful enough that the guard offered to let me peek inside. gold mosaics and red carpets were all i could see. not even the famous rock. though i noted, with some satisfaction, that the interior of the dome was obscured by scaffolding.

also of note, there were very few tour groups on the temple mount when we were there. (though in fairness it was rather early.) i mention this only because tour groups (usually of a religious nature) are ubiquitous throughout the city. normally you can't turn around without bumping into a large mass of people with matching hats taking up an entire alleyway. it makes me wonder if there are people who come to jerusalem without visiting the dome of the rock.
blasphemy!

dead sea

well, as my first official stop on this little adventure, my mom and i have been exploring israel. it seems to me so far like a mix of mediterranean and moroccan, plus a couple million jews thrown into the mix.

during our busy schedule of shuffling from roman/biblical/byzantine ruins/historical sites/museums, we managed to squeeze in some time to check out the dead sea. yes, you really do float. walking out into the water i was skeptical, but once i got in i bobbed right up to the top. it was very relaxing, just being able to float on my back and admire the mountains of jordan in front of me. a word of caution, though. if you do decide to roll over (because that's all you can do; even treading water is difficult) try to minimize the flailing. otherwise you may end up with a eye and/or mouthful of salty, salty water (à la my mother). i don't think she enjoyed the experience quite as much as i did. she spent a good 10 minutes recovering. i licked my finger later, out of curiosity. wow. it's so salty it's actually bitter. like chugging vinegar. besides that, the experience was thoroughly enjoyable, and easily one of the more interesting things i've done thus far.

at the moment i'm in a nice little hotel, tucked into the armenian quarter of the old city in jerusalem. eastern european music is wafting in on breezes through the window. i'm eagerly awaiting the dome of the rock, but it will have to wait. tomorrow is jordan.

on y va

well i leave for france (actually israel.. via england, the CR, and, hey, france) in just about 3 days. it's a little surreal to think about being gone for nine months. so in my preparations, i thought i would resurrect this blog in case anyone's interested in my goings-on. (plus, this way there are fewer emails for me to send out.) so, off we go.

oh. also. in dusting off this blog, i discovered a feature that posts news stories by searching for the words of your choice. i chose a few to start with. feel free to suggest some more!