Saturday, March 29, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The good thing about living next door to a doctor
Well, for the last week, my head, throat, ears and nose have made me miserable--so yesterday I gave up on echinacea and made an appointment with the good doctor. Techincally, he does not specialize in sinus infections, but he wrote me a prescription anyway.
One of my new favorite words in french is échantillon. It means free sample. It's a pretty word--to me, it looks like a concoction of enchanted and papillon (butterfly). And did I mention it means free sample? So, he gave me a few boxes of those just in case and sent me off to the pharmacie.
Medicine here is cheap. I got 6 boxes of pills for the low, low price of 13 euros. And with insurance, they give that money right back. My exhorbitantly taxed life here is finally paying off.
One of my new favorite words in french is échantillon. It means free sample. It's a pretty word--to me, it looks like a concoction of enchanted and papillon (butterfly). And did I mention it means free sample? So, he gave me a few boxes of those just in case and sent me off to the pharmacie.
Medicine here is cheap. I got 6 boxes of pills for the low, low price of 13 euros. And with insurance, they give that money right back. My exhorbitantly taxed life here is finally paying off.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Not so grim?
This article from The Economist discusses Northern France and the movie I mentioned a few posts ago... if it caught your curiosity. Perhaps it's not financially grim here, but the weather has got me down.
I love how Emily Dickinson describes it:
I love how Emily Dickinson describes it:
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
Without her diadem.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Oh I could write a sonnet
Joyeux Pacques, Happy Easter, everyone. Normally Easter brings to mind images of bluebonnets and wild flowers; butterflies and sunshine. The day that everything lives again.
But here, he snows. He has snowed, sleeted and rained for the last 5 days. (In French, they use the pronoun 'he' to describe the weather, not it.) This is fine for a few days, but I'm not an enamoured with being in the snow anymore-- it makes everything cold. It's better to watch the large, floaty flakes from inside. So, we're back to fireplace weather. This is a picture of our roof covered in snow.
Sarah and I spent Easter in Paris! The city was decorated with winged bells, chickens, bunnies and eggs. According to French tradition, Easter eggs are delivered by flying golden bells. [Not for us though--Monsieur Bleuse, our landlord brought us some freshly-gathered eggs from his farm with a Happy Easter note.] Saturday we walked and shopped and went to L'Orangerie. Historically, the King alone could have orange trees, and this museum stands where his grove used to be. Monet's waterlily rooms are inside! Huge, oval rooms covered in his paintings of the Japanese pond in his garden. They look so impressive.
To get there, we walked all the way down Rue du Rivoli, past the Louvre into the Tuileries garden. The Louvre, seen from the outside amazes almost as much as the paintings that live inside. The architecture is so grandiose, it couldn't be anything else. It takes 10 minutes on foot to get to the other side. I'd never seen the whole facade before. They built it in sections, and each one has a different style. If you look closely, you can see white marble statues and paintings inside!
For Easter the next morning, we went to the American Church in Paris. For over 100 years, it has been a famous English-speaking church and community center. Everything was wonderful. It seemed so familiar. Light came pouring through the stained glass windows. Hundreds of white daisies covered the wooden cross. Everyone sang together... in English.
Many special little things marked the day as Easter. The cafe we stopped in afterwards attached a colorful daisy to each cup that they served. One bakery had free pieces of a layered custard cake outside. (A specialty of St. Tropez, she said.) I hate to be ungrateful for living in Valenciennes, but I wish I could live in Paris instead. Walking around there helps me understand why people adore living in France.
But here, he snows. He has snowed, sleeted and rained for the last 5 days. (In French, they use the pronoun 'he' to describe the weather, not it.) This is fine for a few days, but I'm not an enamoured with being in the snow anymore-- it makes everything cold. It's better to watch the large, floaty flakes from inside. So, we're back to fireplace weather. This is a picture of our roof covered in snow.
Sarah and I spent Easter in Paris! The city was decorated with winged bells, chickens, bunnies and eggs. According to French tradition, Easter eggs are delivered by flying golden bells. [Not for us though--Monsieur Bleuse, our landlord brought us some freshly-gathered eggs from his farm with a Happy Easter note.] Saturday we walked and shopped and went to L'Orangerie. Historically, the King alone could have orange trees, and this museum stands where his grove used to be. Monet's waterlily rooms are inside! Huge, oval rooms covered in his paintings of the Japanese pond in his garden. They look so impressive.
To get there, we walked all the way down Rue du Rivoli, past the Louvre into the Tuileries garden. The Louvre, seen from the outside amazes almost as much as the paintings that live inside. The architecture is so grandiose, it couldn't be anything else. It takes 10 minutes on foot to get to the other side. I'd never seen the whole facade before. They built it in sections, and each one has a different style. If you look closely, you can see white marble statues and paintings inside!
For Easter the next morning, we went to the American Church in Paris. For over 100 years, it has been a famous English-speaking church and community center. Everything was wonderful. It seemed so familiar. Light came pouring through the stained glass windows. Hundreds of white daisies covered the wooden cross. Everyone sang together... in English.
Many special little things marked the day as Easter. The cafe we stopped in afterwards attached a colorful daisy to each cup that they served. One bakery had free pieces of a layered custard cake outside. (A specialty of St. Tropez, she said.) I hate to be ungrateful for living in Valenciennes, but I wish I could live in Paris instead. Walking around there helps me understand why people adore living in France.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Luckiest Day of the Year?
St. Patrick's Day! No, French people don't get excited about it, but the footage of the rivers running green in Boston and Chicago do make the news here. My students loved learning about leprechauns and pots of gold. They really wanted to believe. I told them all about St. Patrick being captured as a slave by the Irish, how he escaped, and later God led him back there to help the people. And I love any opportunity to talk about religion in school. The kids were good and didn't pinch each other for not wearing green. Except this year the Pope changed the official date (to the 15th because of Holy Week), so that set off the chain of bad luck last Saturday night.
Theoretically, it should have been marvelous. At the suggestion of Aiveen, a friend and English assistant from Ireland, a bunch of us went to Lille to celebrate at the Irish pub. Jen even drove, so we wouldn't have to worry about getting the train back. Everything was great until we wanted to leave... at some point, it had started to rain and sleet outside. In this weather, we lost our way back to the parking garage and wandered for 45 minutes. Completely soaked and freezing, we arrived only to find the gates locked and barred. What to do? We couldn't stand outside and wait for 7am. Thankfully, we called Brian from Boston, and he let 6 shivering friends sit in his kitchen.
I can't communicate the night in detail, because it's hard to find the words. On the way to Brian's, we got a cab because walking another minute in the rain was inconsiderable. Nina argued all the way there with the driver because he had let the meter run before we got in. This was impressive and hilarious. He eventually knocked 2 euros off. Then we sat there, jumbled among chairs, a table and the shower (also in the cold, tiny kitchen) for four hours. I stretched out across three chairs and counted flowers on the wall. We dozed in and out. Long does not begin to describe the night. Finally, 6am rolled around, and we started back to the car.
Lessons learned:
(1) Always, ALWAYS check parking garage hours
(2) Bring a map
(3) Buy water-proof shoes
(4) Dont be afraid to haggle with cab drivers
Theoretically, it should have been marvelous. At the suggestion of Aiveen, a friend and English assistant from Ireland, a bunch of us went to Lille to celebrate at the Irish pub. Jen even drove, so we wouldn't have to worry about getting the train back. Everything was great until we wanted to leave... at some point, it had started to rain and sleet outside. In this weather, we lost our way back to the parking garage and wandered for 45 minutes. Completely soaked and freezing, we arrived only to find the gates locked and barred. What to do? We couldn't stand outside and wait for 7am. Thankfully, we called Brian from Boston, and he let 6 shivering friends sit in his kitchen.
I can't communicate the night in detail, because it's hard to find the words. On the way to Brian's, we got a cab because walking another minute in the rain was inconsiderable. Nina argued all the way there with the driver because he had let the meter run before we got in. This was impressive and hilarious. He eventually knocked 2 euros off. Then we sat there, jumbled among chairs, a table and the shower (also in the cold, tiny kitchen) for four hours. I stretched out across three chairs and counted flowers on the wall. We dozed in and out. Long does not begin to describe the night. Finally, 6am rolled around, and we started back to the car.
Lessons learned:
(1) Always, ALWAYS check parking garage hours
(2) Bring a map
(3) Buy water-proof shoes
(4) Dont be afraid to haggle with cab drivers
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Amiens
A week ago today, Drew, Nina, Jen and I set off in a car bound for Amiens, a small city in Northern France. An enormous cathedral there sits on the Somme river banks-- the tallest Gothic cathedral in France--and at night, white lights strung along the little restaurants and cobbled sidewalks by the river illuminate the town.
I'm not sure what we would have done all day if the car hadn't hit the curb in the parking garage and flattened a tire. Extremely unfortunately, the front two tires of Jen's car had just been replaced last Saturday. By now, everyone knows that problems with straightforward solutions at home have detouring solutions in France.
So, first, we went to eat lunch because mechanic shops don't open between noon and 3pm. Next, we walked to a Midas shop spotted not too far away and told the man of the situation. The garagiste said to bring in the car. This meant putting on the spare tire (the French call this a galette or savory crepe) in the cramped confines of a garage, 2 stories under the earth's surface. Jen's monkey wrench had a Union Jack on it, and her car owner's manual had tons of vocabulary differences. Apparently the British spell it tyre. All in all, we looked like a quartet of youthful robbers. I couldn't help but laugh.
When we returned to Midas, the mechanic pronouced the hole irreparable and said it "really annoyed" him that her tires were new because both would have to be replaced. Apparently in France, the tires across from each other must be the same, and he couldn't sell her just one. He didn't stock Bridgestone, her brand. The French are Michelin proud. So, he helpfully called a few other shops to see if they had Bridgestone tires and sent us away to another place with a hastily drawn map. The next place didn't have the right size Bridgestones, so she had to settle for two new tires of another brand. It was quite a Goldilocks afternoon. By the time they were replaced with the correct fitting French tires, it was practically dinner time.
So, we wandered the widest streets I've seen in France and decided on Chinese food. It's good to know chopstick instructions come in French, too. At the end of the day, we hadn't seen touristy Amiens, but we'd seen Amiens. And that's probably the point of living in France anyway.
I'm not sure what we would have done all day if the car hadn't hit the curb in the parking garage and flattened a tire. Extremely unfortunately, the front two tires of Jen's car had just been replaced last Saturday. By now, everyone knows that problems with straightforward solutions at home have detouring solutions in France.
So, first, we went to eat lunch because mechanic shops don't open between noon and 3pm. Next, we walked to a Midas shop spotted not too far away and told the man of the situation. The garagiste said to bring in the car. This meant putting on the spare tire (the French call this a galette or savory crepe) in the cramped confines of a garage, 2 stories under the earth's surface. Jen's monkey wrench had a Union Jack on it, and her car owner's manual had tons of vocabulary differences. Apparently the British spell it tyre. All in all, we looked like a quartet of youthful robbers. I couldn't help but laugh.
When we returned to Midas, the mechanic pronouced the hole irreparable and said it "really annoyed" him that her tires were new because both would have to be replaced. Apparently in France, the tires across from each other must be the same, and he couldn't sell her just one. He didn't stock Bridgestone, her brand. The French are Michelin proud. So, he helpfully called a few other shops to see if they had Bridgestone tires and sent us away to another place with a hastily drawn map. The next place didn't have the right size Bridgestones, so she had to settle for two new tires of another brand. It was quite a Goldilocks afternoon. By the time they were replaced with the correct fitting French tires, it was practically dinner time.
So, we wandered the widest streets I've seen in France and decided on Chinese food. It's good to know chopstick instructions come in French, too. At the end of the day, we hadn't seen touristy Amiens, but we'd seen Amiens. And that's probably the point of living in France anyway.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
London
London never fails to impress. Walking through the city is really traversing 6 continents. More often than not, the people striding by speak a strange and unrecognizable tongue. Convenience stores offer food products that make me wonder not only about their main ingredients, but furthermore "Who buys this item so frequently that it must be sold next to the Coke and Hobnobs?" Hobnobs are crumbly and delicious biscuits (cookies) that help make life perfectly complete. The package notes that HRH the Queen prefers them at tea time.
Everyday interactions seem magnified. For example, buying a coffee is more than ordering. It's buying a coffee in London. I love riding on public transport in London. It's not walking; it's exploring. It's not sleeping; it's an exhausted, temporary loss of consciousness. Enough people have lived there long enough that practically every borough, building, and brick has a notable history. Hotel rooms come equipped with tea kettles. Credit card machines function exceptionally quickly. This list could quickly become a dissertation of details. Suffice to say, one would not fall bored. One could possibly develop claustrophobia and blisters.
Our first day there, Caroline and I tackled Covent Garden and Oxford Street. We chuckled at street performers. We were elbowed by ladies with shopping bags. We marveled at the diversity of items possible to buy from 21st century Eliza Dolittles-- clay portrait sculptures completed in 30 minutes, reptiles coated in clear plastic, wine bottles melted down into cheese plates, clocks made from CDs.
That night, Caroline's parents took us to eat in a pub named the White Bear. It dated from 1609 (or some similar impressive ancient annum) and had a fireplace large enough for whole cows (not that there was one there). I feasted on Steak and Ale pie with mash, veg and Banoffee Pie. Very tasty British food. Banoffee is a portmanteau for bananas and toffee.
The next morning, I met the Wesley crew at John Wesley's Chapel for the 11am service. Seeing them brought nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes! We got to spend the whole day together and part of the next. The choir was on a tour for their Spring Break and performed Sunday evening at Methodist Central Hall in Westminster. The Hall is this huge and amazing building right across from Westminster Abbey. It hosted the first UN meeting in 1946. It sits directly on top of the District Line. They built it guinea by guinea in the 1800s. The guide said a guinea was worth a lot back then.
We climbed to the almost-top of St. Paul's Cathedral the next morning. What a blustery view! The very top had to be closed due to weather conditions. Coincidentally, England was having their once-a-year storm while we were there. A serious one. 80 mph winds in the West. So, the sky spit on us on and off throughout the day. But that's normal in Northern France.
It was really hard leaving them at Tower Hill and taking the Eurostar back to Lille. It's hard leaving London under most circumstances, but especially when it means parting from friends and returning to work in groggy Valenciennes. While seated on the train hurtling 120 mph towards France, one of my teachers sent me a message saying I didn't have to work the next day. What a pinnacle of irony. The next day I was understandably depressed and didn't get out until around 6 pm.
Fortunately, Wednesday, Jen, Nina and Drew saved me with a short road trip to Amiens, but that's another post.
Everyday interactions seem magnified. For example, buying a coffee is more than ordering. It's buying a coffee in London. I love riding on public transport in London. It's not walking; it's exploring. It's not sleeping; it's an exhausted, temporary loss of consciousness. Enough people have lived there long enough that practically every borough, building, and brick has a notable history. Hotel rooms come equipped with tea kettles. Credit card machines function exceptionally quickly. This list could quickly become a dissertation of details. Suffice to say, one would not fall bored. One could possibly develop claustrophobia and blisters.
Our first day there, Caroline and I tackled Covent Garden and Oxford Street. We chuckled at street performers. We were elbowed by ladies with shopping bags. We marveled at the diversity of items possible to buy from 21st century Eliza Dolittles-- clay portrait sculptures completed in 30 minutes, reptiles coated in clear plastic, wine bottles melted down into cheese plates, clocks made from CDs.
That night, Caroline's parents took us to eat in a pub named the White Bear. It dated from 1609 (or some similar impressive ancient annum) and had a fireplace large enough for whole cows (not that there was one there). I feasted on Steak and Ale pie with mash, veg and Banoffee Pie. Very tasty British food. Banoffee is a portmanteau for bananas and toffee.
The next morning, I met the Wesley crew at John Wesley's Chapel for the 11am service. Seeing them brought nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes! We got to spend the whole day together and part of the next. The choir was on a tour for their Spring Break and performed Sunday evening at Methodist Central Hall in Westminster. The Hall is this huge and amazing building right across from Westminster Abbey. It hosted the first UN meeting in 1946. It sits directly on top of the District Line. They built it guinea by guinea in the 1800s. The guide said a guinea was worth a lot back then.
We climbed to the almost-top of St. Paul's Cathedral the next morning. What a blustery view! The very top had to be closed due to weather conditions. Coincidentally, England was having their once-a-year storm while we were there. A serious one. 80 mph winds in the West. So, the sky spit on us on and off throughout the day. But that's normal in Northern France.
It was really hard leaving them at Tower Hill and taking the Eurostar back to Lille. It's hard leaving London under most circumstances, but especially when it means parting from friends and returning to work in groggy Valenciennes. While seated on the train hurtling 120 mph towards France, one of my teachers sent me a message saying I didn't have to work the next day. What a pinnacle of irony. The next day I was understandably depressed and didn't get out until around 6 pm.
Fortunately, Wednesday, Jen, Nina and Drew saved me with a short road trip to Amiens, but that's another post.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
On our way to London
Today is wonderful. Caroline and I are leaving in 20 minutes for London! Marvelous.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Fiesta!
Well, one option remains when one misses eating flour tortillas and cannot buy decent ones. That recourse? Hand-make them. So this afternoon, I pretended to be one of the floury women posted in the center island of HEB and fine Mexican restaurants who roll tortillas.
They actually came out really almost perfect, and it was fun watching them puff up on the griddle. I'm not claiming that they were all circular. Some looked more like hearts. Others...just oblongly. However, they far surpassed the shelf-stable perfectly-rounded Old El Paso ones sold here. The ones with handy picture instructions detailing how to fold fajitas and burritos.
Europeans frequently print step-by-step pictures instead of instructions (which have to be translated into 8 languages including Polish and Portugese). When in Italy, we actually found a box with a "How to Make a Bowl of Cereal" 3-part diagram. But I digress.
You, fine reader, may have noticed from the postings that things have been a bit slow here...But here goes the recap. Yesterday it snowed/sleeted. Twice. Once at recess and once at night. The French word for sleet is grele, which is exceptionally hard to pronounce. I sang Old McDonald a bare minimum of 18 times in the last week and constructed animal masks out of paper plates. I found a store named The Unbelievable--and indeed, the merchandise lives up to its name. Everything, as you may have guessed, inside is very, very inexpensive and tacky. A few of my teachers chided me for not wearing a scarf to school (thought that was sweet). And one of my friends got a job in Paris for the summer!
They actually came out really almost perfect, and it was fun watching them puff up on the griddle. I'm not claiming that they were all circular. Some looked more like hearts. Others...just oblongly. However, they far surpassed the shelf-stable perfectly-rounded Old El Paso ones sold here. The ones with handy picture instructions detailing how to fold fajitas and burritos.
Europeans frequently print step-by-step pictures instead of instructions (which have to be translated into 8 languages including Polish and Portugese). When in Italy, we actually found a box with a "How to Make a Bowl of Cereal" 3-part diagram. But I digress.
You, fine reader, may have noticed from the postings that things have been a bit slow here...But here goes the recap. Yesterday it snowed/sleeted. Twice. Once at recess and once at night. The French word for sleet is grele, which is exceptionally hard to pronounce. I sang Old McDonald a bare minimum of 18 times in the last week and constructed animal masks out of paper plates. I found a store named The Unbelievable--and indeed, the merchandise lives up to its name. Everything, as you may have guessed, inside is very, very inexpensive and tacky. A few of my teachers chided me for not wearing a scarf to school (thought that was sweet). And one of my friends got a job in Paris for the summer!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Unbelievable
Look: http://www.austin360.com/movies/content/movies/stories/2008/03/0303smithville.html
Brad Pitt is filming a movie in Smithville for the next three months. I'll be in France for four more. No one ever said life was fair. How much more injustice can the world stand?
Brad Pitt is filming a movie in Smithville for the next three months. I'll be in France for four more. No one ever said life was fair. How much more injustice can the world stand?
Beach!!
Saturday, Sarah and I walked along the sandy, sandy beach of Dunkerque. Sandy and windy. It actually looks like Galveston with fewer seaweed trenches.
The big difference is the sea air. It doesn't smell like salt.
The big difference is the sea air. It doesn't smell like salt.
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