C'est la vie... de Charlotte à Lyon

Billy Goats Gruff

2009-04-27T05:37:00.000-07:00

Hello patient readers,
As usual, I am late posting this update, but why break with tradition now. Over Easter break, I went back to the goat farm to spend my vacation week hanging with the goats, making cheese and helping out around the farm during the spring rush. My friend Brenna came for the first couple days, and her presence (and amazement at certain of the farm rituals) reminded me just how singular a place it is.
(Check a few photos here.)

To describe it would make it sound very hippie and slightly ridiculous, which it may be. The ingredients are all there: herd of organic goats and sheep, shaggy old man who doesn't cut his beard or wear shoes, a trailer parked in a field with its outside painted with a flowery mural, an 900lb pig who grew so large when the family couldn't bring themselves to butcher him, a yurt, any number of people sleeping in, on, under, and around the house. They don't have heating in their house, other than the stove, but this trip I knew that in advance and so I was warm in cozy in my multiple layers and sleeping bag. (Brenna borrowed Angela's German one, called the Schlafsack, which is probably the most awesome thing I have ever heard of.) Either way, I love it there, and it was a perfect vacation.

Each day started with some tea and bread in the kitchen that is the center of the farm universe. Then we would go down and feed and milk the goats. It was pretty hard at first, and very tiring for hands unused to such exercise, but I made much progress as the days went on. If the goats thought you were nervous or didn't know what you were doing, they would jump around and try to kick the bucket and it would be impossible to milk them, so you couldn't hesitate. One of the goats was very naughty and we would fight over who had to milk her.

Then we took the buckets of milk to the fromagerie, where we filtered it, added cultures and some of the previous day's whey, and put it in a small warm room to sit for 24-36 hours. Then we would tend to the other cheeses, turning them, salting the newer ones, removing the newest ones from their molds and putting them on wire grills to dry. The cheeses all start about the size of a half pound burger on their second day of life, then shrink. After about a month, they dry to about the size of two Oreo cookies. You can eat it at any phase, so in the markets here they ask you how you like your cheese when you buy it. When very fresh (a couple days old), it is tangy tasting and barely stays in its shape, sort of like Boursin cheese. Demisec (halfdry, about two weeks later) is my favorite, it has developed a skin distinct from the inside, and a creamy layer right underneath the skin. It is the consistency of a Brie. Then, wait a few more weeks, and you have a hard cheese, very rich tasting. I had no idea it was so easy to make cheese. The conditions must be right, which is the hardest part, in terms of monitoring humidity and temperature, but mostly it is a matter of time. Needless to say, I was in heaven. I ate a lot of goat cheese: the classic after dinner with bread, on pizza, in pasta, and the day after it was made as a goat cheese yogurt. Delicious.

After that part of the day, it is about 9:30 and you have to sort of invent your own tasks to some extent. Every day was different. I did a lot of cleaning around the house and barn, helped make some raspberry jam, and helped their son Béranger. He is a vegetable farmer, which seems to me much more labor intensive than raising animals. He rents his land, so he has to be very productive to make a profit. I helped him dig furrows for asparagus. Thursday and Friday were bread days, so I got to help. Sounds bucolic, to make bread for market, but kneading 40+ pounds of dough for 25 minutes is hard work. Taking the bread out of the ovens is incredibly hot and you have to move fast to keep up, but it was very exciting, and the fresh bread was beyond compare.

In the afternoons, I would often take the goats out to pasture, where they would graze for about three hours eating whatever interested them on the ground. They are sort of like dogs, they will come up to you and nuzzle you with their horns and want to be pet. Sadly, this was not a good year for the herd. They were struck with some mysterious malady that caused 10+ deaths, and over 14 miscarriages this spring. The vets ran many tests, but couldn't find the problem, and Dédé is clearly very upset and worried about his animals. It also is worrying because it means much less milk (and thus cheese, and thus money for the family). Things seemed to be getting better while I was there, and there were two goats who were still pregnant, due to deliver soon. I don't have more news on how they are doing, but I hope those babies were born alive, unlike the rest this year. (So far, only one baby has survived this year.)

So the farm was wonderful, despite some goat health concerns. It was lovely to be in the countryside, and to help make my own food, and to learn much more about farms, French farm vocabulary, and cheesemaking. I am hoping to visit more farms this summer, and I strongly encourage any and all to WOOF whenever possible!

Eurotrip

2009-04-10T02:17:00.001-07:00

So my friends and I were talking over tea back when it was cold and grey in Lyon, fantasizing about trips and warm weather, and we were thinking come spring we should rent a car and drive up to see the castles in the Loire valley. And then we (me, Nat, Angela, Brenna, and Paul) actually did it. And it was glorious.

We saw everything of interest on the way there and back and in the general vicinity of the castles: Vichy (where we took the curative, or weird-tasting, waters and experienced a creepily empty town), Orléans (sweet cathedrale, pretty downtown, Joan of Arc everywhere), Tours (fun squares, good resto, another cool cathedral where supposedly Angela's favorite saint is buried), and Bourges (best cathedrale ever, nice park, good pastries). We stayed in a cute hostel at what used to be a school in the town of Beaugency, where the five of us shared a room and bathroom all to ourselves, it was perfect. Despite some occasional nocturnal snores.

And then there were the castles. The first full day, Saturday, we went to Blois (Chateau Royal), then Chambord, then Cheverny. They all had their moments, but my favorite was Chambord, with its amazing double helix double staircases, 440 rooms, and incredible rooftop terraces. Blois was cool because it had lots of different parts, and each had a different architectural history and style. Cheverny was cool because the family of ONE OF OUR FRIENDS USED TO OWN THIS CASTLE. In the craziness that was the French Revolution, they were forced to give it up, and now another family owns it, but still, pretty damn awesome. (ah, les anciens aristos.) Now the family is known for their 80 dog hunting pack, whose daily feeding you can watch at 5pm. Clearly, we did, and it was intense. For those of us who are used to dogs as spoiled suburban pets, these were almost an entirely different animal, but the hounds were beautiful and impeccably trained. And hungry. It was a busy day of chateaux, but some strangely Frenchified TexMex restored us for the next day.

Sunday we went to Chenonceau (see photo), which was my very favorite castle, possibly because I so dearly loved all the kitchen stuff. That and the idea of a castle that spans a river is fantastic. It also had much more extensive grounds and gardens than all the others, including a labyrinth, a 16th century farm, a small wax museum, and a tulip garden. Last but not least, we went to Amboise, where we were surprised to discover the tomb of Leonardo DaVinci (designer of the amazing double helix stairs in Chambord). Apparently he loved France and died here. And somehow the French managed to keep his body. The castle was really interesting, much more what we think of when we think of castle, very high on a hill, huge walls looking down, well fortified, etc. We sat outside for quite a while on the manicured lawn, talking over our crazy tourist weekend, and agreed that road trips are the way to go. (especially when you have someone who is at least 25 to rent the car!)

I am working on the photo thing, but for now, I will just post one.
In other news, we had a great baby shower for Lizzy, who is due in just two weeks! Also, I leave this evening for the goat farm with Brenna, and can't wait to hopefully actually partake in the making of cheese this time, and maybe go to market and everything! Happy Easter to all!

Parent Party!

2009-04-10T01:35:00.000-07:00

Hey there all, if anyone still has the patience to check my infrequently updated blog... what can I say, life is busy. So, at the end of March, my parents came to France! It was terribly exciting and our week was full to the brim, but I wanted to at least give the highlights and post some photos, although I left most of the photo documentation to Len.

AWESOME STUFF WE DID/SAW
in Lyon:

Brasserie Georges restaurant
Place des Celestins and urban contemporary art tour
Croix-Rousse, the organic and general street market, traboules
walk down to Hotel de Ville, place des Terraux, fountain, garden and outside of Fine Arts Museum
dinner with my roomies at my house
Parent party also at my house, lots of friends came and spoke varying degrees of English with my parents, embarrassing stories were told, much wine was drunk, good times were had by all. (French friend to me: "I can't believe you invited your parents to a party with your friends")
silkweaving workshop (and gift shop!)
Fourvière, basilica, view, walk down hill through gardens
Vieux Lyon, a typical bouchon lyonnais
about a million cafés
Vélov to Les Halles de Lyon (thanks Paul Bocuse!)
picnic in the parc de la tête d'or, greenhouse tour, bike around to see elephants, etc
Brasserie Le Sud (thanks again Paul Bocuse!)
shopping on Victor Hugo and Rue de la Ré

with rental car:

Chambéry
Annécy and its Lake
lakeside drive, into the mountains and eventually home
Pérouges, old medieval town
les Côtes du Rhône
vineyard tour and degustation of glorious (organically produced, clearly) wines

in Paris:

musée Rodin
île Saint Louis
île de la Cité, Notre Dame
walk around the Marais
Petit Nicholas exhibit at Hotel de Ville
Panthéon
Le Timbre restaurant, rive gauche
crêperie
beaucoup de flânerie
musée de la photographie (um, awesome.)
probably lots of other stuff I can't even remember

In conclusion, a glorious trip in which we tried to see everything possible, and I have to admit, I was exhausted by the end, so I hope my rents weren't too run into the ground. It is lots of fun showing off my city and home away from home, and I can't wait to have more visitors soon...

Life in Lyon

2009-03-07T04:26:00.002-08:00

Spring is coming! Last saturday, it was absurdly beautiful outside, and we spent about six hours having an absurdly long picnic in the huge municipal park (complete with a lilypad pond, elephants and a rose garden). Then it got cold again, as cold as it has even been here almost, and now today we are back to a normal early spring beautiful, chilly day. I am very excited to put away my mittens for a while and all the adorable ($$$) clothes in the store windows are making me yearn for warmth.

In other news, the strike continues. I have been teaching and going about my life as usual anyway, without much trouble, except for one appointment at Lyon II, the larger, public university on the banks of the Rhône. They are very committed to the current strike, much more so than the normaliens. I was trying to meet with a professor about my application to the crazy master's program called "Oral and Written Cultures". She was interested in my thesis topic, and I was excited to meet with a potential thesis advisor, but when I got to the school, all the doors were blocked with furniture. Thank you strike, I thought, as I tried my fourth and fifth entry. The professor had given me very specific instructions on how to reach her office from a certain door, and by the time I found my way inside (with the help of an old lady also trying to breach the socialist barricades), I was completely turned around. Add to that the fact that inner corridors were also blocked with huge piles of tables and chairs, and you have a mess. I eventually made my way to her office (via various antics including walking across a dry swimming pool), and though I was fairly late, she still wasn't ready for me so it all worked out.

As far as next year's plans, I am hoping for a scholarship but would also be happy to be a lectrice again. We had a lovely lectrice dinner en ville on Thursday, with a group of 11 foreign language instructors and we gossiped about students, the strike, and life in the residences. It is a really great community, and most of the other lectrices are staying next year, which makes me think it could be fun, especially as I am dead set on getting a "real" apartment somewhere. In the extreme offchance that I am the lucky one person to receive the scholarship from the national library of France for next year, I guess I may move to Paris? but that seems so unlikely I am not really considering it. Anyway, for all of you who haven't come to visit yet, you should have plenty of time.

In other news, my contemporary art class finally started, despite the fact that our prof is technically striking, so we are having cours hors murs (French phrase I find nearly impossible to pronounce correctly, meaning a course taking place outside the university). We met in a square in town, and walked around for two hours, looking at contemporary art in urban settings, discussing the place of contemporary art in the public domain, and taking advantage of a beautiful day. The prof is really knowledgeable and it was a great and interesting class. I saw lots of things that I had no idea existed, and I can't wait to show off my new tourguide skills when my parents come in two weeks!

Until then, I will be hanging out in Lyon, working on grading some essays (one of which is titled, "The importance of seeing prostitutes in empty street"), application essays, etc. We are saying a sad goodbye to a good friend Andrea who is leaving this week for his native Italy, and we are having many a get together (a great oldschool brewery last night, sushi date tonight, american style brunch tomorrow, beer night sunday) and generally enjoying our time as the weather slowly warms...

Ireland

2009-02-27T04:09:00.000-08:00

So, last week I was in Ireland, enjoying the intensely green landscapes, the adorable accents, and the plentiful pints. I stayed at Trinity College Dublin with Rahul, which was a lovely home base, being both beautiful and a tourist attraction in itself, as well as being very centrally located to many of the wonders Dublin has to offer. I took a number of day trips, including to Dalkey and Howth, ocean-side villages just outside Dublin. I was extremely lucky to have spent a week there and only had one day of drizzle.

In Dalkey, we were lucky enough to enjoy a brisk walking tour from a woman from Rahul's creative writing program who has lived there all her life. The views were beautiful, the walk was lovely, we saw Bono's house (or gate...) and the pub at the end was full of very vocal rugby supporters.
In Dublin, my favorite sites included St. Stephen's park, the national gallery, and the national photographic archives. In the last, I sweet-talked my way in to the appointment-only research room and got to wear gloves and look at the collection of a man named Roger Casement, who traveled to Congo as a member of the British Foreign Service and took some interesting photographs of the colonies. I pretended that this was even more relevant to my theoretical master's thesis, and enjoyed myself greatly.

I also traveled to Cork and Blarney, where I toured the extensive gardens and castle and kissed the stone (notice the gift of gab and my newfound eloquence kicking in? yeah, me neither.) In Cork, I befriended some French tourists (what can I say, I missed making language mistakes) and an Irish couple, who took us around to their favorite pubs. It was great fun, and there was live music at one of them, which is always fun.

Lastly, I went to Howth, where I experienced a freakishly glorious day for February, hiked a lot, saw seals, and had a crazy small world experience, when I ran into Dan and Scott Miley, who are from Lexington.

All in all, I highly recommend the Emerald Isle!
I attach some photos for your viewing pleasure.

Cliffs by Howth
Blarney Castle
Dalkey
Seal friend in Howth

Feeding Frenzy

2009-02-13T03:38:00.000-08:00

So, I used to (by which I mean I still do, but realize this colors me as somewhat hypocritical in light of what I am about to write) call my mother Suzy Whole Earth, teasing her about her passion for all things free range, whole grain, and organic. But, as it turns out, the pesticide-free apple doesn't fall far from the tree. And so, I am writing this post to confess that
I am turning into kind of a serious food hippie.

This started slowly but surely, with me loving Trader Joe's and trying to buy organic stuff when it wasn't too expensive. Then I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (highly recommended!), and was inspired to try to buy produce that was both organic and as locally grown as possible. When I came to France, I was happy to find that the local part was very easy. There are farmer's markets in my neighborhood a few times a week, and organic markets in some part of Lyon twice a week. I promised myself to buy only things that were grown in France, leaving me with a pretty huge selection, as well as being able to feel good about myself. Then my hippie frenzy encouraged me to coerce my roomies into buying a bread machine. (We did, it is glorious, I can never go back.) Kingsolver also inspired me to try to steer clear of processed and preprepared food whenever possible, and I am fortunate enough to have roommates who all enjoy cooking, at least occasionally. In my house, we each cook once a week (I'm Sunday) and eat family style about six nights out of seven. The next step in my food fanaticism was the trek out to the Croix-Rousse neighborhood on Saturday mornings to buy from the biggest organic market. (I still haven't managed to coerce my roomies to get up for this though...) Then of course there was the trip to the organic goat farm with the roomies back in October, which deepened my love of all things organic and made me want to make my own cheese. Hey, we all need dreams.

And then, Tuesday night, I went with a friend to a Slow Food Lyon meeting. I had heard of Slow Food, and thought it sounded like a really neat organization, so when Camille asked me to go, I jumped at the chance. (For info on the organization, check out www.slowfood.com) She had joined in September, and said all the people were really nice, and it was a small, multi-generational group. I went along, to a small, high end organic grocery store run by one of the members. The Lyon chapter is very small, which surprised me: there were only 7 of us, so it was very intimate, and they seemed happy to have me. We tasted some organic wines, nibbled on cheese and some spicy tuna spread, and talked about the importance of regional food culture. As an American, this idea is somewhat lacking in my personal heritage. We, with a very few exceptions, don't have local food products and loyalty the way Europeans (and especially the Italians and French) do. To my eyes, the French are already much more appreciative of good food, willing to pay a little more for good quality ingredients, and willing to spend a little more time seeking out and cooking with them. But to real foodies, the whole world, and France in no way excluded, is undergoing a massive cultural food crisis, at the hands of fast food, cheap international produce, and decreasing free time devoted to the culinary arts. So it was very interesting to sit in on a meeting where the members were discussing how to combat these forces.

I found the whole thing fascinating, even though it was a somewhat administrative meeting, as they are in the midst of organizing a big food festival for March. I promised Camille I would help her with her table, where we will be doing a taste testing of the differences between popular mass produced snacks and foods like cookies and pizza and their homemade counterparts. To this end, I have requested many chocolate chips from Jacquie, who is headed stateside for the break. After the dégustation, we will discuss the practical, financial and health-related differences. I am excited to be a part of the atelier, and perhaps eventually, an active member of Slow Food Lyon in my own right. Wish me luck, and bon appétit!

Grève!

2009-02-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

So, for anyone who has ever studied abroad or lived in France, this post is inevitable. This is not my first experience with a French strike, far from it, but it does come the closest to hitting home. From time to time, it is hard to find rental bikes because all the public transport workers are striking and there are no metros, buses or trams. This could last a day or a month. Classes in Paris 8 (a university) closed down for six weeks last year due to student strikes. I have a few friends here who are very serious about the whole strike/protest scene, and it is very interesting to hear it described. One of my students asked my permission to come to the other section of class so that he could strike on his usual day. I said of course, and then asked him to explain (in English, of course) the philosophy behind the strike. Similar to the current strike, that one was started to protest the government's proposed changes to the educational system. On the one hand, almost everyone I have talked to agrees that the system requires serious alterations, but on the other hand, the ones that Sarco has approved are wildly unpopular, especially with teachers. The last strike had been started by students, but the current one was started by the profs.
In theory, I would love to strike. I really admire the spirit of protest, and the conviction of all my students when they talk about the reforms. I agree that the reforms (somewhat No Child Left Behind comparable, but worse and more widespread across the ages and into the university system) seem wretched, and yet, something stops me from participating. Maybe it was the fact that it was the first week of classes for the second semester, and I am eager to teach again. Maybe it was the fact that none of the other foreign lectrices were striking, nor was my boss, so I somehow felt I didn't have the right. Maybe it's the fact, that not being French, I can't vote on anything here, so I feel I really can't help a lot. But I think I am just too American at heart. I don't understand the passion that makes people refuse to work, to cut their own pay, to descend to the streets, in the hopes that the government will suddenly choose to listen on issues that the general population will never get to vote on. None of the people I talked to truly felt that the strike would do more than prove their unhappiness. I asked some striking friends what they thought would happen as a result of the strike, and they said that of course nothing would change.
In my eyes, the French strike so often that the act has lost the powerful effect it needs for a huge issue like this. Few can offer realistic solutions. My Yankee gut is to call a senator, try to organize a public forum, or vote a public official in or out of office. And so I didn't grève, I didn't put up signs or blocade the entrances to the school. I also didn't mark anyone absent from my classes, but that's a passive aggressive support at best. I do admire the spirit of dissent, but I just don't possess it in enough abundance to take it to the town square with a witty banner. (or maybe it's my French vocab stopping me...) The day I write here about participating in a strike, that's when you will know I have fully gone Gallic.

2009-01-22T09:52:00.001-08:00

I am desperately jealous of anyone and everyone who was able to be in DC for the inauguration. My good Colby friend Eric did his best with a photo cutout of me, which he posed in front of the crowds, the screens showing Obama, and the Capitol building. (see below) He wins big big points. Considering CNN told me that there were some 2 million people in attendance, it seems incredible that Eric also ran into another old friend of mine, this one from Lexington. I guess that goes to show the extent to which my generation is mobilized by Obamadoration. My students and friends here all asked me if I would have gone had I been home, and I like to think I would have, if there were any couchspace left to be had in the city.
We did have a lovely soirée here in France, where for once the time difference worked in my favor, making it an even more socially acceptable time of the day to consume alcohol and cookies (a match made in heaven, to be sure, or in an ex-pat's kitchen, in my case). In a related story, one of my French friends was mystified that the televised coverage of the banquet lunch showed many people drinking water and not champagne. When I explained that it was lunch and not dinner in DC, and thus perhaps there would be work still to do later in the day, she gave me a look that said plainly, "Yes, and so what?" Inconceivable from the French point of view. Sometimes I think the French still half consider us to live under Prohibition. From the standpoint of someone who was not so long ago under 21, I can't say this is so far from the truth.
We enjoyed a large crowd for our Obamafest, considerably more than we had for the election, which took place around 4am our time. Many of our friends are still gone, thanks to the absurd system here, which grants 2 weeks for Christmas and New Year's, followed by a week of normal school, a week of exams, then two weeks of intersemester break, followed by two weeks of classes, and a week of February break. Not that I'm complaining, exactly, but it would have been easier for some of us if the numerous vacations had been consolidated into one month of glorious stateside revelry. We're not all from 20 minutes outside Paris (sadly enough). Still, we were a good bunch present at the ENS, including all my roommates, and we did it up in semi-American style with peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies (thank you imported chips and brown sugar, and peanut butter), pizza, beer, and of course bleu cheese and Brie. Everyone was nearly silent for his speech, we all commented on Michelle's outfit, and had a raucously good time.
Obama is of course wildly popular here in Europe as well, although I am not sure everyone shares my wild enthusiasm. I went into a store the other day to ask if I could buy their poster advertising Le Monde (huge French newspaper), because it had a picture of George Washington with an Obama cap on... He told me he would do his best to snag if for me when they took it down, I'll let you know how it goes.
Other than that, things have been good in France. Fairly calm for a while, after the flurry of finals and correcting, which suits me well. I had a lovely vacation in Boston (and RI, and Maine, and NYC...), but it was a little hectic, and it was nice to relax for a while back in Lyon. I am catching up on my extensive reading of short stories, and have discovered James Thurber with great joy.
At the moment, I am surveilling a guy taking my final (looks like it's hard, oops) while on lunch break from a really good three-day workshop on teaching french as a foreign language. The profs have been really amazing so far, although I wish I could have had a workshop like this before starting teaching. They have been presenting on pedagogical theory, French phonetics (as if I have it all right myself...) and how to structure and plan a foreign language class. It has been really interesting, but it has been almost five years since I have undergone 7 straight hours of class instruction in a single day, and I think my grey matter (or attention span) has suffered a little in the interim. Tomorrow, our last day, each group of three students has to give a mini-lesson in a "rare language" to the rest of the class. The course should be conducted to the rest of us (true and total beginners in this language) in complete immersion style. A Chinese, a Janapanese, an ArabEnglish and Spanish were declared too common, as all the French have already learned at least a little. Which of course leaves me with little to choose from. Jacquie, my lectrice friend, and Julia our German friend, had a similar problem. It has been almost five years, and I probably shouldn't have mentioned it at all, but I said I had no other languages other than a paltry knowledge of ASL. My teacher leaped upon this with incredible excitement and declared I would lead the class in that. So that's the current challenge, coupled with trying to finish up grading for the first semester and getting some applications in for scholarships that I may or may not really want for next year, in the case that I do a Master's.
As far as future plans go, I am currently planning to stay in France, either teaching again, or getting a masters. Maybe, if I am insanely lucky, I will also be a paid researcher of the national library of France, with special access to their photographical archives. I would kill for the last possibility, but they tell me it won't help my dossier. They pick one person a year, and considering I am young, American, and unpublished, I think my chances are slim at best. But who knows. So that's the news from Lyon. Happy new year to all!

Trolling the ancient Yuletide carols

2008-12-15T14:36:00.000-08:00

So, while dancing at a soirée and singing "All I want for Christmas is you", a brilliant(ly absurd) idea occurred to me. Caroling. In the residences. If I am doomed to miss the traditional Lexington caroling with the Page family, the least I can do to ease my sorrow is bully some friends into humiliating themselves with me by performing English carols for various unsuspecting French students. Luckily for me, Jacquie, my fellow lectrice, was more than equal to this challenge, as was Zara, who also brought her poor visiting sister. We bribed, guilt-tripped and begged some others into coming along for various amounts of time, and went from module to module. I had made up some lyric sheets with a bunch of typical carols, and printed out copies for everyone we could entice, plus some extras. Call me an optimist.

We started with building A, bottom to top, mostly where we knew people, but also anywhere that was next door to a bell we were already ringing, and suddenly it seemed we were caroling almost all the modules, all the way to building E. We sang a song at each one, followed by the "we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year" refrain. To one guy who said he had just turned 21, we sang happy birthday.

Reviews were decidedly mixed. Many clapped, many laughed, a couple peeked out and decided it must not be for them and closed the door again. One told us that her roommates were sleeping (it was 9:15), and we should be quiet. One guy offered to teach us the lyrics in French. Many thanked us and congratulated us on our beautiful singing (this may or may not have been slightly undeserved. Effort points?) But mostly, we got the confused face. Did we want money? (no) Did we want wine? (no) Did we want German truffles? (yes, definitely.) The looks on their faces asked why we would ever do such a thing, such a terrifically humiliating thing. The roommate of one of our friends told her this was one tradition she was very glad the French didn't have. We explained the tradition of caroling numerous times, with varying amounts of success.

In the beginning, we were six or seven, then slowly people begged off and went home. Eventually it was just Jacquie and me, but we were having too much fun to let it go that easily, so we perfomed a half dozen of duets and then headed to good old b34 for some Tisane de Noel which I got in Strasbourg. I had an absurd amount of fun, laughed harder than is polite, and generally enjoyed making a spectacle of myself in front of many acquaintances, friends and students. Love live the American traditions, and sharing them, however distorted they may become in translation, with the French.

Strasbourg etc.

2008-12-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

So Lyon has this festival of lights, la Fête des Lumières, whereupon they illuminate much of their glorious architecture in technicolor, put little candles in the windows, and use the excuse to attract many tourists and sell mulled wine and crêpes on every streetcorner. There are many professionally designed light shows, and it is pretty cool, if somewhat of a mob scene. Half in honor of this, and half just to pay an old friend a visit, 7 members of Andrea's Italian childhood posse came to town Friday night via a rented minivan. You can imagine the craziness that ensued.
So this weekend, I also had the good fortune to weasel my way onto a trip to Strasbourg with the staff/teacher's association. Which meant that after a late night of enjoying the illuminated downtown with the Italians, I got up at 4 (after less than 2 hours of sleep) and stumbled to the meeting point for the bus. My fellow lectrice Adeline also came along, and it proved to be a glorious journey. We had a nice big tourbus, I slept much of the way there.
We were dropped off in Strasbourg, a lovely town in the Alsace region, which is known for its complicated history of alliance with France, then Germany, then France, etc. The architecture is charming, much more Germanic than French, with the exposed wood panels and cottage style dominating over the cement and stone of the typical French edifices. This town is also known for hosting the politicking of the European Union, as well as for its Christmas markets, which was what brought us there. They were indeed quite nice, I found some beautiful used books, and a few presents. We also enjoyed some café sitting (and thawing), as well as much wandering about the city and stopping in cute stores. Then we went on a tourboat along the canals (even navigating a lock, my first!), seeing the lights and buildings from a warm and watery angle. After, the group of us enseignants (teachers and staff) headed to a restaurant serving up the typical Alsatian fare - meal (if not the delicious Christmas beer) covered by the association. We had a great time and sat with some people I knew, one woman who joined my class to practice her English, and her partner, whom I had biked with. It was a wonderful meal, followed by the classic Alsatian Munster (I highly recommend it).
The next day, after the nothing special but damn was it cheap hotel, we went on a vineyard tour in a small village outside Strasbourg. The man explained that his land has been used for harvesting grapes since the 1300s, and had us taste approximately twenty wines of different ages, types of grapes, all from his vineyard. I liked his Gewurtraminers best, but they were a little out of my budget... After, we headed to the village of Riquewihr, for some more charming architecture, some lunch, and some more Christmas market. I bought some Hansi prints and smelly cheese for the roomies, and we were headed back home. A busy but fabulous Euroweekend!
Also, in two weeks, I will be stateside! Email (or call me after Dec 21), and I would love to see you all!

Turkey!

2008-11-30T05:08:00.000-08:00

THANKSGIVING

2008-11-29T03:19:00.000-08:00

So there was this small occurrence of the classic American holiday Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is actually my most favorite holiday, and I was afraid I would be very homesick and sad to miss spending it with my family. Consequently, I had decided I wanted to do my best to recreate it, at least for me and my roommates. Then the guest list started slowly but surely to expand. Naturally I wanted all the American expats to share in the festivities. Boyfriends and girlfriends of roomies and expats were invited, and from there it was a short leap to close friends of all nationalities. Then we wanted to invite our neighbors who had invited us to dinner awhile ago, and guests started asking if they could bring their roommates, or significant others, or close friends, or cousins of their father-in-law's best friend's grandchildren. Everyone was very intrigued by this exclusively American event, and we wanted everyone to experience its glory. So eventually we realized we couldn't host this thing in our kitchen anymore, so we reserved a room on campus, and when 40 some odd people showed up, it proved to have been very wise.

So I had said I would do the turkey, gravy, stuffing, and cranberry sauce and maybe a pie or two with help from my roomies. So as I realized the scope of the guest list, I started wondering about how I was going to procure, stuff and cook a whole turkey of any decent size in my microwave oven. My French friend Justine said we could use hers (she has a real apartment, and thus a real kitchen), and helped me wander around some neighborhood butcher shops asking about ordering a whole turkey (not a very French thing to do). So we found the most adorable classical French butcher shop, complete with little old women in fur coats ordering tripe and pâté, and a butcher (named Roland Menut) in his white apron singing folksongs while chopping up dead animals with knives of an alarming size. He said he could order us a turkey anywhere from 8 to 28 pounds, and I asked Justine to measure her oven so we could get the biggest one possible.

Unfortunately, due to the reasonable French portion sizes and sensitivity to things like energy consumption, her oven was not actually any bigger than my microwave. So when I told good old Roland, he said I couldn't even cook a little turkey in my oven, and explained to me the science of roasting a bird in an oven and why mine was insufficiently large. I expressed my disappointment and asked what he recommended and he said, not to worry, HE would cook the turkey at the shop. I said that was incredibly kind, but the only trouble was that we traditionally stuff our turkey. Would he mind if I came to the shop in the morning with some stuffing? Not at all, he said, he would be happy to accommodate stuffing. As he has a gigantic restaurant sized oven, I ordered the biggest turkey available (it ended up weighing in about 23 pounds). So on the morning of Thanksgiving, after having stayed up until 1:30 cooking big batches of cranberry sauce with Nathalie, I got out of bed, taught an 8am class, and rushed home to make some stuffing. I had been drying bread for days, and our apartment was a veritable stale bread factory. I wept over some onions, poured in various amounts of all the spices I had managed to procure and whipped up some stuffing. I took a rental bike (the only way to travel) with our hugest soup cauldron full of stuffing in the front basket, and headed off to the boucherie (butcher shop). Roland accepted the stuffing with interest, as well as my extensive (and probably unnecessary, considering his profession) instructions on how to rub the spices (which I had also brought) onto the turkey. I told him I would be back (with a car this time, thank God), at 5:30pm for the cooked bird, and went back home to prepare.

Three other batches of stuffing (classic, Hallal, and vegetarian), a couple dozen corn muffins, two chocolate pecan pies, and some whole wheat bread later, Nat and I (in a friend's borrowed car) retrieved the beautiful and still piping hot turkey. I had made various American delicacies to thank Roland (who hadn't charged extra for the cooking, and who had given us his roasting pan), including cookies, muffins, a mini chocolate pecan pie and cranberry sauce. He seemed charmed, we exchanged cheek kisses, and we returned to campus, where I rapidly made some gravy and we headed to the party room, where some 40 of our closest friends were waiting.

I had asked the others to bring side dishes, wine etc, realizing that while I was happy to host a million people I could not realistically expect to feed them all myself. Thanks to Bike and Build, I know how much food it can take to feed a bunch of young adults. It turned into an extensive potluck, our friends from all corners of the globe outdid themselves following confusing American recipes for mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cornbread, green beans, salads, pies, applesauce, etc. It was the most glorious banquet in my recent memory, and the whole evening was a huge success. All the French people were legitimately impressed with American cuisine, which is no small miracle, and the bird was beautiful. I had tons of fun, everyone got some turkey (which was DELICIOUS), and we danced and drank wine and generally were thankful for good food, good friends, and good times all around. A holiday to remember. Now we are making soup (half the carcass at a time, because it is too big to fit all at once), washing many dishes, wearing sweatpants and vowing not to eat until Christmas.

(Others were in charge of photographing the actual event, so photos of turkey and festivities to follow soon, hopefully.)

2008-11-29T03:06:00.000-08:00

As always, sorry for the long delays between posting, but I will brief you on some highlights of the last few weeks. My friends had some fun parties, including a return to childhood party at my friend Justine's glorious old French apartment, which found me trying to outsing the French lyrics to all the Disney movies. (I'm sorry, some things just are sacred, and I maintain that Robin Williams' genie performance in Aladdin is one of them.)

Last weekend, I went on a "sortie vélo" (bike trip), organized by the guy who runs the association sportive here. He told me it would be chill, and that there were a lot of people coming even on the super heavy slow rental bikes. Since this was to be my first real bike trip after breaking my wrist, I was somewhat reassured. nevertheless, I got all dolled up in my spandex, and headed out with my French bike (named Louis Philippe). So I get to the meeting point, a little late at 9:40am, but after a night of partying, what can you do. So it's me, Christian, the head of the sports assoc, and one other thirty-something guy, who both are all decked out in their real winter spandex stuff. So we wait a bit, but no one else shows up, and so we head out to meet two other French guys, teachers at the school who are meeting us at a park. I was a little nervous, biking only with spry Frenchmen and not having biked in a long time, but my energy legs carried me through, and I even wished the pace was a little faster. (I also wished it were less freezing, as my leg warmers are not full length. My legs were very pink afterwards). It was a lovely, short ride(2.5 hours, child's play) , and we went up the river and through some nice parks. True to my nature, I got a flat as we went over a few kilometers of gravel, but I had the stuff to fix it and I like to think the Frenchmen were impressed.

Afterwards I rushed to the Museum of Contemporary Art, where my friend Luiza was speaking in a conference on the art of Robert Morris. She was amazing, naturally, and the museum was really cool and full of crazy and controversial art which is always fun when experienced in a group of friends and after a couple plastic cups of wine which we enjoyed at the end of conference party.

Other than that, life was good, classes are going very well, I feel like I am much more at ease at the front of the classroom, and genuinely love teaching. Post to follow about Thanksgiving!

2008-11-15T05:17:00.000-08:00

Salut tout le monde, sorry for the delay in posting.
Italy was glorious, Erin, Michele (Erin's mom) and I had a wonderful time exploring the very pedestrian city, soaking up the architecture, the art, the warmer weather, the food, and trying desperately not to butcher the melodious language of Dante.
You can see some photos of a delicious pizza, the river, which is surrounded by beautiful buildings, including the Duomo with Brunelleschi's famous dome. We climbed up the inside, and it was truly amazing to think this was built without the use of scaffolding. You can also see the old city walls, and the tower of Pisa (it really does lean!).
We took a bus tour the last full day in the city, which took us to San Gimignano, a beautiful little town full of medieval towers, Siena (sadly wrong time of year for the huge famous horse race), a wine estate in the Chianti region, and finally Pisa. All of it was spectacular, and made me promise to return. Next time I think I will go with Nathalie, whose family is Italian, and speaks the language like a native...

Since then, I have been chilling in and around Lyon, catching up on lesson planning and grading the first test I gave (many very good grades and some very bad ones...hmmm), and entertaining some friends from my Grenoble days who came to visit from Belgium. There's always a lot going on here, and it has been a very fun couple of weeks. I found the organic market on Saturday, which is a hike (up a big hill!) to get to, but definitely worth it. Tonight we are going to a friend's apartment for a Disney themed party, and I am excited to hear all the songs I remember from childhood, this time sung in French. à bientôt,
Charlotte
ps. Just finalized my vacation plans, and will be home from dec 21 to january 11, so let me know what your plans are, and I hope to see all of you!

Obamanation

2008-11-04T22:40:00.001-08:00

So there we were, in front of the tiny tv in our common room: American, French, Canadian, English, Tunisian, Romanian, Czech, Italian, spellbound. Many of us had stayed up all night, watching the CNN broadcast from midnight on, we Americans trying desperately to explain the electoral college, the popular vote issues, red states and blue states and swing states. Laughing at the "holograms" and the tv personalities, praying for Obama, barely daring to hope as the map slowly turned bluer and the magic number approached 270.

At 5am, when they officially called Obama the president elect, we exploded. We screamed and hugged and laughed and jumped up and down and chased our coffee with champagne, and let out a huge collective sigh of relief. I had been so nervous for so long that I could barely believe it was real even when it was announced. We calmed down enough to listen to the speech by McCain, and waited through the same two commercials repeated interminably, until finally, Barack Obama, the president elect, addressed the nation. There was, for the first time all night, universal silence (and perhaps a few tears), as we all listened, giving no commentary until the final applause.

I am so happy I really can't write it. It has been bittersweet for me to be abroad for this election, which I have followed (if from afar) more closely than I have ever followed any one previously. On the one hand, watching the festivities on tv made me a little sad not to be there firsthand. On the other, all I had to do was look around to see half a dozen countries represented, the expressions on their faces making it perfectly clear they understood the importance and shared the joy of this moment. After all, hadn't they all stayed up all night on a Tuesday to watch it unfold? It is amazing the extent to which the entire world is watching us. The election has been hugely covered in all the French (and British, and Italian) newspapers I have been reading lately, and the entire world was in support of Obama. They could hardly believe someone like Sarah Palin was seriously being considered, and we are all very relieved to have dodged that bullet. I am exceedingly proud that, by electing Obama, the US has finally done something right in the eyes of our international neighbors. I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful new chapter in our history, both for Americans at home and for people all over the world. So I leave you to go about my normal Wednesday tutoring business by saying, Good morning, America.

WOOF Weekend

2008-10-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

My roommate James spent the two weeks before arriving in Lyon on an organic goat farm about two hours to the southeast of us. He raved so much about his time there that we all managed to get ourselves invited this vacation when he went back to visit. I have only a bit of time here, but in the four days we had there, I herded goats, picked apples, helped feed animals, harvested potatoes, made fresh pasta, attended a wild hippie jazz soirée in a barn, and ate lots of extremely local and delicious food. Here are some photos, and hopefully a more thorough update to follow. Until then, I am off to Florence for the rest of break!
PS. So if you haven't yet had the pleasure of hearing about or experiencing this global phenomenon, WOOFing is working on an organic farm. Check out the details on wwoof.org.

Captions: the barn party, the two male goats fight over an uninterested female, goats graze peacefully, and the farm from the fields.

Toussaint!

2008-10-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

I think it is ironic that I was almost better at updating while biking cross-country, but I swear, life is busy here. The biggest news of the day is that we bought a bread machine! It sounds a little ridiculous for a year abroad, I admit, but seriously, bread is a big part of life here, and seeing as it was only 49 euros, and we 5 colocs (=colocataires, roomies) certainly have already spent that much on bread, it was a bargain. Not to mention that unless Obama is elected, I never plan to come home...
Anyway, other than that, I have been working a lot this week, trying to catch up on things before the vacation that starts now. I made my short stories class read my old favorite, Angela Carter, which was loads of fun, and interesting, as the guys ended up liking her crazy feminist stories better than the girls in the class. Who'd a thunk it.
So tomorrow morning bright and early I leave with three of the roomies to the organic goat farm where James WOOFed (international organization, which lets you Work On an Organic Farm) before arriving in Lyon. I am absurdly excited, and plan to post pictures upon my return. We will be there until Tuesday, and then Tuesday night I leave on a sleeping train from Lyon to Florence, where I will hang with Erin, and surround myself with art, gelato, and pasta. Check back in a week or so for more stories!

Aix Les Bains etc

2008-10-21T13:22:00.001-07:00

Life was good this weekend. It was the most amazing Indian summer. On Saturday we went to Aix les Bains, a charming town by the largest lake in France, where we found a market, ate by the lake, and walked all over town. Sunday we went to Vieux Lyon to walk around and enjoy the weather while it lasted. Since I haven't yet uploaded the photos from that adventure, accept this one of Puy en Velay, where we went last weekend to see an old cathedral, a huge Mary statue on a hill (photo) and a cool monastery way up on a strange pointy mountain.
Now it is raining, and I feel like I am behind in lesson planning as usual. I have a lot of respect for teachers, I can't believe how hard it is to keep all the classes straight and try to remember everyone's individual questions and schedule conflicts etc! I like to think I am starting to get the hang of it, but I have a feeling this whole semester is going to be a little hairy. I am constantly just barely staying ahead of the game, and still getting used to my materials and finding good resources and struggling with the many technologies of the language lab and teaching myself the ins and outs of English grammar at least well enough to come up with answers to the many questions that inevitably come up in class. I can't believe how complicated English grammar seems, full of exceptions and nuances as every language is, I suppose. I am currently making up my very first test! Oh, the power...

On y va!

2008-10-17T01:04:00.000-07:00

So I have been meaning to start a French blog, because I am busy and/or lazy I can't respond to individual emails. But having had a cast and brace and such on my wrist until this week, it hasn't happened until now. In case you missed the story, I was riding my sweet french bike that I bought used from this awesome old guy, when suddenly this kid whipped out on his scooter from behind a bus stop to cross the street without looking. I swerved hard in order to avoid him, but I took the fall instead. So I fractured my wrist in early September which was unfortunate, but I got to witness the French socialized health care system up close, and had pretty good experiences. It was interesting to have a cast for the first time, and it was exceeding awkward to try to teach myself to be a lefty, but I am newly free wristed and loving it. It still hurts if I put a lot of weight on it, so I try not to and it seems fine.

So life is Lyon is really awesome. Teaching is a little terrifying because it turns out I am essentially a college professor. I teach three courses, six sections in all, and I was given the course titles and then was told to run along and create my own lesson plans, find all my own materials and etc. Considering my students are college and grad students attending the most prestigious university in France, this is kind of intense. It's tons of work, and I still feel sort of overwhelmed by the whole thing. I spend most of the time trying to appear basically intelligent and rapidly overcoming any fears of public speaking which I may formerly have suffered. And when I am well-prepared, which is much the time, I really do love it, so it has its own rewards.

My living situation could hardly be better. My room is huge, I have my own bathroom and little balcony. My roomies here (a Tunisian, a Brit, a Canadian and my colby friend) are amazing, we are great friends and do almost everything together. We take turns cooking family dinners every night, and hang out with a bunch with a ragtag band of International and French students we have befriended. Lyon is beautiful, there is the most glorious park/zoo/botanical garden (see photo), beautiful old historic silkweaving sections, great museums, restaurants, etc. There are great bike and pedestrian paths all along the Rhone River, the markets are always fun, and we have been exploring the larger French countryside, and generally revelling in all things (especially gastronomically) French.

I will post some photos also to get started on a good foot, and post any questions you have! Thanks for reading,
Charlotte

2008-10-14T08:54:00.001-07:00