Life in Lyon

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

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

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!

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.

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

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.

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!