full-o-fun.

this weekend was full-o-fun, and now i'm getting back into the weekly grind. friday, i decided to visit a fellow assistant, diana, i had met at orientation back in october for a fête she was throwing in loudeac. now loudeac is not your average french town, rather, it's your average french village. no worries. after several trains & a bus (only buses go to & from the gare there), i arrived at the party safe & sound. not only did i get the chance to meet a bunch of her french friends, but it was great to mingle & drink & dance & just be merry in general. lots of red wine, lots of great conversation, lots of pasta, lots of dance music. it was a pretty fabulous night & great to get out of little ol' lannion for a bit.

the next day, since one of diana's friends lives in plouaret, they offered to give me a ride back to lannion, and despite not being in the best of forme the next day, we ended up having a croque monsieur lunch after virginie showed us around her place. tired, but still standing, i came back to the apartment, where it already smelled deliciously of saskia's birthday dinner, and attempted to discreetly make a birthday cake (and buttercream frosting, without a mixer, mind you), throw up some balloons, make myself presentable, & take a quick cat nap before the next party started. guests arrived as i was coming out of my hangover-&-lack-of-sleep induced coma, and we sat down for a lovely meal prepared by the birthday girl. a hearty potato & leek with meat soup with baguette & fresh tomatoes with olive oil & oregano, mousse au chocolat, & "bowle", a traditional german punch made with slightly sparkling white wine & peaches that you could stab with tiny forks. yum. last, was my pink angelfood cake (who wants white cake when they can have pink cake? i only tried to liven it up a little) with the pale yellow buttercream. the verdict? not half bad, despite the fact that we're seriously lacking in the kitchen appliances & appropriate pans department. the night continued with drinking & game playing & present opening & the like.


the fête d'anniversaire.

jacqueline had a friend visit for the weekend, claire, so she was there, nicolas, fleur, jo & her boyfriend joe, and all of the roommates (catherine, jac, & the birthday girl saskia) were in attendance. we ended up playing a couple rounds of guess-the-person-who's-on-the-stickynote-on-your-forehead game, which i'm sure has a proper name that i just don't know. this ended up being a pretty fun time for most, a few frustrations, but well received overall. a round or two of l.c.r. (left right center, a dice game, for those of you who don't know), and the usual busting-out to the b.s.b., and our night was complete.


virginie, catherine, diana, & saskia at the coast.

yesterday, virginie was taking diana to see the coast & offered to take me along (and some roommates too!) the weather was decently warm, though windy, and the girls' company was good (since usually, i go by myself). virginie shared the legend of saint guirec, where if a girl puts a needle in the statue's nose & it sticks, she'll be married within a year, with the others who hadn't yet heard it.


diana, looking for a needle in her pocket to stick in saint guirec's nose. just kidding.

she pointed out some more of the figures in the rocks, some of which i hadn't yet picked out, so that was pretty fun too. i explained that i swear that every time i go back to ploumanac'h, i see new things in the rocks, and that it's probably just the breton air making me crazy, petit à petit. we shared a pretty interesting vocabulary lesson in the car on the ride home, and i said farewell with a biz. à la prochaine!

strikes... again.

so not only did i walk to school twice today, but i somehow managed to delete my epic blog entry as well. needless to say, after a nap & some chocolate, i'm feeling much better. i'll attempt to recount what was exactly in my deleted blog...

so i'm currently writing this from the school, which i had to sneak into not once, but two times this morning. while i was legitimately warned yesterday about the possibility of not having school, i was really hoping to get through a lesson plan & get back into the swing of things (since i'm bored out of my skull from not having class thus far this week). i shouldn't have given my hopes up though, as upon my arrival (at quarter to eight, mind you), the students were blockading the door, letting no one pass. see, everyone strikes in this country. everyone. i figured i was tricky enough, and i headed around towards the back gate. no one would be there... no one's ever there. blocked. so i wandered around back to the front, my patience waning, and after a few minutes, decided to go hang out with the teachers to see if there was any reason to stay & not go back to bed. i noticed that they were allowing the b.t.s. (upper-level) students to pass through the gate, and as the next hoard of them shuffled inside, i made a break for it, simply hid myself in the crowd, pretended i was a b.t.s. student, & got in. success. take that, french kids!

inside, the teachers were idly standing around, and i said "bonjour" in a sarcastic tone to nicolas (who was present for my rant yesterday concerning the school system and the ability to strike whenever there's urge to do so). he said that he was impressed with the fact that i got into school... like i'm telling him my secret. no, i explained that i probably just look enough like a b.t.s. student & snuck in. fair enough. as class wasn't taking place, i decided to make some photocopies, only to discover that my white folder (a.k.a. my bible, because it contains everything i need to survive at le dantec, including lesson plans & class lists) was missing from my bag. okay, everyone already knows how i'm the one who can't remember where she put her keys five minutes ago. couple that with not being a morning person, and the fact that i woke up at the equivalent 1:00 a.m. michigan-time (jet-lag's a bitch), and it's understandable that i'd have some problems. a teacher told me that i'd have enough time to run back home & class would most likely eventually commence at nine. likely story.

sooo... i decided to go home to get my shit. escaping the "prison" was almost as much a fiasco as getting in in the first place, like i needed a reason to leave. i decided to go for the back gate, as there were fewer students (and less debris, a slab of concrete & a banner of protest) guarding that entryway. at the other gate, the students used whatever salvage they could... a tire, dumpster, and bent fender fashioned into a "lock"... how resourceful! one of the "guards" asked me if i wanted to leave, to which i rolled my eyes. i rhetorically exclaimed, "wouldn't you guys rather just sleep?" not expecting an answer, to which one of them said "yeah." my response: "me too." he grudgingly moved the piece of concrete he had wedged between the gate, acting as if i was causing this horrible inconvenience. a "bonne journee," accompanied by a terribly snotty & sarcastic smirk (hey, it's what i've gotta do to survive around here sometimes), and i was off. i made the trek half an hour back, uphill both ways (true story, folks), plodding away to the rhythm of the music coming from my ipod, and when i got back to the house i was, not surprisingly, not at all in a hurry to get back to things. i grabbed my stuff, had a drink of water, and incessantly checked my e-mail for already the hundredth time since waking up.

fast-forward fifty minutes later. i again, find the gate at the school blocked, only this time, there were no student manning their castle doors. instead, there was a man who i'd seen earlier in the parking lot, attempting to pry the door open. i helped him kick the tire that was wedged between the gate & the wall loose from its spot. we forced the gate open enough for us to slide through, then carefully moved it & the dumpster back in place to serve as the makeshift barrier. i made my way back into the salle des profs, where everyone was congregated in the main room, having a meeting of sorts. they were discussing a letter (i'm presuming one that the students wrote), and the possibility of continued strike tomorrow, as well as an explanation to tell the parents. one of my teachers came over to me, explained what i needed to know in english, and then told me that there wasn't any reason i needed to be there. brilliant. i walked to school twice, for nothing. super!

my frustrations as an educator are simple: if you don't show up to class, you can't learn. or even better, if you don't show up, you fail. see, this doesn't work here in france, land of the striking. i understand the importance of public demonstration and the need to make your voice heard. do it constructively. i refuse to believe that people don't have any power in this type of situation. make the students responsible for their actions, please. i'm still baffled how people can function here. another frustration: how i could've stayed home (or at least done something mildly entertaining instead of waiting around to find out that i don't have class), had i known. not only did i not miss anything by taking a week off before break (there were national student strikes then), but i could've taken a week off after break as well. oh well. here's to probably not having class again tomorrow! maybe i'll just have to start early on weekend festivities!

on a better note... nicolas took jacqueline & myself to pointe de bihit (i think), near trebeurden yesterday, on our roundabout way to the supermarket. we hiked along the cliffs, and it was nice to get some fresh sea air (and get out of the apartment for a bit). he kept telling us not to fall, as we stepped over the "interdit" sign, warning us not to pass because of the dangerous terrain. nice. at one point, you could see the sea to the left & the right, as we stepped out onto the little peninsula. i was sure i saw a group of seals, bobbing their heads in the waves, but my eyes were playing tricks on me, and they turned out to be nothing more than a couple of rocks. the shadows cast by the enormous boulders (or teeny tiny islands if you will), were made even more impressive as the sun was setting. no pictures from this one (who brings their camera to the "supermarche," but i'll be sure to go back & post some when i do.

back in france

so going through customs, i was asked if this was my first time in france by some sort of security personnel who couldn't have been much older than myself. my response was a light chuckle, and i explained that i currently live here. "and your husband's french?" ha. gotta love being harassed by overly-smiley authority figures. gotta love the francais.

this is especially funny since a week before i left for vacances, i was told i wouldn't be able to re-enter the country due to visa issues (which i sorted out before my departure, but still)... like i'd have any problems.

fest noz.

this week, i was invited to a fest noz. what's that, you ask? well, it's a traditional breton festival, with lots of dancing & drinking. good times.

earlier this week, i received a phone call from one of the couchsurfers in town, and he asked me if i'd be up for a sortie to one of these fest noz. comme toujours, i said, "pourquoi pas?" why not take this opportunity to explore a little bit of the local culture?

this particular fest noz was in celebration of the fete des forgerons (blacksmiths) & the patron saint eloi (which also happened to be the name of my date for the party). it took place in a tiny little village called plougonver (in the heart of tregor), really in the middle-of-nowhere, and while i knew the basics, i had no idea what to expect.

the evening started with aperatifs of hot toddies at an old farm house of eloi's friends (one of which, thomas, couldn't wait to show the american his new obama hoodie... haha). after some warm conversation & good fun, the four of us piled into the car & headed off to the fest. when we got there, i knew right away it was going to be a good time. thomas bought the first round of delicious breton beer (rousse, or amber), which almost rivals some of the micro-brews at home. we then had a stick-to-your-ribs dinner (you've got to eat well if you're going to party all night), of an onion & garlic soup, tartiflette (a ham, cheese, potato gratin), endives, & yogurt & cinnamon dessert, all of which were accompanied by good red wine. we ate dinner with several families with very small children... one little curly-blonde haired three-year-old was trying to drink yogurt out of a mug & had quite the mustache... sooo smiley!

lots of warm sweaters, big beards, smiley faces... and i got the impression that most of the people were from the village or at least close by. the ages ranged from infant to great-grandfather, and everyone danced. the songs were in breton, and i'd say at least half the people there had some knowledge of the language (being what would one would probably consider a 'dying' language, this was quite surprising, especially that it was thriving among the younger generation). it was refreshing to see teenagers proud of their heritage, quite different than the ones at home who can't wait to escape their parents' supervision. i even ran into one of my students (who i later found napping... i guess he had had too much excitement for one night).

as soon as we finished dinner, the tables & chairs were moved, to make way for the dancers & musicians. it was fine that i didn't know any of the dances, and i caught on quickly (later, people were quite surprised to find out that was my first try at breton dancing). my friend, eloi, taught me the names & counts of some, and the history of the dances, though i found that talking & trying to learn new dances at the same time was quite a challenge. many of the dances were held in order to stamp the ground to make a firm surface on which to build a house or farm. during the group dances, you'd either hold hands & link arms, or lock pinkies with the people next to you. some were definitely more complicated than others, and while it looked like people were all just walking in a circle to the music being played, it proved to be more challenging (and more tiring) than it looked at first glance. some dances were couples, and there were times that it seemed like no one, except the older people, knew what was going on. people really got into it, and there were even a few dances where the people who were singing were part of the dance, so we all started whooping & hollering. nevertheless, there was an overwhelming feeling of togetherness throughout the night.

i saw a man that stereotypically fits what i will always picture in my head as a french countryman. spindly in stature, sporting fitted black pants, & a red plaid flannel shirt. a face made older & browner by the sun & the wind & the sea. a well-worn black felt beret perched atop a head of wildly frizzy dark hair, with tinges of silver. glassy, dark, almost-crazy, but friendly marble-eyes. the only thing he was lacking was a hand-rolled cigarette.


while this isn't my video, or even from the fest that i went to, it'll kinda give you an idea of what my night was like.

the music is difficult to describe here, included many different groups & instruments, and seemed to be quite a melange of genres. there was strong celtic influence, but it also had folk-ish undertones. i saw clarinets, guitars (of some sort), accordions, bagpipes, bass, flutes, and the list goes on. a few rousses later, we went outside to check out the forging that was happening, and tried our hand at some breton games (tabletop dutch shuffleboard type games). i lost... both times. the forging outside was held in a tent, and people of all ages were able to try to shape the hot metal using anvils & hammers. needless to say, eloi & i were a little worried about the kids playing with red-hot iron. at the end of the night, we saw the bouquet of twisting vines & leaves that was made during the day out of horseshoes & such... quite pretty. i enjoyed the mingling & the company of the musicians & the people who had invited me (hopefully eventually new friends) to take part in the festivities. i even got to hug on a farm dog with a muddy nose and white feet named chausettes (or socks)... i tried to explain that my reason for doing so was because i missed my pooches at home, but i think only the little ones truly understood.

the dancing went well into the night, and i believe that we left around three o'clock. i was told that with the music & the crowd, this fest noz was more traditional than most, and i felt lucky to have been part of it all. on our way out, traipsing over the crunchy, frosted grass, i spotted a falling star or an étoile filante and made a wish. it was a fantastic night.

joyeux noël from the roomies!

on a lighter note, i whipped up a little something as a holiday greeting for my roomies... everyone laughed their asses off.

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

bah ouais, bien sûr!

so i don't remember if i've mentioned this before, but i'd be willing to guess that approximately 40% of my classes are canceled for one reason or another, any given week. be it strike, sickness, or other unforeseen reasons, i end up not working, and wasting more time either attempting to find interesting things to talk about with my students, or more often than not, facebook-stalking my friends at home while i wait for my other classes to actually take place. this week (keep in mind i've only had two days of work, a total of nine classes), two of my classes have been canceled already. one of which, was at least a legitimate cancellation (i.e. my teacher was at home, sick, and she wrote me an e-mail). who knows what tomorrow will bring. more often than not, these said cancellations are not accompanied by a note or an explanation, and i am not the only one who's left in the dark. the students wait around in the hall until they decide amongst themselves that a prof won't actually show, and then decide to leave. a few days ago, i had a class (my first class at 9am), in which the teacher decided not to show up. there was no note in my 'pigeon hole' as they call our mailboxes, nor an e-mail or even a phone call, reminding me of this change in schedule. normally, i'll at least get some lame explanation, after the fact, of how they attempted to leave me a note (which for some reason, i never receive). the other day, however, when the teacher didn't arrive on time, or within the first ten minutes of class, i took it upon myself to try to unlock the classroom with one of my six keys (also, i have no idea which keys open which doors in the building, but that's another story, which i may or may not get to later). i turned on the lights & got settled and invited the students to join me. they at first looked puzzled, followed by fright, then concluded with a 'hell no'. i had six students who stayed with me; the others, seeing that our prof was not going to show at this point, and that i was going to hold class anyway, knew that they had no obligation to be present, so they quickly made themselves absent. i continued with the students who were present with an ever-so-exciting game of christmas taboo (where one tries to describe a word on a card without mentioning the common describing words given, and without gestures and les mots français). i ran into this absent teacher, a couple hours later in the teachers lounge, during which no explanation was given regarding her whereabouts. when another prof asked me how my classes were going later that day, and i replied with an explanation of 'decent, but i only had one, the other was canceled'... she tried to tell me that i must 'prevenir'... basically telling me that i have to possess fortune-telling powers in order to read the minds of my profs who feel like canceling their courses. also, this meant putting the blame on no one but myself, since i was unable to see clearly into the future. i mean, bien sûr, of course it's my fault i can't read palms or crystal balls... what the hell was i thinking?!

giving thanks (or ahpee tenksgeeveen in french)

with our "turkey".

this week, thanks to mom, we were able to host a proper thanksgiving (or at least close to one)... a few weeks ago, yet another care package arrived, and this one's theme was "everything but the turkey"... indeed, it contained just about everything we'd need to have turkey-day dinner, minus the bird... sooo... we were able to celebrate in true form after all.

i started the pie in the morning, and had the oven going all day... good times, and our apartment was nice & toasty. keep in mind that things that all you americans take for granted during your holiday meals, do not even exist here in france. for example, when my fellow american roommate jacqueline & i tried explaining pumpkin pie (which i know most people at home simply adore), the idea was welcomed with a dégoútante (revolting), and perplexed faces. when i attempted to explain the wonders of the cranberry (as i am simply the biggest fan i know of cranberry juice), i was asked if it was the same thing as a cerise (cherry) or a groseille (redcurrant). as i explained the french word of canneberge to them, again, i got puzzled looks. two of my 200 students even had a clue as to what i was talking about, and they were still unable to make their collegues understand. i've found cranberry sauce here, jarred, looking somewhat like strawberry jelly, and also a bottle of 19-euro juice at the irish specialty store. needless to say, that thanksgiving here is not at all possible without the aid of étranger sections in the grocery store, and moms like mine. :)


care package from mom.


jacqueline getting creative with the decorations.

i decided to head this one up (and never having done thanksgiving dinner, was a little intimidated, i won't lie), and invite people over on wednesday, instead of thursday, mainly because of class schedules, and i had a free day. everything was quite the success, and i think everyone had a great time with good friends, food, & wine.


assistantes at tenksgeeveen.

the menu of the evening:
roast chicken aka poulet rôti (our "turkey")
homemade mashed potatoes with buerre salé & crème fraîche
gravy
stovetop stuffing
smuggled squash with brown sugar & buerre salé
green bean casserole (the french fried onions took me three attempts to two different supermarkets to be found)
cranberry sauce à la can
pumpkin pie & chantilly
assortment of cheeses & fruits (with ferrero rocher), compliments of saskia
rosé, compliments of fleur & male
and a delectable bordeaux, compliments of nicolas ;)


the spread.


doing "the honors".


saskia's amazing cheese tray.


emmental, grapes, clementines, & ferrero rocher. yum.

i'm pretty sure everyone else enjoyed themselves, but for me, this was one of the best times i've had in little ol' lannion to date. though i missed being with everyone at home, it was nice to spend it with our little assistante family. and for the first time, i actually felt like i fit in in this strange place.

in other news:
our couchsquatter finally left... unfortunately, this wasn't the best of cs experiences, and i'm trying not to let it color future ones. also, i went exploring with her a little & checked out some more nearby coastline & a megalithic site. i'll put up some more pictures soon. also, i went to st malo for a fete with all of the amazing people i had met a month ago on my way to england. i ended up slipping & injuring myself, and making a bit of a scene in which i'm terribly sorry for the trouble i caused. hopefully, they'll come for a party sometime in my neck-of-the-woods after the holidays. we'll see. school's getting slightly better, but is still terribly unorganized. i was given one of my groups two weeks in a row (and since i've finally devised a way of making lesson plans that i can feasibly use two weeks in a row, since technically i wouldn't be seeing a single group more than once in a two-week time period), i was stuck when one of the profs threw this one at me. the students are simply delighted to play hangman in english though, and i thought it would be fun to make this class of 20-something boys sing 'rudolph the red-nosed reindeer'. it was indeed grand and their participation was exceptional.