But why THREE lawyers?!

So my friend Molly came through Paris on Friday, and I picked her up from Gare du Nord and brought her back to my tiny closet. Test one for visitors. It was lots of fun to have her here -- we took French together at Binghamton (and did orchestra, and pit orchestra, etc), and now she's an assistant too (in Abbeville, near Amiens).

SHE BROUGHT ME REESES PEANUT BUTTER CUPS!!! A true Halloween :) She found them while she was in London with friends. I was ecstatic, as you might imagine.



We spent the afternoon wandering around near the Bourse (Sydney had found a market there, but after we checked that out, we wandered). On our way to Montorgeuil, which I have previously mentioned, we saw this store, and both Molly and I could only think of that LaFontaine poem that Coates made us recite.



This isn't the first time I've seen these sorts of political headquarters, but here's the Socialist hangout. I think it might also mark the dividing line between the first and second arrondissements, but that might just be the headquarters for the two, so I'm not positive. At any rate, imagine the reactions if we had these in the US! QUELLE HORREUR haha.



In the windows of one bakery, they had these adorable pigs. MMMMMM. What would PETA say?



Molly and Sydney, with their pig. Which they ate. THEY ATE A WHOLE PIG. Turns out they're filled with chocolate. Who knew?



So perhaps this is because I have so many friends in law school, but avocat can mean lawyer, or avocado. You can imagine my surprise when I realized that they were selling three whole lawyers for 3 euros! THREE WHOLE LAWYERS! I wish I could say that I hadn't thought of lawyer first, but that would be a lie.



The old market at Les Halles. They don't use it anymore (they built a huge underground mall here), but this is much prettier.



As promised [Dave], my new favorite store. I can imagine such a great "Who's on first?" routine with this. "Where'd you get your shirt?" - "Oh, at Pfft." -"Where?!" - "Pfft."

Cracks me up just thinking about it.



Molly's only request for her Paris visit was a falafel sandwich and baklava, which I knew we could find in the Latin quarter (she spent a semester in Morocco, so it makes more sense). Anyway, the restaurant had this posted on the door. Call me crazy, but Sodexho doesn't exactly reassure me.



Pictures from my Halloween adventure to follow!

Autumn Leaves

Needed to investigate a cheap lamp at the Conforama (think Bed Bath and Beyond) near Pont Neuf. On the way, the bouquinistes were opening up little by little as I walked along the Seine. I liked the way the yellow leaves looked with the green trees and boxes.



Mommy, I found Samaritaine. It's right at the end of Pont Neuf ... and definitely closed. Not sure what the story is there. I googled around a bit, and it looks like it's closed indefinitely due to structural instabilities and fire hazards. Apparently even Paris has a fire marshall. Looks like it has been closed for a few years, and doesn't look like it will be opening in the next few either. This is a historically famous department store in the heart of Paris, for those who haven't heard of it.



On my way back, I stayed on the right bank until the Pont du Carrousel, and saw that one of the bouquinistes (little bookseller/tchotchky sellers that operate out of those FM/Binghamton green boxes along the Seine) is sporting some classy old tags. Daddy, don't we have some of yours floating around the garage somewhere? These look to be of a similar vintage make.



Finally, some pretty fall foliage! It's about time. Note the Eiffel Tower off to the left. Love this picture. It's nice and sunny out, so I was thinking about reading outside along the Seine for a bit.

Part-time unemployment

Today, my friend Gabrielle (from orchestra) came over, and we played a ton of violin duets that she has. Everything from Bartok, to themes from Schindler's List and Amélie, to the Bach Double, to Danny Boy - but that's where I stopped her ... too tired!

I was in charge of concocting lunch (damn the French and their multiple courses!), and Gabrielle brought dessert, shown below. SHE MADE MINI APPLE PIES AND CARROT CAKE!!! Fall = partial redemption. Delicious, for the record.



That was pretty much the whole day, with the exception of my first foray into the land of hunting for a second job. It all seemed OK for this café, until the owner asked me when I wanted to work. When I started to explain how my availability varied from day to day, he flipped his lid. I would like to take this moment to point out that he ASKED when I wanted to work, thus implying a CHOICE. I think I was probably smiling in a bemused sort of way right around the part of the lecture that was something to the effect that "You couldn't do this in New York! What would happen if you just couldn't come when I called you and said I want you to be here now? We just wouldn't open?"

Right, so, he then explicitly stated that I should be available at any time so if he wanted me to come in, I could. What planet is this dude from? Everyone wants a native anglophone to work for them, and to have working papers already -- but you can't get working papers without having a job sponsor you. Vicious cycle. Lots of dumb people. SOS.

This is the job that I found on the board at the American Church. Let's review: American Church implies whom? Oh right, Americans. What won't Americans have, unless they've already received sponsorship from some sort of job? Working papers. What does that mean for availability? They will have other obligations -- like, the ones that went to the trouble to get them work visas.

Lucky for him, my sarcasm is limited in French.

That left me a bit cranky, so I stopped at the grocery store and bought the 750g jar of nutella. Whoops. My mood, however, improved drastically.

Therefore I am?

Today Anna and I had vowed to indulge our need for chocolat chaud. We started at the Café Mabillon, and it was delicious.

After that we began our wanderings, and ended up in what I can only imagine is the South Pole, if Santa moved there. I don't understand this tree, but it must be related to your standard Christmas tree.



I'm sorry, did I say the South Pole? I meant South Beach. PALM TREES?! Really? I seem to recall that Paris is further north than Syracuse ... I'm confused.



We wandered a bit beyond this park (and I can't seem to find a name for it anywhere), and stumbled upon the Bon Marché. We didn't go in the fancy department store part, but rather investigated the Grand Epicerie. That means real grocery store, in case you wondered; it's pretty much the French version of Wegmans (if slightly pricier). There was a cheese girl (KELLY!) and various meat and fish and bakery counters, and lots of aisles full of bizarre assortments of other things. Pretty cool.



On the way back to Rue de Grenelle, happened to notice this sign. It's one of those "I love my neighborhood, so I pick up my dog's poop instead of leaving it to fester on the sidewalks, even though picking up poop is very much not in line with my classy French tendancies"-esque signs ... Except someone has, shall we say, edited. Now the bottom reads "I poop [ahem, they were more vulgar, if you know what I mean], therefore I am." Beneath that, it seems like someone then added "Nothing." All together, "I poop, therefore I am -- nothing."

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, France is one enormous poop joke waiting to be told.



After lunch and some violin time, I decided I'd go investigate the job postings at the American Church. On the way there, I passed the "Congress," aka the Assemblée Nationale.



After I checked out the postings, I was pretty worn out, so I turned around to head home. Came around the corner, and saw this. Moments like this serve as reminders of where I am and what I'm doing, I think.



Walked past Invalides again ... I'll be playing my orchestra concert in that spire-topped cathedral in just a few weeks. *Choke*



Decided to stroll through the Latin Quarter on the way home, and caught sight of Saint Severin. I love how it looks all lit up. Just moments later I was to discover the home of the BEST baklava I have ever eaten. Little pastry shop right in the heart of ethnic food land. They have two other types (one that looked particularly liquidy, one with pistachio that I tried, and one with hazlenut, which I'm not sure about).



One of the little gift shops had a well-stocked selection of minibooze bottles, and Eiffel Tower shaped booze bottles.



Finally on my way home (via Rue Danton), happened to notice a Hallowen theme in this medical supply store's window. LOVED it. One of the few acknowledgements of Halloween in France, really. I miss Halloween at home!

Historical quest, of sorts.

Because of a certain someone (cough Dave cough), I read quite a bit of Hemingway this past summer. Or tried to at least. Of course my favorite was certainly The Moveable Feast, due, no doubt, to the subject matter (Hemingway recounts a bunch of memoirs from his time in Paris).

Prominently featured is a bookstore frequented by American expats of the interwar period, called "Shakespeare and Company." I've been meaning to hunt for it, but it rather slipped my mind until yesterday. It was located at 12 Rue de L'Odéon during the period in question, but has since relocated to the 5th arrondissement - so I went hunting for the old building, and for the new one.

Now, in spite of my investigation, a question remains. I know that in the copies of The Moveable Feast they include some black and white photos, one of which is in front of the bookstore, so you'll have to check for yourself. When I got to number 12, there was this part of the building, which to me looks the most promising and bookstore-like.



But there was also this plaque over the area immediately next door (although I must explain that I think both are part of number 12, so therein lies my uncertainty). It says that "In 1922, in this house, Sylvia Beach published Ulysses, by James Joyce."



Here's the zoomed out version. So if it isn't the blue thing in the first picture, perhaps they've just since redone the facade of the building, and I can't really expect something from the middle of last century to look the same ... oh wait, yes I can [in France].



Next I hunted down the new Shakespeare and Company. It's on Rue de la Bûcherie, a small street more or less at the end of Rue Saint Jacques (across from Notre Dâme; next to Le Petit Pont, as a matter of fact). It's what I would turn my bedroom into if anyone would let me -- just books, EVERYWHERE. Packed with them. Unfortunately, it was also packed with people, which made me want out, fast. Wish I could investigate it without all the other people! But I'm also not really planning to buy any books in English, since I can do that for far less cost when I get home. They specialize in English language books, happened upon an old-looking copy of The Beggar's Opera and T.S. Eliot in the poetry corner!



Proceeded to go wandering along Rue Réaumur in search of Auchan, which is evidently a huge grocery store. Couldn't find it, but instead discovered a neat street, and the overhead sign said something about "Montorgeuil." Didn't get to explore too much since I was meeting Giacinta shortly after I came across it, but I'll definitely have to go back. I don't think I've ever been there before.

I met Giacinta at St Eustache, the large church that's practically within the old Les Halles open market. It no longer is an open market, but rather houses an underground shopping mall that is HUGE. I forgot that with no school this week, going to the mall around 3pm means that you're in for a host of teeny boppers, no matter what language they're speaking. We were trying to get to the François Truffault Bibliothèque du Cinéma, but we forgot that Paris museums and such (anything run by the Mairie de Paris) are closed on Mondays, while national things (like the Louvre) are closed on Tuesdays. So we wandered instead.



I love the way things glow when the sun is shining on them but they're up against some ominous looking clouds in the background.



Could anybody explain what this is? It almost seems like a clock, or a sun dial, but the numerals seem all out of whack, and I don't see anything that could cast a shadow ... I don't really have any idea what it is. Perhaps it's for marking something else.

Why, yes, I will have some cheese with my w[h]ine.

Friday night was a blast, because two other assistants came over for wine and cheese and detox time. After surviving the last of our training sessions, and making it all the way to our first break (this coming week is off for Toussaint, or All Saints' Day), I think it was well-deserved.

After we'd chattered away at my place for a few hours, Julien invited us to join in a poker night he was having with his friends. We hung out with them until the wee hours, and it was a great night all around.

The next day I had orchestra in the morning, and spend the remainder of the afternoon avoiding laundry, before finally coming to grips with it and heading to a laundromat.

Having never gone to a laundromat in the US, I'm a bit unqualified to make a comparative study of the experience. The instructions are printed on the wall ... you pick empty machines, load them up, and head to the machine to pay. 4€ per load of 6kg. What was most annoying, in terms of cost, was that to dry things, it's 1€ per 10 minutes of dryer time.

Uh, what? No.

So I gave the important things like towels and jeans and pyjamas a ten minute spin in the dryer (I'll give them credit though, the dryers are pretty forceful) and came back to my apartment to hang my clothes from every available space in the apartment. It looked like my laundry threw up on my apartment, but hey, it worked.

I've begun to reflect, at great length, on costumes I would wear if I were home. I've set the bar pretty high in previous years, as Carmen Sandiego and then Sarah Palin, most recently. So far my ideas include:

1. Une francaise -- This would necessitate a striped shirt, a beret, and carrying around a baguette. Additionally, I would need a designer hangbag to carry my candy (Longchamp?) and I would consider taking up smoking for the evening.

2. The [traditional] American in Paris -- I would drape myself in an American flag and don Uggs, and carry a large city map. I would also speak in high volumes and mispronounce everything with a deliciously non-continental accent (PAR-lezze vouses le fr-anne-say?). Oh, and I'd be carrying a hamburger.

Neither of these has resonated in that critical way though, so alas, I'm still pondering the matter. Suggestions are welcome.

Oh, and ...

Happy one-month anniversary to me!!! I just realized it is a month to the day since I came crashing into the city of Paris (again)!

It reminds me of that line in TS Eliot's poem, "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock:"

For I have known them all already, known them all: --
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

However, in my particular case, one might consider substituting "baguettes" for "coffee spoons."

Also worth noting that the French Embassy liaison got back to me already, and I AM allowed to work, but I have to have permission from the principals of the schools where I work, it can't interfere with my teaching, and I can't make more than 30% of my current salary (which means not much, that's for sure). Better than nothing!

And as if to celebrate my one-month anniversary, today I discovered CHEAP PEANUT BUTTER! They have it in one of the many Middle Eastern food markets of Aubervilliers. WIN! It's made in Holland, which means if I ever go there, I will thank them profusely. Apparently all it takes to win my undying love is peanut butter.

Would placing a personal ad be too blasé?

Conclusion 1: Every single time I think I have the whole France thing under control, I am confronted by a training session or other small crisis that reminds me that I will never, EVER have the right to become complacent.

Jerks.

Yesterday, my relative peace was broken by the discussion of immigration paperwork (which I think I have done correctly and completely) and social security numbers. Evidently I need to start gathering up papers to form my social security dossier, EVEN THOUGH I WON'T BE GIVEN THE THREE PAYSTUBS I NEED UNTIL JANUARY. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!

Ugh.

Couple this with general anxiety stemming from the fact that they can't decide when we'll be getting our first paychecks, and I've just been told that I haven't got the right to look for a secondary job. Buh-scuse me? I e-mailed the Embassy liaison in DC for clarification on the matter - she had previously told us we could find another job, there were just lots of limits on how many hours we could work and such. Waiting to hear back from her.

So basically, I think this is what the French call a galère (roughly, a slang and semi-vulgar term for living nightmare).

In happier news, another assistant that lives near me, Betsey, and I have plans to get together over wine tonight and laugh about all of it (she's having a nightmare of a time trying to figure out her teaching schedule). At least this will all make for some great stories ... someday.

In other news, yesterday we were given a demonstration of smartboards in training. Funny, because Meg and Gennie have always told me about smartboards (and recently Lin!), but I've never seen them until now. Also, incredibly ironic, because not ONLY are we using vintage 19th century chalkboards in the majority of our school districts, but we have a Hell of a time finding ways to make copies for class.

And they're teaching me about integrating a smartboard into the classroom. You have GOT to be kidding.

I am clearly not being paid enough for this. Fortunately, my sense of the absurd is soaking up the majority of my frustration.

Conclusion 2: If I marry someone with EU citizenship, the vast majority of these problems go away. I can work, I don't have to file with immigration, the sun comes out, and the butterflies dance through the sky. Hmmm.

I'M JUST KIDDING KEEP YOUR PANTS ON. But it's nice to think about.

A B C, it's easy as 1, 2, 3. Or wan, twou, tree?

TODAY WAS MY FIRST DAY TEACHING!

I think it went well ... by some act of providence I guessed the correct amount of material to fill a 45 minute period. Score. I had six different classes, five of which I taught single-handedly, and one in which I was actually, you know, an assistant.

To be honest, I think I prefer doing my own thing. Being at someone else's mercy is SO not my style.

Today I started by explaining the Miss-Mrs-Mr Last name deal, since kids here call their teachers by their first names, or just "maitresse!" They thought it was cool, but since Ariotti is more difficult than Molly, I think I can see the writing on the wall. Not like I care, Miss Ariotti makes me feel ooooooold.

They went around, introduced themselves, and told me about what they already know how to say in English. Then I taught lots of the younger classes how to say the alphabet and sing the song. The older classes benefited from my elementary school days. Fay El used to bring in the Beauty and the Beast Storytellers every year (wonderful couple, obvious very talented storytellers if I still remember all this time later). One year we each got to pick a story, and they coached us and taught us how to tell it well. I chose a semi-scary/funny one, which served me in good stead. It's one of those ones that requires the audience to make sounds and stuff, so of course the kids were totally into it. Thanks, fourth grade, you just proved yourself useful :)

I taught all of the kids about Halloween in general, and in lots of classes had them draw me their imaginary costume (then we learned how to say it in English: Lots of witches, vampires, zombies, pumpkins).

Anyway, I should head to bed ... round two ... as in, my next six different classes is in the morning, and I've been wiped out since lunchtime.

Oh boy.

Plus bas and I would cry myself to sleep.

Highlights from our excursion to the vide-grenier (literally: empty-attic) at the Porte de Vincennes. It was a blast, and had more antiques and vintage dresses, purses, and shoes than the Montreuil market I usually go to. I'll definitely have to go back.

Also was informed of this site: http://vide-greniers.org/agendaDepartement.php?departement=75

A list of all flea markets/vide-greniers/etc. by département. Possibly my new favorite website.

I put a longer album on the book of Face, but for those of you who persistently resist, these are the highlights.

1. Pizza Hut delivery guy's helmet, or rather clever disguise for a Storm Trooper? Either way, whaaaaaaat?!



2. The thing I covet most: A real, REAL disco ball. This one was 12 euros and totally legit. I should be given a medal for resisting the urge to spend my money so irresponsibly, and I should be hanged for passing up such a golden opportunity. When I go back, if it's there, I'm fairly certain I'll cave and buy it. I'll take it as a sign.



3. "Dessine-moi un mouton!" Of course, the classic. Nearby stack not shown: Piles of records. The Police were prominently displayed.



4. You mean this is ALL of Piaf from 1936-1945? Again, resisted. But seriously, SERIOUSLY? I love this market.



5. What looked like the complete (I mean, of the old ones anyway, whatever, Daniel Craig) series in a)VHS format and b)French. I would love to see it dubbed. Can you imagine?

"Je m'appelle Bond. James Bond." Or would it be dubbed to Henri?!



6. Everything but the kitchen sink. No wait, we have that too. Just everything then.



7. Demands no further explanation.



8. Special ceramic ware for making escargot. Mmmm. If I had an oven, I'd make my own escargot in these.



9. "Any lower, and you'd have some surprises." That's it, I'm officially scandalized. Must be the inherent prudeness of anglosaxon water or something. All this, just to advertise van rentals. Not sure if I should bemoan the sad state of human existence, or laugh.



Scratch that, I giggle every time I look at this picture. I'm obviously mature enough to work in elementary school.

I haven't seen a single pumpkin, so this is the WORST autumn ever.

This has been rather a delay in my posting, and I'm not really sure why. I think it's just because spending all day chasing teachers around to firm up a teaching schedule is exhausting.

Whatever the reason, this week was excellent, in that I finally finished dealing with scheduling my "interventions" (makes me sound like a rehab counselor, doesn't it?!) on Thursday. Phew.

Wednesday I did nothing most of the morning, then decided to go wandering because it was sunny, though in the 40s and a bit chilly (screw you, metric). There is no elementary school on Wednesday, ever, which means I have a built in recovery day. I have all of my classes on Monday and Tuesday, with the exception of one repeat class on Friday afernoon (13h50, to be specific). This was my doing, because I can't have class Wednesday, I don't want class on Thursday (can you imagine teaching all day, then trying to survive a three hour orchestra rehearsal?), and well, there you have it.

Found this restaurant? bar? ... Priceless. I wonder if anyone has the faintest idea what it means. Probably not, but I laughed. It has a champagne store next to it (on the left), so I would contest the name. It can't be THAT bad if champagne is next door, right? Or is that just irony? Tough to say.



I wandered around the Théâtre de l'Odéon and the surrounding areas, eventually making my way to Gibert Jeune (bookstore) to buy Père Goriot (Balzac, Professor Coates recommended it because it takes place in the quarter where I live) AND a mini cookbook, filled with microwave masterpieces. I don't know how much longer I can subsist on bread and cheese and wine (though it may be quite awhile), so I figured it was time to take action. It's cool, because without and oven I thought my options were going to be a bit limited. Not according to this little book; I'm going to rule the kitchen in no time ... assuming I translate some of that cooking vocabulary that I never bothered to learn in English and figure out just what it's telling me to do. Take that, Julia Childs!

Thursday I went back to Aubervilliers to finish scheduling, had my face melted by Beethoven a tempo (holy CRAP the 6th symphony has some SERIOUS moments), and came back to meet my new neighbor! The family I'm renting from has a son a bit older than I am, Benoît, and his best friend Julien just moved into the big apartment they have that faces mine! It's really fun to have a neighbor that I can hang out with right there, so I'm content.

Friday I had no plans, so I slept late (I seem to have come down with a head cold ... not promising, since I'm about to spend a lot of time with a weak immune system and a TON of little kids) and tried to pull myself together. I'd hate to get the grippe A (what they call the swine flu, H1N1 or whatever it is).

By midafternoon I felt alright, so I decided to go investigate the rather famous American grocery store in the Marais, called Thanksgiving. Hannah bought me can of vanilla frosting for my birthday two years ago, so I had high hopes. I couldn't stop smiling while I was there -- it was so nice to see Saltines and Zatarains and peanut butter and even FLUFF! Things I'm accustomed to seeing in a grocery store! Unfortunately, it's all really, REALLY expensive. No way am I paying 5 euros for a box of Hamburger Helper!!! 7,50 for a small jar of peanut butter, so it looks like I'm going to hold out until someone comes to visit and imports some for me ;)

I did find Louisiana hot sauce (no Frank's there, bummer), which tastes just like Frank's. It says "One drop is enough" on the label, but clearly they've never met me.



While I was in the Marais, I wandered along Rue St Anthony, and stopped to look in the window of NICOLAS, which is a "cave" or wine cellar store. They had this wine advertised in the window ... It's from Asti, Italy, which is where my dad's family came from. It's also a moscato, the sweet dessert wine that I had actually been craving. Took this as a sign and bought a bottle. It's delicious. You can kind of see the bottle of hot sauce behind it. Sorry, I'm SO not an artsy photographer ... although this particular still life has wine, bread, and hot sauce. Good enough.



Next on my food tour, I stopped in a G20 grocery store (always sounds political when I see it) and was delighted to discover that they had cheddar! Wasn't sure whether English cheddar was different from Vermont cheddar (in my opinion, it's not), but I figured "Pilgrim's Choice" sounded promising. It was wonderful to have a non-soft cheese, though I do love all cheese. Except limberger, which is disgusting.



Last night I hung out with Julien and his friend Iris, it was really great to relax and get to know people better. I definitely feel like my French sounds better with this cold, so that was a plus :)

Orchestra this morning went fairly well, although at the end my sectional leader, Diana, told me to get well soon, so I must not look so hot (or perhaps it was my sniffling that tipped her off).

I spent the afternoon brainstorming next week's lessons and practicing the violin. I realized that my concert, on the 19th of November, is in St. Louis des Invalides ... which I only just realized means the chapel of Invalides. Yes, THE Invalides (Army Museum, tomb of Napoleon, etc). Gulp. Suddenly the conductor talking about important people being at our concert makes more sense.

"It's good to be the King."

Riddle me this, M C Escher ... Is this a real building? I noticed it this morning at DAWN, while I was mistakenly ringing the doorbell of 8 Avenue de la République instead of 6 Avenue de la République for my 8am meeting with the Inspection Nationale in Aubervilliers.

I walked out into traffic because I had to see whether or not my life was actually the Truman show. Turns out the building is wedge shaped, but from this angle it really was tripping me out!



Let me back up and explain the series of events that brought me to this cracked out, bleary eyed and conspiracy-oriented state:

Yesterday I spent my first full day at Firmin Gémier, still observing. I spent the morning with one teacher and the afternoon with another, and realized the true difference between French elementary schools and their American counterparts: French kids use pens, and have 12 recesses. OK not twelve, but at least two. Also, their teachers teach everything ... including gym. Fear not, that just ruled me out of a staying in France forever as a teacher, because there is NOTHING that will make me teach a gym class. Ever.

Yesterday afternoon the Inspection Nationale (so, my teacher-advisor) called to tell me I've finally had my school placements approved. I spend 6 hours per week at Firmin Gémier, and three hours a piece at each Victor Hugo and Balzac (which are really actually connected, and thus in my mind are really only one school). YAY!!!

Today I went to Aubervilliers to [finally] sign my Procès Verbal d'Installation ... cough, contract. And officially take up my post. Again. Anyway, now I am in the process of talking to all of the teachers at the various schools and working out a teaching schedule.

Theoretically I would see one class twice a week ... but that's seeming strictly theoretical, because they want to share me with as many teachers and students as they can (which really seems only fair). At this particular moment, it looks like I'm going to have 13 different classes. !@#%#&@!!! It can't be that bad though, it's only four different grades, so I can't imagine that the level will be too scattered. The older CM2 kids (fourth grade) take a national assessment, so a good deal of my material will be targeted at that. Whatever, I'm used to being busy :)

Today, after my meeting with the Inspection Nationale, I went to observe at one of my newly announced schools, Balzac. I liked the teachers, and even got to visit a music class with one! While they had lunch I ran back to Firmin Gémier to try and work out my schedule, and when I got there was the highlight of today. I came at the school from a weird back entrance that was locked, but from about 20 yards down the driveway I heard little voices saying "'Ello!" and I figured I had been spotted. One of the little girls let me in through a back door, so needless to say, I think I have made the proper inside connections at Firmin Gémier!

When I was leaving a group of students asked me if I saw "Stahrs" (like, famous stars) walking in the streets, or if I had been to Hollywood or had met Michael Jackson ever. Priceless, but not as priceless as when they informed me that I look like an American "stahr" too. I told them yes, and that I'm practically a goddess in the US, and there are many temples in my honor. Next I'll be demanding tributes, or sacrifices ... or both. I can't be held responsible for my ego now that I'm a rockstar! Instead of one of those "I'm huge in Japan" shirts I want one that says "I'm a folk hero in France!"

Other great moment of the day was on my way back to Balzac this afternoon after crashing FG, I kept thinking I heard my name being yelled as I walked down the street, but of course I ignored it, because really, who could I possibly know that would be yelling my name in the streets of Aubervilliers? At the last corner where you turn to enter Balzac and Victor Hugo, I discovered that a kid from one of the classes I was observing this morning had chased me more or less all the way down the street yelling my name. It was so sweet, this boy in third or fourth grade made such an effort just to talk to me a little bit! Of course, the one time where I don't look, because I'm positive that I'm just imagining things ...

Love being with kids, but I went to bed at 1030 pm last night after my first full day of observing. That should make things interesting! I'm going back to Victor Hugo on Thursday to meet the teachers with whom I'll be working and straighten out a schedule. The director is very nice, and funny. In fact, I really like all of the directors and teachers -- I feel pretty lucky to feel so welcome, and it's nice to know that they're happy to have my help!

Had another orientation session this afternoon ... nothing too interesting there, except meeting the other two assistants in Aubervilliers 1 with me. Contemplating going exploring together in Aubervilliers to see what it has to offer, besides the 1€50 store!

I'm sorry, can I get a date check? What, did you say 2009? OK, just making sure.

This weekend ending up being busy, almost in spite of my best intentions. I got off to an early start with orchestra rehearsal on Saturday morning, and just really couldn't seem to snap myself out of the haze.

After that I quickly did some grocery shopping, and headed to Montmartre and the Mairie of the XVIIIe to meet up with my friend Francesca (from the foyer back in the day) for the Fête des Vendanges. That would be the festival of the grape harvest, in case you wondered. Yes, I went to a festival celebrating one of my favorite things: Wine.

This is the Mairie of the XVIIIe, and right in front of it was the podium where the Mayor of the arrondissemnt and the Mayor of Paris and their respective entourages were observing. I opted to cut them out and get more of the building instead :)



The parade was really long, and had groups from tons of different vineyards, as well as crazy costumes, music groups and dancers. The various groups were handing out wine samples and grapes from their harvest! I got these ones early on. Very tasty.



These next few pictures are to give you an idea of the costumes and stuff. Lots of groups carrying banners and wearing robes.



Lots of traditional costumes helped me place the various vineyards on a map. You could see the German and Italian influences pretty quickly for some of the groups.



This group came through not long after I had seen a band of men and women in hot pink shirts, one guy with zebra accoutrements. Yikes. Also, saw my first male flag wavers. Yikes.



We decided to see what else the festival had to offer, so we meandered up to Sacre Coeur. We didn't really know where we were, but luckily, it wasn't too hard to pick it out amidst the other buildings ...



We came at it from the wrong side though, I don't think I've ever climbed up from the back stairs like this.



It was jam packed ... you literally couldn't move. Both sides of the church and the whole front were packed with little market stalls with wine on sale and tons of different regional goodies from all over France, AND even Canada! Those French-Canadians! This is the view out over the city from the front. Despite ominious clouds during some parts of the parade, it ended up being a beautiful day!



Just had to get a shot of this ... Really? Could it GET less French?



Then I headed home in the most tightly packed métro I think I have ever experienced -- you know, the kind where people fling themselves at the crowd as the buzzer signals the doors closing and hope for the best? I'd be alright with never going through that again.

Then later on it was Girls' Night at Ophélie's house, or as she more accurately named it, Promotion 2007, 5th floor (Although Ophélie lived on the 7th and Colline lived on the 3rd, Sarah and I lived on the 5th and we took the average)-- we had all lived together in my old dorm on Bd Saint-Michel back in the day. We ate a lot and had a blast goofing around, and then were talked into going to a bar at Pigalle by Ophélie's friend Carmen.

May I take this moment to reiterate how ridiculous dancing in France is? Or music? All of the music at this place, O'Sullivans, was stuff I loved back in ... oh, 5th grade? Old rap, old pop, the typical amount of Michael Jackson. Geeeeeeeeeeeeeez. And the guys that were dancing thought they were the dancing queens. I could hardly hold back gales of laughter. Disco moves are alive and well in France.

And then my gaydar exploded.

Today was uneventful; hit the flea market early for some much needed apartment things, then came home and tried to focus on productive things ... and clearly failed.