I need to rein/reign/rain in my thoughts.

As you might expect, the harder I try not to crack a smile or giggle to myself in public the more impossible it becomes. This morning on my way out to work, I was thinking about a few things ... like what Saint Denis might possibly be the patron saint of. Ghettos? IS there a patron saint of the ghetto? Just wondering.

Then I started thinking about stereotypes in the US of different regions, or even what I know of the different boroughs in NYC. I think Marseille might be the Staten Island of France. Still working out my justification, right now it's more of an intuitive understanding.

Then I kept having this weird desire during my classes to explain the difference in pronunciation between Mai, in French, and May, in English, using phonetic symbols. I just remember learning about the ij sound or whatever with Coates I think, and I desperately wanted to share this tidbit of wisdom with someone ... but somehow a bunch of 8-year-olds didn't seem like the right crowd.

Best moment of the day, however, was when I was having my first class of the day (CE2, 2nd grade) write out sentences for each month ... 'The first month is January. The second month is February, etc.' I got to December, stared at the board, and realized, for one of the RARE times in my life as a spelling nazi, that I couldn't remember how to spell 'twelfth' to save my LIFE. I swear, my mind went totally blank. I started laughing, and had to whip out my mini French to English dictionary to check it, so as not to teach a hundred or so children the incorrect spelling today.

Annnnnnnd there goes my competency in English.

Behold... THE SEAAAAAAAAAAA

We're playing Vaughan Williams' "A Sea Symphony" in orchestra, and it's really rather fun. It is SO epic. That link is just the first movement, and I recommend listening to all of them. I really like this piece, and once you get it under your fingers it's not as ungodly as it initially seems (the beauty of Vaughan Williams pieces, in my experience).

Don't get me wrong, it's still a beast. A BEAST. But it's doable!

Anyway, the important reason discovery that I needed to share this morning is that ...

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

If you brush your teeth and then eat a petit écolier cookie, it will taste like a thin mint.

That is all :)

L'école de conduite française.

So, as the title might suggest, there's something that has been nagging at me. A few days ago on the way to babysit, I noticed a driving school that has the same name as the title of this post.

I have since spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time pondering its meaning. I can't decide whether the adjective (French) is being accorded to the school (feminine noun) or the driving. Because it is at the end of the sentence, and normally adjectives follow the word they modify, I believe this translates as the School of French Driving. Meaning they teach you to drive like French people.

This interests me, because it is clear that there is a style to driving in France. I, personally, would call it suicidal, but to each his own. The reckless driving of motorcycles on sidewalks makes me want to go around laying strips of sharpened nails on the curbs, and yesterday a minivan almost drove into the side of the bus I was on (the side I was standing on, THANKYOUVERYMUCH).

It makes Mario Kart look downright civilized.

The 'best of' my teaching career (part I)

Just a taste of the daily dose of hilarity from school (and these are only the parts I can remember)! This is why I love kids.

1. " You're American? So you eat hamburgers all the time?" Yes. Only hamburgers. Instead of kitchens, Americans actually have pipes that run directly to the nearest MacDonalds.
2. " Did you come in a boat?" No, I would call it more of a raft. I was also accompanied by my best friend, a volleyball.
3. The time half a class started singing "I like to move it move it" to me and dancing (yes, the Jock Jams one). Then they asked what it meant. I almost died laughing, because I was picturing something halfway between a club and a sporting event, filled with a few hundred seven-year-olds.
4. The fact that I regularly inform my classes that I don't speak or understand French, in French, and no one casts a doubt on that logic.
5. Constant questions about the stars of the WWE? WWF? Whatever it is now, it's called Catch here, and I couldn't care less in ANY language. This leads to a subcategory, in which I am asked to define a wide variety of words pertaining to death, pain, and injury. Thank you, travesties of American culture.
6. While drawing a person to label the body parts, widespread crisis regarding whether they should draw a boy or a girl, culminating in "Well what's the word for penis?" Add that to the list of things I'm NOT teaching. Note: This is not the first time I've been asked.
7. Yelling in English, which induces a shocked and awe-filled silence. I wish that worked in the US, too. Unfortunately, as Pipe Dream illustrated, all my screaming still won't even get me out of a numeric seven in a headline.
8. Dancing around the teachers' room on my breaks to stay awake, because everyone is in class and thus can't see me. Every morning I have my own epic dance party to minimize the effects of four hours of sleep. Classy.
9. " Do you know of Barack Obama?" Yeah, you know, the same sounds familiar ... "Michael Jackson?" Ohhhh, you know, I don't really pay attention to basketball.
10. "These are your feet." "FRITES!" Best part? I don't think they know that we call frites French fries.

Don't worry, those snappy comebacks are the things that I WISH I could say, which has no correlation with what I actually did say :)

DUFUS!

For those of you that aren't familiar, Dufus is a band that I've known for quite some time - the lead singer/guitarist is the son of my high school orchestra conductor/extra grandpa, Hebes. Anyway, Seth told me this summer that they'd be doing a European tour; lo and behold, they arrived in Paris this past Monday!

It was a great show, and my friend Charlotte really liked it too :) It was really fun to catch up with Seth a bit - he's the first person from home I've seen since I got here!



After two nights of adventuring at night and getting up really early to teach, I really thought I was going to lose it by Tuesday night. I went to a dance class/soirée du rock thing at Cité U (first time I've been there since everyone lived there two years ago ... oh, Fondi!) with Charlotte and another friend. I didn't dance, because I was falling asleep standing up, and I'm sure I would have been even more useless than usual. Anyway, it was fun to see, and Monday night I might go back with them to learn salsa and who knows what else.

Adventures.

So the last few days have been something of a blur. Sunday afternoon I went to the COUPs chorale concert (Choeur et Orchestre des Universités de Paris). Musique en Sorbonne is a part of it (and that's my orchestra). They were great, and they sang Poulenc "Litanies à la vièrge noire" with an organ that made my blood run cold. I think the organ often has that effect on me. They also sang the Kodaly "Missa Brevis," which I rather liked.

After that, Gabrielle mentioned that she was heading to the Comédie Française to try and get last minute 5€ tickets for L'Avare (Molière). Charlotte and I decided to join the fun, and we were all really REALLY glad that we had. The actor playing Harpagon (Denis Podalydès) was superb, and the whole play was hilarious. Honestly, it's the Comédie Française. I'd be willing to bet most things they do are superb.

I see trees of green ... and blue, and white, and red?

On my way to babysitting the other day I was confronted by a strange sight...

Green trees? Check.
White trees? Well, not for nothing, but I do come from central New York. I know what snow is.
Red trees? Either it's the apocalypse and fire and brimstone is raining down on us, or we're reliving Pompeii. Neither sounds particularly seasonable. There were blue trees too, although I don't think I managed to get any in this picture. Some woman stared at me when I snapped this shot, clearly puzzled by my amusement. She needs to reassess her norms, if she thinks I'M the weird one.

I grinned at her walked away quickly (although it probably seemed more like a leer to her). Damn tourists :)



Which brings me to my next discussion of things foreign -- THANKSGIVING! In an almost absurd show of overcompensation, I celebrated Thanksgiving 2.5 times -- Thanksgiving dessert Thursday night with Betsey, Thanksgiving dinner/dessert with my former study abroad program director (Céline!) and Thanksgiving dinner/dessert with some assistants!

Well, at least I kept in line with the theme of gluttony. I mean, giving thanks...

This picture is from dinner at Céline's house. Everything wasn't out yet, and I didn't take a picture of the dessert table, but it was a force to be reckoned with. Last night was out of control, it was just like being at Thanksgiving for real in the US, and we had a blast (it was a mix of assistants and French friends). Really happy to have the friends I have here, it makes everything so much better!



When I was picking up the ingredients for a salad to take to dinner last night, the man that weighs all the produce in the Monoprix near my house looked at me and asked if I was American. I was instantly disappointed, because I do my best to disguise myself as nondescriptly as possible. Fail. Talked to him for a minute and asked how he could tell, to which he replied that I was friendly and talkative with him and that I smiled. Well, if THAT'S what gives me away, then I'm happy to be recognized as an American. What's the alternative?!

Which leads me to my recurring problem in Aubervilliers -- I mean, partly I think it's the fact that I'm a girl and the guys have no sense of SHAME, but I'm always peeved when I feel people staring at me or trying to get my attention. Couldn't figure out why until now, but I'm sure it's because I smile to myself all the time! I can't help it, I'm always thinking of things that I need to remember to share with all of you, or things I see remind me of funny memories ... everything cracks me up! Since I don't think I'm capable of keeping a straight face (particularly when I'm actively thinking about it), I need to expand my "Bugger off [to be less vulgar]" vocabulary, and I need to rehearse it until I erase all signs of foreign pronunciation. Must find a good teacher.

Finally, since I seem to be making a tradition of this, I thought I'd share some of my new walking theme music. This time I rediscovered the Pippi Longstocking theme song. Yup, I went there. One of these days I'm going to end up dancing down the street, I just know it.