La Roche-sur-Yon

La Roche-sur-Yon

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Bonne année 2015!

After a nice long weekend in Strasbourg, I hopped on a train west to Paris to meet my parents for a new twist on Christmas!  While I'm enjoying immensely my stay in France, it is wonderful to see familiar faces, especially for the holidays.

It seems that, while the French tend to clear out of Paris for the vacances de Noël, it's prime tourist invasion season.  It was in interesting time for all three of us figuring out how to navigate the crowds.  In addition, we got a taste of the characteristic "damp cold" of Europe, which makes it feel at least twenty degrees colder than the same temperature in the dry cold of Minnesota...not to mention, you often have to spend more time outside here.  The outdoor lines for security alone at many attractions and museums were at least an hour wait.

Our apartment, an airbnb.com find, was luckily a relaxing place to stay.  It was in one of the few remaining non-touristy areas of Paris, near the Bastille, about a half-hour walk from Notre-Dame.  The owner of the apartment was lovely and helpful; she even put up a holiday tree for us to enjoy.  It was incredible how quiet and calm the apartment was (it faced a courtyard), just off a large street.  We also had an magnificent boulangerie right across the street, as well as a busy cordonnier (shoe repair) next door, where I had my suitcase wheel temporarily fixed for free.

Though we experienced quite the windy and cold spell in Paris, but still managed to get out quite a bit.  My parents can fill you in on all of the stories; here are some highlights of things that were new to me during this séjour (stay):

Victor Hugo's apartment near the Place des Vosges, a small and satisfying place to visit with plenty of information about Hugo, his complicated life, and his written works.

Musée Carnavalet, also in the same neighborhood, with varied art corresponding to a variety of historical periods and different regions of France.

Christmas Eve midnight mass at Notre-Dame:  I'm happy to have gone to see it, but with so many people coming and going, it was a little le bazar (chaotic)...

The Petit Palais: just across the street from the Grand Palais, where large, popular traveling exhibits are usually held (that's where I saw the Niki de Saint Phalle exhibition in November).  The Petit Palais, in contrast, houses a small, permanent art collection.  It has a variety of styles and periods represented, but not so much that it becomes overwhelming.

A peek in to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore near Notre-Dame.  Next time, I'll plan on spending a whole day there just to read, and maybe bring some piano music to try out the upright upstairs.

Musée Pompidou:  This made me realize why many people I've met here crave modern art (tickets to traveling art exhibitions have the value of hockey or baseball seats in the U.S.).  After looking at painting after incredible painting from eras past, it's actually very refreshing to see something new and edgy.  I think this is why exhibitions often sell out or have hour-long waits here.  In America, a small blue splotch on a blank canvas is a giant question mark over your head; here, it's somehow an exciting new world of possibility.  The museum also has quite the view of Paris, especially the Eiffel Tower and Sacre-Coeur.  We were lucky to arrive just in time for a colorful, wintry sunset.

Musée d'Orsay:  it was my second time there, but my first time finding the amazing impressionist collection upstairs that everyone comes to see.  I blame CELTAlag for the first time; I vaguely thought that there must be more to the museum, but was too tired to figure out what and where.  The upstairs is so well worth it - it included nearly every painting my college art history class in Cannes studied throughout the semester (I feel as if they shorted us a field trip...).  My absolute favorite was Vue des toits (effet de neige) -View of roofs (snow effect) - by Caillebotte.

My parents and I also enjoyed trying different restaurants, especially those in the St. Michel area just south of the river from Notre-Dame.  We enjoyed comparing boeuf bouguignon, salade de chèvre chaud, soupe à l'oignon, and crème brûlée at several places.

After over a week in Paris, we headed to la Roche-sur-Yon to ring in 2015.  Rolling in by train, I saw frost cover the countryside for the first time.  During les vacances, la Roche was quiet (not that it's ever terribly busy), but we could still check out the main city square and haunts.

In many ways, quality restaurants in small towns like la Roche are easier to find than in a city like Paris, which caters to tourists.  We enjoyed a couple of meals at Francesca, a small Italian place with much character, owner by a French couple with Italian and Spanish heritage.  For New Year's Day, we reserved at the same restaurant where I ate with the collège staff just before Christmas, which specialized in meat dishes.  The duck and squash dish was excellent, but we lamented not taking a picture of the chocolate dessert plate...

Spending the holidays in France was maybe a once-in-a-lifetime experience; I've never been in Europe during this time of year before and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.  But, as I've learned, France is serious about its family time over the holidays; I am lucky to have had the best of both worlds this year.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Capitale de Noël

I usually don't have time for Christmas.  In years past, Christmas has sneaked up on me as I prepared for concerts, plays, or finals.  A few days before, I'd panic and get caught up in un tourbillon (a whirlwind) of errand-running, and suddenly, the holiday would already be over.

This year, Christmas started before Thanksgiving and just didn't stop.  My job in schools as assistante d'anglais was to be the face of "Christmas in America":  I taught nearly the same Christmas lesson just under fifty times in the two weeks before break (I've listened to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and "Sleigh Ride" enough times for the next forty years); watched a random home Youtube video of the St. Paul Rice Park tree lighting as many times; and observed hundreds of students' jaws drop as I told them we normally don't eat seafood or foie gras for Christmas in the States.  In France, they don't do stockings and they don't really sing Christmas carols.  Most students knew "Jingle Bell Rock", "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", and, unfortunately, Mariah Carey.

Somewhere in all of the excitement, Elyse and I were finally summoned to Nantes for a medical exam to complete our immigration into France.  I am officially TB-free and good to leave and enter France as I please thanks to a shiny new sticker in my passport.

The Thursday before break, after my last classes, I had a fun time out for a full-blown French-style Christmas dinner at a restaurant with many of the teachers from the collège.  They were all wonderfully sweet, making sure I had someone to spend the holidays with, and asking every day for updates on how many seats were open on flights to Paris for my parents.  Our dinner lasted at least three hours, complete with every course.  Three hours of sleep later, I was aboard a train heading to continue the festivities at the Capitale de Noël - Strasbourg.

In front of the cathédrale
Place Klebèr's giant sapin at sunset
France in general doesn't give Christmas the oomph that the United States does.  I learned this year that many American holiday traditions come from Germany, which is known for its incredible Christmas markets and decorations.  Strasbourg, being just across the river from Kehl, Germany, has probably the second-best Christmas market in Europe (after Prague)...and by "Christmas market", I mean that an army of Père Noël, elves, gingerbread men, angels, and everything else Christmas arrived to completely overtake the entire city.

I was ecstatic to revisit Strasbourg anyway - glimpsing the unique and brightly-colored houses of Alsace; the dark, looming Black Forest of Germany; and Strasbourg's gem of a cathedral from the train felt like coming to see a long-lost friend.  Being there without CELTAlag was at first completely bizarre - I traveled on the tram without worrying about a lesson or failed paper, and actually had time to see the city.  My new memories of exploring the lights, decorations, and stands of the Christmas market while munching on une tarte flambée Münster were just as impressionnant (spectacular).  During Christmas, every city square has a themed market (Alsatian, Belgian, German, kids', book markets, etc.) and the streets in between each are lit with incredible light displays.  The fronts of stores, restaurants, cafés, and vin/bierstubs are plastered with Noël.  It was a street musician's heaven; I gathered plenty of short videos for my collection:

Saxophonist outside Lacoste

Bassist complete with bright neon green strings...and the biggest Christmas tree you've ever seen

How Christmas threw up on upscale hotels, featuring Santa on trumpet and also Santa on accordion

Smart pianist who snagged a prime photo op location

Synchronized swimming, instrument style

La Petite France, Strasbourg

Put this place on your bucket list:





Nevila et moi at a salon de thé
I did have a little bit of a break from les foules (the crowds) - by the Sunday just before Christmas, the streets were packed wall-to-wall with people.  I spent some time with Nevila and Jasmina, two good friends from the CELTA course; they both moved to France from other EU countries and are now English teachers, so we had a lovely time exchanging and comparing French bureaucracy stories.

For the first time, I also went to hear the Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg.  Their concert hall is one of the ugliest places I've ever seen, but apparently for good reason: the acoustics are incredible.  Never, not even at Orchestra Hall in Minneapolis, have I heard each instrument cut through the air so clearly and purely.  Their orchestra was tiny, but perfectly balanced and perfectly projected thanks to the horrid red walls of their hall.  (They also get bonus points for serving Sati coffee in the lobby.)  At the end, a German children's choir came onstage to sing carols; they melted my heart, and I vowed to someday spend Christmas in Germany.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

#JeSuisCharlie

I'd meant to publish about the adventures of the first leg of the holidays, but it doesn't feel quite right to post today.

"The U.S. is huge."  This is one of the first things I tried to explain to my students back in the beginning of October when I started teaching here, but I'm not sure I fully understood it until now.

When a massive act of violence or tragedy strikes in the United States, it's more often than not physically very far removed from where you live.  You can empathize with victims, with their families, with the people in their hometown; you can post in solidarity on social media; but you can still get up and go about your everyday life without too much disturbance.  Even non-terrorist gun violence can be swept under the rug until you personally know someone who has been affected by it.

I researched American gun control (or lack thereof) a handful of times in both high school and college, and have tried to be conscious of the issue ever since.  But these past couple of days in France have made me realize how desensitized I still am.  My first thoughts were taken up with processing how horrible the situation was: worrying about my beautiful but superficial memories of first seeing Sacre-Coeur and the Eiffel Tower; but my next thoughts reminded me that I could name several deadlier American school shootings alone.  While American news giants obsess over the "terrorist" element of the attacks, it's the guns themselves that have many French people stunned.  There is no "but - what - if - every - citizen - in - a - fifty - mile - range - had - had - a - gun  - for - protection? - it - could - have - been - stopped" mentality.  Shootings are not normal here.

Shootings should not be normal anywhere.

This morning, I started teaching a new class - the equivalent of 11th graders, who are studying to be cooks.  I asked, "How are you?" and instead of the usual "Fine, how are you?", I got a different response from one boy: "Bad."  I asked why.  He struggled for a bit before expressing, "Because I'm scared."

When I first heard of the attacks yesterday, I was scared too.  In France, nothing is too far from anything else (by American standards of distance), so violence feels closer to home than it would in the U.S.  I thought of the very kind owner of the apartment my parents and I stayed at over Christmas, not far from the Charlie Hebdo office building in the 11th arrondissement.  I thought of my friends who live in Paris.  I thought of my American friends vacationing in Paris.  I thought of the extended families of my students and colleagues who live in Paris.  None were hurt, but some live in the neighborhood, just down the road.  For them, the violence came much too close.  I watched my students and colleagues in la Roche-sur-Yon watch the news coverage.  For all in France, the violence came much too close.  I thought of the United States.  In the U.S., the violence is always much too close.

All large cities are boosting their security, including Nantes and Bordeaux; thankfully, the Vendée is a relatively safe place to be.  I'm working at the high school this week.  Today, the whole school gathered midday for a minute of silence.  I felt numb; everyone around me felt numb.  There were no tears.  Classes went on, but students chanted in peaceful protest during the afternoon.

I hope that the violence in France is over.  I hope that, someday, violence "in the name of religion" will end too, in all countries.  I hope that, someday, the "right to have guns, just because" will no longer be valid.  I hope that I can help to start that conversation.  I hope that people will start seeing and reflecting on every act of violence; that at the very least people will start realizing that shootings in America by Americans might be something that can be changed, even if terrorist attacks can't be controlled.  I hope that "more guns" does not become the solution to guns.  I hope that brave people will continue to express themselves peacefully and without fear.  I hope that people will learn to listen, not judge; listen, not kill.

I am proud to be living in France today.  I am proud to be Charlie.

"This isn't a weapon.  It's is a tool of expression."