Episode VIII

FEUILLES FRANÇAISES EPISODE VIII ~ January 18, 2010

Dear Friends,

It’s hard to believe that the first two weeks of the second half of my trip are in the books.

As I mentioned last round, school started back up on January 4, but I have been far from busy these last two weeks (scholastically speaking). My teachers keep cancelling classes for various reasons. It is very frustrating for me when they do this. I am here to teach, not to sit around. I understand illness, but I don’t understand why I am not allowed to take the whole class! Especially now that I am officially a certified teacher (I got my certificate for Maine, finally!), but that does not seem to make any difference, so these past two weeks have been a little rough. Sorry for the ranting, but I am very frustrated at the moment.

One of my completed quilt projects. This one was begun in Barre, VT by my late Step-Grandmother Martha, the one who helped teach me French, so it is only fitting that this quilt should be (partially) Made In France. No pictures of the other one, as it is a surprise for a blog-reader. :o)

Though, these past few weeks have been blessed by a sewing machine! Marie-Paule had an old Singer in the attic that we got working again, so with all the canceled classes, I have been able to do some sewing. The trouble is, I have had a lot more free time than I counted on, so of the three projects I brought back over with me, two are already done. Oops. Sadly, the French do not do much sewing it seems, because quilt fabric is hard to come by and very expensive, so I guess I am going to have to find another outlet for my free time if the class cancellations continue.

Thankfully, my tradition of Monday night suppers with Gina and Viola survived Christmas break. We bounce back and forth between the two residences (Gina and Viola are roommates in a teacher apartment at one of the schools) and have dinner together as a “Hey, we survived Monday,” sort of thing. I am really lucky to be in Bourges with 12 other assistants, they really are the best part about living in this town (not to say that the town is a total bummer, but my friends are really awesome!). With we dozen foreigners, there is always someone to hang out with, and it is always cool to try new foods, hear new perspectives, and pick up little words and phrases. I love our Monday suppers because it is also a great time to decompress and to talk about our problems and successes with school.

However, cooking in France is, as ever, and adventure. There is a ton of great food here, and usually the ingredients are superb. But it is very hard to have to re-learn how to make dishes I know very well. For example, I wanted to make tacos the other week, which is fine, I planned ahead and brought over a spice packet from the US, but then there was the problem of taco cheese. Shaw's taco cheese, or even shredded Jack cannot be found here. Same with making lasagna, We always make it with Provolone, which was hard to find, and once found, was incredibly expensive. I know, I know, I am in the land of haut cuisine, and I am eating tacos, but hey, sometimes you just need a little comfort food with guacamole!

Bye James! (with his bike in the huge box).

Seeing off my Friend from Down Under

Speaking of friends, I am down one, at least here in town: James has gone home to Australia. :o( James was one of the first people I met over here, and he, Gina, and I had our little Anglophone family away from home. He’s gone back to start “Uni.” James did something kind of cool, that I wish was more practical in the US. James took a “gap year.” Basically he took a year off between high school and college, which some people in the US do, but it seems to be a lot more prevalent in Australia. Exactly how James ended up in Bourges is still somewhat of a mystery, but he spent the better part of the last year here working on his French, traveling Europe, and working when he could. I think that a lot of adolescents in the US would benefit from a year to get their heads on straight before moving on to higher education. Unfortunately, it is not a practical option back home: usually you get kicked off your parents’ insurance, and then have to justify to admissions what you did in your time out of school. So a fond farewell to my favorite Aussie, though he assures me that I am not quite shot of him, he plans to study abroad in Michigan in the fall of 2011, so I am sure he will be making a stop by New England (apparently I got him addicted to Thanksgiving).

A week and a half ago, I turned 25, so back in the states, I am finally a total legal adult, I can rent a car, and my insurance went down. Interestingly enough, I became a full-on adult in the US, but in France, I became a spinster. Apparently there is a law that states that in France, an unmarried woman over the age of 25 is a spinster, and if a French citizen, she is entitled to money from the government. Apparently now, in France, it is a tradition on November 25, the Feast of St. Catherine (who is the patron saint of spinsters), for all women who are over 25 (and unmarried) to make a crazy hat and go out on the town (almost like a bachelorette party, but flaunting spinsterhood). It’s almost too bad that I will not be here for St. Catherine’s next year, it sounds like a lot of fun. For my Birthday, Viola was kind enough to make me a cake, complete with candles (not 25, because that is fire hazard territory), and Marie-Paule invited me to dinner and there was a candle in my crepe for dessert (not to mention a recipe book full of wonderful French desserts). So despite being on the other side of the world, I still had a special birthday.

My Gallette, which, I must say, was pretty darn near perfect, if I do say so myself!

Again, but it was so perfect I have to torture you with two pictures!

One of the figurines from inside a store-bought Gallette, its the Magic Mirror from Shrek! I have my own little collection!


Gina, the youngest at the Gallette party hides under the table to assign pieces of cake.

Over the weekend I had a little party, sort of a combination birthday and epiphany party (which sounds a little egotistical). Here in France, being a mostly Catholic country, they celebrate the Epiphany. Now, the Epiphany is when the three kings arrived in Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus, and they arrive on January 6 (which happens to be the 12th day of Christmas). The French celebrate this event by eating la Gallette des Rois (King Cake), which happens to be one of my FAVROTIE things on the planet! I first discovered it when I arrived in France in 2006, just after the Epiphany (they eat it any time during the month of January, really). The cake is more of a pastry, in terms of American thinking. Two circles of puff pastry filled with an almond cream made of: powdered almonds, butter, sugar, egg yolks, vanilla, and rum. Hidden inside is a little porcelain figurine, some are traditional: farm animals, some are modern: Harry Potter and Shrek. Many people collect the figurines (apparently most families do not make their own Gallette, they buy it from one of the pastry shops, but I am a purist). So the figurine is baked into the cake, and when the cake is served, the youngest person in attendance sits under the table and tells the server which piece goes to whom (so if the figurine can be seen, it cannot be intentionally given to someone). Whoever finds the figurine in their piece of cake, gets to wear a crown and be the king for the rest of the evening. I love this tradition, and I have done it a couple of times in the states. Though, I will be somewhat glad when January is over, because I am not sure how much more gallette my waistline can handle, but it is just SO good!

Les Soldes, all the windows in town look something like this in varying degrees of brightness and obnoxiousness.

You too can save 30! No 40! 50! Even 70% on select merchandise!


SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!! SALE!!!

But, should my waistline expand too much, I am lucky, because the month of January is “Les Soldes” (The Sales)! In France, stores are really not allowed to have sales. You know how in the US, Kohl’s is ALWAYS having some sort of sale? That does not happen here, it’s not allowed, except for twice a year. In January and again in June (or maybe July) all stores in France are permitted to, and required to have massive sales for about a month. So right now, everything in France is on sale, literally, except, of course, for the new collections. It is crazy to try to go shopping right now, it is like every day is Black Friday, and there are just so many people around. I’ve done a bit of shopping, but not very much, but shopping has never really been my thing. So if you love to shop, the time to visit France is definitely during les Soldes.

On the subject of cultural differences: the mail. Here the mail comes in three separate increments daily. Usually one person, on a bicycle delivers the junk mail: fliers, advertisements, etc. You actually can write on your mailbox the French equivalent of: no junk mail (pas de pub SVP) and not receive any. Then another person, usually also on a bike, comes around with the regular mail: letters, bills, and medium-sized packages. Then, later on, a truck comes around with the larger packages. So triple the chances to be happy for getting mail, or triple the disappointment, depending on how you look at it.

Traveling the rails with Viola and Gina (who always look so much more stylish and put together than I do even on my best day)

The only recognition that Vichy ever had anything to do with WWII or the deportation of Jews. I have seen bigger headstones for Joe Schmoe.

The spring which cures arthritis. But the water that comes out of it is so gross looking and brown that it probably does not cure the arthritis, but just makes you feel so disgusted that you forget the pain in your joints.

Last weekend, I took a day trip to Vichy with Gina and Viola. Vichy was the center of Occupied France under the Nazis. The government installed there was responsible for governing all of northern France. I was very interested in visiting a town with such a torrid history, but was HUGELY disappointed upon arriving. Vichy seems to pretend that the events between 1940 and 1944 never happened. There are no museums, no explanations save for a little (and by European standards this is tiny) marker as a memorial to those deported to the death camps under the Nazi regime. Otherwise, not a shred of recognition that Vichy was ever of any historical significance. I found this a little offensive, honestly. In Germany, today, you can walk the path of the Berlin Wall. In Poland, you can tour Auschwitz. In the United States, you can read and learn about slavery. I got the impression that Vichy tries to hide its history, and as an historian, that offends me. Not all history is pretty, but I think it needs to be acknowledged to be remembered and learned from. So, shame on Vichy. Vichy now is just known as a pretty spa town. Granted, since Gallo-Roman times, Vichy has been known for its thermal springs which allegedly have healing powers, even one has a certificate from a Parisian hospital saying that it cures arthritis. I think Vichy could be a very pretty town in the summer, with all the gardens and green spaces, but overall, I was not impressed, and the lack of historical disclosure left a very bad taste in my mouth.

This week, at Littre, I have no school. All of my troisiemes (thirds: the last year of “middle school) are doing job shadows. This is really cool. Every student in the third year has one week off from school, and they are required to do a job shadow in a field of their choice. I have some students who are shadowing lawyers, veterinarians, teachers, fire fighters, restauranteurs, etc. It is a chance for them to start exploring their career options at the age of 14. However, in France, this is necessary, my troisiemes will have to start choosing their career path at the end of this year (willing they receive their middle school diploma). When they enter lycee (high school) they need to start preparing for the baccalauréat, the scary end-of-lycee exam that determines whether or not you graduate high school and whether or not you can go to University. Le bac (as the kids call it) is the diploma you receive, and unlike in the US, these diplomas are more specific. There are three different areas of the bac: science, social and economic, literature (arts, languages, etc). Whichever bac you possess, does hold some bearing on your future. You CAN go from having a science bac to being a journalist, but it is a lot harder to go from a literature bac to being a doctor. So by the time they pick their classes for next fall, some of my students will have to be certain what direction they want to take in their professional lives. Also, some of my students are not destined for the general bac, and at the end of this year, will be excluded from higher education. Students placed in professional to technical tracks will not be going on to college, and some of these decisions have already been made. I have some students who have already been written off by their teachers as destined for “lycee professionel,” do not pass go, do not go to college. In my mind, that is totally unfair. To count a kid out at the age of 15? Not ok with me. I had friends in high school who did a fair bit of messing around and got mediocre grades, but the switch flipped Junior year and they got their act together so as to be able to get into college. That is not an option in France. I think the thing that bothers me the most is, France preaches equality across the board, the classes are all heterogeneous (mixed abilities), and tracking is outlawed. But then they start playing “the Giver” and choosing students’ career paths before they are properly through puberty. Granted, not everyone can be a brain surgeon, but no one should be counted out at the age of 15.

This week at Jean Renoir, I am switching classes. Starting this week, I have almost all sixeme (sixths, the first year of “middle school), and I am very nervous. These kids have only just begun to learn English. So this should be interesting, since I am supposed to get them to talk and expose them to the natural accent, but they only really know how to tell me what their name is, and say how they are today. This is going to be an interesting challenge, probably a lot like teaching very little kids, which, as many of you know, is NOT my specialty, I am much happier in a High School classroom, but live and learn, and I did come here for some experience after all.

Not much else to report for the moment. I have been battling a cold on and off since I got back from the states. This week I am trying to keep myself busy while my students are off doing their job shadows. I am starting to prepare for the job hunt for next fall (so if anyone hears of any openings anywhere in New England for a Social Studies teacher, please let me know post haste). I have purchased my tickets to come home (May 5, if you want to show up at Logan with flowers and balloons), and also booked my trip to Greece to see an old friend (leaving February 5!!!!!!). I am headed to Limoges on Friday with Viola.

Sorry that this was not the most interesting issue of Feuilles, but I suppose I am storing up my exciting blogs for my upcoming February Adventures!

Until next time, I remain your eyes, ears, nose, tastebuds, and finger tips to the Francophone world,

~Monica

Episode VII

FEUILLES FRANÇAISES EPISODE VII ~ January 4, 2010

Dear Friends,

Now that the hustle and bustle of the holidays is dying down, its time to sit down and blog some more! Forgive the long absence, but I was doing some serious running around.

When I last blogged, I was on the eve of another adventure to Tours, but this one proved far less interesting than my visit with Benoit. It was merely a “teacher workshop” day for the assistants in the region. It is always nice to check in with the assistants who are not in Bourges, but I did not find the workshop portion overly helpful. French teachers seem to be in a rut of using prepackaged activities and games Xeroxed from texts and official activity books. I hated those types of activities as a student, and so I try not to use them with my kids. But if all else fails, I got to spend some time with Gina and Anne riding around on the train and spending a quick moment browsing some shops in Tours. All and all, a free day off, so I can’t really complain.

The last weekend before Christmas break (the French get a full two weeks, by the way), I headed up to the north-east corner of France, the region called Alsace. I spent the weekend staying with Marie-Paule’s niece Marielle (who is studying to be an architect in Strasbourg), who kindly agreed to house me.

Strasbourg, funny, in this picture it reminds me of my trip to Belgium...

In the seventeenth century, Strasbourg was an independent city, but was gobbled up by Louis XIV in his quest to unify France. But in 1871 the German empire captured Strasbourg and added it to the empire, and during this period, the Germans asserted their influence on the art, architecture and culture of Strasbourg. Following World War I, after the fall of the German Emperor, Alsace, and its neighboring region: Lorraine declared their solidarity and independence, becoming Alsace-Lorraine. However, in the aftermath of the war, France occupied the region and suppressed any resistance from the German inhabitants. Thus the Treaty of Versailles of 1919 gave the regions to France, and Strasbourg became French once again. At the outbreak of WWII, the city, being on the border with Germany, was evacuated, and was used only to garrison the border guards. However, when France fell in 1940, Germany reclaimed Strasbourg as its own. With the liberation in of France, Strasbourg was released from Germany’s hold in 1944. The city today remains French, but its German heritage is obvious, like an accent, a curious blend of France and Germany. Two countries with a long and tumultuous history have found a way to coexist in this city in a way they seldom did in Europe in days past. After the Second World War, Strasbourg was chosen as the site of the Council of Europe, and today it is the Capital of the European Union where the EU Parliament meets.

Early in the morning just as the Christmas Markets are opening as seen from the top of Notre Dame de Strasbourg.

There were several booths of Christmas lights, it was blinding, but it made me think of my Dad. :o)

Being a decoration-a-holic, this was a very troublesome place to be...

I took a TGV (Train Grand Vitesse, translation: Really Fast Train) to Strasbourg from Paris, the TGV CAN move at about 350 miles per hour, but the average voyage is conducted under 200 miles an hour, by my calculations, my train averaged about 155 mph, which was still very cool, and I was surprised by how smooth the ride was. The train was really packed, though, because everyone in the world was headed to Strasbourg for the Marchés de Noel (Christmas Markets).

From what I understand, the Germans are supposed to do Christmas better than anyone in the world. Apparently they really get into the Christmas spirit. One of their hallmarks is Christmas Markets. In most cities and towns, in the month leading up to Christmas, little outdoor markets with stalls offering Christmas specialties: food, decorations, gifts, etc, pop up, and there people do much of their preparation for the holidays. Given its German history, Strasbourg is also known for its Christmas Markets, and is therefore a very popular destination for tourists and Frenchmen alike in the month before Christmas.

Not quite sure what this is, but it looked VERY yummy.


Just a small sampling of all the varieties of food to be found in the Marches de Noel.



This Pretzel was bigger than my head. (No, I did not try to eat it)

Globs of flavored mousse the size of your fist dipped in chocolate. Heaven? I think so!

I have always wanted to see Strasbourg, and with my love of Christmas this seemed like the perfect time to go. Unfortunately, my first day in town was rainy and cold, but I showed true New England grit and went ahead exploring finding the city chock-full of little Markets around every corner offering, just as I had expected: decorations, artisan gifts, candies, pastries, hot wine, etc. In the evening, the weather cleared, and with the lights glowing everywhere, it was beautiful, and if there had been snow, it would have looked like Santa’s village. I, of course, took care to sample the local fare: vin chaud (hot wine with spices), pain d’epices (spiced bread, sort of a cross between gingerbread and fruitcake), boules au mousse (balls of mousse dipped in chocolate), bretzels (soft pretzels), etc.

Colmar, France meets Germany!

An army of Christmas figurines!

On Saturday morning, I took the train to the neighboring city of Colmar, about 20 minutes outside of Strasbourg. In Colmar, I found: SNOW! As I descended from the train, it started to snow, and I just about cried. As all true New Englanders know, it cannot be the Christmas season without snow. And so, despite being chilly, I was in the proper mind frame to explore the markets of Colmar. Though the town is smaller than Strasbourg, I think I preferred the markets in Colmar, there were still a TON of people, but I think the markets were more spread out in Colmar, and there was also music. Every little square in Colmar was equipped with hidden speakers pumping out Christmas Classics for the shoppers. Interestingly enough, on the whole, the French listen to the same Christmas music as we do, more or less. There are a few noted French carols, but I heard plenty of Bing Crosby, Burl Ives, Nat King Cole, etc.

No Christmas would be complete without a Santa Band!


This is pain d'epices, this loaf was ENORMOUS, probably 5 feet long, and a foot wide.

I spent the morning wandering Colmar. I even sampled some true German fare: chou croute (cooked cabbage with sausage), and a warm German potato salad (the name of which I cannot remember, nor find anywhere). And of course, that all had to be washed down with some bonbons and some vin chaud. I find that I prefer white mulled wine to the red, it is sweeter and smoother. But either is nice just to have and hold to warm your fingers. I returned to Strasbourg to find it snowing there as well, and to find the roads and markets so full of people that it was difficult to move. So I decided to explore the cathedral and wait for the crowds to clear.

The tower of Notre Dame de Strasbourg, once the tallest building in the world.

Stained Glass in Notre Dame de Strasbourg

The cathedral in Strasbourg all illuminated at night.

The cathedral, like many others in France is called Notre Dame, more specifically, Notre Dame de Strasbourg. Construction began in the 1200s, and when it was completed in 1647 it became the tallest building in the world, a record it held until the mid-nineteenth century. It is very unique in that it is a reddish-pink color, it is constructed from sandstone. Like most cathedrals of the period, it was built in the Gothic Style, but has a much more German feel than Notre Dame de Paris. And of course, the stained glass windows are exquisite, and remain intact, because they, like many others, were removed and hidden during WWII. The Cathedral also houses a beautiful Astronomical Clock dating back to the sixteenth century. Upon leaving the cathedral, which was just as cold inside as the weather outside, I still found the streets and markets too clogged to enjoy, so I hopped on the very spacey looking tram and decided to visit the European Union buildings, which, of course, are modern architectural works of art.

The EU Parliament main entrance, with all the flags of the EU countries.


The rear of the EU Parliament

I really do like the concept of the EU. I like how it recognizes that with such a diversity of cultures living in such close proximity, that they have to work together for the common good. What Belgium does affects Italy, and what France does affects Greece and Spain, and vice versa. Not to mention, the borders are so open it is incredible, but more on that later. Also, despite the current difficulties with the exchange rate, I really like the Euro, it makes international travel so much easier. I cannot imagine what it must have been like before to change your money in every single country.

The giant Christmas Tree in the central square of Strasbourg, I am pretty sure it is bigger than the one in New York City.

A beautiful village of white paper houses illuminated from within at the base of the Christmas Tree.

Village of light.

In the evening, when the cold drove most of the crowds indoors, I did some more wandering and shopping, before treating my hostess to dinner at a German pub. A Saturday well spent. I did stop by the huge illuminated Christmas tree for a bit too!

The flying buttresses of Notre Dame de Strasbourg.

Sunday morning, I woke up early and decided to climb the towers of the Cathedral to take in the view. I think this was the worst cathedral I have ever climbed. Don’t get me wrong, the view and the architecture was lovely, but most of the climb was on the outside. Usually with these cathedrals, you climb up and around and around INSIDE the tower and emerge at the top, this one had most of the stairs on the outside, which did nothing for my fear of heights. But, as promised, as usual, the view was spectacular. I could see clear over into Germany, which I supposed was no great feat, but more on that later.

Hand-carved, hand-painted Russian Santas, very pretty, and sadly, very expensive.


Every Christmas Ornament you can imagine, and even some you can't...


Five Minutes in Germany!

I spent the rest of my morning exploring, and picking up a few last-minute Christmas presents. When I returned to Marielle’s (who was housebound for the weekend studying for her exams, unfortunately) apartment to get ready to leave, she asked if I had been to Germany. I told her I had not, and it was then that she explained that the German border was not 20 miles away as I had thought, but about a mile and a half from her front door. Thus, being a silly American tourist, I took a cab, and spent five whole minutes in Germany. And at the border there was: NOTHING. Not a single gate or guard. No one asked for a passport, there was nothing, just a sign on the other side welcoming me to Deutschland. Thank you, EU.

I was sad to leave Strasbourg, it was really a beautiful city, potentially one of my new favorites, but I might be biased, the Christmas Markets really might have tipped the scale, but nonetheless, great city great weekend. Though I did have some trouble getting home.

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. There is no French term meaning Customer Service, the concept simply does not exist in this country. I was almost stranded in Strasbourg, because of an employee error on my ticket. I exchanged my original ticket for a more direct train earlier in the week, the woman who did the exchange gave me a ticket for the wrong date, and so I did not have a valid ticket for my train home, a train, which was, unfortunately, sold out. And there was no way to exchange this ticket for another, sure, I could buy a new $80 for the next morning (who needs to go to work, right?), but no exchange. So, I stowed away, sort of, and tried to explain my situation to the ticket inspector, who was not the most kindred of spirits. He gave me a fine, but did not throw me from the train, so I passed my voyage squeezed into a luggage rack. A not-so-fantastic end to a fantastic weekend.

Just before break, I got together with several of the assistants and had a great little Christmas Party. It is really great to have this group of other young internationals in the same situation. It was really cool to talk about all the different Christmas plans and traditions. The event even turned into a dance party, and I got to learn a German pop dance something akin to Macarena in popularity. It was really funny. If you ever need to have some fun, ask me to teach you Cowboy und Indianer.

My last week of school before the holidays was probably very similar to every other teacher in the world. Simply put, my kids had NO interest in being in school what so ever. Lucky for me, I recently discovered that I have an ace in the hole: 20 Questions. Apparently, this is not a game that is well known in France, and lucky for me, it actually works perfectly as a language tool, and the kids LOVE it. Hours in class passed very quickly as the kids shouted out questions in English! A huge victory for me. So anyone teaching languages to middle schoolers (mostly those with a couple years of a foreign language under their belts), this is GOLD.

But even when you find the golden goose of classroom activities, there are still perils when teaching foreign languages. During a particularly raucchous game of 20 Questions (I was thinking of a Penguin) the class had narrowed it down to a creature that does not have fur, that lives mostly in water, is partially black, which does not fly, which lives in the cold, which eats fish, when a girl at the back of the class shouted something that sounded for all the world like: "aw F@$%*!" Now, there is a word in french :un phoque (which means baby seal, and it is pronounced just like you think it is). I had to leave the room to stop laughing so hard. No one said this job was easy, but the material for my memoirs is just too easy to come by. :o)

The first snow of the year in Bourges.

The chalk board after a typical day in the classroom of Mlle Squires.

With my younger kids, I happened to get very lucky with them as well. On the Thursday before vacation, it snowed, not something that happens ever frequently in France (except in the north or in the mountains). And we passed the period talking about snow and snow-related activities, and snow days, and the differences in the weather in France, and the weather back home. And of course, the kids love it when I am forced to pantomime or draw to get my point across. When I get home, I am going to be one hell of a threat at pictionary and charades!

The Cathedral in Bourges covered with a light dusting of snow.


Yep, a backhoe for snow removal, a little silly, don't you think? Welcome to France.

Speaking of snow in France… the week before break, it snowed on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, a highly unusual occurrence, but each day, there was less than two inches of accumulation. However, it might as well have been a blizzard, because the French had NO idea how to deal with the snow. It was HILLARIOUS. As New Englander, snow has always been a part of my life. I started playing in it as an infant, shoveling it as a preteen, and driving in it as a teen and as an adult. Two inches is no big deal, unless you live in a world where it never happens. A friend of mine who lives in DC (after growing up in New Hampshire) once remarked to me how funny it is when it snows in DC, that two inches can shut down school, and I only half believed her. I know believe. In Bourges, they have no snow plows, I actually watched as a backhoe attempted to do snow removal on a cobblestone street. But all hilarity aside, the snow was quite inconvenient, because central France pretty much shut down. No buses, no cabs, few trains. And here’s the real kicker, no school, kind of. In France, they don’t do snow days. Ok, but if you are a kid who gets to school via public transport, you are excused on days when there is no public transport, that’s reasonable. BUT if you are a kid who walks to school, you have no excuse. So on the Friday before break, all the kids who relied on the busses to get to school did not have to attend, but those who lived close enough to walk were still required to attend. The school actually has lists of who walks and who takes the bus, so some kids got a snow day, but others were dragged into school. On Friday afternoon, in my final class before break, we had three students.

Now, I have been fairly mum about my Christmas plans on this blog, but that was all for my Grandfather. Most of you, if you follow me on facebook, knew I was heading home for the holidays. But I decided to keep my return a secret from my Poppop. He thought I would be spending the holidays was an old high school chum in Greece, but I instead decided to spend Christmas back home with my family and to attend the wedding of one of my best friends.

So the snow made my return home quite difficult. For starters, it was nearly impossible to get a train out of Bourges to Paris, and then my flight from Paris to Dublin was delayed so much that I nearly missed my connecting flight to Boston. But, a sprint through Dublin airport to my credit, I made it home in one slightly-jetlagged piece. I was collected at Logan by five strange people all wearing different colored berets. (I think their names were Mom, Dad, Andrea, Becca, and Andrew, and I would post a photo, but conveniently, my father claims his memory card is on the fritz).

I arrived on the 20^th, and my Grandfather a few days after me. I must say, we got him pretty good. When he arrived, there was no evidence of my presence, and shortly after he got settled, I called my folks on Skype from “Greece” (which was really their bedroom up stairs), and strangely I could not get my video working. I told him all about the wonderful food, and how good it was to see my friend, and how we were getting ready to go to Christmas services, etc, and then I asked him to hold on a moment, and casually walked into the living room. It was fantastic. I even pulled off a second surprise, arriving at my friend Amy’s bachelorette party just 24 hours after returning to the USA.

Home sweet home, our Christmas tree on Christmas Day.

It was awesome being home. I cannot imagine spending Christmas without my family. There is just something about being with family at Christmas. I think Greece would have been nice, but at the end, I would have been a foreigner sitting on the couch in a corner watching a family yammering on in Greek enjoying their Christmas. Instead I got to be home, which was so much better.

Mr. Matt Leland, and Mrs. Amy Leland, my most sincere congratulations! <3

Amy and her ladies in waiting: Erin, Kate, Bridgette, Amy, Rachel, and me (no I am not wearing heels, but they all are, I have little friends).


Together again! Jeremy, Seth, Me, Andrew, Vicky, Will, Bridgette, Anne, Erin, Matt, Kevin, Amy, Tony, Rachel, Kate, Justin, Ilea!

Unfortunately, my 10-day stay flew by. There was Christmas to prepare for and enjoy, and then there was a wedding. One of my best friends from college, Amy Chadbourne, got married on December 27, which was another reason for my decision to come home for the holidays. Weddings are a lot of work. The 26^th was spent running last minute errands and doing all the flowers and decorations, and the 27^th was of course the wedding, which meant hours of beautification for the ladies. Amy looked fantastic, and it was an AWESOME day despite the rain, and the best part was, I got to see all my college friends. It was really a treat to have the gang back together; I think that is what I miss the most about college, my fantastic group of friends.

Ringing in the New Year with some new, and newer friends: Julien, Anne, Teri, Shawn, Rio, and Abby, and of course, champagne!

But my sojourn in the states could not last forever, because I have more work to do here in France. I returned before New Year’s, which I spent with Anne, and her friends in Paris. I always thought it would be cool to spend New Year’s Eve in Paris, and to see the fireworks at the Eiffel Tower. And it was cool in a way, but more than anything, it was crowded, very, Very, VERY crowded. And they did do a special light show on the Eiffel Tower, but no fireworks. So I think, from now on, it’ll be me, a pile of movies, some Chinese food, cheap champagne, Dick Clark, and the Ball Drop in TV for New Years. But, Paris at New Years is one more thing off the Bucket List.

I am back in Bourges now, and school started back up this morning. My students were definitely still on vacation and had NO interest in English today whatsoever, but I guess that is normal. I remember not being overly attentive on the first day back after vacation, so I will cut them some slack for a couple days.

This week I have a small adventure planned, an Epiphany party (because that is celebrated here), and my 25^th birthday, so as usual I have plenty to keep me out of trouble!

So in the meantime, Happy New Year! And until next time, I shall remain your ever-observant quarter-century blogger,

~Monica :o)