Tri-Lingual "Frenchgiving", and "How Do I Get There"

This week was Thanksgiving! I did lessons about it with almost all of my classes -- teaching them some vocabulary, telling them the story of Thanksgiving (the simple "Disney" version, not getting into all the strife that happened afterward), and having them say what they are thankful for. The lesson mostly went over really well -- and I even had a couple kids say that they were thankful for me being in class with them (d'awww). It was an interesting mix of things they were thankful for -- some of the kids were thankful for Christmas/presents, a lot were thankful for births of cousins, a lot were thankful for their families/parents/siblings, one young boy was thankful for the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who, and there were some touching stories as well. I had one high schooler really trying to butter me up (thinking he'd get more cookies), who said that he was thankful for me making cookies, for me helping them with their English, and for me cooking for them. And with the high schoolers, instead of vocabulary, I had them pretend to be turkeys and they had to convince me to eat the other turkeys instead of themselves. That's probably the most amusing activity. 10/10 A+++ Do recommend.

On Thursday to celebrate Thanksgiving, I bought myself one sad little slice of turkey and some potatoes to mash up. Except, turns out, those potatoes weren't actually for mashing (there are special mashing potatoes???) and so the mashed potatoes were horrible. But I did get to Skype with my family (where they set me in front of the pumpkin pie I couldn't eat -- thanks mom! xD). Friday, I was busy making more cookies (the third batch of no-bakes in three days) and getting ready for our Thanksgiving à la française ("French style") that Kirstin was hosting on Saturday.

The saddest Thanksgiving dinner ever. (And my Disney Princess advent calendar. ....I'm an adult....)

Friday night/Saturday morning, I even attempted to make apple cider (since the only cider you can get here is the alcoholic kind). Unfortunately, I got a little distracted wrapping Christmas presents for my parents and all the water boiled off and the apples burned a little bit. "No big deal," I told myself, "I can fix this". And I tried. Oh goodness, did I try. Saturday morning, after letting the apples cool overnight, I mashed them all up and tried to strain them as best I could. The recipe also called for cheese cloth to use to squeeze all the juice out of the apple pulp. But, as hard as I looked, I could not find cheese cloth anywhere. I ended up using a clean t-shirt as cheese cloth -- putting the apple pulp in the shirt and squeezing the ever-loving daylights out of it. And even after all that, the burnt taste unfortunately came through in the cider and I had to throw it all away. An exercise in futility. C'est la vie ("That's life").

The beginnings of the apple cider. I had SUCH high hopes...

Saturday morning was also supposed to be the Christmas market in Dax. But um, search as we did, there was no Christmas market to be found. :(

BUT,  I went with one of the other Americans from Dax down to Biarritz where her friend was having a big Thanksgiving get together.

First off, Biarritz is beautiful. It's on the Atlantic coast, and Kirstin has an apartment with a FANTASTIC view of the ocean. I ended up spending the night in a B&B not far from where Kirstin lives (I didn't think there'd be enough room in the apartment), and it was honestly just lovely. It didn't have the same view, but the bed was tempurpedic (aka: HEAVEN) and breakfast was incredible.

Tempuurrrrrpedic. (I need to buy one of these someday)

Adorable room

View out the kitchen window

Basically, Thanksgiving was a blast. The food was good, the company was even better, and we spent the evening laughing and drinking wine and talking and playing games. Basically it was perfect, and much appreciated. We even had a couple Spanish-speakers, and a French girl (Kirstin's roommate, her roommate's friend, and a friend of hers). So we spent the night swapping back and forth from English to French (to "franglais") and learning some useful words in Spanish.

The lovely Kirstin with the wine (and Becky)

Molly rocking the mashed potatoes!

Mulled wine, yeah!

Beautiful flowers

"Turkey" (aka chicken)

Carving the "turkey"

Schooled on carving meat the French way (with a spoon and a fork)

Getting ready to eat!

Belated food picture

Another belated food picture

Turkey turkey turkey!

At dinner!

This morning, I went down to the center of town to see when the bus left for the train station (my train was at 12:30), and had some time to wander around. Originally, I thought I was a lot further from the ocean than I was, so I was going to find a cafe to sit at to kill some time. But then, all of a sudden, I looked to my right down an alley between some buildings and BAM! Ocean. Unfortunately, I couldn't get down that alley to the ocean, but all of a sudden I had a purpose: "There's the thing; how do I get there?"

First view of the ocean

And get there I did. Needless to say, the ocean is spectacularly beautiful. And there were plenty of people surfing. I decided to go down to the water to stick my hand in... I went wading unintentionally. Basically, I was standing at the edge of the water and bent down to stick my hand in when I saw a little baby wave rolling in. I was like, "Aw, how cute? Come here baby wave!" But as it came closer, I saw that baby wave wasn't so baby after all. It crashed in around my feet and knocked me back a bit. My pants got wet. Luckily my boots are mostly waterproof, so only the barest hint of damp got through them. I did, however, manage to avoid falling completely on my butt. And honestly, it was just so ridiculously funny that I just had to laugh at myself.

All the crazy surfers

On the way down to the beach

OCEAN

This beach is seriously beautiful

GPOY (p.s. lookit my fancy new coat!)

When I got off the beach, I saw what looked like (at first glance) a little garden on an island in the middle of the ocean. But there were people walking around on it! So once again, I asked myself: "The thing! How do I get there?!" (There was a bridge.)

The island (not from the original view)

Bridge to the island

There were a couple locks along the railing; it's apparently a popular thing in France

Lighthouse!

As I finally started walking back to the bus stop, I had a sort of epiphany: when it comes to physical places, I am very good at finding a way to get to where I want to go. Oh, yeah, I get lost along the way, horribly so at times, but I generally get to the thing that I see from a distance and say to myself, "THAT! I need to find THAT!" But when it comes to real life? I'm not actually very good at the "How do I get there?" game. I know where I am, and I see where I want to be, but the steps in between to get me there are just never as simple or as obvious (or as risk-free, in general). So sometimes I don't even dare to step at all. Basically, I'm challenging myself this year to take those scary steps (hellooooo grad school applications; yes I will finish you.....), to forge ahead even when there is no evident path.

Life, unlike cities, doesn't have a map. And that can be terrifying. But the more I wander around cities with no map, the more I get lost and find things that are even more exciting than what I was originally looking for, the more I want to find those things in life, too.  /extended metaphor

So today, in one last "spirit of Thanksgiving" post, I'd like to say that I'm thankful for my family; I'm thankful for the amazing friends I have back home who've been keeping in contact through Facebook and sometimes keeping me sane; I'm thankful to be here in France; I'm thankful for all the people I've met here so far (and all the people I've yet to meet); and I'm making a promise to be more bold. (To boldly go, as it were.) Here's to life and taking the scary steps forward. Tchin, tchin!

Control Freak -- Bienvenue en France (In Which Katie Talks Too Much)

HELLO WONDERFUL PEOPLE!

Well, it turns out I never really did do anything interesting in New York or in Georgia for that matter. So, this is my first blog update since I came home from France a year and a half ago, and guess what??! I'M BACK IN FRANCE.

I've been accepted to be an assistant d'anglais (English Assistant) in a collège (middle school) and a lycée (high school) in a city called Morcenx (I've been recently schooled on its pronounciation: MORE-SAYNKS). As far as I can tell, it's just a tiny little blip in the middle of the forest.

I arrived yesterday, and as much as I love France, I'm not loving it here. I think most of it is the fact that, other than my job, I have NOTHING. Me, the usually over-prepared-way-in-advance control freak, has nothing sorted out. Nothing but a job and a hotel for the next two nights. Oh, and apparently, a place held for me at a Foyer de Jeunes Travailleurs (Young Workers Residence), which is really far away from where I'd need to get the train on a nearly daily basis and in a pretty iffy neighborhood (I was followed home yesterday by some pretty crazy, possibly homeless guy after I visited the place). So, I'm not crazy about it. Not to mention the fact that it's pretty expensive, and then I'd have to pay monthly for wifi on top of that (not even sure how much wifi would be). (And let's face it, I can't live without wifi. Skyping is hard in public places.)

So I'm terrified. I basically have 1 day to find something else, or else settle for the Foyer.

The trip here was alright, all things considered. Landing in Paris was seriously like coming home--all those twinkling lights saying "Bienvenue, Katherine! Vous nous avez manquez!" (Welcome, Katherine! We've missed you!"). But then it was about a 2 mile hike through the airport to get to my connecting terminal (I might be exaggerating, I have no idea how long I was walking, but it was A LONG TIME; Charles de Gaulle airport is stupidly big).

I found a Paul's right near my gate which was basically another big welcome home to France. (Angela and Maddie understand the Paul's addiction.)

Paul--the first sign that I have, in fact, successfully made it to France

And I had a pretty awesome seat on the flight to Bordeaux (exit row, so tons of legroom; unfortunately I couldn't see out any windows, which was okay since it was just rainy and gross anyway). When I got off the plane in Bordeaux is where it gets a bit hairy. I got my luggage fine, had already gone through border control in Paris, and figured out where the bus to the train station was without too much trouble. The bus ride was also alright--mostly empty, loved seeing the city. (God, I LOVE Bordeaux!)

But then I got to the train station. Mind you, I am moving here for 8 months. I will be here until May (possibly June). I am loaded down with a filled-to-bulging purse, a giant (and extremely heavy) hiking backpack (a girl needs her computer and external hard drive, yeah?), and two big rolling suitcases that weighed JUST under 50 pounds each. And I had to catch a train from Bordeaux to Dax (my final destination). So the bus dropped us off at one end of the train station. I had to walk to the other end of the station to get my ticket. I couldn't use a kiosk because I'm not sure if American cards work in them (I remember having problems with American cards last time) and they don't take cash. Besides, I wanted to get my 12-25 card (which is apparently now a 12-27 card) which is basically a discount card that you pay for (50 euro) that gets you at least 25% off all train fares (and most times it gets you 50% off). So, it's definitely worth it. But I had to wait in line with this giant backpack on my shoulders (which I'd been carrying around since Detroit--no rest for the technologically inclined). So I get my ticket and my train was set to leave in about 15-20 minutes. Perfect. At this point, I've been awake for 24 hours straight (guess who can't sleep on planes?! But I did get to listen to Fall Out Boy, my soundtrack of the summer, and watch Monsters Inc. and Monsters University). So I head out to the platform (which requires carrying all my stuff down a flight of stairs, then back up a flight of stairs in order to go under the train tracks).

When I get on the platform, I try to figure out where I've got to get on the train (I was in car 10). Usually it's pretty simple to figure out since the cars are in order, you just figure out where car 1 is, and then go from there. Except I was on the super-wonky TGV, and so instead of being in order, the cars went 10-1 and then 11-19. Yeah. Guess which end of the platform I was at?? That's right! Car 19. So I had to walk all the way down the platform (after already walking back and forth multiple times trying to figure out what the heck was going on). So, cool, I get to the right end of the platform. Train comes, I get me and all my stuff on.

Guess what, guys? NEVER EVER EVER TGV WITH LUGGAGE. DON'T DO IT.

So, I'm at the very end of the car. There's a little luggage rack with two rows just wide enough to fit 2 small suitcases. One row just wide enough for one teeny weeny suitcase. This luggage rack is supposed to serve a cabin of 16 people. Do-able? OH YEAH FRANCE. GOOD JOB. Mind you, when I get on, it's already filled. GREAT. So I put my backpack up in the cabin (there are little overhead racks, but nothing large enough for even the smallest of suitcases). Then I attempt to rearrange the luggage on the rack and am able to fit one of my suitcases on there. WOO. One to go. I thought about leaving it out near the door (since I was getting off at the first stop), but there was already a guy doing that and, when I asked if he would mind if I left my suitcase near his stuff (so it wouldn't fall over) he did NOT speak English. Or French. I don't know what he was speaking. But we continued attempting to communicate in not the same language for a bit before he seemed to suggest that there was space at the other end of the car.

So I get to drag my giant suitcase to the other end of the car, repeating "pardon, désolée" ("Excuse me, sorry") about a million times while feeling like a complete buffoon, trying desperately to explain that I'm moving, not just an inconsiderate person with WAY too much luggage. When I get to the other end of the car, the luggage things are MUCH bigger, but still mostly filled. A nice lady was sitting in the little makeshift seats there watching her luggage which she just kind of shoved in, and helped me heave my suitcase on top of the pile of suitcases and bags, and she offered to keep an eye on it for me. Excellent. Luggage all stored. 20 minutes into my hour long journey I finally get to go sit in my seat.

Luckily, I was sitting with this wonderfully nice older couple who was on their way to do the El Camino pilgrimage, which starts not too far from where I'm staying. I explained to them that I'm moving down here, and we talked for a bit (they complimented my French, yay!), but then when I told the lady I'm moving to Dax, she goes, "But you're on the wrong train!" 3 other people agree with her. 1 person says I'm right. At this point I start freaking out. It wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten transport wrong (you guys remember my boat mix-up in Venice, right??). If I didn't have the luggage, no problem. I just get off at the next stop and get a train back to Bordeaux, then get the next train to Dax (and make sure i get on the proper one this time). Embarrassing, annoying, a bit more expensive? Yeah. But not really all that big a deal. But with ALL THAT LUGGAGE? My arms were already about to fall off and I'd felt like a buffoon enough that day, without having to go through the whole thing twice more.

Luckily, we finally checked the train number on my ticket against the train number on another girl's ticket. I'm on the right train, the lady had just gotten mixed up as to where she was. I had to force myself to stay awake for another 20 minutes (can't sleep on planes, can't stay awake on trains), so that I'd have time to get my luggage from this end of the car and make it down to the other end of the car. Lather, rinse, repeat with the same awkward pushing luggage down an aisle barely wide enough for a person, trying not to hit people's elbows, feet; pardon, désolée, pardon, désolée, désolée, pardon...ad infinitum.

When I made it to the other end of the car, I get my luggage down and started talking to the nice lady who had watched my suitcase for me. She was super sweet, as were all the other women who ended up packed like sardines waiting to get off in Dax. (If anyone dares to tell me that the French are mean, inhospitable, and/or rude, I will punch you in the face with no regrets. The French are, bar-none, the absolute nicest people I have ever met.) My French was complimented once more (huzzah!) and a very nice lady who had been a French-assistant in Spain (and ended up staying in Spain for 10 years) helped me get one of my suitcases down since she was just getting off for a smoke.

By this time I'm parched, so I grabbed a bottle of water at the train station and headed out to my hotel which was, thankfully, not even a 5 minute walk from the train station. Unfortunately, the hotel has no elevator (OH NO), so I still had to lug my stupid suitcases up 2 flights of stairs to my room. Cue free wifi that doesn't work in my room (the signal's not strong enough to reach up to the third floor). So, feeling absolutely disgusting after almost 18 hours of travel, I quickly washed up and changed and headed out into the city for my meeting with the Foyer. It was about a 45-60 minute walk from my hotel to the Foyer through the city center (SO AWESOME) and some not so nice looking neighborhoods (NOT SO AWESOME). Finally, I got there to meet the staff and see the room (or so I thought). Turns out, they're holding the room for me, and were expecting me to move in on Monday. O_O They were pretty understanding about it all, and I like the staff. So I might end up there, but we'll see. I'd like something a little closer to the city center if I can.

On the way home, I was able to catch the bus which goes pretty much directly from the Foyer to the train station, but was followed by the creepy, crazy, possibly homeless guy. I was able to walk fast enough once I got off the bus, that I turned the corner and got into my hotel before he could see me. (When I got up to my room, I looked out my window/balcony and saw him walk past maybe 5 minutes later, headed to the train station--which is where I think he thought I was going). So that was not so good. Upon arriving back at my hotel, I finally had time to send my parents a message saying that I was not, in fact, dead or missing, but had arrived safely.

And then, after being awake for nearly 30 hours straight, I passed out.

This morning I wanted to head over to Morcenx to see the city I'll be teaching in, but first I had to get a mobile phone to stay connected here, which meant walking to the city center (about 15 minutes from my hotel) to the Orange store. And I stopped by the Office de Tourisme (Tourism office) to see if they had a map of Morcenx (they didn't, but they gave me the number of the mairie (mayor's office) in Morcenx). They also gave me a list of some available apartments in Dax, so I've got to call on that.

When I finally got back to the train station, I was informed that the train tracks between here and Morcenx are being worked on (GREAT), so there's no train. Only a bus. And they directed me to the website. There is only one bus a day. And the return bus leaves Morcenx for Dax before the bus from Dax even arrives at Morcenx. So doing a day trip out there is impossible by public transport until after September 27th.

Luckily, I talked to the English professor in Morcenx, and she's trying to arrange for one of her colleagues to take me back to Dax on Thursday (so I can get the bus out, and then get a ride home). So I'll at least be able to go see the school. And she's having the school search for a place for me to stay in Morcenx (either a temporary thing so I can have some more time to search for an apartment or something for the year). The professor is really nice, and she seems to be willing to do a lot to help me out, which will be good during the school year since I'd ideally like to get an English club going, and maybe even a theater group so that we can have the students put on a play in English; having her on my side would make those things easier if the students want them.

So, things are pretty crazy at the moment. Or at least, they feel crazy. But Dax is actually a pretty nice city. There's a manga convention this weekend that I might try to go to so that I can meet some nerdy people and there seems to be a lot going on--there's a museum, and quite a few shows this month, and there's a movie theater around here somewhere I think. The city center is absolutely beautiful and is, of course, all walking (no cars in the city center), so it's very agreeable. Tons of restaurants, shopping, etc.

Now, after talking/typing all your ears/eyes off, it's time to make some calls on some apartments. Wish me luck that I'll find something! Hopefully I get into somewhere soon and feel more free to travel around/explore more so that future updates are less text-heavy.