What's Going On?
So here's the story:
One month ago, today, Annie and I were on our way to France. The flight was uneventful, and Annie didn't embarrass me by pulling any weird stunts or using the barf-bag. I'm pretty sure I did beat her pretty bad in Rummy, no big deal. We arrived in Paris, at about 7am, which is an ugly hour no matter how little sleep you've gotten. Even Paris is dull at 7am. After we dumped our stuff, we coffee shop hopped away the morning and early afternoon. We met Sebastien under the Eiffel Tower and went to another cafe nearby. For future reference, it is better to plan a more specific meeting place than "under the Eiffel Tower," since every tourist in Paris is there.
Annie and I fought to stay awake until a safe enough hour to crawl into our bunk-beds and sleep, earphones stuffed into our ears so as not to be disturbed by the constant traffic in and out of the hostel bedroom.
The next morning, we parted ways. She was headed to Flers to meet her new host family and I was headed to Toulouse to see Aline for the weekend before going to Pamiers. Our goodbye was not drawn out, but just a few words muttered across a crowd of people, Annie and I crammed against our luggage on opposite sides of the metro.
When I arrived in Toulouse, I stationed myself at a cafe in downtown and waited for Aline, upon her instructions. Marc came to get me, brought me to the car, and Aline hobbled out with her broken foot to welcome me. The weekend in Toulouse was a huge success, I met loads of new people and broke back into speaking French.
I really didn't want to leave for Pamiers that Monday morning. Few people really new anything about it, and the ones that did, poked fun. Great.
Pamiers is in the department of the Ariege, and although it is the biggest city in the department, it is not the capital. I wouldn't say that Pamiers is particularly pretty or anything like that, but coming from America, there are certain charming aspects, a large square right downtown, skinny roads and footpaths, walking distance from the nearby hills and on a clear day, a decent view of the Pyrenees.
Pamiers is a city of about 20,000 people. There are no universities, and therefore if you are a student, you are somewhere else. The university systems in Europe, in general, are different than in America and it is normal to be still at university at my age. Bummer. Cafe du Midi seems to be the best place to go to meet young people. We've succeeded on a couple of occasions, our biggest attraction being that we aren't french, and the biggest reason people come over to our table is to ask for rolling papers or a cigarette. The bartender there knows us and usually gives us something for free at some point in the evening.
My job is great! I teach about 10 classes a week between 4 different primary schools in Pamiers, so kids ages 8-11. It is mostly oral and routine, and I can use the same material for almost every class, with a few minor adjustments. The prep time is minimal. The kids are kids. Simple.
I live at 21 rue de Piconniéres, chez Mme Dupuy. It is a very big house, right in the center of town. The inside is very decorated with pastels and uncomfortable antiques; it's neat and proper, giving off the feeling of a museum more than a home. I usually sit in either two chairs if I'm not in my room, one of them being at the computer and the other at the kitchen table. I can't take any food at all, unless I am invited to have it with The Dame. I learned this the hard way after I had been nicking butter, milk and other small items, replacing them when they were gone. I should translate the note and the lecture I got for that one!
The Dame herself, is a few inches taller than me, thin, and dressed to match her home. I don't dare ask how old she is, since she once told me she no longer talks about her age, but I'd guess around 56. She has very short, very dyed black hair and is always well presented with the necessary make-up and outfits to receive the Pope. She stands, hip jutting out and torso pointing at just the right angle that allows her to prop up her baby, "pom-poing" the Bichon, who is a part of her wardrobe. She says "Weeeeee!" instead of "Oui".
She lives alone, and and has adopted the relationship philosophy of "moi, chez moi et toi, chez toi." She enjoys opening her home up to people like me. She talks to me and shows me pictures of when she was in the newspaper or her last vacation in the mountains. She prefers to talk than to listen but she pops the occasional personal question. She is convinced that Sarkozy is the end of everything good about France and tells me this regularly, to which I nod and agree exactly even though I'm not very politically educated. She tells me that life is hard and that I'm young but I'll figure everything out one day just like she has.
This is a temporary living situation, and I've told The Dame that I'm moving trying not to hurt her feelings. She's really a nice person, and she is always offering me to use her bike or to take me with her when she goes hiking with the mountain club. It's just, I need my own place. We don't have very much in common, and I'm pretty sure that if I stay here I could wind up doing something terrible like sneaking a glass of OJ in the middle of the night. I need my own place. I need a roommate where I can steal their stuff and then not read a note about it the next morning.
So, I'm going to move to Toulouse and share an apartment with Oscar, hijo de puta, the Spanish are always in my life. I'm finally going to take advantage and make a conscious effort to learn some Spanish from him, considering my vocabulary to date is limited and offensive.
There are two other language assistants in Pamiers that I hang with, Rebecca from near Frankfurt and Jenifer from Manchester. We're best friends by default and it's working out just fine. We see each other regularly, to go on hikes or to watch a movie or have a coffee or a beer at the local. After a month in Pamiers, things are settling in. I'm reading French detective novels. A beech tree suddenly appeared in Sophia's yard, she didn't plant it, who did? She disappears. Then another guy gets stabbed in the stomach 4 times. This stuff is great!
I've worked a total of about 30 hours in the past month and I'm on vacation for 12 days. What a country! I'm headed to Annie's town, Flers, on Sunday, and if the weather is nice this week I'm hoping to shoot up to Mont Saint-Michel. By the way, Annie and I bought our tickets to Istanbul for Christmas. Nine days in Turkey!
L-I-V-I-N!
One month ago, today, Annie and I were on our way to France. The flight was uneventful, and Annie didn't embarrass me by pulling any weird stunts or using the barf-bag. I'm pretty sure I did beat her pretty bad in Rummy, no big deal. We arrived in Paris, at about 7am, which is an ugly hour no matter how little sleep you've gotten. Even Paris is dull at 7am. After we dumped our stuff, we coffee shop hopped away the morning and early afternoon. We met Sebastien under the Eiffel Tower and went to another cafe nearby. For future reference, it is better to plan a more specific meeting place than "under the Eiffel Tower," since every tourist in Paris is there.
Annie and I fought to stay awake until a safe enough hour to crawl into our bunk-beds and sleep, earphones stuffed into our ears so as not to be disturbed by the constant traffic in and out of the hostel bedroom.
The next morning, we parted ways. She was headed to Flers to meet her new host family and I was headed to Toulouse to see Aline for the weekend before going to Pamiers. Our goodbye was not drawn out, but just a few words muttered across a crowd of people, Annie and I crammed against our luggage on opposite sides of the metro.
When I arrived in Toulouse, I stationed myself at a cafe in downtown and waited for Aline, upon her instructions. Marc came to get me, brought me to the car, and Aline hobbled out with her broken foot to welcome me. The weekend in Toulouse was a huge success, I met loads of new people and broke back into speaking French.
I really didn't want to leave for Pamiers that Monday morning. Few people really new anything about it, and the ones that did, poked fun. Great.
Pamiers is in the department of the Ariege, and although it is the biggest city in the department, it is not the capital. I wouldn't say that Pamiers is particularly pretty or anything like that, but coming from America, there are certain charming aspects, a large square right downtown, skinny roads and footpaths, walking distance from the nearby hills and on a clear day, a decent view of the Pyrenees.
Pamiers is a city of about 20,000 people. There are no universities, and therefore if you are a student, you are somewhere else. The university systems in Europe, in general, are different than in America and it is normal to be still at university at my age. Bummer. Cafe du Midi seems to be the best place to go to meet young people. We've succeeded on a couple of occasions, our biggest attraction being that we aren't french, and the biggest reason people come over to our table is to ask for rolling papers or a cigarette. The bartender there knows us and usually gives us something for free at some point in the evening.
My job is great! I teach about 10 classes a week between 4 different primary schools in Pamiers, so kids ages 8-11. It is mostly oral and routine, and I can use the same material for almost every class, with a few minor adjustments. The prep time is minimal. The kids are kids. Simple.
I live at 21 rue de Piconniéres, chez Mme Dupuy. It is a very big house, right in the center of town. The inside is very decorated with pastels and uncomfortable antiques; it's neat and proper, giving off the feeling of a museum more than a home. I usually sit in either two chairs if I'm not in my room, one of them being at the computer and the other at the kitchen table. I can't take any food at all, unless I am invited to have it with The Dame. I learned this the hard way after I had been nicking butter, milk and other small items, replacing them when they were gone. I should translate the note and the lecture I got for that one!
The Dame herself, is a few inches taller than me, thin, and dressed to match her home. I don't dare ask how old she is, since she once told me she no longer talks about her age, but I'd guess around 56. She has very short, very dyed black hair and is always well presented with the necessary make-up and outfits to receive the Pope. She stands, hip jutting out and torso pointing at just the right angle that allows her to prop up her baby, "pom-poing" the Bichon, who is a part of her wardrobe. She says "Weeeeee!" instead of "Oui".
She lives alone, and and has adopted the relationship philosophy of "moi, chez moi et toi, chez toi." She enjoys opening her home up to people like me. She talks to me and shows me pictures of when she was in the newspaper or her last vacation in the mountains. She prefers to talk than to listen but she pops the occasional personal question. She is convinced that Sarkozy is the end of everything good about France and tells me this regularly, to which I nod and agree exactly even though I'm not very politically educated. She tells me that life is hard and that I'm young but I'll figure everything out one day just like she has.
This is a temporary living situation, and I've told The Dame that I'm moving trying not to hurt her feelings. She's really a nice person, and she is always offering me to use her bike or to take me with her when she goes hiking with the mountain club. It's just, I need my own place. We don't have very much in common, and I'm pretty sure that if I stay here I could wind up doing something terrible like sneaking a glass of OJ in the middle of the night. I need my own place. I need a roommate where I can steal their stuff and then not read a note about it the next morning.
So, I'm going to move to Toulouse and share an apartment with Oscar, hijo de puta, the Spanish are always in my life. I'm finally going to take advantage and make a conscious effort to learn some Spanish from him, considering my vocabulary to date is limited and offensive.
There are two other language assistants in Pamiers that I hang with, Rebecca from near Frankfurt and Jenifer from Manchester. We're best friends by default and it's working out just fine. We see each other regularly, to go on hikes or to watch a movie or have a coffee or a beer at the local. After a month in Pamiers, things are settling in. I'm reading French detective novels. A beech tree suddenly appeared in Sophia's yard, she didn't plant it, who did? She disappears. Then another guy gets stabbed in the stomach 4 times. This stuff is great!
I've worked a total of about 30 hours in the past month and I'm on vacation for 12 days. What a country! I'm headed to Annie's town, Flers, on Sunday, and if the weather is nice this week I'm hoping to shoot up to Mont Saint-Michel. By the way, Annie and I bought our tickets to Istanbul for Christmas. Nine days in Turkey!
L-I-V-I-N!
posted by emily at 7:23 PM
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