3 countries.. in 1 day.. sans passport..

Who would have ever thought it was possible to travel to 3 countries and not have your passport checked once?? Well, until January, it was easy to do in Europe, but not now. However, I got lucky yesterday and for some reason or other, never got checked. Three friends and I decided to take advantage of our four day weekend (and yes, I am going on a two week vacation starting this friday, how am I EVER going to readjust to life in the US??) and go see a nearby town in Germany called Trier, which is the oldest city in Germany and dates back to 16 BC. And it happens to be located about 2 hours by changing trains a couple of times from Metz. I still can't get over the ancient-ness of everything that surrounds me here, I live in an especially old part of Europe that was settled by the Germans. So we got up early, met at the train station, and took a train to Luxembourg. I must give kudos to the girl who got this all together, somehow she stumbled upon a ticked that would include all four of us and each of us would only pay 12,50 euros for the entire round trip -- not bad for travelling through three countries during one day. We arrived in Trier at about 11 am. It was pretty chilly and threatening rain, but we set out to see the sights. Unfortunately, I forgot to charge my camera, so I have no pictures at all whatsoever, but some may be tagged on facebook by some of my friends... We saw the old Roman gate, which is over 2000 years old and looks like it could have been built last year.. those Romans really knew how to build stuff! Then we walked around the old part and found a place to have lunch. We all tried to choose very typically German fare, I had potato pancakes with salmon and "cottage cheese," which actually turned out to be more like mustard with some dill added. The others got wienerschnitzel, some sort of meatloaf, and potatoes au gratin with broccoli and chicken. It was a great lunch -- and it warmed us up. Then, we went walking some more, and found the old city wall, which is about 1000 years old, and a beautiful pink castle. We saw the baths from a distance, but none of us wanted to pay to get in, at this point ruined baths are ruined baths and we've all seen a lot of them. But we were able to stand beside it and peer in. We also went into the Cathedral of Trier, where, apparently, the robe Jesus wore when he was crucified is housed as a relic. Naturally we couldn't see the real thing, just a picture of it. Pretty cool, I will say. The cathedral was beautiful -- I wished we could have been there to see a service today (Easter Sunday). By this time, it was towards the end of the afternoon and we headed back towards the city center to get some ice cream -- naturally I had raspberry sorbet and it was DELICIOUS. Then, we got back on the train and headed back to Metz. And thank goodness we were not stopped once for passports (two of us had forgotteno ours). I won't lie though, those visions of being forever stuck on the train between France and Luxembourg recurred intermittently until I was safely off the train and back in Metz. I better not forget my passport next week!!

ode to spring

I have become a connoisseur of spring: the only slightly chilly breeze, the buds on trees, the fact that I can't see through barren trees so easily to see the lake and the road, the fact that I've put up my heavy black winter coat that I hate passionately, the SUN.. I've never in my life been so aware of spring. Chalk it up to always having lived somewhere warm-ish and this being my first real experience with real cold and snow. When I left Metz in February to embark on the big two week holiday, I told myself that spring would arrive when I got back. So, on the first Monday back, when I was taking a walk around the lake, I scrutinized the bare bushes, hoping, praying, basically begging buds to be there. I saw a few little dots on the ends of branches that could potentially become buds on a couple of bushes, but for the most part, winter was still lingering. But I found hope in those tiny maybe-buds and I reassured myself that spring would come soon. So every couple of days after that first March walk, I would scrutinize just about every plant, bush, or tree that I came across to see if buds were appearing. The snow we had my first weekend back did not help things, but I told myself that these buds were tough and could survive, and that spring was inevitable, and so I felt better. And, those tough little buds did survive. Last week, they appeared to be a little more numerous, and bigger? Or was it just my eyes? Or was I willing them to be bigger.. who knows. I guess not because as I walked to the lake today, I saw BABY LEAVES!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm elated.. sitting here in my room with the window open watching the sunset -- this is the life. I have convinced myself that I'm just going to wake up one morning someday soon and that spring will have sprung, kind of like in that scene in The Secret Garden when it literally shows the flowers opening. It will be glorious! Pictures coming!

and so it turns out americans fail too..

So this week, one of the teachers asked me to do a lesson on something cultural/American. It was a busy week, what with St. Patty's Day (which was incredible) and spring finally arriving and all, and so I wracked my brain for a few minutes trying to think of something cultural, and all of a sudden I remembered that I had brought some pictures from prom in 11th grade. Plus, it's prom season back aux Etats-Unis. Perfect!! So I dug them out, and then came up with a lesson plan about Prom. I really actually got excited about it, I mean who doesn't get excited about prom? It's a night devoted to beaded long dresses, rented tuxes, hairspray, corsages, limos, dj/band, dancing... etc. So I set up a whole lecture starting with "Prom Committee," who I told them decided on the theme, raised money for decorations, did the decorating, and did the elections for prom king and queen. Then, I told them about girls going shopping for the "perfect" prom dress, trying on thousands, and finally settling on one that has just the perfect amount of beads/bright color ratio. Asking prom dates came next, they had a little trouble with that concept, here in France you only go on "dates" if you are with your boyfriend/girlfriend. Then, we arrived at "Prom Night." I told them about all the hype that leads up to it, girls getting their hair and nails done, and then all the boys arrive at one of the girls' houses to "pick them up," which also doubles as a photo op. I had photographic evidence of this, so I passed a few 11th grade photos taken at my house around (thank goodness i didn't still have braces..). I watched their faces as they recognized me and my hot pink dress (and yes it had hot pink beads too, and it still has a special place in my heart), and instead of the "oohs" and "ahhs" and basic jealousy that they don't get to do this that I was expecting, I heard snickers and whispering. I thought to myself: "Oh well, they'll get into this once I get into the actual prom part." So, I kept going. They did get excited when I told them that most groups are picked up by a limousine, which drives them to dinner and to the prom. Apparently that doesn't happen very often in France. Then I told them about "Prom Pictures." And yes I also had photographic evidence of this, my date and I in the typical prom pose, facing each other, hands clasped, corsage and boutennière i perfect view, the train of my dress carefully arranged behind me.. I thought "Surely they'll recognize this from movies and laugh and finally get into this lesson." Instead, they all had quizzical looks on their faces as they passed this photo around. So I kept going. Next topic was "Prom Presentation." I told them about how all the seniors and their dates are presented before the prom actually begins, and how everyone watches. I also had photographic evidence of this, which I then passed around. It's actually a really nice picture, the hot pink-ness of my dress really stands out. My students, however, were still not impressed. After that, I told them that the dj or band starts playing music, and that everyone dances the night away. It was a very anti-climactic finish, I know, but this audience was impossible! At the end, I asked if any of them had any questions. They said no. I then told them that if they were in high school in America right now, that they would be getting dates and shopping for prom dresses (they are the equivalent of juniors in high school). Still nothing. So I asked, "What do you think of the Prom?" Bad move. One girl in the front, who had been smiling the whole time, I thought at me because she was interested, raised her hand and said "Eez theez a johke? Eez eet fuhnny?" How do you answer that? It's prom, yeah it's kind of a joke, but it's also a rite of passage in high school in America, something you look forward to from when you are young -- and there are numerous movies to back it up. So, I just laughed it off, as the French students just looked at me like I was crazy. So yeah, Americans can fail too.

french girl fail

So the weather is slowly, but surely, getting better. We've had only 2 days of rain, and 1 of snow in the two weeks that I've been back from the February holiday, and even though it's been freezing, there has been lots of sunshine, so it's a nice trade-off. The last few days have been a bit warmer, and according to le Météo (weather), spring should arrive on Friday, just in time for the first day of spring, which is Saturday, when I'll be in Paris!!!! I can't think of a more perfect day to be in my most favorite city. I've got some shopping/museum seeing that I want to do, and I've been waiting on better weather to go. Anyhoo, the point of all this is to say that I have found a new favorite café in Metz and since the weather has been somewhat warmer (45-50 degrees), I've been sitting outside -- one of my most favorite things to do. No worries, they have heaters, and with a nice pot of tea and a heater and a good book, it makes for a very nice afternoon.

So yesterday, I went into Metz to see a movie, and got there early so that I could take a cup of tea and read a little at my café, which is located near the movie theater. I was very lucky to get a table that was located just under the heater, and somehow miraculously not near any smokers. I ordered a lovely pot of tea, and got out my book and was heavily into it when I just happened to look up. I noticed a group of French adolescent girls, they couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and at first I noticed how I liked what they were wearing (first thing I notice about French girls). Then, I noticed how, like adolescent girl groups in the US, they were basically attached to each other and couldn't move without doing it collectively. So they all got up, and the "Queen Bee" had to go inside to the bathroom or something, and the rest stood outside in front waiting on her. They were basically eating their cigarettes, which I thought was too bad because they were all so young and pretty, it just kills me when I see the young ones smoking, but that is neither here nor there. Anyways, I noticed one girl, loved what she was wearing, and noticed that she cute in an adolescent way, definitely would be a heartbreaker when she was older, but she was absolutely eating her cigarette. All the girls decided to go inside, but she was the last one with a cigarette. And like I said above, this group, in typical adolescent fashion, was doing everything as a collective group. So I could just see the uncomfortable-ness on her face when she was left outside with her cigarette -- like a fish out of water or something. So I watched her take a final drag and then look around, eyes falling on a table to the right of the door, with a man and woman seated at it. Then, she took the cigarette and reached between the man and woman, who were in the middle of a very serious-looking conversation, and put it out in the ashtray on their table. Both the man and the woman looked at her like she was absolutely utterly insane, and she just gave them that nonchalant French girl smirk and shrugged her shoulders and walked inside. The man then proceeded to let out a string of curse words, and the woman waved her hand in front of her face -- obviously the only other non-smokers besides me in the entire centre ville area. He then proceeded to cover the ashtray with a menu and the two of them proceeded to get really annoyed and talk about how "impolite" and "inconsiderate" the little girl was. A minute later, the entire girl-group walks out together, all with the smirk, and I saw the girl pass the table and notice the menu covering the ashtray, as well as the angry looks on the faces of the man and woman. I could just picture her seeing a beautiful model or French girl in a movie or tv show or something doing the same thing and completely getting away with it because of her beauty and charms and savoir-faire and the girl thinking it was the epitome of cool, and then trying to pull it off in real life, resulting in a massive F-A-I-L.

Lesson from this story: Just because you're French doesn't mean you can't fail.

les histoires racontées du voyage, partie une

So I've always wanted to run through an airport, like in the movies. To lose all sense of propriety and just run like hell, bags flying behind. To me, that has always been the epitome of cool. Well, my wish was granted during my February holiday while I was at the airport in Barcelona. When I bought my plane tickets back in January, the best deal I could find to get from Budapest to somewhere in the south of Spain was through Vueling. However, Vueling does not do connecting flights, so I had to buy a ticket from Budape(sh)t to Barcelona, then from Barcelona to Sevilla. I told myself that this would be different from how I had flown previously, and that I would need to allow enough time to re-check-in and go through security, etc. I almost missed my flight from Budapest, which was kind of stressful but made me think that my stress quota for the day had been reached. Boy was I WRONG. My plane arrived at 12:50, and the next one to Sevilla did not leave until 4:15, so I had enough time to change out of my winter woolens and into clothes for warmer weather, eat lunch, and sit and listen to my ipod. I was feeling super savvy, like a very experienced traveler, and was thrilled that I did not appear to look as clueless as some of the other Americans that I saw in the airport. I looked on my ticket info that I had printed out, and saw that my plane boarded at 3:45. So I said to myself that I'd head to the gate at 3:45. So, I sat on a bench and listened to my ipod (my current obsession: Phoenix, and yes I know I'm way behind the boat on that one but they are A-MAZING and hopefully I'll get to see then in Nancy in a few weeks). At 3:43, I got my suitcase and bag and started rolling up the escalator/incline towards departures. I arrived at the check-in area and it still didn't occur to me that I had to check-in and go through security and that the flight was already BOARDING. I even got in a slow-moving line and patiently waiting for about 10 minutes before looking down at my printout and REALLY reading it for the first time. Then, I panicked, because underneath, in the fine print, it said that check-in closes 40 minutes before the flight leaves. By this time, it was 4:00. My heart dropped to my stomach. I started praying. I finally made it to the counter, hoping that maybe the man would take pity on me and let me check in. He just looked at me after reading my printout and said "Sorry, check-in for this flight is closed." I mustered up some real tears because I was honestly freaking out at this point and said "I just flew in from Budapest and got here as quickly as I could, is there ANY way I can get on this flight??" After regarding me with a skeptical eye for a few seconds, he conceded, wrote something on my printout, and directed me to a counter a few feet away. I waited another minute behind a group of Englishmen who were having flight problems as well, but miraculously they dispersed fairly quickly. The woman scrutinized me as she read my printout, and I told her the same thing, that I had just flown in from Budapest. She then said that if I hurried, I could make the flight. It was then that I realized that I had a bag that had to be checked. So I asked if I could check it. "Absolutely not, it's too late," was my answer. Then she told me my gate and bid me adieu. I started to walk towards security, which miraculously was not crowded. I got just inside the gate when I realized that not only was my suitcase too big to be a carry-on, but that I also had a large bottle of shampoo, a bottle of hand-washing liquid, razors, nail scissors, and probably all kinds of other illegal things that I had forgotten. I was torn between going back to the counter and seeing if there was another later flight to Sevilla and just throwing all of these things away and seeing if I could make the flight. After thinking about it for a split second, I decided to throw it all away and give my best effort to making this flight, for I didn't want to pay for another one if possible. So I unzipped my overstuffed suitcase and starting flinging things out and into the trashcan. Then, I took off my boots and coat, slung it all through the security contraption, and then I proceeded to walk through the metal detector. I had on a ring that I don't normally wear when flying, which caused the alarm to go off, and the woman security personnel had to frisk me. But somehow my suitcase made it through. I threw my boots back on and took off RUNNING, suitcase dragging behind, coat swinging through the air under my arm, about 150 feet to the gate. When I got there, my mouth was completely dry, my heart was in my stomach, and the gate was OPEN. I handed the flight attendant my passport and boarding pass, somehow she didn't even notice my suitcase that was dragging behind me, and I was allowed to walk into the tunnel to get on the plane. Turns out that another stewardess ended up checking my suitcase, but I WAS THE LAST PERSON ON THE PLANE. They literally closed the door after I sat down. The relief I felt cannot be expressed in words - I've never been so relieved to be anywhere in my life. I wanted to get on my hands and knees in the aisle and thank God for moving mountains and letting me make it onto that flight, but I decided that would probably be taken as a terrorist attempt or something and I figured I had caused enough stress for one day, so I sufficed to pray to myself in my seat with my eyes closed. But I made it to Sevilla, I sure did.

And when I got there and opened my suitcase to freshen up for the night, I found razors and a bottle of make-up that was definitely over the limit for carry-on luggage. Sure is comforting knowing that the Barcelona security are so on top of things.
And don't even get me started on airport security in Marrakech.

VICTORY!

Not much going on this week, it's the last week before the Vacances d'Hiver (2 week vacation), and I've been sick, so I've unfortunately been confined to my room the past two days. However this past weekend was really nice, the weather was not too cold, there was no snow, and I went to Nancy and met a lot of the Nancy assistants at a Crepe Party. Unfortunately, Tuesday night, I started to not feel so great, and it was worse Wednesday morning. I won't bore anyone with details, but I will say that living alone and being sick is not fun. But I think I'm on the way up thanks to Extra Strength Tylenol, Motrin, Mucinex, lots of water, and even more sleep.

However, Tuesday afternoon, when I was feeling alright, I helped with a class of fifteen-year-olds for two hours. The assignment from their teacher was to have rehearsed a quick skit about the calm, dry British sense of humor (and as I've learned here, because English is my native language, I naturally am expected to know everything about Britain, British culture, British history, the British Accent, etc.). The play was actually quite funny, about two British men in a hotel room and a bellboy who comes to tell them that the hotel is on fire and how calmly and skeptically they take the news. So, I'm sitting there, listening to the different groups act out the same skit in front of me several times, and all of a sudden, I hear it. Yes, I have achieved what many actors have tried (very unsuccessfully, I might add) to master. I heard a distinctive southern twang on several key words acted out by my students. I am not kidding. For example, the word "ought." I heard "awwt." YESSSSSSS. And somehow, I just can't find the heart to correct them. Just thought I'd share..

i've officially experienced the other side

So, how many times in my life have I sat in a room taking a standarized test and regarded the proctor with jealousy because all he/she has to do is sit there and read a book and make sure all of us students aren't cheating? Probably at least 50, and stretching back to ITBS tests in the 4th grade all the way through the LSAT that I took in Paris in December. I always wondered what it would be like to be in a classroom where you were the only person not completely absorbed by the monotony that is standardized testing, and to simply read a book while all the students around you were stressed out and wracking their brains to remember everything they had learned in school in order to move forward in their educations. Yesterday, I went over to the other side, and found sweet bliss. I may never be able to take another standardized test again.

Last week, I checked my cubby hole/mailbox at the school, and found a printout of what resembled my schedule except with a new block added to 8 am on Thursday of this week: BAC-BLANC. Attached, was a note from the Proviseur-Adjoint (Asst. Principal) telling me that they were having pretests for the Baccaulaureate this week and that all teachers would be helping to "Surveiller" or Proctor. For those who are not familiar with France, the Baccaulaureate (le Bac) is the major exam that all French students must take in June of their final year in high school. It covers all classes that the students are specializing in and takes about 10 days with different sections. It is a kind of 'Rite of Passage,' and my students (the serious ones, at least) are already freaking out about it. We have nothing like this in the US - imagine being forced to take a standardized test in Calculus or Literature or Chemistry, history, or even a foreign language -- and in June after senior year! They even have one on Art. The closest would be the ACT or SAT, but we take that long before the end of senior year, and it basically has nothing to do with what we've learned in high school because on top of studying for your classes you have to learn how to take these tests as well. Also, if they fail it, they're basically set up to fail in life. They can take it again, but they have to pay for it (it's over 100 euros, I believe) and who wants to put that they failed the Bac on a job application? So what I helped with yesterday could probably be equivalent to the PSAT or the PLAN because it's the same format and everything, but it's just practice and it gives the students an idea of what their score will be and what areas they need to work on.

So, the note said I needed to be there ten minutes early to get all the test booklets to take to the class. Our school starts at 8:15 but one of the teachers told me she thought the Bac-Blanc would start at 8 because that's how the real Bac will be. So I got myself up early and was at the school at 7:50. I was so nervous! I couldn't believe they would trust me to be in charge in a testing room. The Proviseur-Adjoint laughed at me because I was 25 minutes early, because we were not to begin until 8:15, but I think he was impressed (YAY brownie points!). He handed me the tests, told me the room I was supposed to be in, and told me that they were not to leave until 10 am. He also said he thought that this would be a good opportunity for me to see how the French testing system works and that it was too bad I wouldn't be there to proctor the real Bac (thank goodness). Then he said that this is very serious and that we need to make it as much like the conditions of the real Bac as possible, so don't have my nose buried in a book the whole time, look up and make sure they are testing from time to time. So I thought, Ok, that's just great, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do or say, and this is super important for all of these kids, but maybe there will be a proctor sheet telling me what to do in the room. That's all he told me. I, who had never been on this side of the equation before had no idea of any other questions, so I left it at that and went to find the room. When I got there, it was locked, and of course I did not have the correct key. So it got closer and closer to 8:15 and the students were waiting outside and we couldn't get into the room! Finally, a fellow teacher walked through and unlocked it, shaking her head at my "amateur-ish" ways. So we got in, and the students started to settle into the classroom. It quickly became apparent that I had no idea what was going on, especially when the only proctor sheet told me that they couldn't leave the room under any circumstances and that they couldn't smoke or use cell phones. Duh. There were different-colored sheets of paper on the desk, and two different-colored answer sheets on the desk, and I had no idea which was the correct one. I tried to play it cool and circulate the signature sheet while figuring out what to do next in my head. By this time the 8:15 bell had already rung and the serious students were getting antsy. They had pulled out tissues, snacks, water, etc (I had no idea of they were supposed to have all that on their desks or not, but I didn't want to be mean and take it away if it was ok). One of my English students I guess could tell that I was struggling and raised her hand and offered to help pass things out. Then three other (also intense) students hopped up and in less than thirty seconds all answer sheets and (I guess) scratch paper were passed out. I hope it was all correct, but if not just chalk it up to the clueless American Assistant. Then, I passed out the tests and they got started. Turns out it was a math test, and I had one extra when I finished so I flipped through it. It made me nauseous. It had all kinds of triangles with sin, cosin, and tan in the answer choices and angles and all that disgusting stuff that I sort of knew how to do five years ago. So I sat at the desk at the front of the room and looked out at all the students and my heart really went out to them. I noticed they were writing what looked like essays under math problems. What is there to write about math? I continued to feel nauseous. I felt like I was right there with them, then I remembered "No, I'm the Proctor!" So I pulled out my book and started reading. It was wonderful, the sick feeling went away and I soon forgot about all of the disgusting math problems that were being solved in front of me as I plunged myself into my book (of course, coming up for air every few paragraphs to make sure they weren't cheating). It was quite lovely, and very conducive to reading, and everything that I thought proctoring would be. About halfway into the hour, one of my English students raised her hand to see if she could go to the bathroom. I looked at the proctor sheet one more time to make sure it didn't say anything about using the toilet, but it didn't, so I told her no, sorry. But she didn't argue and went straight back to testing. Oh well, hopefully her bladder didn't explode. I went back to reading. The hour went up pretty quickly, and I was actually a little sad when the next teacher came to relieve me. But then, it was a beautiful day outside so I went for a walk, and briefly thought about the poor students stuck inside solving impossible math problems, and felt a tinge of guilt for enjoying such a nice day. Then I remembered the hours of my life I have spent in the same place and the guilt quickly went away and I went into town to shop the sales and enjoy the weather. Maybe if law school doesn't work out, I could become a professional proctor??