Thanksgiving in Sainté

Just as it did in the US, Thanksgiving has come and gone in France. Also just as it does in the US, it has left us with memories of delicious food and ridiculousness to treasure forever.

Let me begin by saying that when I first arrived in France, my expectations for Thanksgiving were very low. I planned to live Thanksgiving Day just like every other day, and to mope around all weekend wishing I were in Georgia for Amanda's wedding. Luckily, I have happened upon some great friends in Saint Etienne that helped to turn things around.

As I told you, Mathilde decided that Thanksgiving sounded like fun and that we should have dinner here. However, the same part of me that wraps gifts for hours before Christmas to make them extra beautiful and perfect decided that it should be the Americans who prepare the meal. This being said, there were really only 4 of us at Thanksgiving. Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me. I spent the entire day of Thanksgiving chopping, baking, mashing, cleaning, etc. to get ready for the dinner. Luckily, I had the help of Corinne who made the pumpkin pies and the stuffing and Katie who carved the turkey. In addition, Mathilde and I had to put basically all of the furniture we have in our apartment in the living room in order to make a table large enough for 15. Add in the lengthy and practically impossible Skype conversation with my family in Georgia, and I am left wondering where I found time to do it all.

Sidenote: During this Skype conversation, I informed my little cousin Morgan that French people don't have Thanksgiving. I don't think she could've been more shocked. "Really? There are some people who have NEVER had Thanksgiving???" And then she told me about the sexy sailors on TV for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Ri. di. cule

Anyway, little by little everything came together and the guests started to arrive. Thanksgiving started at 7 o'clock, but this being France, we didn't eat until nearly 9:00. And then the real ridiculousness began. As we were 4 Americans, 2 Germans, 1 Australian, and the rest French, Katie thought it smart to create a new Thanksgiving tradition to trick everyone. And so after saying "I am thankful for..." each person took a shot of good ole American whiskey. Some took many more than one shot of good ole American whiskey. Nobody seemed entirely shocked by our American 'tradition,' and they all played along no questions asked.

Then we ate! Our meal consisted of turkey (killed and prepared by my local butcher AKA my new best friend), mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, roasted red potatoes with herbs, cranberry sauce, gravy, and pumpkin pie! To you, this may sound like your average Thanksgiving dinner. In France, where cranberries don't exist and turkey is only eaten for Christmas, achieving these things was nothing short of a miracle! The meal was great, and everyone got along famously even though most people hardly knew each other.

And then we played Christmas music. And learned that Jesus was black. And did what every good American does on Thanksgiving, get rip roaring drunk.

Before the big day, Katie, the "Spirit of Thanksgiving," attempted to calm my nerves by telling me that Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving unless something crazy happens. She insisted that for it to TRULY be Thanksgiving, someone has to cry, someone has to get ridiculously drunk, and someone has to pass out. Let's just say that our Thanksgiving was ALMOST what Katie considers a real Thanksgiving. Except nobody cried.

All things considered, this Thanksgiving was the most unique, yet one of the best I've ever had. I know, that every Thanksgiving for years to come, I will look back on this year and laugh. It is truly remarkable that we achieved it. It felt as American as it would've in Wisconsin, even surrounded by foreigners. So, this year, I am thankful for my friends here in Saint Etienne!

Grève de merde

There is ANOTHER train strike today. I wonder if I'll still be shocked by the amount of strikes come March or April. I think so. There was a teacher strike on Thursday, a post office strike on Saturday, and today marks the 4th strike of the SNCF since I've arrived in Saint Etienne.

I don't know how much more I can take.

Today's strike meant, for me, that the train I would've normally taken at 12:18, didn't exist. This train gets me to Rive de Gier over an hour before I would've had to teach, but is my only choice since the floods. So, my already limited train schedule has, today, become almost nonexistant. There was a train at 11:18, which I obviously missed, and now there is not another train until 3:18. Very practical for someone who has to teach a class at 2:00.

Damn the French and their strikes! If it were possible to strike against strikes I would! I'll let you know if I find a way. Until then, all of you Americans can rest easy knowing that you have your giant American cars to take you to work everyday.

Quasiment Decembre...

HELLO!

I haven't been updating as much as I would like. This isn't because life isn't interesting, it's because life is tiring. Working 12 hours last week was just about enough to put me over the edge!

I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really do mean it. Working 12 hours sounds like nothing. However, when you take into account that it takes me around an hour to and hour and a half one way to get to my school, it becomes much more. PLUS we had some major floods in the region when I was in Italy so now it seems like all I do is wait for trains. I mean, there's around one train an hour. Normally there are at least 3. This is a VERY busy line between Saint Etienne and Lyon, and people like me are NOT happy at all. Plus, to make matters worse, I saw someone puke on the train last week.

My job is treating me alright, aside from the commute that would even be ridiculous in Atlanta or Los Angeles. Most of the teachers just let me do my own thing, which is nice. This way I can to TRY to get the students to loosen up a bit. Keep in mind, these are students who have penmanship practice sheets ripped up in front of them at the age of 6. These are students I can only, in the kindest way, refer to as SERIOUS perfectionists. They are afraid to guess. They are afraid to speak. Of course, because of all I've learned about the communicative approach to teach a language, this is all I want them to do. We've had our differences, but the students are coming around. The problem is that, with a few exceptions, I see the students for 25 minutes every two weeks. This means that I'm not really their teacher as much as I am a living breathing REAL American for them to gawk at. I don't know the students, and they only know me as 'Ohhhh il y a KIM!' Strange to say the least!

Anyway, aside from that, Thanksgiving is on the way! Thanksgiving in France may not sound interesting to you, but to me, it will be one of my biggest challenges to date. Turns out, when Mathilde heard about Thanksgiving, she decided that she wanted to celebrate! A small celebration chez nous has now turned into a fullout dinner party of 15-18 people. Save me. Not to mention the fact that traditional Thanksgiving items such as cranberries, pumpkin pie, and stuffing don't exist here. AT ALL. Another major hurdle: turkey is eaten only for Christmas. ALSO, my oven is not exactly equipped for cooking a turkey (meaning, it probably heats to a total of 250 degrees and barely fits a pizza). This means that I had the pleasure of visiting around eight butchers, trying to trick them into not only selling me a turkey, but also cooking it for me on Thanksgiving Day. Each of these butchers felt it necessary to tell me first, that 'it's too early for turkey!' and then, that it is simply 'pas possible' for them to cook one for me anyway. After I had all but given up on the idea that a butcher could see past my broken French and cook me a turkey for my hypocritical American holiday, one of my colleagues suggested I try one more butcher.

It was then that I restored my faith in humanity. This butcher, who with a face like that should have no other job, saved the day. He started by giving me the same strange look as all the others and then said 'pas de probleme.' To which I responded, wide eyed, 'REALLY???? NO PROBLEM!?!' He simply shrugged and asked whether I needed it for lunch or dinner. I responded, and he wrote something down on his calendar for Tuesday. He explained that he would need to let the farmers know that day that he would need a turkey, since the turkey, of course is still alive and well as I write this. As Tuesday grows closer and closer, I am starting to get a feeling of impending doom for the poor turkey that is living his last days on earth. What an ultimate insult for a French turkey to be eaten for Thanksgiving.

I will be sure you keep you posted on further happenings involving Thanksgiving and the infamous turkey.

In other news, this weekend was spent 'en famille' in a town about 30 minutes outside of Saint Etienne in Feurs. I went, apparently, for the birthday of the son of the friend of Marie Lou (my host mom in Paris). Complicated, I know. Christiane, Marie Lou's friend, helped me open my bank account in September. And then she decided that it would be interesting for everyone if I came to their house for a weekend. Interesting it was! Everyone was very, very nice. The people in attendance included Christiane and her chatty (to put it mildly) husband Claude, their two sons, Germain (birthday boy) and Valentin, and their girlfriends, the grandmother who honestly believes that cowboys exist in America and believes EVERYTHING she hears on TV, the parents of Germain's girlfriend, a sassy aunt, the boys' old nanny and her husband, and me, the token American. I arrived to a strong apero before we were all seated 'a table' for lunch. This was the longest lunch I could have ever imagined and literally lasted until it was pitch black outside. When nobody could eat a bite more, we watched Germain open some gifts. Then it was announced that dinner would be served shortly. I waited for the others to laugh at the joke, but it turned out it wasn't a joke at all. We were then all invited to be seated 'a table' until nearly 11pm. All of this table time, inevitably, led to the French doing what they do best: discussing things. So, eat and discuss we did. A table. All day. Don't get me wrong, it was really lovely, the food was really good, and the conversation was really interesting, it was just the most entirely exhausting day I've had in a long time.

Today was no different really, although it started with me literally drinking tea out of a bowl like it's normal (here it is normal). It progressed even more strangely with a tour of the town given specially to me by no other than Claude. He whisked me around, showing me where the town was flooded, where he killed thousands of chickens throughout his life, and where the boys went to school. He ended the tour with a stop at the 'Christmas Market' at what I can only describe as the French Stein's Gardens and Gifts. And boy was he proud! And then, we were seated 'a table' until dusk once more. But really it was all very charming, and I feel really lucky that they even bothered inviting me for one meal, let alone an entire weekend and a tour of Feurs!! It felt good to spend time with a real family, especially since I'll be missing that aspect of Thanksgiving this year.

This week will be an interesting one. I work three hours tomorrow, and two hours Tuesday, and then am off until the following Tuesday for no reason other than that my schedule is amazing and I begged off work for Thanksgiving. Wednesday and Thursday will be consumed with Thanksgiving preparations. Saturday I'll spend the whole day wishing I were in Georgia, and hopefully visiting the Marche de Noel in Saint Etienne that opens that day.

And then it will be December.

Victory!

We won. We won the house, the senate, and Obama won the presidency. Finally!!!

Made in Italy

Well ladies and gentlemen, I am in Italy! I think it is pretty much everything I expected it to be, though I suppose I wasn't entirely sure what to expect...

So far things have been beautiful here, aside from the many not so pleasant people I've encountered. I suppose this should be understood though, as maybe they're irritated that I can't even pretend to speak their language. I must say though, I am shocked that people think French people are the rude ones!!

I arrived on Tuesday in Venice after a long, wet, bumpy journey from my apartment, to the train from Saint Etienne to Lyon, to the bus from Lyon to the airport, to the actual plane that ended up boarding from a building entirely seperate from the rest of the airport (guess that's what you get for budget travel), to the bus from the plane to the airport (again, budget travelers beware), to the bus from the airport to Venice proper, to the hundreds of stairs and canals and bumpy cute little streets and tiny little alleys that Amanda and I dragged my suitcase over on the way to the hostel. What can I say, I've never packed light...

Though the journey in Venice was rather God awful, especially once it started raining, I was amazed by just how much Venice looked like a storybook. Every turn (and there were a lot of them) brought another picturesque little street, with views of canals complete with Gondolas! Turns out one of my Italian phrases, "Quanto costa una gondola?" (How much does a Gondola cost?) won't ever be used since apparently the darn things are worth something like 20,000 euros.

Our hostel was really more like a hotel room, complete with bathroom, TV, and a towel warmer! Though Italian TV is....interesting....it was funny to try to try to figure out what was going on through the complete language barrier! Believe it or not, we even mangaged to catch a Brewers/Cubs game on TV when we were in Florence!

The next day, we rode on a Gondola (2 minutes is still a ride!), tasted a new fruit, Cachi (Kaki in French apparently), and walked around endlessly trying to avoid the rain! That night, after a delicious dinner, we decided to try to head back to take a few pictures of the main square, Piazza San Marco, at night. However, when we were within 100 meters (whatever that means) of the Piazza, it started downpouring. Being the silly, silly Americans we are, we decided to throw all caution to the wind and enjoy it rather than hiding from it. 10 minutes and about 1000 strange looks later, we were absolutely drenched and stinking of Venice. Though it took my boots a full 24 hours to dry out, it was one of the most memorable moments of the trip so far!

The pleasant outdoor seating at a restaurant along the Grande Canal in Venice.


Anyway, Venice was a wonderful little city, but truth is, there really isn't much to do there other than walk around and ooo and ahh over just how adorable it really is. That, along with the fact that it seemed to rain every time Amanda and I walked over to the Piazza San Marco, is why we decided to extend our visit in Florence rather than returning to Venice to lug our luggage (now I understand where the word came from) over dozens more canals.

We took the train from Venice to Florence on Thursday morning. I am so in love with trains I can hardly even explain it. Everytime I get on one, I am immediately calmed and often lulled right to sleep, just like a little baby. This train was no different. It was almost a 3 hour journey, but the time passed quickly and quite comfortably. Then here we were in Florence, with the city just waiting for us to discover it. And discover it we did. Upon arrival at the hostel, which is really a pretty cushy room just for us with 3 twin beds and TV, we learned that there was nobody there to let us into our room. So we wandered around looking for a phone to let them know that we were sick and tired of pulling suitcases around Florence. They didn't really seem to care, but about 20 minutes later we were escorted to our room, which is practically directly the reception room. So far I've been very comfortable. :)

The language barrier has been interesting. I'm horrified at how little I know, and miss the feeling of being able to communicate as easily as I can in France. Even in France it feels like a major accomplishment when I can get my point across, but here it is nothing short of a miracle. I have learned, however, that to make things plural I have to add an i. For example, espresso becomes espressi. Pretty cute. Also, white is bianco. Also, asking for the price in Italian means I will receive my answer in Italian and have to walk away ashamed that I can't understand. By the time I leave on Tuesday, I'm sure I'll be a pro!

Yesterday was quite possibly the best day yet! We decided that we wanted to try to take a tour of Tuscany to taste some wine. This tour ended up being a full day of driving around the Italian countryside, taking in breathtaking (albeit frightening) views of vineyards, small villages, and homes that belong to some very lucky families from up on the hills.

We visited a tiny fortified town, then a town in Chianti, before heading to the vineyard for a tour and a 'light lunch'. This vineyard smelled beyond wonderful from the first moments there. At the place, they produce wine, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, chickpeas, soaps, and much much more. We were lucky enough to sample many of these things during lunch. It was delicious, and the products were spectacular. One thing we tried was truffle oil, which I was nervous about because I've heard that the flavor is really strong, but it was actually really good. We also tried 31 year old balsamic vinegar on ice cream, of all things! Not what I expected, but YUM! The day concluded with a visit to the city of Siena which was probably one of the strangest places I've ever been. It seems that their whole lives revolve around what clan each person belongs to, and whether their horse will win the next race that takes place in the main square. We also may or may not have seen the real severed head and thumb of Saint Katherine. Relics, I think not.

"What the hell is up with Siena?"

Upon our return to Florence, we decided to grab some dinner at a restaurant that wound up being the Perkins of Italy. Not so great, but a good bargain if nothing else!

Today we spent the day walking around Firenze (which truly is constantly beautiful--see below), visiting David at the Academia, eating sweet treats while sitting on the ground, and bargaining with market people. Tonight we hope to see what Florence has to offer as far as nightlife. Should be interesting at the very least!