Thanksgiving for the Frenchies

So, while you were all enjoying a long weekend, I had to work. Thanksgiving went by as every other Thursday does for me in France, but I was reminded by several people I work with that I was missing the celebrations in the States...

Anyway, last week, or maybe it was longer ago than that, one of the teachers I work with asked if I could cook. Yes, I said, slightly confused. Then he said that I should cook Thanksgiving Dinner for all the English teachers. At first I thought he was kidding, but then I realized he was serious. And I had already said I would.

So, last week I spent a lot of time looking on the internet for how to cook a turkey. Mashed potatoes, casserole, no problem. But the turkey?? After reading up about it, I decided to just roll with it. Which is how I did the entire meal.

There is no pumpkin in cans, and no such thing as premade mushroom soup, either. There are many, many pumpkins in France, so that wouldn't be an issue. I also looked at recipes for pumpkin pie, since I'd never made that, either. But then the wife of one of the teachers offered to help, and I let her make the pumpkin pie, as I didn't have the oven room. (And her pies turned out excellent, just like home.)

The teacher whose idea it was to have a Thanksgiving for French people with the American as the cuisiniere hosted the event, and I came with Sidney to his house in the early afternoon. I had given him my shopping list for the ingrediants and everything was there waiting for me when we arrived. My recipes were in my head (as I like them). Olivier (the teacher) had gone to the butcher the day before the ask about a turkey, and the butcher had replied, "But it's not Christmas" so he had none. But he told Olivier to return the next day as there would be a freshly killed turkey waiting. So, the turkey we ate had just been killed, possibly the morning we ate it. Which, now that I've eaten it, is the way to go, I believe. No frozen turkeys.

I had no idea what I was doing, in all honesty. But I set out and told Sidney what vegetables to help me cut. When we were about ready to stuff the turkey, I admitted to him that I was making things up as I went. He was shocked, and slightly frightened, as I was making a huge meal for a good number of people.

So, here's what I made: turkey stuffed with carrots, celery, onions, and garlic with olive oil and thyme and sage rubbed over the skin; special Jenna-style mashed potatoes with lots of butter, cream, and cheese; green bean casserole with homemade fried onions and mushroom soup (which Sidney is now going to have me make time and time again); cranberry sauce, also Jenna-style (port, cranberries, apple and orange chunks with orange zest, and a good amount of sugar, served warm). There was also an entree (or appetizer) which is mandatory in France that another teacher brought, and champagne and wine flowing throughout the evening. And then the delicious pumpkin pie and also brownies for dessert. None of them had eaten pumpkin pie before, so they were slightly shocked at how it tasted, but I think it grew on most everyone.

And it was delicious. The turkey was moist and perfect, and the rest of it was fabulous, too. There are pictures, and I will post them soon.

These boots are made for walking

Ok, now I'm going to post about what I've seen.

First of all, I love Rouen. It's the large city very close (15 minute train ride and where I spend all my free time, basically) to Elbeuf. It's the place where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, so you can imagine that it's an old city. It's set on a hill, and at night the churches on the hill are lit up and it's gorgeous! It also has an ancient cathedral (well, several--Gustave Flaubert, who's from Rouen, called it the city of bells because they ring, and ring, and ring...), and the tower where Joan was held before she was burned at the stake. The Seine also snakes through the city. Well, I guess a river that large doesn't necessarily "snake" through anything. My favorite things in Rouen: the cathedral, Tour Jeanne D'Arc, Vieux Marche (the cute shopping district), and all the random churches, former universities, and random towers and doors that are left from destroyed churches and other buildings. I walk a lot of side streets and see things that the average tourist wouldn't. It's fabulous. And here are pictures:

I also have been to Mont Saint Michel. It's an abbaye that's 500 years old, and built on rocks, so that when the tide comes in it's surrounded by water. It's all about stairs and climbing there, but it was worth it. More pictures:



I've also been to Caen and Rennes, but only briefly. We just stopped in Rennes kind of as a break on our way to Rennes, and went to the chateau. In Rennes we walked the streets at night (which was gorgeous, but not a way to take pictures to remember) and then the next day it rained. We went to a museum and learned about Brittany. I was very glad I took a class on human evolution, as so many tools and artifacts have been found in Brittany from the Neanderthals, but there really weren't very good explanations at the museum. Bah, tant pis. Here's Caen:










Then, at the end of my fall vacation (which was a week and a half, gotta love France) we went to Etretat, which is probably on my top 3 list of most beautiful places. Gorgeous. And it was a beautiful day. Mind you, it was still about 14 degrees C, but some English people were swimming naked. Anyway, the tide was out, so we were able to underneath the natural arches. It was like walking undiscovered territory, as most people don't take the time to walk that far. There's many, many pictures from that day:

I've been to Paris, too, but don't have pictures from that yet as someone else took all of them, but that's soon to come!

Wow, I'm talented!

So, I have done some traveling, but blogging about that is just going to have to wait. I had something very, very special happen to me this week.

My passport, credit cards, bank cards, and basically my life was stolen. Or, my purse in other words. Yes, it's not good to carry your passport around, but in France I've had to show my passport almost every day, or I can't get money out of the bank, or get a bus pass, or even ride the train. Thus, my passport stays with me. Except now I have no identity cards whatsoever. I do, however, have a Hamline I.D. somewhere in Minnesota.

What happened was that I went to the apartment of a friend (ok, yes, my new French boyfriend). His apartment was unlocked when I went there, so I walked right in and put my purse, my shopping bag from H & M (I didn't bring any warm sweaters with me, and now it's cold), and my coat on a chair and walked up to the second floor of the apartment where he was. No one else was there. When we walked downstairs not that long after, my bag was gone. I knew right away that it had been stolen. Of course everyone else thought I had probably left it at H & M when I bought my clothes, but I had had a chocolate bar in my bag that I had kept for the walk back to the apartment. I remember fondly taking out that Mars bar a couple blocks away and savoring its deliciousness. I definitely had my bag when I got in the apartment. Oh, but the great thing (it is actually, but I'm also being sarcastic) is that my bag of new clothes was still sitting there, along with Sid's laptop and 4 guitars.

It was about 6 in the evening when I realized it was stolen. There is a police station only a couple blocks away from the apartment, and we walked there. It was closed. We got in the car (I still hadn't cried or screamed or even swore) and drove to the next closest station that Sidney knew of. It, too, was closed. Where do police stations close before 6 at night? Yes, that's right, in France they close. We had to drive across the river to get to the one that was open. At this point, I said, "I can't handle this," grabbed onto the door, and starting sobbing. I realized that I was in a foreign country with no form of identity, no money, and someone could have spent thousands of dollars with the cards in my purse. And I no longer had my passport stamps from Egypt or New Zealand. Oddly enough, that really made me sad, and I'm usually not that sentimental.

Anyway, I managed to get it together (thank you Sidney) before getting to the police station. We got in there, Sid spoke for me as all my French was jumbled and I didn't even want to try. The police said, "Elle est americaine? Il faut qu'elle aille a Paris." Meaning, she's American? She has to go to Paris. They just told us to go to Paris and didn't do a damn thing. Sid started to become fuming mad, but I started laughing. Yes, of course this would happen to me, and of course the police would tell me I had to go to Paris!

To add to our troubles, the internet wasn't working in Sid's apartment, so we had to drive back to Elbeuf. We got back, and my #1 business was cancelling my credit card. The company I have has just merged with another, so the international number didn't work. I tried to find the new international number on the internet, but everything was 1-800, which doesn't work in France because 18 is the emergency number here. I would end up calling an ambulance. That is where my dear mother came in. I called her, not caring what the fee was at that point, and she was able to cancel my credit cards and my American bank cards. Sid called and canceled my French bank card and his mother canceled my cell phone. I also called the U.S. embassy to report my stolen passport and see what I had to do to get a new one. Of course, go to Paris. But first, I needed a Police report.

Sid and I went back to the same police station (because it was the only one open) and luckily new people were on duty, who were very helpful directly. And my French was restored. We made the report and were out by 1 a.m. And then we took the 7:30 train to Paris the next morning.

So, after 5 hours of sleep we tackled the embassy. All I had were photocopies (thank goodness I had multiple photocopies of everything, made it a lot easier, if that's possible) of my identity. Luckily, not many people had lost or had their passports stolen in France recently, and I didn't have to wait in line to fill out a new application. And another report about my stolen passport. They of course had to put my name through the computer to make sure I'm an outstanding citizen and am not wanted anywhere, so we did have to wait a little. During that time, we played a "who's American and who's French" game. Strangely, it was very amusing.

To make the day not just about the embassy, we walked down the Champs Eylsees to the Arc De Triomphe and to the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge really isn't that exciting, I wouldn't recommend it. And I don't think I can count how many old men I saw walking out of porn shops across the street from it.

So, that was my exciting last two days. I've checked all my accounts, and it doesn't seem like any money was taken out of them. My Ipod was in my purse, too, so that's gone. But, it really isn't the end of the world. I wasn't planning any trips recently, so that's no problem. And, today, I received a message from the police that my purse has been found. And my passport was in it. Hmm, maybe I should have waited, but I really didn't think it'd be found. I haven't gone to retrieve my purse yet, so all I know is that my purse and "autres objets" were found in it. Maybe the criminal was so stupid that he/she didn't open the little pocket that contained my passport and my Ipod. We'll see. But of course the police station for lost and found objects is only open Monday through Friday from 2-5:45. Of course. I love France, but I also love that things are open almost all the time in the U.S.

En retard, per usual

Yes, I've been in France for over a month now, and am just now starting a blog! Better late than never, yes?

Ok, I'll start at the beginning: the airport. I was bid goodbye by both my father dearest and my dearest roommate, Athena. I didn't tear up until they were both gone and I sat by myself in the terminal of MSP. I switched planes in Chicago to make the final trip to Paris. There were five other assistants on the same plane as me, so I never had a chance to really be alone. While I'm not in the same area of France as them, it was nice to meet some people in the same place as me with the same anxieties.

Of course I didn't sleep on the plane, but that's to be expected. It wasn't until I got to Paris that the excitement started. I had to leave the other assistants, as I needed to get to Gare St. Lazare in Paris to catch a train to Val de Reuil where my contact person, Jacques, was going to meet me. I had two bags on rollers that weighed 50 pounds each and another bag with magazines and my laptop. All together, my bags weighed much more than me, but I had faith that I could make it. I took the Roissybus to Opera in Paris, which was the only stop I could get off at, and which was also about a 10 minute walk to the train station (or gare, in French). I looked at the map and told myself I could do it. So, here I was wearing my fleece and yoga pants with 130 pounds of luggage walking past Dior and Channel in Paris, all the while sweating and needing to stop every 30 meters to take a break. And of course I went the wrong way at first. I finally got to the gare and entered the doors, when I realized that I had 2 flights of stairs to climb with all my luggage, no escalator in sight. I dropped everything, ready to fall down and stay there forever, when a very helpful French man asked me if I wanted him to carry my bags up. I said yes right away. At that point it didn't matter to me if my bags were stolen--at least then I wouldn't have to carry them anymore!

Somehow I made it on the train and managed to get off at Val de Reuil, where Jacques was already waiting for me. And I didn't lose anything on the way, not even my sanity.

The first couple days I spent with Jacques and with Valerie (another English teacher) and her family. She has two young sons who fell in love with me, and vice versa. Clemond is just learning how to put sentences together, so much of what he said went right past me. Those first days were really about learning to listen to French spoken by real French people. At least Jacques and Valerie were both fluent in English as well, so when I was confused by something in French they could explain in English.

Fast forward. I'm now comfortably at home with Nicole and another Valerie, Nicole's daughter. I live on their third floor in Saint Aubin les Elbeuf, with a beautiful view of the countryside. They have been so helpful and absolutely wonderful. They even protest when I get up to put the dishes away. There's a cat here, too, Mimine (french for little cat). She has the strangest tail that's curled up like a pig's, and cow udders. She's sweet, though, and likes to sleep with me at night sometimes.

I've also started at Lycee Andre Maurois in Elbeuf sur Seine. The students are ages 15-20, but most of my students are in seconde, which is equivalent to 10th grade in the States. I also have primaire and terminale (11th and 12th). Surprisingly, their English is awful. They've been studying since they were 11 years old, but it's mandatory, so many could care less about learning English. I have to speak very, very slowly and repeat myself often. I try to not speak in French with them, as it would be easier for comprehension but wouldn't help them learn at all. I have them address me as Jenna, as I really don't want to be called Mademoiselle or Madame, while I have been addressed by the secretary of the lycee as Mrs. Hanson.

My job is about conversation, and that's what I plan with the students. They are very afraid to talk to me in English (not in French, however). I try to explain to them that I'm in the same situation in France, as French is not my first language but I have to speak it anyway.

As for speaking French, sometimes I hear myself and can't believe how quickly I speak. I feel like I'm not very good, but I'm speaking faster and faster, and know that I am understanding more as well. Verb tense still causes problems sometimes, but I'm learning and getting better. And overall, people are very helpful when they realize I'm not French. French people get a bad rap, but they are very good people on the whole. Sometimes difficult to read and can also be argumentative, but arguments are for the sake of arguing, never anything personal. That has been a lesson I've had to learn.

Well, I could go on and on but I'm going to stop for now. A bientot!