Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Picture!
So I think I finally figured out how to add pictures to this thing. You should see a view of the Eiffel Tower by the Seine below. If not....I dunno, I have a Mac.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Allez les bleus!
Friday night was Bible Study at the Kirby’s house, and it was, as always, enjoyable. It was the first night that Scott, the young adult and music minister, was back from his sabbatical. We had a great meal of lasagna that the two Sarahs prepared and discussed the problems of closely spelled French and English words (appartement/apartment, gouvernement/ government, etc.) and the problems of “faux amis” as my french teachers call them. Words that look like they should mean the same thing in both languages and don’t. Often if I don’t know a word in French I’ll just say the english word with a French accent. For a lot of words that works, but certain times not so much. Scott told a story about talking with some French friends one time and trying to explain to them that canned food in America is full of preservatives. He said they all gave him weird looks and burst out laughing and he didn’t know what he had done until one of them explained he had just said that canned food in America is full of condoms. He didn’t know the French word for preservatives so he just said “Préservatifs,” which is a word in French, but does not mean the chemicals used to keep food from spoiling. It means condom. And another time he ordered a kilometer of ground-beef from the butcher instead of a kilogram. But that’s the fun of living in a country where you don’t speak the language fluently.
Saturday Cassie called because she and her Aussie roommate Carly were heading up to Montmartre to check out the fete des vendages. It’s an annual street festival in Montmartre celebrating the grape harvest and the first wines of the season. Booths set up along the cobblestone streets held the products of small vineyards, as well as meats, oysters, cookies, bricks of chocolate, pan fried potatoes, etc. Cassie bought a cone of roasted chestnuts because she’d always wanted to get some. We decided they are better in theory than in reality. I don’t know what I expected but it was kind of like eating hot acorns. I got a cone of churros. The deep fried sugared dough sufficed to cover up the weird nut flavor. There were street musicians and a stage with performers, people selling balloons, and lots and lots of people. It reminded me of some the various little festivals we have in downtown Daytona, but Europeanized. There was also the strangest parade I’ve ever seen. Bands, groups from different vineyards, civic groups, and I don’t know who else all walking down the street, interspersed with people in some really over-the-top costumes. We didn’t get to stay to the end because we want to go watch rugby, but on our way back to the metro station I did see a group of majorettes which answered the question “do they have baton twirling in France?” although all I saw them do was march in place in 1950s-esque majorette outfits. Maybe I could make some extra cash teaching baton while I’m here- lol.
Saturday was a big day in France. That’s right, the rugby world cup semifinals. After a shocking defeat of New Zealand in the quarterfinals, France faced England in the semis. Instead of showing the game on the giant screen in front of Hotel de Ville, because France was playing and they anticipated a huge crowd, they moved the viewing to giant screens on the Champs de Mars (the grassy area by the Eiffel Tower). I had made plans with some friends to take food and get there a couple hours before the 9pm kickoff. Cassie and Carly ran to Monoprix to get some food while I ran home to change into my rugby ensemble and grab some snacks and stuff from my apartment, and then we headed down to the Eiffel Tower. The atmosphere was already festive in the metros. English rugby fans (who are the most obnoxious of any country, by the way) in full-on face paint and carrying big blow up roses, mixed with the blue-white-&-red French crowd that was slightly more composed. There was yelling and horn honking as we walked to the Champs de Mars and that was more than 2 hours til kickoff. I loved it because it reminded me of Saturdays in Gainesville. We made it to the main screen and found our friend Alison who had arrived earlier with the woman she lived with and her friend, and had staked out a nice spot just about 20 yards from the screen. The grass was already filling up and people were beginning to stand along the sidewalks. It was the day after Pavarotti’s birthday so they were showing a tribute to him on the screens while we took out our picnic and began chowing down. I was dressed pretty ridiculously, but I did not stand out at all. Young French fans draped in flags and face paint were blowing whistles, throwing rugby balls, and randomly breaking into song. We borrowed the tricolored face crayon from the teenagers beside us. Alison’s slightly odd landlady was really into Pavarotti and kept yelling at the kids to shut up while he was singing. “PAS PENDANT PAVAROTTI!” We all looked at each other and tried hard not to burst out laughing at the french woman getting mad because people who had come to watch RUGBY weren’t sitting in silent awe at Pavarotti. I was thinking it was going to be a looong game with her there, but she decided to leave well before kickoff, so we didn’t have to find out. The grass was jam packed, and so our friends who arrived later had a hard time joining us. Andrea, my friend from church, arrived about half an hour to kickoff, and she brought with her a big bag of candy corn! She had just been in the states the weekend before, so she brought back some American Halloween treats. I was sooo excited. I think I might have been more excited by the candy corn than by the rugby game. There were camera crews everywhere filming the crowd gathered to watch in Paris, and it was a noisy scene with flares and airhorns and spontaneous crowd-led rugby songs and chants. We didn’t know the words, but that has never stopped me from joining in.
When it came time for kickoff, everyone stood up and cheered for the national anthems and introductions so I figured that we were going to stand the whole game, which was fine by me because we stand for 3+ hours in the blazing sun at Gator games so 1.5 in the cool Paris night wouldn’t have been bad. Instead, something that never would have been conceivable in America occurred. As soon as the game started, everyone on the grass sat down. Every last one. They sat down, faced the screen, and got more-or-less quiet. It was an impressive sight. I turned around and saw the glow from the screen reflecting on the upturned faces of thousands of rugby fans all packed sardine-like into the Champs de Mars, intently watching the game. If people stood up, they were thoroughly chastised by the entire crowd. People did jump up and cheer if there was a score, and the choruses and encouraging chants reappeared at key moments in the game, but for a people who are incapable of standing in an orderly line in everyday situations, they were remarkably orderly. Thousands of people stayed sitting down for almost 2 hours (minus half-time). It was impressive. We had such little space my legs were cramping that no amount of position changing ever made me truly comfortable. I have come to decide that standing is infinitely better. Only the lazy alumni sit down at Gator games. ;-)
The game was not a very exciting one as far as rugby games go and very low scoring, and while France led for much of the game, England came back and won in the end. It was a sad night in Paris, but instead of a depressed crowd draining from the Champs de Mars, most of them didn’t let the defeat ruin a good night of partying. French fans were obviously more subdued than they would have been otherwise (which might have been a good thing as far as getting home was concerned), but most of them didn’t take it too hard. The Champs de Mars was completely trashed with empty bottles and cans ( I blame it on the lack of “Put it in the can, Gator fan!” signs around) , but the men in green were standing ready to have the park in tiptop shape by sunrise. We hung around with friends waiting for the crowds to thin out, at then walked to a further metro station in hopes of avoiding the mobs. It wasn’t insanely crowded, but you could tell that many of the people responsible for those empty bottles and cans had been riding the metro. Moving vehicles and really drunk people don’t mix, if you catch my drift. So that was the end of France’s rugby world cup hopes, and the end of my night rooting for France. It’s really too bad cause I was looking forward to wearing my great outfit again!
Allez les bleus!
Lyndsey
Saturday Cassie called because she and her Aussie roommate Carly were heading up to Montmartre to check out the fete des vendages. It’s an annual street festival in Montmartre celebrating the grape harvest and the first wines of the season. Booths set up along the cobblestone streets held the products of small vineyards, as well as meats, oysters, cookies, bricks of chocolate, pan fried potatoes, etc. Cassie bought a cone of roasted chestnuts because she’d always wanted to get some. We decided they are better in theory than in reality. I don’t know what I expected but it was kind of like eating hot acorns. I got a cone of churros. The deep fried sugared dough sufficed to cover up the weird nut flavor. There were street musicians and a stage with performers, people selling balloons, and lots and lots of people. It reminded me of some the various little festivals we have in downtown Daytona, but Europeanized. There was also the strangest parade I’ve ever seen. Bands, groups from different vineyards, civic groups, and I don’t know who else all walking down the street, interspersed with people in some really over-the-top costumes. We didn’t get to stay to the end because we want to go watch rugby, but on our way back to the metro station I did see a group of majorettes which answered the question “do they have baton twirling in France?” although all I saw them do was march in place in 1950s-esque majorette outfits. Maybe I could make some extra cash teaching baton while I’m here- lol.
Saturday was a big day in France. That’s right, the rugby world cup semifinals. After a shocking defeat of New Zealand in the quarterfinals, France faced England in the semis. Instead of showing the game on the giant screen in front of Hotel de Ville, because France was playing and they anticipated a huge crowd, they moved the viewing to giant screens on the Champs de Mars (the grassy area by the Eiffel Tower). I had made plans with some friends to take food and get there a couple hours before the 9pm kickoff. Cassie and Carly ran to Monoprix to get some food while I ran home to change into my rugby ensemble and grab some snacks and stuff from my apartment, and then we headed down to the Eiffel Tower. The atmosphere was already festive in the metros. English rugby fans (who are the most obnoxious of any country, by the way) in full-on face paint and carrying big blow up roses, mixed with the blue-white-&-red French crowd that was slightly more composed. There was yelling and horn honking as we walked to the Champs de Mars and that was more than 2 hours til kickoff. I loved it because it reminded me of Saturdays in Gainesville. We made it to the main screen and found our friend Alison who had arrived earlier with the woman she lived with and her friend, and had staked out a nice spot just about 20 yards from the screen. The grass was already filling up and people were beginning to stand along the sidewalks. It was the day after Pavarotti’s birthday so they were showing a tribute to him on the screens while we took out our picnic and began chowing down. I was dressed pretty ridiculously, but I did not stand out at all. Young French fans draped in flags and face paint were blowing whistles, throwing rugby balls, and randomly breaking into song. We borrowed the tricolored face crayon from the teenagers beside us. Alison’s slightly odd landlady was really into Pavarotti and kept yelling at the kids to shut up while he was singing. “PAS PENDANT PAVAROTTI!” We all looked at each other and tried hard not to burst out laughing at the french woman getting mad because people who had come to watch RUGBY weren’t sitting in silent awe at Pavarotti. I was thinking it was going to be a looong game with her there, but she decided to leave well before kickoff, so we didn’t have to find out. The grass was jam packed, and so our friends who arrived later had a hard time joining us. Andrea, my friend from church, arrived about half an hour to kickoff, and she brought with her a big bag of candy corn! She had just been in the states the weekend before, so she brought back some American Halloween treats. I was sooo excited. I think I might have been more excited by the candy corn than by the rugby game. There were camera crews everywhere filming the crowd gathered to watch in Paris, and it was a noisy scene with flares and airhorns and spontaneous crowd-led rugby songs and chants. We didn’t know the words, but that has never stopped me from joining in.
When it came time for kickoff, everyone stood up and cheered for the national anthems and introductions so I figured that we were going to stand the whole game, which was fine by me because we stand for 3+ hours in the blazing sun at Gator games so 1.5 in the cool Paris night wouldn’t have been bad. Instead, something that never would have been conceivable in America occurred. As soon as the game started, everyone on the grass sat down. Every last one. They sat down, faced the screen, and got more-or-less quiet. It was an impressive sight. I turned around and saw the glow from the screen reflecting on the upturned faces of thousands of rugby fans all packed sardine-like into the Champs de Mars, intently watching the game. If people stood up, they were thoroughly chastised by the entire crowd. People did jump up and cheer if there was a score, and the choruses and encouraging chants reappeared at key moments in the game, but for a people who are incapable of standing in an orderly line in everyday situations, they were remarkably orderly. Thousands of people stayed sitting down for almost 2 hours (minus half-time). It was impressive. We had such little space my legs were cramping that no amount of position changing ever made me truly comfortable. I have come to decide that standing is infinitely better. Only the lazy alumni sit down at Gator games. ;-)
The game was not a very exciting one as far as rugby games go and very low scoring, and while France led for much of the game, England came back and won in the end. It was a sad night in Paris, but instead of a depressed crowd draining from the Champs de Mars, most of them didn’t let the defeat ruin a good night of partying. French fans were obviously more subdued than they would have been otherwise (which might have been a good thing as far as getting home was concerned), but most of them didn’t take it too hard. The Champs de Mars was completely trashed with empty bottles and cans ( I blame it on the lack of “Put it in the can, Gator fan!” signs around) , but the men in green were standing ready to have the park in tiptop shape by sunrise. We hung around with friends waiting for the crowds to thin out, at then walked to a further metro station in hopes of avoiding the mobs. It wasn’t insanely crowded, but you could tell that many of the people responsible for those empty bottles and cans had been riding the metro. Moving vehicles and really drunk people don’t mix, if you catch my drift. So that was the end of France’s rugby world cup hopes, and the end of my night rooting for France. It’s really too bad cause I was looking forward to wearing my great outfit again!
Allez les bleus!
Lyndsey
Sunday, October 21, 2007
America in a Box
Week two of classes went along more or less smoothly. I have started to see Sciences Po as my school and I feel like I actually belong there. Getting off the metro and joining the dozens of other students walking towards ScPo, running into people I know in the hall or on the street out front, sitting in lectures with everyone, it all feels pretty comfortable. Now don’t get me wrong, I still think the French methods of higher education make no sense, but I don’t feel isolated or feel like I stand out as “the American”. It has a lot to do with ScPo being 1/3 international students I believe. It’s funny when I look back at when I first arrived. I had no place to live, I knew almost no one here, and Sciences Po was this big intimidating place. A month and a half later and I have a whole life that I have settled into. I have a great little apartment, I know tons of people, I have activities and outings and friends, I’m involved in a whole community at church, and ScPo doesn’t seem so frightening anymore. It’s not like it happened overnight, but one day I woke up and realized that a whole Paris life has been constructed and I didn’t even notice when it happened. That’s one of the things that makes this time so much different from my last experience in Paris. Last time basically my whole world was the UF Honors in Paris program. Which, it was great, especially for a college freshman’s first big stint away from home, but it was limited. My friends were the handful of other UF students on the program and we went to classes taught by UF professors, and hung out with each other, and had trips planned for us, and our weekends booked for us. And maybe it was my own fault, the fault of my timidity, that while I lived in Paris, I never felt like I had a real life in Paris. It was more like being on an extended field trip. This time has been scarier, it has been harder (and it has only just begun) but it many ways it has also been better. But who knows how things will play out so I’ll reserve my final judgement until all is said and done.
Monday (the 8th) at 10 in the morning I had a package notice in my mailbox. It said “You have a package! Please come pick it up at the post office indicated after the date and time listed.” I look at the slip and it says that I can pick it up on the 9th after 5pm.....huh? Could someone please explain to me why, if my package has already been delivered, I have to wait a day and a half to go pick it up? No ideas? Yeah, me neither. That was frustrating, knowing that my package was within a half-mile radius of me and yet I couldn’t have it. So Tuesday, after 5pm, (which of course is rush-hour so the post office line is ridiculously long because they couldn’t have let me pick it up at 2 when there is nobody there) I go to the post office down the street from me with my slip and a I.D. and wait in line for 20 mins to pick up my package from my mom. But as annoying as all the package red-tape (pardon the pun) was, it was all forgotten as soon as I had my little box of America. Some of its contents were things I had requested (American measuring cups and spoons, face powder, shoe insoles, my black leggings, some Tuna Helper mix...) and then there were some extra stuff my mom stuck in just because she’s awesome (Goldfish crackers, taco seasoning, a bottle of ranch dressing, a DVD, Halloween decorations...). It was basically like Christmas. I was so excited I ran to the store to get ingredients so I could cook American food with my American measuring devices right away and watch my new movie. As wonderful as Paris is, nothing makes me happier than a little taste of home!
A bientot-
Lyndsey
Monday (the 8th) at 10 in the morning I had a package notice in my mailbox. It said “You have a package! Please come pick it up at the post office indicated after the date and time listed.” I look at the slip and it says that I can pick it up on the 9th after 5pm.....huh? Could someone please explain to me why, if my package has already been delivered, I have to wait a day and a half to go pick it up? No ideas? Yeah, me neither. That was frustrating, knowing that my package was within a half-mile radius of me and yet I couldn’t have it. So Tuesday, after 5pm, (which of course is rush-hour so the post office line is ridiculously long because they couldn’t have let me pick it up at 2 when there is nobody there) I go to the post office down the street from me with my slip and a I.D. and wait in line for 20 mins to pick up my package from my mom. But as annoying as all the package red-tape (pardon the pun) was, it was all forgotten as soon as I had my little box of America. Some of its contents were things I had requested (American measuring cups and spoons, face powder, shoe insoles, my black leggings, some Tuna Helper mix...) and then there were some extra stuff my mom stuck in just because she’s awesome (Goldfish crackers, taco seasoning, a bottle of ranch dressing, a DVD, Halloween decorations...). It was basically like Christmas. I was so excited I ran to the store to get ingredients so I could cook American food with my American measuring devices right away and watch my new movie. As wonderful as Paris is, nothing makes me happier than a little taste of home!
A bientot-
Lyndsey
Monday, October 15, 2007
Playdough and Chateaux
Friday morning I woke up early, even though I didn’t have class, because I had lots to get done before I had to be at the church that afternoon. It was the weekend of Emmanuel International Church’s annual fall retreat in the Loire valley. I had signed up to help with the kids because it sounded fun, but also because if you help with childcare you go for free and I’m a college student and the dollar is weak so that’s really the only way to afford it. When we (the young adults because that’s mainly who does the childcare) were planning, one of the girls who had helped before said playdough would be a good thing to bring. I mentioned that we could make it really cheaply compared to buying large enough quantities for the kids to play with, and since I mentioned it, it became my responsibility. So Friday I got up and looked up playdough recipes online. I had to sift through any that required cream of tartar or jello mix or other things that I don’t know how to explain in French and don’t think they have at my local Monoprix. I found one that just called for salt, flour, oil, and water, and ran to the store to buy large quantities of the dry goods. I’m sure the cashier probably thought I was insane buying 2 big bags of flour and 2 boxes of salt. The problem of actually making the dough was that the recipe was in American measurements and I had no American measuring device. I could do the conversion if I had another sort of measuring device, but I had nothing to measure with period. So I figured it was time to get creative. I had a 1.5 liter Evian bottle, so I cut off the bottom third. I looked up that .5 liter is 2.1 cups or something like that, so I figured my makeshift measuring cup was about that. I used that as a guide and basically just guestimated the best I could. It was messy and pretty funny with me trying to find the proper consistency, but I kept making playdough until I ran out of salt which was about 4 batches.
I finished packing my bag and headed out to the church. It’s not easy getting to church, but it is even less fun with a suitcase, granted a small one. I was doing fine for time, but then evidently they were training a new bus driver for the route, and he was having a hard time, going slow, running over curbs, so it took quite a bit longer than usual. I managed to make it there basically on time to meet Ruth who was to give me and two others a ride down to the retreat. Too make a long story short, we got off to a bit of a late start, but we had enough time to get there even allowing for Friday evening traffic. It was a tight squeeze in the car because for starters, it’s Europe so the cars are small, and then we had 4 people with all their luggage, plus the coffee pot, offering plates, tv, kids activities, etc. etc. that we were hauling for the retreat because Ruth helps out at the church. I really enjoyed being out on the road. I don’t get to ride in cars often in Paris, and it was so nice to be out of the city. If you didn’t look at road signs or certain French varieties of trees, it wasn’t hard to imagine we were driving in the states. Some of the land looks so similar. It brought back a lot of good road trip memories. Since the retreat was starting with an evening service we were supposed to eat before we got there. We were on a toll toad so the only place to stop was at a service park. They had a food court/ rest area type thing that crossed the highway so that it was accessible from both directions. It also had a playground with the most disturbing zombie giraffe decoration I’ve ever seen. I don’t know who thought it was suitable for children. I took a picture.
Not everyone was arriving for the Friday evening, and my friend Sarah and I had volunteered to teach the first session of the kids. Since there were 6 people signed up to help with kids we planned on having 2 teach, 2 help, and let the other two go to the service so we could all rotate. We only have about 8 kids Friday night. The problem was that 6 of them only spoke French. We knew that there would be some French kids there since both congregations were coming on the retreat, but the materials they had given us for lessons and songs and videos were all in English. We colored and sang along with a video with motions and tried to do a video, but decided to forego the lesson until the next day when the rest of the kids arrived. We didn’t really do anything after the service but it took a while to get everyone’s rooms sorted out and get settled in so it was late when we finally got to sleep, and we had to be at breakfast at 8 the next morning.
The place we stayed was a retreat center translated The Farm at Courcimont. It was a cute little place with exposed beams and horses and a pond just outside of a tiny little village. Saturday started off foggy and cold and taking care of a bunch of kids was not really high on my list of wants. We decided to all go in to begin with until things got settled and then let whoever could, go to the service. I don’t think that happened. We had about 20 kids ranging from infants to 11. Some spoke English, some spoke French, and some spoke Franglais (french-english), and the majority of them were wild. The playdough was a big hit, and I was surprised how many kids and workers alike didn’t know you could make playdough yourself. I asked the French kids what they call it and they said it’s “la pâte à sel” which is literally salt dough. I was impressed because it’s actually a more accurate description than what we call it in English. And a random fact I learned while looking up recipes: Play-Doh that you buy in toy stores was actually invented first as a wallpaper cleaner.
We certainly had our hands full. I mean literally. I was holding a baby in one arm, trying to comfort a 3 year old bilingual boy with the other and entertain him to make him stop crying, while intermittently having to tell one group in French to stop running, and mediating arguments between 8 year-old girls in English. It was confusing having the kids mixed because when you are dealing with so many kids and switching back and forth between languages, you tend to forget which kids speak which language or forget which language you yourself are speaking. There were times when I’d turn around to say something to a kid and they’d be staring at me blankly for a good 30 seconds before I would realize they didn’t understand whatever language I was speaking. It was a frustrating childcare situation because the rooms we had to use were not designed for kids so you couldn’t just let the little ones run around like you would in a nursery or something. And what was more frustrating to me was the fact that it seemed that some of the young adults who were helping didn’t have much experience, or at least not much expertise, in dealing with children. So while there were always at least four adults in there, I often felt like I was having to do everything, or at least more than my share. But as chaotic and disorganized as it was, it was an adventure and had some enjoyable moments, although I think it’ll probably take several months for the memory to fade before I’ll be able to ever think about having kids of my own again.
Before lunch everyone was split up into two teams and we played goofy team building games. It was fun and a neat thing to see the whole church, both congregations, doing stuff together, since my church at home is so big we hardly see people out of our department. Being at the retreat place and sharing bathrooms and eating at long tables brought back a lot of good Breakout memories. During the weekend all our meals were served on site in the dining hall. Now I know what you are thinking- retreat center food- ew. Well meals there were full-on 5 course French meals. Appetizer, main course, salad, cheese, dessert, coffee, and it was all pretty good fare, if not necessarily my first choice of dishes. But then, I’m not French, and I don’t have the same tastes as they do.
After lunch we had the afternoon free so everyone split up into small groups to go do various things in the area. There were plenty of chateaux nearby and a famous porcelain factory. I had been to two chateaux the last time I was here, so I ended up going with Ruth and a few other girls who were going to go to a different chateau from the ones I had been to before. We went to the Chateau de Cheverny. The weather was absolutely perfect and it was great driving on the rural roads in the fall afternoon sun. Ruth was teasing me because I got so excited about being out in the country. I didn’t realize how much I missed it til I was there surrounded by nature again. I felt so much more at home out in the countryside. The chateau was lovely. It’s a smaller one (as far as chateaux go) and belongs to a noble family. It was still lived in up to 1985. Many of the chateaux were built as hunting lodges, and this one is still a working hunting base. The family dogs are kept on the premises in the kennels. About 100 of them, and they take them out a half at a time to hunt Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, during hunting season. I had never seen so many dogs together in one place, it was pretty cool, but it did not smell lovely. And as we were getting ready to leave, the keeper showed up and said that they were about to bring the other half of the dogs back from the hunt. He locked up the half that had had the day off, and then left the gate open. He said, “I’m going to bring the rest of the dogs in. Don’t worry, they will run right past you and into their pen because they want to eat. Just please don’t stand in front of the door because they will trample you if you get between them and their supper.” So we stood there just a few feet from the door and in a few minutes he came marching out of the stables followed by 50 hounds. One broke from the pack and raced ahead into the pen where the big mound of food was waiting, but the rest walked behind him until they got almost to the gate and then it was a free-for-all to see who could grab a dismembered duck head first. Only one dog didn’t go in like he was supposed to. He stood up at the railing looking in on his friends. “Dumb dog! You are going to miss dinner!” the keeper yelled at him and he went in.
We drove by another one of the bigger more touristy chateaux on the way back to the center and made it there just in time for dinner. The kids were wound up after dinner and made the biggest mess you have ever seen in your life with the playdough, crushed Goldfish into the carpet and wrote on the dry-erase board with a permanent marker. Fortuitously, I had a bad experience with a permanent marker and a dry erase board freshman year of high school in which I learned that bug spray will take it off. We had no bug spray with us, but I figured the reason the bug spray probably worked was because of the oil, so I decided to use the playdough, since it also was made with oil. It took a little elbow grease, but the oily playdough did the trick finally.
After the evening service when the older adults and younger kids had gone to bed, some of us decided to play Taboo. There were about 14 people playing, not all native English speakers, so it was an entertaining game. It reminded me of my days teaching at the ELI because we use Taboo with the students to help their spoken English and it is never dull. It was a fun evening but we stayed up too late and did not get enough sleep before another early morning. After breakfast we had a few minutes before the service so some of the other girls and I took a stroll around the pond. It was cool out but the sun made the morning dew sparkle, and that same dew soaked our socks and shoes right through. I was glad I had brought a change. Sunday morning, Sarah and I said we were going to the service no matter what because we had worked every childcare shift since we arrived and everyone else had been to at least one service. We were a little bit worried though about leaving Glenn in charge without us there to assist, but we sat just outside the door so that they could come grad us if they needed extra hands. The worship service was really enjoyable, especially because it was both congregations together so we did some mixed language worship. I always love it when we do bilingual stuff at EIC. The speaker for the weekend is the President of the International Baptist Convention, but he’s a good ol’ boy so I felt right at home listening to his southern drawl. Ruth, who’s British, can’t stand strong southern accents. She said she almost had to turn off Beth Moore the first time she heard her because her voice was so annoying- lol. I love southern accents...but then I guess it’s all about what you are used to.
We packed up after lunch and got ready to head back to Paris. We made it through the whole weekend without any kids dying, and I made some little friends who kept coming to sit with me at meals, so I would put it in the success column. I was glad to get home and take a nap, but it was sad to leave behind the fresh air and open spaces of the country for the concrete and pollution of the city. One great thing about being out there was that you could see the stars wonderfully at night. That was another one of those things I didn’t realize how much I missed. And when I got home my internet had miraculously begun to work again. Go figure. All-in-all it was a really beautiful and enjoyable weekend and a lot of fun to be part of a community. That’s such a great feeling when you are far away from your friends and family.
Gotta run!
Ciao-
Lyndsey
I finished packing my bag and headed out to the church. It’s not easy getting to church, but it is even less fun with a suitcase, granted a small one. I was doing fine for time, but then evidently they were training a new bus driver for the route, and he was having a hard time, going slow, running over curbs, so it took quite a bit longer than usual. I managed to make it there basically on time to meet Ruth who was to give me and two others a ride down to the retreat. Too make a long story short, we got off to a bit of a late start, but we had enough time to get there even allowing for Friday evening traffic. It was a tight squeeze in the car because for starters, it’s Europe so the cars are small, and then we had 4 people with all their luggage, plus the coffee pot, offering plates, tv, kids activities, etc. etc. that we were hauling for the retreat because Ruth helps out at the church. I really enjoyed being out on the road. I don’t get to ride in cars often in Paris, and it was so nice to be out of the city. If you didn’t look at road signs or certain French varieties of trees, it wasn’t hard to imagine we were driving in the states. Some of the land looks so similar. It brought back a lot of good road trip memories. Since the retreat was starting with an evening service we were supposed to eat before we got there. We were on a toll toad so the only place to stop was at a service park. They had a food court/ rest area type thing that crossed the highway so that it was accessible from both directions. It also had a playground with the most disturbing zombie giraffe decoration I’ve ever seen. I don’t know who thought it was suitable for children. I took a picture.
Not everyone was arriving for the Friday evening, and my friend Sarah and I had volunteered to teach the first session of the kids. Since there were 6 people signed up to help with kids we planned on having 2 teach, 2 help, and let the other two go to the service so we could all rotate. We only have about 8 kids Friday night. The problem was that 6 of them only spoke French. We knew that there would be some French kids there since both congregations were coming on the retreat, but the materials they had given us for lessons and songs and videos were all in English. We colored and sang along with a video with motions and tried to do a video, but decided to forego the lesson until the next day when the rest of the kids arrived. We didn’t really do anything after the service but it took a while to get everyone’s rooms sorted out and get settled in so it was late when we finally got to sleep, and we had to be at breakfast at 8 the next morning.
The place we stayed was a retreat center translated The Farm at Courcimont. It was a cute little place with exposed beams and horses and a pond just outside of a tiny little village. Saturday started off foggy and cold and taking care of a bunch of kids was not really high on my list of wants. We decided to all go in to begin with until things got settled and then let whoever could, go to the service. I don’t think that happened. We had about 20 kids ranging from infants to 11. Some spoke English, some spoke French, and some spoke Franglais (french-english), and the majority of them were wild. The playdough was a big hit, and I was surprised how many kids and workers alike didn’t know you could make playdough yourself. I asked the French kids what they call it and they said it’s “la pâte à sel” which is literally salt dough. I was impressed because it’s actually a more accurate description than what we call it in English. And a random fact I learned while looking up recipes: Play-Doh that you buy in toy stores was actually invented first as a wallpaper cleaner.
We certainly had our hands full. I mean literally. I was holding a baby in one arm, trying to comfort a 3 year old bilingual boy with the other and entertain him to make him stop crying, while intermittently having to tell one group in French to stop running, and mediating arguments between 8 year-old girls in English. It was confusing having the kids mixed because when you are dealing with so many kids and switching back and forth between languages, you tend to forget which kids speak which language or forget which language you yourself are speaking. There were times when I’d turn around to say something to a kid and they’d be staring at me blankly for a good 30 seconds before I would realize they didn’t understand whatever language I was speaking. It was a frustrating childcare situation because the rooms we had to use were not designed for kids so you couldn’t just let the little ones run around like you would in a nursery or something. And what was more frustrating to me was the fact that it seemed that some of the young adults who were helping didn’t have much experience, or at least not much expertise, in dealing with children. So while there were always at least four adults in there, I often felt like I was having to do everything, or at least more than my share. But as chaotic and disorganized as it was, it was an adventure and had some enjoyable moments, although I think it’ll probably take several months for the memory to fade before I’ll be able to ever think about having kids of my own again.
Before lunch everyone was split up into two teams and we played goofy team building games. It was fun and a neat thing to see the whole church, both congregations, doing stuff together, since my church at home is so big we hardly see people out of our department. Being at the retreat place and sharing bathrooms and eating at long tables brought back a lot of good Breakout memories. During the weekend all our meals were served on site in the dining hall. Now I know what you are thinking- retreat center food- ew. Well meals there were full-on 5 course French meals. Appetizer, main course, salad, cheese, dessert, coffee, and it was all pretty good fare, if not necessarily my first choice of dishes. But then, I’m not French, and I don’t have the same tastes as they do.
After lunch we had the afternoon free so everyone split up into small groups to go do various things in the area. There were plenty of chateaux nearby and a famous porcelain factory. I had been to two chateaux the last time I was here, so I ended up going with Ruth and a few other girls who were going to go to a different chateau from the ones I had been to before. We went to the Chateau de Cheverny. The weather was absolutely perfect and it was great driving on the rural roads in the fall afternoon sun. Ruth was teasing me because I got so excited about being out in the country. I didn’t realize how much I missed it til I was there surrounded by nature again. I felt so much more at home out in the countryside. The chateau was lovely. It’s a smaller one (as far as chateaux go) and belongs to a noble family. It was still lived in up to 1985. Many of the chateaux were built as hunting lodges, and this one is still a working hunting base. The family dogs are kept on the premises in the kennels. About 100 of them, and they take them out a half at a time to hunt Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, during hunting season. I had never seen so many dogs together in one place, it was pretty cool, but it did not smell lovely. And as we were getting ready to leave, the keeper showed up and said that they were about to bring the other half of the dogs back from the hunt. He locked up the half that had had the day off, and then left the gate open. He said, “I’m going to bring the rest of the dogs in. Don’t worry, they will run right past you and into their pen because they want to eat. Just please don’t stand in front of the door because they will trample you if you get between them and their supper.” So we stood there just a few feet from the door and in a few minutes he came marching out of the stables followed by 50 hounds. One broke from the pack and raced ahead into the pen where the big mound of food was waiting, but the rest walked behind him until they got almost to the gate and then it was a free-for-all to see who could grab a dismembered duck head first. Only one dog didn’t go in like he was supposed to. He stood up at the railing looking in on his friends. “Dumb dog! You are going to miss dinner!” the keeper yelled at him and he went in.
We drove by another one of the bigger more touristy chateaux on the way back to the center and made it there just in time for dinner. The kids were wound up after dinner and made the biggest mess you have ever seen in your life with the playdough, crushed Goldfish into the carpet and wrote on the dry-erase board with a permanent marker. Fortuitously, I had a bad experience with a permanent marker and a dry erase board freshman year of high school in which I learned that bug spray will take it off. We had no bug spray with us, but I figured the reason the bug spray probably worked was because of the oil, so I decided to use the playdough, since it also was made with oil. It took a little elbow grease, but the oily playdough did the trick finally.
After the evening service when the older adults and younger kids had gone to bed, some of us decided to play Taboo. There were about 14 people playing, not all native English speakers, so it was an entertaining game. It reminded me of my days teaching at the ELI because we use Taboo with the students to help their spoken English and it is never dull. It was a fun evening but we stayed up too late and did not get enough sleep before another early morning. After breakfast we had a few minutes before the service so some of the other girls and I took a stroll around the pond. It was cool out but the sun made the morning dew sparkle, and that same dew soaked our socks and shoes right through. I was glad I had brought a change. Sunday morning, Sarah and I said we were going to the service no matter what because we had worked every childcare shift since we arrived and everyone else had been to at least one service. We were a little bit worried though about leaving Glenn in charge without us there to assist, but we sat just outside the door so that they could come grad us if they needed extra hands. The worship service was really enjoyable, especially because it was both congregations together so we did some mixed language worship. I always love it when we do bilingual stuff at EIC. The speaker for the weekend is the President of the International Baptist Convention, but he’s a good ol’ boy so I felt right at home listening to his southern drawl. Ruth, who’s British, can’t stand strong southern accents. She said she almost had to turn off Beth Moore the first time she heard her because her voice was so annoying- lol. I love southern accents...but then I guess it’s all about what you are used to.
We packed up after lunch and got ready to head back to Paris. We made it through the whole weekend without any kids dying, and I made some little friends who kept coming to sit with me at meals, so I would put it in the success column. I was glad to get home and take a nap, but it was sad to leave behind the fresh air and open spaces of the country for the concrete and pollution of the city. One great thing about being out there was that you could see the stars wonderfully at night. That was another one of those things I didn’t realize how much I missed. And when I got home my internet had miraculously begun to work again. Go figure. All-in-all it was a really beautiful and enjoyable weekend and a lot of fun to be part of a community. That’s such a great feeling when you are far away from your friends and family.
Gotta run!
Ciao-
Lyndsey
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Classes continued:
Morning came too early once again on Thursday. I had another 8 AMer. “Grande Nation: Modern and Contemporary French Foreign Policy.” Fortunately it’s my one English class. Also fortunately, Cassie is also taking it, so I have an American buddy. It’s great because it’s the one class where I feel like I have the upper hand. That may not necessarily be the case, but at least English is my native language which it is not for many of the students in there. This is going to sound mean, but it’s nice to hear the French and other foreign students having to struggle a bit, makes me feel like the playing field is leveled a bit. The teacher was speaking with what sounded like an American accent at first, but then he said a few words kind of weird so it sounded like he had a slight brogue. I guessed Irish. I was wrong. He is French, but born in America and educated in England and at Sciences Po. So he speaks English with a mostly American accent tinged with British and French. It’s interesting. I thought paying attention in English would be easier than in French...but I was wrong about that too. I think I am just not trained to focus for more than 50 mins at a time. It’s the US public school system’s fault. Or at least UF’s.
As soon as class ended I bolted from the room to get to my next class because there are only 15 mins between classes and I had no idea where I was going. I had the address of the building and I found it and walked in to the courtyard and there was a big glass entrance into a deep mahogany interior with an elegant staircase. I read the sign on the window and it said something about Sciences Po but it didn’t list room numbers. I walked into the foyer and was hesitating about what to do next when another girl, who was evidently doing the same thing, asked me if I was looking for a Sciences Po class. I said yes and she asked which room. She was looking for the same class and we decided it might be on the fifth floor since the room number was listed as 510. We climbed all the way up to the fifth floor and there was the Sciences Po masters program office and a lady who told us we were not in the right building. Evidently there are two entrances at the same address and they are “technically” in the same building but the two portions of the building are not connected. So said go back down and out and look for a glass door, she told us. We sighed and climbed back down the 5 flights of stairs and when we got to the bottom we walked towards the courtyard and another glass entrance but before we got there a woman taking a cigarette break asked if she could help us. I was glad the other girl with me was a French student because she did all the talking and kept me from having to think on my feet too much. We said we were looking for a class room and she said, “But noo, you have to go back out onto the street and turn left and walk down to a glass door and then you will find the classrooms. We were both feeling a little frustrated and dumb I think, but at least we weren’t alone. So we finally find the classroom and we were almost late. We sat there for about 5 minutes and then the guy who works the welcome desk in that building came in and said that he thought our class had been canceled. If so it wasn’t something they had bothered to tell the students. All of us were present for the discussion section of my Mid-East class. No one really knew what to do, so we decided we would give the professor a few minutes to show up and then leave. We waited until 15 past time for class to start and then came to the consensus that we were not in fact having class. I was annoyed, but it wasn’t a big deal since I was already up for a class before. Although some of the other students who had it as their first class of the day were understandably less than thrilled with waking up for no reason. At least it gave me the rest of the day to run errands and get stuff ready for me to leave for the weekend the next day.
-Lyndsey
As soon as class ended I bolted from the room to get to my next class because there are only 15 mins between classes and I had no idea where I was going. I had the address of the building and I found it and walked in to the courtyard and there was a big glass entrance into a deep mahogany interior with an elegant staircase. I read the sign on the window and it said something about Sciences Po but it didn’t list room numbers. I walked into the foyer and was hesitating about what to do next when another girl, who was evidently doing the same thing, asked me if I was looking for a Sciences Po class. I said yes and she asked which room. She was looking for the same class and we decided it might be on the fifth floor since the room number was listed as 510. We climbed all the way up to the fifth floor and there was the Sciences Po masters program office and a lady who told us we were not in the right building. Evidently there are two entrances at the same address and they are “technically” in the same building but the two portions of the building are not connected. So said go back down and out and look for a glass door, she told us. We sighed and climbed back down the 5 flights of stairs and when we got to the bottom we walked towards the courtyard and another glass entrance but before we got there a woman taking a cigarette break asked if she could help us. I was glad the other girl with me was a French student because she did all the talking and kept me from having to think on my feet too much. We said we were looking for a class room and she said, “But noo, you have to go back out onto the street and turn left and walk down to a glass door and then you will find the classrooms. We were both feeling a little frustrated and dumb I think, but at least we weren’t alone. So we finally find the classroom and we were almost late. We sat there for about 5 minutes and then the guy who works the welcome desk in that building came in and said that he thought our class had been canceled. If so it wasn’t something they had bothered to tell the students. All of us were present for the discussion section of my Mid-East class. No one really knew what to do, so we decided we would give the professor a few minutes to show up and then leave. We waited until 15 past time for class to start and then came to the consensus that we were not in fact having class. I was annoyed, but it wasn’t a big deal since I was already up for a class before. Although some of the other students who had it as their first class of the day were understandably less than thrilled with waking up for no reason. At least it gave me the rest of the day to run errands and get stuff ready for me to leave for the weekend the next day.
-Lyndsey
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
More on the first week of classes...
Monday when I got home from class I found that my internet had decided not to work well again. Only a sporadic connection. Very frustrating. So Wednesday morning I got up and went to Reid Hall before my 12:30 class to use their wireless. I sure am glad that I have my UF connection in Paris because it’s nice to have a familiar place to go when I need to do stuff like borrow internet! I left really early to find my class because it wasn’t in the main building and I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to find it. Finding classrooms is tricky business at UF too because buildings are listed by abbreviations and then room numbers don’t always make sense, but at least you know that your search is more or less confined to the clearly defined campus. Here Sciences Po holds classes in various buildings around the St. Germain-des-Pres district, and right now it is even more screwed up because one of their main buildings is being renovated so they are borrowing rooms from other institutions, etc. I find the building that my class is supposed to meet in, and it’s the building that is under renovation. So I walk up to it and there are construction workers everywhere and barricades and dust and various construction accouterments. And I see no other students going into this building so I figure that they just put the wrong building on the schedule or something. But I see a guy in a suit walk through the construction in the courtyard and into the glass doors at the back where there seem to be lights on, so I followed him. And I walked in and the little man at the desk asked what I was looking for. I told him I was looking for an amphitheater I thought. I wasn’t really sure because my schedule said 13 rue de l’Université, 7eme, JM. Usually it says the address and then the room number but I didn’t know what JM meant. In my head it was on the 7th floor (7eme) and would somehow be labeled JM. I was wrong. I told the guy my schedule says JM and he said “Oh yes, that’s the Jules Montagne amphitheater” and then told me to do down into the basement. Go figure. Evidently the 7eme just meant it was in the 7th district, not the floor, and JM is the abbreviation for the name of the amphitheater. I sure am glad that most of the buildings have the little men at the desks who know what’s going on.
The class is “Introduction au Moyen Orient” (Intro to the Middle East) and it’s a big french lecture class. About 125-150 I’d say. I ran into some other international students on my way in that I’d met during orientation, so I had people to sit with in class which was nice. It’s funny because Sciences Po is more like highschool than college to me because I’m used to the University of Florida. UF is so huge and most of my friends are in such varied disciplines that I vary rarely have classes with any friends. The exception to that is the French classes because those are small and the advanced ones tend to be the same small group of people who are French minors or majors. So anyway, I think it’s cool that I know/am friends with people in every one of my classes at Sciences Po. It’s a nice comfort thing when you’re in such a foreign environment.
The other nice thing about the lecture was that the professor speaks very clear, crisp French which is easy to understand, and he seems really nice. He lectured for almost the full two hours, and it was a little rough trying to stay focused for that long, but I understood pretty much everything he talked about and it seems like an interesting class. The professor also has a nice habit of saying names of international organizations, etc. in both French and English. That was a BIG help. At the end, he said that he knows there are lots of international students in the class and that language is going to be a problem, so we should never hesitate to interrupt him in the middle of a lecture to ask for clarification or ask that he speak more slowly or write a word on the board. He said the French students can just deal with it if he needs to go slower. I thought that was very nice of him trying to make us feel welcome and comfortable. I still imagine that the French students are probably pretty annoyed that there are soo many international kids, since we are 1/3 of the school. But at the same time, they are all required to spend their 3rd year of college abroad so they are going to be in the same situation as us soon and they should probably realize what a cool opportunity they have to be around and learn from people from every corner of the world. They don’t all seem as scary and standoffish as I expected though, so that’s a plus.
I got kind of annoyed with some of the other Americans in the class though because we’re sitting there surrounded by French students and they decide to talk about how annoying the French students are in their other classes and how they’re weird and don’t like us, and I’m sitting there thinking- well of course they don’t like us! You’re badmouthing them right in front of them at THEIR school! Can you blame them? I mean, after all, most of them speak English so it’s not like they don’t know what you are saying. I cringe whenever I see Americans contributing to the “ugly American” stereotype. On the metro, in stores, I see it all the time, and I think I’m probably more offended than the French are because they’re giving ME a bad name. I try not to judge them too harshly and remind myself that it’s just cultural misunderstanding and they don’t realize they are behaving badly but there are honestly times when I’m embarrassed to be an American. Ah well, I do my best to give people a positive impression of America and I wait until out of earshot to complain about the French. ;-)
bis-
Lyndsey
The class is “Introduction au Moyen Orient” (Intro to the Middle East) and it’s a big french lecture class. About 125-150 I’d say. I ran into some other international students on my way in that I’d met during orientation, so I had people to sit with in class which was nice. It’s funny because Sciences Po is more like highschool than college to me because I’m used to the University of Florida. UF is so huge and most of my friends are in such varied disciplines that I vary rarely have classes with any friends. The exception to that is the French classes because those are small and the advanced ones tend to be the same small group of people who are French minors or majors. So anyway, I think it’s cool that I know/am friends with people in every one of my classes at Sciences Po. It’s a nice comfort thing when you’re in such a foreign environment.
The other nice thing about the lecture was that the professor speaks very clear, crisp French which is easy to understand, and he seems really nice. He lectured for almost the full two hours, and it was a little rough trying to stay focused for that long, but I understood pretty much everything he talked about and it seems like an interesting class. The professor also has a nice habit of saying names of international organizations, etc. in both French and English. That was a BIG help. At the end, he said that he knows there are lots of international students in the class and that language is going to be a problem, so we should never hesitate to interrupt him in the middle of a lecture to ask for clarification or ask that he speak more slowly or write a word on the board. He said the French students can just deal with it if he needs to go slower. I thought that was very nice of him trying to make us feel welcome and comfortable. I still imagine that the French students are probably pretty annoyed that there are soo many international kids, since we are 1/3 of the school. But at the same time, they are all required to spend their 3rd year of college abroad so they are going to be in the same situation as us soon and they should probably realize what a cool opportunity they have to be around and learn from people from every corner of the world. They don’t all seem as scary and standoffish as I expected though, so that’s a plus.
I got kind of annoyed with some of the other Americans in the class though because we’re sitting there surrounded by French students and they decide to talk about how annoying the French students are in their other classes and how they’re weird and don’t like us, and I’m sitting there thinking- well of course they don’t like us! You’re badmouthing them right in front of them at THEIR school! Can you blame them? I mean, after all, most of them speak English so it’s not like they don’t know what you are saying. I cringe whenever I see Americans contributing to the “ugly American” stereotype. On the metro, in stores, I see it all the time, and I think I’m probably more offended than the French are because they’re giving ME a bad name. I try not to judge them too harshly and remind myself that it’s just cultural misunderstanding and they don’t realize they are behaving badly but there are honestly times when I’m embarrassed to be an American. Ah well, I do my best to give people a positive impression of America and I wait until out of earshot to complain about the French. ;-)
bis-
Lyndsey
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
First Day of School
Monday morning came way too early since I am one of the fortunate people who have an 8 AM class on Mondays. I sat my alarm for 6 so I would have plenty of time to get ready and get there early to find the classroom and such. I even sat my alarm on the other side of the room so I would be forced to get out of bed. So the alarm went off, I got up and hit snooze...and went back to bed. Although, I guess when I hit the snooze I bumped the alarm set button and turned it off because the snooze alarm did not go off 5 mins later. Fortunately I woke up again, because with as tired as I was I could have easily slept for another 3 hours. But instead I woke up at 6:50. I had been planning to leave at 7:15, so I was a little annoyed that I had less than half an hour to get ready. I decided to wear my grey sweater dress over black tights and my black flats. I didn’t really know how the French students would dress but I figured it was a pretty safe outfit. Technically I only have to leave a half hour early to make it to class on time, but since I didn’t know where I was going, and I had to buy my monthly metro pass, I was really hoping to get gone before then. No such luck. I made it out the door just before 7:30.
Because I hadn’t purchased my Carte d’Orange for October I had to do that before I could take the metro to school. The station I normally walk to which is on the line that goes direct to the school doesn’t have a ticket window, only an automated machine, and most of those take coins and bank cards. So since I was paying with cash I had to go to a stop that has a ticket window. It’s actually closer to my apartment, but it meant I had to change lines which takes longer. So anyway, I head out towards the metro in the predawn light with the city just starting to wake up.
Just outside the metro entrance there were the guys who are always there in the morning passing out copies of the little free daily papers. I go to grab my copy of “Le Matin Plus” as I am heading down the stairs, but the guy doesn’t let go of it and says “Wait a sec, Madame!” I figured he wanted to give me some spiel about signing up for something or other and I really didn’t have time for that so I just let go of the paper and started down the stairs. “No wait! Take it,” he said, and handed me the paper. I took the paper and tucked it under my arm and continued down the stairs. The guy followed. He ran down the stairs after me, “Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me!” He was trying to get my attention because I had my headphones in, and I didn’t know what was going on so I wearily took them out and looked at him. He leaned in and smiled. “Vous etes super belle, madame, et...” I don’t know how he expected me to respond to someone leaving their post to chase me down the stairs and tell me that I’m “super beautiful” or what he was about to add, but I just told him I was in a hurry and ran the rest of the way down the steps and into the station. I had to laugh. Only in France will a guy chase a random girl into the metro at 7 in the morning to hit on her. Well, maybe in Italy too. He went back up to hand out the free papers, and I got in line to buy my metro pass, and made it to school just on time.
I didn’t know where the room was because Sciences Po’s main “campus” is made up of several buildings linked together and it’s kind of like a maze. Fortunately, they had the foresight to have the guys who are normally at the front desk all standing around in the entry way to tell people where different rooms are. I was standing there looking confused and one of them asked nicely if he could help me find something. I told him the room number and he gave me directions on how to get there. I ran up the stairs and made it to class on time. It was the class I was most looking forward to: the role of NGOs in International Relations. It’s an elective class in French, which means it’s limited to 25 students, and it’s more interactive than a lecture. The professor is François Rubio who is the Legal Director for Médecins du Monde (Doctors of the World) which is an NGO that split off of Médecins Sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders). I think that’s cool because he has real life experience in what he’s teaching.
I was glad to see a girl from Spain who was in my methodology class come in, because as least I had one friendly face. I was surprised when he went around and had us all introduce ourselves and tell what year, what we’re specializing in, and why we decided to take the class. The directors had told us during registration that half the seats in every class were reserved for international students to have first choice, and then the rest were held for French students, so I was expecting to be in a class of mostly French kids. During the introductions however, person after person said “HI, I’m so-and-so, and I’m here on the international program.” Out of the class I think only about 6 of them were French. It was cool for me because I suddenly felt like I was on a much more level playing field, but I bet the French kids probably get annoyed by it. The one problem was that my name wasn’t on the role. I know I’m enrolled correctly because I verified it online the night before when I looked up the room number, but my name was not there. I think it was just a problem with printing because the role stopped at V at the bottom of the page, so I think they just forgot to print the second page because I was probably the only name on there since I’m the end of the alphabet. But he told me to go check with the Secretariat. I thought that was a bit weird because in America usually the professors look into any problems with their roles. But whatever, it’ll be fine I’m sure.
He did the introduction to the subject with some brief history. I was understanding about 80% of what he said I think. It takes a while to get used to a particular person’s accent sometimes so hopefully it’ll get easier. The hardest part was that he was using terminology that I don’t know if French and, he was using the French translation of names of NGOs and governmental organizations. So he was talking about stuff that I know about, but because he wasn’t using the English name for them, I had the hardest time trying to figure out what organization he was talking about. And then, the ones he did say in English, his pronunciation was do heavily accented that they were equally hard to understand. It took him saying “Saive duh Chyden” about 10 times before I figured out he was talking about Save the Children. He seems really nice, and knowledgeable about the topic, so hopefully it’ll be an interesting class and I’ll get better at following his lectures. I started out taking notes in French, but I realized that while I understood what he was saying, my ability to summarize it quickly in French wasn’t as good as my ability to synthesize it in English. The result is that my notes are probably incoherent to anyone but me. Sentences are half in english, half in French, or written in English using French acronyms (NGO translated into French is ONG and the UN is the ONU). Ah well, at least I know what they say...I think.
The typical French structure for a class, which I was taught in methodology, is that on the first day they assign the work for the semester. They like to have different people present summaries of various topics on the day they are to be discussed in class. The kind of just go down the syllabus and say “okay, who wants to present this topic?” and you pick and then it’s up to you. I was a little nervous about that because I wanted to work with a French student because at least then I’d have someone to make sure the grammar and syntax was appropriate, but I don’t know any French students in the class and I was kind of afraid of them. The problem resolved itself, I think, though because I signed up for the topic about NGOs in the EU and he asked for a second person to work on that, and another girl volunteered, and she’s French. I think we are supposed to work together, and we present in November.
After class I went down to the Secretariat to check on the role issue but the line was about 45 people long, so I put that off for another day. I was so tired from not getting enough sleep and being up early and still being exhausted from Disney that all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Which is kind of what I did. I needed to rest because I had another class that evening- l’escalade! Yep, my rock climbing class is from 6-8 on Monday evenings. I wrote down the address off-line and looked it up on a map and left in plenty of time to get there, however it turns out the address was wrong. I walked up and down the street where it was supposed to be, and nothing. I was late, and lost on the outskirts of Paris, and getting really frustrated. I stopped a woman going into a preschool and asked her if she knew where “the place where one can do rock climbing” was. (I don’t know what the word for rock gym is in French, or if that is a well known word.) It was very fortuitous that I stopped her because she said she had just noticed the place for the first time on her way there. The address I had was wrong, I was close, but looking in the wrong place. The rock gym is built UNDER the RER (train) line. “It’s in the arches,” the lady said. In the arches? How can it be IN the arches? But there it was. The arches supporting the RER rail were enclosed, and in them is the rock gym. Each arch makes a separate room for climbing. It’s really a rather ingenious design, but I never would have found it on my own.
I go in, and I don’t know if it was just because I looked bewildered, or cause I’m a college girl, but the guys at the front desk said “You’re from Sciences Po?” I nodded. They told me where to go. Luckily I hadn’t missed anything, the instructor was taking roll and then started explaining the class and the equipment and such. I was surprised to find that the class is way more girls than guys. I think there are like 34 people signed up for it and they don’t have nearly enough equipment for us all, but they are working on figuring that out. The one bad thing is that climbing shoes aren’t included in the price of the class so I can either keep climbing in my tennis shoes (which is less than ideal) or rent them every week, or buy a pair. Our class last night was mainly to teach all the safety and make sure everyone knew the basics. It was a bit confusing because while I know all the lingo and such in English, I have no background in it in French so he was using a lot of weird words.
I am so excited that my friend Cassie is also taking the class because that means I have someone to hang out with and belay with. It’s an adjustment though because climbing isn’t exactly the same in America and Europe. They use different systems to rank the difficulty of a route and have slightly different ways of doing some things. For example, I got a lecture from the instructor because I wasn’t belaying “properly”. Evidently, the way that I was taught by a professional and have been using for a long time to take up slack isn’t safe. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never had a problem catching someone when they fall, and have never let anyone plummet to their death, but because it’s a method that the instructor isn’t familiar with, I had to learn a much more complicated and slow way to do it. Oh well, that’s just in keeping with being in France.
Why can’t they do this an easier way? Because they’re French.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun to be climbing again, and I think I’m really going to like having this as a class. Although I am going to need some more exercise clothes since I wasn’t planning on this when I packed for France.
So that was my first day of class at Sciences Po. I survived. Let’s just hope the rest of the week goes as well!
Ciao-
Lyndsey
Because I hadn’t purchased my Carte d’Orange for October I had to do that before I could take the metro to school. The station I normally walk to which is on the line that goes direct to the school doesn’t have a ticket window, only an automated machine, and most of those take coins and bank cards. So since I was paying with cash I had to go to a stop that has a ticket window. It’s actually closer to my apartment, but it meant I had to change lines which takes longer. So anyway, I head out towards the metro in the predawn light with the city just starting to wake up.
Just outside the metro entrance there were the guys who are always there in the morning passing out copies of the little free daily papers. I go to grab my copy of “Le Matin Plus” as I am heading down the stairs, but the guy doesn’t let go of it and says “Wait a sec, Madame!” I figured he wanted to give me some spiel about signing up for something or other and I really didn’t have time for that so I just let go of the paper and started down the stairs. “No wait! Take it,” he said, and handed me the paper. I took the paper and tucked it under my arm and continued down the stairs. The guy followed. He ran down the stairs after me, “Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me!” He was trying to get my attention because I had my headphones in, and I didn’t know what was going on so I wearily took them out and looked at him. He leaned in and smiled. “Vous etes super belle, madame, et...” I don’t know how he expected me to respond to someone leaving their post to chase me down the stairs and tell me that I’m “super beautiful” or what he was about to add, but I just told him I was in a hurry and ran the rest of the way down the steps and into the station. I had to laugh. Only in France will a guy chase a random girl into the metro at 7 in the morning to hit on her. Well, maybe in Italy too. He went back up to hand out the free papers, and I got in line to buy my metro pass, and made it to school just on time.
I didn’t know where the room was because Sciences Po’s main “campus” is made up of several buildings linked together and it’s kind of like a maze. Fortunately, they had the foresight to have the guys who are normally at the front desk all standing around in the entry way to tell people where different rooms are. I was standing there looking confused and one of them asked nicely if he could help me find something. I told him the room number and he gave me directions on how to get there. I ran up the stairs and made it to class on time. It was the class I was most looking forward to: the role of NGOs in International Relations. It’s an elective class in French, which means it’s limited to 25 students, and it’s more interactive than a lecture. The professor is François Rubio who is the Legal Director for Médecins du Monde (Doctors of the World) which is an NGO that split off of Médecins Sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders). I think that’s cool because he has real life experience in what he’s teaching.
I was glad to see a girl from Spain who was in my methodology class come in, because as least I had one friendly face. I was surprised when he went around and had us all introduce ourselves and tell what year, what we’re specializing in, and why we decided to take the class. The directors had told us during registration that half the seats in every class were reserved for international students to have first choice, and then the rest were held for French students, so I was expecting to be in a class of mostly French kids. During the introductions however, person after person said “HI, I’m so-and-so, and I’m here on the international program.” Out of the class I think only about 6 of them were French. It was cool for me because I suddenly felt like I was on a much more level playing field, but I bet the French kids probably get annoyed by it. The one problem was that my name wasn’t on the role. I know I’m enrolled correctly because I verified it online the night before when I looked up the room number, but my name was not there. I think it was just a problem with printing because the role stopped at V at the bottom of the page, so I think they just forgot to print the second page because I was probably the only name on there since I’m the end of the alphabet. But he told me to go check with the Secretariat. I thought that was a bit weird because in America usually the professors look into any problems with their roles. But whatever, it’ll be fine I’m sure.
He did the introduction to the subject with some brief history. I was understanding about 80% of what he said I think. It takes a while to get used to a particular person’s accent sometimes so hopefully it’ll get easier. The hardest part was that he was using terminology that I don’t know if French and, he was using the French translation of names of NGOs and governmental organizations. So he was talking about stuff that I know about, but because he wasn’t using the English name for them, I had the hardest time trying to figure out what organization he was talking about. And then, the ones he did say in English, his pronunciation was do heavily accented that they were equally hard to understand. It took him saying “Saive duh Chyden” about 10 times before I figured out he was talking about Save the Children. He seems really nice, and knowledgeable about the topic, so hopefully it’ll be an interesting class and I’ll get better at following his lectures. I started out taking notes in French, but I realized that while I understood what he was saying, my ability to summarize it quickly in French wasn’t as good as my ability to synthesize it in English. The result is that my notes are probably incoherent to anyone but me. Sentences are half in english, half in French, or written in English using French acronyms (NGO translated into French is ONG and the UN is the ONU). Ah well, at least I know what they say...I think.
The typical French structure for a class, which I was taught in methodology, is that on the first day they assign the work for the semester. They like to have different people present summaries of various topics on the day they are to be discussed in class. The kind of just go down the syllabus and say “okay, who wants to present this topic?” and you pick and then it’s up to you. I was a little nervous about that because I wanted to work with a French student because at least then I’d have someone to make sure the grammar and syntax was appropriate, but I don’t know any French students in the class and I was kind of afraid of them. The problem resolved itself, I think, though because I signed up for the topic about NGOs in the EU and he asked for a second person to work on that, and another girl volunteered, and she’s French. I think we are supposed to work together, and we present in November.
After class I went down to the Secretariat to check on the role issue but the line was about 45 people long, so I put that off for another day. I was so tired from not getting enough sleep and being up early and still being exhausted from Disney that all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Which is kind of what I did. I needed to rest because I had another class that evening- l’escalade! Yep, my rock climbing class is from 6-8 on Monday evenings. I wrote down the address off-line and looked it up on a map and left in plenty of time to get there, however it turns out the address was wrong. I walked up and down the street where it was supposed to be, and nothing. I was late, and lost on the outskirts of Paris, and getting really frustrated. I stopped a woman going into a preschool and asked her if she knew where “the place where one can do rock climbing” was. (I don’t know what the word for rock gym is in French, or if that is a well known word.) It was very fortuitous that I stopped her because she said she had just noticed the place for the first time on her way there. The address I had was wrong, I was close, but looking in the wrong place. The rock gym is built UNDER the RER (train) line. “It’s in the arches,” the lady said. In the arches? How can it be IN the arches? But there it was. The arches supporting the RER rail were enclosed, and in them is the rock gym. Each arch makes a separate room for climbing. It’s really a rather ingenious design, but I never would have found it on my own.
I go in, and I don’t know if it was just because I looked bewildered, or cause I’m a college girl, but the guys at the front desk said “You’re from Sciences Po?” I nodded. They told me where to go. Luckily I hadn’t missed anything, the instructor was taking roll and then started explaining the class and the equipment and such. I was surprised to find that the class is way more girls than guys. I think there are like 34 people signed up for it and they don’t have nearly enough equipment for us all, but they are working on figuring that out. The one bad thing is that climbing shoes aren’t included in the price of the class so I can either keep climbing in my tennis shoes (which is less than ideal) or rent them every week, or buy a pair. Our class last night was mainly to teach all the safety and make sure everyone knew the basics. It was a bit confusing because while I know all the lingo and such in English, I have no background in it in French so he was using a lot of weird words.
I am so excited that my friend Cassie is also taking the class because that means I have someone to hang out with and belay with. It’s an adjustment though because climbing isn’t exactly the same in America and Europe. They use different systems to rank the difficulty of a route and have slightly different ways of doing some things. For example, I got a lecture from the instructor because I wasn’t belaying “properly”. Evidently, the way that I was taught by a professional and have been using for a long time to take up slack isn’t safe. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never had a problem catching someone when they fall, and have never let anyone plummet to their death, but because it’s a method that the instructor isn’t familiar with, I had to learn a much more complicated and slow way to do it. Oh well, that’s just in keeping with being in France.
Why can’t they do this an easier way? Because they’re French.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun to be climbing again, and I think I’m really going to like having this as a class. Although I am going to need some more exercise clothes since I wasn’t planning on this when I packed for France.
So that was my first day of class at Sciences Po. I survived. Let’s just hope the rest of the week goes as well!
Ciao-
Lyndsey
The Happiest Place in Paris
Sunday morning I hoped out of bed at 6:15 with only a mild amount of complaining because it was the day we were going to EURODISNEY! I hadn’t signed up until Friday because I wasn’t sure I wanted to get up so early and miss my day of preparation before classes, but in the end it was a really good rate and I figured it would be a lot of fun to go with the other international students. We had to meet at the school at 8 am. I made it there just on time, but we waited around for about 30 more minutes for everyone else to get there. That wasn’t a real big surprise but I was a little annoyed that I had gotten up so early if we weren’t actually leaving at 8. So first we had to check in with the student leaders who were taking us. And then we had to walk to the metro stop and buy our RER tickets for the train to Disney. Then we had to take the metro to the RER station and catch the train to Disney. This is not a complicated process. Yet somehow, because of how disorganized it all was and because there were so many of us, it took FOREVER. So we finally get everyone on the RER and ride for about 30 mins out to the East of Paris to Disney. It was about 10 in the morning and stupidly we thought we were almost into the park. I asked one of the girls if we could go to the restroom and she said she didn’t think there was one nearby so we should wait cause it would only be 10 min. We stood outside the security check for another 30 mins waiting for some people coming on the next RER, and then we went through security and clustered up again thinking we were about to get our tickets. One of the student leaders went off to buy them but he didn’t come back, and he didn’t come back, and we didn’t come back. I asked the girls if we would have our tickets soon. “Oh just 10 mins.” A half hour passed. They told us there was a problem getting the tickets and we could go to the bathrooms if we needed. Another half hour passed. We were all pretty ticked off at this point because it was after 11 and we still weren’t in the park. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t had to meet at the school at 8 in the morning. If it had just been a few of us on our own we could have been there in 45 mins and already ridding rides. They said that the problem was that the ticket sales office was demanding to see all of our student cards because of the special rate they were giving us, but the leaders didn’t want to go collecting everyone’s cards because that was a big hassle with the number of student we had and surely someone’s would get lost, and some people might not have them because they hadn’t told us to bring them, so the guy had been negotiating with the ticket people for an hour. Finally, after a looooot of waiting, they emerged with our tickets. We skipped off into the park trying not to focus on how many hours we had wasted waiting to get in.
Walking into Disney was kind of like going home for me. Not that I spend that much time at Disney in Orlando, but it is familiar and very American. The layout is really similar to Disneyworld, and they have a lot of the same attractions and decorations. The first sign you see when you walk in is “Mainstreet, USA” which I thought was pretty great. It was especially fun that one of the guys in our group had never been to a Disney park before so we got to experience it “for the first time” vicariously through him. Disneyland Paris isn’t as big as Disneyworld in Orlando but it has some things that the other doesn’t, and it is also more modern. Most of the rides here are more hi-tech than their counterparts in Orlando. For example, Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain both have loops in them. Despite that, they don’t make you leave your stuff in a locker or anything, they just tell you to tuck it under your feet and they rely on centripetal force to keep things from falling out. They also allow you to take pictures on rides inside which I don’t think is allowed in the US? Basically I don’t think they are nearly as paranoid about lawsuits as Americans are.
The whole day was a lot of fun, especially since it was perfectly acceptable for us to act like dumb tourists since everyone at Disney is a tourist. We rode as many rides as we could. Some are better, like Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain, but some aren’t as good, like the Haunted Manor. While it is a very American place, there were small reminders that we were in France, like the pirates and such speaking French. And only in Disneyland Paris can you buy a beignet in the shape of Mickey’s head. The park is bilingual, French and English, so they make all the announcements on the rides in both. We laughed so hard when the warning on the Madhatter’s Tea Party ride was “Please remain seated until your tea-cup has come to a complete stop.”
When we went into the Swiss Family Robinson tree house the employee at the entrance was messing with the family in front of us and making them solve a riddle before they could go in. I hoped he wouldn’t do the same thing to us because the chances of me figuring out a word puzzle in French are not good. He didn’t, but when we walked by, he stuck out his finger and poked me in the arm and blew a raspberry. Yep. I have no idea why. It was maybe the most random thing ever. We all exchanged confused looks and kept walking. The park is already decorated for their month-long Halloween celebration, which was fun for me because elsewhere in France they don’t do much for it and it makes me feel like they are skipping my birthday. We stayed until closing time when the lines got short and we could ride Space Mountain without waiting. And then we hoped back on the RER and tried to stay awake long enough to get home. Pictures from the day are posted to the left!
M- I- C....see you real soon....K- E- Y...why? Because we like you!....M- O- U- S- Eeeeeeee
-Lyndsey
Walking into Disney was kind of like going home for me. Not that I spend that much time at Disney in Orlando, but it is familiar and very American. The layout is really similar to Disneyworld, and they have a lot of the same attractions and decorations. The first sign you see when you walk in is “Mainstreet, USA” which I thought was pretty great. It was especially fun that one of the guys in our group had never been to a Disney park before so we got to experience it “for the first time” vicariously through him. Disneyland Paris isn’t as big as Disneyworld in Orlando but it has some things that the other doesn’t, and it is also more modern. Most of the rides here are more hi-tech than their counterparts in Orlando. For example, Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain both have loops in them. Despite that, they don’t make you leave your stuff in a locker or anything, they just tell you to tuck it under your feet and they rely on centripetal force to keep things from falling out. They also allow you to take pictures on rides inside which I don’t think is allowed in the US? Basically I don’t think they are nearly as paranoid about lawsuits as Americans are.
The whole day was a lot of fun, especially since it was perfectly acceptable for us to act like dumb tourists since everyone at Disney is a tourist. We rode as many rides as we could. Some are better, like Space Mountain and Thunder Mountain, but some aren’t as good, like the Haunted Manor. While it is a very American place, there were small reminders that we were in France, like the pirates and such speaking French. And only in Disneyland Paris can you buy a beignet in the shape of Mickey’s head. The park is bilingual, French and English, so they make all the announcements on the rides in both. We laughed so hard when the warning on the Madhatter’s Tea Party ride was “Please remain seated until your tea-cup has come to a complete stop.”
When we went into the Swiss Family Robinson tree house the employee at the entrance was messing with the family in front of us and making them solve a riddle before they could go in. I hoped he wouldn’t do the same thing to us because the chances of me figuring out a word puzzle in French are not good. He didn’t, but when we walked by, he stuck out his finger and poked me in the arm and blew a raspberry. Yep. I have no idea why. It was maybe the most random thing ever. We all exchanged confused looks and kept walking. The park is already decorated for their month-long Halloween celebration, which was fun for me because elsewhere in France they don’t do much for it and it makes me feel like they are skipping my birthday. We stayed until closing time when the lines got short and we could ride Space Mountain without waiting. And then we hoped back on the RER and tried to stay awake long enough to get home. Pictures from the day are posted to the left!
M- I- C....see you real soon....K- E- Y...why? Because we like you!....M- O- U- S- Eeeeeeee
-Lyndsey
Paris When it Drizzles
I didn’t get enough sleep Thursday night because I procrastinated and waited until the last minute to do research on my practice presentation. Fortunately Friday was the last day of our methodology class. Our group presented on the Israeli airstrike on Syria and it went fine. After class it was drizzling out, but Cassie said she wanted to shop for some gifts for people back home, and I wanted to check out a store another girl had bought some cute stuff from, so we decided to head over to the St. Michel area.
We got a tad bit disoriented on the walk and stopped to look at the map just outside the metro. We hadn’t been standing there very long when a tiny little lady came up behind us as asked if she could help us with something. “I’ve lived in this neighborhood for many many years so I know where everything is!” She seemed really excited to help us, which was weird, so Cassie and I exchanged looks and then I told the woman where we were trying to go. “Oh! Of course! Just go turn left by the post office and it’ll be right in front of you!” She was smiling and really enthusiastic, so we’re not sure she was playing with a full deck, but maybe she just likes to go against French stereotypes. Anyway, we found a couple of really cute stores and had a good time strolling and shopping, even if it was drizzling and cold out. Cassie found what she wanted, and I found a really pretty dressy scarf and a stretchy headband. When we were done shopping we were both kind of hungry and damp so we thought it would be nice to get some coffee in a cafe. There was one around the corner from Sciences Po that Cassie had been wanting to try because whenever you order something there they bring you a bowl of pretzels and marshmallows. We went in and sat at a little table facing looking out on the street. I only got coffee and Cassie ordered a café creme because it certainly wasn’t a cheap place. The waiter brought out our bowl of pretzels and marshmallows and a carafe of water. I hate regular marshmallows, but these were flavored and sugared so even I liked them. Then came our coffee. It was nice to sit there watching the drizzle falling on the grey streets and the passersby while enjoying the warmth of the cafe and good conversation. It was one of those times when you just sit back and wonder at the fact that you are in Paris.
Cassie and her new roommate Carly were moving out of the student housing that afternoon and into their “apartment” and they were going to do it without taking a taxi so I offered to help. I didn’t have anything else to do and I figured it wouldn’t take too long to carry a few bags from one place to another. Oh boy was I wrong. The fact that it was raining didn’t make things any easier. First we went to the Cité Université to collect their belongings. There were four of us and we lugged the stuff down the street to the tram stop. We got on the crowded tram and rode for a long while. I was carrying my shoulder bag, Cassie’s shoulder bag, and two shopping bags full of odds and ends. Finally we reached the end of the tram line. From there we got off and walked through the rain to a bus stop where, luckily, the bus we wanted was just about to leave but let us on. Well...almost. The first three of us got on with all our bags, but before Carly could reach the bus with her heavy suitcase, the driver shut the door and pulled away from the stop and no amount of begging would make him stop. It wasn’t a huge problem since Carly knew what stop to go to, so we just went on to the stop and waited for Carly to come on the next bus.
From the bus we had to take the metro. By this point we were all thoroughly damp and water had soaked through my shoes. We made it down all the stairs with the suitcases and onto the metro. We were almost to the last stop when the train stopped in the tunnel and the lights went out. We all started laughing because that was just such a perfect thing to happen after the fiasco that had been our journey thus far. Luckily the power came back on quickly and we made it to the stop. There we lugged everything back up a bunch of stairs, through the metro station, and up to another bus terminal. The bus we needed however had a ridiculously long line and with all of our stuff we didn’t think we’d make it. The girls said their house wasn’t too far so we decided it would be just as fast to walk. Our small bedraggled band headed out once again into the rain. We crossed 4 lanes of traffic, walked over the Seine, down a ramp, onto a narrow sidewalk not big enough to pass anyone with cars zooming by and spraying us, up a hill, up a flight of stairs, until we finally arrived at the house where Cassie and Carly are staying. I don’t think anyone had ever been so happy to see a house in their lives. I was happy to help, but I think we all felt like we had just lived the Odyssey minus the Cyclops.
We got them settled in and rested a bit, but I was supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner so I had to head home. I decided not to wait for the bus back to the metro station, so I just walked back the way we had come. Of course, the rain decided to really pour down once I was crossing the Seine, far away from any sort of cover. The cold drops blew against the left side of my face and water soaked higher and higher up the legs of my jeans. Fortunately I love rain. I had my eyes closed and my faced turned to the sky with a goofy grin on my face, so I’m sure the other people walking by thought I was a lunatic. They may be right. It was just nice to have real rain for a brief moment instead of the wimpy drizzle that normally falls.
I got home much later than anticipated. Since it was our off week for young adults Bible study, I was going to go with another girl to Hillsong which meets every Friday at 7:30 and 9 in Paris. This week there was a special guest though, so she wanted to get there early and by the time I got changed out of my wet clothes and found the place, it was well past the planned time. We were trying to go to the 7:30 service, but by the time I got there, that service was already full. Full as in, maximum capacity, fire code limit. That’s a pretty funny concept for a church service. So I just joined the long line leading out of the building and down the street and waited for the second service. I was glad once again to have my iPod and a book to read. They let us inside into a vestibule to wait, and came by passing out water and were very nice and helpful. Hillsong, in case you were wondering, is part of Hillsong Church that started in Australia. They’re the megachurch whose youth group band, Hillsong United, is well known around the globe. They have two other main branches in London and Kiev, and not too long ago they started this one in Paris on Friday nights. It’s bilingual, but I was under the impression that it was mostly anglophones. I was surprised to hear more French spoken around me than English.
I had been in line behind these two college-age guys for a long time, one French, and one Chinese who was fluent in French, but I hadn’t talked to them. When they told us to head up to the sanctuary they turned around to talk to me. The French guy made some comment about having been in line for a really long time, but I couldn’t hear him very well because he was speaking softly and there was a lot of noise. I looked at him confused because I couldn’t hear him and so he asked if I spoke French. I figure he had seen me reading in English and wasn’t sure. I said yes, and then he asked if I came all the time to Hillsong. I said it was my first time and he explained that it wasn’t always like this, but it was because of the special musical guest. His name was Pierre and his parents live in the suburbs out of Paris so he tries to come to Hillsong whenever he gets a chance, but he was leaving on Sunday for Bretagne (Brittany) because that’s where he goes to school for IT studies. I was excited because he was the first French person I’d met actually named Pierre. We talked while we waited for the service to start. He asked why I decided to come to Sciences Po, and where I was from, and if I had found a church yet, etc. etc. He was very friendly, and it was really encouraging to meet a young French Christian because there aren’t tons of them.
The worship service was really awesome. It was all just praise and worship because of the special guest who is the lady who writes a lot of the music for Hillsong United. They had the words on the screen in english and french, but pretty much everyone sang in english. They translated everything spoken into both languages though. It was funny because the pastor of the church is Australian, and his accent was so heavy, that sometimes I couldn’t understand what he was saying in English and I had to wait for the French guy to translate it to find out what he had said. It was really powerful and high energy worship. It was awesome to see all these young French people down front worshipping God. It really gave me hope for the French population. Anyway I really enjoyed it, and it’s nice to know there is something else to do on those Fridays when we don’t have Bible study. The only bad thing was that the service didn’t get done til after 11 so it was pretty late by the time I got home. I definitely want to go back and see what it’s like on a normal night. I was really glad to see my bed when I got home because it had been a looong day. At least I got to sleep in on Saturday!
A bientot-
Lyndsey
We got a tad bit disoriented on the walk and stopped to look at the map just outside the metro. We hadn’t been standing there very long when a tiny little lady came up behind us as asked if she could help us with something. “I’ve lived in this neighborhood for many many years so I know where everything is!” She seemed really excited to help us, which was weird, so Cassie and I exchanged looks and then I told the woman where we were trying to go. “Oh! Of course! Just go turn left by the post office and it’ll be right in front of you!” She was smiling and really enthusiastic, so we’re not sure she was playing with a full deck, but maybe she just likes to go against French stereotypes. Anyway, we found a couple of really cute stores and had a good time strolling and shopping, even if it was drizzling and cold out. Cassie found what she wanted, and I found a really pretty dressy scarf and a stretchy headband. When we were done shopping we were both kind of hungry and damp so we thought it would be nice to get some coffee in a cafe. There was one around the corner from Sciences Po that Cassie had been wanting to try because whenever you order something there they bring you a bowl of pretzels and marshmallows. We went in and sat at a little table facing looking out on the street. I only got coffee and Cassie ordered a café creme because it certainly wasn’t a cheap place. The waiter brought out our bowl of pretzels and marshmallows and a carafe of water. I hate regular marshmallows, but these were flavored and sugared so even I liked them. Then came our coffee. It was nice to sit there watching the drizzle falling on the grey streets and the passersby while enjoying the warmth of the cafe and good conversation. It was one of those times when you just sit back and wonder at the fact that you are in Paris.
Cassie and her new roommate Carly were moving out of the student housing that afternoon and into their “apartment” and they were going to do it without taking a taxi so I offered to help. I didn’t have anything else to do and I figured it wouldn’t take too long to carry a few bags from one place to another. Oh boy was I wrong. The fact that it was raining didn’t make things any easier. First we went to the Cité Université to collect their belongings. There were four of us and we lugged the stuff down the street to the tram stop. We got on the crowded tram and rode for a long while. I was carrying my shoulder bag, Cassie’s shoulder bag, and two shopping bags full of odds and ends. Finally we reached the end of the tram line. From there we got off and walked through the rain to a bus stop where, luckily, the bus we wanted was just about to leave but let us on. Well...almost. The first three of us got on with all our bags, but before Carly could reach the bus with her heavy suitcase, the driver shut the door and pulled away from the stop and no amount of begging would make him stop. It wasn’t a huge problem since Carly knew what stop to go to, so we just went on to the stop and waited for Carly to come on the next bus.
From the bus we had to take the metro. By this point we were all thoroughly damp and water had soaked through my shoes. We made it down all the stairs with the suitcases and onto the metro. We were almost to the last stop when the train stopped in the tunnel and the lights went out. We all started laughing because that was just such a perfect thing to happen after the fiasco that had been our journey thus far. Luckily the power came back on quickly and we made it to the stop. There we lugged everything back up a bunch of stairs, through the metro station, and up to another bus terminal. The bus we needed however had a ridiculously long line and with all of our stuff we didn’t think we’d make it. The girls said their house wasn’t too far so we decided it would be just as fast to walk. Our small bedraggled band headed out once again into the rain. We crossed 4 lanes of traffic, walked over the Seine, down a ramp, onto a narrow sidewalk not big enough to pass anyone with cars zooming by and spraying us, up a hill, up a flight of stairs, until we finally arrived at the house where Cassie and Carly are staying. I don’t think anyone had ever been so happy to see a house in their lives. I was happy to help, but I think we all felt like we had just lived the Odyssey minus the Cyclops.
We got them settled in and rested a bit, but I was supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner so I had to head home. I decided not to wait for the bus back to the metro station, so I just walked back the way we had come. Of course, the rain decided to really pour down once I was crossing the Seine, far away from any sort of cover. The cold drops blew against the left side of my face and water soaked higher and higher up the legs of my jeans. Fortunately I love rain. I had my eyes closed and my faced turned to the sky with a goofy grin on my face, so I’m sure the other people walking by thought I was a lunatic. They may be right. It was just nice to have real rain for a brief moment instead of the wimpy drizzle that normally falls.
I got home much later than anticipated. Since it was our off week for young adults Bible study, I was going to go with another girl to Hillsong which meets every Friday at 7:30 and 9 in Paris. This week there was a special guest though, so she wanted to get there early and by the time I got changed out of my wet clothes and found the place, it was well past the planned time. We were trying to go to the 7:30 service, but by the time I got there, that service was already full. Full as in, maximum capacity, fire code limit. That’s a pretty funny concept for a church service. So I just joined the long line leading out of the building and down the street and waited for the second service. I was glad once again to have my iPod and a book to read. They let us inside into a vestibule to wait, and came by passing out water and were very nice and helpful. Hillsong, in case you were wondering, is part of Hillsong Church that started in Australia. They’re the megachurch whose youth group band, Hillsong United, is well known around the globe. They have two other main branches in London and Kiev, and not too long ago they started this one in Paris on Friday nights. It’s bilingual, but I was under the impression that it was mostly anglophones. I was surprised to hear more French spoken around me than English.
I had been in line behind these two college-age guys for a long time, one French, and one Chinese who was fluent in French, but I hadn’t talked to them. When they told us to head up to the sanctuary they turned around to talk to me. The French guy made some comment about having been in line for a really long time, but I couldn’t hear him very well because he was speaking softly and there was a lot of noise. I looked at him confused because I couldn’t hear him and so he asked if I spoke French. I figure he had seen me reading in English and wasn’t sure. I said yes, and then he asked if I came all the time to Hillsong. I said it was my first time and he explained that it wasn’t always like this, but it was because of the special musical guest. His name was Pierre and his parents live in the suburbs out of Paris so he tries to come to Hillsong whenever he gets a chance, but he was leaving on Sunday for Bretagne (Brittany) because that’s where he goes to school for IT studies. I was excited because he was the first French person I’d met actually named Pierre. We talked while we waited for the service to start. He asked why I decided to come to Sciences Po, and where I was from, and if I had found a church yet, etc. etc. He was very friendly, and it was really encouraging to meet a young French Christian because there aren’t tons of them.
The worship service was really awesome. It was all just praise and worship because of the special guest who is the lady who writes a lot of the music for Hillsong United. They had the words on the screen in english and french, but pretty much everyone sang in english. They translated everything spoken into both languages though. It was funny because the pastor of the church is Australian, and his accent was so heavy, that sometimes I couldn’t understand what he was saying in English and I had to wait for the French guy to translate it to find out what he had said. It was really powerful and high energy worship. It was awesome to see all these young French people down front worshipping God. It really gave me hope for the French population. Anyway I really enjoyed it, and it’s nice to know there is something else to do on those Fridays when we don’t have Bible study. The only bad thing was that the service didn’t get done til after 11 so it was pretty late by the time I got home. I definitely want to go back and see what it’s like on a normal night. I was really glad to see my bed when I got home because it had been a looong day. At least I got to sleep in on Saturday!
A bientot-
Lyndsey
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