"Yes the food is better in France because there are fewer condoms in it..."

For those of you with whom I didn't get a chance to talk before I left - I'm back in France for another school year! I got here October 1st and so it's been a month and I'm already back in the swing of things. I'll give you a quick run down on what's been going on . . . I'm in the same apartment from last year (I've attached some photos this go round so you can visualize me here ) I have 7 classes at Champhol where I taught last year with my friend Christine and one class at a different school - Pierre de Coubertin in Mainvilliers - the town right beside my house (makes for an easy 5 minute walk to work). Right next door to me in my house is another American assistant Dana (with whom I think crazy Philippe who lives below has become enamored). My friend Deborah from last year also had her contract renewed so she's down the street living in an apartment building with four other assistants.

I have to say it almost feels like I never left, I hadn't been in France for an hour before my cell phone was ringing with calls and text messages from my French friends. I arrived on Monday and was already attending jiu jitsu practice on Tuesday. I've seen almost everyone I know just walking around Centre Ville and everything has been sooo much easier this time - makes you realize just how much you can learn in a year. I've been trying to do my best to tell the new assistants the things I wish I had known last year, I sometimes end up feeling like a tour guide though - a quick coffee invite often turns into 5 or 6 people coming along as I lead the pack into a cafe to the horror of the French waitresses.

My weekdays tend to be filled with teaching, tutoring, jiu jitsu, trips to the supermarche, trying to resist the lure of the patisseries and making plans for future weekends and vacations. My previous three weekends have already been rather full and have all included trips to Paris. The most exciting of these was definitely La Nuit Blanche, which I had attended last year as well. It’s a night when the museums, churches, plazas, government buildings, etc of Paris open their doors to the masses all night long to display various works of art. Since I was a veteran, I played tour guide to four of the other assistants who came with me (no laughing or comments Laura and Christine, I did just fine guiding everyone with the map to where we wanted to go). This year’s artwork seemed to be much more audio-visual-computer projected than last year’s so I don’t have as many photos. My favorite exhibit which lent itself well to photo-taking was the Garden of Tuileries - a giant garden located right beside the Louvre Museum - that had been filled with “2,000 points of fire”. With the exception of several giant fire blowing “spindles machines’ (think Sleeping Beauty) all these points of fire were actually little flaming flower pots lining the garden or placed in huge metal framed circles. I have to stay I think I’m starting to age (or mature a little more I don’t know??) because whereas last year I was all about staying in Paris all night long - this year found me on the last midnight train back to Chartres. In my defense I had put in a good 6 hours of La Nuit Blanche which I think did it justice.

Last weekend included a trip to IKEA (giant warehouse filled with everything you could need for your home at a low-price and sort of designed for smaller big-city or European-sized apartments) to buy some odds and ends for the apartment. Used great restraint and only came home with some fun postcards, two big fluffy pillows and a “milk frother/frappér.” I decided I wanted to start making my own cappuccinos and lattes thus a milk frother was indispensable. Only problem with said milk-frother is it’s battery-operated and very powerful which is great for frothing the milk - but given the thinness of my walls I was forced to explain to Dana next-door that despite what she might think was causing the loud buzzing noise coming from my apartment it really was just my IKEA milk-frother… yeah…

I was also invited out to watch the Rugby match last Saturday with a girl from jiu jitsu - her father is the coach and she was going to school in Orleans last year and so she wasn’t around much then. This year she’s in Chartres so she’s able to attend jiu jitsu regularly. As France made it to the semi-finals in Rugby (but lost to the great disappointment of the French) the bars were packed with Rugby fans and we opted for dinner instead of a being squeezed into a smoke-filled corner of the bar trying to catch a glimpse of the television. Over a dinner of Indian food she quizzed me on differences between the US and France. During this discussion, she asked the inevitable food question posed by all the French - “What do you think of French food?” I went into my usual explanation of how much I loved the fresh bread, cheeses, etc and that I think the fruits and vegetables are better here in France. She asked why and I made the faux pas of literally translating from English to French, “Probably because there are fewer preservatives in the food here.” As soon as I finished this sentence her eyes got really big and for a naïve second I thought wow she must really be shocked at the American produce industry -then I realized no, no it’s not that, it’s that I just told her “it’s probably because there are fewer condoms in the food here.” Since preservatif = condom and conservative = preservative I’m probably lucky she didn’t burst out laughing as I would have had someone told me their country puts condoms in the produce over dinner…

Even though I often find myself involved these food conversations, the role cuisine plays in the French psyche was taken to a new high the other day when the fire alarm went off at school. Since I’m not responsible for any children after my class is over, I often get to the teacher’s lounge to eat a little earlier than the others (this gives me a head start on microwaving - a luxury which my little apartment does not afford me). I had just sat down to eat my “tortilla española” when the alarm went off. Sophie, a 5th grade teacher, came in and said “Oops that’s the alarm; we have to exit the building.” Of course, I grab my bag and head outside to join the huddle of teachers and wait for what I assume will be the fire trucks. While in this huddle the teachers all begin to talk about how hungry they are and Sophie proceeds to tell them I had already sat down to eat and had been taken away from my food. I think at this point they became more concerned about my not being able to finish my lunch than the fire alarm. As soon as a new teacher would join the huddle, they’d immediately tell them, “Poor Lisa was in the middle of eating when the alarm sounded” and a new round of “Oh la la la la la” (the more la-s the more serious it is) would start. Out of all this craziness, the part I found most disturbing was that instead of calling the fire department the “Mayor’s secretaries” were called. The “Mairie” is located right next to the school, so just as you would expect them to look, several overweight, older women came over in their skirts and heels to inspect the building. Maybe secretaries are trained in electrical fire management here in France, I don’t know, but if it had been up to me I think I would have called the fire department to ensure the safety of the 500 some elementary school children.… By this point, even though the alarm had been turned off and then resounded, the teachers were so worked up they were starting to pick volunteers to take one for the team and run into the building and collect everyone’s “yogurts and apple sauces.” In the end I’m not sure what triggered the alarm, but you’ll all be relieved to know that I was indeed able to finish my lunch along with the other starving teachers.
I’ll wrap things up here because vacation is about to start which will holds the promise of more stories and lots of photos. I’m renting a car with Deborah, Deborah’s friend Lacey and my French teacher-friend Christine and we’re road tripping it to Provence for a week. I hope this blog finds everyone doing well, I’d love to hear from you, leave me some messages. In case you want to send some snail-mail my way, my address is:

Mlle. Lisa DAMICO
31 Rue de l’Epargne
28000 CHARTRES France

and my phone number is 0033632457139.

Lots of love ~ Lisa

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