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Published: October 20th 2007
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Ruska
Here's the big baby of the house in all her glory Another week come and gone here in lovely Pau. Nothing super eventful has taken place, but there have been lots of fun little occurrences that necessitate a blog update.
On Monday, I was invited to lunch by Jean-Luc, one of the English teachers at Jeanne d’Albret. (For those of you who are curious, he’s the 3rd Jean-Luc I’ve met since I’ve been here). He and his wife Annie are lovely people, and over Quiche Lorraine and a good glass of red wine we talked about the US, France, teaching, and all things in between. After lunch, I helped Jean-Luc with some translation questions he’d had about a book he’d read over the summer. When I saw what some of the words were, I almost laughed out loud. The book was full of “southernisms” like “conniption fit” and “high cotton” and “that dog won’t hunt”. It’s true we speak a whole different language south of the Mason-Dixon.
On Tuesday night I went to a modern dance show at Pau’s Zenith auditorium. It was called “Sans Retour” (No return) and was loosely (read veeeeeeery loosely) based on “Moby Dick”. The dancing was good, and highly acrobatic, but the set was really
Sweet Potato Soup
My lovely creation still turned out orange, even if the sweet potatoes were white. what made the production. It was really stunning and very unique. I wish I could post pictures of it.
Wednesday I went in the morning with Christine to do the shopping for the week. Shopping for a family of 6 means she’s got it down to a science. It was truly impressive to watch. In France, they no longer have plastic sacs in the grocery store, so you have to bring your own bags and load everything into them yourself (no bag boys). It builds character.
Thursday I had classes all day long. This was slightly surprising, because supposedly the France’s educators were all on strike. They’ve got special privileges with their retirement plan that they don’t want to give up. Don’t get all concerned that this was any kind of big uproar with picket lines and signs and rotten tomatoes being thrown at the cops. No, going on strike is more like the French hobby. They have to do it a couple of times a year or so (more if you work in the transportation industry), just to break up the workweek. I wasn’t sure if the professors at Clermont would be on strike or not, but
Bacci
Our Tuscan Cat. Bacci is Italian for Kiss it turns out that not many were. I did a lesson about American music with the kids that went over really well. I had made a CD with audio clips for all the different kinds of music we were talking about, and they were quite literally dancing in their seats.
Thursday night, the assistants decided to have a “greve” (strike) party. We all went over to Becki’s studio and had wine and snacks. Becki and Georg have studios that are directly over a nightclub. Georg hasn’t been sleeping to well, what with the thumping bass till 3 in the morning and all. A couple of the Spanish assistants were there as well, so we had people of no fewer than seven nationalities crammed into Becki’s studio. We communicated in a weird blend of English, French, Spanish, German, and Italian. It was fantastic. We’re all planning to watch the championship of the world cup tonight, and see if South Africa makes mincemeat out of England.
Friday I made my dreaded visit to the prefecture, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined. I had almost all the right papers, and there was no dragon lady behind the desk to bite my head off, despite what Sam had told me to the contrary. Once I make a couple more photocopies and promise them the soul of my first born child, I’ll have my card that allows me to officially “be French” until the end of April, and you all know how much I’m loving that. It also allows me to get paid and work legally, but really that’s a secondary benefit. Being French for 7 months, that’s the big draw.
I also discovered the best bookstore in existence near Henri IV’s chateau. They specialize in old books, dating back as far as the 17th and 18th century (maybe even earlier, I’m not really sure). I could spend all day in there drooling, but of course I can’t really buy anything. Still, it’s a bibliophile’s dream come true.
So earlier this week, I had managed to find sweet potatoes in the grocery store. The French don’t really eat them, so they’re with all the exotic fruits like mango and papaya. I of course got super excited and bought a bunch of them with the intentions of making something yummy and American for the Canterots. I decided on a sweet potato and carrot soup that I made today for lunch. It also had ginger and onions, and then a relish that was supposed to be made of shallots, cranberries, and orange juice, but since cranberries are IMPOSSIBLE to find in France, I substituted apple instead. However, when I started peeling the sweet potatoes I immediately wondered if the recipe would work at all. They were not the lovely orange color I am so used to, but as white as regular potatoes. However, I persevered and it turns out they taste the same. The soup turned out pretty well and the girls all liked it.
So, I’ve only got about a week to go until the Toussaint vacation starts, and I’ve got to get myself in gear and make some plans. Corsica is sounding like a definite possibility. A la prochaine, mes chers!
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Murdock
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4 favorite phrases in this post
-I also discovered the best bookstore in existence near Henri IV’s chateau. -Being French for 7 months, that’s the big draw. -Once I make a couple more photocopies and promise them the soul of my first born child... -No, going on strike is more like the French hobby. For an uneventful week, I still loved this post! PS. that soup looks good! wow!