Bohemian Rhapsody

When I walked into the Old Town Square in Prague, I felt like I was walking into a fairytale: cobbled streets, horse-drawn carriages, looming castles, and decorative clock towers.

Parallel to the Old Town Square, in Wenceslaus Square, is a whole other, highly developed world, filled with casinos, cabarets, clothing shops, McDonald’s and Starbucks (this last item I was pretty pleased to see, I must admit). I was surprised how highly commercial most of Prague is—there’s even a TGI Fridays and a Hard Rock Café. But underneath it all is still the cobbled streets and old beautiful architecture. It’s an interesting mix of old and new, communist and capitalist, fairytale and real world.

But back to the fairytale: The largest castle in the world sits atop a hill just across the river. It’s a bit of a climb to the top, but the view is breathtaking. I could have happily stood there staring for the whole day.

I also loved Lennon Wall (John Lennon, that is). It’s an ever-changing wall covered in graffiti with Lennon-esque ideas of peace and love that has been around since the 1980s when Prague was still under communist rule. It’s bright and colorful with a sense of community. Anyone can write on the wall—so I did.

Another pleasing discovery was Bohemian Bagel, which as the name suggests, meant that I could satisfy my bagel and lox cravings for at least a little while. Other than that there wasn’t any Czech food that I thought was particularly remarkable. I did eat a lot of goulash, which I enjoyed, and I tried bread dumplings (sadly not the dumplings I was hoping for).

One euro equals 25 Czech crowns, so I felt like I was dealing with Monopoly money—probably not the best way to think about money when traveling. The first day I took out 2000 crowns from the ATM. It would definitely be a lot easier to become a millionaire in Prague.

We spent three full days in Prague. When we were back in Chalon planning our vacation, we originally wanted to go to Prague, Vienna, and Budapest. But then it got cold. Like really cold. Like the coldest it’s been in Europe for years. People died from the cold. As we were trying to plan our trip in the freezing temperatures, one thought formed in our minds: we must find warmth. And where is it warm? Italy, of course. So after Prague we headed to Bella Italia!

...post soon to follow…  

Sunsets Over Chalon

I’ve become somewhat obsessed with taking pictures of the sunsets from my balcony. I can’t capture just how beautiful they are, but here are some of my favorite attempts. 

How To Confuse French Children

1. Start counting with your pointer finger rather than your thumb—they’ll think you’re shushing them.

2. Write in print rather than cursive—they’ll have no idea how to tell “r” and "n" apart.

3. Say “so” or “then” before starting a new phrase—they will think that “so” is part of the whole phrase.

Me (holding up a flashcard): Hands

French children: Les mains

Me: In English!

French children: In English!

If you ever come across a French child who thinks that the English word for “hands” is “inenglish,” you will know that I was her teacher. 

La famille en France

I flew from Denmark to Paris where I met…my mom and brother! I get my squealing tendencies from my mother, so needless to say it was a rather noisy reunion. They were both somewhat jet lagged, but chipper, and we made our way to our first destination: Dijon. Dijon’s only about 40 minutes from me, and we had to go through there to get to Chalon. So we figured we’d stop off for a night and wander around. Though it was about 30 percent wandering and 70 percent sleeping (again, jet lag). We had planned it this way though because Dijon and Chalon (our next stop) are not very big nor have any must-sees.

The next day I got to show them Chalon, which was really fun. They got to see my apartment and experience the many miles I walk each day in order to get around town.

Next stop: Lyon, which is only an hour from Chalon. I hadn’t really explored Lyon so I was excited to get the chance. We saw the ancient roman theaters (which may have been my favorite thing), the Musée des Beaux Arts, and we ate at some Buchons, which have traditional Lyonnais food.

After this, we headed back up to Paris to spend the remainder of their trip. We also met up with my Dad, who had to come a couple days late because of work. We were staying in the Marais, which is one of my favorite places in Paris…and there are Jews there! Several of my teachers informed me that there are no Jews in Chalon (which I’m pretty sure can’t be right). But leading up to Christmas I was often met with surprise when I tried to explain to people that I celebrated Hanukkah and not Christmas. I certainly didn’t see any signs of Hanukkah preparation around  (not that there is much Hanukkah preparation). So it was weird to be in a place where there were menorahs in the windows, bakeries with “kosher” signs on them, and men walking around with yarmulkes.

Our first afternoon we even went to a deli, where I got a hot pastrami sandwich! And we found latkes, though they didn’t compare to my Dad’s. You may be starting to notice a certain food related pattern. French food is amazing. Obviously. But there are just certain things you can’t find in small town France. So I had to take advantage of being in Paris.

Like, Chinese food for Jewish Christmas. Though this was only somewhat satisfying—I think I may have to give up on my great dumpling search. French Chinese restaurants just don’t compare to American Chinese restaurants…or perhaps Chinese Chinese restaurants, though I really wouldn’t know…

Surprisingly, we were able to find some great French restaurants. One of my favorites was owned by three men (we think they were brothers) who were the most stereotypical French looking people I had ever seen—complete with mustaches.

We hit up all the typical sights: Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Champs-Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, L’Opera, Sacré Coeur, Notre Dame, Musée de l’Orangerie, Musée d’Orsay, Centre George Pompidou.  We also spent a day in Rouen, which is very pretty, and the town where Joan of Arc was burned.

It was interesting to see the things that were once different and surprising to me (and are now normal) be different and surprising in the eyes of my family.  For example: having to stamp your ticket before going on a train; not receiving any cream with your coffee unless you ask; specifically saying “bonjour” and “au revoir” to any shopkeepers; dogs and cats being allowed in shops and restaurants.

It was a busy 10 days and hard to say goodbye, but I was very glad to have a French adventure avec ma famille.

Hannah, Princess of Denmark

Denmark has bagels. And lox. If it wasn’t so cold there I may never have left. It had been a long, dark 3 months sans bagels, but upon seeing the “bagel man” shop near our hostel my world was set right again.

I started off my winter vacation in Copenhagen with Lauren and Alicen (2 other assistants). We were only in Copenhagen for a day because we were staying with one of Lauren’s friends in Aarhus (also in Denmark, but further north).

The Danes speak English really well. This was good news for me, because I had attempted to learn some Danish before I left and I’m pretty sure they’re just making it up as they go along. Sometimes I forgot that I wasn’t in an Anglophone country, because it seemed like everyone could speak English fluently.

Lauren’s friend was so sweet and welcoming. She cooked traditional Danish food for us and introduced us to her friends. The question we kept getting asked was “why are you here?” They just couldn’t understand why Americans would want to come to Denmark. We had to keep reassuring people that we thought Denmark was really cool and interesting—plus it is Hamlet’s country after all. . . .And I may have done some soliloquizing while walking along the streets of Denmark. 

Le Thanksgiving

The challenge: to cook Thanksgiving dinner

The obstacle: you are only allowed one small gas oven that has no degree markings

The competitors: five doe-eyed Americans 

Americans in Chalon

There are five Americans in Chalon. From the minute we got here, we started telling our Europeans friends about Thanksgiving and what a big deal it is. We decided we would have to cook Thanksgiving here and invite everyone.

This was a good idea. In theory. About a week before Thanksgiving, it occurred to me that we had invited around 20 people to our relatively small apartment to eat a huge meal that none of us had ever cooked before. AND we had been going on about how great it was. What had I been thinking?

With some trepidation, we divided the cooking tasks among the Americans and set out to find ingredients; this proved somewhat harder than expected. I found myself wandering through a giant supermarket and staring blindly at shelves for long periods of time. Here’s some things I couldn’t find: cranberries, corn syrup, and an aluminum baking pan for a turkey. Here’s some things I was planning on making: cranberry sauce, pecan pie, and turkey. Right. I left somewhat disheartened, but not completely discouraged.

With the help of the Internet and my ingenious mother, I found a recipe for a cherry sauce and a French pecan pie recipe that used maple syrup rather than corn syrup. And we bought a real turkey pan instead of an aluminum one (though it was too big for the oven, which meant that we had to tip it to fit it in…).

Since we all had to work on actual Thanksgiving we decided to hold the French version on Saturday. We cooked and prepped all day. I've discovered that cleaning and stuffing a turkey is somewhat disturbing, and that cooking a turkey in a too-small oven with no degree markings is somewhat difficult.  But somehow we managed.

The guests started to arrive around 5. Everyone had brought lots of wine, which I encouraged them to keep drinking. I figured if they were drunk enough they wouldn’t notice if the food had come out badly. Our guest list was very international. Here’s the final count:

American: 5

French: 5

Spanish: 2

English: 2

German: 1

Cote d’Ivoire: 1

Jamaican: 1

The kitchen became very crowded as people wandered in, curiously looking at the food we were preparing. I was running around stirring things, basting things, tasting things, taking coats, serving wine, and trying to put my hair up.

Eventually, everything was done and we squeezed around our transformed living room table. I explained the tradition of giving thanks before the meal, and everyone was enthusiastic to try. It was a love fest: everybody was thankful for the meal, for new friends, for finding a family far from home. And the food turned out really well. Even my cherry sauce was a hit.  And, the turkey was delicious: really delicious. I still can’t believe we managed to cook a turkey; no one even reported being ill afterwards, so it must have been fully cooked. Although it was hard to be away from home for such a family oriented holiday, it was truly a perfect French Thanksgiving.

The menu included: turkey, stuffing, candied yams, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cherry sauce

 For dessert: pumpkin pie and pecan pie

Vacationing Around France

I’ve been very behind in updating my blog (which I suspected might happen). But I am still alive and still having fun with the Frenchies. I’ll start where I left off: vacation.

For the vacances de la toussaint, I made a mini circle of France. My first destination was Strasbourg. The town’s a bit smaller than I thought it would be, but very pretty. We climbed to the top of the cathedral, and while this seemed like a good idea, it was a long time before I could feel my thighs again. We also took a bateau mouche down the river, and walked around a bunch. Our motto for Strasbourg seemed to be: “ok…on mange?” Our hotel had a kitchen so we were able to cook for ourselves—and we stopped frequently for cafes and gouters along the way.

The second day we took a trip to Colmar, another Alsatian town that’s about a 30 minute train ride from Strasbourg. Here’s a fun fact: the guy who designed the Statue of Liberty was from Colmar.

My third and final day in Strasbourg may have been my favorite because we rented bikes…and biked to Germany!! I couldn’t get over (and still can’t) how cool this was. Just cross a river and you’re in Germany: voila. We went to the little town of Kehl which is just across the Rhin. We grabbed a coffee in the town square and I was able to use my 2 words of German with the waiter: “danke” and “auf wiedersehen.”

Next, I took the train over to Limoges, which is in the west of France. I had to go through Paris and transfer over train stations, which meant that I had to take the metro. Up until that point I had been attempting to blend in and look like a Parisian (though I was already at a disadvantage given the suitcase I was lugging around). But I caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower and all hope to look cool, collected, and Parisian was lost—I couldn’t keep from grinning like the tourist I was. The Eiffel Tower!! Even though I’ve seen it before, it still makes me smile.

I stayed with a friend in Limoges who had studied with me in Aix. We went to see a cave in Rocamadour, toured a castle and a cute town, walked around Limoges, ate some good galettes, and went to a basketball game. My favorite thing about the west though was the scenery. It was just breathtakingly beautiful. And I was there at a great time because all the foliage was changing. I went straight from Limoges to Lyon on my way back, which meant that I passed through the Massif Central. My 5 hour train ride seemed to take no time at all because I couldn’t keep from staring out the window.

Even though vacation was amazing, I was surprisingly happy to be back in Chalon. It’s really started to feel like home to me. Chalon's a small town so I'm very comfortable and at ease walking around. I often run into people I know or recognize faces that I’ve already seen.

Well, voila! Vacation.

Stay tuned for: French Thanksgiving!!

Bring on les vacances!

Three weeks of work and then a week and a half of vacation? Sounds good to me. But I can definitely use it. Children are exhausting. And loud. And germy. Why did I decide to teach kids again? Ok, I have to admit that some of them are pretty cute. Today, my class of 5 year olds greeted me with hugs and bises and presented me with drawings. Adorable. All of the kids are still very excited to see me, which is sweet. At some schools they start peppering me with questions as soon as I arrive. The strangest question so far was when a girl asked me “do you eat mice in America?” Ummm….no. Then “but there are really huge spiders in America, right?” Well…I guess in some places there are big spiders, but generally it’s the same as in France. And then: “but you eat spiders, right?” NO. Where is she getting her information?

I also get a lot of: “are you married?” “do you have kids?” “do you have a boyfriend?” I think I won’t be discussing my love life with a bunch of 8 year olds, thank you very much.

They’re very excited by the fact that I’ve been to New York (“you mean, you’ve actually BEEN to New York? You’ve really been there?!). And they want to know if I’ve seen any celebrities (which they call “les stars”). I figure if by the end of the year I can get them to understand that America consists of more than Hollywood and NYC (and that these two places are nowhere near each other), I will have accomplished something.

But until then…les vacances!

Comment dit-on "awkward" en francais?

I’m bringing “awkward turtle” to France. There is no good translation for “awkward” in French, and Americans (well, me) use it all the time. Whenever I discuss the word with les Francais, I of course have to teach them awkward turtle—it’s the logical next step. And they find it to be quite amusing.

Being in a foreign country brings out my awkwardness, which is nowhere more pronounced than when I am forced to greet people. This is largely because of…la bise (the double cheek kiss). Even though I’m not new to this concept, I still find myself uncertain of what to do. When I first met my 2 French housemates I tried to shake their hands but they went in for la bise. The next night I met a French guy at another assistant’s school and, attempting to be French-like, I tried to give la bise but he went in for a handshake. Then he said “oh, comme tu veux” (as you like). NO, I don’t like—I thought that’s what we were supposed to do!? I think some of the French realize that la bise aren’t common in America and so are unsure if they should attempt it. This only adds to my awkward moments. Recently I’ve resorted to giving a sort of half wave from a safe distance.

I can’t fully blame France or la bise for my awkwardness at greetings. Even in America I have issues. I’ve actually injured myself giving somebody a hug. Another person gave up on me halfway through a salutation because we couldn’t decide if we were hugging or shaking. 

So add la bise to my pre-existing awkward greeting condition, and I’m pretty much a lost cause. 

Hello...my...name...is...Hannah

To French school children, I am a superstar. Some of them actually cheered when I entered the room. I spent today observing in 2 different French primary schools. The first one is kind of unorganized, which makes me a little nervous. I think I’m supposed to be teaching 5 different classes, but today I only observed 3 and only one of them was an English class…so we’ll see. They also didn’t seem too concerned with telling me what the kids were learning in English and what I should prepare for next week.

I’m only teaching one class at the second school, and that teacher was really excited to have me there. We also thankfully discussed what we’d be doing next week when I actually start teaching. It made me feel much calmer after the craziness in the morning.

The kids found me to be fascinating. Whenever I entered a classroom all eyes were on me, and if I sat at the back of the class their heads would whip around to stare; if I caught them looking they would grin and turn quickly back around. There was also a lot of pointing and whispering. This was partly cute, partly funny, and partly unnerving. I wasn’t offended at all, but it’s weird to be constantly watched and to feel like an object of wonder. I was really glad when I had a moment alone in the teachers’ lounge (well, room). When I walked up to the second school, kids started shouting “Hello!! Hello!! Goodbye!” The teacher said the kids were “ravi” to have me there. One boy asked me if I was Hannah as in Hannah Montana. When I told him yes, his level of excitement made me think that I had just told him I was Hannah Montana. I clarified that we merely shared a name, but he seemed equally enthused…go figure. I showed one group of students some dollars that I still have in my wallet, and they nearly jumped for joy. A couple of them suggested that I make copies so that they could have a souvenir. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything illegal.

Since I’ve never been to public school, it’s kind of hard to compare French and American student-teacher relations. Some of the teachers joke around with the kids, but in general, they all seem pretty strict. I’m going to try not to look scared when they start scolding/yelling at the kids. 

"Un 'ot dog, s'il vous plait"

I went to my French housemate’s soccer game yesterday and was thoroughly amused to discover that instead of a concession stand there was a bar where you could order wine and beer. The spectators stood around smoking, drinking and chatting before, during, and after the match. To top it all off, the concession stand/bar sold hot dogs. But they did not come in hot dog buns; oh no, they came in baguettes. Obviously I had to get one. 

 

They won the game!

Bonjour France!

Hannah is alive and well and living in Chalon! Given my fear of flying, the thing I’m happiest about in that last sentence is the “alive” bit. After about 20 hours of traveling, 1 hour of sleep, and a combination of planes, trains, and automobiles, I stumbled somewhat deliriously into Chalon. There, I was met by Eric, a Conseiller Pedagogique for Chalon and a really nice guy. My exhaustion prohibited me from being too insecure about my French, and I chatted along quite easily.

Eric took me right to my apartment, which is only about 10 minutes from the train station (though we did have to take an alternate route in order to avoid la grève…ah, France). I’m on the 8^th floor of an apartment building and sharing it with 3 other people: another language assistant and 2 French guys. There are 4 individual rooms, and a group living/dining room and kitchen. It’s pretty cute and everyone seems really nice. We discussed American TV shows for a while, and for some reason one of the French guys had mainly watched American TV from the 70s and 80s—like Denver, Dallas, and Murder She Wrote—and was shocked that the other assistant and I hadn’t watched them as kids. But we did finally find some commonality in “Sauvé par le gong.” I haven’t explored Chalon yet, except when Eric was nice enough to take me to a Wal-Martesque store to buy a couple of essentials, i.e. sheets. But when I take some pictures I will attempt to upload them!

I had high hopes that I would kick jet lag because I hardly slept on the way here and I managed to stay awake until 11 pm. But my body has other plans. It is 4 am and I am awake. 

A bientot!

I leave for France in 15 hours, and I am waging war against my luggage. Despite my best attempts not to over pack, about 3 hours ago I was sitting amidst stacks of clothing, papers, and electronics with no clue of how I was going to stuff it all into two relatively small suitcases. Although things were looking pretty bleak, I may just pull out a victory.

It’s been hard saying good-bye to everyone, but with all this crazy modern technology I know it will be easy to stay in touch. And although I’m nervous, I am looking forward to my return to France and the adventures in store…donc, a bientôt les Etats-Unis et encore France!!