En route to Berlin!

Well hello there, Lyon-Saint-Exupéry. We meet again. I have to say I'm impressed with the ease of navigating you so far - check-in was painless, security was shockingly quick, your staff is friendly and polite, and you even seem to have saved this terminal's only electrical outlet just for me.

Just in case you were getting ideas, though, I want to point out that no amount of good treatment on the ground will make up for a repeat of 2007's airplane-with-a-shattered-windshield experience.

Do I make myself clear?

Thanksgiving in pictures

Thanksgiving was some of the most fun I've had since being here. We ended up having thirteen people, including six Americans, two Brits, one Australian, one German, two Spanish and one French. We had a lot of fun introducing people to new foods, and everyone seemed to have a really great time. :)

(Note: most of these pictures are stolen from facebook, and are not mine.)

Ryan, Hannah, Maty and I spent most of Wednesday preparing, so Hannah's first Thanksgiving experience was as a cook instead of just as a guest. Here she's learning to make "winnebagos" (or rutabagas, if you're not Michael). So delicious. :)

Maty (pronounced mah-TAY), doing battle with the pumpkin. You can't get canned pumpkin in France, so we bought a whole one and then cut it into chunks and cooked it in the microwave. (More on French microwaves in a future post, probably.) Then we spent literally hours forcing the cooked pumpkin through a sieve to give it a smooth texture for pie. Maty realized that using a whisk with a mortar-and-pestle motion would make it go way faster than just pushing (which basically didn't work at all), and subsequently got stuck finishing it. It was so worth it, though.

Making whipped cream for the pie. (I'm not sticking my hand in it; I'm sprinkling in sugar.) Everyone was really in awe of the fact that I made whipped cream with a whisk instead of a mixer, hehe. It's really not that hard.

We decided that turkey was too much of a hassle, and I'm glad we did - some other assistants special-ordered one (which I gather was seen as somewhat similar to ordering a whole sheep instead of some mutton) and paid something like 99€, or in other words about $10/lb. Instead, Ryan and Hannah made amazing chicken, which was made with carrots and onions and oranges and roasted standing upright on the beer cans. The beer steamed up and made it moist and delicious, and also made for some amazing gravy.

We were afraid we were going to run out of food, so we made something like 2kg of mashed potatoes, which was absurd. Also pictured: stuffing, gravy, chicken, brussels sprouts, rutabagas with burnt onions, corn casserole (which was amazing), and cornbread (which was - well, the taste was mostly there, but the texture was closer to a brick than we might have hoped).
Quite the spread.

Delicious, delicious pies. Two pumpkin, one apple. All our hard work with the pumpkin was definitely worth it here. I don't think anyone except the six Americans had tasted it before, and everyone was fairly suspicious of the idea of a sweet pumpkin dish, but as far as I know everyone really liked it. (Especially me - pumpkin pie is probably my favorite dessert. :D)

Hannah and Michael

Raquel, Lizzy and Hannah

Ana, Raquel, Ryan, Lizzy, Michael, me and Hannah. :)

And a last shot of pie, because it really was that delicious.

Overall, a night of good food and better friends. As it should be.

One of my favorite things about living here is that it seems so much easier to make little connections with the people you run into on your daily routine. This morning I slept in and then went to my favorite outdoor market, which is my favorite basically because it's open later than the others and I can go even if I sleep past 11am. The people there are starting to know me, I think, especially the man who sells mostly onions and garlic. He has all these different varieties, at least five or six kinds of onions, and last week I asked him something along the lines of "There is kind of onion that makes less to cry?" Sadly the answer was no, and I suffered for my (delicious) rutabagas, but he was very nice and this week he gave me a big smile and recommended some new things for me to try.

A few blocks from my apartment there is a bakery that sells what might be my new favorite food, quiche oignon. Basically, you take caramelized onions and put them in a pie crust with some cheese and maybe some egg or something, and it is so delicious. The main thing stopping me from eating them every single day is the fact that the bakery keeps strange hours, and I can't figure out what they are. But when I do, I'm going to be in trouble. Between that and the amazing kebab place I discovered literally around the corner from me, it's been a good few weeks for food.

Speaking of food! Ryan and I hosted Thanksgiving a week and change ago, and it went exactly the way I'd hoped. Almost everyone we invited was able to make it, a majority of whom had never celebrated Thanksgiving before, and the food and company were both excellent. I've stolen a lot of other people's photos of the event, and I'll post them later on. Ryan, Hannah, a girl from NY named Maty and I cooked most of Wednesday, and had a ton of fun. Lessons include the fact that making pumpkin pie from scratch takes basically a year, especially if you have no mixer; French ovens have an internal logic all their own that no conversion chart will explain; cornbread made from ingredients that are almost like what you get in the States will not turn out as expected; and French kitchens may come with an oven and four burners, but that does not mean they are wired to allow you to use them all. But in the end everything was absolutely delicious, and the evening was a great success. Probably half the dishes were things most people had never heard of, let alone tasted, and the idea of a pumpkin dish that was sweet instead of savory inspired great suspicion. But everyone came around after tasting it. Also! I made rutabagas (as my family always does for holidays), and in France you can get them, but they're very pale yellow instead of orange. It turns out that when they are a less alarming color, everyone eats them and thinks they are delicious, instead of being afraid of them and thinking they are weird. Michael (who is Australian) for some reason could not keep the word "rutabagas" in his head, and decided instead to refer to them as "winnebagos," which I kind of love.

Now I'm running out the door to go to the Fête des Lumières, about which more later. Two posts in one week, go me! :)

My birthday yesterday was lovely. It was one of the days when my classes don't start until 10am, so I got to sleep in, which was much appreciated. Things went mostly smoothly at school, or what passes for smoothly at School 2 - one teacher complained to me that I "missed" her 9am class that I wasn't scheduled for; one teacher had her last day before her maternity leave and we still have no information about who her replacement will be; and a kid sang to himself all through my lesson and then showed up outside another of my classes to make faces at us through the window. So, relatively smooth.

In the evening I went downtown to meet Hannah, Michael, Steven, Ryan and François for dinner. At Michael's excellent suggestion we went to a place called l'Épicerie, which is cozy and friendly and delicious and also affordable on an assistant's stipend. It was the first time anyone except Hannah had actually met François, so I think after three months or so of hearing about him they were starting to wonder if he was an imaginary friend. It was good to catch up with him again - our schedules have been at odds recently, so it was only the second or third time we'd managed to get together since I moved off of his couch and into my apartment. He's currently interning with some branch or other of the French police, which he's really enjoying but which means things like armed robbery attempts have been interfering with his social plans.

Anyway, everyone seemed to get along really well, and I was pleased to find that I understood most of what French was spoken. I communicate in French a good amount here, especially with Ana, but I still have some trouble with native speakers in situations like restaurants and bars when there's a lot of ambient noise. But I don't think I had to ask for translations at all, which made me smile even if only maybe a third of our communication was actually in French.

After dinner François and Ryan headed home, and the rest of us met up with Ana at one of the péniches (bar-boats) that docks along the banks of the Rhône. I mostly seem to go there at odd times (like 8:30 p.m. on a Monday), so this may not actually be true, but they always seem to be quieter and have a much better atmosphere for talking than the other places we go (which tend toward loud and jammed). This is also the time of year when everywhere seems to be selling hot spiced wine, which is one of my favorite things. Not the most exciting birthday, but pretty much exactly what I wanted.


I really am going to try to neglect this less. I've been taking notes on things I want to talk about, but it never quite seems like the right time to spend a few hours writing about them. I'll make the time, but not tonight.

Thanks to all for the birthday wishes. :)

I've been feeling pretty quiet lately, so I took it slow for most of the break. Plans to travel never really came together, but I'm not too broken up about it. The first month and change here were pretty whirlwind, getting my bearings and meeting new people and learning my way around, and I think it was good to step back for a little while and take some space to breathe.

It's getting to be the time that we've been warned about, when it's all not quite as shiny and new as when we arrived, but when things still don't come naturally and you can start to get worn down. I'm keeping an eye out, with my history of tanking when the sun gets short, but this year I think things are going to be okay.

Today when I was walking near Bellecour I bought a paper cone of roasted chestnuts from a man with a cart. I've never had them before, but the smell of them caught me as I walked by, and they were exactly right - smooth and nutty and smoky and warm in my cold hands.


Hannah came over and we drank wine out on the balcony to celebrate the anniversary of last year's election. Thinking about that time is strange for me. I miss virtually nothing about it, and I have clear memories of what a misery it was. I also remember not feeling, all that often, like anything I was doing mattered at all. But it's been my experience that intensity on that level always leaves me with a nostalgia for those moments of joy that are so much more vivid for being stolen and rare.

On the whole I much prefer things as they are now, when joy is something I can look for almost every day. But this day last year there was delight and tears and there were fireworks, even in Alaska, and it was beginnings and endings and waiting and getting ready to move.

It's strange it's already been a year, I guess is what I'm trying to say, and it's strange it hasn't been three. And I still don't know what's next.

Picture post!

Théâtres Romains, or the Roman Theatre. It's still used for rock concerts in summer.

For any "Top Gear" fans out there. (I'm looking at you, Alice :D)

Hannah, Jack and I made the mistake of thinking the name of this place was funny enough to warrant eating there. The food was awful, like KFC in terms of grease but with basically no taste. (So, it could be argued, a successful melding of "UK" and "KFC.")

Exotic Poker Drink. Mediocre, but good compared with the food.

Me and Ana. :)

Cool building near my apartment.

No one believes me about these ads, so I started taking pictures of them. They're "translated" into French in small print, but it doesn't say the same thing at all. The picture is kind of small, so here's what it says:
"'I keep thinking of how we first met and of that way you looked at me - it lasted only an instant, but meant so much and now you've joined Baron Vassilo's office supplies company.' From 'The Most Private History of Baron Vassilo."

But this is the one that's really amazing.
"We're very happy and we're such a good match. We like spending time together. There's nothing romantic in it, but we agree on one thing: All those bastard Martians can fuck off back to Mars."

Say what??

Drinking sangria with Steve and Ana (and Hannah and Michael, not pictured) under a bridge in the rain.

The really funny part about this picture - which I took out my front door - is that I live on the 14th floor.

Here are some boring pictures of my apartment for those who have requested them:

My room. It looks like I didn't put my clothes away; in reality that's where they belong, since I don't have a dresser or drawers.

Other view of my room

Living room/roommate's room, depending on time of day. The bed is what's known in France as a "click-clack," or in other words a sofa bed. The little teeny room at the end is our kitchen.

Pretty much our whole kitchen. Again, it's not that things aren't put away, it's that there is no "away." That cabinet you see next to the microwave is 100% of our storage space for the moment.

Living room from the kitchen

And finally, our gorgeous view. Eastward, too, which makes waking up pretty easy. Pretty sweet.

Oh man, it's been a while. I think the easiest thing to do is to start with a cast of characters. Here goes:

Ana - a Spanish assistant from Salamanca. I've seen a lot of her lately, which has been really fun. And good for me - she doesn't speak English, so it's mostly when I'm with her that I really speak French. She works in the same school as Hannah and Ryan, and she, Ryan and Raquel are roommates. Their place is about a 5-10 minute walk from my first school.

Hannah - I've mentioned her here before, I know. She's from Berlin and is one of the first people I met here. She also lives right near me, which is excellent because we can walk home together if we decide to stay out past the oh-so-late hour of midnight, when transport stops running. (Hi, Hannah!)

Jack - British assistant who works in a primary school. Also one of the first few people I met.

Marie - my roommate, a French art student. I don't know her super well yet, but she's really friendly, and also a little punk.

Michael - another assistant, this time from Australia. He speaks really good German as well as French, which means hanging out with him and Hannah is a lot of linguistic fun. No, seriously, I'm not being sarcastic. I love it.

Pierrick - Marie's friend who lives in our building. The spelling of his name is a total guess. Hanging out with the two of them is fun, mostly English with a little French, and always silly. They like to ask me to interpret the lyrics of bad-but-fun American pop songs, with hilarious results.

Ryan - assistant from Michigan, lives with Ana. Since we see each other mostly around her, Ryan and I speak to each other almost exclusively in French, to the amusement of a French kid who we met at a party.

Sara - assistant from New York. She is a ball of energy and lots of fun to be around. Fun fact: she was a flying carpet for Halloween as a kid, but not the one from Aladdin.

Steven - assistant from the UK, though I forget exactly where. He like pub quizzes, and comes up with team names like "Team It Takes Three Entire Weeks to Open a Bank Account in Lyon" and "Team SFR Takes A Month to Start Your New Internet Connection In Lyon" (both true, btw). One of those people who seems to know everyone, and very fun and friendly.


And now, excerpts from the past three weeks, in no particular order.

On the ninth, a week after starting work, we had our orientation. It was equal parts self-explanatory and confusing, with (on the one hand) a lot of information we'd necessarily already gotten from other sources since we were already on the job, and on the other hand tossed-off references like "oh, and of course you all know you're required to buy civil insurance, you should look into that, good luck" (not, of course, referenced in any of our paperwork or mentioned by any of our schools). On the plus side it didn't last long, and during the second half of it we met with other people who were teaching the same school levels as us to trade about lesson plans, discipline, dealing with our schools, etc. Frustratingly (for me), the woman who was facilitating decided to do it in French, although she speaks English (being an English teacher) and the orientation groups were split by language. I'm getting much much more comfortable in French, particularly with understanding, but this was a lot of detailed information that I really wanted to understand thoroughly. Fortunately, enough people started asking questions in French, gave up, and switched to English that she eventually gave up and stuck with that language.

The ideas people gave were somewhat useful, with different games we can play with the kids and stuff like that, but it turns out that almost everyone else has vastly fewer classes than I do. I have 21 different groups, and really it's closer to 30 or 35, because with several of them I'll take half the class each time-slot, meaning I'll see a particular student once every four weeks instead of every two. (Most people I've talked to have a total of 10-15 groups, so more like 20 half-groups at most.) That really makes it hard for me to see how I'm supposed to build any kind of relationship with the kids - it's hard to demonstrate consistency when seeing me is so rare that it's necessarily outside of routine. But still, at least some of the suggestions seem like they'll be useful - not least the suggestion to inform the teachers at School 2 that I'm entitled to two weeks of observation before they get to send me off by myself. (They claimed that they'd "never heard of that" and "it must be a new policy," despite it apparently having been on the books pretty much since the program was conceived. But they did finally agree.)

My favorite moment was toward the end when we got into a conversation about things that are different in the US and the UK, touched off by a reference in some of the suggested materials to "lollipop ladies." Apparently that's what they call crossing guards, because the stop signs they hold look like big lollipops. Anyway, that led to discussions of different holidays, like Thanksgiving for us or, for the British kids, Guy Fawkes Day. They explained it to us thusly:

[Explanation of the plot and how he was captured]
"Yeah, and then he was burnt on a bonfire."
"No, hung, drawn & quartered!"
"THEN burnt on a bonfire."
"And on Guy Fawkes Day all the kids go around with effigies in wheelbarrows and burn them! It's really cute!"
[American] "Yeah, that sounds . . . cute. . ."


Most of my non-working (and non-hanging-out-at-my-apartment) time lately has been spent hanging out with Ana and Ryan and co, and that has been excellent. As mentioned above, talking to Ana means speaking French, and since a) I have no choice but to speak one of my foreign languages with her and b) she's not a native speaker either, any self-consciousness disappears. I've also found that I'm much better able to understand French when spoken by native speakers of Spanish, which is useful for now but probably not great in the long run - the reason it's easier is a combination of over-pronunciation of letters that are really meant to be mostly dropped, and a word-order that's familiar to me from Spanish but not technically correct, or at least not in common use. But for now the main thing for me is just to get out and get talking, and for that it's been perfect, not to mention a lot of fun.

Also, my previous experience with tutoring ESL and with interpreting a bit for friends who aren't native to English, I seem to have a bit more of an awareness for who, at any given time, can't follow the thread of a conversation - remembering that Ana can't follow when we go into English, that some British non-assistants can't follow into French, and that most people can't come along into Spanish or German. That's not to say that I'm the only one who notices things, but I do a good amount of filling Ana in on what's going on during detours into English, which is both good practice and a lot of fun.

Being Spanish, A is also of the opinion that lunch is a Meal, for which cold sandwiches and the like are Not Appropriate. Since their place is so close to my School 1, I've gone there for lunch a few times when our schedules mesh, which has been really nice. Ana claims not to like cooking, but last time I went over she made something called "arroz a la cubana," or Cuban-style rice. It doesn't sound like something I would like at all, but it was actually really delicious, not to mention easy:

- Cook some rice.
- Put some tomato sauce in a pan and heat it until it's hot enough to boil. (She apparently normally uses straight tomato sauce, but she didn't explain when she asked me to pick some up, so I got veggie pasta sauce and it worked really well for this.) Into the hot tomato sauce, crack as many eggs as you have people. They should each be in a separate part of the pan, and if possible you shouldn't break the yolk. You can't really stir it without messing up the eggs, so she just sort of jiggled the pan every now and then to move things around slightly. Keep cooking it until the eggs are as cooked as you want them.
- Meanwhile, fry two or three bananas in butter until they're blackened and almost falling apart.
- When the eggs are done, serve everything together.

I'm not really that big on eggs and normally I hate bananas, but this was inexplicably delicious.


Another cool thing of the past week was that Steve Yang (of TJ and UVA fame) dropped by for a visit, passing through from Paris to Geneva (and points beyond). My apartment is teeny tiny (pics to follow), so Ryan and Ana and Raquel generously offered to host him for me. Highlights include a tasty dinner at a local bouchon (a type of traditional Lyonnaise restaurant), another tasty dinner at a local vegetarian place Steve had read about, and general wanderings around the city. At one point we also decided to hike up from Vieux Lyon to Fourvière (aka the Elephant). There's a funicular you can take (which wikipedia informs me is the oldest still-used funicular in the world), but we decided to walk up about a million stairs instead, which seemed like a much better decision before the skies opened. By the time we made it to the top we were thoroughly drenched, but still in pretty good spirits. As a teacher at my school pointed out to me, in winter in Lyon, warm winds bring rain and cold winds bring sun. So we might have been soaked, but at least it wasn't too freezing.

More soon. (Also, see below for another entry.)

[I actually wrote this last week, but was holding off posting it until I'd written something else, so as not to leave things on a complaining note.]

It's been an overwhelmingly good month so far, with just a few frustrations. I want to get those things out of the way so I can talk about how awesome everything is, so I suppose this will be an Entry of Complaints. It won't be too long.

By far the biggest frustration has been sorting out my apartment. Which has been kind of a saga. Here's the deal:
I spent 2-3 weeks trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to live. This included a lot of emails/phone calls/texts and a very few apartment visits. Finally I found a girl who wanted me to be her roommate! Her name is Marie and she is a 20-year-old art student. The place is tiny, but in a good location, great view, decent price, and it's not like I have much stuff, so who cares if it's not very big.
Hilariously, it was after I finally found something that it got complicated. Marie had signed a contract with the rental agency to pay the entire rent, with the understanding that when she found a roommate, she and said roommate (me) would go back in together and write two new contracts, each for half of the original amount. Problems arose when I tried to go in, because I didn't have a French guarantor. I offered first my American parents, then the LocaPass service I mentioned before, and finally to pay the entire eight months of rent in advance (I would have borrowed it from my parents and paid them each month instead of the landlord). No dice. They do have a system whereby people are allowed to pay in advance, but a) it's only for people who are staying at least twelve months and b) you pay in six-month chunks. Why would they take my word that I would pay the 2nd six-month chunk, but they won't take my word that I'll pay for eight months? I have no idea.

François (who was still putting me up through all of this) had been telling me that I needed to be patient because France can get pretty bureaucratic, and sometimes you just need to accept that things happen slowly, and look for a different solution. But when they refused even to accept my $4000 in advance - effectively cutting off the last alternative left open to people without French guarantors - he completely lost patience with how ridiculous things had gotten. He talked to his parents about it that night and they agreed to become my guarantors, which (as I mentioned before) is a hugely generous act, since in the worst case they could wind up owing a ton of money. My parents wrote them a letter to assure them that if anything were to happen they would (of course) be reimbursed immediately, but even so, I'm really really lucky to know such kind people.

Of course, that's not to say that things are actually resolved yet. Marie gave me the keys, so I moved in last weekend, but I'm still not officially on the lease. When we went over with Mme Bargel to get everything taken care of, there was a wrinkle - because Marie is getting a new contract, they're refusing to use the paperwork she and her father filled out last month - apparently they think he might refuse to guarantee her for 360€ and will insist on guaranteeing her only for 720€. Or something. Meaning she's supposed to show back up with him, despite the fact that he lives an hour+ away and works full time, and the rental agency has no late or weekend (or lunchtime) hours. So finally they agreed to mail him the contract, which he'll sign and mail to Mme Bargel, and she'll sign it and give to François who will give it to me and then Marie and I will go back to the agency and I will finally have a legal address. Well over a month after arriving. It doesn't matter much - I'm living there already, after all, and the front desk people know I live there, and I can get mail etc. But there were a few things I had to do that required addresses (most notably, opening a bank account) and I'm tired of my official mail showing up at school where I don't see it for days.


The second complaint is semi-related.
Last Saturday, having moved the night before, I decided to go shopping for a few things that I needed around the apartment. As background, something you may or may not know about me is that I really, really dislike large stores. I'm more or less okay in anything up to the size of a Target, especially if I have a list and can get in, grab what I want and get back out. Anything larger than that, like Fred Meyer, super Target/super Walmart [is that what they're called? the ones with grocery stores included], Carrefour etc begins to pose a problem I can't really explain. It's not claustrophobia, and it's not really a result of there being so many people around. It's that there's too much stuff, and finding things takes ages, and you can actually sort of get lost if you don't know your way around, and it starts to get a little overwhelming. Generally speaking this doesn't really cause me trouble - I can avoid going to those places most of the time, and when I do go it almost never takes more than 15 or 20 minutes to get what I want and leave. I grumble about it, but it's no big deal. With all that in mind, I decided to grit my teeth and go to Ikea.

Which was pretty much the worst idea I have ever had. It turns out that in Europe, Ikea's floor plan is essentially a maze. You go in the front door, and from there on there's only one path through the store, which winds through every single room. So (especially on a Saturday) you're in a crush of people, moving alternately too fast and too slow, trying to make sure you don't miss any of the things you need and trying to get past the useless crap, and where you go is almost completely out of your control. Off the top of my head, I can't remember ever having had a more thoroughly miserable shopping experience. I was fine for about twenty minutes. And then I wanted to be done. And then I needed to be done. And after two and a half hours, I was finally out of that godforsaken store. I was miserable enough that I only wound up buying about three things, partly because I (mistakenly) thought I would get out of there sooner if I got less stuff, and partly because there's no way to go back for things you've forgotten that are kept in the first part of the maze.

I have no real explanation for why it got to me as much as it did - why it went beyond frustrating to a genuine loss of composure - but I do know that I'm never setting foot back in that soul-sucking place ever ever again. Why that seems like a smart marketing strategy is utterly beyond me.

One long trans-atlantic phone call later I was fine (thank you, Google Voice), but I still don't know what I'm going to do about the rest of the things I need.

It's been a really hectic few weeks, but good. First, school stuff:

I'm on a two-week rotating schedule, which I am calling Week 1 and Week 2, because while my schools both call them weeks A and B, they are (of course) on opposite weeks. I'm pretty sure all the schools in the area begin on the same day, so I have no idea why that should be, but there it is. I don't work on Fridays, but each of the 8 days that make up my cycle is completely different. There are 4 classes that I see twice during that period (so, once per week) and there's one class that I see once, but for two hours. The rest of the hours are all different classes, and there's one block that is split over three different beginners classes, meaning I see each of those groups once every six weeks. (But of course it's not really every six weeks, because every six weeks I have two weeks of vacation.) In all, I have 21 different groups. I haven't counted the kids in each class, but most of them have pretty close to 30 kids, so I'm working with at least 500 different students. As soon as I realized that, I immediately gave up on learning any names. I'm also working with at least nine different teachers, most of whom seem to be very friendly, but none of whom really understands at all what my job entails. So it's been interesting.

I've been trying to keep detailed notes about how classes have been going and what i've been doing in each of them, because I have no earthly hope of just remembering. So far it's mostly gone well. For most of the first week the kids just asked me questions about myself, mostly the same questions as before over and over and over. My two least favorite (yet common) questions are "what do you like" and "what are you like." How am I supposed to answer that? I've also gotten "Are you greedy" at least twice, and other questions that are clearly just excuses to show off new vocab, like "Is someone in your family expecting a baby?" It leaves me with the impression that they don't think of English as just the mode Americans/Brits/etc use to express themselves, but rather the entry into a different world, in which nothing needs to actually make sense. They're not asking me questions that a normal person would ask another person to learn about them; they're just stringing together whatever they can out of the vocab they know. Sort of like magnetic poetry. I'm being unfair; I also get lots of perfectly reasonable questions. But honestly, they would never ask anyone these things in French. It sort of makes me understand a little better the explanation given as to why I meet with some of the 6ème classes (who don't really understand anything I say yet): "We just want them to realize that English-speaking people exist in the real world." Fair enough.

The whole "ask the assistant a lot of questions" thing plays out really amusingly with one of the teachers, because her strategy with the younger kids is to have them repeat things a lot, on the theory that the more you say something out loud the better you understand things. If you sort of understand something when you hear it but you don't actually get how the construction works, that becomes clear when you try to say it. So the kids get these slips of paper each class with spaces to mark their points up to 20, with 2 points for asking a question without making any grammar mistakes or for being the first person to correctly repeat something complicated or difficult that I said, and one point for repeating something correctly after the first person already did so. So in other words, every single answer I give is repeated 10 or so times as she calls on different kids. Sometimes it's fine, and sometimes it takes on an oddly mantra-like quality. "What is your name?" "My name is Rosalie." "Her name is Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie. Her name is Rosalie." "Do you like France?" "Yes, I like France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "Yes, Rosalie likes France." "What is your favorite color?" "My favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." "Her favorite color is green." I can't help laughing at it sometimes.

The upside of having so many classes is that, most of the time, I can pretty much do the same lesson (modified slightly for level) for two weeks. I'm not really that creative, and since I don't work more than four hours a day at most it doesn't really get boring, so I definitely prefer it that way. For this past week (and at least part of next week) I used a powerpoint that I put together about me, my family, DC, UVA, the work I did for Obama, and my road trips to and from Alaska. They all seemed to really enjoy it, especially the "typically American" things like my parents' house, my graduation cap and gown, and anything to do with Obama, who is kind of a rockstar here. (Any mention of his name is immediately followed by at least one adorably French-accented yell of "yes we can!") It was also pretty easy to tailor to different levels - for the younger kids it's a good excuse to practice numbers ("I have thirteen uncles, seven aunts and fifty-six cousins;" and "my grandfather is ninety-seven years old"), and with the older kids we got into a discussion about how universities are different in the US and Europe.

I'm not really sure what my next lesson plan is going to be - the only request I've had from any of the teachers is to "talk about the Pledge of Allegiance," and so far I haven't thought of much beyond "it's really pretty creepy" and "little kids don't understand what they're saying" and "I agree that it's weird it mentions God, yes we do sort of claim to be secular like France." But hopefully I'll think of something else interesting to say. Something, ideally, that does not involve them needing to understand the words "pledge," "allegiance," "indivisible" or the construction "for which." I'm sure it will be fine.

Anyway, so far most of the kids have been a lot of fun. The little ones don't speak much English at all (I mostly respond in English to their French, or the teacher translates for me) but they seem eager to learn, and the older ones are a little more jaded but much better able to communicate, so it's fairly easy to keep them entertained because we can have actual conversations. There are really only two classes I'm alarmed about. One is a 4ème (age equivalent to 8th grade) "non-Euro," so non-advanced. The teacher is actually one of my favorites so far - she made a big point of reaching out to me by email before we met, and warned me that the class was a little rough, and assured me repeatedly that I would never be sent out on my own with any who were badly behaved and that if they were bad, I could send them back and I would never have to see them again. I kind of thought she was overdoing it with the warnings - I'm not all that easily intimidated - but honestly she was actually pretty understated. The kids are completely insane. She spent at least 80% of the hour on basic behavior control, and if anything she erred on the side of ignoring things she could have responded to. There are 30 kids, and they spent the hour standing up, throwing things at each other, moving tables, kicking each others' chairs, pulling chairs away if another kid stood up so that he'd fall when he tried to sit, stealing pens/pencil cases/notebooks/anything not nailed down from each other, making short hooting sounds every time the teacher's back was turned, and just generally being completely out of control. Even the kids who wanted to participate in the lesson were awful, with several of them whining if she didn't call on them every single time they raised their hand or shouting "moi! moi! moi!" ("me! me! me!") when they wanted to be called on. Fortunately for me, none of this is my problem - my job was to answer the questions they asked me, and not to speak when the kids were too loud for my answers to be heard, and to let the teacher deal with all behavior issues. So I left the class a bit shocked, but not in bad spirits. The teacher and I decided that at the beginning I'm only going to take four or five of these kids at a time (I'm allowed to take up to half the class), and I think that should be pretty manageable. But Jesus.

As a side note, the way that class spoke to me has made me really wonder about the relative courtesy implied in different French question constructions. When I first showed up outside the classroom, one of the kids said "vous êtes qui?" ("who are you?" or, literally, "you are who?"). That inverted form of question is pretty common, and I've noticed it most often with "where" questions like "tu viens d'où?" ("you're from where?") and "t'habites où?" ("you live where?"). I really need to actually ask someone who speaks good French about this, because as an English speaker, I am having a hard time shaking the sense that there is some sort of rudeness or almost snideness about this form. In other words, I tend to hear it as "and you're from where, exactly?" Which is probably not fair. It's probably fine. But still, "vous êtes qui?" set my teeth a bit on edge. It sounds not so much like "who are you?" as "who are you?"

The other class I'm worried about is the equivalent 3ème, which is the kids who were in the above class last year. I was supposed to see them on Wednesday, but the teacher emailed me to ask if I could skip that class this week and come to her next class instead. She showed up to that class a minute or two late - because her previous class, the one I'm supposed to have but haven't met, had made her cry. (In fairness, as she herself pointed out, she's pregnant and therefore not particularly difficult to make cry at the moment. But still!) So that'll be interesting. Though if they're really that bad, there's a chance she can decide that I just won't see them at all, and I'll meet with the later class as a permanent schedule change. Which classes I see are completely up to the teacher, which means I don't deal with most of the rough stuff. But yeah, still really not sure what to expect from that.

Anyway, the above notwithstanding, things are generally going very well at school. All of the staff and teachers have been really friendly and helpful, and the kids really do seem to have fun talking to me and get excited about the chance to speak real English to a real American, and even when things don't go perfectly, I never work for more than four hours at a time.

Have to run now, but a post about non-school things is soon to come. For now, two pictures:

Really, English textbook? Really?

Well-meaning teacher could not understand why I saw this and just started laughing. "Let's all draw Rosalie's family tree" might not be the best easy activity for my little 6ème kids.

Ack, I am terrible. I'm on my way out the door right now, but tomorrow is my day off, so I will definitely post.

In brief: school is going almost all really well with a couple spots of scary; I am in my new apartment but not officially; the Bargels are unreasonably kind to me; it's cold now; I continue to be very happy.

More soon, promise.

Today was the first day at my 2nd school, and if anything it was more chaotic than before. I finally got my class schedule yesterday, and it's different alternating weeks. The teacher I've been emailing with asked me to come in at 9a, before my classes, to meet the principal. So I dutifully turned up at 9a, to the confusion (and pity) of the very kind secretary, who informed me that he wouldn't be in for some time. In the meanwhile I got my keys (which, if I understood correctly, are for the only part of the school I don't have classes in?) and got a lunch card made for the cafeteria. Eventually the principal, who wasn't expecting me, came and said "Oh hi, you're the new English assistant? Great!" and left. That was it.

At 10a I went to the room indicated on my schedule, only to be met by a baffled art teacher who told me I was in the wrong place and took me to the nearest available English teacher. Evidently this is Week B, meaning I'd missed my 9a class while waiting for the absent principal (though no one seemed to mind this?) and had nothing further to do until 11a. Most weeks I'll have a 3h gap between the 11a-noon class and a 3-4p class, but that teacher wasn't ready for me, so I could go home early.

Thinking that now I'd be able to go to the rental agency, I decided to make use of the hour of waiting by making photocopies of some of the documents they require. With that in mind, I went and asked the secretary to show me what to do. She sent me to the other secretary for the access code, who told her officemate to get it for me, and off I went. Two minutes later, when I came back to ask why it didn't seem to work, she gave me a funny look and said it wasn't for the copy machine right in front of her office; it was for the teachers' copy machine, upstairs. That machine accepted the code, but I couldn't seem to convince it to actually copy anything for me. After two minutes of poking about randomly, it spit out - and I am not making this up - a page of the sheet music for "Summertime," from Porgy and Bess. By then I was starting to attract stares from the other teachers, so I pretended that this was exactly what I'd been after all along, and fled.

Class, when it finally happened, did not go as well as I could have hoped. They were (I'm seeing in retrospect) 3rd-Euro, so the oldest and also most advanced class I'll have - not to mention the only one at either school that I'll see every week instead of every other. The format of the class was exactly the same as at the other school, with me up front answering questions, but with a key difference: the teacher wasn't there. She split the class into two groups of 15 and sent me into another room with half the kids, and after half an hour we switched. It wasn't awful, but it really, really wasn't good. I have had not a single minute of any kind of teacher's training, and I have no strategies for getting 14-year-olds to do what they've been told to do in the absence of a "real" teacher. Most of them didn't really bother asking questions; they just talked to each other (in French) so loudly that I couldn't hear anyone who actually was trying to talk to me. They didn't seem to dislike me, and didn't ignore me altogether - most of them did ask at least one question, and laughed at funny answers - but they just would not stop talking to the kids around them, for a cumulative effect of not even being able to hear me borderline-shouting asking them to keep it down.

Which sucks. Because, from what I can tell, I'm not going to get any training. I don't particularly want to resort to threats, but even if I did, I have no idea how their discipline system works so I wouldn't know what to say. And I have no real sense of what level of nonsense is acceptable in French classrooms, anyway. It's frustrating mostly because the times I'm with them are supposed to be cool and fun, a chance for them to do something other than copy things down from the blackboard and do textbook exercises, so I really don't want to have to be strict. And as a kid I never had much respect for strict teachers anyway; bullies are bullies regardless of the age differential. But I'm really not sure what direction to take this in.

After the class was over, the teacher asked me what I thought. I said that their questions were good (which was largely true) but that they were really loud. Since we were in different halves of the same divided trailer, I had assumed she'd heard the noise and how loudly I kept having to talk to be heard at all, but apparently not . . . she looked really surprised and said asked which group, and got a very determined look on her face when I said both. So maybe she'll take care of that for me, at least to some extent - I'm not really sure. She didn't offer any strategies, but she was running out the door. So we'll see, I guess.

Eventually I managed to get some non-musical copies made, and headed out to the leasing agency to try and negotiate some sort of compromise between their requirements and what I can actually provide. They want French bank account info, 3 previous pay stubs, and a solvent French person to act as my guarantor. I have none of these. I have American bank info, but you can't open a French bank account without proof of address, and I don't have an address, which is why I need an apartment. Without a bank account I can't get paid once (let alone three times), and anyway I don't get my first check for weeks if not months. The closest thing I have is a completly unofficial scrap of paper that says "you'll take home about 780€" down at the bottom. And in place of a guarantor I have LocaPass, a French governmental program whose specific purpose is to act as a guarantor to foreigners, young people and others without anyone French to do it for them. If I default, the government reimburses the rental agency for my unpaid rent. Acceptance of LocaPass in lieu of a guarantor is required by law.

I still have no idea whether my first and second substitutions are acceptable (or if they're not, what would be) because, in point of fact, the LocaPass-acceptance law is considered quaint and adorable by virtually all rental agencies, and is thus flagrantly violated. I'm not really sure why - it seems like a promise from the government to pay would be worth more than a promise from some random person, but I think it might have to do with the fact that the government makes you process a bunch of paperwork to file the claim. Anyway, back to the drawing board for the moment. I've got at least until Thursday (when hopefully-soon-to-be-roommate gets back into town) to come up with something. The Bargels are out of the running because they're already doing it for all three of their children. Tomorrow I'm going to ask for advice at my main school, and if that's no good I'm going to stop by UVA's study-abroad office at Université Lyon 2 and see what they suggest to the study abroad kids (who also have to find their own housing). The woman who works there apparently spends a lot of her time sorting out housing issues, so if nothing else maybe she can bully the rental agency into, you know, following the law. If that doesn't work, maybe future-roommate's parents can be convinced to guarantee me as well as her, and if that falls through I guess I'll start looking for another apartment. But hopefully it won't come to that. This all seems really silly because, regardless of what goes on the form, my parents are obviously the ones who would actually pay if something went wrong and I couldn't, so I don't need anyone to actually take on the responsibility of agreeing to pay my rent. I just need a name for a paper. . . but it's a scary paper that apparently says that if I stop paying rent without warning, the guarantor can be liable for three entire years' worth of rent (regardless of the fact that my lease isn't going to run past May). So I can understand people not wanting to be on the hook for something in the neighborhood of 13,000€. But still.

Anyway, hopefully that will all get sorted out soon. Tomorrow is back to School 1, so I'm hoping it will go as well as it did on Thursday.

And now, sleep.

Friday night was excellent. Someone had suggested on the Lyon language assistants facebook group that we meet up, but I don't think anyone was expecting the turnout that we actually got - over 60 of us eventually, I think, representing at least three different languages. We ended up going to a cafe/bar next to the Cathedral St Jean, where they actually managed to accommodate us all (though we had to sit outside, which got chilly).

A couple days ago Hannah introduced me to the Spanish assistant at her school, whose name is Ana (which leads to some amusement, because French people don't pronounce the letter H, so 'Annah and Ana are pronounced exactly the same). Hanging out with her is fun, partly because she's really sweet and partly because, since she doesn't speak any English, when she's around we speak French. So our little table of five or so wound up pretty much the only group out of all 60 that wasn't speaking either English or German. Very cool. I'm getting way better at speaking, now, which is really encouraging. I still only really use it when I don't have any choice, but speaking at all in those situations is a big step up.

It was also the first time I met any of Hannah's fellow German assistants, so I had fun talking to them a little in German as well. I don't have any trouble switching gears when it comes to understanding things people say in my various languages, but switching gears to actually talk is somewhat problematic. Fun, though, and there was a lot of laughing and general good times. Eventually we decided to go pick up some wine and head down to the river (we always do seem to end up there, but it's so pretty). A couple of French kids had turned up by then (friends of friends of someone, I think), so they decided to show us the best/cheapest place to go in the city . . . which turned out to be the same place I'd gone with Hannah and Jack last week. I had fun chatting a bit with a French guy named James, who is a liar for telling me my French is good, but that's okay. Funny moment when he introduced himself, because James is in no way a French name, and can only sort of be pronounced in anything like a French way. So one of the other assistants said something like "James? And you're French?" He replied (in French) "Okay fine, so I was born in England. But I didn't want to tell you because now you'll think I speak English and I don't! I moved when I was three! Please don't speak English to me!!"

I had to leave early to catch the last métro. Have I mentioned that the transit system here stops running at midnight? And that there are no extended weekend hours? As far as I can tell, once it gets later than that people just bike home. There's a bike-share program in the city called Velo'v, so that when you have a transit card (which I'll get soon) you can check out one of the city bikes and ride it free for the first hour, and for pretty cheap after that. Lyon's tiny, so there's no way it takes an hour to get from anywhere to anywhere else, so it's a pretty good deal. The downsides are that you have to ride in the street (scary!) or risk a fine; that half the time the rack is empty at your starting point and full at your destination (so you have to ride around til you find a rack with a space); and that, in France, bike helmets are apparently exclusively for kids. I have yet to see a teenager/adolescent wear one at all. But overall it's a pretty good deal. And anyway, once I move into my new place I'll be much more central, and I've even heard rumors of a night bus in that area. We'll see.

The theme of this past week has been overwhelming gratitude that I am not, in any way either mental or physical, in the same place as I was this time last year. The weather here is warm and beautiful, the people are friendly, I'm relaxed and have a job that makes people happy, there are no moose and no bears, I don't have to make any telephone calls, I get to sleep pretty much all I want, no one yells at me, my goals aren't physically impossible, it's nowhere near snowing, and I'm not in a constant state of exhaustion and only borderline functionality. I'm not in Alaska, in other words, and I never have to go to Alaska again. And that's a beautiful thing.


Now, pictures!

Ana and me. :)

Me, Hannah, and delicious kebab.

This is, hands down, the worst beer I have ever tasted. Undrinkably bad. Photographed as a reminder to myself and others never to buy it again.

Enormous mound of shoes! I have no idea why.

You might have thought it was. Don't be fooled.

I have no idea what this is or used to be. It's hidden away in a park up near the basilica Elephant.

Grapes (I think) at the Roman ruins.

Adam, this one is for you.

Cool fountain. I don't know what kind of ivy it is that comes in variegated colors like that, but I've always liked it.

Green space in Vieux Lyon, on a steep slope.

I don't know how this happened. It's weird to see concrete broken in that way. It looks like styrofoam.

I really like this shot. The bigger version works a lot better, so click for that.

That's it for now.

The highlight of last weekend was going out for drinks with François and his native-speaker-fluent trilingual friend Carlos, who I've been hearing about for a while. We went to a little place a few blocks from Bellecour, where we were eventually met by their friends Marta (Spanish) and Roberto (Panamanian) and Carlos' roommate Ian (Canadian). It turns out I'm much better at understanding French when it's spoken with a Spanish accent, unsurprisingly - the extra enunciation helps a lot, not to mention the fact that non-native speakers talk much more slowly. Anyway, it was a solidly good night full of French and Spanish and English and a lot of laughing.

On Sunday François' sister Sophie and her boyfriend were in town for the day (after taking Anaïs to Nice watch American wrestling??), so we went to the Bargels' for the afternoon. It was really good to see her again after two years. I didn't talk to her boyfriend (Matthew?) much, but she seemed so happy I have to assume he's pretty great. She's planning to visit for a few days sometime this month, so I should get to see her more soon. Excellent.

Most of the week was taken up with apartment-hunting, and (that being largely an online affair) was somewhat boring. I did manage to make it up to the area around Fourvière (skipped the cathedral itself - I went in '07 and wasn't really in the mood for churches) and to the amphitheatre, so that was nice. The amphitheatre was built by the Romans and, while largely a ruins, is still used today for outdoor rock concerts and the like. Pretty cool.

One night (I forget which) François' friend Julie came over for dinner, which was really fun. I met her when I was here before, and this time was a reprise: lots of smiling and fun conversation, with her side conducted entirely in French and mine in English. I made fried potatoes with zucchini and peppers (easy, a staple) and they both repeated how good it was enough times that I almost started to wonder if they were teasing me. Sure, it was tasty, but not exactly exciting or special. . . Anyway, she's a primary school teacher now, so we talked about that for a bit and she helped me figure out my vacation schedule. Of the 212 days that I'm employed here (Oct 1-April 30), I am evidently expected to turn up for work a whopping 90 times. That's it. Partly that's due to my teachers having kindly scheduled me for four-day weeks, but largely it's due to the pattern of 6 weeks of classes, 2 weeks of vacation, 6 weeks of classes, 2 weeks of vacation, repeat. Crazy. (This isn't unique to schools, incidentally - if I were working Fridays, I would be working about the same proportion of days as everyone else. From what I've read, French people work an average of about 192 7-hour days per year, which makes 13 or 14 weeks off.)


Thursday was my first day of school, which I think went really well. There was something of a botch when one of the teachers had given me what she thought was a copy of my schedule but which turned out really to be a list of all the English classes being held, so I wound up starting the day with the wrong class and generally throwing things off. But no one seemed to mind too much, and anyway the original schedule has since been scrapped in favor of something I'm not sure about yet, so it's not as if there was much of a routine set up for me to get into.

There are four English teachers, three of whom are French and one of whom is from LA. The kids range in age from about 10 to 15, and are split into "Euro" and regular classes. Euro is, as far as I can tell, roughly analogous to GT - the kids are supposed to be learning more advanced material, and as part of that they start taking English at a younger age and (I think) start learning their third language sooner as well. (Note: Grades in France run backwards, such that you start middle school in 6th and finish in 3rd, with your third and final year of high school being 1st. Don't ask me.) In terms of English proficiency, the kids I've met so far range from absolute beginners who are learning to count to ten, to able to ask and answer questions in English if they aren't too complicated. But the kids I've met so far who were able to speak the best were (if I understood correctly) Euro-6th, and I'll also have Euro-3rd at some future point, so presumably I haven't met the kids who are best at English yet.

So basically Thursday was three or so hours split across five classes, being asked questions (in English or French depending on level) and largely repeating the same information:

My name is Rosalie. I am 23 years old. I am from Washington. Yes, that really really means I am American [this information was greeted with the widest of eyes]. I also speak German, Spanish, and [gesturing] a liiiiittle bit of French [laughter]. No, I am not married. No, I do not have any children (in that order, both times). I have no brothers and one sister. Her name is Sarah. She lives in Philadelphia. She is 27. My parents live in Virginia. No, I do not have any pets. No, I do not know any stars. Yes, Barack Obama lives in Washington. No, I have not met. My hobbies are cooking, listening to music and traveling. I have been to Peru, Alaska, across the United States, and Europe. My favorite color is green. Yes, I like France. Yes, I live in Lyon now. Yes, I like French food. Yes, I like to watch "football." No, I do not play any sports. I do not have a favorite music group. My favorite movie is The Incredibles [not really, but it was the first thing I could think of - F and I watched it in French the other night]. Yes, I like Harry Potter. Yes, I like Bob Marley. Yes, I like the Beatles. Yes, I have visited Paris. I think Lyon is prettier, but Washington has my family and friends, so I don't know which one is my favorite. Yes, I have been to New York. Yes, I have seen the Statue of Liberty.

And this just to the Euro-6th, who understood enough to be told that I had worked "for Obama" [simpler to explain] in Alaska:
My job was to call a lot of people and say, "Please vote for Barack Obama." Then I knocked on doors [pantomime] and said," "Please vote for Barack Obama." No, most people in Alaska did not vote for him. Why? Um, it's complicated. Yes, Alaska is very cold.

I had a lot of fun with it, actually, especially given that I didn't have to plan for it at all - I mostly just fielded questions they threw at me, and when they ran out, asked them where I should go in Lyon. Apparently there is a Miniatures Museum that is very, very exciting. Also, the zoo. Also, the soccer stadium. Also, the mall.

Funny moment was when one of the girls asked if I had kids, not long after I had said I was 23. Several other kids laughed at her, so she turns around and says (in French) "What?! 23 isn't young!" Yes it is, you take that back right now! [I pretended not to have heard.]

It still isn't clear what I'll be doing once things get more settled. I think it will vary class to class. At least one teacher wants me to run some mini oral exams with them, which worries me slightly because it sounds like I would be grading them, which I'm wary of. I can also give presentations on whatever I want (DC, holidays, my hobbies, whatever) and show pictures and stuff, pretty much anything to get them talking. I'm not sure what I'll do with the kids at the most basic level, but I'm sure the teachers will have some ideas about that.

I spent a while this morning going through my photos for some that would be good to show, and I've got a good few, but I'm definitely open to suggestion on things that 10 to 15 year olds would like learning/talking about.


Yesterday's big excitement was finally finding an apartment! I'm really excited. Bullet points:
- Roommate, Marie, seems really friendly. She's French and an art student, non-smoking, no pets, speaks reasonably good English which she's excited to practice and therefore understands that I also want to practice French. I'm going to see if we can work out some sort of alternating-language-days situation. She also doesn't care if I have friends come to stay - actually, her reaction was "I would love to meet your friends! Tell me if you want me to stay somewhere else when they visit." No, I am not going to kick you out of your own apartment, but thanks for the offer?
- The building is not even a full block away from the metro. Seven minutes from the downtown spot where I usually meet up with friends, and 30 minutes or so to school, which is no problem.
- It's on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view.
- It's tiiiiiny, but so what? It's not like I have much stuff. The layout is a little strange - there's one bedroom, and one bedroom-by-night, living-room-by-day. I prefer the privacy, but she prefers the larger room, so that works out perfectly. I'll have to go through her room to get to the "kitchen" (mini-fridge and 2 burners, no oven) but not to get to the bathroom or front door, so that sounds fine.
- It's furnished. Yessss.
- There's a balcony!
- I'll actually be on the lease rather than subletting, which means that I can apply for a low-income housing subsidy which should cover somewhere between 20-40% of the rent. I'm not making much, so that will help hugely.
- There's a grocery store and a lot of little cafes really nearby, including at least 2 kebab shops (huge plus). It's a student area and seems pretty vibrant and (as far as I could tell during the day, anyway) safe. (I haven't heard anything bad about the area during the past 24h of telling people, either, so I think that's a solid assessment.)
- Hannah lives right nearby! I didn't find that out til after, but it makes me happy.

So yeah, that sounds like a win all around, especially since rent (before the subsidy) should come to less than 400€ even after expenses. I'm really pleased - not to mention relieved to have finally found something. :)

Next post: Awesome Friday night, and some pictures.

Yesterday and the weekend were good. More on that soon. For now, three things:

1) I either have a cold whose only symptom is a completely unreasonable amount of sneezing (no fever, headache, sore throat etc) or a rather severe and Claritin-resistant allergy to Lyon.
2) I did not get the aforementioned apartment, and have no immediately promising leads.
3) The above notwithstanding, I'm still in a solidly good mood.

And now, early bedtime.

On Thursday I went to visit my schools. I hadn't been able to get in touch with anyone before - the email address I got for one of the schools was apparently defunct, and I wasn't given anything for the second. I had phone numbers, but I'm totally at sea here when I can't avail myself of gestures and facial expressions, so I was pretty sure it would cause more confusion than enlightenment.

Getting there was kind of an adventure. Thursday was day 1 of a somewhat open-ended transit strike here, but I decided to brave it and set out anyway. It's not a full strike - apparently not everyone is part of the union, so about half the buses run and a few of the métro lines, but everything is less frequent and hugely crowded. Everything, that is, except the métro line I take: it runs exactly the same as always, for the simple reason that it has no drivers at all. That one line, and none of the others, is completely automated and doesn't even have transit employees on board as a backup plan. After DC's summer disaster this leaves me somewhat nervous, but the métro here is in much, much better repair, so it's probably fine. I guess. I don't have much choice anyway, so I'm not thinking about it too much.

To get to my schools from here I take a métro and a bus, and the bus was totally insane. To have fit any more people, some of them would have had to be crowd-surfing. On the plus side, they had just given up and turned off the ticket-taking machines, so I've been riding free for the past four days. I have no idea how long things will go on like that - apparently they're threatening to strike for 99 days, and although the strikers probably can't afford to stay completely home during that whole time, I've been told that their phase 2 consists of working half days, and staying home during rush hours for maximum inconvenience. Weirdly, no one I've talked to seems to have any idea what the strikers are demanding - if I understand correctly, the discussions happen behind closed doors, so all the public really knows is whether there are strikes or not. And of course, during the strike the schedule of what runs and when changes every single day, so you just have to check the transit site and cross your fingers that your bus isn't canceled for the day.

Eventually I made it to my main school, and wandered around until I found someone to introduce myself to. She took me to the main secretary, who is really sweet and has a great smile and spoke to me slowly and gave me some papers to fill out while she went to look for one of the English teachers. I can't remember her last name - I have it written down somewhere - but I think her first name is Patricia. Conversation moved pretty fluidly in and out of French and English, but I followed most of it pretty well. She seemed really happy to meet me and she showed me all around the school and showed me some of the powerpoint things previous assistants have done. My first day is Thursday, so earlier in the week she'll work with the kids so they have questions to ask me on the first day, about where I'm from and my hobbies etc. So that should be pretty easy and non-stressful. It sounds like there are four English teachers, so I guess I'll meet the rest sometime this week or next. I was hoping that the school had another assistant or two assigned for the other languages, but apparently I'm the only one. Still, it seems like it should work pretty well, especially if the rest of the teachers are anywhere near as nice as they ones I met.

Afterward I walked over to my 2nd school, which is about half an hour's walk away (there are buses, but it didn't seem worth it to fight my way onto one). This was a less successful visit - one English teacher was rushing out the door, and it seemed from the schedule that the one I really needed to meet had a free period, but when I went by to say hi she had a class. I left my email address with the secretary (who was just as friendly as the other and gave me a big packet of information with my name on it, so she did know who I was) but I haven't heard anything yet. Since it's not my main school, I have no idea how I'm supposed to find out when to go there - the only official instructions I've had are to turn up at my main school at 9a on October 1st, so maybe they'll have my 2nd school's schedule ready for me then, too. I can hope.

I had originally planned to meet up with a couple other assistants from the UK in the afternoon, but was foiled by the strike. My bus out to the schools left right when I expected, but that was apparently just a ploy to lull me into a false sense of security. The bus back to the city center is supposed to run every 8 minutes, but I knew things were off-kilter, so it wasn't really until 45 minutes in - when I saw the third bus pass by in the opposite direction - that I really started to get concerned. Surely they wouldn't run a bus in one direction only and just strand people, right? Right??

Well, right. It did come eventually. I managed to get the last open seat, and two stops past where I got on it was, once again, so full that they just started passing by people waiting to get on. That has to be infuriating, to wait 45 min for a bus that doesn't even stop for you. Hopefully this will end before too long. In the meantime, I seem to be less frustrated about the whole thing than most people - partly because I'm lucky enough not to have anywhere urgent to be just yet, but also because I don't mind long walks to get places. I'm getting to know the city better than I otherwise would, which I appreciate right now. I'm hoping to more or less know my way around by the time it gets cold and I'm in less of a mood to explore.

By the time I made it back downtown I was pretty hungry, so I decided to grab a "sandwich kebab" (also known in Germany as Döner). As far as I can tell, the US is the only place where "kebab" is short for "shish kebab," small pieces of meat and/or veggies on a stick. Everywhere else, kebab is meat shaved off of a huge upright cone of meat with a metal pole through the middle, which turns slowly in front of a heating element, like so (picture is not mine):

You eat it in a sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes and sauce. It's kind of like a gyro, but for some reason that entirely escapes me, it's so much better. I've never had anything like it in the States and it's definitely on my list of top 10 things that are awesome about living in Europe. Side benefits are the fact that it's cheaper than any other food, kebab shops are on every corner, and they're open longer than other restaurants. All of which might help explain why I've been eating them all the time, as in sometimes more than once a day. (That having been said, I've been having mine "sans sauce" for the simple reason that I have no idea what any of the sauces are. Now that I've finally learned the French word for "spicy" and can thus ensure that I get something that isn't, I'll probably start trying them. The names are mostly in Turkish or Arabic, except one: "sauce blanche," or "white sauce." Descriptive, that.)


Friday was more apartment-hunting, and I might actually have found something. I'm going to visit it tomorrow, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, but it really would be perfect if it worked out. More on that later, hopefully. In the afternoon I walked over to check out its neighborhood, which is pretty nice and also right in front of a park. You have to climb a pretty steep hill, but then there are really good views. I took some pictures. (Click on them to see bigger versions.)

My new camera doesn't tell me when I've taken a blurry picture, which is a shame. Even so, I love this shot. A courtyard a few blocks away from the park.

View of the city from the top of the park.

View in a different direction. I kind of like that it's just hewn out of rock.

Apparently it has been illegal to throw projectiles onto the lower properties since March 2, 1874.

Afterward I walked over to the opera building to meet up with Hannah and Jack. After wandering around for a bit (that area of town has a truly epic number of kebab shops per capita), we wound up heading back to the same place as before on the banks of the Rhône.

But this time, I saw the elephant! In case you didn't get it before, here is a terrible explanatory drawing:

(Drinking and discussing elephants led to an attempted explanation of "seeing pink elephants," so pink seemed appropriate.) By the end of the evening Hannah was able to see it too, but Jack is still in a benighted state of elephant-denial. He'll come round eventually.

It's late, so that's it for now. Hopefully by the next time I write, I'll have a place to call home. :)