Oh the Pain!

Things continue to go well. The weather is crap though. I’ve been waiting for a sunny day to go and take pictures of the town to post, but that may just never happen. It was sunny and warm everyday we were in Paris and the first day I got here it was gray and cold and rainy and it has stayed that way since. There are definitely enough cheery people to make up for it though.

I’ve been able to explore the town quite a bit in all my free time, and it seems pretty nice. If you talk to anyone here, they’ll tell you how ugly it is since everything was rebuilt after the war, and it’s true that it’s not one of those medieval French villages you see in postcards, but I don’t really mind. Plus, even though it may not look like a postcard French town, it definitely smells like one. You cannot go anywhere in this town without being a matter of feet away from a bakery. There are literally three within a minute walk from where I live. And when the wind blows in the right direction, it smells like croissants. It’s even better than malt-o-meal.

So far, it’s just me and a British guy named Alex at the internat. Despite the fact that I’m a little bitter he’s not Scottish, and my jealousy of his flawless French, he has turned out to be very nice. He has informed me that the two other assistants who will be living with us arrive tomorrow (another American—from New Jersey—and a German) and we’re both very excited to be one big happy family. Hopefully.

We went to the local cinema last night (there are actually two right next to each other) and saw Wallstreet: Money Never Sleeps. Sadly, it was dubbed which I absolutely hate but got used to after a while. It probably wasn’t the best movie to watch to gauge my comprehension though, since I probably couldn’t have followed a lot of the money talk anyhow. I’ll have to go so Eat Pray Love or something and see how that goes. The theatre here is weird. It has five or six screens but ALL of the movies play at the same times. 12:15 or 8:45.

Sad realization of the day: black beans do not exist in Europe. We went to the giant supermarket today and I found the bean aisle and looked and looked and, nada. I asked Alex about them and he didn’t know what they were (“describe them” “They’re beans, and they’re black”). Kind of a bummer. I bought red beans instead. I think things will be ok. We also bought some horse meat which we’re planning on trying tonight (so that the other assistants don’t judge us). When in Rome…

It Begins

This time it’s actually happening. Those who are not familiar with my unsuccessful attempt at blogging last year can witness my failure for themselves at www.weismanoncampus.blogspot.com But, in writing these words, I am breaking the curse! (I actually refused to have a blog about this year unless I could think of a catchy phrase/pun for the title. So you all have Johanna to thank for this being in existence, as she is the one who thought of it. She first suggested Live and Let St. Die, but I thought this one made a little more sense)

So, brief summary of what this blog is about: I’m Julia (I’m sure anyone who would possibly be reading this is aware of that though). My first year out of college (shout out to Carleton), I’m trying to prove that my major in French was not in vain, and so I’m living and working in France as an English language assistant. I’m living in a small town in north eastern France called St. Dié, hence the title of the blog (mini French lesson: if a letter is capitalized, it doesn’t need an accent, so I’m not even cheating).

Before arriving here though, I spent a week traveling with Johanna (Pictured). Our first stop was Reykjavik Iceland, which…was….AWESOME. We saw geysers, we ate fermented shark (who’s eating who now jaws?!) and submerged ourselves in the eerily blue, geothermally-heated waters of the blue lagoon (Which consequently turned our hair into straw—Johanna’s main talking point for the rest of the trip). But we do feel ten years younger as advertised.

Then it was on to Paris France which is soo beautiful but frustratingly not up-to-date with modern conveniences like elevators/escalators. Lugging a year’s worth of clothes, etc up and down in the metro was not fun to say the least, but I did get some help from some friendly Parisians and eventually got everything stowed safely in the hotel room, resolved to take a taxi the next time.

Paris was Paris. I feel like I don’t have much original to say. We laughed, we cried…

Finally…I got to St. Dié, and was greeted by two smiling faces: Edith who is in charge of languages in the general area, and Bertrand who is in charge of the elementary schools in St. Dié. I’d had some email contact with Edith, so I knew she was friendly, but both Edith and Bertrand exceeded expectations in kindness and helpfulness. They took me to the high school and introduced me to the person I’ll be paying each month and then we all went to see the room where I’ll be living. It’s pretty much a dorm owned by the high school that’s across the street from the school itself. Nothing special, but it was pretty much what I expected. Edith, however, was not having any of it and she kept on telling me that if I didn’t like it I could find somewhere else. I told her I was used to dorm rooms and was fine, but she and Bertrand basically took it upon themselves to make the room more livable. So apparently Bertrand is bringing me an armchair and Edith is bringing me drapes and new sheets. Maybe more, who knows. (Later in the day, she took me food shopping and insisted on buying me chocolate and flowers for the room. I told her she was being too nice but she insisted that it was normal. I still don’t really think it’s normal) She and Bertrand also insisted on taking me to the bank and helped me set up an account which I was happy about because the lady at the bank spoke fast.

In general, the whole they-speak-a-different-language-here thing is going pretty well. I think. I can pretty much understand everything addressed directly at me, but when I try to follow a conversation I’m not a part of, I just pick up bits and pieces. Everyone here though seems to be very impressed. Edith called my French impeccable (clearly not true) and others have said that I’m better than other assistants in the past. I’m pretty sure it’s only because I don’t have an atrocious American accent. (Accents do make a tremendous difference. The biggest problem I’ve had so far was understanding French people trying to speak English. My landlord-of-sorts started talking about Beacon Hill when he learned I was from Boston but it took me waaay too long—he had to start describing John Kerry—to figure out what he was saying. Baconal. Something like that)

Edith and Bertrand keep talking about past assistants. Mostly positively and others kind of slyly insulting. It’s making me really nervous. I feel like I have a lot to live up.

Oh god, I just realized how long this post is. Yikes.