In the midst of my wall-baring I heard a knock at the door and it was Bertrand inviting me to lunch with him and the others from the inspection (minus the one crazy mean lady who they all trash-talked almost the entire time). It was a good meal in a nice terrace setting on a beautiful day with good company. So basically, it was great. I got to talk to and learn more about the others who before I’d had very limited encounters with. Example: the tech guy for the schools used to be one of the top ten tennis players in all of France. But then he hurt his shoulder and ended up as the tech guy for St. Dié. Whomp whomp….
Later Friday night I was whisked over to Benoit’s house for a party for all the teachers at my Thursday school. Everyone was in a good mood since school had just ended and the beer and wine was flowing. One of teachers there loved the fact that I loved French cheese (it had been a common conversation topic between us throughout the year) and she took the party as an opportunity to just PLY me with fromage. When she came around with the plate, she asked me what kind I wanted and when I replied she just said “Naah, you’re leaving soon, you should have some of each” to which I did not refuse. But then she gave me about a kilo of each kind. It was wonderful and terrible at the same time.
I caused quite a stir in presenting my contribution to the food spread: zucchini bread. There was a lot of skepticism and some people thought that I had mixed up the French word for zucchini with some more dessert-suitable term but I was adamant that, no I was not making a mistake and yes, there were vegetables in the cake. When some of them finally got up the nerve to taste it, they were big fans and pretty soon everyone joined in so ultimately the American dessert stood it’s ground among it’s French counterparts
After dessert I was handed a collective card/gift from all the teachers. It was a necklace and it happened to go PERFECTLY with what I was wearing, which made me vaguely suspicious that one of them had snuck out during the party to buy it. But I didn’t notice anyone sneak out and I don’t know what store would have been open at that hour, so I guess I can conclude that either they got lucky or that I’m really predictable. Either way, it was a lovely gift and I was touched.
Over the weekend, I picked up where I’d left off in the cleaning/packing process and by Sunday evening I was essentially all packed. This was when I was whisked off to Pascale’s house for a big French dinner (foie gras included, yum!) with Alex and Pascale’s family. Alex and I both slept over at Pascale’s Sunday night so that we could all set off together the next morning for…paragliding! We drove to a town called Gerardmer to meet up with the paragliders who then told us that weather conditions were better at the other location so we followed them in our car to a mountain in Alsace called le Markstein (which is funny/hard to say with a French accent). Then we buckled in to our parachutes, got a little mini-lesson on takeoff and landing and pretty soon, we were flying! It was absolutely amazing. Perched in my little seat, I floated, feet dangling, high above the Vosges. I couldn’t possibly imagine a better send off than that.
And then it was over! A train, a shuttle bus, another train, another shuttle, a night in the airport and two flights later, I planted my feet on US soil. Mission accomplie.
All in all, I’m really happy with my year in St. Dié. I liked spotting familiar faces around town, having a “usual” order at the café and the other little things that mark having really lived somewhere. And of course, the teaching. There were good days and bad days, but I look back upon the whole experience fondly. I had a lot of fun and hopefully helped some young minds grow a little bit, or if not, at least inspired them to go hunt leprechauns.
FIN
