Le Château de Versailles

The Versailles Palace

After two weeks in this whirlwind of a city, Lindsay and I were ready to get out of town for a day. We hopped on our local metro, got lost in a huge transfer station, and finally ran up to a train platform moments before it pulled away. After we were in full motion, I had the brilliant idea of asking someone near me if we were even on the right train. Luckily, we were. Phew! 

A mere 20 minutes later, we pulled up to the Versailles-Chantier train station, which happens to be another 20 minute walk from the actual palace. During our journey, we made a couple wrong turns and ended up in a small square of restaurants. Even though we were two hours behind schedule, our rumbly bellies told us it was time to eat. Actually, we happened to be standing in front of a small joint called "Japan Sushi," so we figured what would be cooler than eating Japanese in France. Well, there is probably a lot of things cooler, but it was still worth the experience, especially for our hungry stomachs.

Once again, the language barrier made ordering a bit difficult. The authentic Japanese experience came with a waitress who seemed to be of Japanese origin, probably speaking some type of broken French. She's then paired with us English speakers, also trying to speak some type of broken French. In the end, we reverted to the old point and nod method. Surrounded by beautiful flowers and a cobblestone street, we remained immersed in the beauty of France while enjoying our asian snack.

Enjoying a quick lunch at Japan Sushi. 

After filling up on raw fish and miso soup, we continued our journey towards the Palace. We walked through a beautiful assortment of flowers for sale, and stumbled upon a small carousel. Of course, to two young women, this is a perfect opportunity for a photo shoot. To our dismay, but not to our surprise, the woman running the ride wasn't so enthused and quickly shooed us away.

Moments later, we entered the grounds of the royal palace. Our first sight- the three hour line to get in. Versailles is not unlike many other French businesses in that its hours of operation are very limited, meaning, we really only had a few hours as it was. We decided to hold off on the line, see what else was on the grounds, and potentially come back. Well, we ended up getting sucked into the beauty and culture of the enormous property, and unfortunately didn't make it back in time. 

Instead, we discovered some other amazing sights. First, we strolled through the beautiful royal gardens, stopping at every fountain and sculpture to snap a picture. We mused through a maze of high bushes and found a small italian ice cream shop tucked in the corner. Yum! We finally found the domaine of Marie-Antoinette and the Grand Trianon, furnished with the most remarkable pieces I have ever seen. Each room had a theme centered on a certain color, print, or even expensive stone. We ogled at the decadent chandeliers and the dark, shiny woodwork. It is truly fascinating how the properties have been restored to imitate their original layouts. Visiting the smaller monuments has convinced us to plan another trip to Versailles in order to see the Royal Palace.

On top of all these fascinating experiences, I must say my favorite part of the day by far, was when Lindsay and I rented a row boat on the massive royal lake. The renters only have a handful of boats so the lake is wide open and uncrowded as tourists and natives alike glide smoothly across the water. On the first beautiful day in a week, we figured what could be better? Well, needless to say, Lindsay and I were not as smooth and serene as the many people around us. We struggled at first, taking turns to see who could actually get the small boat to budge. It was like our boat was doggie-paddling, while all the others were doing a perfect breast stroke. Finally, we agreed to each take one side. Eventually we inched our way out to the middle, and decided to float and relax. Okay, it wasn't actually to relax, it was to have a mini-photo shoot. So, while many of the other boaters enjoyed a romantic date on the water, we took full advantage of being in a beautiful moment with a girlfriend, which means lots of pictures. 

After our 30 minutes were up, I took over the paddling and got us impressively far. As soon as my confidence was swimming laps, we had our first "fender bender." Luckily, we were close enough that one of the crew just pulled us back in. We may not have left feeling like pros, but we certainly left laughing. 

We were finally making our way off the grounds around quarter after 6, when we noticed the gates that were blocking off our exit. We decided to follow the other flocks of people heading down a small alley to the right. Luckily we did, because we happened to meet two fantastic locals who offered to show us how to get back to the train station. They were an older couple, whose three kids were on holiday for a month with grandparents, so they had time to kill and enjoyed the walk. As we walked, we learned about all the places they had been, and how much they appreciate when locals are willing to take the few minutes to help, so they simply wanted to pass it forward to us. After generously giving us thirty minutes and a couple miles of their time, they sent us on our way feeling entirely humbled and grateful. Going back to what I said in my last post, there is just no way to label an entire culture of people as "unkind." Hopefully next time a foreigner, stranger, or even acquaintance asks you for some help, you pass it on kindly. 

As hard as we try to fit in with the Parisians, our best days are when we take on the city as tourists!

bienveillance

kindness

As I was preparing to head on this trip, many of my friends in the states warned me that French people aren't very kind to Americans. I was quick to let those warnings slide off my back, because I simply didn't understand how that could be. When I finally arrived in this magical city, I was eager to disprove the common stereotype of French people, and so far, most Parisians have helped me do that. I have made many friends over the past couple weeks, and as a whole, the French have been quite amiable towards me. However, there has certainly been times when I've felt uncomfortable, scrutinized, judged, and downright bullied.

"Just got made fun of in French. My heart hurts." 

I received this text from my roommate, Lindsay, last night while I was in The Pub bathroom. When I came back out, her demeanor had gone from bubbly and energetic to quiet and introverted. It turns out that after she had tried ordering a drink in French, a French girl at the bar just openly mimicked her.

The ignorant French girl must not have realized that despite being foreigners, we've actually become regulars at The Pub and have developed a friendly relationship with the bartenders. Of course, this pub has some French name attached to it, but we've simply come to refer to it as The Pub since that is what it advertises itself as. When the said bartenders first met us, we would simply order in English and throw in a "s'il vous plait" at the end to be polite. Last night, Lindsay and I confidently strode to the bar and placed our order entirely in French. The bartenders were so impressed at how far we have come in such a short time! Which is why it was even more hurtful to be made fun of for putting the effort out there. However, our bartender friends came to Lindsay's rescue and proved that there are kind Parisians still out there. After the French girl's rude outburst, they had a few angry words in French with her that got her quiet for the remainder of the night.

Unfortunately, there is more than one ignorant French girl in this big city. Today as we strolled along Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Lindsay bumped into someone and quickly said, "sorry." A nearby girl, who was by no means involved in the situation, also mimicked Lindsay loud to her friends and started slurring out other obnoxious American sayings, like "oh my gawwwd." I was immediately frustrated with the girl for being so rude, but then I started thinking, American actually do this all the time. I can't count how many times we've imitated a British accent or tried sounding Aussie by using the word "mate." Maybe the girl just thought we sounded funny and couldn't help but spit out a couple slogans she knew. I don't think her imitation was quite that innocent, but I can give her the benefit of the doubt.

Aside from being mocked in public, I've also learned small talk is a no-no. I was trying to order from the the Pub's bartender last night, but I had to wait a few minutes while he chose another song to play. After doing so, I simply tried to say, "Good song." Now, it was a pretty catchy tune, I suppose, but nothing that blew me away. I was simply trying to make small talk. Well, the bartender didn't quite understand what I was saying, whether I tried in French or English. At some point, another woman came and was waiting besides me. As I tried to spitting out various French and English phrases to explain what I meant, I could feel the other woman's irritable gaze settling on me. I figured the best solution to this would be to include her in the confusing conversation. Maybe I offended her by how slow and loud I was trying to speak at the time, but when I again stated it was a good song, she simply replied with, "It's a French song." Her compilation of verbal and non-verbal cues implied that 1. I was not bright enough to figure out the song was in French and 2. How dare I, an American, imply that I like a French song.

Despite the sprinkles of tension throughout my trip, I will stick with my original theory. There are kind people and not-so-kind people all over the world in every city. Paris is no different. It is not a city made up of a few million unkind people, however, you are bound to run into a few grumps once in a while. 

Paris ne s'est pas fait en un jour.

Paris wasn't made in a day.

I know the traditional saying is "Rome wasn't built in a day," but this is an actual French proverb that possibly derived from the one we are used to hearing about patience. After today, I think I may need my own derivative of the proverb. Something along the lines of "A teacher can't teach an entire unit in a day." Ok, it needs some work.

When I woke up this morning, I was looking forward to my mentally drafted blog post bellowing of a successful first day of teaching. After lesson planning, lesson revising, lesson re-writing, and lesson practicing, I assumed my nerves were all for nothing and I would wrap up my evening session feeling triumphant. Did I think the magic of Paris also helped void the reality that lessons hardly ever go according to plan? Apparently so.

Let me rewind...

When I think of foreign language, I think of my middle school Spanish lessons teaching me the names of colors and how to talk about the weather. At first, that is the type of content I assumed I would be teaching in English, which I did before in Tanzania, no problem. Then, I realized all my students are adult volunteers pursuing the English language for various reasons, from business ventures to romantic relationships. Colors and weather patterns just simply won't cut it.

I finally decided to teach my first lesson on advertising. My students would consist of a few upper-intermediate language learners plus a couple of my peers. I felt like I could construct a lesson on advertising that would be interesting regardless of language level, while still providing insight into  culture and vocabulary. The language arts teacher in me also thought I could incorporate adjectives and how they are used in promoting products. I found a few great examples that hit the nail on my objectives from Coca-cola, Butterfingers, and Samsung. I even had an extra activity ready explaining how to use comparative and superlative adjectives (-er, -est, more, and most). I used competitive ads to create relevance, such as a McDonald's ad that specifically discriminates against Burger King. I was happy with my content and planned on wrapping it up with the students creating their own advertisements. Voilà! I was actually excited to get in front of my new students!













This morning I went into class feeling confident and at ease, until lesson plan was thrown back into its drafting stages. My TEFL course leader suggested I make things a bit more challenging for my upper-intermediate students. He helped me add another mini-lesson on adverbs (words that describe adjectives, verbs, and adverbs) and changed my final "activate" lesson to a creative writing assignment that would be completed in groups. At first, I was bummed, because I loved my create-an-ad assignment, but I had to accept that this isn't my forte (yet) and I needed to put my trust in his hands!

Finally, 6pm rolled around and I took a deep breath to get started. Actually, I had time for many deep breaths because the French culture runs about 20 minutes behind schedule on a daily basis. At 6:20, I got everyone engaged and laughing at my "Sexy and I Know It" M&M commercial. Looking back, I wish I would have savored these first few minutes because it turns out they were the peak of my lesson. Despite the higher level of English fluency, the majority of my students had very little background on the parts of speech, even the Americans! This unexpected hiccup caught my entire lesson off guard and I still had 90 minutes to go. So, I threw an impromptu grammar lesson on the board to help both my French and American speakers survive the rest of lesson. The butterflies in my stomach were no longer flittering, but now playing a violent game of manhunt. My lack of experience with students older than 12 and the drastic change of direction in my plans left me feeling drab about my teaching quality. In the end, the one skill that really helped me get through the evening tear-free was my ability to differentiate. I've learned that this isn't a common skill across the globe and luckily as an American, I am able to keep my students moving at different paces so no one sits waiting for the others. Thank you, College of Education!

After what felt like hours, my lesson finally started winding down. I received a lot of praise and appreciation from my students, and my course leader admitted he overestimated some ability levels. However, as all teachers know, it is discouraging to walk away from a lesson feeling anything but successful, especially when the expectations were so high. As if I had stepped into a "Bridget Jones' Diary" film, I sulked home in the pouring rain, slowly at that because my sandals were slipping frantically under my feet. After climbing the four flights of stairs to my apartment in a saggy skirt and even saggier state of mind, I felt more relief than triumph as I sunk into the couch and opened my laptop.

After this elongated vent and a generous helping of French cookie spread paired with a couple glasses of wine, I am finally feeling more optimistic about my next lesson, which happens to be tomorrow. Maybe my blogpost bellowing of success isn't cancelled after all, but simply on hold for another day. Like we started with, nothing worthwhile is achieved in a day. If we never encountered failure, or a mere sense of deflation, what would drive us to improve ourselves?

pas cher

Cheap

For our first couple weeks in Paris, Lindsay and I have been exploring, eating, drinking, shopping, sightseeing, eating, drinking. Despite my previous sprinkled insinuations of cutting back, it is simply impossible for two 20-something women to live on a budget in a city where you are meant to splurge. Until now. It's with a sense of accomplishment that I state, we have finally succeeded in staying within our budget! Kind of. Okay, we have stayed within our grocery budget. But, it is a start!

With a fresh week of busy schedules ahead of us, Lindsay and I forced ourselves out into the rain on Sunday to pick up some groceries. After deflating encounters with strange, two-shelf markets, we finally stumbled upon a promising supermarket. We stocked up on fruit, cereal, pasta, chicken, and a couple frozen meals for our busy days. Our eyes met in shock when the register only rung up 25 euros, about what we spend on a single meal dining out!

Despite our accomplished grocery run, we've still encountered a couple complications with our purchases. 

Problem: I've was so excited to find some name-brand yogurt that I could pack for lunch! Then I realized I have nowhere to store my yogurt during my first four hours of class. (FYI, I am someone that is overly conscious of past due dates and warm dairy products).
Solution: I have make-shifted a container that I fill with ice and wrap a plastic grocery bag around and carry it with care on my 15 minute walk every morning.

Problem: We bought a frozen pizza, reminiscing of what used to be a classy college dinner, now a last resort. Last night, I went to pop it in the oven for us after an 11 hour school day. Oh, our apartment doesn't have an oven. Good to know!
Solution: I had to do some negotiating with the toaster oven. We'll leave it at that for sake of my landlord.

Problem: Our gas stove requires you to stick a match up to it when you're turning it on. I am quite pyrophobic and the only kind of lighter I can use is the kind with the six inch handle. This may or may not be subconsciously related to the time I burnt half of my hair off when I was five.
Solution: My roommate.

As is true in any discourse, challenges are merely scenic rides in the journey. Finally, Lindsay and I cooked a real meal together! Alright, it may not compare to the freshly scaled salmon from last post, but it is a perfectly budgeted meal that doesn't require an oven.

Pasta, chicken, broccoli in Alfredo sauce
and a baguette for a French touch!

Did I mention that all this effort to budget is just so we can hopefully afford Louis Vuittons and a trip to Barcelona? Well, girls will be girls! 

Ville de Hemingway

As an English major and lover of The Sun Also Rises, I couldn't help but to track down some Parisian locations closely associated with Earnest Hemingway, the literature genius himself. 

It just so happens that my apartment is in the area that Hemingway and other expats spent a lot of time, the Latin Quarter. Specifically, my roommate and I travel through Rue Mouffetard frequently which Hemingway describes as a "wonderful, narrow crowded market street" in A Moveable Feast. To this day, as I stroll through a Sunday market, I can feel how Hemingway would soak in the choas of vendors and the smell of fresh food. Walking along the cobblestone makes it feel that not much has changed over these generations on Rue Mouffetard. When you reach the top of the rue, you can find another small street where Hemingway had rented his first Parisian apartment at 74 Rue du Cardinal Lemoine, which honors his memory with a plaque.

An afternoon on Rue Mouffetard, looking downhill. 

My next Hemingway journey took me north to visit the famous bookshop, Shakespeare & Company. Hemingway and other literary geniuses frequented this American themed shop for the hospitable owner and the peaceful environment. In a city that is bright with lights and noise, American writers used this shop to work on their soon-to-be classics. Once, Hemingway read a bad review while sitting in Shakespeare & Co, and impulsively broke one of the shop's lamps.

The shop had to be relocated after a fire, but it's environment is still as cozy as Hemingway would remember it. Even though the shop is filled with patrons, everyone has the same unspoken notion that this is a holy ground for literature lovers alike, and should respect it as we would when in the Notre Dame. Eventually I found myself in a small corner room upstairs dedicated to Syliva Beach, the original founder, that acted as an in-house lending library. I pulled out a book on the history of best sellers and sat down a few cushions away from the lazy bookshop cat. Although the book wasn't as interesting as I had hoped, the distant live piano and the comfort of the cushions pulled me in anyway. 

The Sylvia Beach Room in Shakespeare & Co.

I had two goals in mind heading into the bookshop, to find a book that was meaningful of the location and to find a book for my new classroom. Considering this is in fact a tourist destination and the euro exchange rate isn't quite in my favor, I unfortunately had to budget myself to just a couple items. When browsing in the Children and Young Adult sections, I found a book whose title in itself intrigued me, If I Were a Book. Each page is filled with a different way the narrator would want to capture his audience if he were a book. It is fascinating, encouraging, and inspiring to be the most engaging and influential person you can be. When I flipped through the small hardback, I was immersed in a list of how to make your life better each and every day. I cannot way to incorporate this into a lesson this year!

When I first entered the shop, right away I spotted a book that consisted of letters written from Syliva Beach throughout her life. The content apparently helped explain her life within and beyond her famous bookshop and even more famous patrons. I am very much interested in learning about someone through personal content rather than an autobiography, but as I was getting ready to leave the store, an even better classic caught my eye. A Moveable Feast, by Earnest Hemingway himself. This posthumous publication, which is binded by a cover of Hemingway standing in front of Shakespeare & Co, is symbolic of not only the shop, but of a lot of my journey! Sadly, I had to put away the Sylvia Beach book, but it was well worth the switch. 

Authentic Shakespeare & Co purchases.

Just when we were getting ready to leave, we noticed a subsection of the shop dedicated to rare books. I picked up a copy of Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea and flipped it over to look at the price. My jaw dropped when I spotted the 350 euro sign on the back corner! It turns out the book was a UK first edition, and the smell and instability helped declare so. I also looked around for my other favorite "lost generation" author, Scott Fitzgerald. I found a large binding of letters written from Fitzgerald to others such as Zelda, his daughter, and some business men. I spent about two minutes just flipping through and reading, since I have always been fascinated with the relationship between Fitzgerald and Zelda. 

Finally, a little growl from my stomach, made me realize I had spent two hours roaming this magical bookshop and it should be time to find some lunch. We grabbed a little corner table outside of Café Panis nearby. The restaurant had a clear view of both the bookstore and the grand Notre Dame, yet it wasn't overflowing with people, so our expectations weren't too high. However, the waiter was extremely accommodating with our broken French and answered all our questions with a smile. Lindsay and I both ordered a salmon dish, served with a  delicious sauce and a side of zucchini gratin.  Actually, it was my first experience with salmon served with the skin still on, so it had an even extra touch of freshness to it. After our first bites, at the same moment, we just looked at one another in awe. It certainly competes for the title of best meal in Paris yet, and I highly recommend it! 

Eating with the Notre Dame in the background.

A delicious lunch at Cafe Panis!

After a long day of exploring, we decided to make it a quiet Saturday night. However, the Hemingway themed day didn't end on our our doorsteps. We decided to watch Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," which explores the "lost generation" with vibrance and wit. Even though I've watched the movie before, this time it was with a fresh sense of understanding of the famous expat artists as well as the beautiful city I am spending my summer in. 

Truly, it was a literature lover's most magical day in Paris. Now, on this rainy Sunday afternoon, I am excited to curl up with my newest purchase and become acquainted like old friends. 

Quelle langues parlez-vous?

What languages do you speak?

French 

I have now been living in Paris for over a week, so obviously I have been picking up on some essential key phrases. Like I've mentioned before, I can get myself through the subway, order at a restaurant, and introduce myself on the street. But up until this point, my most common phrase has actually been "Français juste un p'tit peu," which quite ungrammatically explains that I only speak a bit of French.

Luckily to my linguistic rescue, my course instructor has offered to set us up with some free French lessons while we are here. Today after class, three of us students met with Anton's bubbly intern, Samara. She has lived all over the world since she was a young girl, but really considers herself from the United States, so she has an experienced understanding of what it is like to learn new languages. It was nice to finally receive a lesson based on our own personal needs. Going through online courses and ordering activity books have been helpful in a basic way, but a lot the lessons cover material I don't necessarily need during my summer stay.

Rather, Samara started us off with conversational greetings, not the greetings you read in workbooks and sound uptight actually using in the streets. The mini-class then became ours to guide. We were able to stop her at any moment and ask for a couple practice rounds. We were also comfortable to stop her at any moment and ask for variations and similar phrases of anything we have learned. We even got some slang terms down! It is especially helpful to receive these lessons from someone who seems to be a similar age, and understands that we may spend some additional time exploring the bars, restaurants, and shopping, so she doesn't waste our time teaching us about colors.

Overall, I am really excited for this authentic linguistic opportunity and and am appreciative of the learner-centered environment.

Interested in seeing if you can decode my French Notes?


Italian

Ultimately, the one aspect that was throwing me off during my French lessons was that we had just finished Italian lessons moments before.

Why Italian? Why in France?

Well, as teachers know, the best way to teach is to lead by example. In order to help us understand the fundamentals of teaching English as a foreign language, our instructor has decided to teach us our own foreign language. Italian is the only common language that is not spoken in our course group. During instruction, Anton does not speak a word of English to us. The directions, the questions, the responses are all in Italian. I remember in high school this approach seemed so frustrating and unsuccessful, however, after an hour, I felt like I really picked up some Italiano!

Some skills I have learned from the Italian lessons:

• The order in which you introduce the phrases should match the order in which they would happen in a conversation. 
• Repetition along with gestures and movements help instill the meaning of the word as well as the pronunciation. 
• Give example situations, even if as the teacher, you have to play multiple roles. 

My Italian Notes are a bit different than my French, because I have to focus on the skills that Anton uses as well as the language immersion. 

A lot of these skills have actually helped me in the past when I taught English to a school full of Swahili speakers, but the reminder is essential as I move closer to my TEFL teaching pracitcum! 

Swahili 

Speaking of Swahili, my previous experience being surrounded by a foreign culture, and therefor language, has really helped me assimilate to this culture. I haven't felt flustered in a crowded room of non-English speakers. I haven't been nervous about approaching somebody for help on the street or to ask a question in a shop. I really haven't been nervous about this major language barrier at all! 

I also think my time in Tanzania was a perfect transition for this trip. In Tanzania, I also lived with two native Swahili speakers who helped me when I got stuck or felt defeated. They very much so practiced the "I do- We do- You do" method in teaching me how to survive in a foreign culture. 

Now, in this new country, I believe I owe a lot of my confidence to my previous learning experiences. 

Spanish

You would never guess by my lack of fluency, but I actually studied Spanish for four years in High School. It eventually dwindled away and my only practice since has been speaking with the chefs at the various restaurants I have worked at for summer jobs. Basically, I just really know what my friend Amado is asking when I hear, "Mi puoi fare un cappuccino, por favor." I fluently nod and hand him his favorite caffeinated beverage. 

However, as I experienced with Swahili, my Spanish tends to magically reappear when I am trying to learn a new language. I'm sure there is some PhD certified explanation for this, but I think I have captured the reason on my own. Basically, my brain is diligently trying to categorize any foreign language in the same sub-folder in some filing cabinet in the back of my head. It is frustrating, yet also a very strange feeling of having some foreign phrase be on the tip of your tongue for the first time in seven years. 

Embarrassingly, I even automatically replied, "Si" the other night to a waiter. We all just shared a strange look and little laugh as a I corrected myself with, "Oui!"

Hopefully some of this hidden fluency can help me out when Lindsay and I head to Barcelona in a couple weeks!

American

Just as a little fun fact, Europeans do not consider our language English. Since our dialect varies from actual English speakers, our language is simply referred to as American. Back in the states, I can only imagine the reactions if, as an English teacher, I stated, "I speak American!" 

Étudiant

Student

This week started the beginning of our course to become certified in TEFL. Coming into this trip, we really didn't know what to expect from this course, simply that it would take place 9-6, Monday through Friday. However, upon our first day, we learned that the schedule will actually be quite different than what we expected. We will have blocked time for teaching French volunteers the English language and culture. When others in our course are teaching, we will have independent study time to complete our other work. Also, it turns out, we will not meet most Fridays, which benefits our plans to do a bit of weekend traveling!

First day of classes!

The course instructor, Anton Bonnici, is charismatic and passionate about the material. One foundation of teaching I have learned through my experiences is that you cannot fake your enthusiasm. Students, of all ages, can sniff out a phony. Mr. Bonnici is certainly no phony when it comes to teaching this course. Even though I am only a few days into my course, I highly recommend the TEFL course offered at the Paris American Academy. I am truly interested to see the skills I learn over the next few weeks and how I can apply them to teaching back in the states.

Speaking of teaching back in the states, I am excited to announce that I was offered a position at an amazing district outside of Philadelphia! I feel as though my desire to become apart of so many cultures helps me stand out and also gives me a huge boost of confidence in interviews. The experiences I have worked so hard for, and have paid a lot of money for, are truly paying off in so many ways.