People

German best friend (standing) of my landlady (not pictured) serving us tea at her country home. She used to own a tea shop and this tea is from her tea garden. The town has 200 inhabitants and is turning into an artist colony to avoid extinction.

Cambray, with whom I lived in Paris and traveled to Normany, Mont Saint Michel, Slovakia, Austria and Italy, is now an assistant in Limoges. A morning spent looking at old awkward travel photos inspired an afternoon of new awkward travel documentation, this time in Limoges:

Paths

Walk home to Vichy after working in Cusset; this is the bridge over the train station.

Where I run every day along the river, across the street from my home.

Your Name Here

Still lacking a cord for photo uploadation, so I'm just going to continue to say that photos are coming.

HOWEVER, today I taught students! alone! in a room! twice!

First, I had 5emes (12 -13 year olds). Then, I had 4emes (13 - 14 year olds). They're split up as 14 students to each group, 50 minutes for each class.

My first move as teacher (inspired by the aid of Morgan Miles, happy birthday!) was to have them all choose English sounding names so that I would not have to reveal to them that my french accent is inferior to their french accents, thus losing my credibility as a language teacher. I wrote names on the board and let them choose from the list or make up their own.

I decided to super cleverly not split the list of names into boy/girl categories, thereby radically shaking up gender norms, unbeknownst to them. BUT ALAS, globalization ruins all the fun and these youngsters already knew which names were for boys or girls.

When I say globalization ruins all the fun, I only sort of mean that because I still had another half of fun tacked on to this activity: me getting to choose the names for the list. I made it full of names of my loved ones, as an homage to all of you. Now, not every name got chosen, no offense, but out of the names that did, here are the ones that will interest you:

5emes

Julie, Liz, Caitrin, Melanie

Some of the more imaginative but ill-informed students chose the following:

Donald, Bob (as in Marley), Tony (as in Parker)

4emes

Jake was the soul name chosen from the board.

This class had repeats from the 5emes, as well as celebrity-inspired picks:

Tony, Bob Marley (except he chose the full name, not just "Bob", and also happens to be the most talkative student in class so every twenty seconds I am forced to say "Yes, Bob Marley?" and then have to pause so the peels of laughter can subside), Selena (as in Gomez. This decision didn't last long because a girl who chose to be "Jazmyn" kept throwing pens at "Selena" and saying 'No! I hate her! I love Justin Bieber!' so the student formerly known as Selena was cajoled into the grossly unattractive "Jenna").

After all the names were chosen, we made a list of questions on the board that they were supposed to ask each other interview-style. They would then present their partners to the class. The 5emes suggested questions in which everyone had the same answer (age, birthplace, nationality), so that by the third presentation I was daydreaming about watching paint dry.

The 4emes, however, used their questions to draw conflict lines in the classroom. This began when Jazmyn, previously mentioned for her ability to express emotion, asked that a question for the interviews be: "Do you love Justin Bieber?" In order to win her affection and rile up the class I dotted the i's with hearts.

Bob Marley, whose coiffure must have inspired Bieber's, said, "Write the answer is: No, I hate him." And then did a little hair-flip.

Jenna added, "Write the answer is: Yes, I love him."

These answers were both written on the board; I believe in the people.

Bob Marley, not satisfied with supplying hate as an option for the previous question, asked that the next question be: "Would you be happy if Justin Bieber died?" Let it be known that it took a solid three minutes to piece together that question, during which time he pooled the collective English knowledge of all the Bieber-haters in the class.

Jazmyn began foaming at the mouth so I turned the moment into a lesson about the concept of a hypothetical, like the conflict-killer I am.

The rest of each class passed without incident, except for a moment when a student asked me for the definition of "fondle" and I had a mini ethical query in which I was caught between wanting to lie and say it was something with non sexual connotations or to take the opportunity to promote sex-positive classroom behavior. Luckily, I checked her paper before responding and discovered that she meant "fondly", merci Dieu.

Viching

Due to a lack of photos, I will share anecdotes from Vichy! I promise to have photos in the future, I've been takin pix.

My first week in Vichy, I spent 75% of my time alone in cafes. It was awesome. Four days into my cafe-squatting, while being slowly killed by second-hand smoke, a smoker on my right started talking to me. Our conversation felt a little bit like watching the outline of a large rodent pass through a snake's stomach: uncomfortable. He asked me what I was writing, and would I write something about him? why not? and would I be here tomorrow? and finally, would I ride his motorcycle with him?

This question left me momentarily overwhelmed by my inner Lizzie McGuire who dreams of riding a motorcycle with a rando' in Europe. When I begrudgingly responded "Non" he asked why, and I told him that he was a stranger. What I actually (unwittingly, mind you) said was "because you are a foreigner." A kind of ironic thing for an American in France to say to a Frenchie. However, he was of North African origins and clearly (understandably) thought I was making some You Are Not a True Frenchman claim. First week in France and I mistakenly declared myself a xenophobe. On the upside, this comment killed our conversation and his creepin'. On the downside, that cafe has the best free chocolates in town and now I will never return because he is a regular. Or, as the french say, he is fidèle.

In other anecdotes, I have begun my job as an English Teaching Assistant at a lycee and a college. The lycee is comprised of 900 students between the ages of 15 and 21 (although I believe there are a couple who are older than that). The college has students as young as 9 and as old as 16.

I began my stint (of 8 months) at the lycee on Tuesday, and met five of the nine classes I will be working in. Each classroom asked me questions about myself in English (British English, which I'm quickly realizing I don't understand, merde). Most students asked where I am from, how old I am, what are my "studies", but one clever 17 year old asked me, "What is it you think of Bin Laden dead?" I gracefully responded by starting three sentences and finishing none, opting to avoid an answer by asking him what he thought. He said "it was a good choice for the world." This comment reveals something I have been hearing a lot: what America does has a global impact. I know I know, how original to discuss globalization on a blog about international living. So, I will leave that thought there.

Later in the Meeting Everyone at Work day, each student presented themselves to me (when I meet someone in French, the person introducing me says "I present to you Johannah", it feels very important). A 19 year old said he was from Cantal and the next classmate was from Dijon. For lunch, I had packed a Cantal cheese and Dijon mustard sandwich! I was immediately moved to do what all Americans do when they're excited: smile, gesticulate and anticipate affirmation. However, this is not French, so I mentioned the sandwich like I didn't even enjoy it and moved on with the questioning. I will blend into this nation.

A recurring moment in my teaching career (heh heh) that has garnered a barely perceptible reaction from the students is saying I'm from Ohio. I have actually taken to saying I'm from California; my passport says I was born in California so it has spread around that I'm Californian... sort of true, but also not... but I'm letting that little seed grow because the teachers think it is more exciting for the students/me/them. Also, saying I'm from California never fails to get one of the students to yell "cah-LI-fohna guhl!"

I'm going to end here because I'm busy watching "Secret Stories", allegedly Big Brother of France but even less respectable. In this episode, the three women have danced in front of large mirrors while adjusting their faces (there are cameras behind the mirrors, ergo some high quality angles) and the men are seeing how many tires they can put around themselves. There may even be a plot before the episode ends.