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.