There's this really cheesy song my brother and I love to make fun of...the chorus says "Christmas in the Northwest, it's a gift God wraps in green." Well, it's true. While I was running (who are we kidding? jogging slightly faster than normal people walk) around L'Isle today I noticed a LOT of trees and plants and bushes and things that are much greener and fuller than 2 weeks ago, let alone 2 months ago. Winter gets pretty bleak and bare around here, even though it's sunny *most* of the time...don't let them fool you! Provence can still be ugly...mistraaaaaaaaal!!!! (accompanied by an angry-old-man-fist-shake) I realized that I'm used to green winters...when you're surrounded by coniferous trees, they stay green, even when it's cloudy and rainy for almost 9 months of the year. I guess it's give-and-take: sun and bare trees, clouds and full trees. I don't know which I prefer, I just know what I'm used to.
On another note I'm SUPER stoked to be heading to Cambodia in September to visit my dad, who retired there a few months ago (and not, as I had believed, in Thailand...apparently they're like, 2 different countries?!?!?). I'm a little disappointed that I'm only going to have 2 weeks and 2 days there, and then I was like: "Shut up Annette! You're going to BE there at least, you whore!"
I think I've realized in this that I prefer 'living abroad' to 'traveling.' Traveling usually involves lugging a lot of luggage around, rushing, stress. Living somewhere usually means you get MORE of everything. Recent examples include but are not limited to: random hiking adventure with some teachers once, getting to know the GREAT American baker in town, tutoring, free kayaking with Steve, meeting the US Consul General in Marseille (and NOT when she's having to negotiate me out of jail or something...that would just be awkward), sunning by the rivers, becoming regulars at the hippy co-op cantine and getting shushed every time we go, oh and did I mention almost all the under-12s in my town worship me? It's a rough life...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Why Americans are in France...why am I here?
There are different reasons why young college-aged and/or 20-something Americans come to France, and maybe I'm being unfair but I've noticed a few stereotypes running about (note--there are dozens of other reasons older-than-20-something Americans find themselves in France too...marriage, retirement, what have you, but I don't care about them here and now...they're old!):
Of course these categories are fluid, and not exclusive. An individual can identify with multiple caricatures simultaneously or at different points in their life/Europe experience. In fact, I hope it's become clear that I have been at one point or 'tother a little bit of each of the aforementioned caricatures. So what do I think sets me apart from these 2-dimensional stereotypes? I've usually gone with the idea that I'm only in France because French just happens to be the language I studied, through high school and college, par hazard, and that if I had studied something else and stuck with it, I'd be in that (those) countries (and when I studied Spanish, which I'm planning on picking up again someday, I did go live in Chile for 3 months). But what if there's more to it: what if (gasp!) I actually do feel some sort of connection/affinity to this country? Not that that would be the end of the world, it's just not how I have understood my relationship to this place to date.
It is easy, natural, nay, perhaps even impossible not to fall in love with France (bias, bias!): for all the reasons above, plus the wine, the cheese, the bread, the joie de vivre, the fashion!, the seemingly never-ending parade of (often Catholic) holidays from work, even the social welfare state (depending on whether you're paying tons of taxes or benefiting from said taxes...I'm hoping to be on the receiving end...come on CAF and the aide a logement!). It is a deeper and purer, realer affection I and some close American friends (Whitney, Steve, Zandra, Jennifer) have for France. We love it for the obvious reasons, and the not-so-obvious ones, and in spite of the hassles that arise: even when French lovers are faaaaaaaar less than fantastic (or too persistent when their attentions are unwelcome), even when incompetent whores keep you running around for months for your carte de sejour (green card), even when old ladies on the bus refuse to even try to understand what you're asking them, even when it's raining and mistral-y (read: really windy) in Provence (which was supposed to be sunny and gorgeous 24/7/365, wasn't it?), even when the majority of music on the radio is bad French 80's, or cheesy English/American 80's (seriously, when it comes to some things, the French seem to be culturally 20 years behind), even when restlessness and worrying about the future threatens to overtake your present contentment, even when your accent's laughed at and your kids are making you feel guilty for sleeping through class the week before!
I also think I've actively resisted "loving" France, just like I used to resist improving my French accent...I spoke horrible French because I'm American, why deny the fact? But just as Jay and a fabulous Phonetics class convinced me to at least try (even though I still have an accent tres fort), I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I love France...even if that superficially lumps me in with all the aforementioned yahoos at whom I look down my nose. But now the question becomes: do I love it so much I feel the need to stay? Do I love it just enough to return and retire here someday? Or will it just be a favorite vacation spot throughout the years? In that vein, is the way I feel about France the same or similar to how I feel about the US, and my family and friends there? I love it and them, but that doesn't mean I feel the urge to settle down there, or see my family everyday, or even every month, yet. I've got many more international adventures in me yet...
- the art/history student - Western Europe is where it all happened, so of course they would flock here, but sometimes they're too obsessed with the Middle Ages, Gothic architecture, the Impressionists, or 16th century this-that-or-the-other-thing to realize that France is also a modern, 21st century power player on the world stage. They are enchanted by the chateaus, cathedrals, art and little villages from literature and Disney movies they came here to see, but are shocked and disenchanted by factories, blue-collar-people, autoroutes, immigrants, inefficient bureaucracy and sometimes-uncomfortable-politics (if and when they ever bother to pay attention). Also consumer culture (McDo, familiar brand names in the supermarket for sometimes double or triple the price) they find too imitative of America and somehow diluting of the 'Frenchness' of France.
- the language student - These people are the ones who, when given a 'choice' between French or Spanish back in middle school, (where was the Japanese, German, Latin, or hell, nowadays, Mandarin?) picked the prettier, higher-cultured option, such as they perceived at the time. French is the language of love, great literature (Hugo, Dumas, Flaubert, Balzac, Zola), and intellectuals (Simone de Beauvoir, Jean-Paul Sartre, Proust?), while Spanish is (or was, by a stupid pre-pubescent me) stereotyped as a language for the working class, maids in hotels and produce-pickers in fields and orchards. How could Spanish ever come in handy on the West Coast of the United States? (HA!) These people were stubborn, and now find themselves working towards or having earned a college degree in French, which, unless they have their sights set on teaching French (and some of them do), they are at a complete loss as to what to do with it. They're hoping to figure this out in a French-speaking country, where they use their mad language skills to get directions, buy groceries, and every once in awhile, discourse with an actual Frenchy on life, the universe, and everything, or just the best music out there.
- the backpacker - Armed with a best friend or two, a backpack, their 'Europe on a shoestring' Lonely Planet, a Eurail pass, and an overly-ambitious itinerary, these people come through 'Europe!' usually in the spring or summer for anywhere from 2 weeks to a few months. These people sometimes have conversational French under their belt, but most of the time rely on their mastery of English (the new lingua franca!) to get them by. These people are annoying to those of us lucky enough (or proactive enough, or brave enough, what have you) to be staying in one place for more than 3 nights. They spend their time getting drunk with the new international friends they've made in their hostel, and hardly ever get the chance (or make the effort) to connect with 'locals' as they're rushing about checking off sites, sights, and whole countries from their To-Do Lists. If they're female, they usually do their part perpetuating the commonly-held belief that 'American girls are easy,' and if they're male, they usually do their best to get as much 'exotic' European tail as possible.
- the Hollywood starlet, hotel heiress, or chart-topping diva (Natalie Portman, Paris Hilton, Beyonce, do I really have to spell it out people?) - swinging through Paris or the Cotes d'Azur for a film festival or just a fab weekend, on their yacht and with their entourage and paparazzi in tow, and really, who am I kidding? Like I'm rubbing elbows with them, or believe they're experiencing any more than the 'amusement park' version of La France (I can talk about it like this, because I'm a resident). Anyways, they're kind of off my (and any) radar, really.
Of course these categories are fluid, and not exclusive. An individual can identify with multiple caricatures simultaneously or at different points in their life/Europe experience. In fact, I hope it's become clear that I have been at one point or 'tother a little bit of each of the aforementioned caricatures. So what do I think sets me apart from these 2-dimensional stereotypes? I've usually gone with the idea that I'm only in France because French just happens to be the language I studied, through high school and college, par hazard, and that if I had studied something else and stuck with it, I'd be in that (those) countries (and when I studied Spanish, which I'm planning on picking up again someday, I did go live in Chile for 3 months). But what if there's more to it: what if (gasp!) I actually do feel some sort of connection/affinity to this country? Not that that would be the end of the world, it's just not how I have understood my relationship to this place to date.
It is easy, natural, nay, perhaps even impossible not to fall in love with France (bias, bias!): for all the reasons above, plus the wine, the cheese, the bread, the joie de vivre, the fashion!, the seemingly never-ending parade of (often Catholic) holidays from work, even the social welfare state (depending on whether you're paying tons of taxes or benefiting from said taxes...I'm hoping to be on the receiving end...come on CAF and the aide a logement!). It is a deeper and purer, realer affection I and some close American friends (Whitney, Steve, Zandra, Jennifer) have for France. We love it for the obvious reasons, and the not-so-obvious ones, and in spite of the hassles that arise: even when French lovers are faaaaaaaar less than fantastic (or too persistent when their attentions are unwelcome), even when incompetent whores keep you running around for months for your carte de sejour (green card), even when old ladies on the bus refuse to even try to understand what you're asking them, even when it's raining and mistral-y (read: really windy) in Provence (which was supposed to be sunny and gorgeous 24/7/365, wasn't it?), even when the majority of music on the radio is bad French 80's, or cheesy English/American 80's (seriously, when it comes to some things, the French seem to be culturally 20 years behind), even when restlessness and worrying about the future threatens to overtake your present contentment, even when your accent's laughed at and your kids are making you feel guilty for sleeping through class the week before!
I also think I've actively resisted "loving" France, just like I used to resist improving my French accent...I spoke horrible French because I'm American, why deny the fact? But just as Jay and a fabulous Phonetics class convinced me to at least try (even though I still have an accent tres fort), I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I love France...even if that superficially lumps me in with all the aforementioned yahoos at whom I look down my nose. But now the question becomes: do I love it so much I feel the need to stay? Do I love it just enough to return and retire here someday? Or will it just be a favorite vacation spot throughout the years? In that vein, is the way I feel about France the same or similar to how I feel about the US, and my family and friends there? I love it and them, but that doesn't mean I feel the urge to settle down there, or see my family everyday, or even every month, yet. I've got many more international adventures in me yet...
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Little Town Life
When I look back on my year in L'Isle sur la Sorgue...well let's just say I think I'll be rocking some metropolitan areas for awhile! Little towns would be nice if I had a family and a job/career and was looking to 'settle down,' but as a 23 yr old unattached adventure-seeker...well, I've found some adventures here, I suppose.
A favorite moment was last Saturday, showing a big group of friends around my town, and running into not 1 but 2, er, 'exes.' I see students I know on the street, at the pool, in the store, and what's worse, they see me, and feel the need to inform me that over the weekend they saw me by the river, or in Avignon, or running. I love being a celebrity with the town's under-12 population, but I always feel awkward when they explain to their parents who the stranger is they're saying 'hello' to.
And what would life be without a randy old PE teacher who tells sexually explicit jokes and all but propositions me, even though I've met his son and teach his grandson? At least he's cute, (retired pro soccer player!) and not creepy, like another teacher who always insists on giving me the slowest gooiest 3 kisses in greeting whenever he sees me, and then crows about how great it is to kiss me. Blech! HE looks like a bad guy in a cartoon: bald with a Hitler moustache, no joke. Would it be completely over the line for me to invite PE teacher out for a drink? I could say it's to celebrate his upcoming retirement this June...Annette, what's wrong with this picture? Or rather, how many things can you find that are wrong with this picture?
Then there was the awkward, never-ending, 'surprise' Tupperware party I attended...'just some friends getting together to make a meal' should apparently be read as ' 6+ hours of Tupperware HELL' from now on. Thank goodness my town has a bar! The sole bar in town, which I was explaining to some random French guy today that I know quite well. Last Friday night I saw a random American friend there with some guy she'd just picked up (who just got out of prison, no joke, though I don't know what for...), and left a note for the barkeep, which, being drunk, probably sounded a bit more explicit than I intended. Oops! ;)
I've also got to give props to my American friends just a short train-ride away in the 'big city' of Avignon. If I didn't have them to escape to, I probably would have cracked long ago. Last weekend included a Eurovision watching party (I voted for Germany, but Norway won...with good reason...I can't get that song out of my head even if I wanted to!), the most delicious picnic I've ever eaten (spicy olives, amazing goat cheese with pepper, fresh baguette, and cherries 3x as big as any other cherry I've ever seen in my life), and slaloming the Pont d'Avignon in a kayak with Steve, for free! I just went into my property manager's office today (whose daughter works at one of the schools I work at...did I mention it was a small town?) to figure out what I need to do in a little over a month to get out of here. Sad day! I know I'm going to miss this place...it's great to be adored by kids and their grandfathers alike!
I've been thinking alot lately about where my next adventure will be...who knows? Hopefully something will present itself! Until then, I'm cooking for myself (tonight was chicken, onions, broccoli in a white wine + herbes de Provence 'sauce'); making the most of random Catholic holidays (this weekend it's Ascension? Does that sound right? On the agenda: chill at swanky Olympic-sized private pool/lounge, eat hippy food, attend concert in the park, party with friends, make an appearance or two at the bar, among other things...); racking up credit card debt like I won't have to pay it off (and who knows? Maybe I won't...maybe the good Lord will call me back to be with him before I have to deal with that!); and SLEEPING!
A favorite moment was last Saturday, showing a big group of friends around my town, and running into not 1 but 2, er, 'exes.' I see students I know on the street, at the pool, in the store, and what's worse, they see me, and feel the need to inform me that over the weekend they saw me by the river, or in Avignon, or running. I love being a celebrity with the town's under-12 population, but I always feel awkward when they explain to their parents who the stranger is they're saying 'hello' to.
And what would life be without a randy old PE teacher who tells sexually explicit jokes and all but propositions me, even though I've met his son and teach his grandson? At least he's cute, (retired pro soccer player!) and not creepy, like another teacher who always insists on giving me the slowest gooiest 3 kisses in greeting whenever he sees me, and then crows about how great it is to kiss me. Blech! HE looks like a bad guy in a cartoon: bald with a Hitler moustache, no joke. Would it be completely over the line for me to invite PE teacher out for a drink? I could say it's to celebrate his upcoming retirement this June...Annette, what's wrong with this picture? Or rather, how many things can you find that are wrong with this picture?
Then there was the awkward, never-ending, 'surprise' Tupperware party I attended...'just some friends getting together to make a meal' should apparently be read as ' 6+ hours of Tupperware HELL' from now on. Thank goodness my town has a bar! The sole bar in town, which I was explaining to some random French guy today that I know quite well. Last Friday night I saw a random American friend there with some guy she'd just picked up (who just got out of prison, no joke, though I don't know what for...), and left a note for the barkeep, which, being drunk, probably sounded a bit more explicit than I intended. Oops! ;)
I've also got to give props to my American friends just a short train-ride away in the 'big city' of Avignon. If I didn't have them to escape to, I probably would have cracked long ago. Last weekend included a Eurovision watching party (I voted for Germany, but Norway won...with good reason...I can't get that song out of my head even if I wanted to!), the most delicious picnic I've ever eaten (spicy olives, amazing goat cheese with pepper, fresh baguette, and cherries 3x as big as any other cherry I've ever seen in my life), and slaloming the Pont d'Avignon in a kayak with Steve, for free! I just went into my property manager's office today (whose daughter works at one of the schools I work at...did I mention it was a small town?) to figure out what I need to do in a little over a month to get out of here. Sad day! I know I'm going to miss this place...it's great to be adored by kids and their grandfathers alike!
I've been thinking alot lately about where my next adventure will be...who knows? Hopefully something will present itself! Until then, I'm cooking for myself (tonight was chicken, onions, broccoli in a white wine + herbes de Provence 'sauce'); making the most of random Catholic holidays (this weekend it's Ascension? Does that sound right? On the agenda: chill at swanky Olympic-sized private pool/lounge, eat hippy food, attend concert in the park, party with friends, make an appearance or two at the bar, among other things...); racking up credit card debt like I won't have to pay it off (and who knows? Maybe I won't...maybe the good Lord will call me back to be with him before I have to deal with that!); and SLEEPING!
Friday, May 08, 2009
What am I doing(/GOING to do) with my life???
I am not engaged, married, pregnant, or otherwise occupied at this point in time (having just celebrated my half-birthday, therefore on the cusp of officially being 23 AND A HALF!), which I thought was just fine and dandy, but after a few hours of solid Facebook stalking, I realize is quite abnormal (that is IF I suffered myself to compare myself to my peers...as IF!). I'm flabbergasted at the number of babies out there. And I'm STOKED that none of them are my concern...I have many adventures in me YET!
Relatedly, I've just spent the evening fretting...ruminating about what comes next (after the fabulous summer of au pair-ing, temporarily making a few kids my concern, but giving them back to their parents at the end, wherEVER I end up). Current rambling thoughts:
Relatedly, I've just spent the evening fretting...ruminating about what comes next (after the fabulous summer of au pair-ing, temporarily making a few kids my concern, but giving them back to their parents at the end, wherEVER I end up). Current rambling thoughts:
- crosscountry roadtrip with the brother, Oregon via the Grand Canyon to Alabama (or wherever he'll be posted) come late September/October.Ish.
- use mom's connections to land some sweet administrative assistant gig in some law office in Portland (earn $, pay off bills)
- ditto to the above except in San Diego
- apply for the Peace Corps
- apply for the JET program (or some other English teaching in Japan for the 2010-11 schoolyear)
- find some English teaching gig in SOUTH AMERICA (Argentina, Chile, Peru, whatever could hook me up and that I wouldn't have to pay to be a part of)
- work part-time at a private high school outside of Santa Cruz teaching English next schoolyear (I sent in my resume, the dude responded positively even though I'm pretty sure I'm just short of 'dreadfully' underqualified, and said it would be a few weeks...a few weeks ago...I'm going to send a follow-up-I'm-still-
interested-and-commited type of email to see if that's still a possibility) - start a hippy-esque commune somewhere, with all the cool artsy friends and cousins who are in similar boats as me
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Provence and the Cote d'Azur with my mom
A whirlwind 9 days, involving many adventures, including (why do I always 'devolve' into lists? Or maybe I'm just being efficient and organized...whatever, it works for me, so, why mess with a good thing, right?):
- Cheap Chinese with friends! Who can argue with a delicious 5 euro meal, surrounded by the people you love?
- Ancient Greek theatre in Orange (one of only 3 in the world that still has its stage wall...the other 2 are in Syria and...somewhere else...)
- Buying WAY-too-expensive-wine in Chateauneuf-du-Pape (the classic "we were had!" tourist moment of which I always make sure to have at least one on any given trip...hey, the woman said her friend was friends with Sharon Stone and George Clooney!)
- Falling in love (on my part) with a strip of road inbetween Orange and Vaison la Romaine. OMG, I think I'll live there someday, humbly tending my hectares upon hectares of vineyard, with my big buff rugged vignoblier of a husband running around doing all the actual work, while I drink near half our product!
- The 'Infamous' Kayak trip from Fontaine de Vaucluse to L'Isle sur la Sorgue. Infamous because my mom and I fell in, and when we did (we didn't realize until later), the keys to the rental car fell OUT of my mom's swimsuit...we were stranded, no money, no food, no nothing, for hours, while we waited for a replacement car...hey, at least we were in a beautiful locale and got some sun!
- Massages at a super swanky spa in Aix-en-Provence. Bringing my mom's total experience of Aix to: a super swanky spa. And mine: one night out, never seeing the city in daylight, and the super swanky spa. Even though it was dripping with swank, the jacuzzi was tepid at best. We rocked the sauna, hammam, and chillaxing lounge (complete with headsets of calming music, comfy couches, a waterfall, a tank of fish, girly magazines, and handwipes(?)) before getting one of the best massages of my life. An iPod shuffle kept the chillaxing music going, and we smelled all coconutty when we were done.
- Nice! A cheese-meat-crackers-buckets of wine picnic in our hotel room with Colleen and Steve the first night, the three corniches the next! We zipped all over, including over the very same twists and turns where Grace Kelly crashed and died. We pealed out of Monaco (literally, burned rubber and made some police turn around and see what was going on), saw an old Roman monument, ate paninis in Cap Ferrat, a droolingly gorgeous 'almost-island' (presque-ile), and picked up some perfume from Grasse.
- The drive that would never end! Nice to Marseille, all along the coast. It took about 8 hours. It was all...GORGEOUS! The Cote d'Azur is where I was meant to live, I think.
- The Chateau d'If (of Count of Monte Cristo fame) wasn't open (bad weather conditions), so we took the ferry out to the other islands and had a pretty typical sunny-day-on-an-island afternoon: we ate sandwiches and spread my grandparents' ashes. All in a day's...vacation!
- Notre Dame de la Garde. In hindsight, we should have just taken a taxi (my mom's no spring chicken, after all). But, I was evil and made her hike all the way up! The views and the amazing mosaics were that much sweeter for it.
- More wine!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)