I've been here almost two months now. For my semester abroad in Aix, two months was just a little shy of half way through. Two months here is approximately 1/4 th of my total time. Somehow, (okay precisely would be via Amazon Books, the University book store, and the book store at Captiol) I have acquired a ton of books in two months. Here's my current list :
An Introduction to English Literature
GRE Literature in English
Barron's GRE
GRE Advanced Verbal
Grammaire Pratique du Français
Huysmans - Against Nature
Huysmans - A Rebours
Claude Simon's The Flanders Road
Claude Simon's La Route des Flandres
Initiation a la Langue Latine
Latin/English Dictionary
Ancien Français
Précis de Phonétique Histoire (Ancien Français)
Ancien Français Fiches de Vocabulaire
Chateaubriand - Atala- René
Verlaine - Poèmes Saturniens
Baudelaire - Les Fleurs du Mal
Flaubert - Trois Contes
Oscar Wilde - Salomé
Vigny - Stello
Nerval - Les Filles du Feu/ Les Chimeres
Technically, a few books for my current courses are missing off of that list because they are supplementary texts (supplementary just in name...the teacher 'strongly' encourages we read them for the final exam). So, when you are wondering where the blogs about actual Toulouse have disappeared to, you can blame the aforementioned books that I am drowning in at the moment.
-Tam in Toulouse
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Typical Day
BUZZ! Bolting out of my wonderful sleep complete with fabulous, positive dreams, I stumbled my way to my door. Some overly happy fed-ex mailman greeted me BONJOUR! and held up a package with a smile. You are Mlle. Tamra .... - I interrupted his confirmation by pointing to myself (sans actual communication) and motioning for the package. Barely giving him time to hand it to me, and certainly not enough time to sign for it, I mumbled 'merci', closed the door and went immediately back to sleep.
Much later...after some GRE studying, I motivated myself to visit EDF (the electric company). I hadn't received a bill in the mail and definitely did NOT look forward to a late notice for this month's overdue payment. So, I thought I'd visit and seek out the missing 'fracture' (bill). Except that, when I reached the office it had disappeared. I looked at the address from an old bill just to be certain I was indeed at the EDF office; I was, but EDF didn't seem to exist anymore. Bewildered, and annoyed that I had not received a letter in the mail about a change of office location, I asked the nearest person I could find. 'Oh, they aren't working here anymore, you can find an office at 'Place Capitol'. Awesome, what was going to be a thirty minute errand (because of all the walking) was now going to be much longer.
Arriving at Place Capitol, the town square of Toulouse which has several busy streets branching off from it, I knew I would need help. Timidly I approached the gentleman manning the tourist office's counter. He drew a circle on my map of Toulouse and pointed to the door while telling me it was just a right and a left away. 'Okay'. However, upon consulting my map his circle looked like it was down a side street from the Place. Off I went to discover EDF's top secret hiding place.
I had walked for over an hour down every side street off the Place and asked at least 6 people on the street (all of whom gave me conflicting directions) and still could not find EDF. I decided to ask just ONE more person and was resigned to giving up for the day after that. In front of the MacDonald's on the Place, I approached a gentleman and asked him if he knew where EDF was. He signaled that he was deaf. AWESOME! Okay, not awesome that he was deaf, BUT I knew the alphabet in sign language so this prospect would not be a loss. I spelled out E-D-F and raised my hands in a lost manner. He motioned for me to sit with him and wait for his wife, who was not deaf, but who was in the line getting coffee. I signed m-e-r-c-i, thanking Heaven for my mischievous friends in sixth grade who had learned the alphabet with me so that we could annoy teachers with across-the-classroom 'silent' conversations.
Soon his wife joined us, 'Do you need something?' 'I'm looking for EDF and I have searched and searched and the man at the office of tourism said it was just right here (showing her my map) but I don't really know where that is...' The woman softly turned me toward the Place and pointed straight across from our location to three golden letters, EDF, on the opposite building's facade. She gently rubbed my arm when I admitted my stupidity. I explained that I was new to Toulouse...still. After thanking her, and her spouse, I headed across the square toward the building thinking, "I may not speak French with grace...but at least I know the alphabet, and in some situations it's enough."
-Tam in Toulouse
Much later...after some GRE studying, I motivated myself to visit EDF (the electric company). I hadn't received a bill in the mail and definitely did NOT look forward to a late notice for this month's overdue payment. So, I thought I'd visit and seek out the missing 'fracture' (bill). Except that, when I reached the office it had disappeared. I looked at the address from an old bill just to be certain I was indeed at the EDF office; I was, but EDF didn't seem to exist anymore. Bewildered, and annoyed that I had not received a letter in the mail about a change of office location, I asked the nearest person I could find. 'Oh, they aren't working here anymore, you can find an office at 'Place Capitol'. Awesome, what was going to be a thirty minute errand (because of all the walking) was now going to be much longer.
Arriving at Place Capitol, the town square of Toulouse which has several busy streets branching off from it, I knew I would need help. Timidly I approached the gentleman manning the tourist office's counter. He drew a circle on my map of Toulouse and pointed to the door while telling me it was just a right and a left away. 'Okay'. However, upon consulting my map his circle looked like it was down a side street from the Place. Off I went to discover EDF's top secret hiding place.
I had walked for over an hour down every side street off the Place and asked at least 6 people on the street (all of whom gave me conflicting directions) and still could not find EDF. I decided to ask just ONE more person and was resigned to giving up for the day after that. In front of the MacDonald's on the Place, I approached a gentleman and asked him if he knew where EDF was. He signaled that he was deaf. AWESOME! Okay, not awesome that he was deaf, BUT I knew the alphabet in sign language so this prospect would not be a loss. I spelled out E-D-F and raised my hands in a lost manner. He motioned for me to sit with him and wait for his wife, who was not deaf, but who was in the line getting coffee. I signed m-e-r-c-i, thanking Heaven for my mischievous friends in sixth grade who had learned the alphabet with me so that we could annoy teachers with across-the-classroom 'silent' conversations.
Soon his wife joined us, 'Do you need something?' 'I'm looking for EDF and I have searched and searched and the man at the office of tourism said it was just right here (showing her my map) but I don't really know where that is...' The woman softly turned me toward the Place and pointed straight across from our location to three golden letters, EDF, on the opposite building's facade. She gently rubbed my arm when I admitted my stupidity. I explained that I was new to Toulouse...still. After thanking her, and her spouse, I headed across the square toward the building thinking, "I may not speak French with grace...but at least I know the alphabet, and in some situations it's enough."
-Tam in Toulouse
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Diagnosis: Needs Christian Fellowship
I miss Sundays.
Greeting sweet elderly ladies and gentlemen, settling into the pew while admiring the stained glass, feeling a sense of peace as the piano strikes the opening chords of my favorite hymn....I miss church. It's not 'any' church I miss. If that were the case, I'd take a stroll and come across a half dozen Catholic ones. No, I miss my small, close knit Baptist church from home. I even miss the big, beautiful Episcopalian church from Sewanee. To sing together with other believers, feeling the harmony wash over me as the words both challenge and call to my heart, I long for singing. Communion, soft bread turned red from it's brief moment dipped in the bitter wine, remembering the blood and body of Christ that was given in my name, I hunger for Communion. Listening to the teaching, to the message, of the minister while I think about how his words apply to my life at present, I need direction, accountability, scripture. Where is Sunday here?
In defense, I did look up an international church when I got to Toulouse. There's one in a suburb nearby that I'm not sure how to get to. The website for the church boasts lots of Bible studies and Sunday services in ENGLISH! I've just been nervous about going to a new church all by myself. More honestly, I'm nervous that I may encounter beliefs radically different from the Christianity I know. I realize that my lack of spiritual nourishment is no one's fault but my own. However, like all things French, it's not just a general experience I miss, but rather my own, specific experiences unique to America.
Greeting sweet elderly ladies and gentlemen, settling into the pew while admiring the stained glass, feeling a sense of peace as the piano strikes the opening chords of my favorite hymn....I miss church. It's not 'any' church I miss. If that were the case, I'd take a stroll and come across a half dozen Catholic ones. No, I miss my small, close knit Baptist church from home. I even miss the big, beautiful Episcopalian church from Sewanee. To sing together with other believers, feeling the harmony wash over me as the words both challenge and call to my heart, I long for singing. Communion, soft bread turned red from it's brief moment dipped in the bitter wine, remembering the blood and body of Christ that was given in my name, I hunger for Communion. Listening to the teaching, to the message, of the minister while I think about how his words apply to my life at present, I need direction, accountability, scripture. Where is Sunday here?
In defense, I did look up an international church when I got to Toulouse. There's one in a suburb nearby that I'm not sure how to get to. The website for the church boasts lots of Bible studies and Sunday services in ENGLISH! I've just been nervous about going to a new church all by myself. More honestly, I'm nervous that I may encounter beliefs radically different from the Christianity I know. I realize that my lack of spiritual nourishment is no one's fault but my own. However, like all things French, it's not just a general experience I miss, but rather my own, specific experiences unique to America.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Rude Awakening
I was so proud of myself! All of yesterday I maintained my strike. I ate sushi, pizza, and oreos, watched a movie, and sat on the internet till bedtime.
This morning I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of dawn (literally the sun was just coming up) for my 8:30 am Literature class. Warm in my layers, jamming with American music blasting through my headphones, I set out for class.
Arriving on campus, I noticed there were less than twenty students milling about. Then I rounded a corner and saw a mountain of tables, desks, and chairs still blocking every entrance to the academic buildings.....
LE MIRAIL EN GRÈVE?
LE MIRAIL EN GRÈVE!
My university is still on strike! Not that I'm truly complaining since this gives me extra hours to figure out my grad school personal statement, but I fought myself out of MY GRÈVE to go to school today! Not to mention that I need books from the university library and I had a group meeting with fellow students for a project.
The question now is....do I go back to sleep and revel in the University strike even though my strike is over OR do I flout strikes all together and put my nose to the grad school application grind stone?
This morning I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of dawn (literally the sun was just coming up) for my 8:30 am Literature class. Warm in my layers, jamming with American music blasting through my headphones, I set out for class.
Arriving on campus, I noticed there were less than twenty students milling about. Then I rounded a corner and saw a mountain of tables, desks, and chairs still blocking every entrance to the academic buildings.....
LE MIRAIL EN GRÈVE?
LE MIRAIL EN GRÈVE!
My university is still on strike! Not that I'm truly complaining since this gives me extra hours to figure out my grad school personal statement, but I fought myself out of MY GRÈVE to go to school today! Not to mention that I need books from the university library and I had a group meeting with fellow students for a project.
The question now is....do I go back to sleep and revel in the University strike even though my strike is over OR do I flout strikes all together and put my nose to the grad school application grind stone?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Birthday Strike?
France is on strike? But am I on strike?
I don't know. I think I want to be. I think I want to be on strike from my reasonable self.
Everyday for three weeks I've juggled latin, ancient french, modern french, english according to the french, GRE vocabulary, GRE math, and GRE english subject test.....my brain is boggled (---GRE vocab word by the way) and my spirit is approaching 'fed up'.
Today it is my 23rd birthday. It doesn't feel like a birthday though. There will be no party, no little pile of presents, no cake or candles (oh how I long for 23 birthday candles to blow out), no birthday trip to Dublin, and I certainly don't feel 23. Nevertheless, lack of celebration or not, I am 23 today, and I think I want to be on strike.
Various birthday possibilities swirl in my head.....I'd like to eat sushi, I haven't seen a movie in France yet, I have a beautiful outfit I could put on 'just because', I don't own any lip gloss and I've been eyeing Sephora for weeks, eating dinner on a canal boat sounds appealing, maybe I could find a mani/pedi place that could fit me in, I haven't bought a blanket yet for my bed or a good book (in English) to curl up with.
The problem is that I'm one of those rare individuals that cannot 'not care'. I literally do not have the ability to mean what I say when I say 'screw homework'. Thus, even though it is my birthday, I foresee hours spent studying despite my unwillingness.
I wish I could let myself be on a birthday strike.
I don't know. I think I want to be. I think I want to be on strike from my reasonable self.
Everyday for three weeks I've juggled latin, ancient french, modern french, english according to the french, GRE vocabulary, GRE math, and GRE english subject test.....my brain is boggled (---GRE vocab word by the way) and my spirit is approaching 'fed up'.
Today it is my 23rd birthday. It doesn't feel like a birthday though. There will be no party, no little pile of presents, no cake or candles (oh how I long for 23 birthday candles to blow out), no birthday trip to Dublin, and I certainly don't feel 23. Nevertheless, lack of celebration or not, I am 23 today, and I think I want to be on strike.
Various birthday possibilities swirl in my head.....I'd like to eat sushi, I haven't seen a movie in France yet, I have a beautiful outfit I could put on 'just because', I don't own any lip gloss and I've been eyeing Sephora for weeks, eating dinner on a canal boat sounds appealing, maybe I could find a mani/pedi place that could fit me in, I haven't bought a blanket yet for my bed or a good book (in English) to curl up with.
The problem is that I'm one of those rare individuals that cannot 'not care'. I literally do not have the ability to mean what I say when I say 'screw homework'. Thus, even though it is my birthday, I foresee hours spent studying despite my unwillingness.
I wish I could let myself be on a birthday strike.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
France on Strike!
Here in France, in case you've missed the news, everyone is on strike. Okay saying 'everyone' might be a bit of a stretch, BUT it seems like everyone. France is raising it's minimum retirement age from 60 to 62 and the reform isn't sitting well with French citizens. At first I thought the strikes were a bit ridiculous. Hundreds, if not thousands of people here in Toulouse, and in other large cities around France, walking through the streets shouting and singing their displeasure at the pension reform. However, I'm starting to realize that the French citizens mean business.
A nationwide strike began yesterday with the intention of continuing into Wednesday. The major effects I can clearly see are the multiple teachers that have canceled class - conveniently since I'm sick and my 23rd birthday is tomorrow - and announcements on bus lines and metros and airline websites that transportation in general will be 'perturbed' (disrupted in French, annoyed in English, so the word works both ways).
So what's the big deal? Well aside from what news articles have sited, I have asked several French citizens of various ages for their opinions. The youth are worried that there will not be job openings for them when they are finished with their academic studies, and the middle-aged/elderly who have been working since the age of 18 are not happy that they now have two more years to work. Unlike in America, France is rather static about employment. High schools and colleges emphasize that students must know as soon as they can which career field they foresee for their future, and they must stick with that choice. 'Just going back to school for a second or third career option' isn't a luxury they have.
Today I was confused when I came out of class and saw the entrance to one of the academic buildings blocked by multiple desks piled on top of each other. Now students are joining the movement against the reforms. I'm not even sure if I'll have class tomorrow, or if I do, how I would get there. Oddly, the heightened strike action comes just a few days before fall break for my university. Although I had intentions to celebrate Halloween elsewhere, since Toulouse does not celebrate the holiday, it looks like the combination of my cold and the strike will keep my break within the confines of the city. And since I live on a main road between two metro stops and government buildings, the strikers march right below my window, so I'll get a first hand look at the 'manifestation' (as they call it).
~Tam in Toulouse
A nationwide strike began yesterday with the intention of continuing into Wednesday. The major effects I can clearly see are the multiple teachers that have canceled class - conveniently since I'm sick and my 23rd birthday is tomorrow - and announcements on bus lines and metros and airline websites that transportation in general will be 'perturbed' (disrupted in French, annoyed in English, so the word works both ways).
So what's the big deal? Well aside from what news articles have sited, I have asked several French citizens of various ages for their opinions. The youth are worried that there will not be job openings for them when they are finished with their academic studies, and the middle-aged/elderly who have been working since the age of 18 are not happy that they now have two more years to work. Unlike in America, France is rather static about employment. High schools and colleges emphasize that students must know as soon as they can which career field they foresee for their future, and they must stick with that choice. 'Just going back to school for a second or third career option' isn't a luxury they have.
Today I was confused when I came out of class and saw the entrance to one of the academic buildings blocked by multiple desks piled on top of each other. Now students are joining the movement against the reforms. I'm not even sure if I'll have class tomorrow, or if I do, how I would get there. Oddly, the heightened strike action comes just a few days before fall break for my university. Although I had intentions to celebrate Halloween elsewhere, since Toulouse does not celebrate the holiday, it looks like the combination of my cold and the strike will keep my break within the confines of the city. And since I live on a main road between two metro stops and government buildings, the strikers march right below my window, so I'll get a first hand look at the 'manifestation' (as they call it).
~Tam in Toulouse
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I Want my Mommy
My body has betrayed me! I thought that we were great friends, I mean I've known my body since I was born - before that moment even - and now it has become my enemy....
I woke up in the middle of last night suffocating in the darkness. Despite having my head propped up by two pillows, the window cracked for fresh, city air, and having taken Benadryl before bed, I woke up needing to blow my nose and take more medicine. Yesterday I felt a little 'off'. You know the routine....sniffles and a few chills here and there. I thought that perhaps it was the 30 degree change in the weather from the day before that was wreaking havoc on my sinuses. Nope. Not the case, or maybe the case, but now I'm past sniffles and on to full blown cold.
Am I self-diagnosing? Indeed. Twice a year, approximately October/November and March/April, I get sick with the changing of the seasons. I could sniff pollen all day to my heart's content, so I don't think I am allergic to pollen or anything. I'm not sure why exactly but my body just doesn't like changes in the weather. I become comatose once I hit my bed and food tastes like snot for days. Appealing right???
I usually embarrass myself and trudge to class with tissue shoved up my nose, continuously watering eyes, and the general feeling that I'm dying a slow, ugly death. I'm sure I scare the people in class with my odd appearance. Imagine me sitting there trying to take notes with tissue escaping my nose and tears running down my face and flushed cheeks. You'd be scared. There's no need to go see doctors anymore. Ever since high school I've learned to let this seasonal pest run its course while I self-medicate with cold and sinus pills and Halls throat candies (and good doses of Disney movies, hot chocolate, and chicken soup of course).
But I am in Toulouse France. I'm in a country where they have no 'over the counter' medicine or cough drops in the supermarket. No chicken soup either. I have class all day tomorrow and Tuesday and I cannot afford to fall behind by missing. I KNEW I should have stocked up on medicine before I came!!!
Sitting here in my bed bundled in my layers hugging water, hot tea, my laptop and my homework all I can do is try to manifest healthy vibes and get better very (and I emphasize VERY) quickly.
I woke up in the middle of last night suffocating in the darkness. Despite having my head propped up by two pillows, the window cracked for fresh, city air, and having taken Benadryl before bed, I woke up needing to blow my nose and take more medicine. Yesterday I felt a little 'off'. You know the routine....sniffles and a few chills here and there. I thought that perhaps it was the 30 degree change in the weather from the day before that was wreaking havoc on my sinuses. Nope. Not the case, or maybe the case, but now I'm past sniffles and on to full blown cold.
Am I self-diagnosing? Indeed. Twice a year, approximately October/November and March/April, I get sick with the changing of the seasons. I could sniff pollen all day to my heart's content, so I don't think I am allergic to pollen or anything. I'm not sure why exactly but my body just doesn't like changes in the weather. I become comatose once I hit my bed and food tastes like snot for days. Appealing right???
I usually embarrass myself and trudge to class with tissue shoved up my nose, continuously watering eyes, and the general feeling that I'm dying a slow, ugly death. I'm sure I scare the people in class with my odd appearance. Imagine me sitting there trying to take notes with tissue escaping my nose and tears running down my face and flushed cheeks. You'd be scared. There's no need to go see doctors anymore. Ever since high school I've learned to let this seasonal pest run its course while I self-medicate with cold and sinus pills and Halls throat candies (and good doses of Disney movies, hot chocolate, and chicken soup of course).
But I am in Toulouse France. I'm in a country where they have no 'over the counter' medicine or cough drops in the supermarket. No chicken soup either. I have class all day tomorrow and Tuesday and I cannot afford to fall behind by missing. I KNEW I should have stocked up on medicine before I came!!!
Sitting here in my bed bundled in my layers hugging water, hot tea, my laptop and my homework all I can do is try to manifest healthy vibes and get better very (and I emphasize VERY) quickly.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
false advertising
"If you want to find a book you use the online library catalog." said the woman at the check-out counter while pointing to a wall of computers nearby. As I glanced back and forth from her to the computers with a confused, helpless expression that she clearly missed, she waved me off with a dismissive hand gesture.
This interaction shouldn't have merited frustration and yet, it did.
I'd love to say that my professors here are as amazing as the ones I had at Sewanee. That's not the case. For instance, I have a professor here who doesn't so much as teach as directs us to the library so that we may teach ourselves. I thought that the very long list of suggested texts on the syllabus might not be imperative. Yet, after bombing the second class meeting in which I showed up with incomplete homework (due to not being able to find adequate research materials), I quickly realized I'd be living in the library for this singular course.
So to the library I went after a particularly boggling class meeting. But when I typed the name of the dictionary I needed into the catalog I couldn't understand the results. Yes, okay, I speak French BUT the catalog system here is different than in the U.S. and the catalog in the library also happens to be the catalog for all 39 libraries in Toulouse! See my difficulty?
After trying to get some help from a student at the next station (who apparently didn't speak English) I then tried the check-out desk. The first lady pointed me toward the computers with the aforementioned, frustrating statement. The second lady I asked gave me a library map without even looking up from her computer. The third told me the dictionary was an online text (everyone knows dictionaries in libraries are reference materials and are housed AT the library).
I honestly think what frustrated me most (and does daily) is that EVERYTHING in France has been like the library. It take 3 or 4 tries or 3 or 4 people consulted to actually understand what's expected of me, where I am supposed to go, etc. I understand what they are saying to me, I just don't understand the arrangement of classrooms among the various academic buildings, the library organization, the business hours when there is a strike, the mail (some of which gets delivered at my door, some of which gets delivered to the post office, and some of which gets delivered to my mailbox) things like that - things the French just 'know'.
I was just about to leave the library and give up for the day when a thought occurred to me. This summer with Duke TIP we had arranged a library tour with our students so they could navigate finding books. I needed a tour!!! Avoiding the check-out desk people I'd already annoyed, I headed for the 'handicapped' check-out line, and in a sense I was verbally handicapped so I didn't feel out of place at all. The kind lady (who did not speak English) set up a 'visit' which I did this morning with a knowledgeable university tour guide (who also did not speak English).
I emphasize that the people don't speak English because I was told before coming to France that "everyone in Europe understands English because of all the tourism", and that's just NOT the case.
Fun fact - The central library on Le Mirail campus arranges it's books by academic subject matter and not in the usual 'fiction' 'non-fiction' 'biography' 'children's lit' 'popular lit' way that we do in America.
It's actually quite useful. Today I was working on Ancient French and found dictionaries, manuals, critiques, fictional examples, etc. all next to each other on the same shelf.
Sad fact for a library dweller like me: the library is only open when academic classes are in session each day.
Now I know how to work the card catalog, which floor of the library on which I'll do most of my studying and find most of my research materials, and how to navigate the building in general. One less thing in France for me to figure out.
This interaction shouldn't have merited frustration and yet, it did.
I'd love to say that my professors here are as amazing as the ones I had at Sewanee. That's not the case. For instance, I have a professor here who doesn't so much as teach as directs us to the library so that we may teach ourselves. I thought that the very long list of suggested texts on the syllabus might not be imperative. Yet, after bombing the second class meeting in which I showed up with incomplete homework (due to not being able to find adequate research materials), I quickly realized I'd be living in the library for this singular course.
So to the library I went after a particularly boggling class meeting. But when I typed the name of the dictionary I needed into the catalog I couldn't understand the results. Yes, okay, I speak French BUT the catalog system here is different than in the U.S. and the catalog in the library also happens to be the catalog for all 39 libraries in Toulouse! See my difficulty?
After trying to get some help from a student at the next station (who apparently didn't speak English) I then tried the check-out desk. The first lady pointed me toward the computers with the aforementioned, frustrating statement. The second lady I asked gave me a library map without even looking up from her computer. The third told me the dictionary was an online text (everyone knows dictionaries in libraries are reference materials and are housed AT the library).
I honestly think what frustrated me most (and does daily) is that EVERYTHING in France has been like the library. It take 3 or 4 tries or 3 or 4 people consulted to actually understand what's expected of me, where I am supposed to go, etc. I understand what they are saying to me, I just don't understand the arrangement of classrooms among the various academic buildings, the library organization, the business hours when there is a strike, the mail (some of which gets delivered at my door, some of which gets delivered to the post office, and some of which gets delivered to my mailbox) things like that - things the French just 'know'.
I was just about to leave the library and give up for the day when a thought occurred to me. This summer with Duke TIP we had arranged a library tour with our students so they could navigate finding books. I needed a tour!!! Avoiding the check-out desk people I'd already annoyed, I headed for the 'handicapped' check-out line, and in a sense I was verbally handicapped so I didn't feel out of place at all. The kind lady (who did not speak English) set up a 'visit' which I did this morning with a knowledgeable university tour guide (who also did not speak English).
I emphasize that the people don't speak English because I was told before coming to France that "everyone in Europe understands English because of all the tourism", and that's just NOT the case.
Fun fact - The central library on Le Mirail campus arranges it's books by academic subject matter and not in the usual 'fiction' 'non-fiction' 'biography' 'children's lit' 'popular lit' way that we do in America.
It's actually quite useful. Today I was working on Ancient French and found dictionaries, manuals, critiques, fictional examples, etc. all next to each other on the same shelf.
Sad fact for a library dweller like me: the library is only open when academic classes are in session each day.
Now I know how to work the card catalog, which floor of the library on which I'll do most of my studying and find most of my research materials, and how to navigate the building in general. One less thing in France for me to figure out.
Monday, October 11, 2010
PE - Barre a Terre (Floor Ballet)
What if I'm in class with super skinny, super flexible ballerinas? Goodness it's early...why did I decide that an 8 am ballet class on a MONDAY was a good idea? Oh yes, I remember, good way to start my week....right? What was I thinking?
How come I am always the only one in shorts? Don't the french believe in wearing shorts? I knew I should have brought my brown pajama pants instead! How come they have their hair in buns? I'm not doing a bun.
Everyone seems nice. At least there are only a dozen or so of us.The instructor seems very kind.
She skipped the introduction - straight to business then I guess. I like this PE lying on the ground idea - best sports idea I've had yet!
Plank?! Did she just demonstrate the plank as in facedown on my toes and elbows?! I thought this was ballet class? That's a sit up! She totally just did a very slow, very graceful sit up! While laying down kick my leg to my nose? Sit up, straddle my legs and, while keeping my back straight, lean forward till I am diagonal with the ground? Heel stretch? What in the world is this class? I'm not going to live through it!
Point and flex. Point and flex. Point harder. Flex better. Sit up. Lie down. Sit up! Lie down! On your right side. On your left side. On your tummy. Arabesque. Arabesque prettier. Attitude...more attitude. Développé. Bigger Développé. Plié, demi-plié, grand-plié!!! And now we start over.....
So, that's what 8 am floor ballet on a Monday is like. Can't wait till next week....thank God no more till next week. I think my legs are going to fall off while walking to my 10:30 am English class. I think I love it!
How come I am always the only one in shorts? Don't the french believe in wearing shorts? I knew I should have brought my brown pajama pants instead! How come they have their hair in buns? I'm not doing a bun.
Everyone seems nice. At least there are only a dozen or so of us.The instructor seems very kind.
She skipped the introduction - straight to business then I guess. I like this PE lying on the ground idea - best sports idea I've had yet!
Plank?! Did she just demonstrate the plank as in facedown on my toes and elbows?! I thought this was ballet class? That's a sit up! She totally just did a very slow, very graceful sit up! While laying down kick my leg to my nose? Sit up, straddle my legs and, while keeping my back straight, lean forward till I am diagonal with the ground? Heel stretch? What in the world is this class? I'm not going to live through it!
Point and flex. Point and flex. Point harder. Flex better. Sit up. Lie down. Sit up! Lie down! On your right side. On your left side. On your tummy. Arabesque. Arabesque prettier. Attitude...more attitude. Développé. Bigger Développé. Plié, demi-plié, grand-plié!!! And now we start over.....
So, that's what 8 am floor ballet on a Monday is like. Can't wait till next week....thank God no more till next week. I think my legs are going to fall off while walking to my 10:30 am English class. I think I love it!
PE - Salsa
1, 2, 3, nothing. 5, 6, 7, nothing.
The entire hour of my salsa class passed by with the repetition of numbers and nothings. Surprisingly, it was the best hour of my week.
I think everyone picks up some form of partner dancing at some point in their lives from simply watching others or being taught a step or two by a willing partner. I, myself, have been dying for quite a few years now to take an actual class in partner dancing. I know the base for salsa, waltz, and swing already, and when I saw that Partner Dancing fit perfectly into my schedule here in Toulouse I knew I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to build on my meager foundation of prior knowledge.
Walking into class my heart sank.....where were the cute latin guys? I just somehow figured that a partner dancing class would involve latin guys since it's stereotypical that latin guys love to dance. Guess not...
Well that's okay. I've partnered with girl-friends on the dance floor. There's still a lot I can learn by being both the 'boy' and the 'girl'. So, seating myself on the floor I officially entered the class.
Taught by a spry, elderly gentleman, who clearly loved being the only male in the room, and a gorgeous young woman we were shown the basic salsa, samba, and mambo. At first, all twenty of us were uptight. Like robots we mechanically moved from side to side and back to front. Our movement elicited looks of alarm and distaste on the instructors' faces though they tried their best to hide them. On and on droned the two metal sticks our female instructor kept time with - 1, 2, 3 (pause) 5, 6, 7 (pause). Twenty minutes in, hips began to sway, thirty minutes in, smiles began to appear, at forty minutes in, whole bodies were alive with beautiful rhythmic movement. Somewhere between the awkward beginning and the reluctant ending of class we all must have subconsciously decided that we were lovely, powerful ladies who just wanted to move with the music. No judgement, no self-consciousness, no worries....just dancing.
By the end of class, after I gotten the steps down, I felt very 'Dirty Dancing' and fancied myself a pro (at the basics). I walked out of class, put on my music, put in my headphones, and salsa/samba/mambo danced my way home.
The entire hour of my salsa class passed by with the repetition of numbers and nothings. Surprisingly, it was the best hour of my week.
I think everyone picks up some form of partner dancing at some point in their lives from simply watching others or being taught a step or two by a willing partner. I, myself, have been dying for quite a few years now to take an actual class in partner dancing. I know the base for salsa, waltz, and swing already, and when I saw that Partner Dancing fit perfectly into my schedule here in Toulouse I knew I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to build on my meager foundation of prior knowledge.
Walking into class my heart sank.....where were the cute latin guys? I just somehow figured that a partner dancing class would involve latin guys since it's stereotypical that latin guys love to dance. Guess not...
Well that's okay. I've partnered with girl-friends on the dance floor. There's still a lot I can learn by being both the 'boy' and the 'girl'. So, seating myself on the floor I officially entered the class.
Taught by a spry, elderly gentleman, who clearly loved being the only male in the room, and a gorgeous young woman we were shown the basic salsa, samba, and mambo. At first, all twenty of us were uptight. Like robots we mechanically moved from side to side and back to front. Our movement elicited looks of alarm and distaste on the instructors' faces though they tried their best to hide them. On and on droned the two metal sticks our female instructor kept time with - 1, 2, 3 (pause) 5, 6, 7 (pause). Twenty minutes in, hips began to sway, thirty minutes in, smiles began to appear, at forty minutes in, whole bodies were alive with beautiful rhythmic movement. Somewhere between the awkward beginning and the reluctant ending of class we all must have subconsciously decided that we were lovely, powerful ladies who just wanted to move with the music. No judgement, no self-consciousness, no worries....just dancing.
By the end of class, after I gotten the steps down, I felt very 'Dirty Dancing' and fancied myself a pro (at the basics). I walked out of class, put on my music, put in my headphones, and salsa/samba/mambo danced my way home.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
PE - yoga
Yoga. Everyone has heard of it. Most people can even pull off a few poses just from having seen them on the covers of books or DVD's on the subject. Some individuals claim religious ties to their practice of yoga. Others do not. Some religions caution their followers against the practice. It's definitely a hot topic, so I was definitely apprehensive as I entered my first session (at 9 am on a Friday mind you!).
The introduction from the instructor was quick; she wanted to get some actual yoga into our hour and a half time slot. She assured us that if we were looking for meditation or religious history lessons we were in the wrong place. Her class would focus on stretching and strengthening our muscles with the use of various yoga poses and focused breathing techniques. Awesome. Just what I was hoping for.
The class was brutal. I've never worked so hard at striking poses in all of my life! With legs stretched far apart we froze in impossibly deep lunges. Balancing on our just butts we held our arms over our heads and attempted to raise our legs out in front of us so that our body made a 'V'. My body looked exactly like a backwards 'L' instead of the gracefully balanced 'V'. Sitting on the ground (and standing) with knees locked straight we were expected to not only touch our toes but fold our bodies completely in half.
Before yoga class I considered myself a flexible dancer and cheerleader, afterwards I realized I cannot sustain that flexibility for more than a second. Sure my front kicks reach my nose BUT I couldn't stay that way outside of a quick moment. Yoga is going to be amazing at helping me strengthen and sustain the flexibility I already possess.
Despite the difficulty of class, there was also a strange relaxing aspect to it. As we held each pose we were told to focus on breathing in and out of our mouths. With everyone breathing at their own pace it sounded like the soft whooshing of a breeze through trees. From one end of the room to the other one person's inhale would be complimented by the next person's exhale. The atmosphere was very calming though my muscles were dying.
Yoga made me sore, but I look forward to another session!
The introduction from the instructor was quick; she wanted to get some actual yoga into our hour and a half time slot. She assured us that if we were looking for meditation or religious history lessons we were in the wrong place. Her class would focus on stretching and strengthening our muscles with the use of various yoga poses and focused breathing techniques. Awesome. Just what I was hoping for.
The class was brutal. I've never worked so hard at striking poses in all of my life! With legs stretched far apart we froze in impossibly deep lunges. Balancing on our just butts we held our arms over our heads and attempted to raise our legs out in front of us so that our body made a 'V'. My body looked exactly like a backwards 'L' instead of the gracefully balanced 'V'. Sitting on the ground (and standing) with knees locked straight we were expected to not only touch our toes but fold our bodies completely in half.
Before yoga class I considered myself a flexible dancer and cheerleader, afterwards I realized I cannot sustain that flexibility for more than a second. Sure my front kicks reach my nose BUT I couldn't stay that way outside of a quick moment. Yoga is going to be amazing at helping me strengthen and sustain the flexibility I already possess.
Despite the difficulty of class, there was also a strange relaxing aspect to it. As we held each pose we were told to focus on breathing in and out of our mouths. With everyone breathing at their own pace it sounded like the soft whooshing of a breeze through trees. From one end of the room to the other one person's inhale would be complimented by the next person's exhale. The atmosphere was very calming though my muscles were dying.
Yoga made me sore, but I look forward to another session!
PE - Stretching
I walked into my first French PE class a bit nervous. As I looked around I noticed I was the only one in form fitting attire, the only person wearing athletic shorts, and the lone barefoot individual. The other ladies were garbed in baggy t-shirts, black yoga pants or sweat pants and each wore mismatched, colorful socks - even the instructor.
After a lengthy introduction from the instructor and a lecture on using our diaphram, abs, and pelvic muscles, we were instructed to get yoga-type mats from the next room and spread out. Next we were told to lie down on our backs with our eyes closed and simply focus on breathing in through our noses and out through our mouths. At first it was hard to lie still and breathe. Who just focuses on breathing anyway? But slowly I relaxed my muscles and released my entire weight down onto the mat, I focused on removing thoughts of class and homework from my mind, and I forgot where I was. My concentration became centered on inhaling through my nose, the rise of my abdomen, then exhaling, the lowering of my abdomen. I almost fell asleep.
The rest of class was as relaxing as the breathing exercise had been. In various sitting, laying, and standing positions we would tighten certain muscles in our bodies and then release them in tandem with our breathing. Never before have I been completely aware of which muscles are being worked during exercise. The isolation helped me identify which muscles in my body were conditioned and which ones had a hard time staying tightened for even a mere ten seconds.
Stretching class forced me to relax (something that I truly needed after my first week of class) and I loved it! I left class feeling lighter, happier, and ready to take on anything. Surprisingly later that night I was sore! All that tightening and releasing had actually worked my muscles!
As silly as stretching class may sound I cannot wait until this upcoming week's session!
*If you are reading this thinking stretching class was a huge waste of time then you have missed the point.
After a lengthy introduction from the instructor and a lecture on using our diaphram, abs, and pelvic muscles, we were instructed to get yoga-type mats from the next room and spread out. Next we were told to lie down on our backs with our eyes closed and simply focus on breathing in through our noses and out through our mouths. At first it was hard to lie still and breathe. Who just focuses on breathing anyway? But slowly I relaxed my muscles and released my entire weight down onto the mat, I focused on removing thoughts of class and homework from my mind, and I forgot where I was. My concentration became centered on inhaling through my nose, the rise of my abdomen, then exhaling, the lowering of my abdomen. I almost fell asleep.
The rest of class was as relaxing as the breathing exercise had been. In various sitting, laying, and standing positions we would tighten certain muscles in our bodies and then release them in tandem with our breathing. Never before have I been completely aware of which muscles are being worked during exercise. The isolation helped me identify which muscles in my body were conditioned and which ones had a hard time staying tightened for even a mere ten seconds.
Stretching class forced me to relax (something that I truly needed after my first week of class) and I loved it! I left class feeling lighter, happier, and ready to take on anything. Surprisingly later that night I was sore! All that tightening and releasing had actually worked my muscles!
As silly as stretching class may sound I cannot wait until this upcoming week's session!
*If you are reading this thinking stretching class was a huge waste of time then you have missed the point.
Physical Education
Although I said that anyone reading this blog would be discovering Toulouse through my eyes, my eyes lately are a bit limited to the sights and experiences at Le Mirail and my apartment, with little moments of liberty at the park or the grocery store.
I'm taking the GRE general test in exactly one month and a few days after that the English Literature subject test. Studying for the two requires hours set aside each day, a task that would be manageable by itself but becomes a bit difficult when balanced with my new courses at Le Miral (i'll put a post about my new courses soon). So, what's a girl to do when literally all her free time is taken up by studies of some sort? The answer, at least in my case, is to make relaxing something I'm required to do by some authority outside of myself.
At Le Mirail, assuming you aren't an exchange student or on a French government scholarship, students pay 12 euros as a 'sports activity fee'. If you are super competitive and want to join an actual team or you happen to be an arts major, you can sign up for some type of activity/sport/PE in place of an actual course. You'll have to compete of course if you are on the team and if you are taking that activity as a class then you'll be required to have papers or exams on the history of the sport. These individuals are limited to two activities or one sport only.
However, if you are in neither of the aforementioned categories the university allows you to take as many activities as you want 'a loisir' or 'for your own enjoyment'. I had signed up Tuesday, after waiting in line more than an hour and a half, for dance classes; contemporary, jazz, and salsa were calling my name. My lovely schedule was disrupted just that very afternoon by acquiring another class (at the strong encouragement of my Latin professor), and I was forced to drop both contemporary and jazz and trudge my way home quite unhappy.
At home, I looked over the choices that corresponded to the gaps between, before, or after my academic classes and sports that didn't seem expensive. Although the activity fee is paid for, taking 'riding' for example costs an extra 20 euros per week.
So...choices... Aerobics? No way - there's just something about the exercises and the bubbly instructors that gets on my nerves. Aquagym? Me, in a pool, wading around in laps with the elderly professors - that's a big no. Handball? Tried it once, hurt a lot. I think I'll stay away from self-inflicted pain. Martial Arts? no wooden boards for my hands and I'm definitely not into the violent shouting. Tennis? Football (soccer)? Golf? Badminton? Basketball? Swimming? Volleyball? Nope to all of those.
Barre a terre? What's that? I Googled it. Barre a terre or Floor Barre turned out to be ballet done lying on the ground. It sounds easy but after watching a few Youtube videos I realized the opposite would be true. That awful '6 inches' exercise you did as a child where you hover your legs half a foot from the ground and hold them suspended for 30 seconds? Barre a terre would be similar but in motion, with pulses, and the exercises would be way harder on the abs and inner thighs. A definite yes in my book.
Stretching? Is there really a PE just for limbering up? Yes indeed!
Yoga? Never really done it. Seems to be a hot subject in the religious world though....let's see what all the fuss is about.
Salsa still works! Thank goodness some dance where I'm standing up and moving across the floor.
Having chosen my new PE courses and registered for them, by the internet instead of standing in the awful, seemingly never-ending line, I looked forward to the next day when I would have Stretching PE.
I'm taking the GRE general test in exactly one month and a few days after that the English Literature subject test. Studying for the two requires hours set aside each day, a task that would be manageable by itself but becomes a bit difficult when balanced with my new courses at Le Miral (i'll put a post about my new courses soon). So, what's a girl to do when literally all her free time is taken up by studies of some sort? The answer, at least in my case, is to make relaxing something I'm required to do by some authority outside of myself.
At Le Mirail, assuming you aren't an exchange student or on a French government scholarship, students pay 12 euros as a 'sports activity fee'. If you are super competitive and want to join an actual team or you happen to be an arts major, you can sign up for some type of activity/sport/PE in place of an actual course. You'll have to compete of course if you are on the team and if you are taking that activity as a class then you'll be required to have papers or exams on the history of the sport. These individuals are limited to two activities or one sport only.
However, if you are in neither of the aforementioned categories the university allows you to take as many activities as you want 'a loisir' or 'for your own enjoyment'. I had signed up Tuesday, after waiting in line more than an hour and a half, for dance classes; contemporary, jazz, and salsa were calling my name. My lovely schedule was disrupted just that very afternoon by acquiring another class (at the strong encouragement of my Latin professor), and I was forced to drop both contemporary and jazz and trudge my way home quite unhappy.
At home, I looked over the choices that corresponded to the gaps between, before, or after my academic classes and sports that didn't seem expensive. Although the activity fee is paid for, taking 'riding' for example costs an extra 20 euros per week.
So...choices... Aerobics? No way - there's just something about the exercises and the bubbly instructors that gets on my nerves. Aquagym? Me, in a pool, wading around in laps with the elderly professors - that's a big no. Handball? Tried it once, hurt a lot. I think I'll stay away from self-inflicted pain. Martial Arts? no wooden boards for my hands and I'm definitely not into the violent shouting. Tennis? Football (soccer)? Golf? Badminton? Basketball? Swimming? Volleyball? Nope to all of those.
Barre a terre? What's that? I Googled it. Barre a terre or Floor Barre turned out to be ballet done lying on the ground. It sounds easy but after watching a few Youtube videos I realized the opposite would be true. That awful '6 inches' exercise you did as a child where you hover your legs half a foot from the ground and hold them suspended for 30 seconds? Barre a terre would be similar but in motion, with pulses, and the exercises would be way harder on the abs and inner thighs. A definite yes in my book.
Stretching? Is there really a PE just for limbering up? Yes indeed!
Yoga? Never really done it. Seems to be a hot subject in the religious world though....let's see what all the fuss is about.
Salsa still works! Thank goodness some dance where I'm standing up and moving across the floor.
Having chosen my new PE courses and registered for them, by the internet instead of standing in the awful, seemingly never-ending line, I looked forward to the next day when I would have Stretching PE.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Love is Everywhere!
I've always heard that Paris is the city of love, but I'm starting to believe that maybe France is the country of love. Whether eighty or eighteen, French couples are 'ouvert' in their feelings for one another - 'ouvert' means 'open' in french- gotta love the word play between English and French.
America, being the Puritan founded country that it is, strongly discourages PDA (public displays of affection). One can be liberal or conservative, religious, or not, it doesn't matter. If someone sees a couple playing tonsil hockey on the subway the immediate perception is negative. The bizarre part in my mind is that this negativity toward affection is not reserved for unmarried couples alone. Goodness forbid that a married couple has chemistry and cannot keep their hands off one another in the grocery store!
Most Americans have been raised to believe that affection should be for 'behind closed doors'. Hand-holding and hugging are approved of publicly , as is walking with arms around each others' waist. Kisses on the cheek are cute. A quick peck on the lips is for a couples' greeting or parting. Beyond that....well there is no beyond that. It seems to me that it's a curious list and a long one of things you aren't supposed to do in public. So, couples....Don't stare into each others' eyes, 'tongue' is never an option, never put your hand anywhere near anothers' backside. A man should not stand with a woman's backside to his frontside. Women should not sit in mens' laps. Kissing anothers' neck is frowned upon. Caressing the other anywhere but the upper back or the hand is toeing the line. Oh and watch just how high up your hand is on the others' thigh. Should you be in the park on a picnic blanket NO SPOONING and know that one on top of the other is forbidden. I could continue, but anyone reading this probably thinks I'm a proponent of PDA already (which I unashamedly am), so I'll stop.
Here in Toulouse, and everywhere that I've been in France, there is a freedom to love one another such as I've never seen before. Couples do every one of the things that I mentioned above and no one bats and eyelash. In fact, I've seen furtive glances followed by appreciative smiles when a young couple cannot stop staring at each other or an elderly couple kisses on the lips. Perhaps it's because of such freedom that the PDA here doesn't seem so wrong. No one looks guilty kissing another or intertwining some part of their body with anothers'. No one covers their childrens' eyes so they won't be subjected to such 'mature' content. The elderly do not whisper among themselves about 'uncouth youth today'. Teenagers don't wear looks of disgust after seeing any physical interplay between an older couple. Couples are in love. That's it. That's all.
-Tam in Toulouse
America, being the Puritan founded country that it is, strongly discourages PDA (public displays of affection). One can be liberal or conservative, religious, or not, it doesn't matter. If someone sees a couple playing tonsil hockey on the subway the immediate perception is negative. The bizarre part in my mind is that this negativity toward affection is not reserved for unmarried couples alone. Goodness forbid that a married couple has chemistry and cannot keep their hands off one another in the grocery store!
Most Americans have been raised to believe that affection should be for 'behind closed doors'. Hand-holding and hugging are approved of publicly , as is walking with arms around each others' waist. Kisses on the cheek are cute. A quick peck on the lips is for a couples' greeting or parting. Beyond that....well there is no beyond that. It seems to me that it's a curious list and a long one of things you aren't supposed to do in public. So, couples....Don't stare into each others' eyes, 'tongue' is never an option, never put your hand anywhere near anothers' backside. A man should not stand with a woman's backside to his frontside. Women should not sit in mens' laps. Kissing anothers' neck is frowned upon. Caressing the other anywhere but the upper back or the hand is toeing the line. Oh and watch just how high up your hand is on the others' thigh. Should you be in the park on a picnic blanket NO SPOONING and know that one on top of the other is forbidden. I could continue, but anyone reading this probably thinks I'm a proponent of PDA already (which I unashamedly am), so I'll stop.
Here in Toulouse, and everywhere that I've been in France, there is a freedom to love one another such as I've never seen before. Couples do every one of the things that I mentioned above and no one bats and eyelash. In fact, I've seen furtive glances followed by appreciative smiles when a young couple cannot stop staring at each other or an elderly couple kisses on the lips. Perhaps it's because of such freedom that the PDA here doesn't seem so wrong. No one looks guilty kissing another or intertwining some part of their body with anothers'. No one covers their childrens' eyes so they won't be subjected to such 'mature' content. The elderly do not whisper among themselves about 'uncouth youth today'. Teenagers don't wear looks of disgust after seeing any physical interplay between an older couple. Couples are in love. That's it. That's all.
-Tam in Toulouse
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