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

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.